Reblog This If You’re In The Welcome To Night Vale Fandom And You’re Gay/lesbian/bi/pansexual/queer.

He can sing to me every night it’s so beautiful.

wylan and the other crows

Red Bull Family

Synopsis: Y/n L/n joins Red Bull Racing in 2022, and after some warming up, becomes Max Verstappen’s best friend. These are seven moments over the years when the energetic young adult breaks down “Mad Max”

young female driver reader x platonic max verstappen

so, I saw a rumor one time about how Max might want to leave f1 after his contract ends in 2028, so I thought it’d be fun to write a story about a teammate friendship and how it feels when one person retires. for this one, reader is 19 and max is 24 when she joins red bull in 2022

(y’all this fic took over a week to write and is almost 10k words 💀 idek if it’s good or not but i am not leaving this is my drafts)

2022- “Welcome”

You didn’t know why you were this nervous. It was just a team. They were just your coworkers. He was just your teammate. Today was your first day at Red Bull Racing. In the middle of the 2021 season, Christian Horner approached you with an offer to leave Alpha Tauri and join the Red Bull Team alongside Max Verstappen for 2022. You didn’t know what to expect from your new team, much less the infamous “Mad Max”. You knew that he could be kind and funny, but you also knew he could be cold and brutally straight forward.

With as much confidence as you could gather, you walked out of your car and towards the Red Bull Headquarters. The only person you knew was the team principal and that was only because of contract meetings and phone calls. It was your only chance at a first impression, and you were determined to make a good one.

The first person you saw when you walked inside was Christian, though he was surrounded by a few other people. “Y/n! Welcome! It’s nice to finally see in here in headquarters” Christian said, offering a smile and a handshake. You offered your own hand as he introduced you to the people around you.

“This is May Dawson your ‘minder’ or personal assistant, of sorts.” A woman that looked around your age stepped forward and shook your hand.

“Pierre Wache, our technical director” A middle-aged man stepped forward. “And our director of engineering, Paul Monaghan” The last man present shook your hand.

“So, first, we’re going to introduce you to everyone in the factory, just to give you a chance to meet everyone, then, there’s a meeting with the five of us, it’s not going to take very long, it’s just to further introduce you to Red Bull, alright?” Christian puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you through the factory. You just nod and smile as you look around the factory.

Your team principle gives you a mini tour of the place while you walk to the main garage, where your co-workers wait for you. You smile as you enter the room and applauds fill the space.

You greet as many people as you can as the five of you walk down the stairs. “Okay, okay. Thank you everyone for being here to introduce our newest driver, Y/n L/n!” Everyone starts clapping again, and you notice your teammate across the room.

As Christian continues talking, you make your way towards him. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m-” He cuts you off. “Y/n L/n, I know, he just said that” Max chuckles at you.

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’m Max” He takes your outstretched hand. You take notice of Christian’s lasting speech.

“So, how long do these ‘introductions’ usually last? I mean, you know, right? I’m your third teammate in three years” You both laugh.

“Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. But then you have your introduction meeting, that lasts at least an hour and a half, and then I think you’d have some media stuff afterwards. So, you’re not leaving for a couple hours” Both of you laugh again as your team principle’s speech finishes.

“I’ll see you soon, good luck” Max smirks at you. “Thanks, see you soon” You smile back at him as May approaches to take you to the meeting.

Your teammate turns out to be right, and you don’t end up leaving the factory until after sundown. Your first day consists of a lot of handshakes, a photo shoot in your new attire, and a thorough tour of Red Bull headquarters.

You're due back tomorrow for some more introductory stuff and a meeting with your PR team. The first race of the 2022 season isn’t until a month and a half, but there is a lot of prep work.

There were no knots in your stomachs as you thought of your upcoming weeks at Red Bull or with Max. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were excited, nonetheless.

2023- “The Dream Team”

It’s been over two years since you’ve been recruited to Red Bull, and you couldn’t have asked for a better two seasons with the team. In both 2022 and 2023, the lowest result you’ve got was P9. You and Max have completely dominated both race seasons, with a Red Bull driver always on the podium. Christian Horner was extremely pleased with his driver’s performances and the rest of the racing world came to love watching you race.

The fandom also loved seeing you and Max together. Your first days at the factory started the friendship and partnership that so successful today. The team behind Red Bull’s YouTube channel had you film a ‘Two Truths and a Lie” video as your first appearance together and the two of you have been attached at the hip since. You’re the first person to congratulate each other after a race and are known for speaking very fondly of the other when given the opportunity.

Max sees a lot of himself in you and ever since the first time he saw you in the Red Bull car on the track, he knew you were going to be something special. You were right about him being kind; the Dutch man has acted like your mentor during your first year at Red Bull, offering advice and never faltering in his belief in your success. He made you laugh a lot too, especially when Daniel Ricciardo was by his side.

Daniel joined you two in most media duties for the team, and it usually takes forever to get anything done due to the constant talking and laughing that goes on between you three. You met the Australian later in your first week at Red Bull and in true Daniel Ricciardo fashion, he made you feel comfortable immediately and the two of you became fast friends.

Seeing as Formula 1 was nearing the end of the 2023 Season, Red Bull decides to bring back a popular class, On the Sofa with Max Verstappen, Y/n L/n, and Daniel Ricciardo. You teased it with a photo of the couch on your Instagram and the fans went crazy. It was a bit sad knowing it was the end of the season, but you were mostly excited, both to go home and to do an iconic video with Max and Daniel.

“Hello everyone, I’m Daniel Riccardo”

“I’m Max Verstappen”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is, for the first time in a while actually, On the Sofa, with Max, Daniel, and Y/n” The older man introduced you three. “If you don’t remember, it’s fine because neither do I” The three of you smiled. “We are going to be reflecting on some on-track and off-track moments from this racing season. I’ve got the questions, they might have the answers, let’s get started”

Daniel turned to you. “Y/n, you decided to copy me and win in Monaco, your first win in 2023, also. What was going through your head throughout the race, when you crossed the finish line, and during your dive into the pool?”

You smiled at the memory of your first win. “Well, a lot of the race was me trying not to get too excited and mess up. I qualified P2, right behind Max, and because there isn’t a lot of opportunities to overtake in Monaco, I was pretty comfortable finishing there, but then I overtook him towards the end of the race and spent the rest of it trying not to freak out. I was really relieved when I crossed the finish line, and the dive into the pool didn’t even feel like an option. Jumping into the pool is something iconic for all drivers who win there, how I am not going to do it?” You spoke honestly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t copy my belly flop too” Daniel said, making you laugh. He turned to your teammate. “Max, she beat you. How did that feel?”

“Oh, it felt great, you know. I love being overtaken by my teammate. It’s a great feeling really” Max replied sarcastically. “No, but actually, I mean, obviously I wasn’t happy about not winning but it was nice to see you win, I was proud, if I’m not gonna win, I’d want it to be you” He turned to you and a smile came on your face. Daniel let out a small smile before interrupting. ‘Alright enough of the sappy, ‘I love you’ bullshit” He picked up another card.

“Max, what was your favorite win this season?”

“I think the Austrian Grand Prix. With it being at the Red Bull Ring and having a lot of Dutch fans there, it made the race pretty special” That was a good day for Red Bull, a 1-2 from you and Max and a lot of support from the fans. You remembered the cheers from the arena and the celebrations that seemed endless.

“Yeah, you liked flexing on everyone else, didn’t you” Daniel joked and the three of you laughed. “Someone ask me a question now” Neither you or Max were given cards, but you were happy to improvise.

“Daniel, what was the best part of filming your show, ‘Grandstand' with Will Arnett?” You asked. “I think just getting chance to commentate and watch the race with someone. I mean, I’m usually watching the race from the garage or the pit wall, but it was fun to just talk and kinda goof around while the race went on instead of just watching” The Australian replies.

“Y/n, what was your favorite off-track moment from 2023?”

You immediately grin. “Definitely the paint video. By far, that was so much fun.” At the Belgian Grand Prix, the Red Bull media team had you, Daniel, and Max, do a painting challenge. Daniel and Max had to give you instructions to create a portrait of the three of you, while you were blindfolded. You were laughing the entire time, and it escalated to a paint fight once they insulted your finished portrait. The team was mad at you and Max for ruining your clothes and causing a delay for you three of clean up, but it was worth it.

“Oh, the paint video was so much fun”

“I still have some of that purple paint on my hat, I think” You splattered paint on one of Max’s beloved hats, claiming that he should add a purple one to his collection. The three of you laughed and Daniel picked up another card. “This one is for both of you. What is the best part of having the other as a teammate?” You looked at each other before you responded.

“Well, first off, Max is more than my teammate, I think that’s the best part of it” You chuckled before continuing. “I mean, you’re my mentor, you’re my friend, you’re my supporter. You’ve made my first year of Red Bull easier and a lot less scary than I thought it would be, and not a lot of drivers have all those things in a teammate”

You finished, not wanting to ramble on about how grateful you were for your friend and looked at Max, who was smiling at you. “Wow, Max, how are you gonna top that?”

Max chuckled at that before answering. “Y/n is all those things for me as much as I am for her. When I’m unhappy with my performance, she is there for me. Without even realizing it, you teach me things that I probably would not have learned with anyone else as my teammate” He speaks to you now.

“Aw, what a love fest. You guys should hug it out” Daniel comments. “You have to join the hug, too, Daniel” you say before moving closer to the two of them. The Australian wraps his arms around the younger drivers in a hug, swaying slightly, before completely pushing you and Max off the couch.

“No love here. Only violence and pain” You and Max laugh from your places on the ground. “That’s it for today, hope you had a fun 2023 season, don’t do drugs, and we’ll see you next year” Daniel said before walking out of frame. You and Max both waved to the camera. “Bye everyone, we’ll see you next season!”

2024- “More than you think”

It was Round 7 of the 2024 Race Season and for once, Monaco couldn’t have been uglier. It was pouring rain and the wind could be heard over the twenty car engines. You’ve driven in a lot of wet races since you joined Formula 1 in the beginning of 2021 but never in one as bad as this one.

You and Max were talking about the conditions in your driver's room and how even though you both thrived in the rain, this was too intense for comfort.

“I mean, I know the FIA is brain dead in most situations, but, jeez, you’d have to be blind to make us race” You complained to your teammate seated beside you on your couch.

“I know, and in Monaco too” Max trailed off, hoping there wouldn’t be any crashes today. Soon enough you two had to separate to prepare for the race, but not before promising to see each other off before you got into your respective cars.

An hour passes and the rain doesn’t let up. Your race engineer informs you that if anything, it’s somehow supposed to get worse. Frowning, you make your way to Max’s side of the garage to wish him luck. “Hey, be careful today, okay? Good luck” You tapped him on the shoulder and put your hand on his shoulder.

“And you the same, yeah? Good luck” He pulled you into a hug before putting on his balaclava and helmet.

Both Red Bulls start their formation laps, trying to see through the rain and avoid the other cars on track. Your heart beats faster as you approach your place of P3 on the grid and the five red lights come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Monaco!” The voice of Martin Brundle becomes audible. You manage to pull away, but the tight corners of Monte Carlo don’t allow you to gain a lead. You struggle through the mist of the two cars in front of you for the first 11 laps of the race but manage as best you can, until you get to the straight after Turn 8.

You didn’t see Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari in front of you. The spray from the rain kept you from knowing that he slowed down, until your front wing hit the back of his car. The collision caused your car to turn almost 180 degrees around, making the car behind you, Fernando Alonso, ram into the side of your car. The impact made you spin off track and into the barriers for a harsh stop.

“Big collision on the straight before Turn 9! I think that’s Y/n L/n’s Red Bull! She was hit by Fernando Alonso, I think, after Charles Leclerc braked.” Martin commentates as he looks onto the track. ‘That looked very bad, might be- yep, red flag until we know if L/n’s okay. Her car has stopped but she hasn’t moved yet”

You were completely disoriented in your car, your dizzy head making it hard to comprehend what had happened. Once you realized you had crashed into the barrier, you noticed the intense pain coming from your left leg and left side of your rib cage, the side that Fernando hit.

You tried to get out of your car, but your leg made it nearly impossible, you would have to wait until the safety marshals arrived.

Max was in P1 so he didn’t see your crash in person, but he saw glimpses of it through his rearview mirror. “That was Y/n? Is she okay?” The Dutch asks his race engineer, GP. “Yeah, that was Y/n. No information on her yet. Just slow down and get back to the pitlane” The man responds. “Is she out of her car?” Max radios again. GP didn’t want to worry Max, knowing how close you two are, but he knows he has to tell Max.

“She hasn’t, Max, Y/n is still in her car, that’s all we know. Just focus on getting back to the pits safely” Max ignores GP again.

“What has she said?” Gianpiero hesitates for a moment before responding.

“Nothing, Max. There hasn’t been any communication from Y/n yet.” At that, Max mutters “Fuck it” before pulling his car over after Turn 11 and shutting off the engine.

“Max, no, come back to the-”

The driver cuts his race engineer off. “No, I’m going to see if she is okay. Don’t try to stop me”

Max was thinking back to your conversation before the race and became filled with worry. He knew he should’ve pushed Christian to get the FIA to cancel the race; he knew it was too dangerous. Now you’ve crashed and are unresponsive in your car.

Max runs through the rain to get to your car to see you struggling to get out. “Y/n! Are you okay?” He shouts loudly as he gets closer.

“Not really. My left leg got hit, and I think I hurt my ribs” You wince as you shout from your cockpit.

“I’m going to help you get out, let me know if it hurts too much” Max stands over you and grabs your hands to pull you up. You crouch on your one good leg and let him help you stand you up in your seat, one arm across your ribs. “Good?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know how I’m going to get out from here”

“Let me carry you, keep your bad leg out” Max comes to the side of your car, and you make out his outstretched arms through the wind and rain. He puts one of your arms around his neck and grabs your good leg, carrying you bridal style.

He puts you down a few feet away from your car but makes sure your arm is still around his neck so he can help you walk. “Look, the marshals are coming. I’m going to leave you with them and come see you after the race, okay?” Your teammate says as the safety car pulls over next to you and Max.

“Okay, thank you Max, you know you didn’t have to”

“I know, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says honestly.

“Good luck” You called out as two medics came out of the car and wrapped your arms around their shoulders. They took you to the medical center where you were diagnosed with a fractured knee and a few fractured ribs. You spent the rest of the race in the hospital so doctors could put a cast around your leg, while May sat beside you and updated you about the ongoing event. She got there a little after you did so she could gather all your stuff from the garage, and you could go back to your hotel once you get discharged.

A knock on the door interrupts your conversation with her. “Hey” Max’s head becomes visible as the door opens. “Hey Max, congrats on P1. I’ll check you out, Y/n, I’ll come back in a few minutes” May nods and leaves you and Max alone.

“Hey Max, you did great out there” You smile at your teammate from your place on the hospital bed.

“Thanks, I was happy Charles and Carlos got to the podium with me, but I wish you could’ve been there”

“Me too, but..” You trail off, gesturing to your leg and torso.

“So, I talked to Charles and Fernando, they plan on visiting you at your hotel tomorrow, they were worried about you, especially Charles” The Dutch man tells you.

“Yeah, I figured, I’ll talk to them tomorrow” It is silent for a minute, until Max suddenly blurts out. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you aren’t okay, but, how long until you are?”

It wasn’t until now you noticed that Max’s blue eyes are filled with worry. “The doctor said it would be at least a month until I can race again, and I’m going to be in the cast for a couple weeks” Your teammate frowned.

“I’m sorry, Y/n” You shrugged. “It’s not your fault”

“I know, but I wish I could help”

“Don’t worry about it, Max. I’ll be back soon, it’s only a month”

“I know”

Who you can only guess to be May knocks on the door. “I’ll see you, later, Y/n, get better soon” He grabs your hand before leaving the room. As you ride back to your hotel, you look at social media to make a statement about your current state.

Max has surprised you about a lot of things today, and by the looks of the comments under the videos about your crash, the fans are too. You’ve never been in a serious crash to the point where you need to go to the hospital before, but you expected Max to just text you after his race and ask about it the next time you see him.

The fans are going crazy, mostly the ones that ship you two together, but generally they’re just happy you seemed okay. You would comfortably say that Max is your best friend, but still, he’s not the type to stop his own race to check on you. It may have taken you two years, but you finally realize that “Mad Max” isn’t mad at all.

2025- “By my side”

It was the beginning of the 2025 racing season, you were in your fourth year at Red Bull with Max and by this point, you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. There is no point in having separate driver’s rooms because you are always in his, your press officers have given up on trying to get the two of you to behave and just let you follow each other around the media pen, and your Red Bull co-workers are smart enough to not let you two alone in a room together, especially not after you two had found the old Crazy Carts and pulled a “Daniel” by putting a hole in the wall. Christian feels like he has two more kids, and let’s Geri take care of you however she wants. Your families are close too, always sitting together nervously in the viewing room. Kelly is basically your older sister and Penelope loves you like an aunt, so your excitement about their engagement is understandable.

Max proposed at the end of Abu Dhabi in 2024 and if Charles’ arm wasn’t around you, keeping you grounded, you would’ve been jumping up and down and screaming. You almost tackled her in the hug, the smile on both of your faces blinding. Penelope grabbed your hands and made you start dancing to the music blasting from the speakers with her, while the arene was booming with cheers. You geeked out the same way once the invitation was sent to you and let Kelly gush about the wedding all she wanted once you got your nails done together.

You and Kelly’s friendship started when complimented her jacket when you met her in the 2022 Monaco Race. She gave you the name of the place, but when you joked about not knowing French and having no idea how to get around the city, she offered to take you there herself if you were still around Monday afternoon. You went and had a really good time with the model, talking mostly about how different you two are and making fun of Max. At the next race she attended that year, you two went out for coffee Friday afternoon, and it quickly became a tradition after you went out together a couple more times.

You met Penelope soon after that and fell absolutely in love with her. You thought she was adorable and was so glad she seemed fond of you too, probably because of the candy you give her every time you meet. Your friendship continued to get stronger, leading to now, talking about your role in her wedding.

The event was not going to be small in any way, and Kelly really wanted someone she could trust to keep an eye on her daughter and keep her out of trouble when she couldn’t. Her best friends and family already had their own parts to play, and knowing how much you adored the young girl, she chose you.

The wedding was held at a beautiful venue in Monaco, and it couldn’t have gone better. You weren’t the only driver there, Daniel, Lando, and Charles were present and accompanying you. When you weren’t keeping Penelope occupied, you were with them, talking about Max and Kelly and dancing.

You smiled fondly as the couple when they stood at the altar and would be lying if your eyes were completely dry as you watched them take their first dance. The four of you took photos with the married couple, and you even have some of just you and Max and you and Kelly. Everyone had a great time; love was an amazing part of life, and you were happy to watch your best friend experience it.

Unfortunately, loss was also a part of life. And it nearly killed Max to watch you go through it.

Days before Round 10 of 2025, you got a call saying one of your closest friends, Luis, had been killed in a car crash.

Luis was a part of the friend group you had back home, and you had known him for years at that point. He was hilarious and caring, always making sure you knew he supported you no matter what. A member of the same friend group called you in tears, and it took everything in you not to break down as well.

It was Thursday, meaning you had media duties for hours. You almost left your driver's room to get May and ask her to cancel your responsibilities, but then you remembered that were supposed to meet your PR officer outside the garage in less than five minutes so she could escort you to the media pen. You talked to your friend as long as you could, promising to call back as soon as you finished, and hung up the phone to leave. You blinked back your tears as you met your officer and didn’t even bother putting on a smile as you passed your co-workers.

You met up with Max as you walked. “Hi- what’s wrong?” He immediately notices the frown on your face. “I’ll tell you after” You’d start crying if you talked about it now. You answer questions for what feels like an eternity, probably sounding like a robot, giving generic answers.

You were grateful when you were excused from a press conference and made a bee line for your driver’s room. You locked the door behind you as you grabbed your phone and called your friend back. She broke into tears as she told you the details of what happened, and you couldn’t help but join her. You sat on the floor, back against the couch as both of you cried over your friend. Sobs escaped your body faster than you could stop them and you prayed no one heard you.

You were proven wrong when you heard a knock against the door, and the voice of your teammate called out. “Y/n? Are you okay?” Max pauses, waiting for a response. “Let me in, Y/n, please”

You turned back to your phone. “I’m sorry, Max is at my door, I’ll call you back and we’ll talk” You told her this exact this thing hours ago and was frustrated you can’t spend more than a few minutes alone.

Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you unlocked the door. “Y/n, I heard you crying, what’s wrong?” Max put his hands on your shoulders. “I- I just found out my friend from home, Luis, died-” That’s all you manage before you have to cover your mouth to stop a cry from leaving.

“Oh, Y/n” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, holding your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry” He repeats, rubbing your back. He brings you to sit down on the couch, an arm around your shoulder and a hand to wipe the tears falling from your cheeks. You sit with Max until you calm down a bit and are ready to talk.

“Luis, he was one you told me comes to the grand prix’s in your country, right?” You nod.

“My friend told me he was in a car crash this morning, on his way to work. I don’t know, Max, just, the fact that he died doing what I do for a living is just...” You trailed off, trying not to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, it’s not fair. Here, let’s go back to the hotel, you can just relax for the rest of the day”

“Yeah, yeah, we should go. Also, about tonight, can you tell everyone I’m feeling sick or something?”

You and Max were supposed to meet a few other drivers for dinner later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah of course. I’m going to get my stuff from my room and then we’ll leave, yeah?” He leaves and you pack up all your stuff before Max meets you in the hallway.

The trip back to your hotel was silent and Max leaves you with a hug before going to his own room. You were finally able to connect with your friends back home and talk about when you’d be able to see them next after you traveled home Sunday afternoon. You spent the rest of the day in your room, thinking and listening to music when you didn’t want to think anymore.

You didn’t feel any better the next morning, and just hoped to get through Free Practice 1 and 2 quickly. You didn’t smile as you walked through the paddock, keeping your sunglasses on and taking the quickest way to the Red Bull garage. You have headphones in as well, so everyone gets the message that you’re not up for conversation.

FP1 and FP2 go by quickly and as always, the Red Bull does well, and you come right behind Max in P2 both practices. You leave the same way you came in, walking quickly to avoid the press. Your fellow drivers are still around the paddock, and they still don’t know why you’ve been holed up in your hotel room for two days. You haven’t talked to Max much since yesterday, but when you have, you’re glad he doesn’t just look at you with pity and actually checks on you.

You talk with your friends about the funeral arrangements for Luis next week before you talk with his parents, two people that have been as supportive of you as their son has, making you cry again. You skip out on your dinner plans with May and your PR officer with apologies and promises to make it up to them and order room service.

You make yourself a little more approachable on Saturday morning but keep the sunglasses. You wave at your friends but don’t stop to talk. At this point, most of the drivers know something is seriously upsetting you. They watched your media day interviews and barely recognized the person in front of the microphone.

A few of them asked Max about you when they run into him, but your teammate doesn’t want to tell everybody something you might not be ready to share.

He is by far the most worried driver of them all. He’s your best friend and he’s never seen you like this before. Max knows how close you were to Luis; he’s used to hearing stories about the adventures you had when you went home for a few days and can only imagine how you’re feeling inside.

Nobody goes out Saturday night in preparation for tomorrow’s race and you’re glad to have more time by yourself. You take the sunglasses off and stop to talk to your friends on Sunday, the first time all race weekend.

Max walks with you through the paddock, letting you talk when you want to or be silent if you choose. You don’t visit his driver's room, but you make sure to give him a hug before you get into your respective cars, an unspoken ‘thank you’ for his support over the past few days.

The race cheers you up a bit, you go P1 and point at the sky as you stand on top of your car in front of the garages. When the cameras pan over to you, you make sure the top of your helmet is visible, where an R.I.P. Luis sticker is. You wish he could’ve been here to see you win, but you know he would’ve been proud of you.

Max brings you into a hug after he parks behind you in P3, and you’re reminded how grateful you are that he is your best friend.

2026- “We should be proud”

You and Max have accomplished a lot together throughout the past four years. Max is now a four-time world champion, winning 2021, 2022, 2023, and 2025. You beat him in 2024, and you’ve just beaten him to the 2026 title. You and Max have been almost tied with points every year since you’ve joined, so it usually comes down to the last few races to decide the winner. Beating Max wasn’t at all easy, and it didn’t get any less difficult to beat the rest of the grid.

Red Bull can no longer completely dominate as they did in the early 2020’s, but they still manage to top the other nine teams. Ferrari and Mercedes are the biggest rivalries, but a few other teams cause your cars a fair bit of trouble. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri at Mclaren bring stress for the three big teams, as do Lance Stroll and Mick Schumacher at Aston Martin.

The partnering of Yuki Tsunoda and Daniel Ricciardo has brought Alpha Tauri up to the midfield and has allowed both drivers to stand on the podium multiple times. It’s made the last few years very exciting, and even though you love winning, you love seeing your friends succeed as well.

This year had been no different; You and Max had each won a fair number of races and had each stepped onto the podium multiple times. Ferrari and Mercedes had not made it any easier than previous years but still, by the time Abu Dhabi came around, Red Bull had a lead of 30 points over the second-place team, Mercedes. You were currently first for the Driver’s Championship, but Max was close behind with only a 19-point difference. If he won tonight’s race, he would become a five-time champion, and you’d have to wait until next year.

You tried to shove that thought out of your head with headphones. Your trainer just finished helping you warm up for the race start in an hour and you’re in your driver’s room. Usually, you’d be walking to Max’s room to chill out before drivers have to get into their cars for their formation laps, but you two had long come up with the agreement not to see each other before races that would determine the championship.

When it is time to start the formation lap, you go to the garage and instead of hugging your teammate like you usually do, you settle for a handshake and a nod. He’s your best friend, but also your closest rival. You start P2, Max beating you by half a second yesterday, and anxiously wait for the five red lights to come on.

“And it’s lights out and away we go in Abu Dhabi! Verstappen has a poor start, L/n takes advantage of it and tries to move in front of him and Y/n L/n is now leading this race but Max Verstappen is not far behind, the gap is less than a second, and Verstappen takes P1 back from L/n. It has been an exciting year in Formula 1, what better way to go out than a classic Red Bull battle?” David Croft commentates for the crowd.

It’s a great racing day for Formula 1; the weather is nice, and it looks like all twenty cars are going to last the 58 laps. As you continue the race in P2, trying to defend against Charles Leclerc behind you, you try to think of strategic ways to win the race. You don’t get very far, because you remember that Max is driving the same car as you, and by now, you’re as good as the Dutch man.

Your teammate takes a somewhat early pit stop and you’re able to gain a lead, but then you have to pit and get stuck in P6 behind Lance Stroll.

“Lap 35, Y/n L/n is leading in P1, Verstappen P2, Sainz P3, and Russell P4. Interesting lineup here, but the real fight is within Red Bull. We’re over halfway through this race and L/n and Verstappen have been trading places all day. There are not many options as to who will win this race, folks, but that doesn’t make it any easier to predict”

It’s Lap 50 and the excitement has winded down. It looks like everyone behind you and Max are going to stay the way they are currently, meaning you’ll be sharing a podium with Charles. Whether you’ll be standing on P1 or P2 you still don’t know. Max has made his way in front of you but you’re restless, gaining on him every possible moment, being only a few feet away from his rear wing on the straights.

You’re starting to get nervous now. This would not be your first World Championship, you had that moment in 2024, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean the world to you if you became a two-time world champion.

You think it’s your nerves that help you pick up on the fact that Max’s car locked up for just a second before going into the final turn. You think it’s your nerves that make your foot push through the gas pedal and help you get in front of your teammate. It’s Lap 51 and you’re in front of your teammate. You could win this. You could win this.

These words were like a mantra in your head, all the way until Lap 58, when you actually start to believe in yourself. The Dutch man behind you is relentless, getting so terrifyingly close to overtaking you, but never quite getting fully past. “Keep him at bay, Y/n” Your race engineer comes on over the radio. “Keep him at bay and it’s yours, Y/n”

And thirty seconds later, it is yours.

“And it’s Y/n L/n! Y/n L/n is the winner of Abu Dhabi 2026! Y/n L/n is the World Champion! Ladies and gentlemen, L/n is the Champion of 2026!” Crofty shouts and suddenly the only thing you can hear in your race engineer through your ears. "You've done it! You are the World Champion! The World Champion!”

“Holy shit, oh my god, holy-” Suddenly one of your arms is waving up and down because it’s the only way to express energy in your tiny car. You’re screaming, definitely making everyone down at the pit wall’s ear’s bleed. You feel tears in your eyes and don’t care because you were close to sobbing in 2024.

“Y/n, congratulations, you are officially a 2-time World Champion. We are so proud of you down here, congratulations” Christian’s voice comes over the radio next and you feel like you're floating through your cool-down lap.

You put one of your hands on your helmet as if you were covering your face and remember to wave to the crowd. You drive your car in front of the paddock where the 1st place sign is and get out of your seat as quickly as possible. You put your arms in the air and allow yourself to hear the roars of the crowd. You get down to run to your team, but you see Max first.

You know he just lost to you, and he probably is upset but he’s your best friend. Without hesitation, you run to him, and he meets you halfway to pull you into a hug. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m so proud of you. Oh my god, Y/n, I am so proud of you” Your teammate has to shout, even though your heads are right next to each other.

He unwraps his hands from around your waist as you both run to your team. His side of the garage has been so successful these past few years and it’s a win for Red Bull overall, so they cheer just as loud as everyone else, just glad to see you happy. You both jump up so you can be caught by the engineers and it’s just a mess of high fives and cheers.

You both finally pull off your helmets and balaclavas and turn to see each other’s grinning, flushed, faces. You hug each other again. “We should be so proud of ourselves, Y/n. I’m so happy for you” Max doesn’t lie to you, so you’re glad you don’t have to worry he feels otherwise. You both pick up your towels and water bottles before you have to give interviews for Sebastian Vettel.

He became like Nico Rosberg, coming back to the paddock, not as a driver, just as someone who likes to be involved in Formula 1 and has the right to. You were on the grid with him for two years before he retired, and even though you two have never been best friends, you like him, and he roots for you especially. “Before I ask any questions, congratulations” The German man pulls you into a hug. “Thanks Seb” You grin.

“Y/n, you’ve just accomplished something unbelievable in F1, and have ensured Red Bull go down in Formula 1 history. What’s going through your head?”

“It’s unbelievable. I mean, it was more unbelievable the first time, but doing it a second time, just feels incredible. I’m really happy to be a part of Red Bull, and I’m really happy I’m able to help them achieve bigger things” You smile as you give your answer.

“Well, we’re all happy for you, Y/n. Again, congratulations, you drove very well today” Sebastian shakes your hand and sends you off.

While Max steps forward, Charles comes to you. “Congratulations! I am so happy for you. You deserve this” The Monegasque brings you into a tight embrace. “I am so proud of you” He kisses you on the cheek before letting you go. “Thank you, Charles, congratulations to you too” Charles has finished third in the driver’s championship every year since 2024 and you’re happy he’s finally getting the car he deserves.

You go into the driver’s room where a camera and TV wait for you. “A four-time world champion and two-time world champion. We are the dream team, aren’t we?” Max grins at you as he takes a seat. “Definitely” you say as you look at the screen, watching your championship win as long as they let you.

2027- “An Outsider’s perspective”

It has been almost ten years since Drive to Survive premiered and by now, all the drivers on the grid are sick of Netflix’s bullshit. They made it seem like you either hated or were in love with half the grid, and somehow managed to make fake conversations about teammates and contracts. Almost all the drivers never went in for interviews anymore, but a certain email caught their attention.

One thing everyone had known for years; You and Max were best friends. Another thing that nobody had known until about a month ago; Max was not extending his contract with Red Bull to go past the 2028 season. The director of Drive to Survive saw this and thought about making it into a second-to-last season finale of the show. Max’s patience about his contract news had worn out quickly, and nobody has been updated about it in a week.

Everyone in the entire world has heard you and Max say that you two were just friends a million times, but that didn’t mean they weren’t curious to know if there was more going on. It was time for the rest of the grid’s opinion on it.

“So, Charles”

“Lando”

“Carlos”

“Daniel” The director asked the Red Bull drivers’ closest friends.

“What’s really going on between Max and Y/n?”

Charles lets out a small smile. Lando groans. “Seriously?” Carlos rolls his eyes. Daniel laughs.

“There is nothing going on. They are just friends” Charles is confident.

“Nothing! For god’s sake’s...” Lando’s annoyed

“I mean, I don’t think anything romantic is going on. I think they are just very good friends.” Carlos is honest.

“They’re married and they have three secret kids in Monaco” Daniel continues to laugh.

“So you don’t even think they’ve kissed before?” The director continues.

“No” Charles shrugs.

“Maybe. I’m close with both of them but I don’t think it’s any of our business”

“No one except them can know for real. I haven’t seen them kiss before, but I don’t know”

Daniel stops laughing “No but actually, they're not together. Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. They’re not a couple.”

“You don’t think anything is behind those glances?”

“No”

“Like true love? No” Lando laughs.

“Well, it’s obvious that they love each other. You just said it, the meaning behind their looks, you cannot ignore. But I still don’t think they are in love”

Daniel smiles now. “There is definitely some love between them, in their looks. I’ve seen a bunch of little clips of them just looking at each other through the years, and it’s obvious”

“Do you think, let’s say, in another life, they would’ve been together?”

Charles cannot deny this question. “Yes, I do. Not in this one, but in another life, they are definitely soulmates.”

“Yes, I do actually. In another life they are 100% in love and have been together since 2023, probably.”

“I think so, yes. In another life though, not in this lifetime” Carlos smiles.

“Oh yeah. In another life they probably are married and have three secret kids in Monaco”

“Why do you think? That they’re together in another life but not in this one?

“Because they are meant to be with different people”

“I don’t know. Some people might say Kelly, but, if they really wanted to be together, they wouldn't have let somebody else come between them. They just don’t love each other like that” Lando says.

“They are just not meant to be together, I guess” Carlos says.

“They don’t love each other like that. Obviously, they love each other in some way, but not the kind you have in a relationship”

What is one time you thought they were definitely a couple?”

“To me, it was always obvious that they were not. I know to a lot of people it is the opposite but for some reason I could just tell, they loved each other but only as friends.”

“I remember one summer break in 2024, when Daniel invited me, Max, and Y/n to spend some time in Australia at his farm with him. This was a few months after Y/n crashed in Monaco, by the way. I remember we were all on a beach together, and Y/n just kept pulling Max behind her, telling him to look at seashells and crabs and stuff like that. And he didn’t protest at all, no matter how much random beach crap Y/n handed him” Lando smiled. “I thought; ‘Max would never have the patience to let someone pull him around like that’ But he did, and I think it was because he was glad she wasn’t seriously hurt in that crash”

“I said it earlier. I don’t think I ever thought they were. Me and Y/n are very good friends and when I first asked, she told me they were not together, and I have not thought otherwise”

“There have been a few moments over the years at this point, where for some ridiculous reason, Max gets a huge wave of hate at a time and- well, Max has never been one to care what other people think of him, but some stuff really got to him, and I remember Y/n making a few posts on social media telling everyone to stop, and that the stuff they were saying to him was really disgusting and undeserved. She knew everyone would think she had some sort of feelings for Max after that- I did and they’re my best friends. But she did it anyway, multiple times. And Y/n thinks it’s really annoying when people say they’re a couple, so for her to do that... I thought they were 100% in love”

“Last question. What do you think makes Y/n and Max, Y/n and Max? What about them makes them so different than other driver friendships?”

“I think their similarities, I think that’s what started their friendship in the first place. Max has said he sees a lot of himself in Y/n and she joined Formula 1 and Red Bull when she was young, they both did. So, I think it’s that, their similar achievements and such, that helped them become such good friends” Charles answers.

“Their personalities, I’d say. They have similar senses of humor and- they're very different actually. They say opposites attract and I think that’s true for them. Max is a bit introverted, and Y/n is not at all. People think Max is too serious and if I had to add to that, I think Y/n makes him loosen up a bit” Lando states.

“I’d say their loyalty to each other. You know how when you were in school, and the teacher would say, ‘everyone chose a partner’ and you and your friend immediately look at each other? That’s Y/n and Max. They each have a lot of friends but at the end of the day, they’re only looking at each other” Carlos says

“Everything about them together just clicks. If you watch them interact, you can understand how comfortable they are around each other. If Y/n is buying food, she gets extra for Max. If you can’t find Y/n around the paddock, you start looking for Max because he knows better than you do. There’s no hesitation when they touch, whether it’s a hug or just a hand on the shoulder. It’s a combination of how long they’ve known each other and how well they know each other.” Daniel explains.

“Okay, cut!”

2028- “The End of Something Great”

You’ve known for longer than anyone else has. Not because he told you. Because you know him. You don’t know how to explain it, only that you’ve known for almost a year at this point that Max’s contract was ending and he was not going to renew it or look for another team. You think it’s something you’ve always known, since you first saw that Max’s contract was set to end at the end of 2028.

What you don’t know is how you feel about it. You’re happy for Max because he is leaving on his own terms, and as world champion. But you feel like crying once you realize you won’t see him as often anymore. You’ll be best friends always, you know that, but it won’t be the same. Not the same as when you’re driving right next to him, or as when you’re training together, or as when you’re eating breakfast together at hotels.

You’re driving to Red Bull Headquarters for the last time for the 2028 season when you’re thinking about this. You have to turn the radio on to stop yourself from tearing up. Red Bull’s media team is having you two do a ‘On the Sofa: Goodbye Max’ video before he leaves F1 forever and you’ve been dreading it. You’ve enjoyed every second of driving alongside Max Verstappen and you’d do it for another six years if you could.

You take a deep breath as you walk in with May and towards the showroom, where the sofa and your teammate await. The cameras are already rolling and you’re not even in frame yet. You know the people behind the camera want every moment of your goodbye.

You let out a small smile once your eyes meet. “Hi” You move to hug him. “Hi” He whispers back. “You ready?” “No” Another sad smile.

“Hello everyone. I’m Max Verstappen...”

“I’m Y/n L/n”

“And this is On the Sofa with Max and Y/n, for the last time” A laugh escapes your mouth and you put your head in your hands.

“I thought you were sad?”

“I am. I just laugh when I probably shouldn’t”

“Y/n” He gets right to it, knowing neither of you are in the mood to joke around before starting. Reading off the card in his hands, “What are three things you will miss most about me as a teammate?” You don’t even bother trying to be funny or careless.

“Um, filming videos for the channel, testing days were always fun because they let us talk to each other while we’re in our cars, and traveling together, I think” Max laughs. “Oh, testing days were never productive, I mean, at least not for us” You laugh along with him, thinking of the fond memories that have accumulated over the years.

“What has been your favorite video we’ve filmed over the years?”

“We’ve done so many I can’t pick just one, so I’ll say…I think the videos where we’re competing against each other. Like that one baseball game we did in Texas one year, and all those races we did on track, like the roller skates and the scooter one, those were fun because we always just ended up laughing”

“The ones where we’re against each other are definitely very fun” You’re both grinning now.

“What are two things that have changed, and two things that have stayed the same over the past six years- wow, six years. It’s been six years?”

“Oh my god we’re so old- you’re 31 and I’m 25. Jeez”

“Old? Six more years and you’ll be 31 too”

“Yeah and you’ll be 37” You snicker.

“Answer the question” Max rolls his eyes fondly.

“Fine. Two things that haven’t changed are the fact that you’re still wearing that fucking hat, and the fact that Red Bull has billions of dollars and refuses to by a more comfortable couch!”

“Yeah this couch sucks”

“Two things that have changed... Well, we’re both old-“

“Stop calling me old”

“and we’re both World Champions” You smile at the camera.

“Okay, Y/n, if you could choose your teammate for next year, who would you choose and why?”

You stop laughing. “I would choose you because I don’t want you to go” Another sad smile. The mood in the room changes. Max pulls you closer and into a hug. “I know” He says to you.

When you pull away, you try to hide the tears shining in your eyes and you’re surprised to see Max turning his head away too. “Y/n” He grabs another card to distract you two. “If you could relive one moment from the past six years, what moment would you choose?”

“I’d relive all of it if I could. I don’t regret a single second and I’d do it all again like that” You snap your fingers, and you don’t hide your face when the tears spring up again. The video is almost over and you both feel it.

“Y/n, if you had one wish right now, what would it be?” Everyone in the room knows the answer to this question and you don’t know why the marketing team chose today to come up with these questions. “I’d wish for you to stay” At that, a tear drips down your cheek and Max brings you into his arms. You freely let water drip down your face and are surprised when you feel a drop or two of water fall on to your shirt. You’ve never seen Max cry , you don’t think anyone has, but for this moment he lets his emotions overpower his pride and shed a few tears.

“Oh god I haven’t cried in a while” You let out a weak laugh when you pull away. “Me either” And then you're both looking somberly at each other, feeling too much to say.

“The last thing we’re going to do is helmet swap” He breaks the silence as you both pull your written-on helmets out from behind the couch. You decided to give Max the helmet you were wearing when you won your second World Championship. Max hands you the helmet he was wearing a few weeks ago, the one he was wearing when he won his fifth and final World Championship. You smile before reading the paragraph written on the side.

“Y/n, when I met you at the factory all those years ago, I did not expect you to become the person you are to me today. You are my best friend, my supporter, and my confidant, and I don’t know where I’d be without you. We’ve made so much history together, and I hope you go on to make some more. Never stop driving, I wish you the best. Your teammate, Max Verstappen”

You hug Max before he can see your shining eyes. “Thank you for everything” He whispers. You both stand up once you pull away but wrap your arms around each other’s shoulders once you do. “I’m saying all my proper goodbyes to everyone later, but I’ll give the gist of it now” The Dutch man looks at the camera. “Red Bull, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. It’s been an incredible past few years. And I don’t say it much but thank you to all my fans. I’m so grateful I’ve been able to race in F1 for so long, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. The End. Goodbye!” Max waves to the camera and you join. Everyone behind the camera cheers. You and Max hug for the last time as teammates and you wish time would stop right there. “The end” He says. “The End”

Masterlist

Bold means smut

Aizawa:

After Hours

Katsuki Bakugou: 

Little Black Dress 

New Nickname

Panty Thief (Part 1) 

Blind Date 

First Time

Do Not Disturb

S/O On Period Headcannons

Stolen Kiss 

Stranded

Darkest Desires

Caramel 

Winner Takes It All 

Hot Tub Anyone?

That’s How It’s Done

Bratty Katsuki Drabble

Tongue Piercing Drabble

Not So Innocent

Impatience

Series: 

A Princess and Her Duty (Barbarian! Bakugou x f!Reader): Chapter 1 

Deku: 

Mommy Kink

Denki Kaminari: 

Winner Takes All

Eijiro Kirishima: 

Video Games 

Tease (Part 2 to Video Games)

Red Riot the Unbreakable

HC’s of Kirishima’s S/O getting harrassed by Mineta

Stolen Kiss 

Darkest Desires

New Panties

That’s How It’s Done

Thigh Riding With Kiri

Todoroki Shoto: 

Stolen Kiss

HC of Poly Relationship with Reader and Shinsou

Darling, You’re Perfect

Jealousy

Hitoshi Shinsou: 

HC of Poly Relationship with Reader and Todoroki

Soft Morning Oral Sex 

Mirio: 

Be Rough With Me

Shindou: 

Cockwarming

Tamaki Amajiki: 

First Date?

S/O On Period Headcannons

Makes his S/O loud in bed

You’re Mine, Bunny

Sick Days

Dabi: 

Kitten

Overhaul:

Subby Overhaul drabble

Hawks: 

First Date

Injury

word count: 672

genre: fluff, slight angst(?)

pairings: diluc x gn! reader (M’lady is used once)

warnings: blood, depictions of a wound

additional notes: here's some more Diluc, I promise I am working on some other characters. If you have any suggestions or you have anything you would like me to write don't be afraid to send me an ask !!

Want to be tagged in my works click here

   The sun was starting to dip past the horizon as you made your way through the trellises in front of the winery. The day had been long and hard, fighting hilichurls until late this evening. The feeling of bruises starting to form and the pains of fighting are starting to settle in, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. As you move to open the front door a stinging sensation lights up your entire left arm.

   Looking to your left arm you notice the blood flowing from your shoulder. You take a second to process the fact that you were bleeding from a wound in your shoulder you hadn’t felt before now. Opening the door with your other arm, you swiftly walk into the winery and apply pressure to the wound as soon as you let go of the door.

   You walk toward your shared bedroom and catch sight of Adelinde, when she turns to greet you she gasps and takes half a step back. “M’lady-” she says panicked, heading toward you to inspect the wound “-are you okay?” You nod with a slight smile on your face, “yes, I am okay. Would you be able to send some bandages and such to our bathroom, I would like to deal with the wound before Diluc arrives.”

   She nods her head and moves to start gathering the materials. As she does that, you walk the rest of the way toward your room. You head straight to the bathroom from there, looking in the mirror to assess how bad the wound is. You remove your shirt, staring at the wound closer, before hearing the door open.

   You look up in the mirror expecting Adelinde before catching sight of Diluc standing behind you, holding the materials to clean and dress your wound. You turn to him before looking away when he starts walking closer. He sets everything down before wetting a rag and starting to clean around your wound.

   “Diluc, you don’t have to do this love. You have probably had a long da-” he cuts you off “- my dear, I would do this a million times over just to make sure you are alright.” He looks up at you to make sure he isn’t hurting you with what he is doing. When you make eye contact he sends you a small smile to which you send one back in return.

   As he continues to clean and dress your wound, you raise your uninjured arm and place it on the side of his face, running your thumb on his cheek. He leans into your touch while he puts the finishing touches on the dressing. Once he’s done, he stands to his full height and looks back at your face. “What happened to cause such a wound dear,” he asks. You walk out of the bathroom with him following, sitting on the bed while he starts to change from the day.

   “To be honest with you, I didn’t feel the wound until I was going to open the front door. I assume it happened sometime today while clearing camps.” You look at him as he pulls his night shirt on, looking towards you as he pulls another from his closet and motions for you to change into it. You happily do so before turning around to face him. “I never got to say it, but welcome home love.”

   He smiles at you and takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around your waist. You follow his lead by placing one hand on his nape and the other on his shoulder. He leans forward and you meet him halfway, noses brushing as lips meet. The smell of oak and smoke enveloped you, along with the warmth of the man in front of you.

   He pulls back slightly before leaning in again for a quick peck, resting your foreheads together afterward. His hand had moved to rest on the back of your head and yours had moved to pull the tie from his hair. “Thank you, my dear.”

taglist:

A - Z *Domestic Aizawa Shouta X Reader *

Back from the dead and with a long fic to make up for the time I was gone

A Christmas special!!!

D.- DECORATE (part 1)

Christmas and New year were just around the corner

It was all so new and bright for little Eri. She had never seen so many lights all over the city, happy people walking down the streets greeting each other and singing along music, it was all like magic. Burning questions invaded her mind and, as it was expected of her age, questions were pouring down on (Y/N) “Mommy why are they buying a tree?, mommy I heard auntie midnight talk about magic eggnog, can I have some too?, mommy who is Santa, is his quirk flying?”

(Y/N) was more than happy to answer all of them. So many firsts in such a little amount of time was a thing she couldn’t believe, their first Halloween, day of school and now Christmas...

People all over Japan were smiling around and buying presents and certainly, it was no different at the UA.

Students were preparing gifts for their beloved ones, making Christmas cards and preparing their bags to go home for the holidays.

Eri and (Y/N) were helping class 1-A packing their bags and cleaning their rooms. (Y/N)’s sweet personality couldn’t say no when adorable teenagers begged for help to finish early so they could go home soon, how could she say no to her adopted teenagers.

Ever since Shouta’s students found out (to their surprise ) that their homeroom teacher (“DAD” as they liked to call him in secret) was married to a cheerful, kind and gorgeous woman, (Y/N) took the title of “MOM” (much to shouta’s distaste).

Little Eri was walking down the common area when she spotted him, Bakugou, sitting down, watching the TV. She already knew he wouldn’t harm her, still his face always so angry didn’t exactly help when trying to talk to him.

“Uh.... aren’t you.... mmm.... are you....”

“Don’t stumble around your words girl!!” Bakugou yelled in that loud voice of his, for Eri, it felt like the end of the world, she knew she shouldn’t be afraid... still, bad memories plagued her mind.

Bakugou was really tiring to change, he was truly trying to be more gentle. he knew that he would never be a true hero with such an explosive attitude, he never meant bad... “only losers and extras do that, you have to be sure of what you are gonna say ok? If you want to be a hero you have to be brave. Do it again, go on”

“Aren’t you going home for Christmas?”

“Tch... no, I’m staying. I don’t want to fight with the old lady... besides, I don’t really miss her.... I don’t care about this stupid holiday anyway”

Eri knew better, she had no idea why but she knew he was lying, his face didn’t had his usual cocky smirk ... he looked sad and down. His face.. was the same face she had before her new family came along.

Eri only looked at him, turned around and said nothing... still, the small conversation plagued her mind, could she help him somehow?

Hours passed, most of the 1-A class had finished and when dinner time came around,Eri still had the conversation inside her head, deep down she knew she had to say something and maybe at dinner time, her parents would help her; they were heroes right? They had to help, it was their job. ... maybe interrupt them and speak out her mind could help somehow to ease her worries.

“You shouldn’t be helping them, you are too kind for your own good” said Shouta, not really angry at his wife, he couldn’t be angry at her even if he tried.

“You are not better, Shouta you are becoming soft”

“That’s not true, I don’t have a soft spot for any of them”

“Whatever you say Mr. but I know you and I know...” (Y/N) fell into a silence as soon as Eri, in a soft voice, spoke up.

“Mo...mommy... mmm”

“Yes, sweetheart”

“Bakugou is sad... he said he is not going home...”

“I noticed he is not packing his stuff, Shinsou and Todoroki aren’t either..but I don’t think Bakugou is sad, maybe his parents are busy or..”

“I know he is sad mommy.. we have to help him please... I... I would like to help him”

“Hmm.. what do you think Shouta? Should we do something about it?”(y/n) said with a soft smile, a smile shouta couldn’t really resist.

-There they go again,this girls will be the death of me- Shouta thought, how could he resist the looks both girls were giving him? He just couldn’t say no to Eri’s dream of helping people and to his wife who had such an enormous heart... it would destroy Eri and crush (Y/N)s heart. “We could try something...” was all he gave back to the ladies.

“Thank you daddy!! I’ll look for candy and maybe we can hide some eggs around the garden”

“Eri, hiding eggs is an easter tradition sweetheart, how about we decorate a tree?”

“Yes!! I’ll go and get a jacket so we can go for one mommy, we have to hurry!”Eri answered and ran to her room as fast as she could.

“I told you, you are becoming soft” (Y/N) whispered to Shouta; to say that she adored him was not enough to express her emotions.

“Is that a bad thing kitten?”

“I like this new side of you... being a father really suits you”

“Motherhood also suits you kitten... I always said it and I’ll always say it. You are the only woman I can see myself having a family with”

When the next day came, Shouta had already prepared his speech, now, it was only a matter of calling for the 3 students and hope for a positive answer. After a few minutes of waiting, the three students were outside the professors room, nervous and hoping not to get a detention note

“Shinsou, Bakugou, Todoroki.. I won’t be going in circles, so I’ll just say it as it is, Eri and my wife noticed you are not going home this year for winter vacations... but we would really appreciate if you joined us for the celebrations, I know that this doesn’t sound rational at all, but the girls and I are hoping that you can come” the three students looked surprised, none of them were expecting such invitation “I know is not the same as to spend it with your family, and probably it’s out of place but I’d break my wife’s and Eri’s heart to know that you are spending this time of the year alone; please, consider the offer and I hope you join us”

“Yes Sr.” Answer d the students in unison, the tremble in their legs showed how nervous this situation was for them, but there was no way they were turning down not only their teacher, but sweet Eri and (y/n) also.

Part 2 will be updated soon (later today or early tomorrow)

Forever Immortal beloveds P1

Yn stood in the middle of a fight between their Brother and an enemy, yelling for them to halt several times but no one listened. It wasn’t wise to go to war with the Netherworld.

Keep reading

The deal

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a brothel and all of the sudden Kaz Brekker becomes a frequent visitor who prefers to stay in the shadows until you come up to him first.

Warnings: soft Kaz, mentions of touch aversion

Word count: 2,7k

— Let me guess. Are you going to use an excuse that you're looking for something again?

— No, this time I'm only looking for you.

Your mother once warned you about how cruel the world was and how important it was to be careful. Young girls often caught the attention of slavers and it would probably break your parents' hearts if they knew exactly how your life had turned out after their death. Your aunt was supposed to take you from Fjerda to Ravka, but your ship was attacked by pirates and instead you ended up in Ketterdam when you were fifteen.

In some way you were lucky. You got a place at the Rainforest, an extremely posh and expensive place. The guests were usually wealthy travelers, diplomats, or members of the Merchant Council, so you didn't have to worry about your safety. The girls had to keep the good mood of the clients, but everyone put a different meaning to the words. Some wanted only sex, some wanted company to talk to. They were all escaping loneliness, and you couldn't blame them for that.

But among the row of all the others, only one guest was special. The tapping of his cane on the wooden parquet was unmistakable. You had to have lived in Ketterdam as a complete hermit, blind and deaf, if you didn't know who Kaz Brekker was. Rumors about him flooded the streets, intimidating and exaggerating every little thing about him. But there was no doubt that this guy was very dangerous indeed. His cane broke a lot of bones, and his brilliant mind ruined a lot of lives.

It was not for you to judge how people preferred to rest in their spare time. Sometimes you spotted Jesper in his another funny hat at the playhouse across the street from your second-floor window. You two even talked a couple of times when you ran into each other on the street after the establishments were closed. But seeing Kaz Brekker at the Rainforest required a special occasion.

He seemed like a complete stranger in the place. His eyes were constantly scanning the room, his whole body was tense and looked more like a wax statue than a living person. He was clearly uncomfortable in the brothel, even if he tried to hide it, and his face remained a perfect blank sheet that could easily be given a slight interest. You might have believed it, but a few years at the Rainforest had taught you much better insight into men. Being able to read the slightest visible reaction was part of your job.

Anyone else came to a brothel for entertainment. People wanted to get some female attention and flirtation, to drink and spend a huge amount of money so they could leave at dawn with a smile and a sense of having had a good time. They came "from somewhere." But Kaz Brekker came "to somewhere." He was cautious, but at the same time quite determined, and he clearly had a purpose of some kind. You had seen him at the bar a few times, but then he disappeared faster than you could figure out what kind of drink he had in his glass.

It took a whole week before you realized exactly what was going on. Kaz carefully looked around the main hall, but never went any farther. You had to be a guest accompanied with a girl to go up to the second and third floor, where the girls' rooms for work and the office of the accountant and the club owner were located. You wondered what Kaz wanted to find that was so important that he didn't entrust the job to Jesper, who could pretend to be a client and sniff it out. From what you had heard, Kaz Brekker was probably the only man in Ketterdam who didn't use brothels for their intended purpose.

— Do you need any help or are you going to keep looking around every corner and memorizing what time the guards at the entrance change?

You walked up to him first, leaning innocently beside him on the bar, and glanced curiously at his glass. Vodka and ice? The club's shelves were stocked with liquor, but Kaz Brekker certainly had to stand out in this one, too. The simpler, the better, that's for sure.

— What makes you think I'm interested in security? — Kaz's husky voice carefully concealed his surprise, as if he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed you approaching. And it was further confirmation of how different he was from the people around him. People didn't come to brothels to drink in silence and think about personal things.

— Well, I have eyes, and I can use my mouth to find out that you haven't been with any of the girls, even though it's the fourth time you've been here in a week, — you chirped, giving one of the clients a smile before you turned your attention back to Kaz, your tone changing to more businesslike. — The cane and gloves. This black suit. If you want to go somewhere incognito, I suggest you use a disguise in the future, Kaz Brekker. Everyone is capable of recognizing you in this town, as well as exactly what you're known for. Are you planning another heist here?

Kaz was ready to curse himself for how obvious it was. A foolish scheme had turned out to be an even more foolish finale. He had originally wanted to dig into the situation himself, after Inej had given him the details of the owner, the number of girls and the size of the rooms. But one look at the crowd was enough for him to spot you and that dark blue dress with the veil you wore that first night. Like the sky in the middle of the night. A mystery lying in plain sight. It wasn't until his third night that he was able to find you among the other girls in the hall, guided by the shade of hair he remembered, when he could finally see your face.

Perhaps all these years the Saints had shielded him from unnecessary sympathy and feelings for someone just to give him the illusion of invincibility. He loved nothing and nothing could be taken from him. Kaz believed this as if he really didn't have the ability to feel anything. And that's why he was so shaken by how much he remembered that image of you with the veil and how much he wanted to know more about you. He was so unrestrainedly crushing on you that he still hadn't moved forward with the plan. He needed the access to the second floor, but he didn't have the courage to come up to you and pretend to be your client. Kaz shook at the thought of touching you and the anxiety came along with nausea almost instantly.

— There will be no heist. I just need to look at a couple of documents. I won't even take them with me, — Kaz replied discreetly, forcing his appraising gaze to stop on your face. Too beautiful. Too distracting. He shouldn't have told you anything but he hoped his honesty would buy him a way out.

— I can help. In exchange for a favor, of course.

You leaned closer to him in a trusting manner, and your fingers gently touched Kaz's shoulder. Just for a second, so lightly that the touch seemed phantom and unreal. Whatever past Kaz held, it made him keep his distance from people in a literal sense. Your observation of the previous nights was enough to realize that Kaz was not a fan of touches, even casual ones. The gloves clearly served him as an extra layer of protection, though you were curious about what had happened to him that caused such a reaction. Many girls in brothels reacted similarly negatively to touching after a while, but Kaz didn't seem like the kind of person who would work in such an establishment.

— Okay, let's say I would agree to your terms. Hypothetically. What would you ask for? — it was hard for Kaz to imagine what a girl like you might need. Money? Freedom from your indenture? Or someone else's death? He knew how much brothels disfigured and perverted the psyche, no one remained a saint there.

— You will take your gloves off next to me. No touching. But you will take them off so we are equal.

You were absolutely unwavering in what you said. Some tension thickened between you, and the air seemed almost electrified. Kaz Brekker was a threat to everyone in Ketterdam, but something told you that he could show an unusual softness around you. You'd met guys like that before. They built themselves up to be important and confident, they controlled other people's lives, but when they were alone, they all wanted to give up some of their control. To give it to someone else, to breathe easier. You wondered if Kaz was really the same.

He threw a quick glance toward the exit, as if miscalculating his escape route, but finally nodded in silent agreement. A smile bloomed on your lips, and you wrapped your fingers lightly around Kaz's wrist over his jacket to lead him up the stairs. The guards let you through without any questions, and you wondered if they knew who the dark-haired guy with the cane next to you was. If they did, they would have preferred to kick him out in fear that he would pick all the locks and stashes in the brothel.

You led Kaz to the very last door and carefully looked around before nodding approvingly. Time was short, but you had no doubt that Kaz would manage to find what he needed.

— All of the owner's papers are here, so as all the accountant's reports. He'll be back in half an hour, after lunch, but if I were you, I'd hurry, — you warned him with a charming smile, without any guilt for taking a criminal to the brothel's main office. — Be a good boy and come see me afterwards. Second door on the left. I've heard you always stick to your part of the deal.

You didn't wait for his answer and went to your room. You had time to open a window and fix your hair before a polite knock reached your ears, and then Kaz came inside. Quite pleased, judging by the look on his face. Whatever he was looking for, he found it. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, though you knew no one would dare disturb you anyway.

— You could have told me. I wouldn't have wasted my time, — Kaz's voice, despite the accusation in his words, was filled with real amusement. His blue eyes twinkled with surprise, though he quickly returned to his usual reserved look.

— I wanted to watch you at work. How fast you can do it. Your fame runs far ahead of you.

You shrugged innocently, smiled softly, and then stepped back, resting your back against the windowsill. The light breeze from the open window played mischievously with your hair, and you threw your head back for a moment, closing your eyes to relax. When you looked up again, Kaz was already in front of you. His cane had been left next to a nearby chair, and his last step toward you was extremely neat, since Kaz was trying not to put pressure on his bad leg.

— I know a couple of Healers. They could have helped you with your leg. Your life would have been a lot easier, but I guess you thought about it and gave up that option. Do you use this pain to punish yourself? — you spoke more quietly, and everything inside you froze with a strange anticipation.

Tension rang in the air and only got stronger as Kaz slowly began to remove his gloves. When was the last time he'd done this in front of someone? Had it even happened once? He looked so vulnerable, so collected and soft at the same time, that you immediately wanted to praise him. It was clearly a huge step for him, and you were about to ask why he decided to do it after all, but Kaz beat you to it, breaking the long pause.

— To remember. Pain reminds me that I am alive. That I have some weaknesses. Given what I do, it's easy to believe in my own invincibility. I've seen it bring people down, — Kaz's voice lowered and literally vibrated.

What was happening seemed like a real obsession to him, but he was already here and this was his chance, so he cautiously took another step, standing quite close so that your chests almost touched. The stale smell of water crept up his nose as the first sign of future panic, but Kaz did his best to get rid of it. Some things have to be done the other way around, so even though all his instincts were screaming for him to step back, he shortened the distance between you and touched your hair unabashedly, tucking the strand behind your ear.

— It's a good strategy, but I feel sorry that you have to use it, always feeling pain with every move, — you didn't try to move away, nor did you comment on Kaz's actions. The attraction between you could be felt under your skin. Kaz was handsome as hell, and part of you wished he could have been a mere client. So you could flirt and touch him without any consequences, without making him uncomfortable.

— Your strategy is pretty good, too. In a few years you've made a great career move, from a usual servant to an accountant of one of the top brothels. Do you still work with clients?

— I'm a fast learner. And yes, I don't have to sleep with anyone anymore, but sometimes I still spend time around big clients to make sure there aren't any problems.

Kaz nodded, not really paying attention. He could hardly think about anything right now while his whole body was in a state of peak tension. For the first time in his life he was so attracted to someone, and it shook him to his core. Kaz wanted to go further, but his mind was frantically trying to figure out exactly what was going to happen. Was your attraction mutual? If he risked touching you for real, how quickly would panic overshadow desire? If you knew about who he was, did you realize the danger he brought with him?

It was literally written all over his face, all those difficult choices that plagued him so much that you made the decision for him, gently reaching forward with your palm. He could touch it or he could step back. During the healing process even the tiniest step was important. You kept your eyes on Kaz, studying his graceful facial features with pleasure, and you couldn't ignore how handsome he was. Kaz could have had any girl or guy at the snap of his fingers, but he was so uptight and so caught up in his work that he didn't notice anyone around him. Or he didn't want to notice because of his obvious problem with touching.

— What were you looking for in the papers?

You tried to distract him, continuing to watch as his fingers slowly came close to yours. There was barely a millimeter of space between you, but even that sent a wave of heat through your body. You could feel the touch even so, though it never really happened.

— The list of investors. And the guest list at the anniversary party. I was asked to find some compromising information on an official from the Merchant Council, — Kaz looked embarrassed and twitched his lips guiltily, taking a step back as panic reached his lungs and cut off his oxygen.

— I can get you an invitation. If you agree to visit me again. There's an old hotel in the west side of the town. I rent a room under its green roof, the biggest one. If you crack the lock before I get there, after midnight, I'll be especially pleased. Do you want me to be pleased, Kaz?

You returned the previous minimal distance between you and leaned into Kaz's ear with a charming whisper, casually running your palm along his shoulder and chest, leaving tiny millimeters to the actual touch. You wanted to test your guess and see if he wanted you the same way, or if you just made up the fact that there was a spark between you.

You got the best answer when Kaz nodded and briefly touched your palm with a light kiss, like a true gentleman.

Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader (college!au, f2l)

Summary: The dance soc is not the place to flirt but you promised yourself you’d try new things this year, and when the boy wearing the colourful cosy sweater approaches you with a compliment you can’t resist but respond to him.

Genre: smut, romance, fluff (pwp)

Wc: 12.4k (I am so sorry)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dirty talk, sensory play (ish), creampie, mirror sex, clothed sex (not dry humping but that too), fingering, oral (f receiving), Lino's a keen bastard and I am obsessed with that cardigan that is it.

A/N: Thank you for looking over this fic and the amazing feedback @btssmutgalore (this one is for you) and thank you @notyouroppar for patching up my plot holes even if all you wanted was to eat your cake! Insanity part 2 but I wanted to write it, and I hope it is enjoyable to read.

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

That being said please enjoy! I would love to hear from you so please leave me a message! 💌

He was wearing that stupid sweater again. Another gruesome day in the dance studio. The preparation for the upcoming show for the holidays made you stay behind for hours to practice. And your best friend, danseur extraordinaire Lee Minho who dragged you into the production was wearing that stupid brightly coloured jumper. Again. And by the looks of it, the strip of skin and peek of collarbone you got when he made certain movements meant he was scarcely wearing anything underneath it.

“Anything wrong?” His voice broke you out of your concentration, the surprise of having been addressed whilst you were busy staring at the bright fluffy sweater imagining what may be underneath it, making you jump.

Prying your eyes away from his chest, you met his amused expression, aware of your own flustered one. “No, why would you say that?” You asked quickly, swallowing hard at the mischievous look he was throwing your way. If anything, Lee Minho was a serious tease, but a harmless one. He always found new ways to make the heat rise up under your skin by teasing you, but he’s never made a move to follow through with it.

And as much as you wanted it to happen, he was your friend, and you couldn’t risk your friendship for something like that. So you chose to ignore his teasing most of the time, brushing it away with light jokes hoping it would deter him from continuing. Unfortunately, your plan backfired when he became more and more insistent, his jokes switching to light touches here and there and compliments with every opportunity he got.

“You were staring,” he shrugged, taking a swig of his water, his breathing still heavy from the effort. You tried to disprove his point by avoiding the wet trail of sweat that mapped his jawline, slowly making its way down the smooth skin of his neck only to disappear underneath the hem of his jumper.

“Are you not hot in that?” You threw back at him, forcibly turning away from him if only to evade the satisfied smirk you knew all too well.

“Depends, want me to take it off?” He fired back and you gasped, appalled at his preposterous proposal. Despite your strong reaction, your mind instantly wandered to places you told yourself you would not touch. Minho was not ugly. In fact, he was the exact opposite - high cheekbones, defined jawline, and a slightly downward pointed chin, all making him incredibly good looking. Enough that you would find yourself thinking about his lips and what they would feel like pressed all over your skin. The lustful thoughts suddenly intruding in your mind made you squirm and it was you who ended up feeling too warm.

“N-no, thanks,” you said, clearing your throat vigorously in hopes that it would serve to clean your mind of your own thoughts. Trying to change the subject, you ran through the choreography in your head, your feet trying to copy what you remembered from your class earlier that day.

“No, not like that. It should be like this,” Minho interrupted you, his body automatically catching up with your moves and correcting you. Taken by surprise, you stopped moving, your eyes narrowed in annoyance, breath coming out in rasps from the effort.

“No, it’s not, not my part,” you disagreed with him once your breathing levelled and you could stand up straight. Coming face to chest with him, you took a step back.

If you were squaring back with him, you needed to not be in close proximity. His being alone made you malfunction. “My part goes slower at the beginning and then quicker at the end. I’m the third row,” you told him matter of factly.

Minho was silent for a second before he sighed, shaking his head. Turning away from you, he grabbed his discarded water. “Do you really think,” he said, taking a sip out of it before putting it back down and moving nearer to you. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to stay rooted on the spot. The impulse to move away from him and put some distance between the two of you was too strong, you could barely think let alone argue an intelligent point. “Do you really think I don't know what row you are in?” He repeated making you look at him in confusion.

He looked serious, his eyes framed by light coloured bangs shadowing them, his lips pursed in concentration. It was all you needed for your heart to stop beating and your breath to cease.

“I’m always keeping an eye on you and what you’re doing, Y/N,” he simply said. The way his voice lowered as he said it made it sound so natural that for a second you almost believed him. Then you remembered he was normally the one to step in when the dance teachers needed extra hands.

Still flustered and disappointed at yourself for entertaining these thoughts, you looked away. “Clearly not, there is a different part to the choreography than what you’ve just shown me,” you didn’t know why you were so adamant to prove him wrong. Maybe it was the disappointment of not being more special in his eyes, or maybe it was the stubbornness of not wanting to admit that his intense stare on you in every class meant the exact opposite. But, you felt the strong need to argue your point and refute his. “Regardless, I won’t get them. It’s too hard.”

“Y/N…” he trailed off, sighing, frustration clear in his voice.

“Minho, what–?” Unable to finish your sentence as he pulled you to him, hand holding onto your wrist, the other keeping you secure by the waist, you struggled to make sense of what was happening. One moment you were arguing about dance moves, the next you were enveloped in his warmth, the soft material of his sweater brushing the inside of your palm.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavered, your hand subconsciously grabbing onto his top, the plush feeling offering the comfort your heart needed.

“You said you don’t get the steps. I will show you them,” his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, but the pointed way in which he said it, eyes staring intensely into yours, made your toes curl. In awe at the determination you found in Minho’s eyes, paired with the way his fingers gripped onto your own flimsy sweater entranced you. You couldn’t help but mindlessly nod, letting him pull you slightly to the middle of the room. Stood there, you refused to look away from him, his eyes still trained on you, lips slightly parted – he was a vision.

“You have to move, Y/N,” he gently coaxed, his feet slowly shuffling, pulling you along with him. “You can’t dance if your feet are not moving.” The mischievous look flashed again in his eyes, yet his smile remained gentle and comforting. Under his movements, your feet followed – slow and uncertain. One step, two step, three step, four.

“That’s it,” Minho encouraged, his face breaking out in a smile. Your hand twitched on his jumper, your fingers accidentally scraping at the skin underneath, making him hiss.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you said, gasping, going to pull away. His quick reflexes prevented you from doing so, the arm around your waist pulling you back in before you could move further away. Not expecting his reaction, you stumbled over your feet almost stepping over his.

“There is no need to apologise, shall we try again?” He asked, not waiting for an answer.

Minho’s feet had already started moving, his movements quicker and more certain than before. Feeling as if you were going to trip once more over your own feet, or worse, his, you looked down worriedly. The way he moved had always enthralled you, so much precision and confidence. But the way he moved now paired with your own shabby movements as comparison, made it so you couldn’t look away.

“Ah, embarrassing,” you muttered to yourself, willing your feet to be more graceful. When it didn’t work, you sighed, feeling another wave of dejectedness washing over you.

“Hey, eyes up. This is not a waltz, I will need to move behind you,” Minho announced, not giving you any time to redress yourself before he pulled away, not further than a few centimetres. You could feel the air whoosh around you as he moved, his body emanating heat, the goddamned sweater brushing against you as he went. Settling behind you, he encircled your waist once more.

“Now slowly,” he instructed and you obeyed, eyes still trained on Minho, your feet followed the movement. “You will need to look in the mirror. Eyes up. On yourself. Dance with your reflection.”

His words made you groan. You didn’t have the best relationship with mirrors, especially not when dancing, the lack of self confidence that came with being a newbie in the studio put a damper on any outrageous moves like that.

“This is stupid, Minho, let’s drop it,” you whined, trying to pull away. Stepping away from him was easier than before as he was not holding your hand anymore, but he followed right behind you, his hand gripping at your top. You whined for him to let you go, entirely self-aware of how sweaty and grimy you were.

“We’re dancing, Y/N, not having sex,” Minho said and you gasped at his outrageous behaviour. Turning your head to look at him, you felt the heat rush to your face, your knees almost buckling at the impish smile he threw your way. “Unless you want to of course,” he winked, gauging your awed expression.

Feeling like a fish out the water, your mind reeling with possibilities, you breathed easily when he didn’t push for a response. Instead, his expression turned serious, and you found yourself admiring him. He had a certain spark in his eyes whenever he was dancing – probably because that was the only time he was genuine enough. Having experienced Minho’s teasing for so long whenever you two spoke, you tended to forget that he could be serious on occasion. Dancing always being the one you saw him most often in.

“Now, look at yourself. If you can’t do that,” he took a step closer, his hand grabbing your wrist again, “ look at me.” He was close enough now that you could feel his heat through both of your jumpers once more. You couldn’t help but listen, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. You looked up, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you felt your skin grow hotter. Your hair was in disarray, your flushed skin was shiny, the beads of perspiration from earlier giving you a glow, your lips were swollen from biting them too much in concentration. What made your stomach clench and the heat pool all the way down your spine was the look he was throwing you in the mirror. Not looking better than you, Minho sported the same flushed face, his hair mussed from dancing earlier , the sheen of sweat more prominent on his skin. When your eyes met in the mirror, his darkened for a split second, and you felt your throat constrict.

“Let’s go,” he moved. “Keep your eyes in the mirror, watch me.”

It was not the appropriate context and you could have sworn at yourself for allowing your thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t. But, the slight waver in his voice told you that his words held more meaning than dancing. Letting your feet move, you mulled over what he meant, your mind furthest away from dancing.

“Eyes on me, Y/N,” Minho sounded strict, yet his fingers gently reached to grab your chin, pulling your head back up and holding it in place for a few seconds, asserting himself.

Showing you once more the movement, you tried to focus on the way his whole body moved. It wasn’t hard, he was demanding your attention from the moment he started moving. However, you were not thinking clearly, and certainly not about the dance.

His jean-clad thighs, tight enough that you could see the muscles moving underneath the material as he showed you the steps, paired with the goddamn sweater were drawing your thoughts to your aching core.

You struggled to keep up with him and your own thoughts at the same time and, when your concentration completely broke and you took a misstep falling flat onto your ass, the dam broke. Swearing out loud, you could feel the tears gather in your eyes, the frustration building up until you couldn’t take it anymore. Aware of Minho’s gaze on you, you tried to play it off by reaching for your bottle of water.

“Maybe I should just call it quits now,” you grumbled, throwing the bottle you drank out of far into the corner. Sweat was dripping down the side of your face, and the inertia after the vigorous exercise made your joints ache. You wanted nothing more than to be in a bath at home, curled up and crying. Feeling the tears in your eyes you sniffled, you didn’t want to show him your pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Shit, are you ok?” Minho quickly approached you, his warm hand attaching itself onto your shoulder.

His voice sounded panicked and, as soon as he realised you were close to tears, he crouched in front of you, eyes full of worry and teeth gnawing at his lips. Even in this state, you couldn’t help but set aside your pain and marvel at him. How he managed to distract you in such a way you’d never know. But then again, you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time; rekindled by a chance meeting on a train. Wearing the same stupid coloured sweater.

=====

Rush hour was the bane of everyone’s existence, you were certain of this fact. Anyone who claimed to not see it that way either had no idea what they were talking about or were lying straight through their teeth. There was nothing worse than being stuck on a train, a can on wheels, for at least half an hour, pressed up against one thing or another. If it wasn’t the pole of the train, it was against the doors or, worse, another human whose life was made as miserable as yours by you squishing into them. When the same scenario happened that day though, you swore things would never be the same. For the first time, being pressed like a bug between the door and someone else didn’t feel like hell. It felt comfortable.

That day you had the misfortune of leaving university later than you normally would, your assignments seemed to be piling up by the hour and you struggled to concentrate. It didn’t help that you went out with your friends to celebrate a birthday the night before, got drunker than you would normally and declared loud and proud that you would gracefully exit your celibate ways. When your friends made fun of you, reminding you how unlikely it was for you to have a spontaneous date or one night stand, you retaliated quickly promising that by next week you wouldn’t have had either or.

Remembering all that the next day during your classes was a hammer to your head; alongside your hangover, it made you want to crawl underneath the desk and pray for a swift death.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice whispered. Broken out of your thoughts, your body further being pressed against the door, you closed your eyes for a moment prepared to experience the harsh feel of someone’s coat against you and the stench of a day’s worth of cheap cologne and body odour.

Surprisingly, none of these hit you, but rather the gentle brush of soft wool combined with a sweet scent assaulted your senses and you opened your eyes confusedly. The array of colorful patterns that greeted you made you frown—it was rare that anyone wore anything outside of the earthy spectrum of colours. What furthered your confusion was the soft material that brushed against your hand from time to time when the train would take a turn and the person wearing it would lean further into you.

You resisted the urge to reach out and pat the material, not wanting to come across as the creep on the train. Intrigued by their fashion choice, you tried to focus on the other aspects of the person. Trailing your eyes away from the buttons of the sweater, you couldn't help but note their height and the amount of skin that was displayed right in front of you.

Gulping, you slowly pried your eyes away from the defined collarbone that would peek out of the edge whenever the person’s body moved closer towards you. If you would have been in a different situation, you wouldn’t have hesitated to turn around to save yourself from the embarrassment of ogling someone. However, you were stuck between this person and the door with little room for movement. Accepting your fate, you sighed dejectedly, regretting it immediately as the sweet cologne invaded your nostrils once more.

Carrying on with your inspection felt like an intrusion now, yet you couldn’t help yourself as curiosity got the better of you. The person was tall, but not as tall to impede you from getting a perfect view of his face. You bit your lip, the urge to groan in frustration dying in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was good looking. With a softly defined jaw, plump lips with a slight pout, high cheekbones and incredibly soft looking skin, he looked like a winner in the looks department and his brightly coloured sweater only served to accentuate that.

“Goddamn,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the strap on your shoulder. You would remember those features anywhere, the features that tormented you in dance school as he mocked your skills until he brought you to tears.

“Are you ok? I’m not squishing you, am I?” You jolted at the question, eyes immediately snapping back in focus. Finding the handsome yet forbidden man staring at you in concern, a slight frown on his face didn’t surprise you as much as your response did.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather get squished by you than groped by a pervert,” you replied instantly, feeling the embarrassment crawl up your skin and heat up your face. Not one to let your words out without a filter, you felt mortified at your bravery.

You didn’t think he’d be able to get more handsome, but as he snorted at your comment, his lips slightly parted in laughter you realised how wrong you were.

“Do you always place that much trust in good looking people? Or is it just me?” He asked, the humour in his eyes making your palms sweat in mortification. Mortification because you easily recognised that face now that you stared at it long enough.

“Pffft, you’re not that special, who said you’re good looking?” You smartly responded, congratulating yourself for your swift comeback. You could’ve kicked yourself for not realising who he was sooner.The unmistakable lips and high cheekbones should have given him away.

“You were staring,” Minho responded, too quickly for your liking. Wondering how long he’s noticed you giving him the once over, you cleared your throat scrambling to find a good enough answer when your eyes caught sight of his lanyard.

“It’s not like I can look anywhere else,” you mumbled, shuffling on your feet. “Anyways Minho, what are you doing on this train? Do you live around here?” You inquired, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Trying not to cringe at your own prodding, you kept your eyes on his as a last attempt to make yourself look confident.

“As a matter of fact, I go to university around here. Now I’m questioning who the perverted one is. It’s been so long, Y/N, never thought you’d turn up in my life like this,” he laughed lightheartedly, leaning in towards you. The strong scent paired with his demeanour made your breath catch in your throat and you pulled back as much as you could. Your thoughts were jumbled, the realisation of your situation finally dawning on you. This was Lee Minho, your crush since middle school and your tormenter since before that.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t have happened if I could’ve helped it,” you muttered looking away from him, missing the slight frown that crossed his face. The train was close to pulling into the station, the jostle of the tracks paired with the shuffling of passengers desperate to make it to the door through the crowd caused you to stumble. Back hitting the door of the carriage, you yelped, the slight awkward angle that you hit it at made it pulse in pain.

Minho grabbed your shoulder a bit too late, his eyes widened as you hurt yourself. He winced as you let out a yelp. He could almost feel the bruise and could imagine it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “You good?” He asked worriedly. Not wanting to allow him to be privy to your moment of weakness, you shrugged.

“Who’s the pervert now?” Before he could respond, a look of confusion still etched onto his face, the train stopped announcing your stop. “Ah, well I have to dash,” you muttered, not bothering to look back as you exited the train hurriedly.

Later you would find out, he went to the same university as you did, and he had been going there for a while, you just never happened to cross paths. But when you decided to be brave and go for extracurricular activities that you wouldn’t normally go for, such as the dance society, you literally bumped into him.

=====

Running like a madwoman before you were about to enter a dance class was not a good idea and you knew it. You would be out of breath before the hour even started. But with the amount of presentations you had to take care of, and the pit stop you made by the coffee shop before heading to the dance club made you later than you’d intended. Sad that you had to down the rest of your drink before even getting to fully enjoy it, you legged it to class. Cursing softly under your breath, you realised you were already ten minutes late, something not so bad when it came to an elective, but this happened to be the first day of class. And you’ve just managed to brand yourself as the late one.

You didn’t even care that you were running at risk of bumping into anyone who may be rounding the corner until you slammed into a body, the force of it knocking you back. Almost losing your balance, you yelped as a hand grabbed you roughly stopping you from planting your bum onto the hard floor.

“Woah there. Are you alright?” A soft voice asked, sounding concerned. Too dazed to apologise, you could only nod, your sole focus set on regaining your breath.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am late for class,” you said panting, gaze focused on the floor. You were feeling dizzy, the impact serving as a good reminder that you were not someone who had good stamina. Making a mental note to yourself that running across campus was probably something you shouldn’t attempt ever again, you straightened up. Feeling like the ground was not at risk of running away from you, you were ready to properly apologise to the victim of your mad dash when you came face to face with a familiar sweater. Eyes widening in recognition, you stumbled back a step grateful for the hand still holding onto you. “Oh.”

Minho chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s ok. Just be careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” he bent down towards you, lowering his voice, ”or anyone else for that matter.”

“I, uh, thank you,” you swallowed hard, his proximity to you making you dizzy once more. His sweet scent, the one that followed you even after you have exited the train, enveloped you and you fought the urge to inhale. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bash into you like that. Did I hurt you?” You said panicked that you may have caused him harm, his words finally registering in your head. Without thinking, you immediately touched the arm that was still firmly holding onto you, prepared to check for any bruises until his laughter stopped you.

“I am ok, Y/N. You’re not that strong,” Minho teased, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He watched as your face contorted in horror.

“Crap! Dance class! I am going to be late,” you let your head drop in your hands, ashamed at yourself for being so late. When Minho chuckled at you, you reeled back looking at him flabbergasted. “Do you think this is funny?” Appalled by his reaction, you prepared to yell at him about how important time keeping was for you, until he shook his head, the amusement never leaving his eyes.

“No, not at all. I am just laughing at the fact that somehow we managed to not only intersect as complete strangers on a train when we were friends before and we seem to be in the same university. But we are also part of the same society,” he chuckled, pushing your shoulder lightly as he started to walk down the corridor. “Don’t worry, I am their best dancer, if you go in with me you won’t look as bad, newbie,” Minho teased and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, not believing his audacity for a second.

“Pshhhyea right,” you mocked, making him throw you a look of disbelief.

“Well, I guess we will see. You will eat your words, Y/N,” he warned as you came up to the doors of the dance room.

And eat your words you did. In high resolution, eight step choreographies and nights where all you could think of was him and the passion he put into moving.

==========

“Y/N? Are you ok? If you need to cry, just cry,.” his voice brought you back to the present, the amusement at the memory of when you met him having passed, you felt useless once more.

You didn’t know whether it was the pent-up frustration or the comfort his touch brought you, but you found yourself leaning onto him, the onslaught of tears hidden by his sweater. Your body was shaking with the force of your sobs, your hands grabbing tightly onto the plush material of Minho’s top in a last attempt to find some grounding.

Hiccuping your apologies before another fresh wave of tears made you tremble in his arms and when he brought you closer to him, your face slotted in between his shoulder and neck, you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him. Everything came out of you at once, your struggles and pain pouring out of you in waves, not stopping until Minho gently shushed you.

“It’s ok, let it all out. I’m here,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders, his hand gently patting your head in a comforting manner.

When you profusely apologised the next second, he tightened his grip on you, his lips mindlessly pressing down onto the crown of your head. The soft pressure made you pause, the blood rushing to your cheeks. Even through the tears, you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, the pulse rapidly increasing, making your sobs subside to light sniffles. Not able to process what had happened, you stayed in his arms until your heart stopped banging about your chest and the heat in your cheeks subsided.

“You’re not a failure, you’re one of the best dancers we have. You’ve not only learned everything from scratch and managed to hold your own against some of our older, more experienced members, but you also got chosen to perform for this round. Plus I think –” he cooed, his voice ringing clearly in your head. Minho paused for a second as if trying to decide whether he should carry on or not, before he took a deep breath in. “I think you’re one heck of a partner,” he admitted so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I can’t even get down a simple step sequence,” you breathed, feeling a fresh new wave of tears well up in your eyes.

When you finally pulled away, you tried to scoot as further away as possible from him, your hands busy with clearing the marks on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling flustered. You refused to meet his eyes, the reality of what’s happened hitting you like a freight train. “Oh God, I’m really sorry,” you hurriedly added, noticing the wetness on his skin. Without a thought, you pulled your own sweater over your hand reaching out to pat him dry until his hand gently grabbed yours.

“Y/N, please don’t,” he softly whispered, his voice sounding strained. Frozen, you hesitantly looked up only to meet his eyes. His brows were furrowed as if he was in pain, his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes darkened.

“Minho,” you whispered, the pain in his eyes making your heart clench with worry. “Are you ok?”

For a second, it seemed like he was about to keel over in pain, his eyes closed a frown etched onto his face. Your heart was beating faster and faster, mind reeling with possibilities as to what may have made him hurt like that. Your hand still in his, you pulled lightly at it in an attempt to free yourself from his warm hold. Even through your sweater, the heat radiating off of him was burning itself as a memory onto your skin. The movement seemed to have snapped something in him—in the next second your hand was freed and Lee Minho was as far away from you as possible.

Confused, and a bit hurt you stared at him, your hand cradling the one he pushed away from him to your chest. You didn’t know what happened, but the way he paced the floor, the soles of his sneakers squeaking against the polished wood, a concentrated look on his face told you he was done talking. Deciding to not push it, you cleared your throat and hoisted yourself up onto your feet.

“Right, well seeing as this turned into something none of us wanted, I will be calling it a day,” you announced, hoping to keep the hurt from your voice. You weren’t expecting him to treat you like this after letting you cry into him, but you assumed you’ve pushed a limit and you not only felt the need to extract yourself from the situation, but also to apologise. “I’m sorry if I made this more uncomfortable than needed.”

The way he stopped pacing when he heard your words and the incredulous look on his face surprised you entirely.

“You think…” He trailed off, hands running through his hair before he continued. “You think you made me uncomfortable?”

You didn’t know what to answer, stuttering, your mind completely confused at the turn of events. Did he think it was the opposite way round?

“I thought I made you uncomfortable,” he huffed out, his pacing resuming once more. Not able to withstand the frenzy with which he behaved, you grabbed the end of his sweater, stopping him before he did another full round.

“Minho, stop. You’re going to wear the floor down, or even worse, your own shoes,” you tried to joke, but the worry in your own eyes spoke of a different feeling. “You never made me uncomfortable, why would you even think that?” You questioned him, your grip on him tightening in case he tried to evade your questions once more. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the slight flicker of uncertainty behind them but you decided to press on. You needed answers, his behaviour an odd occurrence.

“Did I ever give off that feeling?” You tilted your head to the side, observing his reaction.

Not able to believe what he was hearing, Minho’s eyes locked on yours, his brows furrowed. “No, that is stupid,” realising he might have offended you, he was quick to add, “I don’t know, I kept making jokes, and I kept pushing my feelings onto you, thinking that one day they may be reciprocated. Then you go and do something to make me think that they are.”

You could feel your breath catch in your throat at his confession, but the slight pull against your hold told you he was prepared to flee once more.

“Don’t,” you pulled him towards you, not realising the strength with which you did. Instead of him stumbling into you, you managed to pull yourself closer to Minho as he resisted. Closer than before, you could once again smell him, his scent never changing even after hours of practice, he still smelled good to you.

“Don’t what? Get my hopes up? Have feelings for you?” He whispered, his eyes trained on yours before they flickered to your lips. “Because I do. And I can’t do anything about it. It’s been months. I tried to tell myself it’s not useful, that I should be indifferent. And yet, here I am miles away from even reaching that indifference.”

You couldn’t feel the way his heart sped up at the small smile you offered him, but you could see the light in his eyes as you stood up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

With a low moan he parted away from you, your slightly parted lips red and bruised from his kiss, breath coming out in pants - you wanted more, and you decided to ask for it.

“Minho,” you called his name sweetly, watching carefully as he opened his eyes, the soft look in them almost making you falter. But the heat in your stomach and the way you could feel the palms of your hands sweating over his sweater pushed you to vocalise your thoughts to him.

“Hm?” His hand still held onto the back of your neck. You shivered in pleasure at the way his thumb subconsciously traced circles around the sensitive point underneath your earlobe.

“If I asked you to fuck me, right here right now in this dance studio, would you do it?” You felt your breath catch in your throat, the courage leaving you as soon as the words left your mouth. His silence was concerning, and for the first time in your life, you felt like burying yourself underneath the earth. Cursing at your own stupidity, you breathed out a sigh. “Ah, look - forget I said anything. Let’s just -”

Minho couldn’t believe his ears, the way you asked him such a filthy question after having kissed him like that, your hands digging into his shoulders, your body moulded onto his made him bashful. He knew what the answer would be, no doubt, but before he gave in to his wishes, he needed to make sure that you knew what you were asking of him.

“You -” he cleared his throat, his voice coming out raspy. “Are you....?”

You knew what he was going to ask. You haven’t dated him, and you weren’t that close, but you knew him well enough to know how considerate he was of others. Despite his teasing persona and tough exterior, he would always make sure that everyone was alright. And of course, this was no exception.

Not allowing him to think too much about it, and not having the courage to speak about it again, you pushed your lips onto his again, your hands burying themselves into his hair. “Shut up and make me scream your name, Lee Minho.”

He didn’t need you to ask him more than once. Fuelled by your demanding tone, Minho gripped your hips tightly pulling you closer to him, his lips pressed onto yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him to do as he pleased, you pulled at his hair lightly, eliciting a low groan from him. Pulling away, his eyes hooded with desire, he smirked at you making your knees weak.

“If that is what you want,” his fingers dug into your hips before he turned you around to face the mirror, your back to him. Bending you slightly, he made quick work of your pants, pulling them down in one swift movement. “That is what you get.”

Minho didn’t give you any time to respond before he dropped to his knees, his mouth attaching itself to your clothed cunt. Not wasting time, he sucked at the underwear, soaking it through with his saliva as well as your juices before he pulled away.

“You taste so good. I could sit here and eat you forever,” he hummed, his fingers latching onto the side of your panties, pulling them down. The way you moaned and pressed your hips into his hand asking for more made him forgo tasting you for the time being.

Pulling himself up and you against him, he prodded at your entrance with his fingers, one hand tightly on your hip, the other sliding underneath your sweater, cupping your breast.

“So needy... First you ask me to fuck you into oblivion in the dance studio,” Minho grunted, parting your legs slightly with his knee. “A studio everyone will be in tomorrow with no knowledge of what has happened. That is incredibly dirty,” he softly bit into the smooth flesh of your neck, his tongue flicking to lick the area between bites.

You should’ve felt embarrassed for being so wet without him even having entered you, but the way his fingers prodded at your folds, sliding up and down, coating themselves into your slickness wiped all thoughts away. Pushing your hips back against his hand, desperate to feel more of his long slender fingers in you, around you, you mewled when he found your clit.

“You‘re so wet and ready for me, aren’t you, Y/N?” Bending over you, his clothed dick pushing into the soft flesh of your ass, he whispered lowly, as his finger started to circle your nub softly at first, picking up the pace when you prompted him with your ass.

“All this wetness, just from dancing, hm?” He teased, knowing full well it wasn’t the dancing. Feeling his cock twitch at the prospect of his dancing making you this hot, he pushed harder against your ass, the material of his jeans rubbing against his length.

In the process of bending you over and discarding your bottoms, your top had also risen up, allowing you to feel the soft sweater brush against your skin. The sensitive area of your lower back and ass being caressed by it made you shiver craving more of that. “Minho, more,” you moaned, finding it hard to express yourself.

“More what?” He bent over again, the finger circling at your clit relentlessly flicking at it. You could feel the wetness pooling out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs, but you couldn’t worry about it, not when you had a mission.

“Please,” you begged with shaky fingers grabbing at your top, going to pull it off of yourself. The clumsy movement only served to push the material above your breasts, finding it hard to take it off completely without pulling away from Minho’s fingers. Minho paused slightly, his fingers lazily pressing on your clit, the change in movement making you whimper in need.

“Want me to help?” He asked amusedly and you prepared to tell him off for ruining the mood until he pulled his fingers away from your pussy. The room was not well lit as you didn’t turn on the lights, and it was dark enough outside to make it difficult for you to see anything.

Despite that, you could see as clear as day how wet his fingers were, the shine of your slickness making you flush for a second.

“Mmm, look at this,” he scissored his fingers in the air, a string of fluid forming between his fingers as he did so. “Such a naughty girl. You’ve coated my fingers completely,” he drawled, and you watched enthralled as he slowly brought them to his mouth, slipping them in. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the heat increasing in your abdomen as he pulled the fingers out, his breathy moan as he tasted you on his hand, his lips smacking as if you were the tastiest thing he’s ever had.

“Delicious,” Minho purred, bending over you. You were so focused on him tasting you that you forgot what set you off in the first place. When he bent over and the material of his sweater brushed over you, making your knees buckle, you begged him to touch you again. Your need to feel him against you gripping at your throat.

“Minho,” you breathed, hips circling grinding against his hardened dick. He seemed bigger than before, his tip poking at you through his thick trousers and your toes curled with the knowledge that it was your taste that made him this hard.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his clean fingers going to unbutton his top. Jerking, you whined your disapproval.

“No, keep it on. I want to feel it,” you blurted, afraid that he would take it off before you could express yourself.

When he paused, his hand hovering over his buttons, you felt the embarrassment wash over you. You were never into sensory play, but there was something about that sweater that made you crave the feeling of it. You wanted to know what it would feel like for it to brush against your back, teasing the sensitive skin there as he fucked you from behind.

It didn’t take long for Minho to catch onto your wishes seeing as he already had an inkling about your preference towards his sweater. He's seen you stare at it multiple times, each time more and more insistent. It was the reason he started wearing it more often, each time more adventurous than the previous one.

At first he wore a top underneath, but as he slowly figured out you were inclined towards him more as he wore it, he wondered if he could push it. The last few times Minho forwent the top, choosing to only wear the sweater buttoned up as a top. He didn’t miss your stares, or the increase in breathing whenever he moved, displaying more of his skin.

He also didn’t miss the way you subconsciously started to touch him more. If he were to admit to himself, you were not wrong, his sweater did feel like heaven over his skin. The warm material brushing over his nipples made him twitch in his pants on more than one occasion. That paired with the brush of your hands on his arm from time to time prompted him to go and relieve himself in the toilets quite often.

“Ah,” Minho sang, smirking at you in the mirror. Gulping, you stilled, wondering what was playing on his mind. “You dirty girl, you want to feel my sweater don’t you?” He asked, his hips pushing into you.

You couldn’t hide it anymore, the heat underneath your skin and your wanton pussy clenching at air made you nod, thrilled at the prospect of having your wishes granted.

Minho never thought he’d be so turned on at the thought, but as soon as you nodded, he felt something shift in him, an animalistic growl leaving his throat. Not in a rush, he looked at you darkly, the smirk not leaving his features.

“I see, well… who am I to not grant you your wishes?” he asked, the hand hovering above your ass falling down onto the skin making it sting. Yelping, you arched your back at the feeling, grinding your hips into his hand as he kneaded the flesh. “First, I need to hear you beg.”

Desperate for his touch, you obeyed, your eyes locked onto his, your flushed face proof of your desires. “Minho please, let me feel you,” you tried, but when he made no move apart from his fingers settling deeper into the flesh of your ass, you grunted again. “Please, I want to feel your sweater touching me as you fuck me hard from behind,” you pleaded – propriety be damned. You let all the cats out of the bag, not feeling in the least ashamed of what you were feeling.

“That is it, no need to say more,” he rasped, your words reaching his cock making him tense. His hands pulled away from your ass, reaching for his belt and unzipping his trousers.

You couldn’t see him in the mirror due to the angle but when you tried to turn around wanting to see him, you felt another sting to your left ass cheek. “No peeking, Y/N, you wanted sensory play, that is all you will be getting today,” Minho warned and you breathed out slowly.

Grabbing your shoulder roughly, he pulled you to him, straightening your back. Not quite touching, he pulled your top, prompting you to lift your arms so he could pull it off you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He panted, his arm wrapping around your front, pulling you flush against him. “Widen your legs.”

You bucked your hips against his crotch, enjoying the way his hardness poked at the sensitive area of your ass. You obeyed him, spreading your legs open, your head leaning back onto his shoulder. Minho’s demanding tone contrasted greatly with the affectionate way his fingers danced along the sensitive skin tracing the pattern of your ribs. You shuddered under his touch, your core throbbing at the teasing and comforting feel of his woollen sweater against your back.

“Minho, that’s it, yes,” you prompted him, arching your back to feel as much of him as you could. His teeth were still nipping at your neck when his hand found your nipple, deft fingers circling it in slow motion making the skin pucker.

“Dirty girl, you like the feel of the sweater don’t you?” He asked, testing his theory by pinching your nipple at the same time as he pressed himself harder into you.

The material roughly rubbed onto your skin with the movement making you shiver. You grabbed onto his wrist tightly pressing yourself further into him. The length of his cock freed from its confines slipped between the two of you, and you could feel its searing temperature on your lower back. Smiling impishly, you decided to taunt him, circling your hips in a slow movement rubbing him between your ass cheeks and his own abdomen.

Hearing Minho’s low moan vibrate in your eardrums as he buried his face in your hair spurred you on, your hips rocking faster, showing him exactly why you loved his sweater so much.

“Ah, look at you rutting so desperately, does that feel good?” You asked, your hand reaching behind you to grip as much of his ass as you could, digging your fingers, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know now, why your sweater drives me so mad whenever you wear it?” You punctuated each word with more friction.

The low groans and the increasing wetness against your ass told you what you needed, but you wanted him to respond. “Minho,” you whispered, your attention on his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched up as if he was concentrating hard, the hand on your breast gripping tightly at the flesh.

Hearing you call his name so sweetly, after you’ve uttered pure filth, got his attention. Struggling to keep his breathing leveled and his mind clear, with your hips still brushing against his dick, Minho found it hard to not come then and there, so he opened his eyes. Looking at you, he could see your whole naked form in the mirror. The way your hips rolled enticingly, your spread legs giving him a full view of your wet mound, he could barely contain himself from shoving himself into you until he bottomed out.

It had been a long time coming – your relationship, the tension between the two of you. With each touch of skin in class, each teasing remark he would throw at you only to be countered immediately.

“Minho, eyes on me,” you said softly, your hips ceasing their movement, your hand slowly sliding away from his ass, dancing above the dip of your belly button before slowly sliding towards your needy clit.

The position you were in made it easy for your middle finger to slide in between your pussy lips, your finger expertly finding your clit. You’ve done this more than you could count, touched yourself, but you’ve never done it in front of anyone, and the thought both excited you and made you nervous at the same time. The slow circles you traced around your nub before you added more pressure shot a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Ah, so good, Minho,” you didn’t know where that came from, never having uttered his name whilst you were pleasuring yourself, but it seemed to have done the trick.

Hearing you moan his name so wantonly, your hand working shamelessly away at your pussy on your own, your soft warm lips wetly mouthing his name in pleasure even though he was barely touching you, switched something in him. With your feet so lewdly spread open, it was easy for Minho to mannouver you so that he could slip his cock between your folds, the tip reaching where your fingers thrummed at your clit.

The sudden movement jolted you out of your own world, the pleasurable haziness clearing off your mind, and you suddenly realised what you were doing. You couldn’t feel ashamed, he wouldn’t allow you to, the sight you’ve just presented him with was to be engraved in his memory forever.

“Tell me, do you mutter my name whilst you come all over your own fingers, think of me when you’re pleasuring yourself like that?” he murmured languidly, moving his cock between your folds, coating it in your juices. “You’re so wet, you are after all a dirty girl, aren’t you?” He groaned, his hand letting go of your breasts, reaching out to grab his own dick.

His breathing stilled when your hand movement stopped, your heavy breathing being the only thing he could hear in the stillness of the air around you. Wondering if he’d gone too far, he went to let you go but you wouldn’t allow him to, your soft voice calling out to him. “Minho.”

With his attention back on you, you could clearly see in the reflection the way his eyes trailed over every inch of your skin available, the intense gaze only softened by the way he bit his lip softly. “It’s ok to be as rough as you want,” you reassured him, craving the uncouth Minho from a few minutes ago.

Your words gave him the permission that he needed, and within a second, something shifted behind his eyes, a darker look glazing over before he slid himself within you with a powerful thrust. Bottomed out and almost pressed all the way against the mirror, you could only let out a scream of pleasure, your hands fighting to steady yourself.

Minho stilled, fighting hard to not come straight away. Your teasing riled him up enough that he was hard and ready to go. Once your warm walls swallowed his cock, fighting to adjust to his size, squeezing against the intrusion, he felt his cock twitch within you, desperate to pound you senseless.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well,” Minho praised softly, sliding himself slowly in and out of you, gauging your reactions in the mirror. Your eyes were closed, a silent moan painted on your lips.

“Want me to go faster?” He asked, slapping his hips against yours aggressively. “I want to stay like this forever, fucking you and filling you up with my cum.”

The implications of his own words hit him and he slowed to a lazier pace. Even at that speed, he was still hitting your sensitive area, and you felt the pressure building up in your abdomen.

“Can I come inside?” He asked tentatively, his voice hoarse.

Your mind was far away riddled with pleasure, your words barely coming out in a full sentence. “Minho, fuck, yes, fill me up with your cum,” you groaned, your voice breaking out into a moan when you felt his fingers anchor themselves in the flesh of your hips, his movements frenzied.

He was grunting just as loudly behind you, the material of his top now sticking to his own skin as much as yours, irritating the sensitive area. Snapping his hips frantically, the sound of your skin slapping together reverberated throughout the dance room.

“You like that hm, you like the idea of being filled up with my cum, don’t you?” Minho panted, bending forward. You yelped, hands shooting forward to prevent yourself from falling. His dick pounding into you at a deeper angle made your skin tingle with electricity as he hit the tip of your cervix repeatedly, the pleasure crashing over you in waves.

You didn’t realise when you leaned onto the mirror, the sheen of sweat on your hands making them slip with every thrust of his hips into you. Struggling to keep yourself upright, you arched your back. The movement caused your inner muscles to clench around him, gripping his cock tightly within your velvety walls, breaking the fast paced rhythm. Minho grunted, his need to carry on fucking you into tomorrow overpowering any other thought. Realising you were in a precarious position, close to crumbling onto the floor, he stopped moving, a look of worry crossing over his face.

“Are you ok?” He said, voice breaking from using it so aggressively earlier.

You nodded and spread your legs further apart in an attempt to give yourself more stability. Seeing you struggle Minho grabbed your left hand in his, his other letting go of your hip to encircle your waist. Without a word, he slowly moved you closer to the mirror, his lips peppering soft kisses on the sweaty skin of your shoulder. His dick still being lodged deep into your pussy drew a whimper out of your throat as it slowly pushed further in along with his movements.

“Hold on,” he softly instructed, placing your hand flush against the mirror, holding it in place with his own. The hand around your waist slid further down to your sensitive folds and anchored you on it like a harness. The position left you placing your whole weight on his hand, the pressure of his palm against your inflamed clit sending sparks up your spine, making you dizzy.

“Ah, fuck, Minho,” you croaked while grinding your cunt onto his hand, your slickness coating his wrist dripping down his fingers. From this position, you were completely at his mercy, the only thing that kept you secure was his hold on you.

Minho groaned, your name being the only thing on his lips. The more pressure he put against your clit, the further you leaned into his hand, your smooth warm walls contracting around him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, thrusting his hips against yours once, eliciting a shuddered breath out of you. “You like being handled as you’re stuffed full of my cock, hm? Look how tightly you’re gripping onto me as if you’re afraid I'd let you go,” he said, his lips ghosting over your sweaty skin, making goosebumps appear with each pointed word.

“Do you want me to move?” He carried on, lazily slipping his length out of your wet folds until only the tip remained in you.

The reflection in the mirror caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat at the view, your slightly bent over body, your hand on the mirror clenched into a fist tightly secured by his larger one, his hand around your midriff covering your mound from view.

The way your eyes were closed, a look of pleasure etched onto your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweaty forehead covered the strands of hair that made it onto your face, lips red and swollen from biting them too much made him pause. Minho could see the way your breasts slightly juggled from the movement of your own hips against his arm

He couldn’t see your pussy or the way it was wrapped around him, but he could feel your wetness on his skin, his entire hand bathed in it, your velvety folds grinding against his palm. If he didn’t want to make you come first, he would have filled you with his cum then and there. You were beautiful, you looked thoroughly fucked, you wanted more, and you were his.

Needing to share this moment, Minho kissed your neck once more, slightly blowing on the overheated skin. “Open your eyes,” he coaxed, his hand on your wrist squeezing lightly to garner your attention. “Dance with yourself in the mirror, Y/N,” he softly instructed. “Look how beautiful you look, all like that, sweaty and lewdly spread like that - and only for me.”

Obeying him, you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes glazed over with lust, the sight urging the fire underneath your skin. You immediately honed into the way his hips lazily moved, feeling the way he slid in and out of you, deep within your pussy.

The lewd squelching sounds that reverberated through the darkened room paired with the languid kisses he placed on your skin forced your inner walls to spasm in pleasure, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge - his movements paired with the way your mound rubbed against his arm drawing your orgasm out of you with a quick thrust of his hips.

“Fuck Minho, I’m going to come. Shit,” your eyes rolled back as your body came undone, your muscles tensing and tremors wrecked through your body from head to toe.

Minho felt you spasm around him, your pussy gripping onto him in a vice like, your wails of pleasure spurring him on. With an unrestrained growl, he tightened his grip on you, the hand on your mound pressed roughly onto your clit bearing down on it to prolong the peak of your orgasm. “You’re already a mess, wetting my dick like that, let yourself go, baby,” he demanded, his hips snapping into you at a rapid pace at the same time as he was watching you fall apart for him in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful like that, coming all over my cock. Shall I make more of a mess of you?” Minho asked, feeling his own dam burst and, with a last deep thrust, he spilled his cum deep into you, painting your walls, claiming you as his. You whined as you felt him come, the strangled noises ripped out of your throat as your sensitive cunt milked him of the last of his drops.

“Let me taste you,” Minho said, his voice hoarse from the high he’s just experienced. You drew in a sharp breath. His unexpected request made you stutter, and you wondered if he realised what he was asking. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you thought you did not hear him well, but when you turned around, your shaky legs forcing you to brace yourself against him for support, his serious expression left you speechless.

“You– you’re serious.”

It wasn’t a question, you were certain he meant it, but you just needed to express your feelings at this brazen statement. Not knowing how to react, you thought about it for a moment, your eyes trailing from his eyes down to his mouth. The moment you imagined his lips on you, sucking on your cunt, drawing out his own cum, you felt yourself getting hotter.

Minho nodded, noticing the way your eyes found his lips, shifting from one foot to another. Smirking to himself, he decided to give you one final push, knowing that if you allowed him this, you would not regret it.

Licking his lips, he breathed out slowly, trying one more time. “Can I clean you up? Look how messy it’s getting,” he pointed to the floor where a small amount of his cum dripped down it. It was only a few drops but the sight of it made you moan, your mind already settled.

“Yes,” you said automatically, taking a step closer to him. “Clean me up, you’ve made a mess, now you need to clean up after yourself, bad boy.”

You weren’t sure where the courage came from. Maybe it was from the way he drew a sharp intake of breath, maybe it was the way his hands immediately found the curvature of your hips, gently massaging the area, or maybe it was the way he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing to the inside of your thighs.

His deft fingers traced the soft skin, his face was so close to your pussy you could feel his breath on your sensitive nub. “Open your legs wider for me, love,” Minho prompted, his hands guiding you.

You whimpered as the cold air hit your core directly. The initial hesitation you felt being so exposed to his eyes didn’t last long, as he dove straight in with a hungry slurp, his tongue slipping right between your folds. The suddenness of his movement made your knees buckle, a loud moan being ripped out of your throat.

The lewd sounds from his mouth on you loudly echoed in your mind, fuelling the build up pleasure from his tongue lapping at you. You could feel the pressure of his hands onto your thighs, certain that he would leave bruises.

“Ah, Minho.”

He parted from your pussy with one last lick, his tongue flattened brushing your overly sensitive clit making you buckle.

“Steady,” he laughed, his soft voice sending shivers up your spine. He let go of your legs and interlaced his fingers with yours supporting your weight. You didn’t know if you had the courage to look down, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, but the angle you were both at proved to be an inconvenience.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, so soft and you taste so good,” he dove in for a tentative lick, the tip of his tongue circling your clit. Unable to hold back, your eyes snapped down, his words almost enough to make you come.

“Are you ready, love?” Minho asked, locking eyes with you. His face was shiny and wet from both your juices, but the glint in his eyes told you he was far from done. Barely able to breathe, let alone speak, you threw him an uncertain look, unsure what he meant by asking you that.

“What do you- ahhh!”

Minho had no inhibition, his mouth finding your entrance without a hesitation, prodding at you scooping up his own mess with his tongue all the while massaging your walls. His hands let go of yours and you felt your world shift for a moment before he tightly grabbed your ass, burying himself deeper into your dripping pussy.

He didn’t let you breathe, licking and prodding like a starved man. His tongue traced your lips lightly, applying pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Minho was determined to clean all of you out, he prodded you in all the right ways to make you approach your second orgasm.

You felt it building up the moment his tongue slipped into you once more acting as a substitute of his dick earlier, swirling inside of your warmth, tracing the inside of your velvet walls. The familiar feeling of needing to pee crawled up your spine until you felt yourself let go with a loud groan as tears gathered in your eyes from the intensity.

“Shit, I’m coming,” you let your head fall back as your hands found their way into his hair, holding him to you as you rode out your orgasm. The intensity of it almost made your knees fold under you and you would have fallen over if not for his hands holding onto your ass, anchoring you upwards.You felt his tongue languidly lapping at your clit, guiding you through your peak, the warmth travelling all the way down to the tip of your toes.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt, “give me more of you.” He lapped at your sensitive pussy until he felt you stop spasming, your whine of displeasure telling him you were too sensitive. Savouring your taste, Minho breathed out, his tongue licking your wetness off his lips, the feeling of satisfaction washing over him. He had never imagined you would let go with so little inhibition and the thought made him giddy. He made you come twice.

Out of breath and bodies slick with sweat, you pulled away from him, your eyes already searching for your clothes. The embarrassment of what happened a few seconds before washed over you like a douse of cold water. Having sex with him was one thing, but asking him to go that far and enjoying it so much that you came twice filled you with horror at what he may think of you.

It took him a few seconds to gather his bearings, the aftermath of his orgasm paired with both of your tastes on his tongue made him dizzy and euphoric. As soon as he heard your frenzied shuffle, his eyes wandered over to you, springing up, realising you were about to flee.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asked cautiously, going to reach out for you. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest at the dejected look you offered him. He didn’t know whether he’d done something wrong or if it was something else. All he knew was that he couldn’t allow you to leave like that. Not when his heart hurt only by seeing the slight quiver of your lips.

“Please, talk to me,” Minho pleaded when you refused to respond. Despite your aversion to vocalise your thoughts, you didn’t make a move to stop him when he engulfed you in his arms.

Regardless of how sweaty and cold you were, you allowed yourself that moment, closing your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warmth his hug provided, basking in the safety of his arms. For a few moments neither of you spoke — both taking in the feeling of peace that followed after your intense moment. To you, it felt as if being in his arms nothing could reach you, not even the tumultuous conflicted feelings rushing through your mind.

You knew you owed him an explanation, he’d been nothing but considerate towards you, yet, you’ve reacted this brashly without an ounce of regard towards his feelings. Gathering the courage to speak, your head buried into his sweater, the same stupid sweater that started it all, you took a deep breath in allowing his scent to calm down your racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you muttered, hands reaching out to grip tightly at the material covering his back. Hearing his sharp inhale, you hurried to apologise thinking you’ve hurt him, only to be shushed gently.

“You don’t have to apologise, please. If anything it’s me who needs to apologise,” Minho countered, his voice caring despite the fear coursing through his body. Had he gone too far?

Unable to believe what you were hearing, you pulled away from him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit. Meeting his eyes stole your breath. His eyes were clear, albeit a bit sad, but the soft, almost dejected smile he offered you – an attempt to make you feel better, pressed on your heart.

Ashamed of your own doubt towards his feelings, you looked down, your fingers toying with his top. “It’s not just this stupid sweater,” you muttered, closely resembling a petulant child.

Minho looked at you in confusion, before he finally understood what you meant. He tried his best not to laugh, but the ridiculousness of the situation got to him, and he let a snicker escape.

“Wait, you think–” Minho carried on, the sadness he felt at the thought of you rejecting him replaced with utter happiness. “You think, I think, this” he motioned between the two of you, “happened because of a stupid sweater?” He couldn’t help himself, the way you looked at him so offended made you look so endearing he just had to kiss you.

His lips first pressed lightly onto the frown etched onto your forehead, kissing the lines away before they softly peppered your whole face in soft pecks. Pausing right above your lips, his hot breath fanning over your face, Minho whispered softly, “This was never about a sweater, nor was it about fulfilling any fantasies - though I would love to do that for as long as you allow me to,” you couldn’t help but shiver at the implications of his words, “I genuinely like you. But,” he paused to take a sharp intake of breath as if what he was about to tell you next hurt him, “if you don't, and all you want is this physical relationship…”

You were prepared to protest, but he shushed you softly. “Let me just say this before I lose the nerve to. If all you want is a quick fuck, I can also give you that. It would hurt, but I could only hold onto the hope that by being close this way, one day you will see me as more.”

Your heart clenched at hearing his words, you never thought he would put himself down in such a way that he would never assume that you liked him back the way he did.

“Minho,” you said, demanding his attention. Your pointed voice rang loudly in the empty studio, a complete contrast to his own voice.

“Hm?” He asked distractedly, his face was still close to yours, his soft lips ghosting over your own. Without saying a word, you motioned for him to wait. Gulping, you looked down at the sweater he was still wearing, the light sheen of sweat covering his soft skin. Resisting the urge to press your lips to his collarbones, you focused on his buttons, slowly undoing them one by one.

“Woah, Y/N, what-?” he looked at you incredulously, his eyes wide, however, he wasn’t making a move to stop you. Shushing him roughly, you undid the last button, trying your hardest to not revel in the way his skin felt underneath your palms as you pushed it off his shoulders. You had been right, he was not wearing anything underneath it, not even a vest.

Allowing your eyes to soak in what the sweater had been masking all this time, you clenched your fists to your sides, refusing yourself the need to touch him. You were aware that if you did, it was game over.

“What are you doing?” Minho tried again, his heart beating rapidly in his chest at the look you threw him. The fire in your eyes, your hands glued to your sides, lips pursed - you looked beautiful, and if you hadn’t kissed him next, he would’ve without a doubt.

“Shut up,” you said before you pressed your lips to his, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your naked and cold breasts pushed against his warm skin and you both shuddered at the difference in temperature. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and respond, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist pulling you further into him.

As you moulded your bodies and lips together, something shifted between the two of you. As fiery and frenzied as the kiss was, your hands never stayed for too long in one place touching everything you both could, commiting each and every curve to memory. You could almost taste the feelings between the two of you, the connection that was already there but you were both too blind to see it.

Pulling away from him, you finally rested your hands on his chest, enjoying the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and knowing it was as rapid as yours made you smile. Finally opening your eyes, you found his already on you, a dazed look on his face.

“Don’t be stupid, as much as I like that sweater,” you laughed at the ridiculousness of this whole situation, “and I would love for us to be physical, I don’t want anything more than I want you, feeling what you are feeling right now for me. I like you too, stupid man with a stupid sweater.”

Even though you knew you wouldn’t be rejected, your heart still stopped waiting for his next answer. The seemingly myriad of emotions crossing his face made you smile, until he settled onto one; the usual cocky one he had when he spoke to you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him, ready to slap him if he dared to say anything inappropriate.

“Minho,” you warned as he pulled you into him again.

He simply laughed before he responded by kissing your forehead lightly. “It’s good that you like me. Because I had 4 more sweaters similar to that one ready to come out and try to woo you.”

Mᴀɪɴ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

Dionysus represents much more than the God of Madness and Frenzy; he embodies the essence of mental health. Dedicating time and effort to healing your mind can be seen as an act of devotion to Dionysus. This is why advocating for, discussing, and learning about mental illness and your experiences can be so beneficial.

He is more than just the God of Wine; he also embodies sobriety and restraint. He teaches us moderation, guiding us not to overindulge in what our bodies cannot handle. Choosing to abstain from alcohol or maintaining sobriety can be a profound act of devotion as well.

Excessive consumption, whether it's alcohol, negative thoughts, or anything else, can be harmful. Dionysus serves as a reminder that healing from such excesses is possible.

While he embodies the spirit of fun, enjoyment, and hedonism, I don't believe he would want you to indulge for the wrong reasons. Whenever I felt too serious or caught in a downward spiral, he would remind me that it's okay to let loose, but also to stay attuned to my feelings. I don't think he would shun you if you're not having too much fun. If you're not feeling okay, then you're not feeling okay. There's nothing wrong with that.

If anything, Dionysus seems like the ultimate god of self-care. Taking your medication, staying hydrated or drinking other beverages (I personally find that hot chocolate boosts my mood), spending time with friends, or even enjoying a solitary walk in nature—all these activities can feel like acts of devotion. He is love and full of love. A god of duality and balance.

He can embody the warmth of summer and the freshness of spring, just as he can evoke the chill of winter. He's complex and multifaceted. He is a god of rebirth, death and immortality. He to me, resembles a phoenix. He means so much to me and my practice. My heart has so much room for him. He has shown me that regardless what I've experience, it is possible to change and heal. His own love feels poetic.