#i love her but none of it makes any sense to me

[theotherchaospixel]

Her voice boomed, echoed, reverberated across time.

Truth be told, it was really boring. Infinity is just one of those things humans don't understand right. Before I did anything, there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, & more nothing. An infinite nothing. A lot of it. I'm sure you've written before.

Yeah? So what if I have? I could feel Her invisible hand pointing my head down, toward the rock at my feet. A pebble, really, and that was an overstatement.

I'm sure you're aware of the pit in your stomach that grows as you stare at an empty page. Imagine that feeling, multiplied by 6.

I stifled a laugh. Why 6? I could feel Her roll their eyes, if She had eyes, if there were eyes to speak of anywhere, and after a moment, the rock looked at me. With the eyes it didn't have.

It took 6 days before I even started thinking about doing anything, obviously! On the 7th, just before I resolved to spend the next week making life, time, space, the void, stars, nebulae, galaxies, & of course, Saturn, I looked at my clock & panicked, realizing how close to the date I was.

I couldn't quite make sense of what She was telling me. Days? Clock? Date? I thought time didn't exist before that week.

It didn't.

That was where Her thought ended. Silence fell across the plane, across the gaping canyon before me, after me, around me. Minutes passed, centuries passed, empires fell to dust; the rock at my feet wore away into nothing then reconstituted itself. It had been about 5 seconds.

Confusing, I know. That's how the art of creation tends to be. It gets hard to know where you end & the art begins.

None of this really answered my question. What was the nothing like? I could feel the inferno in Her heart, the tsunamis in Her eyes, the earthquakes in Her feet, the tornados in Her hands, as she fidgeted. I'm getting on Her nerves. Not great. I know She's my friend, but making a friend mad was always the last thing I wanted.

The first 6 days were boring, the 7th was stressful, what you want from me, Larry?!?

What was it like though?!? Were you hungry? Did you do it because you wanted to, or because you had to? Her voice echoed again. It was my voice. The rock nudged my feet a bit.

Why do you do anything? Because you have to, or because you want to, or because you need to?

The rock looked up at me again. It wasn't mine before, but somehow, it was now. It was always Hers, but there was something else there now, something ineffable. A love, almost. She sighed. The clouds parted & danced.

On the first day, before time began, there was nothing. It was dark. Second day, same as the first. You get the idea. A whole lot of nothing, but not like when you look up into the night sky and see the spaces between stars nothing; more like when you go to sleep and dream sweet nothings, that kind of nothing. It was like that all seven days, really.

I didn't understand. Things happened in dreams, after all; they were far from nothing. And reading my mind like a book, She continued.

You know how, when you stare at a blank page for long enough, you can see small designs, patterns in the pulp that made it? How if you stare at the floor for long enough, you can see pictures, stories that never happened? How when you look up at the clouds, you see things within them, even though you know that they're just random formations of dust & water vapor? Imagine the page, the patterns, the clouds required in order to see everything that ever was, ever is, & ever will be. Imagine the detail & size of the floor required in order to see all that ever might be. Now, take a step back. It's a blank canvas again. Focus on any part, and you could see everything. People come & go. Empires rise & fall. Seasons change. Time goes on. Step back again, and it's still a blank canvas. Infinite possibility, if you can only bring yourself to paint. Once I had the canvas, it took me several days just gather up the gall to do anything with it, and a whole other day to figure out what. An infinity of possibility, a true, endless ocean of choices.

And this is what you came up with?

Yeah. Pretty cool, right?

I wasn't impressed. And as if She knew it, Her deft, invisible hand pushed my head down to the rock once more.

Look at this pebble. Not impressive, right? Hardly bigger than an eraser. But it's been around the world three separate times. And inside it once. I mean, if you count all of it as one thing, and I know you do. A bit of sand off the coast of what you know now as California, 40 billion years ago, drifted off to sea. Decades later, it washed up on the shore of what is currently Japan. It sat there for a while, as more bits of sand slowly built on top of it. Just a couple million years. Then slowly, over several million more years, the winds carried it across the continent, inch by inch, molecule by molecule. It ended up inside a volcano for a few millennia. And now it's here. Really, it's basically a whole different rock than it started, but it never changed in big swathes. So, that's neat. Billions of years, all to get here, to be in the same room as you & me.

But what was Her point?

My point is that I really can't explain to you what it was like before I made everything. I could swarm you with half a trillion analogies & metaphors & anecdotes & stories, but I'll never be able to explain it to you in full. But if you've written - & I know you have, Larry, you scoundrel, writing things like that - but if you've written, I think you get it. If you've painted, or knit, or drawn, or coded, or sewn, or sung, or played or danced or thrashed or cooked, you get it. Before there is anything, there is love & a dream, and you'd be amazed how far that can take you.

.

.

.

.

.

So it was kinda boring?

Yeah it was kinda boring.

"Hey god?" "Yes, Larry?" "You existed before the universe, right? And supposedly always existed?" "Yes, that's true." "What was infinity like, before you made the universe?" "Ah. Not one human has asked me that before. Well, I guess it's time I tell someone about before the first 7 days."

[yelenasdiary]

Hiii! If its no trouble I'd like to request a fic!

(If it is just ignore this lol)

So the basic idea is Agatha comforting reader

You can make up like whatever reason you want for reader being upset I just cannot for the life of me find any Agatha comfort fics : )

Tyyy

You're Safe, My Darling

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x GN! Reader

Summary: Agatha comforts you after you wake up from a nightmare.

Fluff & Comfort

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know! | 0.7K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I can completely understand the need for wanting more Aggie that isn’t so smut centred! I hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid’s Dream Masterlist 2025

Agatha’s back rested peacefully against the headboard as the moonlight’s comforting silver cast washed across the bedroom. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose; her eyes glued to the book in her hand while you slept peacefully beside her. One hand softly ran through your hair, evidence of how you fell asleep in the first place. Her eyes, following along with the black, small, printed words in her hand.

A strangled whimper left your lips, the sound instantly cutting Agatha’s attention from her book. Her expression softened, her gaze on you as your body trembled beneath the thick blanket. 

“Darling, wake up” Agatha murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum as she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. 

You gasped, your eyes snapping open, wide and haunted. You sat up abruptly, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Agatha..” You chocked out, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper. Agatha didn’t hesitate to gently pull you closer, wrapping her arms around you for comfort. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here” she said, gently rocking you.

Slowly, your trembling subsided as you burrowed your face into the crook of Agatha’s neck, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a dissolving world. The scent of her body lotion brought a sense of comfort. “Everything was…. burning….I couldn’t….save them” you began, remembering the horrible nightmare.

Agatha tightened her hold, feeling the raw emotion in your voice. “Save who, my dear?” She asked softly. 

You trembled again, “them…the innocents, trapped. The others….their scremas, I can still hear their screams” you went on as Agatha held you a little tighter, her heart aching with empathy. Your dream sounding all too familiar to the witch. 

“It’s okay my love, it was just a nightmare” the woman assures you, “you’re safe and nobody is trapped” she added, her voice thick with comfort as she gently pulled you back, cupping your face with care. Her eyes were soft as you met her gaze. “I would never let anything happen to you, ever. You’re safe sweetheart, I promise”

You stared into her eyes, searching for any sign that this might just be a part of your twisted dream. “This is the third dream this week” you replied, your voice full of fear. Agatha nodded, “I know, it’s been tough” she spoke, siding with you on your unspoken concerns. “Maybe we lay off on the horror movies for a bit” she suggested. 

“But you love horror” you replied. 

Agatha chuckled lightly, “I do but, if I want a horror show, I’ll just pop over to the Maximoff’s for 5 minutes”.

Her playful tone was enough to make you chuckle, “there is nothing wrong with them” you argued, playfully. 

“Ha! And there is nothing wrong with Rio either” Agatha said with a cocked brow. You leaned into her hold once more, the warmth from her easing the lingering chill. “Maybe we stick to action movies for a little while” you said softly. 

Agatha gently rubbed your back, “please none of those mission impossible films, I will cry out of boredom and don’t test me on that”. You chuckled once more, “don’t worry babe, I won’t force you to watch those!” You assured her.

“Thank Salem for that!” Agatha sighed with relief as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck again. Her lightful banter taking the edge off as you focused on the way her hand felt rubbing your back. Agatha smiled softly to herself as you made yourself comfortable in her arms, even though it was just a nightmare, she meant her promise to keep you safe.

The wind outside seemed to soften, no longer whispering through the trees. Your breathing began to slowly even out, “get some rest, darling” she said in a soft whisper, “I’ll be right here”. She added, pulling the covers over the two of you. With a gentle flick of her wrists, Agatha weaved a spell, a shield of protection to ease your mind. 

Soon, your body completely relaxed, your face serene and untroubled as you slept peacefully in the woman’s arms. She watched over you, her eyes filling with love as she watched the soft rise and fall of your chest. She placed a kiss on the top of your head, not wanting to wake you.

“You’re safe my darling” she whispered.

Taglist:  @noturlondonboy | @deathbylesbianwitches | @yelenaslyubov | @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow | @boredandneedfanfics | @red1culous | @jooseboxxe | @starrycherie | @torihobby1226 | @filmedbyharkness | @the-lux-archives | @tigerlillyruiz | @uniquelesbianidiot | @n3bula-cats | 

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[throatgoat4u]

will you be my valentine?

word count: 1.5k

summary: matt's made a valentine, but for who?

warnings: none!

a/n: happy valentine's day lovelies! hope you guys are having an amazing, amazing day! this one is actually surprisingly proofread and so it's probably better than most fiics i put out cause like i don’t proofread…. this is based of this comic. um so yeah… enjoy!

toodles {lovers} ♡

today was valentine’s day and just like every other year, you didn’t have a valentine. it wasn’t that nobody had asked you—plenty of people did—but you turned them all down because you were convinced that this was going to be the year. matt was going to ask you to be his valentine.

“this is the year, guys. i can feel it,” you declare, beaming with excitement.

“i don’t know cutie. you’ve been saying that ever since we were in pre-school. we’re in college now,” violet says with a sigh, earning a nod from patty.

“well… well, this year is different. this year, my gut is telling me.” you insist as you run around the room, trying to find your lucky blue ribbon. of course, you had plenty of blue ribbons to choose from, but this one was special—it was the ribbon matt gave you on your eighth birthday. ever since then, you have worn it on the most important days—birthdays, exams, finals—and it never failed to bring you good luck. you can’t recall a single time that you’ve failed an exam while wearing it (though, to be fair, you’re really smart… but the ribbon makes more sense).

“what are you looking for?” patty asks, a bit concerned as you toss things around in search for the object. 

“my ribbon.”

“cutie… this one?” patty sighs, holding up your lucky ribbon from the vanity. 

“oh… yeah… that one.” you mumble, snatching it from patty’s hand and tying it into a bow at the end of your braid.

after your classes, you head over to the sturniolo house, like always. at this point, it’s a ritual—for (both)  you (and matt)—that you show up and yap about absolute nonsense. you skip up to the door and give it a quick knock. commotion erupts from inside, making your eyebrows knit together in confusion. what the hell is going on? you wait for a moment, until their mother—mary lou—opens the door. she wipes her hands over her apron as she greets you with a hug.

“cutie! i’m so glad you could make it. come inside,” she says quickly, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. “please excuse the mess—i was making cookies, but someone decided it was a good idea to start a food fight,” she mutters, hooting a stern look at her youngest son, chris.

“hey! i didn’t start it! nick hit me first and i just hit him back with food.”

“don’t put the blame on me! you started it and don’t you even dare lie.”

“nuh uh.” chris says sassily, his hand on his hip, shaking his pointer finger. this definitely set nick off as he began to chase chris around the kitchen. you turn to mary lou, absolutely astonished. you’d seen the boys like this—considering you grew up with them—but the amount of things that just happened barely even rendered through your brain. the kitchen looks like it got invaded by the pillsbury doughboy. nick is covered in flour, chris is drenched in some sort of mystery jam, and mary lou is a mixture of both. to top it all off, they’re running around like feral animals. it feels like you’re watching a live action tom and jerry episode before your eyes right now.

“i- wha- am i- did you- huh!?!” is all you manage to stutter out. mary lou just smiles and shakes her head. 

“they must have eaten something different because i swear they’ve been off their rockers all day. even matt. i saw him making a valentine card for someone. cutie, when i tell you i was beyond shocked. matt has never once in his life done anything romantic for any girl and swore he would never. i just feel like he’s finally found someone and i can’t be more happy.”

“pardon?!?!” you exclaim, a hint of excitement but also nervousness. that valentine could be for you, but it could also be for another girl. well, it can’t be for another girl, it has to be for you. you are his future wife after all.

“yeah, i mean he even looked excited,” she says, a twinkle in her eyes. she’s never ever expected matt to find someone since he was so obsessed with his piano, but she couldn’t be happier that he did. “ hey, why don’t you go check on him now? i bet you could find out who his secret valentine is?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows and nudging your side slightly. 

you shrug softly, thinking about it, though you knew what your answer was going to be. “yeah… maybe i should.” you turn on the balls of your feet and made your way upstairs. you get to the door of the piano room and knock softly. from the other side, you can hear matt playing a soft melody, one you recognize to be the moonlight sonata. not that you genuinely care to remember, but because matt always gets mad at you for mislabeling it and is always screaming at you about it. gosh, the anger issues that kid has could make the hulk look like a meditation instructor. when he doesn’t answer the door, you knock harder, starting to lose your patience with the kid. but to your dismay, he starts to play louder.

at this point you’re frustrated. you know he hears you knocking. it’s rude to ignore your future wife when she’s knocking at the door, it’s like… common knowledge. you knock a little louder and he starts playing a little louder. you huff, finally at your wits end, and open the door, letting yourself in. you make you way to the piano, your little kitten heels clicking against the floor. matt glances at you, drinking you in for a second. your little blue dress, you white kitten heels, and the way your hair was done—just the way he liked. the loose braid that always made him go feral, the way the front pieces of your hair fell in front of your face. his eyes drift down to the end of your braid, where your lucky ribbon—the one he gave you—rests, its lace slightly frayed from years of wear. | he drinks you in for a moment before turning his attention back onto his piano.

you roll your eyes and huff. you know he knows you’re here—he looked at you! so why won’t he acknowledge you? you walk up to the piano, propping yourself on your forearms. “hey matt,” you say innocently.

“hello,” he mumbles.

“whatcha doin’?” you hum, leaning in closer to matt, resting on the piano

“playing the piano,” he mutters.

“whatcha playin’?” 

“fur elise by beethoven. not only is this one of his most famous pieces, but also it’s my favorite.” he says matter-of-factly. 

elise? who’s elise?

“who’s elise?” you huff, pulling back and folding your arms.

matt stops playing the piano and looks up at you, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “you… don’t know… fur elise? why it is only one of the best pieces of classical music written on planet earth,” he snaps, standing up from his seat, causing it to push back creating a loud screech. “how is that even possible? it’s one of the most famous pieces ever composed! beethoven—beethoven—wrote it! it’s legendary!” he throws his hands up in the air, his frustration palpable.

you look at him with a dumbfounded expression, “it’s a song…?” 

“no, it’s not just a song, it’s ART! ART! ART! ART! ART! ART! something you would never understand!” he shouts

“right… got it,” you say, watching as matt sits back down all proper and poised—as if he didn’t just scream his lungs off bouncing on beethoven’s wood—and picks up right where he left off. “so ummm, do you know what today is?” you ask, leaning back onto the piano again

“yes. it is february 14th which also happens to be valentine’s day. the day that everyone pretends they care about each other because society says so.” he states, pausing for dramatic effect, “i’d rather celebrate fur elise—now that’s real love.”

you scoff, shaking your head. “i still don’t understand what’s so great about elise and not me?” you mutter. you shake your head a bit, as if you were shaking off that thought. you needed to know who the valentine was for. was it for you? was it for tessa? was it for elise? fuck elise and tessa. that’s your valentine.

you sigh, twiddling your thumbs in thought until you get an idea, “you know, i find that there is a very big misconception on what and who valentine's day is about,” you say, turning over to your side, “i mean, people make the mistake of thinking you have to be madly in love with someone for them to be your valentine”

“oh. so does this mean that you’d have to love her a little?”

“well no, not necessarily.” 

“sooo what if you only like her and not love her?”

“that works.”

“and if you are just barely being able to tolerate her?”

you turn around once again, finally facing him and his gorgeous face as you rest your arms on the piano. “well that could work but-” 

he grabs a card and hands it over to you, “happy valentines day!” he says with the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face.

your face drops as you look at the card and then back up at him, slumping down into your arms, “rats...”

taglist ♡

@sturns-mermaid. @chonicallyalone. @storyteller32. @mattscoquette. @55sturn. @queen-of-beees. @xoxopetalzblog. @lilysturn. @ilavlilpeep. @weepingdelusionobject. @ju2tm30. @funkybananas101. @xxkylie906xx. @courta13. @p3r3j1l. @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan. @ireadtoofast. @rippeanuts1950-2000. @reigengyattataka. @a-s-h-t-o-n. @anime-4-u. @maggot3647. @watercolorskyy. @matthewsturnsgf. @lemonhoney2460. @snoopychris. @oopsiedaisydeer

nini’s stamp of approval ♡

[socgf]

better left unsaid - dallas winston x reader

it's valentine's day, and reader finds something she shouldn't have in dally's room.

wc: 959

warnings: none just fluff <3

it's not like you had any crazy expectations for what dallas winston had in mind for valentine's day. sure, you spent all your time with each other. you'd gotten real close, in every sense of that word. but he would avoid that commitment conversation like the plague, so you weren't exactly expecting a declaration of love or a bouquet of roses.

but flat out acting like the holiday didn't exist? that was just too far.

the two of you had just left buck's after you'd spent the afternoon doing homework on his bed while he sat around bothering you. like every friday night, dally had stolen the thunderbird to take you to the nightly double. but this was just a routine occurrence, of course. not like he would ever believe in such a mushy holiday.

still, you'd hoped for something - a box of chocolate, some grocery store flowers, maybe a card. you try to take your mind off it as dally puts his foot on the gas, fiddling with his pockets haphazardly.

suddenly, his face scrunches up in frustration and he grumbles, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he cuts the gas. 

"hey. do me a favor, will ya? grab my smokes from my desk. top drawer on the left." 

you roll your eyes but go back anyway. his room is the usual mess - clothes draped over the chair, a couple beer bottles on the windowsill, your textbooks and notes spread out on the bed. you yank the drawer open, already expecting to have to dig past god-knows-what to find the cigarettes.

instead, you find a stack of papers shoved carelessly to the side.

you don't mean to snoop, but something about them seems out of the ordinary. it's not like he's the type to be keeping a diary, but these aren't just receipts or homework. as you take a closer look, you see they're notebook pages crumpled at the edges, ripped out hastily, the ink a bit smudged and messy. 

then you see the date at the top of the first one. an entry from over a year ago. you hesitate for a moment, knowing this must be personal. a flicker of guilt runs through you, but you can't help paging through the headers on the first couple of slips. you swear you can make out your name somewhere between the lines, and against your better judgment, you start reading.

november 5th, 1963

she fell asleep on my shoulder at the drive-in today. she really needs to stop doing that. swear i almost decked steve in his face for laughing at it, but i knew she'd hate if i did it. it's funny, she fucking mumbles in her sleep. i swear she said my name a couple times under her breath. i acted like i didn't hear it but i can't stop thinking about it.

january 17th, 1964

she had to babysit pony today and she dragged me along to keep her company. i was supposed to do a run for buck, but i'll have to figure that out later. it's funny, she was real apologetic about it, like i'm ever gonna be mad that i have to spend time with her.

april 28th, 1964

we were watching some stupid rerun in her living room and i guess i must've been exhausted. she started running her fingers through my hair all sweet like she always does, messing it up. didn't have the energy to tell her to knock it off. next thing i know i wake up laying down on her side. she says i knocked out. whatever.

august 12th, 1964

buck decided to go sticking his nose where he doesn't belong last night… asking me about her. why i won't make it official? make what official? i come to her window every damn night. she lays on my shoulder and tells me all her secrets. not like i let anyone else make me act that way. that's official enough for me, far as i'm concerned.

november 1st, 1964

i swear she did something different with her hair today, or maybe her makeup or something, or her outfit. whatever it was. i just couldn't stop staring at her. she's so pretty it makes me forget what i'm thinking when i look at her…christ, i'm sounding like a fucking sap. if buck ever found this, i would have to kill him.

december 9th, 1964

i found her crying today when i walked in. i wanted to hug her or something, kiss her on the forehead and make everything better. i didn't. just sat there smoking by her side until she stopped, let her get everything off her chest. then she had the nerve to say 'thank you dal,' like i did anything special. i have no idea what the hell she sees in me.

january 28th, 1965

glory, she's got the worst taste in music. i told her that today and she threw a fucking pillow at me. truth is i would listen to the beatles for the rest of my goddamn life if it meant she let me lay in her bed and listen to her sing along. it's cute.

february 3rd, 1965

if she finds these i'm gonna have to tell her it's for an english assignment or something. no, never mind. even she wouldn't believe that. man, i'm fucked.

you reach the last entry in the pile, this one laid out nicely with neater handwriting, on a fresh sheet of paper:

february 14th, 1965

if you find this, happy valentine's day. figured there's no point in keeping these a secret. i'm sorry i'm not better at saying it. you should know i'm not much for words. but i mean everything i wrote, doll, swear.

a.n. writing this made my heart all warm and fuzzy haha happy (late) valentine's day guys!!! hope you like it!

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Even though you agreed to forgive Oscar, you realize quickly that nothing can go back to how it was before, and some old flames never die.

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

WARNINGS: Lando is very mean to reader behind her back, also reader is lowkey so dumb and frustrating but that's intentional.

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia  @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky @makanirock05 @htpssgavi @lilypat @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @ameliaalvarez06

A/N: A few things: (1) This one is for Billie. The Grammys did her DIRTY. (2) I realized I have horrifically messed up the pacing since real F1 races are so close together so we’re gonna pretend like there are a few weeks in between Imola and Monaco because this is my fanfic and I make the rules. (3) If this is bad I’m sorry, my life is a mess right now and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this out to you guys! (4) I went back and found a few people that accidently got left out of the taglist, my bad! I’ve linked the previous chapters below so you can catch up (5) As always, I hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

From your balcony, you sighed in contentment as you heard the gentle lapping of waves from the endless expanse of water that stretched out before you. There were yachts teeming with giggling models, the chattering of French spoken on the streets below, the buzz of such a city of opulence. It was music to your ears. 

The view of Monaco was one you never thought you’d get tired of. The place, though so new, also felt so much like home to you. The streets were paved with hope and memory, the water brimming with joy yet to be.

All of it was yours. Because of Oscar.

Yet again, his name came to your mind to taunt you. 

Maybe taunt was too strong of a word. You weren’t quite sure. You weren’t sure of much of anything, anymore.

Your interactions with your friend had been…awkward, to say the least. You had made a vow to yourself to forgive him, but he seemed…a little too excited to be forgiven, if that made any sense. He wanted to go back to the way that things had been before all of this, but how was that possible?

You had explored every inch of each other’s bodies. You had held each other in the heat of passion. How are you supposed to act as if none of that ever happened?

His words echoed in your brain. I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. 

You had never even asked Oscar to be official. The thought was too far-fetched. I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.

Well, at least one of you got what you wanted.

But then again, you truly didn’t know what you wanted from him anymore. To Oscar’s credit, you weren’t exactly making it easy to get back in your good graces.  

The one thing you had been sure you wanted was more independence. No more living in an apartment that Oscar owned, or letting him jetset you across the world to his races and paying for all your expensive dinners.

No, it was time to be your own woman. That meant leaving Monaco.

So you took advantage of every morning you still had in this city that you’d grown to love, knowing that soon, you’d have to leave.

“You don’t have to go.”

Oscar’s voice floated into your ears. He had practically moved in; he was trying to sell his larger apartment, and the place was constantly swarming with real estate agents and potential buyers. Even if it wasn’t so hectic, he hated being there alone, and you refused to go back there with him. Not after the confrontation with Lily back in Imola.

“You don’t have to leave,” he repeated. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Sometimes it felt like Oscar could read your mind.

“Yes I do,” you responded, sipping your tea, not shifting your gaze from the water. 

“I can just give you the apartment, if you’re worried about it being in your name. I can pay the gift tax too.”

“No,” you whispered. 

“I have more money that I’d ever know what to do with, YN—”

“I don’t,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “So I can’t stay here.”

Oscar knew his arguments were all in vain. You were nothing if not stubborn.

“I need you here,” he said.

“I’ll be just across the border.” It was more than likely; you could probably get a decent apartment in Nice within your budget.

“And what about at my races?”

“I’ll always come to Monaco.” You were also contemplating quitting your job; you hadn’t said it aloud yet, but Oscar knew. You were just waiting until you found something stable to quit. It was only a matter of time.

He was already pushing his luck. You walked past him back into the apartment and the Aussie sighed. 

He didn’t have long to fix all that he had fucked up. 

Especially considering your newfound friendship with Lando, although you had done your best to keep that hidden. Something about it felt…wrong. Like a betrayal. 

Morning pretty girl, read the message from the Brit on your phone. You smiled but rolled your eyes. Lando’s playful flirting and banter was comical to you. Of course, it meant nothing. Lando wasn’t your type, and you weren’t his. 

You shot him back a good morning text of your own, before setting your phone down in the living room to clean up your breakfast. Your phone buzzed again, and Oscar grabbed it.

“You got a message from…Lando?”

“Put my phone down, Oscar.”

“Why are you texting Lando?” 

“Am I not allowed to have friends?”

You walked back into the living room, where Oscar handed you your phone. You plopped down on the couch, opening the device to see what he had texted you. 

You up for a coffee later today? There’s a new cafe I’ve been wanting to try.

You texted back quickly, affirming that you’d be there. 

“What did he want?”

“Oscar, seriously? I’m grown.”

“I’m just curious.”

“He just wanted to get coffee later today.”   

“He asked you on a date?” His face was red with impending anger.

“It’s not a date. It’s coffee. Amongst friends and coworkers, which we are. You weren’t this worried when you all left me with him in Italy,” you said, staring into the stitches on the decorative pillows on your couch.

“Things were different then.” 

His words were dripping with some unrecognizable emotion—regret, maybe, or sadness. You couldn’t be sure. But it startled you.

So you ignored it, instead grabbing your laptop and headphones before sitting at your kitchen table. “I have to get this stuff done,” you said, and Oscar just nodded. 

He had his own work to take care of. 

Later that afternoon, as you wrapped up your work and got ready to meet Lando at the cafe, you were already feeling Oscar’s absence throughout your small apartment.

It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place; you wanted to stay in Monaco, to stay by Oscar’s side, for everything to stay the way that they had always been. But you knew that you just couldn’t.

“Why?” Lando asked, sipping on some fancy tea ordered from the admittedly adorable cafe in a hidden corner of Monte Carlo. Despite your better judgements, you had confided in him about your anxieties regarding the future. “Why would you need to leave so badly? I don’t get it. Just let him pay for all your shit. It’s the least he can do.”

“No, I’ve relied on him for too long,” you answered. “I just need to be more of myself. We’ve always been so…intertwined.”

“I know you two are close.”

“No, it’s more than that. It’s like…our lives are just, I don’t know, connected? Like I didn’t know where my story ended and his began. It’s hard to explain.”

“You must be heartbroken.”

You raised a brow. That wasn’t quite the word you’d use. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, to have all of this happen. You must miss him a lot.” 

“Oh, well, he practically lives with me,” you laughed. “This all started because we got into it before Miami, but we’ve made up now. It’s just hard having to navigate all the logistics.” 

“Oh,” he replied, his voice tinged with a snark that you weren’t quite sure what to make of. He raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his tea.

“What?” you asked. 

“Well, it’s just…I mean, that was quick.” He wouldn’t meet your gaze. “Back in Imola, you seemed pretty pissed at him.” 

“I was. But,” you paused, swirling a small spoon around your own drink, “That crash was bad. Things like it just put everything in perspective, you know?”

“So everything’s fine between the two of you now, because he hit a wall?” Lando chuckled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

You looked up, your brows furrowed in confusion. “Really?”

“I just think you deserve better. You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek before replying, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that’s not what’s happening at all.”

“It isn’t?”

“Who told you any of this?” you asked. 

You didn’t know that Oscar had told him everything, that drunken night after Miami. And what you didn’t know, Lando decided, couldn’t hurt you. He liked having the upper hand, dropping little hints that his knowledge was far beyond what anyone thought. “Why does that matter? It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.”

“Just like it was so obvious that Oscar was cheating on me with Lily?”  You looked back down to the now cold contents of your cup.

Lando was silent for a minute. “Things don’t have to be like this, YN.”

“It’s funny, cause that’s exactly what Oscar told me.”

“Why do you let him get away with all this shit?”

“Do you really think I just welcomed him back into my life like nothing happened? Forgiveness isn’t that simple. Just because we’re not screaming at each other doesn’t mean that everything is fine. It’s… complicated.”

“I’m sure it is. But can I ask you a question?”

You just tilted your head in response, mentally preparing for whatever curveball he’d throw you next. You liked the banter with Lando; it was challenging, like a back and forth dance, or a chess game.

Lando leaned in close, lowering his voice. “You said Oscar practically moved in with you. Where does he sleep at night?”

You laughed at the implication. “I’m not sleeping with him anymore.” 

“Anymore?” he asked.

You paused, your smile fading. Lando’s smile spread ear to ear. 

You had lost the game, finally revealing the truth without even intending to. 

“You’re good, Norris,” you said, swirling your spoon around the cup just to give your hands something to do. “Too good. You know, Oscar’s not too fond of me being here.”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Lando replied. “I’m sure he tells you all sorts of horrible things about me.”

“Are they true?” you asked, though Oscar had told you nothing of the sort. His hesitations came off more as paranoid ramblings rather than juicy gossip or evidence-based skepticism. 

Lando leaned in and smirked at you. “Why don’t you roll over in bed tonight and ask him?”

Your phone buzzed as you fumbled in your bag for your keys outside your front door. You spotted the lanyard, and held your phone in one hand as you closed your bag in the other.

It was really nice to see you today. I’d like to do it again. 

You let out a half laugh, half exhale. Lando was… fun. Dangerous, in a way. He had a mysterious air about him that surprised you, and it was intoxicating. 

You knew you needed to be more careful about what you let slip. He seemed to know every detail, all coming from some phantom source you couldn’t trace. Being a social media manager, you were acutely aware of how easily words could get misconstrued and livelihoods could be destroyed. 

But so was Lando, and after all, it wasn’t like he was a stranger to controversy.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and locked your phone. You’d get to that text later. For now, you had a seemingly endless mountain of work—domestic and professional—to tackle.

But as you set down your bag, you heard the familiar sound of your kitchen sink running.

Oscar was…doing dishes?

You made your way into the kitchen and stood in the entryway. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said. “I was just about to take care of it.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

“You should be, like, training or something, not doing my dishes.” You smiled. He didn’t.

“How’d your afternoon with Lando go?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, facing you. His expression was unreadable.

Truthfully? Odd. Exhilarating. Anxiety-inducing. But you couldn’t say that to Oscar now. 

And as you saw his imposing form, even sloped away from you, the words that the Brit had planted in your head echoed. 

The more time you spent with Lando, the more tense you were with Oscar. You recognized that. 

“It was fine,” you said. You guessed that was the right word to use, at least.

Oscar hung his head low, studying the floor. He was nervous. “Can I tell you something, friend to friend?”

“What?”

“I don’t really like you spending time with Lando.”

You just looked at him, stopped in your tracks by his audacity. “Are you serious?”

“You know he’s up to nothing good, right? Conveniently hitting you up when we’re fighting for the championship, and then he ran brake checked me into the fucking wall in Imola—”

“Oh my God, you are serious.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you, but you can’t trust him.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from you?”

“YN, just hear me out—”

“Now now, Oscar,” you said, grabbing your headphones and laptop and walking out onto your balcony.  

You took a deep breath before slipping your headphones on and trudging through the work.

You closed the laptop as the sun began to set over Monaco. Oscar walked out onto the patio and sat next to you. 

“I’m going to say this once,” he said. “Please just listen to me, YN. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” 

“I know,” he said. “But I know a liar when I see one. He doesn’t love you, YN. He’s just using you.” 

You were digging your nails into your palm. 

“I don't know what his game is, but we’re all just pawns in it,” he said, his tone more frantic.

“I need to go to bed,” you said. ‘I have to be up early,” you walked past him into the apartment, but he grabbed you by the sleeve.

“YN, listen to me!”

You turned around to face him, your anger now fully unleashed. “Has it ever occurred to you that someone might just like me for me? Can you even imagine a man loving me for more than my body? He’s never even tried to get in my pants.”

“I see the way he looks at you.”

“And so what if he does?”

“He’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”

“You’re the only one driving a wedge between us, Oscar.”

“YN, I’m just saying this because I’m worried about you! You shouldn’t trust him.”

“And I should trust you instead?”

Oscar paused. “YN, I love you and—”

“Stop. Just…stop. I actually do have to go to bed.” You wiped your eyes, swatting away the faintest trace of tears that had come up. “I have to go look at an apartment tomorrow.”

Oscar bit his lip and huffed. “I thought you had forgiven me, YN.”

“I have.”

No. At the hospital, in Imola. I asked you to forgive me so we could be friends again and you said yes. Then you go and start flirting with my teammate and saying you're going to leave Monaco. I don't understand why you’re still so mad at me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oscar, none of this is about you!” you exclaimed. “I mean, it is, but this isn’t some petty act of revenge. This is about the fact that I need my own life.”

“I used to be part of your life.”

“You used to be my entire life,” you said, and laughed. “Shit, you still are. You don’t get it.”

“I guess I don’t.”

You both paused, soaking in the tension of the scene.

“And you didn’t ask for my forgiveness,” you said. “You asked to act like none of this ever happened. I can’t do that. We…crossed a line. Things are different now.”

The tiniest part of you wanted to hop back on the other side of that line and drag Oscar into your bedroom right now. You craved the feeling of him stretching you, your hands clawing up his back or burying themselves in his hair as he buried his tongue— 

“You said never again,” he whispered. “But we both still feel the same, don’t we?” 

“I really need to go to bed.”

That night, Oscar took the couch. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t sleep. 

As you tossed and turned, you considered Oscar’s word against Lando’s, Lando’s against Oscar’s. 

Lando had said you shouldn’t forgive Oscar. And to his credit, Oscar was making that very difficult. But had you not given your best friend your word?

And what Oscar had said about Lando; he wasn’t trustworthy, he was just using you as a pawn. You hated to admit it, but it was probably true. Hell, Lando would never go for a girl like you. But the back and forth of your banter brought you a thrill you hadn’t felt in months. 

Shit, you had never texted him back. Did you really want to see him again?

You didn’t know how long this charade could go on, until Lando got whatever it is that he really wanted. But Oscar’s words still burned you with fury. 

I’d love to. 

You rode the train to Nice like a zombie, traversing the shitty apartment with lead feet, yawning the entire time. You weren’t missing much. 

Your phone buzzed with a text from Oscar, and you read it on the train ride back. 

I’m sorry for last night.

It’s fine, you replied.

Almost instantly, another message. No, it’s not. I should have just minded my own business. 

You were too exhausted to think of a reply, needing all your energy to make it from the train station back to your apartment in Monaco unscathed and collapse on the bed. 

“How was the apartment?” Oscar asked from the bathroom, preoccupied with his shaving. 

“Shitty,” you mumbled, face into the pillow. 

Oscar looked over. “Sleep badly last night?”

“You don’t even know,” you huffed. “Wait, where are you going?” 

“Buyer,” he said simply, sparing your exhausted brain the boring details of real estate management. 

You made some unintelligible noise in response. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll wake you up when I’m back, yeah?”

You handed him a thumbs up as you pulled the covers over you and fell asleep within minutes. 

Oscar would have given anything to be back in that bed, curled up next to you. Instead, he was inside his old, empty apartment, with Lily. 

It had been in her name too, after all. She had to be there for the sale, though neither were too happy to see each other. They looked over documents wordlessly, shuffling the papers back and forth between them, just anxious to get it over with. 

As the lawyers and real estate agents packed up their belongings, Lily sighed, clearly unamused. “It's a bit ridiculous that I had to fly all the way to Monaco for that, no?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Oscar said, doing his best to make idle conversation. “So, how are things at work?”

“Fine,” she replied, her lips pursed. “How’s the season going?”

“You haven’t been watching?” he asked. 

“I’m busy on Sundays.”

“Ah.” The tension was thick. “It’s been okay.” 

Lily bit the inside of her cheek, determining how far she wanted to take her next move. “How’s YN?”

“Fine,” he replied, too quick and sharp to be genuine.

“That’s not what I heard,” she said. “I heard you made a move on her days after we broke up, and she dumped you because she felt so bad about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oscar said, a reflex more than a conscious choice to lie.

“Yes you do,” she replied. “And honestly, you all deserve each other.” Her words dripped with venom.

“Why do you care?” Oscar replied, his polite exterior broken by the confrontation. “Isn’t that exactly why you left? But now you’re mad because I actually did it.”

“I thought you were better than that. I wish you could have proven me wrong,” she said. “Oh my God, I was so stupid. Lando was right,” she said, bringing her palm to her forehead and fixing her gaze on the floor. 

“Wh— Lando?”

“Why do you think I finally got the nerve to tell you how I felt? Lando knew you were cheating. And I don’t care what you or her say, I don’t believe you anymore. There’s no way you just…crawled into her bed 4 days after I left you. You had to have been cheating.”

“Lily, I never cheated on you. Why would Lando tell you that?” 

“Because it was happening right in front of my eyes! And for so long I just ignored it and pushed it all down.” Her eyes were prickling up with tears, the effect of the emotion being so fresh in the presence of her now ex-lover. “I just told myself that you all were friends. It was normal for your boyfriend to look at his best friend like that. Oh, yes, it’s so normal for your boyfriend to bring his girl best friend on every vacation, every night out, every trip home! I can’t believe that your fucking teammate had to be the one to open my eyes.” 

“Lily,” Oscar repeated, “I never, never, cheated on you. Yes, I was a horrible boyfriend. And yes,” he paused and sighed before continuing, ‘YN and I… it’s complicated. But never before you left. I don’t know what the hell Lando is telling you but it’s a lie.”

“You’re the only liar. You and YN. She acts like she’s so honest, but I know. You had to have been cheating. You all wanted each other for years.”

“Lily—”

“Don’t, Oscar,” she said, wiping her eyes. “It doesn’t really matter anymore. What’s done is done. I just hope you two are happy.” Lily grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter and swiftly left the apartment, leaving behind only the soft clicking of her heels against the tile of the hallway, and the echo of what once was, reverberating around the apartment before slowly fading into the quiet of the afternoon. 

Back at your place, Oscar entered quietly, careful not to wake you. All he wanted was to sleep.

He slowly took off his shoes and jacket, sinking into the bed next to you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; his mind was racing, his nervous system wired. But he wanted to rest, to feel the warmth and weight of your sleeping body next to his own. For just a moment, the world could stop, and he would feel okay again. 

But it couldn’t be. You had always been a light sleeper. The mere sound of his opening and closing the front door had caused you to stir. The feeling of his weight down on the bed led you to rise, stretching your arms about your head before rubbing your eyes.

Oscar couldn’t help it; his eyes glanced to the exposed skin of your stomach from where your shirt rode up when he stretched. You had said no more sex, and he respected that. But it didn’t mean that he wanted you any less. 

“What time is it?” you mumbled. 

“Almost five,” he answered.

“Oh, shit,” you said. You hadn’t expected to sleep this long. You looked over to Oscar, who was hiding his face in his hands. “You can have the bed, I’ll go make food.”

You swung your legs over the bed, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Stay,” he said. “Please.”

That woke you up quick. Oscar could feel the blood pulse through your veins as he held your wrist, a whispered plea for comfort.

“Osc…”

“Lily was there. At the apartment.”

“I don’t think—”

“She said…God, YN, I feel like I’m going fucking crazy.”

“Let go of my arm, please.”

Oscar awkwardly let you go, not realizing that he had essentially kept you pinned to the spot. You wordless rose and left the room for the kitchen.

As you stirred the pot of food to a simmer, you watched the little bubbles rise to the top, like the little kernels of emotion that ran through you. If it were up to you, you’d close the lid on them and leave them forever. But then the house could burn down.

What an apt metaphor.

But truly, you knew you were trying to outrun something, a force so strong you couldn’t ignore it. 

Love, lust, desire? It couldn’t be named. Unfortunately, it followed you around the apartment. 

“How are we friends if we can’t even talk?” Oscar said, having followed you to the kitchen, now standing in the doorway. What he was doing was a bit unfair, cornering you here when you couldn’t really leave. But what else could he do?

“You can talk to me,” you said. “Just not in my bed.”

You refused to look at the Aussie, instead putting all your focus into chopping the vegetables, drowning out his words in the sharp sounds of the knife tearing through the onion and shallots.

“Lily was there. She told me that Lando told her that I cheated on her with you.”

You snorted. “What are we, back in middle school? He said, she said?”

“Well, considering she left me over it, I don’t find it very funny.”

“Oscar, you never cheated. Everyone knows that.” 

“Lando is—”

“Who cares what Lando says?” You used the flat blade of the knife to swipe the chopped vegetables off the cutting board and into the pot.  

“I care!”

“Do you blame him for thinking we were hooking up?”

“I blame him for putting thoughts in my girlfriend’s head that weren’t true.” 

You put the knife on the counter with a thud. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Oscar paused, mentally cursing himself for the slip of words. “I’m just saying, he’s going around saying things without any regard to what damage they may cause.”

“You sound paranoid,” you said, grinding salt and pepper into the mixture. 

“I just…” Oscar grasped for the right words, careful to not let his frustration take over, “I would just really appreciate it if you don’t tell him anything. Because he already took her from me.” 

You put the lid back on the pot and turned the heat down. “The male audacity never ceases to amaze me.”

“What?”

“Oscar, she didn’t leave you because Lando was poisoning her thoughts, or whatever. She left because she was unhappy.”

“She left because she felt threatened by you. Because of what Lando said.”

You finally turned around to face him, your cheeks now red with frustration. “It only took you four days to prove her right! This isn’t about Lando. This is about the fact that you still can’t accept what you did. With her or with me.”

“You wanted it, too,” he responded, his voice now low and husky. “And you still want it. Deep down, you know it.”

You swallowed, suddenly noticing how his arms filled out the sleeves of his shirt just right, and how the blood rushed to his cheeks while he was angry, painting his face a delightful shade of blush. 

“That’s irrelevant.” 

“If I’m guilty, then so are you. Because you imagined every second of it.”

“Not like this,” you whispered. “And you did too.”

He stepped forward, closing the gap between you two. “Stop talking to Lando.”

Your voice rose to a normal level, relieved by the changed tension. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

God, how badly you wanted him to push you up against the wall and take you right then and there. No, you couldn’t. But he was right.

You had wanted this. You were guilty.

It was eating you alive. 

The Monaco Grand Prix. The epitome of glitz and glamor, wealth and class, speed and history. It was everything that you and Oscar loved about the sport of Formula 1, right from the comfort of  your backyard.

Well, not for much longer. But that was a thought you were trying to avoid. 

You had looked at a couple more apartments in your budget, only to be disappointed by all of them. Of course, nothing could beat the picturesque view you had right outside your living room every morning. 

If it were up to you, you would have watched the race from your balcony, but duty called. You put on your best face of professionalism for the weekend.

It turns out, going back to being “just friends” was a paradox. You couldn’t; not after the unhealed wounds, the ghost of phantom touches and unforgettable nights that still haunted both of you. 

But even when you pretended, you couldn’t deny the sexual tension that underlied every interaction. 

You had almost forgotten that feeling; it lingered after your first encounter with Oscar, where you had taken each other’s virginity, but it had been different then. Only a few days and a handful of awkward texts before things just went back to normal. He went back to the UK, you went back to school, he met Lily, and the rest was history.

But now, it was inescapable, breaking into every crack and crevice of the apartment, in every breath between you two that held a second too long of eye contact.

It was torture. At least professionalism was somewhat of a reprieve. 

You raised your camera up to take a shot of Oscar walking out of the McLaren garage, thankful to be able to hide behind your lens. Through it, you could see the strained outline of his muscles underneath his fireproof shirt. His hair was glistening with sweat, and his chest heaved, letting out a frustrated sigh at the results of quali.

“Care to get a picture of the pole sitter, YN?” you heard behind you, and turned to see Lando’s cheeky grin as he shook his hair. His discarded balaclava was in one hand, and he ran his other through his loose curls, balancing his helmet on his hip.

You let out a small huff of a laugh and snapped a quick picture. 

“Let me see,” he said, walking next to you. You held up the small screen for him to see.

“Wow, you make me look good,” he teased.

“Oh no,” you bantered back, “that’s the magic of editing.”

“No way. The only Oscar can look that good on Instagram is because you’re behind the camera.”

You laughed out of reflex at the crude joke. “Actually,” you said, “most pics I take don’t make it to social media.” Lando raised an eyebrow. You continued, “Yeah, most of what we post is from the actual photographers. Leave the beautification to the professionals.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Well, I just like to take pictures, but I’m not very good at it. Most of my actual work is all the boring stuff with the merch.”

Lando’s grin returned. “So all those pictures you took of me at Imola, was that just because you wanted to look at my face, huh?”

“I’d need more than just photoshop to make you look pretty, Norris.” You both knew the joke was false. Lando was perfect—tanned skin, chiseled body, brown coils catching the sunlight and caused golden highlights to cascade through his locks. You couldn’t deny that Lando Norris was fucking hot.

“Ouch! And here I thought you liked me,” he joked. “Considering I’m taking you out to dinner, and all.”

You looked over your shoulder, checking for any other McLaren drivers who may be listening. But Oscar was far out of sight. 

“Just a little friendly meal between colleagues,” you said, a tense smile coming to your face.

“Keep telling yourself that, love,” he said, before being called over to the media tent. 

You gave him another smile as he walked off, but truthfully, you weren’t exactly excited. You weren’t quite sure what to make of Lando, especially given Oscar’s reservations. Getting this close to him, especially in public, was…dangerous. 

You felt that familiar knot of anxiety in your stomach. Maybe Oscar was right.

But Lando turned around and flashed you his award winning smile and a wink, and you giggled out of reflex. Maybe Oscar’s paranoia was wearing off on you. 

It didn’t matter now. You had a job to do. 

Which was very hard to do, considering that no one could find Oscar after he left the media pen. 

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar was back in his driver’s room, doing anything he could to avoid losing his mind.

Quali had gone horribly. At a track like Monaco, where overtaking was so scarce, he had essentially sighed away potential points. And to make it all worse, Lando had gotten pole, and to celebrate, he had stood in front of Oscar’s own garage, chatting you up without a care in the world.

Oscar couldn’t even bear to see it. He had trudged off to the media pen, quickly gave his statement, then booked it to the room to be alone for a while.

But it felt like he was going crazy. He couldn’t relax, his leg bouncing up and down at a fervent pace, his breaths strained. Was he having a panic attack? This must be close to it.

But no, it wasn’t panic. It was anger. He felt like a cringy teenager, wanting to punch a wall, ro drive a car way too fast (as if he didn’t already do that for a living), or… no. He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t indulge his most unhealthy coping mechanism. Not now.

But he felt all the blood rush down south at even the mere thought of the last time he had you in his driver’s room. 

No. No, no, he said to himself again and again. You had said no sex. He didn’t want you to feel used. But just the memory of your mouth on him, the curves of your body underneath his own, was enough to rile him up.

There were too many people outside. He could hear their voices outside the door. The whole damn country of Monaco was too small; there was nowhere to hide from his urges, or from you, for that matter.

Not that he usually wanted to. But he had a little problem to take care of.

His phone buzzed. A text from you. 

Where are you?

What was he supposed to say? Hiding from you, because I’m so stupidly aggravated and horny that I can’t even be around you for fear of ruining our friendship?

He let out an angry groan into a pillow to muffle his frustrations. It wasn’t just the physical aspect that he missed; he missed your warmth, the comforting weight of you beside him in the bed, the tentative way you were always just an arm length’s close, never more, never less.

He should have held you. He should have made you feel loved and not used. It haunted him every day. And yes, he was paying the price for it.

“Congrats on pole, man!” he heard, the voice clear enough to indicate that someone was outside his door.

“Thanks,” Lando’s voice replied, before he heard the familiar sound of the door around the corner opening and closing. 

Yeah, he was definitely paying the price.

Oscar contemplated not going back to your place tonight. 

He still had a few days where he could sleep in his old apartment before the sale fully went through. On one hand, the place was empty and quiet, devoid of life and love. He’d be alone with his thoughts—for better or worse.

On the other hand, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep anywhere except your bed or couch. He had gotten too used to the familiarity of your apartment. And he wanted to savor every second of you living in Monaco, before your inevitable departure. 

He finally decided against a night of solitude. By the time he finally left the circuit, you were nearly ready to go to bed.  

“Jesus, Osc, where have you been?” you asked, and you tried to ignore how his eyes traced the bare skin of your thighs in your sleep shorts.

“At the track,” he said.

“Well, no shit,” you said, “but no one could find you. I texted you and you never responded.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Quali was just…shit.”

He seemed reluctant to answer where he had actually been, so you didn’t press the issue, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You sat on your couch next to him, where Oscar had his head buried in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“I can get you—” 

“I’m fine,” he said again, this time quicker and more dismissive. 

“Osc…”

“I just wanna go to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay,” you said. “You can take the bed tonight.”

It broke your heart to see him so down. Things were nearly as bad as when Lily had first left him. It scared you—there was only one way that you were able to really help him in that scenario, and you couldn’t go there.

“Just let me grab my phone charger,” you said, getting up to go to the room. He followed you, walking like a zombie. When you turned to leave, he moved to let you walk past, then sat on the bed, hunched over. 

You stopped in the doorway, looking him up and down.  

He looked up at you, locking eyes, and it took everything in you not to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him. He looked so…pathetic, sad, something you couldn’t quite name.

You really needed to find a new apartment soon. Or kick him out. 

You couldn’t do either.

Amongst the many things you could not do was sleep. It was 3 in the morning. Against your better judgement, you slipped into your room, praying that Oscar was still asleep.

You just wanted to see him. To gaze upon his face, smoothed with rest, imbued with the peace of sleep despite the stress of the day. Maybe when he was asleep, you could really pretend that none of this had ever happened. 

As you softly slipped next to him under the covers, his eyelids fluttered open and met yours.

“You can’t sleep either?” he softly whispered, to which you shook your head. You adjusted, rolling over to your side to face him, curling up into the blankets as cozy as you could get. His eyes never left your form. 

Neither of you knew what to do. You felt like strangers.

You had been avoiding any real discussions like the plague. But seeing him now, so vulnerable, you finally broke. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?” you whispered.

“I don’t want to argue,” he replied.

“We won’t. I’ll listen, I promise.”

His eyes drafted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes to meet your gaze. You both knew what was going unsaid. But still he spoke, saying, “I’m lonely. I miss Lily and I miss you. I know that I did this, and that’s why it hurts even more. And I’m so scared of losing you forever.”

His eyes welled up with tears as he continued. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Feeling so far from you, feeling like strangers. I wish I could have shown you how I felt earlier. I wish I didn’t hurt you and drive you away. And I know it’s all my fault. But it hurts.”

“Oscar…” you began, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. But the words didn’t find you. 

“The championship is all I have left, and I can’t even focus because of fucking Lando. And I’m scared that he’s up to something and that he’s going to hurt you too, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“There is something…odd about him,” you said. “I get what you mean.”

“Can I ask you something?” Oscar said, and you nodded. “Does he make you happy?”

“It’s not like that,” you replied. “It’s… I don’t know, like a back and forth. I don’t know what his aim is. It feels like a game. But it kind of scares me.”

“Then why do you keep talking to him?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. You did know. “I guess because I feel like I can’t talk to you.”

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek. He understood what you meant. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t like a knife to the chest.

“It’s not…like this. I know we can talk like this. But it’s…” you stopped, swallowing hard. You had to say it. Somebody had to say it. 

Maybe you’d regret it in the morning. But you couldn’t stop now. 

“It’s like…” you began, choosing your words carefully, “I wanted you for so long. And then I had you, but it…it wasn’t right.” Your eyes drifted downward, tracing the soft sliver of light that rested on Oscar’s exposed arms. “I don’t know how not to want. But I can’t want you anymore. Because now I can have you too easily.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. 

“Yes, you do,” you responded. “You said it the other day. We both want it. But we can’t do it right.”

You spoke around the issue, carefully tiptoeing around the discussion of…desire? Lust? Wanting, you had called it. Every word you had said was true. He had felt it earlier in the day. You were feeling it too. 

He could change everything. He could just reach out his hand and touch you. But he was frozen, and so were you. 

“What’s so wrong about it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t touch me like you loved me. You hurt me. And I loved the way it hurt. But…”

“I’ll make love to you right now if you’ll let me. I’d do it right, show you how I really feel.”

The air around you was electric with intensity, like the very first night that he touched you. In the same darkness, you had finally gotten what you so desperately wanted. And you could have it now, if not for one thing.

“I know you would,” you whispered, “and you don’t even know how badly I want it. But… what about her?”

“Her?” he asked, confused.

“Lily.”

The silence that filled the room was heavy, and it threatened to suffocate both of you.

“Lily left you. Because of me,” you said.

“Because Lando was putting thoughts in her head.”

“Thoughts that weren’t far off the truth.”

“So, what? You’re going to deny yourself what you always wanted, for years, because she was here first? Because I fucked up?”

Oscar’s wording made it sound so trivial. And truthfully, you had been there first. 

“How did you feel when you first saw Lando talk to me?” you asked. 

“Pissed. Like I wanted to run him off the track.”

“That’s how Lily felt for years. And she didn’t say anything, and we lied to her and to ourselves until the very end.”

“It’s not the same, though. You know that.”

“The details don’t matter. What matters is that the guilt is eating me alive. I feel like I’m drowning. Even if things between us were better…I don’t want to do that to her.”

“What if she never forgives us? Are you just going to let that ruin our friendship?”

You looked away from him, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. You couldn’t answer his question.

“I feel like,” you said, “whatever Lando is up to, I know it’s not good, but I deserve it. I deserve him.”

“That’s the most stupid logic I’ve ever heard.” Oscar replied. You laughed. Oscar didn’t. 

He reached out and touched your cheek, causing your eyes to dart back to his. No matter how badly you wanted to avoid him, you couldn’t look away from his gaze that pierced right through you. He saw something deeper. He saw you, in a way no one else could or would. And it was terrifying. 

“YN,” he whispered. “Forget what everyone else said, forget all the messy feelings. What do you want?”

I want you.

That’s what you would have said, if you were not a coward, if you could truly let him in and even try to imagine a world in which your emotions and desires didn’t feel like an ocean that you were close to drowning in. 

“I don’t know,” you replied. That was a lie. You knew it. He knew it. He knew that you knew that he knew it. He just looked at you, biting the inside of his cheek. You wouldn’t admit it. Not after everything that had happened.

In that way, things had gone back to normal.

You turned over to stretch, seeing the first rays of sunlight tinge your window the slightest shade of pink.

“We should get some sleep. Goodnight, Oscar,” you said, pulling the blanket higher and closing your eyes for a brief sleep.

Come the next morning—really, only a few hours later—Oscar’s anger from the previous day had faded to a depression.  All he wanted was for you to hold him, or for him to hold you, but your words still hung heavy in the air. 

This was your punishment, for both of you. 

But by the time he finally dragged himself out of the warm comfort of your bed, you were already nearly ready to head out the door.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you joked, reaching your hand up to tousle his already messy hair, and he melted into the touch. “Are you ready to show them all the Piastri overtake masterclass?” 

“I feel dead,” he mumbled, and you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

“It’s okay,” he said, as he yawned into a cup of coffee. “I’m glad we talked.”

Oscar’s reference brought forth an awkward silence that didn’t dissipate until you eventually left for the track, ready again to dawn your thin veneer of professionalism. 

Unfortunately it was raining, and the race had to be delayed. That meant hunkering down in the McLaren garage with Oscar—and Lando.

If looks could kill, Lando would have died ten times over as the two drivers waited for the rain to pass. 

You hovered near Oscar’s side of the garage for the sake of appearances. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You were his social media manager, it made sense for you to hover around him, always ready to capture the next candid shot.

But truthfully, you couldn’t shake the pit in the feeling of your stomach every time you caught Lando looking at you from the corner of your eye. And while you pretended to be oblivious, Oscar didn’t. 

“Okay guys, clear out the garage,” you heard from across the room, as the booming voice of Zak Brown trudged his way inside. “FIA decided that right now was the perfect time for a surprise inspection!”

His voice dripped with sarcastic annoyance, even more than his clothes dripped with rainwater. All non essential personnel—including drivers—needed to leave the garage at once.

You walked along, on your way to find a random spot in the paddock to hunker down. That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

“YN!” Lando called, smiling when you turned to greet him. His cheeky grin brought butterflies and nausea to your stomach. “You can warm up in my driver’s room if you want.”

You looked over Lando’s shoulder and locked eyes with Oscar, who was close enough to hear every word. If he had been in his car at the time, Lando would have been roadkill.

“Oh, thanks, but I’ve got to get to the paddock and make sure the new guy hasn’t drowned our camera,” you said, a polite and professional smile across your face. 

“No wor—” He was cut off by Oscar’s shoulder bumping into the Brit as he passed. “Oh, hi Oscar, my bad.”

“I should go,” you said, swiftly continuing in the path towards the paddock. You didn’t want to be around for what you knew was happening next.

But if Lando also knew, it didn’t dissuade him from following Oscar back to his driver’s room. 

“Go away, Lando,” the Aussie warned as he stomped down the hallway.

“No, I don’t think I will. I think you’ve got something to say to me.” 

“I think you should shut your fucking mouth and leave YN and I alone.” 

Lando ran ahead of him, blocking the door to Oscar’s driver room. “Why? Why should I leave her alone when she keeps telling me yes, hm?”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, if she really wanted me to leave her alone, she wouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner with me tonight, would she?”

Oscar was dumbfounded by Lando’s claim, and his first instinct was to refute it. But after the conversation last night, he couldn’t put it past you to have accepted his offer of a date. Why you did this, he didn’t know. He couldn’t understand how you let your guilt lead you to such self-sabotaging decisions.

Actually, he could. It wasn’t like he was any better.

“You’re taking advantage of her,” Oscar said, his voice stern. “You don’t love her.”

Lando laughed. “Of course I don’t. She knows it, though. Do you really think she’s that stupid? Well, I guess she kind of is, ‘cause she’s playing right into my hands even though I know she doesn’t trust me. ”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I know it fucks with your head and drives you insane. No matter what you tell her, she won't listen to you. That’s the funniest part. She knows you’re right and she’s going to do the worst possible thing anyway, because she thinks she’s so self-righteous. It’s hilarious. You can tell her every word I say and that won’t stop her from being right where I want her. So you'll just get to watch me use her until she's got nothing else to give me.”

Oscar crossed the short distance between them and grabbed Lando by the shirt. “I swear to God, if you hurt her, I will run you off the track until you're nothing but a spare car part.”

Lando laughed again at his teammate’s warning. “Why are you so mad? I'm not doing anything worse than what you did.”

Oscar released him. “That is not what happened between us,” he sneered.

Lando continued, "You’re right. I guess I'm actually better than you, because I'm not fucking her. Well, not yet at least. I get it, though. I mean, she's not really good enough to bring home to mum, no? But I bet she's a good lay. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Get the fuck away from me, Lando. And leave her the fuck alone.” 

“Oh don't worry, I'm leaving,” the Brit said, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Just tell YN to wear something nice tonight for me, will you?”

Lando finally turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last quip at Oscar. “You know, last season, Max taught me something really smart. To win, you can't just outdrive someone. You have to get in their head. Works pretty well, don't you think?”

“Get the fuck out, Lando, before I hurt you,” Oscar threatened, truly at the end of his rope.

Lando just laughed as he finally walked away, turning the corner and going into his own driver’s room. 

Oscar did the same, taking a deep breath when he finally closed the door. He needed to punch something. He needed to scream. He could do neither.

But that wasn’t the worst problem at hand. He knew Lando was right, about everything. And it terrified him.

He had to find some way to prevent you from going on that date. But how? Was there anything he could say that could prevent what his own failures had set in motion so long ago?

There was a knock at his door. It was a McLaren engineer, telling him it was time to come back to the garage. He had wasted so much time bickering with Lando that he couldn't get his headspace right for the race.

God, he was good at this. 

Oscar made his way back to the garage and locked eyes with you. You had looked over your shoulder, still preoccupied with the new guy and his inability to work a camera. You held Oscar’s gaze for a second too long. 

He made his way over to you. “Hey, YN,” he said, “why don’t you get some rain shots before we have to go back out?”

Oscar was never the type to tell you how to do your job, unlike his teammate, who often jokingly ordered you around like his personal photographer. You recognized his attempt to get you away from the new guy.

You stepped away and brought your camera back up to your eye, taking a gorgeous picture of Oscar’s side profile looking at the rain outside. His hair was perfectly tousled, his jawline perfectly sharp, his cheeks shaded a perfect pink, still flustered from the conversation you knew nothing of. Even after being his friend for so many years, and admiring him for so long, it was moments like this when you were truly reminded how much you loved him.

Because just as Oscar saw you, you saw him. You saw through his carefully crafted exterior; truthfully, as his best friend and social media manager, you had been instrumental in making it. When others saw him as unemotional, you saw the small nuances in how he moved and spoke, the subtle changes in expression. You two had your own language in that way, and your devotion showed itself in moments like these, where you could capture the most beautiful photographs of your friend, letting the world have just a brief glimpse into the complex soul that you had become so enraptured by.

Yeah, you were fucked. 

Oscar finally put on his helmet and began to get ready to roll the car out to the grid. 

“Good luck,” you whispered. You reached out your hand and intertwined it with his, squeezing it as an act of comfort. Even through the rough material of his gloves, you hoped to send him a real message of love. 

Maybe that was too strong a word. You couldn’t tell anymore. 

Though you followed both cars out to the now dry grid, you kept your distance, knowing that now the focus was on the monumental race ahead of them. You let the camera be your shield against emotion, though you couldn’t help how it focused in on Oscar so easily. Even from afar, his eyes quickly glancing at your lens could tell you depths of information. 

At the front of the grid, Lando occasionally looked back on you. He was ready to go, determined to win this race; Oscar was no longer a threat, in the back of the grid and distracted beyond measure. 

But the Brit couldn’t help being distracted a bit himself. You weren’t looking at him. You were pulling away a bit too much for comfort. 

It doesn’t matter now, he thought to himself. He knew you. Not in the deep way that Oscar did, but still enough to know exactly what buttons to push, when to give and when to pressure. It was a skill that he’d come to refine in the past few years, fighting not only against world-class athletes, but also against master manipulators, for the Formula 1 World Driver’s Championship title.

He never thought he’d have to play this dirty to eliminate a teammate. But so far, it was working like a charm, and at this point, there wasn’t much he was above doing to get that title.

Unfortunately, Lando’s ambitions couldn’t keep up with his abilities. He bottled pole at the start and wasn’t able to recover. 

Oscar had a few overtakes, but not anything spectacular. Monaco would not be a race to remember for McLaren that year. 

After getting all your shots of Oscar in the garage after the race, you made your way back to your apartment. You had to get ready for your date with Lando that night.

You had never been the type to have a very strong intuition. You could never distinguish it from anxiety or paranoia. But you couldn’t ignore that pit in the bottom of your stomach that just grew and grew, devouring all your thoughts as you fixed your hair and applied your makeup. 

In the middle of your beauty routine, Oscar came home, exhausted from the race.

“You did great out there today,” you said, giving him a small smile as he flopped down on the bed.”

“I barely got points,” he said.

“Yeah, but it’s a track that’s awful for overtaking and you were going on, what, 2 or 3 hours of sleep? Take the small wins where you can.”

“How are you not exhausted?” he questioned, sitting up to watch you apply your skincare at your vanity.

I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, that’s why, you thought. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to confide your anxieties to Oscar right now.

You knew why. Because you knew that he could change it. He could convince you to give in to your desires, to drown in him. And you couldn’t. You were too goddamned stubborn.

You didn’t answer Oscar’s question, and that familiar heavy feeling dawned in your room.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked. Neither of you really had the energy for talking, but you knew it was more a statement than a request. “I talked to Lando today.”

Ah, so he knew what you were doing. 

“He said some…really messed up stuff about you, YN. He doesn't care about you.”

“I know he doesn’t,” you said, your voice flat and quiet.

“It’s more than that. YN, the things he said disgusted me, and he laughed about it like it was the funniest thing. Please don’t do this.”

“Don’t, Oscar.”

“YN—”

You got up and walked into your closet to get dressed for the night, cutting him off. 

You heard him sigh, and the sound of ruffling clothing filled the room as you both changed out of eye shot of each other. The thought of Oscar undressed in your bed again made your head spin.

You snaked the fabric of the dress over your skin, smoothing it out. You put on your shoes and grabbed your purse before taking a deep breath and stepping out.

“How do I look?” you asked. But you were distracted by a shirtless Oscar sitting on your bed, muscles still taunt from the race hours before.

“Beautiful,” he said. “You’re perfect.”

His voice was too tender, his words too strong. You couldn’t bear it for much longer. You shuffled around your room, organizing your makeup and applying your perfume, trying to distract yourself from the elephant—or rather, shirtless F1 driver that you were in love with—in the room.

“I’m not sure what time I’ll be—”

“YN,” Oscar said, standing up to place himself in front of you, between you and the door. “Don’t do this.”

“Oscar…” you began.

“You don’t have to do this. Stay here with me.” he advanced towards you, closing the gap by placing his hands on your waist.

Your heart skipped a beat. The thin line that had so carefully been drawn after his apology was gone now with his sensual touch.

You looked away from him. He reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at his.

“You don’t have to go to him. You don’t have to leave Monaco or find another job. You don’t have to do any of this. YN, let me take care of you.”

Instinctively, you reached your hand out to rest against his bare chest, and you felt his breath hitch. You were going to give in, right here and now.

And God, you wanted to. You missed the warmth of Oscar’s body against yours, the liminal space he occupied in your bed after a night of collision and pleasure. And in that moment, with his soft heart beat and the steady rhythm of his breaths right under your fingertips, you felt…safe. At home. Seen.

Your phone buzzed in your purse. 

“I’m going to be late,” you muttered, stepping back and walking around him.  He let you go easily.

“Get some rest, Oscar,” you told him, a final goodbye, or at least that’s how it felt, as you closed the door behind you and left to go meet Lando. 

[pinkkpjobx]

can you do an imagine where jj is obsessed with reader but he’s also very shy around her like he’s always confident and his flirty self with everyone else but with reader he just gets flustered everytime he’s around her. maybe him asking her out or confessing his love for her or something idk

I gotchu babes

warnings: none really, just fluff! not proofread.

notes: yall....i had like all of it written, then Tumblr decided it hates me and deleted all of it, so i had to rewrite it (it did it twice 😭) ...i actually cried.

°♡°

it all began in freshman year, when jj started flirting with every girl to distract himself.

every girl but you. every time he tried, he would stumble over his rehearsed pick-up lines and walk away a blushing mess. he didn't understand it.

he didn't understand you.

until junior year, when he finally realized he liked you. which didn't make a whole lot of sense because the only interaction he had with you (other than the failed attempts at wooing you) were small smiles across the classroom and friendly waves when he just so happened to go surfing at the exact same time as you.

he would be so entranced by the way you balanced on your board as you rode the waves that he would fall off of his. you would look over curiously, unaware of the previous staring. on the rare occasion that he was able to stay up, he would show off and hope that you were looking.

and you were. every time he caught a wave, you were watching him as he did some over the top trick, giggling to yourself as he messed up half the time.

now, you weren't stupid. you knew he liked you, but you wouldn't act on it. not unless he initiated it.

so you started going to the same parties him and hanging out with the pouges in hopes to get closer to jj.

as soon as he would see you at a party, he would find some random girl to hook up with, just so he could leave the party with a reasonable excuse.

as for the pouge hangouts. he would always manage to sit on the opposite side of the room, twinkie, bonfire, you name it.

you were completely fine with it, knowing he needed time. however, the other pouges were not. namely sarah and kie, the other two were dragged into it.

so one surf trip, while you, pope, and jj were in the water, the others were building a fire and ploting. they came up with a plan to get you and jj to sit next to each other and hopefully spark a conversation. then they'd get up and pray that jj would build enough courage to ask you out.

pope, done for the day, swam back to shore, leaving you and jj to ride the next waves.

well, leaving you to ride the waves and jj to watch as he failed to stay up for even one.

after a few more waves (and a couple wipe outs on jj's part), the two of you returned to shore as well.

"some sick waves today." kie said as you sat down next to pope, leaving the last open spot the one on your left.

"best i've seen in a while." pope, responded. the group fell into another comfortable silence as everyone waited for jj to return from the twinkie.

"beer, weed, and marshmallows. or what i like to call, a good time." jj announced his return as he tossed the bag of marshmallows at john b. once he passed out beers, he looked at he empty spot next to you. "uh, yeah! i'll just...i'll just sit here." he sat down next to you, careful not to let his knee or elbow graze you accidentally.

kie and sarah smirked at each other, while pope and john b looked at each other with weary expressions, not quite sure how this would pan out.

"tough waves today, jj? couldn't seem to stay up." kie teased.

he looked down, thankful for the fire infront of him for masking the blush on his cheeks with orange and yellow hues. "not my day, i guess."

"says the best surfer on the island." you complimented.

"that's rich coming from you." he responded, internally patting himself on the back for managing a sentence without stuttering or stumbling over any words.

"i've had off days before." you said, wanting to keep the conversation going.

"y-yeah, but your off days are on the same level as my good days." he looked at you briefly, catching your eyes, before looking back to the fire.

you smile at the compliment. "thank you."

as the conversation continued, he grew more confident in his words. he even started fishing for opportunities. suggesting surf trips, parties, even offering to walk you home that night.

he was so concentrated on not making a fool of himself that he didn't even notice the other pouges leaving.

over by the twinkie, sarah smirked at pope and john b. "told you it would work."

pope smiled over at jj while john b just shook his head. "i shouldn't have doubted you."

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

"if you could travel anywhere in the world, anywhere, where would you go?" jj asked. he was walking you home, your path only illuminated by a flickering street lamp.

"hmm, I've always wanted to go to greece." you replied.

he nodded, taking a mental note of that.

"what about you?"

"south africa." he said.

"why?"

"apparently, the waves there are top tier."

you hummed at that. "maybe i'll tag along....if that's okay with you?"

"yes!" he cleared his throat. "i-i mean..yeah, pfft, sure. why not?"

he smiled too. "great, um. do you-do you wanna go to lunch? or, or surfing? or both...we could do both, if you wanted-"

your house came into view and he took a deep breath, wanting to ask you before the night was over. "actually, i, um, i wanna ask you that. well, not that specifically, but, something close...kinda-"

"jj." you stopped his nervous rambling. "calm down."

he nodded. "right. right, yeah. um, i wanted to ask, if um, if your free tomorrow?"

you smiled. "i am. i am free."

"yes."

he paused. "what?"

"yes, jj. i would love to go out with you."

his face broke out into a smile, brighter than that coming from your porch light. "okay. okay, great, i'll-i'll come by at noon?"

you nodded, your own smile stuck on your face. "perfect." you looked up at your house. "thank you for walking me." then you did something he would remember forever.

you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"n-no problem."

"i'm gonna go inside now." you said, giggling.

"yeah! yeah, that's- that's good. i'll uh, i'll pick you up at noon."

you nodded and walked up the stairs to your house, closing the door with one last glance at jj.

he stayed there for a few minutes, bathing in the feeling of bliss that came from spending time with you.

when he finally started to walk back to the chateau, he couldn't stop himself from doing a small victory dance.

you watched from the window of your room, smiling at the idiot who stole your heart.

°♡°

[ivoyzzz]

𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒

Chapter 2

synopsis: two girls the same age meet on a train and both have the same destination. while the obvious similarities, the two of you are polar opposites. you, the lively, outgoing, pink-loving girl. saebyeok, the stoic, layed-back, and serene girl. does it turn into friends, best friends, or something else?

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

warnings: none !

a/n: rewatching squid game, and why would they kill fine shyt wtf </3 anyways lmk any ideas bc im not too sure how i want this to end xoxo ivy

When Saebyeok stepped out of the train station, she felt the crisp against her skin. She was happy to be off that stuffy train and away from the overly-hyper girl sitting next to her. Saebyeok didn’t want to tell you, but she was also headed to Seoul for college, she was a music major.

Saebyeok shoved her things in and then hopped in a cab. She was headed to her dorm for the first time. She hoped her roommate wouldn’t be loud, annoying, or nosy. Someone more like herself. Someone who would just let her be.

When she stepped on the college campus, she felt an odd sense of something she couldn’t identify. Nerves? Excitement? Maybe both? Either way, it was real and it was happening.

Saebyeok unlocked the door, opening it up to see two empty beds and a bare room. Maybe she lucked out and didn’t have a roommate. She gives a soft hum looking around, it was nice. She’d better get used to it since she would be living here for the next 9 months.

She walked to the bed on the left, and set her stuff down next to it. Saebyeok kicks off her boots somewhere around the room, sitting on her bed. Just when she’s about to close her eyes and get much needed sleep, she hears the keys in the keyhole.

Saebyeok’s eyes shoot open. Why would her roommate also get here this late? But, what catches her by surprise, is you. She watched you drag your heavy pink suitcase in disbelief. Was this some kind of prank? Out of everyone that could’ve been her roommate, it had to be her?

The perky girl from the train, the one who wouldn’t let her sleep, you. Saebyeok had gotten a loud, annoying and nosy roommate. It felt like the universe was against her. What did she do to deserve this? Or maybe she was just really unlucky?

You hadn’t seen her yet, still tugging on your suitcase to get it to budge out of the doorway. When you finally make it into the room, you look up seeing the girl from the train, Saebyeok. Instead of the blank face she wore on the train, she wore a frustrated scowl.

“Mystery girl! It’s me from the train, remember?.” You say as if it was an option for her to forget you. Trust her, if it was an option she would forget.

“I remember.” She grumbles, leaning her head back against the wall.

You can practically feel the tension rolling off of her, the kind of vibe that says "I did not sign up for this." Her arms cross tightly over her chest as she glances over at you, clearly not thrilled with the situation. You can tell she’s trying her best to stay composed, but the eye roll she gives says enough about how she feels.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh?” you say with a bright, almost teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. It’s clear she’s not into the idea of small talk, but you’re determined to make this situation a little less awkward. Your determined to make Saebyeok like you, even just tolerate you.

She doesn't respond at first, just sort of watches you struggle with your suitcase for a second before she finally speaks up.

“Why are you so... loud?” Saebyeok mutters under her breath, though it’s loud enough for you to hear. The bluntness catches you off guard, but you’re not backing down that easily. She’s obviously irritated, but maybe—just maybe—you can crack that shell she’s got going on.

You take a deep breath, giving her a grin that’s borderline obnoxious but good-natured. “Guess I’m just built this way. Some people are magnets for trouble. Lucky for you, I’m stuck here with you.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s no real malice behind it—just exhaustion and frustration. "Great," she replies sarcastically, her voice dripping with a kind of dry humor that surprises you a little. "Just what I needed."

“Just keep the noise down,” she warns, though there’s a trace of something softer in her tone.

“Promise,” you say, holding up a hand like a mock oath. “No loud music, no random deep conversations at 3 a.m. I’ll be your silent, non-annoying roommate.”

Her eyebrows furrow as you said that, were you even capable of being silent? “Better be,” she mutters, leaning back into her spot against the wall again. But this time, the scowl seems a little less intense, maybe even a little more resigned.

“Come on, this is totally a sign that we have to be friends.” you laugh, moving to set your suitcase down on the bed. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you're starting to like me already.” You say, in an almost a teasing way.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, this isn’t a sign. This is just me being unlucky.” Saebyeok grumbles, obviously not too happy with the situation.

“We’ll see, I have a way of making people like me.” You say, smiling sitting on your bed to sleep.

Saebyeok doesn’t respond, but at least she doesn’t seem actively plotting how to escape either. It’s a start.

[wild-at-mind]

Had a really stupid conversation via minor emotional breakdown with a queer friend about what makes an LGBTQ person 'assimilist'. From what she said I'm kind of forced to draw the conclusion 'if you say you're not assimilist, then you're not'.

[gelphiegifs]

"Come with me!"

[firebirdsdaughter]

Rewatching again, and…

… There's no denying that 'Eliot, Parker, and Hardison' are a 'trio' w/in the team, but I'm also subject to an ongoingly increasing appreciation for the 'Nate, Sophie, and Eliot' trio.

[wickmitz]

was once again glancing at the lackadaisy reddit and i genuinely feel a little crazy about how people perceive the wick and mitzi arc from retinue to sneakthief? or, honestly, their arc in general. to act as though wick is some patron saint greatly amuses me when it’s implied by mitzi and the comic that wick had either proposed a business deal himself or had been very amendable to talk about it after their kiss and / or other intimate acts last night … mitzi didn’t pull this out of her ass! she did not put this upon wick randomly. it was something they mutually agreed to do, and given how hard wick tries to wiggle away from the conversation without outright saying no ( aka giving excuses to stall ) i would even guess he essentially already agreed to such a deal, in the throes of passion, only for him to not fully mean it later. this doesn’t mean it was right at all for her to then steal from wick! this isn’t me excusing that! but wick isn’t some poor meow meow either in this scenario, even if he is the ‘lesser’ evil overall.

and tbh i also think the conversation was doomed from the start : wick was horrifically exhausted and was still too shaken up by rocky’s ‘joke’ to fully engage with mitzi, as well as finally having church’s warning start to weigh on him … and then there’s mitzi, who wasn’t faring any better! what with viktor out of commission, asa turning on her, mordecai threatening her, and then having spent most of the afternoon hearing her dead husband’s name be thrown around. in order to hurt her and scare her into obedience, mind you. like, neither were in any state to discuss business or romance!! so it’s no surprise it went poorly. especially when both of them were equally sore and testy during their date.

[whitmore]

i really do think they should commit to a cindy burman redemption arc btw

[moe-broey]

When designing Triandra w prominent cutouts and a low rise miniskirt, like. Esp w the body type I'm going for w her (very thin, not particularly busty, lanky almost boney). In my heart I never want Plumeria to slut shame her. Like yeah, I do think Plumeria could be cagey about it. But ultimately, ESPECIALLY as they've been interacting with mortals more in Askr, Plumeria goes, "Oh, honey. There is not a single thing you can or refuse to do, that you have or lack, that would prevent those wretched mortals from leering at you with their vile, lustful gaze." With a heavy sigh, she adds with finality, "Do whatever you want. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

LIKE... Plumeria having this understanding that no matter what you look like, there's someone out there that's into that. And regardless of how you present yourself, there will be people who'll find ways to objectify and sexualize you. Her acknowledging, it's actually not Your fault. Unfortunately she just. She has so many issues. In every single other facet of life LMFAOOOO

[arolesbianism]

Yet another beautiful day to have the Maxwel tag blocked (can't see half of the posts in the Wendy tags)

[stopaskingmetocreateanaccount]

AUGH. GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE

[evelynpr]

It really sucks to be a bisexual traveler harem fan because most art and discussion focuses only on one gender at a time. Like that's not even canon compliant anymore why do you act like it is.