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navydoves · 2 months ago

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Have you ever heard of the Omegaverse?

✎ᝰ summary: you wanted to try something new with sylus to spice up your intimacy. something quite strange.

✎ᝰ cw: fake omegaverse, explicit but no actual sex, mentions of breeding, scent/pheromone kink, perfume addict, dirty talk but it’s not mean, needy sylus, you get the idea, no Y/N, it’s all lowercase bro

✎ᝰ a/n: not sure where this came from. i proof read AFTER i published this and then realized i forgot a whole chunk so shoot me. anyway, enjoy.

࣪𖤐

it wasn’t like sylus couldn’t sexually please you. it was, quite in fact, the exact opposite. it didn’t matter if it was with his fingers, his mouth, or his thick, veiny cock that was most definitely imprinted deep within your pussy at this point from just how many times he’s had you face down in his bed—it didn’t matter how, but sylus managed to pleasure you intensely, lovingly, passionately every single time.

to say you were blessed was an understatement. he was your god given man, top to bottom, perfection crafted by the gods themselves you would think. patient, kind, loving, dominant, wealthy, all the traits someone could ask for in a partner. but sometimes… you wanted to push the boundaries of your relationship just to see how “nonjudgmental” and capable sylus was willing to be for you.

your history with fiction was lengthy. always having your nose in books from a young age, reading about magic treehouses and mouses with cookies. fiction wasn’t juvenile, it was freedom, it was creative, it was part of you. but as you grew up and left phases behind, you also gained responsibilities by the year. that passion was driven elsewhere. being a hunter required time, energy, and dedication, all things you put in to get to the rank you are today.

yet, your love for fiction never really left. maybe put on pause, but getting lost in stories was a feeling you missed. now more settled down in your life, with a boyfriend and stable job, you felt the urge to relive the fixations of your childhood.

one thing led to another and instead of opting for the local library to check out some books or maybe dusting off your shelves to find other forgotten ones, you find yourself online, preferring the “e-reading” experience instead.

bad choice? nah.

while sylus was out on “commerce negotiations” (what he half-heartedly described it to you as, so as spare you the details of potential bloodshed), you lounged in one his many common rooms within his large estate, almost bored of how you couldn't find eye-catching stories to read or even skim through.

your short-attention span was just about to reprimand you for spending so much time on a task that proved to be fruitless, until, that was, your eyes grazed over a certain, unfamiliar category. "omegaverse?" you mumbled to yourself before curiously tapping on the highlighted word. the screen of your phone loaded in several different comics and stories with titles and thumbnails that were dowsed in eroticism and innuendos. you've never really strayed away from mature, sexual themes but it also never really was the main focus of the stories you read-unlike what this "omegaverse" proved itself to be. it only took one click to really interest you, and before you knew, you were down a rabbit-hole of this alternate universe that was all about primality and mates. it was about humans, sure, but with more of a… cardinal touch to it. needless to say, it aroused you. even if you felt weird about it and were in slight denial that something so… bizarre could do this to you, you couldn't help it. especially when your thoughts drifted off and imagined sylus and you in a lot of these scenarios; scenting, marking, breeding. sure, you could do and have done these things with him to an extent, but it wasn't exactly the same.

your thoughts and sensations were interrupted by a familiar voice down the hall of the common room you were in. you swiped out of the tab you were on and put down your phone to greet sylus.

"sy, you're back. negotiations go well?" you asked with a gentle smile on your cheek whiling pushing yourself off the couch to go properly welcome him. he stood tall by the wall, leather jacket still on and hugging his form along with matching and equally as tight leather pants. his earthy, steel scent spilled into your nostrils and comforted you as you embraced him gently.

"'course it went well, when doesn't it?" he replied with a slight smirk to his lips and a lilt of smugness in his voice. he was right, you can't name one instance where his deals and bids didn't go his way. it was a true tell of his power in the N109, and something about his dominance in the field made you internally giggle. he wrapped a firm arm around your waist and kissed your forehead tenderly before pulling back. "don't tell me you were all worried about me? my little lady should know i'll always return home safe."

you chuckle slightly and remove your arms from his form. "nah, wasn't really worried, in fact i was more bored than anything else." sylus raised a brow.

"bored? i leave you my entire estate with rooms upon rooms to entertain yourself in and you're bored?" he teased just slightly. "what a needy kitten you are. i'll tell luke and kieran we'll build a few more game rooms if that'll keep you entertained." you knew sylus was more-so joking, but if you truly did ask for it, he'd build you a village.

you watch him move off the wall and slide off his leather jacket to put on one of the chairs that was tucked into the dining room table. he pulls the chair back and sits on it, elbow on the table and propping up his head on his palm. his legs manspread in fashion, his posture at ease, and his demeanor rather playful in the moment.

"i don't... really do much, not unless i have hunter work to do. which... i try not to bring to our quality time. i try to relax here, yknow?" you respond, embarrassed heat now burning at certain parts of your skin from just looking at sylus.

a low, throaty chuckle comes from sylus. he nods his head at your words and reaches out to take your wrist into his soft palms. it amazed you how nice the skin there was despite all of his dirty work.

"i know, love. you don't have to explain yourself to me. im glad you're resting up." he smiled and leaned in slightly to kiss and nibble at the crevice of your neck affectionately. "how was your reading?"

you tensed up slightly at his question and swallow. it wasn't exactly a lie that it went... nicely, after all, now you have a greater depth of internet niches and sex scenarios to think about, but you didn't want to just give him a rushed blanket statement and move on. no you wanted... more.

sensing your hesitation and slight tension in your body, sylus pulled back from your neck and looked up at you with a wondering expression. he tilted his head, making your heart flutter a little bit.

"you okay?" he asked in a murmur. he nudged his nose underneath your chin and brought a hand up to your hip to squeeze you from over your clothes. "do you need me, love?"

a shudder runs down your spine at yet another one of his questions. you knew what he meant. he took your flushed state as one of need, one of desire, and he wasn't entirely wrong... he just had the wrong context.

"err... sylus," you whispered while tilting your head down fully toward him and cupping his face, "you love me, right?"

"with every fiber of my being, yes."

"and you'd anything for me, right?"

"yes," he raised a brow, "how much do you want?"

"no this isn't about money,"

"then what is it, darling?"

you hesitated on your next words. like stated before, it wasn't like sylus couldn't sexually please you, you just wanted to try something…new.

"have you ever heard of the omegaverse?"

sylus's brows furrowed in confusion and then in ponder.

"no, i don't think i have. what is it? the name of an organization or something?"

you almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you refrain. a small, silly grin grows on your lips as you shake your head.

"no it's a... genre, i think. i really don't know how to explain it to you but it's something i want to try between us. i can kinda... show it to you, if you'd like." you reach for your phone in your pocket and click on the few tabs of explanations you searched up for yourself in attempts to better understand this weird internet niche. sylus looked between you and the phone before fully immersing himself to the words on the screen. now, you were no longer flushing from nervousness or arousal, but from pure and utter embarrassment.

the feeling only grew once sylus fully took your phone from your hands and began reading more intently. he tapped at a few god-knows-what things and after a few very long, heavy minutes, he finally looks up at you. you tense again, posture rigid and skin hot. he smirked.

"i'm guessing i'm the alpha?"

-----------------------------------

your breath was heavy and coming out sporadically due to the full force of sylus's body weight atop of you. all 260 pounds (117.9 kg) of his body pressed into you and squished you into the mattress, sandwiching you between two forces. all 6'1 (186 cm) of his form towering over your shorter, smaller frame and taking advantage of your limited movement.

sylus's nose buried into your nape where your skin and hair strands met, making for the perfect concoction of your feminine musk. he let out a low groan and pressed his hips into yours as arousal built in his body purely from just your scent.

"my pretty," he purred against you, "you know better than to walk around smelling so nice when im nearing my rut, don't you?"

you whine softly in response. you couldn't believe how easy it was to convince sylus to do this, and you especially couldn't believe how good he was at playing the part. he chuckles, it's a genuine sound from him. he was, in fact, enjoying this.

"yknow it's only your scent that gets me going like this, love. can't stand the scent of other omegas, fucking repulses me. mmm," he presses into you again, "but when i come hooome, and i can smell yooou in the air, im reminded how lucky i am. reminded how perfect my sweet girl is.” sylus moves a hand to your face and tilts your head to face him better. his fingers gently dig into your cheeks, squishing them in an almost affectionate manner. "im all yours, you've got me hooked. im so... addicted to you."

you let out a small whimper but nod in agreement. he is all yours, thankfully so. words have failed you for the past several minutes due to the sheer amount of arousal coursing through your body, and only small noises were what you were reduced to. clothes weren't even off, lights hadn't been dimmed, yet sylus was able to fully and utterly make you putty, and you both loved it.

he loved seeing you this way, submissive and needy for him. while he let you have your fun in the past, here and there, at the end of the day it was always him taking control and guiding you once he had enough. and now, playing respective roles where you were an absolute submissive to him and he was an absolute dominant to you, made him prosper.

"mm, should i take your vow of silence as your way of telling me you like this side of me?" he chuckles lowly. you mewl softly in response. "atta girl. i knew since the time you snuck into my room to get off to my pheromones that you were a little filthy. i didn't know just how filthy you were, though."

sylus's fingers let go of your cheek and moved down to your shoulders to press you back down fully against the mattress. his weight was so deliciously suffocating you and you felt like you could get high on the pressure alone.

"now that i've got you where i want you," he began, a hand snaking between your front and the mattress and sliding down slowly to your pelvis, "i'll tell you exactly what i want to do with you. do you wanna hear?" you nod in response but it earns a disapproving frown from sylus. "use your words, angel."

"y-yes, tell me what you want to do to me," you groan out with need right before you close your eyes shut. sylus lets out an approving rumble and continues to move his hand down your pelvis until it was right under your bellybutton. he leaned into your ear and bit the skin of it gently which sent intense arousal shocks to right in-between your legs.

"im gonna breed you," he mumbled, "god im gonna breed you so good, so much, that there's no doubt you're pregnant with my children." you moaned softly at his words. while deep down, you knew that children weren't a thing you and sylus were looking for right now, the idea of him creamping you over and over again in hopes of impregnating you was incredibly erotic.

sylus laughed at your obvious infatuation with the idea and pressed his hand deeper against your pelvis. "mm, right here, our kids will grow. your womb will know my knot so well that it'll happily take my children. isn't that right? my pretty little omega, my pretty little wife."

without waiting for an answer, sylus flips you over onto your back and looks over your form appreciatively. baggy clothes and sweaters would never stop him from enjoying you, in fact, he loved imagining your pretty body underneath those layers. he dips his head down to your chest and nuzzles his head against the bump of your breasts, a low purr coming out of him again.

your hands instinctively go into sylus's hair and scratch his scalp tenderly as he moves his head lower and lower down your body. you felt an unfamiliar sense trepidation simmering within you but it only worked toward arousing you even further. something about the uncharted territory of this roleplay, of sylus made you nervous but deliciously so. you didn't know what to expect from him and you loved it.

"mmm, fucking delicious," sylus murmured as he took in the aroma of your clothes, imprinted with the various body sprays and perfumes he's bought you over the months. nothing ever enters your cabinets until careful deliberation on what suits you the best is done, and even then, he insists on customized, personally made scents just for you so that no one else but his love can smell like this. his cock twitched in his pants at just the mere thought that you smelled like his money, his gifts, his love. and in this case, his omega.

"s-sylus..." you whimper while arching your hips up to his hands that were now slowly moving your baggy shirt up to your waist. his hands were so warm, gentle, but so, so insistent. without response he dove his head into your stomach and sniffed, low rumbles of appreciation vibrating your body. he smiles against your skin and glances up at you.

"you smell so fertile, love," sylus groans softly, "your pheromones... i guess my rut is coming sooner than i thought. i can feel it... agh... im lightheaded...". you look down at him cup his face tentatively, worry spread across your face.

"are you alright?" you ask nervously. sylus lets out a shaky exhale that glides up your wrist. he grabs the back of your hand with his, closes his eyes, and tilts his head to the side to press a delicate kiss to your palm. it takes a few heart-pounding, stomach churning moments for him to respond, and each second felt like you were getting a new adrenaline rush. he looks back at you, eyes now intense and half lidded, shiner than usual in a way the pierced right through you.

"you have a minute to run," he mumbles. a simple, straightforward statement that made your mouth go dry. you stare blankly at him for a moment before getting up from the edge of the bed and looking around, hoping that something here had an answer for the absurdity of the situation. sylus glanced at the nightstand where a few of your perfumes sat there in their gorgeous, shimmering bottles. he stood and picked up one haphazardly and then handed it to you. "douse yourself in it and run."

you look down at the beautiful violet coloured bottle, elegance in a glass, and hesitate. it was an extremely expensive perfume and to... douse yourself in it like it was some moderately cheap, beauty supply store spray was frankly crazy. but in this moment, you weren't sure what it was, but everything was telling you to listen to sylus.

you shake the bottle gently and threw caution to the wind with the sprays. up and down your body in close proximity, you sprayed the scent to make sure it stuck onto you and you didn’t stop until that the word douse would be imprinted onto your skin. when you finished with milking the nozzle dry for what it was worth (literally), you carefully put the bottle down back on the stand and glance over to sylus.

"sixty."

sixty?

"fifty-nine."

fuck.

you rush out of the bedroom and down the corridor to one of the common rooms in the estate. the fact that this manor was particularly huge helped your escape tremendously. your legs took you farther and farther away from the wing sylus was on with each passing second. you weren't exactly sure where to go or if you should hide, but you had a feeling you should.

you found a hiding spot in a mostly unused storage closet one floor above where sylus was at. you weren't exactly sure what number he was on or if maybe he was already looking for you and you were too busy scrambling to hear him, but you had a spot now.

-----------------------------------

"one... zero," sylus hums. a small smile grows on his lips as he steps forward and out the bedroom he waited in. he did intentionally count slower than usual, just to give his pretty little lady some fighting chance, but he knew it was already over the minute you asked to do this roleplay.

he stepped into the hall casually and took long strides with confidence. the prominent boner in his pants stuck out terribly and made a show of itself with each movement of his hips. where was his precious omega? maybe behind this door? or that underneath that ottoman? or on that balcony?

no.

he knew where you were, or at least, he could take a very good guess. the perfume you doused left a prominent scent trail wherever you clambered around to, and that was his guiding phermone to finding you. although, lucky for you, it was also a disadvantage. each strong whiff of you to his sensitive nose made him groan softly and palm at his aching cock. he was so frustratingly erect that it felt like his groin was going to pop out of his pants anytime soon.

"mngh... darling..." he called out mockingly, "if only you could see the mess you've made of me right now. it's almost maddening, yknow?" he staggered down another hall and has to bite back a loud moan as he smells you everywhere. you were erratic in this hall in particular, he guesses, not that it's anything to complain about. it only got him readier for you.

"you're making this... so difficult for me. i wonder... how wet you are right now, just waiting for me to pound into your eager pussy." he stalked the hall for longer before stopping at the end of it. his back presses against the wall with a groan as he imagines you wrapping around his twitching cock and massaging him slowly, lovingly, with your warm walls. he reached down and into his pants to stroke himself for some type of relief but he refused to cum unless he was inside you.

after a few more minutes of stumbling around halls and rooms, groaning both in frustration and desire, sylus eyed a particular door in the middle of a hall on the opposite wing of his estate, a floor up. he can almost feel you throbbing behind there, maybe even taste the sweat and arousal on your skin. he smirked before moving toward the door and stopping right outside of it. he didn't open it, or knock, or even say a word, he just stood there, breathing.

you, of course, were behind that door, shivering in pure ecstasy and need. you heard his voice echo from halls down and it was exhilarating how he stalked you just by your scent. god this was so much better than what you had initially imagined when mentioning the roleplay. now, sylus was only a few feet away from you, intimidating you from just right outside the storage closet door.

you tried not to make a noise but pleasure just kept shooting down and in between your legs every time you thought about what would happen once he got his hands on you.

"won't you help your alpha?" sylus purred while eyeing down the door. "i've been such a good boy, yeah? giving you time to hide, taking the time to look for you, even waiting for you outside this closet. besides... you're the one who caused my rut."

he flashed a toothy grin that you couldn't see. he was enjoying this more than he thought he would, even if he was aching in every part of his body for you. he reached down into his leather pants again and a few moments later you could hear wet, squelching sounds coming from the opposite side of the door. the sounds made you squeeze your thighs together and tilt your head back. god, he was getting off and teasing you with the promise of his cock and he was reveling in that fact too.

"ngh... fu... god. im so hard, love. im swollen with all the fucking need in the world and i..." he grips the door with his free hand and grits his teeth. "i need you so bad. where else am i gonna put this cock, huh? no other omega fucking deserves it. its you who i want to impregnate."

you couldn’t take it anymore. you reached down your own soft felt leggings and began rubbing yourself over your absolutely drenched panties. you needed relief so bad, the past hour had just been you soaking yourself in arousal without any true stimulation, it was so close to driving you insane. and, especially now with sylus a breath away and teasing with the sounds of his cock like an animal, you were sure you were actually experiencing insanity.

you could hear sylus pump himself faster and the low growls that came in succession with it. he sounded like he was going insane too, actually.

“‘m gonna cum all over this door if you don’t come out and see me, love, and i don’t want to do that.” sylus’s teased. his grip on the knob became tighter making the veins of his hand become more prominent. you could hear the clacks of the brass of the doorknob move around, he truly was holding back.

you shouldn’t have kept quiet, that was the mistake you realized when the door came flying open and hit the wall beside it. you stared up at sylus from where you where sat on the floor, hand down your pants and eyes wide from exhilaration and a little bit of fear.

your eyes flit down to his very exposed cock that arched up to his abdomen and painted his shirt with pre-cum. it throbbed there and bobbed gently, back and forth, on its own. you could feel your mouth salivate at the creaminess, the thickness, the curve of his angry, needy, swole cock.

he looked at you with slight surprise in his eyes for a moment before smiling, eyes squinting with amusement.

“found you,” he breathed out.

before you could make a run for it sylus quickly bent down and grabbed onto your hips. you yelped in surprise but you didn’t move away from his (almost) bruising grasp on you. instead, you submitted to his touch almost immediately and from the low growl that came from his throat, you could tell he very obviously liked that.

he moved his hands down your legs, teasing the inner corners of your thighs before gripping both your ankles with one, strong hand. he flipped you onto your front and laughed at just how pliant you were being with him.

“you’re coming with me, darling,” he purred. he stood to full height and dragged you out the storage closet and into the hall, his steps slow and methodical. the rough bumps of carpet ground against you through your clothes and gave you a nice, scratchy feel on your nipples. the storage closet inched further and further away from you with each step sylus took toward down the hall.

you felt dizzy with desire, he’s never manhandled you like this before and you sure as hell weren’t complaining that he was starting now. and god, he must’ve doused himself in his cologne too because all you could smell—instead of carpet dust—was his intoxicating scent. his pheromones. it was a manly musk that resonated with oak and cherries, and, despite that scent always bringing a sense of comfort to you, it now brought you a heady sense of mind numbing horniness.

you felt yourself go non-verbal again from the sheer anticipation within you, now only whimpers escaping your tight lips. there was an aching emptiness between your legs that you knew could only be satiated by the hilt of sylus’s cock breeding you over and over again.

when another low laugh rumbles in his chest, you glance behind with trepidation in your eyes and found him already looking over and down at you. he gritted his teeth in a large smile.

“it’s time i actually start taking this roleplay seriously.”

࣪𖤐

a/n: first fic on here but i feel like im a bad fiction writer so idk how this is gonna play out. i also dk how tumblr works since im more of a reader on here but again… we’ll see how this goes. also im an xavier main. just had to mention that here cause i love him sm

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babyleostuff · 7 months ago

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˚ ༘♡ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐬 | performance unit

― for hip hop unit version: click here

jun

he’s a lot more worried about your safety than he lets on. jun starts to panic the second he spots the massive crowd, and immediately puts his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side. he doesn’t want you to think that he’s being controlling or that he doesn’t want you to walk around on your own - it’s just that he’s a bit anxious to let you wander off on your own without anyone to protect you. it’s just the amount of people that he’s afraid of, what the situation might turn into in the worst case scenario. so, it’s safe to say that for the most of the night you’d be tucked safely into jun’s side.

hoshi

my first thought was “he’d lose you in the crowd in a second” but… i don’t think we give him enough credit, he can be very responsible and aware of his surroundings when needed. yes, soonyoung is a silly little goofball and an ipad kid, but i’m 100% sure he wouldn't let go of you if you were surrounded by a large number of people. the thought of you - lost and all alone amongst the big crowd - that makes him sick to his stomach and he can’t even imagine how scared he’d be, so soonyoung would rather keep you by his side than risk losing you. his grip on you is tight and secure, but not too overbearing, and he asks every other minute if you’re okay or if you want to leave.

the8

he’s not too overbearing in how he looks after you when you’re in big crowds, which is perfect since you can have fun without being all over each other. of course the only way he’s fully relaxed and not on constant alert is when you’re right next to him, preferably with his arm wrapped around your waist, so he knows that you’re truly there by his side, sound and safe. but, if you want to say hi to someone or go to the toilet, hao won’t follow you or make a big deal about you going away, he’ll just ask you to send him texts that you’re ok every few minutes, so he doesn’t stay too worried.

dino

there’s nothing that could make him let go of you. nothing. maybe chan is being a little bit paranoid, but the thought of losing you in a crowd of people where everything could go wrong makes his stomach lurch in all of the worst ways possible. your hand is always in his, no matter what - if you want to pee he’ll be there with you, it’s either both of you or no one. he’s all wrapped around you, holding you securely in his grip, because that’s the only way he can relax a bit and have fun at whatever gathering you’re at. he has to know that you’re safe. besides, he's a lil clingy cuddle bug so he uses it as an excuse to give you hugs all night long.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot @iamawkwardandshy @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

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daisyblog · 6 months ago

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No Complaints

Our Story Masterlist Summary: A fan catches a moment between Harry and YN, where she turns something innocent to sexual.

based on a tiktok between a fan and Harry (link in comments)

Harry was stood at the front of the stage, the microphone steady in his hand as he was about the place it back on the stand. Nyoh was standing next to him, the guitar heavy in her hand as she waited for Harry to perform the next song.

YN was stood on the floor area at the side of the stage. Close enough Harry could see her, but slightly away from the crowded barrier area.

Harry looked to his left to see YN standing there next to Jeff and Brad. YN had woken with a headache that morning and despite her insisting that she was fine now that she had taken a paracetamol, Harry couldn’t resist checking in on his girlfriend.

Catching YN’s eye, Harry brought the mic up to his lips so she could hear him. “YN? How’s your head?”.

Before Harry had chance to add anything to his question, YN voice shouted across the way filling the ears of everyone between them. “Never had any complaints!”.

Instantly Harry eyes widened as he realised the sarcastic response he had from YN. But whilst Harry shook his head with an amused grin, YN wore a bit smirk, very satisfied with the reaction she got from the screaming crowd and Harry’s blushed cheeks.

“Oh my god! That my friends is YN in a nutshell!”.

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994

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blogjhm · 2 years ago

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Having fun in their own treehouse.

1963 Disneyland Frame Tray Puzzle

#mickey mouse #donald duck #goofy #disney #vintage disney #vintage disneyland #1963 #treehouse

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sunrizef1 · 1 year ago

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What happens in Vegas pt 4

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader, ex!max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: none

A/N: had trouble figuring out how to format this one

Series Masterlist

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TWITTER

MESSAGES

CAMERA ROLL

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

CAMERA ROLL

MESSAGES

TWITTER

MESSAGES

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series tags:

@dutifullyannoyingfox @woozarts @wcnorris @yourbane @ilove-tswizzle @a-beaverhausen @almostjollypizza @mia-rrrs @evie-119 @thecubanator2 @geehsf @fangirl-dot-com @aquangxl @awritingtree @janeholt3 @minkyungseokie @alliwantisadonut @barcelonaloverf1life @2pagenumb @phantomxoxo @ironmaiden1313 @fearfam69691 @i-wish-this-was-me @justdreamersdream @personwhoisther @theseerbetweenus @tinyhrry @moonyzsworld @supermaxv1 @lady-laura-speaks @amberpanda99 @meadhbhcavanagh @d3kstar @marshmummy @eiraethh @treehouse-mouse @redcoatgirl @blueberry64857959 @tar0sw0rld @leclercloml @herondalism @jxnellat @ivegotparticulartaste @lovecarsgoingvroom

general tags:

@casperlikej

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #max Verstappen x reader #Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

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formulafics · 1 year ago

Text

★ THE JPG CHRONICLES | PART 4

Scenario: in which the grid and fan favorite mclaren reserve driver opens a jpg account, but it isn’t what was expected. this time around, yn ln finally reveals who her boyfriend is.

Pairing: f1 grid x fem!reader

A/N: guys, we’ve made it to the last part of the jpg chronicles. i just want to thank everyone who’s followed along with this and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻 also paying homage to the pink and orange theme since all of the other parts use that!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

yn.jpg

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 245,678 others

yn.jpg VEGAS BABY ‼️ mom (my pr manager) said i can’t say what i want to say about the race. she also said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all…so anyways vegas is pretty cool race aside 🥰

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yn.jpg shoutout to @/logansargeant for his first appearance on this account!

⤷ logansargeant thank you yn

⤷ yn.jpg your welcome!!

landonorris caption is real

norrisnation yn speaking for the lando girlies (gn) once again

rizzciardo LMFAO REFERRING TO YOUR PR MANAGER AS MOM

⤷ yn.jpg she is mother

alphatauritaurialpha yn this isn’t a bf reveal :/

⤷ yn.jpg babe i promise the bf reveal is coming. i have plans for it

⤷ piastrispastry YOU GOT CALLED BABE BY YN YOU WIN AT LIFE

racing.news

liked by ynln.official, pierregasly, landonorris, snd 56,782 others

racing.news sources say yn ln is ‘in trouble�� with mclaren team principal due to her second instagram account where she is notorious for posting funny pictures of her coworkers.

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norrisnation so this is why she’s delaying the bf reveal

ynln.official HELP???? IM NOT IN TROUBLE WHAT 😭

mickshumacher @/ynln.official 😳

⤷ ynln.official mick do not feed into this madness you’re better than that

⤷ sunnyshumacher mick and yn may not be dating but i love their friendship so much LMAO

landonorris im crying this is so funny

⤷ ynln.official of course you’re here

mclaren can’t take her anywhere 🫣

⤷ ynln.official ENOUGH

rizzciardo YN IN THE COMMENTS IS SENDING ME THIS IS SO FUNNY

yn.jpg and yukitsunoda0511

liked by landonorris, yukitsunoda0511, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, fernandoalo_official, and 367,891 others

yn.jpg home is wherever he is. ❤️

view all 5,672 comments

yukitsunoda0511 i love you ❤️

⤷ yn.jpg I LOVE YOU

landonorris the day has finally come 🙏🏻

⤷ yn.jpg stfu

fernandoalo_official 👍

⤷ yn.jpg dad approved. thank you nando

norrisnation ARE WE OFFICIALLY GETTING THE BF REVEAL? IS THIS THE REVEAL? IM GOING INSANE

yukitauri WAR IS OVER

yukitauri MY BABIES IM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW

yukitauri ALSO MY PARENTS ‼️ MY PARENTS ONLY BC YALL ARE HATERS

yukitauri THROWING UP RIPPING MY HAIR OUT YN IT IS A DAMN TUESDAY YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW

rizzciardo i expect an increase in content of them. i need it

formulatsunoda ykw i’ll be so honest i did NOT expect it to be yuki but im not mad 🤭

yn.jpg

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant, alex_albon, yukitsunoda0511 and 354,672 others

yn.jpg back to our regularly scheduled program 😼

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yn.jpg i am @/fernandoalo_official btw and he is @/ynln.official. he’s just a silly teenage-ish girl

⤷ dreamyalbon YN PLEASE WHAT 😭

⤷ fernandolandoland okay but her relationship with fernando is so wholesome she rlly is his grid child

alex_albon nurse, she’s out again

⤷ yn.jpg 🤺

maxfewtrell this account is my roman empire

⤷ oscarpiastri same mate

maxsupermax we are so back

yukitauri idk about yall but i won’t be moving on from the bf reveal that is my home

yn.jpg @/schecoperez not commenting = hater 😿

thank you for reading! all feedback is appreciated — dae <3

GENERAL TAGLIST | @renarots @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @lovstappen @illicitverstappen @minkyungseokie @arkhammaid @vroomvroomverstappen @vellicora @stopeatread @topguncultleader @cixrosie @leclercvsx @motorsp0rt @piasstrisblog @lokietro @spidersophie

JPG TAGLIST | @dl-yum @youdontknowmeshh @lighttsoutlewis @kodzuvk @sofs16 @raevyng @p4st3lst4rs @1655clean @judespoision @evans-dejong @leireggsworld @landosgirlxoxo @3joracha @lanando4 @toasttt11 @gaslysainz @sadg3 @scenesofobx @leilanixx @zaynzierulez @flippingmyshit @goldenharrysworld @celesteblack08 @thatoneembarrasingmoment @willowpains @coolio2195 @bey0ndne0 @sheslikeacurse @sadg3 @biitch-with-wifi @torchbearerkyle @plutotcles @cherry-piee (more tags in comments + some would allow me to tag 💔)

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 2 years ago

Text

Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete jerk, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #angst #please look at trigger warning before you read #lewis hamilton #charles lecrelc #platonic lewis hamilton #platonic charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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03jyh23 · 1 month ago

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🌷⌇the night finding our way back part 11; a choi jongho mini-series

ex-boyfriend! idol! jongho x ex-girlfriend! single-mom! reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: five years have passed since jongho last saw you. your lives have taken drastically different paths, with jongho achieving fame and you focusing on raising your daughter, nari, in quiet anonymity. when jongho discovers he has a daughter, he's determined to be a part of her life.

│genre: a slice of life, romance, fluff, some angst

│trigger warnings: mild alcohol consumption, romantic/intimate situations (non-explicit), mild suggestive content, adult language

│words: 5.7 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi, my lovely people! this chapter takes a different turn from the previous ones, offering a more playful and lighthearted moment in our story. after all the emotional intensity we've experienced, i wanted to give you something sweet and fun right before we reach the end. hope you enjoyed this slightly different side of our characters! thank you for reading and staying with me through this journey! your support means everything. see you in the next chapter! oh, it's not proofread so im sorry for any errors :(

as always,

love, mon ♡

│taglist: │ @seventeenthingsblr │@DALSUWAHA │

│ @ateez-atiny380 │ @yoonshiiu │ @sndeoki │ @bomi-ja │

│ @vixensss │ @all-fandoms-rise │ @finnydraws │

│ @jonghosbrainrot │ @ateezswonderland │ @stayatinykatsy

│@chickenscoups │ @ana-stasssiaaa │ @starryunho │

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│ if you wish to be tagged let me know here! ♡

The night had grown quite late by the time Hongjoong insisted on giving you a ride home, following what had unexpectedly evolved into quite the festive gathering. The streetlights cast long shadows through the car windows as Hongjoong navigated the quiet streets. You watched the familiar buildings pass by, each one bringing you closer to home. You found yourself reflecting on how long it had been since you'd allowed yourself to truly unwind like this - the easy laughter, the flowing conversation, the comfortable atmosphere that made time slip away unnoticed. But tonight felt different, special even, like a weight had finally lifted from your shoulders. You could feel yourself relaxing, truly relaxing, knowing that Jongho and Nari were building their relationship, that your daughter finally knew the truth about Jongho's identity. The guys had surprised you completely - instead of the awkward, formal interaction you'd been dreading, they had welcomed you with open arms and genuine warmth. Their natural friendliness and humor had made you feel less like an outsider being cautiously accepted and more like you'd somehow stumbled into a gathering of old friends you'd simply forgotten you had.

"So..." Hongjoong's voice broke through the comfortable silence, a playful lilt in his tone. "How are you really doing with all of this? You know, the whole Jongho situation?"

You couldn't help but giggle, the pleasant buzz from the evening's drinks making everything seem lighter, funnier somehow. "Oh my god, you sound just like one of those TV show therapists!" You mimicked a serious expression, pushing imaginary glasses up your nose. "'And how does that make you feeeeeel?'"

Hongjoong burst out laughing, shaking his head. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"

"Serious is overrated," you sang, watching the streetlights blur past. "But if you must know..." You paused dramatically, making Hongjoong glance at you expectantly. "I have absolutely no fucking idea what I'm doing!"

"That's... surprisingly honest," Hongjoong chuckled.

"I know, right?" You grinned, feeling giddy. "But here's the thing - and don't you dare tell anyone I said this - I think I might still be a teensy bit in love with him." You emphasized 'teensy' by pinching your fingers together, then immediately burst into giggles.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain his composure but failing miserably as your laughter proved contagious. "A 'teensy' bit?"

"Okay, okay," you waved your hands dramatically. "Maybe a lot bit. But shhh, it's a secret!" You pressed a finger to your lips and made an exaggerated 'shushing' sound that sent both of you into another fit of laughter.

"You're something else when you're drunk, you know that?" Hongjoong managed between chuckles, turning onto your street.

"I'm delightful always," you declared with mock indignation. "It's just that right now everything feels... possible? Like maybe happy endings aren't just in fairy tales?" You suddenly gasped. "Oh no, I'm getting sappy! Quick, tell a joke!"

Hongjoong couldn't contain his amusement anymore. "You're absolutely ridiculous," he said fondly, "But for what it's worth, I think those happy endings might not be as far-fetched as you think."

"Now who's being sappy?" you teased, making him roll his eyes even as he continued grinning.

"God, you know what?" you sighed dreamily, slumping against the car window, your cheeks flushed from the evening's drinks. "Jongho got so impossibly, unreasonably hot. Like, have you seen his arms lately? Those perfectly sculpted muscles that peek through his fitted shirts should be considered dangerous weapons! The way they flex when he's just casually reaching for something... It's completely unfair to the rest of humanity!"

"Okay, maybe we should change the subject-" Hongjoong tried to interrupt, but you were too caught up in your revelation to notice.

"And don't even get me started on his thighs! Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been with anyone? Years! YEARS, Hongjoong!" you declared dramatically, throwing your hands up in frustration. "And here he comes, walking back into my life looking like some kind of Greek god, giving me those intense looks with those gorgeous eyes of his... It should be illegal! There should be laws against looking that good after all this time!"

"I really don't need to hear this about my bandmate-" Hongjoong protested weakly, fighting back laughter at your animated state.

"But seriously, have you seem his thighs in those jeans a few days ago? The way they just... UGH! And I just want him to grab me and-"

"NOPE!" Hongjoong practically shouted, reaching over to clamp a hand over your mouth while trying to keep the car steady.

"No, but listen!" you persisted, pulling his hand away from your mouth. "Have you seen the way he carries Nari? Those strong arms just lifting her up like she weighs nothing, being all fatherly and protective... And then he'll catch my eye and give me that soft smile that makes my knees weak and I just-"

"You are definitely going to regret this conversation tomorrow," Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

"I can't even finish that thought because it just makes me feel all..." you trailed off with a dreamy sigh, fanning yourself dramatically. "Is it getting hot in here? I think it's getting hot in here."

"Alright, time to get you inside before you say anything else I'll need therapy to unhear," he laughed, putting the car in park.

"Oh? We're already home?" you asked, surprised as you peered out the window at your familiar building.

"That's what happens when you spend the whole ride waxing poetic about Jongho's... physical attributes," Hongjoong teased, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Listen, I'm just saying," you drawled, gesturing expressively with your finger weaving unsteady patterns in the air, "As a single mom who hasn't had time for dating in forever, you have no idea what it's like. I bet you're out there living your best life, going to fancy industry parties, probably have people throwing themselves at you begging you to fuck th—" you continued, your words becoming increasingly slurred as you attempted to make your point with increasingly dramatic hand movements.

"Y/N!" Hongjoong interrupted, his expression a mix of mortification and barely contained amusement. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're saying all this. Exactly how many glasses of wine did you have at dinner?" His voice carried equal parts concern and entertainment at your uninhibited state.

You responded with a series of uncontrollable giggles, your coordination clearly compromised as your fingers fumbled clumsily with the seatbelt buckle, missing the release button entirely several times while muttering something incomprehensible under your breath. "Alright, I'm going," you declared with exaggerated dignity, attempting to push open the car door but somehow managing to pull on the window control instead. "Oh. That's not... wait, why isn't this... ah, there it is!" You finally located the correct handle, swinging the door open with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm.

Hongjoong quickly jumped out of the driver's seat, rushing around to your side of the car as you swayed precariously on your feet. "Whoa, careful there!" he exclaimed, catching your elbow just as you started to tip sideways. "Let's get you inside in one piece, shall we?"

"My hero!" you proclaimed with an exaggerated flutter of your eyelashes, swaying dramatically as Hongjoong supported your wobbly progress toward the building entrance.

"Just doing my duty as a responsible friend," he chuckled warmly, carefully guiding you up the steps while ensuring you didn't take an unexpected detour. "And making sure Jongho doesn't kill me if anything happens to you. He'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Aww, he's so protective," you sighed dreamily, your fingers fumbling with your keys in an elaborate choreography of misses. "Have I mentioned how incredibly, absolutely, positively hot that protective side of his is?"

"Only about a dozen times in the last hour," Hongjoong muttered with fond exasperation, gently extracting the keys from your uncoordinated grasp. "Here, let me help with that before you accidentally try to unlock your door with your credit card."

"I am perfectly capable of using my own keys!" you protested with the utmost conviction, nearly pirouetting over your own feet as you made this passionate declaration. "See? I'll show you! I am a key-using expert of the highest caliber!"

You triumphantly thrust your hand into the air, brandishing what you believed to be your key ring with the confidence of a symphony conductor, only to realize you were wielding your phone like a magical wand. "Oh. When did that happen? The keys have clearly learned to shape-shift. Very sneaky of them."

Hongjoong's laughter bubbled over, rich and genuine. "Just let me help, okay? Before you convince yourself your lip gloss is actually the garage door opener."

"Fine," you conceded with an exaggerated pout worthy of a theatrical performance. "But only because you're being so nice about it. And don't you dare tell Jongho about any of this! This is top-secret, classified, confidential... what's another word for secret?"

Hongjoong glanced at you with a mixture of amusement and growing concern. "You do know Jongho's at your place with Nari right now, don't you?"

"Oh shit," you breathed, your eyes widening to comical proportions. "Oh no, no, no... This is not part of the plan. The plan was to be sophisticated and elegant and..." Hongjoong couldn't help but laugh at your increasingly panicked expression, watching as the realization slowly dawned across your features. "Oh my god, I'm so drunk," you groaned, pressing your hands against your flaming cheeks as if trying to physically hold your dignity in place. "But I'll be fine! Totally fine. Completely and utterly fine!"

"I'm telling you," you continued with newfound determination, stumbling slightly as Hongjoong guided you through the building's entrance, "I'm going to walk in there and be all... all dignified and stuff. Like a queen. Or maybe a duchess. Do duchesses wobble?"

Hongjoong let out an undignified snort. "Sure you are. And I'm secretly a unicorn."

"No, really! Watch this!" You straightened up with the determination of an Olympic athlete, attempting to walk in what you believed to be a perfectly straight line down the hallway but instead executing a gentle curve to the left that would make geometry teachers weep. "I am grace personified! Poetry in motion! The very essence of... of... what's that word for when you're really good at walking?"

"Finally," Hongjoong sighed in relief as the elevator doors opened. He guided you inside, pressing the button for your floor while you leaned against the wall for support.

"I need to be... what's the word? Sophisticated! Yes, that's it. I am a sophisticated, responsible mother who absolutely, positively, definitely does not spend any time whatsoever thinking about her daughter's father's muscles. Or his shoulders. Or the way his t-shirts fit just right when he's... No! Bad brain! Stop that!"

"Maybe save the thigh appreciation for when you're more... coherent?" Hongjoong suggested, leading you down the hallway to your apartment.

"You're right, you're right," you nodded with such vigor that the world decided to do a spin, forcing you to grab the wall for support. "Do you think Jongho will be able to tell I'm drunk? I can be sneaky. Like a ninja. A very sophisticated ninja."

Hongjoong paused at your door, giving you a look that could only be described as 'are you actually serious right now?' "Y/N, a blind person could tell you're drunk right now. From three blocks away. In a soundproof room."

"I'm not drunk!" you protested with the righteous indignation of someone who was very much drunk, punctuating your declaration with a perfectly timed hiccup. "I'm just... experiencing an enhanced state of... of... consciousness expansion? No, that's not it. Alternative sobriety? Enhanced gravitational awareness?" You waved your hand in elaborate patterns through the air, as if trying to pluck the proper words from the cosmos itself.

Just then, the door to your apartment swung open to reveal Jongho standing there with an amused smirk playing across his features. "Enhanced state, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as you felt your cheeks flush an even deeper shade of crimson. Hongjoong cleared his throat, making a valiant but ultimately failed attempt to suppress his laughter at your mortified expression.

"I am completely and totally fine," you declared with all the dignity you could muster while the floor seemed to be engaging in some sort of gentle wave motion beneath your feet. "Just experiencing some temporary... spatial recalibration. It's very scientific." Your attempt at a graceful entrance was somewhat undermined when you promptly stumbled directly into Jongho's chest, his strong hands instinctively reaching out to catch you with practiced ease. "Hi!" you chirped brightly, gazing up at him with what you hoped was a casual smile but probably looked more like a lovestruck grin. The solid warmth of his chest against your palms and the steady pressure of his hands on your waist were doing absolutely nothing to help clear your wine-addled thoughts.

"Someone had a good time at dinner," he observed, his voice carrying notes of amusement mixed with something deeper, something that made your stomach do little flips that had nothing to do with the wine.

"The BEST time," you emphasized with enthusiastic hand gestures, still making no effort whatsoever to extract yourself from his supportive grip. "They had so many wines. SO many. And they were all very... winey. Like, really good at being wine. Is that a thing? It should be a thing."

"And this," Hongjoong announced with barely contained glee, backing away toward freedom, "is where I make my strategic retreat. Have fun dealing with... all of this." He gestured vaguely in your direction with a flourish before giving Jongho a sympathetic pat on the shoulder that clearly said, 'Good luck, you're going to need it.'

"Traitor!" you called after him, your voice echoing dramatically down the hallway along with his answering laughter. "Some friend you are, abandoning me in my hour of... of... what's that thing when you really need something?"

"Need?" Jongho supplied helpfully, still maintaining his steady hold on you as he somehow managed to kick the door closed without letting you topple over.

"You, Mister Choi," you declared with the gravity of someone making a profound scientific discovery, punctuating each word with a gentle poke to his chest, "are very smart. And strong. Have I mentioned how strong you are?" Your eyes widened comically as you realized what you'd just said, dissolving into a fresh fit of giggles that you tried to muffle against his shoulder.

Jongho's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, the sound warming you more effectively than any amount of wine as he carefully guided you toward the couch. "Maybe we should get you some water and have you sit down for a bit," he suggested, his hands maintaining their gentle but firm pressure on your shoulders. The combination of his proximity and your alcohol-diminished inhibitions was making it increasingly difficult to remember all the reasons why you shouldn't be telling him exactly how devastatingly attractive you found him.

"You know what?" you announced with the air of someone about to share a vital piece of information, tilting your head back to look up at him. "You have really nice shoulders. Like, really, really nice. The kind of shoulders that make a girl want to..." you trailed off, your hands making vague grabbing motions in the air that would have made a mime proud.

"And how much exactly did you have to drink tonight?" Jongho asked, his valiant attempt at maintaining a straight face crumbling around the edges as he steadied you for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Enough to finally tell you that your whole..." you made a grand sweeping gesture encompassing his entire form, nearly taking out a lamp in the process, "...everything is very distracting. Has anyone ever told you that you're unfairly attractive? Because you are. It's very inconsiderate of you, honestly. There should be laws about this sort of thing."

Jongho's ears turned an adorable shade of pink, but his smile only grew wider, softer somehow. "Maybe we should revisit this conversation when you're sober," he suggested gently, guiding you to sit on the couch with the careful attention of someone handling a particularly wobbly piece of fine china.

"Nooo," you whined, latching onto his arm like a particularly determined octopus. "You're just going to be all responsible and professional again tomorrow, and I'll have to go back to pretending I don't notice how ridiculously good you look in those stupid fitted shirts of yours. Do you know how hard that is? It's very hard. Very, very hard."

"And don't even get me started on your arms," you continued, poking his bicep with an accusing finger as if it had personally offended you. "Do you know what they do to a person? Because I do. I know exactly what they do, and it's very... it's very... arm-y."

Jongho caught your poking finger in his hand, his expression a fascinating mix of amusement and something warmer, something that made your heart skip several beats. "Maybe you should tell me," he teased, his voice carrying a hint of challenge that sent shivers down your spine.

"Oh, I could tell you so many things." You leaned closer, emboldened by the wine and the way his eyes seemed to darken at your proximity. "Like how distracting it is when you roll up your sleeves, or when-"

"Mommy?" a small voice called softly from the bedroom, the innocent sound cutting through your wine-induced haze like a bucket of ice water. The simple word instantly cleared your foggy mind, replacing the warmth of attraction with sharp, sobering clarity as you sat on the couch beside Jongho.

"Oh god," you whispered, practically leaping to the other end of the couch as though burned, your heart hammering in your chest as reality came crashing back. "Nari's still awake?"

Jongho reacted with lightning-quick composure, smoothly adjusting his position to create a respectable distance between you as the sound of tiny footsteps approached the room. "She was asleep just a few minutes ago, must have woken up from all our talking," he explained in carefully measured tones, his voice barely above a whisper, just as Nari appeared in her flower-patterned pajamas, her small fists rubbing drowsily at her eyes.

"Baby, what are you doing up?" you managed to say with impressive steadiness, fighting against the lingering effects of the wine that made the room tilt and sway. Your thoughts raced as you desperately hoped your daughter wouldn't notice how flushed your cheeks were or how disheveled you must look.

Nari shuffled toward the couch with that endearing sleepy wobble that small children have, her eyes heavy with interrupted dreams. "I heard laughing..." she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Princess, Mommy and I were just having a little chat, but it's very late now." Jongho stepped in with practiced ease, his voice gentle as he rose from the couch and lowered himself to her eye level. "Can I help you back to bed?" The natural way he handled the situation, seamlessly transitioning from your heated moment to caring father figure, made your heart clench with an emotion you weren't ready to name.

Nari's eyes darted between you and Jongho, concern evident even through her sleepy haze. "Is Mommy okay? She looks funny."

"Mommy's just a little tired from dinner with the uncles," Jongho explained, his voice warm and reassuring as he extended his hand toward her. "Let's get you tucked in, and tomorrow morning, she'll feel much better." The tenderness in his tone made your chest ache with longing and gratitude.

You caught Jongho's eye as he led Nari away, mouthing a silent but heartfelt 'thank you,' overwhelmed with appreciation for his quick thinking and smooth intervention. As their footsteps grew fainter down the hallway, you sagged deeper into the couch cushions, letting out a long groan while pressing your palms against your eyes, trying to will away both the spinning sensation and the memory of how close you'd been to kissing him.

A few minutes later, Jongho returned to the room, his expression a perfect blend of amusement and fond exasperation as he leaned against the doorframe. "Well, the first baby is safely back in dreamland," he announced with a knowing smirk, crossing his arms across his chest in a way that definitely didn't make your heart skip. "Now it's time to take care of the big baby."

"Are you calling me a baby?" you protested with an exaggerated pout, stumbling slightly as you tried to cross your arms. "Because I'll have you know I am a very mature and sophisticated..." you trailed off as an ill-timed hiccup interrupted your declaration, "...person."

"Whatever you say," Jongho chuckled warmly, his eyes sparkling with barely contained mirth as he gently took your elbow. "Come on, let's get you some water. Can you walk to the kitchen?"

"Of course I can walk," you declared confidently, though your steps were anything but steady as he guided you.

Once in the kitchen, he carefully positioned you against the counter, his hands lingering on your waist to ensure you stayed upright. "Stay right here," he instructed, his voice a mix of amusement and concern. "And try not to fall over while I get your water."

"No, I don't want water," you whined, gripping the counter edge as the room did a gentle spin. Your eyes followed him as he moved to the sink, unable to help yourself from admiring his profile. "I want to tell you about how pretty your eyes are when you smile." Jongho turned back to you with that exact devastating smile you'd just mentioned, making your heart flutter.

"Here," he said firmly, pressing the glass of water into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent tingles up your arm. "Drink this, and maybe we can talk more about my eyes later."

"Or you could just kiss me," you murmured, the wine making your voice husky and your usual hesitation nonexistent. Your eyes traced the contours of his lips, lingering on the subtle curve of his mouth as he held you steady against the kitchen counter, his proximity making your head spin more than any amount of alcohol could. Jongho's breath caught audibly in his throat, his fingers flexing unconsciously where they gripped your waist, the pressure just firm enough to send shivers down your spine. For a long moment, the air between you crackled with an almost electric tension. Then, with a deliberateness that made your heart race, he slowly began to lean in. When his lips finally met yours, it was with a gentleness that made your knees weak. The kiss was tentative at first, exploratory, like he was giving you every chance to pull away. Instead, you let out a soft sigh against his mouth, your fingers finding purchase in the fabric of his shirt, desperately pulling him closer. Something in him seemed to break at that small sound - the kiss transformed, becoming deeper, more intense, charged with years of suppressed longing. His hands slid up the curve of your back, fingers threading through your hair as he pressed you more firmly against the counter, the solid warmth of his body making you dizzy with want.

But then, as quickly as the moment had ignited, Jongho wrenched himself away, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Wait," he rasped, his voice rough with barely contained emotion. "We can't... we shouldn't do this. Not like this."

"Why not?" you whimpered, your hands still clutching at his shirt, trying to draw him back to you, missing his warmth already.

"Because you're drunk," he said, his tone firm despite the obvious desire still burning in his eyes, making them dark and intense. "And I... god, I want this - want you - too much to let it happen this way. You deserve better than some rushed, drunken makeout session in your kitchen that you might not even remember clearly tomorrow."

"Jongho..." you purred, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. The wine had completely demolished your filter, leaving your desires bare and unrestrained. "I've thought about this... about us... so many times..."

Jongho's jaw clenched visibly, his hands gripping your waist a fraction tighter. "Y/N," he warned, his voice strained. "You're making this very difficult."

"You're kind of adorable when you're being responsible," you giggled, swaying forward to rest your forehead against his chest. "But fine, have it your way. I'll be good." The words came out more suggestive than you'd intended, and you felt Jongho's sharp intake of breath.

He shifted slightly, maintaining a respectful distance while still keeping you steady. "Let's get you to bed," he said softly, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument.

Letting out a small sigh of defeat, you let him guide you toward your bed, your steps still slightly unsteady. "You're no fun," you mumbled, even as your eyelids grew heavier with each step. "But you're still pretty..."

Jongho smiled fondly as he guided you toward the bathroom instead, his warm hand steady against the small of your back. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter - even through your wine-induced haze, you could see the tender concern in his eyes, mixed with something deeper that made your breath catch.

"Let's get you cleaned up first," he said softly, his voice warm and gentle as he steadied you with one hand while reaching for your toothbrush with the other.

"You're being very... what's the word?" you mumbled as he carefully put toothpaste on your brush, your body swaying slightly into his solid presence. The bathroom lights seemed to spin a little, but his firm grip kept you grounded. "Nurturing? Is that it? Like a big, strong, handsome nurse," you giggled, leaning back against his chest for support.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through you where your back pressed against him. "Someone has to take care of you," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear as he passed you the toothbrush. His hands lingered on your shoulders, thumbs drawing small, comforting circles that made you feel safe. As you brushed your teeth, still swaying slightly, you caught his eye in the mirror. The way he watched you, with that mix of amusement and affection, made your chest tight with emotion. His reflection showed everything you'd been too afraid to see before - the way his eyes softened when they met yours, how his protective stance betrayed more than just friendly concern.

"Are you gonna stay?" you asked around a mouthful of toothpaste, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, your voice small and hopeful. Jongho reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered against your cheek for just a moment, sending sparks of electricity down your spine.

"I never planned to leave in the first place," he assured you, "Someone needs to make sure you drink water and take painkillers in the morning. Besides," he added, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror, "there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."

You shuffled into your bedroom, leaning slightly against Jongho's steady presence as he carefully guided you to sit on the edge of your bed. His movements were deliberate and gentle, ensuring you remained balanced despite your slightly unsteady state. With remarkable foresight and consideration, he made his way to your dresser, retrieving your pajamas and holding them out to you with one hand while the other dramatically covered his eyes, his fingers splayed in an exaggerated gesture that made you smile.

"No peeking," you giggled, swaying slightly even while seated, your hand reaching out to steady yourself against the mattress. "Such a gentleman..."

"I'll turn around," he said firmly, though you could hear the barely contained smile in his voice, "Just let me know when you're done changing, okay?"

"But what if I need help?" you teased, watching with delight as the tips of his ears turned a delicate shade of pink, the blush creeping down his neck. "These buttons can be so tricky..."

"Y/N..." His voice carried a warning tone, though it was impossible to miss the undercurrent of affection and obvious amusement in his words. "You're making this whole 'being responsible' thing incredibly challenging, you know that?"

"Fine, fine," you conceded with an exaggerated sigh, waving your hand dismissively. "Turn around then, Mr. Proper," you mock-pouted, watching as he obediently spun to face the wall. As you managed to change into your pajamas with surprisingly minimal stumbling, you couldn't help but notice how Jongho kept his word, standing perfectly still with his back turned, his shoulders tense with the effort of maintaining composure. You had to admit, his steadfast determination to be proper and gentlemanly was endearing, even if your wine-influenced mind desperately wanted to test those carefully constructed boundaries. With a mischievous grin spreading across your face, you waited until he was fully turned around, completely unsuspecting, before carefully unhooking your bra under your shirt. In one fluid motion that was far more coordinated than you expected given your current state, you managed to pull it free from your sleeve and, with surprisingly good aim, tossed it directly at him, watching with gleeful satisfaction as it landed perfectly draped across his broad shoulder.

"Oops," you giggled with exaggerated innocence, trying and failing to suppress your laughter. "How did that get there? Must have slipped..."

Jongho froze completely, his shoulders tensing visibly beneath his hoodie. You could practically see him counting slowly to ten in his head, his fingers flexing at his sides before he carefully, deliberately reached up and removed the garment without turning his head even slightly, holding it out behind him with two fingers. "Y/N..." his voice was delightfully strained but unmistakably amused, a combination that made you want to test his resolve even further. "You're absolutely impossible, you know that?"

"I prefer the term 'delightfully challenging,'" you quipped back, finally pulling your pajama top on and smoothing it down. "Okay, I'm decent now. More or less. Probably more less than more, but who's counting?"

He turned back around slowly, cautiously, as if expecting another piece of clothing to come flying his way. A soft smile played at his lips despite his obvious attempt to maintain his composure, and when his eyes met yours, they were warm and tender, yet still carrying that hint of careful restraint that had characterized the entire evening.

"Let's get you tucked in," he said gently, moving to help you under the covers, his hands steady and sure.

"Can you... Stay with me?" you asked softly, your voice suddenly sleepy, all the previous playfulness melting into vulnerable honesty. "Just to cuddle? I promise I'll behave this time... mostly."

Jongho hesitated for a moment, his expression softening visibly as he looked down at you. "Alright," he conceded with a gentle smile that made your heart skip. "But you need to actually sleep, okay?"

You nodded eagerly, watching as he pulled off his hoodie with careful movements, leaving him in his soft, oversized t-shirt and comfortable sweatpants. The bed dipped slightly under his weight as he slipped under the covers beside you, and you immediately gravitated toward his warmth like a moth to flame. Your head found its perfect resting place on his chest, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat more soothing than any lullaby could ever be. His arms wrapped around you protectively, one hand resting securely on your back while the other began to stroke your hair with such tender care that you felt yourself melting into his embrace.

"Comfortable?" he murmured softly, his voice rumbling pleasantly in his chest beneath your ear, the vibrations sending waves of contentment through your entire body.

"Mmhmm," you hummed contentedly, already feeling the gentle pull of sleep starting to cloud your consciousness. "You're so warm... and safe... like my own personal guardian angel..."

The last thing you registered before drifting off into peaceful slumber was the gentle, almost reverent press of his lips against your forehead and his whispered "Sweet dreams," the words carrying more tenderness than you'd ever heard before.

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