#still 17 headers

[karliahs]

I love your new header!!

awww thank you!! the bnha header was starting to feel misleading - not a lot of bnha around here lately, but there Is quite a lot of roseposting

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 6

SUMMARY: A baby, a hearing, and an ultimate question

WORD COUNT: 12.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of pregnancy, vomit, abortion, blood, hospitals, medical emergencies, miscarriage, death, etc (MENTIONS not spoilers lol). Incorrect and vague descriptions of medical problems/systems. Use of YN/LN (your name/ last name). So much angst, as per usual. Also I fucked up the timeline again so we’re gonna pretend like Zandvoort/Monza/Baku is a triple header for storyline purposes thanksss

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

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient with me as I try to wrap up this story during finals <3 I hope the extra length and melodrama make up for it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Oscar Piastri woke up to the feeling of you curled up in his arms—everything should have been perfect. 

The house, it its stillness, beckoned him back to sleep, where he could greet your resting form, your chest softly rising and falling as you breathed in and out, still firmly cozied in your dreams. He hadn’t seen you this peaceful in a while. 

Instead of giving into his want of rest, he watched you, the way your eyelids fluttered with the rapid movement beneath them. He wondered what you must be dreaming of. You never did remember your dreams. 

Right now, all he dreamt of was snuggling closer to you and letting the birdsong of the Australian winter morning take you both away from the painful reality of wakefulness. But he couldn’t be so lucky.

His phone was buzzing, obsessively, and he knew exactly who it was. 

Carefully, he peeled the covers off his sore form, taking caution not to wake you, before grabbing his phone and stepping into the hallway before pressing the call icon. 

“Hi, Mum,” he said, bracing for the incoming lecture.

“Good morning, Oscar,” Nicole responded, in a tone far too calm to be genuine. “How was your flight?”

“It was fine,” he said, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. 

“That’s good.” Silence rang over the line. 

“You can go ahead and ask, Mum, but none of it’s true,” Oscar said. He knew neither of you could run from the new reality of your reputation, but the least he could do was shield you from the initial awkwardness of the conversations that were bound to happen again and again.

“Really? That’s disappointing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought Lando might be treating YN better.”

“Mum—”

“Don’t,” she warned, her voice sharper than he’d ever heard it. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re lucky I’m not there. I don’t care what you do for a living, I am your mother and you’re never too grown for me to grab you by the ear and knock you upside your head.”

Oscar knew her words were empty, but the anger beneath them was very real. “Things have changed between us,” he explained, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a lot better now, Mum. Lando was…it was nothing, really. They just want to destroy her reputation.”

Nicole hummed in response, clearly awake that her son wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “If things are so good, why haven’t I gotten a phone call in months? Two crashes and you can’t so much as call your own mother.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just been a lot, mum.”

She sighed, her voice hefty with an unfocused anger. “I know. I’m just worried about you, Oscar. And I’m worried about YN.”

“I am too,” he whispered, though you must still be asleep. “I’ll warn you, she’s… a bit of a wreck.”

“She never used to care about these kinds of things. What’s gotten into her?”

“It’s…complicated.” Oscar didn’t know how much to give, what to reveal and what to hold back.

“Oscar, I’m going to say something that’s hard to hear, but you both need to hear it.” He swallowed, listening intently to his mother on the other line. “This isn’t good for her. I don’t think…whatever you all have going on, is good for her.”

“But things are getting better—”

“Oscar,” his mother asserted, cutting him off. “You aren’t good for her.”

He was silent, his hands clammy against his phone.

Nicole continued, “I know you all love each other, but love isn’t enough. Her entire life, she’s been right there for you, but what does she have of her own?”

“She has me. She has us.”

“Son… you need to let her go.”

“She doesn’t want to go. She wants to be with me.”

“Well, of course she does. She doesn’t know anything else.”

His mother was right. Who was YN, without Oscar, without the Piastri family?

“You know how badly it would break her heart to hear you right now?”

“I told you this was going to be hard to hear.”

“Mum, she’s my best friend, she’s everything to me. I’m not leaving her. If she wants to leave, I won’t stop her, but I fully intend to stay by her side through all of this, to fix everything I messed up.”

Again, Nicole sighed. “It’s never that easy, son.”

“I know. I’m not choosing this because it’s easy, I’m choosing this because I love her and she’s worth it.”

“I’m not saying that either of those things aren’t true,” Nicole began, but Oscar wouldn’t let her continue.

“You really think I should leave her?” he said, his voice almost cracking.

“I just think she deserves better.”

“Then I’ll be better,” he said, a finality in his words. He could tell that his mother didn’t believe it. 

Nicole was forced to change the subject. “Hattie and I will be home later today,” she said. 

“I’ll see you then.”

When Oscar went back to the room, he prayed to God that you were still asleep, and therefore hadn’t heard any of the conversation that had just gone down. Thankfully, for once, his prayers were answered.

When he stepped into the room, he saw a sliver of light that had come to rest across your face, illuminating the surface of your skin. You were an angel in the flesh, curled up in the stitches of the old quilt, still sleeping to your heart's content. God knows you needed the rest.

Again, he carefully got back into the bed so as not to wake you, but you still stirred, instinctively reaching for him in your sleep. When your skin met his, you scooched up close to him, laying your head on his chest, and fell back into your deeper sleep.

He felt like his heart would burst. At this rate, he’d wake you up from the sound of his rapid heartbeat alone. Every day, it seemed, this feeling in his chest he couldn’t quite name grew bigger and bigger. It was something aside from love, which by now he couldn’t deny he felt for you, and had for a long time. 

But his mother’s words swirled around his head. He knew what she meant—it wasn’t really about you. Nicole had always loved you as if you were her own child, welcomed you into their home, and wanted the best for you. No, it was about him. She didn’t believe that he could be a better man.

And as you slept peacefully at his side and the initial anger subsided with your gentle breathing, he realized that he couldn’t blame his mother. After all, he hadn’t done much to prove otherwise. 

He could crash his car a million times, make gentle love to you every night, but what did it really mean, if at the end of the day, you still struggled, falling into restless sleep even when curled up next to him?

He brought his hand up to trace his fingertips up and down the surface of your arm. If it were up to him, you’d never struggle another day in your life. He was going to be better. He had to. 

He just hoped you’d stay by his side.

You fully woke up an hour or so later, and Oscar’s eyes traced your skin as you sat up and stretched, your palms to the sky, muscles straining underneath his old t-shirt you had donned in the middle of the night. He was enamoured with you, tracing your every movement as you stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom to brush your teeth and fix your hair. You weren’t gone long, though, and soon you got back under the covers and found your way back into his open arms, where he hummed as he traced circles into your bare skin.

“I don’t want to get out of bed today,” you said, a faint smile on your lips.

“Then don’t,” he replied, mumbling into the pillow, a testament to his own tiredness.

“I have eight billion emails to respond to.”

“It’s break—”

“And I’m the internet’s public enemy number one,” you snorted, your sarcasm unmissable. “You know they want us to have a meeting at MTC after break?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, your manager already scheduled it. Seems like the entire HR department will be there.”

“That’s a bit ridiculous,” Oscar said, opening his eyes fully to look at you across from him, though you anxiously stared at the ceiling. “All this for some internet drama?”

“It would be just internet drama if I wasn’t a Formula 1 employee. This is a professional misconduct hearing. I’m not allowed to fraternize with the drivers after hours,” you joked, moving closer to Oscar, scrunching your nose and pressing it to his in a gesture of intimacy. He smiled. 

“Well,” he laughed, not even taking the breath to make the joke. He didn’t need to; your closeness transcended words, though inevitably you’d have to clarify what had transpired between you two last night.

That realization hit you, and your smile faded. 

“Answer your emails, if you must,” Oscar said, shifting in the bed to get more comfortable, “and then come back to bed. We won’t have much time to just lay around and relax when Mum gets back, anyway.”

You took his advice, but sighed at the reality that kept dawning on you. You couldn’t ignore the emails, the inevitable conversations you’d need to have with Nicole and the rest of the family. 

But as you wrapped up your work, turned off your phone, and snuggled one last time next to Oscar under the old quilt, you could pretend, at least for a moment, that everything was alright. 

And it was. Oscar had put some random show on the television, but that was just background noise, your focus rather on the steady thumping heartbeat under Oscar’s chest, where you laid your head, and you both laid quietly in the half-sleep, drifting between dream and wake. 

You broke the soft silence. “When will Mum be home?”

Oscar turned over to glance at his old alarm clock on the nightstand. “A few hours, probably around dinner.”

You hummed. “Have you spoken to her about…?” Your voice trailed off.

Oscar bit his lip, remembering the conversation from the early morning. A soft anger still burned inside his chest. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I didn’t tell her much, though. Didn’t know how much you wanted me to say.”

“I don’t even know what to tell her. It’s all just…embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to tell her anything. We’re grown.”

“I guess,” you said, biting your own lip, deep in conflicted thought. “I’m just worried she’ll agree with what everyone else is saying. That I’m a…a whore, or something.”

“She’d never think that,” Oscar said, sitting up. “YN, she loves you like you’re her own.”

“Did she say anything about it, on the phone?”

Oscar took a beat, contemplating how much of the truth to tell. He cursed how you all always thought in sync. “No,” he said, deciding on a white lie. “She was more mad at me for hardly calling.”

You didn’t quite believe him, and he could tell. You knew you’d just have to hear it from her. 

But you pushed the thought out of your mind, choosing instead to take your place back in Oscar’s arms, drifting between sleep and wake, safely cocooned away from the world. 

Of course, the utopia was shattered when Nicole and Hattie arrived home.

Oscar could feel your anxiety from a mile away. When he heard the door open and you all shifted up in the bed, he pulled you closer to him, kissed your forehead, and said, “I’ll distract Mum. You’ll have to deal with Hattie on your own though.”

You laughed, though Hattie was the one person you really needed to see right now. 

When you met them at the door, you all exchanged hugs and pleasantries, and Oscar, true to his word, distracted his mother long enough for you to “help” Hattie lug her suitcase upstairs.

She thumped it on the floor and crawled onto her bed, sitting cross-legged, as you slumped into her corner beanbag, as if you all were still teenagers again.

“YN,” she laughed, “you look like shit. Is that why you haven’t been answering my texts?”

“Thanks, glad to see you too” you joked back, though you felt more lighthearted than you’d been in a while. “Really though, I swear, I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation with a woman who doesn’t hate me. You don’t even know the half of it,” you said, nervously scratching the back of your neck.

“And I have the entire night off, so I expect to hear the all of it!” she said.

“I don’t know how much I should say…”

“YN. Be real.” You nervously chuckled, knowing that you couldn’t keep anything from her. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything, “ you said, then sighed. “But first I need to ask you the most embarrassing question I’ve ever had to ask anyone in my whole life. Do you still have that emergency plan B?”

Hattie laughed, thinking you were joking. “What, did you sneak Lando in last night?”

“Not Lando…” you said, giving her back a half-hearted laugh. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” she said, getting up to find the box and hand it to you. 

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Before she handed you the box, she tilted her head and raised a brow. “Wait, so who…?”

You grabbed the box anyway, and looked away from her. “Don’t make me say it,” you begged.

“What?”

“Who do you think I was here with last night?”

She looked perplexed for a second as you took the pill from the box and swallowed it, but her eyes widened when she finally realized. 

“I—you—my brother? Eugh!”

You playfully rolled your eyes, sipping your drink to get the taste of the pill out of your mouth. 

“I mean, Carlos Sainz is literally right there and you’re willingly sleeping with MY BROTHER?” 

“Hattie, hush!” you said, hearing Oscar and Nicole’s voices downstairs. 

“Do not let him baby trap you! Oh God, I’m too young to be an aunt. Wait, how long have you and Oscar been…?”

“It’s not like that—”

“Well apparently it is!” she whispered. 

“Look, I’ll tell you everything, but for now, just don’t say a word to anyone.”

“My lips are sealed,” she said, dragging her hand like a zipper along her mouth.

Your weeks at the Piastri family house flew by. Though you had been forced to tell Hattie at least some of the details, you were thankful that the rest of the family had donned a false amnesia to spare you some of the embarrassment. 

A problem remained, though. Your period was late.

A day or two, that was fine. Though it scared you to death, you knew your period tracker wasn’t perfect. It could be stress, or the effect of the pill, or a million other reasons you ran over in your head as you snuck into Oscar’s room at night, as if the entire house didn’t already know that something was going on between you two. 

But as the day turned into a week, and a week into two, you were losing your mind. The night before you all were set to leave for your flight to your mandatory disciplinary conduct hearing at the MTC, Nicole has taken it upon herself to insist on a “going away” dinner with the whole family. 

You didn’t want to go, but it was no use. 

Your stomach churned with nausea, from nervousness or…something else, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t stop the train of thoughts that kept running in your head. 

“Okay,” you said, spritzing yourself with perfume, “how do I look?”

Truthfully, you felt like garbage. You had donned a simple dress, and the question was more one of approval rather than admiration. Still, when Oscar looked up from his phone, his eyes widened. 

“Wow,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t have to flatter me,” you said, fixing a stray strand of hair in the mirror. Oscar walked up behind you, placing his head on your shoulder, leaning into you and gazing at your reflections. 

“I’m not,” he said. “You really are beautiful.” You resisted the urge to make some self-deprecating comment, biting your tongue both literally and metaphorically. 

“Can I kiss you?” Oscar asked, his voice low. Since that fateful night in the house, all alone, your affection had been practically nonexistent, reserved for the secret sanctuary of the nighttime, as you skittered around the house in fear of judgement. 

You just hummed in response, unsure of what to say. Usually, Oscar’s touch felt like home to you, his warmth being the one thing you needed to ground you. But now, it felt like just a weight, bringing you down to Earth in the worst way.

He meekly kissed your cheek, sensing your discomfort, and pulled away so you could lean down and fasten your heels. When you rose, and your expression was still sour, he reached out, running his hands up and down your arms.

“You okay?” he asked, and you looked away. You nodded. “Just nervous,” you said, praying he’d buy it.

He did, for now. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll be there with you, and this’ll all be swept under the rug. People will forget about it and move on to the next stupid scandal.”

You gave him a flat smile in response. 

“Now, can I give you a real kiss?”

“Didn’t you just give me one?”

“Is that a no?”

Instinctually, your smile turned real, and you leaned forward, allowing him to give you, as he said, a real kiss. It was brief and safe, knowing that at any second, the sanctity of his room could be shattered.

But he didn’t care, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. 

“Third time’s the charm?” he asked, his eyes full of a lovesickness enough to melt even the coldest heart.

“Your family is downstairs waiting for us. And you have my lipgloss on you.”

“I don’t care—”

“Are you all gonna take all day?” Hattie said, yelling from the hallway, and you scurried away, out of Oscar’s arms, grabbing your purse and making your way to the door. 

At the dinner, you found no reprieve. Despite Nicole’s best efforts at avoiding the subject, the air was thick with an unspoken awkwardness regarding the events that would transpire tomorrow. 

In between plates of pasta, a group of random girls had come up to the other side of the table, focused intently on Oscar.

“I’m sorry, are you Oscar Piastri? Can we get a picture?” 

“Erm…” he said, looking for a convenient way to say no. The girls glanced at you, and their expression immediately went cold, as they eyed you with a look of disgust. 

“We’re having a family dinner right now,” Nicole chimed in, “but it was lovely seeing you all, and Oscar appreciates all the support!”

You were thankful for the distraction, but wanted nothing more than to be out of there. 

Even back at the house, though, you couldn’t escape this embarrassment that ran deeper than your own bones. 

“Alright, everyone, time for a real send off,” Nicole joked, as you gathered in the kitchen for homemade desserts and, more importantly, a bottle of wine.

A glass of wine to drown your sorrows sounded wonderful. But you couldn’t, not knowing if… you couldn’t even bring yourself to imagine the word. You wanted to puke.

It’s too early to tell. There could be a million other reasons why. It was going to be okay. You repeated it again and again in your head, but you couldn’t believe it, not truly. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” you told Nicole as she poured you a glass. 

“Oh no, YN, this is the good stuff, you can’t refuse!”

“No, really, I’m—”

“C’mon, YN,” Oscar teased, playfully elbowing you in the side. 

“I… I should just get to bed, I’m not feeling well,” you said, excusing yourself and running upstairs before anyone could argue with you. 

“Something’s up with her,” Nicole said, sipping from her glass, glaring at Oscar over the rim. He swished the burgundy liquid in his glass, avoiding his mother’s eyes. 

“Don’t start,” he warned. “She’s just stressed. You know how she gets.”

You fell asleep in the guest bedroom, but snuck into Oscar’s room sometime in the darkness of night, where he was solidly sleeping, aided by enough wine that you could still smell it off of him. 

Curled up next to him on the edge of the bed, that night, you dreamt, and for once, you remembered it. 

You never were the type to remember your dreams, at least not in anything beyond fleeting moments that vanished when you woke. But tonight was different. 

You were in a bedroom, a condo in Monaco, the soft waves lapping outside the window as sunlight spilled in. You sat in a rocking chair in the corner of a nursery. Across the room, huddled over a pink crib, was Oscar. He leaned down, and with a heave picked up the small swaddle of blankets and held it in his strong arms. Your newborn daughter looked smaller than a button in the vastness of her father’s arms. 

“She’s tiny,” he said, his voice soft as the morning birdsong right out the window. He gazed at her with love the like of which you’d never seen, as he held and gently rocked his entire world in his arms, humming to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead and she cooed, and you sat and rocked, quiet in the early morning. A tenseness filled the room.

“I don’t think I can do it,” he said. His gaze never shifted from the baby in his arms. “I can’t leave her.”

“We’ll be fine. We always are,” you said. 

“I know,” he whispered, his voice on the edge of tears. “But she’s so small. I don’t want to miss any more of this. You don’t get this time back.”

“I know,” you said, your own voice tinged with a sense of melancholy. 

The somber peace was broken by the screeching of a little boy, the spitting image of his father, roaring into the room with plastic dinosaurs in hand. He roared as he pivoted the dinosaur towards his sister, the middle child, who stumbled in after him. 

“Hush,” you said to the two children, “the baby is sleeping. Go tell your father goodbye.”

The boy dropped his dinosaurs and ran over to Oscar, hugging his leg. “Don’t go, papa!”

Oscar put the baby back in her crib and picked up his son, who rested his head against his father’s chest. “You know I don’t want to, kiddo.” 

“He has to go drive the race cars!” whispered your middle daughter. 

“That’s right,” he said, fluffing her hair. He put down his son, who was growing too big to be held for that long. The boy bounded with energy, jumping as he reached the floor, his father now kneeled before him. 

“I’ll drive the race cars!” he exclaimed. 

“Yeah?” Oscar said, his smile wide.

“Yeah, I’ll go like vroom, and—”

The baby was crying.

No. You were awake, and your alarm was going off. And as you groped in the dark for your phone, a sudden wave of sickness hit you. You had approximately 30 seconds to get to a bathroom before last night’s dinner would be on the floor. 

You hit your phone off the nightstand, ending the alarm while also making far too loud of a noise, and half-stumbled half-sprinted down the hall to get to the bathroom. Kneeling on the tile floor, you made it just in time to, quite literally, spill your guts. 

A hand pulled your hair back out of your face as you heaved, and when you were finally done, you saw Oscar sigh and sit on the edge of the bathtub. You were a wreck: your dream had brought forth unstoppable tears, and your stomach still rolled and flipped even as you slumped against the sink cabinet. 

“YN,” he said softly, “you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Just a little sick.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I just had a bad dream. I’m sorry I woke you up—”

“I was already half awake,” he said, cutting you off. “YN, you’ve stressed yourself out so much that you’re sick. Talk to me.”

“I promise, I’m fine—”

“YN,” he said, and you were finally forced to look at him. His hair, still messy from sleep, endeared you to him; you locked eyes with the same orbs that had, in your dreams, gazed lovingly upon your newborn daughter, and you lost all semblance of order.

He kneeled down next to you. “YN,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“My period is late.” The room stood still. 

Oscar froze. “How late?”

“Two weeks.”

His internal voice could only say one word: Shit. But physically, he couldn’t say anything.

“Are you just gonna stare at me like I’m crazy, or…?” you asked, as Oscar’s mind was clearly elsewhere, lost in thought.

“It doesn’t make sense. You took the pill, right?”

“Of course.” you sniffled.

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure!”

“Then how could you be—”

“Because that shit isn’t 100% effective, Oscar!” you said, your voice low but harsh. Oscar, the unfortunate target of your anger, winced at your words. “You think I didn’t take it? Ask Hattie.”

“Hattie?”

“Where do you think I got the pill from?”

“My sister has plan B?” Oscar asked, his face contorting with disgust. 

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. “That’s what you’re concerned about right now? I’m… I could be…” Your voice trailed into a choked sob, as you couldn’t even get the words out.

“Hey, I’m sorry, look, it’s okay,” Oscar said, moving down to sit cross legged across from you.

“It’s not okay, Oscar,” you sobbed, as he reached out to hold you, and you were too weak to push him away.

“No, I promise, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll be okay,” he said, and you gave up, crying into his shoulder, the weight of too many bottled up tears. He ran his hand up and down your back as you tried, and failed, to pull yourself back together.

“What are we gonna do?” you whispered, your breath stabilizing in the comfort of his arms.

“We take it a day at a time. We go to the MTC, get this hearing over with, and then get you a test.”

“And if I’m…”

“If you’re pregnant,” he said, and you felt your stomach drop at the utterance of the word, “then we make it work.”

“No, no, we can’t do this. We cannot have a baby. I cannot have a baby with you.”

Oscar was hurt by your words, though you said them without thinking, too deep in your own panic. “Why not? What’s stopping us?”

“Are you serious? We’re too young, you’re a fucking Formula 1 driver, and I’m about to lose my job. I’d barely be able to provide for myself, let alone a baby.”

“YN, if you’re pregnant, you’ll never worry about having to provide for anyone ever again. I have more than enough money.”

“But you’d be gone all the time. And even if you weren’t, we’re… Oscar, we’re a mess! Hattie thinks you’re trying to baby trap me,” you snorted, your voice dripping with malice.

“Do you really believe that?” Oscar asked, his voice serious.

“No,” You sniffled. “It’s my own fault for sleeping with you when I’m not on birth control. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“None of that, YN. We both should have been more responsible. But I promise you, it will be okay.”

“If I am pregnant, I can’t keep it. Would you…be okay with that?”

Oscar looked at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek. “Honestly,” he began, “it’d break my heart. But I know it’s not my decision. And whatever you chose, I’d support you.”

A silence fell in the room. 

“I had a dream, just before I woke up. We had three kids. And they were perfect, but you were gone all the time. I don’t want that.”

You looked up at Oscar, the fluorescent lights hitting his eyes at the perfect angle to reveal the sheen of his own tears. 

“This dream… it was so real. And it terrified me.” You continued, “You’re so close to winning the championship, I can’t take that away from you.” 

“The championship is the last thing I care about right now,” he whispered. “We just need to take it step by step. First, we get on this flight. We get through the hearing. Then, before the next race, we get you to a doctor. Can we do that?”

“We can do that,” you echoed, though you felt incapable of anything besides crying on this bathroom floor. 

Oscar scooped you up in his arms again, gentler this time, as if his arms were the only thing keeping you whole. 

“We’re gonna be okay. Let’s go catch this flight, yeah?” he said, kissing you on your forehead.

And that’s what you did, taking a quick shower and readying yourself to be seen in the public eye again. You said a quiet goodbye to the Piastri family as you and Oscar made your way to the airport, where he refused to drop your hand despite your protests.

“Oscar, someone might see,” you whispered.

“I don’t care,” he said. “Let ‘em watch.”

Despite your instincts, you had checked social media earlier in the morning, only to find that the girls from the evening before at the restaurant had taken pictures of the entire family from across the building and sent them to the gossip pages. The comments were full of disparaging notes towards both you and Oscar, calling you every name under the sun. 

On the long, long flight to the UK, you couldn’t sleep, instead drifting in and out of some semi-conscious state that offered no real rest. 

When you landed, you felt like a zombie. You had only a few hours before you needed to be at the MTC. 

“You all have a good flight?” Zak Brown asked, those few hours later as he led you through the long, billowing halls of the MTC. You had made it, only just in time. Oscar’s words echoed in your mind—you just needed to get through it. 

“Yeah,” you said, giving a polite smile, lying through your teeth. Oscar had come before you, giving you a much needed nap, but it meant you were alone as you walked to meet your impending professional doom. 

Zak stopped in front of the door. “Look, YN, I’m so sorry we have to go through this, but it’s outside of my wheelhouse.”

“I understand,” you said. 

“Well, this isn’t just a formality. HR is on our asses about this. Of course, we’ll do everything in our power to let them know that you’re a good asset and that this is all a big misunderstanding. But before I open this door, I just want you to be ready.”

“Thank you, Zak,” you said, truly thankful that someone was looking out for you. “I’m ready, I’ll be okay.”

You weren’t ready, though. Zak opened the door, and you felt like you were going to puke all over again.

A line of stone faced, suit-clad human resource robot-people sat on one side of the room. On the other, a line of familiar faces. 

On the far side, Oscar, who you locked eyes with, his gaze pleading, I’m sorry. 

Next to him, Lando.

Next to him, Lily.

And then, the last open seat in the room, that had to be yours. 

You sighed, walked across the room, and took your seat.

“Oh, you must be YN LN, just on time,” one of the human resource people said—a woman, her hair in a perfect slick back bun, so polished and put together. “Let’s begin.”

You nodded.

“Well, thank you all for your time,” she began, “I know all of you have much more enjoyable things to be doing. We’re here today investigating allegations of professional misconduct that would violate the terms of YN’s contract. You all have been implicated in this as well.” 

You stared at the floor as she droned on. 

“Miss LN, I understand you’ve known everyone here for a while.”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“Oscar and I were childhood friends.”

“And what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Piastri today?”

You stuttered internally. Technically, you were violating your contract by doing…whatever it was you were doing with Oscar.

“Um…” you hesitated.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he interjected, causing all heads to turn to the end of the table. You locked eyes with him. “She doesn't want to say it because she doesn’t want to get in trouble. But this is all on me, really—”

“Please refrain from interrupting, Mr. Piastri,” the woman said. “Is that correct?” she asked you, and you nodded. Of course, Oscar had never asked you to be his girlfriend. But what else could you be called?

“And what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Norris?”

“There isn’t one,” you answered, too quickly for comfort. 

“So you’re just complete strangers?”

“No, I know him. But I don’t talk to him.”

“How long has this been the case?”

“Since May.”

“Why is that?”

“He was rude to me.” Your words cut through the tension of the moment. You looked your interviewer in the eye, as if to say, are you really asking me this?

“This moment of rudeness, did it happen within the context of your working duties?”

“No. It was at a restaurant in Monaco. I told you all of this in the written report. Is there anything else you need to know?” Your anger grew with each question.

“Miss LN, you are facing serious allegations—”

“Remind me of them.”

“Engaging in illicit meetings activities with Mr. Norris, and being in a longstanding affair with Mr. Piastri, both in violation of the privacy terms of your contract.”

“I told them, nothing of the sort happened,” you said, your voice strained with exasperation. “Oscar and I have been together since…well, off and on since April, and yes, that violates my contract, I guess, but there was no affair. And Lando and I met in Monaco outside of work twice, as friends. If you want to have my job over that, go ahead, I don’t care anymore. This is ridiculous, having an entire hearing over a few grainy pictures on Instagram? You’re wasting all our time, especially since I wrote everything I had to say in the report—” 

“Miss LN, perhaps you should leave the room while we conduct the rest of the hearing.”

You inhaled sharply and left the room, fighting the urge to slam the door behind you. In the hallway Zak waited, and he raised his eyebrows when he saw you exit, so angry and far before he expected you.

“Done already?” he asked.

“No,” you huffed. “But they’ve decided to not let me ask any questions at my own hearing, so they’ll be having it without me.”

Zak sighed, running a hand through his hair, and said, “Look, YN, I get that you’re frustrated. Hell, I’m frustrated too. This is a waste of everyone’s time. But what HR says, goes. Just gotta get through it.”

“I know,” you said, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “But, are they even trying to find out who leaked all this? Did they read any of the evidence or look at any of the statements?”

“I think we all know who leaked this,” Zak said, and you raised your brow. What did he know? “I don’t know much about the investigation. But like I said earlier, I’m gonna do everything in my power to help.”

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a weak smile. 

You didn’t know how long you sat in that hallway, only half there mentally, waiting for the hearing to end, until finally, you heard the voice of the same woman beckoning you back into the room.

Again you entered, avoiding Oscar’s pitying glance, and sat back down next to Lily, whose gaze was glued to the floor. 

“Thank you for your…cooperation, Miss LN,” the woman said, through politely gritted teeth. “The committee has come to the decision that your employment will be suspended through the next 3 races.”

“I—”

The woman verbally barrelled over you, continuing, “This suspension will give us time to finalize our decision, at which point we will let you know whether we have decided to reinstate or permanently end your employment. Unless, of course, you want to resign, in which case we will accept a letter of resignation at any point.”

“You want me to quit?”

“That’s your decision to make,” the woman said. 

You bit your cheek, keeping quiet only for the hope of maybe getting your job back. 

As everyone filtered out of the room, you went ahead, walking as fast as your legs could carry you just to get out of the oppressive environment. Still, behind you, you could hear the scuffling of three pairs of legs, memories of a once unbreakable bond now fractured. 

“So,” Lily said, her voice low in an attempt to avoid you hearing, “You and YN are official now, huh?”

“Don’t,” Oscar said, looking ahead. He didn’t stop walking.

“How long has that been? Since before or after you lied to me?”

“Lily,” he warned, his voice sterner now, “Not today.”

“When, then? When are you going to admit that you’re a fucking liar?”

You turned back, the air in the hallway noticeable thicker with the tension of Lily’s words. Everyone has stopped walking. Oscar nodded to you, a sign to keep going, though you walked slower now, unable to escape Lily’s magnetizing fury. Oscar hurried, though. 

“All you do is run. Run to YN, run from hotel to hotel, run from your mother, run from Lando. You can only run from the truth for so long, Oscar.”

“Let’s go, Oscar,” you said, sensing his anger rising.

“Don’t act like you’re innocent,” she said, “You know you’re just his safe bet. When he finds something better, he’ll leave you too. But of course, you won’t leave, since apparently you’ve been at his beck and call your entire life—”

You finally made it out the doors, but Lily didn’t stop her tirade until Oscar slammed the door behind him and cut her off. 

“Listen,” he said, his voice angrier than you’d ever heard it. “I love YN more than I ever loved you. She’s my soulmate. And every day I curse myself for actually being faithful to you and wasting my time when I could have spent it with her. The only reason I ever was with you was because I was too much of a coward to be with her. Not anymore. Say whatever the fuck you want about me, I don’t care. But leave her out of this.”

“You’re evil,” Lily retorted, her voice shaking. 

“I’m evil? Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve done nothing but accuse me of things I didn’t do! And harassing YN when she’s pre—when, when she’s going through all this…”

“When she’s what?” Lily asked. 

“Oscar, let’s just go, please,” you begged.

“What did you say?” Lily questioned, though Oscar turned to leave.

“Pregnant,” Lando interjected. He had been forgotten in the background, lurking, listening. “That’s what you were gonna say, right?”

“You’re pregnant?” Lily asked, looking at you with horror in her eyes. 

“I—I’m not…” you protested, but your expression gave you away, and any reputations were in vain. 

“Oh my God,” Lily said, tears finding both of your eyes.

“Okay, we’re leaving,” Oscar said, grabbing your hand and nearly dragging you away and to his car, walking fast enough that neither Lily nor Lando could keep up.

It wasn’t until he was speeding away in his McLaren, you safely in the passenger side, that he spoke again.

“I… I know I massively fucked up.”

“Don’t,” you whispered. “I’m not mad. But I can’t right now.” 

Oscar conceded, remaining silent until you made it up to your hotel room and collapsed on the bed. 

He just sat next to you, gently rubbing a hand up and down your back. 

“Do you want me to tell you what happened in the hearing, while you were in the hall?” he asked.

“No,” you whispered as you sat up, tears now flowing without restraint. 

He wrapped you in his arms again, but even his embrace couldn’t fix it. “What can I do to make it better?” he asked.

“I just want to go home,” you sniffled. He wordlessly got out his phone and booked you both a flight back to Monaco in the morning.

The words came later in the night, in that familiar and safe space, his arm around you, your leg draped over his. 

“It just isn’t fair,” you said, your voice barely a whisper against his skin. “If they fire me… we’ll hardly see each other.”

“They can’t ban me from bringing you whenever I want.”

“It’s not the same, though,” you said. “Besides, I don’t want to be a kept woman.” 

He sighed in contentment. It was only wrapped in the presence of the other that either of you could release all the tension and rest in the quietness between you. 

“I’m sorry I…answered for you, at the beginning of the hearing,” Oscar said.

Oh, yeah. He had called you his…girlfriend. The thought had escaped your mind, but it came back with a vengeance now, a familiar wave of nausea and nervousness resting in your stomach. 

He continued, “I didn’t mean to…to force you into anything. I mean, I don’t even know where we’re at, like, between us, it just kinda—”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” you asked, cutting him off. 

Oscar, not expecting your interjection, was silent for a moment. “Of course I do,” he answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m the same person I was before, when you said you could never be with me.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I still make stupid mistakes, but this isn’t one of them. I mean, we live together. You fall asleep in my arms almost every night. I tell you my fears and my hopes and my dreams. Your childhood plushie is stowed away in my closet back home—”

“Mr. Koala?” you asked, a rare smile crossing your face. “I thought I lost him!”

“No,” Oscar laughed, “I stole him. Got jealous of all the attention you gave him.”

“When we were ten?” you asked.

“Yes. YN, it’s always been you. And I want it to stay that way.”

Despite all the fear that ran through your veins, for once, you believed him. You pushed it aside. You had to. 

“Okay,” you whispered, tracing circles into his bare skin beneath you. “Then…we’re together.”

The moment was simple, quiet, the room full of nothing but the soft rhythm of your breathing, and the unspoken understanding of what had just happened. It had been too long, in that back and forth, strangled by fear and guilt and shame. But it held no weight in the space between your warm bodies, away from the world, your little haven of each other. 

“But I want my koala back,” you said. 

And when you fell asleep that night, the world continued spinning, though in your little hotel room, everything had changed.

Even back home, the light in Monaco seemed different. Brighter, somehow. 

The sunlight was infectious as you and Oscar walked the narrow streets, hand in hand, no longer caring who saw. 

Of course, this came back to bite you when you glimpsed the familiar face of Lily across the street.

You both kept walking, not acknowledging the other, though once she passed, you leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “What’s she doing in Monaco?”

“Shit, yeah,” he replied, “she mentioned it in the hearing. Orientation for a new company.”

You sighed, not angry at her, but more flustered and ashamed. Oscar tightened his grip, squeezing your hand, an unspoken reassurance.

But her image haunted you as you made your way back to your apartment.

“We should get a bigger place,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“I like it here,” you replied, opening the door to the balcony. “I like the view.” You walked out and leaned over the railing, basking in the light. Oscar followed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, resting his head in the space between your neck and shoulder. “Clingy much?” you teased.

“I’m not gonna see you for nearly a month,” he mumbled. 

“We’ll live,” you said, though you cracked a small smile. It felt nice to know you’d be missed. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

“I’m sure.” He huffed in mock annoyance at you. 

Days before, you had booked a doctor’s appointment for after Oscar returned from the triple header, unable to get one any sooner. The store-bought tests you had secured, sneaking in the middle of the night to a corner store to avoid any wandering eyes, had gone unopened. You were too scared, though now, it had been an undeniable amount of time; either you were pregnant, or something was very wrong. 

But you’d have to wait until he returned. You couldn’t do it without him there. Though, he had asked about a million times if you wanted him to cancel on McLaren and take you to a doctor now.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured. “You just focus on driving fast.”

“I can’t focus when I know you're here alone. What if something happens?”

“Well, the faster you drive, the sooner you can come home.”

He rolled his eyes at you, then gave you a peck on the cheek, before you both went back into the apartment to enjoy your last night together. 

When he left the next morning, you couldn’t lie to yourself and say that it wasn’t tough. It was only 3 races, not even a month, but when he closed the door behind him, your apartment was quiet in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. 

With no Oscar, and no work to do, what could be done to fill your time? It hit you then, how little of a life you had, outside of your new boyfriend and his job. It hurt. 

You confided this to him when he called after he landed that night. 

“How was your day?” he asked, clearly exhausted from his flight.

“Boring,” you confessed. “I have no life outside of F1. It’s kind of sad, actually,” you said, laughing, poking fun at yourself, though the admission cut deeper than you’d care to admit.

“Neither do I,” he said. “But what about those pictures you’ve been trying to edit?”

“Huh?” you said. “I’m not allowed to post any pictures. They literally changed your Instagram password.”

“Ew,” he said. “But I don’t mean photos of me. I mean, you’ve always got your camera, and you always say you don’t have enough time to edit all your shots. Hell, I don’t end up seeing half of them.”

“Because they’re bad.”

“Then fix them.”

The conversation didn’t last much longer, but eventually you did take his advice, going through the backlogs of all the shots you had acquired in your paddock days and nights on the town with Oscar. The shots often hurt; full to the brink with memories, from times before, when things were stiffer, more closed-off. 

And even if you didn’t have the memories at your disposal, you could tell from the subtle details of Oscar’s face what he was feeling. He was actually quite easy to read, and his smile ran from photo to photo, sometimes hiding pain, but sometimes hiding a deeper truth beneath them, a love he had been so scared to confess.

And as you clicked away at your computer, for a second, you thought, maybe I’m good at this. 

Your editing consumed your days, when not watching content from the race, of course. You worked into the night, taking breaks only to fulfill your most basic needs, as if you could lose yourself in all the snapshots you had taken long ago.

And in a way, you did. You could ignore the silence of your apartment, the nervousness as the day of your appointment inched closer, the nausea that always sat in wait in the pit of your stomach, waiting to strike. You stopped only when you were going to collapse from exhaustion.

The night before Zandvoort, that’s what happened; you had worked into the early hours of the morning, ignoring the clock, until you were forced to take a nap and set an alarm before the race.

But when you woke up, your room was dark, and you couldn’t quite move. Something was wrong. 

You dragged yourself out of the bed, only to be met with a horrifying sight: you were bleeding. And it was everywhere; staining your clothes, the sheet, and deep into the mattress. You barely had enough energy to hold yourself up, let alone register what was happening. 

You looked up at your TV, which you had left on as you slept. You saw Oscar’s frame, dashing down the pit lane, as the race was about to begin any minute now. He was there, unreachable, so close, yet further than he’d ever been. 

You were alone. 

Oscar was just as tired when he crossed the checkered flag and claimed the coveted first place trophy for the Dutch Grand Prix. 

He had coasted above the competition, winning easily. But he couldn’t shake the loneliness that had settled deep into his bones, knowing that you weren’t in the garage or in the crowd below the podium, waiting for him with a warm embrace and a smile wider than he could imagine.

But you were at home, cheering him on. He looked ahead past the crowd, into the reflective lens of the camera he knew was staring at him right now. He knew, somewhere, you could see him. 

And, he thought to himself as he exited the podium and went back to the cooldown room, you would always leave him a sweet congratulatory text for him to look forward to. 

He exhaled, truly, in the cooldown room, the cameras now gone. George and Max, his podium companions, chatted to themselves as Oscar stretched. Lando had been caught in an accident in the early laps of the race, a result of a lack of focus. DNF. Oscar was now ahead in the championship.

He knew it was too early to celebrate, and if he wanted that championship, he’d have to claw his way towards it, fighting for every point. But he couldn’t lie and say that a twisted part of him didn’t enjoy overtaking Lando, both on track and off it. 

But when he finally got back to his driver’s room and got his phone, he was disappointed to find no text from you. Nothing. That wasn’t like you.

He stuck his phone in his pocket. Maybe you were waiting to call him back when he was at the hotel.

But even then, no text, no call. His own texts went unanswered, his calls to voicemail. He made a sour face after going to your voicemail a third time. What else could you be doing?

He suddenly remembered, he had your location. Maybe you had just fallen asleep. Or maybe you were at the supermarket, or maybe…

You were at the hospital. 

Your little icon was in the middle of a hospital. And you weren’t answering him. 

He called again, and again went to voicemail.

“Hey YN,” he said, trying not to let fear waver his voice. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you can. Love you.”

Straight, to the point, just like Oscar. But when another half hour went by with no word, he couldn’t help but panic.

Who could he call? His family was halfway across the world. All his coworkers were here. Monaco was a ghost town during race weekends. You truly were alone, and he was terrified.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he dialed the one number he never wanted to call again. 

“You have got some nerve calling me,” Lily said, her voice sharp with venom.

“And yet, you answered,” Oscar said, unable to keep his snarky comments under wraps. “Look, Lily, I need you to listen. I need to ask something of you.”

“You really think you have the right to ask anything of me?” she questioned.

“It’s not for me. It’s YN.”

“I don’t care.”

“She’s in the hospital,” he said, his throat choking. “Lily, I haven’t heard from her since last night, and her location says she’s in the hospital, and you are the only person I know who’s in Monaco right now.”

On the other line, Lily was silent.

“She’s pregnant, Lily. And I am fucking terrified right now. Please, just find her and tell me she’s okay. Please.”

Though he couldn’t hear her, Oscar could picture her face in his mind, how she was biting her lip, turning the gears in her mind.

“You’re lucky I’m off tonight,” she said. “I’ll go check and call you back.”

“Thank you so much Lily, seriously, thank—”

The call ended. 

Lily’s shoes clicked against the sensible tile of the hospital floor as she made her way to your room. Her breath was tense with stifled anger. She knew this wasn’t about you. But to hear Oscar plead for you, in a way that he had never cared for her, hurt more than she would ever admit to. 

She gently knocked on the door before entering, but you were clearly not conscious. Your phone sat on the counter, your home page (a photo of you and Oscar, to add insult to injury), full of his frantic notifications. 

She sighed as she sat in the lone armchair next to you, watching as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Are you family?” a doctor asked, startling Lily. 

“No, just a…friend,” she said, forcing her lips into a smile. “Her boyfriend asked me to come check on her. Can you tell me what happened?”

“She stumbled here a few hours ago. Hemorrhaging pretty bad. We gave her a transfusion, but she’s been in and out.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, she’s just in shock.”

“What about the… um,” Lily paused, unsure of how to continue. “Um… she’s pregnant.”

The doctor made a face, looking down to his clipboard of papers. “Give me a second,” he said, exiting the room.

Lily bit her cheek. Of all things, this is one she wouldn’t wish on anyone, even Oscar, angry as she was still from the way he spoke to her back at the MTC.

She typed up a quick text. I’m at the hospital with YN. She’s fine, but not awake. I’ll call when I know more. 

It wasn’t until an hour or so later that you came to, though you thought you were dreaming. The last thing you could remember was the deep red stain of blood soaked through the mattress…you thought you were going to die. Yes, you must be dead, because your personal hell would be what faced you now; sitting incapacitated in a hospital room across from none other than Lily Zneimer. 

Though you were awake, you were visibly confused. “Hey, YN,” Lily said, her voice gentler than you’d heard it in a long, long while. “You okay?”

“What’s going on?” you asked. 

“You had an… um, an emergency, I guess. I don’t really know.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oscar was scared because you weren’t answering his calls.”

“But Oscar’s racing,” you said, your speech slurred.

“YN,” she said, “It’s late.” You raised your head and craned your neck to see the twinkle of Monaco’s street lights against the velvety water. Lily was right—it was late, and you had no idea what had happened, how you had gotten here, and what was going on at all.

Your question was answered when Lily stepped out of the room and you finally got a visit from a doctor, who explained how you had dragged yourself, weak and bloody, into the emergency room before passing out shortly after they got you into a bed.

“You’ve had a transfusion, but all your other tests came back normal,” he said. “So nothing immediately life-threatening. We can release you in a few hours with a referral.”

“But what about my baby?” you asked, and the question nearly made you faint again. You had said it instinctually, not feeling the weight of the words until they had already left your mouth. It had always been ‘the pregnancy’; something sterile, detached, a condition. Not your baby. Not a real, tangible sign of your love with Oscar.

Your baby. Oscar’s baby. Our baby, you thought, and you wanted to cry.

“Miss YN, you’re not pregnant,” the doctor said, matter of factly. 

“I…I miscarried?” you asked.

“No,” he said. “Your tests showed no signs of pregnancy. You weren’t pregnant when you walked into this emergency room.”

“That’s impossible. I missed a period. I—I had unprotected sex and then I missed a period. That’s not how that works.”

“Missed periods can be caused by many things—”

“I don’t understand. How am I not pregnant?” 

“Well, it could be from—” The doctor’s voice droned on, but you weren’t listening. 

There was no baby. There never was a baby. Your mind went blank.

How were you supposed to tell Oscar?

“So, Miss YN, we’ll get that referral set up for you. I’d like to keep you here overnight, just in case, but you’ll be good to go in the morning.” 

You nodded, numb, as the doctor exited the room and Lily returned. She saw the expression on your face and immediately softened.

“YN, I am so sorry…”

“Don’t be. I’m not pregnant. I never was.”

Lily paused. “False positive?”

“Something like that,” you muttered. 

“Still,” she said, sitting tentatively at the foot of the bed, “I’m sorry. I can tell you aren’t happy about that news.”

“Lily, you don’t have to do this,” you said. What you left unsaid: you don’t have to pretend like you’re not relieved that I’m not carrying your ex-boyfriend’s baby. You don’t have to pretend like you don’t hate me. You don’t have to pretend like you care.

Lily bit the inside of her cheek. Even though you hadn’t said it, she knew. “I still don’t wish that on anyone,” she muttered.

“Not even me?”

“No. Not even you, or Oscar.”

The two of you fell silent, and the air was thick with tension.

“Erm, speaking of, you should probably call him. He’s freaking out.” You glanced over to your phone on the counter, but it was now dead.

“Can you just tell him I’ll call in the morning?”

“You can just use my phone. Seriously, YN, he’s scared. Just give him 5 minutes.”

You grabbed Lily’s phone from her hand, your hand shaking. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to call him, but you thought of him staring at his phone, hoping for a call from her name and number, and still, deep down, it made you sick.

Lily left the room again, and you found his number in the recent calls; his contact had been deleted. 

Many miles apart, Oscar couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest, couldn’t hardly breathe. He knew better than to call and pester Lily again. But when her number showed up on his phone—he too had deleted the contact—he picked up within a single ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi Osc,” you said, your voice weak and shaky.

“Oh my God, YN,” he said, and you could hear an equal fear in his tone. He tried to swallow it down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“You scared me.”

“I know,” you said, choking on your own words. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t really know what happened. I just woke up and I was bleeding everywhere. And, uh,” you said, a small laugh in your voice, “you were a bit busy running from Martin Brundle in the pitlane. So I just went to the hospital, but I don’t really remember how I got here, or anything really, between that and, like, 30 minutes ago.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. You could imagine him rubbing the sleep and worry from his face.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Is…everything with…” He didn’t have to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to ask.

There was no easy way to say it. “I’m not pregnant, Oscar. I never was.”

“Oh.”

The silence hung in waves, from Monaco to Zandvoort, across the line. 

“Are you…” he began, “Are you okay?”

You were silent for a moment. 

“Am I allowed to be sad?”

The tremor in your voice broke his heart. “Of course you are,” he answered. 

“I knew it wasn’t the right time. But I guess I had already…accepted it, I don’t know.”

“I understand,” he said. “I was already thinking about names.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If we had a girl, Charlotte, or Amelia.”

“And if it was a boy?”

“Maybe Caleb. Or Elijah.”

The tears now flowed down your face unrestrained. “You’ll be a great dad one day,” you said, trying to hide the cracks in your voice, evidence of your weeping.

“And you’ll be a great mum,” he said. “I can already tell you loved the little one.”

“But it never existed.”

“But we believed it. And we loved them anyway. Isn’t that enough, for now?”

You couldn’t answer him. He continued, “We knew we weren’t ready. But now, we can wait until we are. We can be there for them, raise them everyday instead of being gone at races all the time. Because our little one deserves better than we could give them right now.”

“Stop calling it that. Don’t get that idea in your head,” you said. There was no baby, no ‘little one’, not even a clump of cells. All that rested in your womb was an empty idea. 

“It’s already in my head, YN. It’s in yours too.”

Again, silence fell. 

“They’re gonna keep me here overnight, but I should be back by tomorrow,” you explained. 

“Good, you’ll be home by the time I get back.”

“Oscar, you don’t need to come back,” you protested.

“Of course I do. You’re sick.”

“I’m fine, and you have a triple header to drive.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the races right now, YN.”

“Well I do!”

“You didn’t even watch the one today, because you were too busy bleeding out!” he retorted, his voice gaining a sternness to it. 

“We are both on thin ice right now. There’s no way I’ll get my job back if I cause you to miss a race.”

“YN—”

“No, Oscar, you’re not coming home. I’ll lock you out of the apartment.”

“YN,” he said, his voice like that of a tough father, “I thought you were dead today. I’ve never been more afraid in my life. I can’t drive knowing you’re at home, sick and alone.”

You refused to budge. “If anything else happens, I’ll call you, and you can come to my rescue, I promise.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossibly stubborn?”

“Never,” you said, a soft smile on your lips. ‘Look, I’ll call you in the morning. If I feel good, you stay, and if not, you can come back. Deal?”

He sighed, “Fine.”

“Good,” you said, satisfied with your deal. “By the way, how did the race go?”

He echoed himself. “Fine.”

“What’d you place?”

“P1.”

“Oscar, that’s great!” you said, though a small pang of sadness rushed through your heart. You had never been absent for a victory. “We’ll celebrate when you get back.”

Celebrations were the last thing on Oscar’s mind, but he knew it was pointless trying to redirect you. “Can’t wait,” he said.

“I should probably give Lily her phone back,” you said, feeling it buzz with a notification. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry I had to call her, I just…didn’t know anyone else to call.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, you hung up the call. 

A few minutes later, Lily reentered the room, and you handed her the phone with a small thanks.

“I grabbed my charger,” she said, plugging up your phone.

“Thanks,” you said. 

A silence settled in the room after Lily curled up in one of the armchairs beside your bed, passing the time scrolling. After about half an hour of silence, you spoke up. 

“You know, you don’t have to stay here all night.”

She furrowed her brow. “I’m not going to leave you here alone.”

“Look, I really appreciate it, more than you know, but I know you don’t want to be here.”

“It’s not you I’m upset at,” she said, her voice lower. 

“You take it out on me, though,” you replied, refusing to lower your own voice. “And I mean, I get it, I’d do it too. But as you can tell, not everything on my side of this is sunshine and roses, so…”

“YN—”

“Lily, just, let me say this, please,” you said. “What was said outside the MTC… Oscar and I obviously didn’t go about any of this right. He didn’t just leave you and come to me and start treating me like a princess. He used me to get over you and I let him, because I wanted him for so long now. I mean, I don’t know who I am without him.”

“And at the end of the day, you still forgave him.”

“Because I love him. Because I want to be with him despite it all. But Lily, my life is falling apart. The entire internet hates me, and I deserve it. I lost my job, and I lost the baby I thought I was going to have, and…yes, Oscar and I are official. But it didn’t come without pain. And it breaks me because I know that this is what I get for all of it.”

“YN,” she said. “That’s not true. In that hearing, you think I didn’t realize that Lando was just using you? He was using me, too, I know. I got so overcome with anger, and I lashed out at you and Oscar, I just…” She locked her gaze toward the floor. “I sometimes feel like I’ve gone crazy. One day, I believe everything you and him said. But some days I think everyone was just lying to me for years, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

You could see her trying to hold back tears. “And I’ll admit it, even after all this time, I still love him, and I miss him, and God, I wish I was you. I want to be with him more than anything, but I’m angry and I want him to suffer for what he did to me. How did you not feel this when you were betrayed?”

“Because I didn’t love him,” you said, the image of your ex-boyfriend flashing in your mind. “Oscar is the only man I’ve ever loved. Ever. Since we were children.”

“It’s an endless pain, to be that consumed with love. He will hurt you. He already has.”

“I know,” you said. “And I’ll hurt him. That’s how it goes”

“That’s what I said, too. I told myself that’s the nature of love. But I always loved him more than he loved me. And then he left me. And even after everything, if he came to me today and apologized, I’d forgive him in an instant. But he never will. He never will.”

“I’m sorry, Lily.” You were bed bound, but you wanted nothing more than to hold her, for her tears to wet your shoulder as it had so many months ago, when you had assured her that none of this would ever happen.

“Deep down, I think I know he didn’t cheat,” she said. “At least not physically. But it’s easier to say that than to accept that he never loved me like he loved you. And he never will.”

What else could be said? The silence filled the room, like a funeral for what once was. Lily still never moved to leave.

“You should leave him,” she whispered. “Not so I can have him. But because you deserve better. And he’ll never be better.”

“You know I won’t ever do that. I can’t.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

In the morning, she helped you get home, then texted Oscar from her car in the parking lot of your apartment. Many arguments had been had in that garage. But today was different.

YN is feeling better. Got her set up at home. I can come check on her a few times until you get back, if you’d like. 

That would be great. Thank you so much for this. 

She gave the message a heart reaction, fully intending to leave it there.

Her phone buzzed again. 

And I should apologize for the exchange outside the MTC. I was really cruel to you. I’m sorry. 

Lily took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond. 

He kept texting. For you to go above and beyond for YN after I treated you like that shows the difference between us. Really, I am sorry. 

Lily knew she should send something distant. Like, ‘thanks for the apology’ or ‘no worries’ or ‘I appreciate it’. But she couldn’t. She poured her heart out into the message. 

I’m not going to sit around and let someone you love suffer. I did it because I know you love her, and I love you still. I’m not asking you to be with me, I know better. But I have to say it because it’s driving me crazy, going back and forth between anger and love. I know you meant what you said, that you’ve always loved her more than you ever loved me, and I have to live with that. It’s just hard. 

The three dots that bounced up and down sent Lily’s heart rate to dangerous levels, until his message finally appeared. 

Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love you back. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I hope we can forgive each other. 

Lily was thankful for the privacy of the parking garage and her tinted windows. 

It wasn’t a waste to me. Was it a waste to you?

Oscar’s reply was lightning fast. 

No. But I do wish I could have been honest to you and myself. I just hurt us both.

Lily’s hand began to cramp with how fast she was typing.

I just wasn’t the one. You don’t have to apologize for that. Besides, I never wanted the wag life, all the attention. She’s good at that, despite everything she’d tell you.

When Oscar didn’t immediately reply, she sent another. 

I don't want to live with this anger. The years we had were good. I got to see the world, and I’m thankful for it, and even with everything, I want you to be happy. 

No reply. She sent another. 

Please tell her I forgive you both.

Oscar’s reply was swift again. 

I think you need to tell her yourself. It haunts her.

Lily typed a short message. I know. 

And that was it. There was nothing more to say. 

As Lily drove off, she soaked in the streets of Monaco, a place she had come to hate. It was Oscar’s world, your world, a place she was never meant to call home. Soon enough, she’d never have to come back here. She thought to herself, I hope he has a good, long life here. I hope they raise their children here. I hope this place treats them well. And I hope I never hear about any of it. 

The next day, you are awoken by the ringing of your doorbell. When you open the door, no one is there, but at your foot rests a card with Lily’s signature on it, and a bouquet of wildflowers. 

[monayen]

awawawa tysm! (*/∀＼*) then i'll req smth for 17 yo randal w a fem reader! like he's been ignoring reader because he's too busy playing lol or being an asshole on reddit so reader tries to get his attention in other ways--- ( ￣▽￣)

x_thedarkprince_x | Randal Ivory (17ndal)

➷ Paring - Randal Ivory (17ndal) x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - oral (m. receiving) / blowjobs, pet play, he stink *_*

a/n - i forgot how much i love this freak... i was gonna write him stinkier but im sick with an eye infection and im 90% sure me writing him infected me somehow. also i have never played league but i do watch arcane and play val so i think that's good enough. 'pologies if i got anything wrong in that aspect (not really) also header is @/tapi_taro_ on twt !!

A rhythmic clicking echoed against the dark walls of Randal’s room. It was late — far too late for him to be hunched over his computer, his eyes fixed on the flickering characters on the screen.

He knew it too. Luther had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to be playing this late, even threatening to confiscate his expensive setup if he caught him awake again. Yet here he was, ignoring every warning.

Your legs dangled off the side of the coffin he should've been in hours ago with you, tired eyes flickering at the blue light of the screen. Or more importantly, Randal. 

His long orange hair was disheveled, sticking up in all directions, unbrushed and greasy.  A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth as he muttered curses under his breath, his razor-sharp teeth glinting in the glow of the monitor. Far too engrossed to even blink.

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. It had been days since Randal had given you more than a passing glance. A new season of LoL had started, and you were pretty sure his ass was permanently welded to his chair. The only times he left it were to use the bathroom or grab more soda. Has he even eaten?

Sleep was impossible with the constant noise. The rapid clack of his fingers on the keys, the drag of his mouse across the desk — it all kept you on edge. Even when you managed to drift off, there was always a sharp bang against the side of the table or a shout of some obscene curse, loud enough to snap you awake. And then, you’d have to fight to fall asleep all over again.

You huff in frustration, sitting up from where you’ve been laying against the coffin. “Randal?”

He doesn’t even flinch, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you, but the garbled voices from the game blasting through his headset make it clear that he just can't hear. 

You repeat yourself louder, and only then does he push one of his headphones aside, “What?” 

You make a face at his almost exasperated tone, his eyes still not moving towards you, “It's really late.”

He shrugs, lips pressing into a thin line as he shakes his head, barely glancing your way. “Yeah, well, I can’t pause. I’ll be there in a bit, sweetieee.” He drags out the last word with a teasing giggle before adjusting his headphones and continuing playing.

You stand up from the coffin, stretching your arms above your head. Your joints pop and crack, and you wince at the sudden movement. It's been a long day, and you're exhausted. But sleep isn’t going to happen unless he gets off the game.

You take a step towards him, your bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He's so focused on the game that he doesn't even notice you approaching. You lean over his shoulder, peering at the screen. 

He's losing, the game isn't even close. The string of chat logs of him and his teammates arguing in the corner catch your eye. You watch as Randal scowls, quickly typing something in chat. An IP address, but you’re pretty sure it's actually just a random string of numbers. 

Tilting your head, you ask, “Won't you get banned for that?”

Randal doesn't respond, too focused in the game to acknowledge you. You sigh again, a reaction would at least be nice. You're tired of being ignored, desperately wanting some type of attention, affection, anything to make you feel wanted. You're also just tired in general…

You place your hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. He tenses slightly at your touch, but doesn't pull away. You start to massage his shoulders, working out the knots that have formed from his terrible posture.

"Randal," you say softly, leaning down to whisper against his neck, even though he can't hear you, "You can play with something else…”

He shivers at your breath on his skin, but still doesn't turn to you. You huff, frustrated. 

You drop to your knees, crawling under the desk. You can see his feet, clad in mismatched socks, tapping impatiently on the floor. You reach up, running your hands up his calves, his thighs, until you reach his crotch. 

Taking a deep breath, you began to graze his crotch, him immediately shaking above you, "What are you – hey!" Randal finally noticed your actions, but he made no move to stop you as you continued to rub the fabric of his sweatpants. 

He lowers his headset, leaving them around his neck as he hunches over. “Bad girl! I’m literally about to derank!” 

You feel him stiffen under your touch. "Randal," you murmur again, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good."

Randal let out a shaky breath, his hips twitching forward. "I'm busy," he grumbled, but there was a note of desire behind his pitchy voice.

He makes a strangled noise when you squeeze, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen. He looks down at you, his black eyes lidded. “Fuck… my elo." he breathes, his hips bucking into your palm.

You smile, satisfied that you finally have some of his attention. You tug down his bottoms, freeing his cock. It's hard and hot in your hand, pulsing with need. You swiftly wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

Randal groans, his fingers tightening on the mouse. He's still playing, well… attempting to at least. His eyes keep darting back down to you, hands shaking against his keyboard and mouse. 

His thighs tremble more once you begin sucking on the sensitive tip harder, his focus faltering to groan, “C’mon – you can go deeper than that pet,” One of his hands leaves the desk, moving to grip the back of your head.

He groans, hips bucking into your mouth as he pushes your head down, "You're gonna make me lose." It's almost a whine, like it's a genuine bother for you to be down on your knees for him. But he doesn't stop you. If anything, he's pushing you down further, encouraging you with soft, desperate sounds. You take him deeper, tongue swirling around the length of his cock.

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his shaft. He gasps, fingers tangling in your hair.

"Shit, shit, fuck," he chants, voice rising in pitch. His thighs tremble, muscles tensing under your hands.

His free hand still clicks around on the keyboard, your eyes narrowing at the not-surprising ridiculousness of Randal still trying to play the game despite his dick being down your throat. 

You pull off his length with a pop, tilting your head sweetly, "Come on, Randal," you tease, stroking him slowly. "Is the game really that important?"

Randal whines, head thudding back against the chair. With a giggle, he nudges your head back down onto his erection, "I just told these virgins I’m getting my dick sucked, kekeke.”

You bob your head, taking him deep, swallowing around him. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling sharply. “Hah, keep going pet.” he groans rocking his hips, fucking your face with shallow, needy thrusts. You double your efforts, sucking harder and taking him deeper in your mouth. 

"Fuck, fuck, swallow it–" he cuts off with a strangled cry, hips stuttering. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, his body tensing. A quick pulse follows before he's flooding your throat. Quickly, you gulp, swallowing his cum down and not letting it leak out your mouth. 

He pants, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He looks down at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy, slumping down slightly on the chair. 

Randal moves his hand from the back of your head to cup your cheek, his sharp teeth biting his lip, “Goooood pet.” 

Blushing at the praise, you finally crawl up when he moves his chair back, giving you space to get out from under the desk. “Are you sleepy now?” You ask, a cheeky smile on your face as you lean in closer to him. 

Randal lets out another strange giggle before leaning in to plant a quick, wet kiss on your lips.

“Gah, I can taste myself,” he grimaces, pulling back slightly. “Did I burn a hole in your stomach?”

You stifle a laugh and shake your head. “Randal.”

He catches the hint in your voice, finally giving in. With a dramatic sigh, he tucks his soft dick in and pushes up from his chair. “Turn off the monitor then, pretty please?”

You nod, watching as he scratches his ass before collapsing onto his coffin, immediately drifting off to sleep.

Turning to the monitor, you notice a bright red DEFEAT screen glaring back at you. Glancing at the chat, you see the last message a teammate sent before the game ended —

‘GGS report x_thedarkprince_x for throwing’

[holdnarrytight]

@thatsthat24

One thing about me is that when I join a fandom I'm never leaving. This is my first Sanders Sides fanart in 7 years! I'm still here. Hello!

I came across the series on Tumblr in 2017 and decided to give it a watch. It was right after Accepting Anxiety part 1. It's so creative and original I was instantly hooked!

The fandom was something truly special. As a lonely, closeted bisexual and neurodivergent 17 year old with no friends and in a world that seemingly had no place for me, I'd never experienced such unconditional acceptance and belonging. I made so many new friends and became so popular! My life did a complete 180°.

I'm 24 now. I recently picked up the series again after going through another rough patch and it's incredible how much these characters, and Thomas himself, mean to me and never fail to make me smile and laugh out loud, and encourage me to have a more positive outlook on my mental health.

I just wanted to say I can't thank you enough for creating a safe space where I could truly be myself and offering healthy entertainment when I needed it most twice. You're the best!

Everyone, please feel free to use these images, icons and headers however you'd like, as long as you credit me. I worked on these for a long time and nothing would make me happier!

Icons and headers under the cut:

Twitter header:

Tumblr header:

Icons:

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 17 - Dry Humping - PG10

Pierre Gasly X Reader

TW - Dry humping, slight dirty talk

WC 620+

Y/N POV

"I've missed you so much," I squeal in excitement when I see my boyfriend of 2 years walk through the door after a long triple header.

"I've missed you too, amour," Pierre tells me softly before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Don't want you to leave anymore," I joke softly as Pierre pulls me into his arms before lifting me up and letting me wrap my legs around his waist and carry us to our room where he sits in the bed with me still panted right in his lap.

“Missed you so much,” Pierre said, making me smile and pull him in for another kiss.

“I love you,” i whisper against his ear as I start to grind into his waist making his breath stutter a bit.

“Amour, I want you just as much as you want me but I’m exhausted, I dont think it’ll be any good if we have sex right now, but I promise to make it up to you tomorrow,” Pierre grunts out holding my hips in place.

“Just let me do all the work, please! We can stay just like this please! I need to get off Pierre, I need it please,” I beg with tears welling up in my eyes just thinking about not being able to get off another night after I had spent the last 3 weeks completely celibate.

“Fuck, you’re a needy thing tonight! Did you not use any of the toys we picked out,” Pierre grunts when he releases my hips and lets me start humping into him again.

“No! Theyre not as good,” I whine out as I start grinding down into his hard cock even faster.

“Amour, baby you gotta use them!” Pierre chuckles while gripping onto my hips again and moving me down into him at a harder and faster pace than I had set.

“Fuck! Pierre,” i cry out when I feel the rough material rub right against my clit which is only covered by a thin piece of cloth I called my panties.

“Pierre I might actually cum like this,” I admit sheepishly when I feel my orgasm start to build.

"Putain, me too," Pierre grunts clearly feeling the same things I'm feeling.

With the reassurance that Pierre was feeling as good as I was I speed up my actions slightly making both Pierre and I moan at the added pleasure.

"Putain, baby girl, make me feel like I'm back in grade school how fast you're about to make me cum," Pierre gasps out making me grind down on him harder using his words as encouragment.

"Haven't even touched you," I say with a joking smirk but it's quickly wiped off my face when I feel Pierre push me down harder into his lap making me feel his hard cock graze against my clothed clit.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," I moan out when I finally feel the right amount of pressure.

"Putain, cum for me," Pierre gasps out making me fall over the edge and start cumming completely clothed.

"Fuck, shit," I hear Pierre gasp before I can feel him twitching under me before I can feel a small wet patch start to grow through his clothes letting me know he had cum.

"Fuck, I have cum like that in years," I admit softly making Pierre laugh and nod his head.

"Couldn't even tell you the last time I came completely clothed like that," Pierre admits.

"I really missed you and I couldn't wait another day but tomorrow when you're well rested be prepared," I tell Pierre with a smirk playing on my lips before leaning down and capturing his lips in mine.

"I'm looking forward to it," Pierre admits with matching smirk.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 18

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker @bunniboo0015 @demonsasss

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 17

“You were not supposed to receive that NDA, Joel. I was going to take care of it…” Angela tried, placing her hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the man actively avoiding Joel’s eyes, trying to get him out of her office.

Tommy took a step back, blocking the door.

“Aunt Angie? You realize this was the guy who assaulted Lily? You know him? He’s your nephew?” Tommy snarled, looking at Angela in disbelief.

“It’s a misunderstanding guys, it wasn’t supposed to escalate…” Angela finally answered, after a very long, tense, silence.

“What are you talking about? What was supposed to happen?” Tommy asked, seeing his brother unable to speak from his rage. Tess was staying close, worried the man might hulk out. Neither she nor Tommy had ever seen him this angry.

It turned out, Angela had called her financially strapped nephew, Eddie, after seeing the four of you at dinner that night. He was nearby, and Angela offered him free use of one of her low limit credit cards in exchange for doing that. He was only supposed to harass you and Joel verbally, basically annoy you, or maybe make Joel angry and show his ‘true colours’, make you think twice about spending time with him. But the guy got too excited, went too far, and got physical with you instead. When things went wrong, she made sure to use her resources to delete every single footage from the internet, steering Joel and Tommy away from probing into the matter further, seemingly succeeding before Tommy let slip that Sarah might have a copy. It was the reason she was so hellbent on getting her hands on Sarah’s phone. She even installed a malware on the new phone she got for Sarah to replace her broken one, intent on getting access to Sarah’s cloud. That went to pot, Tommy was too suspicious.

“All that because you didn’t want Lily to spend time with Joel?” Tommy asked, shaking his head.

“There’s something about her, guys… I just don’t trust her. I don’t believe she’s good for Joel!”

“You were all buddy-buddy with her lately, but she’s not good for Joel?” Tommy’s voice was rising higher and higher every time he spoke. “What’s that got to do with the NDA? Did you sign it?” he asked Joel, who simply shook his head, eyes still on Angela, looking as if he was plotting her murder and body disposal all at the same time. “So you forged his signature? You know that’s a crime, right? What did Lily say when you gave her the NDA? You told us you hadn’t seen her!”

Angela kept quiet.

Tess opened the door to the office. “Excuse me, what’s your name?” Tess peeked outside, asking the young man who gave Joel the NDA.

“Andrew, miss.”

“Will you come in here?”

Andrew walked in, looking bewildered.

“Who served this to Miss Stevens?” Joel asked, picking up the NDA.

“I did, Mr Miller. Ms Maddison asked me to deliver it and wait for her to sign it.”

If looks could kill, Andrew would be dead several times over, given how Angela was glaring at him.

“You saw her? Where?” Joel perked up a little.

“The hospital. She was taking care of her uncles. They were injured in the accident.”

Joel’s blood ran cold. “What accident? Her uncles were in an accident? Are they okay?”

“They had casts on their legs, if I recall correctly.”

“You knew this? And you didn’t tell me?” Joel asked Angela, who remained quiet.

Tess looked at Eddie who was still standing sheepishly at the corner of the room, his way out still blocked by Tommy. Her eyes were drawn to the cast on his wrist.  

“What happened to your wrist?”

The man hid his hand in his jacket.

“Angela?”

Angela looked at her feet, her hands fiddling with each other.

“I’m calling the cops, they’ll figure this out,” Tommy said, pulling his phone out.

“No! Wait! I’ll tell you,” Angela pleaded. She took a deep breath and leaned on her table, head hung down.

“I needed a way to stall Lily so she wouldn’t go to Texas, so, I asked Eddie to delay her uncles so that she would stay with them here.”

The three looked confused.

“Joel you were moving at warp speed with her, it’s not good. I’m only trying to protect you, Joel. I keep telling you that, but you wouldn’t listen to me,” she looked at Joel. “He was supposed to instigate a small accident, a fender bender with the uncles, so Lily would get worried and want to stay and help them out, so she wouldn’t be in Texas with you.”

The three still looked confused.

“But… uh… he overdid it, and her uncles ended up badly injured. They’re fine, by the way, broken leg, fractured ribs, but…that was not part of the plan.”

“What the fuck, Angela. You could have killed people! You asked your nephew to do this to stop Lily from going to Texas? What else have you done?” Tommy asked disbelievingly, unaware how loaded that question was.

She looked to be contemplating for a while, but ultimately decided she had nothing more to lose. She knew they would find out anyway, now that they knew about her nephew, there was no hiding this.

She recalled that day in your truck. You had left your phone unlocked on the counter when you went to the bathroom. Her idiot nephew had texted her that the accident went a bit too far than planned, that he was sure the uncles were badly injured. She panicked, worried that the uncles would be able to identify Eddie and her involvement in this whole thing would come out in the open. But she saw the perfect opportunity then, one that she didn’t think she could pull off.

She had had the NDA drafted out since she saw you that birthday dinner night. She left when Tommy asked her to but stayed across the street, hoping to find out more. She saw Tommy and Maria leave with the girls, her heart breaking at the thought that you and Joel were completely alone in the house, that everyone was so supportive of this union that they left the house to give the two of you some privacy. Her jealousy reared it’s ugly head when she recalled how dismissive Sarah and Ellie were of her, so quick to question her presence, when she was the one who had been there all long for Joel. Yet, here you were, very much welcomed after a few months.

Tears began filling her eyes when she saw you come out to accept a delivery, wearing Joel’s flannel. She watched as Joel passionately kissed you in his doorway, lifting you up into his arms and kicking the door shut behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening behind that door. She drafted that NDA as soon as she got home. She knew she was going to use it against you. But she didn’t know how to get it to you without making you suspicious of her intents.

And now, luck was on her side.

So she picked up your phone and quickly changed the Millers’ phone numbers to the slew of disposable numbers she had on hand, the ones she used to tip off the paparazzi and such. She then deleted all texts from the Millers, blocked all their original numbers from your phone, calling Eddie, telling him to take Bill and Frank’s phones. He didn’t need to, evidently, the phones destroyed in the crash. She blocked Joel’s email address from your phone too, for good measure. She later logged into Joel’s email to block your email. She was doing whatever she could to make sure you and Joel couldn’t contact each other. She didn’t even know if it would work, but lucky for her, it did. You signed the NDA without protest, according to Andrew.

Tommy closed his eyes.

“So she didn’t ghost me?” Joel asked, looking hopeful.

“No. But she signed the NDA Joel. She wouldn’t have if she was really in love with you. I tried to warn you about her…” Angela tried.

“Wait… wait, wait, wait…” Tess said, taking her phone out. She googled something, finding it, and looked at the NDA again.

“This was signed on the day this article came out,” she told Joel, showing him the article ‘announcing their engagement’. She turned to look at Angela once more, “You arranged this, didn’t you?” When she couldn’t answer, Tess pressed, “Angela, you told me she was a gold digger, that she was after Joel’s money, that she was sleeping around on Joel. I believed you! And now I find out you did all this too? Why would you go through all this trouble to separate them? Because Joel didn’t want to renew? You know he had talked about that way before he met Lily?”

“That’s why you treated Lily like that?” Joel asked Tess. Tess looked regretful,

“She’s been our friend forever, Joel! I’ve known this woman over 20 years! I didn’t see a reason not to believe her! I’m sorry! I thought I was protecting you!”

“Why?” Joel finally managed to grit out to Angela, his chest heaving, his eyes lasered in on hers.

Her expression turned sour. Her eyes were filling with tears.

“Joel…” she whispered.

“WHY!!!???” he screamed, his face red, his neck taut.

Angela jerked, shutting her eyes for a while. When they opened, there was only anger in them.

She remembered the young man she met over 20 years ago, extremely good looking, polite, a great father to Sarah, a gentleman to everyone he came across. He was a great friend, a great man overall. She fell for him, hard. But the man was grieving. He made it very clear he was not looking for anyone to replace Laura. His focus was and would always be on Sarah, he didn’t have time for a relationship.

She remembered thinking he would get over his grief soon. And when he does, she would be there for him. She suggested a friends with benefits situation, telling him that she didn’t have time for relationships either. Just sex, no romance, none of that bullshit, she had told him. So they did, in the privacy of his shipping container makeshift office onsite. She swallowed her pride every time he refused to kiss her, every time he refused foreplay with her, every time he refused a date with her, every time he refused the suggestion of a hotel room, her office, his truck, her car, her home, much less his home with her. She swallowed it all, hoping that he would open his eyes and finally see her.

But he never did.

When she saw what she thought was clearly a double date at the sushi place that night, she got desperate. She eventually made nice with you, hoping to find things about you she could use to separate you and Joel. But when you excitedly told her Joel had asked you to move in with him, after only two months of dating, she snapped.

“Twenty years we’ve been friends, Joel. Twenty years. When we met, you were a lowly single father who barely made ends meet. Look at you now. Look at how successful you are now. I did this. I got you here. And after everything, you scream at me? Because of that lowly barista?”

The last smidgen of patience left Joel’s body. Tommy grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving towards the woman.

“Why?” he repeated.

“I waited for you, Joel. You made it clear, you were not ready for a relationship. So I waited. And waited. And then I waited some more. And then Bam! You’re ready! And instead of coming back to me, the woman who have stood by you all these years, who wanted you over 20 years ago, back when you had nothing, the one who helped you get everything you have now, you went to her! Why have you never asked me out to dinner Joel? Why have I never been invited to your house outside of work?”

“Do you think it was easy for me to watch you kiss her on the lips when I never got that? I watched you invite her to share your bed, practically live at your house, which I helped you choose, when all I ever got was an hour every now and then at your dingy office? Why do I get treated like some glorified sex toy and she gets to be loved by you? Why should I watch you move her in after two months together when I have been waiting in the wings for twenty years only to be pushed aside, Joel? Why her? What does she have that I don’t?”

She sobbed.

“The heart wants what it wants, Angela. And my heart wants her. Not you.”

Angela nodded weakly. “I know. I see that now. Even after everything, you still pine for her. Even when she left you without so much of an explanation,” she whispered, shaking her head, finally accepting defeat, watching helplessly as Tommy called for security.

Angela was gone by the time security called the cops, Eddie in their custody. She rushed home, packed up her bags and booked it out of LA. Eddie may have been an idiot, but she knew he would sing as soon as he was in custody. She knew, she just knew her life as she knew it was over. There was no way Joel and Tommy, even Tess, would keep quiet about this. Even if they did, Eddie would blab so fast if it meant he would get leniency for the hit and run. She was at least guilty for conspiring to cause harm, twice over. And even if she got off lightly on those charges, the fact that she forged Joel’s signature on a legal document was not something that would go forgotten and unpunishable by law. At the very least, she would lose this job. Her reputation would go to pot. She would lose every single thing she held dear.

Damn you, she thought, this was all your fault. Why’d you have to be so perfect for Joel? She did research on you. Cleo’s ‘exposure’ merely confirmed what she already knew - that you were a nice person who didn’t let money get to your head. She couldn’t even find it in her to hate you when she was pretending to be nice to you. Even when she was actively trying to sabotage you, she liked you. In a different world, she would be more than happy to be your friend.

She was so deep in thought, she didn’t realize she had run a red light. The sounds of screeching tires snapped her out of her stupor, and the last thing she saw was the shining logo of a huge pickup truck coming fast from her left.

“Hi Baby,” Tommy greeted Maria with a kiss, closing the door behind her. Maria walked into the living room, where the expectant faces of Joel, Sarah, Ellie and Tess greeted her.

“Sorry guys, not good news,” she said, giving the girls and Tess a hug, and a kiss for Joel.

“That’s not possible,” Tommy said, “Everyone leaves a trail these days.”

“Not her,” Maria said. “She was in LA until about two weeks after she was supposed to go to Austin, and then she just… disappeared. Two months - she didn’t use her card, didn’t withdraw any money, didn’t purchase anything, didn’t fly anywhere, didn’t rent a car, didn’t check into a hotel… she’s just… gone.”

“How the hell is that possible?”

Maria shrugged. “Frank didn’t make any purchase either, it’s just weird.”

“Are they…?” Sarah asked, not daring to finish the sentence.

“No obituaries.”

Joel, Sarah and Ellie heaved a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you don’t know Bill’s last name? His condo and car are in Lily’s name.” Maria looked at the three expectantly, kicking herself for never asking either.

“No, I sorta forgot they were not really related, I assumed it’s Stevens too, and I just knew Jenny as Jenny, didn’t think of a last name,” Ellie said, banging her head on Sarah’s shoulder.

“Same.”

“Her LA bank account is active, Dave has been depositing his payments to her. But no withdrawal. Her phone number is disconnected. Tracking one Lily Stevens among thousands is not easy. It would help if we knew where Jenny lives,” she looked at Joel.

Joel rubbed his face, “The woman is a comedian. New York today, Tibet the next, she told me she was in the South Pole once. I never thought I needed to ask. She was coming here for Christmas,” he said, lips wobbling, thinking about Christmas without you. He even ordered a stocking for you, far too excited to have you and your family with him and his family during the holidays.

“I’m gonna go to the truck tomorrow, talk to Dave myself. See if I can get him to talk,” Maria said.

“I’ll go with you,” Tess offered, eager to help.

Joel was quiet. As he had been since you stopped communicating. God, he missed you so much. He knew you wouldn’t just leave for no reason. Even before he knew the truth, he couldn’t find it in him to hate you for leaving. He knew you, he may have only known you for a short time, but he knew you. He just did. Even the girls couldn’t be angry at you.

When he finally told Sarah the truth about Laura, Sarah was angry for him, but not for herself. She was angry for Joel. She had zero memory of her. To her, Joel was both Mom and Dad, so to know someone, even her own birth mother had hurt him as such, it hurt her. But with you, Sarah cried with him, trying everything she could do to help him find you. Not for one second was she angry at you, even as she was hugging her crying Dad. They just knew you wouldn’t have left for no reason. They knew you didn’t have a bad bone in your body.

But even after finding the truth, finding you was proving to be quite the challenge. Maria pulled all the tricks she had up her sleeves, but it was as if you had anticipated she would look for you, so you took steps to avoid her and her ways. But Maria was a determined woman. She had yet to fail in her endeavours. And by God, she was going to find you.

She and Tess went to the truck early the next morning, promising Joel they would bring a cup home for him, not that he was looking forward to it. He had long known it wasn’t the coffee he was addicted to. The cheap swill he got at the sites would taste like the most expensive coffee in the world if you had poured it for him. He just wanted you.

“Dave,” Maria called, the man smiling at her despite himself. “Can we have two cappuccinos please? And one americano, with…”

“Six shots of espressos to go… yeah, I’ll be right with you,” Dave answered, waving Maria’s card away. “Zach, do you mind getting some pastries from Betty? I’m kinda hungry,” he said.

Zach finished wiping the counter and jumped out of the truck, greeting Maria with a smile and a hug. He shook Tess’s hand, introducing himself.

Later, the four were sitting down, Maria filling Dave in on the news about Angela. The men looked uncomfortable, shaking their heads, shocked that someone would go that far to separate two people in love.

“Can’t believe she would do that to Lil, and Bill and Frank too… wow… I mean, they are the nicest people I know, and for her to hate Lil that much… phew…” Zach said, shaking his head.

“So, we know you promised Lily you wouldn’t tell her anything about her whereabouts, but could you please tell her what we just told you? We need her to know the truth,” Tess coaxed.

“No can do,” Dave said, looking apologetic. “She wouldn’t give me her contact info. Something about being traceable. I guess she was right,” he said, smiling at Maria.

Maria looked at Zach, who raised both his hands in surrender, “Hey, you know I would do anything for Lil, but like Dave, I have no idea how to contact her,” he said.

Tess was about to say something else, but Maria simply said she understood, picking up her coffee, thanking Dave and Zach for their kindness. She asked Zach if he was working for Dave now?

“Nah, it’s my off day, just hanging out here for the day.”

“How’s your job going by the way?” Maria asked.

“Great, couldn’t be happier,” Zach said, looking content.

“You manage an apartment building, right? Tess here is looking. Any vacancies?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the kind of place a TV star lives in,” Zach said, smiling.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to keep her options open. You have a card?” Maria pushed.

“Yeah, here,” Zach handed the card over, hugging Maria goodbye.

Maria practically pulled Tess away from the truck. “What are you doing? I promised Penny I would look for a house! I can’t live in an apartment. We have dogs!”

Maria shushed her, dialling someone on her phone. “Chris? Need you to repeat the search, this time, look for anything under the name Zachary Wellison.”

“Here’s your coffee, thank you for coming!” you handed the coffee to the nice older lady who had now become your regular. You turned around to see Benny, your other regular smiling at you, asking for his usual.

“Come on, Lil, you said you’ll think about it,” he cooed. He’d been trying to fix you up for a while, first it was himself, then his brother Will, then his buddy Santi, and now, it’s Frankie, both of whom lived at the other end of the country.

“No, thank you! I told you, I’m not ready!”

“Come on, Lil, just one date, you’ll love him, I promise. He’s perfect,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Okay, he has PTSD. And maybe some other issues but… he looks like that contractor guy you were dating. Although… now that I think about it… that might not be the best idea, huh?” he said, cringing a little. You passed him his coffee and shooed him off, taking the rag to rinse, as the bell on the door chimed.  

“Can I have the largest mocha you have and ten minutes to talk please?” a customer asked. You turned around, your service smile at the ready, only to come face to face with Tess.

You felt you head go cold. You retreated, “I’m not supposed to speak to you,” you whispered, turning around to go into the kitchen. She caught up with you, gently taking your hand.

“Lily, please, ten minutes. He’s not here. You had the wrong info. I swear. Please, ten minutes, I’m begging you.”

“Go, Beanie, I have the till,” your Mom coaxed, pushing you gently towards Tess.

You sat across from her, your Mom placing a cup of latte in front of you and a mocha for Tess. You didn’t speak, just waiting for her to say her piece.

“First of all Lily, I want to apologize for the way I treated you back at Joel’s. I listened to the wrong person. I thought I could trust her, I’ve known her for 20 years, I never thought she would lie to me. Angela told me you were after Joel’s money, that you were sleeping around and Joel was too blind to see it. I believed her. I’m sorry. I admit I was rude to you on purpose. I wanted you to know I didn’t like you. I went o stay at his place instead of a hotel just because I wanted you to be insecure. I pushed the girls into spending time with me instead of you, I guilted them when they said you had plans, they didn’t do anything wrong. That thing with his flannel, the phone, I did it all because I wanted you to feel unwelcomed. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t respond, you simply looked at her, your face expressionless.

“See, I feel responsible for Joel, for his late wife breaking his heart.”

You frowned.

“I was Eddie’s fiancée. Laura was my best friend. I introduced Joel to her.”

Oh…

She took a sip from her drink, looking at you, as if trying to gauge your reaction.

“I was… not myself when I was with Eddie. He wanted me to be a housewife. Raise his children, cook his food, clean his house… I never wanted that. He kept comparing me to Laura. She was perfect, as far as he was concerned. I should have seen the affair coming, but I didn’t, I was too wrapped up in my own stuff, my own worries. If I had, I would have warned Joel.”

The doorbell chimed, a woman walked in, smiling at Tess. She joined the two of you after ordering a cup of coffee for herself.

“Lily, this is Penny, my fiancée.”

Huh? Oh.

Oh…

“Joel and I, we were never an item. Just old friends. I was with Eddie because I was hiding who I really was. But when he wanted me to be the little woman, I just thought… this was not the life I signed up for. This was not worth me hiding who I really am. So I left him. And Eddie, he just went straight for Laura. I read the letter she left him. She was just waiting for me and Eddie to split. And he took advantage of her obsession with him and just took her right from under Joel. Joel got his heart broken because I left Eddie. That’s why I am so protective of him, and any relationship he has. Even if the accident hadn’t happened, she was going to leave him for Eddie. I feel guilty, responsible, in fact, for his heart breaking. For Sarah not having a mother. Believe me, if not for Angela, I would not have treated you like that.”

“Angela did this?”

She nodded. She told you everything Angela did, the when, the how, the why. “The NDA was not legitimate in the first place. Angela forged Joel’s signature. It’s null and void. Joel didn’t know any of it, had nothing to do with it. He didn’t do anything wrong. He never gave up hope, Lily. He kept looking for you, waiting for you. Maria never gave up either. The girls, they scour LA at every chance they had, in case they would run into you. They were glued to their phones when they’re home, looking for any signs of you. They all love you, Lily, and if not for Angela, you and Joel would be so happy right now.”

Tess saw the anger in your eyes, quickly adding, “Angela, she received her karma. She tried to run, after her nephew was brought in for questioning. Her car got T-boned just as she was leaving LA. She’s paralyzed from the neck down. She’ll be living the rest of her days in a nursing facility. Joel and Tommy are footing the bills, a kindness for all the years they had been friends, despite everything.” She smiled when she saw your anger soften.

“He’s so in love with you, Lily, believe me, he is. The man hasn’t enjoyed a cup of coffee since you ‘ghosted’ him. Please give him a chance.”

You were pottering about in your cottage, distracting yourself. They found you. You shouldn’t have used Zach’s name to make the bookings. You thought you were so clever, driving the 18 hours with your injured Uncles in the back of the spacious MPV all the way to your Mom’s ranch in Jackson rather than flying. You actually thought you did it, months passed and no one came-a-lookin’. And then, Tess was here. Damn Maria and her powers of investigation.

You hadn’t even used your cards or withdrew any cash, your Mom agreeing to foot the bills for a few months until you were convinced you were old news in their minds. She was just happy you and your Uncle Bill were finally here. She had spent years coaxing the two of you to move back in with her.

Well, she said move back in, by that she meant move into the cottages at the other ends of her vast property. She lived in the main house, overseeing the workings of your late grandparents’ properties and ranches. Lola, the lady who used to take care of Claire and Cleo’s family moved with her, married Carl the manager and now helped run the ranch. She opened a café, Lil’ Beans, named after you, out of boredom about a year after moving here. You managed it for her, your way of helping out, since you didn’t know which end of a horse was which.

Your Uncles were far too happy to be here. Once healed, they got right into country living, your Uncle Bill building and fixing everything he could get his hands on, Frank painting everything he saw. They were planning to move permanently once the situation ‘died down’, according to your Uncle Bill.

And you… you were just… living. You heart stopped every time someone came in to order an americano, worried that it would be followed by ‘six shots of espressos’. But as much as you were dreading those words, every day that you flipped the close sign at the end of the day, you were disappointed not to have heard them.

Listening to Tess today, you felt stupid. Stupid to not see Angela and her manipulation. She had been so nice to you. You wanted to kick yourself at how easily she managed this. You fucking left her in your truck with your unlocked phone for five minutes, and she turned your life upside down.

Your mind kept thinking about what would have happened if you just flew to Austin as soon as your Uncles were discharged. Dave was there, so was Zach, they could have helped, but you were too hasty, too clouded, too hurt by the NDA that you rushed straight into running, only to find out it was all a lie, that you could have had good night sleeps all this while in Joel’s arms.

God, you missed him.

And now that you knew the truth, what now? Do you go running back to LA? You couldn’t really see it anymore. You loved it here. It’s quiet, calm, relaxing. You loved your new, more relaxed routine with the café. You had staff to open early for you, roast the beans for you. You got to take long walks here, the air was fresh and clean here, you could hear your own thoughts here.

As much as you miss him, the girls and the life you had with them, you didn’t know if you wanted to go back to that city, the traffic, the smog, the noise.

The celebrities.

No… you couldn’t. That was not the life for you.

And would you go back to him, in the light of all this revelation?

There was a knock on the door. And then another. And then another.

Who was it? Your people didn’t knock multiple times. They knocked once as a warning and walked in. You went to the front door and opened it, your breathing caught in your throat when you saw who it was.

God he looked good.

And all the negative thoughts about going back to LA seemed to park themselves at the back of your head.

It was as if your body was pulled to him against your will. You didn’t want to go to him, trying hard to stay your resolve. No more. Life with a celebrity… there was too much drama. That life was not for you. Look what had happened in your life since he came into it. You got pulled out of a truck, fell on your ass and pulled in every direction, all of it caught on camera, filmed, for the whole world to see. Your personal life became public knowledge. Your Uncles almost died. And though everything else was not his fault, you couldn’t risk feeling like that ever again, feeling the way you felt when pictures of him and Tess holding hands flooded your screen every time you browse the internet. When Cleo pulled him into a kiss in front of the world. What if another Cleo came into the picture? No… you couldn’t possibly.

But he was here, in your doorway, looking tired and miserable, woe begone as a sad young boy whose favourite toy was taken from him. You leaned your head on the inside of the door frame, not wanting to invite him in, pulling your sweater close to your body to avoid the chill outside from getting to you. He placed his gloved hand on the wall outside your door, resting his head on the other side of the door frame, his other hand in his pocket.

Your eyes found each other.

He leaned in, as close as he could without touching you, nose just above the top of your head, inhaling deeply, eyes filling with tears as he took in the scent he had missed oh so much, taking more and more deep, stuttered breaths as he did, whispering how much he missed you. That he didn’t know Angela was doing what she did, that he would have done anything to turn back time, take it all back, that he would do anything to have you back in his life, even if it meant he would only be a friend. Please baby. I miss you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. Please. Please. Please.

Against your wishes, your eyes closed, taking in the familiar scent of his old leather jacket, the way his breathing sounded, his musk, the phantom feel of his scruff against your skin. His whispers were so familiar, taking you back to the times the two of you would lie in bed wrapped up in each other, the times he would say something naughty into your ears while having meals with the girls, the times when you woke up to him pressed up against your back, saying good morning in his crackly baritone.

Fuck, you missed him.

You pulled back from him, looking him in the eyes that were full of tears, hope and yearning, the serious look he saw in yours beginning to fill his own with dread.

“I just have one question for you, Joel Miller.”

His eyes turned quizzical, a small, final, glimmer of hope still in them.

You took a deep breath, and with a slight stutter in your breath, you asked him.

“Little hug? Or big hug?”

Epilogue

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #17] Jeon Jungkook

warnings: WELL WELL WELL. mentions of the red witch. post-gym kook. questionable conversations that shouldn't happen between friends, totally normal touching of genitals to prove points in aforementioned conversations, kitchen escapades, whiny koo <3 titty worship, spanking, titty sucking, fingering, a lil mutual masturbation, cockwarming (or at least an attempt!), unprotected sex, jk on top, the starluvrs are bad at maths!, multiple positions (prone bone my beloved <3), he finishes on her back, lovely stuff!! just friendly tho!

a/n: the header image is another lost relic, but this time i can't even remember the base photo </3

soundtrack: just a little bit - enhypen

wc: 11.2k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

The soft cotton duvet cover on Jeongguk's bed welcomes you back far more warmly than it really should do; like a 'hi, honey, welcome home' , or an 'I've missed you'.  

It's fitting that the inanimate objects of his room carry such benevolence, when he himself is an open log fire on a winter's night. Warm, warm, warm is Jeon Jeongguk, and you've been cold, cold, cold for so long that the sudden heat is almost jarring.

That's how you justify the obscure feeling in the pit of your stomach when Jeongguk starts talking about blind dates, and how he always wanted to go on one when he was younger.

He reckons that the only reason that he hadn't was because he's 'a simple man of simple pleasures'.  

The hoops he needed to jump through to get a blind date - quite simply just asking someone to set it up for him - had been too challenging. You've alleviated that stress for him.

"See," you smile, folding his bird back up and tossing it over to him. You're both on his bed, staring up at the flock of birds still soaring above you, just out of reach. "We're fulfilling a childhood dream. You are getting something out of this whole deal."

You don't look at him, but you know he rolls his eyes and smiles when he does so. "Never said I wasn't, Disco Ball."

He's met with silence as you glance over at him. It's not an unwelcome nickname, but it's one he doesn't use too often these days. Always calls you Byeol.

"What?" he asks and he turns to face you when you don't reply, but you say nothing.

The more you let it simmer, the worse it gets. He's not called you Disco Ball in so long. Part of you thinks he's reducing your friendship. Addressing you like he did when he didn't know you too well. Creating distance. Forming space on a featherdown quilt that draws you both in like quicksand. He'll have to try harder if a wider margin is what he's after.

It's stupid, 'cause you know the name comes from a place of affection, but it makes you feel insecure.

"We'll still be friends, right?" You ask a little quietly. Jeongguk's brows grow taut, a slight frown forming on his features. Doesn't understand where such a question has come from. "If you get a girlfriend, I mean? We can still be friends?"

Jeongguk's skin is hot. Prickly. An automatic response to discomfort - but then his lips soften into a kind smile. Despite the offence that could be taken from you asking such a question - thinking so little of him - he's not naive to the way in which you work. He understands. People you've loved have left when things got inconvenient for them. He's been through it, too.

And so the walls that want to come up in defence are kept at bay. He doesn't let them rise. Instead, he meets you at the shores.

"Yoongi invited you to dinner," he nudges your shoulder. "Tae is practically in love with you for all the help you've given him. Dionysus relies on you drinking the bar dry every other weekend to keep it afloat. We couldn't stop being friends even if we tried."

His answer should satisfy you, yet your mind is marred by the same thought repeating over and over: Hayun probably used to get invited to dinner, too.

You aren't naive. You know his friends are just as kind as he is. They'd have welcomed anyone Jeongguk deemed important into their social circle.

"What about Hayun?"

Jeongguk frowns. "What about her?"

"Well," you say slowly, looking back up towards the birds, not wanting to watch his reaction unfold on his features like a letter of commiseration.

Before you can even articulate a reply, Jeongguk stops you.

"Don't. It's not the same. Hayun... That situation was different. Things were different. Plus, she's still my friend. Our friend. All of us. She just lives in a different city, that's all. The only reason she isn't around is because of proximity. We're still friends. Just like you and me are still gonna be friends. We've no reason not to be."

The situation is different. You're well aware of this. You've known Jeongguk for all of five minutes; she was a much more permanent fixture in his life. They had a history that you wouldn't even be able to comprehend; private jokes, and stolen moments when they thought their friends wouldn't notice. Their friends. Not just Jeongguk's.

She'd been as much a part of the friendship group as Jeongguk had been; the only difference was that she'd moved away. If she hadn't, would there even be space for you in their lives? Would Seoyeon be desperate for there to be another girl around? Would Jeongguk have felt just as fondly towards you? Would he have noticed your disco ball eyes in the dark of Dionysus or would he have been too busy searching for her in a crowded room?

Or would the time spent on you be spent on her instead?

The thought is unpleasant. It weaves its way through your bloodstream like a needle with dark red string threaded through its loop. It scratches and stabs at your insides until it breaks through the flesh of your bottom lip. Sews your mouth shut. Stops you from talking; from screaming how unfair you think it is that you're being equated to someone who destroyed him.

You don't think she deserves to be thought fondly of, but if Jeongguk knew that, you'd be the one he thinks negatively of. He leapt to her defence without you even starting an attack.

"Friends don't hurt their friends," you say quietly.

Life doesn't work that way. People hurt the ones they care about all the time - or at least you use that reasoning to comfort yourself whenever Seokjin shows up just to let you down.

"She didn't mean to," he replies. "I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who misread things. She stayed the same. My hurt? It's on me, Byeol."

There's a sincerity to his voice that absolves her of blame; makes her innocent in whatever transpired between the pair of them. You know that you only have Jeongguk's side of the story, and even that is sparse and limited due to his reluctance to talk about it in any great depth, but you feel like you don't need to hear her side. He got hurt. That's enough. Your mind is made up.

Hearing him defend her so freely unnerves you. The feeling crawls beneath your skin and gnaws at your flesh. Reduces you to skin and bone.

You're silent, because you know that anything you do say will come across as mean, or as if you dislike a girl you've never met. It'd only make Jeongguk defend her more and like you less. You don't want that - as if Jeongguk wouldn't rip Seokjin to shreds at any given opportunity.

Trouble is, you can't blame him. Jeongguk has seen the impact first-hand. Wiped away tears caused by the man himself.

Hayun is just an enigma; a name rarely said, but often felt.

"What's gotten into you?" Jeongguk smiles, trying to downplay the heaviness of the atmosphere that's engulfing you both. "You're forgetting how annoying I am. You'd probably be thankful if we stopped being friends."

Though he's just teasing, you're worried that he does think that of himself. You don't want to be soppy though, so instead, you use one of his most often said phrases against him.

"I think if we stopped being friends I would simply die."

It earns a laugh. He nudges your shoulder. Tells you that you really gotta stop stealing his catchphrases and the things he does.

"Oh fuck off," you laugh. "What else have I stolen?"

A whole host of things.

"The mirror thing," is all he says, noticing your confusion immediately. He reaches over and tenderly clasps your chin. Doesn't notice the tiny gasp that gets caught in your throat - or if he does, he doesn't mention it. Turns your head, so that you're looking at him, and says " 'watch'. "

You close your eyes and smile. Nod. "Ah. That. The mirror thing. "

"See," he smirks, not that you can see. Your eyes are still closed and they'll remain that way until you decide you're no longer embarrassed. "Told you that you copy me."

"I don't copy," you smirk right back, despite your firmly shut eyes. Jeongguk likes the glitter you're wearing today. It's golden-hued. "Just a fast learner."

"Oh yeah?" he says, a laugh catching in his throat. "Watcha learnt about me?"

You whisper now, a little smug. "That you really like mirrors."

"Yeah," he concedes far more quickly than you expected him to. He turns his focus back to the birds on his ceiling, though you think he's gotten a little closer to you. "Yeah, you're right about that - but you know why I like them?"

"Pray tell," you grin, vaguely aware of the fact the conversation feels far more flirty than it really should.

"You do this thing," Jeongguk says, as a hand rests by his crotch. He's not hard, but he is a little firmer than he should be.

It's just cause he's thinking about sex. Thinking about the sound of it. The sound of you . The sight of it. Of you . The scent of it. You . Not the taste, 'cause you've not given him the luxury of that yet. He doesn't really register the fact he's pressing down on himself. Gripping. Feeling .

"It's that first look," he continues, voice dulcet. "It's like you can't register what you're seeing. Your eyes go all wide, and you look at me as if you're too nervous to look anywhere else. Dunno. Lets me know how much you like what I do. Bit of a power trip, I guess. Always gets me."

"Gets you what?"

"Hard."

The declaration is so brash that you can't help but giggle. "You hard now?"

"Thinking about it isn't the same as seeing it," Jeongguk admits, turning his head towards you - but your eyes are still closed, a smile plastered all over your face. He finds himself smiling, too. 

"But I mean..." He toys with your hand. Draws it to the top of his thighs. Gives you the chance to pull away. You don't. "Feel for yourself."

You whisper his name. 

He whispers right back. "What?"

"You know what," you tell him, as if your palm isn't right where he left it, and as if your grip isn't as firm as his cock. 

"What?" he teases again, feigning indifference - and then he fucking tenses. Moves his hips. Pushes up into your palm. "It's just anatomy, B. Nothing new."

Maybe not, but that nickname? That feels new. Feels like the opposite of him calling you disco ball earlier. Makes your breath hitch. Has him smirking as he looks at your lips. Bites down on his own. Knows this is trouble, but thinks he'd quite like to get in some.

See, you're the determined type. Once you set your mind to things, you do them. He's witnessed it first-hand multiple times. The second he mentioned the art cafe to Tae, he knew you'd make it happen. It's what you do.

And so he knows that you're setting him up that blind date whether he likes it or not. He knows you're gonna choose well for him. He knows, come this time next week, there'll probably be a moral complex that comes with the birds hanging above the pair of you.

But he's not ready for that. Not yet. 

There's so much to do. 

So many birds that haven't been set free.

A pleasant little hum vibrates in his throat as you palm the firmness beneath his sweats. His hips pulse. You daren't open your eyes - especially not as your thumb brushes against the waistband of his trousers. He hums again. Pushes his shoulders down into his mattress. Adjusts his body. Edges closer to you. Says nothing as your thumb sinks beneath the elastic of his sweats.

It doesn't go anywhere. You wait. His hips pulse.

"Swear you get off on torture," he purrs. 

"You're the one who started this," you murmur, trying to feign indifference, knowing full well that if he mirrors your hand position, he'll feel just how easily he gets you all riled up. "You're a sadist."

He just smiles. Tells you he's no such thing. 

And so you tell him to keep his eyes closed. Reach for his hand. Say, "Let's compare."

"Compare?" He husks, as if he doesn't know what you're doing. 

"Mhmm," you hum, bringing his hand dangerously close to your pussy. "Compare. You're getting off on torture. Maybe I am, too."

"We shouldn't be doing this," Jeongguk says, and yet as you loosen your grip, he's the one who lets his hand trail up your thigh. He's the one who strokes at the fabric of your sweats. He's the one who cups your pussy with his hand.

The top you're wearing has risen up a little, a small sliver of your stomach exposed - and then his thumb is caressing against it. 

His touch is warm, but the little gasp he does? The stutter of his breath? Oh, it's hot . So fucking hot.

"We're not doing anything," you say so sweetly that he'd believe it - or at least he would if it wasn't his own damn hand slipping into trousers. A breath hitches in your throat, and you can hear the ethereal way a laugh stutters in his throat.

"Just friendly, yeah?"

You nod. Whimper a pathetic confirmation - and then he's pressing against your underwear. Is slow as he rubs a single circular motion against you. 

"The birds are judging us," he tells you. 

"Nah," you shake your head. Take a shallow breath as he circles against you once more. "This is just revision."

"Revision?"

"Making sure we've learned from them. As long as - fuck ."

"You good there?" he teases, as if he didn't just up the speed for a moment. 

You ignore his question and continue the point that was so rudely interrupted by his pacing. "As long as we only do things the birds have already told us to do, then I think it's okay."

The pair of you are silent save for your tepid breaths. Jeongguk's fingers caress against the lace of your underwear while you palm at his excruciatingly hard cock. 

It's all rather juvenile, the way you're just touching each other up - and yet it's got your heartbeat racing. Perhaps it's because it's something so simple. Feels like there's so much more that could come of it. The great unknown: will you make Jeongguk cum? Or will you just blue ball him instead?

He really fucking hopes you'll choose the first option.

"Y'know," he says quietly. "I kinda need a shower."

It's not a lie. He freshened up at the gym, but didn't have a proper shower - didn't think he'd be taking such a long detour home.

"You wanna go shower?"

He nods. "Please."

It's laughable, really, the way neither of you says a word as he guides you to the bathroom. It's a regular occurrence at this point. 

You glance across the open-plan living room as you make your way to the bathroom, and smile at the painting hanging up beside the television. Jeongguk follows your gaze and smirks. 

"Think a future girlfriend would have an issue with that being up on the wall?"

"Maybe," you shrug. "You never have to tell her what is it, mind you. Never have to say it's... yanno."

"No I don't know, Byeol," he teases. Grips onto your shoulders to stop you from walking, and turns you to face it. Walks you both a little further into the sitting room area. Tilts his head, and you realise there's another bloody mirror in the corner of the room. You've never noticed it before. Wonder if he placed it there deliberately. "What is it?"

You narrow your eyes in the mirror. A smirk rests on his pretty lips and you can't help but bite down on yours when one of his hands creeps up your shirt. The bra you're wearing is lace; underwired but with unstructured cups. He squeezes. Fucking groans. "Shit."

"We shouldn't be doing this here," you tell him, well aware that Jimin could come home at any minute. Even going for a shower together is a risk. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Doesn't matter."

"What if Jimin-"

"If he comes home, he comes home," Jeongguk cuts you off as he continues playing with you beneath your shirt. He wants it off. Takes it off. Faces no opposition from you. Both of his hands cup at your chest, the black lace sin beneath his hands. Your heartbeat heaves in your chest, and it's only made worse when Jeongguk nudges his nose against your hair and whispers, "maybe I'll just show him how to make you cum."

You tell him he's mean. He squeezes harder. Makes you whimper. Tells you he can be mean if you really want him to be.

But you shake your head. "Play nicely."

It's not that you don't like things a little rough and tumble - it's just that if this is the last time, you know it needs to be intimate. How else will you be able to face your fears with other people if you never even let him?

One of his hands trails to the back of your bra, and gently unsnaps the clasp, before ridding you of the lace. As much as he liked it, he likes you bare better. Likes the way your pillowy breasts frame your nipples perfectly. Likes that the soft flesh spills through the gaps in his fingers. Likes how easy it is to get you whimpering as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

"Nice enough?" He husks.

"Nice," you nod, eyes closed, crown of your head tipping back to rest against the top of his chest. "God, Gguk. Think I'm obsessed with the way your hands feel."

The compliment makes his heart fucking race .

He watches in the mirror. Studies the way your lips part as he toys with you. Wants to kiss you so badly. Knows he can't. Fuck . Maybe he does get off on a little torture, but this is just inhumane to him. You can feel how hard he is as he presses into the small of your back. The curse and blessing of sweatpants. 

You reach behind yourself to palm at his crotch, and are met with a nod of his head against yours. 

"Fuck, B," he whines as you toy with the outline of his cock. "I gotta - fuck - I gotta do something with my mouth. Wanna kiss you too fuckin' bad."

He doesn't even mean to admit it, but now that he has, he feels a little shameless. If he can admit that, he can admit anything. 

Maybe he'll tell you about the wet dream he had a few nights ago, and how he'd woken up to damp sheets and a ruined orgasm all because you'd made an unexpected appearance in his dream. 

Maybe he'll tell you about the fact he hasn't watched porn in weeks. Just thinks of you, instead.

Maybe he'll tell you about the fleshlight hidden in the back of his bedside cabinet drawer, and how he can't use it anymore, 'cause it doesn't look like you do.

Doesn't look like you, doesn't feel like you, doesn't smell like you. Doesn't get him cumming like you do. 

Actually, maybe he won't tell you about that last one - but he wants you to know. 

Wants you to understand just how fucking sexy he thinks you are. Wants you to acknowledge that if he can get this wrecked over you, then there must be hundreds of other men out there just the same as him. You don't need to linger for so long on your ex. 

There'll be another guy out there for you who doesn't make you feel like shit; who only ever wants to make you feel good. So good. So, so-

"Oh God, yeah," he whines as you finally slip your fingers beneath his waistband and into his trousers. His hips pulse, wanting more, more, more of you. "So fucking good."

"My lips," you husk as his fingers dig into your soft chest. The grip is tight. Needy. "They're off limits."

"Lips," he nods. Clenches his jaw as he tries to control his breathing. Swallows his nerves down. "And the rest of you?"

You open your eyes to find his already on you in the mirror. He's hungry. Wanting. Salivating. He looks fucking primal, as if he's fighting every instinct he has just to keep your boundaries respected. Makes you wanna break every single one of them down.

Turning your head ever so slightly, just so your nose can nudge against his, you realign your faces. His lips are pouty. Pink. Pretty. Perfectly out of reach. Yet when you nod, they brush against yours tenderly. You don't let it happen again. "Be specific."

God, his cock is too fucking hard to be playing games like this. He wants to curse you out. Wants to be fucking mean. Wants to tell you to stop being a little bitch and just let him have his way with you - but he promised he'd play nicely. 

"Every inch of your skin," he says, 'cause he is actually a little too nervous to ask so politely for what he really wants.

Has been wanting it for weeks.

It's something new, to him. Something he's only ever asked for once, and it was in the heat of the moment. A moment quite a lot like this.

You smile. You know what he really wants. "That's not specific."

"But it's the truth."

Jeongguk always gets a little like this when he's riled up. A little needy. Whiney. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it, but you know that sometimes he misspeaks. Says things he never would do if he wasn't desperately after a release. 

You never think he's lying, but you do think what he wants in the heat of the moment isn't always what he wants with a clear mind. This is one of those moments.

You purr, a little satisfied with how easy it is to get him like this. Feels like you're in control - so Jeongguk rolls your nipples between his fingers again to get you moaning. Realigns a sense of power. It's endless with the pair of you; a back-and-forth of control. It works well. Too well.

But he's feeling brazen, now. Feeling bold. Isn't nervous to tell you what he wants anymore, because the way your body reacts to his touch lets him know that you'll like it.

"Your tits, Byeol," he says. Your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He's looking directly at you. Notices the way your chest begins to heave a little heavier. Smirks. "If this is my last chance to..." he pauses. Is almost ashamed of what he wants.

"Last chance to what?" You flirt.

You bitch. You're teasing him just because you can. It makes him throb. The motion of your hand stroking above his underwear is making his cock all fat and leaky. There's a damp patch on the front of his briefs. He's ready to fuck. Wants to fuck.

But before that? Before he can even consider sinking himself into you? 

He (regretfully) pulls one of his hands away from you, bringing it to meet your hand in his trousers. He (even more regretfully) pulls you away. You pout. He smiles. 

"C'mon," he says, pulling on the hand he's just removed, leading you into the kitchen area. Will clarify it for you later.

The boys have an island that acts as a divider between the two spaces, which is exactly where he's taking you. The clothes he took off you are left by the sofa, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: leveraging you into a better position.

You yelp a little as he dips to pick you up, gripping the back of his neck without hesitation. 

"Don't be a pussy," he grins, popping you down on the island counter. "Although now I come to think of it -" he lifts you again, getting to your feet. The way his mind darts from thought to thought, and how his body acts upon them without warning, makes you laugh. He sinks his finger into the waistband of your sweats. Pings it again your skin. "Off."

"Say please," you demand, just to be a little difficult. 

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please," he says, eyes dark as he towers over you, his hands coming to cup your chest once more. The man's obsessed, you think. If he could read your mind, he'd tell you that you're correct. He is. "Take your trousers off."

"Why?"

God, he hates that shit-eating grin of yours. Hates that he can't kiss it away. 

And so he decides he's not gonna entertain it any longer. He grabs your hips. Spins you around. Bends you over the island, a single hand gripping the top of your thigh, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades. 

"What's the word, Byeol?" He asks, checking that you're on the same page.

"Chess," you reply a little breathlessly. This lack of control is something you're used to with him. He's never overtly dominant, always looking out for your needs first and foremost, but this feels... yeah this feels different. This is about him. 

And it makes you far more excited than you ever realised it would.

His hand trails down your back. Strokes at the line of your spine. He admires you. Takes note of the dimples just above your ass. Knows he's in trouble the second he starts squeezing at one of your cheeks. Still an ass guy.

He yanks the material of your sweats down past your ass. Fucking groans when he sees the black lace thong that sits prettily over your ass. Glances over to the bra by his sofa. Groans yet again. Yep . A matching fucking set. 

"Fuckin' vixen," he mumbles to himself, not really intending for you to hear it. Isn't sure if you had planned on getting laid today, but you're definitely dressed for it. As he grapples with the flesh of your ass, he notices just how smooth your skin is. Well moisturised. Coconutty. 

Maybe you had taken extra care in the shower that morning. Maybe you had shaved your entire body. Maybe you had been wearing a new two-piece.

That doesn't mean you were planning on letting him see. Just means your self-care routine is coming along fabulously. Well done you.

There's a bruise on the top of your hip. Jeongguk's thumb brushes against it. Doesn't apply any pressure. A small noise chirps from his throat, questioning it. 

"Pole," you remind him a little breathlessly. "Gentle with my legs, they're covered in bruises."

He nods to himself, and says, "Use 'chess' okay? Hey, look at me a sec - 'chess'. Okay? Even if it's just your legs. Don't wanna hurt you."

You're looking at him over your shoulder with a smile. His sincerity is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You want him to hurt you.

"Notice how there are no bruises on my ass?" you ask, to which he nods. You face away from him again, and sink back into the position he originally had you in, chest pressed to the counter. "Good. Change that."

He thinks he might cream his pants right there and then. 

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

"Oh no," you pout, voice all soft and sweet. "Wouldn't that be a shame?"

Jeongguk grapples with your ass. Caresses it. Knows you're not done talking, so is buying time. Wants to hear how you'll tease him. See how riled up it''ll get him. 

"If you die, I'll just have to fuck Jimin again."

The crack of his palm against your ass is electric. 

Your body jolts forward, Jeongguk's grip on your hip to keep you stable no match for the impact of his flat palm. Skin on fire, chest heaving, you giggle. That's all he's got?

"Y'know," you tease, and Jeongguk is pleased that you sound a little breathless. He strokes at the skin he impacted, soothing the sting. Likes that goosebumps are already forming. "He took me from behind, a lot like thi-"

He doesn't even let you finish this time before the sting of his spank is delivered. It's harder than the first one, but his hand is also far quicker to soothe this time around. 

"Yeah," he husks. "I fuckin' know."

You can hear his breathing, now. You're both panting a little. 

"Does it bother you?" you ask as he tenderly cares for your reddening skin. 

"Be specific," he speaks boldly, a little unlike himself, and you're starting to understand why he's an ass guy. Your tits make him weak. This? The way he's got control of your body? Makes him strong. 

"That I fucked Ji-"

The way he cuts you off with another domineering slap to your ass gives you his answer - but so does the way he not only soothes the skin immediately afterwards, but also how his other hand comes to rub the bottom of your spine, following the path of its curve. He's cherishing. Worshipping. 

He leans forward as his hand trails up your spine so he can reach your neck, and tenderly clasps it to he pull you back up. Turns you around. Is gentle as he lifts you back into position on the counter. 

Brushes your hair out of your face. Looks you directly in the eye. Uses this thumb to collect a rogue chunk of glitter from your cheek. Rubs it on his arm. Stains himself in you.

"It doesn't bother me," he says - not for any male sense of bravado, or acting 'chill' - but because he needs you to know it isn't a big deal. You've enough complexes as it is. He doesn't want you to ever feel shame for the things you've done. "Bothers me that he doesn't realise how lucky he was to get a pussy as good as yours. Bothers me he didn't finish the job. Bothers me that he actually got to fuck you," he grins. You grin right back. "But it doesn't bother me that it happened."

"Mm, so you won't share towels with him, but you'll share girls?" You tease. His hands toy with your chest again. Secretly, you think you like him better like this. Like it when he's weak.

"Am I sharing you?"

It's a loaded question, you think.

"Not right now," you whisper, reaching to his waistband, nose nudging against his. "Take these off."

"Say please," he whispers right back. One of your hands tangles in his hair. Pulls him away. Gets him looking into your eyes.

"Please."

How can he refuse? It's like you put him in a trance whenever he sees your disco-ball eyes. He'll do whatever you ask of him.

He takes his trousers off first, then says "shirt?"

You nod. He takes that off, too. Leaves them crumpled in a pile on the floor. Doesn't care for them at the moment. Only cares for you.

"I still need a shower," he says, as he closes the gap between you, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

"We can still get one," you tell him. Honestly, you don't really mind what you do with him. Just know that you wanna make it last. Want this feeling of safety and security for a little while longer.

His arms rest on your shoulders. Just a little taller than you in height when you're sitting like this, Jeongguk likes looking at you from this angle. Likes seeing the variations in your glitter; the small chunks and slightly bigger flakes that make you seem cosmic. He likes noticing the flecks caught on your lashes, and how he never realised quite how long they are. He doesn't think you're wearing mascara. 

You're not - but you did get your lashes done the week before. He wouldn't give a shit even if he knew. Would think it was cool, probably.

"So about that whole no-kissing thing-"

"Nope," you laugh, swatting at his clammy chest. He smirks. Presses his lips together. Shakes his head. 

And then he whines. "It's so unfair."

"If you even try, I'm yelling chess."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah," you assure him - only for him to edge a little closer.

He's not actually going to kiss you. 

Although... if you let him, he might. 

"Chess!"

"Ughhhh," he whines again, pulling away. "So mean, disco ball."

"What if I promise to make you cum?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

One of his hands drops to your chest again. Keeps on coming back. Can't resist. Ass guy? Yeah right.

The other drops to your underwear. Toys with the lace. 

"Bird revision, right?" Jeongguk asks. "So we can only do things we've already done?

You nod. 

"Okay," he whispers, before pulling away from you. "Hold that thought."

You watch as he walks around to the kitchen sink, his thick cock tenting in his underwear, desperate for something. Anything . 

And yet your birds? 

All focus on you. You've no idea how the fuck you're gonna get him cumming. Sure, there was the mutual masturbation one, but you'd promised that you'd be the one making him come. Maybe there's room for loopholes.

It wouldn't be the first time the pair of you have skirted the truth of what a bird could entail. A bird, a plane. Whatever.

Hands under the water, Jeongguk's focus is only on cleaning himself. He preens you so often, fixes your hair, your glitter, that it's nice seeing him in the same capacity but for himself. Realistically, it's all for you, still. 

He glances up. Looks a little bashful. 

The distance reduces the pair of you to your natural states; just Jeongguk and his Stargirl. He gazes at you often, but it's different when he's blinded by the light. With a little space, he's reminded of the fact you belong on this earth, too. 

It's like the pair of you are tangled up in a Jekyll and Hyde situation, instead, it's who you are when your clothes are on, versus when your clothes are off. He likes both of them. Doesn't think they can coexist though. 

"What?" he asks when you smile at him. You just shrug and shake your head.

"Weird isn't it?" 

He comes to stand in front of you again. Your legs don't wrap around him, but he does put his palms on the top of your thighs. Looks pensive as he asks, "What is?" 

He's grinning, too, though. His skin is getting all prickly again. Can smell your arousal. Wants to fucking drink it. 

"You 'n' me," you shrug, letting your arms snake around his neck. You're sat up straight, and the gap between your chests closes. "Like, I was maybe 15 seconds away from kissing you." The admission makes Jeongguk want to die. "But then when you were washing your hands..."

"I was just Jeongguk again, right?" He assumes. You nod. "Same for me. Like we're two different people: who we are when we're horny and who we are when we're 'normal'."

"So fucking weird," you laugh, deciding that it solidifies what a great friendship you have. Convince yourself it's gonna make it so much easier when he starts dating. If you can separate the Jeongguk you mess about with and the Jeongguk you're friends with, then there's no reason the friendship should be lost.

"Too weird to pick back up where we left off?" He says quietly. Nudges his nose against yours. Strokes his hands up your back. Pulls his chest away so he can sneak his hands to your tits once more. Squeezes. Makes you moan.

You shake your head. "Do it again."

He does. 

Is firm, as he does so, his large hands cupping your chest so delicately that you almost want him to be rougher - but you like it when he's gentle. Like how well he takes care of you. His thumbs stroke across your hardened nipples, toying at them, getting you all hot and bothered. 

You moan so subtly that Jeongguk thinks it might be his favourite sound in the whole entire world. 

"You wanted specifics earlier," Jeongguk says under his breath. "I can give you a specific."

You nod. Trail along his bottom lip with your thumb. Let him press his lips down against it. 

"Show me," you tell him. He squeezes at your chest. You know exactly what he wants. You also know he's never done it before. "My tits, huh? You wanna suck on them?"

He swallows harshly. Rests his forehead against yours. Nods. Can feel his cock throb. 

"Big boy words," you whisper, and are met with a slight grunt from Jeongguk. He's used to being the one in your position. Used to setting the pace, setting the tone. You switching it back around on him? Fuck. He might just die. Or cum in his pants. One of the two. Death would be preferable. "Tell me what you want."

He rests his head on your shoulder. Looks at your tits as he plays with them. 

"Not much of a teller. More of a doer."

He's just trying to weasel his way out of it. It's like the birds all over again.

"So do it."

And to your surprise, he does.

His lips are firm as he presses a kiss around your nipple. Once, twice. A third time. Poutier and poutier with each kiss. He's delicate. Sincere. Doesn't wanna get it wrong.

"Feels good," you tell him, knowing he needs the reassurance. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile. Tease at his hair as his lips wrap around you again. The way his lashes splay on his cheeks is art, you decide. "You've no idea how much I like this."

His lips kiss and kiss. It takes a little encouragement - "use your tongue a little. Yeah. Yeah, like that. It feels so good when you do that. Suck a little- oh fuck. Yes." - but it doesn't take long for him to gain confidence. Be a little bolder. He focuses on your reactions. Notices when your breath hitches everytime he runs his tongue around your nipple. When he kitten licks, too. But when he sucks? That's when the jackpot hits. 

Your body leans into his touch, hand resting on the back of his head. His name escapes your lips half a dozen times. When he switches to your other nipple? Half a dozen more.

His lips are direct and purposeful and they tug your nipple into his mouth, his moans vibrating around you.  Pulling away, Jeongguk wastes no time. Has your other nipple in his mouth almost immediately. Squeezes your tits together, nipples almost touching so he can swipe fast licks across them. Gets you mewling. Whining. Begging for more. 

And how can he refuse? 

His hand dips to your pussy. Toys with you over the lace, which is sodden with your arousal. He slides your underwear to the side, and says nothing, just continues sucking on your tits as he sinks a finger into you.

"Shit," you curse. The angle you're sitting at means he can't get too deep. Means he's hitting you in just the right spot, straight off the bat. He mumbles something, but you can't work it out. Just know there's no possible way he's an ass guy. Hasn't spent more than a second away from your tits since he first started peppering them in kisses. "Just like that."

Your head lulls back, and Jeongguk finally pulls away. "You good?"

He's met with the most satisfied laugh he thinks he's ever heard. "Is water wet?"

"Dunno," he grins. "But you are. Fuckin' soaked. God," he stares down at your pussy, stuffed with two of his fingers. "I fuckin' love this cunt."

You smirk. Roll your hips as well as you can in the position. He watches, transfixed by the way he's stretching you out even with just two fingers.

"My bed," he rasps. "Can we? I know I need to shower, but - fuck - I just gotta have you in my bed, B."

Truthfully, you're glad. There's something about post-gym Jeongguk that just really gets to you. You think it's the pheromones. Don't care to google it because you enjoy the mystery. 

You nod. "Probably for the best. You have to eat off of here."

He smirks. Withdraws from you. Says, "So?"

And then he licks his fucking fingers clean. Eyes on yours. One of his brows tweaks. Challenges you. 

"You underestimate how much I like eating pussy," he says, as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.

You think his departure is for dramatic effect. In reality, it's just so you don't see the Cheshire cat grin on his face, pleased with himself for what he just did. He knows it was hot - but he's smiling because he can't get over the way you taste. Fucking delicious.

That thing about torturing himself? Yeah. You might be right. 

Eating pussy isn't on the birds. He knows he can't have it - and yet when you arrive at his door, mouth still ajar, both smug and surprised in the same expression, he thinks it might not be unfathomable. 

"What?" he feigns innocence - but he's got a grin that tells the tale of a valiant hero. He's so pleased with himself that you almost slip back into your 'normal' selves again - but then you crawl onto his bed. All fours. Ass a little red from his hands earlier, but no bruises. Just that barely there thong he thinks belongs in a museum, and evidence of just how turned on you are showing between your thighs.

The smile of his? Replaced with a stare so hard it rivals his cock. 

"What?" you feign innocence now, as you flop down onto his bed - and then he gets the luxury of seeing your tits and - fuck. It's all too much. 

He walks over to the bed. Takes off his underwear. You do the same.

"I'm gonna die," he tells you with absolute certainty. He's so ridiculous that you can't help but smile all fondly at him. The way he jokes and banters with you comes so easily, that part of you doesn't even realise he's naked. Part of you does, though. Mainly your eyes, given the fact they seem to be transfixed on his cock. "If we don't do something about this-" he gestures down to his cock, as if you need any direction "- then I absolutely will just die. Is that what you want? Huh?" 

"Mhmm," you hum, finishing it with a small giggle and a nod, reaching for his hand to pull him onto his bed. He lets you. Follows your lead, cause he hopes it's leading him somewhere good. "I want you dying a very little death."

The innuendo dances off your tongue and into his ear as you sit on his lap. His hands automatically find your chest. He decides he'll miss them. Encourages your body down. Positions you just right so that he can take your tits in his mouth again. He's a changed man.

"Don't think there'll be any little about it," he mumbles as he switches sides, kitten licking now so that he can finish his sentence. "Think it's gonna be a very big death, actually."

"Shit," you whisper as he gets reacquainted with your body. He decides all rather quickly that tits are a gift from God and he's been blind for his entire life up until he met you. How had he not been utterly obsessed before? He'll never admit it. Never. Will prevail as an ass guy - but fuck, he hopes whoever you set him up with has a good pair of tits.

But then there's an uncomfortable awareness of how fleeting this all is. By the time you've both finished, it'll all be over. 

He manoeuvres you both over. Kisses your chest, now. Works his way up to your collarbone. Your neck. Bites down ever so gently. Kisses again. Tells you once more how your no-kissing rule 'will kill' him. 

"Better leave me something nice in your will," you tease as he finally pulls away from dappling your skin in pretty kisses that you wished could have been on your lips instead. Either pair. 

He sits back on his heels. Strokes his cock as he looks at you. Tilts his head, a smirk rising on one side as you cup your tits. 

"Pussy," he encourages, pulling a little tighter on his cock. "Play with your pussy."

You give him a quizzical look, but do as you're told. Slide your fingers between your slick folds. Spread yourself for him. Watch as he almost fucking hisses. The pace he's wanking himself off increases. His breathing shallows. You think it stops completely when you sink two fingers into your entrance.

He curses. Tilts his head back. Ruts his hips upwards. Forces his cock through the tight grip of his hand. There's a sheen to his tip, precum leaking so delicately that you find yourself salivating at the sight of it. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense. He's edging himself. 

"How many birds do we have left?" Jeongguk rasps, eyes opening to find yours again. The way he speaks, all breathless and needy, has you wanting more. "Mutal masturbation's done. I can't... Shit. I can't. I'll cum if I carry on. Tits are done. Fingers, done. What else?"

"Shower," you say, then follow it up with. "Do that last. Water gets in the way. Wanna watch you cum."

"Shit, don't say shit like that," he mewls as he sinks down on top of you. His body is warm, the chain around his neck catching on your throat, pooling between your collarbones. Has you determined to make him finish on your chest. Wanna replace his chain with his cum. 

In a normal scenario, he'd kiss you right now - but he can't. Instead, he averts his desire. Grips his cock. Presses it against your folds. Spreads your slickness. Covers himself in it. Dips down a little too far. Curses. Gets you whining. 

"You know," he husks against your neck. "We could..."

"Cockwarm?" You simper. "Don't believe that one was my bird?"

The crown of his cock presses against you. Jeongguk holds it as the base, and runs it down your folds, then back again. He repeats. Lets his grip get even tighter when he lines up with your entrance. He waits for you to move your hips.

And you do. Just for a moment. Just a tad. Just enough.

"Wasn't it?" He hums, knowing perfectly well it was one of his.

"Don't even think it was a bird," you whisper a little breathlessly as he presses a little deeper against you. He adjusts his hips. Lines himself up a little better. Your breath hitches.

"So you don't want to?" He asks, and you can just tell he's got one of those smiles on his lips. The one that makes you think maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad. "'Cause I wanna."

"Gguk," you whisper. He shakes his head.

"Not an answer."

"Shit," you whimper, rolling your hips ever so gently to encourage his tepid ruts against you. "Condom?"

"Birth control?" he chances. He knows you're on it. Think if he's gonna get his cock in you, then he's gonna at least try for it raw.

You know you should, and yet - "Are you clean?"

He nods. Asks the same back. You nod. Haven't hooked up with anyone but him since your last test.

Everything is out in the open. There's nothing to lose - just the knowledge that you'll maybe never get this ever again. It only serves to make you want him raw even more.

"You get a minute."

He pauses. "A minute?"

"Sixty seconds," you nod. "Cockwarming. That's all you get."

It's ridiculous, 'cause all you want is for Jeongguk to fuck you senseless. Think it's embarrassing admitting that, though. What if he doesn't actually want to fuck you? What if it's just for the birds?

"Who's counting?" He husks. Realigns himself. Presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Plugs it but doesn't push forward. Makes you wanna die. Too good. Too fuckin' good.

"You are," you whimper, knowing you won't be able to keep count when he's inside you.

He nods. Reminds you that 'chess' is always an option.

His cock sinks into you slowly. It's thick and wide, angled just right to hit your sweetest spots. Jeongguk groans. Finds himself seeking out your tits with his mouth as he bottoms out. Sucks gently, until he's reminded by you that he needs to be keeping count.

He grins. Nibbles your nipple ever so gently, then nods. "You're right, you're right. Sorry. Shit. One. Two..."

Jeongguk finds solace in the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around him. The position has him thinking you've no right to ever complain about intimacy again. This is about as fucking intimate as it gets. And when your arms wrap around his neck? Dainty fingers start toying with his hair? Only amplifies it.

Your hips move ever so tenderly, and he loses count. Finds himself swearing again. You're tight and warm around him, just how he wanted it. Torture. Fucking torture. He likes this so much he fears you ruined actual sex for him.

"Shit," he mumbles against you. "Never been good at maths."

The way you giggle? Torture. Again. 

"You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk," you whisper tenderly, tensing around him just cause you liked the way it made him whine.

He pouts and shakes his head, which is still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he asks, "What comes after 32?"

And because you're just as into it as he is, you decide lying is okay for the time being. "11."

"Yeah," he whines. "Thought so. Eleven... Twelve... What's next?"

"Dunno," you whimper breathlessly. It's getting a bit too much for you, too. "Maybe ten?"

"Ten," he echoes. Decides he wants to spend eternity inside you. "Eleven..."

He pauses just long enough for you to know exactly where he's going with this - so you beat him to it.

"Maybe it would be easier if you had a rhythm going?" you simper. 

"A rhythm?" He hums. He was just gonna pretend he couldn't do maths again.

"Like..." you pull your hips back a little, burying yourself deeper into the mattress and away from him - but then you push them back up. Jeongguk fucking whines. "One." 

You pull back, again. Jeongguk whines, again. Sinks himself back into you. "Shit. Two."

"I'm not good at multitasking," he says. Not a lie, admittedly. Gets distracted too easily. If you don't keep count, he'll just fuck you forever or something stupid like that. Doesn't think he'd mind it, to be honest. "Maybe you should keep count."

"Mhmm? You want me to count for you?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Count for me, B. Make sure I don't go over sixty."

"I'll count backwards," you tell him, thinking it will somehow take longer, because apparently all sense of sanity is evading you. Unsurprising. All you can think about is Jeongguk's fat cock and how it's keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. "Countdown." 

"60-0?" He clarifies, to which you nod. "Mhm. Do that. Count backwards. Use that pretty little head of yours."

"Sixty..."

The way he pulls out of you is maddeningly slow. He's deliberating taking his time. Overindulging. Making this last. He's even slower as he pushes back in, filling you up as deep as he possibly can.

You're barely able to get the next number out.

"Fifty-nine," you eventually manage as he bottoms out. "Fuck."

He's lethargic in the way he moves. Slow as he withdraws, and even slower still as he fucks himself into you.

"Fifty-eight..."

Jeongguk's skin is hot. He sticks to you like glue. Only his hips move - but so do yours. 

You're fucking. 

You. Are. Fucking.

And, God, you know you shouldn't. You know that it's a recipe for disaster, but Jeongguk's aftershave smells like safety and his bed feels like home, so the prospect isn't scary. 

"...Forty-two... Forty-one..."

Your whines are getting louder. So are his grunts. You grip onto his biceps, and begin to realise Jeon Jeongguk is not a man. He simply cannot be. Not when he is built like a Greek God, and looks like one too. Crafted from marble, there's no possibility he's real. 

And even if he is real, you think there's no way he'd actually be fucking himself into you like he is. 

Sex, at its very basic fundamental value, is all about survival of the fittest. Anatomy. Breeding. Shit like that; things you can't quite recall when he's balls deep inside you. It's about fucking for the survival of the human race, and out of everyone on the planet, you can't wrap your head around the fact he'd choose to do that with you. His basic anatomy would choose you . 

Jeongguk isn't thinking as intensely as you are. 

Fucking. Nice feeling. Cum. Nice. Inside her. Nice. Fucking. Real nice. Glitter. Nice. Tits. Suck. Nice. More. Fuck. Nice. Again? Nice.

But he is also thinking about spilling himself into you, and how fucking unreal it would feel. 

So maybe your brains are working in tandem. Different process. Same end goal. He just can believe he'd choose you, 'cause, well... he already has.

Eventually, you hit thirty-three, then thirty-two, and then -

"Shit," you whine. "That damn thirty-two."

"What about it?" He asks a little curiously. Pauses his hips until he gets the go-ahead from you again.

"I've forgotten what comes after it."

"Shit," he grins, playing along with you. "Start again?"

"Maybe," you nod. "But this time, maybe go faster? Might jog my memory?"

Jeongguk smirks. Sits up on his heels, cock still buried inside you, knees on either side of your ass. He grips your waist. Spanks one of your tits, then softly caresses it as an apology for letting the intrusive thought win. His hips pulse gently. 

He's fucking you. 

Jeongguk is fucking you. 

He lets the hand that was playing with your chest trail down your torso until it reaches your pussy. It's swollen and needy, just as much blood rushing to your clit as there is to his cock. His thumb presses down right when it needs to. Rubs in tiny circles as he gently thrusts into you slowly.

"Faster?"

You nod.

"Okay," he rasps. "Let's jog that memory of yours. You're so smart, Byeol. Look at you, and your pretty little head. So smart. So fucking smart when my cock's inside you."

This time you don't count. He grips your waist. Rams himself into you like a man possessed, lips resting ajar as his brows knit together all prettily like they did when he was eating brunch. So incredibly focused, and yet there's not a single thought up in that gorgeous head of his, just that he's fucking you so hard his neighbour will definitely be able to hear his bedframe hitting the wall. Good .

The noises he makes are lewd. You think he'd make bank with an only fans. Know that you'd pay good money for it. With a cock as pretty as his? A body like a marble statue? Gorgeous little whimpers when his cock is all needy for you? Yeah, bitches would go wild for him. 

Funny, how you refer to them as bitches, almost like you're jealous over imaginary women who'd find him sexy. Very strange, indeed. 

After all? You're just friends.

His pace eventually eases, and you pretend like you were counting the entire time. "Two... One... Times up."

Jeongguk sinks back down, hooking one of your legs over his elbow as he does so, opening you up even further. He wants to be deeper. As deep as he possibly can be. Wants to press down on your cute little tummy and feel himself inside you.

"Whoever fucks you next better worship your pussy," he mumbles, pressing kisses up your neck. "So fucking good. Shit. If you dare fuck another guy who doesn't make you cum like you know you deserve to cum-"

"You'll what?" you tease, a smile plastered all over your face. "Die?"

He laughs. Shakes his head. You know him so well. "What use would that be? Nah..."

Jeongguk pulls away from you again. Withdraws himself fully for the first time. Watches your pussy as your arousal seeps from your tight cunt and onto his sheets. Wants to lick it all up. Doesn't think he's allowed to, though.

Instead, he moves your legs, finally noticing the extra bruises from pole. You were right. They do look like watercolour bruises. 

He squeezes your thighs together and uses his gentle hands to twist your hips, so that your legs are curled to the side, but keeps your back flat against his bed. He lines himself up with you again. Grunts as he sinks into you. You're tighter now, like this. He thinks it's gonna make him cum. He has to go slow.

"I'd get you like this," he says, holding onto your hip and pushing deeper, deeper into you. He nods over to his desk and smirks. "And that chair over there? That's where they'd be. And they'd have to watch me fuck you how you like it."

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself fixated on the fact you routinely have sex and don't finish. He can't wrap his head around it. He'd had the luxury of witnessing you cum a handful of times. Had felt it once. Knows first-hand how fucking good it is. Thinks about it as he fucks into you, now, then lets the intrusive thoughts win again as he begins to ramble.

"Can't believe how many people you've let get away without making you cum. You know how good that shit is? Fuck. You feel like heaven. They wouldn't even deserve to watch it - but I'd do it. I'd make them fuckin' watch - 'cause not being funny, B, but you should see yourself right now. So fucking hot I might die. Hopefully then if they fucked you again, they'd know what to do."

"Never realised you were such a good teacher, Mr Jeon," you tease.

He stills his cock inside you. Smirks. Shakes his head. Picks up the pace again.

You know what ' Jeon ' does to him. The ' Mr ' ahead of it? Yeah. Gets him.

And so gives you a friendly threat, as he fucks his cock a little deeper into your tight, warm cunt. "I will fuck you so hard my bed breaks if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Oh?" You grin, trying not to moan and failing miserably. "Would you prefer Sir ?"

"Final warning," he growls, his hips slowing but deepening. He's close. You know it's not gonna take much. 

"Whatcha gonna do? Give me a detention?"

"If you get to call me stupid fuckin' names, then I get to kiss you."

"Kissing isn't very friendly, is it?"

"Byeol, my cock is inside you."

"Yeah? Just a friendly fuck."

He knows you're joking, but Jeongguk doesn't think there's anything friendly about this.

He doesn't insist on kissing you any further.

"You're unbelievable," he smiles, easing slightly before reaching for your hand. "C'mon, let's make you cum."

"Oh? You want this to be over?" You flash a grin, as if you haven't been fucking him for God knows how long by this point, knowing full well he could have cum in 10 seconds flat at any given opportunity. He repeatedly edged himself for you.

"No, but if I don't cum soon, Byeol, I'll d-"

"Die, yeah yeah," you grin. "Alright. Put yourself out of your misery."

He laughs. Looks at you with such fondness that you think you'd quite like to orgasm on his cock for him like a good friend should. "You make me sound like such an asshole."

"I don't," you promise sweetly - before you also decide to let the intrusive thoughts win. "Also, just on the subject of assholes, thoughts on pegging?"

"Literally what the fuck is wrong with you," he laughs, rolling his hips to remind you of the more pressing things at hand. You moan a little, but all you wanna do is banter with him. You enjoy it. Like it when he's all hard and needy and impatient, and you're winding him up. You like frustrating him. 

"You've got a nice ass," you shrug, shoulders pressed deep down into his white sheets. You look angelic, he thinks, hair haloing around your head, chest flushed, tits covered in teeny tiny hickies from his mouth.

"Well, maybe if you'd have picked a different plane..." he teases. "You'd know by now."

Holy shit.

"Wait. You wanna get peg-"

Jeongguk covers your mouth with his hand, a subtle grin on his pretty little face, dewy nose scrunching just for you.

"As much as I enjoy your chitchat, Byeol, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't talk at all. That good?"

You laugh. Twist your torso over to reposition yourself on your front. He gives you a playful spank straight off the bat, and it makes you roll your eyes - as if you hadn't turned over just to give him a view of your ass. You'd known what you were getting yourself in for.

Adjusting you slightly, Jeongguk pulls one of his spare pillows over, and lifts your hips to scoot it beneath you. It's his favourite position. Every last part of it. The way he can pull on hair and spank asses? The muffled moans into his pillows? Fuck . 

You love it just as much. Always helps to have your body weight adding to the pressure of your fingers massaging against your cunt. As Jeongguk pushes into you, he watches your hand slip beneath your body, and curses. 

"That's it, B," he husks. "That's a good girl."

He fucks himself into you - slow, deep, hard - and picks up the pace with every pathetic moan that escapes your lips. Tells you how good you sound, how much he wants to hear you come undone - and then you are.

The pleasure waves through you like an electrical current, Jeongguk's thick cock unrelenting as he fucks into you and drags your high even further than you thought possible. There's a numbness to your body, save for the overwhelming pleasure that pulses around his cock. It's all you can feel. Everything else is void. For a moment, the only important thing in your life is Jeongguk's dick and the way it fills you like nothing else ever has.

"Shit," he husks. "B, where?"

"Back," you just say, unable to move because your body is still fucking shaking. You don't even get the chance to mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, because he has to pull out so quickly.

His hand grips his cock and wanks faster than the speed of light. The pressure in his balls builds and builds and then it can build no more.

He squeezes your ass and whines as thick, creamy spurts of cum begin to paint your back.

The sound of his grunting makes you moan with every new rope of cum emptied onto your skin, and Jeongguk's pretty sure nothing in Taehyung's 'passion' collection could even come close to the sight in front of him. 

The final drops are wasted on your ass cheek as Jeongguk holds it to the peachy flesh, watching the way he stains your skin. Holding his cock by its base, he spanks it against your ass once, twice. Smirks. Takes a moment to squeeze your ass just because he can. 

He fucked you. He knows he should be concerned about the friendship, but he's not reached post-nut clarity yet.

Eventually, he flops down beside you.

"You know," you mumble, eyes closed, a smile on your lips. Jeongguk's grin is so serene that it's a good job your eyes aren't open. You might accidentally get your feelings confused if you saw him look that pretty. "I actually think it's a bit mean setting these poor girls up with you."

"What? Why?"

He sounds genuinely affronted. You just smile harder.

"Well, it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Us pretending like they'll be dating some great guy, only for them to later find out you're really average in bed."

He knows you're joking. Knows that a fuck like that could never be described as average. Plays up to your teasing just because he finds it funny.

" Average ?!" He exclaims. You can hear his smile in his tone of voice. "Nah, you're chatting shit just to piss me off, Byeol. What is it, huh? Want me to fuck you again? Want me to remind you exactly how average I can be?"

"Maybe."

He grunts. "Call me when you can walk straight."

"Pass me my phone."

"Fuck off."

The afternoon descends into casual chaos. You shower together, and bicker over who gets to stand beneath the water for longer, then battle it out for Jeongguk's fluffy towel in the aftermath. In the end, he lets you have it - only 'cause he likes the way you oogle at him when he's naked. 

You dry your hair, and style Jeongguk's into pretty little French braids. Tell him that he has to keep it like that. He says he will. By the time Jimin gets home, you're just sitting on the sofa watching shite TV. He's none the wiser you were naked on his kitchen counter a few hours earlier. Probably is best he never finds out about that part.

He studies Jeongguk's hair for a moment, then shrugs. "Suits you. What have you guys been up to?"

Good fucking question. 

"Not much," Jeongguk hums. "Gym this morning. Met this one -" he pokes you with his foot, earning a grimace from you. "- Afterwards for coffee. Been stuck to me like a bad smell ever since."

Jimin laughs. Shakes he his head as he comes to sit by you both with a box of dry cereal that he's eating straight from the bag. 

"You've got the most sensitive nose known to man," Jimin teases. "If you've kept her around, it's cause she smells good."

"Nah," he begs to differ. "Just gone nose blind."

"Prick," you laugh, then ask Jimin about his day. 

Conversation takes place of the shitty TV show, the three of you easily finding a million different topics to talk about.

It's times like this you regret ever fucking Jimin. Part of you fears you'll always just be 'the girl Jimin fucked that one time'. No identity within Jeongguk's friendship group beyond the fact you shagged his mate.

It's stupid. They barely remember Jimin even so much as looked in your direction. You're Jeongguk's friend. Jeongguk's.

Funny how you don't seem to mind being reduced to no identity outside of the confines of Jeongguk. Did you really heal after Seokjin? Or are you just making even worse decisions than you used to?

Thing is, Jeongguk's friends would be right in thinking that of you. 

You are his friend. 

As you head off into town the next morning to arrange his blind date, you know that's all you'll ever be.

And somehow, you think you're okay with that. 

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[verstappenalty]

You bringing back Max’s tactical brilliance and knowledge of the rule book during that triple header last year really has my mind spinning again because like we all know by now that Max knows the rule book better than anyone else and is able to recall it even while driving at ridiculous speeds but that triple header really was on a whole other level.

And to see the British media whining over the unfairness of the rules after Max used them perfectly in COTA was honestly just chef’s kiss.

Because they had to admit that Max drove to the very letter of the rules, couldn’t complain about that, so instead suddenly that rule was stupid and should be changed. Gosh it was hilarious.

And Mexico… my god, Mexico.

That was the best tactical terrorism I have seen in a long time. The media hated it of course and some even said it was his one blemish that season and to them I just say they don’t understand what Max was doing that day.

Even though Max basically explained it afterwards, he did the math in his head while driving and even with the 20s penalty he still lost less points to Lando this way. Because the difference between P1 and P4 (the realistic best Max could have gotten) is 13 points while the difference between P2 and P6 is only 10 points.

Honestly, I just thought that was very hot.

Then Brazil. And I don’t even know where to start because there was so much going on that weekend but starting with Thursday, press conference.

The media putting out think piece after think piece about Mexico. Asking Max whether he would change the way he drives… “It’s my 10th year in Formula 1, I think I know what I’m doing.”

To Lando also suggesting Max should change the way he drives and Max just holds up 3 fingers and says “I’m a 3x world champion. I don’t have to change anything.” HOTTT

Brief interlude bc I loved how other drivers like Charles, Pierre, KMag were asked about Mexico and said Max was doing whatever he had to do to win the wdc and that they’d do the same if they were in his situation.

To then the sprint. Or the farce of a sprint. And qualifying. Another farce.

I won’t even go into it any further but I distinctly remember being at the airport, waiting on my flight and just sitting there and thinking they’re really doing this. Doing everything to take that title from Max. The amount of unsafe shit the FIA did and let McLaren get away with that weekend?

Even Sky UK thought that wrong formation lap would have to be a sporting penalty. Because it should have been! There were marshalls on track, there was a tractor! Have we learned nothing from the past?

F1 drivers should know the rule book! And some did. We heard Max call it out over the radio.

But alas, even with everything stacked against him, torrential rain pouring down and every other driver making mistakes… Max was flawless.

He didn’t put a single foot wrong. He trusted GP to keep him apprised of the weather and stayed out in the rain when his rival was begging to pit. That was a decision, not luck! And it was the right decision.

He overtook for the lead while his rival went off track and never looked back. He would set 17 fastest laps on his way to win by almost 20 seconds after starting 17th becoming only the 5th driver in F1 history to win from 17th or further back.

A champions drive for the deserving champion.

A drive so brilliant, so astonishing, so historic that even the people who had spent their entire past week writing think pieces on how awful of a driver Max was were running out of words to praise him with.

And yet, of course it doesn’t end there. Because as an eagle eyed Max Verstappen rightly pointed out, there was a distinct lack of British media presence in the post race presser. Of course certain people were immediately on the defensive about this but I think that when you just spent an entire week slandering the man and his driving, you could take the 15 minutes to show up with a bit of praise after his historic drive (and I think going by the laughter in the room after Max‘s comment a lot of people would agree with me on that).

All‘s to say that that triple header was truly one for the ages and this has reminded me to go back and rewatch it in its entirety.

~

“We leave Brazil now with one message resonating louder than ever. Mess with the Bull, get the horns.”

Will Buxton you really rocked that one quote.

no notes. absolute poetry right here.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 17

Thank you so so so much to @plasticbabies for making this beautiful header!!!! we finally have a good one!

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Chapter summary: Past. You think back to your fears of hell. Present. How Logan learns.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religious trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING: Near suicide attempt and graphic gore

2.9k words

Logan took a big whiff of your hair, thumbing away the tears.

"There we go, sweet doll. It's over now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" When you don't answer, you felt his fingers press into your stomach just a bit more. "Was it?" 

"N-no..." A pit in your stomach deepens, and you hurt… it all hurts, and all you want right now is to be held. It’s sick, wanting it from Logan, but despite yourself you find yourself leaning back against him.

"I'm so sorry it happened this way, but you're gonna be quiet, right? Not gonna tell Charles or anyone, not when you got as wet as you did, right?"

Your heart falls into that pit in the middle of you. Visions flash of every time you tried to reach out, every time you wanted to get help with Mark… the doctor who said you were responsible for your miscarry, the police man who asked what you did that made him put your head through the wall, your mom reminding you to keep sweet and obey… If Charles looked in your head, and even the thought was humiliating, he’d see that you got wet, that your body betrayed you because it was Logan. Of course you wanted him… but not like this.

You shake your head, no. No one can ever no. Not Charles, not Scott. Scott would kill him, hands down, he’d been waiting for a reason… Not Remy, never Remy. Remy would try to hurt Logan, and Logan would slash him to pieces. 

No more blood would be spilled because of you. You’d done enough. Memories of the lives you took in cold blood, the smell of iron and the coppery taste in your mouth from your husband's head exploding on you filled your senses. Your ears rang, your bad ear echoing the feeling from when you’d shot the gun, a silencer but no hearing protection, giving yourself tinnitus, Hank said it was. That should’ve been enough, that should’ve been it. You killed Mark for what he’d done to you, for killing your baby, you should’ve been satisfied. But no, you had to go on, you had to kill more innocent people. Not even trying to save your sister from teen marriage through the authorities, you kill every adult involved, then turn the gun on yourself.

And you almost do it. You almost shoot, the gun trembling in your hands, but the cross on the wall catches your eye. The reason you don’t pull is not out of hope. You don’t hope for things to be better, but fear. If you kill yourself now, you go to hell. If you stay alive, maybe, just maybe, you can make a net positive for yourself, and still get into heaven. The gun drops to the ground as you do to your knees, screaming to god for forgiveness on the floor next to your marital bed. 

Then you pack what you can, the little money you have, and run away, taking buses wherever they were going until you find yourself in New York state 2 days later.

Charles said he felt you calling, felt the pure agony when you reached New Salem completely lost and exhausted and out of money. It was Remy he sent to get you, and when the strange, handsome man with red eyes came, you thought he was the devil. He turns out to have been your savior and your best friend.

As Logan nuzzles his face into your neck, you're reminded that you used to trust Logan the way you trust Remy. You brought Logan here, to your bedroom, on a few occasions just like Remy was sometimes allowed. You wonder if Remy was waiting for his chance.

*

For a while, Logan is in bliss. He’s finally got you, his Dolly, in his arms and in bed. It was good, life was good and you and him would be together forever. No one was going to get in his way, not Jean, not Scott, no one. He’d kill them, he’d kill for you, he’d die with you in that’s what it took.

Logan wished he’d taken you out of your dress, that he’d taken his time but there was no time, was there? He needed you, and you needed him, your body calling to him. It was fate. It was God. It was biology. It was whatever it needed to be for him to slide inside you and claim your body as his.

From underneath him, Logan heard soft singing. Singing was anything but uncommon for you, the gentle song of Lift High the Cross often echoed out of the kitchen, Here I Am, Lord while you grade papers, or Holy, Holy Holy down the halls of the school. Logan remembered hearing that one in church growing up. From the memories coming back together, Logan didn’t think his family was particularly religious, although it was certainly hard to escape completely during the Second Great Awakening, and Holy Holy Holy came out of that.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know secular music, because sure, sometimes he heard you humming along to the radio or bumbling through ones you knew enough, especially after you’d been at the school a few months. It was impossible to escape pop music completely, even being homeschooled.

What he didn’t expect was to hear you singing Landslide.

It was quiet, so quite a few words would come in and out of even his hearing because your voice simply couldn’t speak that quiet, but he knew the song. 

“Can the child within my heart rise above?”

“Dolly?” Logan tried to talk to you, but you just stared off into space, looking at the candles you and him were supposed to make today. Concerned, Logan pushed himself up a bit, the heavy weight of his body met with a deep breath, and he wondered if you couldn’t breathe under him. Still, without him there you wrap your arms around yourself, and you look so lonely, Logan manhandles you both onto your sides. You don’t stop singing.

“Take my love…. Take it down…”

He pulls you into a tight hug, letting you sing until the two of you fall asleep.

After

Logan heard a knock on the door early in the morning. Thinking it was Scott ready to accuse him of hurting you again, he flung open the door angrily, only to find Kurt. The elf looked nervous, wringing his hands together and his tail swishing about.

“Whaddya do’n here so early?” He asked his friend. Logan loved Kurt, him, Wade and Morph were his only real friends here. Kurt would understand him, honestly, if he explained himself. He’d just have to do it better than with Wade… Maybe after Stevie was born. 

Kurt was looking down as he spoke. After all these years, he still got nervous about certain things, even with him. “I vas just… checking on you two is all.”

Blood rushed in Logan’s body, senses hightening. He tried to get a sense for what, exactly, Kurt was asking and if he needed to be wary. Who would Wade have told? Certainly not Kurt. Scott, probably… Did he say something to Remy? And Remy talked to Kurt?

“Why would you need to check on us at 6 AM on the weekend? C’mon elf, be straight.”

Logan bent over until he caught his friend's yellow eyes. Finally, he spoke.

“It’s just… Vade. Him and Scott, they were saying some things…”

“And you believed them?”

“No!” Kurt looked straight at Logan now, determination on his face. “I left! They were trying to talk to me and Remy said you did… terrible things to her…” He spoke in a hushed tone, but Logan still glanced over to where you slept. “I don’t know why they talked to us but Scott vanted me there to vouch for you in good faith, and I did! I said you’d never do zat!”

Dread bubbled up in his chest. Wade and Scott were plotting against him, and they wanted Kurt there because if even Kurt turned against him Scott knew he was justified. The fucking coward could never just stand on his shit, needed to be backed in his morals. Well, as Kurt explained what happened it seemed he convinced Remy, and that was going to be good enough. Remy would do anything for you. They were in trouble.

“But I didn’t believe a word, Logan! I don’t care what they say, you are a better man than that”

Logan put his hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Thank you. Scott is still mad about Jean, and listen I don’t blame him… did you know she slept in another room last night?” Logan hadn’t smelled Scott on her when she came to check on Dolly and Stevie; she hadn’t even been in their bed. She always had a distinct smell of their sheets, a mix of perfumes, Scott, shampoos and body washes, when she used to sneak away from her husband in the middle of the night.

He shakes his head. “No, but zats vhat I mean, I don’t think he’s doing well, mein friend. Do not be angry with him, please-”

“Kurt?”

Logan turned around, opening the door to show you in the bed, sitting up. He wasn’t afraid of Kurt seeing you in anything untoward, you dressed modestly even in bed.

*

Kurt looked into the room, seeing you sit up on the bed. He was so relieved that Logan confirmed he was right. Wade had said he’d admitted it, but Kurt knew you, and you wouldn’t hurt a woman like that, especially not you. He has enhanced night vision, so the half of you he saw, he saw clearly. You looked tired, but that was understandable so far along.

“Hallo Fräulein” Kurt smiled into the dark room, giving a little wave and nod. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Nonono don’t worry!” You begin to sit up, scrambling despite your stomach to go to the table. “I’ll make coffee!”

Kurt waved his hands. “Nein, I must get to the gymnasium, coffee vill make me jittery, danke. I vill see you for lun-” Kurt choked on his words when you turned to face him. A puffy eye, green blue and purple all along that side of your forehead with a small cut topping off the lump. Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong.

“Y’alright, elf?” Logan asked, reaching for Kurt to steady him but Kurt just stumbles back more. 

“J-ja. I’m fine. Uh, little lightheaded is all. Maybe I should eat first.”

You step closer to the door. “I can cook you someth-”

“Nein! Danke!” He laughs an obviously nervous laugh, sure he’s giving himself away. Wade said he hurt you last night. No one saw it except for Jean and Bobby who were still in bed. There was no way for Wade to know, unless what he said was true, that Logan confessed to hurting you. And if Wade was telling the truth about the physical abuse… did he rape you?

It was all too much; his tail snapped anxiously, the spade scratching his leg. 

Logan gave him a funny look he couldn’t decipher, but nodded. “Alright, go get you some food. We’ll be down in a bit. Don’t pass out or noth’n” Kurt smiles, and began to walk away when Logan stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He pulled the younger man into a hug. “I love ya, elf.”

Kurt had a sinking feeling, and when he returned the affections to Logan, he poofed to his room to think it over while the rest of the house slept in.

He heard Scott’s door open and close.

*

Logan shut the door behind him, turned to you with wide eyes. “We need to leave. Now.”

You blink at him, the coffee pot brewing a fresh cup behind you. Bubble bubble, toil and trouble. “Like… to the store?”

“No.” He went to his closet, pulling out a backpack. “Put everything you need for a days trip in here, then we leave.”

“Logan!”

When he whipped around, the look in his eyes reminded you of last night, and you were frozen in fear. He was scaring you, and you couldn’t let him hurt you again. You got lucky last night with Stevie being safe, you weren’t going to risk it. Painful memories of your miscarraige flooded you, and your hand touches your stomach. This was no time to fight back. This was no time to run. You needed to go along with whatever he was doing for Stevie’s sake. Logan wouldn’t hurt you. Logan wouldn’t hurt Stevie. It’s okay, you needed to trust him… Logan was different.

Right?

“Okay.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “Can I say goodbye to Remy?”

Logan shook his head. “Absolutly not.”

“Please? I won’t say goodbye, just- let me hug him? Something? You got to say it to Kurt…” Just Remy, please… you needed to see Remy… Remy would help you, Remy would help Logan see reason, that whatevers happening you could fix, together!

To your surprise, his face softened, and Logan walks over to gently cup your bruised face. Despite the pain, you lean into him like a nuzzling cat. “No.” Was still his answer. “Pack up, and do not leave this room. I’m getting something from downstairs.” He pinched your cheek, making you gasp in pain. “Do. Not. Leave this room. Okay?”

And you whisper yes, because when he’s like this, you wouldn’t dare.

You pack what you think you might need: prenatal medicine, clothes, lots of socks… you grab warm coats for both of you, because its still May and can be cold out. Middle of May, in fact…

If you were gone more than a week, you’d miss graduation.

*

Rogue couldn’t be happier with how life had been going. Remy was back, and things had been going GREAT since they’d gotten together. Rogue had some semblence of control over her powers; it wasn’t like she could make out with Remy for long periods, and they couldn’t have sex without a condom, but it was enough that a little skin to skin contact wouldn’t hurt him and they made it work. Boy, did they make it work.

She had her friends, her man, and she’d really come into her own as an X-man. Charles had even said so himself! He was even going to let her present an outstand graduate award when he came back for graduation next week, and she would start teaching, too. Even said she could start leading missions he felt were in her wheelhouse. Yeah, it was good.

“Ah come on!” Jubilee shook on the door handle to the kitchen, but someone had put a padlock on it. “We didn’t even leave it a mess this time!” Sometimes, Scott would lock the kitchen door if the students or kids left it a mess. There was always plenty of food around in other places, no one ever went hungry and if there was something they really wanted to make or grab Scott would unlock it, but it was to teach them responsibility… or something. Sometimes Scott just liked a power trip.

“Just blast it! It wasn’t us!” The lock was all electric, no key needed. 

“No way! Scott would like, totally freak out. I’m not being on the receiving end of that! You knows he’s been so weird lately.”

Scott HAD been weird, and so had Logan. Remy had filled her in on everything, of Scott accussing Logan of hurting you and honestly, it seemed like a shitshow. Scott didn’t have any right, but Logan HAD been acting weird. Praying? Logan? Not that suddenly going to church to apease his bride to be was unheard of in the south, and it certainly didn’t equate abuse, but it was a bunch of strange happenings.

“Just blast it, sugah, I’ll take the blame. Ahm stahv’n” 

Jubilee looked uncertain, but acquiessed. “Fine, but if he asks, you made me!” 

Rogue smiled, standing back as she watched Jubilee fire up and surge the lock, making it fall apart completely.

“Jubes!” Rogue laughs loudly, covering her face in hysterics. “I wanted it unlocked, not destroyed!”

She looked horrified. “Oh my god! What the hell, I’m 24 I should have control by now!”

Feeling a little bad for laughing, Rogue tried to control herself and patted Jubilee on the shoulder as she went for the door. “Relax hun! We all get a lil crazy sometimes. C’mon, let me show yuh how t’make collard greens.”

Jubilee mumbled something about Scott killing her as she looked at her sparkling hands, but catching up to her friend and pushing open the door.

They both saw it at the same time. For a moment, it was hard to make out what it was, the red, fleshy mass on the floor. Then, they realized what, and who, it was. The body, or lack there of, would have been unidentifyable if not for the red sunglasses laying in the pile of sliced up body parts. 

Jubilee scream Scotts name, running to him but Rogue caught her, holding her friend back with her super strength. There was nothing she could do, the pieces of bones and organs barely resembled a body shape anymore. Scott was dead, and had been for a few hours. If Jubilee touched him, she’d never get the feeling of her mentors guts off her hands, and Rogue new she had to save the sensitive girl from that, even as she screamed bloody murder.

Bobby came running into the room, asking what happened, but threw up as soon as he saw the horrors on the kitchen floor.

And there was only one person who could have done it.

see guys!!! kurt didnt mean it ;-; he was trying to see for himself, he just accidentally cued him on what was happening and it was an ACCIDENt!!!! leave him ALONE

i think only one chapter left, but lets see how chapter 18 goes? Sometimes, writing the last chapter can be really hard and long and maybe splitting it works best. I ended up splitting up ROF's last chapter, BBTF and I think TWW too? idk that ones been 2 years since writing it. we'll see.

Anyway, for various reasons i plan to re-upload a lot of my stuff and transfer it over to @cosmic-kid-in-motion which will be my new blog, housing both dark and none dark. The reason im sdoing this now (although i've debated it for a year) is because the next logan series i have coming up and this tommy miller series i have planned, both i dont wanna spoil if they are good or dark. i want to keep people guessing ESP the tommy one bc its a bit of a mind fuck what is happening.

I beleive in warning about dark themes if they come, but Its come to the point in this for me that i no longer desire to warn of every little thing. Im sorry, but were grown. Ill never jump scare you with random dark content or suicide or some thing but i might not always be as specific as ive been. i'd like to know you opinions in asks on what you think the best tagging is to avoid spoilers, things you think are necessary etc. I'd like to hear opinions!

there was hoopla a few months ago bc a pal of mine didnt tag a plot twist in her fic. Im sorry that joel and reader didnt end up together but come on. No need to over react LMFAO. im not tagging my spoilers, yall.

anyway, thanks for reading!!!! lmk your thoughts!!!!!

thanks everyone! love you!

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia a @new-genesis100 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight @nonamevenus

[slightly-sigilant]

Bathtime For Naughty Pens, aka "the header image for Phosphor's TED Talk on why in-universe Correspondents probably don't use fountain pens unless they're extraordinarily cooked"

RANT AHEAD.

First of all, the story behind this pic: earlier today, I went, "Gee, the ink in my violant sigil pen is drying out faster than I'd like. Maybe I should screw the cap on extra tight this time?" like an absolute FOOL. because the cap had DRIED BUT STILL VERY STICKY INK ALL OVER THE INSIDE. INCLUDING THE SCREW THREADS. And thus, when I went to unscrew the pen later, it would simply Not. Things were pretty dire there for a while, but after soaking the upper half of the pen in warm water and winding a thick rubber band around the barrel for extra traction, it finally came apart. I took the opportunity to disassemble it and give it a thorough cleaning, including a good long soak.

Anyway, while scrubbing dried ink out of the everything and dying the kitchen sink violant (sorry roomies), I got to thinking about how this would have been even more of a pain in the ass with actual violant ink, and how Correspondents probably use dip pens for a reason. Because we do have some canon text indicating that they do, from writing flaming missives:

Which is like, why not use a fountain pen and skip the dipping part then, right? But I have a bunch of reasons to suspect that this would only be worse.

First of all, the ink. Important fact: not all inks are safe for fountain pens. Many inks that can be used with dip pens cannot be used in fountain pens unless you want to ruin them. This is because many dip pen inks are pigment-based, which is to say that they're made of lots of little particles suspended in liquid. Those particles can clog a fountain pen if they're too big. Most fountain pen inks are dye-based, in which the color-substance is dissolved instead - think sugar in water as opposed to sand in water. (There are some fountain pen safe pigment inks that have really fine particles, but you still don't want them to dry out in your pen. Likewise for shimmer inks, which have lots of fine glittery bits.) I'm not sure how violant ink is made, but if it's ground-up violant zee anemones or something, it's not going to get along with your pen.

And even if you did have a dye-based violant ink, I still wouldn't trust it in fountain pens. As described above, real violant ink is troublesome - it doesn't want to leave the pot. It doesn't want to leave the nib. It probably would not want to leave your pen cap and grip, either, which means it would do a very good job of gluing your cap to your pen. Even if you were fastidious about cleaning ink out of your cap, it'd probably not want to leave the reservoir, and then it wouldn't want to leave the feed, and you'd spend so much time madly scribbling in the margins of your letter, trying to get it to flow again. And that's assuming the ink is wet and fresh, and that it hasn't dried out in the pen. God help you if that's the case, because you are NEVER getting that residue out.

(And speaking of maintenance, refilling fountain pens is often a messy process that gets ink all over your fingers. I hope you enjoy slowly absorbing violant through your skin, because it's not going to want to leave your skin. I hope you enjoy leaving traces of violant everywhere when it does leave your skin. I hope you enjoy having very, very memorable fingers.)

Finally, fountain pens are just more expensive than dip pens. In today's economy, dip pen nibs are like 2 USD on average. By contrast, the Platinum Preppy, one of the cheapest fountain pens out there, is 6-7 USD - and that doesn't include a converter that'll allow you to use bottled ink. For that, you'll have to cough up 11 USD for a total of 17-18 USD. (You could also buy a Jinhao Shark for 4 USD or less, converter included, but tariffs are fucking that up.) And those are cheap pens made with modern manufacturing. They cost quite a bit more back in the day, relative to inflation and the average wage.

So, in other words: using real violant ink in a fountain pen would probably fuck it up really quickly, especially considering the kind of stuff you're writing as a Correspondent, which might just set your nice expensive pen on fire. Either way, it'd be a real dent to your time and finances to keep repairing and replacing them. While annoying, it'd just be more cost-effective to use a dip pen and to replace the nibs when they inevitably melt.

That isn't to say that you can't use a fountain pen for Correspondent work, though. Just that it would be unwise. And what else are Correspondents known for, if not for making unwise decisions?

[thatblackstarinleo]

Because you all deserve this and so much more, and because it's Mack's birthday!!!, here's a long snippet from Chapter 12 to hold you over while you wait

Thank you for sticking with me 💙

"Hey, Smitty," Davey says, tapping the toe of his sneaker against the bottom of Will's stall. "Your boy's famous now."

Will doesn't look up. He's still half-wrapped in his compression shirt, trying to get his left sock off without yanking his ankle weird, and the last thing he needs is one of Davey's shit-eating grins to go with whatever this is. But then a phone gets shoved under his nose, and Will glances down.

It's open to an article from The Athletic. Will knew the piece was coming—Macklin had told him about it, about how the Omega writer had made him feel comfortable throughout the interview, how he hadn't asked anything stupid, how he'd actually listened. What Macklin hadn't mentioned was the pictures.

The header shot's not one Will's seen before. Macklin's standing at center ice in Agganis, legs long in back joggers, the sleeves of his red BU hoodie shoved to his elbows as he holds a stick in his hands. His hair looks a bit damp, curled a little at the ends, and his head is turned just slightly toward the light. It's soft. Unposed. He looks like he doesn't even know the photo's being taken.

Will stares. His eyes catch on the angle of Macklin's neck—long and pale, flushed just faintly. If you zoom in, you can see a small bruise just above his scent gland, where Will had mouthed over his skin a little too long the night before. He hadn't even tried to mark him, he just… couldn't help himself. The look on Macklin's face is hard to name—he's not smiling, not really, but he still looks soft and tender in that look that always makes Will feel a little bit breathless.

The text underneath the photo reads, Macklin Celebrini, 17, has tallied 49 points in 29 games for Boston University this season and is widely projected to be the No. 1 overall pick in the 2024 NHL Draft.

Will scrolls without thinking.

It’s just after 9 a.m. when I meet Macklin Celebrini on a bright, frigid morning in Allston. He’s already been on the ice for over an hour, running small drills with a few of his teammates and working with BU’s skating coach. From the stands, it looks like he’s barely trying. Up close, he’s all focus.

When he steps off the ice, he's flushed and smiling. He takes off his helmet and tosses his gloves onto the bench, says hello like we've met before. We haven't.

The 17-year-old is, without much debate, the most electrifying player in college hockey this season. With 49 points in 29 games, Celebrini has broken records and expectations in equal measure. NHL scouts praise his puck sense, his edge control, his ability to change the tempo of a game. He's already drawing comparisons to McDavid and Crosby—comparisons he pretends not to hear.

I ask him how it feels, all of it—the weight, the eyes, the fact that just about everyone assumes he'll go first overall in Vegas this June.

He shrugs. "It's a lot. But it's good. I'm lucky. I mean… I still have to write a paper tonight. And I forgot to buy groceries. So I don't have time to sit around thinking about being 'The Next Anything.'" He grins. "I'm just hungry."

He's joking, but there's something behind it too. A kind of exhaustion that doesn't quite touch his voice but lingers at the corners of his eyes.

Then we talk about last fall.

Celebrini presented as an Omega in late September—just after the first game of the season. The news was confirmed in early November, under complicated, high-profile circumstances still being addressed in court. When I bring it up, he doesn't flinch, but his posture shifts slightly.

"I didn't want it to be a headline," he says, adjusting the tape around his water bottle. "But it was. And that's not really something I could control."

He doesn't elaborate on the incident or the media storm that followed, and I don't press. Instead, I ask if he feels like the league has changed at all—become more open, more ready—for someone like him.

Celebrini thinks for a second. Then, he says: "Yeah. I think so. But people are still figuring out what to do with players who don't fit the old mold."

He lifts his left wrist as if by instinct. A slim gold band catches the light. It's a simple promise bracelet, the kind you can see many Omegas wearing around their wrists on the street. But fans were quick to notice it during the World Juniors in Gothenburg, where Celebrini wore it in every game.

He rubs his thumb over it once, almost absently. I ask, carefully, if he wants to talk about his Alpha.

He exhales, almost a laugh. "He'd love it if I did."

But then, more softly: "We're just private. But he's… He's good to me. He keeps me grounded."

There's a pause. Then, when I ask if his Alpha plays hockey too, Macklin smiles—narrow and wicked. "I didn't say that," he replies, voice lilting just enough to make it clear: he won't say more.

Later, we walk across campus to grab coffee. Students recognize him, but no one stops us. We talk about the draft, the potential lottery teams—San Jose, Columbus, Chicago. I ask if he's had conversations with any of them.

"Not officially," he says, sipping his latte. "But yeah, I've talked to some guys. A few of the Michigan boys. Will Smith a bit, from BC."

He doesn't say more, but it's pretty obvious that at 17, Macklin Celebrini is already carrying more than most grown men. He doesn't talk much about the future, but when he does, I can't help but notice that there's a glint in his voice like he already knows where he's going.

For now, he has practice. Film. Homework. A season to finish. And a game to play the way only he can.

He doesn't say anything as he reads. Doesn't let his face shift, even when half the locker room's stopped pretending not to watch him. There's a brief lull in the noise—just long enough for the buzz of the Zamboni to cut through—before Cutter loudly clears his throat like he's trying not to laugh.

Will scrolls to the end, then hands the phone back without a word.

The piece is good. Too god, maybe. Personal in a way that twists under his ribs a little. He can hear Macklin's voice in every answer, in the way he always dodges praise with a joke, how he always shrugs it off. He's still not sure how Macklin got away with it without Brisson biting his head off, but maybe he didn't have the nerve.

Maybe he had, and Macklin just didn't care.

"So," Davey says, way too casual to be innocent, already grinning as he tucks his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie. "You have talked to Celebrini."

Will snorts, finally dragging his compression shirt the rest of the way over his head. "Might've spoken to him once or twice."

"And let him bite you up and down twice a day," Cutter adds, lounging against the stall wall.

"Romantic as fuck," Eamon says, appearing out of nowhere to ruffle Will's sweaty hair. "God, remember when he used to pretend he was a private guy?"

"I am a private guy," Will mutters, batting Eamon's hand away.

"You're literally not," Leno calls from two stalls down, towel slung low on his hips, one eyebrow up. "I've walked into the kitchen and seen you two fucking on the counter in broad daylight."

"Dude," Gabe says, not even looking up from his gear bag, "we share a fucking wall. I've heard the absolute filth that leaves your mouth at, like, 1:00 a.m. Don't talk to me about being private."

Will flips him off without looking and sits back, grabbing his toiletry bag from the cubby. He doesn't even try to argue anymore. There's just no point. They all know. They update the hickey count the second he walks into practice, chirp him the moment they catch a whiff of Macklin's scent on his hoodie, bitch when he walks in smiling like a dumbass.

"You keep him grounded, huh?" Davey says, doing these fucking annoying finger quotes across the room.

"Yeah," Cutter chimes in, grinning, ·grounded to the floor from how often they're fucking."

Will tries not to smile. He fails. He always fails.

"Eat shit," he says, tone flat.

"He's smiling," Cutter sings. "Smitty’s in loooooove."

Will lobs his water bottle at him without warning. It bounces off Cutter's shin and knocks Eamon's half-eaten protein bar to the floor.

"Fine him!" Fowler yells from the massage table.

"Ten bucks for being a sappy little shit," Gabe says, finally looking up. "Another fifty for emotional damage and littering."

Will sighs, pulls out his wallet, and peels off a crumpled twenty. Then another. Then another. "Sixty," he mutters. "That cover public indecency, or do I need to Venmo more for trauma counseling?"

Cutter whistles low. "Damn, Smitty! Mr. Big Spender over here."

"Yeah, well," Will says, stuffing his wallet back in his bag, "worth every damn cent."

Leno throws an empty tape roll straight at his head.

[airbendertendou]

POV : you have a crush on draken but he’s so painfully oblivious live action actors used instead of the anime!

PART TWO

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♥︎——

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baji : name fownd this in ur camra roll lmao

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mikey : name why dont u take nice pics like this of me??? | baji : simple. ur ugly.

name : SHUTUP SHUTUPT SHUTUP

mitsuya : baji (: leave name alone (:

——♥︎——

liked by kazutora, chifuyu and 19 others!

name : *whispers* have a massive crush on this guy….

view all 17 comments

baji : M SO TELLIFN | name : Do. Not.

hinata : double dates when??

mitsuya : what if he sees this…… | name : he still won’t get it (: | mitsuya : crying for you <3

——♥︎——

liked by hinata, draken and 67 others!

mikey : movie night!!

view all 32 comments

toman.member : have fun commander!

hinata : name scoot a lil closer (: | name : u hate me ):

toman.member : stay safe leader!

chifuyu : no invite ):

——♥︎——

liked by takemichi, mitsuya and 29 others!

name : ):

view all 17 comments

draken : wow ur down bad

chifuyu : embarrassing .

kazutora : the way he doesn’t evEN KNOW

baji : SIMP 🫵

——♥︎——

liked by mikey, baji and 34 others!

hinata : name

view all 27 comments

name : yeah ):

name : unfortunately they’re also super cute n i luv them )): | chifuyu : *him

draken : 🤔 | name : don’t think abt it too hard

——♥︎——

love love love the live action expect me to write for it so much more <3

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

tagging @straysugzhpe for yuki content & @star2fishmeg for tokyorev content <3

[luckyythirteen]

Okay I noticed you had bpd on your header, As someone who also has BPD, I Geniunely would love to hear your take on Wesker with an S/O who has BPD. Also happy to see you writing stuff again, always has me smiling! 💜

Hi, hi! I'm surprised to get this ask in all honesty. BPD is something I was diagnosed with when I was 17 due to my symptoms being overtly noticeable and lord did I NOT know how to cope with it. It's ruined relationships in my life and has made me take a step back and look at myself and how I view myself & others. I'm glad to see my writing has had a positive impact on people!!! I'll gladly do this ask. Now I know BPD can present in different ways, I will be writing drawing from my experiences specifically!

Wesker with a S/O who has BPD

When you reveal to him your diagnosis he researches it heavily to identify the symptoms and common triggers

He'll ask you about what language to avoid during disagreements, what triggers you, what does he need to do to reassure you?

When you're splitting he realizes it almost instantly when you use words to generalize your experiences. "I always fail people", "people always leave me", "nothing will ever work out for me"

When you're splitting he'll calmly call you out. "You're splitting. It seems as if all these things are true but I assure you it's not. Life is filled with ups and downs, this is a setback, but we can easily remedy it. Your world isn't ending, our relationship isn't ending. I know it feels like it, but you must listen to me."

That being said, he's listed out his own firm boundaries! When you split and if you're going to be yelling at him, he needs to separate himself from you. He will not be talked down to or demeaned. Though before he goes to another room he'll assure you that he loves you. He's not running away, he just needs to regulate himself and so do you.

Will text you throughout the day and check up on you. He did this even before the diagnosis, but it still helps.

After fights, he'll hold you and assure you that you two are fine. He understands your lack of emotional permanence, you feel as if he can't love you after a fight or during it

He'll be calm if you're ranting or raging about something due to splitting. He knows sometimes you just need to let out frustrations about other people or yourself to him. His quiet demeanor and occasional hums of acknowledgement soothe you. He doesn't think you're crazy for feeling at 110%

Will recommend therapy, so you can help regulate yourself better and will practice methods with you that will calm you down.

Always reminds you that you have felt happy before, even if you feel in that moment during a split you can never be happy again.

When you cry and say you feel like you're too much he'll dismiss the notion. You're never too much for him.

I hope this was good! I'm sorry if it doesn't capture your experience with BPD or some common triggers/phrases, but I tried my best. I understand how hard this disorder is. Know you're always worthy of love, you are not inherently abusive or evil. (That goes for any personality disorder. BPD, NPD, ASPD, HPD etc) You're a human being who struggles, and while our untreated symptoms can sometimes make us more prone to express abusive behaviors, it does not mean we can't work on ourselves. You're not broken, you're not evil.

[avaf00rd]

With my best friend

Caitlin Foord x Reader

Warnings : slight mention of anxiety, break up

Summary : in which lifelong Best friends slowly come to senses about their close connection to their number one person.

————————————————————————

2011

“hi I’m y/n” you said to a shorter girl who looked just as nervous as you.

“Yeah I know. They said your name before”

“Oh yeah of course” you said pulling your hand away as you had it out to shake. Pretty formal for 17 year olds. She then grabbed your hand from my side back up again and shook it “Caitlin”

You smiled as you both focused you attention onto the information evening of the Matilda’s new squad members.

——————

2011

“Caitlin you did it I flipping knew it!” You squealed to your roommate. She was starting for Australia, for the first time of her career and you couldn’t have been prouder.

“And I get to start with you!” She squealed as you both jumped around your hotel room.

You two were both in New Zealand when you were called about you both starting together. You made your debut last week, coming on in the last 5 minutes. But Caitlin would make her debut starting.

The game the next day: you managed to receive a pass from Clare as you ran up the field. You felt no one too close on you but you spotted Caitlin completely open just close enough to the goal, possibly not even close enough to you. You still passed to her just near the goal, a pretty impressive pass, as she sent a header straight into the back of the net. Slipping just past the keepers hands. She yelled in excitement as you jumped straight into your best friends arms.

“You did it cait!” You screamed holding her face in your hands before the rest of your Australian teammates jumped onto the two of you, causing you to collapse.

——————

2020 (quite the time jump ngl)

“Hey you” you felt arms wrap around your sweaty neck. It was your girlfriend Ona. You had just beaten her Spanish team 2-1 in your match tonight. You celebrated with your respected team after your win while ona had a chat with hers. After signing shirts and posters and doing your laps around the stadium. You were standing around with Macca, Caitlin and Alanna before your girlfriend greeted all of you.

You turned around to give her a big hug, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck. “Proud of you” she whispered as she kissed your cheek.

“Even more proud of you”

She smiled at you before you both turned back around to your three best friends “hey guys” ona said before hugging all of them.

Caitlin’s POV

Ona seemed brilliant for y/n. I don’t see her smile that much than when she’s with her. But there’s just something about her, something sour that turns me off about when she’s with y/n.

I hugged her lightly, smiling. Knowing how much this meant for y/n. Seeing us get along with her. I’ve seen Ona put stress on y/n, it’s from the long distance. Some nights in our hotel room she has been teary about how difficult it gets. I think it’s that that is bugging me.

——————

2021

“So fucking stupid” y/n sobbed into Alannas arms as we were in her hotel room. At another camp.

The long distance no longer worked for ona and my best friend. “Like it’s like all that trying and effort for the long distance wasn’t even worth it!” She exclaimed into Alan as shoulder.

“Oh Sweet Girl it was I promise it was” alanna soothed to her.

I did feel terrible. The couple had been together since when they met at Barca in 2018. And everyone loved them together. My heart ached at y/ns state. Soaking Alannas top, while Mac ran her hands through her hair. I said some words to her as I sat close to her.

After about 4 hours of room service, and 2 marvel movies. Y/n and me saw the other two girls out. As I shut the door, y/n pulled me close into a bone crushing hug. I wrapped my arms around her torso.

“Thank you for that. Love you” she said before pulling away and hopping into the shower.

—————

July 2021

Y/n’s pov

I gripped tightly onto Caitlin’s hand as the plane went through multiple stages of turbulence over the last hour. For the past 10 years, you had always held her hands during bumpy travel together. It just soothed your plane anxiety.

———

The final whistle blew as you fell to your knees. Hands covering your face. It was the semi finals, you had made it. And you went down 1-0 to Sweden. Tears slowly tried to fall out of your eyes. As you quickly brushed them away. Once finding yourself again moments later and standing up. You hugged some of the Swedish girls and then embraced Sam in a tight hug. Both showing how proud of each other you were. When in Sam’s arms, you looked over her shoulder to find your best friend standing by herself looking up to the sky in disbelief. You let yourself out of Sam’s arms before smiling at her then jogging over to Caitlin. She didn’t notice you at first as you pulled her towards you to giver her a huge hugger. Her head hung low on your shoulder, “I’m proud of you. And for that goal” you whispered.

“Thanks” she said holding you tighter. It was slightly disappointing. You were so close to reaching that gold medal, but just slipped before the last step.

————

The very short plane back to London was soothing. A smooth trip with sleepy girls. So it was very relaxing. Caitlin very quickly fell asleep in her seat next to you. She slept with her mouth hung open which made you giggle. You quickly snapped a photo before posting it to your close friends instagram story. You found yourself in your camera roll looking at the photo just taken. Then the suggestions of Caitlin box came up under the photo. You clicked on it as the photos app took you to all of the photos of you and Caitlin. From as long as you remembered. You smiled remembering the memories. She really has been the glue to your whole life.

—————

A/N

Ok so there is no romance between Caitlin and reader in this. But there be part 2 super soon so hold your nickers.

Luv yall💗💗

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 17

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove @jessthebaker @bunniboo0015

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 16

***Disclaimer: I am not a lawyer. Any legal documents in this chapter is purely imagined, so please don't come after me if they don't sound legit or would not be legit in any way.***

This must be a mistake.

He told you he loved you. He asked you to move in with him.

But then he stopped responding to you. They all stopped responding to you. Even Maria.

What happened? What happened between his declaration of love and this piece of document being handed to you? Heck, he was very much responsive up to the point where you sent him the confirmation of your flight.

Did he change his mind?

Oh wait, wait. You silly woman. Maybe this NDA was different. Maybe this was necessary because you were now officially in a relationship with him, moving in with him, maybe there were just things that he needed you to be quiet about? It still stung that he wouldn’t trust you with his private life, but if that was the case then maybe it’s not too bad?

But he promised you he would never make you sign an NDA. He promised you that.

You tried to read the document, but upon reading the first line, your sight turned blurry. Tears were falling thick and fast down your face. Frank took the document from you, reading it.

“What is it?” your Uncle Bill asked.

Frank hesitated to answer, warily looking at you and your Uncle Bill, before softly responding, “It’s an NDA Bill.”

“For what?” your Uncle asked, raising his upper body with a wince. You quickly got up and helped raise his bed so he could sit more comfortably. Frank was still silently reading the document, his hand over his mouth.

“Confidentiality Agreement for the Dissolution of Romantic Partnership between Joel Christopher Miller (Party 1), and Lily Ann Stevens (Party 2)” he finally read out loud.

Your Uncle’s head snapped towards you before moving towards the young man who had brought the document in.

“Term 1 – Confidentiality. Both parties agree not to disclose any information regarding the relationship between Party1 and Party 2 by any means, including but not limited to verbal, written, electronic, or any other form of communication.”

The room was silent.

“Term 2 – Party 2 agrees not to contact Party 1 or Party 1’s family members or associates at any time, directly or indirectly.

“Term 3 – Party 2 agrees not to seek, claim, or receive any financial benefit or compensation arising from the relationship with Party 1, including but not limited to alimony, one off payments, TV or Film rights, book sales, interviews, or any other means possible.”

Frank looked away, as if unable to read any longer.

Your Uncle Bill looked at you, shocked to be hearing this. “Did you two break up? I thought he asked you to move in with him?”

“Er, please Miss,” the man chimed in, looking rather nervous. “You are not allowed to say anything about the relationship,” he reminded.

“She hasn’t signed it, she can say whatever the fuck she wants to say!” your Uncle boomed. “You sit your pathetic ass down and wait, quietly!”

The man sat down, looking as if he would rather disappear.

“Beanie?” your Uncle looked at you, trying to get your hand to hold. You held your head down.

“I guess he changed his mind,” you whispered.

Your phone chimed. You scrambled to get it, desperately hoping that it was him.

It was your Mom.

Mom: Beanie, sweetie? Is this true?

She linked an article to her text.

Tess Servopoulos and Joel Miller back together, and (GASP!) ENGAGED?

And there it was, a picture of the two of them holding hands in downtown Austin, Joel laughing with his old friend, while you were sitting here wondering why he had you served with an NDA.

After months of being seen fiercely protective of and madly in love with his Barista Lady, Joel Miller has seemingly returned to an old flame, finally confirming years of speculation about their relationship. For years, it was said that the two were an item, but Servopoulos’s sudden move to Texas put a stopper to that rumour mill. And now, the two seem happy to finally share their love with the world, spending some time publicly walking hand in hand while getting lunch together.

And not only that, Servopoulos seems to be sporting a shiny new accessory on a very important finger. Could our hunky, most eligible ‘single Daddy’ contractor finally be off the market?

Another picture followed, a profile of Tess holding a phone to her ear, a sparkly, massive, beautiful diamond ring on her finger.

The texts from your Mom kept coming in. And then the calls. You ignored them all.

Behind you, your uncles were bickering.

“Give me that, I’m the lawyer.”

“Bill, I have a PhD. I can read a document if it’s written in English.”

“It’s Law lingo! I should read it so we don’t get confused. Give it to me!”

You looked at the man who brought the document in, a young, green bean of a thing. He looked at you with such pity in his eyes you couldn’t stand it.

So he went back to Tess. After declaring his love for you. After asking you to move in with him. He went to Texas, got back together with Tess, and didn’t think to tell you. Instead, he decided to go full on drama and hand you an NDA to let you know he was done with you.

So much drama. He might as well have hired a fanfare to escort the young man, let the world know.

So Celebrity.

This, from a man who told you he hated being a celebrity. The man who knew you hated celebrities. Who worried that you would find his fame too overwhelming.

He did this. Rather than contact you himself.

And he thought you were going to profit from your two months relationship with him.

You were right to hate celebrities after all. You really thought he was the exception.

How wrong you were. How stupid you were. You had lived your life a strong, independent woman with values. Values you held on to. Principles. Ones you didn't discount for anyone. And you threw all of it away to be with him. Because he had managed to convince you that he wasn't like the other celebrities. 

Well, turned out, he was just a great actor. Was he even a contractor? 

Never, in all your life, had you been insulted like this.

How high and mighty of him. How arrogant. How hurtful.

“Beanie, we should contest this. Make an amendment so that HE could not profit from your relationship either. You know how they can be, what if he sells a biography or something?”

“No.”

“What?”

You got the document from your Uncle, picked up the pen the man had offered you, and signed it. You placed the document back into it’s envelope and handed it to the young man, who thanked you, apologizing profusely for putting a cloud over your head before leaving.

“Lily, sweetie,” Frank whispered. He stopped there. What else could he say?

“Beanie…” your Uncle Bill started, but he too, was lost for words.

“Excuse me, I have to make a few phone calls.”

Joel left the hotel far earlier than he needed to. You were due to arrive at 11.45 tonight. He stopped at a grocery store, getting you the ramen you liked, just in case you got hungry and didn’t feel like going out or ordering in, those little milk cookies you couldn’t seem to live without, he even got you a cowboy hat, as cheesy as that may be, just because. He wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be while he was out working the next day. He didn’t know how he was going to leave you in the hotel room to go to work, but that’s a problem for the next day.  

He was far too excited to see you. He hadn’t seen you in 12 days. Okay, that’s a lie. He saw you three days ago, but that didn’t count, not where his mind was at. Fuck he missed you. His body ached from lack of proper sleep. Sleeping with you in his arms was just… and when you spooned him instead, oh… never, in his 46 years on this earth had he ever thought he could ever be the little spoon. But there he was, craving to be spooned by you.

And those hugs you gave him. Every single day, he came home to a simple question from you at the garage entrance. Big hug or little hug? And by God he always, ALWAYS asked for the big hug. There was just something about those big hugs from you. Made him feel like he was safe, protected, loved.

God he’s so in love with you. He never thought the day would come. Heck, he didn’t know this was what true love felt like. He had genuinely thought he was in love with Laura. Now, he understood that while he had been in love with her, she wasn’t in love with him, and all these years later, he could finally see the signs. If only he knew better then.

But he couldn’t regret what he had with Laura. Laura gave him Sarah. And Sarah brought him Ellie. And now, Ellie brought him you.

His life was complete.

He was truly in love. He loved you, and you, in return, loved him right back. And it showed.

He stopped at the florist near the hotel, getting you the biggest bouquet of sunflowers he could get, wishing so much that the time would fly by faster. Even in his excitement, there was an unsettling in his heart. You texted him the day before confirming your flight. And then nothing. No texts, no calls. All his communication attempts with you went unanswered. Tommy tried calling. Nope. Nada. Sarah and Ellie tried calling. Silence. Ellie and Dina stopped by your truck after school, it wasn’t there. Ellie and Sarah drove to your apartment that night. All was dark and quiet. Even Maria couldn’t reach you. Angela couldn’t. No one could reach Bill or Frank either. Joel kicked himself for never taking your Mom Jenny’s number. He had only talked to her through your phone. So had the girls. He didn’t even know where she lived, the cheeky woman giving different answers every time he asked.

By evening, Ellie realized that you had blocked her. You had blocked everyone.

Joel had to fight the urge to fly back to see if you were alright himself. But he’s sure you were alright. If something had happened, you would have told him, surely?

Everyone was equally concerned as he was, were you sick? Did you get in trouble? Was your phone broken? But that didn’t explain no one being able to find you. Tommy even called the hospital looking for you. No one under your name had been registered. Sarah and Ellie kept trying. Maria kept trying. Angela kept trying. Nothing.

Maybe you were busy, Tommy coaxed. Maybe you were trying to surprise him. Maybe your phone was broken. Maybe someone stole your phone and blocked everyone as not to be found. Let’s just wait until you got there.

The one person who didn’t seem to care at all was Tess. She had simply rolled her eyes and walked away any time your name was mentioned. It was odd. She didn’t ask about you at all, despite meeting you. Every time he started to talk about you these few days, she interrupted and directed the conversation elsewhere. He couldn’t understand it. But he will set things right with her. It was important to him that you and she get along.

Joel waited at the arrival hall for you, leaving Tommy in the rental, a bouquet of sunflowers in his arms, a cute latte coloured cowboy hat on top of them. He himself was wearing one, tipped low over his brows so that he wouldn’t get recognized, heart beating so fast to see you again. Sarah and Ellie were on Face Time with him, both anxious to see you, hoping to God you were alright.

Passengers from LAX began to trickle out. No sign of you.

Midnight. 1am. 2am.

Tommy found Joel standing in an almost empty arrival hall, his face crestfallen.

You had deserted him.

“Seriously Joel, you need to pay attention! You almost nailed my foot to the floor! What the fuck?” Tess hissed, glad that cameras were not filming at that very moment.

Joel placed the nail gun on the floor, taking his gloves off. He hadn’t slept in days. He flew back to LA Friday evening to find you but couldn’t. Your apartment was empty. Your coffee truck was parked in the garage. But you were not there. He went to Bill’s, Frank’s, even asked Tony if he had seen you. No one has. Tony said you simply drove off Wednesday evening, didn’t say anything to anyone. He flew back to Austin with the heaviest of hearts, snapping at everyone who dared breathe near him.

“Come on,” Tess offered him a hand. “Let me buy you lunch.”

He took it, and she didn’t let go. “Just so you don’t go attacking people left and right when we go out,” she said, stepping outside, reminding him how he almost punched someone for trying to coax him into putting on ChapStick.

For the first time in days, he laughed. He laughed so hard remembering that day. There were people milling around in the streets. He saw a few with their phones out. He tried to take his hand away, but she held fast. “Don’t go attacking them for taking pictures Joel. Relax.”

“Penny wouldn’t mind if they start thinking we’re dating again? Didn’t she almost leave you the last time that happened? You had to chase her all the way here?”

“She put a ring on it,” she joked, waving her brand new ring, “I think we’re okay.”

He huffed a laugh. They had a quick lunch together, Tess talking about anything but you, trying hard to distract him. He was glad for it, quite aware that his heartbreak was affecting everyone around him. He Face Timed the girls every night, both of them worried about you, wondering if they had done something to push you away, wondering if cancelling with you to be with Tess that weekend was too harsh, if they made you feel like you didn’t belong.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, get you out of his mind. He spent his sleepless nights in tears, leaving you messages, begging you to call him back, asking you what he had done to deserve this. That he loved you, he missed you, that he needed you. Please baby, call me back.

He tried emailing. Email failed to deliver. He called again and again. The ringing never stopped. Not even voicemail. He knew you blocked him. He just didn’t know why. He needed to know why.

And with Tess, Joel was made very much aware that she didn’t welcome any thoughts of you, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t help himself. He was obviously down, and it showed. Painfully so.

“Joel, did you hear what I said?” she snapped him out of his thoughts when they finally got back to the site.

He was clearly out of it, looking at her face questioningly.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re thinking about her again aren’t you?”

“Tess… I don’t…”

“Snap out of it, Joel. If she’s such a great woman, why’d she ghost you for no reason? If she loved you, she wouldn’t do this to you. To the girls.”

“What do you have against her? The girls told me you didn’t make any effort with her. After all these years of trying to get me to date again, and you shut her out? What’s up with that?”

“I didn’t get a good vibe from her, okay? I think she’s playing you. And I was right. Here you are, moping around because she ghosted you. No offence, Joel. But if she is indeed your great love, she wouldn’t treat you like this. So I don’t want to see all this pitiful heartbreak, not when it’s about her. She doesn’t deserve your tears, Joel. Move on. She left. She broke your heart. Forget her.”

Joel kept quiet. He didn’t like this side of Tess. Heartbreak? Move on. It was all black and white with her. And the fact that she said she didn’t get good vibes off you, he just didn’t buy it. Something was not right, he just didn’t know what. She had never been the type to judge someone based on a ‘vibe’. In fact, she used to laugh at people who believed in healing crystals and chakras. So why was she so determined to hate you based on a ‘vibe’?

His phone chimed. A text from Sarah. With a link to an article. He read it, shocked to see how fast the article was published. That picture was taken less than an hour ago. Suddenly her insistence of holding his hand made him wonder.

“Well,” he said, showing Tess the article. “You may just get your wish Tess. There’s no way she will ever come back to me now. We’re engaged, apparently. Tell me you don’t have anything to do with this. Tell me you didn’t hold my hand on purpose for them to take this picture Tess.”

“What?” Tess looked at the phone, her expression changing to one of shock. “No, I swear I didn’t. I promise you Joel. I honestly just didn’t want you to get mad at people. Joel, you know I wouldn’t do that to you. I have never done that to you. You know me.”

“Then tell me the truth. Why are you so negative towards Lily?”

Tess sighed.

“Laura. I just didn’t want you to be hurt again. You fell too fast and too hard for this Lily, Joel. I guess I just… I was terrified for you.”

“You think I fall too fast?”

“Joel, you asked this woman to move in with you. After two months. You had googly eyes for Laura the first time I introduced you two. She was clearly not into you, and you went for her hard anyway. And I know we didn’t plan on things happening the way they did but look what happened. I just don’t want you to get hurt again Joel. I swear. You’re the brother I never had. Just looking out. Please believe me.”

“You didn’t know Lily, Tess. Trust me, you would’ve loved her if you gave her a chance. But I guess you’re right. She ghosted me, I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did,” he said. “I just need time. Just… don’t bite my head off if I’m not over her. I need time, Tess. And I’m not giving up hope. Even Tommy, the girls, Maria, they all thought this to be strange of her. She’s not like this. And we may have only dated for two months, but I spent months before that gathering the courage to ask her out, and the girls have known her years. Something must’ve happened. I’m not giving up just yet. If you are really my friend, Tess, endure this sappy old man for a while. I need this.”

Tess felt bad. She hugged her old friend, the one who had been with her through thick and thin, and nodded. She will hold her tongue on Lily, she told him, earning her a sad smile from him.

Joel woke up with a start, his daughters banging on the door.

“What?” he croaked. He hadn’t slept much, getting maybe three hours this time, having landed in LAX at midnight. He couldn’t sleep even when he got home, thinking about how empty his bed was without you in it. It’s been a whole month, and he was still haunted by your memory. It must have been around 4 am when he finally fell asleep.

They burst into his room, looking excited.

“Lil’s truck, it’s back! Tony just texted us!”

Joel jumped out of bed, running into the bathroom, all fatigue forgotten.

“Why are we being loud?” Tess chimed in, coming out of the guest bedroom.

“Lil’s truck, it’s back. We’re going over.”

Tess wanted to say something, but decided not to, getting dressed instead to come with.

Joel practically flew through Saturday morning traffic to get to the rec centre. No one dared say anything. No backseat driving today. He didn’t even pull the hand brakes when he parked, jumping out of the truck as soon as it stopped. The girls followed, leaving Tess to get everything sorted with the truck. The three of them ran around the corner to get to the food trucks, Joel’s heart beating in his mouth as he saw the familiar truck parked at its usual spot.

Tony was putting the chairs out, cringing a little when he saw them.

“Sorry girls, I spoke too soon.”

“What? What do you mean?” Sarah asked, looking around for you. The truck looked empty.

A man popped up, placing some paper cups on the racks next to the till, jumping outside and opening the storage hatch.

Joel walked towards him.

“Dave,” he called out.

Dave looked around, his expression changing when he saw Joel.

“She’s not here, Joel,” Dave told him. “She’s gone man.”

“Where? Where is she?”

Tess walked up, finally catching up to them. Dave saw her and scoffed.

“Really? You brought her here? Why? You want to shove her in Lil’s face? You left her and got engaged within days and now you come looking for her, bringing your new fiancée along? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, we’re not engaged. That was a rumour. Not true.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “There were pictures Joel. You guys looked pretty happy and in love to me.”

“Dave, how long did you work for Cleo? You know how the media works.”

“And I held his hand to stop him from running amok on them. I’m engaged to someone else. I swear.”

“Where is she, Dave, please.”

“She left. I promised her I won’t blab, and after all she did to help me out, I’m keeping my words man.”

“What do you mean? What did she do for you?” Ellie asked.

Dave pointed at the truck. “She sold me the truck and her apartment for a steal. Just to help me start over. I own my own little business now. After what I did to her, she still helped me. And for that, I will always keep her secrets.” He turned around and began to unload the tables and chairs, telling Joel to go home.

“Will you at least tell me if she’s still in LA?”

“No. She’s not.”

Joel sat in Angela’s office listening to the ramblings, not really listening to anything. He couldn’t wait for this whole thing to be over. Sitting still was a problem for him these days. When his body stilled, his mind went straight to you. So this, sitting in a meeting while the people around him rambled on and on about the events to come, this was torture. He just wanted to get back to the site and work. Hammer something. Get his mind filled with noises so he wouldn’t think of you.

His thoughts stopped when people began rising, the meeting over. He jumped up to his feet, turning around to leave.

“Joel?” Angela called out. “Will you stay a bit? I need to talk to you about something.”

Joel turned to Tess and Tommy, “Wait for me outside?” The two nodded and left the room. Joel faced the agent, a quizzical look on his face.

“How are you doing? You okay? They tell me you’ve been distracted at work.”

“I’m fine.”

She came up to him. “Come on, Joel. This is me. How long have we known each other? Spill.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Joel insisted. “Is that all? I need to get onsite.”

“Joel,” she said, pulling his hand. “Sit down for a bit, please? This is important.”

He drew a deep breath and sat on the couch. Angela sat next to him, facing him.

“I know you miss her. Everyone can see it. But you can’t let this affect your work. It’s not only unprofessional, but also dangerous Joel. You could get someone hurt. You could kill someone. We’re all worried about you. I wouldn’t bring it up if the others didn’t notice, you know this.”

Joel leaned forward, rubbing his face. “I just need to know why. What did I do? I thought we were doing great. We were gonna move in together. And then it all just…” he covered his face with his hands, willing himself not to cry. “I just need to know why.”

Angela shuffled closer to him, putting her arm around his broad shoulder, rubbing his arm. “I know,” she coaxed. “I know. I’m sorry. It’ll get better,” she said, “I promise.”

“You know, if you need some… tension relief, I can help with that,” she whispered, turning his face towards her, licking his lips.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Joel pushed her off, standing up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“I was just trying to help, Joel. It’s not like we have never done that. Just saying, I’m here if you need me. You’re single, I’m single, isn’t this what we do?”

“No, it’s not. Not for a long time, never again.” He grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

“What happened?” Tess asked, clocking his annoyed look.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he huffed, beelining towards the exit.

“Mr Miller,” a young man called out.

“WHAT?” Joel barked.

“Sorry sir, just wanted to give you your copy of the latest NDA. We’ve just gotten it stamped. Here you go, sir,” he said, giving him the envelope.

“What NDA?” Joel looked flummoxed, taking the envelope, opening it. His whole body froze when he read the content.

“What is it?” Tess asked. Tommy read the document over Joel’s shoulder.

“Confidentiality Agreement for the Dissolution of Romantic Partnership between Joel Christopher Miller (Party 1), and Lily Ann Stevens (Party 2),” he read out loud. “You broke up with her? I thought she ghosted you?”

“She did,” Joel said, turning the page. The NDA was signed. He signed it. But he didn’t. His signature was there, but he didn’t sign it.

He stormed into Angela’s office, the woman startled to see him back, Tess and Tommy flanking him.

“What the fuck is this?” he shouted, tossing the document on her table.

Angela’s face turned chalk white. She started speaking but only came out with garbled words.

“You asked me to… you said…”

“No, I did not. Did you serve her with this? Is this why she ghosted me?”

Angela was still trying to string a complete sentence together when her door opened again. A younger man with a cast on his left wrist walked in, a credit card in his right hand.

“Hey Aunt Angie, this one is all maxed out too… I need another card…” the man stopped talking, his face turning white when he realized who was standing in his aunt’s office.

Joel found himself staring at the face of the man who pulled you out of his truck all those months ago, the one who injured you.

Part 18

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Originally I wanted every Wobbly Hearts chapter to have its own header but I ended up getting a bit overwhelmed (lil over-ambitious of me to try and do it while also writing.) Anyway, I thought, now that the fic’s over, might as well give it another shot! Image limit on here is still 10, so I’ll be posting the rest of em as I do them here and there <3

(Let’s see if any of my readers can catch the chapter references in the headers :3)

1-10 | 11-16 | 17-22