With it being ONE DAY until the start of Niall's The Show Live On Tour, I thought I would do a silly little setlist prediction!! Please do not take this seriously, I am not an industry professional, I have just been a fan of Niall for more than a decade!!
Honestly, if I get any of these right, I'll be buzzing lmao
I am so very sorry for keeping you and everyone waiting but I have been so very busy that it’s almost boring 😭😭😭. Also I had almost forgot how I used to write with how long it has been since my last work 😭. And for Lewis, it’s not girlfriend but a wife (because that man deserves to be happily married—at least happy somewhere…yes, I am looking at you Ferrari 👀). And for Max, it’s a surprise (because I love my GOAT).
Anyway, Enjoy guys.
The Chai Diaries
F1 Drivers x Desi!Reader
Includes: Carlos Sainz Jr. • Oscar Piastri • Charles Leclerc • Lando Norris • Lewis Hamilton • Max Verstappen
55. Carlos Sainz Jr.
Off-season meant vacation—sleeping in, eating well, enjoying the sun, spending time with family and friends, and simply resetting after another chaotic year at the pinnacle of motorsport.
For Carlos, the off-season meant Madrid. It meant home. Family, warmth, familiarity—and her.
She had taken to his family quickly, almost suspiciously quickly, and they to her. Sometimes Carlos genuinely wondered if they loved her more than they loved him—not that he minded…most of the time. But the thought brought him peace too, because it meant they had accepted his choice without hesitation. They loved her as though she belonged there, as though she’d always been there, and not just for a handful of months.
His mother had even begun whispering to him—usually when they were shoulder-to-shoulder drying dishes or when she was proudly cooking an Indian dish for everyone—“She is the puzzle piece our family was missing.” And Carlos couldn’t agree more.
Of course, she wasn’t without her quirks. He had noticed them from the start—welcomed them, cherished them. One of the most defining ones was her devotion to chai. Not tea. Chai.
She had once confessed that chai in the morning was heavenly, almost sacred—something only truly perfect back home in India because the European version of “tea” simply wasn’t the same. And although she had tried to teach him—on his insistence—the results had been…memorable, but not in a good way.
But this morning, in Madrid with the sun just beginning to stretch across the sky, something shifted in him. So he padded downstairs in a plain T-shirt and sweats, armed with his phone and approximately a thousand chai recipe videos.
Twenty minutes of pausing, rewinding, replaying, and following the instructions like he was defusing a bomb—and he had a mug of chai. Strong brown against the vibrant colours of the mug she had claimed as hers from the very first day of the off-season. Steam curled upward, carrying a scent startlingly close to hers.
She was still asleep upstairs, wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of worn shorts that had definitely seen better days. Her hair was a mess, her lips parted, mumbling incomprehensible half-dream sentences. Utterly adorable, he thought.
He settled beside her and placed the mug on the bedside table. His hand—large, warm, calloused—slid into her hair, gently stroking. She shifted, her lips twitching into a small smile.
“Bebé, wake up,” he whispered.
She groaned dramatically, rolling away from him in protest. But then—she froze. Nose twitching. Sniffing the air like Piñón, which made Carlos choke on a laugh.
“Is that—”
“Yes.”
He had never seen her sit up that fast in the morning. Her eyes glittered, bright with excitement, and the grin on her face made something inside him melt. She looked younger like this, almost childlike, as she wrapped both hands around the mug with near reverence.
She took a tentative sip. Her eyes fluttered closed, a soft stunned laugh slipping out of her. When she looked back at him, there was wonder in her expression, her lips parted in astonishment.
“How did you…?”
Carlos only smiled, tilting his head with an air of mystery.
“That’s a secret, cariño.”
81. Oscar Piastri
Oscar wasn’t much of a cook.
He could cook enough to survive a day or two on his own, sure, but cooking—real cooking—wasn’t really in his skill set. That was something his girlfriend excelled at. Not that she minded; she liked cooking for him. She watched Australian recipes on YouTube and added subtle touches of Indian spices, each creation reducing Oscar to a blissed-out taster sighing into a world of exotic flavours and mouthwatering warmth.
She loved food too—loved tasting new things, discovering little tweaks and techniques she tucked away for later use. And despite the wide range of flavours she adored, one stood above the rest: chai.
Oscar had tasted it before—sips here and there, and one full cup when he’d been sick. But never had he tried to make chai. He never needed to. She liked her chai precise, crafted with muscle memory, impossible for anyone else to replicate.
But today, he needed to try.
Not because she was sick, or it was a special occasion, or he was trying to be romantic. No. It was because last night, curled into him beneath their blankets, she’d admitted in a small, tired voice that she was feeling homesick. That she missed her mother’s chai—the comfort, the warmth, the familiarity of waking up to a cup made with love.
For the first five minutes that morning, Oscar stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the milk and the fresh tea leaves she’d brought from India—staring at them as though they were plotting against him. But then he grabbed his phone, thumb tapping straight into YouTube. Straight to the one chef she trusted above all others: Ranveer Brar.
For twelve minutes, he watched “Masala Chai – Ranveer Brar.” Then he rewound. Watched again.
Twenty-four minutes in total. Researching, analysing, gathering courage like he was preparing for a qualifying lap.
Eventually, he moved—still lacking confidence, but fueled by determination—following the instructions with a level of precision he usually reserved for Zandvoort’s banking. The minutes stretched endlessly as he grated ginger, crushed cardamom, stirred the simmering milk, and prayed he wasn’t ruining it.
By the time the clock blinked 8:00, and he faintly registered her alarm going off down the hall, the chai was finally ready. He poured it into her favourite mug—the cute Winnie the Pooh one—and hurried to their bedroom while the steam still curled from the top.
She was sitting up on the bed, rubbing her eyes, hair messy, blanket still pooled around her waist. When she saw him standing there, her whole face brightened—until her eyes dropped to the cup in his hands, and she frowned in confusion.
“What’s that, baby?” she asked, voice soft and raspy with sleep.
He approached with a shy smile and sat beside her legs still tucked under the covers, the mug held out toward her like an offering he desperately hoped would be accepted.
She took it gently, eyebrows shooting up as she studied the swirling brown liquid. Steam curled into the air, letting the familiar scent of cardamom and black tea gradually fill the room. A small, surprised smile tugged at her lips. She let out a quiet chuckle before leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his cheek.
Oscar flushed immediately, smiling despite himself.
“Careful—it’s hot,” he murmured, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good morning, baby.”
She looked down at the chai, then up at him, her eyes warm and soft in a way that made his heart stumble.
“Good morning indeed.”
16. Charles Leclerc
Charles had never been a morning person—not really. Race weekends demanded it, sure, but left to his own devices he preferred to wake slowly, curled into warmth, buried under blankets, and especially when she was beside him.
But today, he was up first.
Because today, he had a mission.
Her family had flown back to India two weeks ago, and although she tried to hide it, Charles had noticed the small signs creeping in—the long silences when she scrolled through old photos, the little sigh she tucked into his chest at night, the way her eyes softened at the smell of cardamom in the grocery store. Homesick. Just a little. Just enough that it tugged at him.
So Charles, prince of Monaco, Formula One driver, man who could tame a Ferrari at 300 km/h but couldn’t boil pasta without supervision, had decided he would make her chai.
He had spent the better part of the night watching Ranveer Brar and a dozen Indian aunties on YouTube explain the “proper” technique. He had taken notes. He had tried his best.
And now, standing in their kitchen, he hovered over a simmering pot like it was a live bomb.
“Slow… slow… don’t let it spill,” he whispered to the milk as though it could hear him. “Please, s’il te plaît.” (Please.)
When it finally behaved, Charles exhaled dramatically, poured the chai into her favourite mug—one she had bought in Mumbai with little lotus flowers painted on the sides—and padded back to the bedroom.
She was still asleep, curled on her side, wrapped in the blanket like a spring roll. Her hair was a halo of chaos, one strand stuck adorably to her cheek. Charles smiled, the kind that softened everything sharp in him.
He knelt beside her and brushed a finger across her forehead.
“Amour… wake up,” he whispered.
Nothing.
He tried again, a little firmer.
“Baby… il fait jour.” (it’s daytime)
Still nothing. A tiny grumble slipped out from under the blanket and she pushed her face deeper into the pillow.
And then—her nose twitched.
Once.
Twice.
Then she shot upright so fast that Charles almost dropped the mug.
“Chai?” she demanded, eyes wide, hair wild, voice hoarse.
He blinked, impressed and a little terrified. “Uh… oui.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You made chai?”
He offered the mug like a peace treaty between nations.
“I tried,” he admitted. “Please don’t be angry if it tastes like… Monaco tap water.”
She giggled—still half-asleep, but already glowing. She wrapped both hands around the warm mug and lifted it to her lips.
One sip.
Her eyes closed.
A smile bloomed slowly, softly, like sunrise.
When she opened them again, Charles felt his heart do that stupid, painful squeeze it always did around her.
“This is…” she whispered.
“Terrible?” he winced.
“This is perfect,” she said instead, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to make him blush. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
He exhaled, relieved, pleased, glowing.
“Good morning, mon amour.”
She cupped his face with one warm chai-scented hand.
“Charles?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re making this every morning now.”
His eyes widened. “Quoi?!” (What?!)
She only smirked and sipped her chai again.
04. Lando Norris
Lando wakes up with a grin already on his face.
It’s her birthday.
Which means—according to his rules—she’s not allowed to lift a finger all day. Which also means he’s going to try something completely outrageous for her: making chai.
He tiptoes out of the bedroom, nearly tripping over his own foot in the process, then darts to the kitchen like a man on a mission. He pulls out the ingredients she keeps organized in the cupboard—tea leaves, spices, ginger—and sets them on the counter with the determination of someone about to perform open-heart surgery.
“Alright,” he mutters, opening YouTube. “Masala chai. Easy. Easy, right? Right. Oh bloody hell—nine minutes? Why is it nine minutes?”
He watches the video. Rewinds.
Watches again.
By the time he finishes brewing it, the kitchen looks like a war zone—ginger bits on the counter, milk almost overflowing once, Lando whisper-yelling “DON’T BOIL OVER, PLEASE” like he’s negotiating with it.
But when it finally reduces to that perfect chai colour, Lando beams proudly.
He pours it into the special mug he bought for her birthday—the one that says “World’s Best Girlfriend.” He knows she’ll tease him for it, but he also knows she’ll secretly adore it.
Holding the mug carefully, he sneaks back into the bedroom.
She’s still asleep, wrapped in the blanket, lips parted slightly with those little soft breaths he loves listening to. He sets the mug down before crawling onto the bed beside her.
“Birthday girl…” he whispers, brushing a stray curl off her forehead.
She shifts but doesn’t wake.
He leans closer.
“Babeeee… wake up. I made something for you.”
Nothing.
Then—her nose twitches.
Sniffs.
She sits up instantly, eyes wide, hair messy, blanket falling to her lap.
“No way. Lando. Did you—?”
He grins, chest puffed in pride.
“Made chai for the birthday princess.”
She takes the mug, eyes shining as she inhales the steam. The first sip makes her sigh—deep, warm, content.
“Oh my God… you actually did it.”
He flops onto his back dramatically.
“You have no idea what I went through. I fought milk. I fought ginger. I fought for my life.”
She laughs, leaning over to kiss him.
“Thank you, baby.”
He grins up at her.
“Only the best for you. And before you ask—yes, you’re staying in bed. The whole day. I’ve got plans.”
Her smile softens.
“Best birthday ever.”
44. Lewis Hamilton
The morning light filtered gently through the London penthouse, golden and soft—the kind of sunlight that felt intentional, as if it knew today mattered. Their anniversary. Another year of love, patience, shared growth, and stolen moments in the quiet.
Lewis was awake before her. He always was, but today there was a certain spark beneath his calm, the quiet buzz of someone planning something small yet meaningful. Large gestures were easy; he’d done them a thousand times in his life. But the real intimacy—the real romance—lived in the ordinary.
And today, that meant chai.
He padded into the kitchen barefoot, hair tied up messily, wearing an old white T-shirt and grey sweats. The kitchen was still, the city outside slow to rise. He breathed out, rolled his shoulders, and began.
She had taught him years ago—standing behind him, laughing softly every time he added too much ginger or too few cardamom pods. Now, he knew the process by heart. Not perfect, never quite like hers, but close enough that she always smiled and said it tasted like home.
He set the milk to warm, sprinkling in tea leaves, the aroma immediately rising like a memory. He added cloves, cardamom, ginger—freshly grated—and a touch of cinnamon the way she preferred on colder mornings. As the mixture simmered, he leaned against the counter, watching swirling trails of steam curl into the air.
He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips.
“Anniversary chai,” he murmured to himself with soft pride. “Look at me.”
He poured it carefully—slow, steady, like it was something sacred—and filled her favourite mug. The navy blue one with tiny gold lotus flowers she’d bought at a Mumbai street stall years ago. Steam rose delicately into his face, and without thinking, he leaned in and took a sip.
Just one.
…Then another.
“Damn,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly. “I did good.”
A sleepy voice drifted from the doorway.
“You really did.”
He froze mid-sip.
She stood there in one of his shirts, drowning slightly in the fabric, hair messy and eyes heavy with sleep. But the gentle smile on her lips was warm enough to melt him where he stood.
“Baby,” he whispered, caught like a kid stealing cookies.
She crossed her arms, pretending to be stern. “You’re stealing my chai.”
“This is quality control,” he defended, holding up the mug like evidence. “Very professional. Very important.”
“That’s my mug,” she pointed out.
“Your mug,” he agreed solemnly. “Our chai.”
She snorted softly, shaking her head as she walked toward him. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his waist from the side, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“You made chai for our anniversary,” she murmured. “That’s so…” Her voice softened. “…so you.”
He kissed the top of her head, hand gently cupping the back of her neck. “You once told me your mum used to wake you up with chai on special mornings.”
He tilted her chin up. “So today is a special morning.”
Her eyes glistened just a bit—warmth, nostalgia, and love blending all at once.
He offered her the mug, and she wrapped both hands around it instinctively, inhaling deeply before taking the first sip. Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh leaving her lips.
“Oh,” she breathed. “This is perfect.”
Lewis’s smile grew tender, proud, boyish.
“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Hamilton.”
She leaned up and kissed him—slow, grateful, lingering.
“Happy anniversary, love.”
He stole the mug back for another sneaky sip.
“Lewis!” she protested, laughing.
“Baby,” he said, backing away with exaggerated caution, “you married a man who shares—”
“You don’t share anything.”
“I share myself,” he corrected dramatically. “And also the chai. Sometimes.”
She chased him around the kitchen island, laughter echoing through the morning sun as he held the mug hostage, the two of them glowing with the soft joy of a love that had settled deeply, gently, beautifully into forever.
01. Max Verstappen
The house was quiet in that special, reverent way that only new parents understood—like the world itself was tiptoeing around the newborn sleeping inside it.
Max moved through the hallway slowly, socked feet silent against the hardwood floor. The morning sunlight was spilling gently through the curtains, casting long golden shapes across the living room. Everything felt softer today, calmer, as if the universe was intentionally turning the volume down.
Because today…today she was home.
Both of them.
He had barely slept the night before—not because of the baby (who, miraculously, slept better than he did)—but because every time he looked at either of them, his chest tightened with a kind of happiness he had never known how to hold.
His girlfriend, now dozing peacefully in their bedroom, had only been home from the hospital for twelve hours. Recovery was slow, painful at moments, and he could see the exhaustion etched into every line of her face last night. Still, she had kept insisting she was fine.
He didn’t believe her.
He knew her too well.
Which was why he was standing in the kitchen now, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess, staring far too seriously at a saucepan of milk, ginger, cardamom, and tea leaves.
Chai.
Her comfort, her home, her everything-in-a-cup.
She hadn’t been able to have proper chai at the hospital—too many interruptions, too many visitors, too many responsibilities. But this morning, when she shifted in her sleep and whispered a soft, tired “I miss home,” Max had already made up his mind.
And unlike his first few attempts months ago—when he had practically boiled the milk into oblivion—he had learned. She had taught him gently, laughing when he burned his tongue, guiding his hands when he crushed the spices the wrong way.
Now, he worked with a strange sort of intensity. Like he was preparing his tires for qualifying, but… softer. More careful. More important.
He lifted the saucepan off the heat and poured the chai through the strainer into her favourite mug—the hand-painted one with marigolds that her mother had gifted her.
The smell filled the kitchen: warm, spiced, familiar.
Perfect.
He padded down the hallway until he reached the bedroom door, nudging it open with his shoulder.
There she was.
Propped up slightly on pillows, hair messy, wearing one of his oversized shirts because she claimed they were the only things comfortable enough right now. Her eyes were half-open, still glazed with sleep, still tired in that new-mother way.
And tucked onto her chest, tiny and bundled in a soft cream blanket, was Lily.
Their daughter.
Their miracle.
Her fist no bigger than Max’s thumb.
He swallowed.
“Good morning, liefje…” he whispered.
She blinked up at him, confused for a moment—then her gaze dropped to the steaming mug in his hands.
Her breath caught.
“Max… you made chai?”
A tiny, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. I tried to make it like you do.”
He crossed the room carefully—he was so different now, so gentle, as if one wrong move might crack the world—and sat on the edge of the bed. She shifted Lily a bit, making room, and Max placed the mug on the bedside table.
“Let me hold her,” he murmured softly.
She nodded, guiding Lily into his arms. He cradled the baby with a tenderness that would have shocked anyone who knew him only on track. His wide hands looked enormous around her tiny form.
She watched him—watched the way his face melted, watched how his thumb brushed over Lily’s cheek like she was the most precious thing he had ever touched.
And then, when he was staring at the baby with awe, she picked up the mug and took a slow sip.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
It tasted like home.
It tasted like peace.
It tasted like him trying—really, really trying.
When she opened her eyes, Max was staring at her with that small, hopeful expression he rarely showed anyone.
“Is it good?”
Her smile trembled. “It’s perfect.”
He felt his shoulders drop in relief. Then, with a playful glance, he leaned over slightly.
“Can I… maybe taste?”
She raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want chai at eight in the morning?”
“I want your chai,” he said simply.
She lifted the mug and brought it closer to him. He leaned in—not too fast, because Lily was asleep—but enough to take a tiny sip.
He blinked.
Then smiled.
“That’s really good. I think I’m getting better.”
She laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.
“You’re getting perfect.”
Max’s eyes softened.
He looked down at Lily, then at her.
“Everything is perfect now.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead, lingering there, breathing her in.
For the first time in days, she felt the tension in her body ease. The warmth of the chai, the warmth of him, the tiny weight of their daughter between them—everything made her feel grounded again. Safe again.
Max shifted, placing Lily gently back on her chest, then curled himself behind her, wrapping one careful arm around both of them.
His voice was a whisper against her hair.
“Welcome home, mama.”
She closed her eyes, smile softening as she clutched her daughter and leaned back into him.
this outfit is so hallmark christmas movie of him… big city buck who visits his hometown and runs into handsome local firefighter eddie diaz who he hasn’t seen in years…
Personally, I am really REALLY hoping that for Eddie's feelings realization we get a dream sequence. Not of them kissing but it playing out like a normal BuckandEddie scene. A scene where the audience isn't aware it's a dream yet. They're at Eddie's house, hanging out and then-- then things get really tense. It's an almost kiss for sure but an alarm goes off.
A hand hits the alarm and we see it's EDDIE who had the dream and not Buck.
every since you were kids you’ve kissed mason’s football jersey for luck, until one time you’re not there, and it’s all his own fault.
⭒ Invisible string masterlist by @mountymase
It’s been you and your daughter until life decides to prank you by putting her dad back into your life. The only problem is that he doesn’t know he’s her dad.
⭒ Victory by @yungbludz
in which he plays against her dad’s team…
⭒ The interview by @threelionsgirl
⭒ Mummy was mine first by @ladymarycrawley
⭒ Forbidden but delightful by @/ladymarycrawley
⭒ Reputation by @carlottawllms
⭒ Back With You by @/carlottawllms
⭒ show me how by @leviscolwill
Mason Mount x f1 driver!reader
mason brings you as his plus one to the ballon d'or ceremony and although you're both used to cameras, you still need each other to ease your minds.
⭒ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴏʀ ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ? By @deltaromeo3
what happens when the reader and mason are together for a youtube video- Truth Asylum?
⭒ Celebrity Gogglebox by @robb8rs
⭒ Babying a boyfriend. By @errythinisblue
Taking care of a needy boyfriend can be tough, especially if said boyfriend is a needy Mason Mount.
⭒ Can’t You Feel It Too? By @neverinadream
Mason would do anything to be with you, even get down on his knees and beg for it.
⭒ best friends, uh? By @tsimvkas
⭒ gonna be the death of me by @pulisicsgirl
as his publicist, Y/N is willing to do whatever Mason needs to make him comfortable at his latest sponsored photoshoot
⭒ silence is deafening by @/pulisicsgirl
after a fight with Mason digs up memories she'd rather forget, Y/N is left to deal with trauma from her past and decide if she will let Mason in
⭒ take the pain away by @/pulisicsgirl
Y/N gets hurt, and Mason is immediately at her side, doing anything he can to take the pain away
⭒ caring for you by @/pulisicsgirl
following Mason's surgery, Y/N does everything in her power to take care of him and keep him comfortable, and his parents take note
⭒ 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 by @heyhihellosworld
Mason wants to introduce your daughter to the squad
⭒ Timeless by @alltoolewis
When you and Mason are cleaning your nan’s attic you discover a book of your grandparents love story… helping Mason think of the perfect anniversary present for you…
⭒ Patience by @mountsmase
⭒ and for my husband… by @tsimvkas
⭒ Chapters by @invisiblestringmm
A one night fling that turned into the reason of your whole life, then a month of falling in love with him… until he ghosted you. Mason was never there to watch her grow, completely unaware of his daughter’s existence. It was just you and Lilian Maisie against the world until fate decided play with you and change that — now you have to face the consequences of your decision to keep him out of her life for almost five years. And also try not to fall for him again when he reveals to be the best dad to your little girl.
Has a great plot line and wraps everything up in such a satisfying way! The main couple has so much chemistry, whether it be bickering or romance and it portrays the most realistic healthy relationship I've seen in a kdrama!
10/10 enemies to friends to lovers with a balanced attraction to each other and great chemistry
2. King the Land
The main couple is the power couple of healthy relationships and circumvent all the traditional tropes in a way that makes you launch your fist in the air with delight! I could not stop squealing at how cute they were! The chemistry was so good and it's the fluffiest kdrama I've ever seen with pretty much no conflict, making it the best drama to just cuddle up to.
10/10 ultimate comfort drama where the guy is whipped and the girl reciprocates perfectly with great chemistry
3. Touch Your Heart
She is the ultimate sunshine character and is so sweet that you'll fall for her (I was ready to protect her with my life) so imagine how deep the male lead falls for her. It's so adorable with both of them navigating a relationship for essentially the first time and they're really cute! The most trust I've ever seen in a kdrama relationship, it's amazing! There is one hard episode but it only happens because of external factors.
10/10 sunshine/grumpy who softens up and loves her adorably, with a trusting healthy relationship and great chemistry
4. Love to Hate You
Short, sweet and to the point, perfect for binge watching over a weekend since it's 10 episodes. Main couple has a realistic healthy relationship and great communication between them. No skippable parts and you can see how they both grow on each other in a really sweet way.
10/10 bingeworthy drama where the guy falls first and the girl is a feminist icon with a healthy relationship and good chemistry
5. Run On
Slice of life type kdrama that focuses on two couples. The main couple starts out awkwardly but grows to have more chemistry, they're pretty lowkey and subtle about their relationship. Second couple is peak sunshine/grumpy pairing with the guy being the sunshine one. It follows everyone through their lives so you can see the characters grow and change over the course of the drama and the romance is simply a part of the bigger picture. Main couple has a really realistic healthy relationship.
10/10 in general as a kdrama since the characters really grow on you
9/10 in terms of romance since it's not the main point of the drama but does portray a really healthy relationship with pretty good chemistry
---------Other Dramas that are good but don't fall under the umbrella of Healthy Relationship---------
6. Because This Is My First Life
Follows three couples so the relationships range. Not necessarily healthy relationships (they get there in the end) but realistic and probably something relatable for everyone across the three couples. The character growth is satisfying to see by the end and the plot is good.
8/10 in terms of romance since it's spread across three couples so but overall it's pretty cute with pretty good chemistry with all three
7. Business Proposal
Cute kdrama with more comedy than romance points. Main couple is cute with the guy whipped but the girl resists too much for me to really love them as a couple. Second couple is super cute though and I really liked their chemistry!
7/10 in terms of romance for what felt like an unbalanced relationship with the main couple but a good relationship with the second couple
(I'll continue to update this list as I watch more)
Buck going from an annoying wannabe frat boy in season 1 to a bisexual, borderline socially inept sweetie who stress bakes and wears aprons and whose biggest problem is that he just loves people too damn much is SO IMPORTANT to me
I don’t even know if there is already high potential fanfics because I don’t wanna get my heart broken if there isn’t but ANYWAYS
I need one where Soto doesn’t need karadec for an investigation but does need Morgan and Morgan’s ex can’t take care of the kids that night so Oz and Karadec are left to take care of Ava, Elliot and Chloe 😭 eventually oz has a date and has to tap out and leaves Karadec by himself 😭
Surprisingly he gets along the best with Ava, Elliot is a mini version of Morgan so he gets along with him fine and Chloe is a baby so that is always a challenge.
We learn more of Karadecs family and when Morgan comes back everyone is passed out in the couch
Actually 911 should cross over with High Potential, because it’s on at 10 so it can be slightly more adult, and it’s set in LA, and Karadec and Athena would hate each other, but Morgan and Buck would vibe. Even though she’s more intense with all the spitting facts, they could talk about enjoying a good nature/history documentary! 🤔 no idea at all how it would work, but it’s a fun thought!
