#and i feel this for so many other people as well

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue. 

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone. 

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade. 

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems. 

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits. 

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit. 

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.” 

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen. 

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak. 

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance. 

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed. 

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” 

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you? 

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one. 

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat. 

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway. 

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together. 

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you. 

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide. 

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond. 

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up. 

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. 

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once. 

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises. 

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts. 

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that. 

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else. 

two. 

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way. 

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite. 

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear. 

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people. 

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye. 

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms. 

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice. 

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three. 

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch. 

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him. 

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging. 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache. 

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension. 

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone. 

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another. 

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table. 

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins. 

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken. 

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions. 

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?” 

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there. 

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen. 

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch. 

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything. 

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression. 

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course, what are best friends for?” 

four. 

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all. 

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love. 

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea. 

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year. 

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year. 

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time. 

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice. 

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth. 

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said. 

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically. 

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again. 

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings. 

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones. 

five. 

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you. 

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him.  The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him. 

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios. 

‘What if he likes you back?’ 

‘You never know until you try.’ 

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’ 

What if. 

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit. 

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality. 

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen. 

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5. 

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. 

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends. 

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza. 

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is. 

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar. 

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night. 

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car. 

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you. 

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough. 

…

  The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings. 

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most. 

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all. 

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry. 

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful. 

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you. 

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside. 

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for. 

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back. 

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. 

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.  

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.” 

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions. 

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist. 

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter. 

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo. 

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him. 

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you. 

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest. 

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said. 

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled. 

“And I you.” 

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night. 

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them. 

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened. 

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ. 

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead. 

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters. 

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics. 

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.  

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you. 

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep. 

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok? 

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one. 

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him. 

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning. 

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing. 

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two? 

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

… 

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up. 

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year. 

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over. 

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him. 

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.  

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say. 

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore. 

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?” 

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression. 

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight. 

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance. 

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet. 

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed. 

[4:15 p.m. kst]  [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved]  [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards]  [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit. 

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat. 

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all. 

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment]  [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing]  [you: u better not snitch 😾]  [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS]  [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you. 

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it. 

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break. 

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off. 

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all. 

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home. 

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest. 

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym. 

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips. 

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle. 

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused. 

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?” 

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo. 

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses. 

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord. 

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. 

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say? 

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

“I’m Wonwoo.” 

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep. 

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number. 

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer. 

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation. 

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon. 

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for. 

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on. 

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time. 

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them. 

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested. 

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks. 

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out. 

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.” 

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday. 

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together.  It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend. 

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do. 

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts. 

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence. 

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.  

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on. 

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer. 

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that. 

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him. 

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party. 

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table. 

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted. 

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you. 

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end. 

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs. 

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses. 

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.  

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice. 

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest. 

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny. 

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare. 

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend? 

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression. 

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself. 

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you. 

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more. 

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?” 

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it. 

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses. 

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you? 

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything? 

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be. 

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him. 

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.” 

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy. 

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests. 

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought. 

four. 

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time. 

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place. 

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building? 

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye. 

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.  

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin. 

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind. 

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today. 

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer. 

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind.  Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away. 

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before. 

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake. 

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose? 

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him. 

[12:52 a.m.]  [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]  [not delivered] 

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list. 

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms. 

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions. 

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off? 

five. 

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options. 

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect. 

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation. 

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.” 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. 

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth. 

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have. 

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin. 

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for. 

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen. 

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could. 

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.” 

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth. 

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such. 

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face. 

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.” 

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.” 

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted. 

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture. 

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost. 

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.” 

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly. 

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place. 

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same. 

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak. 

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on? 

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away. 

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin. 

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door. 

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions. 

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home. 

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?”  Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him. 

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying. 

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness. 

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him. 

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down. 

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking. 

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.” 

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words. 

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense. 

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice. 

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about?  He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.” 

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause. 

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him. 

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place. 

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading. 

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”  A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek. 

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart. 

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

[katiascraft]

༄“I would set the world on fire for you” | LN4 ⟢

Parings: lando norris x gf!reader.

Summary: after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Word count: +5k.

Warnings: angst and fluff at the same time. Anxiety attack. Overthinking. Selfhatred. Language. And that’s it. I’m not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: lately I NEED to write things to cope with my feelings so here it is. Hope Vegas is good to all of my boys 💌 don’t forget to like, reflow or comment! Ur support its way loved here. and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

Your heart was completely shattered. Your heart was racing to get out of your car at the airport. In exactly 20 minutes your boyfriend will be back home after the worst weekend ever imagined. You couldn't assist the Brazilian GP because of your work schedule. You had a few meetings after Mexico gp. And you felt so guilty about it. You knew lando would be more protected if you were there. At least in the intimacy of you, emotionally speaking. Having someone there for him to hug and to comfort him. to calm his mind. To stop the self hatred you knew it was playing right now in his head. 

Lando is an overthinker and you get him because you were also one. You knew to which scenarios his mind can travel to and how painful it can be for him to live with himself sometimes. You were fighting your tears reading all of the atrocious things people commented online. You knew that wasn't real life. But you also knew he would see all that and how that would weigh in his heart. They can never let him win. And the worst part was only because it was just him. Other drivers could do or say worse things and everybody would laugh and brush it off. But when it came to Lando, he was a monster, a loser, an arrogant son of a bitch. That hurt deeply. Because in reality lando is the sweetest soul you have ever met. And you knew how vulnerable he could be. Tho you always admired him for that. You always thought that the bravest and strongest people in this world are the ones that admit to need help, the ones that are vulnerable and open about it. In a world this cruel, that was no easy task. But he did time and time again.and he did even knowing how shitty people were gonna be to him. Though, he did it for people he knew that counted on him. Lando always talks about how people sometimes come to him saying he has saved their lives and the impact he had on them. It's something beautiful yet that weighted on his  shoulders as well, you thought. 

You crossed the airport gates. Anxiety shaking your whole body. You wanted to hug him so bad. To tell him everything was gonna be fine. 

You opened the flight information he sent you before his plane took off so you looked for the probable gate he was coming out of when landed. Even though you were anxious you were also relieved that he was home with you.

After a few minutes passed by, a lot of people started coming out of the door you were waiting for. You started gazing at everyone just to find him. After a bunch of people got out, there he was. One of the last ones to go through the door. When you saw him your body almost came undone. You were out of air for a moment while the two of you got closer. When he is finally within reach, you give him the strongest hug you could. He melted on you, hugging you by your neck. Not much time passed when you heard him crying hid in your neck. Your heart that was shattered, broke immediately. You tighter your grip unto him. He started to sob and you couldn't hold your own tears at that point. You knew he had the worst time on that flight, alone with his cruel thoughts torturing him for hours. And there was nothing that you could do to protect him. You couldn't say a word. There was nothing that you could say that it would make things better right now. 

Lando was sobbing and shaking. His levels of anxiety reached a high when he saw you standing there looking for him desperately with your eyes. He needed you. But life’s a bitch and you couldn't stay with him throughout the whole American leg. He came undone in your arms. He needed to hug you for so long. He was broken. His mind replying to all the mistakes he made. All of his wrong decisions. All of the shit he said. He was embarrassed, angry and defeated. He was ashamed of himself. Disgusted. Frustrated and scared.  

Yu rubbed his back trying to comfort him in the hug and trying to not cry so you could be the strong one for him. He needed you, you knew it. And you wanted to fix all of this in a snap of fingers, but you couldn't. 

“It’s okay baby. You are gonna be alright, I promise. I love you. You’re home now ", Yu said, to make him feel at least slightly better. When he heard you he started sobbing even harder. You let him take all the time he needed. While doing so, you tried to see where you were and how you could, if someone was recording and taking a picture. Fortunately you were almost alone. It was the last flight arriving for today. You feel relieved knowing this won't be used against him by the cruel internet trolls. 

(...)

The drive home was silent. No music, no speaking. He didn't even look at you the whole ride. He was looking through the window avoiding any contact with society you thought while driving your Audi R8 V10 GT RWD through the illuminated Monaco streets. It was around 9pm. You had cooked for him some home made pasta you knew he adored. You just wanted him to feel better. 

When you got home, he took his bags to the room with your help. You left his second suitcase next to his wardrobe and saw him lying on the bed.

“I made your fav homemade pasta. Do you want me to bring it here and eat it in bed?” you offered him with a soft voice. He was looking to the ceiling. He did not answer right away, but after a few moments he did.

“I'm not hungry, but thank you. Maybe i'll eat later” he said with a deep cracky voice and turned himself in the bed showing you his back. You frowned a bit. 

He couldn't look at you. He hated that you could see him like this. He was ashamed of himself drawing in self pity and self hatred. He felt he let you down. 

“Aln, did you eat something during the flight at least?” you asked worriedly, walking forward to the bed so you could get closer to him. You sat on the table next to his back looking at him. You didn't want to touch him just because you didn't know if he would want you to. You didn't want to be invasive. You stayed in silence for a few minutes. You understood he didn't eat, that he didn't want to either or speak. So you stood up and let him have his alone time closing the door gently behind your back.

You ate alone that night.in silence just as if you could hear him from your kitchen aisle. The past was really good. You turned off your phone after washing the dishes and tidied the kitchen and living room up. You didn't want to see what social media was saying about your lover before bed. It was already enough scrolling and reading so many people wishing lando to die. That was the hardest part of it all. You left your phone charging on the kitchen counter and went to your shared room. When you entered he was already showered getting into the bed again. You half smiled at him even though he couldn't see you. You put on your pajamas in silence and climbed up the bed. He looked at you while you were getting comfortable next to him. 

Your eyes met. Any of you said anything. Just looked at each other trying to read each other thought as if that was possible. He licked his dry lips. His eyes turned glassy.

“I messed everything up,” he said almost in a whisper. Your heart is breaking again. You shook your head at him getting closer and bringing him into your chest. You hugged him tightly.

“No you didnt baby. Sometimes people are just mean, you know? They will interpret things as the wish” you said softly rubbing his back and arm and caressing his hair gently. He felt a bit better under your frame. He felt protected but as a little kid when missbehaved so now he tries to find comfort. He didn't want to cry.he was trying hard not to let tears stream down his cheeks.  You kissed his forehead and made him look at you. “I know you dont wanna talk about it but i  love and i am so deeply and entirely proud of you” you whisper close to his face. You saw him pout and the first tears coming down his face. You hugged him tightly. He hid in your neck and eventually fell asleep. You wanted to set the world on fire for this. You wanted to ruin every single person who says awful things about it. The comments, the media. You wanted to destroy everything and everyone just to protect him. He doesn't deserve this. He is an angel and you can't believe the world could only see the devil in him. 

Lando tried to sleep but he couldn't. Everytime he closed his eyes, all of the tragic scenes from the race replayed in his mind. How the car felt, the rain, the radio messages, Oscar's voice, comments from his engineer . everything replayed in his head torturing him the worst way possible. He felt like getting down. He felt alone and miserable. He remembered Oscar words replying in his mind over and over again. “You will eventually make it, mate”. It was a positive message but he replayed it like a fucking nightmare. 

What if he never makes it? What if he doesn't have what it takes? What if people are right? What if he is actually a monster and deserves to die? What if he did? Would they like him again or figure him out? Would anyone care about his feelings? Why does it have to be him and not someone else? Why are they all so cruel to him?

He couldn't stop thinking about every single detail about the weekend. He didn't want to celebrate his birthday anymore. He had you there but couldn't look at you. He felt disgusted by himself. He can't control it. He wants to go back into go karts and stop the time when he was actually happy and having fun with his friends. Now that line between friends and enemies is so blurry for him. Max didn't talk to him like before when all of this shit started. He knew Max was really competitive, of course he did, everyone knew it since day 1. But what about their friendship? Lando shit talked, max shit talked. He felt so confused even by his own feelings around this whole shitty situation or championship situation. Whatever you want to call it. 

(...)

When you woke up the next morning he was gone. You felt kind of confused for a bit. You heard him talking so you guessed he was speaking on the phone. When you got up from bed you walked out the room to find him. When you got closer to the living room you knew he was talking to Max on facetime because you heard his voice. 

“Morning, guys” you said, getting into the kitchen for some water to take your thyroid pills. Lando looked at you half-smile. 

“Good morning baby” he said as sweetly as he could. You smiled at him. Before coming back to your room to shower and stuff you went and gave him a good morning kiss making Max almost throw up when he saw you in a funny way. You showed him the middle finger and disappeared so he could talk in private with his mate. You respected his place a lot. And i guess that’s why you understand so much each other. 

(...)

The following day things got worse. Lando hasn't eaten any meal you prepared for him, didn't even want to have take out or anything. You found him crying in the kitchen and in the garden by the pool of your house. His anxiety was killing him, you knew. The desperation and guilt were eating him alive and you didn't know what to do rather than try to talk and comfort him.

He was sitting on the sofa in the living room. His sight was fixed on the floor without moving. You got alarmed because you knew what was going on. You got close slowly to not trigger him even more. His face was red, his hands sweaty and shaking. You sat on the floor diagonal from him looking at him. Slowly and gently you grabbed his hands trying to capture his brain's attention and get him out of the fog he was in. You were almost sure he was having an anxiety attack and he started because of your touch. You gently rubbed your fingers in his hands. He was out of breath for a moment and you got scared so you tried to do as your therapist told you in case someone you know goes through this. 

“Lan, can you hear me? Try to pay attention to my voice okay? I'm here and I'm with you dull be alright” you said really softly trying to make him look at you. You looked for his eyes with your gaze. “It’s not as terrible as you think, baby, I promise. You aren't all of those things people comment” you used your words carefully. His hands caught your strength and so you reassured him. You saw his pout becoming deeper. You hurt to see him like this. It was so unfair. He doesnt deserve this, god. And he broke. He broke down again. His tears streamed down his face. Sobbing in so much pain. You sat next to him to hug him tightly once more. But now you knew it was worse. He was shaking under your arms.you let him go through this. So he can let go of all of this shit inside him. “I promise lando, you aren't all of those things. People are just mean and cruel. You are a good baby and so talented. Gifted. You have it in you I promise, I can see it” you tried to comfort him with your words as well, trying to distract your mind from the tragic thought he was dealing with by himself. A few tears fell down your face. It was a hard time. And you were trying to be strong for him. 

“I'm so stupid I'm sorry” he sobbed and you shook your head. 

“No, Lando, you aren't. I promise okay? Believe me.i know you and you aren't. And this will pass. All the people that know you for real, we love you and we are so proud of you. You had an amazing year. You are fucking fighting a three time world champion, even sooner than he did with lewis back in 2021. That’s huge my love. Your dream is near, I just know it. Because I know you, and you’ll make it, baby. You didn't let anyone down. You're getting stronger so when you finally make it, all of these moments will make it taste so much better and sweeter” you explained while rubbing his back. Your words made an effect on him. Heslowly calming down. He didn't want to let you go. He wanted to just stay there in your arms. Where he felt safe and sound. Noone could hurt him there. That was what made him fall for you. You saw him. You knew him. And you care about him. He was finally important for someone for being lando, and not lando norris formula one driver. His past lovers left him feeling confused whether they loved him for him or their idea of him. You came outta nowhere and blew him away. You were brutally honest, no filter yet so gentle and caring with your words. He thought his perfect girl didn't exist but then there was you, listening to him for hours if he needed to. Giving him the best advice and clearing his perspective. Always cheering him up. Cracking jokes so he could distract and feel relaxed. Heknew he was in love with you the moment you offered to give him a ride because he was drunk as well at a new years party. It was normal but the fact that a stranger could do that for him blew his mind. He never admitted afraid people would think it’s weird. But it is what it is. Your smile ended him right there and when you started cracking jokes he didn't want to live in that damn car for the rest of his life. So here you are 4 years later,and you still be the greatest person in the world and the one who knew him the most. He felt your lips on his forehead. For a moment he thought about leaving racing. What if his life was better without it in it? He could go back to Bristol and be with his friends. With you. Maybe start a family and have a normal job so you could spend each day together. He started crying again at that thought. He loved racing but this year was the hardest yet amazing one. 

He finally calmed down after a few minutes in silence. He looked at you with puppy eyes. You caressed his face gently brushing a few tears falling down still. 

“Would you be there with me? Could you?” he asked, making you a bit confused. And he noticed. “To the races. I need you there. Please. To every race and when I become a champion,would you be there with me? You could feel he's scared. You half smiled at him melting as his comment.

“Of course I'll be there, baby. I’ll always be there for and with you. If I could , I would set the whole world on fire just for you. Never doubt it, okay?” he nodded and you pulled him closer to give him so many little kisses around his whole face making him gigle a little. 

“I love you, y/n” he said looking at you fondly.

“I love you, lando. Everything’s gonna be alright” you said, assuring him and gave a peck on his lips. “Go have a shower and dress cute im gonna take you out on a date before your birthday” you said more lighful to cheer him up and his face lit up.

“Really?” you noddedat him and send him to shower agin funny. Before going with him so yhou both looked facy, you needed to say something to the world. You couldnt stay crossed arms and do nothing about it. 

── .✦

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maxfewtrell: I CHOKED

norrisfan: omg thank u queen for this

user45: ur as dumb as he is. you cant defend him. he sucks and thats it darling. don lie to yourself.

── .✦

You turned off your phone once again. You were already so fed up with it all. Let them talk. You were sure they would choke with their own shit eventually. 

but  continued with the day. Lando was still a little off but he was looking better so maybe he is actually feeling better. You took out to dinner at a restaurant he always dreamed of going to. He was so happy to be there. The food was delicious. It was near the beach though it is colder here so we looked at it through the glass window. You gossip and talk about anything and everything as if everything was alright. And it was a fact it was. Because this is real life. Not social media. A few people stopped you while eating to ask for pictures and Lando said yes every time you even became a photoshoot photographer. Nice people telling him nice things was what he needed right now. Plus, you would never be pissed off by his fans. You were actually grateful for them. Of course, some can be disrespectful but you knew the real one was it. You really embraced Lando's life even though it’s nothing like the life you’d dreamed of to have one day. But he is the boy of your dreams so why would it be a problem. 

November, 13th

When the clock hit midnight, the restaurant made a cake for him so we all sang him happy birthday. You chose his favorite type of cake. He giggled all nervous and shy. His cheeks red while his eyes showed a little sparkle while watching the candles. He blew them. You recorded the whole thing and took so many pictures. He thanked the staff and staff of the restaurant and they let you enjoy the cake in comfort. Your heart was full to see him a little back again. 

After The restaurant kicked you out because they needed to close, you decided to do a road trip through the mountains of monaco. You always enjoy a good ride with good music and good company. And you also had sex in the car. You kind of guessed he needed to take his frustrations out somehow because you had the rough sex you really enjoyed. He joked it was his best birthday present making you laugh. He was joking again. 

“Thank you” he said while gently rubbing your naked chest. You were seated on him. You smiled and leaned for a soft kiss on his lips. You really loved him. And all you wanted for him was happiness and well being. And you would do anything to make sure he is okay. 

You came back home and had another round of sex. Enjoying yourselves in intimacy. Lando finally fell asleep after a terrible few days, in the calm of your body. His face on your bare chest. You clothed him and fell asleep relieved.

── .✦

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yourusername: What can I say about you? There's no words that can describe your greatness. Or my feelings for you. I'm so grateful you were born on November 13th. 25 years ago my best friend and the love of my life was brought to this world. And sometimes what unfair is that, right? A world that is so cruel to you. A world that doesn't deserve your greatness and kindness nor your attention. You are the greatest son, brother, uncle, friend and lover. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't actually know you. We are all so lucky that you choose us to spend your time on this world with. Thank you for being who you care. For caring about the people you love and making sure we are alright and happy. Thank you for being the light that you are for so many lives. Thank you for being vulnerable. I admire you so much, lan. You are the strongest and bravest human I know. so honest and open. Anyone who says otherwise, actually, doesn't know you. I know this is not the best birthday of your life, but I promise you I'll try to make it better. Thank you for being who you are to me. I promise I see you and I care. You're the love of my life. And I'm so lucky you love me over any other human out there. So happy birthday to the prettiest and most genuine, real, fun, kind, warm person I have the chance to call mine everyday. Hope you have the best day you can have right now. That’s the least you deserve. I love you forever bestie. Don’t ever change.

tagged: landonorris

comments on this post have been disabled.

── .✦

── .✦

So you had a master plan for Lando's birthday. You went to the Hilton hotel for some coffee with Max and Lando of course. We lied and said pietra couldn't make it because she had a meeting and Lando believed. Truth was, you have contacted all of his friends and arregened flights so everyone could make it to Monaco on time. Pietra was the one in your house. You left her a spare key yesterday evening after coffee with alex. You gave her the directions and the idea of what you wanted while you and Max distracted Lando until 7pm, she decorated the house and received all of his friends. Lando had no clue of what was going on but he was so happy it was the second cake you brought to him. You recorded the moment and seeing him smile made your heart melt. 

── .✦

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landonorris: I love you greatest girlfriend there to exist. Thank u for everything and specially for making this day so much better. Ur an Angel ❤️‍🩹

⤷ yourusername: I love u more Angel ❤️‍🩹 the least you deserve is to be loved and happy.

User33: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Landostan: THANK U FOR EXISTING AND TAKING SUCH CARE OF HIM UR A QUEEN I LOVE U WE LOVE U

carlossainz55: ur the best 🫶🏻

⤷ yourusername: te extraño hermano we need to double date with Rebecca again asap!

── .✦

When 7pm came around we all “decided” to go to your house and eat pizza for dinner. Lando even said to me that they could do a stream and have fun for a bit. You agreed and all knowing that wasn't gonna happen. The ride home was so much fun. You spent the 20 minute ride screaming a one direction song from the top of your lungs. You sang Lando ‘through the dark’ And he sang ‘You and i’.it was lovely, Max almost threw up when you kissed. Luckily he was driving so he hadn't watched much of your pda. 

You got out of the car trying to play it cool though you were so nervous. You saw Max texting Pietra that you were close.the lights were off. And silent. Your nervousness took over you when you tried to open the door but let the keys fall nervously. Thankfully Max and Lando were discussing which type of pizza they would order. Finally you opened the door, lando behind you and so you turned on the lights.

Everyone jumped from everywhere saying happy birthday in unison. Yoursmile was so big but when you saw lando his smile was even bigger.

“Surprise!” you said and lando was still processing it. But when his friend started hugging him he started crying out of joy. He thought his friends weren't coming this year because of their busy schedule.but that was a lie you made them tell so lando wouldn suspect anything. Fortunately, they all kept the secret safe. Lando was so happy. 

You all spent the night playing poker, drinking gin and tonics and surrounded by laughter and love. In the moment, around everybody, you felt lucky to be there. Especially to be in landos life. Everyone was so sweet and good just like him. He deserves the world.

Everyone went home around 2 am. You were exhausted and tipsy at the end of the night. So you put your pajamas on and sled straight on the bed. Lando wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Thank you for everything. It was a great birthday. Thank u for always taking care of me always.you make me the happiest” he said under a whisper looking at you. He looked so gorgeous with that little smile and tired eyes. You stroked his cheek gently, smiling. 

“You deserve to be happy darling. You are unstoppable. Better days at work will come,I know.but im grateful that you have so much love surrounding you. I love you” he smiled widely listening to you and leaned to kiss you with so much feelings and passion. You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him and also the greatest decision he has ever made when he asked you out.

── .✦

f1gossipofficial made a post

liked by user3423, user96849, user334, yourbff and others.

f1gossipofficial: here it is @/yourusername at the McLaren garage ready for fp1 cheering for his 4 year boyfriend @/landonorris! Lando was asked about the whole drama around the Brazil gp and his birthday and her statement and he said ‘I’m lucky to have her. I would set the world on fire for her. So yeah. We are the same that is why we work so well. It was a great birthday though. She brought my whole group of friend to Monaco for a poker night so yeah’ also he said that if it wasn’t for her he would’ve collapsed on his overthinking but thankfully she was there. We love a power couple on the grid!! What do we think about all of this? #LasVegasGP2024

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User1873: they are both the same shit tbh

User23: I LOVE THEM GREATEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

User29873: I don’t like lando but she cute supporting him like that. I saw she gave a kiss to him before getting into the car. They seem in love!

⤷ Usrr988: I KNOW TIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY I CAUGHT THAT KISS IN THE OFFICIAL TRANSMISSION

Yourbff: she is the greatest person you would know!! Let’s go lan!!!

User564: Max will win the dwc and NOTHING would change that or move me so

User90: omg she is so pretty

y/nstan: how lucky lando is to have her. She is always the sweetest to all of his fans. And also funny. Such a queen!

User897: where are the pictures of them arriving together????????! I NEED THEM

⤷ user45: so iconic need to marry asap

── .✦

It was the day. The day you were back to media duties. Back to being a target for social media. Back supporting your boyfriend no matter what. You even went on media day to be there for him if he needed it. You chatted with everyone around to entertain yourself while he was doing interviews. 

Oscar helped a lot and the whole McLaren team to make Lando feel safe and actually enjoy the weekend. You Were grateful for it. At least they decided not to be dicks in front of his face. 

Fp1 was about to start and you were proudly there in the garage to cheer on him. You were also anxious because you felt things almost like him and this competition is rather never racking. You kissed him gently but shortly. A good luck kiss before getting into the car. He smiled widely. 

“Go be the best you can be. You’re great” you told him sweetly.

“I'll try my best to impress you,” he replied, letting go of your hand. 

“You already do everyday babe” you said smiling making him grin before walking into the car to start the first session of the weekend. 

You watched from there how fp1 unfolded hoping this would be a great weekend.

── .✦ FIN

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Forbidden Fruit.

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

declan o’hara x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. use of the c word. age gap. cheating. declan’s filthy mouth needs its own warning.

word count - 2.3k

authors note - that man is a munch and I cannot be convinced otherwise. my crush on aidan turner has returned tenfold and i’m about to make it everyone’s problem. read declan’s dialogue in that gorgeous irish accent of his for the full experience.

masterlist. inbox.

You’ve fake laughed so much this afternoon that you can’t remember what your real one sounds like.

Finally breaking away from a conversation with Freddie’s wife, you swan across the garden in your sundress towards the food and drink table. You absentmindedly pick at the strawberries, hoping and praying that no one bothers you for a moment. All you need is a minute to yourself, away from all of these faux smiles and boastful exchanges.

Reaching towards a raspberry, you feel fingertips ghosting across your back quickly.

“Y’alright?”

You’d recognise that voice anywhere, of course, and not just because he’s the only Irish man in The Cotswolds.

“Bored out of my mind, actually.”

“You’d never know.”

“I’m a good actress, these days. I’ve done one too many of these stupid garden parties.”

He chuckles all genuine and honeyed, and you’d be lying if you said the sound didn’t settle warmly in your bones.

“Whatcha doing tonight?”

He’s keeping his voice low, inconspicuous. You’ve both turned so you’re looking out over the garden, backs to the table, watching the crowds of people and their gossiping. To anyone else, it looks like an innocent conversation between two acquaintances. They can’t see his hand playing with the hem of your dress behind you, or the way his fingers keep brushing the backs of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

“My boyfriend is coming over. You know that.”

“What time?”

You roll your eyes but answer anyway.

“Nine.”

“So what I’m hearing… is that you’re available from whenever this crap finishes until then?”

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You usually love my stupid ideas.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to be smarter.”

He laughs with his full chest while you fight to keep the grin off your face, shaking your head.

“You’re already the smartest person here. Any smarter and we’re all doomed.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Declan.”

He pauses for a moment, pressing his side into yours and running his thumb across the soft skin of your thigh underneath your dress.

“I think we both know that’s not true, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters as you will yourself to get it together, desperate to not repeatedly give in to his murmured promises and flirty remarks. It’s wrong. You know it is, both of you do, and yet…

“I want you gone by eight at the latest. I don’t need the two of you bumping into each other on my front step.”

He smirks like the cat that got the cream, looking down at you with lust drunk eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Promise to make it worth your while, yeah?”

“You always do,” you breathe out, so quietly that you’re surprised he hears.

He’s about to reply when you’re both startled by Rupert, striding over with the confidence of ten men and a bottle of champagne in his hand.

“Have they run out of glasses, CB?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder, laughing that rich man’s laugh right into your ear.

“Live a little, darling. Walk with me, will you? I have a story that might be worth your time, and I thought I’d bring it to my favourite journalist before anyone else.”

Rupert all but drags you across the garden, already chattering on about a scandal in the local constituency of the Conservative Party. You cast your eyes back to where Declan hasn’t moved, his gaze roving over your figure as you walk away.

He winks cheekily, dirty smirk slapped across his face.

You hate the way it sends electricity running through your veins in anticipation.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s six forty five when there’s a knock on your door.

The devil himself is standing on your front step, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Hi darlin’.”

His accent is like molten honey, golden and warm and laced with sweetness. There’s mischief running through it though - as there always is.

“Come on,” you urge, grabbing his tie and pulling him inside, worried that one of your neighbours will see.

He laughs as he shuts the door behind him, unphased by your urgency.

“Thought you had a meeting. CB was telling me all about it earlier.”

“Rupert would tell you anything,” he chuckles. “He’s got a soft spot for pretty girls.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” you giggle, undoing his tie from around his neck and hanging it on your coat rack.

“No. I have a soft spot for one pretty girl.”

“Sweet talker,” you tease as you roll your eyes, undoing the first few buttons on his shirt. “How about you put your money where your mouth is, hmm? We don’t have all night.”

He clicks his tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you against him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush yours. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Less talking,” you scold, grabbing at his biceps to kiss him desperately.

Declan pushes you up against the wall, hips pressing into yours as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and whiskey and those mints he keeps in a tin in his back pocket. He scatters open mouthed kisses across your neck, licking across your skin and sucking the spot underneath your ear.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he mumbles. “Ever since I saw you in this dress.”

“You like it?” you breathe, head rolling to the side to give him more access.

“I fucking love it.”

“Good. Bought it for you.”

He groans, grinding his hips into yours.

“You’re a minx,” he pants, biting at your shoulder. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

With that, Declan wraps his arms around your middle, practically dragging you into the living room to throw you onto the sofa. He pulls your dress over your head, throwing it onto the floor with reckless abandon.

He instantly gets on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs with rough hands.

“Been waitin’ for this cunt all fuckin’ day.”

Your underwear is tugged down and discarded before you can blink, leaving you naked and high on the anticipation of it all. Your lungs are heaving, hands shaking as you will him to do something.

Declan sits back on his haunches, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. He looks so broad and commanding in his blue jeans with his shirt undone. He might be the one on his knees, but he’s definitely still in charge here.

You tangle your fingers into his dark hair and tug, pulling him closer.

“Please, Dec.”

“You sound so beautiful when ya beg.”

He grips your thighs tightly, ensuring they stay apart, as he leans in and presses kisses to any skin he can find.

“Don’t tease.”

“Or what, hmm? What are ya gonna do, sweetheart?”

“Stop it,” you chastise, head dropping back onto the cushions. “Please, baby.”

He chuckles before diving forwards, licking a stripe through your core. He wastes no time, tongue flicking over your clit like he’s done so many times before.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, fingers gripping his hair tightly. “Fuck, Declan.”

You’re convinced he enjoys this just as much as you do. He’ll eat you out for hours, never once expecting something in return - happy to feel you fall apart on his tongue again and again and again.

He knows exactly which spots will have you arching your back, how much pressure to use to have you writhing on the sofa cushions, where to put his hands to push you right over the edge. He can play you like a fiddle, observant and experienced.

His nose nudges your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, messy and wet and completely committed. The grip he has on your thighs is getting tighter and tighter, fingertips bruising your skin. You pray you’ll be able to see the marks when you look in the mirror tomorrow.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release, legs shaking and abdomen tightening. Declan can read you like a book, knowing exactly where you’re at - and taking advantage of it.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away and sits back, grinning like a deviant.

“No,” you’re panting. “The fuck are you doing?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his head on your leg. He looks up at you with a gaze that’s half lust and half mischief, biting at his lip as he watches your chest heave.

“What do you want, darlin’?”

You pout at him, tears welling in your eyes.

“Come on, let me hear you say it. I want you to beg me to make you come. Tell me how you’ve been waiting for it all day, sweetheart.”

“I-Declan, I just-”

“Come on smart girl, use that big brain of yours. Why don’t you tell me all about how you think about me when you touch yourself? No - why don’t you tell me how you think about me while he fucks you?”

Your hips buck up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. Declan laughs cruelly, wrapping his arms around your thighs again to pull you to the edge of the sofa, the strength he exerts only turning you on more.

“It’s okay,” he soothes against your core. “You don’t have to tell me. Your dripping wet cunt tells me everything I need to know, darlin.”

All you can do is moan, breathing like you’ve run a marathon. All you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel is Declan O’Hara.

“If we had the time, I’d edge you some more. Eat you out until you cried. You always look so pretty when you’re crying f’me.”

He finally takes pity on you, curling his tongue inside you as his nose repeatedly bumps against your clit. He’s practically making out with your core, saliva dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa. You can’t bring yourself to care about the mess, more focused on the older man’s mouth and the skills it possesses.

You’re whining, fingernails digging into his scalp as you grasp for something to hold onto. He’s groaning too, having just as much as fun as you are.

“Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how fucking beautiful you look.”

Your back bows off the sofa as you grind against his face, riding out your climax. Your thighs tighten around his head, desperate for him to keep going for as long as possible.

“That’s it. Atta girl. There we go.”

You’re trying to catch your breath as Declan stands up, sitting down next to you and pulling you into his side. His fingers draw patterns on your hips, absentmindedly calming you down as you nestle into him, seeking out his body heat.

You lean up and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth eagerly. He tastes like you, and the realisation makes you whinge.

“Let me return the favour, please,” you whisper against his lips.

“As much as I’d love that, darlin’… we can’t.”

You quirk a brow at him in confusion, his rejection more than unusual.

“It’s twenty past eight.”

“Oh, shit,” you groan, finding your underwear and pulling them up your legs.

“I wish I could stay,” he reassures as he kisses you again sweetly. “You know I do.”

You nod, running your fingers through his sweat soaked locks to move them out of his face.

“Promise I’ll repay you next time.”

“I’ll hold ya to that.”

The phone ringing startles you both, your heart jumping in your chest. You pick it up quickly, wrapping the cord around your finger.

“Hello? How are you? Ah, good. Yes, fine. Alright, I’ll see you then. Yes, see you soon. Mhmm… I can’t wait either.”

You put it down just as quickly as you picked it up, finding your dress from the floor and pulling it over your head.

“That was Patrick. He’s at the train station, about to start the drive back here. He won’t be long.”

“I best get going then,” Declan says as he buttons up his shirt. “Don’t need a family reunion in your living room now, do we?”

You shake your head, scoffing at his attempt at a joke. Walking him to the front door, you press his tie from the coat rack into his hand so he doesn’t forget it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I? You’re coming for lunch at the house?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you say as you lean up to kiss him, sighing at the taste of his lips. “I’ll wear that lacy white lingerie under my dress just for you.”

“Great,” he groans. “Now I have to think about my son seeing that on you when it should be me.”

“You might,” you tease, smoothing out his shirt. “There’s a lot of rooms in that house, Declan.”

“You’re a minx.”

He kisses you once more, big hands cradling your face as he pulls you in.

“See ya tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you will.”

You watch him go from your front step, making sure no one sees him leave. As soon as he’s out of sight, you’re shutting the door, trying to tidy the living room frantically. You open the windows, lighting a candle and picking up everything that was knocked to the floor in the lust filled frenzy. You’re covering your tracks as best you can, just like you’ve done countless times before.

You don’t need Patrick asking why the room smells like his dad’s aftershave.

You don’t need Patrick asking questions at all.

a little gift for you, as promised…

@do-it-for-kicks @whytheylosttheirminds @laverna-fanfictions @graceflorence

and of course, if you enjoyed this - throw me a little reblog if you so wish… help a girl out… <3

[fastandcarlos]

Wedding Nerves : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: it's the night before your wedding and lando can't bare to spend it all alone

Your head shook as another knock at the door came, knowing exactly who was on the other side. You tried your best to ignore it as you unpacked your suitcase, but they were ever so persistent, knocking once again. 

“Lando, you shouldn’t be here,” you called out, walking over to the door. “You can stand there all night long but I’m not opening the door. The boys will all be wondering where you are.” 

“I don’t care abou them,” Lando replied, leaning against the other side of the door. “I just want to see you one last time before tomorrow, just a couple of minutes, that’s all that I’m asking for.” 

Your eyes closed as you leant on the door, hearing Lando sigh. His voice was desperate as he tapped on the door once again, letting you know that he was still there. You could only smile at how determined Lando was, refusing to go without seeing you. 

“You’ll get to see me forever after tomorrow,” you tried to assure him, “it’s only one night away from each other, we’ve done it hundreds of times before.” 

Lando’s head shook, “this time it’s different, it’s our wedding morning tomorrow.” 

“Why are you here Lando?” You groaned, beginning to think that there was more to things than he was letting on. “Something’s not gone wrong, has it?” 

His head shook, remembering that you couldn’t see him. “I spoke to George and he said Carmen told him that you were feeling nervous. I wanted to come and see you and make sure that you were alright, I don’t want you to be nervous, you should be excited.” 

“I am excited,” you responded, dropping down to the floor, “tomorrow is just such a big deal, and there’s so many people going to be there. I hate having all that attention on me, that’s all.” 

Lando remained where he was, only wanting to see you more now that he knew how you felt, keen to settle your nerves and reassure you not to worry. 

“Let me see you and just give you a hug,” Lando requested, tapping the door once again. “We’re fine to see each other, tradition is only tomorrow morning, not that either of us really care about that anyway.” 

The sound of the lock turning made Lando jump up, watching as you opened the door slightly. It was wide enough for Lando to see you, but not open enough for him to be able to reach in and hold onto you. 

“Lando, I promise you that I’m absolutely fine. Go and enjoy your evening.” 

“I can’t see well enough to be sure,” he grinned, refusing to give up quite that easily, trying to push the door to fit his hand through it. “What’s the point of just letting me see a bit of you, why not just open the door all the way?” 

“Because once you’re here I know you won’t go away,” you chuckled. 

Lando’s eyes widened at your assumption, shaking his head in reply to you. The smile on his face told you otherwise though, you knew exactly what he was up to, and once he was in, there was no way that he was going to be walking back out again. 

You tried your best to keep the door shut, but Lando was far stronger than you were, digging his heels into the ground and pushing the door open, stumbling over his feet and falling straight into your hotel room. 

“Serves you right,” you grinned, offering your hand to help him up.  

Lando stood himself up and straightened his clothes before heading in your direction. His arms wrapped around your frame as he tightly held you against his chest, pressing several kisses against the top of your head, refusing to let go now that he had a hold of you. 

Lando kicked the door to your hotel room shut, keeping you in his hold as he walked you both over to your bed, dropping down in the middle of it with you by his side, making himself comfortable like he was there for the night. 

After a few moments, Lando’s hand trailed along your back. “There’s no need to worry about tomorrow you know, it’s going to be perfect, I’m sure of it.” 

With all the efforts you and Lando had put in, you knew there was no reason to worry, there was no chance of anything going wrong. You had the perfect place, perfect theme, and everyone who you wanted to attend was doing so, there was nothing more you could ask for. 

“Maybe if you are nervous, it might be a good idea for me to stay here,” Lando added, catching your eyes roll. “I mean we both know how much it helps when you sleep next to me when you’re worrying, so it makes perfect sense, right?” 

“I’m not going to let you stay,” you said, quickly shutting Lando down. 

Lando hummed in reply to you, “we both know how this is going to work, I’m going to wear you down until you say yes, you know that, don’t you?” 

“Nope,” you laughed, “I refuse to cave tonight, you’ll be gone soon.” 

“You’ll have to get rid of me,” Lando told you, “and judging by your hand against my chest, I’d say that you’re pretty happy for me to stay a while still yet.” 

You quickly moved your hand off of Lando’s chest, shuffling across the bed to create some distance between you both. Lando looked at you in surprise, trying to move back towards you again, only for you to move back too. 

“It’s going to be a pretty rubbish stag do if you’re not there,” you reminded him, standing up from the bed. “Plus, you only said that you wanted a couple of minutes of my time.” 

“I don’t need a stupid stag do, not when I could spend my night with you instead,” Lando sighed, sitting up in the middle of the bed. “Do you really actually want me to go?” 

You tried to ignore the little voice in your head telling Lando to stay, nodding your head. You didn’t want him to miss out on his stag do, the party that he had been looking forward to for so long. 

“I should probably go,” Lando pouted, sliding off of the bed. His shoulders hung low, his feet dragging along the floor dejectedly. “But all you have to do is give me a call and I’ll forget all about the boys tonight and rush straight over here to be with you instead.” 

“Go on,” you grinned, opening up the door. “I’ll be alright without you for one night.” 

Lando stood in the doorway, turning back to face you one final time, letting you see just how disappointed he was that you were making him leave. 

“In five years, I think this is the first time you’ve declined to spend the night with me,” Lando mused, “and the night before my wedding too.” 

“I’m not declining to spend the night with you,” you protested, “this is what we agreed on, you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of your life after tomorrow anyway.” 

“I can’t believe it,” Lando smiled, “the rest of our lives together.” 

“Only if you go,” you teased, pushing Lando out of the door. “Go and enjoy your evening, I’ll see you tomorrow Lando.” 

“I can’t wait to marry you sweetheart.” 

“I know, me too Lan.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bunnys-kisses]

shut up and put your money where your mouth is

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words

a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!

wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.

this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.

"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.

you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.

he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.

damn max verstappen.

the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.

and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"

you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.

enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.

you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.

max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."

you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."

he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.

you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"

max swallowed, "not friends."

you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.

max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."

the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.

-

you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.

you'd be his one day.

-

you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.

"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.

"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.

"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."

he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.

"focus on one thing." you groaned.

"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.

when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.

he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.

"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.

"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.

"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.

both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.

enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.

he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.

"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.

"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.

max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.

"fuck."

"please, max."

"i know."

you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.

you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.

max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.

max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.

you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.

he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.

you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.

"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.

you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.

he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.

"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.

the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.

the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.

"max."

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."

and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."

-

the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.

your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.

the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.

this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.

a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.

post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.

"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.

he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.

"oh..."

"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?

it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.

he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[genderqueerdykes]

its extremely important, i would say even vital to learn about queer history. do not use what i'm about to say as an excuse to ignore our history, however i feel like i need to point something out, because i get a lot and i mean a LOT of questions asking if there are books written on every single queer identity and i have to point out that while it's extremely important to try to look to the past for validation in the present, it's also extremely important to realize that not every single queer experience has to have a long well documented history in order for it to be seen as "valid"

in many places in the world, even writing about being queer can be grounds for being jailed or killed. it's not always safe or practical to publish books, zines, or other written works when it comes to various queer identities. even in places where it is safe, not every single identity is going to be covered and written about. not every queer person feels the desire to write about their experience and not every queer person wants to be immortalized for being queer. this is extremely important to consider

also, queerness is based in identity. identity does not need empirical evidence in order to be legitimate. it may not be easy to find books on certain identities, but that doesn't mean they're not real. as important as it is to refer to books and the writings by other queers, it's also extremely important to not leverage literacy and the ability to publish books and/or zines against certain people and identities. just because there aren't books or comics or poems written about certain identities doesn't mean you can't view them as legitimate.

queerness is not like a scientific theory. it does not need to be proven. it does not need evidence. you do not have to prove that other queer people of the same identity exist in order for your identity to be valid. do NOT use this as an excuse to refuse to learn about queer history, but also do not look down on queer people whose identities don't have books written about them, either. remember that queerness is illegal in many, many places in the world. not every experienced can be published and written about. that's okay.

basically what i'm trying to say is don't use a lack of written records to dismiss certain queer identities or even misgender people. that person's anecdotes, that person's stories are still worth listening to. it doesn't matter that you personally haven't heard of other people identifying that way. don't use books and literature against individual queers. don't weaponize the lack of published work against people with complex or niche identities. having books and sources to refer to is an incredible resource, but that's not why they're there. they're not there so you can refer to them and go "a-hah, this is irrefutable proof that x group of queer people don't exist!" they're there so you can learn about some of the beautiful experiences humanity has to offer.

queer literature and history is important, but just because we don't have proof of something being reflected in the past doesn't mean it's not legitimate in the present. there were periods in time before these books and records that we refer to were published. it doesn't mean the people who came before these works weren't queer, and that their identities weren't legitimate. there have always been queer people as long as humans have existed and it's honestly very shitty to spit in the faces of everyone who came before the common sources we have to refer to today. they were still queer even if they had no books to refer to. queerness is not a science. it's okay to accept someone even if they can't provide you with piles and piles and piles of proof that their identity should be allowed to exist.

you don't necessarily need a "source" to prove that queer identities exist. the "source" is humanity. the "source" is lived experience. don't ever stop learning about our history, but don't use a lack of written records against other queer people. it helps no one. thanks. hope that made sense.

[thessaralka]

DAI, DA2, DAO are flawed masterpieces but they all thematically feel deeply similar.

veilguard dookied all over the dark spiritual/ moral/ religious themes of DA by erasing slavery, the bigotry of and towards the elves (dalish in particular), sidelining andrastianism, ignoring the dwarves apart from harding's questline, and HR-ifying the writing.

where was slavery in tevinter, the literal slave capital of thedas, apart from the existence off the shadow dragons (who must be doing a really good job btw bc slavery and the impact of it is basically not a thing), and in scenes w venatori where they're using slaves as benches in this weirdly-comical-dismissive way?

where was the nuance and moral greyness in how some people sell themselves into slavery or join the qun to escape poverty and lives that would otherwise be a lot less structured and even comfortable, and the cognitive dissonance that fact gives us? where was the "slaves are illiterate so they communicate with symbols" underground slave rebellion?

the most we get of solas and his thousands-of-years-long slave-freeing mission is a comment from neve about the chains in his hideout, we see nothing about how fen'harel freed slaves as basically a lifelong purpose of his, and how many of those freed-people dedicated their lives to that mission, joining him in his cause. solas would have had other people helping him out with this, he would have had a structured slave-freeing organization, he probably would still be using the lighthouse for this, but the most we get is "crusty wifeless bachelor pad" solas all alone. did he tell everyone to fuck off, like what happened there? why was solas soooooo alone, when he literally had cultists in trespasser and logically would have EVEN MORE cultists now? i understand he's mentally and emotionally alone, but an ancient elven god who has built a slave-freeing operation he would not be so physically alone, he'd have tons of people obsessed w his mission.

making the only dalish we encounter these veil jumpers that we have no connection or care for unless we read some books is lazy, and these dalish don't seem to care that their thousands-of-years-old faith that their entire culture is founded on is being demolished before their eyes, the DREAD FUCKING WOLF is back (one of their literal gods, and he's been back for like 12 years and many of them have joined him - where are thooooose dalish?), the dalish in VG are perfectly fine working with humans (the very ones who exalted-marched all over them, humans that rape and pillage them, humans that oppress and subjugate them, humans the dalish have canonically hunted down and killed - just for being human - in past games). the dalish are canonically shitty people who are also massively subjugated, are victims of their own hubris, victims of a war they started and lost and never got over, victims of their own bigotry, victims of their own misinterpreted and forgotten lore. while they have a right to be victims, it's never talked about how fucking revolutionary it is if any dalish/ elven hero of the past games (warden or inquisitor) was able to overcome the biases of their culture and heal, and work together with humans (inquisition did this really well for Dalish Inquisitors btw). the dalish being as forgiving and open as the veil jumpers are should be a bigger deal and have a major story reason behind it because healing thousands of years of trauma in a decade is impressive (fake).

[ivesambrose]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

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The next chapter of your life indicates a period of discipline, structure and determination. Long term plans or goals instead of short term gratification. I feel previous months of stagnation, struggle and mental turmoil has led to you having the mindset of being rather unfazed towards anything because you have likely realised that regardless of what you 'see' you're in control. You've learnt to trust your intuition and inner guidance over anyone else. You might encounter power struggles in between but this will lead to emotional growth nonetheless.

There is a lot of joy, celebration and new connections to look forward to as well. It might seem like despite the good happening to you and what you've wanted for so long finally being yours, you feel rather defensive. Remember to push through despite past struggles. To fully be in the present and enjoy what you have and what you deserve. For some of you I do see you making really good friends but due to past experiences you're rather guarded towards them. The message I'm getting is that yes, do use discernment when dealing with people. Do establish necessary boundaries. But don't let promising friendships falter due to fears.

You can also expect your dreams to be more within reach, renewal and unexpected help coming through, the path getting clear when you least expect it, healing from mental strain that have remained unspoken.

Lastly, you will experience a balance in giving and receiving. This will be necessary when it comes to your material and spiritual growth.

The next chapter of your life calls for adjustment and change. Drastic ones. If it's causing you some tension know that this area of your life requires that change. You can't expect to step into the next chapter of your life otherwise. I see that this involves your daily routine, health, work, with opportunities of personal growth and recognition in those areas. You may also be stepping into a new role of responsibility that requires self discipline on your part. You will be pushed to focus on your physical health a lot more. So if you feel like you're getting sick often it's a sign to stress less about it and take mindful steps towards it instead. Be it getting a proper check up or holding yourself accountable. You don't have to rush anything however, improvement will happen gradually. Some of you likely just need more movement but not the kind that puts your body on overdrive. There will be rapid progress and sudden opportunities coming your way out of the blue, a lot of communication and even travel. Career wise, it's looking really good! You will also be transitioning away from a very difficult time of your life. You may also have new intellectual pursuits, you'd want to learn new things or will be acquiring a lot of necessary knowledge. you will also find yourself juggling many tasks or projects at once but this will lead to a sort of mastery over your life You'll be feeling rather accomplished.

The next chapter calls for self expression, communication as well as creativity however some challenges or conflicts might arise as you assert your individuality or learn to find your voice in new environments.

You can however, look forward to emotional growth, new beginnings in your emotional life as well creative expressions.

Steady and solid growth when it comes to your finances as well. Something that makes you feel like you don't need to rely on others and you have financial freedom so one less thing to feel anxious about that has possibly been weighing down on you far too much .

Once again, try not to over exhert yourself or you'll end up attaching the experience to something that should come to you rather smoothly. In other words, you really need to drop the mindsets of the people that have been projected onto you and have become your belief systems. It's time to make some of your own without losing sight of what you truly value.

You can also expect more mental clarity and better insights in regards to what to do, where to invest, your life's purpose and what truly brings you joy. But instead of running from it like you did before, you'll embrace it.

You might feel more drawn towards arts, aesthetics, cooking, gardening etc as well.

Having time and proper consideration towards things you earlier didn't have the state of mind for.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Ways I can think of that “DanDaDan” differs from other shonen series:

* Female MC is as important as male MC

* Canon romance gets consistent development through the series. I think that’s part of the reason why the MC ships with the rivals (Aira, Jiji) aren’t as popular with the fandom for once. The main ship is actually getting good development, so the fanbase doesn’t have to make up headcanons to fill in the space.

* Flips the found family trope on its head by having the main group despise new people whenever they show up and they even actively try to kick them out. The new people only end up staying because they keep lingering around to the point that the main group just gives up and lets them stay.

* The rivals aren’t emo or angst-ridden. Aira is a delusional tryhard popular girl while Jiji is a himbo drama queen. I’d even go as far to say that the MCs are the ones who are emo and angst-ridden.

* Supporting cast is more than just important, they become integral to the story. I’d say that the further you read into DanDaDan, the more it becomes an ensemble cast where everyone is a protagonist in their own right.

* World-building is all over the place, but in a good way. Most other shonen are pretty consistent with what kind of world their characters live in. MHA is superhero-based, Naruto is ninjas and magic, Bleach is spirits, and so on. DanDaDan feels like the author just throws whatever cool shit they can think of into the story. That’s actually the reason why I wrote in a different post that DanDaDan reminds me more of Marvel/DC than any other shonen series, it manages to capture the catch-all insanity of those comics.

* Doesn’t rely on hidden power-ups. The main characters either have to outsmart the villains or they have to train to get better with the powers they already have.

* The pervert comic relief guy is actually endearing for once. Not because of his pervert tendencies, but because he’s so oblivious to how socially inept he is that it’s kind of funny. This is gonna sound strange, but he sorta reminds me of Thor in Thor Ragnarok. Full of himself and oblivious to how dumb he can be. He’s Thor without the good looks lol.

* Flips the “nerdy outcast loser somehow gets a harem” trope. Instead of making Okarun cooler than how he actually is, the story emphasizes that the women who fall for Okarun are as weird as him. Momo is a weird outcast, Aira has main character syndrome, Vamola doesn’t understand how to human because she’s literally not one, Rin thought Okarun was a vampire (and wanted him to be).

* Flips the “elderly figure in charge of the teenagers” trope. I don’t really get motherly figure vibes from Seiko Ayase, I get more “cool wine aunt who is stuck with her niece” vibes. In fact, there was the arc where Okarun showed up to her in spirit mode to get her help with fighting off the alien invasion and Seiko’s response was, “Well, I’m not in the area and I have other shit to do, so you kids figure it out.”

* The series takes the piss out of the trope of mystical/magical items that the group acquired to get their powers. I mean…the main mystical MacGuffin in the series are Okarun’s balls.

* Okarun was about to go into an “I’m weak / I wish I was stronger / I want to get stronger for my friends” breakdown, but Turbo Granny told him to shut up and keep fighting.

* Not afraid to put the “cool girl” in as many funny situations as possible. Off the top of my head, the series built up Momo as this cool, tough girl who doesn’t take shit from anyone…then several chapters later, Okarun found out she got a job at a maid cafe.

(Feel free to add to the list!)

[nightingale-prompts]

Overworked- DCxDP prompt

The knight led the group of selected heroes into the throne room. Sitting before a crowd of his people was none other than the ghost king.

"Do not test His Majesty, his mood his well this day. Say only what is necessary." The knight warned before stepping aside.

The kind wasn't what Constantine had mentioned. He was young and rather small for the throne he now sits on. The green flaming crown was unmistakable though.

The young man glared at them with intense animosity, his upper lip curled as he held back a reflexive snarl. Sharp canines peeked out just for a moment as he schooled his expression.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" The kind said drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. His black claws each clicking aginst the cold metal.

The group had been briefed on the situation by Constantine after they were summoning to this realm.

The short and sweet was that they were being mandated to appear before the king of the infinite realms for a long list of violations against the order of the universe. The current group contains Bruce, Clark, Wally, Kon, Jason, Hal, Barry, and Damian. Constantine himself will also be there but he already knows that this tribunal will have multiple groups.

The group reamined mostly silent.

"Where you not read your list of crimes?" The boy asked this time.

An attendant scurried through the crowd with a large scroll in hand before the king immediately waved him off tp return to his post.

"No, lets skip the reading. It would take cycles to get through the charges. Let me be brief. You have all been found guilty of charges of resurrection, time traveling, timeline manipulation, Planetary rearranging courtesy of Mr.Kent here, Interdimensional universe travel, and UNIVERSE MELDING! THE LIST GOES ON!" The king became more irate with every charge. "Tell me why I shouldn't banish you to an empty dimension right this instance."

Constantine knew this was all politics at the end of the day. This whole thing could be smoothed over with the right words by the right person.

"We are human." Bruce said firmly before anyone could stop him. Jason held back a groan of agitation.

"...So you are. What does that have to do with anything?" He boy asked.

"Isn't it natural for us to want to live and do whatever we can to keep living?" Bruce responded

Murmurs erupted amongst the crowd of onlookers.

"So what? Do you think you are the exception then? Look around heroes. This room is full of ghosts who would also have done to keep living. My people couldn't avoid death but they accepted it. What can I say to them if I let you go while they paid their price? How fair would that be?" The king condemned.

The murmurs turned into cheers for their king's words. It was unfair. Why do they get to do what they want without repercussions when they died without even getting the option to live?

"If it counts for anything many of us died to protect as many people as possible," Hal said.

"Well, good for you. How much was that sacrifice worth in the face of your resurrection? That probably doesn't feel cheap at all." The king said sarcastically. "I suppose that goes for most of you."

"I have an objection. Resurrection is not a choice if someone chooses to bring us back we don't get a say. By default we shouldn't be charged for it." Jason argued.

The king paused and raised a hand silencing the crowd.

"Hmmm, I suppose you are correct. Fine, I will strike it from the record." The kind relented.

The heroes had finally found an in. If they could argue their charges down they could leave.

"None of use have willingly time traveled. Hell i hated it. Being lost in time was not a chose we made." Wally said as Barry nodded along.

The king bit the inside of his cheek as he pondered the response.

"I suppose I can overlook it."

"Let me just say that any melding of the universe happened as a consequence of our battle with Darkside." Clark said getting rid of their their biggest charge.

"Darkside?" The king narrowed his eyes.

A courtier stepped forward and leaned down to whisper into the boy king's ear.

"I see. He will be added to the ledger for his crimes. His trial will not be as forgiving as yours. You will not be seeing him again." The boy silently signaled to the knight who bowed and exited with a group of others.

The boy sighed and stood up.

"Follow me."

The group was led down a long corridor to an office with stacks of paperwork from floor to ceiling lining the walls.

"Welcome to my personal hell." The king announced.

Constantine whistled at the sheer number of documents scattered across the room.

"Sorry about the whole court thing. I don't really want to do it but I kind of have to. The Observers demand some kind of punishment for violations. Also, you need to understand that your actions are kept track of and you can't escape it. When you break the rule I have to do the paperwork. AND I HATE PAPERWORK. So here is the deal. You guys bring me the people that have done worse than you on this list and I'll call it square. And if you don't I take everyone's souls." The King handed the scroll to Bruce. "I want the Al Ghul clan first."

"Wait but my-" Damian spoke out but was cut off by the King's raised hand to silance him.

"It is irrelevant to me what your personal issues are. Every violator will be judged for their crimes. If they can give me a good plea then they can return. Consider yourself lucky that you're too young for a full sentencing. As for the rest just do what I say and make up for your crimes. This is a mercy so don't complain."

It was clear that the moody young king wasn't going to argue. It was best to keep quiet and before they knew it the group was sent back to earth.

"You have no idea how lucky we got," Constantine said lighting up a cigarette and leaving to get a drink.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

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[v6quewrlds]

❝ borderline, j. burrow & t. higgins. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: working in and around the nfl for years, there aren't many people in the league who can knock you off your game. by some twist of fate, two of them show up together, hoping to lure you into their orbit.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: as requested by an anon <3 pls don't read if you're uncomfortable with this concept. didn't really know how to end this one so it's ambiguous lmao did this lowkey give me an idea for a pt 2? maybe. joe calls reader "sweetheart", tee calls reader "baby".

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, friends to lovers (?) the plural is intentional, threesome, fingering, eiffel tower but not really, blowjob, face fucking, cum eating, facial, somewhat dom!joe, switch!tee, pre-meditated threesome if you squint, praise kink.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader x tee higgins.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.8k.

You walked through the grand hotel lobby, your stilettos clicking against the marble floor. Your emerald green dress clung to your body like a glove, drawing the occasional admiring glance. You had looked forward to this wedding the entire season, eager to see your favorite players and closest friends all congregated in one place. As a sports journalist, you had become accustomed to the glitz and glamour of high-profile events, but this one felt different. It was personal.

The reception area was a flurry of activity as guests mingled and waitstaff glided around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and sparkling drinks. The scent of expensive perfumes and cologne hung in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of roasting meat from the nearby dining hall.

You spotted your close friend Bree chatting with a few other guests, her eyes lighting up when she caught sight of you. Bree waved you over, gesturing to the table you had been assigned. To your surprise, Joe Burrow and Tee Higgins, two of the Cincinnati Bengals' star players, were already seated at the table, sipping on their drinks and looking dapper in their tuxedos.

"Hey, y'all," you greeted them with a bright smile, placing your clutch on the table. "I didn't know you two were close to Amber and Dan."

Joe's smile was warm, but his sarcasm was as sharp as ever, his eyes crinkling as he took a sip of his whiskey. "To be honest, I'm not sure why I was invited. Maybe they felt sorry for me because I don't get out much." The admission drew chuckles from the rest of the table, but you knew him well enough to detect the hint of self-deprecating playfulness in his voice.

Tee spoke up next, his signature soft-spoken confidence unwavering even amidst the buzz of the crowded room. "I've known Amber since college, actually. Her sister dated my roommate." He leaned back in his seat, a glass of champagne in hand, his eyes lingering on your face as he took a sip. "You close with Daniel?"

You nodded, feeling a rush of pride as you thought of your career achievements. "Yeah, I've had some pretty memorable interviews with him. The sit-down I did with him after his knee injury helped me land my gig on First Take." You took a sip of your own drink, the cool liquid doing little to quell the heat rising in your cheeks as you weathered the intense gazes of the two athletes.

"How sweet," Joe said with a smirk, raising his glass of whiskey in a mock toast. "Is that why you swore he was league MVP last season?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay, I might have been a bit biased. But I owed him for that interview," you took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid sliding down your throat, your eyes dancing with mischief. "Were you jealous?"

Joe's smirk grew wider, his blue eyes flickered over to Tee's brown ones before moving back to find yours. "Maybe a little," he admitted, his hand landing casually on your thigh, sending a jolt of excitement through your body. You felt the heat rising from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

As if sensing it was his turn to flirt with you, Tee leaned closer, his hand ghosting against your shoulder as it fell over the back of your chair. "How's First Take going for you? Still holding your own against Stephen A?" His voice was a smooth rumble, and you couldn't help but smile, the tension easing a bit.

"I defended you guys last week, you know," you said with a smirk, swirling the ice in your drink. "Told him you're both underappreciated."

Joe's eyes lit up. "You did?" His hand fell heavier around your thigh as Tee's fingers traced lazy circles into your exposed skin, the warmth of their body heat seeping into your very soul. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

The words left his mouth casually, but you felt a flutter in your stomach. Tee's accompanying laugh did little to ease the tension that had suddenly thickened the air around the three of you.

The conversation grew more intimate, their touches lingering longer, the air around you crackling with unspoken desires. You felt the weight of their gazes on you, the way they studied your every move, every breath. It was like being the star of their own private show, and you found yourself playing up to their attention, your laughs a little louder, your movements a little more exaggerated.

Bree had long disappeared into the crowded dance floor, leaving you alone with Joe and Tee. Your conversation grew quieter, and more intimate, as you shared stories of your lives outside of football. You felt a strange connection with the two men, a bond that extended beyond the superficial. You tried your best to ignore the heat building between your legs as Joe's fingers traced patterns into your bare skin. Tee's thumb pressing into the pressure point at the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

The music grew louder, the rhythm pulsing through the floor and into your bodies. The lights grew dimmer, casting a seductive glow over the three of you. You found yourself leaning into Tee's touch, your eyes locked onto Joe's as he spoke about his most recent charity event for his foundation. His words cast a sharp contrast with the deep, soothing, seduction of his voice.

The conversation grew more flirty, Joe's hand sliding further up your thigh under the cover of the tablecloth. You gasped, trying to keep your cool, but the heat of his touch was like a brand on your skin. Tee noticed your reaction and leaned in, whispering something to Joe that made his eyes darken with desire.

"You good?" Tee asked, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. You nodded, your voice a little shaky. "Yeah, I'm okay." But you weren't okay; your nerves were on fire, the anticipation building like a storm in your chest.

The tension at the table grew so thick it was almost tangible, your eyes speaking volumes in the dimly lit room. When Joe leaned in closer, his breath a warm caress against your neck, you couldn't resist anymore. You turned to him, your eyes asking him a silent question, unwilling to potentially tip off a noisy guest to your newfound chemistry. Tee watched, his own desire evident in the way he licked his lips, his hand moving from your neck to squeeze your other thigh.

Recognizing the confirmation in Joe's eyes, your head turned to look at Tee, the same question in your eyes. He answered it with a smoldering gaze that left no room for doubt. "Come with us," he murmured, his voice a seductive invitation that sent a thrill through your body.

The three of you stood as one, the two men flanking your sides like bodyguards, guiding you through the sea of wedding guests. The music grew louder, the rhythm beckoning you to the dance floor, but you had other plans. Your heart raced as Joe's hand slid down your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your ass, while the back of Tee's hand brushed against yours. The electricity between you was undeniable, a current that could light up the entire hotel.

The three of you moved through the crowd, the warmth of your bodies pressing together, the heat of your desire almost too much to handle. When you reached the elevator, the tension was unbearable. Joe's hands pulled your back flush against his chest, making you gasp as his strong hands wandered across the material of your dress. Tee stood in front of you, his hand tipping your head back as he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was anything but casual. The doors closed, and the world outside was forgotten.

The elevator ride was a blur of hands and lips, the three of you exploring each other's bodies like you had been waiting for this moment your entire lives. Your dress was hiked up, Joe's hand slipping under your panties to feel the wetness that had pooled there. Tee's hand found your breasts, kneading them gently as Joe whispered sweet nothings into your ear. The ding of the elevator arriving at Tee's floor brought you back to reality with a jolt. You stumbled out into the hallway, breathless and desperate.

Tee fumbled with the keycard, the anticipation almost too much to bear. You giggled as Joe muttered low and bitter under his breath, "Take your time, buddy."

The door finally clicked open, and the three of you tumbled into the room, a whirlwind of lust and passion. The lights were dimmed, casting a seductive glow across the plush king-sized bed. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched the two men, both so powerful on the field, look at you with a hunger you hadn't seen before.

Joe took the lead, his eyes dark with desire as he approached you, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you against his firm chest. His kiss was demanding, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he could taste your thoughts, your fears, your desires. Tee's hands were on your shoulders, pushing the dress down your arms, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air. You gasped as Joe's mouth moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as his hands found your nipples, ghosting his fingertips over the peaks.

"Hold on," you said, placing a hand on Joe's wrist to still his movements. You took a deep breath, your eyes searching theirs for any sign of doubt. "Are you two sure that if I do this, there won't be some blonde chick harassing me on Instagram afterward?"

"You know we don't do drama. That's the last thing we need before the season," Joe assured you, his hands sliding up your arms to cup your shoulders. "We're just here to have a good time." His voice was a low purr, his gaze intense.

Tee stepped closer to you, a tattooed hand reaching up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "We promise, baby," he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. "This is just about us, right here, right now."

You searched their eyes, the room spinning with a mix of excitement and trepidation. You nodded slowly before speaking up again, "Okay, no pics, no videos, and this stays between the three of us. Agreed?"

"Scout's honor," Joe murmured, his hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer.

Tee leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, almost chaste kiss. The room felt electrified as your body responded instinctively, your hands moving to rest on his broad chest. You could feel Joe's erection pressing against your back, his breath hot against your neck as he watched the exchange. The heat of their bodies, the scent of your desire, and the promise of what was to come washed over you like a wave.

"You guys are playing with fire," you murmured against Tee's mouth, but the smirk that played on his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing. He broke the kiss, a knowing look passing between the two men. You gasped, pushing back against Joe as his hands found your tits, his palms squeezing them roughly, thumbs brushing against your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

"We know," Joe whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "But sometimes, you've gotta risk getting burned." His hand slipped down to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the room hit your bare back, making your skin pebble with goosebumps.

Tee stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to unbutton his shirt, his muscles rippling with every movement. You felt a rush of arousal as he revealed his sculpted chest, the ink on his skin telling a story of strength and resilience. He slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and you couldn't help but bite your lips in anticipation.

"You're so fuckin' sexy," Joe murmured, his hand slipping into your hair as he pulled you in for another kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Tee's hands on your hips as he turned you to face him. The two men moved around you like a perfectly choreographed dance, each touch setting your skin on fire.

The two men took turns kissing you, each one's touch different yet equally electrifying. Joe's kisses were demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that made your legs tremble. Tee's were soft and gentle, his lips brushing yours in a way that made you feel cherished. Your hands roamed over their broad chests, feeling the firmness of their muscles beneath the warm skin.

Tee stepped away, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you. "Damn, baby," he breathed, reaching out to trace the curves of your breasts. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, making them peak. Joe's hands slid down your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall away. The cool air made you gasp, your breasts bouncing slightly as you were exposed to them in nothing but the flimsy excuse for panties you had chosen for the night.

The tension in the room was thick, the anticipation almost a tangible force. You felt their eyes on you, the weight of their desire a heavy presence that made your knees weak. You stepped out of your heels, the impact of your bare feet on the carpeted floor leaving the football players towering over you.

"Get on the bed," Tee murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You obeyed, your legs feeling like jelly as you crawled onto the plush mattress. As you sat, perched and pretty, on the comforter, Joe began to undress, allowing Tee to make the first move.

Tee's eyes never left yours as he approached, his tuxedo jacket tossed aside and his bow tie undone. His large, strong hands reached for you, gripping your ankles and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed. You felt the heat from his body as he leaned in, his warm breath fanning your face as he whispered, "You're so fucking beautiful."

His words sent a shiver through you as he pushed your thighs apart, revealing your damp panties. Joe stepped closer, his own pants undone, his erection straining against his boxer briefs. He reached out, sliding one finger along the lacy fabric before hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pulling them to the side, exposing you to their hungry gazes.

"Goddamn," Tee whispered, his eyes locked on your nakedness. Joe's dick grew harder in his briefs as he watched his friend's reaction, his own desire mirrored in the tightness of Tee's jaw. Your heart was racing, your chest rising and falling with anticipation. You felt a thrill run through you as you watched their reactions, your own anticipation reaching a fever pitch.

"Prettiest pussy you've ever seen, huh?" Joe said with a smirk, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare skin. Tee nodded, unable to form coherent words as he stared.

You felt a warmth creep up your neck as you both took a moment to appreciate your body. You had always felt confident in your own skin, but the raw, carnivorous hunger in their expressions was something you had never experienced before. It was like they were really seeing you for the first time, and the thought of being desired by two such powerful, successful men was a heady aphrodisiac.

The room grew quiet, and the only sound was the rustle of clothes being removed. Your breathing grew shallow as Joe knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly peeled off your panties. Tee sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh with a look that made you quiver with anticipation. You could see his cock, thick and hard, straining against his boxers.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your thigh. He placed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. Tee leaned in, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his hand moving to cup your breast. You felt like you were in a dream, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in as Joe's tongue found your clit.

Their touches grew more urgent, more demanding, as they worked in tandem to bring you to the edge. Your hips began to rock, your body responding instinctively to the sensations they were creating. You felt Joe's hand slip between your legs, his fingers teasing your folds before sliding inside you, the feel of his thick digits stretching you and setting your body alight. Tee's mouth found yours, a heavy hand reaching to squeeze at the sides of your neck, your moans muffled by his kisses.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Joe's thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with the expertise of a maestro conducting an orchestra of pleasure. Tee's tongue danced with yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. You felt yourself spiraling closer to the precipice, your body tightening around Joe's hand.

The room was a whirlwind of sensations: the scent of their cologne, the sound of fabric shifting, the feel of Joe's calloused hands on your skin. It was almost too much, and you were lost in a haze of pleasure when Tee broke away, leaving you gasping for air.

"Gonna come, baby?" Tee's question was a breathy murmur in your ear, his hand moving from your neck to cup your cheek as he watched your face contort with pleasure. You could only nod, unable to form words as Joe's fingers worked their magic.

Your eyes locked onto Tee's above you as you felt Joe's thumb press down hard on your clit, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you in an explosion of color and sensation. You moaned weakly, your pussy clenching around Joe's hand as you rode the peak, your nails digging into the mattress.

When you finally came down, Joe withdrew his hand, a smug smile on his face. As if sharing a sense of telepathy, the two men stood up simultaneously to remove their boxers, revealing their generous lengths. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight, your heart racing with excitement and nerves.

"Make some room for me," Tee said with a mischievous smile, sliding onto the bed behind you as you sat up. His hand traveled down your body, his thumb brushing the swollen bud of your clit before sliding two fingers inside you. You gasped as he began to pump them in and out, his touch gentle yet firm.

Joe, who had stepped up to the edge of the bed, watched with darkened eyes as Tee worked his magic. He nodded towards Tee's lap as your eyes fluttered open. "You gonna get on top, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice thick with lust. You licked your lips, nodding eagerly.

With a smile, you shuffled over to Tee, your eyes meeting his hooded browns. You straddled Tee's thighs, feeling his hardness beneath you. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, his breathing heavy, before he leaned up and kissed you again, his tongue dancing with yours. You could feel Joe's eyes on the two of you, his gaze burning into your skin as you reached down to stroke Tee's dick before sinking down on it with a moan.

The feel of him filling you sent you both spiraling and you had to bite back a scream as you adjusted to his size. Tee's hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mingling with your moans and gasps for air. You leaned back into Joe as he slotted behind you, his hands pressing blistering heat into your skin as he kissed your neck and whispered encouragement into your ear.

Tee pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes hooded with desire as he watched you take him in. He reached up, his hands finding your tits, and began to tease your nipples as you rode him. The sight of you bouncing on his dick, your pussy squeezing him with every move, had him on the edge of his seat, quite literally. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you moaned out Tee's name, feeling the heat of Joe's chest against your back.

Joe's hands began to wander, caressing your body as you moved in rhythm with Tee. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that had your pussy spasming around Tee's cock. Your moans grew louder, your body moving faster as Joe's touch grew more insistent. You felt Tee's cock thicken inside you, and you knew he was close.

"Fuck, Joe, you seein' this shit?" Tee's voice was strained, his eyes glazed with pleasure as he watched your body take his length. Joe's only response was a low, feral growl as he continued to tease your clit.

"Perfect fuckin' fit," Joe murmured, his own arousal clear as he lazily stroked himself in time with your rhythm.

Your breathing grew shallow, your eyes locked onto Tee's. You felt Joe's breath against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as his fingers worked their magic. "I'm gonna cum," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea.

"Again?" Tee teased, brown eyes glittering with excitement as he watched your body tense with the approaching wave of pleasure. "I ain't complaining, but you're gonna wear me out." Your face grew hot as you felt the dual pressure of Tee inside you and Joe's thumb on your clit, pushing you to the edge.

"I can't help it," you panted, "you two are just too much."

Joe's chuckle was a dark promise against your ear. "We're just getting to the good part," he half promised, half teased, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

The room was a whirlwind of sensation: the slick slide of skin, the scent of arousal, the heat of two men surrounding you. Finally, you threw your head back again, your dark hair fanning out against Joe's pale shoulder as you came, your pussy clamping down on Tee's cock.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the orgasm ripped through you, drawn out by the feel of both Joe and Tee's hands on you. You barely registered Tee's cock slipping away from your heat, chuckling darkly as Joe watched your body spasm with pleasure. The quarterback muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Fuck me," and you felt a shyness creep over your cheeks, even in the throes of passion.

"Stand up for me, sweetheart," Joe finally murmured, his voice thick with desire. You complied, your legs shaky as Joe helped you to your feet. Tee leaned back on his elbows, his cock still throbbing against his stomach, glistening with your combined arousal.

Joe's hands slid around your waist, positioning you to face Tee. He whispered in her ear, "Suck his cock, baby. Make him feel good."

Your eyes widened, but the desire in Joe's voice and the way Tee's eyes lit up at the suggestion made your body respond immediately. You leaned over the edge of the bed as Tee scooted backward to allow room for your chest to rest on the sheets between his spread legs. Carefully, Tee swept your hair up into a crude ponytail, giving him an unobstructed view of your beautiful brown skin and the way your back arched with anticipation.

Your mouth hovered over Tee's cock, your breath warm against the sensitive flesh. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you down as you took him in. Your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked him in deep, your eyes closing delicately as you moaned around the taste of your arousal coating his length.

Joe's hand trailed over your skin to squeeze at your ass, sliding his cock to nestle in your warm pearl. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he murmured, his voice a gruff rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned around Tee's cock, the vibrations making him twitch with pleasure. Tee's grip tightened in your hair, guiding your movements as he guided your head up and down his length, his eyes tracing over your blissed-out expression.

Your bodies moved in harmony, a symphony of passion and desire that had been building since you first set eyes on each other that evening. The room was a whirlwind of sensations - Joe's calloused fingers digging into your skin, Tee's cock sliding in and out of your mouth, and the smell of your combined arousal. You felt like you were floating, weightless and free, as you gave in to the moment.

With a surge of energy, you lifted from Tee's dick, swirling your tongue around his mushroom tip with a self-indulgent smile. Joe's eyes lit up as he watched you, his own arousal evident as he continued thrusting into you. Tee's chest heaved as he took in the sight of you, his abs clenching with the effort to hold back.

"What the fuck?" Tee's eyes went wide with shock and arousal as he watched your teeth graze lightly over the most sensitive part of him, your eyes all innocent and pure as you gazed up at him. He didn't know what was happening, but his body was definitely on board. Your tongue flicked out, licking up the precum that beaded at the tip of his cock, making him grit his teeth in an attempt to keep from coming too soon.

Joe's breath was hot against your neck as he whispered, "Take him all the way in, baby," his hands on your hips pushing you down slightly. You obeyed, taking Tee deep into your mouth, the sound of your wetness as Joe fucked you from behind echoing through the room.

The sensation was overwhelming, the taste of Tee combined with the feeling of Joe's cock deep inside you making you moan around the head of Tee's dick. The vibrations sent his bottom lip between his teeth, his head dipping back with a strangled groan, nostrils flaring with concentration. You felt Joe's grip tighten, his thrusts growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. Tee's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your pussy clench around Joe's cock.

"Fuck," Tee hissed as your head bobbed up and down, your cheeks hollowing with each suck. The sight of your full lips stretched around his length and Joe's hand guiding you was more than he could handle. His own hand tightened in your hair, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"So good," you moaned around Tee's cock, your body trembling with the force of Joe's thrusts. Your third orgasm was building, a storm gathering on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury at any moment. Tee's hand stroked your cheek, the sweetness of his touch a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic need driving Joe.

"Good girl," Joe groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he watched you take Tee's cock deeper into your mouth. He could feel you tightening around him, your body begging for release. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen," the quarterback whispered, his voice thick with lust.

Tee's eyes rolled back, lost in the pleasure of your mouth. His hand on the back of your head grew more insistent, his hips bucking slightly as he approached climax. Your eyes watered, but you didn't pull away, your own pleasure building with every gag and moan you muffled around Tee's dick.

"Oh, shit," he moaned, his voice a deep, guttural sound that sent another shiver down your spine. You felt Joe's cock thicken even more inside you, his hips stuttering as he fought to hold back.

"Bet she dreamed about this, Tee," Joe murmured, his breath hot against your neck. You felt Tee's cock twitch in your mouth at the words, his eyes dark with desire.

"I know she did. Drooling all over my dick like this. Lookin' all pretty," Tee chuckled, his voice strained with arousal.

With that, Joe took over once again. He pulled you off Tee's cock, laughing out loud as his wide receiver shot him a sour look. "Joe," he groaned holding his hands up in protest, but Joe was having none of it.

You felt the warmth of Joe's breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Gonna look so much prettier with his cum all over your pretty face, gorgeous."

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you moaned out loud, closing your eyes as you tried to will yourself to hold off on your burgeoning orgasm. Tee's eyes widened as he caught onto Joe's words, a devious smirk playing on his lips.

The tension in the room grew palpable as Tee's hand on the back of your head grew firmer, guiding your movements. You felt his cock swell, the veins pulsing against your tongue. Your eyes watered as you took him deeper, your throat tightening around his shaft. The feeling of being used so thoroughly, by two men who had you pinned and writhing with pleasure, was intoxicating.

"Open that pretty mouth for me, baby," Tee urged softly, his voice thick with lust. You complied, presenting your tongue as Tee's cock slid out of your mouth, leaving a trail of precum. You watched as he stroked himself, his hand moving fast and sure.

"God, you're so fucking sexy," Joe murmured, his eyes locked onto the scene before him. You could feel his breath on your neck, his own arousal leaking into you. The anticipation was unbearable, the room seemingly closing in on you as Tee's strokes grew faster. You felt Joe's hand come down to rest on your lower back, hips stilling as Tee approached his climax.

"Gonna paint that pretty face, baby," Tee warned you, his voice tight with restraint. You nodded eagerly, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the first warm spurt of cum hit your cheek, sliding down to your chin. Tee groaned, his hand moving in fast jerks as he coated you in his release. When he was done, you opened your eyes to find Joe watching you, his own desire clear.

Joe's hand moved from your back to your face, his thumb brushing over your cum-covered cheek. "Taste it," he instructed, his voice a seductive growl. You obeyed, your kiss-swollen lips wrapping around the pad of his thumb, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth, feeling the stickiness of Tee's release on your skin.

"You fuckin' liked that, didn't you?" Tee's voice was filled with a mix of pride and satisfaction as he watched you lick his cum off Joe's thumb. Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you nodded, a giggle bubbling out of you. The room was thick with the scent of your combined arousal, your hearts pounding in sync with the pulsing beat of the bass from the party below.

Joe's smile grew wicked. His grip on your hips tightened, his dick still buried deep inside you as he began to move again, slowly at first. You fully moaned out, any shyness completely forgotten as you felt Joe twitch inside you. The power play between them had you more turned on than you'd ever been.

Tee laughed as he finally began to recover from his orgasm. "Go 'head, baby, make Joey cum. I think he worked hard for it." He winked at you, who rolled your eyes playfully. The room was thick with lust, your heavy breathing echoing off the walls.

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Think he's right, sweetheart?" he questioned, his voice low and rough. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him begin to move again, his strokes deep and deliberate. You moaned around the taste of Tee's cum, the sound muffled by your head falling into the sheets.

"Fuck, yes," you managed to murmur, your hips rocking back to meet him. Joe's chuckle was deep and dark as he picked up his pace, his hands moving to squeeze your sides as he drove into you. Your eyes rolled back in your head, the feeling of being filled with Joe's cock and watching Tee's exhausted, satisfied face was overwhelming.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Joe demanded, his voice strained as he pulled you up against him. Your back arched as you opened your eyes to find his piercing blues staring down at you. "I wanna see your face when I come inside you."

Your eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze setting your body ablaze. You could feel the muscles in your core tightening, your orgasm building with every stroke. Joe's grip on your hips grew fiercer, his movements punctuated by the slap of your bodies meeting. The head of his cock nudged your g-spot with precision, sending sparks through your body.

"Look at me," Joe repeated, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. You did as you were told, your eyes connecting in a silent agreement that this was more than just a casual fling. There was something deeper, something raw and primal that bound you two together in this moment.

The room seemed to spin around you as Joe's thrusts grew more erratic. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, the promise of his climax imminent. You leaned back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust as you threw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "I'm gonna cum again." The words were barely out of your mouth before you felt the warmth of Joe's release fill you up. He groaned, his hips bucking against you, his orgasm intense and powerful. Tee watched, his hand still around his cock, stroking slowly as he took in the sight of two of his close friends, lost in their shared passion.

Your body shuddered as the waves of pleasure washed over you, your hands slotting over Joe's as he trailed a hand up to squeeze at the sides of your neck, constricting your airways deliciously. Joe's cock continued to pulse inside you, painting your insides with his seed as your walls fluttered around him. The heady scent of sex filled the air, intoxicating and overwhelming. You felt Joe's grip on your hips ease, his breathing slowing as he pulled out.

Tee's eyes never left yours, his hand still moving languidly on his shaft. He looked up at Joe, a silent question in his gaze. Joe nodded, a smirk playing on his lips, and Tee moved in closer, his hand reaching for your chin. He turned your face to him, and you felt his kiss, soft and gentle, almost tender in contrast to the fiery passion you had just shared with Joe. It sent a refreshing wave of serenity over you, and you melted into it, your body still quivering from the aftershocks of your climax.

"You good?" Tee asked softly, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. You nodded, your eyes flicking from Tee to Joe and back again, the gravity of what you had just done settling in. The room was quiet except for your synchronized breathing, and you could feel their eyes on you, watching your every move, every reaction, every twitch of your relaxing muscles.

You felt Joe's weight shift away from you, retreating to the bathroom to grab some washcloths. When he returned, he tossed one to Tee and used the other one to wipe you down gently, his touch surprisingly tender. You looked down at the mess you'd made off the bed, a mix of cum and sweat, and felt a strange sense of pride. These were two of the most eligible bachelors in the NFL, and here they were, sharing you like a treasure.

Your trio lay in a tangled heap of limbs, your breaths syncing as you all came down from the high of your shared experience. The tension of earlier was gone, replaced by a warm, contented silence. You felt a sense of belonging you hadn't known in a long time as Joe's hand trailed lazily across your back and Tee's arm draped over your waist. You were a unit now, bound by a secret that only the three of you knew.

As the reality of what had just transpired began to sink in, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement and a hint of nervousness. You looked between them, two men you had known for years, two men you had never thought of in this way until tonight.

"What the hell just happened?" you murmured, a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

Joe leaned in, his expression a mix of satisfaction and amusement. "I think we just had the best sex of our lives," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. Tee's eyes twinkled with playfulness as he nodded in agreement. "All because of you, baby," he added, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You couldn't help the scoff that escaped your lips as the teammates reached over your body to dap each other up in shared accomplishment. A "My man," slipped through the quiet from Tee's lips, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. The sight of the two men celebrating their supposed victory, their friendship so clear even in the most intimate of moments, filled you with a strange sense of comfort.

"So, you two wanna explain why you're so good at this?" you teased, poking Joe in the ribs, the blonde squirming at your touch. "It's like you've practiced."

Joe's smirk grew wider. "I think this is pretty close to what we do on the field, you know? That QB-WR connection? We've got it down." His eyes twinkled as he leaned in closer to you. "We just knew what we wanted." His hand traveled down your side, sending a fresh wave of tingles across your skin.

"Once we figured out we both had feelings for you, we figured we could share," Tee whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're too much for just one of us to handle anyway." He chuckled, his hand sliding down your thigh. "It doesn't hurt that we make a pretty good team."

"And what would you two have done if I said no?" you asked, your voice revealing a hint of a challenge. You couldn't help the smirk that tugged at your lips as you watched the two men exchange glances, the unspoken communication between them almost comical in its synchronicity.

"I'd fuckin' kill him, he talked me into it," Tee said with a chuckle, reaching over you playfully jostle Joe. "But for real, we knew you'd be down."

Joe's expression grew serious. "We respect you too much to push you into anything." He brushed a lock of hair from your face. "We just wanted to be honest. Let you know how we feel."

You searched their faces, the gravity of their words sinking in. "I appreciate that," you said softly. "But what now? This isn't exactly something you tell people at work when they ask about your weekend."

Joe nodded. "We know. That's why it's just between us. What happens in this room, stays in this room." His thumb traced circles on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine. "But if you're into it, we could keep this going."

Tee leaned in, his voice a gentle rumble against your skin. "Just something casual. No strings, no drama. Just something between us three. We got each other's backs, always."

Your heart raced at the thought. It was risky, especially with your career in and around the league. But the connection you felt with Joe and Tee was undeniable, a potent cocktail of attraction and friendship that you hadn't experienced before. The thrill of secrecy only added to the allure.

"Okay," you said, your voice a hesitant whisper. "But only if we're all clear on the rules. No one outside this room can ever know. Ever."

Joe and Tee nodded solemnly, their eyes locked on yours. "You got it," Joe said, his thumb brushing over your plump lower lip. "Our lips are sealed."

This was fucking insane.

[jilted-love]

Aging being normal and unstoppable doesn't mean you have to look bad about it. Look at people from older generations and how they aged before compared to now. There's a big difference because people are now taking care of their skin's health. If you want to see what dull skin is like, I literally uploaded how I looked like before I started taking care of my skin. I've got a healthier glow to my skin now even if I've gotten older. I'm proud of this progress so I'm actually recording it on my phone that's why I have before and after images.

A lot of Asian countries can speak English well. Like mine. I'm Asian and speak English fluently. Do you think Asians should not talk about things we feel relevant to us even if we have better experience about it just because our first language is not English? Because that sounds racist.

The post demonized first a practice that's widely accepted as part of people's health in Asia and gave a caricature of what people "look like" if they get into anti-aging. So that's why I inserted an example of my experience and what I look like. I'm human, an ordinary person, and I use anti-aging products and still look like a human being. You think you can separate skincare and anti-aging because you have a certain bias against anti-aging but in other countries, anti-aging is normal both for health and aesthetic. So many people think Asians look young by default or that it's because of our genes but no, it's because of better care for our bodies.

The only thing I ignored from what you sent is the list of toxic ingredients because I have never used L'oreal, Olay, or Garnier on my body. They're overpriced to start with. I personally use a retinol serum that I know the concentration of which fits me and I also research into the products I use instead of just blindly using anything being sold for their branding.

I'm reacting to this post about anti-aging because for me and a lot of people benefiting from anti-aging, THE POST WAS DEHUMANIZING. I do not look like a cutout patch of skin just because I use products and buy into the "industry" that Westerners do not approve of.

I'm pretty sure the West also has anti-aging products that aren't out to kill you. You just have to look for it and research into anything you use before putting them on your body. Pro tip: most things being advertised on mainstream aren't good.

If I demonized people who look old and aren't taking care of their skin, it's because I was dehumanized first. This whole post compared someone like me to that thing from Doctor Who. The picture doesn't even show a person, just a patch of skin. You don't think I have a right to be offended of that? Feel free not to do anti-aging in any of your routine, that really has nothing to do with me. But do not look down on me like I'm not a person while you might look like you need some moisturizer. If I wasn't dehumanized first, I wouldn't care about this post at all.

But yes, Westerners being demonized is a thing for me. Have you checked around you? 2024 and there are so many problems with the West.

I saw anti-aging word in the original post. Not plastic surgery. Which by the way, people can do if they want to and should be normalized instead of being shamed. It's also prevalent in Asian countries and only demonized by Westerners or misogynistic men who think women are fake for makeup and other cosmetics.

honestly more media should portray the anti aging industry as horrific and decidedly unhuman. it IS body horror it IS grotesque it DOES go against nature. it WILL kill you. yes.

[cuntdevil]

★ NEVER BE ENOUGH !

the fan fiction he writes for you will never be enough, and neither is the week he's been gifted to meet you. it will never be enough until he has you in his hold.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, kamo choso, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 17k words !

╰┈➤ fanboy/fan fic writer!kamo choso & actress!reader, choso has a tumblr account, parasocial relationship, obsessive!kamo choso, stalking, nonconsensual photo taking, mentions of masturbation, sexual fantasies, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, etc.

( author's note. ) i enjoyed writing this piece so much, even though i was a bit nervy !! i hope you lot enjoy as well !! much love, baebies. mwah !

They say people that write fan fiction are weird. That they’re stuck in a world that will never become a reality. That they’re obsessed with fiction instead of focusing on the authentic. And, in a way, it’s true. They have an imagination that brings them to wonders and they hope to escape the real world. They spend hours on end trying to perfect scenes, hyper-fixating on one specific idea that came to them at the whee hours in the middle of the night that they just had to bring to life to alleviate the constant badgering inside of their mind. They give people a gift, something free to read in their spare time, for nothing in exchange except for a like, reblog and a comment to share their feelings. 

Choso, he doesn’t feel ashamed when he admits that he indulges in fan fiction to his friends. Why should he? It is, after all, a form of creativity. However, the teasing becomes annoying and it’s all they can talk about for weeks on end, so instead, he keeps it to himself because he just can’t be bothered. But, to say he’s ashamed? No, that’s something he’ll never be. 

Why should he be when he can fabricate an entire universe inside of his mind? Why should he be when he can beckon thousands of people to read his work and garner a following that tells him that he’s not alone — that there are people who enjoy his work and what he can create with the right pairings of words and phrases? Why should he be when he has mutuals that write alongside him, doing what they love to do?

Call him an extremist all they want, but if other men can create their dream characters in their fantasy footballs and have entire plotlines to how they came to the top, what’s so different from it? He should be able to love something so much that he needed to create his own world(s) of it. Even if they all revolve around you. 

If anyone were to scroll through his masterlists, they'd see that over one hundred of them had your name in it. Didn’t matter if it was a specific character you played or if it revolved around the real you, it was a consistent list that let his readers know that he was irrevocably in love with you. It was concerning until they saw a different name not tied down to you, clicking on the link as their previous remarks were quickly forgotten. 

He had first come to know of you through a sit-com, Big House. A child actress with the cutest of eyes. You had called all the attention on you as viewers loved you the moment you were introduced, rating going higher and the television series going for a total of eight seasons. It was a long-running show during the time that it ended, but Choso soon learned that all the episodes he had been watching at the time were reruns and weren’t current. It had disappointed him as he, too, saw your appeal to the mass.

He had next seen you on another show aimed for kids and families, once again, compiling high ratings for television companies as you had many side projects of modeling, acting in different franchises, and even dabbling in a short-term music career (It was an inside joke to fandom that your singing career remains unmentioned). However, Choso didn’t feel inclined to write until you starred in Us Against the World. 

For the first time, you were the main star of the show, finally showing the world your true capabilities and leaving everyone enamored by your performance. It worked especially well in your favor as previously, you were tied to a huge controversy that tarnished your name, being labeled as Hollywood’s Supreme Diva, after freshly turning eighteen and paparazzi weren’t so nice. 

The countdown to your eighteenth birthday had been a disaster as preying men had been looking forward to the big one-eight and the media entertained it— sexualizing your transition from child to adulthood. You had already started rebelling at sixteen, photo-ops have proof of you smoking and participating in underage drinking. Mothers ridiculed you, fathers fantasized about you. It was so disgusting in Choso’s eyes, his thick pieces on Tumblr being proof of it.

When the day had come and you wanted to celebrate despite the media constantly being up your ass, paparazzi were bombarding you the moment you slipped outside of a Casino, reaching for you in attempts to ask you invading questions. You had your bodyguards with you, but one managed to sneak through the cracks, reaching straight for your breasts. There were two infamous shots taken back then— one of you being groped and the next one you punching said paparazzi square in the jaw. 

Your father made you take self-defense classes, and you knew you could throw a punch. It was evident on the sleazy man’s face that you could, too, but in efforts to keep his dignity intact. He spit out the blood and said, “You punch like a little bitch!”

That was the title of the articles that came out the very next day, alongside (Your Name) has become the Supreme Diva of Hollywood. You seemed to have vanished after that night as people went on and on about your disrespectful nature, like you should’ve just let the man grope you. And people didn’t ignore your absence for a while, further articles being published and claiming that you were embarrassed about the way you lashed out. 

You had stayed away from the media for two to three years until you were offered a role to play the lead in a zombie television show called Us Against the World. The director had contacted you herself, explaining who she saw you as, Beatrice Martin, and how she thought you were well suited for the character, seeing everything that you went through. You had gotten so comfortable with the silence and seclusion from the world of fame that you were about to say no, but instead, your mouth had said “yes” and further promised that you were willing to at least audition for the role. 

Choso had set a reminder on his calendars of when the show would first be televised, locking himself up in the room with food and drinks as he was perched on his bed. The opening scene began with you and from that moment forth, he was hooked on the television show and you. Shortly afterwards, he had found himself immersed into the world of fandom, learning more about it and that people wrote fics based on the characters and different forms of media they enjoyed. From Wattpad to Quotev to Fanfiction.net, Choso indulged in many websites and apps. However, he felt a calling when he found Tumblr— the shitty site holding him bound by his arms and legs— the url handle kamoso becoming an account that many people look forward to clicking. 

—

You thought you were done with acting. You wanted to be, but now that you’re back under the limelight and more in control about your image, you manage to endure the brunt of the lifestyle. The worst has passed, after all. 

You’ve fallen back in love with the art of being someone else, finding comfort in the fake as you flash faux smiles and scream in agony on the camera as your significant other on screen gets ripped apart by the undead, fake blood pouring from the contraption connected to the fake arm. However, under the circumstances you’re under, you can’t stop and mourn, calling more attention to yourself under the herd of zombies hurdling your way. You have to be selfish and think for yourself, trying not to look back at the hungry mob nibbling on your dying lover. 

You run until the scene is called to a close, halting your movements as you pant. Hands landing on your knees as you hunch over and throw your head back. And when your co-star, Geto Suguru, touches your shoulder, you immediately reach to hug him, groaning as you tighten your hold around him and him doing the same. Everyone crowds together in this moment of goodbye because outside of flashbacks and cameos, this will be the last of consistently seeing him. 

And while this is all fake, some of it feels real as you will mourn the loss of another consistent cast member, soon to be replaced by someone else come episodes or seasons later. However, you’ll enjoy the video essays and the threads online people will create the moment the episode will drop— crazy conspiracy theories being said as fans stay completely in denial to the loss of another founding character. Or, people lowkey glad that they’re gone, sharing their thoughts on why they hated Geto’s character. Whatever it will be, you’ll use some of your spare time to giggle at it and message him later on that day. 

Because, outside of the bad that has come out of achieving your dreams, you really have come to enjoy the good that comes out of it. Like the contest that you’re participating in, the television company, ABC Channel, you’re currently working under partnering with ‘The Aspiring’ to host a contest, inviting a few fans to meet with any of the participating cast members of whatever show under ABC for a week. As explained to you, the contestants will submit an entry following the prompt: If you were to rewrite one episode, which one would it be, and why? 

You had found the prompt interesting when the news of a contest was announced during one of the meetings when Us Against the World was ready to start filming for the new season, opting yourself to be one of the stars who were willing to participate. It had brought a lot of shocked faces as you haven’t really shown interest in much fan interactions minus occasional hellos you’d give when someone recognized you. You had kept yourself reserved much to the media’s dismay as they were quick to write off that you had returned back to your old ways, but genuine fans were always quick to defend you, seeing you as what you are— human. Nonetheless, you received support from your fellow co-stars and staff, happy that you’re opening yourself up a bit more. 

The contest has yet to be announced, but you’re anticipating it as you also had the chance to be involved in who won for your show. It would be an opening of opportunities for the winner, a possible chance to network if they had true potential. You were always grateful that someone saw yours and you wanted to be the next person to shine the light onto someone else. You could hear your father’s voice inside your head at times, questioning you for your naivety and how you could take a risk like this. You can hear the deep, angered grumble of his voice chastising you. “How can you be so stupid? Why would you take a chance like this?”

Once upon a time, you’d let his every word dictate you. You hadn’t much choice as he was your parent and you were a minor, but you let his words become your Bible and had lost yourself along the way. While you had deterred yourself away for a while— hence the columns of you drinking and smoking— you had always let him put his foot on your neck in deciding who you were to be otherwise. It got worse when you had turned eighteen and you had let him put a halt in your acting career, wanting you out of the limelight for good. You had wanted a break, but never wanted to detach yourself entirely. When Us Against the World was offered to you, you and your father had a huge falling out about it and you haven’t seen him since. 

He’s called, and you have, but neither of you have made the effort to see one another. And, honestly? You like it that way. You want to shine without the moon standing in your way. Everyday, you’re a little closer to doing just so. 

—

theaspiring and abchannel 

Want to meet one of your favorite stars? You’re just in luck! The Aspiring and ABC are collaborating together to give dedicated fans a chance to spend a week with one of their favorite stars. All you have to answer is: If you were to rewrite one episode from your favorite ABC series, which would it be, and why? 

Put your imagination to use as we’re accepting a variety of submissions. However, please adhere to our rules and guidelines when submitting. Click the link below for more information and faqs. We can’t wait to see your submission!

www.theaspiring.com/abc-x-the-aspiring-contest 

Choso’s heart begins to race, reading the post caption, checking the account legitimacy only to see that both accounts are verified. When he clicks on the hyperlink, it sends him straight to the official website. He has to pinch himself in order to convince his mind that this is real— that this opportunity is an actuality and there’s a possibility that he can win.

He throws his phone at the far corner of the bed, too close to the edge but never falling. On his nightstand, he immediately reaches for his laptop, an idea already in mind as he spends the rest of the day writing. He typically finds himself like this when he writes, caged up inside of his bedroom as neglecting his health in order to finish a fic. The many times he had to tell himself that this wasn’t serious— fan fiction isn’t serious— and that he shouldn’t ruin his health because of it. However, he just gets so captivated by it, putting all of his focus on it and not eating or drinking or showering the entire day. His fingers would only move as his eyes got dry from looking at the screen for hours on end, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop as his mind would only go and go and go. If he didn’t get it down now, he was in fear that all of his ideas would evaporate in that very moment and they’d get lost in the abyss of forgotten epiphanies. 

Right now is the same as the last time he looked at the clock, it was only ten in the morning. When he’s finally done, it’s eight at night and the word count reads over 20k words long. He’s developed a migraine by now, finally shutting the laptop as the document automatically saves. The moment his feet hit the floor, it tingles and he has to limp his way to his bedroom door. He rolls his head back, his vision getting funny as he opens the door. He’s starting to feel the quick repercussions of his actions as his stomach growls and he starts feeling nauseous. He has to force himself to muster up the strength, fixing a small bowl of oatmeal to take away the pain and jump in the shower right after. 

The heat of the water is relaxing, the piping hot touch cracking every aching muscle in his body as he relaxes. The eucalyptus body wash infiltrates the steamy air, its strong scent lulling him to sleep that he nearly slips and calls it quits. Somewhere along the way, the clip holding his hair up has slipped out, his hair falling in front of his face haphazardly. The white towel wrapped around his waist threatens to fall as he takes careful steps, excess water dripping in his path. In the comfort of his bedroom once again, he pulls on a baggy t-shirt and pajama pants as he jumps back into bed. His laptop lays next to him as he’s momentarily coaxed to get back on it, but the exhaustion running rampant through him takes control and knocks him out before he could truly contemplate what was happening. 

The next day, when he’s wide awake, he works on the document again. He proofreads it, correcting all of his mistakes and making sure that everything makes sense. The document name, Never Be Enough. He had always wanted to write a fix-it fic for one of the most tragic episodes in the entire series, where your character— Beatrice— had finally reunited with your father after being departed for months because of the apocalypse. It was the main plot to the series for majority of the time as every time that you were close, some heavy obstacle would fall into place, distancing the both of you before either of you knew. It aggravated him, the writing of the show that he remembered wanting to drop it at some point. However, he braved it through. 

When the episode finally came where Beatrice was finally reunited with her dad, he was ripped away from her. Literally torn apart from her in a stampede of zombies that managed to make it through the barricade surrounding the small colony of survivors. Your band of friends that helped you get there had to get you away as you watched in pain, the last part of your old life all gone. The episode was called Never Be Enough, and gosh, while he hated it, it fit so perfectly. Because no matter how much you have fought to get there, it all felt like it was never enough. Choso had to question if it was his emotions that made him believe that the show writers were just crappy at their job and if in actuality, they were geniuses. 

After the season was left on that cliffhanger, it made Choso go into a silent rage inside of his mind as he could only think about how it ended and the possibility of your character arc being ruined before it even got the chance to get better. He had written some possibilities of a better ending, but never decided on it until yesterday. Twenty thousand words he had to look over, and if he’s being honest with himself, it still doesn’t feel like enough. But while there wasn’t a word limit of written entries for the contest, he didn’t want to test said limits and kept most of the piece where it was at. When he was finished, he formatted the first page how it was asked of him.

Alternative Ending to Us Against the World, Season Two: Episode 11

Never Be Enough by Kamo Choso.

Top Three Picks for 1 Week Celebrity Meet: Your Name, Geto Suguru, and Nobara Kugisaki.

He wrote a small page on why he thought the episode needed to be written before he transitioned onto the work itself, making sure that it flowed together before overlooking the entire document again. When he was finally satisfied, he downloaded the document— Never_Be_Enough_KCH.docx— and logged into his account for The Aspiring. He hated this feeling, this piercing pressure of anxiety in his chest. It happened whenever he posted a new fic and now it was happening with this, too, but this? This was much worse.

He felt like he could barely breathe, slowly dragging the file with his cursor and watching it load. When he read 100%, he hovered over the ‘Submit’ button and squirmed in his gaming chair, the seat swiveling as he turned from side to side. Closing his eyes, he just had to do it. The sound of the right click echoing through the room before he opened his eyes again and watched the screen load. Then, virtual confetti blowing across the screen as ‘Successful!’ reads across the laptop. He lets out the breath he was holding, his reddened face losing its color as he shuts the screen and jumps onto his bed. 

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he clicks open the Tumblr app, opening up a new post page and types out: ‘I think I just made the worst mistake yet. I’ll tell you guys later if I’m a fool or not.’

—

You never realized how reviewing competition submission could be so tiring. Days and days of watching, viewing and reading what people had to say. While it had been fun at the beginning, it quickly became tedious and exhausting after day three. From your checklist, you marked off those you found no interest in and checked off people who had lots of potential.

Each submission was sorted by the contestants’ top choices, where you seemed to have the majority of it for Us Against the World. Thankfully, any submission that had shown red flags were immediately removed before your viewing, but it was still a heavy amount that you had to go through. Your body ached and your vision started to blur as you read over another paragraph before groaning. You shut your phone screen off and drop the device right next to you on the couch and get up. 

When you stood up, you stretched and sauntered straight to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a tupperware of leftovers. When you look at the time, it’s only twelve in the afternoon. A yawn draws from your lips, eyes squinting shut as the hum of the microwave sounds in the small luxury apartment. You stretch once more, arms rising above your head as your shirt joins you for the ride, your belly button peeking from underneath. Three chimes before you’re opening the microwave door and pulling out the orange chicken and lo mein, stabbing a fork in it and blowing on the spoonful of food. 

You turn on the television the moment you return back to the couch, taking a moment to unwind and watch something that isn’t so of substance. Somewhere in between, you fall asleep, food halfway finished and nearly falling from your grasp. Your head leans crooked as you sleep sitting up, your head resting simultaneously on the wall and the leather as you’re tilting over. Ever so slowly do you move until you hit that slippery slope, falling down so fast that you jump awake in fright and your fork finally falls from the tupperware, clinking against the marble floor. 

“Shit,” you curse, never meaning to fall asleep. Glancing at the clock, more time has passed more than you expected, making you curse one more time as you go in search of your phone. It loads back to the last submission, which you quickly click out of and find something else. It takes time getting back in the groove of things, but when you do, you find yourself with certainly more energy than you did before, managing to skim through most of them. 

You spend the remainder of your day cooped up back on the couch before you’re clicking on what you note will be the last submission for the night. The document name, Never_Be_Enough_KCH.docx, when you click on it, it takes some time to load. The three dots spinning around in a circle before the front page loads. 

When you start scrolling, you gasp. “Damn…”

Over twenty thousand words to read. Wow, you think. They practically wrote a novel. You started debating on if you should really end your night with this. If you did, you won’t go to bed until midnight, and you have a busy schedule tomorrow. It wouldn’t be worth it. However, you manage to convince yourself to read the first paragraph at most, reading why they believed that episode should’ve been remade. In fact, they went on a miniature rant on why they believed the entire first couple of seasons should have been rewritten. It made you laugh as it heavily intrigued you, leading you to scroll further and read through it more.

One thousand words became two, and five thousand became ten. The words were written so seamlessly that when you stopped to glance at the time, you no longer cared, wanting to know what happened next. It was as if you weren’t an actress, but a fan of the series itself, immersed so deeply into the plot as you started tearing up at some points, laughing at the next. It felt amazing to be well invested in something. When it was finally over and you could no longer scroll, you felt a missing piece within your heart as you felt like it was too short and there should be more. 

Pushing yourself to sit up on the couch, you wiped away the tears on your face. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. You didn’t think coming into this, you’d get so emotional, but this person? You scroll back to the beginning of the document, reading their name. This person, Kamo Choso, really outdid themself. On your list, you highlight his name. You don’t care if you didn’t finish the majority of entries, you go to message your manager, downloading the file as you send it to her. You even go the extra mile to messaging your coworkers, your text reading along the lines of: This one is definitely worth the read. I think I’ve already found my winner. 

—

In two months time, Choso receives an email from The Aspiring. He doesn’t open it immediately. Instead, he waits until the next day at midnight when he’s finally remembering it. With short breaths and his chest rising and falling, his thumb hovers over the notification as the subject line reads— Your Submission Results are in . . . 

And gosh, Choso really has to work on his pessimistic views because when he finally clicks on the email, he immediately thinks he’s lost the competition, dread coursing through his body as he’s preparing himself for disappointment. However, the words of We’re Sorry never show up and instead . . .

Congratulations, Choso! We were very impressed with your submission as you’ve managed to keep us on the edge of our seats for your entry. We’re ecstatic to say that you’ve won a chance to meet your number one pick, Your Name. They have a very special note to further congratulate you. 

“Congratulations, Choso! I wanted to personally say that I really enjoyed every ounce and every minute that I got to read your submission. It was really immersive and I have to say, you have a special way with words. Thank you so much for the time you spent writing it because I know it was a lot. Can’t wait to meet you in person!” — Your Name. 

Choso went to sleep as a more happy and optimistic man. 

DAY ONE

Airplanes have never been Choso’s thing. He doesn’t travel much, but when he does, he tries to avoid them if he can. He doesn’t have a fear of them, but he finds them so uncomfortable. The entire process of having to check in and then going through his packed bags to take out electronics and whatever TSA asks of him. It’s a tiring process that he’d just like to avoid altogether. However, for you and a paid flight, he’s willing to go through the hassle. He just has to make sure he has enough stuff to help him survive the trip over. It’ll be about a seven hour flight, after all. 

Scheduled to board the plane at twelve-fifteen, he should arrive around eight-fifteen. However, due to the different time zones, it’ll be somewhere around five when they land. It’s the one thing that Choso dreads when traveling as a whole, the change of time always messing with his mind and making him an absolute grumpy mess as he tries to get accustomed to it all. But, then again, he tells himself, it’s for you and it’s an all expenses covered trip. He shouldn’t complain at all.

When he boards the flight and it’s finally ready for take off, the first thing he pulls out is his iPad and the keyboard installment to go with it, pulling up offline documents he made sure to have saved up to his current progress. He spends the majority of the time on the plane hopping from one document to the next as it helped ease him during the turbulence and ongoing ruckus that would happen from time-to-time. 

Black headphones that drown out the rest of the world, when his iPad dies and his portable charger is already in use, he spends the next hour fast asleep with Lofi hip hop playing in his ears until he’s being nudged awake. One, two, three times he is nudged because he’s finally awake. A raspy ‘hm?’ that leaves his lips before his dark eyelashes flutter open. His aisle is completely empty when he looks around, only a flight attendant standing in front of him. “Sir, the plane has landed and everyone’s left.”

“Huh?” he hums before he realizes what she’s said. “Oh!” 

Face heating up as he abruptly stands, nearly falling over, he rushes to the overhead storage to pull out his carry on luggage. He leads himself out of the plane, never making eye contact with the rest of the attendants as he shuffles with his carry on. Checking the time, it’s thirty minutes past five and the vehicle waiting for him will be here around six. He thanks the simplicity of domestic flights as he doesn’t have to go through the heavy hassle of further checks, making a beeline towards the exits as people crowd the outside, either waiting for their ride or taking their luggage out of the trunk.

Choso passes the time with music playing in his ears and his eyes glued to the phone, reblogging posts and reading through his TBR list on Tumblr. When the clock ticks closer to six, he’s shutting his phone off and keeps his eyes out for his designated ride, anticipation running through him whenever a vehicle comes close. It has his anxiety racing as his fingers twitch to the jagged birthmark etched across the bridge of nose, the dark line probably annoyed with his habit. 

When his ride did come, it was more than he expected. A black limousine parking in front of Terminal D, just as they had explicitly told him. People were selfish as the vehicle tried to turn into the front, honking their horns in hopes to get past. However, the stubborn chauffeur stayed in place as shortly, people made space for him. When he finally parked, the chauffeur hopped out of the front seat as he quickly averted his attention to Choso. The dark birthmark being the indicator of his identity as he approached him. “Kamo Choso, am I right?”

Choso nods, eyes widening as he realizes that the limousine was, in fact, for him. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, but he didn’t suspect it to be just like the media portrayed it. “Uhm, yeah,” he verbally responds. “That’s me.”

“Great,” the chauffeur smiles curtly. “I’m Haibara. I just need to see some ID and we’ll be on our way.”

Pulling out his passport, Haibara takes a picture of it, his fingers swiping and clicking away before guiding Choso over to the vehicle. As the man holds the door open for him, Haibara already having thrown his luggage in the trunk, Choso takes a step inside as he observes in awe. Next to his seat, a basket of goodies that waited for him as well as a few refreshments. When Haibara finally hops into the front seat, he looks through the rear view mirror. “_____ bought you a basket full of snacks for you to enjoy on the ride down. She expected that you’d be a bit peckish after the long flight. I hope they’re to your liking.”

“Oh,” Choso hums, grabbing the basket as Haibara starts the engine, pulling out of the space. “That was nice of her.”

The comment was more to himself, and thankfully, Haibara didn’t comment on it as he simply nodded in agreement as his eyes became glued to the road. The only time he did talk was to ask if Choso wanted to change the radio, and showed him how to do so if and when he felt like he needed to. Other than that, the ride to the hotel was silent. The traffic was heavy where it nearly took an hour to arrive. Choso had finished two bags of chips since the ride, about to pick up another one when Haibara spoke once more. 

“I forgot to mention this earlier, but there’ll be a welcome dinner later tonight,” he informs Choso. “Once we arrive, you can freshen up and in an hour’s time, you’ll meet me back at the entrance of the hotel.”

Just as he says that does he pulls up in front of the hotel, parking the limousine right in front of the double doors. Exiting the vehicle, Choso grabs the small basket of snacks along with him as Haibara helps him with his luggage, signaling for the bell boy to assist Choso. The building exterior itself is large, a beautiful sight to see, but the inside is a thousand times better. It’s unfortunate that Choso didn’t get much time to marvel in it as Haibara nudges him forward as the bell boy nearly leaves him behind. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to look around later,” Haibara chuckles as he helps Choso check in at the front. Right as he’s about to temporarily depart, he gives Choso a curt nod. “I’ll see you in a few.” 

Choso doesn’t know if he prepared himself well enough. What was he supposed to do when he finally met you? It never felt real to him until this very moment, where he finds himself in the small confines of his hotel room and he’s opening his suitcase. Did I even pack anything decent enough to meet them? What am I even supposed to wear? Is it fancy? “Fuck,” he curses, flinging the cover of the suitcase over it as he stands up. A shower… A shower is what he needs. 

When it’s the time that Haibara instructed Choso to meet him, Choso is two minutes late. He hopes the brunette wouldn’t chastise him for it, but then again, the man didn’t seem like the type. If anything, he’d probably sweep it under the rug as it was just two minutes. 

So said, so done. Instead of the limousine, Haibara’s now standing in front of a black Lexus, legs crossed as his hands are stuffed inside his pockets. He has that habitual smile on his face as his eyes crease as he says, “You’re right on time.”

It makes Choso want to snort as Haibara holds the door open for him and hops inside. The drive is much shorter than the trip from the airport down to the hotel, arriving in just under twenty minutes. Haibara bids him a nice farewell as he instructs Choso what to do when he gets inside. 

He can already feel it, the sweaty palms and the damp under arms of his short-sleeved button up. He’s starting to shiver already as well. Each breath he takes is getting shorter and shorter and he’s trying to stop himself from experiencing a panic attack when the doors automatically open for him and there’s a sweet woman standing right at the front.

“Welcome to Mahogany,” she smiles kindly. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Uh, yeah,” Choso breathes. “I—I’m here for the welcoming dinner. My name’s Kamo Choso.”

She nods her head, receiving a clipboard as she reads through it. When she spots his name, her eyes light up as she leads him around back. That’s where he spots her, where it took him no time at all. Everyone’s seated together at a table that has to fit around twenty at least. It’s overwhelming.

It’s not just you, but it’s Geto Suguru, Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuuji, Gojo Satoru… It’s some of the cast that he’s only ever been able to meet in person. It has him stopping in his tracks just a few steps away from everyone, where the hostess walks ahead of him, unaware that he’s stopped. He wants to turn around and tell Haibara to come back, but he’s probably driven off and he never did get his number. Would he have even given it to me? He asks himself. 

“Here’s your—” the waitress stops her in tracks when it comes to her realization that Choso hadn’t followed along, head spinning around to see that he’s a few tables down. It calls for more attention, much to his dismay as the chatter dies down and almost everyone’s peering their head to see their new guest.

Choso wants to die, face heating up as his hand raises to scratch at his birthmark. It’s the same person that’s caused this reaction to speak up. Your eyes elated as you push back your chair, coming to stand. “Choso!”

Your eyes meet your smile. They sparkle as you extend your arms out to him. Dressed in an orange dress, it compliments you well as the top hugs your upper frame before flowing at the skirt. It's simple, but perfect for the occasion as you have an ivory-toned shall to go with it. “I've been so excited to finally meet you in person. You have no idea how much I loved your entry. I read every single word of it and I even went back and read it two more times when I had the chance.”

You speak to him so easily. How do you do it? “You— You actually read it?”

“Yeah,” you chirp, guiding him to his seat next to you. “We all got a chance to read through the majority, if not all, the entries, and chose our favorites. Oh! By the way, let me greet you to everyone here—” 

Slowly does his anxiety dissipate with every passing second as he takes a seat next to you. You take time to introduce the winning contestants who’re also here and your co-stars. His heart still races, however, beating rapidly across his chest that it feels like it’ll implode. You’re more beautiful than you appear on screen. Your hair combed into one as your voluminous strands dance upwards like a crown. Curls that glide alongside your forehead with tendrils right at your temples. Your makeup matches the warmth of your orange dress, a slightly orange-tinted blush that works well for your warm undertones. You’re a beauty made to be marveled over, someone who deserves to be painted, your picture hanging in one of the finest of museums. 

Eyes glued to you the majority of dinner, he can feel it deep within himself. He’s in love. 

DAY TWO

A blessing that comes with acting is the impact that you have over people’s lives. Seeing how being an inspiration has truly framed a person’s life as they build a positive outlook on their dreams, thus chasing after them. The stories they share, or how they’ve found comfort in your shows. It all warms your heart when their genuinity outshines and sparks joy within you. 

You don’t want to hold yourself on a high pedestal, but you can read it all over Choso. The adoration he has for you, it was evident in his entry and it was evident at the welcome dinner last night. Standing starstruck as he gawked over the celebrities that sat around the table, but eyes ultimately meeting yours as they glossed and shined over in a thin veil of tears. You remember first being that way when you hit the limelight. It felt incredible meeting your admirations, but it could also be embarrassing.

It was cute how Choso was flustered and completely enamored once you broke that thick coat of awe, pulling him in for conversation as many of them complimented him for the work he put in before boasting about their winners themselves. In your eyes, the dinner was a tremendous success and you could only anticipate what today was going to be like as well as the rest of the week.

As your makeup is being done for the current episode filming, there’s three light knocks on the door. You shout, “It’s open!” 

One of the personal assistants opens the door, pushing his head inside as they make eye contact with you. “Ma’am, Choso has arrived. Do you want me to send him in?”

You don’t hesitate to respond with a ‘yes.’ Nodding your head, you smile. “Send him in.”

It isn’t long before the door’s shut that it’s opened once again as the same personal assistant leads Choso inside the trailer. Instead of the black button and black denim jeans he had on yesterday, Choso has on a white t-shirt and a pair of black sweats as he stands inside the trailer, hands shoved in his pants as he stands awkwardly. Your makeup artist gives him a polite smile as she does the last touch-ups before giving you the go ahead. 

“She’s all yours now,” she chuckles, before gathering up the belongings and giving the two of you alone time. Choso still can’t believe how your eyes continue to match your smile, portraying genuine happiness as you beckon him to take a look around.

“It’s not really much,” you shrug. “Just what I need to survive when filming hours drain me and I don’t have the time and energy to head back to my apartment.” Choso’s eyes travel, taking in the small exterior. It feels so homely as a bed is fixed to the far left corner as a few furniture pieces stand, holding a clutter of your belongings. Somehow, you’ve managed to make the space feel so real and cozy. “But, this isn’t the exciting part—” You cut the tour of your trailer short, pushing open the door and climbing down the steps. “—C’mon, the set where we actually film is much better.” 

You walk a few paces before Choso catches up to you. When he finally exits, you could’ve sworn you saw a glimpse of something shimmering as his hands went stuffed back into his pocket, but you ignored it, figuring it was just the reflection of the light. Quickly, your mind ventured to the task at hand as you led the way down the set. 

“We have two options for you guys,” you say, constantly glancing back at Choso to make sure he’s caught up with your quick steps. “Because the new season hasn’t aired and we don’t want to spoil things for you, we’ve got your chauffeurs on standby. You’ve got Haibara and I know he’s willing to bring you anywhere you want, he’s being paid a bit extra for it.

“Or, if you don’t mind a bit of spoilers and want to see more of the action,” you turn around, walking backwards as you wiggle your eyebrows. “You get to watch us film. Which one is it?”

“Who wouldn’t want to see you guys film?” Choso scoffs, his answer evident. He didn’t come all the way here just for a simple break from his everyday life. No, he wanted to experience the life that you lived as an actress. 

You snort. “That’s what I thought, but the rest of the guests wanted to stay behind. They said they didn’t want to be spoiled at all, which I can respect, but—”

“I think it’s a waste of a day,” Choso shrugs. “To finally get the chance to see what happens right before your eyes, and to miss out on that opportunity because you don’t want to be spoiled. Knowing about one episode won’t kill me.”

His candor sparks interest in you as you nod your head, processing his words. “What do you do for work, Choso?”

“I work from home as an IT,” Choso says. 

“What?” you guffaw. “You wrote a twenty-thousand word entry and you’re only working in IT? That’s a waste of talent.”

“I’m hoping to find something better at some point,” he tilts his head. “I don’t plan on staying in the field for too long. Though, I am good with computers.”

“Sorry,” you apologize, not initially aware about how your statement sounded. “I didn’t mean for what I said to come off so hard, but you definitely have some talent and I don’t want you to leave it to rot. We need a lot of writers within this industry. We need to keep the ideas flowing.”

Choso didn’t come here to network his way into a better life. He always felt like writing was a hobby that he had come to develop over the years after indulging himself in fandom culture. He loved writing, but also feared it. Feared the ideas inside of his head and how people would perceive his ideas. How people just couldn’t see past the wrongs of a character, never being able to tell past fiction and reality anymore— it scared him. However, he did dream of them coming to life. This was his opportunity to do so, but he didn’t want it to seem like that’s why he submitted his fic. He wanted it to garner attention, but only to win. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I understand what you meant. I guess… I never really thought of myself as becoming a writer. Like, yeah, the idea came to my mind, but I was always afraid.”

“I know this is easier said than done,” you stop, your tone getting serious as your voice drops low. “Especially coming from me who’s been working in the industry for the majority of my life, but fear is one of the biggest things to hold you back in life. It’s the one thing that the majority of people let control them. I let it control me for part of mine.”

One thing your father instilled in you was fear. The moment you stepped into the limelight, he wanted you to take certain precautions. Fame could be detrimental to a person and having seen the many scandals through limitless magazines and news stations, he didn’t want you to fall victim to Hollywood. Limited interviews, chaperoned events— he did what a father was supposed to. He kept you safe, but his love knew no bounds and it started to hover. 

When footage of you smoking at sixteen was released, you were under lock and key as you could only go to set and straight back home with him. He kept you under his immediate scrutiny that had you rigid and stunted for it all. “Do you want to die?”

He would fill your mind with these drastic fears, always thinking of the worst. “Do you know what nicotine could do to you? It could ruin your lungs and give you cancer, then you’ll die!”

As an adolescent, you wanted to live vicariously and do what other kids your age did. You didn’t want to lose your childhood because of all these rules as a child actress. Why couldn’t you have both? So, you’d roll your eyes and when your father would least expect it, you’d sneak again, in hopes that this time you wouldn’t get caught.

Then, you turned eighteen and it seemed like all of your father’s fears were right. People were so quick to taint your image because of the boundaries you had set over your own body. It was as if you had no autonomy, no right in what you had to say over yourself as people labeled you all sorts of names— prudish bitch, whore, slut. Whatever name in the book that they could throw at you. 

Finally did you cage yourself in, locking yourself away from the outside world because it had gotten to you. Your father would always look at you in a certain way afterwards, his eyes twinkling as if to say, I told you so. 

Choso can’t help but wonder where that pretty little head of yours has gone, watching you silently as your mind drifts off as you let out a sigh. “My advice is to let that fear go and take what you want by the handle. You have real potential in you, and if you can find your way to make what you love your living, I say go for it. Especially when you have someone under your belt who you can take advantage of.”

You throw him a wink with your last sentence, the corner of your lips curving upwards before leading him to set. “Now, let’s go before I get yelled at for being late.”

You are an experience. That’s what Choso tells himself at the end of the day when he’s back inside of his hotel room, your golden bracelet in hand as he’s underneath the thick comforters as the air conditioner runs icy cold. It glimmers underneath the moonlight as he runs his thumb over it, heavy eyelids that taunt him, telling him to go to sleep. 

And while he soon succumbs to it, you’re an anxious mess rummaging through your belongings as you can’t find the sentimental piece anywhere. You’ve shot text messages out, asking anyone if they’ve seen it, but to no avail. Your mind wanders back to this morning— Choso. That quick glimmer before his hands were shoved in his pocket, but as quick as the thought came, you were twice as fast to dismiss it. 

That voice of your father comes back to mind, him calling you a naive little girl before accepting the role as Beatrice Martin. It comes back to haunt you, questioning why you’re so quick to dismiss a stranger. And you know that deep down, your father is right. You’re still that naive, optimistic little girl. 

DAY THREE

A habit you had developed over the years was fiddling with your bracelet. The thin gold chain dangling on your wrist as you twisted it around in efforts to keep you comfortable. Now that it’s gone, the habit you had worked to stop has returned, but this time in search of the same piece of jewelry. Scratching at your wrist while you still keep a smile on your face. You look out the window, your eyes transfixed with nothing as the moving vehicle blurs everything. Haibara glances back at you, worry etched in his mind, but he’s already asked you if you were fine once. He knows that he’ll push the limit if he asks again. 

So, when he’s in front of the hotel, he keeps on that bright smile as he parks the vehicle, “We’re here, ma’am.”

His smile falters when you don’t correct him for using the term ma’am, lips quivering as you climb out and walk past, only muttering out a weak, “thank you.”

Get yourself together, you chastise yourself. It’s just a bracelet. Just breathe. 

It’s like a switch goes off inside of you when Choso appears, cutting out your worries as your legs move towards him. You force yourself not to worry, your eyes twinging in faux happiness as your voice gets chirpy, a few octaves higher than normal when you greet him and pull him in for a hug. “I hope you’re ready for the day!”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Choso fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. “I think I am. Still not sure about being filmed, but I think I’ll get used to it.”

“If you’re still having second thoughts, I can talk to the camera crew and work something out,” you say. “We can keep the footage to a minimum.”

“No, no, no!” Choso shakes his head. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You won’t,” you say, pulling out your phone from your purse. “I’ll message them right now and see if—”

Choso immediately reaches out for you, grabbing your wrist tightly to stop you. It was a subconscious movement on his behalf, not aware of what he was doing before it’s too late. It catches him by surprise as it does you. And he hates how you’re looking at him, eyes widened as you pull yourself out of his grasp, Haibara about to intervene. “I—I am— I’m so sorry. I just… It’s fine if they record. I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” you breathe, voice low as it cracks towards the end. “It’s fine.” It sounds like you’re more so trying to convince yourself that. “Let’s just get going before we’re late.”

The tension in the car eased the moment the two of you were led out, the period of silence being a heavy relief as you hopped out of your side and let out a deep breath. You have your hair out today, letting your curls free in the unrelenting wind that blows it out of the perfectly curated shape it was in. You have to hold your hair up in order for the stray strands to twirl its way into your eyes, careful on your feet in the heels you’re wearing today. The skirt of your floral maxi dress blows through the wind as your hand casts a shadow over your face. Oh, how Choso wishes he could have captured the moment on camera at just how pretty you are, feeling like he never says it enough. You make him feel inadequate how you manage to always shine bright. 

“Whew,” you huff. “It’s windy today.”

Your heels click when you’re faced with Choso. “The camera men are ready. You’re good to head on in, now?”

When Choso nods, you smile and hold out your hand for him. He stares at it for a few seconds before understanding what the simple gesture means. His heart beat skyrockets when he fixes his hand into yours, fingers intermingling with each other’s as you take the lead. He, however, holds open the door for you, trying to fix the erratic pace within his chest as he enters the establishment with you. You lean into him, your grip tightening. “Don’t worry about anything. Try not to focus on the cameras too much and just look at me. It’ll be a bit easier that way.”

Listening to your advice had put him at ease for the majority of the time as the two of you had started the day with brunch, simple conversations that ran smoothly. All throughout, you kept close proximity to him as the two of you ventured through California on two feet, bringing him around shops he found interest in and other places. 

Choso feels at such an ease that he forgets all about the camera crew that’s trailing around the two of them, following their every move. With your fingers intertwined with his, it set him at ease that he got lost in a train of thought. You had to nudge him back to reality for his eyes to flicker back on you as he let out a, “hm?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said,” you laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” his face heats up. You shake your head, fanning it off.

“Don’t worry about it,” you sigh. “I was just telling you that there’s this spot that’s really pretty. If you ever decide to move here and bring your partner, this is a good place to go to.”

“Okay,” Choso nods. The sun is starting to set as the two of you are brought to this spot deep within the park. It’s secluded around this time as the sky starts to darken. You bring him over to a bench, bending down to adjust the straps of your heels. Taking them off momentarily, you stretch out your feet as you exhale. “If I had any common sense, I would’ve worn sneakers.”

“At least you know for next time,” Choso shrugs.

“Yeah,” you say, pursing out your lips. There’s a comfortable silence shared between the two of you as the heat of day simmers down to a calming cool. It’s tranquil as you shut your eyes for a moment, taking it all in. Except, Choso, however. He’s staring off into space before he blurts out, “Y’know, I’ve never been in a relationship.”

It takes you out of your trance, your head tilting as you look at him in curiosity. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, that was random, but I was just thinking about it and I’m grateful that my first one is with someone I deeply admire, even if it’s not real.”

“Can I ask why?” you hum. “Why haven't you been out on a date before?”

Choso squirms, eyes diverting away from yours. “I can’t give you a specific answer, but I would say that deep down, it’s my fears controlling me— yet again.”

You nudge him. “We got to work on that. You’re a handsome guy. I’m pretty sure that someone would love to be with you.”

“Yeah, but what if we only end up hurting each other?”

“I’m afraid that’s part of life,” you sigh. “Sometimes people hurt other people, whether we mean to do it intentionally or not. It’s a good thing that you recognize that now, so when you actually find that someone, you make that conscious effort.”

“What if I never find that someone?” Choso asks. “What if I never find someone who makes me happy?”

“Then you find happiness within yourself.” Your eyes sparkle as the wind picks up, blowing your hair into your face. The cameras pan in on the both of you, noticing how Choso’s eyes are glued to you in such longing. Brown eyes that are hyper-fixated on you. His eyebrows crinkle together in amazement at how you always seem to say the right things. “How do you do that? How do you always know what to say?”

You shake your head, your bottom lip juts out. “I don’t always know, but… some of it’s just recycled advice.”

Your laugh is contagious, bringing him to laughter at your statement as you stand up. Shortly afterwards, the camera men start to pack up their stuff, bidding you their farewells as they leave ahead of the two of you. You’re both still sitting on the bench despite the nipping cold that bites at your skin. The conversation continues as you start to tell Choso the worst dates you’ve been on in efforts to not make him feel so down about his lack of experience. 

When it gets too dark, you call Haibara to meet you at the park. With thirty minutes left to spare as the two of you start walking down the trail again, you begin to grow more curious about the boy. “You’ve had your first kiss before, right?”

“Yeah,” Choso scoffs. “I’m not completely fearful of relationships.”

You throw your hands up in defense. “I was just wondering—” Nudging him, you give him a sly smile. “—But look at you. The playboy.”

“I’m not a player, just… they never turned into dates.”

“Because of you or them?”

He has to take a moment to ponder on it. “A bit of both.”

“Mmm,” you shake your head in disagreement. “I think it’s a bit more you.”

His squirming is your answer, your laughter filling the silent air as you both stand in the parking lot now. You find another bench to sit on, Choso joins you as another wave of silence crosses by. Your eyes are on him dangerously as they squint over at him. There’s barely any cars parked, only the park ranger vehicle across the street, so you’re not fearful of any possible paparazzi. Still, you try to look through the green tufts of bushes and trees, trying to check any spot they could be hiding before you lean closer to Choso. “Let me kiss you.”

Eyes widening, his body stiffens up completely at your suggestion. “What?”

“Let me show you what it’ll feel like when someone you care about truly kisses you,” you suggest. Your head tilts to the side as you start to sway. His pupils turn to hearts, brightening up at the proposition as he faintly nods. An ‘okay’ falling from his lips before he’s inching closer instinctively. You’re meeting him halfway, noses touching before the lips. Your breath against each other the only semblance of heat provided as you look into his eyes. They’re glossy as they flicker from yours to your lips. Before you could have any second thoughts, Choso takes the opportunity.

Crashing into you, his teeth clash with yours and you have to push him back to gain more control, physically telling him to ease down a bit. His body tenses as you inch closer to him, pulling him forth and getting him to relax. He gains more confidence, a hand coming to pull at your waist in a need. You instigate it further with the swipe of your tongue, deepening the kiss much further than anticipated. Both arms snaked around your waist, your chest is pressed against Choso’s as a hum vibrates off his chest. 

It should’ve signaled you to detach yourself, but no. What does, however, are the bright headlights of the dark vehicle pulling in and the steady hum of the engine as Haibara parks in front of the two of you. Pulling away, you stare into Choso’s dilated pupils, seeing how his chest rises and falls. Silently, you stand up. “We should go.”

You can feel Haibara’s curious eyes on you, the both of you, as he holds the door open for the two of you. The car ride is silent the moment you step in it. Choso’s mindsets ablaze, a course of fire lighting up the path in his brain as he taps his feet against the vehicle’s floor. You, however, remain indifferent as you look through the window, for once, not needing to feel for your gold bracelet. 

DAY FOUR

It’s very important to be able to differentiate fiction from reality. Choso feels that it’s true when it comes to fan fiction. The many times people have come into his inbox to complain about the content he rights for and the morality of the characters or how he made his reader to be. Hate messages made to bring him down and deter him from writing fan fiction, but he never gave in. They went on and on for days, even weeks, about the choices he made the reader take and it grew exhausting. Were they truly watching the same television show after all? The entire premise was about morally gray characters and the bullshit decisions they made, and suffering the consequences after it. Why did the reader need to be someone standing on moral high grounds during the apocalypse? 

‘Oh, I would never do that as a reader.’ ‘Oh, you mischaracterized me here in this fic. I’m not a bitch in real life.’ ‘Are we watching the same show because Yamaza would NEVER!!’

He had endured it all. But, personally, his favorites were the one telling him to commit suicide. He’d run to his mutuals quickly to make fun of those who hid behind anons, chatting together in their private discord servers about them and their hypocrisies. Then, he’d run back on Tumblr to delete them because he’s gotten so used to the nasty climate that he no longer addresses things that aren’t detrimental. Unfortunately for them, they’re not one of them. 

There’s a media literacy crisis, where people don’t understand the plot devices of antagonists and their purposes. And if they do, it’s because a conventionally attractive actor or actress plays them in the film. Truthfully, however, they don’t understand. They believe the moment something is conveyed in darkness and negativity is the creator saying that they endorse those actions, reading or watching something purely for the enjoyment without really and truly dissecting what they’ve just consumed. That’s why it’s so easy for Choso to dismiss people like that who try to question his moral standing. He knows what he stands for. He knows that he’s a good person. He doesn’t need a stranger online to dictate whether or not he is. 

However, he finds his mind slowly deteriorating, mixing up what’s real and what’s fake when it comes to you. You were wrong for kissing him. How could you fill his mind up with these false illusions, showing him how someone who cared about him would kiss him? Were you insinuating that you did— that, in actuality, you wanted more? You after all did let things escalate, having him pull you closer, deepening the kiss along with it. 

You had confused the poor boy, infiltrating his mind with ideas as he started to yearn for more. He started to desire you in a way that seemed to exceed what was already there for you, lighting a forest fire that you alone could not contain. 

Choso wasn’t just gifted with the written word. He was also exceptional with a computer. He liked to call himself tech savvy, a hacker sounded too juvenile in his opinion. His position paid him a decent amount and it led him to live comfortably, so he never complains. He can take off many days and not have to worry about his bills, but he preferred working on a steady schedule. It was easy to jump from one monitor to the next anyway, making writing fan fiction and assuring that websites ran smoothly was a simple thing he could multitask within hours of the day. 

However, he had to admit that he never utilized his skill to the full potential. Not until now, where he felt like it was a dire need to. Finding your location just as simple as a quick google search, quickly climbing out of bed to throw on some joggers and a hoodie. He didn’t think Haibara would agree with his choices, so he wasted thirty dollars on a trip, hopping out of the car and standing outside of the gated community. Checking his phone, he skimmed through the pictures and screenshots, typing in the code before the sidegate opened and he was led in. 

He kept his head down as much as he could, peeking up at the buildings to count down the numbers. It took some time where he nearly took the wrong turn, but it seemed to be a blessing in disguise when he finally did find your exact location. Ten o’ clock at night, the moon shines down on him as he tries to find a concealed spot to stand in. A light is on, letting him know that you’re awake as he follows the shine of it. 

He can’t get a clear view of you, blinds that block the way as well as your white sheer curtains. However, they’re not securely shut, where if stands off to the side, he can get a clear vision of you. With your phone in hand, you’re oblivious to the pair of lurking eyes that stand outdoors. Your gaze fixated on the small screen in front of you as you checked your calendar for tomorrow. Halfway into the week, tomorrow there are still some plans fixed for Choso and the other winners as it’ll be game day. Another day filled with cameras on you as they video the experience. The day after, it will be the day before the last, a farewell dinner hosted for the contestants’ goodbyes. The last day, their goodbye remarks as they have it to themselves for the most part. They can make last minute trips if needs be before their designated drivers are assigned to drop them off back at the airport. 

You set your phone down on the dresser next to you as you stand at the door of your bedroom. A yawn drags out of you as you stretch, pushing your chest forward as you raise your hand up wide. You know what would calm you down and get you ready for bed— a steaming, hot shower. You pull off your top from over your head, revealing your simple black bra from underneath as you aim for the laundry basket, the shirt landing inside perfectly. 

You weren’t ever much of a clean freak, especially when you were constantly on the go. You find your towel resting on your dresser near the window, reaching to get it when you see something in the corner of your eye. Was that a flash? You fix yourself to get lower, trying to see if your eyesight was playing games with you as you shift the curtain to the side, peaking through the blinds. 

Cursing to himself, Choso feels caught as he ducks down, pulling the hoodie over his head as he crawls on his knees. Getting out of your eye line, he squirms as he feels a tightness in his pants. Subconsciously, his hands go to hold his length, palming at it through the soft material before the coast is clear and you’re no longer suspicious. Unfortunately, when you’re leaving your room and heading to the shower, the glass is blurred and there’s no way he could get a clear shot from there. So, he calls it a night.

It’s fine anyway, because when he’s back in his hotel room, ridding himself of his joggers and hoodie, cock hard and prominent in his hand, he’s got the perfect shot of you to get himself off to. He squeezes, hissing as his hips arch from the bed. Tip leaking of precum as he decides to himself that you’d look prettier naked. 

DAY FIVE

There’s heavy tension in the air. Something so suffocating that the sharpest knife wouldn’t be able to slice through it. Though, you just believe that it’s your anxiety eating at you during this time of year. It is habitual of it to hit you now. Unlike the dresses you’ve been typically sporting on the events with Choso, today you’ve decided to keep it simple with a pair of jeans and a graphic t-shirt. Your hair combed in one and perfectly gelled back, the only thing seemingly out of place are the tendrils that hang in front of your ears. 

Part of you think it’s the growing exhaustion that’s been making you feel like shit lately. You figure with the way you’ve yawned for the third time in thirty minutes as your back slouches in your seat, the greasy pizza half eaten as your eyes are so close to shutting. It’s the deep chuckle of Sukuna that livens you back up, him sitting on your left as he leans forward. “Are you sure it’s right that you fall asleep next to me? You might wake up as a brand new person.”

Nudging him in his rib cage, he barely moves a muscle under all of that muscle. He smiles, revealing his sharp canines. You glare up at him, not faltering to his piercing crimson eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Someone always says that before they all looked fucked up,” he booms in laughter before playfully pushing at your shoulder. You know he only means it in love and jest. “Wake up. You’re the last person I expected falling asleep at festivities. You’re stealing my job.”

“I know,” you groan, straightening your posture as you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “I think I need a break.”

“Don’t we fuckin’ all,” Geto agrees, chiming into the conversation. “But we’ve got a long way to go, so suck it up.”

And you try to for the most part, ordering a few drinks to get your blood pumping and the night to go on even faster. It’s a nice evening that you get to spend with your colleagues and their contestants, dragging along Choso to whichever game seems the most interesting before scoring a shitload of tickets. You impress him with how tactical and intricate you are, eyeballing the machines as your tongue sticks out as you try to drop the ball at the right moment. You’re a very competitive person, he’s come to learn, pushing him out the way when he misses a shot before showing him how it's done. You become so lively as the neon lights flash around the dark ceilings, bouncing off the walls and onto you. Those few drinks really worked. 

You throw yourself in Choso’s arms, winning yet again another game as tickets start rolling out. You had made a bet with Sukuna and his partner that you and Choso could gain more tickets than them and you’d be damned if you lost to that jackass. You loved Sukuna, but he’d constantly tease you for your loss. This time, you wanted to be the one to do it. 

“Yuh,” you grunt, voice rasping towards the end. “We’re so beating their asses!”

You try to pull away from Choso’s grasp, but he holds onto you tightly, seemingly refusing to let go. It nearly reminds you of the short incident with your phone and how he was so eager to snatch it from your grasp. It alarms you, eyes widening as you push at his chest. “Choso, let go.”

He falls from his trance, glossy eyes that die down its euphoria as he lets you go. Tensing up like he did last time and immediately becoming apologetic, “Shit, I—I’m sorry.”

You’re really hoping you didn’t lead him astray with that kiss. Taking a step back, you give him a side glance before turning on your heel. “Yeah, I’m gonna go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Heading to the food station, you spot Geto sitting down on a stool next to the counter. One arm over the filthy marble top, his back is turned towards you as he has a slushie in the next hand. You grab a seat next to him, the scraping of it alarming the man as he looks back. “Oh, hey! Are you having fun yet?”

“Yeah,” you hum with uncertainty. It’s his key detection that something’s wrong. Eyebrows furrowing, he’s shaking his head and you’re grateful you ran into him of all people. You’ve been needing to voice out your concerns. “No, you’re not. What’s up?”

He spins around his chair, his entire body facing you. Before he could let you speak, he’s already belting out your main concern. “Is it— what’s his name… Choso?”

“How’d you know?” The look that Geto gives you makes your stomach drop, grimacing as you slouch forward and silently groan. 

“If I’m being honest, (Your Name),” he starts. “His entry was the start of it. I get it some fans are really dedicated to their works and what they commit to, but if you read over his entry, it was highly fixated on you. 

You exhale. You had taken notice of that, but like everything else about Choso, you had decided to ignore it, paying so much attention to everything else and impressed with his dedication that you didn’t once find it alarming. 

“Not only that, but… Just an hour ago before we went back to the arcade, did you not notice how he was staring down Sukuna?” Geto continues to point out. “I don’t blame you if you didn’t. You were about to fall asleep, but he was giving him murder eyes.”

Geto wanted to say more, but he didn’t want you to feel like you were dumb for not noticing the signs from earlier. “But, what did you want to talk about?”

You were kind of hesitant, not wanting to feel like a complete fool for not mentioning it earlier, but better now than never, right? “You’re right. He is kind of… off?”

You console in Geto, mentioning how Choso tried snatching your phone away from you and just a couple of minutes ago, where he wouldn’t let you go. You noted your missing bracelet and how you couldn’t find it, telling Geto that you suspected it to be him, but still holding your doubts. “You are a messy person,” he noted. 

Your mind flashes to last night, but you thought you were pushing it too far now. There wasn’t any way that he could know your location. You didn’t want to mention the kiss because you can already see your faults in that. You didn’t need to be told that that was a stupid decision, you’re already starting to pay for your poor choices. “I don’t know, Sug… It was like, he was in this state and he wasn’t aware of what he was doing until after.”

“Or,” Geto butts in, pointing a finger out in suggestion. “He does know and he’s trying to play it off.”

You nod. That is a possibility, you think. “But, I’ll see—”

“Speaking of the devil,” Geto comes to a stand, eyes fixed behind him before another voice speaks and calls out your name, “(Your Name), is everything all right?”

You notice it now. Turning to Choso and watching how his eyes would flicker to Geto, a darkness possessing him. You stammered on your words, trying to find the best possible excuse you could make. “I, um— Sorry, I saw Geto and…”

“Sorry, man,” Geto smiles, intervening as he steps forward. His eyes crinkle like a sly fox as he looks Choso up and down. “I didn’t mean to hog (Your Name). We just started talking and lost track of time.”

Choso’s body relaxes in understanding, but there’s still that sliver of doubt inside him as Geto walks past. Choso turns to look back, and Geto’s still looking back at him as he walks away before his eyes flicker over to you. He thought Choso wouldn’t notice it, but he saw the subtle nod. Immediately raising his suspicions, Choso’s glued to you for the rest of the night. When your phone buzzes, you’re too scared to pull it out until you’re in the comfort of your home. A message from Geto: If push comes to shove, you know I have your back, (Your Name). Only two more days left. Hopefully nothing happens.

His words give you a sliver of relief, but you should’ve remained cautious, a pair of brown eyes lurking through your bedroom window. 

DAY SIX

You wake up feeling much better the next morning, the day running smoothly on set as the majority of your scenes run smoothly. You’ve paid no mind to Choso despite his constant eye on you, never seeming bored or tiresome of watching you all day and following you like a lost puppy. Sleeping has given you some clarity in what’s led you here, dissecting his actions when you woke up in the morning and coming to terms with your ignorance and your naivety. As much as legal action crossed your mind, you don’t have any substantial evidence to detain him, only his weird behavior to speak on verbatim. 

Nonetheless, it becomes easier throughout the day as your schedule is busy, never getting much alone time with him, minus small breaks and your lunch period. It isn’t until the day gets darker and the set is being cleared do you worry more, as the farewell dinner is in a couple of hours. In a tight-fitted silk dress, the royal blue looks perfect against your skin tone as you walk down the steps from your front door, the white shawl draped over you, providing you warmth as it grows chilly. The silver clutch in your hand sparkles as you reach inside of it to check the time. Haibara should be here any minute now. 

And just like clockwork do you see the bright headlights shine as he turns the corner. When he parks the car, you don’t give him a second to jump out, rushing to pull open the door handle and jump inside with a giggle. He grunts as he lets go of his, slapping the dashboard. “Ah, darn! I forgot to switch the locks before I parked.”

“You’re getting slow, Yu,” you smile. “I couldn’t wait any longer. You had me standing in the cold.”

“You could’ve always waited inside,” he remarks snidely, putting the car in reverse before pulling off. Haibara puts on a station that he knows you like, and you immediately start humming along to the music as he’s fixated on the road ahead of him. As your mind drifts off, you begin to wonder. “Yu?” his humming being your indicator to continue. “What’d you think about Choso? You enjoyed chauffeuring him around?”

Haibara hums, hesitant on his response as he looks through the rearview mirror. He’s seen a few of your exchanges with Choso, and they were all enough to set an unease within his stomach. Of the couple years that he’s been working with you, he’s come to learn that you’re really down-to-earth and sweet. With someone who’s grown up in the limelight, he first believed that he would get the exact opposite of that.

He’s had his fair share in the media, and you still withheld some things from it in regards to your father after returning back to the big screen. There were still some things that you were working through and that was fine. What he’s come to learn about you, though, is that you were still trying to hold onto some semblance of living an ordinary life. You took on this opportunity to help a fan, yes, to open up their horizons and have them utilize you as a connection to pursue any dream they had. However, you had crossed a line.

Watching you kiss Choso, it set a weird feeling in his stomach, but he also believed that you knew what you were doing— whatever that was. Keeping his eyes on the road, Haibara let out a heavy sigh. “He’s…”

“Be honest, Haibara,” you tilt your head, looking at him through the mirror. He exhales, staring back at the road. He clenches the steering wheel tightly as he shrugs, “I’ll just say that I’ll be glad when it’s only you I have to chauffeur in two days.”

At the dinner, you cling onto the shall, your feet tapping on the floor as everyone’s waiting for their entrees. Reaching for your glass, you twirl the straw with your tongue, sipping on your strawberry banana smoothie. You’ve barely spoken to Choso, feeling his eyes graze you the entire evening at your silence. It’s stifling.

“Are you ready to head back?” you try to ease the air around you.

Choso tilts his head. “I’m having mixed feelings. It’s a nice environment here, but I miss the comfort of my bed.”

You nod, continuing to sip your drink. Choso’s piercing brown eyes watching the way your lips pucker around the plastic. You retract almost immediately, clearing your throat. “How long is your flight back?”

“Around seven hours, I believe,” Choso contemplates. “So, it’ll be a long while.”

“Hopefully, you have some things to occupy your time,” you chuckle. “I know I need a few things to keep myself from getting antsy on long flights.”

“Don’t worry,” Choso smirks. “I got a few things that’ll surely keep me busy.”

With the tone of his voice, you’re not sure what he means by it. Maybe he’s just being playful or he knows something you don’t. You can’t quite determine if it’s your paranoia feeling this way, but you fall silent once more until the waitress comes back with a few extra hands as she sets down everyone’s plate. Reaching for your knife and fork, the back of Choso’s hand grazes the back of yours and you subconsciously stiffen up, but you choose to ignore it as you start to slice through your steak. 

Chatter starts up, livening the tables as your eyes brighten up as everyone enjoys their time. You’re in a heavy fit of laughter from a joke Nobara told everyone. Your face heats up as a fork in another spoonful of food in your mouth when you feel a hand against your thigh. You choke on your food, spitting it on your plate and calling for attention. Everyone’s eyes are on you now as Geto has his eyes on you first before they flicker to Choso. “Are you okay, (Your Name)?”

You nod, not wanting to draw too much attention as you nudge away Choso’s hand before they can travel any higher. Your heart starts racing as you try to control your breathing, your eyes watering. “Y–Yeah, I—” you clear out your throat again. “—I’m fine. Just, food nearly went down the wrong pipe.”

“Are you sure—”

“She said she’s fine,” Choso butts in, his hand returning to its spot on your thigh, aiming higher as his grip tightens. You clench your legs together, throwing him a look. 

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” you frown, your hand reaching for his wrist and dragging it away, the action more apparent to everyone now. Sukuna intervenes now.

“Hey,” he throws a threatening glare at Choso. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I suggest it stops now if you want to get back home safely.”

The two men have a stare off, Choso clenching his jaw as he doesn’t want to back down. A vein stands prominent on his forehead, his face heating up as his stance comes to falter, breaking eye contact with Sukuna first. He knows who to pick his battles with, and Sukuna isn’t one of them. Shoulders falling, he pushes himself from out of the seat as the legs scrape loudly against the floor. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, but trudging out of the restaurant. 

Choso calls for Haibara earlier than expected, alarming the man when he pulls up in front of the restaurant to see Choso sitting down on a bench, clutching onto himself as his eyes wander before spotting him. He could only jump to conclusions and say something happened. He could feel the thickening tension in the air as Choso hurried inside, pulling at the door handle before Haibara could shut it himself. 

Curiosity piqued Haibara as he hopped into the driver’s seat and glanced through the rearview mirror. A soft hum leaving his lips as he tries to decipher whether or not it’s a smart choice to ask. “So, how was dinner?”

He watches him, constantly glancing through the rearview mirror and the road. Choso looks in his direction before averting eye contact. The man shrugs as his head hits the window. “Nothing special. Didn’t feel like being there anymore.”

Something told Haibara that was all he was going to get from him, but surely, you had much more to say. When Haibara arrived in front of the hotel, he didn’t even bother to hop out the front seat as Choso was already clutching onto the door handle, jumping out of the vehicle before it could even fully stop. Haibara didn’t feel guilty when he couldn’t say, Have a good night. 

Inwardly, Choso was fuming. He wanted to do something more. He wanted to say more, but Sukuna was a hulking man that would have his ass handed to him in a matter of seconds. The moment he entered his hotel room, he was pacing around it. Stepping over his suitcases and clothes that still lay across the room haphazardly, he clenches his fists, nails digging into the palm of his hands. How could you embarrass me like this? How could you let them embarrass me like that? Did all of this just mean nothing to you?

Whenever Choso didn’t know what to do with his overwhelming feelings, he tended to write. Like clockwork, his body moved for his carry on bag, unzipping it to reach for the device as he pushed away a pile on the bed. He squinted through the bright screen as he opened up a new document and cracked his knuckles. His chest felt tight as he started breathing heavily, and before he could think about exactly what he wanted to write about, his fingers padded away on the keyboard. 

DAY SEVEN

You hadn’t seen Choso after last night’s event, and you were grateful for it. There was supposed to be a send-off that you would attend, but after hearing about the mishap, you had been given the okay to miss out on it. You had decided to go to set early instead, practicing your lines despite having them all memorized as you were cooped up inside your trailer. 

In the small couch, your head pulls to the side as you lean against your hand. You let out a sigh as you’re coming to grow accustomed to the missing piece of jewelry. Instead, you start gnawing on the pendant around your neck as your legs are hiked up on the couch as you hold the stack of papers. Comfortable in your spot, the buzz of a phone alarms you out of your concentration as you reach to pick it up. An unknown number pops on the screen and your face drops when you read the short overview of the message:

It’s Choso. And before you think about blocking me, I have one more thing for you to read, then you can go ahead and never hear from me again.

You should really do it, go and block him. Your finger hovering over the three dots as you search for the five-letter word. However, another buzz vibrates through your hand as another notification from him pops up— a document labeled ChosoYN.docx. And against your better judgment, you tap out of the options and click on it. And against your better judgment, you read through all three pages. 

In another life, you would be mine and you would be happy with me. Oh, those days would be glorious ones as my pale skin would traverse up your golden. In the silky sheets of our king-sized bed, your body would lay pliant as your short nightgown would rise up above your hips. The sun would kiss your beautiful skin, but not as tender as I would. 

My tongue would drag over you, my spit painting over you with liquid diamonds and only accentuating your beauty. My love, you’re a marvelous living statue that the world doesn’t deserve, only I do. 

You’d call me your husband, my hands pulling at your hips to meet me closer. Goosebumps rising against your skin, you look so pretty when you first wake up that I have no choice but to have you. Ten digits that run down the expanse of you, teasing in all the right places as I am so close to your sweetness. Your cunt my forever prize that no one else can indulge in. You’re pretty in the laced pink panties I had bought for you, a gift to signify my undying love, to soon be ridden of as I pull it down your thighs. 

You’d drip for me, an endless ocean that I’d thankfully drown in as the center of said underwear is stained in your love. Your love for me. You look at me with those pretty eyes, silently begging for more before the soft plea falls from your lips itself. “Please…” you’d say with sultry, plump lips that’d be wetted and I have no other choice but to dip down and give you a sweet kiss. Tongues dancing together, the fervor we share is too much yet never enough. Your back arching off the bed, covered breasts pressing into my chest as your erect nipples poke through the thin fabric.

Your glossy eyes shut as you indulge yourself into me, your moans singing in a beautiful melody that the birds could never rival. And I could only burst in pride, being the only man that can make you feel this way. Arms wrapped around your body, holding onto your hips with a secure grip, only you could make a man ever so needy. In only the thin fabric of my loose boxers, my erection presses against you, alleviating only some of the friction you’re hoping to feel. My tip leaks with pre, staining the dark pair of underwear as I continue to press into you so shamelessly. 

I leave you with your lips swollen, nibbling on the bottom lip before completely retracting myself from you, your eyes dilated in a heavy lust-blown haven that I could swim in. I can only pepper more on your skin as you giggle, arms wrapping around my neck before I feel the painful press of your nails digging into my skin. And again, “Choso, please…”

I could never truly depart from you for every second of the way, my lips making an invisible path down from your lips to your neck, sucking on that sweet spot that has you mewling in milliseconds. So high-pitched they are as you grow ever so needy when I leave, your tender breasts getting more love as I adore on them. And truly, I adore them, pulling down the straps of your dress and them falling out one by one. Pretty dark nipples that point right at me, calling my name so gently that I salivate. My tongue lulls out as I lean forward, taking each of your breasts into my mouth. Your back is arching off the bed as you only feel euphoria. You pull me closer, nails digging deeper and daring to break skin. I’d love you to, I’d love to have your marks shown off as a sign of your possession over me. There’s no shame in immense love.

But, lower and lower I go, kissing at your tummy, licking into your navel before that delectable cunt shines like a treasure. It glistens like porcelain as the sun continues to watch us in all of our glory. It’s the finest piece of China that I sometimes regret ruining, but never regret loving. A teasing thumb presses down on your clit, eliciting a whine from your lips and a twitch from your legs in attempts to trap me there. 

“You just love to tease me, don’t you?” you say in a needy breath, eyes hooded as you peer down at me. “Gosh, Choso…”

“You’ll get what you want soon enough,” I respond. “Don’t I always?”

“Mphm,” you hum. “After your torture, yes.”

You always know how to make me laugh, a breathy chuckle leaving my lips before I press down on that fat pleasure point. Hips rising from the bed, I have to use one arm to hold you down, pressing my weight down to hold one of your legs from moving as the other kicks out. Rubbing tandem circles in you, I watch from below in how you writhe and moan for me, and only me. Your slick leaks from your honey hole, painting you forever in a gloss as I have you like this. 

Oh, how I delve in this— the sweet torture you love to complain about. How I love to slowly take care of you, giving every ounce of your body the love and care it truly needs to survive. I put you in a haze that leaves your eyes shutting and your head twisting and turning as your stomach churns for more, never truly satisfied. But you will be, you’ll always be when you’re with me. Dipping past your clit, my thumb runs through your folds, making your juices bubble as I make it dance around. 

Your hands reach down to tangle inside of my hair and then caressing my face to pull me out of paradise to bring me to heaven. A silent yet forceful coax as your fingers tangle in my dark hair in efforts to get more. My impatient angel you are. That I am, too, however. My cock stirring inside my underwear as I press myself into the bed, an exhale leaving me as I finally hear your pleas and dip forward. 

My lips pucker, a wet and chaste kiss against your clit as one finger dives inside of you. A stretch sweet, but not addicting like my cock’s as my digit enters you, warmed by your honeyed walls. You only make it worse. Me rutting into the bed, making me feel like I’m back in more youthful years. Your moans are more drawn out through the air, humming out in pleasure as your eyes shut in careless bliss as your fingers still are still knotted inside my hair. They pull me closer to you as I suckle on the tender nub that has you singing out my name in a lustful symphony. 

My digits thrust in a languid dance that conjures up these addicting sounds, gathering your slick in a gluttonous effort to take what’s rightfully mine from you. With the swipe of my tongue, I can taste it and the vibrations of my satisfaction run deep through your body as I press my fingers further inside. They bottom out, curling inside as your hips buck upwards. They twist and contort in the right directions, having you grind upwards in attempts for more. And I give and give, picking up the pace as I only want to take and take. 

I feel everything that’s you. Nose burrowing inside of your curled bush, inhaling your raw scent that only makes me crave you more ferociously. Fingers that are sopping wet as your juices drip down to my wrists and stain the warm yellow beneath us. Your wetness can be heard, the sound of your pussy loud inside of your shared bedroom alongside your whimpers and wanton moans. Head thrown back as those butterflies control your body, flying down to your stomach. Your legs twitch as your cunt pulsates around my digits, your voice squeaking as you gasp. “Choso! ‘M about’ta cum!”

“Go on, pretty girl,” my voice reverberated against you. “Give me what’s mine.”

Fingers leaving you to hold onto your legs, pulling you closer to my face, my tongue dips inside of your heat as it drags your orgasm out of you. You’re calling my name out as your fingers press into my scalp as I hum in between your legs, your thighs tensing up as your milky cum paints my tongue. Your essence is an elixir, rejuvenating me back to life as I clean you up, making your cunt sparkle the moment I drag myself away. A thin web of spit breaking once I sit up.

It’s apparent now. My heavy need for you as I’m on my knees against the bed. You blink away the haze, chest rising and falling as your beautiful pupils finally look up at me. An exhausted smile beaming from your face as they beckon me over. I fall to you, taking your lips in mine again. You can taste yourself, taste just how good you are as your love for me is written all over it. 

Together, we hum in a dire need for more as your hips leave the bed and meet my erection. Devious little fingers of yours that dip to cup at my hardened cock, palming at my covered length like a little minx and causing me to grind into your hand. You giggle when I pull away, knowing exactly what you’re doing, knowing that I’m putty in your hands. Oh, how you have full control over me. 

And I let you.

I let you take out my cock, revealing it to the cold touch of the air. Massively hard inside of your hand as you run the palm of it down the undersides, it still leaks the translucent mess of precum. You stop to hold it at the base, your thumb running down the thick vein that runs down it. “You love to withhold what you want from me. Doesn’t it in pain you?”

“It never pains me to please you first.” I hold no shame in my undying devotion for you, my twinkling brown pupils that swallow you up in the very moment before my lips are back on yours once more. Grinding into your hand, it’s nearly pathetic how quickly a moan falls from me. My eyes shutting as I bite down on your bottom lip, my high-pitched whimpers rivaling yours. Your knees point to the ceiling before caging me in, legs wrapping around the expanse of my waist as you grip my length. A delicious squeeze to it before my reddened tip touches your clit. You get on me so much for withholding what’s rightfully yours, but ultimately doing the same to me as you press my length in between your folds. Your hips rolling when I pull away from you, a string of saliva follows before the band breaks. You look down, in between your legs to watch how your pussy coats my cock, feeling how I twitch against you as you only have me yearning for more. 

“Is this your payback?” is my question before I spot that sparkle in your eyes. You shrug. “Something like that.”

Finally, the tip of my length kisses your entrance, your hips arching upwards as I meet you in the middle. We sing together in harmony, moaning as I sheath myself inside of you, my hips stilling for moments before they retract. I’ve set the tone, a beautiful melody as skin slaps against skin and our breathy sounds course the room. The drill of my cock is enough to make you a delirious mess, filling the morning air with your pleasure as your pussy continues to gush out for me in a copious splendor. 

My name is a mantra, summoning something deep within me that coaxes my orgasm, but our bodies, intertwined as one move in sync as I feel how your cunt pulsates around my length. Your legs twitch, flexing and contracting before you’re rasping out my name. “Choso, I’m—”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it once more. “C’mon, give me what’s mine.”

I am completely still inside of you when my release becomes overbearing, spurting my cum deep inside of your womb as your walls try to fight back. Your eyes squint shut as your mouth falls into a perfect ‘O.’ You milk me completely while simultaneously painting my length in your milk white honey. Like a bee, I’ve come to pollinate, hoping that you’ll bear my children as I come down from my high yet never leaving your sweetness. 

And when I do, I kiss one last time for the moment before pulling away. My eyes continue to shine with my everlasting adoration for you. “I love you.”

You feel ashamed with yourself when you clench your thighs, arousal pooling in your underwear as you close out. Finally, you block him (The document is well saved on your phone).

( author's note. ) thank you so much for taking the time to read this. it's my first time writing for choso, so please tell me how i did in the comments or reblogs !

[alotofpockets]

Practice makes perfect | Leah Williamson x Reader

Where you and Leah practised kissing each other to prepare for kissing boys, but you quickly realise that after that you don't want to kiss anyone but her

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.5k

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As the only two girls on the boys' team growing up, you and Leah clicked right away. Football brought you together, but it was everything else about her that kept you close. Not many people had stuck around in your life the way Leah had. From meeting at six years old to now, a decade later, she was still your best friend.

The football dream was becoming reality for the both of you. The young Lionesses and Arsenal Academy were where you spend most of your time besides school or each other’s houses. The two of you were inseparable and everyone knew it. Where you went Leah went, and visa versa.

“Remember when we were like twelve and we practised kissing?” Leah asks you out of nowhere while you’re sitting in her bed and playing video games. You think back to the moment.

It was a similar situation to this one, you were having a sleepover and had just finished watching a romcom. “How do you know if you’re gonna be a good kisser if you’ve never kissed someone before?” Leah asked with a voice filled with curiosity. 

“I have no clue. Why don’t they show those parts in the movies?” You turned off the tv and pulled the covers further over your body. “Exactly! Like when I kiss a guy for the first time, I want to make sure that like I can kiss him properly, you know?” 

You nodded, understanding her concerns. “What if we practised kissing together? Then we can tell each other if we’re any good.” Leah loved your idea and instantly sat up in bed again. “You are brilliant!” 

She made you sit up as well and once you did she double checked if it was okay. When you nodded in confirmation, she leaned in and pecked your lips. “How did I do?” She instantly asked. “Good I think, what about me?” She smiled proudly, “Nice, you as well.” 

You had practised a couple more times that night, and when you both liked boys, you had practised some more so that the first kisses you would have with them would be perfect.

“Yeah, I remember.” In the meantime Leah had paused the game to fully focus on the conversation she wanted to have. “I was wondering if maybe we could practise something again.”

“What do you want to practise?” You asked to urge her to go on. “Well, I heard from some girls in our class that they’ve been making out with their boyfriends, and they talked about how it goes and everything, but even with that information I don’t feel even remotely ready to just make out with a guy. So, I thought that maybe, if you’re up for it of course, we could practise like we did before?”

Even with the introduction Leah gave, her question still caught you off guard. Leah’s hopeful eyes were hard to ignore while you thought about her question. “Just so we don’t totally embarrass ourselves when the time comes.”

"Yeah, exactly! I don’t want to make things weird between us though, you can totally say no.” She quickly added.  “It’s not weird.” you said shifting to sitting cross-legged, facing Leah, on her bed. “We’re just practising.”

Leah’s face lit up with relief, “Exactly, Just practising.” She turned to sit cross-legged as well. She told you how your classmates had described making out, so you were both on the same page. 

“So, eh,” you cleared your throat, “do we just go for it?” Leah let out a nervous laugh, “I guess so?” You nodded, which Leah took as her sign to start leaning in. She inched closer slowly, until her lips brushed yours. 

At first she just pecked your lips like you had practised before. Your heart started beating faster, but you didn’t understand why. Her soft, warm lips on yours felt familiar, yet somehow different. “Still okay?” She asked to make sure you wanted to do this as well. “Yeah.”

You leaned in this time and let your lips move in sync with hers. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as Leah reached out her hand and cupped your cheek to pull you a little closer. 

When she pulled back after a few moments, her eyes searched yours. “How was that?” 

Your brain felt like it was running a million miles an hour, and you were scrambling to find words. “Good.” You managed finally. “What about me?” Leah’s lips quirked into that proud smile she had done last time, “Good too.” 

A feeling came over you that you had never felt before, you couldn’t quite place it, but before you could overthink it, Leah was leaning in again. “Practice makes perfect, right?” she said softly, and when you didn’t move away, her lips were on yours again.

That night while Leah slept soundly besides you, your mind wouldn’t stop racing. Trying to make sense of what you were feeling. 

It wasn’t until a few weeks later when you saw Leah kiss a boy in your class, that you realised what was happening. The moment you saw the two of them together, you felt a pang of jealousy. All you knew in that moment was that you weren’t jealous of Leah in that moment, but you were jealous of him. 

You turned on your heels and got away from the situation as quickly as possible. Of course, you headed straight over to the football field. The one place where everything felt right. You must’ve spent hours kicking a ball around until your parent’s called asking when you’d be home. “No Leah tonight?” Your mom had asked when you walked in, seemingly without the blonde by your side. You hadn’t even thought about it, but usually Leah would join you on Fridays. “Eh, no not tonight.” You say quickly. “Do I have time for a quick shower?” Your mom nodded and you rushed to your room. 

You checked your phone and sure enough you had a bunch of messages from Leah. The last one read I hope everything is alright. Couldn’t find you at school so I headed home. Please text me back!

You didn’t text Leah back that night, or the next morning. It wasn’t that you were mad at her, of course you weren’t, you didn’t think you ever could be, but you just didn’t know what to say. Every time you thought about her, you saw that boy’s lips on hers. Every time you saw it play back in your mind, it made your chest ache.

But Leah was Leah. Persistent, stubborn, and your best friend. So, it didn’t take her long to just show up at your house unannounced. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” She stated from your doorframe, after your dad had let her in. She found you laying on the floor with one of your textbooks in front of you, trying to bury yourself into your homework. “What’s going on?” 

You glanced at her and then quickly focused back on your textbook. “Nothing.” Leah shook her head and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Liar.” She sighed, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You said a little too quickly and defensive for Leah to believe it. She crossed her arms and leaned against your door, studying you like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “I just need some space.” You said softly, unable to meet her eye.

“Since when do we do space?” Her voice softened. She walked further into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed. “Come on, talk to me.”

You wanted to. You wanted to tell her everything. You always told Leah everything, but how could you tell her about your feelings? How could you tell her that you were jealous of a guy she kissed? Talk about the way your heart raced when you made eye contact with her? 

“I’m fine, Lee.” You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes and Leah could tell. You saw that she was fighting her inner monologue to press further, her lips parting like she was about to. Before she could say anything, your mother yelled upstairs, “Leah, honey, are you staying for dinner?”

Leah turned to you, “Do you want me to go?” You shake your head, “No, it’s okay. You can stay.” She opened the door and told your mom she would love to before turning back to you. “I’m gonna help her with dinner, you know, so you can have some more space.” This time you noticed her smile not fully reaching her eyes, but before you could say anything, she had already closed the door behind herself.

You stopped ignoring Leah, because you knew she would just find a way in, but that didn’t mean that your interactions were any less awkward, well at least for you. From Leah’s side it seemed like nothing had happened, while you questioned every interaction you had with her.

When she laughed at your jokes, or let her hand linger on your arm or leg, everything made your skin feel like it was on fire.

A few weeks later Leah was picking out her prom outfit with her mom. She had tried on a bunch of dresses, but none of them seemed to be what she was looking for. Today was the last chance of finding something, since prom was literally tonight. So, Amanda was determined to spend the whole morning driving from store to store until they found something.

It was the third store of the morning where Leah’s eyes fell on a baby blue suit, and she knew instantly that that was going to be the one. Her mom encouraged her to put it on, and the smile on her daughter’s face was exactly the reason why she had.

“This is going to be the one!” Leah said as she admired the suit in the mirror. “It’s lovely Leah Cathrine.” Leah smiled big, “Thank you.” After paying for the clothes, the pair headed back to the car.

“Oh mom, I wanted to ask if you could drive y/n and me tonight.” Her mom’s brow furrowed. “Darling of course I would, but I thought y/n wasn’t going?” Leah looks at her mom as if she was crazy. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh well, because that’s what she said yesterday. She said she wasn’t really feeling up to going.” Leah didn’t understand, you hadn’t told her anything. “But she was so excited about it and had her outfit picked out like months ago already. Do you know why she isn’t going?”

Amanda shakes her head, “I don’t know.” Leah was quick to respond. “You didn’t push further?” Amanda chuckles lightly, “No, that’s more your thing, darling.”

Leah sat back in the seat and crossed her arm, going over what she could do. “Can you drive me to her place tonight?” She nodded, “Sure, darling.”

You were watching a movie in your sweats when you heard a knock on the door. When you opened the door, Leah stood in front of you with a small bouquet of flowers. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at prom?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Leah shoots back instantly. “I’m not going Lee, you should still go though. I’m sure your boyfriend would like you to be there.”

“Boyfriend?” Leah steps inside and closes the door behind her. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a boyfriend.” You shrug your shoulders, “I saw you and Steve kiss, figured you two were together.”

“Oh no definitely not.” Leah said defensively, “He kissed me, and I told him that I wasn’t interested.” You searched her eyes for anything to prove what she was saying wrong, but she seemed sincere. “Oh.”

“So, come to prom with me?” Leah said, holding out the bouquet to you. “Sorry, Lee, I can’t.” She retracted the flowers reluctantly. “Why not?”

Her question hung in the air. Again you wanted to tell her, but you just couldn’t. “I just can’t, please drop it.” But Leah was Leah and there wasn’t any scenario in which she would drop this. “I won’t drop it. You’ve been excited about your outfit, the music, the pictures. You’ve been talking about prom non-stop for months and now you’re here in sweats not going. Please just tell me what’s going on. If I did something, let me in and let me fix it.” Her plea sounded desperate.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, and there is nothing you can fix.” You sighed in frustration, wishing she would just drop it. “Did someone else do something? Please just tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine, okay, I’ll tell you.” Leah focussed on you instantly, not having expected you to break so soon. “I can’t go to prom with you because ever since we practised making out, all I can think about is wanting to kiss you again.” 

Your eyes were looking anywhere but Leah, not ready to see the way she would react to that confession. “Please look at me.” She slowly reached up her hand to your cheek to turn your head to face her. You expected anger, disgust, or even hurt in her eyes, but instead you were met with softness. 

“You know the reason I told Steve I wasn’t interested?” You shook your head. “It’s because after he kissed me, I felt nothing. Which was a stark opposite to how I felt when we kissed. I swear it was just practise when I asked you, but I think that was exactly what I needed to realise my feelings for you.” Leah confessed. 

You stare at her for a moment, taking in the confession. She liked you the same way that you liked her? The corners of your lips slowly rose as it was all coming together in your head. And then without hesitation, you lean in and kiss her for real this time. She kissed you back instantly, and pulled you closer like she had done last time. It felt even better than your time practising, now knowing your feelings for each other.

When Leah pulled away, she leaned her forehead against yours. “So, prom?” Your smile grew. “Yes, just let me get changed.” 

You rushed to your room and quickly got ready. “Wow, you look amazing!” Leah said as you walked back downstairs. “So do you!” You pecked her lips appreciatively. She took your hand and pulled you out the door where her mom was still waiting in the driveway. “Ready to go to prom, girls?” She knew by your happy faces that whatever was going on between the two of you these past weeks, was resolved. “Yeah, more than ready.” You said and Leah squeezed your hand. “Yeah, let’s go.”

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