#pers: olivia rodrigo

[asongperday]

Song of the Day — “bad idea right?” by Olivia Rodrigo

And I pull up to your place on the second floor And you’re standing, smiling at the door And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter men But I really can’t remember when

[whatifwekilledgodandwebothgirls]

Yeah i dont really like that olivia chick but she knew something when she said " everything i do is tragic , every guy i like is gay " like thats peak teenage girl complaining about her life . Its just shitty enough and just ironic enough and just doing a bit too much its perfect . Thats peak bitch in high school thats just so overdramatic . Its sums up the expirience of every bitch that thinks shes indie 100%

[flwrstqr]

∿ LOVE ON THE SPOT — PARK SUNGHOON

preview. › you, a world-renowned oscar-winning actor known for your exceptional talent, and sunghoon, a celebrated formula 1 driver, find yourselves entangled in an unexpected fake marriage. at an extravagant party, your parents announce an arranged marriage to a man you despise. desperate to escape, you impulsively point to sunghoon, a random stranger in the room, and claim to be married to him. as sunghoon plays along and you navigate this fake marriage, could genuine feelings develop from such an impulsive decision?

meet the cast. f1 driver!sunghoon x actor fem!reader (feat noh yunah from illit + cho miyeon from gidle + hyung line of enhypen + other cos)

genre. fake marriage, strangers to lovers, opposites attract, slightly enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, medium fic, crack, angst

word count. 13k+

warnings. cursing, partying, drinking, profanity (no nsfw or smut), lots of bickering between them, sunghoon being very cold in the fic, fighting, yn being drunk, kissing, small grammar errors

danielle's note 𖥔 i really wanted to write an f1 racing au but like even tho i dont really watch f1. but I LOVEE f1 aus,, theyre js so hot yk!!! (and this fic is for my sunghoon girls!!!! wink wink im looking at u jenni) so i hope u guys enjoy this :333 also ignore how its like lowercase than uppercase cause i wrote this for 1 week..

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . bad boy by red velvet, woke up by xg, break up with you girlfriend by ariana grande, so american by olivia rodrigo, like that by baby monster, the great mermaid by lesserafim

YOU'VE BEEN IN SPOTLIGHT FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN REMEMBER. YN LN in another movie and killing it. The world knows your name, your face, your every move. A famous actor, adored by millions, you’ve mastered the art of charm on-screen and off. Cameras flash wherever you go, and you’ve become a professional at smiling through it all.

Then there’s Sunghoon, the world-renowned F1 driver. Where your world revolves around precision under the watchful eyes of fans, his is all speed and adrenaline. He’s intense, reckless even, living life on the edge at 200 miles per hour. Headlines scream his victories, and you’d think he’d be like every other celebrity you’ve met—full of ego (well has high ego somewhat). But Sunghoon is different.

You’re polar opposites, and everyone knows it. You, poised and polished, carefully calculated in the public eye. Him, unpredictable and wild.

Yet, somehow, your paths crossed, and despite the differences, there’s an undeniable pull between you two. Maybe it's just a play or an act. Or maybe, just maybe, opposites do attract.

THE PARTY WAS BUZZING WITH ENERGY—celebrities everywhere, people laughing, glasses clinking, and the music providing a backdrop to the scene. You stood with Miyeon and Yunah, doing your best to enjoy yourself despite feeling like you'd rather be anywhere else.

“Why do we keep coming to these things?” you sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

Miyeon grinned. “Because you only live once,”

Yunah laughed. “And because there’s always a story by the end of the night.”

You were about to respond when you felt a sudden dread creep up your spine. From the corner of your eye, you saw him—Youngdae. The boy you’d hated since forever. He was strutting towards you with that insufferable smirk on his face, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You groaned. “Great, here we go.”

Miyeon followed your gaze and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, of course he’s here.”

“I swear he has a radar for wherever you are,” Yunah muttered under her breath.

Before you could brace yourself, Youngdae was already in front of you, flashing that arrogant smile you’d come to hate. “YN, looking stunning as always,” he smirked, leaning a little too close.

You took a step back, barely suppressing an eye roll. “What do you want, Youngdae?”

He chuckled, clearly not picking up on your disinterest. “I just wanted to say hello. Maybe catch up. You know, we could make a great pair, if you gave me a chance.”

Miyeon sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes along with you. “Can you just not?"

Youngdae shot her a look before refocusing his attention on you. “Come on, YN. Why keep fighting it? You and I—”

“Are never going to happen,” Yunah interrupted, stepping between you and Youngdae with a firm hand on his chest. “Back off.”

Youngdae frowned but didn’t push it. He simply shrugged and gave you one last wink before walking away.

“Ugh, he’s so persistent,” Miyeon grumbled as she turned to you. “How do you deal with him?”

“I don’t,” you replied with a soft laughter. “I just survive.”

But just as you were about to relax, you saw your parents making their way toward you. Your mom was smiling, your dad looking pleased as ever. You knew that look. They were up to something.

“There you are, sweetheart!” your mom said brightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Your dad smiled beside her, looking equally pleased. “We have some news.”

You raised an eyebrow, wary of whatever was coming. “What news?”

“Well,” your mom began, glancing between you and your friends, “we’ve found you a date. Finally!”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

Your dad nodded as though this was the best thing in the world. “Yes, with Youngdae. His family is very well connected, and we think—”

“No,” you said, your voice rising slightly. “Absolutely not. There’s no way.”

Your mom blinked, looking surprised by your reaction. “What do you mean? He’s a very eligible young man.”

You stammered, trying to find a way out “I… I… I’m already seeing someone!”

Both your parents stared at you, confusion written across their faces. “You are?” your dad asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes,” you lied quickly, panic bubbling inside you. “I’ve been seeing someone for a while now, actually.”

Your mom looked intrigued. “Who?”

You swallowed hard, desperately scanning the crowd for someone to point to, just to get out of this mess. Your eyes landed on a guy standing by the bar—a tall figure with dark hair and sharp features. You didn’t recognize him at all, but he looked like he could play the part for a moment.

Hastily, you pointed in his direction. “Him. Over there. He’s… he’s my boyfriend.”

Your parents followed your gaze, squinting toward the bar. Your mom’s eyes widened slightly. “Are you talking about him?”

You nodded, still pointing even though you felt like you were spiraling further into this ridiculous situation. “Yes, we’ve been together for a while now.”

Miyeon was choking on her drink at this point, and Yunah gave you a look like you’d completely lost your mind.

Your dad frowned a little. “Who is he? What’s his name?”

You paused, suddenly realizing you didn’t even know the guy’s name. “Oh, uh… his name is…”

Miyeon whispered urgently beside you, “Don’t make it worse. His name is Sunghoon,”

You repeated,“Sunghoon. Yes Sunghoon.”

Your parents exchanged a glance, and your mom raised an eyebrow. “Sunghoon? You mean the F1 driver?”

Your heart stopped. What? You had no idea. You quickly played along, though, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes, that’s him. We’ve been keeping things quiet because, you know… the press and all that.”

Your dad looked skeptical, but your mom seemed delighted. “Well, why didn’t you say anything sooner? This is big news!”

Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this conversation. “We were waiting for the right time.”

“And when did he propose?” your mom asked, clearly hooked on the story now.

You mentally cursed yourself for making it worse. “Yesterday! Yes, he proposed yesterday. It’s all very new.”

Your parents nodded thoughtfully, clearly pleased with the idea. “Well, we’ll have to meet him properly later,” your dad said. “But for now, we’re glad you’ve found someone.”

Your mom smiled warmly. “We’ll leave you to enjoy your night, darling. But make sure we meet him soon.”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

Miyeon burst out laughing as soon as they were out of earshot. “Oh my god, that was insane.”

Yunah was shaking her head, still in disbelief. “Do you even know who Sunghoon is?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I have no idea.”

Miyeon grinned, looking like she was thoroughly enjoying this. “Well, you just told your parents you’re marrying one of the most famous F1 drivers in the world. Good luck with that.”

Your heart sank as you glanced over at the guy you’d pointed to. He still hadn’t noticed anything, thank god, but now you were stuck in the biggest lie of your life.

How were you going to get out of this one?

THE PARTY CONTINUED AROUND YOU, the air buzzing with conversation and the occasional laughter. The idea of approaching the guy you had claimed as your “boyfriend” was now looming over you like a dark cloud. Miyeon and Yunah had been laughing about it all night.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, straightening your dress. “He's my future husband.”

You caught sight of Sunghoon at the bar again—still tall, still effortlessly cool, and completely unaware of the situation you had dragged him into. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and made your way over, trying to act casual as you pretended to be interested in getting a drink.

"One tequila please," you smiled at the bartender.

As you approached, he glanced at you briefly, then immediately looked away, not even acknowledging your presence. You awkwardly stood next to him, waiting for him to say something, but all you got was silence.

“So… uh, hey,” you started, your voice a little too high-pitched from the nerves. “How’s it going?”

Sunghoon barely glanced at you, his expression flat as he responded, “Fine.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so cold. You cleared your throat, trying again. “So, I’ve noticed you’ve been hanging around the bar a lot. Are you enjoying the party?”

He sighed, clearly uninterested. “Look, I’m not really here to make friends nor do I know you.”

Your smile faltered as you realized this was going to be harder than you thought. “Oh, no, I wasn’t—” You cut yourself off, feeling a bit foolish. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out awkward. “I was just trying to, you know, start a conversation…”

Sunghoon didn’t even bother to look at you this time. “I’m not interested in whatever this is,” he said bluntly, taking a sip of his drink and turning his back to you slightly, as if dismissing the conversation altogether.

Great, this was going really well.

Before you could think of another way, you heard your mom’s voice calling your name. You looked up in panic to see your parents making their way over, all smiles and clearly excited to meet the man you had so boldly claimed as your fiancé.

You felt your heart leap into your throat. There was no turning back now.

With no other choice, you quickly reached out and grabbed Sunghoon’s arm, yanking him closer to you with a forced smile plastered on your face. “Oh, there you are!” you said brightly, doing your best to make it sound natural. “I was just telling them about how we’re, you know… together.”

Sunghoon stiffened under your touch, his eyes darting between you and your parents, confusion written all over his face. “What—?”

You discreetly stepped on his foot, hard, causing him to wince and bite his lip in pain. You shot him a quick, pleading look, hoping he’d catch on.

“Just play along,” you whispered harshly under your breath, your smile never faltering.

He looked at you for a long moment, clearly irritated, but finally sighed, giving in. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his tone reluctant. “We’re, uh, together.”

Your parents beamed, completely oblivious to the tension between the two of you. Your mom reached out to shake Sunghoon’s hand enthusiastically. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Sunghoon! We’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon forced a tight smile, his arm still trapped in your grip. “Yeah… same here.”

Your dad patted him on the back, grinning. “You’re quite the catch! Our YN is lucky to have you.”

You could feel Sunghoon’s frustration simmering beneath the surface, but he kept his expression in check. “Lucky, right,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.

You stepped on his foot again, a little less hard this time, and leaned into him slightly, trying to keep up appearances. “Isn’t he just the best?” you cooed, practically cringing at how fake you sounded.

Sunghoon glanced at you with a pained expression, but he played along, his voice strained. “Yeah… I’m great.”

Your parents couldn’t have been more delighted. “Well, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now,” your mom said with a wink. “But don’t think you’re getting out of dinner with us soon! We need to celebrate this engagement properly.”

You forced another bright smile as they walked away, your stomach churning with dread at the thought of dinner with your parents—and Sunghoon, of all people.

As soon as your parents were out of sight, you let go of Sunghoon’s arm and stepped back, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about all of that,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this, I just—”

Sunghoon held up a hand, cutting you off. “Save it,” he said, his voice clipped. “Just don’t step on my foot again.”

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty, but also relieved that the worst was over. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear,” you said, trying to sound sincere.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You owe me big time,” he muttered before turning to leave, shaking his head.

A FEW DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE THE PARTY INCIDENT, but the chaos you’d caused still lingered in Sunghoon’s mind. He found himself in the garage with his friends, Jay, Jake, and Heeseung, leaning against his sleek, black sports car as they all casually chatted about their lives. Sunghoon was half-listening, his mind elsewhere, until Jake asked him something that brought him back to reality.

“So, are you going to be in the next race?” Jake asked, wiping his hands on a rag after tinkering with his car.

Sunghoon shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you lately? You’ve been distracted since that party.”

Sunghoon stared at the concrete floor for a moment before casually blurting out, “I’m dating or engaged. Or… something.”

The garage fell into silence. Jay, who had been leaning against a workbench, immediately turned to face Sunghoon with wide eyes. “What?”

Jake looked like he had just swallowed his tongue, blinking at Sunghoon like he hadn’t heard correctly. Heeseung, who was tightening a bolt on his engine, froze mid-motion, his wrench slipping from his grip and clattering to the ground.

“Dude,” Jay said slowly, standing up straight. “Are you serious right now? Did you just say you got engaged?”

Sunghoon scratched the back of his neck, looking both tired and mildly amused at their reactions. “Yeah… or something like that.”

“What do you mean ‘something like that’?” Jake demanded, clearly confused. “Since when are you even dating anyone?”

Sunghoon sighed, leaning further back against his car as he explained, “It’s complicated. Some girl at the party basically told her parents we’re engaged because she was trying to get out of a situation, and I got dragged into it.”

Heeseung let out a low whistle. “Wait, so you’re fake engaged?”

“Pretty much,” Sunghoon said, rubbing his temples like the whole thing gave him a headache.

Jay shook his head, still in disbelief. “That doesn’t even sound real, man. Who is this girl?”

“I don’t even know her that well,” Sunghoon admitted, sounding exasperated. “Her name’s YN,”

Heeseung blinked. “Wait, YN LN?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirmed. “That’s the one.”

Jay nearly choked on his own spit. “You’re telling me you’re fake engaged to the YN LN? The one who’s all over the headlines?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “She’s all over the headlines?”

Jake laughed incredulously, leaning against his car for support. “Dude, how do you not know that? She’s, like, one of the biggest actors right now. ”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “I don’t pay attention to that stuff. All I know is that she’s got her parents convinced that we’re together, and now I have to figure out how to get out of this without causing a massive scene.”

Jay shook his head, still grinning. “This is insane. You, of all people, caught up in some fake engagement with a celebrity.”

Heeseung smirked. “You’ve been in some high-speed races before, but this might be the wildest thing you’ve ever gotten into.”

Sunghoon groaned, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me about it. And the worst part is, her parents think I’m some perfect gentleman or something. They’re probably planning the wedding already.”

Jake chuckled, nudging Sunghoon with his elbow. “Well, look at the bright side—you’ve always been good under pressure. This is just another challenge.”

Sunghoon shot him a look. “Yeah, but this isn’t a race. This is someone’s life we’re talking about.”

Jay grinned. “And yours, apparently.”

Sunghoon sighed again, feeling the weight of the situation settling on him once more. “I’m just trying to figure out how to handle it without causing a mess. I don’t even know why I agreed to go along with it in the first place. Plus, I don't know this girl.”

Heeseung patted him on the back, smirking. “Maybe you just didn’t want to let the girl down. Sounds like you’re already some hero,”

Sunghoon shot him a deadpan look. “Yeah, sure. That’s exactly what I’m going for.”

Jay laughed. “Well, good luck, man. Just try not to end up accidentally married before you figure out how to get out of this.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for the advice,” he said dryly with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to avoid that.”

MIYEON AND YUNAH DRAGGED YOU OUT TO A STREET RACE. you weren’t exactly in the mood for it, but they insisted, pulling you along with promises of fun and a chance to clear your mind (and meet your so-said husband). engines roared, and the night was alive with the sound of revving motors and the sharp smell of gasoline.

as you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning casually against a sleek, black car. sunghoon. he looked as cool and composed as ever, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, eyes scanning the crowd with a bored expression. when his gaze finally met yours, his face twisted into a look of irritation, and he rolled his eyes dramatically.

of course he would be here, you thought. but you knew you needed to talk to him about the upcoming dinner. miyeon and yunah noticed your sudden change in demeanor and shot you questioning looks, but you brushed them off, telling them you'd be back in a minute.

you made your way over to where sunghoon was standing. he didn’t bother to move as you approached, just watched you with that same indifferent, slightly irritated expression.

“sunghoon,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady, “we need to talk.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested. “about what?” he asked, his tone dripping with disinterest.

“about the dinner,” you replied, not backing down despite his attitude. “my parents want us to be there together.”

sunghoon let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes again. “can’t you just tell your parents we got into some argument and divorced or something?” he said coldly, his voice laced with sarcasm.

you clenched your fists, trying to keep your cool. “no, i can’t do that, sunghoon. it’s already confirmed. my parents are planning a wedding.”

for a moment, sunghoon’s expression faltered, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual cold look “a wedding?” he repeated, as if the word itself was foreign to him. “are you serious?”

“dead serious,” you replied, “they think we’re the perfect match or something. and they’re not taking no for an answer.”

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, though it was loud enough for you to hear. “so what? we’re supposed to just play along with this charade? pretend like everything’s fine?”

“i don’t see any other option,” you said, “if we don’t, they’ll just make things worse. we need to figure out how to handle this.”

sunghoon didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting away from you as he stared off into the distance, lost in thought. after a moment, he pulled out his phone and held it out to you, his expression unreadable. “give me your number,” he said, his tone more resigned than anything.

you blinked, slightly taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, but quickly recovered, pulling out your own phone and exchanging numbers with him. the whole interaction felt strange, like you were stepping into unfamiliar territory.

“i’ll text you the details,” you said, trying to keep the conversation moving. “we’ll figure out a plan.”

sunghoon nodded, slipping his phone back into his pocket. for a brief moment, it almost seemed like the tension between you two had eased, but then he spoke again, his voice back to its usual coldness. “just don’t expect me to play nice,” he warned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m not doing this for you. i’m doing this to get them off my back.”

THE NIGHT OF THE DINNER ARRIVED FATER THAN YOU ANTICIPATED, and before you knew it, you found yourself standing outside your parents’ house with sunghoon by your side. the two of you looked like the perfect couple, at least on the surface. you were both dressed impeccably—sunghoon in a sharp black suit (for the first time) and you in a simple, black dress that your mom had insisted you wear.

as you walked up to the front door, you forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “remember, just play along,” you whispered to sunghoon as you reached for the doorbell.

sunghoon sighed, barely masking his irritation. “yeah, yeah, i know the drill.”

the door swung open almost immediately, and you were greeted by your mother’s beaming face. “oh, there they are! my favorite couple,” she gushed, pulling you both into a tight hug. sunghoon stiffened beside you, clearly uncomfortable with the affectionate display, but he managed to return your mother’s smile.

“hi, mom,” you said, your voice a little too bright. “we’re here.”

“come in, come in!” she insisted, ushering you both inside. “dinner’s almost ready. your father’s been looking forward to this all week.”

as you entered the dining room, the smell of home-cooked food filled the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers. everything was arranged, from the perfectly folded napkins to the silverware.

“you two look wonderful,” your dad remarked, giving you both an approving nod as he took his seat at the head of the table. “it’s nice to finally have a proper family dinner.”

sunghoon flashed a polite smile, though you could tell he was barely holding back his annoyance. “thanks, sir. we’re happy to be here.”

you shot him a quick glance, impressed by his ability to keep up the act, even if it was just barely. every time your parents asked about your “relationship,” you forced a smile and nodded along with whatever sunghoon said, even when he was being sarcastic.

“so, how did you two meet?” your mom asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“it was... quite the story,” you began, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t sound too ridiculous.

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. “yeah, she practically threw herself at me,” he said with a teasing tone that made you want to kick him under the table.

“oh, did she now?” your dad chuckled, clearly amused.

you felt your cheeks flush, but you kept your composure, forcing a laugh. “he’s exaggerating, of course,” you said, giving sunghoon a pointed look. “we met through mutual friends.”

sunghoon shrugged, his smirk never leaving his face. “something like that.”

sunghoon seemed to take every opportunity to make subtle jabs at you, whether it was a sarcastic comment about your habits or a teasing remark about your so-called relationship. it took everything in you not to snap at him in front of your parents.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, your parents excused themselves to the kitchen, leaving you and sunghoon alone at the table. the moment they were out of earshot, you turned to him, your fake smile dropping instantly.

“do you have to be such a jerk?” you hissed, keeping your voice low.

sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning forward with an exasperated sigh. “i’m just trying to get through this as quickly as possible. it’s not my fault your parents are so nosy.”

“they’re not nosy, they’re just... interested,” you retorted, though even you could hear how weak your argument sounded. “and you don’t have to be so sarcastic all the time.”

“and you don’t have to be so uptight,” sunghoon shot back, his eyes narrowing. “seriously, you act like this is the end of the world.”

“maybe because it feels like it,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “i didn’t ask for any of this, sunghoon.”

“neither did i,” he countered, his voice cold. “but here we are.”

before you could respond, you heard footsteps approaching, and you quickly plastered a fake smile back on your face. sunghoon did the same, though his expression looked more like a grimace than anything else.

your parents reentered the room, both of them carrying trays of dessert. “hope you two saved room for dessert!” your mom chimed, setting the trays down on the table.

“of course,” sunghoon replied smoothly, his tone completely different from the one he’d used just moments ago. he even managed to let out a laugh, though it sounded forced to your ears. you joined in, though your own laughter felt hollow.

as the evening finally came to a close, you stood by the door with sunghoon, thanking your parents for the dinner. they were both smiling, clearly satisfied with how the night had gone.

“thanks for coming,” your mom said, giving you both a warm hug. “we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“definitely,” you lied, forcing another smile. “we’ll let you know.”

as soon as you were out the door, you let out a long sigh, the tension leaving your body all at once. sunghoon walked beside you in silence, his expression unreadable.

“thanks for playing along,” you said quietly, not really expecting a response.

sunghoon glanced at you, his eyes softening slightly. “yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though there was less bite in his tone than before.

YOU WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF A BUSY SHOOT when one of your co-workers approached you with a grin. “hey, we’re planning a party for yunjin’s birthday this weekend! you should totally come,” they said, excitement bubbling in their voice.

you paused, considering it for a moment. parties weren’t really your thing; you preferred quieter, more intimate gatherings. (despite you saying that you were some "extrovert). but you didn’t want to seem like a killjoy, especially since you’d been getting along well with the rest of the crew. “hmm, sure,” you replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

your co-worker beamed. “great! it’s gonna be a lot of fun. oh, and by the way, it’s a plus-one kind of thing. you can bring a friend… or your boyfriend.” they winked at you, clearly teasing.

you managed a small laugh, though inside, you were already feeling the pressure. “oh, okay,” you said, keeping your tone light. but as they walked away, the reality of the situation began to sink in. a plus-one. great.

back in your dressing room, you slumped into a chair, staring at your phone. you were part of a close-knit trio of friends, and the idea of inviting just one of them felt wrong. how could you choose between them? you knew if you invited one, the other would inevitably feel left out. the last thing you wanted was to create tension among your friends.

hours passed, and you found yourself going back and forth in your mind. should you just skip the party altogether? but then again, you’d already said yes, and backing out now would seem weird. besides, yunjin was nice, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.

finally, an idea began to take shape in your mind. it wasn’t ideal, but it might be the simplest solution. with a resigned sigh, you decided to invite sunghoon. after all, you owed him for putting up with your parents’ dinner, and this could be a way to pay him back. besides, it wasn’t like you were going to have a good time anyway—might as well drag him along.

you typed out a quick message and hesitated for a moment before hitting send.

hey, there’s this party for one of my co-workers. it’s a plus-one thing. wanna come?

it didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

fine. don’t expect me to stay for long, though.

you rolled your eyes at the screen, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. typical sunghoon. at least he agreed to go, which took some of the pressure off you. you quickly texted back a simple thanks, and put your phone away, trying not to overthink the whole thing.

THE BAR WAS ALIVE WITH ENERGY as you stepped inside with sunghoon by your side. people were packed together on the dance floor. laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of a drunken cheer. couples were scattered around, some dancing close, others tucked away in corners, stealing kisses that made you roll your eyes.

“this place is… lively,” sunghoon muttered, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“yeah, it’s a party,” you replied with a slight shrug, though you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. you weren’t exactly the party type, and neither was sunghoon, which made the whole situation feel a little surreal.

deciding to get a drink to ease the tension, you made your way over to the bar, sunghoon following closely behind. the bartender barely glanced at you as he took your order, quickly mixing up a couple of drinks and sliding them across the counter. you grabbed your glass, taking a sip of the cool liquid, hoping it would help you relax.

sunghoon took a swig of his drink, his expression unreadable. “so, how long do we have to stay here?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“just a little while,” you replied, trying not to sound too eager to leave. “it’s yunjin’s birthday. i can’t just disappear after showing up.”

sunghoon sighed but didn’t argue, taking another drink instead. just as you were about to take another sip, you heard a familiar voice call out your name.

“oh my god, y/n!” yunjin’s voice rang out, full of excitement as she made her way over to you. she looked gorgeous, her outfit sparkling under the bar’s dim lights. “i’m so glad you came!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a quick hug.

“of course,” you replied, returning her hug with a smile. “happy birthday!”

as yunjin pulled away, her eyes drifted over to sunghoon, and her expression shifted from excitement to shock. “wait a minute… are you with the famous f1 driver, sunghoon?!” she nearly squealed, her eyes wide with disbelief.

sunghoon gave her a polite nod, a small smile playing on his lips. “that would be me,” he said, his tone smooth and calm as ever.

yunjin’s mouth dropped open in awe, clearly starstruck. “i can’t believe this! i didn’t know you were engaged to him, y/n!” she exclaimed.

“uh, yeah… we go way back,” you said awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation light. yunjin was too caught up in her excitement to notice your discomfort, though, as she quickly introduced herself to sunghoon, gushing about how much she admired his career.

sunghoon handled it with grace, his usual cool demeanor never faltering. you watched the interaction with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation—sunghoon always seemed so effortless in social situations, even when he clearly didn’t want to be there.

after a few more minutes of chatting, yunjin finally excused herself to mingle with other guests, leaving you and sunghoon alone again. you downed the rest of your drink in one gulp.

“she seems nice,” sunghoon commented, his tone neutral as he sipped his drink.

“yeah, she’s great,” you agreed, though your mind was elsewhere. you could still feel the lingering stares from some of the other partygoers who had noticed sunghoon’s presence. it wasn’t every day that a famous athlete showed up at a regular birthday party, after all.

as the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing a little, the alcohol helping to take the edge off your nerves. you and sunghoon stayed near the bar, occasionally chatting about nothing in particular. but just as you were starting to feel comfortable, disaster struck.

you reached for another drink, but your hand wobbled, and before you knew it, the glass tipped over, spilling its contents all over your dress. you let out a startled gasp, staring down at the growing stain on your outfit.

“fuck,” you muttered, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. without thinking, you quickly excused yourself and made trip to the bathroom, hoping to save your dress before the stain set in.

as you stood in front of the mirror, dabbing at the stain with a paper towel, the bathroom door swung open, and sunghoon stepped inside. you glanced up, surprised to see him there.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

“what does it look like? helping,” sunghoon replied, grabbing another paper towel and joining you at the sink. his presence was a little too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned in to inspect the damage.

“i can handle it,” you insisted, though you didn’t move away.

“clearly,” he said dryly, his lips curving into a slight smirk as he continued to blot the stain. the scent of his cologne filled the small space, a mix of something clean and crisp that was distinctly him. it made your heart skip a beat, though you tried to ignore it.

“you didn’t have to follow me in here, you know,” you muttered, focusing on the task at hand.

“someone had to make sure you didn’t completely ruin your dress,” he retorted, his tone teasing. “besides, it’s not like i was having a great time out there.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “you’re such a pessimist.”

“and you’re such a klutz,” he shot back. for a moment, the bickering felt almost normal, like you weren’t two people stuck in a fake marriage.

as you continued to dab at the stain, your hands occasionally brushed against each other, and you became acutely aware of how close sunghoon was standing to you. the small bathroom seemed to shrink around you.

“you know, you didn’t have to invite me to this,” sunghoon said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “i’m sure you could’ve brought someone you actually like.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, though there was a hint of playfulness in your tone. “i figured this was a good way to pay you back for that dinner. besides, i couldn’t just pick one friend to invite. it felt… wrong.”

sunghoon glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “i get it. but still, this whole thing is just—”

“a fake marriage, yeah, i know,” you cut in, a bit more bitterly than you intended. “but we’re stuck with it, so we might as well make the best of it.”

unknown to either of you, the bathroom door had been left slightly ajar, and just outside, youngdae stood with a smug smirk on his face. he had heard every word, and as he quietly backed away, a plan began to form in his mind. he couldn’t believe his luck—overhearing something as juicy as this was too good to pass up.

as he slipped back into the crowd, unnoticed, you and sunghoon continued to bicker in the bathroom, completely unaware that your secret was no longer safe.

YOU HAD NEVER IMAGINED YOURSELF IN THSI SITUATION—standing in a bridal boutique, skimming through racks of wedding dresses with sunghoon awkwardly hovering nearby. your parents had practically forced the two of you to go dress shopping together, giving you an outrageously huge budget and insisting that sunghoon accompany you. after all, what kind of engaged couple doesn’t choose their wedding dress together?

“can’t believe i’m doing this,” sunghoon muttered under his breath, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stood off to the side, clearly uncomfortable.

“oh, come on,” you teased, holding up a dress with intricate lace detailing. “how bad can it be? just think of it as a chance to play dress-up.”

he rolled his eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “yeah, ‘cause that’s exactly what i want to do on my day off—play dress-up.”

you ignored his sarcasm, too engrossed in the rows of dresses before you. everything sparkled and shimmered under the boutique’s soft lighting, and you couldn’t help but gasp in awe every time you pulled out a new dress. “oh my god, isn’t this one so pretty?” you exclaimed, holding up a strapless gown with a flowing tulle skirt.

sunghoon glanced at it, his expression unreadable. “yeah, it’s nice,” he said noncommittally.

“just nice?” you pouted, returning the dress to its rack. “you’re supposed to be helping me choose, you know.”

“i am helping,” he protested, though the way he stood there like a statue suggested otherwise. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

you huffed, turning back to the dresses. after a few more minutes of browsing, you finally picked out a few that caught your eye and headed to the fitting room. “okay, i’m gonna try these on. don’t go anywhere,” you instructed, pointing at him as you disappeared behind the curtain.

sunghoon sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. he wasn’t sure how he ended up in this position—fake marriage or not, this felt a little too real for his liking. but as much as he wanted to be anywhere else, he couldn’t deny the slight curiosity that tugged at him as he waited for you to reappear.

a few minutes later, you stepped out of the fitting room in the first dress, a simple yet elegant gown with delicate lace sleeves. you did a little twirl, smiling at yourself in the mirror before turning to sunghoon. “what do you think?”

sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you. for a moment, he forgot how to speak, his usual cool demeanor slipping as he took in the sight before him. when had you become this… pretty?

he quickly schooled his expression, trying to sound indifferent. “it’s okay, i guess.”

you frowned, though not completely disappointed. “just okay? really?”

“yeah, it’s fine,” he said, averting his gaze as if the dress wasn’t making his heart race.

you sighed, but didn’t let his lackluster response dampen your mood. “well, i have a few more to try on. maybe you’ll like the next one better.”

as you disappeared back into the fitting room, sunghoon let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. what was wrong with him? this was just dress shopping, nothing more. yet, the image of you in that dress lingered in his mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

a few minutes later, you emerged again, this time in a dress that was the complete opposite of the first—sleek, modern, with a plunging neckline and an open back. you looked at sunghoon expectantly, waiting for his reaction.

once again, sunghoon felt his heart skip a beat. the dress hugged your curves perfectly, accentuating every line and angle. he swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “it’s… okay too.”

you raised an eyebrow, not convinced. “that’s all you have to say? you’re not very helpful, you know.”

“they all look fine,” he insisted, though in truth, he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. every dress you tried on seemed to outshine the last, and it was becoming harder for him to maintain his usual aloofness.

you tried on a few more dresses, each one stunning in its own way, but every time you asked for his opinion, he gave the same response: “it’s okay.”

by the time you tried on the fifth dress, you were starting to get frustrated. “you literally said the same thing for the past five dresses,” you pointed out, hands on your hips as you glared at him in the mirror.

sunghoon shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of your stare. “well, they’re all okay, i guess…” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“ugh, you’re impossible,” you groaned, though there was a hint of a smile on your lips. “at this rate, we’ll never choose a dress.”

sunghoon glanced at you, his gaze softening for a moment. “you look good in all of them,” he admitted quietly, barely loud enough for you to hear.

you paused, taken aback by his words. it wasn’t much, but coming from him, it felt like a genuine compliment. “really?” you asked, your annoyance melting away as a smile spread across your face.

sunghoon looked away, feeling a little embarrassed. “yeah, really,” he said, clearing his throat as if to cover up the sincerity in his voice.

eventually, after much thinking, you finally chose a dress—a classic, timeless gown that felt like the perfect balance between elegance and simplicity. as you stood in front of the mirror, admiring the final choice, you couldn’t help but notice the way sunghoon was looking at you. his usual stoic expression had softened, and there was something in his eyes that made your heart flutter.

“so, this is the one?” he asked, his voice oddly gentle.

“yeah,” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “this is the one.” maybe, just maybe, this fake marriage was becoming something a little more real.

YOU, MIYEON, AND YUNAH ARE SPRAWLED COMFORTABLY ON THE OVERSIZED COUCH in Miyeon’s living room, a place you've all come to consider your second house (because of how many times the three of you stay at).

Yunah is on her phone, as usual, her eyes scanning the screen rapidly. Suddenly, she pauses, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well, well, look who’s trending,” she drawls, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. “You and Sunghoon are all over the news. Everyone's saying you’re officially together.”

Miyeon perks up at this as she leans forward. “Let me see!” she says eagerly, reaching out for Yunah’s phone.

Yunah hands it over with a knowing smile. “It’s literally everywhere,” she repeats, her tone teasing but supportive. “You guys are the talk of the town.”

Miyeon’s eyes widen as she scrolls through the headlines, her fingers flying across the screen. “Wow, they’re even calling you the ‘It’ couple of the year,” she remarks, half in awe, half in disbelief. “This is huge!”

You sigh, “I knew the story would get out, but I didn’t expect it to blow up like this,” you admit, running a hand through your hair.

Yunah chuckles, nudging you playfully. “Well, you’re both celebrities in your own right. An actor and a Formula 1 driver? That’s headline gold right there.”

Miyeon hands the phone back to Yunah, turning her attention to you with a curious glint in her eye. “So, how’s it been? Pretending to be married to one of the hottest guys on the planet? Any sparks flying yet?”

You blush, recalling the moments you’ve shared with Sunghoon—the way his gaze lingers on you a little longer than necessary, the way his cologne mingles in the air, the way he complimented you at the wedding dress shop. “It’s… interesting,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. “We’re both just trying to play our parts and not let things get too complicated.”

“Too late for that,” Yunah quips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, there’s gotta be something there.”

Miyeon nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, you can’t fool us. We know you too well. Besides, if you’re gonna be in the spotlight, you might as well enjoy it, right?”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the warmth of their support. “I don’t know… it’s all so confusing. One minute, it feels like we’re just playing a role, and the next, it feels… real.”

Yunah places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Just take it one step at a time. Don’t overthink it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”

Miyeon grins, giving you an encouraging look. “And in the meantime, we’ll be here to cheer you on. Fake or not, this is your story, and you get to write the ending.”

THE NIGHT AIR WAS THICK WITH THE ENERGY of the city as you, Miyeon, and Yunah staggered out of the cozy, dimly lit bar you’d spent the evening in. The three of you had gone out for a few drinks to unwind, but a few turned into more than you could count, and now you were decidedly tipsy—no, scratch that, you were drunk. The kind of drunk that makes the world spin and words blur together.

Miyeon, ever the responsible one, was trying to hail a cab while Yunah clung to your arm, giggling uncontrollably at something you couldn’t quite remember. A soft breeze ruffling your hair as you leaned against a lamppost, the ground feeling a little too far away for comfort.

“I should call… someone…” you muttered, fumbling for your phone in your bag, your fingers clumsy and uncoordinated.

Yunah snorted, still giggling. “Who’re you gonna call? Ghostbusters?”

“Sunghoon,” you slurred, finding his number on your phone with surprising accuracy despite the alcohol fogging your brain. Without another thought, you pressed the call button, bringing the phone to your ear as it rang.

On the other end, Sunghoon was sitting on the couch in his sleek, modern apartment, absentmindedly flipping through channels on the TV. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything in particular; his mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on you. At first, he’d told himself it was just part of the act, that he was only playing the role of your fake fiancé. But the more time he spent with you, the more he started to question that.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he glanced at the screen, frowning slightly when he saw your name. You never called him, especially not this late. With a hint of worry, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Sunghoon!” you exclaimed, far too loud for a late-night call. Your voice was slurred.

“Are you… drunk?” he asked, his concern deepening. He could hear you giggling on the other end, and it did something funny to his chest. “Where are you?”

“Out… with Miyeon and Yunah. We’re having soooo much fun!” You hiccuped.

Sunghoon’s brow furrowed as he stood up, already grabbing his keys off the table. “You shouldn’t be out there alone. Stay where you are, I’m coming to get you.”

“But I’m not alone!” you protested, sounding like a child. “I’m with Miyeon and Yunah! They’re sooooo funny…”

“Stay there,” he repeated, more firmly this time. “I’m on my way.”

You didn’t seem to hear him, too busy giggling with Yunah about something that had apparently happened earlier in the evening. Sunghoon didn’t waste any more time. He was out the door and in his car within minutes, the engine roaring to life as he sped through the city streets.

By the time he reached the bar, you were sitting on the curb with Miyeon and Yunah, both of whom were also a little tipsy but still more composed than you. The moment Sunghoon stepped out of his car, your eyes lit up, though you didn’t seem to fully recognize him.

“There he is!” Miyeon said, relief evident in her voice as she waved him over. “She’s all yours, Sunghoon. Good luck.”

Sunghoon couldn’t help but chuckle despite his worry as he approached you. You looked up at him with a lazy grin, your eyes glazed over. “Who’re you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

“It’s me, Sunghoon,” he replied, crouching down in front of you. “Let’s get you home.”

You pouted, shaking your head like a stubborn child. “I don’t know you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. “I’m not going anywhere with a stranger.”

Sunghoon sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with you in this state. “Alright, alright,” he said, trying to keep his tone soothing. “But we can’t stay here. How about I take you somewhere safe?”

You squinted at him, clearly trying to decide if you could trust him. After a moment, you seemed to make up your mind and nodded. “Okay… but no funny business, mister!”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his heart doing that funny little flip again. He gently helped you to your feet, slipping an arm around your waist to steady you. “I promise,” he said, leading you toward his car.

The drive was quiet, save for your occasional hiccup or mumble about how the city lights were so pretty. Sunghoon kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

When you arrived at his apartment, Sunghoon helped you out of the car and into the elevator. You leaned heavily against him, clearly exhausted but still stubbornly refusing to give him your address. He figured it was safer to just keep you with him for the night.

His apartment was as sleek and modern as ever, but tonight, it felt different having you there. He led you to the guest bedroom, flicking on the light as he helped you sit on the edge of the bed.

“Here we are,” he said softly, crouching down to help you with your shoes. “You can sleep here tonight.”

You blinked down at him, a smile spreading across your face. “You’re really nice for a stranger,” you slurred, reaching out to pat his head clumsily.

Sunghoon felt his face heat up, and he quickly stood, hoping you wouldn’t notice. “Okay, now go to sleep,” he said, trying to sound firm.

As he tucked you in, pulling the blanket up around you, you suddenly leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. The taste of alcohol lingered on your breath as you pulled back, giggling. “Thank you, stranger,” you murmured, your eyelids drooping heavily.

Sunghoon froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He stared down at you.

“Okay, now go to sleep,” he repeated, this time more to himself than to you as he gently pushed you back onto the pillow.

You were already half asleep, a soft smile on your lips as you mumbled something he couldn't puzzle out. Sunghoon stood there for a moment longer, just watching you.

Finally, he turned off the light and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. As he leaned against the wall outside, he let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair.

He was definitely catching feelings for you, and tonight had only made that fact impossible to ignore. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the simple fact that you were safe, and that was all that mattered.

For now.

YOU WAKE UP WITH A POUNDING HEADACHE. Groaning, you reach up to rub your temples, your eyes still squeezed shut against the harsh morning light filtering through the curtains. When you finally dare to open them, the first thing you see is a glass of water and a single pill on the nightstand next to you.

Grateful, you reach for the water and swallow the pill, hoping it’ll take the edge off your hangover. But as you set the glass back down, something feels… off. You blink a few times, trying to clear the fog from your mind. This didn’t look like your bedroom. Where were you?

You sit up slowly, the blanket sliding off your legs as you take in your surroundings. The room is spacious and sleek, with modern, minimalist decor—a far cry from the cozy clutter of your own place. Panic starts to bubble up in your chest as you swing your legs over the side of the bed, your feet meeting the cool hardwood floor.

You stand, wobbling slightly as the room tilts beneath you. After a moment, you steady yourself and start to walk toward the door. The apartment is eerily quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the city beyond the windows. You weren't kidnapped right?

You wander through the hallway, glancing at the modern art on the walls and the polished furniture that looks like it belongs in a high-end magazine. None of it is familiar. Displays of trophies. Your heart pounds faster as you pass by a living room with a sleek black couch and a glass coffee table, everything impeccably neat. Where are you?

Finally, you reach the kitchen, your breath catching in your throat as you see a tall figure standing by the counter, his back to you. He’s dressed casually, a black t-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, his hair slightly tousled like he’s just woken up. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, mingling with the sharp scent of something else—aftershave, maybe.

He turns around, and your heart skips a beat. Sunghoon.

He glances at you, his expression carefully neutral, though you can see the tension in his posture. “You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and measured, as if he’s trying not to sound too concerned.

You blink, still half-convinced you’re dreaming. “Sunghoon?” you whisper, your voice hoarse from sleep. “What… what happened? I was with Yunah and Miyeon…”

He nods, setting down the mug of coffee he was holding. “You were,” he confirms, his tone calm “But you got drunk, really drunk, and I thought it was best you stay here. You were pretty persistent about not telling me your address.”

You stare at him, your mind struggling to piece together the events of the previous night. Flashes of memory come back—calling him, the bar, the lights of the city, his worried face as he helped you into his car. You groan, slapping a hand to your forehead as it all starts to make sense. “Very smart of you, YN..” you mumble to yourself.

“Okay, fine,” you say, crossing your arms defensively. “But I’m still not happy about being brought here without knowing.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter again. “I didn’t exactly have many options, you know. You wouldn’t tell me your address.”

You huff, feeling a little defensive. “Maybe if you didn’t look so much like a stranger, I would’ve!”

He smirks, crossing his arms to mirror your stance. “I told you who I was. It’s not my fault you couldn’t recognize me in your drunk state.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the headache making you more irritable than usual. “Well, maybe next time you should have tried harder.”

“Next time?” he echoes, a playful glint in his eyes. “So, you’re planning to get drunk and forget who I am again?”

You roll your eyes, refusing to back down. “That’s not what I meant. I just… you could’ve left me with Yunah and Miyeon, you know.”

Sunghoon’s smirk fades slightly, and his tone becomes more serious. “They were tipsy too, and I wasn’t about to leave you with them in that condition. You were my responsibility after you called me.”

You bite your lip, realizing he has a point but not willing to admit it. “Well, you didn’t have to be so overprotective.”

He sighs, the amusement slipping from his face. “I wasn’t being overprotective. I was being responsible.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real anger behind it, “Fine, whatever. But you could’ve at least woken me up or something when we got here.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “You were barely conscious by the time we got here. I didn’t think you’d appreciate being woken up just so you could argue with me.”

You open your mouth to retort but realize you don’t have a good comeback. Instead, you huff again and look away, your arms still crossed. “You’re so annoying.”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, shaking his head. “And you’re impossible.”

THE EVENING SKY WAS A DEEP SHADE OF BLUE. the grand hall filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of chatter. Your engagement party was a few weeks later than planned, but no less extravagant.

You stood beside Sunghoon, the two of you playing the part of the perfect couple for the night. He looked effortlessly handsome in a tailored black suit. You were dressed in a stunning gown that flowed like water around you.

Sunghoon leaned in close as you both watched your families mingle and enjoy themselves. “Remember,” he said with a teasing smirk, “don’t drink too much tonight. I don’t think I could survive another night like the last time.”

You elbowed him lightly in the ribs, giving him a mock glare. “Very funny. I’ll have you know I’m fully in control tonight.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. “I’m just looking out for you.”

You opened your mouth to retort but were interrupted by the sound of a spoon tapping against a glass. Your father stood at the center of the room, commanding everyone’s attention with his broad smile and booming voice. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “if I could have your attention, please! It’s time for a toast from the happy couple!”

The guests turned toward you and Sunghoon, their eyes bright with expectation. You felt a flutter of nerves as you stepped forward, taking the microphone that was handed to you. Sunghoon stood beside you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back—a gesture that felt more practiced than genuine.

You took a deep breath and smiled warmly at the crowd. “Thank you all for being here tonight,” you began, “It means the world to us to have our families and closest friends gathered together to celebrate this special occasion. We couldn’t be happier to share this moment with all of you.”

Sunghoon took the microphone next, his voice smooth and confident as he added, “We’re truly grateful for all the love and support we’ve received. We promise to make the most of this journey together, no matter what the future holds.”

There was a round of applause, followed by the clinking of glasses as everyone raised their drinks in a toast. You exchanged a smile with Sunghoon, relieved that the speech was over, but the evening wasn’t done with its surprises yet.

From somewhere in the crowd, a voice called out, “Give her a kiss!” It started as a playful suggestion, but soon others joined in, chanting and encouraging Sunghoon to kiss you.

Sunghoon chuckled nervously, his usual composed expression faltering slightly. “Oh,” he said, turning to you with a hesitant smile. He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “There.”

The crowd groaned in playful disapproval, with some guests booing and others laughing at the display. Your father, always the life of the party, wasn’t about to let it slide. “Come on, Sunghoon! On the lips!”

You froze, feeling the blood drain from your face as the room buzzed with anticipation. Sunghoon looked just as caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly before he forced a smile back onto his face. “Uh, okay…,” he mumbled, clearly out of his depth.

Sunghoon turned back to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment as if silently asking for permission. You gave him a small nod, your heart racing as he leaned in closer. All you could focus on was the feel of his breath against your lips, the scent of his cologne mingling with the faint traces of champagne.

Then, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. It was over before it even began, a brief touch that was more awkward than anything, leaving you both standing there, trying to play it off with polite smiles as the guests erupted into cheers and applause.

But just as you thought the moment had passed, your grandmother’s voice cut through the noise “Y/N! Give him a real kiss!”

Laughter rippled through the room, and you felt your heart sink. This was not part of the plan. You turned to Sunghoon, your eyes wide with a mix of panic and disbelief. He looked just as flustered, his normally calm expression cracking under the pressure.

“Haha…,” you laughed awkwardly, glancing around the room for an escape, but there was none. The guests were all watching, eagerly awaiting the show they’d been promised.

With no other choice, you forced yourself to smile and faced Sunghoon again. “Well…,” you began, trying to sound lighthearted even though your pulse was racing. “Here goes nothing.”

You leaned in, your lips meeting his once more, but this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was slow, lingering longer than the last. Sunghoon stiffened at first, clearly taken aback by your sudden compliance, but then something shifted. You felt it in the way his hand instinctively came to rest on your waist, pulling you just a little closer as he relaxed into the kiss.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Sunghoon pulled back, his eyes searching yours with an expression you couldn’t quite read. He looked almost shocked, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. But he quickly masked it with a smile, a little forced, but enough to appease the crowd.

The guests erupted into applause, their cheers and laughter filling the room as you blinked.

As the celebration continued around you, your gaze caught on a familiar face in the crowd. Youngdae. He was standing off to the side, his eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you. There was something in his expression—something smug, knowing. It sent a chill down your spine.

THE MORNING WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE ANY OTHER—calm, uneventful. You were scrolling through your phone, sipping on your coffee, when a notification caught your eye. At first, you thought it was just another article about the engagement, another gossip piece speculating about your relationship with Sunghoon. But the headline stopped you cold.

“Sunghoon and Y/N’s Relationship is All Fake and Scripted.”

You felt your heart drop into your stomach, the words blurring in front of your eyes. Panic surged through you as you clicked on the link, your mind racing. How did they find out? Who could have known? As the article loaded, your breath caught in your throat when you saw the author’s name.

Youngdae.

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as the reality of it set in. Of course, it was him. You should’ve known he was up to something, but you had been too distracted.

As you read through the article, each line felt like a slap to the face. He had all the details—the fake marriage, the carefully staged moments, even the reasons behind it all. It was as if he had been there, watching every step of the way, waiting for the perfect moment to expose the truth.

Your hands trembled as you scrolled through the comments, each one more vicious than the last. People were calling you a liar, accusing you of playing with their emotions for publicity. The overwhelming wave of hatred and disappointment made you feel sick.

It was all true. Every word of it. The relationship was fake. You knew that from the start, but seeing it laid out like this—so cold, so calculated—made it feel real in a way that shook you to your core.

You set your phone down, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. The buzz of your phone pulled you out of your daze—numerous missed calls from your parents, texts asking you to explain, to do damage control. But you ignored them. Right now, you couldn’t face them. There was only one person you needed to talk to.

Sunghoon.

THE ROAR OF THE ENGINES FILLED THE AIR the scent of burning rubber and gasoline lingering as you stood by the bleachers, watching the cars speed around the track. It felt like déjà vu, standing here again, in the same spot where you first met Sunghoon. Back then, you had watched him win with ease, his car a blur as he crossed the finish line in first place. Today, you found yourself here again, but everything felt different—heavier, uncertain.

As the race continued, your eyes were locked on Sunghoon’s car. You had come here to support him, to clear your mind and maybe, just maybe, find a way to fix everything. But when his car zoomed past, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes briefly met yours, a flash of recognition in his gaze, but then he looked away, ignoring you completely. A cold wave of dread washed over you.

The race was intense, but something was wrong. Sunghoon wasn’t leading like he usually did. For the first time, you watched as he struggled to maintain his position, falling into second place. It was subtle, but you could see the frustration in his driving, the slight hesitations that weren’t characteristic of him. When he finally crossed the finish line, there was no victory in his expression—only a bitter disappointment.

You didn’t waste any time, rushing down the bleachers, making sure to keep your face covered so no one would recognize you. You had to talk to him, had to find out what was going on. As you made your way to the pit area, your heart pounded in your chest, each step feeling heavier than the last.

You found him near his car, his back turned to you as he spoke with his team. He looked different—tense, his shoulders hunched with frustration. When he finally noticed you, his expression hardened, the coldness in his eyes hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with bitterness.

You froze, taken aback by the harshness in his tone. “I… I just wanted to talk,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.

“Talk about what?” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Us?”

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling a knot form in your throat. “About us.”

Sunghoon let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “There is no ‘us,’ Y/N. It’s over, isn’t it? They know, we know—it’s over.”

His words stung, each one like a dagger to your heart. You opened your mouth to protest, to explain, but nothing came out. He scoffed at your silence, his eyes narrowing in anger. Your eyes dart to his bruised knuckles but you don't ask.

“Sunghoon, please,” you tried again, your voice breaking. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

“Why?” he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. “Because this is the reason I got second place! Because I couldn’t focus, because all I could think about was this mess we’re in!”

You felt a sharp pang of guilt, the weight of his words sinking in. “Sunghoon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough!” he cut you off, his voice firm and unyielding. “Just forget it, okay? We don’t know each other. It’s better that way.”

You stood there, speechless, as he turned away from you, his figure retreating into the crowd. 

(EARLIER, FLASHBACK)

PARK SUNGHOON STOOD NEAR HIS CAR, focused and mentally preparing himself for the race. But something was different today, a tension in the atmosphere that he couldn’t quite place.

As he made his way towards the pit lane, his eyes caught sight of a figure approaching. It was a young man, tall and lean, with a smug expression plastered across his face. Sunghoon squinted, trying to place the familiarity of the stranger. The man walked with an air of arrogance.

“Who are you?” Sunghoon asked, his voice cold and clipped, betraying the irritation that was beginning to simmer beneath the surface.

The man stopped in front of him, tilting his head slightly as if considering the question. “Youngdae,” he replied, his tone dripping with mockery. “I’m YN’s ‘close’ friend.”

The words hung in the air, the taunting lilt in Youngdae’s voice making Sunghoon’s stomach churn. His mind raced, trying to recall where he had seen this guy before. And then it clicked. The engagement party. Yunjin’s and…your engagement party. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened at the memory.

“And?” Sunghoon demanded, his voice now laced with suspicion. “What do you want?”

Youngdae smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having. “Oh, I just wanted to let you know,” he started, his tone nonchalant, “that I know everything. And YN… she’s been doing all of this for me. She told me she liked me.”

Sunghoon’s world tilted at those words. His heart stuttered in his chest, “What?” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly would make it true.

Youngdae’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Yeah, she’s been playing you, Sunghoon,” he continued, his voice taunting. “The whole marriage thing? It was just a way for her to escape, to protect me. She’s mine.”

Sunghoon’s blood boiled, his vision narrowing on the man in front of him. Lies. They had to be lies. But the seed of doubt had been planted, twisting and turning in his mind. “Oh really?” Sunghoon muttered, his voice low, dangerous.

Youngdae barely had time to react before Sunghoon’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. Youngdae straightened, wiping the blood from his lip, his smirk only widening.

“Touched a nerve, did I?” Youngdae sneered, stepping forward as if ready for more.

Sunghoon didn’t wait. Another punch.

Finally, with one last kick, Sunghoon sent Youngdae sprawling to the ground, breathing heavily, chest heaving. He stood over the other man, fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles bruised and bloody. But the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

“Congratulations,” Sunghoon spat, his voice thick with emotion. “You got yourself a girlfriend.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Youngdae on the ground. Was it true? Had everything between you been a lie?

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE THE WORLD YOU CAREFULLY CONSTRUCTED CAME CRASHING DOWN. The memories of that awful day played on a loop in your mind, leaving you exhausted and drained. You spent countless hours crying, the weight of Sunghoon’s words crushing you. Miyeon and Yunah sat by your side, their attempts to comfort you. They tried everything—funny stories, your favorite movies, even bringing you your favorite snacks—but nothing seemed to help.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was a mess of his own. The usually confident and composed Formula 1 driver was now a stressed for the past week etched deeply into his features. He had barely slept, and when he did, his dreams were haunted by images of you—your smile, your laugh, and the pain in your eyes when he had turned his back on you. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was all he could think about.

He was sitting with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. Heeseung glanced at Sunghoon, noticing the way his friend had been uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze unfocused as he stared off in the distance. Heeseung finally broke the silence, his tone cautious, “So… you ended things with YN?”

Sunghoon let out a long, heavy sigh, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “Yeah,” he muttered, the word filled with regret. “She was just using me to get some guy named Youngdae.”

Jake raised an eyebrow at that, his skepticism clear. “Her? Use you?” There was disbelief in his voice, as if the idea itself was absurd.

Jay, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up with a frown. “Did you not read the article?” he asked, his tone serious. “The author is Youngdae. He’s the one who exposed your fake relationship or whatever.”

Sunghoon blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. “What?” he muttered, confusion lacing his voice. He straightened in his seat, pulling out his phone with shaky hands. His fingers fumbled as he searched for the article, the one he had tried so hard to avoid reading because he thought he already knew the truth.

When the article loaded on his screen, he read it carefully, his eyes scanning every word, every sentence. As the pieces started to fall into place, his heart began to race. The tone of the article, the subtle jabs at both you and him, the not-so-subtle gloating—everything screamed of someone with a personal vendetta. Youngdae. The man who had approached him before the race, taunting him, planting seeds of doubt in his mind. Sunghoon’s eyes widened as realization hit him like a freight train.

“It was all a lie,” he whispered to himself. He looked up at his friends, his expression one of dawning horror. “She wasn’t using me. Youngdae set the whole thing up.”

Heeseung, Jay, and Jake watched as the realization washed over Sunghoon, each of them exchanging worried glances. “Yeah, it looks like that asshole was trying to mess with you both,” Jay said, his voice calm but firm.

Sunghoon’s thoughts were a whirlwind as he pieced everything together. The way Youngdae had approached him, the lies he’d told, the article designed to twist the truth and drive a wedge between you two. How could he have been so blind?

“Shoot,” Sunghoon cursed under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I need to talk to her.”

YOU SIGHED, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket as you followed Yunah and Miyeon through the bustling crowd. The roar of excited fans and the distant rumble of engines filled the air, a constant reminder of where you were—somewhere you hadn’t wanted to be. Yunah had practically dragged you here, insisting that Sunghoon wouldn’t be part of the lineup today. “Just come along for the fun,” she had said. “It’ll be a good distraction.” And you had reluctantly agreed.

But as you found your seat and the contestants started to make their way onto the track, your heart nearly stopped. There he was. Sunghoon, as he strode confidently towards his car, the cheers of the crowd rising in volume.

“You lied, Yunah,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at your friend.

Yunah winced, offering you a sheepish smile. “Oops. Guess I got that wrong.”

Miyeon chuckled, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Well, you’re not leaving now. We paid for these tickets!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to push down the pain that had been gnawing at you for days. It wasn’t easy seeing him after everything, the memories of your last encounter still fresh and raw. But you couldn’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat when his eyes met yours. For a fleeting moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to return it, instead looking away quickly, focusing on the crowd.

The race was intense, the final race of the season. whoever won this race would be crowned the champion. Your eyes followed Sunghoon’s car as it sped around the track. You could feel your chest tightening with each passing lap, the anticipation building as he edged closer to victory.

And then, in a blur of speed and adrenaline, Sunghoon crossed the finish line first. The crowd erupted in cheers, the energy electric as the realization set in—he had won. Again.

Sunghoon stepped out of his car, triumphant, the smile on his face broad and genuine as he accepted his trophy. But then, to your surprise, he grabbed the microphone, his voice booming through the speakers.

“This is my fourth year being the champion of this season,” he began, his tone proud but also tinged with something else—something softer. “Thank you, everyone, for your support. It means the world to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hoping the moment would pass quickly, but then his words took an unexpected turn.

“And to those who don’t think YN and I are together… we are,” Sunghoon continued, his eyes searching the crowd until they found you. Your breath hitched as he held your gaze. “And I love her. I truly do. I think it’s the way she laughs or smiles. It’s just the way she gives me butterflies. A composure I can’t hold when she’s with me.”

Your eyes widened, confusion and shock swirling in your mind. What was he doing? Was this some kind of joke? But his expression was serious, sincere, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before.

“I’m sorry, YN,” he said through the mic, the words raw and honest. Before you could process what was happening, you felt hands on your back—Yunah and Miyeon were pushing you out of your seat, urging you forward.

“Go on!” Yunah whispered excitedly, while Miyeon giggled beside her.

You were practically shoved onto the track, and suddenly, you were standing in front of Sunghoon. The world seemed to blur around you, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as all you could focus on was him—just him.

Sunghoon’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He stepped closer, lowering the mic, his voice now just for you. “YN, I’m sorry for everything. For just leaving you with no explanation. I let my insecurities get the best of me, and I almost lost you because of it. But I swear, that’s never going to happen again.” You stared at him, confusion on your face.

“ I pieced it all together, and I realized how wrong I was. I was stupid, and I’m so sorry. But I love you, YN. I love you more than I can put into words. And I want us to be official, for real this time.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions washing over you. It felt surreal, like a dream you were afraid to wake up from. “Actually?” you whispered, needing to hear it again, needing to know this was real.

“Actually,” Sunghoon confirmed, a small, hopeful smile on his lips.

A smile slowly crept onto your face as you felt the last of your doubts melt away. “Well… I love you too,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

And then, before you could say another word, Sunghoon leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as his lips moved against yours.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Sunghoon’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know,” he began, his voice teasing, “when you were drunk a few weeks ago, you kissed me on the lips.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you asked.

“I was just waiting for this moment,” he replied with a grin, pulling you into another kiss as the crowd cheered around you, their applause now a distant echo.

THE CITY WAS ALIVE WITH A SOFT GLOW. Sunghoon drove through the city. You sat beside him, your hand resting comfortably on his as the cool night air streamed in through the open window, brushing against your skin and sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

The world outside was quiet, peaceful, a perfect contrast to the whirlwind of excitement that had surrounded you both ever since the news broke. Everyone knew now—about the engagement, the wedding plans, the future that was waiting for you both just around the corner.

Sunghoon glanced over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he admired the way the moonlight highlighted your features, making you look even more ethereal.

At every green light, he would lean over, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. His lips were soft, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter, before he would pull away with a grin, only to repeat the sweet gesture at the next light.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” he murmured, his voice low as his fingers intertwined with yours, giving your hand a light squeeze.

You smiled, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you looked over at him. “You always say that,” you teased, but the warmth in your voice showed how much you loved hearing it.

“It’s because it’s true,” he replied softly, leaning in for another kiss as the light turned green. This time, the kiss lingered a little longer, his lips moving tenderly against yours.

When he pulled back, a grin on his face that matched your own. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispered.

“Me neither,” you whispered back, leaning in for one more kiss.

[junrenjun]

but even after this, you're still everything to me

choi seungcheol x reader, formula 1 au

genre: heavy angst

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem reader, enemies to lovers, misogyny, death threats

a/n: another request by @straykidsstanforeverandever. lot's of heavy f1 jargon and such in this. if you aren't super in tune with f1, there may some references you don't understand. read with caution. title is a lyric from the grudge by olivia rodrigo.

Imola has always been one of your least favorite tracks to drive. And after today, you never want to come near it again. Maybe you’ll fake an illness when the time comes around next season. It would be nice to let the development drivers get some real racing time and you wouldn’t have to drive this cursed track again. 

A voice in your ears distracts you from the little pity party you’ve started in your brain. “Are you okay y/n?” 

Your race engineer’s question reminds you that your radio is being publicized on live television right this moment. Sighing, you quickly respond, “yeah Will, I’m fine. Today’s just not my day.”

The answer is half-hearted, but the man knows better than to question you right now, when you’re being recorded. He settles with, “okay, red flags are out for you. You can hop out of the car when you’re ready.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But life is tough and Formula 1 is tougher, so you undo your belts and pull yourself out of the car. You take a minute to inspect your blown out tire, before taking your helmet off. Marshals surround you, asking if you are alright, but you brush them off. You just want to be back in your driver’s room already. 

The journey back to the paddock is a painful one, both mentally and physically. Your knee is throbbing from where it hit against the side of the car on impact. You pray the cameras don’t pick up your limp. It takes all of your energy not to cry when you see the pitying expressions of the rest of the McLaren crew. Another potential win out the window, just like that. 

The rest of the race passes by in a flash. Between going to medical as per your trainer’s request (the cameras did in fact pick up the limp) and changing out of your race suit, you only catch the last three laps. One of the Mercedes cars wins by practically a mile. And it’s fucking Choi Seungcheol of all people. 

You have half a thought to turn the TV in your driver’s room off the second he crosses the finish line, but you don’t. You’re itching to hear whatever dumb thing he says in his interview today. The man is a walking PR nightmare. 

Sure enough, the camera is chasing after him the second he steps out of the car. After a few second water break, he turns to the interviewer, who asks him, “Great win today Seungcheol. You worked your way up from 5th to 1st within a few laps today. How does that feel?”

“It feels great. I mean I couldn’t have done it without y/n’s tire of course…”

You turn the TV off, cutting him off the second he mentions your name. Slumping back even more on the couch, you throw an arm over your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. Whatever possessed you to choose a male dominated sport?

You’re thrown out of your thoughts once again by a voice from your doorway. “At least it was kind of a compliment, eh?”

When you peek out from under your arm, Oscar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. You remove your arm from your face, scooting farther down the couch and patting the spot next to you. The Aussie moves to join you. 

After a few moments of silence you turn to face him. “You made it back to the paddock pretty fast.”

It’s his turn to groan this time. “I retired 7 laps from the end. Engine failure. I was in 3rd.”

You hum, wistfully. Then turn to look out the window. “Bad day to be Papaya, I guess. Think we can convince Jungwon and Pato to take our places at Imola next season? I think I have PTSD from this track now.”

Oscar simply snorts in response. For the small amount of time remaining before you have to face the nightmare that is media duty, you simply enjoy sulking together. 

A little less than a week later, you’re standing on one of your all-time favorite tracks: Monaco. Your mood now is starkly different than it was at Imola. You’re practically bouncing on your heels waiting for FP1 preparations. Jungwon is by your side, instructed by your team principal to “learn from the best,” since he’ll be driving here for F2. 

The kid is clearly a little nervous, but he’s endearing and a pretty decent driver, so you don’t mind. You’ve already gone over the track layout with him, giving him tips for certain corners and telling him where he can make up extra time. There’s not much feedback left to give until you see him drive in person, so you resort to small talk.

As you both walk up and down the pit lane, Seungcheol saunters up to you. You resist the urge to walk away, trying to keep a good display of sportsmanship in front of your junior driver. The Mercedes driver however, clearly does not care, because he says, “is this your replacement after the Imola incident y/n?”

Jungwon, bless his soul, looks mortified. It takes everything in you to not fire a sarcastic remark back. You’re both saved from the awkwardness by Oscar though, who steps in between you and Seungcheol. He clears his throat and tells you, “Andrea is looking for you. I’ll take Jungwon for now.”

You know Andrea is most likely not looking for you. You saw him ten minutes ago when you left the garage. Thank god for Oscar’s ability for thinking on the spot. Now you have some personal time to cool off before free practice.

Both Jungwon and Oscar watch as you jog back to the garage. The Aussie lets out a relieved sigh once you are back safely. He turns to make sure Seungcheol has walked away. Thankfully, he has. 

The younger driver looks at the other quizzically. “I didn’t really realize the rivalry was actually real. I thought it was an act for the cameras.”

Pushing around a stray rock with the toe of his shoe, Oscar sighs again. “Would you believe me if I said they were teammates once?”

Jungwon’s jaw practically unhinges from his face with how far it drops. The kid is probably too young to know them in any capacity other than their rivalry. “But they hate each other…” he muses aloud.

Oscar urges the kid to keep moving along the track with a hand on his back. “Yeah, well they used to not hate each other. They were F2 teammates. It’s none of my business to tell you everything that went down but something happened that year. By the end of the championship they wouldn’t even speak to each other.” 

Jungwon nods in response, but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear that Oscar won’t give up much information, so he drops the subject. But every once in a while, his mind turns back to it. What could’ve been so bad that you guys couldn’t even talk to each other as teammates? If it was some sort of on-track collision he’s sure it would’ve been talked about in the media constantly. Now he’s really going to have to find out. 

And there’s no one better to consult than his own teammate, Lee Chan, who happens to be in the Mercedes Junior Driver Programme.

“You want me to do what?” he asks incredulously. “He’s my mentor, I’m not going to bring that up. Are you dumb?”

“Dude, aren't you curious too?” Jungwon questions.

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Yeah I’m curious but not curious enough to risk my spot in this program just to ask Choi Seungcheol why he has rivalry with y/n.” 

“You don’t even have to ask him directly,” Jungwon tells him. “I asked Oscar about it, not y/n. Maybe you can ask George or Jeonghan about it.”

Chan throws his hands up in exasperation. “Oh even better, not only do I involve two of the biggest names in Formula 1, I involve one of their trainers and their teammates. What a genius idea!”

Jungwon covers Chan’s mouth as quickly as he can. They’re still in the paddock after all. “Dude keep it down.” 

The man just stares back at the McLaren junior driver, who sighs and says, “listen, I’ll try my best to get something out of y/n too. It’s not just you doing something.”

“Yeah that’s so motivating Jungwon,” Chan says sarcastically.

“Okay, okay,” he finally lets up. “I’ll pay for all of your afterparty drinks this weekend if you figure something out.”

This is motivating enough for Chan apparently, because he reaches his hand out for Jungwon to shake. They come to an agreement and part ways, heading back to their respective hospitalities.

Chan watches in the Mercedes garage as you set the fastest lap at the very end of Q3. He knows Seungcheol is going to be pissed when he gets back. Not only did you qualify P1, but he only qualified P6. His temper is much worse when he’s mad at both himself and someone else. 

Following Chan’s prediction to a tee, Seungcheol steps out the car practically fuming. He tosses his helmet at Jeonghan, who, as his trainer, is quite used to his behavior at this point and catches it. He marches right up to Toto, who is watching a replay of your final lap, and says, “she should’ve had a track limit violation at the chicane.”

Toto turns to him, surprisingly calm, and simply tells him, “She didn’t cut the corner enough to incur a limit violation.”

This is not the answer he wanted to hear, so he turns on his heel to stomp off to his driver’s room. Toto shouts at him from over his shoulder. “Take Chan with you. If you’re going to overanalyze every single mistake you made, at least someone should learn from it.”

Seungcheol whips his head back around to look at Chan, who nervously gulps. He wants to be mad at the kid, but he can’t find a reason to when he’s practically shaking like a leaf. Clearly he didn’t want to be thrown into this situation either. “C’mon,” he mutters and gestures at the junior driver to follow him. 

Back in his driver’s room, he unzips his suit, tying the arms around his waist before plopping down on the couch. When he looks up, the kid is still hovering by the door. Grabbing his iPad from the table, Seungcheol gestures for him to come sit down.

But Chan hesitates. “I can leave you alone, you know? I won’t tell Toto.” 

Seungcheol just rolls his eyes and gestures to the couch again. “C’mon kid. As much as I hate him right now, he’s right. You might as well learn from this and you’re already here.”

Chan makes his way to the couch rather cautiously and sits as far away as possible from the man, who is scrolling through the footage from qualifying. Without even looking over at him, Seungcheol says, “you can sit closer. I’m not going to bite.”

Not wanting to make him mad, Chan scoots a few inches closer. When he looks over at the iPad again, Seungcheol’s fingers are hovering over a video. He hasn’t clicked on it yet. He just sits there and stares at it. When Chan looks a little closer, he can make out your car in the thumbnail. 

Seungcheol clears his throat, looking away for a second. And then he turns back to Chan and says, “is it…uh okay if we watch y/n’s lap first?”

The question kind of stuns him. He was expecting Seungcheol to avoid any reminder of you at all costs. Scared that his voice will betray him, he just nods.

Seungcheol clicks on the video and they watch. The video is on mute and there’s no commentary from either of them. Just silence. As the lap ends, he pauses the video and whispers, “that was a good lap.”

Chan is even more surprised now. He was expecting a frustrated sigh or any sort of mean comment. But he doesn’t get any of that. Now, Chan’s scared that it’s a setup. That he’s trying to get him to agree just to berate him for it. He doesn’t know what to say.

Seungcheol senses that he’s not going to say anything and takes it upon himself to start the conversation. “She’s always been good at Monaco. Even since the first time she drove the track.”

This has really piqued Chan’s interest. Since her first time? Seungcheol was there the first time she drove Monaco? That had to be what? F2?

And then it dawns on him. Jungwon said something about them being teammates in F2. Hoping that the information is public knowledge (it should be, practically their whole racing lives are on Wikipedia) Chan decides to ask about it. “Was that when you were teammates?” He cringes the second the words come out of his mouth. Jungwon owes him big time.

While Chan was expecting him to look angry, Seungcheol just looks at the iPad dejectedly. “Yeah. At Prema. Do you…know about that whole thing?” he asks the boy.

Jackpot. Seungcheol willingly talking about it? He’d never thought this would happen. Then Chan remembers he actually has to respond to him. “Uhm, no I don’t think so. Jungwon said you guys were more…amicable back then.”

“Jungwon’s your teammate at MP?” he asks Chan, who nods in response. Then, Seunghcheol throws a curveball at him. “You’re not attracted to him right?”

Chan sputters at the question. “What? What does this have to do with anything?” When he looks Seungcheol in the eyes he’s dead serious. So he humors him. “No, I’m not attracted to Jungwon. I’m not even gay.”

Seungcheol just nods. “Okay, good. I mean good that you’re not attracted to him. There’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

This is getting weirder by the second. Chan gives him a questioning look. Why the personal questions?

Exasperatedly, Seungcheol sighs and says, “I don’t want to tell you this if it’s too relatable. I don’t want to scare you and make you not pursue a relationship because of something that happened to me.”

Chan is finally starting to put the pieces together. Then the light bulb goes off and he shoots out of his seat. “You and y/n were together?” he practically shouts.

The older driver drags him back down to his seat and shoves a hand over his mouth. “Be quiet, would you?” Then he releases Chan and slumps back against the couch. “I wouldn’t call it together. We weren’t dating, we knew that F1 would ultimately cause heartbreak for the both of us. We were just messing around. But we were exclusive, I guess.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just nods and waits for him to continue. “It was stupid and we both knew it. Especially y/n. She knew that if we got caught, it would affect her career more than mine. Even if we both knew that she was a better driver than I was. This sport isn’t kind to women.”

Seungcheol looks like he might cry. It’s so different from the Seungcheol that Chan witnessed 15 minutes ago in the garage. He doesn’t know what to do. He frowns and lets the man finish his story. 

“Y/n was a part of the Red Bull Junior Team at the time. She had been promised an F1 seat within 3 years if she won the championship. I was in the Mercedes Academy at the time too. So we attended a lot of F1 events together. And I was stupid enough to drag her to makeout in a hidden corner of the paddock at one of them.”

He paused, like the next part of the story would pain him to say. “A member of the press caught us. We both knew we were so screwed. He could easily out us right that second or even use it to blackmail us. Luckily Angelo from Prema was there with us that weekend and helped us negotiate with the man. Turns out this press guy is a big fucking misogynist because the final deal was that he wouldn’t out us if he could tell Christian Horner about our relationship. Said he ‘didn’t want no bitches in Formula 1.’ Prick.”

“Christian kicked her out of the junior program when he found out. He’s also a misogynist. I’m glad she didn’t end up there. He told her that he prefers people who win championships through dedication, not those who sleep to the top. But instead of being mad at him or the press guy, she was mad at me. She told me that I ruined her career. That she would never get into Formula 1 because of me. So she never spoke to me again unless it was at work.”

Chan looks at him skeptically. “But her career turned out fine.”

Seungcheol just shrugs. “Exactly.”

Chan is even more confused now. Understandably, you were upset by this whole situation. But why is Seungcheol a dick to you now? “But the whole rivalry? You seem to have started the hostility in that. Not her.”

The man sighs. “Her career turned out fine, Chan. But she continued to be mad at me.”

It’s starting to click in his brain. “So you’re mad at her because she never forgave you?” Chan asks. 

All Seungcheol says is, “bingo.”

They’re interrupted by Jeonghan knocking on the door and letting the F1 driver know that he’s due in a few minutes for media duties. Seungcheol leaves Chan on his couch without another word. 

“You’re buying my drinks in Barcelona too,” Chan tells Jungwon the second he opens his hotel room door.

Jungwon gapes at him. “What? We only agreed to the afterparty,” he says as the boys walk further into the room, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Yeah well that was if I got you any information. I got you the whole fucking story, dude.” Jungwon’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he immediately starts asking about it. Chan recounts Seungcheol’s monologue to the best of his abilities. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Jungwon says once he’s finished, flopping down on his bed. “It’s like the opposite of enemies to lovers.”

Chan rolls his eyes at his teammate. “It’s sad, Jungwon. Y/n lost her future job and Seungcheol at the same time. And now they can’t even be civil with each other because they’re holding grudges.”

Jungwon mulls over his words for a minute. “Maybe I’ll ask y/n about it when she’s drunk tomorrow.”

“How do you even know she’s going to be drunk tomorrow, Won?” Chan asks his teammate.

He turns to flash a cheshire grin at Chan before plainly stating, “she’s either going to podium and drink to celebrate, or she’s going to do bad and drink to mourn.”

Chan rolls his eyes once again. “Speaking of which, I’m going to bed. No matter how well I do tomorrow, you’re paying for my drinks.” He drags himself out of Jungwon’s room and down the hall to his own.

You and Oscar are sitting at a table in the far back of the club, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the afterparty. Mingyu from Ferrari, his trainer Jungkook, Mark from Red Bull, and Chenle from Aston Martin are also gathered around. You’re enjoying the light conversation, basking in the high of your win.

Mark catches your attention after a minute of you spacing out, pointing toward the closest bar. “Isn’t that your little shadow, y/n?” When you look over you see Jungwon conversing with a blonde kid around his age. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Kind of recognize the kid he’s talking to too. Can’t put a finger on his name though.” 

“That’s his teammate from F2. Lee Chan I think,” Oscar pipes up from across the table. “The kid with the otter helmet.”

A collective “ohhh,” leaves everyone at the table. “I’m going to get another drink,” you tell them. “Might bring the kids back with me.”

Mingyu snickers at you as you leave. “You can’t adopt them all, y/n!” he shouts as you leave. You flip him off behind your back. 

Approaching the bar, you order another drink for yourself and saunter over to where Jungwon is standing. “Hi Wonie,” you say, catching him by surprise as you ruffle his hair a bit. You turn to acknowledge his teammate too. “Hi Chan.”

Chan points back at himself like he’s surprised you know his name. “Is your name not Chan? Oh fuck I’m too drunk for this.” you berate yourself out loud. 

“Uh no ma’am, my name is Chan. Just surprised you know me, that’s all.” he says. 

You giggle a little bit. “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. You’re the kid with the otter helmet, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, before correcting himself. “No, I mean, yes. Yes, I’m the kid with the otter helmet.” You can hear Jungwon cackling at his friend behind you. 

You smile at him again before turning back to Jungwon. “Well I’m heading back to sit with those four dumbasses,” you say, pointing back to your table where Jungkook and Mingyu are arguing over something on Mark’s phone. “You two wanna keep me company so I don’t have to deal with them by myself the entire night?”

Jungwon lights up at the question. “Of course!” he practically shouts, and drags a begrudging Chan by the arm to follow you.

When you reach the table, you pat the empty seat next to you, gesturing for Jungwon to sit. Chan grabs the chair next to Mingyu, who messes with his hair and murmurs something about, “the otter kid.”

Jungwon seizes his opportunity ten minutes later, when Mingyu and Oscar are engrossed in a conversation with Chan, Jungkook has gone to the bathroom, and Mark and Chenle are on a video call with Mark’s boyfriend.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with Chan being here,” he says to you as quietly as possible, while still trying to be louder than the music. 

Your eyebrows scrunch at the comment, clearly confused. “Why?” you ask him.

You follow his eyes as they search around the crowd. They land on Seungcheol. Still facing your rival, he says, “Chan is a Merc Junior. Seungcheol is his mentor.”

Letting your eyes wander back to Jungwon, you steel your face into something more serious. “Jungwon, just because Chan is being mentored by a driver I hate doesn’t change my opinion of him.”

“You really hate him?” Jungwon asks. “I understand you guys don’t like each other for whatever reason, but hate is a strong word, right?”

You sigh at him. “Hate is in fact a strong word Jungwon,” is all you say and you leave it at that.

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he decides to push his luck again. “...Chan said you guys used to be really close. When you were in F2 like us.” 

“Yeah,” is all you say in response. The conversation is just barely hanging on by a thread.

“I don’t want me and Chan to end up like that.” It’s kind of a low blow, he thinks, especially when you’re a little drunk, but it works. You turn to him with sad eyes and reach out to rub his hand comfortingly. 

You whisper so lowly, Jungwon can barely hear it. “You won’t end up like us, Wonie. I promise.”

The near tears in your eyes have him getting emotional too. All signs are showing that Seungcheol’s story is likely true. One last test to find out. “Why not?” he asks.

The tears are getting closer to spilling over and you turn your head to blink them away. While you’re still facing away, you mumble, “your relationship isn’t like ours. At least I hope it’s not.”

Hook. Line. Sinker. Jungwon’s got it now. Seungcheol was definitely telling the truth. He feels a little guilty about prying it out of you like that, but you seem to have sobered up with the conversation. Oscar’s voice breaks both of you out of your little bubble. “Y/n, everyone is going to head back to the hotel soon. You ready?”

You nod vigorously at the man, probably to hide the fact that there are tears in your eyes. You hop off your chair, grabbing your bag and your phone. Then, you lean down to ruffle Jungwon’s hair a bit. “Goodnight Wonie. You and Chan be safe tonight please.”

After bidding everyone else goodbye in the lobby, you and Oscar take the elevator up to your floors. Oscar’s room is one floor beneath yours, so he says goodnight with a comforting hug and a congratulations on the win. As you ride the elevator up once more, you think back to your conversation with Jungwon. Next time you see Seungcheol, you need to tell him to keep his mouth shut.

The elevator doors open and you turn to head to your room. You see a familiar flash of blonde hair round the corner. What convenient timing. You pick up your pace and grab his sleeve, and he whips around with a deadly look in his eyes. It only slightly softens when he realizes it’s you. You shoot him an equally deadly look back. “You want to tell me why my mentee was asking me questions about our relationship?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” is all he says. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid Cheol. You know Jungwon and Chan are teammates. What did you tell Chan?” As much as he wants to hate you right now, his heart can’t help but skip a beat when you call him Cheol. It’s been so long since you’ve called him that. 

“I didn’t tell Chan anything. Why would I tell him about anything other than racing?” he counters back.

It’s not believable enough for you, so you push. “Jungwon said something about Chan knowing we were close in F2.” 

Seungcheol, tired and wanting to just go to bed, tries to pull his sleeve out of your grip, but you relent. “You can look that up on the Internet y/n. Would you please let me go to bed?”

“No Seungcheol. This concerns both of us. He was asking all the right questions. If you told Chan about us, there’s no guarantee he keeps it to himself. He clearly already told Jungwon.”

He finally frees his sleeve from your grasp. “Can we at least take this somewhere private?” he whispers. You nod and he pulls you down the hall. He’s taking you to his room, you realize and the thought makes you sick.

Once safely inside of his room, he turns back to you with a fire in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this if you forgave me.” It’s not the words you were expecting to hear, but they also don’t surprise you. 

You try your best to compose yourself. “You ruined my career Seungcheol. Of course I never forgave you.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I clearly did not ruin your career. Look at yourself right now. You’re getting paid more than me. You’re way ahead of me in the championship. Your career is perfectly fine.” This comment starts what is basically a slightly hushed screaming match. 

“I had to fight my way in and got lucky with McLaren. I had a guaranteed seat at RB and you know that.” 

“You know it’s for the best that you didn’t end up there.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

“What was I supposed to do, y/n. I couldn’t have stopped that press guy, I couldn’t have stopped Christian from releasing you, I couldn’t have controlled any of this. But you were the one that stopped talking to me. Just because we cut things off doesn’t mean I had to deal with radio silence for the next year.”

You pause, thinking over what you’re about to tell him. “I had to.”

He crosses his arms and he straightens his posture. “Bullshit.”

“I had to because of the press guy,” you tell him, urgently. 

“We took care of him, y/n,” he deadpans at you. He’s getting uncomfortable with the conversation now. He can’t sit still. 

Tears well in your eyes at the thought of releasing your biggest secret to the man you once loved. “He’s your fucking superfan Seungcheol. He’s been following you since your karting days, like a creep. That’s why he found us in the paddock that day. He was following you. And when he saw us together he took it as an opportunity. He saw me as a threat to your career. He didn’t just get rid of my Red Bull seat. He threatened me for months after through phone calls and emails, saying that if he ever saw me talking to you, he would end my career for good this time.” 

The tears in your eyes have finally spilled. Seungcheol’s heart breaks, both at your words and at the sight of you crying. After a minute of gaping at the revelation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He rests his chin on top of your head as he lets you sob into his chest. 

“He,” you stutter, “he told me that if I didn’t let you win the F2 championship, he would kill me. That’s why I crashed at Baku and didn’t podium the rest of the year.” You rest your head back against his chest and sob again, harder this time.

Seungcheol reaches up to slowly stroke the back of your head, trying to calm you down. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

He already knew everything was his fault, but this makes it so much worse. People were threatening to kill you because of him? Suddenly, it dawns on him. How much of an absolute dickhead he’s been. For years he’s been pretending to hate you, throwing mean comments at you, picking fights with you, all while you were trying to protect yourself. “Why did you play along?” he asks.

You don’t look up. Instead, you just let out a questioning hum into his chest.

“The rivalry,” he says. “Why did you play along with it if you didn’t really hate me?”

“It’s good for publicity” you joke. There’s the y/n he knows and loves. Loves. He hasn’t thought about you like that in a long time. Now that he knows the truth, he wants you back in his life so bad. But he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Is the guy still threatening you? Is that why you played along?”

You shake your head. “No. I was trying to negotiate for a bodyguard in my McLaren rookie contract and Andrea asked why. I didn’t want to tell him, but I had to. It would’ve gotten out eventually I think, had Andrea not had him arrested.”

“But why y/n? I’m still trying to understand why you didn’t tell me this. Why did you make it seem like you hated me too?”

You finally look up at him again, brave enough to make eye contact once more. “I thought it was too late to tell you. I had already lied to you, ignored you. That’s not the best way to come back into someone’s life.”

“It was for your own safety. I would’ve understood that,” he tells you softly. Your eyes are bloodshot and the area underneath them is puffy. His heart aches. This is all because of him. 

You shake your head again. “I didn’t think like that at the time. And you had already brought the rivalry into the media. Of course I would be mad at you when you were talking shit about me to the press.”

It’s not a guilt trip on purpose, but it still hits him where it hurts. “Ok, y/n. I get it. I’m a dick.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” you mumble, helplessly.

Silence overtakes you both. Despite the circumstances, it’s not an uncomfortable one. Just two people mulling over their thoughts. Eventually, he breaks it with a whisper of “I miss you.” 

You whisper back an “I miss you too.” It’s real and genuine. You don’t say it because you feel like you have to. You say it because you want to. You hope he can pick up on that. 

He does. His forehead comes to rest against yours as his hand strokes your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips and you hold your breath. As his lips find yours, you feel years of tension release. A stray tear runs down your face and he brushes it away with his thumb. He pulls away.

“Do you,” he breathes out, “do you want to try again?” All you can do is nod in response. 

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 6 - Ok It’s Happening! Everyone Stay Calm!

This chapter is going to span Tuesday night into Wednesday night. Nothing really happens in between the initial post and family dinner, so I tried to add some things to fluff it up. You finally get to read a bit of reader-lore. The next chapter, “Family Dinner,” will be posted Wednesday night. Enjoy and don’t forget to comment to be added to the tag list :D 

Arthur had to leave early Monday morning. You were sad, but were thankful that he was able to come spend a few nights with you. You almost forgot why you were in London in the first place. 

Oh yeah, to become one of the best freaking F1 drivers there ever were. You could see the TikTok edits now. You hoped there would be at least one with an Olivia Rodrigo song in the background. Or maybe Taylor Swift? The possibilities were endless. 

You were able to drive the car a few more times in the span of Monday and today. You really felt like you were becoming more familiar with it. One of the last times, they put you into the RB-19, just to get a feel for it for Vegas. 

Speaking of Vegas, something popped up on your Instagram that you just had to share with Vito. 

“Hey Vito, can you find me someone to marry while I’m in Vegas?” you nonchalantly asked while the two of you were having breakfast. He nearly spit out his orange juice. 

“Excuse me?” he responded while wiping his mouth with the nice cloth napkin. The brunch place was very high end. You ended up getting pancakes though, while Vito got something you didn’t even want to try to pronounce. 

“Well, there’s this Formula 1 wedding chapel, and I thought, how cool would it be to get married there while it’s up? So, I thought I’d ask to see if you could find me someone.” 

Vito took a deep breath before massaging his brow. He was “this close” to quitting. But he would never do that to you. Instead, he said, “Kid. You cannot get married in Vegas.” 

He thought you would have put up more of a fight, but you just shrugged and stuffed your mouth full of another bite of pancake. He shook his head as he tried to take another sip of his drink. The breakfast went well after that. You didn’t try to bring it up, but somehow, you would find your way to this chapel. Even if you weren’t going to get married. 

As the two of you walked out of the building, you angled your body to Vito. “So, what do I have to do?” 

He looked at his phone, “So you have to approve your helmet. And then we have to take some pictures for your post tonight. Tomorrow we have a flight to catch that will take us to Vegas. After, you will get settled at the hotel and then eat dinner with the team.” 

“Geez, that seems like a lot doesn’t it?” You opened the driver door to your vehicle. Vito had said that it was your time to drive. You wanted to argue that every other waking moment was spent behind the wheel, but you knee that he wanted to be the passenger princess for once. He said that was not the case as he couldn’t handle you picking Country Girl by Luke Bryan one more time.

He said he even heard the song in his dreams. 

You thought that was total madness. How could someone get tired of Luke Bryan. Maybe Daniel would listen to it with you at some point, if the two of you got close enough. Vito had walked around the car, got in, and started to buckle. 

Using the button to start the car, the engine came to life. You carefully backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road. Per the request of the Vito and Mitch, you were to return to RB to go over some last-minute paperwork and things of that nature. 

Since the drive was so familiar by now, the time seemed to fly by even faster. You knew what you were doing. It was crazy to think that just last week, you were winning your F2 championship with no future plans. And now you were pulling up to headquarters like it was just another Tuesday. 

Time was weird like that. 

At the building, you almost cried when you saw your helmet. You wanted to make a joke, but decided against it. You could do that later over the radio in free practice one. It was everything that your little F1-loving heart ever wanted. The white and silver had a great contrast. But your favorite part was the glitter. You tried it on and had a couple of pictures taken. You let them know which ones were your favorites. 

You later found yourself in a conference room going over last-minute legal things. Vito made sure that you knew what you were getting into with a multi-year contract and how much it would damage you if you were to break it. You were still 100 percent with it all. You also discussed what picture you wanted to use for their official statement. You picked one that had been taken after your first F2 win of the 2023 season. You sheepishly smiled when they pointed out the Mercedes logo, but you told them that it was there since you had won a sponsorship to help pay for everything. You had no loyalties to the other British team. 

“All right, I think that wraps things up. Any questions, comments, or concerns?” one of the lawyers asked as he packed his things up. 

With multiple shakings of heads, he bid farewell and left the room. 

Now that it was just you, Mitch, and Vito, you spun your chair to face the two of them. You felt like a villain out of a movie as you put your hands together.

“Mitch, did you bring the special thing that I asked for?” you said in a darker tone, wanting to feel mysterious. 

She rolled her eyes as she got up and walked to a clothing bag that was laying on the end of the table. She brought it back over and laid it over your lap. 

You unzipped the bag and stared at the item. It was a vintage Red Bull bomber jacket. Just the sight wanted to make you cry. 

You stood up and carefully put the jacket on. You turned towards Mitch and Vito. 

“How do I look?” you asked. Now you were getting shy. You might be loud with people you were comfortable with, but you always put people’s opinion of you over anything else. They both had comforting smiles. 

“I think you were born to wear that jacket kid,” Vito said, with almost tears in his eyes. 

“Same here Y/n. You truly belong with us,” Mitch said as she gave you a hug. You let a few tears fall when doing so. It had been long since you really felt accepted somewhere. 

With your parents, you constantly wanted their approval, but never got it. That drove you to be the best at everything. People always told you to quit in F4, but you slowly rose above them as you entered F3. There, people told you that you, a girl, did not belong in F3. You were only 15 at the time. 

You proved them wrong as you became the first female to join the ranks of F2 two years later. You spent 3 years fighting for your hard earned right to be there. It got easier with the help of friends, but you always wanted more. One more chance to prove yourself. And you got that with the F1 seat. 

“Could we take a few pictures for me to post later?” Mitch and Vito agreed. You three found a nice spot on a hidden balcony. It basically looked like you were on the sidewalk, but you wouldn’t take that risk. It was too close and you had people right where you wanted them. 

You had grabbed an iconic can of Red Bull on your way out and cracked it open to pose with it. It took a good 30 minutes for you to get the pose correctly. 

While going through those photos, you spoke up. 

“Did you know that my first kart had the Red Bull logo on it. I loved that thing, even if I crashed it multiple times.” You chuckled at the memories. 

“What goes around comes around,” Vito muttered as he went through the photos. 

“Reminds me of that Taylor Swift sound on Tik Tok. It’s been a long time coming.” 

Mitch gave a playful scoff, “You should use that as your caption.” You hadn’t thought of that! Mitch definitely thought that you wouldn’t, but the look on your face showed her that you really wanted to do it. She, once again, rolled her eyes at your antics. But, she herself was comforted by your easy-going personality. She had only known you for a couple of days, but you were becoming very dear to her. 

You were becoming very dear to everyone. Every worker was amazed at your talent. A few even compared you to Sebastian Vettel and their very own champion Max Verstappen. But Mitch wouldn’t tell you that in fear of scaring you off. It was a big thing to be compared to the two legends, but you didn’t need that pressure on you. You already had been through so much. Vito had let Mitch know before of what has happened with past race strategists. She never wanted to be like what you’ve had to deal with. 

You now were beginning to explain the entirety of why Taylor Swift was re-recording her albums in the first place. Your hands were pointing at invisible objects in the air while Vito just stood and listened. Mitch thought it would be hilarious to see you and Max discuss race tactics. 

There was the Maxsplaining and the Leclerifying. Now you would be Y/n-strating (illustrating but with your name in front). 

“And that is why we don’t like Scooter. We’re gonna come for his ankles before he can come for ours. Mother never told us to be nice to him,” you gestured as you finished your rant. Vito looked bored to death while Mitch was just smirking at the two of you. You wondered what she was thinking about. 

Oh well. She could read your mind but you couldn’t read hers. 

When it got dark, you and Vito headed back to hotel to pack before you were supposed to be at the hotel. Riggs, Lacy, Mitch, and other personnel would be flying out with you. There would be no commercial flight, instead there would be a private plane for everyone. You couldn’t wait, since this would be the first time to fly privately. 

There was really nothing different to it until you actually got on the plane. Security was the same and the private lounge area wasn’t much different than the ones you had already been to. There were fewer seats on the plane, but everyone fit comfortable. 

You were excited that you didn’t have to pay for WIFI on the plane to watch your TV shows. There were a couple of Brooklyn 99 episodes that you hadn’t seen yet. Once those were finished, you told yourself that you’d take a quick nap and wake up way before you landed. 

That was a lie. 

You practically slept the entire way there, and was only awoken by the plane landing. You were excited to be back in the states. You hadn’t been in years. Texas would always be your favorite state though, since you lived there for 5 years when you were in your teens. You had begged Arthur and Ollie to go with you once, but they declined and you ended up not going. You couldn’t wait to drive at COTA. 

The nap really helped as you weren’t exhausted when you got to the hotel. Vito told you though that you had time to sleep before you needed to wake up the next morning. But the nerves were getting to you. 

At 9 a.m. Red Bull would be posting the statement. Which reminded you to do the same. You inhaled sharply as you picked the pictures on your Instagram. You were able to find a picture of your old kart, and you definitely used Mitch’s suggestion for the caption. You tagged Red Bull before posting and turning off your phone. You could deal with everything tomorrow morning when you had gotten a good night’s sleep.  

Well, that good night’s sleep was way too short for your liking. Your alarm sounded way too loud and interrupted the nice dream that you were having. It was something about marrying some dude at the F1 chapel. You just couldn’t get it out of your mind. 

You took a shower to at least feel better. The staleness of the plane air clung to you throughout the night. Should you have showered after sending the world into a panic? Yes. But did you? No. Your phone might as well have combusted last night. Turning on the front screen, there were thousands upon thousands of notifications. You simply swiped left and deleted them all. 

Opening your Instagram, it was worse. Your face was everywhere. Happily, enough, almost everything was a positive outlook. Only a few bad ones stood out, but you knew better than to look. While scrolling, you were interrupted by a face time request from Ollie. You quickly picked up and were met with the sight of his face. With jaw dropped, he just stared at you. 

“Hello to you to?” 

You pulled the phone away from your face as he started screeching. You just listened as he ranted for another 10 minutes before he went silent. 

“You done?” you deadpanned. 

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” 

“Ok good.” You went on to tell him about everything that happened in the past week. He definitely whined when you told him that Arthur knew before he did. He demanded that you tell him next time. And you told him that you hoped that there wouldn’t be a next time. You were determined to stay with Red Bull for as long as possible. 

After the phone call, you kind of just chilled around the room all day. Dinner wasn’t until later and you had time to get ready. 

After watching episodes upon episodes, you saw that you needed to get ready. With your trusty playlist, cans of hair spray, your makeup, and your curling iron – you were ready for the battle that was looking perfect for dinner. 

Each curl had to be calculated, each face product must be weighed to the exact suggested amount. Did you do either? No. 

You just did it how you normally did, and somehow you got it done. You took a quick picture and posted it on your story. The dress you picked was black. A long slit showed just enough leg, while there was only one sleeve. You paired it with some gold heals. You only hoped it wasn’t too much, but you wanted to make a good impression. Vito had gotten the go ahead from Christian beforehand. The restaurant was supposed to be of the upmost hoity-toity-ness and you hoped you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself. 

With a knock on your door, you knew it was time to meet the family.  

(Your story)

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse

[miiilowo]

i am not a olivia rodrigo fan per se but im glad she exists because i feel like teenage girls havent had any Angry Teenager pop rock for the past couple years. depriving teenage girls of this genre is evil and she has come to fill in the niche. the ecosystem can thrive now

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

I loved your peter vs Alastor story, can we possibly get a part two? Like maybe Peter is looking for her and she hears about it through the news or something from missing persons reports. She’s changed her name and Alastor has told her there’s nothing to worry about, but keeps having dreams about Peter finding her? You can choose how it ends!

A/N: I didn’t think people would want a part two to that but since you asked you shall receive! I love writing about Yanderes going against each other it’s so much fun 🤗. I watched the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel and guys i LOVE IT SO MUCH. I’m so glad I waited for this show, and I’m so glad other people are enjoying it as much as I am. Special thanks to @a-bookworms-teashop or also known as @forbidden-sunlight, for helping me with this short story! As per usual we all know I like cliffhangers so expect a part three soon <<33 happy reading & enjoy!

Warnings: violence, obsessive tendencies, mentions of blood, lots of manipulation, talks of mental abuse, lots of dark content ahead!!

Songs you can listen too while reading: Close to you by Rihanna. Slipping through my fingers by ABBA. Desire by Megan Myers. Love on the Brain by Rihanna. Forget her by Jeff Buckley. Meet me in the hallway by Harry Styles. The Grudge by Olivia Rodrigo.

Part 1

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Forget her

Living in New Orleans was nice. People were always so kind, and everyone was so welcoming. Getting a new name was easy, surprisingly. The government didn’t make it hard to run away from psycho ex boyfriends who didn’t know how to take a hint. Living with Alastor was nice. He was always a gentlemen, a gentle man, a good lover too. He made sure to never treat you the way Peter did.

In fact he was quite the opposite with you. Inviting you out to parties with him, keeping you out of the public eye as to not bring the wrong type of attention around. Everything felt like it was starting to get better. He would bring you flowers, take you to work with him even, or work from home. Alastor was nothing short of the perfect boyfriend. In fact he was perfect and more.

But lately, something seemed to have you on edge. He had been fidgety. Checking his phone constantly but always reassuring you with the polite smile. A reassuring one he tried to keep on, but you saw right through. He was hiding something and you wanted to know what.

According to Husk, Peter had since moved out of the apartment he had been living in, with no notice too. He had gone completely ghost. There was no sign of him anywhere, according to your knowledge. It was a Saturday evening when it had all happened. When your intuition had finally proved to be right.

“You said I wouldn’t be seen.” You said, the article about an appearance the two of you had made up on your phone. Alastor was walking through the kitchen, tossing various ingredients into a large pot, his jambalaya coming along nicely.

“ Dear please, there hasn’t been any sign of you for months. I doubt the bastard has even seen it, let alone have any access to technology.” He brushed you off with a chuckle, sliding the ingredients off the cutting board and into the pot. You sighed and put your phone down on the counter. Maybe you were being over paranoid. But ever since reading the article, a chill had ran up your spine that didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. Alastor noticed you looking off to the side, lost in your own mind. He reaches out, hands brushing your sides gently. “Why don’t you take a bath, hm? Ill even set it up for you. What do you say dear?” He asks calmly, a hand on your lower back, ushering you out of the kitchen and past the open living room, making your way down the hall to the bathroom.

“ Alright fine. But we need to talk about this later.” You say, and he responds to you with a kiss on your cheek. You go to your shared bedroom, going through the large walk in closet to find a change of clothes for after your bath. The water is running in the bathroom, the smell of fragrances light on your senses. You make your way back to the bathroom to see Alastor leaning over the tub slightly, candles already lit on the sides of the tub to allow you to relax. There’s your favorite book next to a cup of wine, along with the radio playing light jazz. Everything is perfect, as it should be, and for a moment you can forget the feeling of strained eyes on you. You can forget it all as you’re embraced by a man who loves you. Who truly cares.

“ Take your time darling. I must run out for a bit to get some extra ingredients. Will you be fine without me?” He asks, taking the robe from you as you sink down into the tub, eyeing you carefully, enough to give you butterflies. You smile, one of his favorites and nod, reaching to the side to pick up your glass of wine, the red stains your lips slightly as you pull the cup away.

“I think Ill be okay, thank you love. Be quick please, I might just nap here.” You say jokingly. Alastor smiles, folding your robe up neatly in his hands before nodding to you lightly. He leans down to kiss you, a soft tender kiss, before leaving you in the bathroom alone. It’s when you hear the front door shut that you sigh, now knowing he’s gone. The water is just right, just warm enough on your skin for you to rest your eyes a bit.

A bit turns into an hour, and when you hear a loud glass shatter from the kitchen is when you wake up from your nap. You hadn’t been serious about sleeping in the tub, but mistakes happen. You quickly pull at the drain, the water slowly slipping down as you grab your towel and get yourself dressed, sliding a simple nightgown on before stepping out of the bathroom. “Alastor?” You call, but you’re met with silence. Your vision is hazy, the steam from the water seeming to create some sort of film over your sight, but you manage. Walking down the hall and into the living area, you see a vase shattered on the ground. What you don’t expect to see, is a distraught Peter standing across from you.

“Guess again Baby.” He says with a smile. He sighs and takes in your appearance, eyes completely devouring your appearance. “What are you doing here?” You ask, panic written all over your face.

“How did you find me?” You ask again. Peter tuts at you, standing straight up, revealing just how tall he really was in comparison to you. He has a folder in his hand, one he throws on the floor in between the two of you, and it just barely touches your feet as it slides across the floor. “What is this?” You ask, eyeing him closely. He grins, hands behind his back as he watches you pick up the folder.

“Your perfect boyfriend.” He responds. The pictures inside reveal themselves before you can even process whats going on. Pictures of Alastor and you about in the city. Ones of the two of you at home, the two of you at dinner. Intimate moments, things that were supposed to be private. All laid out right in front of you. A picture of Alastor and you at a friends wedding. His face was burned out of the photo, but you knew who it was. The more photos you looked through the more you found. Magazine clippings of Alastor with you in the town. Paparazzi seeing you both together at parties, dancing around each other like no one was watching but the worlds eyes were on you. Peters eyes were on you.

“He told me-“

“Told you what?” Peter snickered, stepping closer, the broken glass crunching under his feet. You kept going through photos, one right after the other. Then, one really caught your attention. Mimzy. She had been so obsessed with Alastor and how you were no good for him. Now, in front of you was a photo, the two of them with their arms around each other, almost like lovers, but not quite friends. How long ago was this? Why didnt he tell you about this?

“He doesn’t love you. Not the way I do.” Peter said, stepping closer, arms raising for a hug. “ Let’s just go home. We can put this all behind us. I can forgive you.” He said, a smile on his face. He was still the same. He thought he had done no wrong. He lowers his arms when he sees you don’t come closer, but instead reaches for your hands, pulling them to his chest. “What do you need? Money? I can give you that. If- if you want more freedom we can go out! We can do whatever you want-“ He pleaded, eyes begging for yours to look at him. “Please, just come back. He took you away from where you were safe. Now you have everyone judging you, when you don’t need that.” He said, hand cupping your chin to force you to look at him. “Are you really happy here?” He asks.

It feels like time freezes for a moment. Were you really happy? All the press, Alastor always being gone or out at parties. The social events. The liquor, the drugs. The dancers and the crowds of people together. With Alastor, it was always a party. But with Peter, things were different.

With Peter, you were quiet. Alone but without the drugs, the partying and the social interaction. With Peter you really never lifted a finger, not like you physically could. Peter always brought gifts home, even if he was upset with you. He always did laundry, had things neat and tidy, or as much as they could in the small apartment. With Peter, you were taken care of. With Peter, you lived a calm life.

Well, at least that was how he saw it.

With Peter, there was a constant fear surrounding you. Suffocating you. He never let you live, took away your freedom and your life to keep you tied down to him. He had hurt you on multiple occasions, raising a hand to the person he swore to love so dearly. He had threatened to kill your family, your friends, anyone who stood in between the two of you. Peter didn’t love you, no, he was obsessed. Did you really want that life back?

“I.. I am happy here.” You finally said, pulling yourself away from Peter. His eyes looked defeated. He looked, complex. In a matter of seconds his demeanor changed entirely, standing tall in his anger, his pride.

“Happy? Happy with a man who took you from me?!” He yelled, lunging forward and caging you between him and the wall. His eyes looked manic, like something had snapped. It was only then you noticed him reaching into his pocket, glass shard in hand. “I told you what would happen if you ever left.” He said, hand in the air as the shard came down quickly. A slice to your cheek had you sliding down the wall, tears streaming down your face as blood ran down your neck, fingers shakily holding onto yourself for some support.

“Peter please-“ you pleaded with a whisper. Even after all these months away from him he still managed to make you feel so small.

“I see what’s going on.” He said, chuckling a bit. He crouches down, eye level with you now. “He has you completely brainwashed doesn’t he. I’m sure he-“ He stops when he hears the front lock being turned. The door opens to reveal a humming Alastor, eyes shut as he hums a song to himself softly. He turns to lock the door, before turning back around, finally opening his eyes to see the sight of Peter and you on the ground.

Everyone is quiet for a moment. Peter looks panicked, Alastor looks, unreadable, and you look, frightened. Alastor drops the bag of groceries, and before you can process what’s happening there’s a knife being drawn from under his shirt sleeve. Not a large one, but a size big enough to kill a man. To kill Peter. Peter stands quickly, clutching the glass shard in his hand so tight he begins to cut himself. The two meet in the middle, Peter swinging to try to slice Alastors neck. Something about the way Peter misses, the way Alastor inhales sharply. His eyes widen but in a different way. One you’d never seen from him before. There’s a difference in the way his eyes gloss over, the shine in them just a bit brighter than before.

Nothing would ever be the same after tonight.

[the-kr8tor]

Thread The Needle

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 48.6k (complete)

Synopsis: You've been pining for your best friend of ten years, unbeknownst to you he's also hopelessly in love with you. Will your final college project bring you closer and finally admit your feelings? Or will it drive a wedge between you?

Tags: Best friend! Hobie, fashion student! reader, fem! Reader. Best friends to lovers, idiots in love, lots of pining, is it still slow burn if they're already in love? Hurt/comfort, FLUFF. Specific warnings are listed per chapter.

Disclaimer: I have no experience in fashion design or went to school for it. I've based my knowledge on my own research and what I've seen in various media.

*I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

All images used are from pinterest

Main Masterlist

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1 - Pin my heart

CHAPTER 2- Loose thread

CHAPTER 3- Knee Socks

CHAPTER 4- Threadbare

CHAPTER 5- Woven Wheel

CHAPTER 6- Lace

CHAPTER 7- Crossed Stitch

CHAPTER 8- Out of Style

CHAPTER 9- Threaded Through

CHAPTER 10- Parallel Cut

EPILOGUE

TTN one shots (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

Classroom inspo

Chapter 8 outfit inspos

TTN secrets (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Submitted by the readers ❤️

Chapter 8 fanart by @thesevenofstaves

TTN Memes by @hunx147 (Spoiler Warning ⚠️)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Songs recommended by readers to listen to while reading ❤️

Spotify playlist

From the start by Laufey, Chemtrails over the country club by Lana Del Rey, good old fashioned lover boy by Queen, Just a friend to you by Meghan Trainor, I bet on losing dogs by Mitski, Everything in you by adventure time, What a wonderful world cover by the Brooklyn duo, me and your mama by Childish Gambino, A thousand years by Cristina Perry, Tis the damn season by Taylor Swift, thousand years cover by new found glory, Outset island by Hot freaks, Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo.

[paradiseprincesss]

hi!! if ur requests r still open could we get a fic w robert fischer based on deja vu by olivia rodrigo? like maybe reader and robert had like a summer fling but to her it felt like more ykwim 😭 ive kinda been in the mood for some angst lately LOL

btw i love ur fics i start tweaking a lil whenever u post 💀💞

do you get deja vu? | robert fischer

hi anon, first of all thank you! you're so sweet, i really hope you enjoy this & i apologize that it took me so long to post it. i don't know why but i kept revising this fic over and over again. i wanted it to live up to your expectations LOL.

summary: sometimes we don't realize how much things meant to us until we no longer have it.

warnings: smut, p in v, angst, lovers to strangers, robert fucks up lol and now he's forever sad, mdni 18+ only

word count: 2.3k

the city of malibu was breathtaking; every moment spent here was somehow better than the last — how could a place be so beautiful? as you sat in the passenger side of robert's brand new luxury vehicle, you took in the beauty that you were residing in, whilst robert was taking in the beauty of you.

you weren't totally sure how this whole thing happened — but god, did it mean everything to you.

robert had approached you in a bar while you were out with your girlfriends in the city, offering to buy you a drink. one look at his face and you were agreeing because honestly; who would turn down a man like him?

after your friends encouraged you to keep talking to the handsome stranger, who introduced himself as robert, you two just clicked. conversation flowed effortlessly between the both of you, and soon enough, the two of you were going on your first official date.

it was safe to say that robert had charmed you completely, he had you enamoured with him — infatuated, truly. he was a true gentleman, classy and organized, not to mention that he came from money. after a handful of very upscale, fancy, and luxurious dates, the two of you had began seeing each other regularly.

neither of you had put an actual "title," per se, on what you had going on between the two of you, but at this point in time — you didn't see the harm.

so that's the story of how you ended up in robert's luxury car, speeding down the roads of malibu whilst he took you on a weekend getaway here. far, far away from the city you two both resided in.

"i'm craving ice-cream," you said to robert while the two of you were stopped at a red light, "strawberry, specifically."

"what, like right now?" robert asked with a small chuckle, sighing as he admired your breathtaking beauty underneath the heat of the malibu sunshine.

"yes, like right now."

"okay, let's go get some then." robert decided, his baby blue eyes melting your heart as a smile tugged at his lips.

true to his word, robert drove the both of you to a nearby ice-cream shop, and got you your strawberry ice-cream — one spoon for two. that afternoon was spent sharing laughs, sweet kisses, and the strawberry ice-cream that you'd been craving.

even though robert came from money and had more than you'd ever thought someone could have, it wasn't his wealth and status that snagged your heart. it was him, just good old robert fischer. not his money, not his materialistic things, not his cars, no — just who he was.

robert was caring. he was so considerate, listened to you, and was always there for you when you needed him the most. it felt like he was yours, and you were his — and that's how things should've been.

that's how the story should have ended.

but you know what they say; all good things have to come to an end at some point.

"robert," you said breathlessly, "take this dress off of me, please."

"sweetheart," he whispered against your ear as he unzipped your designer dress, "you're so beautiful, you know that?"

"i love—" you paused, suddenly hyperaware of the words that were about to leave your mouth, "i love that you took me here."

you weren't sure if you should've said it — i love you, that is.

robert and you had been seeing each other for the entirety of the summer by the time he'd taken you to malibu, but again; to you it felt like more than a fling. you just weren't sure where he stood with this whole thing between you and him.

"anything for you, sweetheart. i'd do anything." robert replied softly, turning you around as he slipped you out of the dress.

stood in your lacy, white, la perla lingerie along with matching jimmy choo's and stockings (courtesy of robert, of course), you face him with a blush. "how does it look?" you ask shyly, to which robert smiles and sighs happily in bliss.

"you..." he whispered, trailing off for a moment, "you're just so perfect — how are you mine?"

"yours?"

"mine, and mine only, sweetheart. don't ever forget it."

you'd soon come to never forget it — just not in the way you'd hoped.

robert took your hand in his gently, guiding you to the huge, king-sized, luxurious bed in his miami penthouse. no hotels over here; this is robert fischer were talking about — he owned homes down here.

you found your way into his bed, laid up in the pile of silk pillows, as robert found his way between your legs with his hands wrapped up in your hair. he kissed you passionately with a hunger that you'd never seen from him before.

you took your time helping him out of his suit, being dainty and deliberate with your movements — maybe you felt like being a tease tonight. after you'd gotten him out of your clothes, your lacy bra was long gone, but his hands wandered down to the scrunched lace of your underwear.

"may i?" robert asked sweetly, his eyes darting between your pretty face and perky breasts, causing you to blush profusely.

"y-yes," you whimpered, "i can't wait anymore."

"god, when you say things like that — i don't think i can either, sweetheart." robert groaned softly, finally pulling down your white lace panties.

up until this point — you and robert hadn't actually had sex yet. you thought it was sweet; special, even. you thought he really liked you, that he didn't want to sleep with you until you felt ready. obviously, you took this as a sign that he deeply cared about you as a person, in more than just a "fling" way.

as his cock stretched you open perfectly, you arched your back and let out a soft moan, as did he. he started to move in and out of your soaking cunt gently, truly taking the time to make sure you were enjoying this as much as he was.

his cock was thick — it had you feeling fuller than you'd ever felt before from previous partners, and it felt like his cock was made for you. with the way it stretched your pussy out perfectly, hitting every spot just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each thrust he gave you.

"so beautiful," robert praised through gritted teeth, "and so tight, fuck."

"r-right there! mmph!" you moaned softly as his cock brushed up against that spongy spot inside of you, causing your cunt to clench around him.

"right there? is that it, sweetheart?" robert cooed, making you nod feverishly.

"yeah," you said breathlessly, "right — f-fuck! gonna cum!"

"thaaaat's it, my pretty girl. drench my cock so i can fill you up with my cum." he encouraged, causing you to see stars as you came around his length.

your pretty little noises pushed robert over the edge a minute or two later, his hips snapping into your cunt as he fucked his cum into you. as you looked up at robert, he had a small smile on his face and his cheeks were dusty. you returned the smile, and he sighed as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in his embrace tightly after he'd pulled out.

he whispered your name to you softly, causing you to stare up at him with admiration and love. "yeah?" you say softly, intertwining your hands with his as the two of you cuddled in between the sheets.

"i never want you to leave," he said, voice saccharine, "you mean so much to me, sweetheart."

"i—" you stammered, unsure if this was a good time to say it; but you figured it would be. especially after what he'd said to you, after the way he made love to you. "i love you, robert."

you smiled to yourself, but frowned when you realized you were just living in a memory — something that only existed in the past now. reality hit you like a freight train as you were brought back to your current situation; in the same bar you'd met robert at once months ago.

you weren't in miami with him anymore — you didn't even know who he was anymore; perhaps just a fragment of your past. you hadn't spoken since the end of august when the both of you had gotten back from your weekend getaway.

things had changed since then.

it was the middle of a bleak november evening, and the cold weather was depressing. summer had left as quickly as it had come.

"are you okay?" your friend asked as you sipped on your martini, looking as beautiful as ever — but for nobody in particular anymore. "that's your third drink, you sure you there's not something you want to talk about?"

"actually, there is," you say, turning to her as the two of you sat in a secluded little table in the corner of the bar, "doesn't she look familiar?"

as you pointed across from you, your friends eyes trailed along until they stopped at a woman who looked eerily similar to you.

she wore the same type of clothes that you did, down to the brand of high heels. her hair was the same colour as yours, so were her eyes, and not to mention she looked like she could be you if you didn't look too hard.

"looks like you found your doppelganger." your friend joked, nudging your arm but to her surprise, you didn't laugh — nor did you come close to even cracking a smile. "are you sure you're okay?"

"look at who she's with." you say bitterly, and your friend looked back at the woman to see that she was now accompanied by a man — a man who she knew as robert fischer.

at first, when robert walked into the bar on the crisp autumn night, you had to do a double take to make sure you were really seeing what you thought you had seen. once you'd confirmed it was him, you were about to grab your purse and drag your friend out of the bar with you — until you saw who he'd come with.

the woman hanging on his arm was a walking reflection of you; it was like everything was all reused. you silently hoped that maybe you weren't just another one of those girls who he pretended to care about; just saying whatever to get into their pants because they were just his type and nothing more.

but this woman couldn't just be his "type" — she was a mirror image of you.

"is that—?"

"yeah," you answered your friend, "it is."

"didn't he tell you that you guys couldn't see each other anymore because of his fathers passing?" she asked you, to which you nodded, throwing back the rest of your drink.

"i told him i loved him and he told me he didn't feel the same. after everything we did together and everything he said. after he called me his and his only — the thing with his father was just some excuse."

"what a piece of shit," your friend scoffed, "but it seems like he might still be thinking about you — i mean, it looks like he's looking for you in every other woman."

"do you think he gets deja vu when he's with her?" you suddenly ask, causing your friend to laugh softly.

"probably," she tells you, "i mean, who's to say he isn't going out with her just to feel like he has you again?"

"do you really think so?"

before your friend could answer your question, you heard your name being called as you both peered over at the sound. at first, your heart dropped because of the familiar voice that had called out your name — but when you looked over at him, you almost flatlined on the spot.

he hadn't even realized you were at the bar, and that's when it hit you — she even had the same name as you, which made everything ten times worse? or awkward? or weird?

"oh shit," your friend said with shock, "she has the same name as you, too. you can't tell me my theory isn't true now."

"my god." you whisper, feeling at a loss for words in this very moment as you watched the two of them together.

he had his arm wrapped around her waist the same way he used to do with you, but the way he looked at her was completely different. there was something missing in his once lively, baby blue eyes — he seemed so blank. like he was there but also, he wasn't really.

you overheard fragments of their conversations; they were talking about the songs you two used to listen to together, and he told her all about how those were "his favourite songs." you also heard him tell some familiar jokes — the same jokes you two used to laugh about.

back when he was yours for the time being.

"i'm going home, you coming?" you ask your friend, swallowing hard as you felt yourself become teary-eyed.

"yeah, yeah, i'm coming."

as you both made your way to the exit, you took one last look back at robert and his new girl, just to get one last glance — but when you looked back at him, he was already looking at you.

time stopped for a minute, and you'd sworn you'd never seen someone look so full of regret in all your years of living. every time you thought he was going to look away, he didn't. he continued to look at you as if you were otherworldly — as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing in that very bar.

but you reminded yourself of the heartache he caused you.

so, with a heavy heart, you walked out of the bar as you turned away from him, letting him relive the past and linger in the feeling of deja vu.

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii @stsrfujid

[asongperday]

Song of the Day — “deja vu” by Olivia Rodrigo

She thinks it's special, but it's all reused That was our place, I found it first I made the jokes you tell to her when she's with you

[beiasluv]

heyyy so i was thinking what would happen if neteyam went to jake for advice on how to ask the reader out, i just thought it'll be a cute moment :) you don't have to write it if u don't want to, completely up to u 💓

have a lovely day gorgeous 🫶

a father’s advice? neteyam x reader

a/n: that’s actually so cute / ye grammar mistake cuz I’m too potato / hope you enjoy, gorgeous gorgeous girl 🤍

masterlist

saying who’s got the most rizz in the family is hard, their blood is strong. but one thing neteyam can’t deny, is that his father is the original rizz

how did he managed to pulled off neytiri? he don’t fucking know. the daughter of the chief while he is a ‘dreamwalker’ to them? he got them rizz

neteyam, being the golden child he is, is determined to follow his father’s footsteps.

and who else could he ask advice from? lo’ak? nope, that boy would never miss a chance to make fun of him, if he would go for his assistant. plus, he got rizzed up by tsireya, he down real bad.

kiri? nah, she has her own world and neteyam respects that. letting her be her free-spirited self would be the best option.

spider 👁️👁️ what does that boy know? does he even have a girlfriend? *ahem* i guess we’ll never know. he got the lowest rizz game in the family, with all due respect from neteyam.

tukkk, SHE IS A MINOR AND A CHILD.

neytiri? i guess? bet she would be more of a pain in the ahh if he would go to her for advice. being a mom she is, she would definitely judge neteyam’s crush and all of his dream would crash down. no, we don’t want that.

jake, it is.

but how? how to make it the least awkward to approach his dad about stuff like this?

he tried to give his dad signals and signs everyday but he doesn’t seem to pick them up. he even started to doubt if his dad is the real player, cuz them boy is clueless😭

“dad?”

“yes?” jake replied with his back facing neteyam.

“how do you er…like send a sign?”

“neteyam, i thought we went over this already,” he sighed. “press your collar when speaking, and say ‘over’ when you are done talking”

“oh!” he scratched his neck. “okay, sorry, dad.”

neteyam was hopeless 😭 but to get a girl, he can’t just give up easily

he tried again, now, with a little help from his sister

“dad,” he walked quietly into the marui where his dad is resting.

“what?” he grumbled.

“erm…last time…when…” his words fumbled around each other, while kiri came into the marui.

“when what? get to the point,” he shifted the blanket off his chest and sat up.

“dad, he is asking you how to ask a girl out,” she said nonchalantly as she looked through the drawer. “you’re welcome, bro,” with a swift of her tail, she was out the door.

“oh, well,” jake chuckled loudly. “have i heard correctly?”

“well, yea..yes.”

“c’mere, son,” he patted the mattress. “let me show you.”

jake would be so proud. he would laugh uncontrollably for like 10 minutes cause neteyam got him worried there.

but his son ask, he will reveal

“now, welcome to “the way of rizz 101” class with jake sully,” he joking said. “there are many ways to ask a girl out, alright, but there is a main pattern you must look out for.”

“number 1: set the mood. it is the most important, alright?” he ruffled neteyam’s locks. “you could never go wrong with setting the mood, look for spots, lighting, and the feels.” “guess where we got down, the tree of souls, yeah, magic, am i righ-“

“ew dad, please.”

“okay, listen to the experts, son,” he laughed. “number 2: make it personal, PER-SO-NAL”

“yes, i understand, I’m not dumb”

“no, son, it’s really important. don’t reuse your letters, never get her the same gift. DO NOT never ever use the same pick up line. AND definitely do not use the same pattern for every girl.” (amen to deja-vu from olivia rodrigo, guys)

“number 3: be yourself,” he patted his son back. “don’t be afraid, if she doesn’t accept your offer, don’t let it consume you.”

“how can i do that?” he retorted.

“what is she like?”

“she is the only girl i have ever laid my eyes on and they were stuck! can’t imagine even just one other girl that i have felt the same feelings i am feeling right now.”

“that’s the spirit, atta boy,” he chuckled. “then, i pray for eywa that this is the way.” “eywa will show you the way if she is the one for you,” he smiled softly.

“and a honorable mention, do not ever make a girl cry over your stupid mistakes, alright?”

“how would i know?”

“you would feel it, respect her, respect her as a goddess, hell yeah, adore her, like eywa,” he added. “she is gentle but deadly, the spirit of life. always ask for consent, always. when you are mated for life, you both become equal.”

“let her guide you, and let you guide her,” he held his palms together as one. “now, how to rizz a girl up is not useful without your effort,” he patted his son’s head and pushed him up.

“go get the girl, atta boy!”

today is a great day to go touch grass 😳 i mean- take care of yourself 🤍

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @loudcolorwolfgarden / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[stars-and-leather]

Ok so I know everyone’s talking about the choice to use ‘Logical’ by Olivia Rodrigo for Sally Jackson but it actually fits so well:

First the word logic is derived from Ancient Greek

Fell for you like water/ now the currents stronger- He’s literally Poseidon, god of sea (or water)

I couldn’t get out if I tried- she’s already in too deep because she had a child with him

I’m the love of your life- Poseidon’s immortal, he doesn’t have a life per se, and she knows all the myths, she knows he’s had so many affairs and will continue to do it

'Cause if rain don't pour and sun don't shine- believing in the Greeks means that rain doesn’t pour because Zeus is the one controlling it and the sun doesn’t actually shine, it’s Apollo or Helios, so everything she’s believed in up til then is wrong

Changing you is possible- even Hermes said it the gods are stuck in their ways, changing something that has stayed the same for millennia is really hard, she knows deep down she can’t

You built a giant castle, With walls so high I couldn't see- he has a castle under the sea, and unless he helped her get down there she physically couldn’t see him, he technically held the power

The way it all unraveled- I’m pretty sure Sally didn’t know about the Big Three Pact or she wouldn’t have had kids with Poseidon in the first place, she had no clue and he never told her

I'm sure that girl is really your friend- again Sally knows the stories, she knows what he’s like and as much as he loved her in the moment he literally had a wife at the same time

I know I'm half responsible, And that makes me feel horrible- it’s about Percy saying he’s a troubled child, and she knew he wasn’t but she couldn’t tell him til he was older because then the monsters would find him

I know I could've stopped it all, why didn't I stop it all?- she blames herself just as much as she blames Poseidon for the trouble Percy would have to go through, she should’ve stopped as soon as she knew he was a god

And bonus ‘I’m reading in to this too much’ point:

Olivia repeats logical three times, but on the third she repeats the ‘love is never logical’- Poseidon is part of the big three, and also what cabin is Percy? Number three

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side B: him.] (pt. 2)

this is broken into parts because tumblr has a limit of 1000 blocks.

side A found here! | side B (part 1) found here!

author's note:

part two of side b!

the final installment.

it's been a long journey to get here, and any messages or words i read in the tags of the reblogs were a source of comfort for me during these times. i'm glad that my words resonated with even just one of you.

and of course, thank you for being here.

✧⋆°｡☾☼꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ ς(>‿<.). ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧☼☽⋆｡°✧

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 30k (bro WHAT LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

──────────────────

“Noona, I need help.”

Immediately, the older girl closed the book she was reading, a young adult romance novel and turned her attention to him. “You never ask for my help. What’s going on?”

“I… I like Y/N.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Jihoon balked. “What? Does everyone know this already?”

“Y/N doesn’t.”

He groaned loudly.

“Are you finally wanting to tell her?”

“I mean, yeah. I—I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I got just the thing for you, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon spent his time trying to come up with some elaborate and dramatic confession (per the advice of his noona). They sat in cafes, picking out different foods that the two of them knew you’d enjoy, scoping out different restaurants, going to the library and her handing him too many romance novels.

After a few weeks, “Noona, you sure this is going to work?”

“Nope.”

“What?! Then why am I doing this?”

“I was just curious to see how much you were willing to do for her. She deserves nothing less than the best, you know,” the girl grinned, now revealing her mischievous side, one that he has never seen before. “Jihoon, you really think that she’s going to want anything that’s a grand gesture?”

“Well. No, but I thought you would know her—”

“Jihoonie, there’s no one that knows her better than you, I think. You probably know her and see her for how she really is. More than she can see herself. All you have to do is just tell her the truth. That’s it.”

“…this was a waste of time.”

She hummed. “Hm, nothing came up for you?”

“What do you mean?”

He could see that she was fidgeting with her fingers. She let out a nervous laugh as she said, “I actually wanted to see whether you still liked me. Whether spending time with me was going to change your mind. Not that I wanted it to! But I didn’t want you to be wishy-washy. She needs stability. She’s already chaotic on her own.”

“You knew I liked you?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Would you have given me a chance?”

“Would you have tried?”

The two of them sat there for a moment, mulling over the weight of the words said between them. But they both knew that there was someone else in their lives who mattered more, who they truly yearned for. If Jihoon and his noona ever pursued something, it would’ve just been them trying to find comfort in each other because they couldn’t have who they wished for. They would’ve tried to shape each other to fit the missing puzzle piece, losing the essence of themselves.

Jihoon and his noona were only mere reflections of who they actually wanted, the illusion created because of how much time was spent together. And that image would’ve faded fast.

“No, I don’t think I would have.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Good luck with him.”

“Yeah… good luck with her. It’ll work out.”

──────────────────

Plenty of people could say that his noona was childish, that she should have picked another route to go down. That it all could’ve been left unsaid. But Jihoon was grateful for her choice to do what she did. Because you didn’t deserve that “what if?”. Neither did he. You both needed to be sure.

And he felt it, walking into the restaurant.

He immediately recognized you, even with your head down. He was so used to seeing you from afar that this was a sight that was unfortunately so familiar to him. He walked forward in hopes of closing the distance between the two of you.

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin said, frantically.

Jihoon held back his laughter, the sight of his hyung flustered a rare occurrence. “Hey, hyung.”

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

He could see that her eyes were screaming: save us. Jihoon wondered if he’d be able to. “Hi, noona.”

Ah, there you went.

Your eyes finally met his.

God, so beautiful.

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

Jihoon was startled. Since when did you curse? And the fuck word too? But it must be a new development considering the other two were making a huge commotion over it. But even in the midst of chastising, you didn’t break eye contact.

“It’s been a while.”

You blinked. “Um. Yes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. This was happening.

His brilliant and warm and fiery sun.

The reason behind why his own light exists.

His guide, his inspiration, his hope.

His firefly.

Close enough to reach out and catch.

But not quite yet.

“So, are you all done eating?”

“No, not even close! Only ordered one pajeon, but feel free to order anything that you want! Oppa will be covering,” his noona responded as she motioned for him to take the seat next to you. He did and immediately felt you tense up beside him. Jihoon mentally cursed at himself. He should’ve asked.

He decided to lean back in his chair to try to mimic the body language he hoped from you: relaxed. “Hyung’s the best.”

“One day, I’ll make you spend that idol money of yours.”

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

You must have recovered from your shock, since you piped up with a, “Wait. Shouldn’t you be careful about eating out? What if someone sees you here? Couldn’t something happen?”

Aw, you were worried for him. “This is a restaurant that’s frequented by SEVENTEEN. This specific table is so far removed in the corner that it’d be hard to get a good look at my face, especially since my back’s to them.”

You looked around and scanned the area, probably noticing the boisterous environment of hweshiks overpowering the casual dining you were partaking in. “Hm. Okay…”

“You worried about me?”

“No, I’m worried I’m going to end up in Dispatch with message requests from sasaeng fans.”

Jihoon felt the color drain from his face. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being here—”

You immediately shook your head. “That was a joke, I guess it was too serious of a reality for it to seem like one. Jihoon, thanks, really. But I’m scary good at ignoring people. Uh… I’m… I’m glad that you’re here. Seriously.” You paused for a moment, probably noticing the tension that he was too aware of. “Because we’re with two weakass eaters so it’s up to us to finish the job. Will you join me on our noble mission?”

He snorted out a ‘yes’ and the table laughed. Your cousin brought up a time where you were crying because you hated wasting food but the dish was too spicy but you were too stubborn to stop eating. You quickly reminded him that he was the one who tapped out first and left a 9-year-old to solve the issue (“Wouldn’t have been a problem for me if you didn’t create one, oppa!”). The four of you spent more time catching up than thinking about what to order until you were all brought back into the reality that you were at a restaurant and ordered nothing but a pajeon and drinks.

The older two let you and Jihoon decide, as you were both pickier eaters than they were. Once the food arrived, you fell into a rhythm of years’ practice. You pushed your portion of fish and beef onto his plate and he pushed his portion of bean sprouts and japchae onto yours. You both split the pork belly serving evenly between the two of you.

His arm would (accidentally) brush against yours but none of the tension remained from earlier. You didn’t retract, you didn’t run away. In fact, you poked his arm for his attention midway in the conversation and he never thought such a small thing could evoke such happiness.

──────────────────

Physical touch was never something that Jihoon craved. In fact, in most cases, he felt negatively towards it. So, the experience of being touch-starved was not something he knew anything about.

That is, until you were gone for two weeks at an academic competition.

Why the hell was an academic competition half a month? And during summer break? What did they expect middle schoolers to do? Solve world hunger with pi? (The number, not the food.)

You were spending your school vacation for the sake of more school.

What a stupid concept.

And you were on the same team as Baek Yunho, the star player of the baseball team and chemistry league. Jihoon saw the way that Yunho would try to come up to you after a game, but you only ever made a beeline towards Jihoon.

He didn’t realize just how much the two of you gravitated towards each other. Between class periods, he’d pinch your nose or flick your forehead or you would attempt to bring him to his knees by pushing your own into the back of his and fail miserably and he would roundhouse kick you in response. If the two of you had the time, you would go over to his house and dig your toes into his ribcage when he totally owned you during a game of Super Smash Bros. And during the summer, usually, you would be sprawled over him, back to back, as he would watch anime or play games on his phone and you would read your summer reading list.

But normal people wouldn’t consider that physical touch.

And yet here he was, genuinely touch-starved, because you were in Daegu with a whole seven days left.

He grumbled under his breath. Another day has gone by without seeing Baek Yunho during practice which meant another day that you were gone. Something that occupied his mind, as he opened the door to his bedroom, swinging his baseball bag onto his bed.

And he heard a loud, “ow!”

He saw you rubbing your knee on his bed, with a pout on your face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

That’s one way to say he missed you.

“I came back from my competition today to apparently get assaulted by my best friend.”

“I thought it was two weeks long.”

“The whole thing is, but I opted out of the award ceremony. Plus, I only competed in the writing and foreign language portion because that’s all they needed me for, which all happened in the first week.”

Jihoon’s mind didn’t catch up with his body as he reached for you. You yelped and threw a pillow at him, “Ew. No, you just got back from practice and you’re sweaty!”

“Firefly, you’re missing out on a rare opportunity.”

You paused for a moment, possibly recalling all the times he’s rejected a hug from you and realizing this indeed was very rare. “Can you at least wipe off your sweat?”

“Nope, not at all,” Jihoon snickered.

It was now a competition to see who would be the faster one, you rushing for the door or his arms. And of course, the athlete that he is, Jihoon won.

“You smell like the sun! Stop!”

He decidedly rubbed his neck into the shoulder of your shirt and you did your best to wiggle away, but failed. Your look of disdain was met with Jihoon’s satisfied one. “Lee Jihoon, you’re the worst.”

“I’m glad my punching bag is back.”

You pushed his hair back only to immediately retract. “Ugh! How does so much sweat just come out of you?”

“Does it matter when I have a towel right here?”

You pinched his ear as he pushed his sweaty forehead against the other shoulder of your shirt. You burst into a fit of giggles when he found your ticklish spot in the middle of your thigh, but soon enough, your ankle found purchase around his and pushed him onto the ground as you clambered away and into his closet, probably to find a shirt to change into.

He was left there on his bedroom floor, listening to your ramblings about his sweat, almost deliriously happy.

He was satisfied, no longer a starving man.

──────────────────

After the food was finished (thanks to the two of you), the four of you walked out of the restaurant, the couple saying they were so full they wanted to walk it off on the way to their hotel. They offered for the two of you to join them but you declined, saying the hotel was in the opposite direction of your home.

Your cousin felt uneasy leaving you to walk home on your own. But you pointed at Jihoon with your thumb and said, “Jihoonie can walk me home, if you’re so worried. But even if he can’t, I’ve lived here long enough. This isn’t anything new.”

As if your cousin completely ignored the latter half of what you said, he glanced at Jihoon who gave a quick nod. “I’ll walk her home. Don’t worry. Then I’ll take a taxi back myself.”

After much long-winded convincing, the two headed off to the hotel while you and him were left walking down the street, his own face masked up and covered with a baseball hat in case of anything.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home.”

“I’d like to, if that’s alright with you.”

He noticed you adjusting the hem of your shirt. “Okay. It’s a little bit of a walk from here. Maybe 30 to 40 minutes or so.”

“That’s 30 to 40 minutes I’d like to spend with you.”

“…yeah. I’d like that too.”

This felt almost surreal. You by his side.

But also so natural, almost inevitable.

As if this was all just waiting to happen.

After a moment’s pause, you asked him what he was doing for the coming months, if there were any plans.

“There’s a concert that Bumzu’s holding in Busan, and he’s asking some SEVENTEEN members to perform, so I’ll be doing a solo piece for that one.”

“Oh, SIMPLE?”

You immediately made a face as if you got caught admitting something embarrassing and Jihoon grinned. “Ah, you know my solo song?”

“Hm. Maybe…” You trailed off, looking everywhere but at him.

Cute.

“It might’ve possibly made it as my top song of the year in 2016.”

Agh, even cuter. “I’ll tell Yoon Jeonghan that he’s not actually your bias and you’re actually a Woozidan.”

“You can call me a Woozidan, you’d just be exceedingly and astronomically incorrect, like always. Unlike me, who is right, quite literally 100% of the time.”

Jihoon laughed. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m one of the brains in SEVENTEEN, alright?”

“That’s because you were forged in the fire that was your friendship with me. Of having to deal with my illogical thinking.”

“Ain’t that the damn truth.”

The mood between the two of you was solid and Jihoon felt his resolve flare up within him, gathering the courage to ask, “If I invited you to Bumzu’s concert, would you go?”

“Oh. The one in Busan?”

“Yes.”

“Uh. When is it? I’m supposed to start work in three weeks.”

He wondered how big of a Carat you were because he knew that most would jump at the opportunity, but he felt oddly reassured that you weren’t a fan who would shirk on your responsibilities. “It’s in two weeks. You can… uh, bring Hyejin?”

You blinked up at him. “You know her?”

“She, uh, is always on your Instagram.”

“That’s very sweet of you and she’s gonna freak out that you know her, but she’s actually going to be in Jeonju that entire week with Wheein-unnie because they’re visiting their family. And then none of my other friends know about me knowing you. But. You know what? What kind of Carat would I be if I turned down this offer?”

Great minds think alike. “So… I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you will. I’ll sing the chorus of SIMPLE so loud I’ll overpower even your vocals.”

“You know, I never said I was singing SIMPLE.”

“Oh, what? What are you singing then?”

Jihoon grinned. “Guess you’ll have to come and find out.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow, what an idol. Using your charm to convince me to use up my time and money.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“Enough that my wallet is in constant danger.”

“You know, I can always give you free things.”

“It’s okay. Buying your albums and merchandise and concert tickets have been the only way I can support you. And, well, I did promise I would be your number one fan.”

“‘S alright. That’s all in the past.”

Jihoon noticed you flinching at those words. Your voice was barely above a whisper, “…Is it really all in the past? It’s not that simple, is it, Jihoonie?”

He remained silent.

So did you.

You both walked, the evening stroll accompanied only by the artificial lights of the city, the sun having long since gone to rest and the light of the moon nowhere to be found.

You reached the doorstep of your apartment and you turned back to face him. “I think… We probably have a lot to talk about. But maybe the timing is off right now. I know I need to sort myself out, if that’s okay? I’m trying to do this thing where I think before I talk instead of just diving in and regretting something, you know?”

Jihoon nodded. He was all too familiar with that.

“But I just want to let you know that I still want to be a part of your life. And we can navigate how that will look like when we’re both not caught up in living our lives. Is… is that okay?”

He wanted to cry. “More than that.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you at the concert, Jihoonie.”

“I’ll see you, firefly.”

──────────────────

After that night, he was thrown back into his and SEVENTEEN’s work. Outside of Bumzu’s concert, they were working on their next album, aiming to release it in just two months, the theme centered around a youthful infatuation blossoming into a mature love.

He wondered what you would think of it.

One night, he was in his studio with Soonyoung again who looked over Jihoon’s latest solo for Bumzu’s concert.

“Jihoon, this is the saddest shit I’ve ever read.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Are you sure that this is what you’re wanting to perform? That this is what you want her to hear? In front of hundreds of people?”

“It’s… the most honest I can be. Yeah, it could scare her off. But I don’t think we can keep moving forward without addressing what happened between us. But I didn’t make this song to make her feel bad. I made it so I could let go of the pain I associate with the old her to be able to make space for the new her, you know what I mean?”

Soonyoung spared no expression. “Whatever you think is best, Hoon.”

“I’m just going to take a leap of faith,” Jihoon sighed. There really was no predicting exactly how things would turn out. You were different, he was different. There were too many unknown variables with the situation. “Hopefully she’ll be there to catch me.”

“Mm.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m thinking about how you’re going to be singing a ballad, pouring your true and genuine feelings, and I’ll be performing Hurricane in a tiger print shirt.”

Jihoon paused for a moment. “Duality of SEVENTEEN.”

──────────────────

You must have also been busy, as the only notification he got from you was on the day of the concert. It was a selfie of you at a gas station in the wee hours of the morning, no doubt filling your tank before your 4 and a half hour car ride, with a message saying, “i’m on my way to you! fueled by overpriced gas and cheap snacks!”

You were on your way. To him.

There was an electricity that was coursing through him that went beyond just nerves before a show. No, there was so much more riding on this, and as much as he wants to believe and trust that everything would work out in some way or another, there is the deep part of him that yearns for it to work out for the best. The most ideal cut.

He pressed his hands against his chest, as he tried to mimic compression.

But there was just too much bursting out of him to truly contain.

“Jihoon-ah, you alright?”

He must have looked like a crazed man to Jeonghan because the latter had an incredulous look on his face as soon as they made eye contact. “Do I not seem alright?”

“No.”

“Hyung.”

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle and moved behind him to squeeze the shoulders of the stressed man. “It’s okay to hope, you know.”

“It feels like hope is the reason I can’t breathe right now. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t care this much. If it weren’t for hope, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

“You’re right. You wouldn’t be. Without hope, you wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN. You wouldn't have become an idol, be our unit’s leader, become a producer, written songs, or even had the chance to reconcile with her. All of what you are would’ve been impossible without hope”

Jihoon bit his lip. “I feel like I’m going crazy, hyung. I keep going back and forth between whether it’s worth it. I haven’t felt anxiety like this in years. I know that lo–love–” Jihoon realized he never said that word so directly about her. He always found more poetic ways to dance around the word. “–can be a lot of work. But this? It makes me think that it’s not meant to be. When I see her and when I’m with her, it feels so right. But when she’s not in front of me, I feel like the best thing to do is to just run away.”

“Yeah, but you ran away last time, right?”

“And I wouldn’t be in SEVENTEEN if I hadn’t.”

“But you’ve still pined after her for all these years.”

“Maybe that’s just me being stubborn.”

“Yeah, and? What about it?”

“What happens if I’m pining after her because I regret hurting someone I cared about, my best friend. What if I don’t actually love her–”

Jihoon’s voice caught in his throat.

Jeonghan answered in a low whisper, and Jihoon is sure that if he turned around, he would see pity in his older member’s eyes. “Jihoon–”

“No, I know,” he quickly cut him off, sighing. “Ridiculous notion. Hyung, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t understand myself at all. Just yesterday, I was talking a big game about how I needed to trust her and take a leap of faith and now it feels like I’m going back on it.”

“So, you don’t trust her?”

“That’s… not it.”

“Then what is it, Jihoon?”

“I… I can’t…”

“It’s just you and me here.”

Lee Jihoon and Yoon Jeonghan.

The very two people who were in that room together when that fateful encounter on social media occurred.

Yoon Jeonghan, the island of SEVENTEEN.

“What if she doesn’t love me back?”

Jeonghan felt Jihoon’s shoulders tremble underneath his grip. The older began to rub gentle circles and stood there in silence as the younger buried his face in his hands. “...She could.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“What if she does?”

“That’s not–”

“–How it works? Why are your worries more likely than your hope? Are they more logical? More based in reality? Listen, they’re all just thoughts driven by feelings. They both have an equal chance of happening, and yet you are convinced your worries are true. And maybe that’s your fault. Your fault because you keep suppressing your hope in fear of pain and rejection. So that later down the line, you can tell yourself that you knew it anyway. But guess what? This isn’t a game where you’re trying to come out of this as the least hurt.”

Jihoon felt lucky that Jeonghan couldn’t see his face.

“Just think of it as finally being able to let out the entire truth that you’ve been hiding for years, the truth that has been found in your lyrics, but is now finally going to reach the person you’ve hoped for so long that it would. She’ll be right there, listening to you. You’ve wanted it for so long. Don’t try to convince yourself all of a sudden that it’s not.”

“...Yeah.”

“Plus, they already have the line-up and backing vocals set up, so. It’s not like you can change it now. Go put your in-ear in. We’ll be in the audience. All of us.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“...I’m not sure if it means anything, but you’re a good man, Lee Jihoon. I’m proud of you.”

Jeonghan patted the younger’s shoulder before exiting the small space, leaving Jihoon to his own thoughts. Ones that no longer swirled over the possibility of pain or even the potential of reciprocation. Instead, he thought about his members. The ones he’s told he’s loved, both in teasing ways and genuine utterances.

And then he thought of you.

He’d like you to hear the same from him.

At least once.

(And hopefully more.)

──────────────────

Busan’s driving laws were nothing like the rest of Korea. 

Luckily growing up in Busan, you were aware of the way that the drivers swerved in and out of lanes, making illegal (?) turns any chance they got. The flow of traffic in Busan is so aggressively different from Seoul, that it felt as though you had to flip a switch to reorient yourself into the version of you that learned how to first drive in Busan.

Not long after the person you were driving to see had stormed out of your home.

You sighed.

You weren’t sure what to expect at the concert.

It felt almost embarrassing how much you daydreamed over him potentially singing a song to you. The reality is dangerously close to overlapping with the delusion that you found yourself trying to literally shake away the thoughts.

But how could you not be a little hopeful?

The love of your life invited you to a concert, with him singing a solo song.

Maybe he’d confess–

The honk of the car behind you pulled you out of your thoughts. You groaned loudly, slapping your forehead. “Get it together, Y/N!”

Jihoon had told you to enter the concert hall through a certain entrance, and that you wouldn’t need to wait amongst the lines. He recommended waiting until everyone else was seated, so you would still have 20 minutes to kill before entering the venue.

You drove, mentally fighting yourself every kilometer of the way, until you finally reached the venue. You showed the badge that Jihoon had given you and was directed towards the back lot where staff parked. You cut the engine and sat there, attempting to calm yourself down.

You immediately get a request for FaceTime on your phone.

You answer it.

“Bumblebee!”

“Unnie, I can feel myself eroding away.”

Hyejin rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine.”

You heard Wheein’s voice in the background. “Is that Y/N?”

Hyejin answered, “Yeah. Wanna say something?”

Wheein popped into frame. You gave a weak wave. “Are you gonna confess today?”

“What? No. That wasn’t in the plan.”

“Okay? Then change the plan,” Wheein said, as though it was the most obvious thing.

“I just want to be friends.”

“Forever?” Wheein asked.

“For now,” Hyejin supplied.

You rolled your eyes. “Listen. All I know is that I want to be in his life, and whatever that looks like is still to be determined, alright?”

“But what do you want in the long run?”

“You know I can’t plan for the long-term. Let’s just take things day by day, alright?”

“Okay, but what if he confesses today?” Wheein asked.

“He won’t.”

“What if he does?”

“I–”

Hyejin tapped Wheein’s thigh off-camera. “She’ll handle it if it comes up. No matter what happens, we’ll be here to pick up your call, okay? Whether it be to sort out your feelings or to just fangirl about the concert. We’ll be here to listen to whatever you’re willing to share. There’s not much to do here in Jeonju anyway, so. Just hit us up.”

“Go eat Jeonju bibimbap.”

“We did,” they answered in unison.

You let out a short laugh. “Alright. Well. Regardless of everything, time will continue to pass. I’m going to just bask in the fact that I was invited by a member of my favorite idol group to watch his performance.”

“And that’s already cool as hell,” Wheein nodded.

The three of you chatted about their plans for the week while you did your best to focus on the conversation while still paying attention to the time left until the concert. Not long after, you bid them farewell to once again sit in silence in your car, pressing your hands against your chest.

It was time.

──────────────────

Bumzu’s concert started off as nothing less than spectacular.

You always admired his musical prowess, knowing that he was the one who helped Jihoon form his own identity as a producer and songwriter. Bumzu was a titan in his own right, his lyricism and musicality rivaling plenty of others in the field.

Although his talent is impeccable, the venue itself was small. His transition from performing towards writing and producing had a hand in influencing the number of tickets sold. You also realized belatedly that the concert wasn’t advertised to include the SEVENTEEN members that you were promised.

Regardless, it felt like such an intimate space, you were thankful for it.

You were in the upper gallery, away from the rest of the concert attendees. There wasn’t anyone else nearby you, and you assumed that would stay the case.

That is, until you heard someone sit right next to you.

You glanced over, not wanting to be overt in noticing them (although, Korean culture lends itself to staring at others outside of Seoul and Busan), and you felt your breath hitch.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I–yeah.”

“I recorded a video for you for your graduation,” the most beautifully ethereal man on this side of existence said. “Do you remember?”

“I–yeah.”

He flashed a brilliant grin. “Yoon Jeonghan.”

“I–yeah.”

“Congratulations on graduating.”

“I–” This time, his voice overlapped yours. “Yeah.”

You flushed. “Sorry. I’m just– I’m kind of taken aback.”

“I heard I was your favorite member, your bias.”

“Mm. That’s true.”

“Why is that the case?”

You paused for a moment, the vocals of Bumzu drowning out the sounds of your conversation. “They say that your bias is the one who’s most similar to you. And your bias wrecker is the one that you’d most likely want to date or be romantically involved with.”

“Oh, so, we’re similar?”

“In the way that we love others, I think? From what other members have said about you, the way that you love is both wide and deep. You love others in a way where you can be a home for them during times of hardship,” you said, sheepishly. It felt almost strange to claim you were as loving as you were, but. You knew yourself. You knew your heart. Even the bad parts. “Also, we both would cheat at games.”

“It’s the only way to play.”

“Winning is too easy otherwise,” you added.

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Well. That makes me feel better.”

“That I cheat at games?”

“No. That you love in the same way that I do. Because if you love Jihoonie as much as I love him, I think I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I do.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry?”

“I do love him,” you said, unhesitantly. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to tell one of Jihoon’s closest confidants this information. But, it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t ever meant to be a secret. It was simply a fact. “There’s no way that I wouldn’t.”

“You… You haven’t doubted your feelings?”

This time you raised an eyebrow at him. “Why would I? He’s easy to love.”

Jeonghan laughed. “You’re so right, Y/N. So. Is he your bias wrecker?”

“You mean the one that I want to date?”

“The very same.”

You saw the mischief in his eyes, and you felt yours bubble up inside. “I wonder.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised you cheat at games, you don’t seem like a great liar.”

“Who said I was trying to?” You flashed him a toothy grin.

“It’s rather strange to see just how different the two of you are. And also, how human you seem. The way that he talks about you, you’d think otherwise.”

“Unfortunately, being human is all I know,” you said, trying to shove down the feeling of butterflies in your stomach at the mention of Jihoon speaking of you to his precious brothers.

Bumzu was now giving a ment, but you were still so focused on the man next to you.

He crossed his legs and looked out at the stage. He pursed his lips. “Y/N. He’s a bit of a handful sometimes, you know.”

“I’ve got two hands.”

He smirked at that. “Right. That you do. And if you and I really are similar, then. Well. I hope you really listen to what he has to say to you, even if it can be hard to hear. I hope you try to understand him even when he doesn’t make sense. And, of course, I hope you enjoy the rest of your life loving him.”

You felt some tears well up in your eyes. “I’ll try my best.”

Jeonghan looked at you softly and patted your knee. “That’s all I ask.”

He stood up and you gave a slight bow. He smiled and said, “Enjoy the show.”

Bumzu’s voice rang out: “And now, a special guest: WOOZI from SEVENTEEN.”

Your eyes snapped back towards the stage, barely noticing the figure of your bias move back out into the shadows of the concert hall. You were transfixed by the man walking out on stage, his pale skin glowing underneath the stage lights, his black collared shirt hanging loosely on his frame. The cheers could not distract you from the way he gripped and ungripped the microphone in his hand as he sat down on the stool.

He lifted the microphone to his lips and began speaking.

“Hello, everyone. I am SEVENTEEN’s WOOZI.”

His eyes were darting around, but only looking downwards, barely looking at the crowd. “Today, I’m going to sing a song that I’ve only ever sang once. Um. And that was by myself, in my studio. Not even the other members have heard it.”

The crowd were wowed at the prospect of hearing an entirely new song from a genius producer. Seeing the spotlight shine on him, you realize how bare he looked without his other members surrounding him. His vulnerability was amplified by the closer proximity of the space.

You knew he was the kind of person that would lessen the amount of lines he had solely to allow others to shine more. He wasn’t like the sun, the blazing fire that consumed the day. No, he was so much more like the moon, the one that would reflect others’ light, but in such a way that was never accosting.

Even on the stage in front of you, he glowed so ethereally, you wondered if he was always the fae that you believed lived near the winding tree at Old Man Park’s home. He was the guiding light in the midst of night, always present, but in a less overt way than its celestial partner.

The sun was stunning in its own right, life-giving, even, but the moon provided comfort to those who tread in the darkness.

And you’ve seen the way he has done just that.

Not just for you, but for millions around the world.

“This is, uh. A very personal song,” you couldn’t help but notice the way that his grip around his microphone tightened. “I’m not sure if many of you out there have been unsure about what the future holds. But, this song… captures that, I think. This is ‘What Kind of Future’.”

Your reaction to grab your phone to record was immediately cut off by the piano playing.

This… melody?

Your throat tightened. It sounded so similar to the lullaby he would sing–

As if nothing happened I told myself that it was all a dream. When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I wanted to wake up with a relief.

The melody was so familiar, but because of that, you could focus solely on the lyrics he sang. 

Was this song… about you?

No, your mind supplied. Don’t be delusional.

But what if it was?

Your heart began to pound loudly in your ears, and you had to take deep breaths so as to not miss anything that he had to say.

Our past that didn't line up If I could go back in time Rather than roughly, but warmly Would I be able to let you go?

Your eyes widened.

You thought back to that moment in your house.

Could it be–?

When we weren't over As I held onto whatever was left You let go of me as I refused Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You immediately recall the desperation on his face and the hurt in his voice that you couldn’t see until it was too late. It was shrouded by his anger and your desire to look away. To run away. Because, to a teen on the cusp of adulthood, that was easier than being honest.

This waiting It's not easy to endure If I forget that someday As if nothing is wrong Our future will be empty and It's not that I want to forget you

You never wanted to forget him. 

You couldn’t.

He surrounded you at every turn.

The best parts of you were things that you learned from him.

He softened your rough edges, quieted the inner criticisms, pacified the burning flames.

The idea of him never being a part of your life again was one that you could not fathom, even with all of your imagination. Because there was no way for the current you to exist without him. Not in a way that deemed him necessary, but in a way that his friendship, his love, for you shaped you into becoming someone you, yourself, learned to love as well.

Your future might have been filled with joy and happiness.

His, just as likely to.

But yours and his, as he said, our future, would be empty.

We were happy about us You, who isn't me anymore Although I don't wanna see you, I miss you Although I hate you, I miss you I don't understand myself so well

You tried to quell your tears as much as you could, in fear of missing even another moment with him. Because you realize now that the feelings you had were not one-sided. Of course, they couldn’t have been. The way that the two of you stuck by each other through thick and thin.

Why were you so adamant that it couldn’t be true?

What kind of future is coming before us? Even if the Heavens don't give us an answer I'm too stupid until the end So I don't know the answer

The love you had for each other was so simple.

It was so direct, so straight-forward.

But the two of you made it complicated.

Why?

You also didn’t have an answer.

The both of you, burdened by the decisions of the past, anxious about the potential of the future.

As his vocals rang out, as he cried out, the tears finally streamed down your warm cheeks. You buried your face into your hands, listening to his voice, but unable to withstand the sight of him holding his microphone with such gentle, yet firm, hands. The same ones that trembled at his side that fateful day. Your breath staggered as you wept for the past versions of you.

The ones who struggled and constantly questioned whether you were loved by the person you longed for. The ones who somehow convinced themselves that you weren’t, rather than trusting in the obvious truth that you always had been.

And still are.

As the song concluded with his smooth vocals, the crowd erupted into cheers. You raised your head and found him looking longingly up in your direction, and if you weren’t mistaken, at you. 

But how could he? 

The stage lights were so bright, you were sure it was impossible to see beyond the stage.

But with the way his gaze softened as your bottom lip trembled.

Maybe, just maybe.

As soon as the crowd settled down to a reasonable level, he began speaking again. “Thank you all for attending tonight. Bumzu-hyung is an artist that I admire a lot, so I feel really honored that I was able to share my music here. This song is… both personal and special. And I hope that, maybe, someone out there can understand what I was trying to convey.

“Carats, thank you always for your support. Remember to stay healthy; I’m always wishing for your happiness. We hope that you continue to love and support SEVENTEEN. I’m always humbled by Carat’s love for us, and I really wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

He began to fiddle with the microphone in his hands. 

“Did you know that…” He trailed off for a moment before he glanced up in your direction. Your breath hitched. “...If you dream of fireflies, they’re supposed to represent guidance and inspiration? Because they’re kind of like a beacon of light in the dark. And according to some, they’re also meant to represent taking a chance at an opportunity that’s right in front of you. And I, uh. I’ve been dreaming of fireflies for a long time. So, I think… that means that it’s time to try and take that chance. I’m not sure what it’ll look like, but…”

He shut his eyes for a moment, tilting his head backwards, looking as though he was allowing the weight of his words to really sink into him. He brought the microphone back up to his lips.

“Thank you again. I hope our future together is one of happiness.”

He gave a slight bow to the audience who cheered loudly for him. He, once again, looked up in your direction. You weren’t sure whether he could see your expression, so instead you lifted your phone screen at its highest brightness, open to the phone dial screen.

If he gave any semblance of acknowledgement, it was imperceptible.

Bumzu was welcomed back to the stage and squeezed Jihoon’s shoulder before the latter excused himself off of the stage.

Almost possessed, you followed suit, leaving the upper gallery to rush towards the restroom, out of earshot and view of anyone else.

Not even a minute later, your phone starts vibrating.

You answer immediately. “That was fast.”

“We’ve wasted enough time, don’t you think?”

“Are you… running? You sound like you’re out of breath.”

“Meet me outside. Staff parking lot.”

“I–”

“Security cleared it out.”

“Jihoon, I’m not fit like you! I’m not a runner.”

“I’m not asking you to be. I’ll wait for you as long as you need.”

Your heart swelled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’ll see you soon, firefly.”

The sound of his smile filled your senses as the call ended.

Despite your complaints earlier, your feet were carrying you at a pace you haven’t attempted since your required physical education class. Your eyes were darting around, searching, searching, searching. The adrenaline rushing through your body was enough to keep up your strides. You were rushing forward, and then–

You saw him.

He pushed his hair back, his chest rising up and down, attempting to catch his breath. He was definitely winded from the running. But there was no rest for the weary as your eyes locked. You found yourself barreling forward, not even really thinking of anything other than: him.

And his arms caught you with ease as you slammed yourself into his chest. He spun you around to lessen the impact, but tightened his grip on you. “Firefly–”

“Jihoonie.”

You held each other for a while.

Long enough for both of your breathing to even, for your heart rates to synchronize.

As though making up for lost time.

He adjusted his face just slightly away from the crook of your neck to speak. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“Yeah, well. I’m the driver, so no shit.”

Jihoon laughed and squeezed you closer to him. You let out a grunt. “You call the shots, firefly.”

You disentangled yourself from him and pulled out your car keys from your person. “Alright, get in, my passenger prince. Let’s take a trip down memory lane, hm?”

──────────────────

“Hi! My name is Y/N. Here’s a seashell!”

The young boy’s expression contorted into one of confusion. You were completely unaffected. He looked around at the empty playground, save for a few pigeons here and there, before pointing to himself. “Are you talking to me?”

You knew for a fact that he was someone that the CU convenience store auntie would call a ‘cutie’. You’d agree! “I’d like to!”

“I’m… I’m Lee Jihoon.”

“Okay, Jihoon! Can we be friends?”

“S-Sure.”

“Awesome!” You clapped your hands together. “I don’t really know what friends do together, but let’s go on the swings! You can sit first and I’ll push you. I’m very strong.”

“No, it’s okay! I can push you—”

“You don’t think I’m strong enough?”

“No, no. That’s not what I said—”

“Get on the swing, Lee Jihoon!”

“O-Okay.”

──────────────────

“Do you remember when I pushed you on the swing so hard that you lurched forward and got a nosebleed from falling onto your face?”

“That was the first day we met, firefly.”

“Well, I wanted to know if you remembered.”

“To the point that it haunts me.”

“You were so small and cute back then. So shy.”

You half expected that the two of you were going to drive in silence, just basking in each other’s presence. But, remaining true to the dynamic you two always had, there was still so much to talk about. You told him about the drive down from Seoul and how Busan really needed to up its driving laws to match the rest of the country. He told you about how Soonyoung just finished performing “Hurricane” on stage and Jeonghan sent him the video.

You told him about how Jeonghan actually approached you.

“Aha.”

You couldn’t turn to see his expression, so you asked, “Why? Is that a bad thing?”

“He, uh. Might’ve witnessed me have a bit of a mental breakdown backstage, so.”

You took his nervous laughter as a sign to not push further. “Honestly, me on any given Tuesday.”

“What, your grad program?”

“Oh, man, I gotta tell you.”

And so the two of you exchanged both stories and banter until you finally saw the shoreline coming into view. Just a couple of moments later, you parked your car along the sidewalk at the edge of the beach. This was a more local area, far away from tourist spots.

“Ah, this place.”

“Lotta memories here,” you said. You shot him a big smile as you turned off the engine. “Let’s go make a new one.”

The two of you exited your car and threw your socks and shoes into the trunk of your car, just like you did with his parents’ car, when you were children.

As you both walked towards the edge of the water, you were very aware of the silence that had fallen onto the two of you.

There was an instinct in you that told you to remain quiet.

“You know,” Jihoon broke the silence. You smiled to yourself. “I’ve always admired how you were able to be so honest about your feelings, without worrying about what other people think.”

“That’s the nice way of saying that I don’t think before I speak.”

He laughed and you relished in it. “Maybe.”

You skipped forward a bit more, letting your toes dig into the now cooled sand, the sun long set. You had your back turned to him as you waited for him to continue speaking.

“I was always someone who kept to himself. Who never really shared my heart with anyone.”

You hummed as you turned to face him directly. “You did in your own way, I think. You just needed people who knew how to read between the lines.”

“I was never honest about the hard stuff though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I constantly asked myself if I was worthy enough to love you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he continued.

“You loved me in such loud ways. You honestly left no room for doubt, and yet my brain managed to squeeze in some anyway. But… you know what I eventually realized?”

“What?”

“I realized that if I were to give myself to anyone, to be safe with anyone in the world, it would be okay if it was you. You’ve always been honest. Your sadness. Your joy. I know I can trust it. Maybe that’s naive considering how long we’ve spent apart. But you’ve never been anything but honest. So this is me trying to do the same. Y/N, my light, my firefly, I love you.”

In his eyes you saw him searching for something, anything. He might’ve not been able to interpret the expression on your face, but there was no need to. You pulled the collar of your shirt down to reveal the ink forever etched into your skin, placed over your heart.

Art that was drawn on a paper towel a decade ago.

You knew even in the dim light of the street lamps high above you, he could see it.

His jaw dropped. “Wait. That’s—”

“I broke one promise in my life. Just one. And I told myself I would never do it again. No matter how stupid the promises were, no matter how mundane, no matter how old they were. I would never break another promise. Because breaking that one promise ended up breaking me. The promise that I’d always be by your side.”

“What are you—?”

“Because it’s you, it’s always been you. Ever since I gave you that stupid seashell from this very beach,” you gestured at your surroundings. “And it was stupid because you could easily get your own, but you kept it. Like it was a precious treasure.”

The rampant beating in your chest matched the rhythm of your words.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Jihoon. I have no idea and I’m terrified. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything. Years at Yale, years at Seoul National, years spent in higher academia only taught me that I know so little. But you, oh, you were the worst reminder. I don’t get how you can make me feel so empty and filled at the same time. I don’t understand how you can make me feel at home with just a smile. I don’t know how you have such a hold on me. You’re just this strange enigma that I can’t seem to place, a riddle with no way to solve. But God, I so badly want to try. You’re a question I want to spend the rest of my life trying to answer. Because it’s you.”

He bit his lip and you wondered if you overwhelmed him.

“I’ve spent years, you know,” his voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Hoping that you would hear me. That my words would reach you,” he breathed out. His eyes softened as he recalled, “‘If a second life that’s different from now is to come to me, will I be by your side? Will you be by my side? I imagine things like this. Even if they’re words I mentioned as a joke. Will you believe me? Even if it’s a funny imagination. On a sudden day when I’m left alone, I’ll take my steps towards you again.’”

He stepped forward, hands reaching for yours, and you immediately took them, as soon as he was an arm’s length away. Physically, this wasn’t the closest he’s ever been, but it was the closest you’ve ever felt.

“‘You did this once before. Only by looking in your eyes I can tell. Whatever may happen, I want to know this emotion. When walking by my side, I don’t even want to let go of your hands. That flattering feeling is because of you, everything is so good.’”

He took another step forward, his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, hoping you could hear his words above his heart hammering in his chest.

“‘What can I do? Without you, my heart stops and it’s always cold. What can we do? Without me, you’ll struggle just as much, so what can we do?’” He paused, before recalling later lyrics. “‘I don’t wanna let you go like this. I don’t want to be scared with a broken heart. I’m the place you can come to. You’re the place I can go to.”

Tears formed in your eyes, but he brushed them away easily, now cupping your face within his hands, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, and you could have sworn he felt the fluttering of your eyelashes against him, dampened slightly by your watery eyes.

“‘I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you. In my heart, it’s always been you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now, but I hope these typical words will reach you.’”

You looked at him, your entire being filled and your senses flooded.

With him.

It was only him, him, him.

How could you not have realized?

His words, his feelings were so clear.

He had the kind of love for you that brings forth a melody.

His gentle voice drew you away from your own thoughts, “Thank you, firefly. For choosing me.”

“Always, Jihoonie. Always.”

He leaned in to close the distance.

You met him halfway.

──────────────────

Your hands were intertwined with his as you swung them lightly, back and forth, ebbing and flowing, like the waves almost reaching your feet on the coastline of the local beach where you would laze away during your adolescence and find adventure during your childhood.

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, the sounds of the ocean and lull of the town around you, just basking in what felt like the stars finally aligning.

Jihoon squeezed your hand for a moment. “You know, I thought you left because you realized that I had feelings for you and didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, still not letting go of his hand, the sea breeze weaving itself between his and your hair.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was pretty obvious. Hyung and noona thought the same. They figured it out pretty early on.”

“Um.”

He blinked. “You had no idea?”

“I—I thought you were in love with noona—”

“Hey, I might’ve thought she was pretty, but you were the one that turned that into something it wasn’t.”

“What! What about the times we went to try and find out whether the mini golf place was fun enough for a date idea? Or whether the food stand near the beach was romantic enough?”

“Please tell me you’re hearing yourself.”

“I’m—”

“Jesus, firefly. Are you serious? Did I end up ever taking her there? Did I even try? All of those places, all of those times, those were meant for you. You were the one who kept bringing up noona and what she would like while I was trying to figure out whether it would’ve been weird to reach out and hold your hand.” His grip tightened on yours.

You flushed at that. “Okay, but like—you spent so much time with noona before I left.”

“Because she was trying to help me plan something to get it through your thick skull just how in love I was because obviously none of the other things I did was enough.”

“I—you—she’s better than me.”

“I just confessed that I was in love with you, and you’re focusing on her right now?”

You blabbered out incoherent sounds and he merely laughed in your face at your reaction.

(Or maybe at himself.)

“Dozens of songs of writing my feelings for you into the lyrics, and you still didn’t get it. So. I’ll try and say it as clearly as possible. I love you, Y/N. What can I do to get you to notice me? Because I’ll do it, firefly. I swear I will.”

You bit your lip.

“I got my driver’s license.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “Uh… recently?”

“No. A month after you left, a month before I did. I got my driver’s license and I so badly wanted to call you to tell you. Because we talked about late night diner specials and how uncrowded the park was at six in the morning and you said I’d be your chauffeur forever.”

“Yeah, why should I have to learn?”

“Jihoon.”

“I’m doing alright without one, thanks.”

You rolled your eyes, but continued, “I drove around the neighborhood several times, passing by the mailboxes we used to Sharpie, the stop signs we tried to run up and slap, the sidewalks we crossed after hagwon, the sewer where we were convinced a clown lived.”

“That was a you thing, don’t drag me into it.”

“And I realized that none of it mattered if you weren’t in the passenger seat.”

“So, what are you saying? That I’m just good company?”

You eyed him and knew he was teasing, but there was a hint of insecurity underneath it. Because he said those words you had yet to acknowledge, let alone, respond to. The corner of your lips upturned. “Yeah, that’s it. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to be in said company for at least one lifetime. I love you, Lee Jihoon.”

“You’re missing the ‘too,’ since I said it first.”

“You’re annoying.”

“It’s been one of the only ways to get you to look at me, firefly.”

“Mm. I’m always looking.”

“Respectfully?”

“Most times. Have you seen the ‘Good to Me’ choreo?”

He bumped your shoulder as you burst into a fit of giggles, choosing to let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his waist as he pretended to stomp off. He stuck his tongue out at you, calling you a pervert, and you said, “Hey, you’re the one that’s in love with me, alright?”

He swept you up into his arms and rather than carrying you princess-style or even in a piggy-back ride, he threw you over his shoulder and you yelped loudly. 

“Jihoon!”

“Y/N!”

“Let me go!”

“Nope. Never again.”

You made a gagging noise. Who is this shameless kid?

“I’ll put you down though, my shoulder hurts.”

You smacked it once you were on your own two feet and ran as much as you could with the weight of your feet sinking into the wet sand with each step. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you and tackled you to the ground. You fell back, with his hand behind your head, ensuring no damage to your person. You giggled up at him.

The edge of the waves were mere centimeters from you, but seeing him against the endless night sky, with glittering stars, him, your moon, you could not bring yourself to care.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, about his life as an idol, about his pursuits and his struggles and his hopes and his dreams. You were so excited to fall in love with him again. You hoped that he would be just as excited to love the person that you’ve become, the one that is so wholly you, but has been transformed by him.

Leaving things left unsaid was a burden the two of you beared for far too many years, believing that you deserved the painful yearning of each other, to make up for the choices made as teenagers.

You breathed in the salt of the sea, as you thought about how, years ago, you were in the same city, letting this very person walk away from you. Shame washed over you, as it has for years, like the waves that were ebbing and flowing right beside you, and tears began to form in your eyes. It was almost embarrassing, how easily you let him slip away. He deserved so much.

“I’m a lot,” you choked out.

He smiled softly as he cupped your face gently, not moving to brush away tears that were threatening to fall. He simply held you, wordlessly accepting all that you were.

“Never too much, and always enough, firefly.”

You wanted to thank whatever higher power was out there.

Whatever one compelled Jihoon to search your Instagram page and accidentally like a post from years ago, a notification that could have been swiped away accidentally in the middle of the night by a bleary-eyed and half-awake you.

Because what kind of future would’ve come otherwise?

Would you have reconnected in some other way, more purposeful and intentional?

Or would you have convinced yourselves that living apart was something that was inevitable and it was better to have simply let the past be the past?

Or would you have yearned for each other in ways that even the potential of running into each other would lead to an eruption of nerves?

You breathed in slowly as you wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing him in, letting his heartbeat drown out even the sound of the crashing ocean beside you.

It didn’t really matter.

This future will be one that you build.

Together.

[끝.]

[valley-of-headcanons]

bachelors/bachelorettes' playlists || blurb

notes: just a few song that i could listen to to channel a character while writing, thought i'd share :) i tried to keep it to about one song per artist so there wouldn't be repetition. except one. i have a very strong headcanon and it is evident 💀

alex

• don't take the money - bleachers.

• get used to it - ricky montgomery.

• pleaser - wallows.

elliott

• letter to my thirteen year old self - laufey.

• a wistful waltz - teddy hyde.

• like real people do - hozier.

harvey

• hey lover! - wabie.

• silver springs - fleetwood mac.

• hollywood forever - finneas.

sam

• don't blame me - james marriott.

• honey (are u coming?) - måneskin.

• normal people things - lovejoy.

sebastian

• myxomatosis - radiohead.

• jigsaw falling into place - radiohead.

• just - radiohead.

shane

• rip 2 my youth - the neighborhood.

• twin sized mattress - the front bottoms.

• broken - gorillaz.

abigail

• tooth fairy (grin & bear it) - mel bryant and the mercy makers.

• come over (again) - crawlers.

• stay frosty royal milk tea - fall out boy.

emily

• love shack - the b-52's.

• lay all your love on me - abba.

• cosmic love - florence + the machine.

haley

• jealousy, jealousy - olivia rodrigo.

• not another rockstar - maisie peters.

• maroon - taylor swift.

leah

• mountain with a view - kelsea ballerini.

• painkillers - rainbow kitten surprise.

• therapist's wet dream - amelia day.

maru

• it's all so incredibly loud - glass animals.

• slow dancing in the dark - joji.

• ykwim - yot club.

penny

• drunk, running - lizzy mcalpine.

• lubbock - grace gardener, caroline carter.

• scorpio rising - soccer mommy.

[urfavcrime]

c!clingy: they all say that it gets better, but what if i don't?

tw: flashing!!

as per request...................cclingy edited to teenage dream by olivia rodrigo. i took 1000 psychic damage making this. had to watch the finale to find the audio clip i wanted and now im 1000x more a finale hater and currently sobbing over cclingy. save me