#not much changed from this chapter actually

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve reached your breaking point with Oscar, but an unfortunate grand prix changes everything you thought you wanted. 

WORD COUNT: 10.3k

WARNINGS: Conversations about sex and but no actual smut, degradation, angst. Mentions of cheating. Oscar is literally horrible. Mention of unhealthy family dynamics. Lots of cursing. Pain, so much pain. Mention of injury. I’m so sorry for all the emotional suffering this chapter will cause. 

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

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Accept message request from Lando_Norris?

Your fingers hovered over the “accept” button, nervous but curious. What would Lando ever want to talk to you about?

He had avoided you like the plague since that night in Italy, and you hardly blamed him. But as far as you knew, no one except you and Nicole knew that Lily was no longer in the picture; still, what would have changed to cause Lando Norris, of all people, to be messaging you at night?

“Who are you texting?” 

You jumped, not having noticed that Oscar had turned over to face you, seemingly unable to sleep.

“No one,” you said. “Just scrolling.”

Oscar confirmed your suspicions. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” you said, short and annoyed. 

Oscar didn’t respond, instead just moving on top of you, holding your chin in his hands to force you to look at him.

“You can’t even sleep until I fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?” He leaned down to kiss your neck, lips grazing over where only hours before he had left dark marks in the supple skin.

“Get off me, Oscar,” you said, and he immediately pulled back.

“You okay?” he asked.

You weren’t okay. In fact, you were furious. “You realize that you never even asked me if I was okay with you talking to me like that?”

The look in his eyes said only two words: Oh shit.

“YN, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of it like that. Shit, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to treat me with respect.”

“I thought you liked it?” he said, running his fingers through his hair out of nervousness.

You sat up, the anger burning within you. You hadn’t planned to confront Oscar so soon after what you had overheard, but now that you’d gotten started, there was no stopping you. 

“That’s not the point. Maybe I’m tired of feeling like your personal sex toy, Oscar. Oh, but I forgot. My feelings aren’t your problem.”

Oscar exhaled angrily. “Is that really what this is about?”

You just looked at him, bewildered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.

He began, “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard—”

“I heard you talking shit about me on the phone to your own mother.”

“It wasn’t like that, YN.”

“Then what was it like? What’s your excuse now?”

Oscar tried to begin, his mouth opening with no words coming out. He truly didn’t know what to say. “It’s been a hard time.”

“I know. I’m well aware, Oscar. Because I made your feelings my problem for years.”

“I know, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to explain it to you.”

“Of course, you want to talk now that I won’t give you sex anymore,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh my God,” Oscar huffed, and it took every ounce of your strength not to curse him out then and there. “You act like I’m some fucking villian. You can’t get mad at me for fucking you when you wanted this too.”

“But how do you know that, Oscar? How do you know what I want? Have you ever asked me what I want?” Tears began prickling at the edge of your eyes. “You haven’t, because you don’t care.”

Oscar looked at the wall, his jaw tense. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Am I not even deserving of an honest conversation?” you said, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you cry, but Oscar wouldn’t even look at you. 

You got up from the bed and started changing from your pajamas to your regular clothes. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. I can’t make you. But I’m going home.”

“YN—”

“Leave me alone,” you said, grabbing your purse and exiting the bedroom. You heard him call for you again, but you ignored his pleas, walking ahead out of the apartment and to your car.

When you slid into the driver’s seat, you finally broke down, resting your head against the steering wheel. No thoughts went through your head. You weren’t much of a crier, so when you finally gave in, it was more of an act of your body giving up.

So you took a few minutes to compose yourself before driving the short distance home through the streets of Monaco, a place you’d grown to love. But his presence was everywhere. The car. The streets. Your apartment. Oscar was inescapable.

And when you felt your phone buzz as you sat with a cup of tea on the balcony an hour or so later, this reality was confirmed. He was calling. 

You didn’t answer the first call, or the second. But by the third you knew that your only options were to turn your phone off, block him, or answer.

Well, what did you have to lose?

“What do you want?” you asked upon picking up the call. 

“I’m sorry, YN. Can we talk?”

“Say whatever you’re going to say.”

He paused. “In person? I’m in the hallway.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please?” he asked. You sighed. Why could you never say no to this man?

“Fine. Give me a sec.” You hung up the call, took another deep breath, and opened the front door before immediately turning around to go back to your balcony. You couldn’t bear to look at him, and you welcomed the sound of the soft waves lapping at the harbor as a buffer.

He sat down beside you, and even before any words were said, you felt the tears returning. Something about this felt…final. And your intuition had hardly ever been wrong before. 

“YN, I’m so sorry. When I get frustrated I say things I don’t mean. I was really out of line earlier.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, unable to truly accept his apology.

He continued, “And you’re right. I shouldn’t have just assumed that all the rough stuff was okay. And I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but he didn’t. “Is that all you have to say?”

“I just…don’t know what else you want me to say.” You looked over to him. His head was hung low, like a child in trouble at school. Not like a man who was taking accountability for his actions.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” he asked. 

You just stared at him for a moment, gathering the courage to ask your question.

“Did you talk to Lily like that?”

“Huh?” he echoed.

“Did you call her all those names? Degrade her?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s…personal. I don’t think Lily would appreciate me talking about it.”

“She didn’t appreciate me being in your life, either. But look how that turned out,” you said, the malice lingering on every word. 

Your statement cut a little too deep for comfort. But Oscar finally relented, answering, “...I would, sometimes. She didn’t care for it. But I just…get frustrated a lot. It helps me get all that pent up energy out. Half the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying.”

You hummed. The implication of his words hung in the air; you were a relief for his frustration, a thoughtless passtime. 

When you didn’t respond, he got nervous. “Did I…hurt you?”

“Not physically, no,” you answered, your eyes never moving from the sight of the harbor in the distance. “But I don’t think you really care.”

“Of course I care.”

“No, you don’t.” Your lip quivered. You tried to swallow the tears that came up, but you couldn’t.

“No, don’t cry,” Oscar said, reaching out to embrace you, but you avoided him, getting up to lean on the railing. He followed you, this time not offering any comforting touch. 

“What the fuck are we doing, Oscar?” you said, barely able to get the words out. He grasped for words but wasn’t able to find them before the flood of emotions spilled from you. 

You began, “I used to think that the fabric of our lives was…like, sewn together. Like we were destined to always be in each other's lives. But ever since the breakup I’m so afraid that everyone who ever warned me about you was right. I feel like all these years you’ve just been using me, stringing me along so you could have someone there when things don’t work out. Like I’m just your backup plan. Like I’m not even good enough for you to treat me like a human being.”

“You really feel like I’m using you?” Oscar asked, his surprise horrifically genuine. “Was I just using you when I went out of my way to call you every week for 4 years when I was away in school, even during exams and races? When I got you this place because I wanted to live close to my best friend?” His tone went from gentle to frenzied—not angry, but desperate, like he couldn’t even fathom it. “I mean, YN, what, did you want me to cheat on my girlfriend with you?”

You looked up at him, and he realized again that he had messed up again.

“No, that’s not what I wanted. I’d never do that to Lily because you know it’s been done to me.”

“I know, and was I not there for you when you needed me?” In a way, Oscar was right. When you had broken things off with your unfaithful ex, Oscar was the first to your rescue, staying with you for days while you could barely even function. “YN, what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest about what’s going on between us.”

“We’re…. hooking up, I don’t know.”

“Is that all I am to you, a hookup? A friend with benefits?” Your soft tears became full on sobs now. “Oscar, I am in love with you! You are the love of my life. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t known exactly how I felt, for years now.”

“Of course I knew,” he whispered. 

“Then why would you do this to me? Why would you take advantage of me like this?”

Oscar had started crying now, too. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“This isn’t fair, Oscar.”

“I’m sorry.”

A thick silence fell over the balcony. You knew that the conversation should be over now. There was nothing else you needed to say. But you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing the pointless hurt. 

“Do you even love me?”

“Don’t—”

“Can you even look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you don’t love me?”

“YN—” 

You didn’t even let him complete his sentence, instead walking back into your apartment and slamming our now cold mug into the sink. “Just go,” you said, your voice stern.

“YN, please—” Oscar said, following you inside the apartment. 

“Go!”

“You want the truth?” Oscar said, raising his voice to you for the first time since you’d ever known him. His eyes now flooded with tears, staining his cheeks. His hair was tousled, his under eye bags puffy and pronounced. He looked like a mess. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is the truth.”

“The truth,” he began, swallowing, his voice cracking as he spoke. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“No—”

“Yes, YN,” he said, his voice raising again.

“No, fuck you, Oscar, that’s not true!” You were both sobbing messes now. 

“Yes it is,” he begged, his voice ragged.

“Then why would you do this?”

“Because…” he paused, taking a deep breath and sniffling, trying to regain his composure. “Because we were best friends, and you lived with us, and I was so scared of fucking things up.”

“So you went and just found a girlfriend instead?”

“No, it…” he looked away from you and took a sharp exhale. “It wasn’t as simple as that. You…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “It was just…complicated. You were the girl who lived with us, like another sister, I mean, I couldn’t have feelings for you of all people. So I was so scared.”

He looked at the wall, scarating his neck, and continued. “And when I met Lily, it was all just…simple. Everyone liked her, she was nice, she’s smart. When I brought her home she fit right in, the fans loved her. She was everything I needed her to be, y’know?” He exhaled. 

His gaze fell to the floor and lingered as he continued. “I didn’t love her at first. I mean, I liked her, she was great, but it was more about just…filling a need, I guess. But I did fall in love with her later. I tried to love her with my whole heart, I really did. I thought that what I felt for you would just go away but obviously it didn’t. And then she fucking left me. As she should, honestly.”

Oscar nervously looked around the room until he could no longer avoid your piercing gaze, face frozen in disbelief.

“You’re horrible, Oscar.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You used me. You used Lily. And all of this from the very beginning was about… my family? I’m sorry you all had to take me in because no one else would. I’m sorry I didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in London. I’m sorry that my parents are two pieces of shit that didn't want to take care of me when I was a literal child.”

“It’s not that—”

“But it is. That’s what you said.”

“It’s not you, YN. I mean, it was, but we’re not kids anymore. I love you. It was just… awful circumstances.”

“And now? What’s your excuse? I cut off my parents. And Lily fucking left you. So why are you just using me now?”

“It’s just too much right now. The breakup, the championship…I know if I try, I’ll just fuck it up. I lost Lily, I can’t lose you too.���

“Why? Because then you’ll have no one to warm your bed when you’re sad?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because the person I want to spend the rest of my life with is you, Oscar. But you don’t want me. You never have. I’m your backup plan until something better comes along. That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m not good enough for you, you don’t love me. I don’t even know who you are any more.”

“You said I was the love of your life,” Oscar said, his voice lowered now. 

“You are. But I’m not yours. I don’t care what you say you feel. If you really love someone, you don’t treat them like that.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s all I can say.”

You let out a shaky breath, exhausted of all energy from the fighting. You didn’t even have it in you to be angry anymore. 

“We shouldn’t do this. We should just go our separate ways and be done with it.”

“No, YN—”

“You have a championship to focus on, don’t you?” you said. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said through his tears. “I need you.”

“I’ll finish out my employment contract through the end of the season. You can sell the apartment. I’ll pay back Mum for anything she had to spend on me when we were younger.”

“YN, please,” he begged. 

“Don’t, Oscar,” you said, your voice soft now. “Just let me go.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The correct answer should be no. You should have told him to get the fuck out of your apartment and never come back. But it was Oscar. 

You didn’t answer him, instead just walking up to him and embracing him, letting him hold you in his strong arms as his lips met yours one last time. His lips were salty with tears, but for once his touch was soft and gentle.

When you pulled away, he stayed close to you, pressing his forehead down to yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Go home. You’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.”

You could call in sick to the United States Grand Prix in Miami; Oscar could not. 

Well, theoretically, he could. God knows the reserve drivers would be happy to take his place and show off in front of the teams that were always scouring for new blood. But he couldn’t back down now. Not with a trophy looming so ominously over his head.

And especially not in Miami. Everyone hated Miami. Everyone except Lando, that is. 

And as Oscar mindlessly paced the paddock back and forth, praying to God that no journalists would pester him for an interview, he couldn’t escape the reminder of his teammate’s victory. 

“Well, things seem to be heating up here in Miami! The race continues between McLaren teammates Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris in this early battle for the World Driver’s Championship. Piastri is putting in a valiant effort, but who can forget Lando Norris’ first victory here last year? It’s incredible to see how far he has come in such a short amount of time—”

He really needed to stop walking past the commentator’s box. 

This is usually when Oscar would try to find you in the paddock, or send you a text from halfway across the world. But he couldn’t do that anymore; you hadn’t quite barred him from communication, but what could he say?

He just needed to focus. Perform. Drown himself in the work. That’s what he told himself as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, away from the prying eyes of the media and the haunting words of the commentators. That’s what he told himself as he slipped on a set of headphones and nodded along as his race engineer spoke, acting as if he was paying attention. 

That’s what he told himself as he climbed into the car, took a deep breath, and pressed his foot to the gas. 

Thousands of miles away, in Monaco, you were supposed to be having dinner. Actually, you were supposed to be in Miami, taking photos of Oscar in all his glory.

But you couldn’t face him. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t even sleep.

In the corner of your living room sat a box with Oscar’s old stuff in it. You stared at it as if it had the eyes to stare back. Your hand mindlessly swirled your fork around your remaining food, now cold and mostly uneaten.

Why did this feel like a breakup?

You wanted to scream, but you’d already gotten noise complaints from the fight days prior. So instead, your apartment was deadly quiet. 

You sighed, moving to your bedroom and collapsing in the soft covers, having decided to give up and indulge yourself with a night of bed rotting. But even your bed felt empty. The sheets held a faint trace of Oscar’s scent. It would come out with a simple wash, but laundry was the furthest thing from your mind right now. 

You needed a distraction. You grabbed your phone and immediately went to social media to mindlessly scroll. 

But in your notifications was one you had nearly forgotten about: that message request from Lando. 

You opened it without even thinking, unfortunately sending the read receipt even though you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now. 

Hey, not to be weird but do you know if anything’s going on with Oscar? He’s been acting odd recently.

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t escape your best friend. 

The message was sent a while ago—when the pair were in Bahrain, actually. You should have just deleted it and acted as if you never saw it. But you felt horribly awkward leaving Lando on read. 

Yeah, he and Lily broke up :(

Was the frown really necessary? Should you say more? You didn’t have the energy to think, sending the message without much fanfare. You locked your phone and put it back on your nightstand. 

But only a few moments later, it buzzed. Another message from Lando.

But…Lando was in Miami? At the circuit? He should be driving, not texting you. You opened your phone and clicked on the notification. 

Damn, that’s rough. I thought they were endgame. You in the paddock?

You raised an eyebrow. Why would Lando Norris, of all people, want to know where you are?

No, I’m back in Monaco. 

Another nearly instant reply. Ah, I was hoping to make a cameo on Oscar’s Instagram haha. You’ll be at Imola though?

This whole interaction felt…weird.

I will! I’ll be sure to get some good team shots lol

You tried to match his energy with your reply, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that this wasn’t right. But as you finally did put your phone down and retire for the night, your mind kept racing, coming to wildly different conclusions.

Maybe Lando did want to be friends. Maybe, now that Lily was out of the picture, he felt more comfortable around you. Maybe he was just trying to smooth things over with Oscar in the championship battle. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe you were so used to Oscar’s lying and manipulation that you couldn’t imagine someone talking to you just for the sake of friendship. 

You huffed to yourself as the thought crossed your mind. You pulled your blanket up and buried yourself in it, as if the thoughts were something physical you could hide from. You fell into a tense sleep.

Oscar couldn’t sleep, though. He could barely sleep back when he had you at his beck and call, let alone when you all weren’t speaking to each other.

How had he fucked up so badly? He brought his hands to his face and roughly exhaled. Like you, he had resigned himself to spend his night scrolling, until he too noticed an unanswered message. 

Except it wasn’t from Lando. It was from Lily. As if things couldn’t get any worse. 

She was brief and to the point.

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be at Imola for a company event. I doubt we’ll run into each other. Hope you and YN are well. 

Her words stung. The professionalism where there once was warmth and love. The perfectly petty dig at him and you, assuming that he had already moved on (though, she wasn’t exactly wrong). 

He wanted to throw his phone off his hotel room balcony. From the slight crack in the blinds, he could see palm trees, and the ocean far off in the distance. And he knew that back in Monaco, you’d be staring at the same moon, hearing the water in the distance as it lulled you to sleep. The miles between you during race weekends had always been numerous, but the distance wasn't—not until now, at least. 

He slammed his phone on the nightstand and took yet another sleeping pill. 

It was going to be a horrible week. 

And, unfortunately, the morning wasn’t much better. Another oh so friendly interaction with his teammate. 

“Hey, Oscar, wait up,” the Brit called, jogging to catch Oscar as they both entered the paddock. Oscar slowed his pace but didn’t stop, hopeful that this would be a clear sign that he wasn’t here for conversation.

When he did catch up, Oscar just gave Lando a small nod as a greeting. 

“Hey, I, uh, heard about you and Lily. I’m so sorry, mate.”

Oscar turned, making a confused and irritated face. “Who told you?”

“YN. Well, I asked her if you were okay.”

The Aussie made a small grumbling noise. 

“I was just worried, you know. You just seemed like you were going through some stuff. You know I’m always here if you need me, right?”

“I need to beat you,” Oscar said, but his words had no bite to them. There was no snappy anger anymore, just exhaustion. 

“Of course,” Lando said, smiling, as if he thought his teammate’s championship ambitions were nothing more than comic relief. “But for real, man, I’m sorry and I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said, though he didn’t really mean it. He just wanted to be alone.

In Monaco, you were breaking your first cardinal rule of a breakup (even a friendship breakup) and turning on your TV to watch Oscar drive. 

You had managed to go without watching the free practices and even quali, but you couldn’t bring yourself to not watch the Grand Prix. 

And it was good that you tuned in, because he won. 

You nearly threw your phone across the room when he finally passed the checkered flag. You had been practically holding your breath since he secured the lead in a masterfully timed pit stop mid race, beating out Max Verstappen to bring home his second win of the season. 

So, maybe he wouldn’t hate Miami as much anymore. 

Your phone—secured now on your nightstand to prevent any race-related breakage—loomed in the distance as you debated sending him a congrats text. It wasn’t like you all had gone through a true breakup; you weren’t even together. But you knew you couldn’t let yourself end up in his bed again. You knew that he was a broken man, and you couldn’t fix him. 

So your friendship had come to occupy this odd liminal space in which neither of you knew exactly where you stood. At some point, this would have to be discussed, but clearly neither of you had learned your lesson on healthy communication. 

You wanted to tell your best friend that you were proud of him. Was that such a bad thing?

It wouldn’t be, if you could ignore that voice now echoing in your mind.

Since when are her feelings my problem?

You nearly gagged at the thought. Yeah, you weren’t texting him.

And back in Miami, Oscar anxiously awaited a text that would never come. 

“Oscar, mate, quit staring at your phone and let’s celebrate!” Lando teased, patting his teammate on the back. 

Oscar just sighed, opening his phone again to find no messages from you. 

“She’s not coming back,” Lando said. “So either you get drunk enough to call her, or you get drunk enough to find someone to replace her. Either way, you’re getting drunk tonight.”

“Really, Lando?” 

“She destroyed a five year relationship over some stupid shit, and you just won another grand prix. So yes, I think you should get fucked up with me tonight!”

“Don’t talk about Lily like that, mate. And besides, I’m not even waiting on her.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you waiting on?”

Oscar’s defenses were wearing down, even while sober. “You know who.”

“And you still want me to believe that you two aren’t hooking up?”

“It’s…complicated.” 

“Spill.”

Under normal circumstances, Oscar was never the type to discuss his personal life at work, much less with his rival for the championship. But as the plan of going out was abandoned in favor of a nice bottle of Cuban rum ordered to the room, Oscar found himself spilling his secrets like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

“And then I just…” he hiccuped, “I told her everything. And she didn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her, but it fucking hurt, you know? And we were just screaming at each other, she said we should go our separate ways. What am I supposed to say to that? And I still haven’t heard from her, but her and Lily are gonna be at Imola. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Mate,” Lando said, slurring his words, “You fucked this up worse than I fucked up the championship last year.”

The two drivers laughed—otherwise, they’d have to cry at the peril poor Oscar had put himself in. 

But the time flew by, and soon enough Oscar found himself on a flight to Italy, which he secretly prayed would crash so that he could avoid this entire charade. 

Of course, on all your respective flights, the feeling was mutual; neither you, Oscar, nor Lily really wanted to be there. But duty called, and you were nothing if not professional. 

It was an odd place to be; on one hand, you loved this job. It was fun getting to explore the world with your best friend and get paid to take pictures and make silly videos. The electric atmosphere of the paddock was one that had always felt like home, like you belonged there.

On the other hand, every time you thought about seeing Oscar again, you wanted to puke. 

Thankfully, when you did inevitably see him again, your lunch did not resurface. You operated like a robot; no banter, no friendliness, just stark professionalism. 

And Oscar didn’t know what was worse; not having you there, or seeing you act like a stranger. 

The one silver lining, at least, was that Lily was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t handle those emotions too. 

So, again and again throughout the weekend, he repeated that manta to himself: Just focus on work. Just focus on work. 

He said it to himself one last time before he hopped in the car for qualifying. Just focus. 

But he just couldn't. From the seat of his car, the chaos of the pit lane and the gaggles of photographers were just blurs, unidentifiable blobs. I had always comforted him to think that one of those was you, watching him. Now it was haunting. 

And somewhere, buried away in the paddock, Lily was there. Oscar could imagine it; her polished and professional demeanor, almost perfect, as she schmoozed up to that one executive from the company that he swore always had a thing for her. 

He wanted to scream. Instead, he had to pull the car into the garage as the session was stopped due to an accident. It was raining heavily. Extra caution was advised, his engineer explained, but Oscar couldn’t focus. Not because of his thoughts—although, those certainly didn’t help—but rather because of what he saw across the garage.

You were chatting with Lando. 

“Hey, YN!” Lando greeted as he hopped out of his car, seeing you in the back of the garage taking photos. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” you said, though it wasn’t particularly true. 

“Looks like we’re going to be a while,” he said looking over his shoulder at the storm brewing in the distance, “want to walk the paddock with me and get some candids?” 

“Sure,” you agreed, though the request confused you. 

The two of you left the garage and Oscar felt like punching the wall. 

At first you walked in silence, your only emitted sound being the soft click of your camera. It was kind of pointless, though, since you were supposed to be getting shots of Oscar. You knew this. Lando knew this too.

“Can I ask you something, Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there any reason that you’ve been pretty…friendly lately?” you asked, controlling your tone so it came off as genuinely curious rather than suspicious.

“Honestly,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck with nervousness, “I felt really bad about everything that happened on the trip. I was afraid I might’ve scared you off.”

Well, that didn’t make much sense. Lando was the one who had been avoiding you since the trip. But, after dealing with Oscar, you had simply accepted that men in general made no sense. 

“You didn’t,” you said. “And, I mean, the only reason we ended up like that is because Lily was trying to get rid of me. But, you see how that worked out.” 

“Really? She didn’t have the balls to tell you to leave her man alone?”

“Not until after you left,” you said, exhaling in exhaustion.

“Damn,” he said, looking away from you. You snapped a few photos of his candid side profile, admiring how the light hit his curls just right. “You know, the only reason I ran off in the club that night like that was because I didn’t want to get involved in all that? I mean, I wasn’t about to steal Oscar’s side chick.” He laughed.  “But from what I hear, things have changed?”

You laughed. “Oscar’s side chick?”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t sleeping together?”

“Why do you want to know?” you laughed. Was Lando…flirting with you? No. He couldn’t be. He was Lando Norris, the most notorious playboy of the 2025 grid. 

“Aw, c’mon. I want to know the drama!” he teased, flashing his boyish smile. 

“Well, what if I want to know your drama?” you teased back, taking the opportunity to snap a few photos of him as you continued walking. 

“Psh, I’ve got no drama. Just keeping to myself, trying to win.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re avoiding the question, YN,” he said, smirking. Holy shit, he was flirting with you. But did you really mind? It felt nice to have that playful banter, to see a man who wanted that back and forth more than he just wanted your body. What was wrong with having a little fun?

You sighed and told him the most technical version of the truth. “Oscar never cheated. But you really thought I was sleeping with Oscar and you didn’t say anything to Lily?”

“Wasn’t my business. Besides, I thought it was pretty obvious.” His comment left a bit of a sour taste in your mouth, especially knowing the fears that Lily had confessed to you so long ago.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to Lily,” you said, and it was true. After all, you were both women. 

“And what about Oscar?”

You rolled your eyes. Having a nice conversation with Lando helped you remember how not nice your time with Oscar had been recently. “Oh, fuck him,” you said weakly. 

“Well, did you?”

You paused, unsure of whether or not to confess. “I already told you that he didn’t cheat. Is what, or who, I do in my spare time really any of your business?” you playfully teased.

His lips curled upwards. “I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

The double entendre wasn't missed on you. You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the crowds to ensure that no one was paying too close attention. “You don’t have to worry about me and Oscar. But you know I run his social media, right? So I see all the gossip pages, all the shit you get yourself into. It’s a bold claim to say you’ve got no drama.”

“Oh, darling, they don’t even know the half of it,” he smirked. You all had turned around by now, walking back in the direction of the paddock. The crows were thinner now. 

He continued, “But what about you, huh? You’re all bored with Oscar and now you want some real fun?” He let out a small laugh. “No, you’re not like that. Too much of a good girl.”

“You think I’m too good? I’m here flirting with my best friend’s rival for the championship.”

“Are we flirting, is that was this is?” he asked, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “I thought we were just having a pleasant conversation, catching up on the gossip.” Unbeknownst to you, Lando had gotten all the gossip from Oscar after their drunken celebration in Miami. But he wanted to see exactly how much you’d reveal to him. 

“Well, sure then. I’m sure you get tired of race talk all day, anyway.”

“You say that like you think race talk is boring. But I’ve seen you at enough races to know better. Don’t play coy, you love it, don’t you? You know more about racing than most of the drivers’ girlfriends.” 

It kind of unnerved you, the way Lando knew exactly how to push your buttons. The subtle you’re not like the other girls implication; both you knew it wasn’t a compliment, but rather a statement meant to rile you up and see how you’d react. And it worked.

Your voice lowered, steady yet quieter. “It’s a bit sexist to assume that women don’t know anything about racing. And knowing more about racing doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”

“I never said that, love.”

“Hmm, but you thought it.” 

“Are you in my head now?” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So tell me about all the race talk between you and Oscar.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?” you chuckled.

“D’you want it to be?” he smirked. “No, no, really. Tell me what groundbreaking F1 opinions are inside that pretty little head of yours.” Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you. 

“I’ve got nothing groundbreaking,” you said as your smile loosened, contemplating how you wanted to arrange your words. “I think Oscar has a good shot at winning the WDC this year, if he can get out of his own head.”

“And what about me?”

“I think you’ll give him a run for his money. But you care too much about what random people on the internet think,” you said, ending the statement with that on the nose jest.

“You’re probably right,” he smiled. “God, you sounded like my PR manager for a sec there.”

“Not exactly dirty talk, is it?” you joked.

You arrived back at the McLaren garage. Lando walked in first, seeing that Oscar’s back was to you, and positioned himself so that when Oscar looked around, he’d see him instead of you. You were none the wiser. 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You still haven’t answered my question. How was he?” Lando’s face was plastered with a mischievous grin. 

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t ask me that!” you cooed, though you didn’t mind his closeness, the warmth of his breath on your ear. 

Oscar didn’t like it, though. And when he turned around and saw your back to him, Lando leaned down next to you, and smirking, he wanted to run him over with his car. 

Lando looked up for only a split second, but his eyes met Oscar’s, as if to acknowledge what he was doing. Or, as if to say, yes, I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me. 

Oscar couldn’t handle the audacity of watching Lando flirt with you in front of his own eyes. Thankfully, you were tapped on the shoulder by none other than the new guy, who had broken his extremely expensive camera, and you were called away to help him figure it out. 

Oscar crossed the garage to face Lando, never breaking his line of sight. 

“Oh hey, mate, what’s up?” Lando asked, innocently.

“Why are you talking to YN?”

“Oh, she wanted to take some photos—”

“Don’t talk to YN,” Oscar said, his voice plain but stern. 

“Mate, we were just having a chat. It wasn’t like that. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“I’m serious,” Oscar reiterated. “Don’t cross that line, Lando.”

“Okay, my bad,” Lando said, nervously laughing and carelessly throwing his hands in the air. Oscar still wouldn’t shift his gaze, even as both drivers were called to get back in their cars to resume the qualifying session. 

There was something up about Lando, he could tell. But it’d have to wait. Now, he had a pole to get. 

Well, he tried, but only managed to come in fourth. Lando got pole. Of fucking course. 

Another sleepless night passed with no messages from you. 

And the next morning, there you were as usual, staring at him only through the eye of your camera lens. 

But then, across the garage, you had no problem chatting it up with Lando. He threw you a glimpse of his award winning smirk and Oscar felt violent. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. 

You were doing it to spite him, that was obvious. You’d never be interested in a guy like Lando; too much of a playboy. And honestly, Oscar knew deep down that he deserved this. But it still made him sick to his stomach. 

The feeling only dissipated when it was replaced by that primitive need within him to win. The lights before him went out and reason gave way to instinct. 

Lando bottled the pole, losing the lead to Max after the first corner. Oscar fell back one place, narrowly avoiding a collision between Charles and Lewis, before overtaking them as they struggled to reorient their cars. 

So it was just him, Max, and Lando. He could do this. 

His body moved automatically. He could hear the roar of the engines, the chattering of the radio, and the screaming of the fans in the distance, but in his mind all was quiet. Laps blurred as he sped along the track, pushing inch by inch closer to overtaking Max. 

Eventually he did, getting DRS and flying past the Redbull driver, pushing hard to get a good lead over him. 

All that was left now was his own teammate. 

“Okay Oscar, you’ve got enough space between you and Verstappen,” his race engineer said.

“I want to overtake.”

“A 1-2 is our goal right now—”

“Then he can be 2nd. I want to win.”

Silence befell the radio channel for a moment. 

His engineer returned. “Okay. Papaya rules.”

Papaya rules. The phrase that haunted his dreams. 

There was really no need to use the coded language anymore. The world knew what it meant—race, but keep it clean. Put the team above yourself. Don’t do anything reckless. 

But Oscar was sick of being the good teammate, the one who always let Lando win for the sake of the team. He was tired of being gifted wins. Team orders were bullshit. This wasn’t about McLaren anymore. This was about his pride. This was everything. 

So he pushed harder than he should have. He was wearing his tires out, he knew, but Lando just coasted along, as if nothing was amiss. As if his teammate wasn’t out for blood and gaining on him with every lap. 

Lando glanced in his mirrors and saw Oscar behind him. 

“Oscar’s getting close,” he said to his engineer. 

“We told him papaya rules. Remember, our goal here is a 1-2.”

“He’s gonna wear out his tires.”

“Let’s just focus on keeping P1.”

But Lando knew it wasn’t that simple. This was no longer impersonal racing, just the best of the best competing against each other because it was in their nature to do so. 

No, this was personal now. 

Lando rounded the corner, feeling Oscar hot on his heels, but managed to defend his position. He knew that with DRS enabled at the next stretch, he wouldn’t be able to hold him off. 

But in front of him, he was already close to lapping the backmarkers of the grid.

Oscar could see them in the distance; the familiar teal of Lance Stroll’s Aston Martin, and an even more familiar fumble as he drove erratically due to some mechanical issue with the car. 

Lando slowed down, but Oscar couldn’t react. He swerved, hitting the barrier. 

Back in the garage, the breath left your lungs. 

You couldn’t resist the temptation of watching. You’d slid the headset on after Oscar had driven off, and you’d planned to leave before he got back to the garage and discovered that you’d ever been there. No harm, no foul. The allure of the purring engines and adrenaline-fueled racing was just too much to resist.

But now, hearing the violent scrape of carbon fiber against metal as Oscar’s car screeched along the barriers, your heart sunk into your chest. 

“Are you alright, Oscar?” you heard his race engineer ask, his voice filling your ears. 

But the silence afterwards was deafening. 

“Oscar, can you hear us? Are you alright?” 

All that came through was a metallic gargle of noise, a sign that the radio had been damaged in the impact. There was no way to know if Oscar was hurt or not.

A hush fell on the track as the safety car was brought out. Lando had effectively secured his win, with so few laps remaining. 

Your eyes were glued to the screen, praying to whatever God would listen that Oscar would be okay. You watched as the marshalls rushed to the site of the car, huddling around the lump of broken parts that stood still on the sidelines. 

Because of the force of the crash, the medical car had been deployed as well. You were frozen in place.

You had never been much of a believer in God, but all you could do now was beg.

Please, God. Please let him be okay. If he’s okay I can forgive everything he’s ever done. If he’s okay I will never let him out of my life ever again. Please, God, please let him be safe. 

You chanted the prayer over and over again to yourself as the seconds ticked by like hours. 

Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you saw the marshalls carrying along an orange-clad form into the medical car. 

You didn’t even think. You just reacted, taking off your headset and booking it towards the medical tent. 

You weren’t the only one there, though. The tent was already swarmed with media, all craning their necks to see Oscar. You pushed your way through to the front, only to be stopped by security, since you had your media pass instead of your usual VIP pass as one of Oscar’s friends. 

You panicked—to the eyes of security, you were just another reporter who was rudely trying to cut through the crowd to get to the injured driver.

“Please let me by,” you pleaded. “I know Oscar—”

“You can wait at the media tent.”

“C’mon—”

“Ma’am, we need you to leave.” You groaned, and you were about to leave before you heard the voice of your savior from out of nowhere. 

“Hey!” he called. You turned your head to see who it was—the familiar, friendly face of Zak Brown. 

He was on the other side of the barrier, but Oscar was still nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, YN, am I glad to see you!” He turned to the security officer. “Let her in.”

“Sir, media personnel are not authorized—”

“She’s VIP, not media.”

“Sir—”

“Do you know who I am?” he said, an unusual sternness in his tone. The security officer glanced down at his pass and silently let you through. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Zak said, his boyish grin returning as he patted you on the back and led you along to the private area where they’d be bringing Oscar any second now. 

You sighed as he pulled the medical curtain closed. 

“Boy, was that a nasty crash,” he said.

“Is he okay?”

“Well, he’s alive. That’s as far as I know.”

Your heart sank again. But as if on cue, you heard the rumble of camera shutters and reporters chattering outside the tent as the marshals escorted Oscar into the tent. When he came up, the room was flooded with medical personnel, pushing you and Zak back to the edge of the curtained-off room. 

A nurse rushed in. “Who’s his emergency contact?” she asked Zak.

“Her,” he said, gesturing to you. You were confused. Since when had Oscar made you his emergency contact? 

“Stay here,” the nurse instructed, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move an inch. You resumed your prayers as Zak blabbered on and on, mainly to himself. One thing that you’d learned very quickly about Zak Brown once Oscar had gotten to McLaren is that he really liked to yap. 

As the doctors and nurses filtered in and out of the room, you caught a brief glimpse of Oscar in the hospital bed, his eyes rolled back into his head, slumped over into his shoulder. 

You wanted to wail. 

But it was only a few minutes before everyone began to filter out of the room, creating enough space for you to finally see your friend. And when you did lay eyes on him, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you feared. 

His eyes were closed; an attempt to rest, rather than a state of unconsciousness. 

A nurse at his bedside turned to you. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. We’re going to sedate him and transport him to a hospital, but he’s not gravely injured. He just needs some tests done that we can’t do here.”

You nodded along, not once taking your eyes off Oscar. 

“And, yes, you are his emergency contact, so we’ll need you to come with us. He’s authorized you to make decisions in the event that he's unable to. But that is unlikely, of course.”

“Is he…?” you asked, gesturing towards him. 

“He’s still a little shaken up. The best thing right now is to get him into a calmer environment.”

You nodded. “I’ll make sure that new guy doesn’t lose all your stuff,” Zak quipped, and you threw a smile out towards him. “I’ll meet you all there when we’ve wrapped up here.”

Ah yes, the grand prix was likely still going on outside, and Lando would have to climb the podium and take his P1 trophy home. 

But as you sat in a hospital room in Italy next to your best friend, the podium was the last thing on your mind. 

Oscar was still completely out of it. The doctors had come and gone, confirming that all of his tests had come back normal. No broken bones, no concussion, nothing major. Just a shit ton of bruises and a shock to the system that left him too exhausted to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time.

Outside, the sun was setting, but you couldn’t sit still. You held Oscar’s limp hand in your own, tracing patterns into the cold skin. You hadn’t held his hand since you were kids—no, Oscar had held your hands above your head as he pinned you to the wall only weeks ago. 

You flung the memory away. Now wasn’t the time. Besides, you promise you’d forgive all that. 

Either way, you couldn’t focus on that now. Oscar’s eyelashes were fluttering open, his eyes squinting at the fluorescent light above him. 

“Osc!” you said, truthfully too energetic for the occasion. You dropped his hand, got up, and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the swiftly fading daylight from outside the window to illuminate the room. 

He groaned as you sat back down, but still mumbled a small thanks. 

“Where am I?” he asked, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes.

“A hospital in Imola.” 

“Shit,” he sighed. 

“Yeah. You had a pretty bad crash.”

“I remember that,” he said, his throat dry and cracked. He took a sip of water. “Lando brake checked me.”

“Is that what happened? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah. Fucker,” he cursed, his voice dripping with contempt. You didn’t know what to say. 

“How are you feeling?” you finally said, tired of the lingering tension. 

“Awful. Everything hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, reaching for his call button to request painkillers. “I’ve missed you.”

It was bold, doing this when he knew you couldn’t exactly be cruel to him. So, instead, you were honest. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said, reaching forward to smooth his hair away from his sweat-stained forehead. Your touch felt better than any painkiller. “We were really scared.”

“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” he joked as the nurse arrived and wordlessly administered his meds. He let out a sigh as he felt the painkillers enter his system. “I run on pure spite. A little wall isn’t gonna take me out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You didn’t say anything after the crash,” you said, your voice just a quivering whisper, giving away the true depths of your fear.

“I had the wind knocked out of me. And then, everything just went black, I was fading in and out.”

“I was praying you’d be okay. It was so scary.”

“Hey, I’m okay. A little busted up, but I wasn't exactly a looker anyway, huh?” he joked, a feeble attempt to make you laugh. You sniffled and smiled.

He continued, “Can I use my near-death experience as an excuse for us to make up?”

Your smile dropped and you bit your lip.  “Osc…”

“I just want my friend back,” he said, cutting you off. “Look, I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. And I think, after all the shit I did, you wouldn’t want me to anyway. But I miss my friend.”

“I miss my friend, too.” 

Your heart to heart was interrupted by a knock at the door. The same nurse from before poked her head in. “Excuse me?” she asked in an Italian accent, and you looked up. “There is a visitor asking to be let in. She said her name is Lily?”

You couldn’t help the face you made. What on God’s green Earth was Lily doing in Imola?

“Um, yeah, let her in,” Oscar said. He didn’t react, though you scooted away and sat at the edge of your seat, ready to leave at any second. “Stay,” he whispered to you, and you did. 

A few moments later, you saw her walk in, and the atmosphere was thick. 

“Hi Oscar,” she exhaled, grateful to see him okay. He greeted her back, but she didn’t even look at you. You got up to give them a moment, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, and the look in his eyes was impossible to refuse. You tentatively sat back down. 

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked, and the two exchanged pleasant conversation back and forth. You wanted nothing more than to jump out of the window that now showed the sunset over the trees. Normal visiting hours would be ending soon. 

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she said, getting up to leave. “I’m glad you’re doing well. You too, YN,” she added on the end, but you didn’t believe it. You gave her a flat but polite smile. 

“Actually, YN, could we have a word?” she asked, cocking her head in the direction of the hallway. 

The look on Oscar’s face told you that this was a horrible idea. But one of you was confined to a hospital bed, and the other wasn’t. You ignored him and followed Lily into the deserted hallway.

She turned to you, voice full of venom. “How long have you been sleeping with Oscar?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said, plain as day. 

“I’ve told you before, Oscar never cheated on you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You turned your head in confusion. “What are you getting at?”

Lily angrily sighed. “You think that you can just waltz around the paddock talking shit about me with Lando, and that I’m not going to hear about it?”

Had Lily been at the paddock? Or even worse: had she somehow heard you?

“Well, if you actually heard my conversation with Lando, you’ll know that I stood up for you.”

“I thought you were a girl’s girl,” she said, deflecting from your defense.

“I am.”

“Then why were you in bed with my boyfriend 4 days after we broke up?”

“Your ex boyfriend,” you said, meeting her level of venom. “You left him.”

“I just thought, after all that talk, you’d have the decency not to prove me right.”

“Lily, I was honest with you. If you’re mad at Oscar, don’t take it out on me. He’s the one who suggested it. I told him it was a bad idea.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“And I felt horrible about it. So I stopped.” Your voice was sharp. “Who told you any of this?”

“It doesn't matter. I hope you’re happy.”

“I hope you are, too. Genuinely.” You lacked the words to say what you really wanted to. He treats both of us like shit. He used us. I am not your enemy. She wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She wordlessly walked away, scoffing and mumbling to herself. 

You didn’t say anything either as you walked back into the hospital room and slumped in the chair.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” Oscar said.

“Nope.”

“Well, we were in the middle of something…”

Oh, right. The conversation where Oscar was trying to get back in your pants. 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Oscar.” 

“I’m not asking you to.”

“We can let anything lead to that. Not again.”

“I understand,” he said. “I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.”

“Could we even do that?” you asked. It felt like a line had been crossed, moving your friendship in a way that couldn’t be undone. 

“I promise. And I know my word doesn’t mean much, but really, I promise. Never again.”

Haven't you promised that you’d forgive him?

“Okay,” you said, “Okay.”

Oscar smiled at you, showing off his bunny teeth. You still loved him. You couldn’t help it. But true to form, you could never stay away.

“Oh, and by the way, congrats on Miami.”

You fell asleep in the chair, having refused to leave Oscar’s side. He’d be discharged in the morning to make his flight back to Monaco, though it was questionable whether or not he’d be able to race in the iconic Grand Prix. 

True to his word, though, Oscar got one final set of visitors in the dead of night.

The first was Zak Brown. 

“Oscar!” Zak yelled, before Oscar shushed and pointed to your sleeping form. You stirred but didn’t fully wake, and Zak placed his hand over his mouth and raised his eyebrows as Oscar let out a quiet laugh.

“Hey Zak,” he said, his voice hushed.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.”

“Yeah, I made it,” he mused. “Hey, what did the FIA say?” Oscar’s phone had died since you had fallen asleep, and his charger had been left at the track.

Thankfully, Zak had brought his (and your) belongings, and he placed the bag at the foot of the hospital bed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the penalty, from the crash?”

“No one got a penalty.”

“But, Lando brake checked me.”

“Lando barely avoided a crash with Stroll.”

“I know, but he didn’t swerve, he slowed down. He had room to swerve, I didn’t. How did no one get a penalty?”

“That's just racing.”

“He intentionally slowed down to stop me!”

“Oscar, I highly doubt that that’s what happened. It was a crowded track, and you all had to react in a split second. These things happen, you know this.” 

Oscar wasn’t at all pleased with this answer, and it was worsened by the appearance of his second visitor: Lando himself.

“Ah, there’s our grand prix winner!” Zak said, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

Lando smiled, and Oscar wanted to throw up. 

“Had to bring it home for the team,” he said, smiling at Zak. “You doing alright, mate?” he asked. 

Oscar was already tired of people asking him how he was feeling. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Lando gave Stroll an earful after the race.”

“Oh yeah, probably getting fined for that one…”

“Why? I didn’t crash because of Stroll. You brake checked me.” The pain was making Oscar more irritable. He’d need another dose of meds soon. 

“No, Stroll was driving like an idiot out there, I had to slow down.”

“No, you had to move. You’re not stupid. You just didn’t want me to overtake, didn’t you?”

“Okay, boys, let’s save this for the track,” Zak interjected. Oscar just grumbled. “I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” he said to Lando, who nodded but stayed behind. 

The Brit glanced at you, still fast asleep in the chair by Oscar’s bedside. “D’you tire out your babysitter?” he smiled. 

But Oscar was relentless. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I thought you all weren’t on speaking terms?” 

“Lando, mind your business.”

“I don’t know what your problem is, mate.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything. I’m just trying to be a good teammate. Jesus, Osc, they should check that you didn’t hit your head too hard, you’re so paranoid.”

Truthfully, Oscar was bluffing. He had a horrible feeling about his teammate, but no evidence to back it up. But his intuition was hardly ever wrong. 

“I ran into Lily after you left,” Lando said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were here.” His tone of voice was so gentle that Oscar began to wonder if maybe he was being too paranoid.

“Yeah, she came by earlier.” 

Lando’s eyes glanced back to your sleeping form, and Oscar felt his anger rise again. He didn’t even want Lando to look in your direction, let alone be speaking to you. 

“Your heart rate is up,” Lando said, gesturing to the monitor that now showed the physical effects of Oscar’s anger.

“Look, Lando,” Oscar said, shifting to sit up in bed. “Stop acting like we’re friends. Stop talking to YN, stop trying to play this buddy-buddy game. We’re here to beat each other.”

“I was just trying to be kind, but I guess if you really don’t want to be friends, I can’t make you.”

“I’m serious. Leave YN alone. Don’t even go there.”

“She’s an adult.”

“And she’s mine.”

Lando laughed. “Seriously? That’s not exactly what she told me.”

The monitor beeped again as Oscar’s heart rate continued to rise. “I don’t care what she told you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Try it. See what happens.”

A nurse gently knocked on the door, and Oscar was grateful for the distraction and relief of pain meds. 

“Well,” Lando said, leaning on the door, “I guess I’ll see you all in Monaco.”

[truelovepolinator]

Why I'm So Sure It's Luke

I've been pretty quiet here for a while. Much of that is because of the state of the world. I had a bit of a deep spiral last weekend about things happening in my country.

And I confess that the FB comment and funeral hubbub sent me into a corresponding (though temporary) Lukola spiral to which I was doubtless more vulnerable due to my already depressed state. Did I really have to lose my daily dopamine drip (aka, Lukola) just when I needed it most?

Short answer: Absolutely not.

I had already started to pull myself out of my Lukola spiral by Monday (the other spiral is still very deep), and video and photos of Nic that emerged on Tuesday and Wednesday shored me up until I was back to effing rock solid.

I often see things I don't agree with, even on the blogs of folks with whom I usually agree, and I simply move on most of the time. I don't comment. I feel no need to argue with people in their own blogs. In friendly spaces, I'll sometimes share counter opinions because I believe respectful dialogue and debate are important — and have all but disappeared in this era of instant blocks. And we all want to share information and opinions that help us fine tune our perspectives.

But if they're clearly dug into an opinion that I view as wildly wrong, there's little value for me in arguing with them. Let them think what they want. It's not my job to change anyone's mind.

The jakola takes are the easiest to ignore for obvious reasons. I've written extensively about JD's role in Nicola's life and there's no need to do so here. (Feel free to read my other posts if you need clarity around N & J's non-romantic relationship.)

Instead, the takes I find the most frustrating are from the Lukolas who have lost hope, the so-called "realistic" ones who think that we "just have to accept that they're not together," and maybe even that "Luke is with Ant."

To this, I respectfully say, we absolutely do not have to accept any such thing because the evidence is fully on our side.

Truth be told, I suspect I'm most vexed by these posts because I used to be one of those "realists." In late summer/early autumn, I had fallen victim to the fake narratives created by the paparazzi shots of both Nic and Luke, all designed to imply a certain narrative without either of them actually saying those things were true. I always believed NicLuke belonged together. However, I reluctantly accepted that "I guess Luke is probably seeing her" and "not sure about that guy, but the photos of Nic and him do look cozy."

I understand the impulse to surrender. It's so hard to have faith, to keep believing in something when there's an apparent narrative being constructed in the public eye that tells you you're wrong. It's painful (and feels delulu) to keep believing when you've been let down repeatedly by pap photos you assume are true.

It's very easy to accept a false narrative if you don't have the energy to dig in and really pay attention to all the signs and information available when you look for it. (This is true on the world stage as well, and we should all think very critically about the stories we're being told, but I digress.)

I wrote extensively and in gory detail about how and why I'm so sure about Lukola in my blog post "Nicola and Luke Are Absolutely Together...," which I'll link here for anyone who wants persuasion or reassurance. I won't rehash all of that here, but I do want to touch on a handful of milestones & crumbs, many of which are recent, that make me quite sure about Luke being the man in Nicola's life.

One of the recent assertions I saw was that we need to let go of the significance of the Claddagh ring. (I'm not putting anyone on blast. I can't even remember who said this, and I think it was someone I like, so no offense.) But I could not disagree with this more.

Claddagh rings are worn to represent relationship status more than anything. Yes, they can be given in friendship, but the orientation of the ring on the wearer's finger is fundamental to understanding the ring. Only someone with no connection whatsoever to its heritage or meaning would throw it on willy nilly in any direction they pleased.

Not everyone follows the rules closely. I wore mine for years, on my left ring finger, heart down when I was free, heart up when I was taken. I only stopped wearing it when I replaced it with my engagement ring. (Obviously, I was not following the traditional 4 steps.)

Some wear it just on a single hand, whichever they choose. Some might wear it just while single (even engaged), then replace it when married. Some use it to indicate engagement and marriage when that time comes, others focus solely on taken or not. Admittedly, not everyone follows every step closely.

However, Nicola is from Galway where the ring originated. She is deeply proud of her Irish heritage. There is no chance she would put that ring on any finger with the heart pointing toward her heart unless her heart was taken.

Now, let's remember that she picked that ring up while she was in Galway during the World Tour. She modeled that ring in Chupi photographs, with the heart pointing up (heart taken) wearing the same outfit she wore to the screening. The same screening where she hugged her mother to within an inch of her life, then introduced her mom to Luke. That was the most tearful, emotional intro I've ever seen between a guy and his platonic co-worker's mom, huh?

Hypothetically, could her heart have been taken by someone else at that stage? Well, do you really think a secret significant other — who was important enough to warrant a "heart taken" ring orientation — would be okay with Nicola not only getting the ring while she's physically with Luke (and flirting heavily), but also making that showy, deeply emotional introduction between her mother and Luke? If you were her secret, non-Luke SO, would you be okay with it?

There is literally no chance.

Chupi told us that ring was to commemorate Season 3 of Bridgerton. Again, would a secret, non-Luke SO be fine with her wearing a ring that symbolizes her Polin season with Luke as a symbol of this secret, non-Luke SO's love?

I won't even bother digging into the symbolism of the rings on the hands, but say it were true that she just wanted it to commemorate a special season. If her heart weren't taken, that ring on her finger would have pointed down. She told us the moment those photos were snapped that her heart was taken, and logic tells us that, at that moment in time, it could only have belonged to Luke.

Since then, lots of things have happened. There were pap photos galore, all telling a very different story, right? Again, it's very easy to accept a false narrative when it's spoon fed to you. But gosh, wouldn't those pap photos also provide excellent cover for two people in love, possibly nesting together, who also wanted to keep their love very, very private?

I talk a lot more about this in the above linked blog (and others) and I'm not going to tackle it here. If you don't want to believe it, that's your prerogative, but if you're curious about whether it could possibly be true, I encourage you to have a read.

So set aside the adjacents for now and focus exclusively on our girl Nic. What we know is that she wore that ring consistently through the summer and early fall, on her right hand, heart pointing up (heart taken). Then, in October, she switched it to her left hand.

Again, not everyone follows every traditional Claddagh step, but Nicola is a Galway Girl. If she's been wearing it consistently on the right, then suddenly switches it to the left where she continues to keep it consistently, she's not oblivious to the meaning of that switch. That switch is deeply significant.

Remember, the left hand is traditionally the hand where it's worn to indicate engagement (heart down) and marriage (heart up). And when she switched, she kept the heart pointing up.

Does that absolutely mean she's married? No. As always, we don't know any of them personally, so we can't say for sure. But simple, not-a-reach logic tells us that the way she's worn that ring is significant.

With that ring, Nicola has told us in no uncertain terms that she is in a significant, committed relationship (possibly engaged or married since October). And she's been in that relationship (or at least committed in her heart to that relationship) consistently since at least June (really, late April/early May when she commissioned it).

Will we ever know exactly what happened last summer while she and Luke were apart (Sorrento, Spain, Malta, etc.)? No, we won't — and frankly it’s none of our business (as curious as we may be).

But we know that Nicola's heart was taken by the same person throughout. Because logically, would she really have been so into Luke in June when all of the above happened (commission, putting it on, meeting mom)... then break it off... then, by October, find a new person to be so committed to switch her ring to the left hand? The math just doesn't math on that one.

It was Luke in June and it was Luke in October. And she's still wearing that ring in the same direction as of Wednesday night. So yes, it's still Luke.

But I promised you more recent hints and crumbs to support my certainty. Honestly, @frantastical has this stuff so magnificently catalogued that you really should check out that incredibly comprehensive "Multitude of Morsels" if you haven't already.

Still, here's a small handful of (by no means comprehensive) things I've seen with my own eyes in just the last month that have told me I'm sitting in exactly the right restaurant on exactly the right ship:

New Pink News story posted with an old quote (that would have been approved by Nic's team) where Nicola says, "That's all I want, is the girls and the gays. And Luke."

Both Ryan Wheeler and Shondaland openly shipping Lukola ("get married for real")

Nic's year-end photo dump threaded through with Luke, both directly and indirectly

Luke's year-end photo dump threaded through with Nic

Even one of Nic’s Doctor Who photos, which isn't associated with Bridgerton at all, managed to nod at Luke

Video clip re-emerges of the Featherington women giggling when Bessie teases, "Well, two people fell in looove, I gueeessss," then they all giggle and agree that they can't say who

Both of them unaccounted for over Christmas and New Year's (days that are usually spent with significant others) while the adjacents were both accounted for on both holidays

Old story somehow emerges in which Nicola says Luke makes everything better, and Luke says about the "friends to lovers" story that "that's what happened to us when we met." (I'm probably slightly paraphrasing, but close enough.)

Nicola turns up with a tan

Luke turns up with a tan

Luke comes online very briefly, just long enough to congratulate Nic on her SAG nomination, cheering on his queen, and then he's gone

Nicola posts a birthday photo that appears to be a cozy dinner for two with several hints of Luke, most notably the red and yellow flowers (red is for love; most people focused on yellow being for friendship, and I think that's true, but I also very much think it's for Polin. And either way, "friends to lovers" or "love and Polin," those flowers say Luke.)

Luke likes a Jack Rooke post about Big Boys. Bearing in mind that JR is one of Nicola's longstanding, closest friends, this clearly suggests Luke is getting to know him

Nicola swoops in to distract from last weekend's mess with a new, obviously staged pap drop (based on weather, likely from a while in the past and kept on hand for when it was needed), once again protecting Luke and his family

And then there are a handful of crumbs and hints that point to something else that I've been reluctant to talk about. I still won't get into it here, but I will say that there are definitely recent things that are suggesting to me a very specific, very happy story. These include:

ETA: Photo of Nic with two Dunkin drinks & two straws (drinking for two?)

"Shit Stirrer" tee-shirt, holding shirt just so with photo cropped very particularly (who exactly is the shit stirrer in that photo?)

"May your 2025 be as happy as this potato made me" (which potato?)

Video with the hot water bottle

Big Boys (clearly wearing the ring)

And that is literally all I will say about that. But let's just remember that all of this has taken place while Nicola continues to wear that Claddagh ring on her left hand, pointed toward her heart. Even in those silly pap photos with Jake from Monday.

The only times we've seen her without it were when she wore special, fancy jewelry for events (showy hand jewelry that she could prominently display by placing her hands in front of her stomach instead of on her waist or hips). Every other time, it's either there or her hands are (perhaps intentionally) hidden.

Doubtless some "realistic Lukolas" will read this and say, "But you're ignoring all the photos of Jake and obvious proof of how close they are."

To which I reply, "Yes, I am." Because I've written loads about that relationship, what it is, why it is so heavily documented, and what they each get out of it (other than friendship). Again, if you want to know more, feel free to read my blog. But those photos mean nothing to me because I understand the truth that lies beneath them. I have absolutely nothing against Jake. I think he's been a good friend to Nic, but that's all he is.

Meanwhile, we've seen nary a peep from Luke except to cheer on his girl, and going back a bit further, that very happy looking S4 selfie with Nic. Has anyone ever noticed how much more he smiles with Nicola than anyone else? His actual smile ratio with Nic compared to literally anyone else is off the charts.

So, yeah, it's Luke all the way. I don't know for sure when it started (might tackle that in a different blog), and I'm not sure how many times they've pressed the on/off button before locking in, but I absolutely believe they are fully locked in now. The evidence is everywhere.

As always, I say these two things. First, we know nothing for sure until Nic or Luke or both of them together make it absolutely, incontrovertibly clear to us. So could I be wrong? Yes, it's certainly possible. If I'm wrong, I'll admit it, and I admit right now that I will be heartbroken. I'm not going to front about this. But I don't think I'm wrong.

Second, you are very free to draw different conclusions. However, if you wish to do so, I invite you to consider the evidence as presented first. Especially if you've given up the ship because you're afraid to believe.

Have no fear, Lukolas. The evidence is on your side.

[yungistiny]

camgirl ═ chapter one

[ S. Mingi ]

chapter one: a bit of a mess

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summary: mingi just really needs some cash and he was told all he had to do was hold a camera. simple enough. he just didn’t anticipate the type of content he’d be helping to create

warning: emo mingi, stoner mingi, switch mingi, switch reader, mingi is hung, creampie, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, masturbation, rough sex, degradation, size kink, spitting, deep throating

pairing: mingi x afab/reader

genre: smut, angst, drama, romance

word count: 3.9k

masterlist

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Mingi knew he was getting too deep into this shit, getting too attached. Too emotionally involved. His jaw clenched, there was no livestream now. No viewers. No one watching.

It was just them, alone in his room. His bedroom door actually shut for a change as he trailed a hand up y/n back, tangling his fingers into her hair.

She moaned, gasping as he pulled her up, back flushed against his chest, a hand snaking around her and wrapping around her throat, gently squeezing. Mingi growled, his grip on her tilting her head back so he could kiss her, his other hand gripping her waist tightly as he continued to thrust into her aching, soaked cunt.

Her walls clenching him, her arousal creaming him and Mingi couldn’t help the whimper that escaped him because fuck if she wasn’t the best thing he’d ever had.

“Look at me.” The words left him with no control, making y/n open her eyes, pupils blown as they began to water from his deep and quick pace thrusts, dick finding that spongey little spot that sent her shaking in his hold.

Mingi held her gaze, his own eyes much like hers, darkened and pupils blown from desire. “You’re mine.” A loud, crying moan left y/n as her orgasm tore through her like a storm. “I’m yours!” She repeated the words like a broken record left on a loop.

“I’m yours…”

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Mingi stared at the small piece of paper in his hand, his banking account balance practically mocking him. Just a little over 10, 000 won left in his account. That was barely enough for a bowl of ramen and a drink.

He was starting to slightly regret spending his savings on that Bring Me The Horizon concert. But the chances of them coming to South Korea was low so of course he had to jump at the opportunity to see one of his favorite bands.

The slight chill in the September air caused Mingi to shiver, balling the atm receipt up and shoving it into the pocket of his ripped baggy jeans. His roommate and about the closest thing he had to a best friend, Choi San, was gonna scold him. Remind him how he had distinctly told Mingi not to waste his money on a concert.

Mingi never listened to San.

He ran a hand through his short fading pink hair, the color now a light pastel compared to the hot pink it had been when he first dyed it, his dark roots bleeding through. Mingi knew if he really needed money all he had to do was call his mom, his dad would certainly not be too giving or lenient after he had to pay a good whopping 2.8 million won to pay for damages caused by him at a hotel in Busan.

The Busan incident was now something his dad always brought up when Mingi needed to borrow some money.

“You know son, I would have the money but instead, I had to pay for a brand new window that you and your idiotic friends broke by tossing a mattress out of it.”

It’s not Mingi’s fault that Lee Seokmin and Hoshi Kwan were fucking absolutely crazy when high. He doesn’t even recall what exactly led up to Hoshi pulling the giant king sized mattress, pushing it full speed towards Seokmin who screamed and jumped out of the way.

Mingi promised his dad he’d pay him back, the hotel room had been in his name so of course Mingi was left with the bill. And he really did mean to pay his dad back but then he splurged his savings on dying his hair, he also got a new phone and the rest was spent on that concert.

It wouldn’t be so bad but Mingi’s boss fired him today after he was late, the third job he’d been fired from in the last two months. He just couldn’t keep a job to save his own life and was sure at this point he was going to be stuck going back home and working under his dad at the family restaurant.

Warmth enveloped him as he walked inside the convenience store just a block away from his apartment building. The heat was like a warming blanket against the chill outside.

Mingi grabbed a cup of ice from the small freezer in the front, hand crunching the ice up as he searched for a drink, grabbing a packet of green apple flavored juice. One finger pointed, the black nail polish chipping, searching for a bowl of ramen and snatching a spicy buldak.

He also grabbed a couple of cheese sticks before making his way up to the register where one of his old college friends Jung Wooyoung waited, eyes on his phone before glancing at Mingi when he dropped his stuff on the counter.

“You look all broody today.” Wooyoung teased him as he scanned his items. “I got fired again.” Mingi bit at his bottom lip, pushing his black rimmed glasses up his nose, poking the inside of his cheek, his tongue piercing rubbing against it. “Dude,” Wooyoung laughed. “you’re like job repellent.”

“Fuck you.” Mingi grumbled, unlocking his phone and going into his wallet to display his debit card. “Time and place.” Wooyoung smirked at him as Mingi tapped to pay, just enough in his account for the junk food.

“You know,” Wooyoung watched him walk over to the little snack station, filling his bowl of ramen up with water and putting it into the microwave. “I think I know the perfect job for you.”

“Oh really?” Mingi scoffed as he pulled the seal off of his cup of ice, tearing open the drink pouch with his teeth. “Last time you said that i was left stranded in Busan with your two crazy ass friends and now I’m in debt with my dad.”

“That was like three months ago.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “This, this you’re perfect for.”

“What is it?” Mingi grabbed his cooked bowl of ramen out of the microwave, snatching a pair of wooden chopsticks from the container beside it, mixing the red sauce into the noodles and pulling his chopsticks apart with his teeth to help stir.

“My friend,” Wooyoung leaned atop the counter, to see Mingi where he sat at the small little dining area in front of the window. “she needs help, someone to be behind the camera for this streaming thing she does.”

“What? Like twitch?” Mingi peeled the sealing off of his cheese stick, pulling them apart and mixing them into his bowl of noodles. “Something like that.” Smirked Wooyoung.

“So… what,” Mingi took a sip of his drink, arching a brow at Wooyoung as another customer walked in, disappearing into the store to shop for their own needs and cravings. “I just hold the camera for her? I thought streamers had stands for that?”

“Well… what she streams she needs some….” Wooyoung giggled. “close ups, different angles.”

Mingi waited, taking a bite of his noodles as Wooyoung checked out the customer, waiting until after they left to ask the most important question. “What’s she pay?”

“Well, when I helped her a few times…” Wooyoung thought for a moment, calculating in his head. “For about one session… 700,000 won.”

Mingi choked on the cheese stick he started to chew on, gasping and quickly removing the lid on his drink and chugging to help wash the food down. 700,000 won? That was like $500 usd! “All that? Just to hold a fucking camera?”

“Well, there’s a bit more to it then just that, but yeah, that’s about the gist of it.” Wooyoung nodded, looking back down at his phone. “I’ll text her, let her know I found her someone.”

“I haven’t even agreed yet…” Mingi took another drink of his juice, a cough escaping him after almost choking on his food. “Yes you are.” Wooyoung grinned at him. “I’ll text you her address when she lets me know when she needs you.”

“And she’s just gonna let a stranger into her home to film her?” Mingi asked, not denying the fact that Wooyoung was right. There’s no way in hell he was passing this opportunity up.

“She trusts me and I trust you.” Wooyoung shrugged, sitting his phone back down. “It’s not like I’m sending her some random creepy dude or anything.”

“Have I met her before?” Mingi was curious now, he was sure him and Wooyoung hung around the same friend group. “No. I met her that summer after freshman year when I went to New York. Her grandparents are from here and she came back a couple years ago to take care of her grandma before she passed.”

A ping from Wooyoung’s phone alerted them that he had a new message. Mingi watched him typing a reply, a devious smirk on Wooyoung’s face. “You can go by her place tomorrow night, she said around 6:00. I’m texting you the address now.”

Mingi unlocked his phone, checking his messages, eyes widening in shock at the address location. “She lives in the Gangnam district?”

“Her grandma left her this nice ass duplex.” Wooyoung giggled at Mingi’s reaction. “So she’s like…. rich?” Mingi looked back down at the address on his phone. “What’s her name?”

Wooyoung had to hold in the snicker that wanted to leave him, the smirk on his face growing because Mingi had no idea what he was getting himself into but Wooyoung knew his friend was perfect for the job.

“Y/N.”

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San wasn’t home when Mingi walked into their shared apartment, quickly feeding San’s pet cat, Byeol, before grabbing his stash from under his bed in his room and flopping himself on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table as he rolled himself a blunt.

The tv played a playlist of 2000s rock music videos, a Linkin Park one coming on as he brought the blunt to his lips, inhaling and closing his eyes as the smoke exhaled through his nose.

Byeol curled into Mingi’s lap, the cat purring and snuggling up to sleep. The weed was slowly loosening his mind, relaxing him at the moment as a Three Days Grace music video started to play, he had no care in the world.

Mingi used one hand to thread through the fur and pet Byeol, his chunky steel rings scratching at the cats back making her purr more. The blunt in his other hand burned for a second as he got distracted by the music video on the tv before taking another hit.

Mingi had no idea how long he sat there, too high to care, when the apartment door opened, San finally home after work, a long day spent with kindergartners but San loved kids.

“You’re home early.” San arched a brow at Mingi, he usually didn’t get home after work until after 8:00 and it was only a little after 5:00.

Mingi stared at him for a long moment, eyes red and half lidded letting San know he was high. “I got fired.”

The heaviest sigh left San as he sat down next to Mingi on the couch, shoving his feet off the coffee table. Byeol perked up at her owner, stretching in Mingi’s lap and meowing at San, switching seats and making herself comfortable in his lap instead. “Again?”

“It’s fine,” Mingi waved a hand dismissively. “I already got another job.”

“That was fast.” San scratched Byeol behind her ear. “What is it this time?”

“One of Wooyoung’s friends.” Mingi answered, rolling another blunt. At this rate he was gonna smoke all his weed up before he had more cash.

“You know what happened last time you worked with Wooyoung’s friends.” San reminded, Mingi was never living the Busan incident down. “This is different.” He argued as San turned the tv down.

“Which friend is it this time?” San was curious, he knew all of Wooyoung’s friends just like Mingi did. “I haven’t met her yet.” Mingi shrugged, licking the wrap of the blunt to seal it.

“Her?” San picked Byeol up, holding her closely. He was tired and needed a hot shower. “Just don’t sleep with her.” It’s why Mingi had been fired from his last job, sleeping with the boss’s daughter, while on the clock mind you.

San loved his best friend, practically his brother, but Mingi had become a little bit of a mess and irresponsible after they graduated from college three years ago.

Mingi smirked as he brought the blunt to his lips. “Of course not.”

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It was well past noon when Mingi woke up the next day. His eyes blinked slowly, Byeol staring at him where she had made herself home on his bed once San had left for work that morning. Mingi always left his bedroom door open for the needy cat.

A deep groan left him as he turned over onto his back, stretching his arms and legs. His phone lay on his bedside table, the screen lighting up as he unlocked it. Mingi was going to have to do something he was dreading. Ask his mom for money. Sure he started his new job today but he literally had no money to his name at the moment.

The call rang twice before his mother answered. “Mingi, honey, make it quick because the restaurant is starting to get busy.” She sounded in a hurry and he could hear the clutter of dishes and his older brother’s voice in the background.

He hesitated before asking. “Omma,” Mingi put on his best pouty voice, knowing his mom couldn’t say no to him. “I’m starting a new job today but I’m all out of cash until I get paid.”

“If your father finds out I sent you more money he just might cut you off this time.” She warned him, not saying no though. “He won’t find out and give me a week or so and he’ll have every bit of his money back.” Mingi promised. First thing he was going to do was get his dad off his back.

His mother gave in, telling him she’ll transfer him some money on her break. Mingi still had almost five hours before he had to meet y/n. He found himself the night before on twitch searching for any streamers named y/n but found hundreds of results and instantly gave up.

The next five hours started with a hot shower and then dressing in his favorite dark washed ripped baggy jeans and a black long sleeved Jesus Piece shirt. His hair air dryed, slightly spiked from where it was growing out.

Mingi even repainted his chipping polished nails back black. He smoked about three blunts, he kind of lost count, and headed out to check his bank account balance once his mom texted him that she transferred the money.

Just a little over 300,000 won. Mingi looked at his phone seeing the time and cursed to himself. He needed to be over to y/n in Gangnam in twenty minutes.

He quickly flagged down a taxi. The ride to Gangnam took longer then Mingi hoped it would, quickly paying the driver and hopping out right outside of the duplex y/n lived at. It was pretty, colored a light eggshell, flowers grew in the yard already wilting from the September weather.

Mingi rang the doorbell, waiting with his hands in his pockets. He could hear shuffling inside then the unlocking of a lock before the mahogany door opened.

Fuck.

Wooyoung didn’t think to mention just how hot his friend was. Y/N was shorter then him like most were, knee high white socks on that were fully visible due to the pink Calvin Klein boyshorts she had on paired with a cropped pink Mean Girls tshirt that gave Mingi the perfect view of her stomach and legs. Did he catch her at a bad time? But she said be here at 6:00…

“You must be Mingi.” She smiled at him, her gaze taking him in, lingering from his face taking in the entire length of him. Mingi smirked at her wondering eyes as he was doing the exact same thing to her. He placed each of his hands on the entrance of the door, leaning in slightly, looking down at her. “And you’re y/n.”

Fuck his voice was deep. Y/N clenched her thighs, his entire appearance and demeanor was attractive. And he was tall, really fucking tall. Wooyoung didn’t think to mention to her how hot his friend was?

“Come in!” She shook her head, returning her gaze back to his smirking face, stepping out of the way to allow Mingi room to walk in. Fuck! He smelled really good too. Like faint notes of amber, a smooth sweetness she couldn’t exactly decipher and y/n could tell he must of gotten high before coming over from the undertone scent of weed mixed in.

She shut the front door back closed and locked it behind him. Mingi allowed his gaze to roam around the living room as he kicked off his combat boots, the white painted walls lit by fairy lights that decorated the top of them, wrapping around the entire room. A three seated white couch with a fluffy pink throw blanket draped over it was placed against the wall where a big black cat, with probably the biggest mane Mingi had ever seen, sat licking and cleaning itself.

Mingi looked back at y/n not realizing she was right beside him. Her scent invaded his own senses. A mixture of strawberry, vanilla and sugar. He had the urge to drop to his knees and beg her to let him have a taste. He didn’t of course. He couldn’t. This was business, he was just there to work for her. But damn if he weren’t gonna be tempted.

“That’s Gladiolus,” y/n walked over, picking up the giant cat. She held him in her arms like a small toddler. “he’s not really a people person kitty though….”

Y/N trailed off, shocked when her otherwise antisocial cat started to purr as Mingi scratched under his chin. “I guess he likes you though, magic touch.” She teased him.

Mingi smirked, noticing the way her gaze lingered on his hands. “Oh, yeah. Pussys love me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, face flushed. She was going to kill Wooyoung for sending her someone he knew she’d be attracted to. Wooyoung was the closest she had to a best friend and he knew exactly her type. He’s a menace.

Gladiolus stretched when y/n placed him back on the couch. “Come on, everything is upstairs.” She led Mingi up the small staircase upstairs to her bedroom.

Mingi took in the white painted walls, the queen sized bed centered by the headboard against the wall in the middle of the room, a mirror on the wall it sat against, another mirror, a floor length one against the wall to the right, a large computer and streaming set up on the opposite end of the bed against the other wall.

White fairy lights wrapped around the entire room much like the living room, fake green leaves and pastel pink roses adorned the decor with them. She likes pink. Mingi bit his lip, humored at the coincidence of the color of his hair that was practically the same color as the rug at the foot of the bed he was standing on.

Y/N watched him, gaze following his hands, loving the way his nails were painted black. Loved the rings on his fingers as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing the bracelets on his wrists. The beaded ones matched the beaded choker necklace he had on with the silver chain dangling with a small cross pendant.

She watched the way he darted his tongue out, wetting his lips and giving her the perfect glance at his tongue piercing. Y/N avoided her gaze from him before he noticed her staring, unbeknownst to her, he already had. “Did Wooyoung explain anything to you?” Her best friend loved to mess with people, she knew that, it’s why Boo Seungkwan didn’t last one stream with her. The poor guy had been flustered and a mumbling mess the entire time.

“You’re a streamer.” Mingi shrugged, pushing his glasss back up the bridge of his nose. “Did he tell you what kind of streamer?” Y/N was trying not to laugh now at the confused expression on Mingi’s face.

She noticed then the little lightning bolt like design shaved into the end of his right eyebrow as he arched it. He watched as she smirked at him, her glossy lips very tempting. “I’m guessing it’s not twitch?”

The laugh that left her caught Mingi off guard. “Is that what Wooyoung told you?” Of course he would. He once told her he likes to watch the stream whenever she gets a new cameraman, all ended up nervous, shy or just got too horny to finish.

Mingi looked around her room, eyes searching for anything that would give him a clue as to what it was she streamed but nothing seemed out of the ordinary or stood out too much.

“Let me give you a hint…” y/n walked over to a pink painted two door wall cabinet, opening the door and gesturing for Mingi to come and look at what was inside.

Mingi walked over, towering behind y/n as he studied what was there. It took him a minute to register it all but when he did, Mingi wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Wooyoung or thank him for getting him this job.

Definitely the latter.

“And…. you’re just gonna let me film you, live, while you get yourself off?” Mingi’s voice was deeper now, he couldn’t control it with the images flashing in his head, his imagination suddenly getting the best of him.

“Wooyoung trust you…” y/n didn’t look behind her, she didn’t move as he brushed up against her briefly, his height making her feel small. “and I trust Wooyoung.”

Mingi backed up, biting his bottom lip and letting out a quiet disbelieving chuckle. “So, I just…. hold the camera?” He was curious now what exactly all it was he was gonna be required to do.

“Basically.” Y/N turned to him, walking over to her camera that sat on her desk beside the computer. “But… I need you to move with me…” she grabbed the camera, handing it to Mingi, looking up and meeting his heated gaze behind his glasses.

Mingi was glad he was high as hell right now, his senses calm, his emotions centered otherwise he’d probably kiss her, tangle his ringed fingers into her hair and pin her against the wall.

This job might end up being a tad difficult.

“How many cameramen have you had?” Mingi was curious, obviously the last one didn’t make it and he knew Wooyoung had helped her out a few times.

“Just a handful, all sent by Woo but…” she pouted at him, looking up through her lashes, voice teasing. “none of them ever last.”

Mingi took the camera into his hand, gripping it and smirking down at y/n. “If there’s one thing I’m great at…”

His voice was so much deeper now, practically rumbling as he stepped back, gesturing towards the pink wall cabinet she had showed him before, letting her know he was ready to get started when she was.

“is letting a woman come first.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @dejatiny @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @hannahlilibet411

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Your Vampire: Chapter One

Fit as a Fiddle

(Max Phillips x f!reader)

Words: 1, 197

Summary: after being dumped by your fiancé, your friend and boss, Max Phillips comes to your rescue. You know his biggest secret…

Warnings: medical procedures mentioned, the worst ex in the world, mild swearing, lots of crying, no y/n, reader has nickname Garland

Check out masterlist here

“We need to talk.” That was what he said before you went into surgery.

It was hard to hear over the fog of anaesthesia lifting away. It was almost like floating underwater, but it wasn’t hard to understand what he was saying.

Yesterday, you were somewhat happily engaged to Jacob with plans to potentially start planning a wedding in the somewhat distant future. Now you didn’t even have a ring on your finger. The crushing pain creeping up your chest was worse than the pain from the surgery was going to be.

Then in walked your boss, Max Phillips with his three-piece suit and a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey Garland, how was surgery?”

You promptly burst into tears.

“He dumped me?”

“He what?”

“He dumped me!” you wailed. “I thought I was imagining it from the drugs wearing off but no, he definitely dumped me. Left a note just to confirm it and took my ring!”

“Did he dump you because you got cancer?”

“He didn’t exactly put it in those words but yes.”

“I always knew he was a prick but damn, that was a serious dick move.”

A fresh wave of tears started running down your face. Max started to hand you his handkerchief but realised the amount of tears and snot protruding from your face so he rethought his strategy. He handed you a nearby box of tissues.

“And I’ve got nowhere to go!” you said after blowing your nose.

“You don’t?”

“I won’t be living with Jacob anymore so now I’m technically homeless. I’ve just had surgery, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Well my dear, I happen to be the solution to all your problems!” you looked up at him in confusion. “I happen to have a spare room.”

You felt like the Wicked Witch of the East in that a house fell on you. So you began to think of your next logical move. Being logical helped in situations where you didn’t want to drown in emotions.

But this only left you numb. You barely remember the change in location. Everything was too much of a blur to notice anything. The only thing you remember is ending up on a couch that must belong to Max watching the screen of what must be Max’s TV. Unsure of what you were watching, but the colours and movement distracted you enough from yourself. If left alone with your thoughts, you would fall into the depth of a sadness so dark, no light would pierce it. Also, you ran out of tissues.

Max noticed this and proceeded to help you out of this darkness.

“I’ve had a very nice bed made up for you. Are you just going to lie there like an adorable couch potato?”

You mumbled something resembling a yes.

Max sighed, unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the coffee table so he could face you from your bundle of blankets.

“Seeing as you’re going to wallow in your own misery, you won’t object to what I’m going to say: that pathetic excuse of a human being you call your ex-boyfriend is possibly the biggest prick in the known world. He’s as self-centred as the sun but actually nothing revolves around him. Any objections so far?”

You said nothing so he continued.

“I really should have made a PowerPoint but if it weren’t for you, he would have no chance at a promotion.”

You mumbled something and he leaned in to hear you repeat, “I knew he’d be up for promotion.”

“Well he’s only up for consideration for potential promotion. He made the wrong move in dumping you.”

“I hope it hits him in the face how much he’s messed up,” you said with more conviction.

“There we go! There’s the Garland I used to know. Now come, I have some therapy for you.”

Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you followed Max to see what he had hanging from the spiral staircase.

“You just happen to have a punching bag with Jacob’s face on?”

“Doesn’t everyone have one?” You rolled your eyes as he handed you a bat. Nodding his head towards the punching bag, he said. “Come on, you know you want to.”

You started off just poking the punching bag, it didn’t move. Then you gave it a small whack. That small whack released a tiny bit of anger in you, and it felt good. You gave it another whack. But your stitches were preventing you from releasing your maximum fury, so you put your rage on the photo. You ripped it off the punching bag and continued ripping it.

Max let out an impressed whistle as you ripped the photo with your teeth.

“Bloodthirsty, I like it. Feel better?” he asked.

You spat out the paper, “I’m hungry now.”

“Good, what do you feel like?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll heat you up some soup.”

“I’m starving.”

One serving of good food later, you felt somewhat normal. As normal as you could be after surgery and then being dumped by your fiancé post-surgery. The hour suggested it was time for bed, so Max led you to where he assigned your bedroom.

“Really? A four-poster bed?”

“Hey, it’s romantically classy.”

“What type of bed do you have?”

He put a hand on your shoulder, “You need some rest, my dear.”

You were too tired to realise he was avoiding the question. It was actual needing a good night’s rest tiredness, not the drifting through life tiredness. Before you felt like a ghost drifting through existence but now you felt almost human again. Almost like yourself again.

You woke up feeling refreshed and happy. But then the pain across your abdomen reminded you of your current life situation. Instead of burrowing under the high-quality bedding, you got out of bed. It was the first step to recovery.

You took the first proper look at your surroundings. The bedroom you came out of seemed to be the only room that offered any privacy. The rest of the house was open plan. The high ceilings hinted the building was much older than its modern furnishings. A spiral staircase led up to a small loft, but you didn’t need to climb up to know this was not where Max slumbered. The only other option was the only other door. You found it led to the basement. You didn’t feel the coldness of the stone steps in your fluffy sock covered feet.

As you slowly descended, you took note of the stonework mixed with modern patchwork to fill in the holes. A solid glass floor preserved the stone floor giving off a peaceful but ominous feeling.

The basement looked like a typical basement for a typical business guy. The gym equipment was so typical it was funny. What wasn’t typical or normal in any way was the door in the floor.

It didn’t look like a trapdoor, just an odd quirk made by the architect. As you pondered the strange design, the door opened.

Out emerged Max Phillips as if from a slumber.

The two of you stared at each other for an awkward moment.

“So, I’m a vampire,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.”

Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic @galaxyedging @letsgobarbs @peepawispunk @missladym1981 @kirsteng42 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @ericamarie093 @yorksgirl

[regainingparadise]

I found more!

The Dead Can Hear You by breaking_of_dawn

[This is actually the fic that inspired the original post, and then I couldn’t find it again!]

Jon takes Gerry’s page from the hunters’ book. He swears to the dead man that he’d destroy it, but when he tries, he fails to fulfill his promise.

After and waking from his coma, touched and nearly claimed by The End, Jon manages to do something supposed to be impossible.

——

“And so Gerard Keay lived.”

Relationships: Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Gerard Keay, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain, Melanie King, Martin Blackwood

Additional Tags: End Avatar Gerard Keay, Gerard Keay Lives, Trans Gerard Keay, The Magnus Archives Season 4, basically season 4 but if gerry was alive, Eventual Romance, Developing Relationship, POV Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, POV Gerard Keay, canon divergence (eventually), neither jon nor gerry can actually really process their feelings

Words: 6,734 Chapters: 2/?

A Haunting Future by chlodobird

When Gerry gets home from one of Gertrude's business trips, he finds a page with his own name on it. This changes things

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49853032

Relationship: Gerard Keay & Gerard Keay

Characters:Gerard Keay, twice! - Character

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, why should Jon and Martin have all the doppelganger fun?, Time Travel, Fix-It, Gerard Keay Lives, But also, Canonical Character Death, Ghost Gerard Keay, there's two Gerrys!, Mentioned Gertrude Robinson, Gerard Keay Needs a Hug, both of him do :(, Angst and Feels, Hopeful Ending, Michael Distortion appears too but not enough for a character tag, just enough for plausible time shenanigans

Words: 2,100 Chapters: 1/1

Keep Your Head Up, Nothing Lasts Forever by WrongAndRight

Gerry wakes up.

It's March of 2012 and Gerry wakes up.

He's not dead anymore, shoved five years back into the past and back into his living, breathing, 24 year old body, and he realizes that this is a do-over.

There are a lot of things he'd like to fix.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59764435/chapters/152442340

Relationships: Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Gerard Keay, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Gerard Keay Lives, Mary Keay's A+ Parenting, Head Archivist Gertrude Robinson Era, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, to a point. it is 2012, Canon-Typical The Beholding Content (The Magnus Archives), Beholding Avatar Powers (The Magnus Archives), gerry's not properly an avatar but close enough, The Skin Book | Catalogue of the Trapped Dead (The Magnus Archives), References to Cancer, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we die like eric delano, Nightmares

Words: 8,845 Chapters: 3/?

Strung Along by chlodobird

[Not precisely the same moment, but a similar one with Gertrude] 

In 2008, when Gerry walks into Pinhole Books, he doesn’t find pools of blood or flaps of paper hanging to dry like bundles of herbs. Instead, he finds a book wrapped in threads. Much like many things with clinging cobwebs, this is very, very far from an accident.

(Mary wants a compliant son to help her study the Catalogue. She has plenty of other Leitners to use and no moral compass; she always gets her way.)

Relationships: Gerard Keay & Mary Keay, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Adelard Dekker & Gerard Keay

Characters: Gerard Keay, Mary Keay, Gertrude Robinson, Adelard Dekker

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical The Web Content (The Magnus Archives), Mind Control, Mary Keay's A+ Parenting, Abuse, (once again: Mary is awful.), Gerard Keay Lives, Gerard Keay Needs a Hug, Gertrude Robinson is stone cold, Leitner Books (The Magnus Archives), Angst, Bittersweet Ending, theoretically it's a happy ending but Gerry's very unhappy with it

Words: 4,742 Chapters: 1/1

I have read so many Gerry Keay fics where he comes back to life and says something like "you promised you'd burn the page!" all angry and sad before realizing that he's alive.

And I will happily read so many more with that exact same narrative beat. A+ angst every time.

[qwordavoider]

Fuck it Friday

This is something that I am potentially thinking about adding to my Parting Waves fic. Since @911coded tagged me, I figured I might as well get people's opinions on it before I write too much of it to turn back.

I am messing around with the idea of having Bobby be investigated by Internal Affairs following Buck's transfer. My thought is that it would begin after his transfer and the findings would come out before Buck's begun to make up with any of the 118. It would lead to even more angst and mess in repairing his relationships with the 118 and add to his guilt. Interact with this post if this is something you think I should add. Any of your thoughts and opinions are appreciated!!

The snippet of the idea is below the cut.

Background: Naomi Kato is the 217 captain you'll meet in chapter 4 :)

Buck finding out about it would go something like this:

"My union rep made it sound like everything related to my case had been dealt with.”

Kato hesitated and seemed to be thinking through her response, which only made the knot in Buck’s stomach worse. 

“I can’t disclose too many details yet, but I do know that they are launching an internal investigation in regard to Captain Nash’s past decisions about firefighters’ fitness to return to the job.”

If Buck’s jaw could physically be on the floor, it would be. They were investigating Bobby?

“I don’t understand. I thought the Chief only changed his mind because of my threat to sue.”

“That got his attention for sure, but it was also the other information you provided with the threat to sue. That caused some concern for the department and they wanted to sort it out internally to eliminate any potential problems in the future.”

Buck was trying to process all of this new information. He had never meant for Bobby or the 118 to be investigated. He had actually decided not to sue to hopefully avoid all of that. This was just going to add to the guilt he was already feeling from earlier today. 

“Are they discussing potential punishments for him?” Buck dared to ask.

“It is still an active investigation so unfortunately I can’t comment on any disciplinary action they plan to take. But Buck? I can see it in your eyes and from the little time I have gotten to know you, I can tell you are going to blame yourself for this. Don’t. You are not responsible for this. Nash made his own choices and that is why he is being investigated.”

tags (Parting Waves tags because I value y'all's opinions) @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator @sleepy-lazy-loser @sassybeautydiysports @cinderellarhea

[duachai]

HANA, DUL, SET : 104 - PARK SUNGHOON

Relationships form, relationships break, can you keep up?

How do you want it? How do you feel?

♱ PAIRING : PARK SUNGHOON X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : Last chapter was a text chapter, if you want to read it you have to read it on wattpad since the format doesn't translate. But you can do without it, but for some more context. LINKS : Wattpad | Book Link | Masterlist

The gym was filled with the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking, volleyballs slamming against the polished court, and the team's energetic shouts as they worked through their drills together. M/n, however, wasn't part of it.

Instead, he sat in the corner of the gym, knees brought to his chest as he scribbled aimlessly in his notebook. His bag sat by his feet, unzipped, with an array of snacks spread out.

He wasn't oblivious to the team's cold shoulders. It had been a week since the 1v1 game with Sunghoon and the resulting injury, and while Sunghoon had recovered well enough to join practice, the others still hadn't forgiven M/n for the incident.

After their text conversation, Sunghoon avoided M/n completely, his face going red and his eyes averting quickly. M/n didn't mean for his message to come off so... raunchy, but at least Sunghoon had a different expression on his face.

The Sunoo thing on the other hand was so much more difficult.

Across the court, Sunoo noticed M/n sitting alone and frowned. With a playful bounce in his step, he jogged over, clutching a volleyball in his hands.

"You actually did what I told you," Sunoo teased, putting the ball between his feet as he leaned over, hands on his knees and peering down at M/n's notebook. "You're making the rest of us look like total jocks."

M/n looked up, surprised by Sunoo's sudden presence. "What else am I supposed to do? They don't want me out there," he replied, his tone laced with frustration.

"Well, they're idiots," Sunoo said brightly, plopping down beside him. He nudged M/n's shoulder with his own. "They'll get over it. You're a sweetheart."

M/n couldn't help but laugh at that. "Sweetheart? Have you seen though Insta comments?"

"Take it or leave it." Sunoo grinned, tossing the volleyball into M/n's lap. "Come on, let's practice a little. If you sit here looking all bitchy, you're never gonna win them over."

M/n raised an eyebrow. "You really think a game of toss is gonna change their minds?"

"No," Sunoo admitted with a mischievous glint in his eye. "But it'll get you moving, and you've been staring at that notebook like it personally insulted you."

M/n chuckled, standing up and tossing the volleyball back to Sunoo. "Alright, fine. But if I mess up, I'm blaming you."

The two started passing the ball back and forth, their playful banter filling the corner of the gym. Sunoo's laughter rang out as he exaggeratedly flailed after a poorly thrown ball, earning a rare, genuine smile from M/n.

Across the court, Sunghoon's gaze flicked toward the pair. His jaw tightened as he watched Sunoo lean a little too close to M/n, laughing at something he'd said. Without thinking, Sunghoon grabbed a volleyball and hurled it in their direction.

The ball landed with a loud thud, just grazing Sunoo's shoulder.

"Ow!" Sunoo turned around, rubbing his shoulder. "What was that for?"

Sunghoon stalked over, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing slacking off?" he snapped. "You're supposed to be practicing with us, not... flirting."

Sunoo's cheeks flushed pink. "Flirting? You're insane."

"Am I?" Sunghoon shot back, his voice sharper than he intended. "You were glued to his ass all last week. You act like-" He cut himself off abruptly, realizing he'd said too much.

Sunoo's stepped closer to Sunghoon, bigging up to him a little. "Act like what?"

Sunghoon hesitated, his ears turning red. "Forget it," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Just stop getting distracted."

M/n, who had been silently watching the exchange, raised an eyebrow. Seeing Sunghoon so worked up was odd, but intriguing.

The tension was palpable, and for a moment, no one said a word.

"Alright, break it up!" Coach Park's voice cut through the awkward silence as he clapped his hands. "Enough drama. We're doing duo drills, and I'm pairing people up. Let's go!"

Sunghoon turned away without another word, stalking back to the court. Sunoo shot M/n a sheepish look, his earlier playfulness replaced with unease.

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all," M/n muttered as they made their way back to the group.

Coach Park's voice boomed as he began assigning pairs. "Sunghoon, you're with M/n. Sunoo, you're with Jake. Ni-ki with Jungwon, Heesung with Jay. Let's see some teamwork, people!"

M/n and Sunghoon locked eyes briefly, the earlier tension still hanging between them. As they stepped onto the court together, M/n couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

The court echoed with the sound of volleyballs hitting the floor as the team paired off. M/n stood awkwardly next to Sunghoon, who was busy tying his shoelaces.

"Try to keep up," Sunghoon muttered, standing upright and brushing imaginary dust off his shorts.

M/n hummed, trying to mask his nervousness. "You might be surprised."

Coach Park clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, pairs, listen up! The drill is simple: quick sets and dives. Communicate with your partner, and if one of you misses, the other has to cover. Got it? Good. Go!"

The pairs scattered to their areas of the gym. M/n and Sunghoon worked in tense silence at first, focusing solely on the drill. Despite the friction between them, M/n couldn't help but press his lips in a line as Sunghoon reached up, the fabric of his uniform threating against his arm. Every movement Sunghoon made was deliberate, efficient, and if M/n was being honest intimidatingly graceful.... and sexy. But his attitude was not at the slightest.

"You're late on your dives," Sunghoon said sharply as M/n missed a save.

"Maybe if you set better, I wouldn't have to dive so much," M/n shot back, brushing off the sting of Sunghoon's criticism.

Sunghoon glared at him. "I'm setting fine. You're just slow."

"I'll show you slow," M/n muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as they got back into position.

The drill continued with more intensity. The two pushed each other, the frustration between them bleeding into their performance. Sunghoon aimed a spike that forced M/n to dive hard, and M/n returned the favor by setting a ball just out of Sunghoon's reach, smirking when Sunghoon barely saved it.

Finally, during one particularly chaotic rally, M/n went for a low dig, his fingers barely grazing the ball to keep it in play. Sunghoon, charging forward to spike the return, tripped over M/n's outstretched arm.

Time seemed to slow as Sunghoon tumbled forward, colliding with M/n and sending them both sprawling to the floor.

When the dust settled, Sunghoon was straddling M/n, his hands braced on either side of M/n's head to keep himself steady. M/n stared up at him, wide-eyed and momentarily stunned.

"Are you-" Sunghoon started to ask, but his words faltered as their eyes locked.

The world around them seemed to fade, the sounds of the gym muffled as an unexpected tension crackled in the air. Sunghoon's face was so close that M/n could feel the faint warmth of his breath. His dark eyes searched M/n's face, as if trying to decipher the emotions flickering there.

"You... okay?" Sunghoon finally said, his voice softer than M/n had ever heard it.

M/n blinked, his brain scrambling to process the situation. "Uh, yeah. Fine," he managed, his voice a little too quick, a little too high.

Sunghoon's lips twitched. M/n's face burned, but he refused to look away. "Get off me," he muttered, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, leaning in just slightly, his expression a little annoyed at M/n's order. "You could say please."

Before M/n could respond, or process the jolt that ran through him at Sunghoon's teasing tone, Sunoo's voice broke the spell.

"Hey!" Sunoo called, jogging over with a concerned expression. "M/n, are you alright?"

Sunghoon immediately pulled back, standing and brushing himself off as he tried to hide a glare at Sunoo. "We're fine," he said curtly, avoiding M/n's gaze as he offered a hand to help him up.

M/n hesitated for half a second before taking it, his heart still racing as Sunghoon pulled him to his feet.

Coach Park's voice cut through the moment. "Less flirting, more focus! This is a drill, not a kdrama!"

The rest of the team laughed, and M/n and Sunghoon both avoided each other's eyes as they got back into position.

But as the drill continued, M/n couldn't shake the feeling of Sunghoon's weight on top of him or the way Sunghoon had looked at him. And from the glances Sunghoon kept sneaking his way, M/n wasn't the only one who felt it.

Coach Park blew the whistle, signaling the start of the duo matches. Each pair was assigned to face off against another in a timed round-robin format. The goal? Earn the most points in the allotted time.

M/n and Sunghoon, already strained from their earlier interactions, struggled to find a rhythm. While other duos worked seamlessly, the tension between them was palpable.

"Set it higher next time," Sunghoon barked after a failed spike.

"It was fine. You just jumped late," M/n snapped back, wiping sweat from his brow. Their communication, or lack thereof proved disastrous. They lost their first match and barely scraped by in the second, but by the final round, they were dead last.

When the whistle blew, Coach Park approached with an amused but stern expression. "Well, looks like the dream team didn't quite deliver. Last place means you're on clean-up duty. Everyone else, hit the showers. Great work today!"

The team filed out, some snickering as they passed M/n and Sunghoon, who were left alone in the now quiet gym. Sunghoon sighed, grabbing a mop. "This is your fault, you know."

M/n rolled his eyes, picking one up as well. "Oh, right, because you're pretty mister perfect."

They worked in relative silence, the occasional scrape of the slosh of the mop filling the air. Despite their bickering, the task gave them a rare moment of calm, until Sunghoon accidentally splashed water onto M/n's shoes.

"Seriously?" M/n groaned, glaring at him.

Sunghoon chuckled. "Oops."

M/n grabbed the nearest water bottle and squirted it at Sunghoon, who yelped in surprise. The impromptu water fight lasted a few chaotic seconds before both burst into laughter, the tension between them momentarily forgotten.

"Okay, okay no more, Shin" Sunghoon offered, holding up his hands.

M/n chuckled, nodding. "Fine."

After finishing their clean-up, the two headed to the locker room, sweaty and exhausted. The rest of the team had already left, leaving the space quiet and dimly lit.

Sunghoon pulled off his shirt, tossing it into his locker. M/n sat on the bench nearby, casually unlacing his shoes, though his attention kept flickering toward Sunghoon. Something about the usually confident boy seemed... off.

"You're quiet," M/n remarked, his tone light. "That's new."

Sunghoon shrugged, keeping his eyes on the contents of his locker. "Just tired, I guess."

M/n tilted his head, studying him. "Doesn't seem like that's all. You're hiding something."

Sunghoon froze for a split second before shaking his head. "Stop projecting."

M/n leaned back, crossing his arms with expression between amused and curious. "You've been acting weird since I got here."

Sunghoon sighed, shutting his locker a little harder than necessary. "Drop it, okay?"

But M/n wasn't going to down. "Why? You're usually the first one to pick a fight with me after treating me like a- I don't know, a stray fucking cat the other day. What's your deal?"

Sunghoon hesitated, his fingers tightening around the strap of his gym bag. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. Finally, he turned to face M/n, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"You really want to know?" Sunghoon asked, his voice softer than usual.

"Yes, stop leaving me on the edge and just tell me."

Sunghoon exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "I- I... it's you," he admitted, his cheeks tinged pink. "You've been messing with my head since the moment you got here."

M/n blinked, caught off guard by the confession. "Me? What did I do?"

Sunghoon let out a small, nervous laugh, avoiding M/n's gaze. "You exist. That's enough."

M/n's lips parted slightly; his curiosity piqued. "Wait, are you saying... you like me?"

Sunghoon groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Why do you have to say it like that?"

"Because it's kind of line between you hating me because you wanna be me or hating me because you wanna be with me," M/n replied, standing up and taking a step closer. "I didn't think you even liked having me around, let alone... that."

Sunghoon finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting M/n's. "It's not like I planned this, okay? You drive me crazy and always pushing my buttons, always getting under my skin. But... I can't stop thinking about you."

M/n's heart skipped a beat at the raw honesty in Sunghoon's voice. For once, the usually confident boy seemed completely unsure of himself, and it was strangely endearing.

"Well," M/n said slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That explains a lot. Like why you've been glaring at Sunoo every time he talks to me."

Sunghoon's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. "I wasn't glaring," he muttered defensively.

"You were totally glaring," M/n teased, stepping even closer their faces not too far away. "Jealous much?" Sunghoon's back pushed into his closed locker. M/n was intimidating, his foot between Sunghoon's as he placed a hand on the locker, the shorter's breath brushing on Sunghoon's skin.

Before Sunghoon could respond, a faint sound caught their attention. They both turned toward behind the row of lockers, where Sunoo stood frozen, his water bottle clutched in his hand.

Sunoo's wide eyes darted between them, and for a moment, no one said anything. Then, with a forced laugh, Sunoo waved awkwardly. "Uh... sorry. Didn't mean to eavesdrop. I just... forgot this."

He quickly turned on his heel, leaving M/n and Sunghoon in an awkward silence.

Sunghoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Great. Now he probably thinks we're fucking like Heesung and Jake."

M/n chuckled softly, leaning against the locker beside Sunghoon. "We stood close to each other for 10 seconds and you think that? You are ovulating, Park Sunghoon."

"Shut up. You know what I meant. Coach finds out we're... entangled he'd have our heads and I'd never be able to live it down if Heesung and Jake find out they aren't the only gays around."

"Then we have to be silent. Can you keep a secret, Park Sunghoon?" 

[panomiels-box]

『more project eden's garden ramblings ≫ spoilers! ⚠︎』

my thoughts on the potential meanings of the newly released imitation drawings (jett and ulysses + kai) by nifast greentail

⚠︎ TW for sensitive topics

jett

≫ let's begin with jett's. this is clearly a reference to his drag racing accident that left him with burn scars. the word 'confess' is engraved on the trophy he's holding, and a threatening shadowy face is also reflected on it. there's a small skull with a hat just behind it too, almost blending in with the flames on jett's head. just from these details alone, my take away is that the real jett dawson actually died from that accident, and someone has been pretending to be him since.

i think that "someone" is probably his twin, and i'm just kind of rolling with that because jett is a gemini and i also just like the idea lol. perhaps he had a twin so jealous of his talent, or so stricken with grief from his death that they started pretending to be him, either to a point they actually think they are jett, or are aware that he is dead and pretends to be him to not worry his family, friends, and fans. which means that the real reason why they won't show their face despite being jett's twin and therefore pretty identical in appearance, is because they don't have any major scars or burns, so showing their perfectly unharmed face would give away that they are in fact, not jett.

ulysses

≫ let's move on to ulysses's. in it, we can see him sitting behind a greek (?) statue that's covered in mushrooms with its head broken off. ulysses is writing in his notebook, and we can peek inside that he is writing himself reminders of basic essential needs (to eat, breathe, feel, shower...) as well as others that aren't fully visible but can be guessed: sle[ep], brush [teeth], and reme[mber]. my thoughts on this is that ulysses was neglected growing up. i believe we can also infer that from some of the things he says in chapter 1, so this illustration really reinforces it for me.

ulysses eventually found refuge in studying history, and his whole world proceeded to evolve around it. i believe the neglect he went through causes him to very regularly forget to take care of himself and his basic needs. combine that with his immense interest for history, he becomes even more likely to forget these things due to how engrossed he can get. he's highly likely suffering from memory loss due to the trauma. he might've even changed his name due to this - ulysses isn't a super common name after all, and i also don't see neglectful parents choosing a name like that for their kid.

in fact, i wonder if the word ulysses is writing starting with "reme" is supposed to be just the word "remember", as in to imply "remember this important part of yourself that you've forgotten" or simply another reminder similar to eat, sleep, etc... but considering those don't have the word "remember" written before them, i believe in the former more. or, it's not at all the word remember, but maybe "remedy", or any other word starting in "reme". what that could mean however, i don't know...

kai

≫ now let's talk about the last one, kai's. he is seen in a bathroom, completely hunched over an open toilet with his phone beside him, surrounded by pink butterflies. his expression is hidden by his natural black hair, although his reflection in the mirrors behind him show his pink hair and the black sweatshirt he usually wears.

my immediate take away is that kai used to suffer from an eating disorder. that's just how the illustration speaks to me. i think it's not too much of a shot in the dark considering he's the ultimate influencer, and before receiving the title he was already an online personality. therefore kai, from a super young age, has been constantly scrutinised by strangers, and being online all the time routinely exposed him to the insane standards that's put online. plus knowing how kai is, which is clearly very sensitive on what people think of him, i wouldn't be too surprised if he ended up developing an ed from stress and other factors. we don't really know about his home life either after all, apart that he lives alone (?) from his ftes.

as for the black hair and pink butterflies (and the person (who's also kai) standing in front of him, reflected in the mirror on the left), i think it's supposed to represent this was how kai used to be, and not how he is now. considering butterflies can symbolise things like rebirth, change, self-discovery etc, i think kai was able to find a way to heal. i did put down social medias as the potential cause for his ed, but maybe it's also what helped him make a recovery. the people he met through it, and his fans in general, provided him with support and love he probably really needed. combine that with therapy, and i can see kai blossoming into who he is now.

end note

alright, that's all i have to say i think! what amazing illustrations. i'm somehow even more hyped for what's to come with this game!! so so cool. go support nifast and check out his other imitation drawings! i'll probably do a few more posts analysing the other ones ♡

[hikamancer]

A Perspective on Arthur, Dutch and Hosea

As the game progresses, there are a lot of ways Arthur becomes more and more similar to Hosea, most especially in chapter 6. Much like Hosea, Arthur questions and confronts Dutch on behalf of the well being of the other gang members. Like Hosea, he feels and expresses remorse for the decisions he's made in life and regrets that he has little time to change things and make them right. All throughout chapters 1-4, you can hear Hosea having heavy bouts of coughing, and it's implied that, like Arthur, he's dying of an illness. Hell, Arthur even looks kinda like Hosea when he was younger.

But perhaps the clearest example of their similarities is when Dutch outright says it during this conversation in chapter 5.

"You sound like Hosea. I miss... him."

What stands out to me about this line and its delivery is how dismissive it feels. When Dutch hears Arthur expressing concern about the rest of the gang, reminding him of the potential of costing more lives with his recklessness, he doesn't fully hear it as Arthur speaking. He hears Hosea's words, and it strikes grief in him, but he doesn't respond to what Arthur is saying.

I think that to Dutch, Hosea and Arthur always had their specific places/roles at his side. Dutch and Hosea co-founded the gang, united by a common dream. They'd been close friends for 20 years, and Hosea was always there as his consultant. He respected Hosea perhaps the most out of anyone in the gang, and he was one of the few people who he'd actually listen to and seek advice from.

On the other hand, Arthur is the boy whom he and Hosea raised. They brought him up into their life of crime, teaching him, instilling their values into him, and he became their protégé and the gang's lead enforcer. That's the way it was for Dutch. He was the leader, Hosea was the right hand and the brains, Arthur was the left hand and the brawn. And he loved and relied on them both for what they were. But while his love for Hosea was one born out of a more genuine respect of equals, his love for Arthur came with taking him very much for granted. Like a loyal guard dog.

But now Hosea is gone, and Dutch has lost the only voice that kept him in check. The disastrous Saint Denis bank heist and Guarma have left Dutch completely disarmed, but instead of actually reflecting on the deaths he's responsible for, and recognizing what's at stake for the rest of the gang, he instead scrambles to reassert himself and continue trying to "win the chess game" so to speak ("Maybe life ain't such a thing to cling onto so tightly").

(It's worth noting that the chess moves Dutch recites before intiating this conversation is an actual maneuever called "the Dutch Defense," where you sacrifice all your pieces to win.)

But Arthur has started to see things beyond just Dutch and his game, especially after his TB diagnosis. Though Arthur, at his heart, remains loyal to Dutch, he was also loyal to Hosea and, consciously or not, espoused himself to Hosea's ideals of prioritizing the safety and morality of the gang ("I guess I'm more interested in saving lives than winning at chess").

Dutch, however, does not properly recognize Arthur's shift in perspective. Throughout chapter 6, he views Arthur's many attempts at saving those around him as acts of disloyalty and betrayal. Because Arthur's role has not changed in his mind at all. Arthur is still meant to be his muscle, his workhorse, to have his back, because that's what he relies on him for. But Arthur is speaking and acting on ideas above that station. "You sound like Hosea." And so he dismisses Arthur's concerns, dismisses his actions as disloyalty. And it hurts him. All he can see is Arthur changing and turning on him, and that breaks his heart. And he responds to these feelings by detaching himself from Arthur, lashing out at him in anger and disappointment, clinging ever tighter to his own interests and leaning on Micah, a blatant yesman to all of his reckless actions.

It's not until the very end that Dutch is able to realize those feelings. When Arthur, beaten and dying, is lying at his feet. Warning him of Micah, telling him how he gave him all he had, that he tried so hard to save everyone and was still trying to save Dutch. This boy that he raised, that he loved for 20 years, gave him everything. And Dutch did nothing but take advantage of him until it was too late.

I think in that moment, not only did he see Arthur dying, he finally saw Hosea dying in front of him as well. Only then, once everything else had fallen apart, did he realize how much he loved Arthur, how much he loved Hosea, how much they and everyone else who died loved him, and that it was all his fault. And being confronted with that reality, seeing it in the fading of Arthur's eyes, hearing it in his last breaths, was too much for him to bear.

So he just walks away.

[taurasiluv]

OFF THE RECORD. 01 — bad news. — masterlist -> next chapter

summary: nicole allen, senior uconn journalist major, gets assigned to the biggest douchebag that storrs conneticut has ever seen—breanna stewart—for her senior project.

cw: ooc stewie... stewie being an asshole !

word count: 2.5k

msg from sen: new series that has been long awaited<3 i hope evb enjoys this as much as i enjoyed writing it. i loveeee this oc soooo much shes so

“are you being serious right now?” she asked, her tone serious and unwavering.

“i’m sorry nicole, i wasn’t the one who chose it.” ryan shrugged, handing her a stack of papers.

nicole took her hatred for breanna stewart very seriously. not only was she the star player of the uconn women’s basketball team, 3 national championships and counting under her sleeve, she was the biggest douchebag ever.

she had known at least 3 girls just this year that were played by her. promised a nice dinner date just to be hooked up with then left for dead. she looked at women like they were pieces of meat and got her fill then left.

she also just happened to have a hatred for hot jocks. which of course breanna fit.

so of course, she had to get breanna to shadow for her senior project. she had to follow around breanna every day for an entire year.

this was going to be hell.

“can’t i switch with literally anyone else?” she asked again, following ryan down the hallway.

“you’ll have to ask, but i doubt it.”

“fuck you ryan!” she yelled as she stopped in her tracks.

“love you too nikki!” he yelled back, still making his way down the corridor.

nicole spun on her heels, turning back to the main journalism room to go negotiate with her colleagues. she walked into the room, a scowl on her face without her realizing because her friend, bianca, pointed it out. “woah someone’s not happy about their assignment!” she laughed, kicking the chair next to her out so nicole could sit. “so, who is it?”

“breanna stewart,” she frowned, slouching in her seat.

the reaction from bianca wasn’t positive, a groan coming from her. “good luck, don’t hookup with her. i got tyler davis, he’s on the football team.”

“lucky! we should switch,” nicole pouted, looking at her with puppy dog eyes.

“good try nikki. i gotta go get ready to see him tomorrow so… gotta go.” she grinned, getting up.

nicole groaned, flopping forward and letting her head rest against the table. she heard bianca laugh as she left the room. now, nicole was all alone in the journalism room, debating on emailing breanna about the assignment or leaving it to be a later issue.

she begrudgingly dug her laptop out of her backpack, opening it and logging in. as she waited for her computer to boot up, she flipped through the packet of background information in search of breanna’s email. she found it, opening up gmail and typing in the email address on the paper.

Hello Breanna!

I’m Nicole Allen, a journalism student and I was assigned to shadow you for your senior year. I believe your advisor should’ve also sent you an email about this. We can set up a meeting soon to go over my assignment and what it entails! Please reply as soon as you can.

Thank you, have a good day.

Nicole Allen

she attempted to make her email sound as professional as possible, a weak attempt to hide the dislike for her. she hit send and shut her computer, packing it up and leaving the room.

she walked from campus to her dorm room, throwing her backpack down on the bed and moving to go change into something more comfortable before continuing her study on her assignment. she grabbed a pop tart and hopped up onto her bed, opening her computer and refreshing her email.

to her surprise, breanna actually responded within a reasonable amount of time. she clicked the email open, no subject attached and read the following,

k lit tmr at 1 at the cafe by gampel? i got practice b4 then

nicole’s eyes went wide, surprised at the level of unprofessionalism coming from her. she couldn’t be that surprised though, she clearly didn’t care about the girls she was with, why would she care about the way she wrote emails. she rolled her eyes, replying back with a simple,

Sounds good! See you tomorrow.

she shut her laptop once more, tossing it to the side and looking at the packet of information once more. simple stuff in it, contact information, background, accomplishments, etc. she was well decorated by all accounts, explains her cocky attitude.

—

“did anybody else get assigned some journalism chick for the year?” breanna yelled out, walking out into the living room of her dorm.

tuck came out of her room, raising her eyebrow and opening her email on her phone. she scrolled through the unopened emails, finding a similar ones. “yeah, ryan from english. who’d you get?” she asked, walking over to breanna.

“uh some chick named nicole,” she shrugged.

“what’s her last name?” tuck asked, looking over her shoulder to see the email.

“allen, why?”

“isn’t that the friend of that one girl you were seeing during the summer?” she asked.

breanna’s eyebrows furrowed while she attempted to think. “which one?”

“oh my god you dog!” tuck punched her shoulder with a smile. breanna feigned pain, groaning dramatically. “the blonde one, remember?”

“ohh yeah her,” breanna nodded with a grin. “she was kinda annoying, not gonna lie.” she shrugged.

“well, better get your shit together quick, you’re gonna be working with her friend for a whole year!” tuck laughed at her, walking back to her room.

breanna plopped down onto the couch, exiting the email app on her phone and moving over to the instagram app. she typed in nicole’s name, finding her profile and scrolling through. she scrolled for a while, taking a mental note of how gorgeous she was.

—

the next day, nicole found herself scrambling out of bed and getting all of her stuff together. she spent most of her night preparing her first interview. she took her major very seriously. ever since she was little she wanted to do sports journalism, and now she was actually doing it. in the best basketball city she could be in, interviewing the biggest college basketball star in the country.

too bad breanna stewart was an asshole.

finally, she got her bag together and put into her car and drove down to gampel pavilion, parking outside of the nearby cafe and ordering herself a coffee before sitting down. she set all her papers out neatly and got her computer open and ready to the assignment details so she could share them with breanna.

she checked the time, 1:10, and still no breanna.

maybe practice ran late, that’s fine.

1:30.

she knew little about the women’s basketball coach, but she knew that he was hard and strict. so maybe he’s keeping her after practice, whatever.

1:45.

nicole found herself begin to get annoyed, she knew working with breanna for a whole year was going to be a pain in the ass, but not like this.

2:00.

finally, breanna came through the door. hair sticking to her forehead from sweat and friends following closely behind her. they were laughing and talking, but breanna quickly locked her eyes onto nicole. she said her goodbyes and sat down. nicole could already feel her checking her out.

“you’re nikki, right? my journalist chick or whatever?”

“nicole. and, yes. i assume your advisor emailed you about it as well?” she said, handing a piece of paper over to breanna that explained the details.

“yeah but i didn’t check, thought id come in blind. so… what are you writing anyways?”

nicole sighed, “a newspaper about you. it’ll be released at the end of your season.”

breanna stuck her bottom lip out and nodded, “cool. when do we start?”

“sometime this week, tomorrow preferably. but i know you have a tight schedule with basketball, so whatever works for you.”

“why don’t you come to some of my practices?” she asked with a sly grin, leaning in.

nicole pushed herself back in the chair, attempting to gain space between the two of them. “uhm. yeah i probably will. what day works for you for our next interview?”

“let’s do tomorrow… 5 pm over dinner?” breanna raised her eyebrows.

nicole knew what she was getting at, a date. but she didn’t want to be another one of breanna’s fuck buddies, not when she was actively trying to write an article about her.

“i’m not going on a date with you, stewie. but, tomorrow at 5 works for me. we can go to the library.” she offered.

breanna fell back in her chair, frowning at her failed attempt. “sounds good.”

“let me get your number so we can keep in contact that’s not over email.” nicole said, handing her phone over.

“no dinner date but you want my number? whatever you want, pretty girl.” she smirked, typing in the digits to her phone number and putting in a contact name before handing it back to her.

nicole felt herself recoil at the other girls sentence, especially the pet name. she scowled and took her phone back. “i guess ill see you tomorrow at 5.” nicole said, beginning to put her things away.

—

that night, breanna made her way back to her dorm and opened the door to moriah, tuck, and saniya all gathered together on the couch talking.

saniya was the first one to turn back and see breanna, a mischievous grin on her face. “sooo, you kissin’ on the news girl yet?” she grinned.

“not yet, i’m gonna be seeing her the whole year though so, just you wait.” she grinned cockily, throwing her gym bag down and throwing herself onto the couch next to moriah.

“so, tell us what happened?” tuck raised her eyebrow, sliding a wine cooler across the table towards where breanna was laying.

“genos gonna fucking kill us if anybody figures out we’re storing alcohol in the room,” she said. her complaint not stopping her from picking up the bottle and popping it open. “she just told me about her assignment thing. she’s writing a news paper about me, i guess.” she shrugged her shoulders as she lifted the bottle to her lips, letting the liquid pour into her mouth and down her throat.

they talked about it for a bit more, going around the table and talking about who they each got for the project and how they were. finally, it got back to breanna, she was busy on her phone (definitely not stalking nicole’s instagram, no. not at all.). “stew, let’s make a bet,” moriah said, pulling her wallet out of her pocket. everybody else followed suit, pulling their wallets or loose cash out and waiting to hear the details.

“let’s hear it,” breanna said, spinning herself around to sit right side up and also search for her wallet out of her gym shorts.

“everybody put a 5 in,” she said, throwing the bill down onto the coffee table. everybody set down the bills on the table, now, there was a small pile of $5 bills sat in the middle of the table. “if stew doesn’t bone the girl by the of the year, everybody except her has to split the pot. if she does bone her by the end of the year, she wins it all. deal?”

breanna grinned. she has always been competitive and always got the woman she wanted so, this would be easy in theory. “deal.”

—

the next day, nicole found herself thinking about breanna even when she didn’t need to be. instead of paying attention to whatever her professor was saying in the lecture, her mind was wandering about breanna. she was disgusted with herself, she had caught herself thinking about her several times that day and every time she couldn’t get the feeling of disgust to go away.

maybe it was just cause they were seeing each other later for the interview, that’s why she couldn’t get her out of her head.

that’s what she was choosing to believe anyways.

soon enough, the lecture ended and she was walking back to her dorm to get ready for the interview. she had complied a list of easy questions to start her off and to gather some more background information about breanna. she threw in a hoodie, knowing storrs was bound to be cold at night, and got her bag ready. on her way to the library she picked up a snack and waters for the both of them.

now, it was just a matter of time til breanna joined her at the library.

unlike their first meeting, breanna actually made an effort to arrive on time and arrive looking mildly more presentable than her sweat covered after practice look. nicole was pleased with this, it already being late, she didn’t want to wait more than she absolutely needed to.

after breanna sat down, they sat in uncomfortable silence for a bit. nicole got out her notebook and papers while breanna sat awkwardly on the other end of the table.

“so… how was your day?” breanna asked.

“uhm, fine. just had a couple classes. you?”

“pretty much the same. had early practice though.”

and then it was awkward silence again.

finally, nicole cleared her throat.

“i’m gonna start off with just some simple questions, is that good?”

“yeah! that’s fine. you make it sound like i’m act the doctors office.” breanna laughed a little, sitting more comfortably in her chair while she awaited her question.

“what got you into basketball in the first place?”

“i dunno. just started playing and i liked it a lot more than softball.” she shrugged.

nicole sighed. the realization that breanna was not a very good interviewee and she would have to fill in a lot of the gaps began settling in. she jotted down a few things into her notebook, breanna began to lean over the table, curious to see what she was writing.

nicole tugged the notebook away, propping it up against the edge of the desk and her body so breanna couldn’t see it. “you will be able to read everything once it’s fully finished.”

“so i just have to answer your questions and not even know what the fuck you’re writing about for a whole year?” she sighed, slouching back in her defeated.

“exactly! glad you understand.” nicole gave a snarky smile, putting her notebook back on the table and continuing to write.

they chatted for a bit more, nicole asked more simple questions. stuff about her family and what inspires her. she could feel breanna’s eyes practically burning a hole in her the entire time, so she decided to say something at the end of the session.

breanna had gotten up and picked up her bag before nicole stopped her. “wait, before you leave stewie.”

breanna stopped, turning around and cocking her head.

“under absolutely no circumstances is this,” she gestured wildly between them, “ever going to happen. you will never get me to go on a date with you or hookup with you, this is purely professional. nothing more, nothing less.”

“fine.” she shrugged, “but can i at least walk you home, it’s dark.”

nicole sighed and sat in silence for a little bit, mulling over her options. she stood up next to door, suddenly realizing how small she was near breanna and began walking.

“if you’re walking me, hurry up!”

[aftgficrec]

Neil & Matt shenanigans?

I gotta wonder if any of these were written from personal experience… -A

previous recs for matt & neil friendship:

Matt & Neil or Matt/Neil* here

Allison & Neil or Matt & Neil** here

Matt & Neil forehead kisses here

‘The Christmas Gift,’ ‘baby, it's cold outside,’ and ‘andreil’s christmas time with dan and matt’ here

‘it's sad but true (how much i miss you)’ here

‘My Best Friend’ here

‘Secrets’ and ‘'ah yes, my shirt will cover this'’ here

‘disarm you with a smile’ here

‘A Form Of Endearment’ here

‘work in progress’ here 

‘I'll Race You There’ here

‘when you are close to me (i shiver)’ here and ‘when you are close to me (the thumping in my chest remix)’ here

‘skylight’ here

‘Clear as Day’ here

‘I Spy’ here

‘Already Taken’ here

‘Bad Apple’ and ‘You are a Fox’ here

‘Scars Like Stars’ here (updated)

‘Someone New’ here

‘I will help you swim’ and ‘Looking in the Mirror Never Felt so Good’ here

‘Wish I Had a River’ here

‘White Hands’ here

‘if i could look past the present’ here

‘I Quit Talking Again, I Know You're Still Listening’ here

‘and when i'm a little unsteady (stay a while with me)’ here

‘Blood Spilled (But None Wasted)’ here

‘Cryptid Serial Killer Witch Man’ and ‘The endless mental math required to simply survive.’ here

‘Sent to Drain’ here

‘Do I want to know if this feeling goes both ways?’ here

‘If You Love Me, Come Clean’ here

‘A Quiet Little Seedling’ here

more shenanigans-y:

*hijinks from Matt & Neil or Matt/Neil: ‘Come Get It Now,’ ‘diet mountain dew,’ ‘tampons’ tumblr fics, ‘Breaking News, the Josten-Boyd Affair,’ ‘do some matt and neil best friend headcanons,’ and ‘a thought.’  here

**M&N hijinks from Allison & Neil or Matt & Neil: ‘chef!andrew trying (and failing) to woo picky eater neil,’ ‘Dare You,’ ‘together…Chapter 22: Too Drunk,’ ‘Matt Boyd and Neil Josten Bromance…,’ and ‘and you’re shining like the brightest stars…’ here

‘I'll be home for Christmas (You can count on me),’ ‘pointless traditions,’ and ‘Merry & Bright’ ch 14, 24 here

‘brosten being dumb and doing stupid shit’ here

‘Mis-Match’ here

‘Perennial’ and ‘Neighbours’ series here

‘Seeing Colors’ here

‘Falling in love in a...Dance Club?,’ ‘Fox magic! Thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?!’ (updated), and ‘Proper Decorum’ here

‘Spinning Wheels’ and ‘We're A Mess’ here 

‘A Day Out with Dad’ here

‘We Used To Be Friends’ here (completed)

‘The Runaway Game’ here

‘5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it’ here

‘We Can Be Soft’ here

‘Seasons of memory’ here

‘sugar, sugar & everything sugar’ here

‘In the Eye of the Beholder’ and ‘Wait, Neil Has a Boyfriend?’ here

‘call it what you want’ and ‘Andrew scares the waiter’ here

‘12 Ways to Woo a Minyard’ here

‘The Rob Chronicles’ series here

Boys' Night by knoxham [Rated T, 2871 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020]

Having the evening to themselves, Matt and Neil plan an awesome Boys' Night that consists of movies, a surplus amount of food, and maybe a bit too much alcohol. Everything starts off great, but when they wake up the next morning with no memories, no money, and no eyebrows, they try to retrace their steps to figure out what the hell happened last night and run into a few problems.

tw: alcohol

Neil's Bright Idea by Demi_jos10 [Rated G, 1954 Words, Complete, 2018]

Neil loses his first bet with the Upperclassmen.

I’m sorry, I said Ikea sucks (I just bought a table for 60 bucks) byAcetober (allfortheBoyds) [Rated T, 1715 Words, Complete, 2023]

“Neil,” Matt says once he gets his words back. “Buddy, no. That is an actual crime.” Neil only looks at him in confusion. “It’s just a store,” He argues and Matt does his best not to groan in despair. “It’s not just a store. It’s Ikea. It’s an experience.” or Neil has never been to ikea, Matt takes it upon himself to change that

Lost Cause by Current_hyperfixation07 [Rated T, 7108 Words, Complete, 2024]

The one where Neil Josten faces his toughest challenge yet - finding a date to Senior Prom. Or 5 times the Foxes try to find Neil a date to Prom, and the 1 time he finds a date himself. Neil is oblivious, Andrew is smitten, and the Foxes are trying their hardest to get Neil a prom date by sending him on a series of blind dates. What could go wrong?

a drunk neil josten is an honest neil josten by sam_sational [Rated T, 2574 Words, Complete, 2023]

"You should probably change your pants first, Aaron will stab you if you ruin his reputation at Eden's." After Dan, Renee, and Allison graduate, Matt gets roped into going to Eden's on a Friday night. Neil is more open than usual.

don't be afraid of the beautiful and high mountain by Leahelisabeth (fortheloveofcamelot) [Rated G, 3194 Words, Complete, 2020, Locked]

Previously recced here

It only took a second for it all to go to shit. One moment, Matt was taking in the spectacular view through the lens of his camera, capturing the way Neil’s hair glowed in the sunlight, and the next, he heard the sound of sliding rock and Neil is gone. Matt and Neil take a day to go hiking and very little of it goes to plan.

tw: serious injury, tw: blood/gore, tw: vomit

2:26 by rather__odd [Not Rated, 1537 Words, Complete, 2023]

Previously recced here

No one expected Neil to be good with kids, least of all Neil. That was before Penelope.

A Real Knock-Out by SensationalSunburst [Rated G, 1377 Words, Complete, 2018]

Matt liked being the guy that people could depend on. So, when Andrew left him on Neil Duty on Eden’s overcrowded dance floor, he took it seriously. Matt had been surprised that’d he’d been invited at all, even more so when he actually accepted, but as a man put a heavy hand on Neil’s shoulder, spinning him around, Matt was glad he came.

tw: implied/referenced racism, tw: attempted noncon

I'll Follow You (into the light) by DeyaAmaya [Rated T, 5576 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange 2018]

Previously recced here

Neil is a paramedic in a rainy city. Andrew will be gone in a few months. And Stuart Hatford just wants Neil to find a date.

tw: homophobia

Neil Josten Builds Himself a Life by tomat0head [Rated T, 9424 Words, Complete, 2021]

Previously recced here

After spending years of his life on the run, then more time under the careful watch of the FBI, Neil is finally free to live on his own and start a new, real life with his best friend and FBI supervisor, Matt, at his side. Along the way, Neil meets a five foot nothing goth wannabe Ikea builder, adopts a cat that is half demon, and makes a group of weird, somewhat annoying friends. This is the story of how one Neil Josten, after years of struggle, finally builds himself a life.

If You Ask Nicely by harvroth [Rated G, 967 Words, Complete, 2016]

"Hey, Matt, why don't you just ask Andrew if you can have a go with his boyfriend?" Dan, seemingly noticing, and not caring where her boyfriend's attention is, startles both Matt who gulps, and turns to look at Dan, blushing, and Neil who also looks up at Dan who is grinning.

Ain't Nobody's Business by jostenminyard (onceuponahundred) [Rated G, 873 Words, Complete, 2016]

Everyone mistakes our close friendship for fliting and an adult went to the director with their concern of our big age difference. For the ultimate BROTP Matt and Neil.

You learn or you die by SagaEllen [Rated T, 1387 Words, Complete, 2021]

Previously recced here

"Listen," He hoped his eyes were determined, maybe a little intimidating, but not threatening - panic won't help them now. "You trust me with that, and I will let you buy me another entire closet with my uncle's blood money." Nicky gaped. "Your uncle's-" He cut himself off with a firm shake of his head. When he met Neil's gaze again his eyes were practically shining and the redhead felt like he was going to regret that promise so very much. In other words: The Monsters plus Dan and Matt go on a trip that ends before it even started. Neil has a skillset.

tw: blood

The Boy Who Hates Movies by 0bsessednerd [Rated M, 11636 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil didn’t enjoy movies for whatever reason. Maybe he didn’t like how fake they were? Maybe he wasn’t allowed to enjoy something so frivolous? Or maybe he was just insane? Nicky always said it was the last one. Because who didn’t like movies? He hoped this next movie night would be different! He had personally selected the movie and got everyone’s favorite snacks to make this night the best one yet. What could go wrong? ~~~ Five times Neil disliked the movies they watched and one time he loved it.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction

Current Obsession: Matt hightailing it out of the dorm before The Shower Scene fandom fun post by @corvidhours [Tumblr, 2021]

boys will be boys hcs by @triquetrine [Tumblr, 2020]

aka neil josten and matt boyd doing nothing other than being besties.

neil, andrew, matt, and kevin + pro league shenanigans hc by @triquetrine [Tumblr, 2021]

matt’s the first one to go pro (because he graduates first) and he is both extremely excited and extremely nervous

Brosten hcs by @demo-whale [Tumblr, 2024]

Part 1 - Matt carries Neil everywhere they go together Part 2 - Matt and Neil can both speak Spanish 

Matt: Repeat exactly what Andrew said fandom fun post by @chai-and-cherries [Tumblr, 2022]

Neil roasts Matt in the pros hc by @eggscelsior [Tumblr, 2019]

have my jacket fandom fun post by @kevinandthepalmetthoes [Tumblr, 2021]

Art

My fav idiots art by @em-xzm

matt boyd is Not Upset meme by @sizzicus

best mate and help pick out baby supplies art by @gremlinddrawss

Neil & Matt making gains at the gym + beefy Andrew reaction art by @intradaya

0 🦊 given art by @riovgle

“Neil hit Riko” edit by @matthcwboyd

Matt and Neil’s friendship is severely underrated art by @markiehh

Matt resting elbow on Neil’s head and bro hugs art by @cute-electrocute

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience *BONUS CHAPTER*: ~The last night in the beach house!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: You and Kyoya have to spend one more night at the beach house....alone. ➼ what to expect:  ➼ warnings: None

The beach house is quiet this morning, the rest of the house club had returned home the previous night. For reasons you didn't quite understand Kyoya had to stay there another night, meaning you also had to stay there.

As much as you bizarrely enjoyed your time with the host club you had to admit the tranquility of the almost empty beach house was something you enjoyed, taking in the sights from one of the bay windows.

It was a far cry from your home on the other side of the world. Although it has been so long since you've been there it feels almost fictional to you.

"Taking in the sights?" Kyoya nearly scared you out of your skin, deadly quiet as he snuck up behind you "Your family certainly chose a good spot" he hummed in agreement "What can I say? Good taste runs in the family" You laugh through a hum, leaning against the wall. "I was just coming to ask what food you want to order in? I've decided to give the kitchen staff the night off since it is just the two of us here"

"That is very...kind of you, Kyoya" You smile, that is not a move you had expected Kyoya to take, he would never admit it but Tamaki has been rubbing off on him. When you think over the question an idea sneaks into your mind "Forget ordering food though."

He raises an eyebrow "Huh?" you nod over your shoulder for him to follow you, walking down the hallway toward the kitchen "You still want to learn about my home country?" Kyoya, who catches up with you, a smile taking over him as he realised what you were getting at.

The door to the kitchen swings open with a squeak. "You're going to cook?" Kyoya questions as you search through the kitchen "no" You laugh, taking ingredients from the pantry. "WE are going to cook"

Kyoya could laugh, he cannot name a time that he has ever actually cooked, he has never needed to. You catch on to his thought process just from the look on his face "Kyoya just because we are rich does not mean we aren't above cooking for ourselves, it can be fun"

Kyoya shakes his head, leaning against the counter. "I cannot see why, it is just a necessary process to feed yourself, I don't see why one would do it if they do not need to" you roll your eyes "You say that because you've never tried it, trust me, it'll be easy"

Kyoya picks himself up, "Fine" he huffed, you hand him a knife "You can chop the panchetta" you had to admit that there was something quite entertaining to you about bossing Kyoya around, knowing it is a rare occasion.

"Do you miss home often?" You pause at the question, not looking up from the hob. "I...yes...well, I miss the country, my town" you reply, placing the pasta in the pot. "I must admit that while I have enjoyed my time here Japan has yet to feel like home to me"

Kyoya nodded knowingly, moving to ouran had been a big change for you, and a rough transition. In a strange way being a part of the host club helped with that. Yet lately it has felt different, slightly more comfortable. Things were changing.

"Are you going back for the summer break?" Noticing that he had finished chopping the panchetta you take it from him to fry "No, I'm going to Karuizawa instead, here" You crack an egg into a bowl in front of him, showing him the rest "Karuizawa? Why go there?"

"I...have something I need to do there" you smile, taking the bowl. "Anyway, we need to mix in the cheese" kyoya squinted at you while you made the sauce. "Would you mind draining the pasta?" You look over your shoulder at him, distracted by mixing.

Kyoya looked slightly clueless as he clumsily figured out exactly what to do. Eventually you manage to pull together two dishes for the both of you, sat up on the counter as you eat. "I...I don't think I ever said thank you by the way" He raises an eyebrow, eyes lighting up as he tastes the dish "What for?"

"You know what for, I had a conversation with your father today" his face fell into one of horror "your 'duty of care' is to keep me from being physically harmed, nothing else. which means that everything else..."

"y/n." His voice was somehow weak and stern at the same time, cutting you off but the message had already gotten across, it was too late. "It's fine, you don't have to acknowledge it, I don't even need to if you don't want me to, but thank you anyway"

"You're...welcome" he cleared his throat, you giggle at his mildly flustered state. at it was then that you realised exactly what was happening here. This was a hang out, you two were hanging out. When did that happen? Since when was that a thing that the two of you do?

Things were changing. Things ARE changing. You two are no longer two colleagues who sit at the the same table for coffee anymore, only talking if it is for business. It was a strange notion, a strange feeling, but you didn't hate it.

Next time on patience 'A day in the life of the L/N family!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 18

WARNING!!!🔞 This Chapter contains SMUT: Oral (f.recieving), fingering, semi public, slightest of dirty talk.

Minors do not interract!!!

Aria

There's a 99% chance that an alien took over Chris's body in the past week. And the remaining 1% is that he's actually changing. Trying to change, at least, if we put it in a proper sense.

Getting one step closer to Chris feels like discovering a new part of him and a part of myself I buried down after my last relationship.

Blond, blue eyes, class topper and who looked like the perfect boyfriend, Luke was my ex who I met in business school during my first year. We were made for eachother, or so I thought. We dated for two years, until I walked into him having sex with my best friend on MY birthday.

What an amazing surprise. The bastard had been cheating on me since our 2nd anniversary, that betrayal felt like waking up from a beautiful dream, only to find yourself trapped in a nightmare you never saw coming.

I had grown distant from everyone since then, shutting myself from any relationships after that. Unable to see me suffer internally while not being myself in the outlook was why my parents asked me to get married to Chris, hoping it would make me forget everything.

The heartbreak I went through with Luke is a scar that refused to heal so fast or easily.

But I don't blame them. Some things were easier to be left than to explain and the in the end we have different perspectives of viewing the world. To their eyes settling down after business school was the solution.

Although unknown to my parents was also a certain lingering deadline between Chris and me, that I wasn't healed and still played a fake version of myself in front of others.

I was never destined for true love or a happy ending.

Our marriage was stable, predictable, and perhaps a bit too routine. I had grown accustomed to Chris's cold nature, his affection expressed in the form of providing comfort and security rather than warm embraces or whispered sweet nothings.

The security system in the mansion was tightened, Chris didn't bring up about that Victor guy again, so I didn't ask about it again. Assuming he had whatever of that under control.

But this past week, something had changed. It was in the small things—like how he would pause to ask about my day with genuine interest, or the way his fingers would linger just a bit longer when he brushed against my hand.

Or how today I'm roaming inside one of the biggest bookstores in the city, but is closed for the public because Chris wanted me to spend however long I wanted freely. He had rented the whole place for the entire day.

"Chris, this is too much," I said, turning to face him.

The soft lighting of the empty bookstore with no signs of staff but just the two of us created an intimate atmosphere, making the moment feel surreal. Chris was in a simple tee, jacket and denim trousers today, unlike his usual coat suit and dress shirt outfits, the casual attire adding to the sense that I was seeing a different side of him.

"It's not too much. I could have bought the place if you hadn't stopped me." He said smirking, giving me a view of his leathal dimple that made my stomach do a summersault.

That he would have. As COO of Aurelius, he will go beyond limits to get and do whatever he wanted.

"Well, good that you listened," I replied, rolling my eyes playfully. "Buying the entire bookstore might have been a bit over the top, even for you."

"I'll have you know sweetheart, I've bought things that are way more than a bookstore." A cocky eyebrow arched as he let out a deep chuckle.

"Like what?" I asked, crossing my arms joining his banter.

"The guys and I wanted to go to the Bahamas last summer but our yacht was under maintenance," He slipped his hands into his pockets, "So I bought another one."

My jaw fell unhinged, and eyes widening as I struggled to comprehend the audacity of his statement. "You...bought another yacht? Just like that?"

Chris nodded casually, his posture and expression relaxed as if discussing the purchase of a new pair of shoes.

"Yeah, it seemed like the logical solution at the time."

I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. "Logical solution? Most people would just postpone the trip or I don't know fly there."

"Well, it seemed like a good excuse to upgrade so I figured why not?" he said with a nonchalant shrug, his smirk widening.

"Sure," I slowly nodded, "But it doesn't mean you have to go to such extremes. Like this one right now," I countered, though I couldn't help but smile at his grand gesture.

"Extremes are kind of my thing, Aria," Chris said, leaning against a bookshelf, his buff bicep against the books made my stomach do another flip.

"You should know that by now."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, shaking my head, running my fingers through the spines of the Lord of the Rings series.

"You're like a bull in a china shop"

"I prefer 'strategic disruptor,'" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Our eyes locked briefly for a second, then I turned away, browsing the shelves.

From Shakespeare to best selling authors today, having their own shelves of their books, the building was spacious and three floors high, giving any reader an experience of a lifetime.

There were small lounges in two corners of each floor, cozy and inviting, with plush armchairs and warm lighting, perfect for curling up with a book. The air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and fresh ink, a fragrance that always brought me comfort.

"Thank you, for this" I turned back to him as I took a random book off a shelf, Chris's eyes were already on me, watching my every move.

"You don't have to thank me for everything," Chris walked towards to me, closing the distance, "You're worth it."

I felt my cheeks flush as well as the butterflies in my stomach frantically erupt, as if closing down a store for a day was the most natural thing in the world.

His words warmed something deep inside me, a place I had thought long frozen. The old Aria, the one who believed in grand gestures and romantic surprises, stirred within me. But I had to remind myself to be cautious; just a week of change could not erase the last months of indifference.

But we'll never know.

As we walked shelf after shelf, an exclusive copy of one my favourite books caught my eyes. I immediately went and took it in my hands, the cover of the book held me captive in my spot.

The title was embossed in gold, glistening under the lights. The rich, deep red background was adorned with intricate patterns of flowers and foliage, intertwining with dragons that seemed almost alive. Each petal and leaf was meticulously detailed, their colors vibrant against the dark, quilted texture behind them.

"Hmm?" Chris came behind me, he was carrying two baskets that were full of the newest thrillers and romance. I kind of felt bad for making him trail after me like a pack mule.

"This is the last one I promise. It's a special edition" I showed him the book, my eyes sparkling with excitement.

Chris glanced at the cover, his expression remaining stoic but with a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "A special edition? Looks like I'm not the only one around here with expensive tastes."

I chuckled, hugging the book to my chest. "Well, this is worth it. Look at the detail. It's a piece of art."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," He brought the basket up and I placed the book on the top of the stack, a wide smile spread across my face that refused to go away.

"Is this all you want? You're free to get as many as you like Aria. This whole place is yours." He said genuinely, his tone matter-of-fact. I shook my head, still smiling, a warm feeling spreading across my chest.

"As a slow reader these are going to keep me alive for a year or even more. They are enough."

He nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "If you say so"

For a moment, I felt a rare connection with him. It wasn't about grand emotions or declarations; it was about this simple, shared experience. Chris might not be the most emotionally expressive person, but in his own way, he was trying.

And that effort meant more to me than any expensive gift ever could.

"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his arm. "This really means a lot."

"Well, I hope you have a good place to put all these," he replied, a touch of sarcasm returning to his voice.

"Because my study is not turning into a library."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Don't worry, I have it covered."

After I got all the books I wanted, we made our way from the section and instead of going to the counter on the ground floor, Chris stopped walking and placed the baskets on a table, turning to me with a mischievous smirk spread playing on his lips.

I froze in my place, feeling my pulse race as he slowly strode towards me like a majestic wolf, his eyes on me. The way he moved, so confident and purposeful, sent a shiver down my spine.

"What are you up to?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the tremor in my voice.

Chris stopped just inches from me, his gaze intense. "Just thought we could take a moment to enjoy this place properly. No rush, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop me. "No rush," I echoed, my voice barely a whisper.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary. "Good...because,"

Before he finished, he lifted my chin and his mouth met mine, burying his tongue while his hand traced my cheek then sank in my hair. My fingers pressed on his arms as I melted into his taste of mint and sugar, it was an addiction.

I preferred vanilla and cinnamon but I suppose the taste of Chris is much better.

He pulled me closer to him, we were pressed against eachother and there, I felt him growing hard, excitement and anticipation rushed through my body. Chris's hand gently closed behind my neck as he deepend the kiss, slowly slowly striding and having me pressed against a shelf.

I opened my eyes and looked above him, ironically we were under the romance section. Chris removed his mouth from mine, his hand still around my neck, while his other hand went to the hem of my skirt, tracing the line.

"Because what?" I pulled back, arching a brow as I challenged him, my voice breathless yet defiant.

"Because," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "I want to make sure you have the best time."

His fingers slid up my thigh, sending shivers through me. The intensity of his gaze, combined with the firmness of his grip on my neck, made my heart race. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate and electrifying.

"Chris..." I whispered, my resolve wavering as his hand inched higher, the thrill of being in such a public, yet intimate setting and the chance someone might walk in on us only heightened the sensations coursing through me.

"Shh," he hushed me softly, his lips brushing against my earlobe, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

"No rush, remember?"

His words echoed in my mind, the promise of slow, tantalizing pleasure as his hand reached the edge of my panties. I gasped, my body responding eagerly to his touch, leaving fire in their wake.

Chris's lips found mine again, more demanding this time. I could feel his desire, his need, and it mirrored my own. Our kiss deepened, becoming a battle of wills and passion, his hand tightened around my neck, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left me breathless.

With a smooth glid, he slid my panties to the side and a finger found its way through my wet folds. I jerked as he inserted another, a knowing smirk spread across his face looking at how easily and quickly wet and turned on I get.

Paced pumps, breathless kisses and pinned among the shelves of love stories and whispered promises, only added a layer of forbidden excitement to our encounter. He pressed the heel of his palm against my clit, making a soft moan gasp free out of me.

"Mmm... you're clenching me babydoll."

My lips parted, I wanted to say things but nothing came out at how good his fingers curled inside of me, my blood was on liquid fire. The only sensations were pleasure, want and pure need.

Time lost its meaning along with my senses, Chris had pushed my top up, his mouth was closed around my sensitive nipple and his digits pushed deeper inside me. He was licking, sucking, teasing, stretching and playing with me tearing moans, and cries from my throat.

He then sank onto his knees, parting my legs, circling my sensitized clit with the tip of his tongue. His chin grazed my skin as he kissed the nub, his breath fanning over me and burying his face in my heat, drawing my clit into his mouth and sucked.

"Oh my...oh my God..."

I instantly arched against the shelf, the books shook threatening to fall but thankfully they were pushed to the back. My hand went over my face to cover my squeals and whimpers escaping and echoing off the quiet walls, I felt his eyes watch me from beneath me.

Every thought was erased away from my brain as pleasure fogged like a mirror after a hot shower.

My hand fisted his hair as his teeth grazed over my swollen, tender clit, going from slow and languid licks, lapping away my arousal like a man possessed. My hips bucked, seeking for relief but Chris's strong fingers held me in place.

Chris had an uncanny ability to make me feel like I was seeing stars during the day, even when we were under a roof. His hands and mouth worked magic on me, leaving me breathless, trembling, and craving more.

The tingles of an orgasm began to build deep within me as he expertly moved his tongue over my clit, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside me until I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. If I tried, I would surely implode.

The pressure finally erupted as my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the shore, making my body shudder uncontrollably. My thighs trembled as I came, my arousal dripping down my legs and onto his face. 

But Chris wasn't done with me yet. Not by a long shot. One moment I was arching against the shelf praying for the books not to fall on us as he tongue fucked me, the next I was on my back, pinned on the floor.

He switched positions just like that.

"You have quite an interesting taste in literature sweetheart," Chris murmured into my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His words were teasing, but they carried a dark edge that made my pulse quicken. As he spoke, he pushed my skirt up, a cool air hitting my exposed and vulnerable self.

"Wha—what?" I stammered, my own voice sounded different to my ears. "Did you read—" Heat flushed up my cheeks when I realised he must have flipped through one of the romance books from the stack.

Oh God.

"I might have read a page or two," he admitted, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes—something dark and full of intent. He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, a simple gesture that made my core throb with renewed need.

"And I thought, why not create our own scene?"

Before I could even form a response, Chris's mouth crashed down on mine in a kiss that was both punishing and possessive. It was as if he was punishing me for the guilty pleasure of my reading material, but also claiming his approval in the most primal way possible.

He held my hips with a bruising force, I dimly heard the rasp of the zipper and then he hammered inside me in one powerful thrust. The sudden invasion made me gasp out, the sharp sound echoing softly in the confined space.

My nails dug into the carpet as I clung to him, one hand gripping his stiff bicep. God, I could never get used to the feel of him inside me.

So hot, so huge, so impossibly hard.

Every time he entered me, it felt like the first time, my body straining to accommodate him. The sensation was overwhelming, making my head spin and my body tremble.

A strong hand came over my mouth to silence my embarrassing moans, my eyes fluttered open, meeting Chris's intense gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched in a knowing smug smirk as he continued thrusting into me with relentless precision.

"Shh," he chuckled as he continued wrecking me. "You don't want someone to hear how much you love being fucked in your little haven, now do you?"

The fact that someone actually could walk in on us was disastrous but there was no time to process anything other than the feel and the heat of him against me, flesh against flesh as he shattered me apart, the pressure and pleasure was beyond ecstacy. 

The telltale tingles built inside me again, threatening to spill over as he took me apart piece by piece.

"Your pussy is made for me sweetheart. Fuck you're so tight." He growled,his voice thick with lust as he watched me writhe beneath him.

My body responded to his every word, my muscles clenching around his cock as the nerves in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. My heart pounded frantically against my ribcage, and I could feel the tension building to an almost unbearable level.

I hadn't imagined Chris would surprise me with a whole day at a bookstore when he proposed we go out. And I definitely hadn't imagined we'd end up like this—fucking in the romance section, surrounded by books, with nothing but the tall shelves to seclude us from reality.

"God, Chris..." I gasped, my voice breaking as I felt the pressure reach its peak.

"My name sounds so good when you moan it baby," He groaned or chuckled. I couldn't say.

I was too lost in my world of lust, I forgot my own name. Everything else faded away until all that existed was the feel of him inside me, driving me to madness.

Tears leaked out of my eyes at the sensation, fingers clawing and mouth falling open in a reckless cries. Thrust after thrust, another toe-curling orgasm gushed through me like fire rushing and igniting in a pool of gasoline, bursting stars behind my eyes.

I fell into a boneless mess. 

Chris groaned and I felt his cock twitching uncontrollably as a hot load of cum gathered inside me. He slowed his movements, his breath coming in heavy pants as he rode out the last of his own release.

He leaned down, softly brushing his lips against mine, and I could feel the smile that lingered there—a smile of triumph, of satisfaction, of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me.

We hung there, breathless and tangled together, the aftershocks of my climax still rippling through me. My mind was still swimming in the aftermath, trying to process the sheer intensity of what had just happened, when I felt Chris begin to move.

He let out a deep, satisfied chuckle as he got up, adjusting his clothes with a nonchalant ease. With just one casual swipe of his hand through his hair, he looked completely composed—flawless, even—as if he hadn't just fucked me into another dimension.

Meanwhile, I was a mess. My legs felt like jelly, barely able to hold me up as I struggled to regain my balance. Every nerve in my body was still buzzing, my core pulsing with a heartbeat all its own. I most definitely won't be able to walk tomorrow or probably right now.

My breath hitched lightly when I felt him clean me up with a tissue. A tender gesture that made my heart ache in the most bittersweet way.

Chris helped me get up and fixed my clothes, smoothing down my hair. His fingers brushed lightly over my tear-stained cheeks, lingering just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the feel of my skin. The silence between us spoke volumes. 

Chris wasn't one to use words carelessly, and in moments like this, his actions said more than any words ever could. I clung to him, still trying to find my footing, both physically and emotionally.

His eyes were on me, those burning brown eyes that seemed to see straight through me, and even though he didn't say a word, I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

We've had sex countless times by now, but every time it feels different—more intense, more profound. But this time, this was something else entirely. It was as if he had pushed me beyond my limits, only to pull me back again, leaving me reeling from the sheer force of it.

This was, hands down, the best one yet, and I could feel it in every aching muscle and every rapid heartbeat.

My eyes drifted down to the damp stain on the green carpet, a vivid reminder of just how lost I had been in the throes of pleasure. Embarrassment flooded me, my face flushing hot as I imagined the poor soul who would have to clean up after us.

I glared up at Chris, half-expecting him to share in my mortification, but instead, he just smirked, his expression completely unapologetic, not giving a flying fuck.

"Let's get your books home." He wrapped an arm around my waist, taking the book baskets from the table and walking me to towards the elevator to get to the ground floor.

I couldn't process how he went from fucking me on the floor like it was the last day on the planet to smiling casually as if he had been doing nothing but accompany me with my shopping spree.

Once we made it to the ground floor, Chris placed the baskets on the counter and the woman behind started scanning the books. He payed for them and I saw him leave a huge tip to the staff, again my face flushed crimson.

A young boy brought the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk, after settling in, we made our home.

"Enjoyed your day?" Chris's eyes were fixed on the road, but I knew he meant more than just the shopping.

"Every moment of it." I looked at him, those silver hoop earrings glinted in the daylight, drawing attention to his strong jawline.

Chris's eyes fell on me for a second, he nodded, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

As we drove through the city streets, Chris's hand gently slipped with mine, the comfortable silence between us spoke volumes. The day had been filled with more than just books, it had been a day of connection, of tentative steps towards understanding each other better.

When we arrived to the mansion, Chris carried the bags inside, placing them on the living room coffee table. I followed him, feeling a sense of contentment that had been absent for so long.

He turned to me, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I instinctively leaned into his palm, savoring the rare moment of tenderness.

"I don't want to leave, but um..." His words trailed off, a hand rubbing the back of his neck but I knew what he was going to say next.

My heart sank just a little bit.

"Go on," I said, his expression softed, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us. "I'm gonna spend the all the time reading while you're at work."

I played a soft smile, knowing he had to go back to his responsibilities. Chris sighed, his thumb gently grazing my cheek.

"I'll try to be back soon." He said softly, a rare hint of reluctance in his eyes. "I know," my smile widened just a bit.

"Alright," He pulled me to another bruising kiss, breathing me in as he bit my bottom lip. "I'll see you later."

As he turned to leave, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was the usual frustration of him having to rush off, but also a newfound appreciation for the tiny effort he was making to connect with me.

I watched him drive away, the mansion fell into a deep silence again as I went back inside and picked up the special edition book that had caught my eye earlier.

Running my fingers over the intricate cover, I felt a surge of gratitude for this day and for Chris's efforts to make it memorable.

I opened the book, ready to lose myself in its pages, knowing that Chris and I were slowly finding our way to each other, one small step at a time.

------------------------

Taglist: @bowsnbang @bangchannie97lov @hwasmints @laurenalpha123 @mrs-hwangh @greyyeti @sociallyawkward18 @stephanieeeyang @piscesrising01 @jaquisos @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @princess-sunshyn @my-neurodivergent-world @ladyeagle @nchhuhi

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[moanz111]

✩°⋆｡ system error ⋆｡°✩ - 34

chapter 34 ✧ - i'm sorry - written +texts

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synopsis ✧ you've always dreamt of having your fantasy-like love story. naturally, hearing the sweet melodic ring of your love alarm was what you wanted the most, right? until it actually happened. four times.

wc ✧ 1.4 k

pairing ✧ uni student! choi san x fem! uni student! reader

warnings/tags ✧ instant attraction (just soulmates stuff), party mentioned, getting drunk (but not to the point of not being able to make decisions), angst, miscommunication (more like not enough communication)(sorry), san's kind of insecure, heartbreak, unhealthy coping mechanism (self-distancing), this is very long so get ready, everyone's confused, use of a pet name (yunjin calls reader baby but she always does so...)(i always forget to tag it sawryy), lmk if i've missed something

Being a senior in university wasn’t as fun as many would think. Too many classes, too many assignments, too many dance routines to memorise and quite literally nothing of much interest happening around you.

At least, that was San’s reality. Wake up, work out, go to classes, practice with Yeonjun and Wooyoung, go home, sleep, repeat.  It wasn’t like it was that bad, but a little fun wouldn’t kill anyone, right?

San kept wondering what was missing, what was that thing that his soul kept yearning for? He had considered taking a gap year or even completely changing his major, but nothing seemed to really hit home the more he thought about it. Start a job? With that schedule it was out of the question. Dating? Well, there were potential prospects around him, but it was too much work and emotional investment.

That was until the day he met you. 

At first, it wasn’t anything evoking excitement in him. As usual, his friends were going to drag him to the freshman welcoming party to “scare” the newcomers, but San didn’t really want to do that or talk to any people or get drunk or dance, but duty called, as Wooyoung had said back then, and had dragged him to Changbin’s front door mercilessly along with their roommates. All San had to do was put on his most charming smile, hang around for an hour or two and then he would make his escape with Yunho so they could play video games in peace. 

Plans change, though, and very drastically even. 

San knew your friends very well - Yunjin and Jongho had the same majors so he saw her often at their plays (whenever Jongho let him come, of course), Beomgyu and Jeongin were his gaming buddies and Kai was their friend so of course, he had hung out with him too, but the only mysterious person in there was you. He thought you looked beautiful with your messy hair and your casual clothes on, with your shy smile and blushing cheeks as you shook his hand while saying your name quietly. 

He couldn’t say he had fallen in love before and he didn’t really believe in love at first sight, but that weird feeling growing inside his heart was definitely something he had to keep an eye on. He had liked people and had dated a few times which all ended in disappointment, but secretly all he wished for was for his love alarm to ring. All these romance movies that kept him up at night, the fated meetings they portrayed - he kept wondering if that was something you could actually experience or was it just a play, orchestrated for poor hopeless romantics like him? Not that he had ever found someone he could share his thoughts with.

The night he met you he was no different - it wasn’t as if he suddenly gained the courage to strike a conversation or even flirt like Wooyoung liked saying he was supposed to when he saw someone he was interested in. So he did what he did best - he admired you from a distance. Occasionally, you would sit together or would exchange a word or two in the middle of all the chaos that was happening around you, with hundreds of students surrounding you, but nothing more until Mingi gathered all of your friends together to play truth or dare in Changbin’s bedroom while the party downstairs was at its peak.

San thought it was the most childish thing in the world but he still sat down opposite of you and joined the game reluctantly. Only because you were there.

He didn’t know why he took so much interest in you or why his heart fluttered when your laugh echoed in the room or when you smiled sweetly at him. There was some sort of a pull as if you two were two opposites of a magnet about to collide and he couldn’t wrap his mind around what all of that meant, especially not after he had taken 5 shots as a penalty for refusing to answer Wooyoung’s invasive questions.

After a while, all of you had got bored and had just splattered around the room, engaging in quiet conversations with each other, enjoying the peacefulness of the night. Gathering his courage, San had approached you after your friends had left your side and he, once again, was surprised with himself. He truly thought you wouldn’t want to stay next to him on the floor in front of Changbin’s bed, but you did. You talked and talked and talked about anything and everything, you joked, you laughed and when you leaned on his shoulder, San thought his heart was going to explode.

It must be the alcohol. But it wasn't. San felt more sober than ever. He felt alive and the night was still young so after taking one more shot each, both of you went downstairs to join the party. 

And just like that, you were standing in front of him, the purple and blue neon lights illuminating your features and all San could do was try not to stare too much. The loud music, engulfing any other sound in the room, was drumming loudly and you swayed your body to the rhythm, laughing and holding San’s hands in an effort to make him let loose and have fun. It was working because he didn’t remember when he had had fun like that with anyone else. At a party. In Changbin’s house.

The more you danced, the more San was letting the butterflies in his stomach erupt. He believed dancing could reveal a lot about the person and he thought you were stunning. But he had already thought that at least a million times before. His drunken brain, however, couldn’t come up with many creative and showstopping compliments at that moment but mentally he made a note to tell you much more the next time he saw you which he hoped was going to be very soon.

Suddenly, a slower song started playing. San couldn’t really remember its name but the next thing he knew was that your hands were around his neck, his on your hips and you were both mere centimeters away from each other. Your soft shining eyes were looking at him with such intensity that he thought he was going to melt there and then. Slowly moving together, San felt as if you two were the only people in the room. 

The world had stopped spinning for a few moments, he could’ve sworn. Only you, your warmth and your shimmering eyes were all that mattered. His grip on you tightened and now you were closer than ever. San could feel your breath on his neck as you buried your head in its crook and your heartbeat (or was it his?) was pulsating between you two, making his cheeks burn. 

As the song came to an end and a new one started, you pulled away from him slightly, making him pout at the loss of contact. “San, I…”

San could swear he was going to pass out right there, in your arms, as your fingers dug into the back of his neck, brushing against his hair. His eyes were on your lips, still shining from the lipgloss you were wearing, and then he moved his gaze to your pleading eyes. You were so close, yet so far as San started leaning down slowly and then

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

San hadn’t heard a sound like that before. It seemed like a normal notification but it also sounded different. Maybe a bit higher? A bit more melodic?

And then you pulled away, leaving him breathing in and out slowly. What if that was the love alarm? Was it yours? Or his? Was he just hearing things?

“I’m sorry, I think Yunjin is calling me. I’ll go over to the kitchen to call her,” you said, raising your voice in an attempt to fight the noise and San nodded. It wasn’t as if he was going to just leave you. Especially not after what was about to happen before your phone had rung. 

He watched you make your way through the crowd and just now San noticed how many people were around you two. Maybe even your friends were somewhere here but he couldn’t recognise anyone, not while his brain was in this dazed state.

Taking out his phone with trembling hands to check for any texts, San furrowed his brows as he saw the top notification.

from 1111

Congratulations! You have found your match!

note ✧ here it is finally - san's pov! i wasn't really sure how to handle this situation and if i did it well; this was probably the hardest chapter to ever write just because i wanted to convey san's feelings and pov the best way possible and actually make it make sense and be valid 😭 he just needs a hug and so does reader :( dealing with feelings of any kind is never easy.

i really hope you liked this chapter (i rewrote it around 5-6 times) and feedback will be greatly appreciated because it's my first time writing something angsty like this 😭 i promise not to make it too painful from now on but a growth in both of them is needed so bear with me :<

taglist ✧ @flamingi @huachengsbestie01 @minihong99 @staytinyluv @luvpeachkes @gh9sty @dawn-iscozy @zaraxnid @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

taglist is open! <3

[anadrym]

Extended Author's Notes for Left Behind Ch4.

Spoilers!

"I'm not making any decisions right now." Caitlyn, you're such a fucking liar. I love you so much.

Caitlyn really needs to get some better coping methods. I'm of the idea that she never properly learned how to grieve - when she lost her mom, she was immediately manipulated into turning her grief into a weapon to be wielded against someone else's enemies. And she didn't really lose anyone else until the Purge. So she's running on the only thing she knows: turn the grief into anger and use it to protect yourself from more grief. In this case, it actually does keep her alive. But that doesn't mean it's healthy.

"She hasn't changed that much; she probably won't have a lot of time before someone recognizes the missing Sheriff Kiramman." - This is pretty much the main reason I didn't go back through and account for Caitlyn's lost eye. It would make her so incredibly recognizable. That's me being lazy.

Caitlyn's outfit as Ghost is actually several asymmetrical layers of varying shades of grey. I think black would actually be too obvious, even at night, and the uneven layers help break up the human form to keep her harder to see.

Caitlyn doesn't take anything from her apartment. She doesn't have anything TO take. :(

I know I said this last chapter, but I LOVE writing Caitlyn and Petra's conversations. They're so fun.

Hmm... Why does Petra know a guy who smuggles things around Runeterra? Will this be a little important later? Who's to say? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Okay, everyone say "Bye, Petra!" Maybe we'll see her again later. (We will.)

Vi, my beloved. She just won't give up. I think that, even now, she's a little too selfless to let go. She doesn't want to live like this, but she won't let herself die on the chance that she might be leaving someone behind. I'm love her. so. much.

This team that Vi and her handler are working with are kinda inspired by a D&D party. A group of strange individuals who bounce around, working for whoever will pay them. They work for the Baroness sometimes. They also work for other Chem-Barons and gang leaders and the like.

The Feline Woman (and all of her companions) are just OCs. They're not based on any other characters. They're pretty much just one-off characters, but I DID decide to bring the Feline Woman back briefly later.

Both of our girls have trauma around fire, for obvious reasons. Interestingly, I ended up using fire and references to it so much that it kinda became a motif in this story.

The neighbors not intervening in any way is to show just how much control the Chen-Barons and gangs have over the common people. The fear of being the next example keeps them from helping, which keeps them divided.

I killed Tobias and I am going to take every opportunity to painfully remind everyone of that.

The kid that Vi is forced to kill here was probably about ten or eleven when the Purge happened. He doesn't recognize Vi. But anyone who happened to look outside during any of this attack might have - she was the Sheriff's partner, a rather public figure, and definitely recognizable. And that's the whole point.

Could Vi have ended the boy's suffering in one hit? If she was at full strength, sure. Easily, if she hit him in the right place. But they're not keeping her at full strength, because they don't want to risk it AND because they don't need to. She's serving her purpose perfectly as is.

Teaser for next week:

Ghost presses herself flatter to the rooftop. Her clothes are dark and the muzzle of her rifle is matte to prevent it from gleaming; they won't be able to see her. As they look for her, she sweeps her gaze over their group, counting them.

...two, three, four --

She sees a flash of familiar pink, and every fragment of her being goes absolutely still.

[oros-ash3s]

Author Ask Tag 𓇼 ｡ﾟ⋆.˚ ⋆ ﹒₊‧

What is the main lesson of your story?

જ⁀➴ Magicae, as a whole, centres around grief. (Which is also a coincidentally a theme with most of my other WIPS. What can I say, I love an allegory for how grief changes a person.) The main lesson is about living in the present, and not becoming stuck in the dirt, left alone in the past. Not wallowing in your grief, as much as you want to. It’s about moving on, learning from your mistakes and changing for the better.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

જ⁀➴ Worldbuilding is not one of my strong points, I will admit. Most of my WIPS I still need to work on that to be honest. Magicae’s worldbuilding is pretty simple when it comes to it, based pretty closely around our own world, if fairly dystopian. Although it wasn’t intentional, after we had created the story I watched V for Vendetta, and the world is very similar to that. Slightly futuristic, with technology and heavy monitoring being a large aspect of it. I’d say most of the inspiration comes from dystopian settings and just ideas I or my co-writer have.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? So you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

જ⁀➴ Wren’s main goal throughout Magicae is to put an end to both the Congregation of the Chosen and Eden, and unite Magicae and humans once and for all.

જ⁀➴ Their story is very coming-of-age, spanning from their early teen years right to adulthood. As the story progresses, I’m trying to teach how it’s okay to change, and how life ends up in ways you could have never expected.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

જ⁀➴ To be honest, I have no clue. Although the current timeline we have set up is pretty set in stone, things are always changing! Currently there’s around…. 27 arcs, but who knows if that will stay the same by the time we (hopefully) finish it.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

જ⁀➴ It’s entirely original content, and all of it will be posted here on my blog! You should also give @ohagi-writes a follow, as she will be posting writing too.

When did you start writing?

જ⁀➴ I think it’s probably been 10 or 11 years now, but when I started writing fics had to be since 3rd grade. (I’m in 11th now.)

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

જ⁀➴ Some amazing writers to follow:

@whumpsoda — I love all of their work and if you’re looking for good whump fics I would HIGHLY recommend her.

@seastarblue — I think one of my first real moots on here!! She has a lot of writing posted for her WIP Interwoven which I also recommend checking that out ^^

@vesanal — she has an incredible art style and all her ocs have such interesting, unique designs! Her writing is also incredible, I loved all her contributions to Writemas.

@ohagiwrites — I LOOOVVEE LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEE her writing. Shes the co-writer for Magicae and I could not have asked for a better co-writer than her! Everyone go check her out she’s PHENOMENAL

@cepheusgalaxy — Sami is so kind and friendly! He has a great list of ocs and WIPS up on their page I would recommend taking a look at ^^

@bioniclechronicles — Noah is firstly, an incredible artist, I love looking at all his different character designs on @kikuwaters!! His OCS are super cool and I definitely recommend checking him out.

@melodxi — first found them through their whump blog @mellowwhumps and fell in love with their writing! Can’t believe they actually followed me back what a dream ^^ anyways definitely go check them out

@sugaredparchment — Ivory is incredible ^^ He’s super friendly and nice to talk to and don’t even get me started on her writing style. Each one of the snippets they’ve posted has pulled me right into their WIP, I’m absolutely in love with the way he writes!!

જ⁀➴ Those are just a few of the amazing people I’ve been introduced to during my time on writeblr, I wish I could name them all. Some advice to any new writers on here: Don’t feel afraid to post your work or interact with other people!! I’ve been posting on writeblr for a year and a half now, and everyone here is super nice. Don’t be afraid to make moots and put yourself out there.

✎ thank you @aalinaaaaaa and @seastarblue for the tag ^^

✎ tagging @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @bioniclechronicles @sharkblizzardblogs @sugaredparchment @blackboxwarrior-mkultra + open tag