#the red jumper is turning me into a bull

[myfandomprompts]

"Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight?

Saltburn (2023) trailer

[the-offside-rule]

Sebastian Vettel (Red Bull era) - Man After Midnight

Requested: yes (and thank fucking god) on tumblr

Prompt: 23) "I can't believe you're actually wearing my jumper."

Warnings: not particularly

Y/n sat on the edge of the hotel bed she visited, leaning down to tie her shoelace before making an attempt to sneak out without anyone catching her. She stood up and grabbed the clutch she had the night before and headed for the door. She stopped and paused, looking at the beautiful, gleaming silver shine of the World Championship trophy from the Abu Dhabi morning sun shining through the thin curtains. Her mind from the night before was a blur and to be quite honest, she didn't entirely want to remember it. Especially based on where she woke up.

"Leaving so soon?" She jumped at the sudden groggy voice and turned to see Sebastian laying on the bed with nothing but the bedsheets dressing him. "I don't want people seeing me here." Y/n replied. "You don't want to be associated with me." Sebastian chuckled. "No, it's not that. It's just we are teammates and this shouldn't happen between teammates." Sebastian laughed again. "Well if it eases your concious, no other driver on the grid has a teammate that's as talented as you are in the bedroom." She rolled her eyes. "What? Its a compliment." He said. "No, it's not." She retaliated. "How?"

"It implies things about me." She remembers the first time her and Sebastian slept together. It was a drunken mistake. But then again, how many times can something happen before its no longer a mistake? "Well I apologise for...what's the opposite of complimenting?" He asked. He sometimes forgot words or mixed them up. "Insulting, Seb." She replied. "Thank you, schnuki." He said. "Sebastian, don't!" She nearly screamed. He looked at her confused. "I don't see what the problem is? We always do this."

"Seb, that is exactly the problem!" She chucked her clothes back on the floor. "We always do this. This is not normal, I any shape or form! We aren't even friends!" Seb looked at her with his cocky grin still on his face. "We aren't friends?" He asked, faking a hurt voice and pouting his lip. "Shut up or I will shut you up!" He lay back onto the soft pillows behind him and flexed his arms behind his head. "Feel free to do just that, schnuki." She shook her head. "I'm not doing this again." She said. "What do you want from me? Do you just want a quickie and then for me to leave or what?" His face lost the smirk. He realised it was a lot more serious than this. "Well-" He was quiet for a moment. He didn't have anything to say for once. "What would you like me to say?"

"I mean, I'm half hoping you actually-" She stopped and picked her clothes back up. "That's I'd actually what?" He asked, sitting up. "It's nothing, Seb. I'll see you next season." She mumbled, before she walked towards his hotel room door and opened it. "Y/n?" She turned and saw Sebastian staring at her. He looked almost angelic with how the sun had shined on him. The true Red Bull golden boy. "What?" Y/n asked as Sebastian stood in the doorway. "I just can't believe that you're wearing my jumper." He replied. "If you told me at the start of the season that you would be wearing my jumper, I would have laughed." She scoffed.

"Don't be such a dick, Sebastian."

Y/n walked through the airport with her sunglasses covering her tired and red eyes. Although fans were around her, she felt like the loneliest person in existence. She simply sighed and continued walking as fans asked for photos and for her to sign things, to which she obliged and tried to do quickly as to just get to her gate and forget the pain and heartbreak of Abu Dhabi. "Y/n!" An all too familiar voice called. She lifted her head to see her German teammate jogging towards her with his suitcase and backpack.

The swarm of fans soon grew twice the size as the new 3 time world champion joined the woman who took the third place spot. "Sorry I'm late, the cab." He lied. He wasn't meant to fly back for another few days and he definitely wasn't meant to be flying to London like Y/n. "At least you got here." She smiled back. The pair shared a look before Sebastian walked in front of her and grabbed her hand. "We have a flight to catch." She looked down at his hand and swallowed the lump in her throat hard. "Very sorry guys! We have to go, but we'll see you here for next season!" He smiled, pulling Y/n away from the crowd and through to security.

Even in the lines, Sebastian didn't let go of her hand. He instead looked at everything else, such as the boarding times, and tightened his grip ever so slightly. She didn't dare ask why he was holding her hand. She put it down to him trying to prove a point. As Sebastian muttered to himself in German, Y/n decided to let her eyes wander and in doing so, spotted the prying eyes of strangers looking on. The more she looked, the more sets of eyes stared back. It all became that bit too much and she decided it was time to grab Sebastian's attention.

She pulled at his shirt before speaking up gently. "Seb?" He turned and looked down towards her. She was met with his blue eyes, almost instantly soothing her of her worries. "People are looking, you can let go now." Sebastian looked around and saw people staring at him and her, obviously confused about him holding his teammate's hand. "Let them. It's why they have eyes, schnuki." He replied, before pressing a reassuring kiss onto the top of her head. "I found what gate we're at. We can go now." He said, smiling. She simply smiled back and nodded, following him. "Seb?" He looked down to her once again. "What does this mean?" She asked. Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. "Well, I was using this as an opportunity to show my true feelings." He looked down to her. "But I think we find out what this is together. It'd be more fun, no?" Her hand squeezed his tighter, as her other hand reached up to hold his arm. This wasn't teammates anymore. This wasn't even friends. This was something else that neither had felt before. Love, perhaps? Well, they had the whole off-season to figure it out and the rest of their lives to promise it.

[leclerced]

Max’ merch got me thinking that he’d love so much when his girl would wear his clothes. She always complains he actually has so much of red bull’s merch and she loves it on race weekends but not always. Kind of a girlfriend effect too because I can see him buying more ‚normal’ clothes. She loves to wear his buttons up in the mornings and his hoodies, jumpers in the evenings. And he always goes feral when he sees her

more soft bf max <333

i kinda love his merch. i wanna order some and see how it is from a manufacturing standpoint. i got some enchante chalet tees and they r nice but honestly super big compared to all my other tees so i wanna see how max’s compare

she loves the pride he has in his team and wearing his own merch branded with a number one, loves to steal his hats and shirts so she can show her support and that would drive him crazy, especially when they’re out and she steals the cap off his head and puts it on her own. but she also loves when he swaps out his team polos for a sweater or a nice button down. like she always compliments him but it’s different when she grabs the lapels of a new jacket and pulls him in for a kiss, before pulling away and telling him to turn around and whistling as he does so.

could see him buying clothes bc he wants her to be impressed with him !! like she compliments him on a specific color and he buys more things in it and every time she’s like “wow have i ever told you i love that color on you? my handsome boy” and he’s the happiest he’s ever been. except for maybe when he sees her in his clothes and he teases her for wearing it better than him.

she always steals his shirts to sleep in, and lounges around in his hoodies. would be late many mornings because he wakes up and finds her in his shirt from the day before and it still smells like him for the most part but her perfume has rubbed off on it and he can’t help but keep her in bed as long as possible

she’d get cold in the garage and disappear, so he’s looking around for her and starting to panic when she returns swaddled in one of his hoodies, and he just starts smiling like an idiot bc he’s just so overwhelmed with how much he loves her.

[lilyrizzy]

slightly delayed day 4 of the 12 days of maxiel advent calendar! for @catofthecanals289 from our alzheimers universe! set in the same universe as this and this.

“Daniel, you have to, of course, aim higher.”

It’s as though the words snap everything back into focus while Daniel tries to remember anything getting blurred in the first place. 

In front of him, rows of red-nosed clowns topped with frizzy orange hair stare down at him. Them, he’s not alone. There’s something heavy in his hand. A baseball, he realises. He looks between it and the lines and lines of manic grins, and then Max’s face. His voice is full of laughter, so Daniel must be okay.

“What-“ Daniel begins, but it’s too embarrassing to ask what am I meant to be doing. Max just told him.

Max steps closer to him, his smile already flickering at Daniel’s obvious hesitation.

“Daniel?” He asks, cautious in a way Daniel doesn’t like. He doesn’t want Max to stop smiling.

The flashing lights of the arcade dance at the periphery of his vision, red, yellow, blue and then red again, as a mechanical imitation of circus music plays in a loop. A cheery voice reminds him over and over to down the clown.

“Sweetheart.” The word sounds like a question again, but at the same time unfamiliar. Wrong. “Schatje,” Max says then, and that’s- That’s better.

I love you, Daniel thinks, an electric shock of realisation that is as manic as their surroundings, like maybe it’s being felt for the first time. Then, the settle of it into the familiar warm weight in his chest tells him the truth; I’ve been loving you for a long time.

Wherever they are, he’s safe here.

Daniel turns back to the clowns, noticing now how they aren’t real and are just faces painted onto bowling pins. He does what Max told him to, and throws the ball higher.

To the applause of strobe lights and chiptune, he wins.

Throwing his hands into the air, he lets out a noise of delight in time with Max’s behind him. Ki ki ki, aye, a corner of his brain echoes, but he can’t make the words trip onto his tongue.

“Good job,” Max tells him, his hands a warm weight on Daniel’s waist. A champagne fizz fills Daniel’s belly like it’s maybe been a long time since he’s been touched there, but- No. That can’t be right, because Max loves him too.

I love you, also, he always says. Daniel wishes he would say it now. He can see that it’s true in the softness of Max’s eyes as he pulls him in to kiss him congratulations. Daniel wishes--

--

--Daniel’s hands are twisted into soft purple fur. At first he thinks it’s a jumper, but then his fingertips catch on the crinkled material of the horn, and it’s obvious what it is. A unicorn. For his sister’s baby, maybe.

As he searches the murky waters of his head for her name, his eyes catch on the landscape flying past him. Too vast and green to be Monaco, the car moving too fast. Monaco is the orange glow of car break lights, sitting bumper to bumper and swearing under his breath. He’s not the one driving now, but he doesn’t know who is either.

“Daniel?” The man says his name when Daniel glances at him, so it can’t be a stranger.

“Where are we going?” Daniel asks, cuddling the unicorn a little closer. It feels nice under his palms.

“Back to the ranch,” the man says. His eyes are very blue and pretty, but thinking that makes Daniel’s stomach twist. He shouldn’t- He has somebody who wouldn’t like him thinking that about somebody else, he’s sure.

Daniel nods. They’re on the left side of the road, so-

“I need to get ready for the race,” he says, with more confidence than he feels, but that must be why they are in Australia. The Grand Prix. Except, the weather outside the window doesn’t look quite like autumn. Looking down at himself, he realises he’s not wearing anything with the Red Bull logo, which means he’s probably late. “Christian is going to kill me if I miss practice.”

The man’s face does something complicated that Daniel doesn’t understand. Daniel is about to ask for his phone to call someone- Laura, he thinks his assistants name is maybe- when the man speaks again, his voice softer than before.

“The race has already happened, don’t worry,” he promises, but his voice is shaky. “I’m taking you home to get some rest.”

“Very good,” he says again, which is a little unhelpful, but then he adds sounding a little more genuine, “Everyone is very proud of you.”

“Oh,” Daniel says, feeling a little stupid, but also relieved. No one can be angry at him if it’s his time off. Unless he fucked up on track. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Did you watch it? How did I do?”

He watches the man’s hands tighten on the steering wheel for a moment, his eyes fixed firmly on the road.

Happy butterflies beat their wings inside Daniel, flying between his stomach and his chest. He made people proud.

“Gangster,” Daniel says with a grin, and because he can’t resist being cheeky, “did I beat Max?”

But saying his name out loud as the butterflies wilt to lead weights at the bottom of his belly. Daniel is pretty sure Max should be here, so where is he? The guy spoke about the ranch, and the ranch means family time, which means Max time. Max is- Max is-

Daniel turns to look at the back seat, but it’s empty. He tries to remember when he last saw Max, but where his face used to be there is only a fuzzy outline framed with a Red Bull cap. He touches a hand to his head and finds only his own curls under his fingertips.

“Where’s my boyfriend?” He asks the man again, his voice high now with panic. “My boyfriend, Max, where is-“ Then he breaks off to swear, because no one is supposed to know. Max might be angry that he told this man.

“Easy easy,” the man soothes, his nice blue eyes back on Daniel as his hand makes an awkward jerk forwards, and then backwards again, as though he was going to try to touch him. “Easy, Daniel, it’s okay, I promise. Max will-“ He breaks off to smooth his face into a gentle smile. He really is so pretty. “Max will be at the ranch. I’m taking you to him now.”

Daniel studies the man’s face for a moment. He seems nice, and Max loves Daniel, and Christian is proud of him today, so they wouldn’t let him get into a car with someone they didn’t trust to look after him. Besides, something in this man’s face has Daniel trusting him.  His mouth is kind. There’s a mark just above his top lip.

“Have we met before?” Daniel asks, surprising himself with the question. When the man’s smile turns sad again, Daniel tries to laugh apologetically. “Sorry if that’s a dick question mate, when you’re famous it’s- It’s easy to lose track.”

Strangely that gets the man to laugh. Daniel can’t help but join in as the sound tugs at the loose threads of his mind. Sunshine streaming through tall windows, the glitter of the sea just beyond them. Chasing a spotty cat down a hallway.

“That’s okay,” the man says, “I have driven you lots of places before, do not worry.”

His words are the final piece Daniel needs for his hammering heart to slow. Pitifully, he finds himself lifting the plushie to his face to press his cheek against its softness. It’s even nicer than when it was against his hands. He’s going to-

“I’m going to give this to Max,” he says, words muffled a little. “He- I- I think he’ll pretend it’s silly, but secretly love it. He’s a little shit like that.”

Max will like it, Daniel is sure. Max will like that Daniel was thinking about him.

[russellius]

Tucked away somewhere in his parents’ Norfolk home, there is a photograph of George Russell at his first Silverstone grand prix. If Russell has his way, it will remain tucked away for ever. Rather embarrassingly for the Mercedes driver, he is wearing a Red Bull jumper in the shot.

In fairness, it was taken in 2009 and he was only 11 years old. Yet you sense a certain awkwardness when he talks about it. “When you are a kid you tend to get things you like the look of,” he says. “And I liked the look of that jumper.”

There was a lot more for Russell to like that day. His hero was Sebastian Vettel — of, er, Red Bull — and as he stood at the exit of Copse for the opening lap, he watched his favourite flash by in the lead. Vettel went on to win the race, with team-mate Mark Webber finishing second. Russell was smitten.

“That was the moment when I was like, ‘Yeah, this is what I want to do.’ The noise and the buzz was just immense,” he says.

At the time, Russell was already a junior kart racer and a regular winner, and he would carry on in that groove for the next few years. There was certainly no lack of belief. “With the naivety of a child I used to think I could do anything. I used to think I could fly to the moon,” he says.

“I was so confident. So, so confident at a young age because I was winning. I was almost arrogant, I would say. It was only when I got to 16 that I realised it was not as straightforward as I thought. There are obstacles and there are challenges.”

These things are relative. At the age of 16 Russell still won the British Formula Four championship. And while there were a few bumps on the road when racing in European events, he was still doing enough to attract a six-figure offer from BMW to drive in DTM, the German touring car championship.

“I was like, ‘Whoa, this is unbelievable,’ ” he says. “Formula One was almost put on the sideline at that point because that was so attractive. For a kid growing up in a field with a labrador, those sorts of figures had never even been heard of.”

Russell turned it down. An alternative offer from Mercedes to fund him in Formula Three kept his ambitions on track. More titles followed and in 2019 the kid who had stood saucer-eyed in wonder at Copse a decade earlier became a full-fledged F1 driver for Williams. He would spend three seasons with the Grove outfit before moving to Mercedes at the start of last year.

The change took him from the back of the grid to the front. It meant regular podium finishes and, eventually, a first race win in Brazil. It meant he was now one of a tiny elite, with all the attention that drew. But it also brought a reckoning.

Russell, 25, is a thoughtful and articulate individual. “Some changes are for better and some for worse,” he begins. “It is a bit of a strange position to be in when you find yourself in the limelight. A lot of people want to cosy up to you for the wrong reasons. It took a bit of time for me to process this.

“They weren’t necessarily friends, but people I knew well suddenly started acting differently, asking for this and asking for that. People I hadn’t heard from for a long time came out of the woodwork.

“Now I’m in this position, which is a privilege, I see people’s true colours. So I have a close-knit group of people around me and I know they are there for the right reason.”

Remember that old Volkswagen advertisement about the man who “moved into gold, just as the clever money moved out”? Russell arrived at Mercedes at a similar moment. Lewis Hamilton had just lost his drivers’ title to Max Verstappen and at the end of Russell’s first season with the team they also surrendered to Red Bull the constructors’ crown they had held for eight years.

And yet, perhaps it was not so bad to pitch up when he did. Russell played a big part in ironing out the problems of Mercedes’ 2022 car and making this year’s model more competitive. He also acknowledges that slotting in beside Hamilton could have been problematic had the team still been the most dominant in the sport.

Has it helped that Hamilton is Russell’s senior by a margin of 13 years, seven titles and 102 race wins? “I totally agree with that,” Russell says. “When you look at Carlos Sainz and Charles Leclerc [of Ferrari] or Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri [McLaren] these guys are trying to be the one to lead the team. They are almost fighting for that No 1 spot. With us, there is no fight because we are at different stages of our careers.

“Lewis has proven everything he has to prove. The team believes in me and believe I’ll be here for the long term. It is a very good dynamic. I would expect the dynamic to change a bit if we were fighting for championships, that’s only normal. But for now we have a good relationship and have had no real tense moments on track.”

The scale of the task facing Mercedes, and every other F1 team, can be measured by the fact that Red Bull have now won 19 of the past 20 grands prix. Their near-monopoly was interrupted only by Russell’s victory in Brazil. To all intents and purposes, this year’s titles have already been decided, but Russell still believes in his team.

“We’ve got some new things coming for the race, which will be a step in the right direction. Red Bull are still favourites, but out of all of the races so far I’d say this would be our best chance.

“As a team we are definitely going in the right direction. We’ve got clear views now and you’ve seen it already with our progress. We’re slowly reeling in Red Bull. It seems like they have taken a step backwards compared to the rest of the field.”

Regardless of what happens, Hamilton and Verstappen have already cemented their places among the all-time greats in the annals of the sport. Can Russell see himself joining them at some point? He seems ambivalent about the prospect.

“When I was a ten-year-old kid I dreamt about being world champion,” he says. “I didn’t dream of being famous.

“I got asked a question recently about what legacy I wanted to leave behind. I’m 25 years old and I hadn’t even thought about this. As a kid I didn’t think about legacy or what impact I wanted to leave, I just wanted to win.

“Maybe in five years’ time that will be something I do think about. I recognise the platform we have, but equally the more success you have the bigger your platform becomes. I need to focus on that first.”

[magicshopaholic]

Chingu (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara's best friend stops by for a night, and he and Taehyung have some choice words for each other.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word count: 8.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: LANGUAGE (Chris Park is here, people), heartbreak, anxiety, infidelity, a very small description of smut

A/N: One of my favourite relationships finally being introduced in depth. This fic takes place around a week after Baby, It's Cold Outside.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "something pretty“ by patrick park

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

Austria this time of year is better than freezing Germany, especially when everyone arrives for the Styrian GP this time to an unseasonably warm circuit in Spielberg. Dilara hasn’t got a motorhome of her own this time either; she and the rest of the group end up staying at the same house they stayed in for the Austrian GP. Strangely enough, she’s dreading it far less than she was the last time, especially since there’s no PR planned this time around. Plus, since it’s a Red Bull track - the Red Bull track - the team is in high spirits for a good race.

The best part about this weekend, though, for Dilara, is that Chris Park has made it down here for the weekend. He can’t stay for the actual race, which is a pity, but he’s needed back in London by Saturday afternoon for a workshop he’s doing with Fred, and Dilara chooses to humbly count her blessings that at least one of her friends is finally here. 

He arrives on Thursday; she perks up when she hears a motor screeching outside, followed by a very Chris text: Where are you? No need to pretty yourself up for me, Komyshan. 

Too happy to be annoyed, Dilara skips out in jeans, an oversized jumper and boots, bag in one hand and phone in the other. She throws the front door open to the gorgeous winter sun to see Chris in a brown jacket and jeans, leaning against a motorcycle and wearing Aviators that would look ridiculous on anyone but him and Tom Cruise, while he chats with Seokjin, Jungkook and - her heart skips a beat - Taehyung. The latter isn’t really talking, she notices; just standing a little behind the other two members as they make small talk with Chris.

Taehyung is the first to spot her; her stomach does a backflip when his eyes light up and a hint of a smile graces his beautiful features. Right at that moment, though, Chris spots her and his grin widens. Taking off his shades, he holds his arms open and yells “What’s up, Komyshan?” as she runs up to him.

“You’re actually here!” she exclaims, jumping up and hugging him tight, feeling her feet leave the ground as he straightens his tall frame. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see you, Park,” she remarks when he sets her down.

“I’ll give it an hour,” he says generously, ruffling her hair as he turns to face the others. “She’s all talk; she can’t really stand me after a while,” he explains to them.

“Sexy jacket, Dilara,” remarks Jungkook, winking.

Dilara chuckles, pretending not to notice how Taehyung frowns and lightly slaps his arm. “Thanks. Learning from Jimin, are we?”

He grins. “No, I just have the same one.”

“I’ll have her home in time for dinner,” says Chris mock-seriously to all of them before bowing slightly. When he catches sight of her amused expression, he shrugs. “What? It’s just respectful to your housemates.”

Already bracing herself for an entire afternoon of this, Dilara rolls her eyes and turns away, her gaze falling on Taehyung. He’s still standing behind the others, looking at her with a strange expression on his face, like nostalgia and something else. 

All three members step back when Chris straddles the bike and she climbs on behind him, sliding her small backpack on.

“Alright, see you in a bit,” calls Chris jovially in Korean, slipping his shades on and backing up the bike.

“Be careful.” Taehyung’s voice unexpectedly cuts through, deep and sudden, and Dilara turns to see him wincing and looking away, as though cursing himself for saying anything.

For some reason, she doesn’t want him to feel embarrassed, not for saying something like that. When he hesitantly looks back at her, she nods. "Yeah," she mutters, before swallowing and placing her hands on Chris's shoulders as they zoom away.

They drive nearly thirty minutes to the outskirts of Salzburg where they find a pub - the first one she’s seen in what feels like forever. They order beers and schnitzel and, enjoying the blues music playing at an appropriate volume, catch up after months.

"You know it's only been like six weeks, right?" he points out. "We saw each other in New York the night before you flew out to Spa."

"That was just one night, though. And it doesn't count," she adds, sipping her beer, "because we were there for Lex, not to catch up."

"True. You were there for the hard part, though, during the surgery," he tells her, reaching for a fry. "Her mom was out of the woods by the time I got there."

"No way," she disagrees. "That time would've been even worse. Her mom was okay but that was when Lex had to deal with all the insurance stuff and the physio and everything. She seemed exhausted."

“Yeah, she was.” Chris sips on his drink quietly for a minute, frowning out the window. “She’s tough, though,” he murmurs, still looking outside, before swallowing and placing his drink on the table, looking up at Dilara. “She’ll be fine.”

She observes him, not fooled. “Something you want to talk about?”

“Not really.”

“Sure? Not everything you say will get back to Lexie.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.”

Dilara cracks a smile, still not swayed. “I’m serious. How is she?”

Chris frowns. “What do you mean? Don’t you talk to her?”

“Of course I do. But she’s my friend. What she tells me wouldn’t be exactly what she tells you.”

“I’m her friend, too.”

“I didn’t have sex with her, though.”

“Minor technicalities.”

“You can avoid this all you want, but don’t expect me to believe that anything about you two is minor.”

Chris glares at her. “Do we have to talk about this?”

Dilara raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “No. Actually, yeah,” she says after a moment. “Why not? I’m not going to judge you, you know? This isn’t a test.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away, looking annoyed. “You know I’m not good at this,” he states in a low voice.

She perks up, though she tries not to show it. “Good at what?”

“This stuff. Dealing with feelings and doing the right thing and following all these - these dating rules. And she’s going through a hard time,” he adds, looking down. “She doesn’t need some fuckboy coming into her life and making it worse.”

“First of all, admitting you’re a fuckboy just goes to show that you aren’t one. Or at least, not anymore,” she amends. “And… you know I love you, but that’s such a fucking cop out answer.” It seems for a second as though he’s about to snap at her, but all he does is scoff and look out the window again. 

Dilara tries again. “I’m not saying you need to ask her out right now. Or ever, really. I’m just asking…” She shrugs and sighs, “I dunno. I guess I’m just looking out for her. We both know how she feels about you.”

Chris doesn’t deny it. “I don’t want to fuck around with her either, you know. I know I won’t be good for her. Isn’t it a good thing that I know this?”

“Maybe. But she doesn’t know it. And I don’t even think that’s the real reason. Even fuckboys can become… not-fuckboys,” she points out.

He rolls his eyes. “It won’t work. She’s too…” He exhales, shaking his head “... good, I guess. And we’re friends, man, I… it’ll screw up the whole group. She’s your trainer - won’t it be the worst for you?”

She considers it. “It might be awkward,” she admits, trying not to think about how much awkwardness she’s already dealing with on a daily basis, “but I trust both of you to be adults about it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Are you and Taehyung being adults about it?”

Dilara gapes, wondering how he zeroed in on exactly what she was thinking. “I - this is not about me.” When he smirks knowingly, she sighs in annoyance. “V and I are… we’re working around it. We’re… there’s a system… of sorts,” she rambles pathetically. She looks up from her schnitzel to see Chris looking at her with exaggerated wonder.

“I’m sorry, what did you call him?” he asks, chuckling in disbelief. “What happened to Tae?”

“He fucked a skinny idol, so now I call him by the name the rest of the world does,” she snaps.

“You call him V to his face?”

“I don’t talk to him if I can help it,” she says shortly, leaning back as the waitress sets the rest of their food in front of them. “But… I call him Kim to his face, if you must know.”

Chris snorts, shaking his head. “Shit. That’s got to be hard, though,” he allows. “How are you dealing with all of it?”

“Nice segue, but we’re coming back to you and Lexie after this.” Dilara waits for him to silently grin, before taking a deep breath. “I’m… I dunno, I’m taking it one day at a time. While counting down the days until this ends, of course.”

“Really?” He frowns, swallowing a fry whole. “What was “be careful” about, then?”

“That was…” She groans, so frustrated at how complicated this is. “I don’t know. He’s trying to be nice, I guess? But I don’t trust him and I can barely look at him without becoming a goddamn mess and after Max abandoned me in a fan’s wet dream?” She shrugs sarcastically. “I really didn’t have a choice but to start becoming cordial with them.”

“That’s what I thought,” agrees Chris, nodding. “I mean, I’m guessing the older guys would be normal, no? And Namjoon and Hoseok?” he asks, pronouncing their names exactly right.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” she mutters dismissively. “So are Jimin and Jungkook, too, actually. Jungkook’s my only workout buddy now and since friends are in short supply for me right now,” she says deliberately, pushing his shoulder, “I need to swallow my pride and take what I can get. Plus, I spend whatever time I can on the paddock, so…”

“And Taehyung?” he presses.

She swallows. “What about him? I told him to leave me alone and… he kind of is.”

“Kind of, clearly.”

“Yeah, well. Depends on the situation. Sometimes it almost feels like old times, just a bit.” She’s quiet for a moment. “And then I remember how he fucked me over and it all disappears.” She shakes her head and exhales. “You know what? If you don’t think it’ll work out with Lex, I believe you. I was sure it wouldn’t work out for us and I was right, wasn't I?”

Chris gives her a moment, looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and anger, and she has a feeling he’s recalling the first half of the season. “I kind of can’t believe you actually ended up living with them,” he says after a moment. “I mean, what are the chances?”

“I know, right?” She slowly swallows a fry. “The good thing is there actually does seem to be money coming in because the car is fantastic,” she says honestly. “I mean, I don’t know what I was hoping for in Nurburgring but that straight line speed?” She shakes her head as Chris mirrors her reaction. “Red Bull already has amazing downforce but that was a hell of a surprise.”

“Oh, it was incredible,” he agrees. “Think they’ll do the same thing this time? Or was it like a one time thing?”

“I don’t know for sure but I think one of us is getting a new power unit this time,” she confesses. “It’ll most likely be me so I’m not even all that worried about Qualifying. Austria’s a good track in general, though,” she adds, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll make it to the top six at least.”

Chris grins proudly. “Love the confidence,” he says sincerely. “Does that mean you’re okay drinking tomorrow night?” he asks cheekily.

Dilara laughs. “I can’t get drunk, but, yeah, why not? I haven’t had a drink in ages.”

He claps his hands. “It’s a date.”

As it turns out, it’s not a date. They return back to the pub the next day after FP, only to find it about to close down because of dark, angry rain clouds hovering low in the sky.

“You can order if you like,” the red haired gentleman across the bar says. “Last order, for a Red Bull driver.”

Dilara grins and blushes, letting Chris take the lead and order while she takes a couple of selfies with the owner and a few of the staff members. “Oh, do you think we should take food for your housemates?” Chris asks suddenly.

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to her but now that Chris says it, she knows they should. Annoyingly enough, they would do the same for her. Have done the same for her, she remembers. 

“Um, maybe. Let me check.” She pulls out her phone to text Seokjin, since she knows it’s either he or Yoongi who will give her the straightest answer. As she shifts from one foot to another, trying to word the perfect text, Chris just sighs in impatience and snatches the phone from her.

To her horror, he straight up calls him. “Hyung? It’s Chanyeol,” he begins, followed by an intense sounding discussion in Korean. If she has to guess, Jin is asking the others for their opinions and by the way Chris is rattling off an order to the owner, she knows they’re taking it incredibly seriously, as expected.

Midway during the call, Chris sighs and turns to her. “Your boyfriend’s asking if he’s included as well because, quote, he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to get him anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” says Dilara forcefully, rolling her eyes at Taehyung’s dramatics, “and tell him he is included, but I’m happy to let him starve if he wants.”

Chris chortles and says something into the phone in Korean, and she hears Jin’s cackle in the background. Once the call is wrapped up, the food is packed, she’s taken at least ten pictures and tipped the pub a hundred euros, they run outside to Chris’s motorcycle just as a rumble of thunder booms through the sky.

They make it back to the house just as the rain starts and hurry inside to see Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin and Jungkook in the living room and kitchen area, already in tracks and hoodies, looking way warmer than she feels. The moment he sees them, Jungkook follows them to the kitchen like a puppy, diving for the food and inspecting it as soon as they set it down.

“Where are the others?” Dilara asks nonchalantly, reaching for a bottle of water as the older members file in at a more respectable pace. 

“Namjoon’s talking to Kaya and Jin hyung’s probably taking a nap,” says Hoseok, giving Jungkook a disgusted look as he inhales a handful of fries. “And Taehyungie’s in the shower, I think.”

“Shouldn’t you go, too?” Chris asks.

Dilara chokes on her water. “Excuse me?”

He raises his eyebrows as Yoongi grins from where he’s sorting through the food. “I meant… shower. By yourself. Because your hair is wet?” He reminds her, fingering the ends of her ponytail. “You can’t afford to fall sick.”

Still recovering and trying not to picture Taehyung in the shower, joining him in the shower, or showering together, she mumbles something incoherent and bolts, cursing the weather for not being able to take a cold shower. By the time she’s out, feeling much warmer with freshly washed hair and dry, soft woollens, what seems like an army of Korean men are gathered in the kitchen, talking and laughing loudly. 

Suddenly feeling very tiny and very female, she pads over gingerly and emerges quietly between Chris and Yoongi, reaching for a piece of pita bread and dipping it in hummus.

The conversation continues around her, half in Korean and half in English. She doesn’t quite join in, choosing to simply watch and sneak in bites of food, happy to let Chris socialize for both of them. At one point, Hoseok asks them if they want to watch a movie and when Chris looks at her expectantly, she hesitates, somewhat glad that even though he's talking to them, he'll ditch them if she asks him to.

She doesn't, though; Dilara shrugs and says "Sure", trying not to make it too awkward. Nodding, one by one everyone heads out with their plates piled high with food.

"Yeorobun, don't forget to thank Dilara and Chris," calls Seokjin, followed by a chorus of thank yous from the room.

"Thank you," a soft and deep voice echoes from next to her.

Startled, she almost drops the bottle of water she’s holding. Dilara looks up and nods slightly. "You're welcome," she murmurs to Taehyung, suddenly finding it hard to meet his gaze when he's standing this close to her. He smells overwhelmingly of his lotion and her immediate instinct is to want to bury her nose in the sleeve of his sweater and inhale until she passes out. She swallows and tries to distract herself by looking down at his sweater, frowning when she realises it looks familiar.

“Is that -” She catches herself just in time, trying to stop the automatic smile that she can feel creeping up on her face and turning away.

Next to her, she hears him quietly chuckle. “Yeah, it is,” he answers after a moment.

Stay strong, Dilara. 

They stay there, side by side, hesitantly sharing an old memory for a moment until they’re broken out of it by Chris turning around and calling her name, warning her that the schnitzel will get over if she doesn’t come for it soon enough. Grateful for the interruption, she hurries away from the kitchen, ignoring how her heart flutters when her arm brushes Taehyung’s, and takes a seat on one of the side couches next to Jungkook. 

In the middle couch, facing the TV, Chris sits with Hoseok and Namjoon to his left, Yoongi on an armchair in the corner, and on the other side couch directly opposite her, Taehyung walks up to sit between Seokjin and Jimin, a smile still lingering on his face.

It goes back to one of their Zoom calls in December, just after Christmas. It was nothing special; he’d been wearing this sweater, a fluffy white one with brown, red and yellow stripes, looking festive yet casual. Dilara had commented on it, only for him to reply a bit haughtily that it was Gucci, that she needed to have some respect. 

He’d been completely straight-faced as he’d said it, and when he’d brought Yeontan onto his lap, she’d burst out laughing when she’d realised his dog got completely camouflaged in front of the sweater. The rest of the call had just been her teasing him mercilessly about the sweater until he, in a fit of annoyance, announced he was going to bed.

Dilara had apologised all night on text but hadn’t been able to resist squeezing in a joke or two more, to which he’d suddenly responded with a Careful, Lara. The tone had suddenly changed and she’d frowned, heart beating slightly faster, and asked him what for. 

He’d proceeded to list down all the things he knew he could do to her, before calling her on video and commanding her to finger myself, refusing her orgasm until she’d whimpered an apology and felt it crash down on her the next second. He’d watched her finish with half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily himself and it was only then that she realised that he’d been touching himself, too. Not taking his eyes off her possibly fucked out expression, he’d pushed the camera back slightly so she could watch him spill over his own fingers with a loud, throaty grunt. 

It was one of the hottest experiences of her life, especially given how physically far apart they were then. Ironically, when she was falling asleep later after a sweet, affectionate goodnight from him, she’d been relieved that they were clearly able to keep their sex life somewhat active even if they weren’t together. Now, when she sneaks another glance at him, she sees him looking right at her with that same nostalgic expression, biting his lip.

The others are discussing what movie to watch, switching to English. Hoseok immediately suggests an English movie since Dilara is present and everyone else agrees even as she shakes her head, but Chris, ever her extroverted saviour, speaks up.

“Oh, we can watch a Korean movie,” he says, almost like it’s obvious. “I’m teaching her. Although she should stick to driving, though,” he quips.

The boys burst into laughter and she feels her cheeks get hot, still grateful at his attempts to keep the mood light. Taking care to avoid their eyes, she shakes her head at Chris who simply grins at her. “Korean is fine,” she finally agrees, giving him a look. “I can read subtitles.”

A discussion begins on which movie, with everyone including Chris pitching in. Across from her, Taehyung and Jimin are talking to each other with Jungkook beside her pitching in. All the talk is in Korean but she’s just focused on Taehyung laughing, his boxy smile and bashful expression as Jin makes some kind of comment, and suddenly feels the urge to cuddle with him. She knows it’s ridiculous, but she allows herself the fantasy for a moment: the fluffy sweater, his warm hands, the long blond hair tickling her cheek, his deep voice snickering in her ear.

It’s pointless, though, she reminds herself as she tears her eyes away from him. It’s not going to happen and it shouldn’t either. Maybe it’s the sweater. Maybe once he takes it off and goes back to his regular joggers and t-shirts and shorts and jeans and coats, he’ll… well, he’ll still look fantastic but hopefully, her cuddling urges won’t resurface.

The sound of her name brings Dilara out of her reverie. “Dilara hates horror movies,” declares Chris, turning to her. “We should definitely watch one.”

She flips him off while some of the guys snicker. “I don’t hate them,” she says defensively, pulling her hoodie tighter around her shoulders. “I watch them all the time, I just… think they’re a bit thin on plot, that’s all.”

Chris snorts. “In all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve never watched a horror movie unless you’ve been massively outvoted,” he points out, annoyingly correct. “That’s two - no, three years, Komyshan.”

“You’ve known each other only three years?” Hoseok asks, frowning in surprise. “You act like you’ve known each other forever.”

“I’m her best friend,” states Chris, shrugging. There’s something strange about the way he says it; he doesn't say she's my best friend, the way someone normally would. He's establishing his place in her life, as though he’s reminding everyone… or one person, if the way his eyes flicker to Taehyung is any indication.

“After Lexie, of course,” she pipes up, sarcastically blowing him a kiss when he narrows his eyes at her.

“How did you two meet?” Jungkook asks.

“Technically?” Chris dusts his hands on his jeans and cocks his head over to me. “I hit on her at a pub in London and she said no. The next day, Lexie brought her to my studio.”

“Seriously, what are the odds?” Dilara mutters, still mortified at the memory. “And you didn’t hit on me, you offered to buy me a drink. And I said no because I was scheduled on the SIM the next morning.”

“You hit on her?” Jin gives her an appraising look, apparently ignoring her caveat entirely. “You really have a thing for Korean guys, huh?” When Namjoon rolls his eyes and nudges him, he widens his eyes. “No, not in a bad way! Just… I mean, that’s two guys in this room who’ve hit on you, no?”

Dilara tentatively glances at Taehyung, hugely relieved for some reason to see him fighting a hint of a smile before catching her eye. His gaze, presumably at remembering how and when he hit on me, is too intense and she has to look away to the member on his left. “Three if you count Jimin,” she quips, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Jimin guffaws, two pink spots appearing on his cheeks. “No, no, it’s not the same,” he denies vigorously, throwing an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders and being, in Dilara’s opinion, transparent as fuck.

“Well, you’ve certainly hooked up with two people in this room,” says Chris nonchalantly.

It takes her a moment to register what he’s said. “That was during spin the bottle,” she says quickly, glaring at Chris, “and it doesn’t count. Or Lexie would’ve killed me,” she adds deliberately.

Chris shrugs, apparently conceding, but the damage is done. Dilara’s eyes dart towards Taehyung. All hints of smiles have left his face and he's staring at Chris. All of a sudden, he looks at her, expression unreadable, before poking his tongue through his cheek and looking down at his lap. 

She’s extremely annoyed; at Chris for bringing it up, at Taehyung for having the nerve to have any kind of reaction, and herself for actually caring what her ex-boyfriend thinks.

Thankfully the conversation moves away from this hideously uncomfortable topic to something else, still half in Korean and half in English. Apparently they've finally decided on a movie because there's some verbal scuffle between Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin and Chris, while Yoongi dryly comments upon something. 

Dilara tries not to notice how little the others are participating; it's an uncomfortable feeling of anticipation, like she’s waiting for something else to go wrong.

"Dilara, catch!" True to form, she just about sees Hoseok throwing something to her and she reflexively catches it, to a chorus of hoots from around the room.

"Daebak," says Jungkook from next to her, looking at me in awe.

She grins. "Thanks."

"Uh-uh," pipes up Chris, and she knows right before he speaks what this is about, "In Korean, please."

She rolls her eyes at his stern tone. "Not now, Chris."

"Oh, come on, that's how you practice," he says easily, leaning over the arm of the couch and nudging her elbow. "Come on, try it."

"I'm not going to speak Korean right now," she mutters, feeling her face heat up.

"Who better to speak it in front of?" He spreads his arms and gestures to the room.

"I've actually never heard you speak Korean," says Jimin, looking interested. "Except that one time in Yeongam."

Dilara doesn't respond, mostly because she’s just realised that most of the Korean she ever spoke around the group, she spoke around Taehyung only, given how conscious she’s always been. Her eyes meet his again for a moment and she sees him frown slightly before she looks away.

Meanwhile, Chris is still on his mission to make her embarrass herself in front of everyone. "Go on, come on, you need to practice…"

"Not gonna happen."

"Just once, Komyshan, come on," he keeps going, being unusually persistent.

Dilara frowns. "Chris, let it go," she hisses, starting to feel hassled.

"Dude, just one -"

"She said no."

Everyone's eyes, including Dilara’s, immediately snap to Taehyung, who's looking at Chris with a hardened jaw and steely gaze. For a moment, she acknowledges how all thoughts of cuddling him are out the window, but then she turns to look at Chris with a mixture of slight apology and mostly exasperation, like he'd asked for it.

Chris pauses, observing Taehyung, as though he hadn't quite realised how aggressive he was being. Then he turns to her slowly and the amusement in his eyes gives her a Very Bad Feeling. "Sorry, Lara," he says clearly, almost taunting.

Dilara wants to throw something at him; it's never been explicitly stated, but no one calls her Lara, no one apart from Taehyung. They may not be together anymore and she may have forbidden him from calling her that… but hearing someone else use that endearment  makes her want to throw up.

She notices a movement from the corner of her eye and shifts slightly to see Jimin tugging on Taehyung's sleeve, as though to prevent him from moving from where he's seated. He doesn't look at her and for once, she wishes he would.

Someone clears his throat and Dilara looks up to see Yoongi looking between Chris and Taehyung with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Um… what movie did we decide on finally?" 

Hoseok seems to snap out of it as well, immediately naming some movie and thankfully, the tension is broken. She rolls her eyes at Chris and looks away, determined to chew him out later for this. From the glimpse she caught of his face, he doesn't look apologetic or abashed at all. If anything, although his smirk has disappeared, he looks satisfied at the reaction he's gotten - from Taehyung.

There's some more chatter, more hesitant than before and mostly led by Hoseok and Seokjin. It's a mix of English and Korean again and finally, the movie begins. 

"Do we have popcorn?" Jimin asks suddenly, turning to look towards the kitchen as though expecting a bowl to fly over to him.

"There's some in one of the cabinets, I think," she answers, glad to be talking to anyone but Chris or Taehyung. "I can make it in the microwave if you want," she offers, already standing up.

"No, no, you can't miss the beginning of the movie," says Jungkook, tugging on her sleeve and grinning up at her. "It's scary, but not that scary."

Dilara mock-glares at him and moves to flick him on the forehead while Chris frowns. "You hate popcorn," he states.

"I don't hate it," she points out lightly, "and it'll only take a minute."

"You need the subtitles more than anyone else, though."

"I'm sure one minute won't make a huge difference," she argues through gritted teeth, wondering what his problem is.

"You know, she can make her own decisions," comes Taehyung's voice from the other side, loudly.

Not again, she wants to groan, and flops back down on the couch, shrugging at Jimin silently as if to say I tried. He grimaces and nods, just as Chris responds.

"I know. I also know that she hates not knowing what's going on in a movie and then keeps talking through it," he states, ignoring her when she makes a noise of disbelief at him.

"So let her," snaps Taehyung, and Dilara knows it's because he's taken it at least a little personally, since talking through movies is something he does, too; something they used to do together, commenting on everything from dialogue to scenery to costumes.

"What? It doesn't annoy you?" Chris asks, raising his eyebrows, as though daring him to admit it.

"It doesn't. Like I said, she can make her own decisions."

Chris bites his lip for a moment, as though reconsidering his response, before apparently deciding to do so. To Dilara’s horror, keeping a steely gaze on Taehyung, he replies in Korean. She doesn't understand it, obviously, but she notices everyone frown slightly, like they're not quite sure what he's said. Namjoon is the first to close his eyes and deflate slightly, like he's internally sighing, and she has an inkling of what Chris is at least referring to.

Across the room, Taehyung looks like a statue as he glares at Chris. He asks something, tone abrupt, to which Chris shrugs and responds. It carries on like this, a conversation in Korean between Dilara’s ex-boyfriend and one of her best friends, a loaded and precarious conversation where neither of them seemingly wants to cross the line from riffing to arguing, but still seem seconds away from whipping out their dicks.

She only manages to catch a few words here and there, including her name a couple of times, but other than that, she’s lost. It’s extremely frustrating, this handicap, being the only one unable to understand a conversation of which she is the subject, especially when she notices the expressions of the other spectators, becoming more and more still, as though expecting something - or someone - to explode. 

Dilara looks at Taehyung, silently willing him to stop… although she supposes she should want Chris to be the one to stop it just as much. She hadn't seen this coming; she knows Taehyung has a tendency to get territorial and she’s not dense enough to not notice how he feels about her, much as she might try to ignore it. 

She also knows that Chris is a good friend, one of the best, but has a tendency to be a complete jerk if he puts his mind to it. He can be insensitive and direct and say just the right thing to get under her skin; usually he does it to get her to face her anxiety, using tough love in a way that only he can make work. It doesn’t now, though. For a moment, her mind goes to Lexie and his conviction that he wouldn't be good for her. At this moment, Dilara agrees with him.

Her heart is racing now, the anxiety at not knowing what the fuck is going on eating away at her. She swallows, willing Taehyung to at least look at her. He doesn't, though; his attention is solely focused on Chris, even when he haughtily looks away as though the conversation isn't worth his time. 

Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes snap to her and she almost flinches, not expecting it. His eyes flicker with emotion and he swallows, and it looks like he wants to say something. Even though he’s notoriously hard to read, right now the regret and guilt in his face is obvious as day, at least to her. She doesn’t know what Chris said to get this reaction out of him, but she finds she doesn’t really care at this moment. She just wants to reach for him.

However, before Dilara can structure any further coherent thoughts, Taehyung’s gaze falls and he murmurs something. She doesn’t understand it, but it’s clear that it’s a closure to the conversation, especially when Namjoon clears his throat and points to the TV, apparently not realising he’s speaking in Korean. 

As the movie resumes, she looks over at Chris to see him staring at Taehyung, all traces of humour and playfulness gone. It’s not anger, exactly… it’s the face he gives her every time she’s on the verge of giving up in the gym or every time she starts talking herself down before a race.

There are no more interruptions for the rest of the night. Dilara can’t believe how angry she is at both of them for this, especially when they started talking about her like she wasn’t even there. Chris started it, Taehyung enabled it and now, she just wants to be away from both of them.

Dilara tries to concentrate on the movie, whispering only once in a while to Jungkook beside her when the subtitles move too fast or there’s a reference she doesn’t get, nodding when he answers immediately. For once, she’s glad he hasn’t ever tried to broach this topic with her. She ends up resting her head on his shoulder as they watch, but still only half-concentrating.

She can’t get Taehyung’s face out of her mind. She remembers all the times she’s talked to him since they got here: in Spa, Monza, Imola, even last week in Germany, not to mention his many attempts at trying to talk to her before she told him categorically to leave her alone. She’d seen him in various states of guilt and devastation, but right now he looked… resigned. Fear grips at her heart when she thinks about it, but she can’t immediately figure out why.

She has to know what they were talking about. She has to. She pulls out her phone and contemplates texting Chris, but she’s too angry to talk to him right now. Who else? Namjoon? She’s opened up to him enough before. Jimin? No, he looks far too uncomfortable. Yoongi? They’ve recently connected a bit and she at least has faith that he’ll be as direct as possible. 

Shaking her head, Dilara finally texts the one person she actually wants to talk to right now.

What did he say to you?

She watches Taehyung as he glances at his phone, how he stares at the screen with his thumbs hovering over it, how he doesn’t so much as look up at her even once. After almost a minute, he types out a reply.

Nothing I don’t already know.

—

An hour and a half later, Dilara enters her room with Chris right behind her. Taking off her hoodie and throwing it to the desk with more force than she intended, she turns to face him. “What the hell was that?”

“A very average movie,” he says casually, taking off his own jacket and throwing it on top of hers.

“Don’t fuck with me, Park.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are you talking about the heart to heart I had with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says through gritted teeth, “and whatever that was, it definitely wasn’t a heart to heart.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” he says dismissively, walking past her towards the bathroom.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me. Chris!” 

He turns on the light and looks back at her for a moment. “Should’ve paid more attention when I tried to teach you Korean, Lara.”

“Suck my dick, Park.”

Chris gives her a hollow smirk before turning and shutting the door behind him. 

Dilara could hit him. She really could. It’s almost as though he’s enjoying getting a rise out of her, just like he’d taunted Taehyung with whatever he’d said that made him look like he was about to cry. 

Nothing I don’t already know… She hasn’t the faintest what it means. She’s not even sure she wants to find out. Outside, a rumble of thunder crashes and she exhales in frustration when she realises that tomorrow might just be a wet Qualifying.

Chris was meant to go back to his hotel tonight, returning the rented motorcycle to the staff and checking out first thing in the morning before flying back to London. But the rain had started lashing down towards the end of the movie and by the time it was done, the visibility was so bad that they couldn’t even see his bike parked in the front yard.

Naturally, he was staying with Dilara, no matter how pissed off she was. When everyone had stood up to head inside, he’d half-smirked and asked how comfortable the couch was. Too annoyed to speak to him and just done with the excessive testosterone, she’d simply bit back a retort and pulled him into her room by the hand.

Now, Chris comes out of the bathroom and starts unbuttoning his jeans, changing into a pair of sweatpants lent to him by Namjoon, the only member as tall as him. Dilara stares at him, not backing down. Finally, he huffs. “Okay, what?”

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean what? How about we start with why you were so rude?”

“Rude to who? Your ex?” he questions immediately. “Do you really care about his feelings now?”

“I - I meant… to everyone. We were trying to watch a movie and you made it into some fucking drama about two people and their stupid love life.”

“We’d watched literally two minutes of the movie till then. Also,” he continues, “I’m pretty sure I did everyone a favour because that movie sucked.”

“Damn it, Chris!” she exclaims. “It was so embarrassing!”

“Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, alright? But let’s be real. If this was Lexie here instead of me and she blew up at him while defending you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Glaring at her, he rips the covers off the bed with force.

Dilara swallows, not expecting the conversation to take this turn. “That’s not - that’s not true. If she’d said… she doesn’t even speak -”

“Does he have any idea what you were like during those weeks after you broke up?” he interrupts. “How he broke you? Do you even remember what you were like then?”

She feels a lump forming in her throat. “Yeah, I think I have a pretty good fucking idea how I was, Chris.”

“Good. Because you were a wreck, Dilara,” he states, but it doesn’t sound insulting. He’s trying to remind her. “Does he know you were on the verge of tears for weeks? That we literally didn’t see you smile for nearly a month? How you overdid it in the gym, how you skipped every boxing session we planned, how your anxiety doubled every time you got in the car because you’d fucked up Melbourne - because of him? Does he know,” he continues, and his voice cracks just a little, “how he shattered your confidence at the bloody start of a season?”

The only sound is from the rain outside. 

“Please tell me you didn’t tell him all that,” she says quietly, her voice hoarse and unsteady.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Chris looks just a little disappointed. “I’m your friend. You think I wanted to see you like that? You think any of us did? Why shouldn’t he know?”

She opens her mouth to argue but nothing comes out. She remembers, despite herself, how alone she’d felt here, how ganged up on she’d felt when all six of them stuck up for Taehyung after the VMAs, how all six of them lied to her this spring, and how all six of them have systematically broken down the wall she built this year to the point where she’s fighting with Chris because he made her ex, the man who broke her heart, feel bad.

When Dilara doesn’t say anything, Chris rolls his eyes and holds his hands up, like he’s giving up. “Whatever. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning.”

She sighs, watching him turn around and head to the mirror, checking out his hair. “Come on, don’t act like I’m trying to get rid of you,” she tells him in a small voice, feeling distinctly ungrateful all of a sudden. “This is the happiest I’ve been since August. And only part of it has to do with the schnitzel.”

He gives a half-hearted chuckle but doesn’t reply. 

“Thank you,” she says after a moment, “for standing up for me. In your own weird, fucked up way. It’s a very best friend thing to do.”

“You’re welcome.” He finally turns and heads straight for the bed, tucking himself in. “Don’t let Lexie hear you say that, though.”

“She’ll deal.” They look at each other for a moment, silently apprising the other. “I just… don’t like conflict. You know that.”

“I do. Doesn’t matter to me.” He shrugs. “You know we’ll always stick up for you. Just like we did with that creepy journalist at Sky.”

Shuddering at the memory, she gets into bed as well. “Jerk. Still,” she adds, nudging his shoulder, “a very best friend thing to do.”

“Go to sleep, Komyshan. You have a race tomorrow.”

Smiling to herself, she turns to her side, facing away from him and closing her eyes. It’s a few more minutes before one of them speaks.

“I hooked up with Maria from Mercedes.”

Dilara’s eyes snap open and she frowns Maria from Mercedes… “Social media manager, skinny jeans, always had the hots for you, Maria?” She can tell from his silence that she’s right. “What… when?”

“In Bahrain. Right after we got back from Australia.” 

By we he means him and Lexie and by Bahrain he means… about a week after Dilara saw the article about Taehyung and Jennie. She swallows, shocked into silence.

“Lexie knows,” he says, answering her silent question. “She… she caught us, actually.” He sighs shakily. “Australia was… it was too much. I was getting in too deep and it freaked me out and I - I really fucked up.” 

Dilara doesn’t know whether to be furious or have sympathy for him. “Did it help?” she asks after a moment.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again, voice smaller than ever. “No. So, believe it or not… I can relate to Taehyung better than you think. He should know what he did to you.”

She bites her lip, not knowing which is worse: having to remember what he really did to her, remembering his face earlier this evening, thinking about what Lexie was going through when she found out, how she didn’t tell Dilara because she obviously didn’t want to burden her… or Chris, sounding more vulnerable than she’s ever known him to be.

“It’s killing him, Komyshan,” he says quietly, so soft that she can barely hear him over the rain. She doesn't know if he’s talking about Taehyung or himself. “Knowing what he did and not knowing how to make it right? It’s killing him.”

---

Dilara wakes up the next morning to an apologetic looking sun streaming in from the window. A small, hopeful smile makes its way onto her face. Dry race. She turns to see the other side of the bed empty, frowning when she  realises Chris must have left already. She reaches for her phone to see a text from him.

Leaving now. Tried to wake you up but you almost punched me in the face. Good luck for today and DO NOT let Ricciardo psych you out about anything.

She rolls her eyes, certain he must be exaggerating. The time stamp on the message is from a minute ago, though; frowning, she gets out of bed, hoping she can catch him before he leaves. When she reaches her bedroom door, however, she hears voices. Two voices; she opens the door slightly, quietly, breath catching in her throat when she hears Taehyung and Chris.

They’re speaking in Korean, so naturally she can’t understand a word. They’re also talking softly, sounding much more amiable than last night. Hesitating, she opens the door slightly wider and peers out. From her bedroom in the hallway, she can see just the edge of the kitchen island. 

She spots Chris leaning against it, facing in her direction, dressed comfortably in all black with his sunglasses tucked down the front of his t-shirt. There’s a white ceramic bowl with a spoon in it in front of him. His face looks serious, nothing like the troublemaking jerk last night. 

Dilara can hear Taehyung, his voice low and deep, sounding almost tired. There’s some clinking; she pictures him making his way through the kitchen, looking for cereal or something. The fridge opens and closes, and then she sees him come slightly into view, wearing his printed Ralph Lauren pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt on top. His messy blond hair brushes the back of his t-shirt, falling into his eyes when he turns his head slightly.

She doesn’t know what they’re talking about and she doesn’t want to. It’s Qualifying day; she can’t focus on this. She shuts the door and heads into the bathroom, getting ready for the day. She wishes Chris was staying today; it always helps to have someone cheer you on and talk you up while you stretch before a race. In an incredibly sweet gesture, Hoseok had offered earlier this week to accompany her if she wanted, but Namjoon had immediately yet apologetically reminded him that he couldn’t just hang out with her that publicly - and definitely not in her changing room.

Dilara waits to hear the front door open and close, followed by another door opening and closing, meaning Taehyung has departed to his room as well. She emerges then, heading to the empty kitchen and trying not to think about yesterday at all. She spots the jar of muesli stacked high up in a cabinet. Sighing, she tries to reach for it before preparing to hop onto the countertop. Just as she’s about to hoist herself up, a hand appears from behind her and brings down the jar. 

She turns to see Taehyung appear on her other side, giving her a silent glance of acknowledgement before sorting through the bowl of fruit. Behind him, she sees the pantry door ajar. Slowly assembling her cereal, she wonders if it’s a good idea to reveal that she knows he and Chris talked this morning, or even that she knows what they argued about last night. 

Their fingers brush lightly, so lightly that she thinks she may have imagined it. She lowers her head a bit so her hair falls down her shoulders, shielding her face from view. 

There’s something oddly comforting about standing next to him. It’s confusing, because if anything, it should be worse after last night. She can’t put her finger on it exactly, but she knows it’s familiar, so incredibly familiar that it tugs at her heartstrings in a way that makes her want to crumble. 

She’s felt this before, all the way since the beginning, since the weekend they met and she immediately trusted him with everything she had. When their shoulders brush, she feels him pause next to her.

“Did you sleep with him?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

A few weeks ago, Dilara wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. She wouldn’t have cared how off base he was; she would’ve lied through her teeth as nonchalantly as possible before walking away from him, savagely enjoying how much he’d hate it. 

But she can’t do that now. Try as she might, she can’t find that part of her that wants to hurt him that badly. Not when he’s taken the risk to ask her something like this, something he knows he has no right to ask, to get an answer he most likely doesn’t want. Not when he sounds like this, like he’s on the verge of giving up.

Dilara bites her lip, suddenly overcome with emotion for her ex. His face from last night haunts her, and his text sends a pang of pity through her heart. It’s killing him. It sounds like it, too. There’s no jealousy, no possessiveness to his question, only desperation tending towards resignation. 

Despite Chris’s anger for her last night, she knows that if she lies to Taehyung right now, it’ll shatter him. She glances at where their hands are on the counter, a hair’s breadth away from touching. Hearing his unsteady breathing from next to her, she decides she’s punished him enough.

“No,” she answers quietly.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him nod once before turning to walk past her inside. Without thinking, she grabs his wrist to stop him. He halts and even though this wasn’t planned, she knows it’s absolutely what she wants to do right now. 

She takes a step to her right so that she’s standing right in front of him, her heart beating so fast it hurts. She hesitates for a moment, reaching for the bottom of his white t-shirt, gripping the fabric between her fingertips. Then, with a sudden calm she wasn’t expecting, she reaches forward and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

Taehyung freezes, like she suspected he would. But she stays there, moving forward slightly so their torsos press against each other, a small warmth in the dawn of an Austrian winter. She can hear his heart racing and she tightens her arms around him a bit, letting him know it’s not a mistake. 

Slowly, he lifts his arms from his sides and brings them up to her back, touching her so gently as if she might break. It takes him a few more seconds to properly envelope her and when he does, it feels like a piece has fallen into place.

With his lean torso in her grasp, his steady arms around her, she knows it’s a result of last night, where It wasn’t just Chris who defended her against Taehyung, but Taehyung who defended her against Chris, too. He didn’t have to; it wasn’t even his place, but he did it anyway. As she feels him lower his head onto her shoulder and feel his cheek press against the side of her head, his arms tightening around her, she realises she feels safe. 

Dilara presses her forehead into his broad shoulder and inhales slightly, tears springing to her eyes at the familiar scent of lotion. Taehyung turns his head slightly to bury his face in her neck, one hand firm around her back and the other cradling her head, fingertips soft in her hair. She thinks she feels him shake slightly and she hugs him tighter, opening her loose fists and letting her fingers and palms gently touch his back. He inhales shakily, long hair brushing the skin of her neck. 

They break apart when someone enters the kitchen. Both of them are jerked out of it but they don’t jump away from each other, instead slowly separating one body part after another, no longer embarrassed in front of anyone else. With her shoulder still pressed against his chest, she turns to see Namjoon and Hoseok looking awkward and sheepish, muttering incoherently about coming back later and whatnot, but she knows the moment’s over. So she shakes her head and gives them an awkward wave, telling them she needs to be at the track anyway. 

She doesn’t look at Taehyung again but as she leaves, she feels his hand drop from around her waist, where she didn’t even realise it was resting.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[mrs-gauche]

While I know it’s generally bad for leaks to happen (unless they are intentionally encouraged by the developer, and yes this seems to be a thing, as Mark Darrah himself even mentioned in the past), and there’s no real point in overanalyzing something that is pre-Alpha footage from over a year ago (!!)... I’m just glad it didn’t contain some major spoilers story wise, because I wouldn’t know how to avoid them until whenever this game actually releases. 😂 I’d like to know as little as possible about the story and the characters going into it.......

........That being said.. I’m a hypocrite, I couldn’t resist and took a tiny little peek 😂(and if you don’t wanna know anything until there’s something official, I completely understand, just don’t read any further now!), so all I want to say is

HOLY SHIT GUYS This seems legit and we are probably looking at the very first glimpse of REAL (pre-Alpha) DA4 gameplay footage after EIGHT flippin years, which means this game is REAL, it’s actually happening, it’s a real game that’s playable and everything and ahhhh!!! Weisshaupt?? Davrin?? A dragon?? Darkspawn?? Purple stuff??? DID YOU SEE THAT HAIR ANIMATION THOUGH??

Ahem. Okay, so with the first wave of euphoria out of the way now, how are we feeling about THIS

Hmmmmm 👀👀👀

HMMMMM

OHHHHHHH

Seems like the spirit of Joplin lives on after all?? 👀👀👀

I’ve already seen plenty of people speculating and while we should take everything with a grain of salt here of course, there was a comment on a reddit post by another (supposed) playtester that confirmed “Rook” to be indeed the protagonist’s name/title! 👀 And while this could be of course just a placeholder name for whatever it’ll actually end up being, there could be a lot to derive from this!

- As people have pointed out, “Rook” does sound a lot like a code/spy name, much like Charter, Butler, Farrier or any of Leliana’s spies

- Rook being also a type of crow, fitting in perfectly with the bird themed names like Hawke

- In slang, it’s ALSO another word for “swindler” or “deceiver”, which also reminds me a lot of how there was a Lord of Fortune in Tevinter Nights who used the name “Hollix” as part of their disguise during a mission (which btw was actually the name of Dorian’s mother’s pet nug lol)

So all of this considered, and assuming that the leaked footage might have been part of the very beginning of the game (and how the leaker seemed to suggest that Grey Warden is just one of multiple factions you can choose from!), can I just say that my speculation about how DA4 might start off with an infiltration mission of one of four factions (Grey Warden/Antivan Crow/”Veil Jumper”/Tevinter.. something), while playing as a “spy” (/Lord of Fortune?? 👀) under the alias “Rook”, might actually turn out to be true after all??? (°ロ°)

I mean.. it could just end up being a simple “choose your class/faction” at the start and that’s it 😂, but either way, if we get something resembling different “origin stories”, like depending on which faction you choose, the game starts off with a different mission (similar to what Cyberpunk did?), I think that would be an awesome concept! (Not setting any expectations here though! 😌 The game might start off at Weisshaupt no matter which faction you choose!)

But back to topic, the rook being of course also a piece in a game of chess, which was depicted on the cover of Mark Darrah’s red “Joplin” book first seen in 2016!

Which in turn also of course immediately takes us back to the amazing mind chess game between Solas and Iron Bull, referencing a real game that happened in 1851 known as “The Immortal Game”. While people have been taking Solas sacrificing most of his pieces as well as his queen (Flemythal) only to then strike the final blow and win by moving the bishop (mage) as foreshadowing and also a perfect respresentation of how both Solas and Iron Bull think and strategize, what’s interesting to note, is that it’s the turn in which Bull takes Solas’ rook that ultimately seals Solas’ win in the end. 

Now, this could mean absolutely nothing of course, but with this new information from the leaks, maybe there’s more to it than we think. 👀

Then there’s also the link to Solas’ final Tower tarot card of course...

Other than that, I just think it’ll be really cool to have a chess themed aesthetic for DA4 following the tarot card theme of DAI! Or just the idea of having a “game of minds” like the Immortal Game rather than just relying on “brute force” with an antagonist like Solas, that requires a certain level of strategic thinking and consideration from us in how we act/make decisions to outwit him, would make a lot of sense to me!

(Or we might as well reference that one Simpsons episode with the “human chess board” and cover both brute force AND strategic thinking lmaoo)

Or, even better, let us do something like the flippin “logic chess” mechanic from that glorious Ace Attorney spin off game lmaooo

Let’s bombard Solas with some hard hitting arguments. lmao

I will say though that, if “Rook” does actually end up being the title/name of our next protagonist, I’m once again very curious how the hell they’re gonna make this work in the localized versions, if they do attempt to translate the name literally. Let us pray that they’ll just stick to English for this one, or else the multiple meanings of the term will be completely lost in translation. lol Can’t wait to play as flippin “Turm” in German or “Tour” in French. 😂

[bowieandqueen11]

Halloween Costume Shopping With Alexei Headcanons

Request: Hi, I miss Alexei from Stranger Things sm and I have an idea, shopping for Halloween costumes with Alexei (fem reader) Thanks ♥️

I hope this is okay my lovely! It’s so nice to finally go full blown into the Halloween spirit!

(Gif credit goes to: @random-imagines-blog. I do not own Stranger Things or its characters, all rights go to creators.)

Okay, so we all know that when Alexei isn’t being forced to open portals between worlds and unleash terrifying monsters upon the unsuspecting residents of small town Hawkins, then he is a huge excitable golden Labrador of a man who just CANNOT keep still dearie me.

Actually getting Alexei into the Starcourt Mall both undetected and just because he is so giddy. It’s a fine battle between kind of wrapping him around your arms and trying to lift the cable knit-green jumper he was wearing up enough around his head so only the tips of his glasses’ frames creep out, and trying to drag him by the scruff of his collar away from all the flashing lights and neon colours of the food court. 

Every time he would do a little jump of excitement and grab onto your shoulders, dropping his cover and making you blush and groan in embarrassment as people gave you strange looks, you couldn’t help the way your heart did a little flip. He just looked too damn adorable, the way he would glance over at you with a huge smile and excitement in his eyes, wanting you to be a part of every new neon thing that had caught his eye.

His English still wasn’t perfect, but dragging you over to every ice cream stall or slushy machine was just his sweet way of trying to share his own form of love with you.

He was getting better though - you has been coming over to Murray’s bunker as often as you could after work, just to sit crossed legged on the sofa facing Alexei. His knees would bounce against your own, eyes wide and glazed with astonishment as he would lean forward, clinging onto every English word you would try to teach him.

His eyes would follow every movement of your lips, and when he falls asleep on the couch later, he finds himself staring off into the ceiling and mouthing every single word you had said to him, tracing his lips in wonder.

Without trying to manically control the literal toddler, who would grip onto your fingers with a big beaming grin and try to drag you off into the distance with a final flash of flopping curls, you were already carrying a bag full of candy in your other arm. As soon as you had parked Murray’s car in the parking lot, Alexei had literally not waited for the vehicle to stop before his long legs had hitched themselves over the window and had run off into the horizon.

You had finally found him in the nearest candy store, hunched over by the pick’n’mix. He was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, eyes shifting around at the irritated looking shop clerk as he shovelled sweets from the little cubby holes into his mouth.

He had refused to leave until you had bought him pretty much a bag of everything the store had. Even then he had still shoved some more jelly worms into his mouth to ‘save for later’ as he had tried to tell you through a mouthful, and through you dragging him by the hair back into the mall’s courtyard. 

Although a fake witch had gone off in one of the shops and he had jumped into your arms Scooby Doo style. It took a little coaxing, and the promise that you would buy him a slushy and a burger for dinner before his fingers finally unclenched from behind your back and he would stop hiding his head, glasses askew against your shoulder blade.

When you finally get him into the shop, off he goes - giggling and flying under a full row of rails like a bull and nearly knocking every single costume flying into your face. 

Just when you think you’ve finally lost him for good, a hand reaches out from between a velvet cape and a fake habit costume, fingers beckoning you towards the darkness. Finally you give in, letting the longer fingers wrap around your own and fling you, chuckling, into a little secret triangular space of floor hidden among the clothing rails.

Alexei squats there, silently giggling as he shows you the outfit he has chosen from himself - a full blown mad scientist outfit, complete with long cream lab coat, crazy wig and even a little fake conical flask to boot.

‘Don’t you think that’s a little bit on the nose?’, you query, nearly falling onto the man and balancing yourself on his knee.

‘No, it will be on my back.’

The cheek-

You can see him bite his bottom lip to try and stifle his laugh, giving in eventually when you hit his shoulder and fall into him, giggling yourself. 

Your forehead accidentally brushes against his own, and you go to pull away with a gasp but his thumbs cup your cheek and pull you back to him before you can.

The two of you just sit there, giggling and glancing at each other for a while, each trying to pretend their heart wasn’t thudding like a hurricane against their chest every time their breath crossed each others’ cheek.

Eventually you manage to persuade him into trying on a pair of jeans and red gilet, shoving him towards the scarlet curtain of the changing room that lay near the back of the shop, thankfully far away from the front window. You had this huge irrational fear that you would turn around and see a very fuming Murray staring at you from behind the glass.

You had only meant to take him out for ten minutes, yet here you both were two hours later. Oops.

He calls you in to help zip up the jacket, and before you can even tease him for having clumsy fingers, the curtain is pulled open and Alexei’s form looms over you. The breath is drawn from your chest and pulled away as he grabs onto your face and pulls you up towards his face, fringe tickling your forehead as he kisses you for the first time, pouring heart and soul into you until his breath is your own.

In the end, the two of you manage to leave without any outfits at all, but somehow with a relationship which you both felt was a suitable substitute.

[sashi-ya]

~💟 Sashi's Valentine's Corner 💟~

🧩 Interactive Fic

Trafalgar Law x F! Reader ~ Locked Love (1st Part)

What's an interactive fic? I've had this idea in mind for so so long! It is based on one of my favorite series of books, "Choose Your Own Adventure" where at the ending of each chapter you were able to choose between two options to see how the story will continue depending on what you picked! So I did the same for this fic. This is experimental and I'm not sure if you are gonna like it, but let's try! There will be 2 options on how the story will continue that you can choose and they will be up tomorrow!

Suprise #2: Also, there are two parallel stories happening at the same time that will be posted in the following days, featuring Sabo and Ace & Sanji and Zoro

NSFW ENDING / SFW ENDING

tw: no warnings, there will be a NSFW option and a SFW for the next part at the ending.

wc: 2.2K

“Fucking Valentine’s Day”

Pushing the shopping cart through your local supermarket feels like a torture. Everything is so pink and full of chocolates. Some blond guy pushes you and asks you for forgiveness as he seems desperate for the last teddy bear over a counter. Luckily by tomorrow people won’t run to buy bonbons or stupid cards but probably plan Bs…

You get to the premade food aisle and pick up two cups of instant ramen because they were on promotion for valentines. “Take two, pay one” they advertise, and you frankly weren’t thinking about buying more than one, because valentine’s for you is just another commercial day and you have had enough of men.

Same happens to you with the Red Bulls, “take two, pay one”. Eh… this shit is expensive; I could use the discount after all…

The line is longer than expected, but you don’t mind. After all, you had nothing to do tonight, no fancy dates or dinner, just some anime and gaming.

While you scan through several Instagram stories on your phone to wait for your turn to pay, someone touches your shoulder.

Annoyed, you turn around to see who dares to bother you, but soon you change your boredom face to a happy one. It is no other than your friend Sanji. And it’s weird for you to see him in a local supermarket, especially because being the amazing chef he is, he usually buys his ingredients from organic markets.

“Sanji, what are you doing here?” you ask him, looking at the products his arms are holding. Sanji’s cheeks get red, for some reason he doesn’t feel comfortable telling you about the bottles on his hands. “Uh… I came here to buy these… I couldn’t find them anywhere so… you know. This Sake is not easily found” he says, looking at the ground. And you smile, Sanji deserves love, he deserves the whole valentine’s night fantasy. Yes, he does.

“I wonder who’s the lucky one, huh?” you joke as it’s finally your turn to pay. He widens his visible ocean blue eye and bites his lips a little. “Don’t be embarrassed, Sanji. I'm happy you are having fun tonight!”. “T-thank you, (Name)”.

Once the few items you paid were already in the little eco bag, you bid goodbye to your prince charming friend and go outside. As you cross the door, you notice the same blonde guy that pushed you before, bickering with a freckled youngster over a black Harley Davidson motorbike. “I’m in distress, you freckled bitch! Stop making fun of me” the blonde one said, while the freckled one shouted “IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU FORGOT, RAMEN HEAD!”

You giggle, because frankly, the names they were calling each other are absolutely funny.

The cold of the night crips inside your knees through the cuts on your jeans, but you don’t care, the fluffy jumper you are wearing with bear ears keeps you warm.

As you walk, you take a look at the windows. Some houses with lights turned off, from others the delicious smell of dinner being cooked with love. Everybody is celebrating love, and you are ok with that, and sometimes you wish you are too, but you don’t want any more painful relationships in your life… or do you?

The apartment complex where you live has a little playground in the middle, and of course due to the time being it is free of kids, at least during the night. “Maybe, I will come later to use the swings” you think, because you really enjoy using it while listening to some music and eating chips under the dark blue sky of cold nights.

A sweet couple who has just moved in, waves good evening at you while going through the door, and you are happy they had opened it because you always struggle with the damn lock of the entrance.

With your keys at hand, you press the button of the elevator and wait peacefully for it to arrive. The doors finally open, encountering your neighbours all hyped with flowers and some bags on their hands. “Hi, dear neighbour! Happy valentines!” one of them salutes you. You smile warmly, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin are always so kind and polite to you. “Hi, Bepo! Thank you so much! Isn't someone missing tonight?” you ask, because of the four people that live in the apartment, only three seem to go out tonight.

Shachi rolled his eyes back, while Bepo pouted. “The emo is staying home; he says that Valentine’s is just stupid and a commercial day. But I’m sure he is depressed because he hadn’t asked the girl he likes out” Penguin, the most mature friend of all, informs you, sighing. “Oh… I see…well, have fun!” you answer back, sighing too.

So Law has a girl in his heart after all…

Of course, you take everything off while entering your home, mask, boots, even pants except the hoodie. Passing from the kitchen to your room, you notice Law’s LED lights turned on. “Ah… purple lights, tonight?” you mumbled, taking a look at the window that’s exactly in front of yours.

Law, your neighbour, is a pretty reserved man. He is in med school and never looked really friendly. Yet, there was a day where you felt sick and he came and helped you out without asking you anything in return. And he is also the most handsome man you have ever seen in your entire life. Caramel skin, grey eyes, pitch black hair, tattoos and edgy vibe. The perfect man -at least to your eyes-.

“Maybe you are feeling a little down because of what Pen said…” you mumble, sighing. “I wish I was the lucky one…”.

But even if you were starting to feel a little depressed you simply decided to take a bath to forget about it. Yet, the warm water over your face wasn’t enough to make you forget the fact that you indeed weren't that fed up with men, and the real reason behind rejecting every date proposition was in fact, because of Law.

You are head over heels for him, you wait for him to open his curtains to wave, you pray for him to get out of his apartment to take the elevator together every morning, you even wait for running out of sugar to go ask for a cup of it at his door. “Stop, (Name)” you scold yourself, while wrapping your body in a fluffy towel as you get out of the shower.

You dried your hair and waited for dinner time to finally arrive, watching some anime like a polar bear lying in your bed. Before dragging yourself out of your room you take a last peek through your window, noticing Law’s bedroom lights were turned off. “You should be in the kitchen” you mumble, trying to supress your accelerated heartbeat.

But the little window of his kitchen only shows darkness. And Law never goes to sleep that early… “Maybe he is out after all?” you think, on the verge of tears. You are jealous, you feel broken… But they said you didn’t ask that girl out.

You try to sink into the deepest hollow of despair, which upsetting image of him enjoying valentine’s with another girl, and plug your earphones in. You take out the fridge both energy drinks and a bag of chips and decide to go swing a little at the playground outside. You are mad at yourself, you kept saying on and on and on Valentine’s Day was just a stupid day, that you didn’t really matter about it, you turned down so many date proposals…

“Deja Vu” from Olivia Rodrigo blasts into your ears, and the mask collects one or two little tears that run from your eyes to your cheeks. You feel stupid, you are fucking tearing up for a man? for real, (Name)? Crying for a man?”

The elevator’s doors open and the cold breeze of a winter night hits your face. Some idiot has left the main door of the apartment complex open. “How many times has the janitor told us to close the damn door?” you protest, closing it and getting out without thinking anything further and of course not seeing the little paper stuck to it that asked not to close the door until the locksmith came to fix it on the 15th of February.

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

You sing with deep feelings, acting resentful for a girl you don’t even know if she exists, much less if Law is in fact with her.

You walk to the back of the building, hoping no kid was using the swings and never stop singing. But the words that were coming out of your mouth slowly stopped… Someone you know too well was indeed sitting on one of the swings… “Law”.

He is rocking himself back and forth, with his head hanging but as soon as he hears you, he fixes his eyes on yours. “Hi” you mumble, taking off your earphones. “Hi” he waves, unable to maintain the sight towards you.

Inside, you are screaming, he is alone, no whore next to him…

“What are you doing here, Law?” you ask, sitting next to him on the other swing. “I was just bored and needed some fresh air, what about you? I thought you went out with someone tonight” he tells you with that soft, yet manly, voice.

“Me? Going out with someone? Please! Valentine’s Day it’s just a stupid date” you lie, as always, specially to him. Is not that your red eyes show you’ve been crying like an idiot for the past hour.

“Right? It’s just another excuse for people to spend money on useless stuff” he answers back, as if he was spitting venom. He sounds mad, he sounds annoyed with something, and soon you remember Penguin’s words “he is just depressed because he didn’t ask the girl he likes out”

Soon you remember bringing two energy drinks instead of one and give one to him. “Fancy some gamer fuel?” you ask him, smiling subtly. “Sure” he accepts, as if you two were about to share some whiskey on the rocks instead of a stupid Red Bull.

The cold sensation of the slightly carbonated drink refreshes both of you while you drink in silence. You kick some little stones on the ground, trying to find something to chat about, until the sound of your phone’s notification breaks the absence of sound. Truth is, that the tension you could feel during those silent moments were loud enough not to speak.

“Oh, sweet! The new chapter of Sora the Warrior of the Sea is out!” you mumble, genuinely excited for it, soon thanking the mask to cover your blushed cheeks as embarrassment hits you for being “so cringey”.

Law stops the swinging all of a sudden, and you are sure he is gonna stand up and go home, but he doesn’t. “SORA? YOU READ SORA?!” he jumps off the swing excited, coming closer to you and fixing his handsome gaze on your phone’s screen.

You giggle. He is a nerd, of course he is. How could someone be that perfect?

“Y-yes, they just released the new scans, have you read the spoilers? This chapter will be amazing!”

“Let’s go upstairs and read it on the computer!” he proposes, all excited extending his tattooed hand to you. This is the first time you hear his voice being so loud, the enthusiasm on his façade. Even under his black mask you can see he is smiling. And image so absolutely beautiful, he looks like an innocent kid, and you can’t say no to his hand.

Softly grazing his palm, he helps you stand up and as you do, he pulls from you towards the entrance of the building. “Come on, I wanna read that. I’ve been waiting for this since last week!” “Sure, let’s go!” you giggle.

But the smile on his face quickly erases.

“WHAT? WHO…. WHO CLOSED THE DOOR? HOW CAN THEY BE SO STUPID? THE FUCKING SIGN SAYS NOT TO” he shouts, letting go of your hand and trying to push the door, failing miserably.

To your horror, your eyes travel through the sign you of course ignored, realizing the idiot Law was cursing was in fact you. But he hasn’t had to know? Right? “Oh lord, I can’t believe how people could be so stupid! Law, what are we gonna do?” you ask, acting innocent, yet kinda laughing on the inside for not taking the blame. “I don’t know… the guys are not coming back until tomorrow, luckily” he mumbles, scratching his head.

“Well… we have two options…

🧩 NSFW option: Waiting until tomorrow for the locksmith to come and open the door

or

🧩 SFW option: We climb through the little window on the side of the hall and enter home.

[max-in-emillion]

Red Bull valentines

Max-

Monaco was always a wonderful way to wake up. The fresh air, the breeze and a loving boyfriend in bed next to you and today was no exception, your head lay on the dutchmans chest as it gently rose and fell as he watched you with a tired smile. He learnt to love valentines day with you over the past few years as it made the stressful February a tad easier before his job would fully start again. It was a day he allowed himself to relax in and be extra affectionate.

You tilted your head up to look at Max and you gave him a tired smile, "Morning Maxy" you said as a yawn escaped your lips making the man chuckle deeply.

"Morning love" He said giving your forehead a kiss as he combed his fingers Through your hair relating a content hum from yourself as he did so.

"Let's just stay here for a while" you told him as you turn yourself around so your chest was against his you gave him a soft kiss as you placed your head on his shoulder and held your hand ontop of his pen, feeling his heart beat beneath your fingers.

"That's okay with Me"

Checo-

Your son ran into the living room as your husband trailed behind him carrying his bag and jumper as he jumped into your arms, "mama! Look, I made you this !" Sergio Jr said as he handed you the coloured pink paper with glitter and glue. Their was Spanish written on the paper translating to: 'happy valentines day mama, I love you more (don't tell papa)' with little hearts drawn in crayon made you smile.

" ay cariño, I love it. Gracias " you said peppering your sons face with kisses making him giggle as your husband walked over. He stood behind you and put an arm around your shoulder as he gave you a gentle kiss and then a kiss on his sons head.

"He couldnt wait to give you this, he wouldn't stop talking about it in the car." He said with a smile as he tickled his sons sides earnjng a playful squeal as he wriggled in your arms, "Happy valentines, mi amor- "

[lightsovermonaco]

P12 (Charles Leclerc + Pierre Gasly)

Based on this interview where Pierre looks utterly pissed after his performance in the sprint at Silverstone. Shoutout to @acollectionofficsandshit for encouraging me to give this a shot and also for betaing 🧡

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: "Absolute in Doubt" by lil peep

Read on AO3

P12.

P fucking 12.

Pierre hated the societal standards that dictate he be chaste and respectful in post sprint or qualifying or whatever-the-fuck they called it interviews. He would much rather be open with his self-loathing and disappointment. Because now he was left with everything pent up inside and that never ended well for anyone.

He was capable of more than twelfth. He had the pace but this weekend there was a disconnect between him, the car, and whatever tweaks his team had made. His only saving grace was that Yuki had felt the same way, so at least no one could wholly blame Pierre for the disastrous mini race.

Because those whispers from his stint at Red Bull still haunted him. And he was fucking sick of it. How many times did he have to prove that he was a damn good racer before people believed it? Why wasn't three podiums in a midfield car and consistently topping out as best of the rest not enough?

Every question directed at him post sprint had revolved around Pierre losing his edge. Maybe he had gotten lucky in the opening third of the season, they suggested. Maybe Aston Martin had been on the back foot, and now they had found their groove.  Maybe Pierre had never been good, maybe his results had been a fortunate side effect of the other teams lagging behind.

Pierre cuts his debrief with the team short, determined to get out of the claustrophobic garage as soon as possible. He bangs through the gears in his loaned Civic on autopilot, turning the sprint results over in his head again and again. Pierre had left the door open, let the other drivers overtake- his fault. He hadn’t been able to shave the needed tenths off his lap time to retake the position- his fault. Pierre would start at the back half of the grid for Sunday’s feature race- his fault.

Pierre’s phone buzzes with a text.

Meet in my room?

Pierre’s laugh is emotionless as he types his reply one handed, the other wrapped in a death grip around the leather wheel.

I want to be alone.

Charles was the last fucking person Pierre wanted to see. His presence was like rubbing salt in a raw wound, opening up the edges and restarting the bleed.

I want to see you.

Pierre didn’t want the reminder of his own failures that Charles would unintentionally bring with him. 

I'd rather not.

Charles had driven hard and true, securing himself a fourth place start on Sunday. He had opened up a thirteen second gap between himself and fifth, the pace of the Ferrari astounding everyone around the track. Pierre was the only one who had expected that result, because Charles was nothing if not consistent. 

On the other hand, Pierre himself was a loose cannon. He thought he had gotten it under control, learned to be a bit more aggressive and get his elbows out, but today proved otherwise. Pierre’s results were all over the board and that wasn’t something that the Red Bull umbrella appreciated. No, this was exactly the sort of thing that got him demoted in the first place.

Marko’s boot was on his windpipe and he could feel it pressing into his flesh harder and harder with each slip up.

By the time Pierre makes it back to his hotel his rage has been honed to a fine pointed blade, poised to pierce his heart. All he wants is to consume the contents of his mini bar and worry about the bill later. He would welcome the alcohol induced haze that would hopefully drown out the screams in his head.

Pierre’s plans are dashed by the figure waiting for him at the foot of his bed. Charles's scarlet red jumper is a blazing beacon in the tiny sliver of light leaking through the curtains. Of course he would come here, to Pierre’s room, instead of celebrating with his team. Fourth place wasn’t anything worth praise at Ferrari, it was commonplace and expected. For the man waiting patiently to be acknowledged, fourth place was a disgrace.

In the end, it's Charles who breaches the pregnant silence with a simple, testing greeting. 

“Hey.”

Pierre should fall to his knees and apologize for being a dick. He knows he should be grateful that Charles knew him well enough to disregard what Pierre had said in favor of attempting to offer him comfort. His presence meant Pierre had at least one positive thing in his life. But the frustration he had directed inward all afternoon had nowhere to go except to spiral outward now that he escaped from the confines of the garage.

“I don’t want you here.”

To his credit, Charles doesn’t flinch at the blunt, vile words. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stares the frenchman down, unmoving and undeterred. “I know you don’t mean that.”

Pierre laughs harshly and lets his bag fall to the floor. “That’s the thing, I do mean it.” 

Being respectful all afternoon had left him drained. He was exhausted and he just wanted to lose himself and forget that today happened.

Since the beginning, Charles had always had the better car. Pierre knows he’s on the same level as Charles in terms of talent, but the Monegasque had always been luckier, more sought after, more in demand. If given the chance, Pierre could prove himself- had proved himself. He wasn’t granted the same star treatment as the monegasque, though. 

Pierre had initially been over the moon when Charles signed one of the longest contracts in Ferrari's history, guaranteeing his oldest friend a seat at the iconic team until at least 2024. Charles had nothing to worry about- one poor race wouldn’t make or break his career. But Pierre? His contract was up at the end of the season; the end was nigh. He had as few as 13 races left in Formula 1 and every single one of them had to count. One decent result could be the difference between an extension and being kicked out on his ass in favor of some cherub-faced rookie that Marko thought better than Pierre.

"Should I leave?"

Pierre unceremoniously shucks off his team kit, letting it fall to a crumpled heap on the floor. Maybe if he erased any trace of the team, he could pretend he was a business mogul on a trip closing a deal instead of a bargain bin race car driver.

"I think it's best if you do." Pierre could feel the bomb ticking in his chest, inching closer to detonating.

Pierre snags a tiny orange bottle of liquor from the mini fridge and twists off the cap, downing it in one go. Charles doesn't try to stop him. Pierre uses his newly minted liquid courage to meet Charles's eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re taking this out on me.” The crease forming between Charles’s brows is the first indicator of his rising frustration. Good. Pierre didn’t want to be coddled, didn’t want to be told everything would work out, because no one could predict the future. He wanted the tide of his rage to be matched by a storm of equal force, one that he could lose himself in until he didn’t know which way was up.

“Because you can afford to fuck up,” Pierre spits, the venom in his voice unchecked. “And you start P4 tomorrow. You won’t have to fight to hold that position either, not with the pace of the McLaren’s today. You might even get on the stupid fucking podium, and you know where I’ll be? P12. Scrapping for a single point, if I’m lucky.”

“It’s one race.” Charles speaks like the words are as obviously factual as saying the earth is round. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? That was at the heart of why Pierre was so indescribably pissed with Charles, because he didn’t understand what it was like to have your future hinge on a single moment. His future was secure, he didn't have to tiptoe around or have that voice nagging in the back of his skull to push harder but not too hard, lest the rear end break free and send him into a spin.

Pierre clenches the bar top, the rough edge biting into his palms. “That one race could be the deciding factor in whether or not I have a seat next year.”

“Don’t be stupid-”

“It’s the fucking truth! Red Bull drops underperforming drivers like flies. All it takes is one series of events to shift their perspective. You've seen it first hand once, you know I'm right.” Pierre barrels over the protests while Charles moves to stand in front of him. “Meanwhile you’re racing for Ferrari for three more seasons, their precious star who can do no wrong.”

“So now it’s my fault that I’m a better negotiator?” Finally, finally Charles was mad. He was spitting back with the same frustration that bubbled in Pierre’s veins, matching him blow for blow.

“It’s your fault that I can’t stop thinking about what happens if-” Pierre breaks off, tongue turning to lead. Pathetic. He couldn't even make himself say it.

“What happens if you lose your seat? That’s what you were going to say, right? Because that's what everyone believes: that you're done after this year.”

Pierre doesn’t know what to say to that, can’t think of how to formulate words when the breath has been knocked from his lungs. Giving that particular fear a voice hurt more than he had expected to. Pierre embraces the pain of someone he loves doubting him. It feels right. Validating. Expected. 

He hates that he can’t come to Charles for comfort at a time like this, not when the sight of his stupidly perfect face does nothing but remind Pierre that the fates hold the thread of his future between their gnarled fingers, shears ready and willing to snip him out of the sport at a moment's notice.

Pierre shapes the clay of his pain into a fragile blade, aims it at the man standing in front of him. 

Charles nods. “I thought so. It’s not my fault that they gave you a shit car this weekend-”

Pierre’s hand is pressed to Charles’s throat in a split second, shoving the smaller man back against the wall. The rush he feels seeing fear flash in Charles's eyes is parallel to entering a corner a touch too hot and still hitting the apex. 

“For once in your life,” Pierre grinds out, so close to Charles that their lips brush when he speaks, “Can you shut up?”

The heartbeat beneath Pierre’s fingers races faster than Pierre’s useless Tauri had in that fucking sprint. P12, P12, P12-

“Not when you act like it’s because of me that you didn’t get the grid position that you wanted when you know full well it isn’t.”

Charles had a problem with being obedient. Pierre didn’t want to hurt him, not really, just wanted him to understand. Charles needed to see how badly it hurt for Pierre to see him riding the wave of success while Pierre fought to keep his head above water.

“It wasn’t me driving the number 55 car-”

As always, Pierre is forced to take matters into his own hands, crushing his race-chapped lips to Charle’s impossibly soft ones to shut him up. Pierre gives no quarter, forcing his tongue into Charles’s mouth just to prove that he can. Charles takes it like the good boy he is, allowing Pierre to work through his rage the only way he knows how.

“Everyone thinks you’re better than me,” Pierre breathes. “They don’t even bother whispering it anymore. I swear to god they've written songs about how fucking legendary you're supposed to be.”

Pierre’s thumb and forefinger dig into the space beneath Charles’s jaw, studying the way Charles’s lips part as if chasing Pierre’s ghost. It’s a consolation prize that rings hollow in his ears.

“Am I better?” Charles taunts, turning those wide, doe-like green eyes up at Pierre, waiting for the answer. God, Pierre had never heard a dumber question. He couldn’t answer it and Charles knew it, forcing him into a proverbial corner while Pierre had him pinned in a physical one. The question allows doubt to seep in through the cracks in the very armor that Charles had helped him build. 

All it does is piss Pierre off more. Because maybe Charles is the better racer, but they’ll never know. Until they get in the same car and they’re racing on the same track, they can only guess who’s faster and gutsier and better. 

So Pierre doesn’t respond. Not with words. His answer comes in the form of forcing his thigh between Charles’s legs and occupying his devilish mouth with another kiss. Pierre might not be superior on the track but he could be superior here. When it came to getting Charles off, even when it was Pierre himself that should be getting off, after the shitty fucking day he’s had.

Charles likes his pleasure dipped in pain and that’s fine with Pierre, because he can’t be bothered to reign in the part of him that delights in hearing Charles’s grunt of discomfort when Pierre bites his lip hard enough to split the soft skin. 

Why did they have to be compared at all? Why couldn't they both be good racers? Why did one always have to be perceived as more talented than the other?

“Pierre,” Charles whines, drawing him back from his thoughts. His name on Charles’s plush, swollen lips is too full of rounded edges, too steeped in love and he doesn’t appreciate the way his stomach flips. Pierre’s fingers tighten around Charles’s throat, desperate to regain control.

“Don't speak.” Pierre’s rushed demand is blissfully met, Charles not uttering a sound when the frenchman’s hand slips beneath the other man’s jeans. Coarse, cropped hairs meet Pierre’s fingers before he discovers Charles’s hard cock.

At least this Pierre has control over. His car was out of his hands, his contract something he couldn’t predict, but this? Having Charles moaning under his touch as he flicks his thumb over the head of his dick? Pierre was in his element and Charles was at his mercy.

Pierre knocks away the hand scrambling for purchase on his bare side. “Don’t touch me.” He didn’t deserve to be touched. He was just a vessel for anger and nasty, black hatred. And he hated Charles at that moment because while Pierre had been busy trying to wrap his head around the possibility of losing his seat, Charles had been secure, basking in the praise of the public. Pierre should be celebrating his lover's stellar performance, not feeling sick when he thought about it. 

His head was so fucked, a tangled mess of wires that he had no hope of ever sorting out. The insulation protecting the carefully routed pathways wore away quickly under stress. The exposed metal of one errant thought met the wire labeled Charles, the electrical current of admiration connecting to the thought of the monegasque knocking Pierre flat on his ass.

Charles was the best driver their generation had seen. Pierre wasn’t up to snuff and there wasn’t shit he could do about it, not while he was stuck in an Alpha Tauri.

“You’re such a good fucking driver.” Pierre hears the words leave his mouth from lightyears away. Charles’s head hits the wall, his throat now wholly bared to Pierre. And suddenly Pierre doesn’t care that he’s probably biting too hard, leaving visible purple bruises on the pale skin. At least the scandal would give the paddock something else to talk about other than Charles’s incredible racecraft and how he was outperforming the car.

“So are you.” Despite himself, Pierre's cock twitches in his sweats. Charles manages to stuff a decade worth of closeted touches and whispered dreams into three short syllables. It doesn't matter though, not when Pierre's mind wrings any and all emotion from them by the time he's fully processed them. 

"Shut up." Pierre didn't want false praises. Being fed lies didn't do it for him. Years of listening to tales spun of how Charles would inevitably challenge Max for championships had worn Pierre down. Some part of him knew he was no match for the blazing sunrise that was Charles’s budding career and that he would be forever relegated to a supporting role.

"You're the one I want to battle with-"

"Do you ever listen?" Two thick fingers push into Charles's mouth, occupying it so he can't attempt to respond. Each time he speaks Pierre's resolve cracks a little more. Charles swirls his tongue over the pads of Pierre's fingers and he can't help but imagine that warm mouth bobbing on his cock, Pierre's hand on the back of his head guiding him deeper and messing up Charles's perfectly manicured hair.

Pierre rucks his hips against Charles’s thigh, removes his hand and spits in his palm. He doesn’t scold Charles for the moan that escapes the prison of his lips when Pierre sets a punishing pace, jerking him off with reckless abandon.

He doesn’t give a single fuck that the walls are thin and that some unfortunate Alpha Tauri team member is housed next to him. The entirety of his consciousness is occupied by the delicate curve of Charles's throat spotted with marks of Pierre’s own creation and the way his hips buck to meet his hand.

Please don't stop, beg the green eyes boring into Pierre's blue.

This was the one thing he was good at. It was the one dirty skill Pierre could list on his resume with confidence. He knew how to make Charles Leclerc beg for more. Pierre could get the other driver to do anything he asked as long as he promised Charles would get to cum at the end of it.

“Do you want me to tell you what they said about you today?” Pierre already knows the answer before Charles shakes his head, but he tells him anyway. “They said you were a stand-out driver. One article said it's only a matter of time before you’re on the podium again. Everyone is expecting you to put the pressure on Mercedes, do you think you can do that?”

Charles nods. It does nothing to curb the deadly concoction of emotion brewing in Pierre's gut, only serves to drive the wedge further between them.

“At least one of us will make our fans proud.”

Pierre can tell how badly Charles wants to protest the statement. He reads it in Charles’s eyes and the way his shoulders slump, a pang of guilt wracking the younger man’s frame. Pierre pushes it aside, nips at Charles’s earlobe.

“I want you to come, and I want you to be loud when you do.”

And because Charles is predictable, Pierre is blessed with a strangled moan as Charles unravels and his hand is coated in Charles’s cum. Pierre strokes Charles’s cock until Charles is held up by nothing other than Pierre’s thigh wedged between his. He grants Charles the courtesy of allowing him to catch his breath before stepping away.

Charles reaches for him instinctually. “Pierre, I-”

“I meant it when I said I don’t want you here.” Pierre wipes his hand on the towel above the sink, suddenly feeling filthy. The instant gratification of having Ferrari’s golden boy reduced to a shaking mess under his touch is already fading, shoved aside in favor of the familiar metallic taste of rage.

"I don't want to." Charles’s voice is hoarse, so unlike his usual self. "I want to stay."

"And I want to be a champion. Guess we can't all get what we want, huh?"

Charles silently gathers his phone and overnight bag. Pierre can feel the other man hesitate at the threshold, barely registers the words he murmurs.

"I'll see you tomorrow after the race. We can talk then." 

"Sure."

Neither had sounded particularly hopeful.

They had promised to never let racing interfere with their relationship. Pierre wasn’t sure if he should have noticed any signs before he had snapped today, but he knew he would never be able to look at Charles the same.

No matter what Pierre did, it would never satisfy the feeding frenzy of the press. All anyone would ever see was his fuck ups. He couldn’t stand to see the hurt and the pity warring in Charles’s eyes every time he placed higher. Pierre didn’t want pity, he wanted the crowds eating out of the palm of his hand and roaring his name the way they did with Charles. He wanted to taste the shitty champagne they handed out to the podium finishers. He wanted to make the trek back to his garage sticky with sweat and the remnants of alcohol. He wanted to see his number stickered to the side of a Mercedes, if only for the chance to finally prove what he could do. 

Pierre wanted to be good enough, just once.

[wlw-imagines-blog]

The Darkest House on Christmas Day {Carol Danvers x Fem!Reader}

Summary: Hallmark movies are so overrated. You and Carol are pleased to learn that you are every hallmark movie’s nightmare; a couple of gays. After moving into a small, ideal town, you and your fiance experience small town minds and souls. There must be a way to get through the season in one piece.

Pairing: Carol Danver x Fem!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: indirect homophobia, heteronormative themes

A/N: This was super fun to write, it was inspired by a Hallmark movie!

Moving houses is always stressful. Moving houses a week before Christmas is unbelievably hectic. 

Your fiance, Carol, had assured you that the move would be a breeze; load up the truck in the morning, drive an hour, unload in the afternoon, then settle into the new house for the night. The new house was absolutely wonderful. The sweet little two story was at the end of a cul-de-sac, coloured blue with white shutters, and a large front porch.

The drive had been stressful to say the least. Going through snow and sleet on a highway of insane Christmas drivers. After an hour and a half, the two of you arrived, at your new slice of heaven.

“Get a load of this!” Carol called out, jumping onto the porch. She threw her arms wide. “It’s wonderful out here! There’s so much more space!”

You grinned, burrowing your face into your scarf. “It’s lovely! Much better than my shoe box in New York!”

Just as you were going to step off the porch, Carol wound her arms around your waist. “Come oooon, one inaugural dance to christen the porch, what do you say?”

You turned, throwing your arms around her neck. “I can think of a better to christen it.”

“Oh yeah?” She grinned, cheeks dimpling. “Wanna come inside and show me?”

You stole a quick kiss. “After we set up the bed, yeah?”

Carol hummed, distracted by your mouth. She dove back in, pressing sweet kisses to the corners of your mouth, before landing one directly on your mouth.

“Um, excuse me?” A voice pulled the two of you out of your reverie. 

Carol and you turned to see a middle-aged woman, wearing a Christmas jumper that could have been mistaken as a ugly sweater. She was bottle blonde and bristling, with heavy pale eye shadow and flared jeans.

“Are you the new... neighbours?” she asked in a bright, obviously confused voice. Her eyes darted from you to Carol.

Carol untangled herself from you. “Hi! my name is Carol Danvers, and this my fiance, Y/F/N Y/L/N. We just moved in two minutes ago.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” you said, reaching out to shake her hand.

She smiled and hesitantly shook your hand, eyes remaining cloudy. “My name is Brenda, I live next door with my husband Richard. We’re so... pleased that you moved in five days before Christmas!”

Her honeyed tones did nothing to sweeten her sour mood and bitter words. Carol blinked at you and you raised your eye brows in response. 

This wasn’t going to be good.

You intercepted before Carol could say anything too scathing to your new neighbour. “Right, we had no time before today, and we needed to be out of my apartment by yesterday. Five days is still a lot of time before Christmas!”

Brenda’s fake smile only widened. Jesus, this lady was making you sweat. 

“Of course! It’s just the neighbourhood has a theme every year; all white!”

The two of you balked, mouths open.

“Every house must be adorned with all white lights!”

Carol visibly relaxed while you breathed in deeply. “Lights! Of course. We’ll, uh, see if we can make time to put something up. We’re going to be pretty busy with moving.”

“I totally understand,” Brenda said in a tone that made her seem to not understand at all. “But you better put them up quick, you don’t want to be the only dark house of Christmas!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you found yourself agreeing. “It was nice meeting you, Brenda.”

Brenda smiled and nodded, as to say yes, it is nice to meet me.

You and Carol waved goodbye as Brenda turned sharp on her heel and returned to her home. 

She turned to you. “Everything about that conversation was disarming. Her vibes are disgusting.”

“Hey, don’t be too mean; we might need to borrow a cup of sugar from her one day.” You laughed, shoving her gently. “Come on, let’s unload before it gets dark out.”

“Right!” She clapped her hands. “Then we can christen the house!”

You shushed her playfully then followed her to the moving truck.

***

With all your kitchen supplies in boxes, and no groceries in the fridge, you and Carol drove out to the nearest restaurant on the downtown strip. 

Downtown itself was festive and cozy. Lights were strung up on every shop, with wreaths and Christmas trees at every door and corner. People bustled about, shopping and spending time with their families. A gentle snow had started, gently peppering Carol’s light hair and landing in her eye lashes. 

You smiled at her, winding your hand in hers.

There was a small diner on the corner of the street. It wasn’t as quiet as you had expected for a Tuesday night. From the looks of the patrons, it was the usual crowd; the owner and his wife, enough women to create a book club, and a few bachelors loitering at the bar. No one paid you much attention.

Carol squeezed your arm. “I’m going to the little girl’s room, grab a table for us?”

You nodded as she left. 

The owner’s wife finally saw you as you sat down at a small table for two. 

“Well hello!” She wandered over to you. “How many tonight?”

“Two of us, thank you.”

“So, where’s your husband?” The perky woman asked nosily, eyes landing on your engagement ring. She was older, with grey hair and bright blue eyes. 

You paused uncomfortably, taking the napkin from the table. “My fiance is in the bathroom. We’ll order in a bit.”

She nodded, not aware of your sudden attitude shift. 

“My name’s Joan, i run The Diner with my husband, Don. We’re the town’s central hub for good food and even better company!”

“It’s a lovely little place.”

“Are you and your husband passing just passing through?”

“No, my fiance and I just moved in this morning. She was excited to visit downtown.” you stated pointedly. “It’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Wow, moving in just before Christmas!” Joan steamrolled along. “He was right! Downtown is absolutely gorgeous during Christmastime. The snow, the lights, and the people make the town absolutely dream-like.”

This entire conversation made your skin prickle. You looked past Joan and saw Carol leaving the bathroom, drying her hands on her pants. As discreetly as possible, you shot her a look that screamed help.

She picked up immediately and fast walked to your table. 

“Excuse me,” Carol turned up the charm by a hundred percent. “Just need to sit down.”

Carol’s presence turned Joan completely on her head at such a fast rate, you though she needed to sit down. 

“I-I, uh, right,” the older woman stuttered out as your fiance seated herself across from you.

“What looks good, hun?” She asked conversationally.

You hummed. “Pasta or burgers, baby?”

“Ooh, pasta sounds divine.”

Joan stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “I’ll-I’ll send a waitress when you’re ready to order.”

As she left, Carol leaned over to you. “What was that all about?”

“That was Joan, she and her husband Don own the diner. I told her that we just moved into their small town; she was really excited to meet my husband.” 

“Oh. Did she give you any flack? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is a small town, we have to assume the worse.”

Carol reached out and held your hand. “We just got here, let’s give them the benefit of the doubt.”

You smiled and brushed off the weird interaction with Joan. The evening was pleasant, despite the looks that Don and Joan shot you and Carol. You and carol ate quickly, paid the bill, tipped 15%, and left without a word. 

That night, you and Carol set up the bed, and unpacked the toiletry boxes. 

After a quick shower, you went downstairs to the box-filled living room and found Carol sitting cross-legged in front of a long box. 

“So, I found the tree,” she gestured to the fake tree at her feet. “Wanna put it up?”

You groaned, flopping next to her. “It’s almost ten, hun, how do you have the energy?”

“I drank a red bull. Come on, it won’t take us too long!” 

It took a few minutes of convincing, but she managed to sway you into decorating the downstairs with garlands, tinsel, and wreaths. The tree stood tall, broad, and covered in silver and gold. 

It took plenty of effort, but the two of you managed to move the couch from the garage to living room. You flopped there, Carol burrowing into your side and wrapping her arms around your waist. 

“I’ll put the lights up tomorrow,” She whispered into your neck. 

“You don’t have to, Carol. Just ignore what Brenda said.”

“It’s not because of Brenda. I just want to put them up,” Carol replied with faux innocence.

You sat up and looked at her. “We have one million things to do, babe. Why the lights?”

“Don’t worry about it, boo. I’ve got it all under control.”

You shrugged, not having time to worry about it, as Carol began to kiss your jaw, hand sliding under your shirt.

You were pretty busy for the rest of the night.

***

The lights did not surface in your mind until the next morning, when Brenda knocked furiously on your door. 

“Hello?” You wore a bathrobe and had a cup of coffee in your hand.

Brenda was in her usual attire of mom-clothes and heavy makeup. “Hi Y/N! can I show you something?”

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed your arm and pulled you outside. She turned and pointed to your roof. “Look.”

Carol had put the lights up before you had woken up. She had found the white lights, and had expertly hung them along the exterior of the house. To you, they were lovely. 

Brenda was pointing to a string of lights that hung on the garage’s roof. Among the row of white bulbs, was a single, bright red bulb that sparkled brightly.

“It’s red,” you exclaimed, pleased at how smart and wonderful your fiance was.

Brenda pulled a white bulb out from her pocket. “Here, I brought this.”

“Oh! thanks,” you were about to take the light bulb when Carol appeared at the front door. 

“Morning, honey,” Carol hopped down from the porch and joined you and Brenda. “You like the lights?”

“I do, babe, but why the red light?”

Carol looked affronted. “Have you never heard of the Spanish tale of the ‘One Red Candle?”

You suppressed a grin. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, you must have, Brenda,” Carol turned to your neighbour. “Right?”

“Oh! Of course I have,” Brenda stuttered awkwardly. “I just didn’t know you practiced it!”

Carol took your arm and began to steer you away. “We have a lot to do today, Brenda, and we’re sure you’re busy too! Don’t let us keep you!”

Brenda didn’t have a chance to say goodbye, and you closed the door on her face. Pressing your back against the door, you pulled Carol flushed against you.

“So, what’s the legend of the One Red Candle?” you whispered against her mouth.

Carol snorted. “No fucking clue. I made it up on the spot.”

“That red light is going to drive her crazy until the season is over; you know that right?”

“I’m counting on it, baby.”

[allie1804-fan]

Malaise (Chapter 4  - A Fresh Start)

Chapter 1, 2 , 3

The new film started shooting a week later in Culver city.  The session with Tara had revitalised him and he’d started to take a morning swim or do a gym session every day again.  A sense of equilibrium began to return.

He was both actor and  a producer on this film and would be  very involved in all aspects of the production. On the first day, cast and crew were introduced  and Keanu was quickly struck by the cinematographer Celia, a raven haired beauty of 45.  As work got rolling, they clicked immediately, agreeing on the angles and frames for shots and not always in synch with the director which caused some friction. They were like a mini team of their own and would often stay late, talking about the next day’s frames.

Celia had been divorced for about a year. She had 2 kids but they were in their late teens so she was a fairly free agent and was  finally ready to get out there again. She knew from industry gossip of  Keanu’s reputation as a bit of a player and she found him fun and very attractive. A fling with a sexy movie star would be just the ticket – fun,  flirtation, fucking – and she got the feeling the attraction was mutual. One night when they were on set again late and alone, she took a chance and invited him to grab a bite with her.

His immediate response was defensive

“Look just for the avoidance of doubt, I’m not looking for….”

“Me neither Keanu” she jumped in “this is just a bite to eat but if it were to turn into anything more, rest assured that I’m not looking for anything heavy or committed, just a bit of fun. I don’t bite – well not if you don’t want me to!”

“OK, let’s go!”  he grinned and took her hand.

They found a Chinese around the corner from the studios and he found her very alluring and sexy as hell nibbling delicately on ribs and biting into her wantons.

They’d talked and laughed on set but in this more relaxed setting they really laughed. They had co-stars and directors in common with tales they could share from their different movies.  Time flew and they were tempted to get a second bottle of wine but they were back on set in 8 hours so parted ways that first night with a quick hug good bye.

After that they got into a little pattern of eating at the same Chinese when there were late nights which was a couple of times a week. Celia was merely flirty at first but a couple of weeks in, as they stood by her car one Friday evening saying goodbye, she took the bull by the horns and opted for being totally direct.

“Keanu, can I ask you something?”

“Yes sure”

“Are you horny?”

“What!?”

“I said, are you horny? Because I am, horny I mean and needy and I like you, I find you very attractive and if you were willing …. Like I said before, I’m not looking for anything serious or  ……”

Keanu didn’t let her finish, crashing his lips to hers, eyes twinkling as he pulled back.

“Can I take that as a yes then?”

“Yes! your place or mine?”

“Yours, my kids are home so I’d rather tell them I’m staying at a friends in town then bring a man home”

“Alright then, OK to follow me?”

She got in her car and followed him on his bike up into the hills and the Birds streets to his home. He opened the garage and they both parked in there and he locked up for the night.

“I’ll give you the tour in the morning, show you the view” he said waving vaguely at the patio doors “want some wine?”

“Yes! Now I’ve gone and started this, I need some Dutch courage” she giggled nervously.

He took her hand and pulled her to the kitchen and they chose a fruity red. Glasses poured, he put his arms around her waist and held her gaze.

“I’ll look after you, I promise, you can tell me anything you don’t like and I’ll stop”

He bent his head to nibble her neck and she sucked her breath in.

“Stop?”

“No, don’t stop, it’s just, you know been a while” she shuddered as he bent once more to kiss the soft skin behind her ear making her groan. Pulling away, he took her hand again and handed her a glass.

“Come with me”

They walked down a long corridor to the other end of the house and his bedroom.  Luckily it had been housekeeper day that day and so the room was tidy and there were fresh sheets on the bed. The colour scheme was teal, grey and cream – manly but with some warmth too. They sat and had a sip of wine and he asked her if there was anything she wanted to tell him right away that she didn’t  like and whether he needed a condom. He’d had a medical before the shoot including tests for sexually transmitted diseases and covid so he knew he was clean. She had an IUD and had not had sex since her divorce so they were comfortable to go ahead with no condom.

“lucky me” he grinned taking her wine glass and setting it on the dresser.

He stood and appraised her for a moment. She was wearing jeans and a simple v-neck cashmere sweater which hung alluringly over her full breasts.

“you really are a very sexy lady”

She laughed and blushed

“I’m just in jeans and a jumper” she protested.

“all the more alluring” he mumbled, grabbing hold of the hem of her jumper and encouraging her to let him lift it over her head and take it off.

She mirrored his actions, quickly pulling his Arch t shirt up and off and running her fingers over his pecs and down to his scar which she traced with her finger tips before palming his erection through his jeans.

That sent him into action mode and he pulled her on top of him on the bed, beginning  a passionate kiss which they barely broke as they tugged and pulled at buttons,  zippers and clasps and wriggled out of their clothes.

He was a little worried when he felt her tight tunnel with his fingers and took his time to make sure she was wet and ready for him before he entered her, going slowly and looking into her eyes to make sure there were no signs of pain.

“OK? He said stroking her face with the back of his fingers.

She nodded, biting her lip as the burning of his entry began to recede “like I said, it’s been a while, just take it slow for a bit”

“My pleasure” he smiled before kissing  her again and pushing in just a little more until he was pushing up against her cervix. Then he pulled out, almost all the way and moved his hips slightly to change the angle.

“better?”

All she could do was moan low in her throat and push her hips up to pull him in further.

The build-up was long, slow and relentless as Keanu pulled out and went back in at the same slow pace over and over until she was wailing with pleasure.

“Harder, please” she whispered, wrapping legs around him “and faster ….. please!”

He grinned.

“anything you say maam, anything you say” He rose up on extended arms and started to pound into her. By now she was wet and wide open to him, no longer feeling any pain, just blinding need. He could feel himself getting stiffer and close to bursting and slowed slightly, dropping down to kiss her and slip his hands underneath, lifting her up so his pubic bone would press into her clit with each thrust.  Deep inside she could feel an amazing buzzing sensation which increased along with the extra external stimulation and pressure.

She pulled  her lips away briefly to express her incredulity

“Oh good God!”

She kissed him again as her orgasm hit and then her head fell back as bliss overtook her. The rhythmic pulsing in her pussy pushed him over the edge too and his eyes squeezed shut as he shot his warm come inside.  Finally his head dropped onto her shoulder, a satisfied moan passing his lips.

“fuck that was ….. ” there were no words

“mmmmm”  she couldn’t say anything either.

Inexplicably tears sprang to her eyes.  It was the first orgasm she’d had (other than by her own hand) in about  a year.  It was pretty overwhelming.

He smiled and called her on it, teasing her about her emotion

“Hey little miss just for fun, what are the tears for?”

“Hey, give a girl a break - I thought I might have shut up shop for good you know and here I am snagging myself a movie star – I’m justified in being overwhelmed!”  she teased back.

“Touche” he giggled.

“I, errr that was pretty intense though, for me too, just so you know”

“I’m glad” she said softly, not wanting to get too slushy but still feeling warm, fuzzy and happy, endorphins running through her body.

He got up and went to pee, bringing their wine back to the bed afterwards. He was utterly unselfconscious walking around naked.

“Do you want a t shirt to wear tonight?”

“No, I’m OK if you are with me being naked”

“is the pope Catholic?” he joked

“Is Luxembourg small” she joined in

“and do bears sha la la la!” he finished

They laughed together and she was glad to return to the light-hearted back and forth like they shared on set.  The emotion moments before had rather taken her aback.

When the wine was finished, they were relaxed and sleepy.  He turned the light off and she turned away, letting him wrap his arm around her, cupping her right breast gently in his big palm.  She was the first woman to have stayed over with him after sex in over a year.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

[diaryformytravels]

#30 Orlando (Day 4)

Morgs here. Only one week left until London, thus no more Max or Mikko!

Today we did the first of the Universal parks (the smaller one). We had a relative sleep in, but I still wanted to die upon waking. Max had a bowl of strawberries for breakfast, but after about two he decided he would get a chocolate croissant from Starbucks instead when we got to the park. This was because Jasper said this is what he was doing. I was sitting there, eating my cereal, while a family war breaks out. Max is whining, Mikko grunting something in anger, Michelle getting frustrated. After this was resolved, Mikko was checking everyone was ready, saying lets go etc, while I’m literally still sitting at the table, half-way through my cereal. It’s like I don't even exist. Last night, left out of Jasper’s poem, we were all talking in the car on the way to Disney Springs, at this moment I was speaking and midway through a sentence Mikko says “This is the Lime car park.” WTF. Max and Jasper laugh because now I’ve pointed out my invisibility and apparent muteness, they realise it happens a lot. 

Anyway, back to today. Eventually we left the apartment and stopped at Walgreens to get some insoles/shoe things for J and I, as well as some red bull. Michelle was in a bit of a mood, but we didn't know why. We got a message from Mikko saying “chop chop” followed by some similar remarks, which did not make her any happier. We all went across to Starbucks, why they didn't go while we were in the pharmacy, we’ll never know. The rest of us are in the car while Michelle is ordering, and we’re trying to figure out who angered the demon. Mikko owned up, suggesting it was because of the messages, but J and I did not agree because she was already in a state. She sent a message to the group chat reading “Not impressed with any of you. Try to remember this is also my holiday and I have taken time off work to be here.” This made me (probs J as well) a bit cranky, because we rarely get to make decisions, and are having the worst holiday ever. We found out later that she was like this because of Mikko, but actually because he was being stupid. He had been rushing her all morning and giving her more things to do (get Max’s clothes, charge his phone etc) while he did nothing. So understandable. 

Mikko dropped us at the park, and it wasn't very busy. We stopped at the Starbucks while the boys got chocolate croissants, Michelle got a coffee and the rest of us got some strawberry drink. We got through with minimal issues and began on the largest ride. I hate it. We all did it the first time. It’s pretty cool in the sense that you can choose a song before you start moving, and then it plays for the duration of the ride. There were about twenty options of different genres (I picked a Kanye West song), but at the end of the day when Max and J did it again, J discovered a secret list of over one hundred songs, so he listened to Crocodile Rock. I thought I would have time to prepare, but we basically walked straight onto the ride. The start is awful, it goes straight up, but the seats are slightly reclined and there is only a lap restraint rather than a harness, so it feels like you’re going to slip out. This goes for about thirty seconds, and then drops straight down. The rest is very fast with a few turns, at some point my vision began to dwindle, but it came back! Needless to say, I didn't do that one again. J and Max repeated while Michelle and I waited and went to the bathroom. 

Once they got off, I went to get popcorn with J but everyone insisted I get it after the next ride (even though I needed food to settle my stomach). We did the Jimmy Fallon ride, which was pretty cool. It was a 4D thing like Transformers, and made me quite motion sick and had a few jump scares (there was a shark!). After this I got my popcorn. 

Next was The Mummy. and as we were walking through the line area, J gave Max the biggest jump scare and he screamed SO loud and incredibly high pitched. J got a little scared on the ride when the mummy’s pop up on the sides (I still do too). We did it again of course, and J gave him another jump scare that worked better than the first!

Then we did Transformers, which was more motion sick inducing than I remember. Only did this one once. Next, J, Max and I did the Fast and Furious ride which is the most boring and worst thing to exist. Not to mention the fast pass ends before the line actually begun, so we still had to wait ages for it. Also encouraged motion sickness. Not loving the amount of 4D rides. We had lunch (seafood, great) where I got fish and chips. 

We then went to the Harry Potter ride, which is in Gringott’s Bank and is set in the vaults. We had to wait a long time for this because they had some technical difficulties. I had to swap spots with J in the line because Max was being such a pain and putting me in the shittiest of moods. He was complaining about how he didn't want to go to the Harry Potter shops again because we did them last time, and that he wants to go to the outlets because he “didn't buy anything” (spent all his money and J got nothing from there), was being the most spoilt and ungrateful brat I’ve ever seen and a stench of BO. Michelle says he’s self conscious about his smell, but that can't be true because he finds every excuse to not have a shower and not wear deodorant. Eventually we got on the ride and it was better than I remembered! We wanted to do it again but decided to wait until Max calmed down a bit and the line shortened. 

After having a little couple’s spat, we went to the Men in Black ride, which is a shooting thing and you earn points based on how many things you shoot. Max was determined to make it a competition. This did not end so well when he lost by a lot, him having half of my score (the second lowest at 80,000). He insisted we do it again, so we line up and get to the front, next to go on. This experienced technical difficulties as well, so after about ten minutes we leave and go back to Harry Potter. 

We get halfway through this line, only to be stuck again because of difficulties. By the time we get to the front, we have to wait again because someone chucked up on one of the carts, so they have to clean it. After this, we got some jumpers (Gryffindor and Hufflepuff of course).

We then went to get some snacks (hotdogs) and Max plays some carnival games that are very entertaining to watch because he gets really frustrated. After this we decided to head out and skip the boring rides. J and Max do the big rollercoaster again (its now he finds the secret song list), and then Mikko picks us up and we go home. 

After chilling out for a bit and me having a little nap, us and Michelle went to pick up some takeaway for dinner. We came back and feasted. We were gone for maybe half an hour to an hour, but Mikko and Max had done nothing to get ready for when we got back, so we had to set the table, find an extra chair and everything.

Tragedy struck. Jasper spilt butter chicken on his new Gryffindor jumper. Most of it has gone after vigorous attempts to remove it. He is very sad. But if it cannot be fixed, Michelle said she will purchase another for him tomorrow. 

Off to bed now, got to get an early start! Missing you guys and home on Australia Day!!

Love xx

[grownups-are-the-real-monsters]

Spider-Man: An Hour From Home

Summary: Peter Parker stops for gas on his way to a comic shop and after a quick Red Bull run at the station, the worst happens. He turns his key and his car is completely dead. 

Tony Stark gets a call from his son, who is completely stranded and has no idea where he is. (Modern - No powers, Peter is Tony’s son AU)

Ships: Tony/Steve 

Superfamily 

Word Count:  4,769

(I just had to get this out there ;)

Tony Stark never once saw future for himself that didn’t include some source of misery. Go back in time and ask any version of himself. It was a complete given. It was the one thing that never failed on him. If there was one thing in this world that he could count on, it was the feeling of steady depression. He hadn’t even noticed it was gone until, funny enough, he started to miss it. Maybe miss was the wrong word?-Until he realized he finally had the ability to count on something else. 

The house was quiet. Well, as quiet as it could be lately. The distant hum of machines were running-including Dum-E who was probably making a mess downstairs-and computers were sorting themselves out of one of his never-ending updates. This all provided a comforting static noise. If this had been a couple of years ago, there’d be nothing out of the ordinary. Tony was no stranger to being alone with his thoughts. 

But that was a different time. “I don’t like this.” He looked up suddenly from the phone he barely realized he’d been tinkering with. It flew from his hand and landed safely on the cushion next to him as he stood. He had never truly liked the silence but he used to be able to deal with it. But these days, it was just too 

“What’s got you in a twist, Tony?” 

His eyes landed on Steve who was stirring his coffee so painfully slow that it actually pained Tony to watch. Steve’s love for all things so home-y showed the strongest in small domestic moments of this nature and that was one of the many reasons Tony used to avoid them. “Who’s in a twist? I’m not in a twist.” He shrugged. However Steve just looked at him with that damn expression of his. The one that he made whenever he was about to meddle. He had to say, it was one of his least favorite Steve expressions. He wagged his finger as Steve carefully crossed the room to sit on the couch. 

“I’m really not. Wanna feel for yourself?” He let his arms extend into the chilly, air-conditioned atmosphere and wiggled his fingers. 

Instead of responding, Steve helped himself to one of Tony’s hands and tried to pull him back down on the cushion next to him. The landing wasn’t perfect but he did end up with a lap-full of Tony and that was the best way things could go wrong. 

“Well, if that was what you wanted...” Tony wiggled his eyebrows in that suggestive way that got Steve all hot under his skin like nothing else. “You could’ve just used your words, Steve.” With a final wink, Tony went in for a kiss. 

Steve was old fashioned. That was nothing new. But he swore just kissing Tony was an experience. The man never stopped putting on a show and when the venue was Steve’s mouth....Damn. He was always overcome with a tidal wave of feelings. Ever since their first, that feeling of utter relief and comfort never left him. It had been quite the journey to get where they were. Fighting with Tony felt like taking on the entire world but kissing Tony felt like coming home. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S. dim the lights-” 

“There’s an incoming call from Peter, Sir.” 

From over Steve’s shoulder, they could hear the sound of Tony’s phone ringing and echoing about the room. They moved perfectly in sync (as this had happened thousands of times). Tony hopped off of the taller man and went strolling on over to the phone. 

For a man usually so reserved (Which was the word Steve used to correct Tony whenever he called it being a prude), Steve looked obviously bummed out by this interruption. 

Tony let that go to his head right away. “You sit tight. Because you know what?” He puckered his lips with a thoughtful expression, walking backwards towards his phone while Steve looked at him with impatient eyes. “I just remembered something about Peter’s chemistry project that I’d like to talk to him about. Might take a while though so I hope your comfortable over there....all alone.” He wiggled his brow but turned before Steve could threaten to whip a pillow at his head. 

“Hey Pete-What is all that noise?” 

“What noise?-Oh sorry, I’m eating chips!” Peter swallowed just seconds after realizing his crunching was not just loud in his head. 

Tony rubbed the pads of his fingers against the bridge of his nose but felt no trace of actual annoyance. Just that strange feeling of fondness that always overwhelmed him when it came to his son. “Thank you for sharing your chewing with me and please take your time.” He wiped his hand across his chin as his smile grew. 

After some shuffling on the other end, his son spoke up once more. “So I was driving around-”

“Oh, you’re starting with an explanation. That can’t be good.” Tony leaned against the counter and threw a cautious look to his partner who was starting to walk over but he gently faced him with the palm of his hand to pause his worry. 

“I stopped for gas and went in to get a Red Bull but when I went to leave...” Peter trailed off and Tony could hear the sounds of him attempting to start his car but it wouldn’t catch. “It won’t start.” He chuckled awkwardly and then there was some more shuffling. “Oh-no.” 

“Oh-no? What Oh-no?” Tony waved his hand out in question, feeling a stronger flicker of the worry that was slowly coming over him. He could feel Steve hovering closer and closer to hear the voice of their son better. It was budging Tony closer to being claustrophobic with each inch. He was usually a very touchy-feely person but in times of stress or conflict, he could be a little too irritated by closeness. He scooted over despite his husbands obvious annoyance. 

“MJ and I have chemistry together-” Peter muttered sadly though Tony couldn’t figure the correlation there. 

“Well...I do hope you’re using protection for that chemistry.” He interrupted quickly. It was a joke firstly but...it was also something he and Steve were thinking of bringing up with their son anyway. He’d been spending a lot of time with that MJ. 

“Dad!” Peter’s voice went so high that it squeaked. Tony chuckled lightly. 

“Sorry bud, I was just makin’ sure. You’re hitting that age soon-”

“I don’t wanna talk about that right now!” Peter interrupted and he could nearly see his sons embarrassed face. He laughed a little more. 

“Anyway, what I was going to say was that MJ wasn’t in school today so I grabbed her chemistry homework for her. I gotta get it to her before it’s too late.” Peter’s voice was rushed and a little...anxious. Tony glanced at the clock. 6:00.  

“Where are you exactly?” He scratched behind his ear. 

The line went quiet for a few seconds. “Um...I don’t-um.” Peter’s voice was farther and much softer. “I’m not sure.” 

Tony was feeling a mixture of amusement and worry...and maybe a little guilty for the amused part. He could almost picture his son sitting in the lot of a gas station looking to find any street sign, squinted eyes because he neglected to wear his glasses. They were still sitting on the counter that he was currently leaning against but not for much longer. He picked them up and handed them over to Steve with a ‘What are ya gonna do?’ expression. 

Steve was always on Peter about the glasses and usually their son listened. But lately he’d been purposefully leaving the pair behind. “Send Pop your location through Google Maps.” He lightly smacked his partner and gestured for him to fetch his phone. 

“On it.” Peter muttered. 

As the time passed, he could hear the sounds of Peter talking to himself and Steve’s phone buzz. Tony resisted the urge to help Steve figure out how to work his phone because he had to learn himself. He took a quick peek at the man’s phone to confirm that they received it but didn’t look at it in full just yet. “Alright. Got it, bud. We should be there-Oh hold on...an hour away? Where were you going?” Tony interrupted himself when his partner held up his phone, pointing at the location. 

Peter went quiet before the storm. “I was trying to find this really cool comic book store because Ned’s Birthday is coming up. And he always gets the best stuff for mine, you know? Remember that year he got me the Lego Millennium Falcon? Anyway, I need to find the perfect thing for him and I heard this place was cool so I wanted to come check it out. I planned to get his gift but also scope it out to see if it was worth driving Ned there to make a day of it-” 

“Ok, ok. I got my answer.” Tony had to stop his kid before he talked himself to death but there was always the large part of himself that could listen to him for hours. And that was a big deal for him. 

‘The only person you listen to is yourself, Tony.’ 

He glanced over to where his partner was staring with confusion at his phone but as his eyes found him, Steve looked up. The man visibly...lit up when their gazes met. Steve’s expressions were always so vivid and telling. His eyes became much softer each time they connected with Tony’s. It warmed Tony like nothing else. And he found it extremely hard to believe that was the same man who once made that kind of comment about him. 

“I could just ask somebody to see if they have jumper cables...?” Peter suggested and Tony shook his head. 

“I’d rather you didn’t talk to strangers in that sketchy area, hang tight, Pete. We’ll be there as quick as we can.” He hung up the phone and found himself laughing. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me.” Tony swiped the pad of his thumb under his chin and swiftly took Steve’s phone. “He did kill the mood, after all.” He winked before turning to focus on the Map on his screen. The gas station was dumpy and small. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to get their kid away from it as fast as possible. 

“We’re gonna have a heck of a time at that funeral though.” Steve attempted to join in on the ‘joking about sex’ only a handful of times in their relationship, it seemed. So Tony let that moment of laughter pass without teasing him for the use of the word ‘heck’. He’d save that for later. 

“And I can’t wait for that but first...” He waved the cell-phone about. Steve gladly stood and both men rushed for the front door. 

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-”I know you haven’t met my Uncle Bucky yet but I promise you, that impression was spot on.” Peter had leaned his seat back and carelessly threw his feet atop the dashboard of his car. He stretched his arm out further to get a better angle for his phone while he spoke. 

The gas station that he was stuck at was actually pretty chill. The sun was low enough in the sky that the golden rays were showering him with warmth and it was a gift when it came to FaceTime lighting. 

“So are you just sitting in the gas station parking lot or...?” Ned squinted his eyes as if trying to look past Peter at the scenery. 

“Yeah, stuck next to the pump! Do me and favor and tell MJ that I picked up her homework but...” Peter looked at his backseat where the pile of work was sitting. He got a glimpse of a man glaring into his completely still car before parking at a pump that just opened. He then looked back to his friend. “Don’t tell her about this. I give her enough teasing material as it is.” He grinned, a slight blush creeping up his neck. Part of him almost wanted to tell her though. Teasing each other was kind of their thing, even if she was kind of a pro at it and he still struggled. But man did he love it. 

“It is your talent.” Ned chuckled. “Where were you going that’s an hour away, anyway? And why wasn’t I invited?” Ned popped a snack into his mouth and leaned back in his desk chair. Peter bit his lip while trying to think of an excuse. He was not very good at lying to his best friend. 

“Oh-uh...y’know. I was just going...to um...” Peter scratched behind his ear and tried to ignore Ned’s suspicious face.

Peter started on something but couldn’t find his footing during the sentence at all and Ned wanted to laugh. He knew his friend like the back of his hand. Peter...well he couldn’t lie to save the day. “Ok, You don’t have to tell me. I know it’s something for my Birthday.” Ned smugly smiled. 

“It is not!” Peter sat up straighter and tried to keep a hold on what little surprise he had left for his friend. “In fact, I forgot that was coming up.” He tried to piece together something to cover up his lying. He leaned back, trying to look cool and passive. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a horrible actor, Peter?” Ned giggled and shook his head. He figured he might as well give up on prying the truth from Peter and wait for his surprise like a good friend. “Anyway, you wanna come over and watch ‘Return of the Jedi’ with me after school tomorrow?” They’d been re-watching the Star Wars movies over the last week for like the sixth time.

“Yeah! But don’t forget-” 

Just as Peter started to reply, his phone went completely black and died on him. He frowned and was forced to look at his own reflection. 

Man, his dads were gonna kill him for wasting his battery. They had no way to contact him now. 

And now he was all alone and bored. 

He missed Ned. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have spent the first twenty minutes of being stuck in the car trying to work up the courage to order a pizza. He wasted so much battery scrolling through Twitter while he had tried to decide. But he was starving and the gas station didn’t have anything that called to him besides the Red Bull. He wanted real food. But do they deliver to cars parked at gas stations? Probably not. He should’ve asked for Ned’s opinion. 

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Should I FaceTime him?” Steve asked, nose pointed down at his phone while Tony drove. 

Usually he’d opt to be the passenger, liking any chance to relax. But he was a little anxious and driving would give him a little bit of control. He tried to peek at his partner and chuckled. “Yeah, why don’t you FaceTime him?” 

The car went quiet for a few seconds while Steve mumbled to himself. “I don’t know how. It’s this phone...It never works.” 

Tony’s eyes rolled so far back that he was surprised they didn’t fall to the back of his head. “Steve, sweetheart, darling, light of my life...-” He began with a wave of his hand “It’s never the phone. It’s always you.” He grinned madly. 

Steve furrowed his brows. “That’s not true. It just...” He looked down at the screen and sighed. “Ok, maybe that’s true but can you help me?” He held it out for his partner who tried to glance at it before his eyes returned to the road.

“At the next light, babe.” He rolled his lips together as Steve set his phone in the cup-holder and started tapping on his legs. He took this moment to be thankful it was just the beginning of Summer and the sun would be out for a while longer. Shining over their son for at least another hour or two. “He’s just an hour away, he’s fine.” He mumbled, knowing full well they were both a little worried. 

Peter was just fifteen-sixteen actually (He really needed to accept that he was growing up, huh?) and though the kid thought that was enough authority to act like an adult sometimes, that was far from the truth. 

“I mean, he is our kid. That’s how you know he’s fine. He’s smart, self-sufficient...he gets that from me.” Tony shrugged, reasoning more to himself rather than Steve. “But his endearing, puppy-dog kindness and naivety, that’s all you.” He snapped his fingers as the car rolled to a stop. The red-light reflecting in his eyes as he picked up Steve’s phone. 

“Oh, gee thanks.” Steve chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “He’s got the best of both of us.” He looked pensively out the window and folded his hands together. 

As the light flourished green, Tony had a thought he wouldn’t share. ‘Inside and out, the kid was better then both of them.’ And it wasn’t a purposefully self-deprecating thought or a knock towards Steve, not at all. It was just something he believed with his full-heart. Peter was the best of them. And that made him better. Steve knew it to be true just the same as he did. They were immensely proud of the kid. 

Steve slowly reached over and threaded their hands together as they rest on the cup-holders between them. 

“This is a driving hazard, Steve. I need both hands on the wheel.” He teased and gently tapped his fingers against the wheel. “I know I’m tough to stay away from but-” 

Tony had set the phone down on his lap as he started to drive again but it was in the process of calling their son. Only, he just noticed the call failed. 

“His phone must have died.” Tony mumbled with a frown and Steve reached over to grab it again. “I told him to put a charger in his car for emergencies.” He clicked his tongue. 

“That kid, I tell ya...” Steve was half-amused and half-worried. “He’s so smart, a little ditzy though.” Steve giggled, having fond memories of the boy sliding his phone down the stair railings or tripping over his own feet yet the next minute landing a back-flip perfectly. 

“Tell me, I’m the smartest guy you know, correct?” Tony leaned his hand over and gently thumped his palm against Steve’s thigh with a teasing smile. 

“I don’t know how your head fits in this car....” He tilted his head back and laughed “But, I’d say so. Yeah.” He crossed his arms and waited for Tony to finish. 

“Peter had his little friends over the other day-”

“Ned and MJ?” Steve asked.

“Yeah!” He gestured with his hands. They were good pals of their son. Tony actually liked them very much. They were both bright kids, he could see them having amazing futures ahead. “I couldn’t understand a damn thing they were saying.” He snapped with an expression that fully enhanced his point of astonishment. 

“That’s very humbling of you to admit.” Steve teased him and lightly pinched his arm. Tony rolled his eyes and turned the car. “But you’re spot on. It’s like they’re speaking another language.” He tried to recall some of his latest encounter with Peter’s friends. 

“It was all half-sentences and...” Tony trailed off and tried to think of some things he could actually pick out of the conversations. “Lots of laughing. So much laughing-” 

“-A lot of what I assume are references that go right over my head.” Steve added with a shrug and Tony reached over to grab his hand that somehow drifted from his grip. He thought about their boy having the time of his life, sitting in their home with his friends. He loved nothing more than seeing a smile on that kid’s face. That’s what he was working, living and breathing for. 

“This...” Tony’s eyes glazed over with deep-thought which could sometimes worry Steve. “This is not where I saw my life going. Not even close.” He shrugged. They were both very familiar with this conversation but Steve hoped to run further with it this time. He craved to know the full extent of his husbands thoughts on the subject. “But here it is.” He squinted in the rear-view mirror. 

“I think I always saw this kind of life-style for myself.” Steve spoke with earnest love in his voice that comforted yet annoyed Tony. “It’s you that’s the weird part for me.” He reached over and pinched him again. 

“Oh, That’s real nice, Steve. You been practicing your sweet talk just for me?” 

“I just mean...I never imagined...” Steve searched for words out on the road in front of them. 

“I got it.” Tony interrupted, his face genuinely understanding. 

Tony and Steve were very different people sometimes. It was hard to believe that they could become so much more. It was shocking to both of them when it inevitably happened. 

Tony wanted his little family to live in a world that he designed. A world where everyone was happy. And sometimes his dedication to the idea and the methods he used to get there drove them all crazy. Sometimes it felt like a dream that would have to go unfulfilled. And he couldn’t deny that it was a crazy idea. But Steve was just as crazy. He didn’t just want to go along with Tony’s dreams, no, he also wanted to help him with 100% dedication...even if it required challenging him. 

That was how Tony knew he was the one. 

Sure they could butt heads but...that was their thing. 

“I love you, you know.” Steve picked up their hands and lightly kissed the back of Tony’s hand with such and tender and loving energy that Tony nearly blushed.

“Yeah, I think when we got married, that was a big clue.” Tony smiled and squeezed his hand lightly while Steve rolled his eyes for what felt like the 80th time that day and maybe over the millionth time just since marrying Tony. 

They went silent again, just enjoying the tiny bit of calm driving. Lately they had been far too busy to enjoy the little things so it was a nice break from the usual life chaos. 

                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Tony and Steve each breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled into the Gas Station lot and saw their sons little car parked next to a pump. Peter’d done his fair share of hard work and earned the money for that car himself just like his parents had taught him (Although Tony had been insisting they spoil him ‘just this once’ & buy it for him because they clearly had the money and it’s what Peter deserved-but Steve kept him on track there) (And maybe they did secretly pitch in a little bit). 

Tony hopped out of the car quickly, ready to lecture Peter while Steve strolled over a little more relaxed. 

But not five seconds after getting out, Tony turned with an expression that made Steve’s stomach drop. “He’s not in the car.” 

“He’s not in the car-? What do you mean...” Steve’s heart started pounding in his chest as he tried to look into the vehicle himself like he didn’t believe Tony. “Where did he go-?” He didn’t mean to sound angry but it jumped out in his tone. 

“I don’t know!” Tony frantically answered with his own irritation and worry coming through clearly. The two of them stood there in bit of a shock before Tony pushed past to go ask around. Steve was about to follow but-

“Tony.” 

His husband turned and literal fire could be seen in his stare when his eyes fell upon their carefree son, strolling over to them from a ways down the street with a light grin and a shopping bag. Happy to see his parents. 

“Peter-” Steve began but Tony interrupted him (almost like it was a talent of his) and sped over to the boy. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He narrowed his eyes and Peter frowned, stepping back a little like a kicked puppy. Peter opened his mouth but Tony wagged his finger in his face. “I’ll answer for you. You weren’t thinking. Clearly.” he gestured to the empty car. Steve took this as his opportunity to step in before Peter either commented on that over-used dad line or burst into a rant of an apology/excuse. 

“Pete. You nearly gave us both a heart-attack just now.”

“I was only gone for a few minutes and besides, I saw you guys pull up from across the street so it wasn’t like you were here very long-” 

Tony rubbed his hands against his forehead and groaned. Steve threw him a look to say ‘hold on a minute’. 

“You got stuck at some sketchy gas station for some time over an hour and we come to take you home and find you gone. We know your phones dead, so we had no way to contact you. How do you think that feels, son?” Steve crossed his arms and Peter rolled his lips together. 

“I just wanted to get something cool for Ned and the shop wasn’t too far, I thought I could walk over.” He shrugged and took defeat before digging in his bag. “Finally got that car charger though.” He could see his son hoping that might fix the situation a little. 

He could hear Tony start to pull out the jumper cables and get to work on starting that process. So Steve gave his son a little pat on the shoulder and a cross look before urging him to hop into his vehicle to get outta there. 

After a few minutes and some false starts, they got the car to start. Peter looked delighted at the idea of finally being able to leave. Steve got out from his passengers side (with some of Peter’s car garbage to toss) and made his way back to his husband. 

He leaned into the window, arms stationary on the ledge while he stood above him. Tony seemed particularity thrilled with this position. He grinned with a little tease. 

“I’m riding with the kid. You got a long lonely hour.” He took a few seconds longer to pat Steve’s thick arm and pushed him aside to get out. 

“Hey, it’s better than the lecture Peter’s gonna get. I’ll take it.” He shrugged and hoped inside. 

“Miss me.” Tony winked and threw up a peace sign before jogging over, opening Peter’s door and gently shoving him over to the passengers side. The boy knocked over an empty Red Bull can but managed to get into his seat safely. 

“Dad. I’m really sorry I made you drive all the way here and you’re right. I wasn’t thinking-” 

“Save it. I’m tired. I’m gonna turn the radio on and let that ride for the first twenty minutes or so of this drive...” He slid his hand smoothly in the air "And then we’ll talk. Gotta build up a good lecture anyway, y’know?” He gave Peter’s arm a quick pat, waved for Steve to go on and started to pull out. 

Only, the car made it just to the edge of the lot before it let out a few choice sounds and stopped once more. 

Peter’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned red with utter embarrassment. “Oh my god. I forgot to get the gas.” 

Tony sat up straighter and tried to hold in his laughter because he was still angry. But the boy could just be so...pure sometimes. “Tell me how, bud?” 

“I just-I went in to get the Red-Bull and I-” He shrugged and was wondering if it was appropriate to laugh as well. “I forgot.” 

As Steve circle the building to pull back in to see what the hell happened now, Tony pulled his son in for quick hug and ruffled his hair. “You’re something kid.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh I know you are.” He nodded. 

                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter went straight to bed when they got home. The long lecture and the embarrassment of showing up to MJ’s house with his parents was fresh on his mind. 

Steve & Tony, however, finally got some time to get back to their activities. 

And the activities, as it turned out, somehow became drinking wine in the kitchen with some dumb, old sit-com on to make fun of.

Because that was life with a teenager. 

[whumpiary]

What do Cassius and Josiah look like?

This is taken me forever to respond to ahhh I’m so sorry.

I saw this like a week ago and my immediate first response was “cant answer this with words. gotta draw them” which is now realise is a dUMB response, especially considering my tablet is uhhhhhh playin hokey right now and any drawings of the disaster lads is a While off. So here’s me answering with words!

Cassius is….. Hhh. Go with me here, it’s gonna be an Explanation

I’m from Australia, and there’s a very specific kind of early-twenties guy that exists here that may also exist everywhere but honestly I don’t know. They’re always kind of scrappy, kind of rough around the edges but not in a cool way, in a lazy way. They’ve justoved out of home and they don’t know how to look after themselves properly and they’re like… trying enough to be eating vegetables, but not trying enough to not be drinking red bull five times a day. Theyre usually way too skinny because they don’t eat enough, usually because they don’t know how to cook. Their hair is slightly too long because they just didn’t cut it one time for three months and now it looks kinda cool. They’d grow facial hair if they could but they literally just cannot and are therefore baby faced. None of their clothes match and you’re not really sure if they’re actually trying to be all cool and normcore or if they’re literally wearing their dads (mum’s?) clothes from the nineties. They’re like… Hot messes but also theyre smart and have good heart’s and they’ll get there in like five years. That’s the Cass Aesthetic.

He’s got a square-ish jaw, and gr8 cheekbones, pretty lips, olivey-brown skin, and really beautiful should-be-a-pianist hands. He’s honestly just like… scrappily handsome by accident. His hair is dark brown and a kinda curly. The kind of curly you wouldn’t really notice if he kept it short, but is turning into a curl now it’s grown out a little more. His hair is a hot mess mane and he goes through phases of wearing it up or down. He’s not tall, but you’d almost think he was from a distance because of the lanky proportions. Also because his shirts never go all the way down to his wrists (why? Bc he’s a Dumbass). Any amount of hipster that he looks is less fashion and more kinda accidental because he just,,,, doesn’t super care how he looks and has been wearing these friendship bracelets and those Vans for like two years straight without changing em but he’s making it work?? Like he definitely cares about his looks more than he lets on but like… still not enough to be making conscious choices about the mismatched aesthetic. Right now hes even scrappier than usual bc he’s Not Well.

Josiah is a lot more put together. Unlike Cass, he’s actually quite tall; 6'2-6'3 maybe. Even though he’s a softy he’s intimidating-at-a-glance. Muscular and scowly and you wouldn’t want to meet him on a dark corner. He has dark hair that’s like… biker boy long, but not long enough to be Long, ya know? Like if this was the fifties he’d have that real good quiff but it’s not so it’s just like… floppy. Definitely looks like he should be a hot mechanic who works exclusively on Harley Davidsons and sells drugs to make ends meet instead of a hermited baker with PTS and a penchant for gardening. 

The muscular thing is new. Think that dude from highschool that you didn’t expect to get ripped but DID and like, you kind of forget they’re the same person they were before hand when you look at their instagram. So like… he carries the muscular thing kind of sheepishly. Any flashbacks/backstory of Josiah he’s almost definitely a lot less intimidating and more lean.

He’s often sporting stubble but never lets it grow long enough to become a fully fledged beard because that would Not Be Neat. He definitely wears a leather jacket every time he’s leaving the house For The Aesthetic (and so nobody bothers him) but at home he’s 100% a flannel and knitted jumpers kinda guy. Also… is he Italian? Spanish? Greek? Yes. Maybe any or all of those and maybe Brazilian and Sicilian and French as well. Who’s to say.

Anyways these descriptions ran away from me and probably are not even quite what you were asking for but I hope they give you a good picture!!

I really really hope I can draw these dumbos soon for y'all. Thanks for the love!!!