Working On Some Franco Requests Rn, So, Prepare !

working on some franco requests rn, so, prepare !

Bild asked 11 drivers to draw a picture or write something to congratulate Sebastian Vettel on his 4th World Championship

Nico Rosberg:

Translation: Congratulations on your last world title for now

Bild Asked 11 Drivers To Draw A Picture Or Write Something To Congratulate Sebastian Vettel On His 4th

Romain Grosjean:

Lewis Hamilton:

Adrian Sutil:

Translation: Seb, I congratulate you on your fast title no. 4. For that you speed away in every race, as if the rest of us are not even in cars. You deserve great respect for your performance and your talent. Nobody has given you anything. But please, in the future let other people win so that the sponsoring will stay on the track.

Jules Bianchi:

Daniel Riccardo:

Mark Webber:

Sergio Perez:

Jean Eric Vergne:

Charles Pic:

Esteban Gutierrez:

Since it was hard for me to read at the beginning so “ Congratulations for your 4th title… Don’t do more! All the best my friend.

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junkiespromise

2 years ago

THE JOY IN HIS FACE DROWNING MAX😭😭😭😭

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junkiespromise

1 year ago

dominic sessa covers the spring 24 issue of wonderland magazine, photographed by cody lidtke 🩷

Tags

im going insane actually literally about to die

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junkiespromise

1 month ago

A Series Of Phone Calls With Increasing Time Zones, Proving That Not Even Distance Can Break True Love

a series of phone calls with increasing time zones, proving that not even distance can break true love

idol!seungmin x reader, 5k words, fluff, long-distance au (seungmin on tour), angst, one argument, suggestive themes but not graphic!! (implied masturbation, sexual intercourse)

you both knew tour was going to be a challenge. the time zones, the silence between texts, being apart for too long. the kind of distance that makes you wonder if it’s still as warm on the other side.

but real love sticks. real love dials in the middle of the night with a sleepy voice and a hotel duvet pulled up to his chin. seungmin is in australia. one hour ahead of you.

“hey, baby” seungmin whispers, the sound barely above the static. “you still awake?”

you roll onto your back, staring at your ceiling like it might answer for you. “yeah.”

“did you cry?” he asks gently. not mocking. just—curious, like he’s asking about the weather.

“a little,” you admit, voice barely holding. “why are you so hard to sleep without?”

he exhales, soft and slow. “i don’t know,” he says, “maybe i cursed you.”

“maybe,” you whisper back.

there’s silence for a while. not awkward. just full.

then, “han jisung is asleep like two feet away, and if he hears me say sappy shit he’s gonna roast me into another dimension.”

you smile a little.

“but,” seungmin adds, quieter now, “i miss you too. like. a lot.”

you close your eyes. “don’t whisper like that. it makes it worse.”

“oh? does it?” his voice dips lower, playful. “what, like this?”

“seungmin.”

“i can picture your face right now” he says with a light chuckle.

you groan into your pillow. “i hate you.”

“no you don’t.”

“no,” you sigh. “i don’t.”

“i’ll call you again tomorrow night,” he murmurs, yawn crawling into his voice. “maybe i’ll read you the hotel shampoo ingredients like poetry.”

“that’s so romantic.”

"i know. i’m basically shakespeare,” he whispers, smug and sleepy.

you let out a soft laugh. “then what’s your sonnet about tonight, romeo?”

“hm.” there's a pause. you hear the rustle of sheets as he shifts, the soft creak of the bed frame. “ode to the cotton bed sheets that smell like lavender.”

you snort. “beautiful. truly moving.”

“i try,” he hums. “for you.”

your throat tightens at that. it’s so quiet on the other end, and you can almost picture him—eyes half-lidded, phone pressed to his cheek, hair messy from the long day, the glow of the hallway light slipping through the crack under the hotel door.

“you should sleep,” you murmur.

“you should stop sounding like you’re about to cry again,” he says.

you blink fast. “sorry.”

“don’t be,” he says. “i miss you too. more than i wanna say out loud because jisung has ears like a bat.”

“tell him i said hi.”

“i will. in the morning. right now, i’m all yours.”

you smile into your pillow. “even if you’re like... thousands of miles away?”

“distance isn’t real,” he says, like it’s obvious. “you’re in my phone, in my head, and in my stupid heart.”

you murmur, fingers curling in the sheets. "i love you."

you can hear him smile. not the smug kind. the quiet one—the one he saves for you.

"i know," he whispers. "i know, baby. i love you too."

your eyes sting again.

“i wanna hear you say goodnight, before i go,” he says softly. “like i’m still right there.”

you tuck your face into your pillow, pretending he is.

you whisper, “goodnight, seungmin.”

he exhales, long and slow. “again.”

“goodnight, minnie.”

“one more time,” he murmurs, voice already halfway to sleep.

you grin, heart squeezing. “goodnight, love.”

“mmm,” he hums, already slipping under. “that one’s my favorite.”

the call doesn’t end. he never hangs up first. not when he’s on tour. not when you’re the only quiet thing that feels like home.

seungmin was always your plumber. doing it alone felt harder than it should’ve.

"okay, okay—stop. stop touching it. you're gonna break it."

"i have to touch it, kim seungmin.” you huff in frustration.

“not when you’re doing it like that.”

“how would you know? you’re in a limousine.”

on the other end of the call, there’s a soft rustling of leather seats, then a distant snort of laughter—probably changbin. then hyunjin’s unmistakable voice, teasing in the background.

you roll your eyes and crouch down by the sink again. “just walk me through it.”

you hear him sigh dramatically. “you're gonna need both of your hands. you’re holding the flashlight with your mouth, right?”

“yeah.” you say, slightly muffled

“cute,” he says, like it’s automatic.

you smile.

“okay, now reach in with your left hand—gently—and find the little hex socket.”

“the what?”

“the six-sided bolt, babe.”

you find it. “got it.”

“good. now take the wrench— the L-shaped one. the baby wrench.”

you laugh around the flashlight. “you mean the allen key?”

“i said what i said.”

you fit it into place, and it clicks. "what now?"

“turn it slowly. coax it back to life.”

“you’re stupid.”

“you’re smiling.”

he’s right. you are.

the background laughter comes again, through your phone. you take the flashlight out of your mouth and furrow your eyebrows, now glaring at the phone.

seungmin huffs. “ignore them. they’re just mad no one calls them to fix things with love and precision.”

you grin and go back to work. “why love?”

“you think i’d be guiding you through garbage disposal in a limousine if i wasn’t in love with you?”

you pause. heart full. “i love you too, minnie.”

“i know,” he murmurs. “now finish the job, so you can text me a picture when it works and i can brag to those idiots about how you’re the best mechanic alive.”

“deal,” you grin.

"and hey?"

"yeah?"

“don’t go getting too good at this independent thing without me, alright? you’ll end up not needing me anymore.”

you roll your eyes fondly. “bye, seungmin.”

“bye, love.”

your phone buzzes unexpectedly—no text, no facetime request, just a straight-up call. that never happens unless something’s wrong.

“hello?”

there’s a beat. then a shaky inhale on the other end of the line. not panicked, but definitely not seungmin’s usual snarky hello either.

“minnie?” you answer, sitting up straighter. “everything okay?”

he exhales again, this time more controlled, like he’s trying to reset himself mid-breath. “yeah, sorry, i just—sorry, this is gonna sound really dumb.”

“are you okay?” you ask again, softer this time.

“yeah. yeah, i just—” he pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “we were walking into this venue, right? and i wasn’t thinking, just messing around with jeongin, and suddenly…”

he trails off.

“suddenly?” you prompt.

“i caught this scent. like perfume. i don’t know who it was, just someone walking by, but it—” he lets out a shaky breath. “it smelled so much like you.”

your heart clenches. “me?”

“yeah,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s embarrassed. “and i just—god, i didn't know i could recognize it so easily, y’know? i never paid attention to that stuff before. but it hit me so fast. like my brain was like, oh, she’s here, and i looked around like an idiot.”

you’re quiet, lips curling into something helpless and warm. “you’re so cute.”

“shut up,” he mutters, and it sounds half-defensive, half-melting. “i was just—i don’t know, kind of spiraling.”

“i should’ve given you the bottle before you left,” you murmur. “you could’ve sprayed it on your pillow or something. maybe your hoodie. made it easier.”

“okay well, actually,” he says, suddenly brisk. “i’m in a fragrance store right now.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “what?”

“i literally walked away from the guys and came in here. i don’t even know what i’m doing.”

you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “so you called me to ask what perfume i use?”

“maybe,” he says quietly. “maybe i just wanted to hear your voice while i looked for you in a bottle.”

you bury your face in your hand. “seungmin.”

“don’t make it a thing,” he grumbles, but his voice is soft again. “just tell me what it is. i wanna spray it on my wrist or my hoodie or something, and maybe then i won’t look around every time i smell it.”

you tell him, and he repeats it back softly, twice—like he’s memorizing it.

“okay,” he says, “i found it.”

you smile into the phone. “go on then, give it a try. you gotta confirm it’s really me.”

there’s a little silence. the soft pop of the sample nozzle. then—

he gets quiet.

too quiet.

you wait, lips parted, holding your breath like the silence might break if you exhale too hard.

“minnie?” you say gently.

on the other end of the line, there’s a small rustle—like he’s pulling the test strip closer—and then a faint breath, nearly soundless.

“...yeah,” he says, but it’s barely there. hushed. careful.

“is it the right one?” you ask, smiling even though you can’t see him.

another pause.

“it feels like you’re right here.”

you chest tightens.

another rustle—probably him turning away from the counter, footsteps echoing as he walks deeper into the store.

“i need to hang up.”

you blink. “wait, what? why—”

“just—thank you,” he says, quickly, like it hurts. “seriously. thank you.”

“min—”

but the line clicks before you can finish.

your phone rings just as you're brushing your teeth, screen lighting up with minnie calling. it’s early—too early for your brain to do much thinking—but your heart wakes up faster than the rest of you.

you swipe the call and press it to your ear, foam still in your mouth.

“hi, seungmin,” you mumble around your toothbrush, voice muffled and lazy.

he doesn't answer right away. just… breathes.

low. slow. deliberate.

you pause mid-brush. “...minnie?”

“baby,” he says, and something about his voice makes your hand freeze midair. deeper than usual. lower. like he’s under the covers, talking into the pillow.

“what time is it over there?”

“past midnight.”

“shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

a quiet chuckle. “couldn’t. been thinking about you.”

your cheeks warm instantly as you flicked the light switch and made your way to your bedroom.

“earlier today, your scent,” he adds, voice dragging a little now, like he’s letting each word settle before moving on. “you really messed me up with that.”

you sit down on the edge of your bed, heart pounding. “what are you doing?”

he inhales, slow—like he’s giving you a hint without actually saying anything.

“mm… i'm in bed,” he says, voice velvety. “lights are off. window’s open a little.”

you smile, because he’s playing. “and?”

he’s silent for a beat. then—softly, “jisung’s not here.” his designated hotel roommate.

you lean back into your pillow, a little breath catching in your throat. “where is he?”

“went to see chan. they’re doing a livestream in his room.” a pause. “won’t be back for a while.”

you don’t say anything—can’t, really—but the line’s quiet in that loaded kind of way. your breath hitches just enough.

he hears it.

“you gonna keep pretending you don’t know what i’m doing?” he says, voice dipping into something firmer, smoother. “or are you gonna be good and ask me what i want you to do?”

your legs press together on instinct, pulse suddenly very loud in your ears.

“we haven’t had a call like this yet,” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

“i know, baby. for now just stay with me.”

distance could do terrible things to people who loved each other. it stretched silence into assumptions, turned waiting into resentment, made every little misstep feel like betrayal.

and tonight, it was doing its worst.

“i just don’t get why you didn’t say anything,” you snap, hands gripping the steering wheel. “you waited until now to bring this up?”

“because i knew you’d react like this,” seungmin fires back, voice tight, like he’s trying not to be overheard.

“like what? like i have a problem with you being honest?”

“no,” he says, “like you twist it into something about you. like you always do.”

“wow.” you pause. blink. “you’re backstage, aren’t you?”

“yes.”

“then why the hell did you call me now if you don’t even have time to talk about this properly?”

“because it’s been eating me alive and i didn’t want to go on stage feeling like this, okay?” his voice wavers. not loud. just frayed.

you exhale, eyes stinging. “i’m not your emotional dumping ground.”

you suck in a shaky breath, throat tight.

“and you could’ve talked about this without raising your voice at me,” you say, quieter now.

there’s silence on the line.

you hear him shift, maybe press his palm over the phone. muffled voices in the background—staff calling him.

“anyway,” you continue, forcing the tremble out of your voice. “i don’t want to bring you down before your show.”

he’s still silent.

“i’m sorry, seungmin. i really am.” your voice softens further. “i love you. are we good?”

a beat. then—

“yeah. we’re good.”

your heart clenches.

you wait.

just for a second.

just long enough to hope he says it back.

but he doesn’t.

the line goes dead.

you sit there, phone still pressed to your ear, staring at nothing.

it’s been hours. half a day, maybe more.

you haven’t heard from him since.

you’re at your desk, legs curled under your chair, coffee cold, unread emails glowing in tabs you haven’t touched.

your phone buzzes.

seungmin: just got back. wanna call?

you stare at the message, thumb hovering.

you: it’s past midnight over there.

a few seconds later:

seungmin: it’s alright. are you busy?

you glance around your office—empty, quiet, dim with the afternoon light pooling through the blinds. the answer’s obvious.

you: no.

the typing bubble appears. disappears. Then your screen lights up.

incoming call: seungmin

your heart skips.

you hesitate just a moment but you answer anyway.

“hey,” he says softly, voice scratchy, tired. like he’s been sitting in silence just waiting to hear you.

you don’t say anything right away.

he waits.

“you should be asleep,” you murmur.

he chuckles faintly. “couldn’t. been thinking about you.”

you exhale, shoulders dropping just a little. “me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you rest your chin on your hand, eyes tracing the little scratches on your desk, voice still quiet. “how was the concert?”

he breathes out a small laugh. “we did well. it was great.”

“were you tired during the dance sets?” you ask gently, genuinely. “you didn’t sound winded, but i know you’ve been pushing your knee too hard.”

there’s a pause.

he says, voice low with something like awe. “yeah, it was sore. but i iced it after. chan made me”

you laugh.

then, soft again, he says, “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes. “me too.”

and it’s not everything, not the whole conversation. but it’s enough for now.

“I love you,” you whisper, trying again.

you can hear him smiling, even through the static.

“i love you too,” he says. “so much.”

you smile back, cheeks warm and aching in the best way.

but then—softly, almost before you mean to say it.

“i don’t wanna get used to this.”

there’s a pause. the kind that makes your throat tighten.

“used to what?” he asks gently.

you swallow. “being apart from you.”

he breathes in through his nose. slowly. “you think that’s happening?”

you shrug, even though he can’t see you. “some days it’s easier. and i hate that. like… am i supposed to be okay with not hearing your voice until midnight? with seeing you through screens more than in person?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just listens.

so you go on, voice smaller now. “are we starting to miss each other less?”

and then he says it, soft but sure.

“no.”

“i’m scared i’m gonna,” you admit, a little too quietly.

he exhales. “you won’t.”

“how do you know?”

“because i’m still here,” he says. “and every time you call, every time you say my name, it still feels like the first time. i’m never gonna be something you forget how to want.”

you blink fast, throat thick.

“even if it gets easier,” he adds, “it doesn’t mean it means less. it just means we’re learning how to carry it better.”

you nod, tears prickling—but this time, they feel okay.

safe.

like love you can live inside of.

“you’re still the first thing i think about,” you whisper.

“good,” he murmurs. “same.”

you pick up and immediately the screen is sideways, showing a very blurry Jisung laughing so hard he’s bent over the hotel bed.

"hellooooo," jisung yells directly into the phone.

you blink. "uh… hi?"

the screen rights itself. seungmin appears—barefaced, hair messy, eyes way too shiny to be sober. he’s lying on his stomach, chin squished into a pillow, voice soft and dangerously sweet.

“hi, baby,” he says, all low and slurred and dangerous.

“oh no,” you whisper. “how drunk are you two?”

“not drunk,” he insists.

“he’s drunk,” jisung confirms helpfully, popping into frame again and waving.

“shut up,” seungmin mumbles, blindly swatting at him.

you snort. “what’s happening over there?”

“he has something to tell you,” jisung says smugly.

seungmin groans, burying half his face in the blanket. “jisung…”

“tell her what you told me,” jisung insists.

“han jisung, shut your entire mouth.”

“too late. he said—” jisung gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “‘if she were here right now I’d let her ruin my life.’”

a beat of silence.

then seungmin smacks him off camera with a pillow.

seungmin flips back into frame, completely disheveled and pouty. “seriously, come over sweetpea.”

“i’m in a different country.”

“weak excuse,” he grumbles, already rolling over onto his side like the call’s exhausting him.

jisung peeks in again, holding up a half-eaten macaron. “if you were here, we’d give you one of these.”

you laugh, full and warm, cheeks sore from smiling.

“save some for me then,” you say, voice soft but playful.

seungmin doesn’t hear it—he’s already buried back into the pillow, mumbling something incoherent about what the bed smells like.

but jisung hears it.

he freezes, mid-bite, eyes snapping to the screen.

you meet his gaze.

he widens his eyes, mouthing: really?

you bite back a smile and give the tiniest, most deliberate nod.

his entire face lights up, but then he clamps his mouth shut, physically slaps a hand over it, and glances at Seungmin, who’s currently face down and humming the mario kart theme into the blanket.

“oh my god,” Jisung mouths again, silently losing it.

you put a finger to your lips, shhh.

he nods rapidly, then mimes zipping his lips and throwing the key.

seungmin groans. “why is it so quiet now? what—are you guys passing notes like it’s high school?”

“no,” jisung says, biting into his macaron and struggling not to beam. “just studying. real academic vibes over here.”

seungmin rolls over again, squinting. “weirdos.”

you just smile.

“see you soon,” you whisper, quiet enough that only jisung catches it.

and he grins like he’s holding the world’s best secret. because he is.

the screen lights up with a familiar facetime ring.

you answer, already smiling. “hi.”

his face appears—dim lighting, hoodie up, hair messy like he’s been running his hands through it all night. he’s lying on his side in bed, camera slightly tilted. there’s a stillness to him tonight. the kind that feels heavier than silence.

“hey,” he says, voice low. a little tired. a little distant.

you tuck your legs underneath you on the couch. “how long’s it been now?”

he doesn’t even pause to think. “five months.”

you nod. “we’re halfway.”

“only halfway.”

your breath catches at that. you weren’t expecting him to say it like that—like it’s a sentence.

you sigh, fingers tightening around your phone. “yeah.”

for a moment, neither of you say anything.

“i know you’re tired,” you say gently.

“i’m fine,” he replies, but there’s no weight behind it. like he’s used to pretending. “it just… feels really far tonight.”

you nod slowly, throat tight. “i know. it feels far for me too.”

he looks at you for a second longer—eyes a little glassy, lips parted like he’s about to say something, then thinks better of it.

but he does.

“i miss you, sweetheart.”

your breath catches in your chest.

he rarely calls you that. only when he means it. when he’s feeling something he doesn’t know how to explain in full sentences.

you swallow hard. “soon.”

he nods, slow. “yeah. soon.”

he has no idea just how soon.

no idea that your suitcase is already packed. that your flight lands tomorrow morning. that the hotel front desk already has your name and a keycard.

and as he murmurs, “i wish i could hold your hand right now,”

you smile.

“you will,” you say softly.

you keep replaying it in your head—seungmin’s face when he saw you in the crowd. that second of shock, then the dumbest grin as he stumbled over a lyric and tried to play it off like he meant to do that. you’d almost cried. almost.

and now it’s past midnight, the concert hours behind you, and you know he’s taken his time wiping off the sweat and glitter of it all, probably still tangled in post-show chaos and crew goodbyes.

which is why, when you hear the knock at your hotel room door, your heart does that annoying fluttery thing. you don’t even hesitate—you’re off the bed in seconds, bare feet padding across the floor, and you already know who it is before you check the peephole.

you open the door.

and there he is.

hair slightly damp, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, backpack slung over one shoulder. tired eyes—but shining. always shining when they’re on you.

most of his face is hidden in the shadows of the hood, just the curve of his cheekbone catching the hallway light. you can’t really see him, not fully. but you’d know that silhouette anywhere.

you don’t even get a word out. he drops his bag, wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into him like you’re the only thing holding him up. you let out a small squeal, laughing, your arms looping around his neck just as he lifts you straight off the ground.

“seungmin—!” you giggle as he spins you in a circle, your feet kicking in the air.

“i missed you,” he breathes into your shoulder before setting you down slowly. “i missed you so bad.”

once your feet touch the carpet, you're grabbing the front of his hoodie and tugging him inside. the door swings shut behind him with a soft click, and before he can blink, you’re kissing him.

he melts immediately, like he’s been waiting all night for this because he has. his hands slide back around your waist, pulling you in tighter and you giggle into it—completely overwhelmed and completely in love.

he stumbles forward a little, still kissing you, until your back hits the wall with a muted thud. you gasp softly into his mouth, grinning now as he presses into you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, dazed.

“what…” he breathes, his lips brushing yours, “…what are you doing here?”

you blink at him, still catching your breath, still grinning. “i wanted to come surprise you.”

he just stares at you for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real. then he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “you’re a crazy, crazy girl, you know right?”

“you think i’d let you go out of the country for ten months and not visit you?” you say, voice light, teasing, warm. “you really thought i could go that long without seeing your dumb face?”

he doesn’t answer. just lets out this soft, wrecked little sound—half-laugh, half-sigh—as he wraps his arms around you again, tighter this time. he buries his face into your hoodie, right against your collarbone, his breath warm through the fabric. you hug him back instantly, arms wrapping under his and holding him close. he clings. like he’s cold and you’re the only source of warmth he’ll ever need.

“come on,” you murmur, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head gently. “let me see you, now.”

he shakes his head against you, just the tiniest movement. doesn’t loosen his grip. doesn’t lift his head.

“seungmin,” you whisper again, a little firmer, leaning back slightly so you can reach up and tug his hood down.

the fabric falls away. his hair’s tousled, still a little damp from a shower or maybe the rain outside, and his face is hidden—tilted down, eyes trained on the floor. he still hasn’t looked at you properly.

all he does is lift his hand up to his face. wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. you catch the tremble in his fingers.

a sniffle.

“oh, minnie…” you whisper, your heart cracking wide open.

despite the way he towers over you, his shoulders are hunched, his head bowed low like he’s trying to disappear into himself.

you coo softly, barely a sound.

that does it.

he lets out this weak, shaky sigh like he’s been holding it in since the moment he saw you at the concert, maybe longer—and your chest seizes with it. he turns his face just slightly, burying it into your shoulder again, arms wrapping tight around your waist like he's scared you'll vanish if he lets go.

your hands are already moving—one smoothing over his back, the other stroking his hair—your body swaying with his as he starts to let out shaky, quiet gasps.

he sniffles again, shoulders still trembling, but when he finally speaks, it’s muffled into your hoodie. “the members were betting on me. on whether or not i’d cry when i saw you.”

you let out a little laugh and reach up to cup his cheeks, gently swiping away the fresh tears still clinging to his lashes. “and who said you wouldn’t cry?”

he hesitates. “me.”

you laugh again—soft and a little breathless—as your thumbs brush gently under his eyes. “of course you did,” you murmur, fingers sliding up to smooth through his damp hair.

he lets out a weak chuckle, eyes fluttering closed at your touch. he leans into your hand for a second before straightening up a bit, pulling his shoulders back like he’s trying to regain a sliver of composure.

even now, red-eyed and sniffling, there’s still something solid about him. the way he holds you, the way he stands just a bit in front of you like he’d shield you from the world if it even looked at you wrong.

seungmin's lips part, like he wants to say something but the words won’t come. instead, he just stares at you, eyes darting across your face like he’s trying to take in every inch of you he’s missed. like he’s scared you’ll be gone if he blinks too long.

“you have no idea how much i needed this,” he whispers.

you step closer, hands finding his again. “that's why i'm here.”

he shakes his head, fingers tightening around yours. “no, like—” he exhales hard, eyes shining as he glances down at your joined hands. “you don’t get it. every night, i’d come back and just... lie on the hotel bed and pretend you were next to me. i missed everything. your voice, your stupid little yawns, the way you poke me when i zone out.”

you let out a laugh, watery and soft. “i do not poke you.”

“you do,” he insists, eyes wide like it’s the most important fact in the world. “you go like this—” he imitates a dramatic jab to your side, making you laugh and swat his arm. he chuckles, bright and breathless, and then quiets.

your heart flutters and you don’t even try to hide how it shows on your face. you tug his hand and backpedal toward the bed, flopping onto it with a gentle bounce. propped up on your elbows, you tilt your head at him. “c’mere.”

seungmin shrugs off his backpack, then tugs his hoodie off by the back—grabbing it near the collar and pulling it over in one smooth, practiced motion. he holds it in front of him for a second, then slips out of the sleeves with the opposite hand.

his t-shirt clings in places and hangs loose in others, fabric soft and worn and framing the lean lines of his torso in a way that’s criminally distracting. your eyes fall on the way it shifts with every movement—subtle dips of collarbone, the slight curve of his waist.

your fingers curl slightly in the blanket beneath you as he steps closer, and your breath hitches without permission. god, you missed him. not just his face or his voice, but all of him—how he moves, how he fills the space around you like no one else can.

seungmin crawls onto the bed, slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. the mattress dips under his weight and the second he's close enough, your hands reach up instinctively—fingertips grazing his forearm, his side, like you’re checking if he’s really here.

he smells like his body wash, clean and warm with something a little woodsy. familiar. comforting. so him.

then he leans in, arms bracketing either side of your body, and your whole world narrows to just the space between you, until finally—finally—his lips brush against yours.

it’s soft. barely even a kiss at first, more like the ghost of one, like he’s still afraid he’ll break the moment if he moves too fast. but you kiss him back, and then he presses in more fully, and it’s everything. warm and slow and full of all the things you’ve both been trying not to say out loud.

he kisses you again, and again, each one a little deeper than the last—like he’s making up for every single day you were apart. one hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb sweeping tender over your cheek.

“i love you so much,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. like it still stuns him just how badly he felt it.

you nod, blinking back the sudden sting behind your eyes. “i love you too.”

he exhales shakily, and then he kisses you once more—slow, full of longing—and you swear you feel the world right itself a little, just because he’s here.

he pulls away, just slightly, and rests his forehead against yours. your noses bump, and he closes his eyes, smiling so softly it barely lifts the corners of his mouth. “i was scared you’d forget about me.”

you shake your head, hand settling over his heart. “you’re impossible to forget. trust me, i tried.”

“i know,” he breathes. “me too. it was unbearable sometimes.”

you tilt your chin up and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, slow and lingering. his skin is warm under your lips, and you feel him exhale shakily, his body softening against yours like your touch is the thing holding him together.

his hands wander a little now, like he can’t help it—tracing slow lines along your back, the dip of your waist, smoothing down your arm and back up again. his hand slips beneath the shirt under your hoodie, smoothing over bare skin, and your breath catches.

you let him pull the layers of fabric over your head. let him take his time. he kisses down your neck, your chest, soft and focused, every press of his lips asking, are you sure?

and every answer you give is yes.

you wake up slowly, warm and hazy, the kind of rest that only comes after feeling completely safe. the curtains are still drawn, soft light peeking through just enough to glow against the sheets.

and then you feel it—his hand, resting on your waist. his thumb tracing little circles on your skin, like he never stopped touching you even in his sleep.

you blink your eyes open.

he’s already awake, head propped on one arm, looking at you with the calmest expression you’ve ever seen on him. the kind that makes your heart ache just a little because you know how much he doesn’t show easily.

“you’re staring,” you murmur, voice rough from sleep.

“you’re pretty when you’re confused and squinty,” he says, lips curving just barely.

you smile, still half-asleep, but it turns real fast when he leans in and kisses you—soft and unhurried, his fingers brushing your cheek like he’s still making sure you’re real.

“good morning,” you whisper.

“technically almost noon,” he teases. “but yeah. it’s good now.”

he pulls back, just enough to give you room as you sit up, blanket tugged up to cover your chest. your fingers instinctively rake through your tangled hair, and he watches you with a little too much amusement.

then he shifts, reaching over the side of the bed to dig through his bag.

“i have something for you,” he says casually.

and then he turns back around—with a box of macarons in his hand.

you gasp, grinning instantly. “you didn’t.”

he takes one out, leans in with the smuggest little grin, and holds it to your lips.

“if you were here,” he says, softly now, “you’d be eating one of these. and you are. so.”

you roll your eyes, but open your mouth anyway, taking a bite—and he watches you like he just won the lottery.

“sweet enough?” he murmurs.

you swallow, cheeks warm. “almost.”

he leans in again, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“now?” he asks.

“perfect,” you whisper.

and he smiles like he never wants to be anywhere else ever again.

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junkiespromise

1 year ago

grabbing every 13 yo girl by the arms and yelling "YOU LOOK FINE !!!!!!! DON'T SPEND UR ALLOWANCE ON CONCEALERS GO SEE A BAD MOVIE INSTEAD !!!!!!!!!!! BEAUTY IS POETRY AND SONGS AND LAUGHTER W FRIENDS AND COLORFUL LEAVES !!!!!!!!!! GO READ A MARY OLIVER POEM AND YOU'LL BE OK!!!!!!!!!"

79K notes View Post

junkiespromise

2 years ago

Happy birthday PJ!!

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junkiespromise

2 years ago

I'm at like two hundred notes in the ts masterlist wtf, thank youu <3

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junkiespromise

2 years ago

superstar | ms47

request: can "superstar" be about mick? y/n is a very supportive girlfriend and she cheers for him and goes to every race but she's not famous, she's a "pretty normal" person compared to him, so his fans don't really understand what he sees in her?

summary: where two young kids fall in love but the world one of them is involved in seems to be against their happiness.

warnings: angst yeah and a bit of relationship doubts.

notes: the second story and first request of the eras masterlist is finally here! i hope ypu guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writting it, also it was my first social media au, and remember that requests are still opened!

masterlist

Mick’s life had always been filled with the thrilling sound of car engines and the adrenaline that comes with excessive speed. His father being probably the most famous Formula One driver in history was perhaps the reason why he was so interested and enamored by the sport, making him always wonder if his father was not who he was, would he even be this obsessed with it, or would he want to be a football player or a pianist.

So he made his way through the motorsport world, karts like any kid and then a formula three and two champion until he achieved the highest category and just like his father he became a Formula One driver but he realized that even now when he had finally achieved everything he had dreamed of, he felt, lonely.

Even when he stepped inside the most rapid vehicles in history, where he thought he would feel the most complete, his heart told him that something was missing, to make it alright, to put it all in place. He didn’t know what it was but his soul ached for it, he longed for a deeper connection, someone who would see him for who he truly was and understand his mind and soul.

So when he crossed paths with Y/N, one Sunday evening back home in Germany those lingering feelings disappeared, he knew she was the one.

Mick remembers the day they met as if it was yesterday, he remembered her clothes and could describe in a detailed way how her hair was wrapped in a hair band forming a low ponytail that rested on her shoulder.

He was wearing some long-sleeved shirt that was years old and a pair of dark blue jeans tightened with a belt that probably belonged to his father, considering the damaged black leather of it.

That cold evening he and his sister decided to go out for a coffee, and after an insisting chat with Gina, he decided to go. He was back home, finally, after a never stopping routine of constant travel he had some time for his own, and like every year he went to Germany, with his family. So that day they decided on a small café that not many people frequented.

Mick had asked for a cappuccino and Gina for a macchiato, his order was the first one they called but just as he was stepping towards the girl who was handing it to him, exactly like in a rom-com his sister made him watch, he felt a coldness hit his chest, in a second his white long-sleeved shirt was splashed in brown iced coffee.

A wave of apologies said by a sweet voice filled his ears and that was the moment he finally looked at the girl who had accidentally thrown her coffee onto his shirt.

—Don't worry too much, I'm lucky it was an iced one—He said, slightly chuckling, placing his hand on her wrists, stopping her from smudging it more. Now his mind wondered why she was even ordering it when outside you could see slight traces of snow.

Their eyes finally met, for the first time, before, she was too busy trying to get rid of the stain on his shirt to pay attention to the person she was cleaning it off of. Embarrassed by the situation with her cheeks flushed in a light pink that went all the way up to her ears she stopped for a moment the apologies.

They told each other their names and rapidly started talking, as if faith had brought them together and made them meet like that. In the back, Gina laughed at the poor flirting attempts of her brother who had also completely forgotten about their arranged siblings' coffee date.

And for months after that, they were friends, each too afraid to confess the feelings they had, until finally, one night, when he had traveled to her hometown as a surprise Mick tried to in the most rom-comish way he could, confess his feelings.

Afraid about not hearing an answer to his confession, all kinds of thoughts run through his mind, maybe he had read the signals wrongly and she just wanted to be friends.

But for his luck, the thoughts were interrupted by a pair of lips clinging onto his.

Now, months into their relationship he knew that she was that missing piece he had looked for all along. He raced in the fastest cars in the world yet he felt more adrenaline when he looked at her, his nervousness when he started a race did not compare to that of placing his eyes on hers. And his worries faded to nothing when he looked at her

But people started talking, they always did, and at first, not caring was so easy, in the end, a relationship with a superstar who has thousands of fans all around the world was hard for everyone who was in one, except that to Y/N, his fans seemed harsher on the critics.

They speculated about her motives, if it was for some quick fame or the money he could bring to your home or even the connections she could get and that after catching them she would rapidly leave him, both of them knew the truth, they loved each other and nothing could stop them from it but sometimes it felt like they could.

Mick knew he shouldn't doubt their relationship but he could not stop his mind from wandering if she truly loved him, he knew he loved her but what if it was not like that to her, what if they were right.

The doubts started to get to his head, the side comments, the replies to any post he made about her or she made about him, they, at a point, became to much, so the distancing started between them, slowly, but not slow enough for her to not notice.

yourusername

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yourusername half of my weekend dump !

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sarahluvs47 only here for the mick content like all of us.

formulaleclerc this the girl mick is dating, why? lol

wagsl0ver no one know really, he could

truly do much better

yourbestfriend you look so hot, how do you do it, stop

As the sun began to set in the Saudi Arabia grand prix circuit, everyone's faces filled with excitement, the voices high pitched with enthusiasm. She stood with her hands on the metal railings that separated the crowd from the track.

Although excitement filled the air, Y/N's heart ached. She loved Mick, so much, his love completed her, but people commented on it, on a love that was so pure it seemed almost indestructible, and for a moment she was so foolish she believed that, that their love would be forever, even with all the comments from the outside, their own little world would stay the same.

She knew, the second Mick had told her he was a driver, a formula one driver, that it would be hard to maintain a relationship with a superstar like him. But she was willing to try, even if it meant that the moment she stepped out into the world as Mick Schumacher's girlfriend, that her way of living would not be the same and that that quiet life she liked to have would not be possible, at least for the time they dated. And for him, she was willing to try.

Taking a deep breath in, she locked her phone, reading through the dozens of messages and comments people left her was exhausting and she did not understand the why of them, she hadn't done anything to anyone, she was aware of the ruthlessness of the internet but she had never experienced it first hand.

The comments had been recently getting to her head and she knew they had gotten to Mick's too. Lately he had been more distant, quieter also, and she didn't know what to do about it, talk would be the obvious thing but she avoided serious talks at all costs, she wasn't good at it and her eyes got all watery when she made eye contact with the one she was talking too. But, right now, it seemed like the only thing she could do, force him to chat with her.

…

The wheels on the car were barely been held together, after forty two laps with them and fifty seven laps total, the race was coming to an end and for the first time, Mick, was finally going to place his feet in the podium, second place, just milliseconds behind the blue car numbered "one".

Gina and Corinna sat by her side, the three of them on the verge of tears. The cameras pointed at their faces and then back at the race, she wouldn't celebrate yet, to her it was bad luck. Her heart accelerated at the same pace as the cars passing on the screen in front of her, one more lap and it was his.

The checkered flag appeared in the air, finally it had come to an end, the moment the car passed the checkered flag, the three women and the entire team got up, at the same time, screaming and hugging each other. Now they waited for him to arrive and congratulate him.

Her eyes placed on his, she knew that behind that helmet, a pair of blue eyes were staring back. She smiled when he finally ran towards his team to hug them, the flashing of cameras and screams filled her ears but as soon as he reached out for her and his arms wrapped around her, her head on his chest, his helmet still on, it felt as if they were the last people on earth, just them.

It was celebration day for Mick Schumacher, after that eventful race and his first podium he could finally celebrate it, with his friends and his team, even part of his family and of course, his girlfriend who had been with him for months now and was one of his biggest supporters.

He had changed already after a shower, into a pair of light washed jeans and a navy blue shirt. Mick looked at himself in the bathroom mirror one last time, he didn't need to look great but in the end it was a celebration for him so he had to be presentable at least. After a few minutes in the bathroom he finally came out to go look for his girl, who he thought was going to go with him.

He was surprised to find his girlfriend facing towards the TV, sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a matching black and light pink sweats set he had gotten her one time after she had told him she had liked it. Her phone facing down by her side and her hands where, he supposed, resting on her face, covering it.

— Hey, what's wrong? Are you not coming? — He sat by her side, putting his arm around her, fingers softly twisting her hair between them.

— We have to talk Mick, I, I can't stand this anymore — Her voice cracked at the end, even if she tried to hide it, he knew it had.

— What? Y/N, look at me, what is going on? — His hands grabbed her face now, his blue eyes scanning over her features, she was god damn gorgeous.

— Those comments, you know, they keep saying that I'm only with you because of your connections and shit, and you have been so distant lately I just — She looked in his eyes, not for long before she drifted them away from him and started to look at different things that seemed now, extremely interesting. Not the best at keeping eye contact especially in moments like those.

Mick immediately reacted back with the intention of talking back, refusing to hear her re-call the comments but Y/N talked before.

— I just don't want that to destroy us and you to think that I'm looking for fame, I just love you so much, and you've been so great to me so you suddenly distancing yourself from me is, I, please don't hear them —

His heart broke when he heard her shut down cries and saw her tear stained face. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and his hands grabbed her head softly and hid it against his chest, immediately feeling a wetness on his shirt, her tears.

A wave of sorries emitted in a low flooded her ears his nose against her head whispering them closely.

— I, you were right, I did listen to some comments, but I doubted myself and if I would be able to have a true relationship, and with you after today I know I have it. — Y/N felt his smile as he talked just by hearing the way he said the words. — When mom talked to me after the race she told me that you were the one and that you looked at me the same way she looks at dad —

The blond haired boy smiled as soon as he felt the smile of her girlfriend on his chest.

With his right hand, the one which he was not holding her with, he cleaned her tears from her face — I love you, so much I can barely hold it inside of myself, okay? You are the best girl someone could ever ask for. — She said it back after that and he repeated it a few times before falling quiet and for a few minutes they stayed like that, her arms wrapped around his chest and her head on his chest, one of his hands on her back and the other on her hair softly caressing it.

When they separated her hands went to her cheeks to wipe away the tears she had, now drying. — So, you're staying? — He asked, she simply shook her head — I'll go get ready, i have the cutest outfit planned —

She got up and walked to the bathroom quickly — You had an outfit planned without even knowing if I would get on the podium? — he asked, laying down on the bed — Of course! I felt it in my heart, you know, that you were going to be up there. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to jinx it, so I kept it to myself. — Mick smiled, looking at the ceiling, she had felt in her heart that he would be on the podium, how was he supposed to act after knowing that.

— Okay, I'm ready, let's go — She appeared on the room again, wearing a silk dress, black fishnets and a pair of black mary janes on her feet, her hair slightly wet and her eyes painted with a sharp eyeliner.

— You look, great, gorgeous actually — He walked up to her, admiring the way she looked, when he was finally in front of her he kissed her, with love and pureness.

To Mick, Y/N was his superstar and he knew she was hers too.

mickschumacher

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mickschumacher celebrating P2 for the first time and some pics with her.

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yourusername i love you <3

gina_schumacher truly proud of you !

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Working On Some Franco Requests Rn, So, Prepare !

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superstar | ms47