#that's probably what i want to do for the rest of my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harrysfolklore · 9 hours

Text

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while.

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

597 notes · View notes

eddiethebrave · 3 days

Text

secret admirer part twenty-two

759 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one

Eddie do you ever think about what you’re gonna do after high school? like how am i expected to know what i want to do with my life? i mean, i have another year to think about it but not that much can change in a year you probably wanna do something with music, right? make it big with your band and have people screaming your songs i’d go to every show if i could be your own personal groupie who knows? maybe that’s my calling p.s. have a good time at hellfire tonight i hope you win !!!!! -H

You’d think the win last night would put him in high spirits, and it did. At first. He celebrated with the guys, passed on the get together someone suggested, and drove home feeling proud. It was when he was laying in bed, though, that he started thinking. When he graduates, how often will he be able to ride a high like that? From pure accomplishment?

Steve puts on a brave face for morning practice. He doesn’t wanna drag anyone down with him. He goes through the motions of accepting congratulations and pats on the back from his peers and teachers alike all morning long.

It only makes him think, though.

Seriously, what comes after this? More school? Does he accept that internship at his father’s soul sucking company? Does he get a gob and jump right into adulthood?

What it really comes down to is the fact that Steve had never thought he’d have a future. Honestly. He’s getting closer and closer everyday to the next stage in his life, though. The years snuck up on him and now he has to deal with it.

On a lesser scale, Steve doesn’t like thinking about what life will be like once Eddie graduates this coming May. How is Steve meant to tolerate this hellhole without him? Sure, he’d gone years without really noticing him, but now that he knows what it’s like to have a taste of him in his life, he doesn’t think he could go back.

The whole thing makes his pulse quicken and sweat begin to bead at his hairline. By the time he makes it to art class, there’s a tension forming at his temples and he’s not looking forward to the headache. He doesn’t think he has it in him to act like everything’s normal.

For once, Carol doesn’t acknowledge his foul mood. She’s too busy staring at Robin. For the portrait, of course.

The teacher had informed them today the class is basically a free period and they can choose what to work on or what to not work on.

Steve sits slumped over the table with his head resting on his folded arms. He kind of wishes Eddie hadn’t put the divider up and also that he had his sunglasses so he could stare at him without feeling weird about it.

Instead, he rests his eyes and tunes into the sounds of pencil on paper surrounding him. He dozes for a while and has nearly fallen asleep when he’s awoken with a poke to his cheek.

Steve peels his eyes open, but no one seems to be wanting his attention. There is, however, a piece of paper placed next to his left arm.

It’s a drawing.

A stick figure with tall swoopy hair and eerily realistic eyes.

Steve looks to his left, only to find the culprit still hard at work with his face tucked behind the divider.

Steve visually fills in the blank and surmises Eddie’s smile probably matches his own.

Steve doesn’t dare fold the paper. He tucks it into the notebook he has to keep it safe. Throughout the rest of the day, he opens the book just to look at it. When he takes it home, he tapes it to a wall in his bedroom, somewhere he can always see it.

Eddie did i ever tell you how sweet it is that your club has matching tees? i haven’t seen anyone who doesn’t do sports or the school band have a uniform but it makes sense that other clubs would, too you look good in black, don’t get me wrong, but GOD i thought i was gonna die the first time i saw yours so thanks for that also, while we’re on the subject of how hot you are, you should wear your hair up more often p.s. sorry about the existential crisis on friday i wasn’t doing too good but i got a pick-me-up eventually <3 -H

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

@blurryjoji @bookbinderbitch @arthurianace @dragonmama76 @thesuninyaface

@tillystealeaves @p0lybl4nkk @sageclipse @mugloversonly @chameleonhair

@thedragonsaunt @yesdangerpls @sanctumdemunson @slv-333 @loguine-linguine

@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#he doesn't wanna grow up #ugh #i am once again projecting onto this poor kid #passive suicidal idealization #gosh #but hey!#eddie made him a corresponding drawing #:D #these weirdos #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #carol perkins mention

321 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 1 day

Note

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not.

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this.

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you.

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little.

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

“You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved.

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”

182 notes · View notes

adokyoguen · 3 days

Note

hi! I have a req idea - Gojo tearing up when yn kisses his forehead as he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Basically, for me, satoru wouldn't cry in front of Y/N because he wants to continue being the strongest for her.

BUUT, that wouldn't stop him from crying over her in hiding 😏

Here it is, I made it short but if you want a continuation please feel free!

Please forgive any mistakes and correct me! I needed the translator's help several times. :((

Your eyes slowly opened so that you could adjust to the brightness of the room. You felt sore, several parts of your body including your abdomen and forehead were bandaged.

But... what really happened?

Oh, right, you and the second-year students had just fought Suguru, everyone was completely destroyed, and that included you. Sure, Gojo arrived late, but he was able to end Suguru's life. When he found you, you were lying on the floor, completely injured, as were Panda, Inumaki and Maki.

Taking you all to the infirmary was a difficult job, even more so when you were so fragile that Satoru thought he would break you if he held you wrong.

You were one of the first to receive treatment from Shoko, your bleeding was internal, but thank God you were fine.

When you had stabilized and woken up, you looked to the side, finding flowers and a letter written on the dresser;

"If you're reading this, you probably woke up without me. I'm currently solving the problems with Sukuna's vessel, so I'll be back soon to see you.

Take care :)

Note: I left a chocolate hidden for you inside your pillow.

Satoru Gojo. ♡"

You smiled as you read the letter and decided to sleep a little longer to recover until he came back.

23:43 PM

When it was night, you woke up with the infirmary door opening and footsteps walking to your stretcher. And there he was, with that arrogant smile as always.

— Oh princess, are you finally awake? — He says, sitting on the chair next to your bed.

— If my eyes are open, I probably woke up. — Tsk... so ignorant... — Satoru laughs, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger. — So... how do you feel?

— Huh... well? I can't say, my body hurts but at the same time I feel quite energetic. — You say and he smiles.

— Well, it's to be expected, you were unconscious for 4 days.

— Wait... What?

— Yes, Shoko said you lost a lot of blood, you had several internal hemorrhages. You swallowed hard.

— And Suguru...? — You didn't want to ask that. Not when he was the one who hurt you so much. But gosh... you cared so much about him... you didn't have the courage to kill him and he took advantage of that.

— I killed him. — He says, without any joking tone in his voice. Had his efforts been in vain? You were so distracted by your thoughts that you barely noticed Satoru's voice stuck in his throat, but either way, he didn't want you to notice that.

— I... I'm sorry Toru...

— Nah, it's okay. — He says smiling, you knew he wasn't completely okay. Suguru was the only best friend Gojo had in his entire life, and now, he had been killed by himself, but of course, it was Satoru Gojo, he was always "fine". — I'll let you rest a little, I need to go after Director Yaga.

— Okay... — You answer as you watch him get up.

— See you later, princess.

— Wait!— You shout, grabbing the man's wrist and pulling him closer. With a quick movement, you place a long kiss on his forehead and whisper. — You're the strongest Satoru, but you're still human, remember that for me, okay?

Satoru was surprised, but with his bandage over his eyes, you could barely notice. He smiled, nodding.

— Good night, princess. — He places a loving kiss on your forehead, as a way of thanking you and leaves the infirmary.

You didn't know, but when he left the infirmary, he removed his blindfold to wipe the tears he shed.

Maybe today you won't see him cry, but who knows one day?

183 notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 18 hours

Text

I'm so sorry to everyone that I freaked out with the last post, I was trying so hard not to 😭 I have that like instant fear as soon as I see "we need to talk" or something in the same vein. I always think it's something bad.

This isn't bad, at least depending on how your perspective I guess.

So...I'm having thoughts about CRCB in October. I planned out posting schedules for Kyletober and CRCB and my Patreon stuff and it's going to basically be a post every day, sometimes multiple in multiple places.

That's a lot.

So, I am set on doing Kyletober since all of the fics are already written, but I was planning on continuing CRCB during October as well. But...I think I need a little break from CRCB. It's been about eight months of posting almost every single week and it's been a lot. I'm struggling with chapters right now and with work it's vastly limiting the time I have to write and focus on things and I'm kind of burning out right now.

So, what I wanted to discuss was potentially putting CRCB on hold for October while I focus on Kyletober and everything involved with that. Trying to do both is a lot and I'm not sure I can handle all of it, plus life, plus work.

I was planning on not necessarily putting CRCB on hold, but doing more of a "whenever I can/am inspired" random posting chapters kind of like I did in the beginning when I first started writing the fic, in November/December because those are very busy months and I will be dead tired from work and just general life.

I think I might still do that for November/December and possibly into the new year since there's no way the fic will be finished even if I posted every week until the end of December.

BUT

That's something I'll think about and make a decision on later.

Right now, my thought is...would you hate me if I put CRCB on pause in October? IF I do, I promise I won't end Chapter 39 on a cliffhanger. I wasn't planning on it anyway, but I promise I won't end it on a cliffhanger if I decide not to post any chapters in October.

That way if I do put it on pause, then I can not focus on it for a bit and give my brain a refresh, and I can also focus all my energy on Kyletober.

So yeah, it's going to be a lot doing both at the same time, and honestly I'm ready for a little break from CRCB. It's been going for a long time and it's a lot of words to get out in a week. I've been super stressed lately and I'm just struggling a lot trying to get through chapters.

So yeah. That's basically the dilemma here and the discussion to be had. I know y'all will tell me it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, but I would like opinions on it. Are y'all okay with me putting CRCB on hold to focus on Kyletober? Then pick it back up for probably just whenever I can chapter updates for the rest of the year? In January things will calm down and I'll have more time to relax and write and maybe get close to finishing the story. Plus I know a lot of my readers will be busy the next three months with the holidays and vacations and family and school and all of that, so you won't have to worry about getting behind and having to catch up with a bunch of chapters.

So...let me know...

#I wish I could keep writing it every week #but I need a break #a little refresh one could call it #it might do all of us some good

147 notes · View notes

screechingfromthevoid · 2 days

Text

The cape wrapping was too much for me I have to leave

#silver sending stones #cr spoilers #cr 3 e 108 #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #he probably watched the loom and was like “this is what i signed up for. forever.”#dorym #i do not know how to feel #because this came at the end of such a harsh moment from orym?#he killed fearnes dad which will eat him alive for the rest of his life #he just yelled at everyone because theyre still not understanding that the gods leaving is not going to leave exandria as it was.#he is literally so spent.#hes so tired #and so guilty #(oh i have to update my list of things orym blames hinself for)#and as hes yelling. as hes pleading with his friends to see the calamity that will happen if the gods are gone.#he floats over to dorian.#arguably his biggest opposition #and when hes done. when hes tired himself out. he leans on dorian.#he leans on dorian probably with no expectations of reciprocation. he just. needs dorian in that moment.#and dorian. who has been fighting to get rid of the gods since they took opal and killed hia brother. who wants them gone more than anything #wraps orym in his cloak. a protective wing around him. a warm. same place for him to lean. to rest. even running his hands through his hair.#they have been fighting since dorian came back. theyve been on the opposite sides of each discussion. each argument. and yet #orym still finds comfort in dorian. and dorians still affectionate towards orym.#id like to believe they slept in the same bed that night. after weeks of... finding reasons not to.#theyre clean and newly dry and slightly cold and maybe Orym finds a bed and curls up alone because fearne isnt there. but she hasnt been #for a while. and he doesnt take up the whole bed. he cant. but he doesnt expect someone to join him.#and then when the lights are off and the crickets are chirping and the faint screaming of a new bush to lull him to sleep. his door opens.#he doesnt get up because he knows hes safe in the manor. despite how scary it is. hes fearnes friend and has a deal with nana.#so he doesnt move. he feels cool. soft skin on his back and arms wrapping around him. to protect him. to comfort him

32 notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 2 days

Text

COMPLICATED

─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You begin to realize Javier's position at the DEA is putting a wedge in your marriage. It was only a matter of time before everything you've built crumbled once you reached your breaking point.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. ANGST. Established relationship. Javier & Reader are Married. Marriage problems. Arguments & Confrontation. Thoughts of slapping Javi. Mentions to prior sex & intimacy. Javier is falling apart. Self-sabotage. Mentions of religion/faith. Mentions of the DEA & Javi's job. Both Javi & Reader are in Colombia. Reader's occupation is unknown. Spanish dialogue between Javi & Reader. Please proceed with caution if relationship issues/arguments/possible DV are a sensitive topic for you.

Disclaimer: I have not watched Narcos yet. This is all just my interpretation of another aspect of Javier Peña’s character. Therefore, it is not strict to the canon or details of the show.

A/N: I wrote this for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge for August and got Javier Peña, so this is what I came up with! I will admit, I rewrote this fic twice because my initial outline changed halfway, so I started from scratch and got this. It is angsty, and I do want to mention that this is a different take on Javier P., because I personally do not characterize him this way but I ventured out of the norm and put him through situations (I love him a lot though). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You waited for him, the same way you always did.

Sitting on the couch and staring idly at the TV screen, you tried your hardest to find something to occupy your mind again. The cigarette comfortably sat between the index and middle fingers of your left hand, the weight of the two golden bands on your ring finger enticed you to take another drag.

You always hated how much Javier smoked. The stress from working at the DEA compelled him to go through two packs weekly, an ashtray present in every room of your quaint apartment, probably another on his desk at work. You didn’t predict there would come a time when you’d consider yourself a smoker, much less of cigarettes, despite recalling the multiple times you reminded your husband of how bad they were for his health.

“Those things will kill you before your job does, Javi.”

The irony in your words, a hypocrite of your own making.

You don’t blame him for not listening, either. Now you think you get the appeal of going through the cancer sticks one by one. You crave the high of the nicotine rushing through your veins with every inhale and relieving your jumpy nerves. The peace you’d feel for a few minutes was the only tranquility you could get in the hectic mess of your crumbling life.

You wish you knew how things got to this point.

The years blended throughout your relationship with the charismatic Javier Peña, a fine man you bumped into on your way home and accidentally sent all your groceries falling to the ground. Apologies poured out of your mouth repeatedly, and he bent down to help you clean up your mess, offering to cover the expenses of the ruined food you just bought with a faint smile.

The curl of his lips and the sparkle in his brown eyes bewitched you from the start, and you took the money he offered in your palm before he walked off, your sight trailing down on the cocky sway of his hips and the broadness of his back.

He dwelled in your mind like a phantom, haunting you in your dreams and inhabiting your senses. You didn’t anticipate to bump into him two weeks later while running errands, the smug look on his face at the sight of reencountering you so quickly didn’t go unnoticed. It was a simple conversation, a brief introduction followed by an offer for drinks when you both had time with reassurance that you would meet him under better circumstances.

The rest was history.

Sure, you knew Javier was a busy man, always on the run due to his highly demanding job you didn’t initially know of. From how he carried himself, you gathered he was associated with law enforcement, not from Colombia naturally, but perhaps the United States. You didn’t suppose he’d be affiliated with the federal government of all things, and the thought of what he was doing in the country worried you the first few months of being with him.

But all of your apprehensions about his professional occupation went out the window when you got into bed with him, limbs tangling into the sheets, and hushed promises whispered sweetly in your ear. All you cared about were the words he’d say as he took you every which way, claimed you his all over his apartment when you’d meet him late at night after a stressful work day.

That was the most intimate you knew him, in the throes of passion in which he seemed to be an expert. His hands strung your body with ease, pulling on the invisible red string that connected the two of you whenever his fingers wandered between your thighs. He drank every moan and cry of his name, hips moving against you so reverently others would mistake you for a place of worship.

It was a matter of time before dates turned to sleepovers, and your stay in his life became more permanent when you moved in with him. You didn’t object when he got down on one knee and popped the question you’d been waiting to hear after a year, jumping in your heels with a broad smile and tears streaming down your cheeks once he slipped the ring over your finger.

You never got the wedding you dreamed of since you were little, and you didn’t go on the honeymoon he promised you due to his prior commitments. Instead, you settled on going to a courthouse when you briefly visited Javi’s home in Texas and stayed in his government-covered apartment while in Colombia.

The signs of stress were there from the beginning of the relationship, but the rose-tinted shades you wore were a perfect fit. To you, ignorance was bliss, and you refused to pop whatever abstract bubble you found yourself trapped in with the man you’ve come to know as your partner.

You stuck by him when he needed you most, never opposing him when he sought after you for solace following the close calls he had while chasing down Escobar’s men. You kept your mouth shut when you saw him cleaning up the wounds he hid from you, locking the bathroom door behind him to avoid worrying you to such an extent. You didn’t utter a word when he started coming home later and wouldn’t give you notice, blaming the job and the intricacies of the caseload he was assigned to manage.

“I’m sorry. It’ll get better.”

You wanted to believe him, to think that somehow the craziness that was happening with the business of narcotics in Colombia would be slowing down, and your life would go back to normal, the way it should be. That way of life was gone. Sometimes, you think you’ve never had it to begin with.

You didn’t ask for this. Neither one of you did.

The disconnect between you grew after another close call on a raid, causing your first full-blown argument. The aftermath resulted in harsh kisses and bruises on your thighs from when Javi fucked you hard against the wall, holding you tightly as you scratched down his back. The subsequent times were like that; you could only communicate with him when your bodies engaged in the best way they knew how. All the pent-up frustration was released when he was inside you, groaning apologies and curse words as he filled you to the brim over and over, and you took it with a smile of forgiveness.

At some point along the way, there was no more fun to this game of tension you’ve created to ignore the elephant in the room. Not after the bickering turned into disagreements, your pillowcase growing wet with suppressed tears after a yelling match. The touches turned fleeting, the nights were lonely, and the animosity that wedged itself in your marriage thrived in the dismissive regard you both held for one another.

Your touch burned him more often than not; the last time he caressed you with care was lost to the ravages of his anxiety. All that remained was the past, the memories that you shared before shit hit the fan, and frankly, you don’t think you could take any more of this torture.

The other side of your bed stayed messy and cold, barely catching him when he left in the mornings for work. The caseloads kept piling on, the raids got more personal and farther from home, and the cycle continued to repeat itself. There wasn’t an end in sight, not soon anyway.

Stuck in your thoughts, you missed the instant the front door opened and closed, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. You glanced over to see Javier stepping through the entryway, peeling his leather jacket off and tossing it to the side while holding your gaze momentarily.

“You’re still awake?” Javier asked you, hinting an edge to his voice as he spoke to you.

“Hello to you too,” you responded calmly, asserting your tone. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d wait for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Somehow, the faux concern made you chuckle dryly, watching him walk past you to head right for the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and leaving his back turned to you.

“And what else do you need me to stop doing?”

Your question forced Javier to pivot and face you, his glass sat on the counter as you observed him. Keeping your distance, you stood on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the archway and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tell me. What else do you need me to stop doing, Javier?”

He remembers when you only called him by signature terms of endearment. Baby. Honey. Amorcito; he particularly loved that one. Now, you addressed him by his first name as if it were its own curse word.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he raised an eyebrow as you continued to speak, malice brewing inside as you itched to say the things you’ve kept bottled up.

“It seems you want me to stop everything. You don’t even come home anymore. I forget you live here sometimes,” you said, trying to be sarcastic, but your words were as sincere as they were hurtful.

“I do come home when I can. It’s been busy at w-”

“Work. It’s always about work and your fucking job. Work this, work that. Do you ever get tired of making excuses for yourself?” His eyes narrowed, staring you down as his body became rigid.

“Do you think me going out there every day chasing down these fucking pendejos is a godamn excuse? No estás pensando con claridad.”

“Oh, I’m the one that lacks sense. That’s rich coming from you.” You started to laugh, standing straighter and looking at your spouse vexingly. “You don’t think going down this goose chase with your head cut off to catch Escobar is crazy? Te has vuelto loco, Javi.”

“I do this for you. For us.” You know he’s trying to convince himself of this lie more than you.

“There is no us if you’re not here! You haven’t been here for months! I don’t know shit about you anymore, and this job has turned you into a different person.”

It was wrong to raise your voice at him; the previous quarrels usually passed through intense conversations, and he’d walk out the door to leave you for the rest of the night, but it was never this intense. You think this time would be the dreaded catalyst you’ve prolonged to avoid, and there was no turning back.

“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I told you what I do for work, I told you how this was going to be. It’s not fucking easy. You know this.” He took another sip of his whiskey, gulping it down all at once, hoping the buzz would give him the strength to handle the onslaught of words he knew was coming.

“So now it’s my fault that our relationship is falling apart? What? I should’ve known better than to fall in love with you? Should’ve known better than to marry you?” You were inching closer, your hands flailing around as you spoke exasperatedly.

“Yes. Maybe you should’ve known better.”

The only thing that could be heard in the kitchen was the clink of the ice melting in Javi’s glass, reaching a stalemate as you stared at him in bewilderment and heartbreak. You stepped forward to meet him chest to chest, imagining yourself slapping the words clean out of his mouth. You opted for putting your pointer finger under his chin, the tip of your nail grazing the underside of his jaw as rage washed over you.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything I gave up to stay here with you in Colombia.”

Tears graced your lash line when he looked at you again, your brows creasing as the mask you’ve worn for so long unraveled. You tried to stay the good wife; you did, but you were getting edged closer and closer to the breaking point. Javier wants to be surprised that you found the audacity to confront him like this, but he knows it was what he deserved. Perhaps he deserved worse for what he’s put you through.

“Why can’t you give this up? Why? You know how this is going to end. I’ll hear from Steve that you didn’t make it back from another assignment or worse. All of this and for what? Help me understand, please.” You begged him to see your pain, hoped to see things as he saw them, to understand why he was going to such great lengths to kill a man at the expense of everything else rotting around him.

“It’s complicated. Everything about this is complicated. The last thing I need is for you to get involved in this mess, too.”

“It’s always complicated with you.” You shrugged with a shake of your head, admitting your defeat.

“I sit here and wait for you to come home, and you don’t. You’d rather be out there, doing god knows what, while I stay and twiddle my fucking thumbs waiting for something to happen,” you looked down to the floor, staring at your feet as the emotions swirled inside you, losing control over the storm of their intensity.

“I don’t complain or say anything when you don’t come home. I get it, this is the job, this is what you have to do. But I don’t see you, Javier. You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me, or even look at me…I don’t want this for us anymore.”

You didn’t think your words were getting through to Javi anyway as he remained quiet, the stinging bitterness festering before was forgotten and replaced by the dull ache of his heart. Hearing you say this to him hurt in ways grazed bullet wounds and rough tumbles to the ground couldn’t amount to. The self-loathing and anger that’s been building inside him after discovering all the corruption of his job settled in the pit of his stomach, bile rising to the back of his throat at the thought of it. He hated this.

“I don’t want this either. I don’t want to keep hurting you…”

I don’t want to lose you.

“Then why do you still do it?” You presented your left hand to hit his line of sight, gesturing to the two rings you wore, the ones he gave you when he swore to love you for the rest of your life. “Does this mean anything to you?”

It means everything to me. You mean everything to me.

The words were too heavy for him to say, refraining from confessing his true thoughts the way he wanted. His lips were sealed, but his eyes confirmed what you already knew. He was just too cowardly to do or say the right thing himself.

“I love you Javier, I do. So much that it pains me, but this is not a life we should be living. Don’t you want more than this?”

Of course, he wanted more. When he slipped that ring on your finger, he had already envisioned the life he had dreamed of with you. A quiet life somewhere in the countryside, away from all of the noise of the government and countries that were running rampant with issues he shouldn’t be responsible for fixing. He saw the distant future, a kid or two running in the yard while you sat on the porch to watch them, a look of peace on your pretty face as you peeked over at him from across the ranch.

A happy home, a happy life. That was what he wanted, what he prayed for.

Javier despises himself for being unable to amount to his dream for both of you. He’s so wrapped up in this nonsense with the DEA that he’s had tunnel vision so profound he can’t see the light anymore.

“I know you’re not going to stop until all of this is finished, I know that. But I can’t do this anymore. So I’m giving you a choice, the DEA or me.” His eyebrows shot up at the sudden ultimatum you’ve proposed to him, eyes growing wide as he comprehended the hand you’ve forced upon him.

“You can’t make me choose this, that’s not how this works. I can’t just drop everything for you, not now when we’re this close. Don’t do this to me, please…” his hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing them to make you rethink what you said before doing something you may regret.

“I don’t want to do this, but I have to,” your eyes met the brown irises you used to spend hours looking at and admiring, the spark in them long gone. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself, Javi. I love you too much to witness that. Please don’t put me through that.”

Walking away from him and heading to the bedroom, you knew nothing else was left to say. You couldn’t save him, your love couldn’t save him either, and you thought maybe backing him into a corner would knock some sense that he’s been missing.

As you entered your bathroom to look at your reflection, you heard the front door open and close again, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’ll be outside for the night, maybe stop by a bar and drown his sorrows before going to work again as if nothing happened. Your eyes turned bloodshot as you cried, your hands covering your face to muffle your sobs as you sank to the tiled bathroom floor with your back to the wall. You brought your knees to your chest, comforting yourself and hoping something would come in the form of a miracle.

Maybe you’ll wait for him a little longer. Maybe you’ll leave your ring on the dresser with a letter, find your way back to the United States, and rebuild your life, forgetting all about Javier Peña. Maybe there was nothing left to give, nothing left to save. Maybe you just didn’t know what you were doing, and you went over your head.

You prayed for whatever God existed to give you the strength to persevere through this troubling time. In that silent prayer, you wished for the man you still loved to come back home to you, for him to want a better life for himself and to end this torment he continued to put himself through.

Slipping into the empty bed like you’ve done so many times before, you tucked yourself in the sheets that still smelled like him, glimpsing at the window to count the rays of moonlight that peeked through the curtains to help you doze off.

You dreamed that in the morning, you’d wake up to strong arms wrapped around your waist, apologies and promises muttered alongside kisses to your temple as he reclaimed you as his, the way he used to do before all of this. You desired to give him what he wanted, be the person he needed to show him better and save him from himself. But that was wishful thinking.

The man you knew, the man you loved, wasn’t here anymore, and there was no way you could bring him back.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Spanish Translation: pendejos - idiots, No estás pensando con claridad - you're not thinking clearly, Te has vuelto loco, Javi - You've gone insane/you’re crazy Javi.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña angst #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #almostfoxgloveangstchallenge #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

87 notes · View notes

lunaritex · 1 day

Text

⠀𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ KISS BENEATH THE ICE 𖤐 . — park sunghoon

↺ CONTENT: enemies to lovers, non-idol and college au, reader is female (sunghoon calls reader princess), reader and sunghoon are part of the ice-skating team, kissing at the end, tooth-rotting fluff.

↺ FROM HYE: Reading and writing about an idol was definitely not in my 2024 bingo card. Hopefully I get his character right after inhaling content after content whoops... @kazuhaiku (I bet you didn't foreseen this coming)

Ridiculous proves to be an understatement to describe your current dilemma. Never in your life did you foresee yourself breathing in the same air as your number one most despised person: Park Sunghoon. You were dragged along by your group of friends to attend a party held by someone who you cannot remember. You could have been using the precious time practicing for your upcoming competition instead of wasting your time, standing in a corner as you watched everyone having the time of their lives.

One thing led to another and you groaned at the sight of Sunghoon entering the kitchen, probably in search of something he could drink. He arched an eyebrow when he saw you leaning against the kitchen counter, a half-empty paper cup held in your left hand with your phone held in your right hand.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” He asked, having to slightly raise his voice as he reached your side, due to the loud booming music coming from the DJ.

“And what’s it to you? Last I checked, you’re not my mother,” you retorted, raising the cup but Sunghoon was quick to snatch it out of your grip.

You watched with disbelief and faint annoyance as he downed the remaining content in one go. He crushed the paper cup with one hand, accurately tossing it into the bin behind him without looking. Scowling at how he was showing off, you pushed yourself off the counter and attempted to leave, only to stop when he grabbed your wrist, holding you in place.

“What do you want now?” You snapped, irritance seeping into your voice.

“No need to be so angry. How about we get out for some fresh air? We can go ice-skating if you want,” he proposed.

“I-!?” You could barely speak when someone knocked you from behind, making you tipped forward. The next thing you knew, you fell into Sunghoon’s chest as he steadied you, hands resting on your waist. You were quick to move away, not wanting to make this awkward and mumbled a thanks under your breath.

“...Fine, I’ll go with you,” you replied, and you pointedly ignored how your heart skipped a beat at how his face lit up before dragging you out of the party.

You felt at peace the moment you stepped onto the ice rink, shoulders instinctively loosening as you elegantly glided across the rink. You have loved ice skating since you were young, wanting nothing more to pursue it as a future career and your dream was to represent the country in the ice skating Olympics. You came to a stop when you heard Sunghoon entering the rink, leaning back to rest your elbows against the edge of the rink as you watched him skate over to you with experience.

Both of you are in the same team and due to your looks and excellent teamwork (if people were to ignore how often both of you are constantly at one another’s throat), you were often paired together for competitions. You did not expect Sunghoon to boldly corner you against the edge, arms resting on both sides of you and the sudden proximity does dangers to your heart and soul.

“Whoops, my hands slipped,” he apologized, making you roll your eyes.

“Haha, very funny. Perhaps you should be a comedian in the future,” you deadpanned.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, but the thought of you having to work with someone else doesn’t sit well with me,” he smoothly admits, and the implications were as clear as day.

Your breath hitched in your throat when your eyes met. Both of you could not find the urge to look away and you saw the way Sunghoon’s eyes trailed down your face, drinking in your features until they landed on your slightly parted lips. It was like both of your minds reached the same conclusion, with how you leaned towards one another, heads slightly angled to avoid bumping into one another.

Fireworks exploded in your stomach the moment your lips met. It felt like something straight out from a romance anime, where the two main leads finally kissed after confessing their feelings. Sunghoon was the first to pull away, faint nervousness seen on his face; scared he had misread you and crossed the line.

“So, does this mean we’re dating now?” You asked, noting how his shoulders sagged with relief and he smiled.

“Sure, if you want to, girlfriend.”

This time, the laugh and smile you gave him was genuine. “You don’t even have to ask, boyfriend.”

#ꨄ writings #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon fanfic #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x y/n

59 notes · View notes

l-in-the-light · 3 days

Text

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #lawlu #lulaw #luffy x law #zosan #just a bit because I couldn't refuse it #it was stronger than me #love is a hurricane #xxxholic #we're finally going to Wano from now on #my takes on Wano's Lawlu might be super crazy for you all #so I guess prepare for lots of surprises #so is “alliance means friendship” still so true to you Luffy? hehe #cooknumber3 you're right they're totally ghibli style of “love” striving to become the best versions of themselves for their ImportantPerso

49 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 2 days

Note

are jey's kids really bad or is that just roman being a grump?

oh no, they are bad. lol you ever seen bebe's kids? imagine that.

something like this....

-----

"i want the shipment moved no later than—" the sound of an object crashing and shattering interrupts roman, the speaker shutting his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

third.

this is the third goddamn interruption in under half an hour, and there is no doubt in roman's mind that the cause is the same as it was the prior two times.

and judging by the look on jey's face, he thinks the same too.

standing up, he turns his body toward the house and calls out, "hey, what ya'll doing!"

jimmy snorts and takes a sip of his beer. "ain't it obvious? breaking shit."

jey shoots his twin a look that's the equivalent of 'shut the fuck up' as jey moves onto requesting the presence of his unruly children. "ya'll, get out here now!"

at that, roman scowls. "can't you go to them?" roman could go the rest of his life without being around jey's children, and having already had the displeasure of interacting with them twice today thus far, he's reached his max.

jey starts to offer a rebuttal, reminding his cousin that it was roman who wanted to have the meeting at someone's place other than his. something about the twins being 'destructive'.

it's not like they didn't pay for the repairs on the maserati.

roman grabs his own beer, downing the rest as one by one, the result of jey not being smart enough to use a condom—all four times—come running out, mischief written all over their faces.

but, jey is more focused on the black eye on one of his kids, the matted hair of another, and the small cut on the eyebrow on a third kid.

"what the hell done happened to ya'll?" he doesn't wait for a reply, reminding them, "jordan, were you trying to kill josiah again?"

jordan looks just as unremorseful as he feels, defending, "he deserved it!"

at that, roman actually agrees. out of all of jey's wild offspring, josiah has always been the most irritating.

he probably had it coming.

"how many times i gotta tell ya'll? you can only beat each other up to fight, not to kill!" jey blows out a breath, hands over his face. he sounds as exasperated as roman feels. maybe it's worth whatever destruction his cousins cause to just have meetings at his house. that's not as taxing as being around this shit.

journee, a little nicki in training, just has to chime in, pointing like the snitch she is, "he was being a little bitch, daddy!"

"aye!" jey interrupts, voice firm. "what i tell ya'll about all that goddamn cussing?" he doesn't wait for a reply, scolding them yet again, "stop using all that fuckin' language in my motherfuckin' house!"

one of the kids rolls their eyes, the second oldest boy, roman guesses, is quick with a smartass reply. "mama said we ain't gotta listen to you."

"she said what?"

jimmy shakes his head, murmuring to roman as he gazes at the uncovered pool, the sun reflecting off the lights at the bottom. "here we go...."

"she said you a bit—"

"that's enough!" jey marches over to the table, snatching his phone and mumbling to roman and his twin about being 'right back.' the last thing that's heard is jey laying into nicki, "who the hell you think you are telling my kids—what was that? bitch, i know you not with ole' dude again! man, i'll kill his ass and make you watch!"

the kids, thankfully, disperse back into the house.

roman is ready to pass on his parting words to jimmy and be the fuck gone. the desire for a good workout—or fucking—growing by the second. he might have to hit up sasha. sam was on that shit last time, and he's already in a foul mood.

but, a tug on his sleeve prevents him from doing that, roman's disdain painted over his handsome face. "what?" he asks, gruffly.

jayla rolls her brown eyes and only extends out her open palm. "my birthday is next month."

"and?" roman's more likely to wish jey's youngest daughter a 'happy accidental existence' day than 'happy birthday.'

however, she's undeterred, reminding, "my money?"

that, however, makes roman chuckle. he'd almost forgotten that out the four, she happens to be his favorite unfavorite. he don't like none of him, but she's not as intolerable as the rest. and her hustle is impressive.

pulling out his wallet, he asks, "how old you turning? 5?"

"i'm turning 7, uncle roman." she scoffs, maybe to herself, or him. "old people...."

at that, roman pauses, "you want the money or what, kid?"

she looks down, sheepishly, as roman counts out three hundred dollar bills, laying them in her waiting hand. "there. now don't bother me again until next year."

it's an easy request for the almost 7 year old, her eyes wide as she imagines all the robux she'll be able to get.

stuffing the money into her pocket, she nods and offers appreciation. "good to see you, uncle roman." roman shakes his head as jayla moves over to jimmy. "uncle jimmy....."

however, jimmy is not roman. "girl, i ain't got no money."

jayla stays true to her no filter nature. "so you're a broke ass?"

at that, roman turns his head. he actually has to hold back his smile. yeah, jayla might most definitely become his favorite at some point.

"broke ass?" jimmy, of course, fails to see that he's being baited by a damn second grader and yanks out his wallet, counting out a stack of hundreds and giving it to her. "how's that for broke ass?"

jayla looks like she just won the lottery, and at her age, she essentially just did. she doesn't bother with an expression of appreciation before dashing off with all her money.

and roman just watches as recognition dawns on jimmy's face, effectively ridding him of that goofy ass smile. "wait, that was my strip club money." he hops off the stool and goes after his niece. "get back here, you lil samoan wednesday!"

#ari answers #ltye ask #ltye short

39 notes · View notes

crownmemes · 1 day

Text

General Sentences, Vol. 20

(Assorted original sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Take me to your leader."

"Am I under arrest?"

"If you think about it, this is quite the honour!"

"Since when did you develop emotional intelligence?"

"I've dreamt about this moment for so many years..."

"Do me one last favour, for old time's sake?"

"Nobody is untouchable."

"You can't protect me from everything."

"This reminds me of a horror movie I saw..."

"Are you in love with him?"

"Do you want a tattoo?"

"Is that a grey hair?"

"I suppose this could have gone a lot worse."

"It's probably better if you don't ask what I'm doing."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Does anybody care what I think?"

"There really aren't any normal days in this job, are there?"

"Do you really think you can win?"

"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I heard you were looking for me?"

"There are some things that man should not know."

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"Why don't I tell you a story?"

"You know me; I'm always careful!"

"This was the best day of my life!"

"Do me one last favour, for old time's sake?"

"Nothing ever changes with you, does it?"

"Apology not accepted."

"For a moment there, I thought you were an angel."

"Not everything is as it seems."

"What's the harm in letting me try?"

"Are you willing to make a bargain?"

"What? Have I got something in my teeth?"

"I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"Do you want to talk about it, or should we just pretend like we already did?"

"I really don't want to have this conversation right now."

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"Do you have nothing better to do?"

"How come you always make fun of me?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #original;#general;

42 notes · View notes

kookiewithluv · 6 hours

Text

✿—✧SPACE BETWEEN US✧—✿

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: college au, friends to lovers, fluffy (?), angst

Trigger warning: it's super cringe!

Word count: 9k

Summary: You have been in love with Jungkook for ages but never said anything. When a surprise date turns into a dramatic showdown, his hidden feelings come crashing to the surface.

a/n: The characters and situations depicted in this chapter are fictional and are intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The portrayal of emotions and interpersonal dynamics is a creative interpretation and should not be taken as a reflection of real-life relationships or events.a/n: Do not use this story as your own. I don't allow translations or reposting of my work on any platform, including YouTube.

a/n: Yes, you're probably experiencing déjà vu—I'm reposting this without a single edit. After my last account got suspended for reasons beyond my control, I figured what better way to kick off my return than by sharing one of my cringiest fanfics? Honestly, it's pretty on-brand for me, don't you think?

@kookiewithluv 2024

You sat in your classroom, the hum of idle chatter around you barely registering. The lecture wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, but you couldn’t care less. You just needed to be alone. The weight of recent events pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you numb and confused. Your mind raced, thoughts tangled in a mess you couldn’t unravel.

Your phone vibrated on the desk, the screen lighting up with notifications. You glanced at it: 200+ texts and 28 missed calls from Jungkook. Without a second thought, you picked up the phone, turned it off, and set it back down. You didn’t want to deal with it, with him, with anything. Time seemed to blur as you sat there, your heart aching, your eyes glassy. But the tears wouldn’t come. They just sat there, stuck, like everything else inside you.

“Blush? Blush, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke beside you.

You flinched, startled out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed him sit down. Turning to face him, you were met with a sight that made your chest tighten. He looked so soft, so pretty in that moment—his pink lips curved into a worried pout, his hair falling messily over his forehead, half-covering those big doe eyes that seemed to shine even more because of it.

He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, and called your name again. “Blush,” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a quiet prayer. But you knew better. You did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. You just shook your head and forced a small smile, turning away. What were you supposed to say? That you were what was wrong? That you’d fallen for him, knowing he’d never be there to catch you? The words were right there, lodged in your throat, but you swallowed them down, feeling them settle heavy and painful in your stomach. The ache clawed at your insides, begging for release, but you took a deep breath, holding everything in.

Jungkook was still watching you, his gaze piercing through the walls you were trying so hard to build. He gently cupped your face, turning you back to look at him. “Eyes on me. I’m talking,” he said, his tone soft but firm. The way his thumb brushed your cheek was so tender it almost broke you.

“You should—” he began, but the classroom door creaked open, and students started to file in, breaking the moment. He pulled back, checking the time, and you followed his gaze. Just as you both expected, Professor Min walked in, signaling the start of class. Relief washed over you, grateful for the distraction, for the escape. You silently thanked Mr. Min for his impeccable timing.

As the lesson began, you tried to focus, but your mind kept drifting back to Jungkook, to the conversation you’d narrowly avoided. Your chest felt tight, your heart heavy, but you pushed it all down, forcing yourself to stay composed.

The class went on, but all you could think about was how close you’d come to spilling everything. And how you still couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Class ended earlier than expected. Mr. Min had cut the lecture short, saying he had something urgent to attend to. The moment his words left the room, you were already packing up, hands moving frantically as you stuffed your notebook and pens into your bag. Your movements were jerky, almost desperate, as if the faster you moved, the quicker you could escape.

Jungkook was right beside you, his presence heavy like a storm cloud about to break. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze, those eyes you usually found so comforting now burning holes into you. As you zipped up your bag, you felt his fingers twitch, like he was about to reach out, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You bolted for the door, your steps quick and purposeful. Just as you reached the threshold, his voice—a smooth, velvety sound that usually made your heart skip—called out your name.

“Blush,” he said, soft and hopeful.

But you didn’t stop. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t even acknowledge him. For the first time, you ran away from him. Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what you were doing, but you couldn’t stop.

The hallway blurred as you hurried through it, eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look back. You knew he was still there, standing in the doorway, probably confused, maybe even hurt. But you couldn’t deal with that now. You just needed to be alone.

When you reached the canteen, you went straight to the farthest corner, away from the clusters of students laughing and chatting. You dropped into a chair, slumping down as you pulled the hood of Jungkook’s hoodie over your head, trying to hide from the world. Your hands fiddled with the hem of the hoodie, twisting and tugging at the fabric as if it could somehow ground you, make everything go away.

You curled in on yourself, your head bowed low, eyes fixed on your trembling hands. The familiar scent of Jungkook still clung to the hoodie, but instead of comfort, it brought a fresh wave of pain. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over.

In that moment, the bustling canteen felt a million miles away. All you could focus on was the way your heart ached, the way it felt like something inside you was slowly breaking apart. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to release the pressure building up inside you, but instead, you just sat there, hiding beneath the hoodie that was his, trying to hold yourself together, trying to breathe.

You were drowning in your thoughts, the noise around you fading into nothingness. A voice yanked you back to reality, snapping the delicate thread of your spiralling mind. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

A light touch on your shoulder—soft, almost hesitant—tried to pull your attention. She already had it, though she didn’t realize it, because you still hadn’t looked at her. She stood to your left, leaning in slightly.

“Are you okay?” Lilith asked, her voice laced with concern. You kept your eyes down, refusing to meet hers.

Lilith. The campus beauty queen. The girl everyone adored. The girl who loved Jungkook. And everyone knew it, too. They rooted for them to be together, whispering about how perfect they’d be. The thought made your stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in your mouth. You hated it.

She continued, her tone gentle but insistent. “Jungkookie is worried about you. He was searching everywhere for you. You should talk to him. Should I call him—”

Your blood boiled at the sound of that nickname. Jungkookie. He hated that name, had told you so many times how much he despised it but never her. she kept calling him that, oblivious or maybe just indifferent. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to keep your anger in check.

“No,” you practically yelled, the word bursting out before you could stop it. Lilith flinched, her eyes wide with shock. She pulled her hand back, her fingers twitching nervously. But you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty. All you felt was anger—anger at yourself for losing control, and a burning hatred for her.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag, roughly shoving it over your shoulder as you pushed past her. She stumbled back slightly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but you didn’t give her the chance. You stormed out of the canteen, your chest heaving with frustration.

The fresh air outside did little to calm you. You headed straight for the parking area, your steps quick and determined, each one pounding out the anger inside you. When you reached your car, you spotted it immediately and hurried over, yanking the door open.

You slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind you. For a moment, you just sat there, your breathing harsh and uneven. Then, with a frustrated groan, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, not caring where it landed. Everything felt too tight, too overwhelming. You buried your face in your hands, your fingers curling into your hair as you tried to steady yourself.

But the anger wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t let go. It bubbled just beneath the surface, a constant, throbbing ache that wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t ease. And all you could think about was how much you wished it would just disappear. How much you wished everything would just disappear.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to push all the swirling thoughts out of your head. With a quick motion, you pressed down on the accelerator, and the car roared to life beneath you. You didn’t hesitate as you started driving, focusing on the road ahead, wanting to leave everything behind.

But as you drove away, something caught your eye in the rearview mirror. Jungkook. He was running after your car, his face a mix of desperation and panic. You could see his mouth moving, probably yelling your name, but the sound was lost to the roar of the engine and the rush of blood in your ears. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even slow down. You just kept going, watching as he grew smaller and smaller in the mirror until he disappeared from view.

The ride home was anything but peaceful. The guilt gnawed at you, sinking its claws deeper with every passing mile. You tried to push it away, to convince yourself that you were right to leave, that you needed space. But the image of Jungkook’s face, the way he’d run after you, wouldn’t leave your mind. You’d ignored him all day, and you knew it must’ve hurt him. But you shook your head, refusing to dwell on it. You couldn’t handle that right now.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the silence of your empty house greeted you. You parked the car in the garage, the engine’s hum dying down as you cut the power. The quiet was suffocating as you walked into the house, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the walls. Your parents weren’t home. Again. Even though they had promised they would be. You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head at your own foolishness. Why did I even believe them? you thought. It was your birthday tomorrow, and once again, they weren’t there. Meetings, parties—whatever it was, it was always more important.

You made your way to the living room and sank down onto the couch, turning on the TV in a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself. But nothing on the screen held your attention. The images blurred together, the voices just white noise in the background. Your mind was too cluttered, too full of everything that had happened today, to make sense of anything playing out in front of you.

Frustrated, you got up and headed to your room, the emptiness of the house pressing down on you with every step. You didn’t have the energy to cook, the thought of food making your stomach twist. “Guess I’ll sleep hungry tonight,” you muttered to yourself, a hollow laugh escaping your lips.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. But sleep didn’t come. No matter how much you tossed and turned, your mind wouldn’t quiet down. Thoughts of Jungkook, your parents, the loneliness that seemed to cling to you like a shadow—it all kept swirling in your head, refusing to let you rest.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tightly around you as if they could shield you from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone. But no matter how hard you tried, the weight of the day wouldn’t let you go. And so, you lay there, eyes wide open, the darkness around you feeling like a reflection of the emptiness inside.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the room was cloaked in darkness. The silence around you was heavy, oppressive, and as the memory of the day crashed down on you, the tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down your face at an unusual speed.

Tomorrow was supposed to be special—your birthday. Even if your parents weren’t around, you’d convinced yourself that Jungkook’s presence would make it memorable. This morning, you’d been brimming with excitement. But all of that shattered the moment you stepped onto the college campus.

The crowd had been the first thing you noticed—a sea of students gathered in an unusually large cluster. Your curiosity had drawn you toward it, and you’d squeezed through the masses, pushing past eager onlookers until you reached the front. What you saw made your heart sink.

Lilith and Jungkook stood there, framed by the throng of students. Lilith held a bouquet of flowers, her face radiant with a hopeful smile as she offered it to him. The sight was enough to tell you what was happening. She was proposing. Your heart twisted with a mix of dread and hope as you watched Jungkook. He looked visibly distressed, his hands trembling slightly as he took the bouquet. A flicker of hope ignited in you that he might reject her, but the moment he accepted the flowers, that hope was dashed. The crowd erupted in cheers, and your heart shattered into pieces.

As if the scene couldn't get any worse, it did. The crowd began chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The noise was deafening, each cheer driving the knife of betrayal deeper into your heart. Jungkook’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He grabbed Lilith’s hand and tugged her away from the crowd, leading her toward a more private corner. You knew it wasn’t about him not wanting to kiss her in public; it was about him wanting to keep those private moments just for himself, away from prying eyes.

Recalling the memory now, as tears flowed freely and uncontrollably, your heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. The image of Jungkook’s nervous expression and Lilith’s hopeful eyes replayed in your mind, each scene a fresh cut. The darkness of your room mirrored the darkness in your heart, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you with crushing force.

You clutched the pillow to your chest, your sobs muffled but relentless. Each breath came in shaky bursts, and you could feel the tears soaking through the fabric. The tears and the pain were all-consuming, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of rejection and betrayal. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own brokenhearted sobs.

It’s funny how quickly things change. The person who once made your heart flutter with joy now seemed to be the source of all your misery. But it wasn’t his fault. He had no idea of your feelings. You never told him, and now you were left with nothing but regret.

The minutes dragged on with torturous slowness. The clock still hadn’t hit 10, and you were restless, your body aching from the weight of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and closed your eyes, hoping to find some semblance of peace. Yet, amid the turmoil, a small spark of hope flickered within you. Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook would call when the clock struck midnight. Maybe, as he had done in the past, he would stand on your doorstep with a big bouquet of daisies, because he knew how much you loved them.

Hope brought with it a tangled mess of uncertainty and fear. Part of you desperately wished for him to come, to see him standing there with that familiar, warm smile. But another part of you feared what that would mean. If he showed up, you knew you might not be able to hold yourself back. The thought of begging him to love you, to confess your feelings, terrified you. You wanted nothing more than to be happy for your best friend, the one you loved with all your heart, without letting your own desires ruin his moment.

As these conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind, you became increasingly aware of the exhaustion that weighed down on you. Your body, worn out from the emotional rollercoaster, finally succumbed to sleep. You hadn’t noticed when the weariness took over, but soon you were drifting off, your breathing evening out as the turbulent storm of your mind began to settle into a restless slumber.

The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jolted you awake. You reached out with a groggy hand to silence it, grumbling under your breath. As you blinked your eyes open, a dull ache throbbed in your head, and you winced at the sting of light. Your eyes felt like they were weighed down by sandbags, red and swollen from hours of restless sleep.

With a groan, you rolled out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Each step felt heavy, your body dragging as if weighed down by an invisible burden. You shuffled into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with a sense of numb resignation. The sight that met you was far from flattering. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your face was puffy and pale. You let out a shaky breath, your reflection mocking you. "Happy birthday, ugly," you muttered to yourself, bitterness lacing your voice.

You turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the night’s tears. The brisk water was invigorating but did little to lift the fog in your mind. You brushed your teeth mechanically, the familiar routine providing a small comfort. As you stepped into the shower, the warm water hit your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache inside you.

Your thoughts kept drifting back to Jungkook. You’d hoped he’d come by, as he used to, or at least send a message. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear you were wrong. You chuckled bitterly at your own foolishness.

He hadn’t called.

Not even a text.

It was as if you’d been erased from his life, replaced by someone new.

Finishing up in the shower, you turned off the water and stepped out, feeling cold despite the warmth of the steam. You walked to your closet with a heavy heart and pulled on a simple white tee and blue baggy jeans. You chose a pair of Jordan shoes, not because you don't felt like dressing up, but because you couldn’t muster the energy for anything more. The effort felt pointless when it seemed no one remembered or cared about your birthday.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you dressed, and the image reflected the hollow ache you felt inside. With a resigned sigh, you walked out of your room, ready to face another day, feeling like a forgotten afterthought.

You hurried out of your house, barely pausing to lock the door behind you. The cold morning air bit at your cheeks as you slid into the driver's seat of your car. Your movements were mechanical, driven by a deep-seated weariness. You started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, the rumble of the car filling the silence of your thoughts.

As you drove to college, Jungkook’s image was a persistent shadow in your mind. Each turn of the wheel seemed to echo with memories of him—his laughter, his smile, and the sting of his absence. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as you fought to keep your emotions in check. There was an undercurrent of nervousness you couldn’t quite place, a fluttering uncertainty that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t define.

The drive felt endless, each minute dragging by as you replayed yesterday’s events. By the time you pulled into the college parking lot, you were nearly suffocating with frustration and sadness. You parked your car with swift, jerky movements, almost slamming the gearshift into park.

Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that clung to you. The walk from the parking lot to the campus felt like a trek through a fog. Your eyes were downcast, your footsteps heavy as you made your way through the bustling campus. You barely registered the chatter and movement around you, lost in your own turmoil.

You finally reached the canteen, its familiar smell of coffee and breakfast foods mixing with the lingering bitterness in your heart. As you pushed through the doors, the chatter and clatter of trays and dishes surrounded you, but you barely noticed. You moved through the crowded room, shoulders hunched, eyes focused on the path ahead. Finding a spot at a table, you sank into a chair, tossing your bag on the table, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you, as if the whole world was a muted blur around you.

You took a deep breath, getting up and walking to the counter, eyes scanning the options in front of you. The canteen menu was as uninspiring as ever, but hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you of your own laziness for not cooking anything. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed a plate of waffles and a cup of coffee, the safest bets in this lackluster spread. After paying, you turned to head back to your table, but something made you freeze mid-step.

There he was—Jungkook. His eyes darted anxiously around the canteen, scanning faces, moving with a restless urgency that made your heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, the urge to bolt gripped you, to just turn around and leave before he spotted you. But you shook your head, grounding yourself. He wasn't looking for you. He was probably searching for his new girlfriend, Lilith. The thought stung, but you swallowed it down and continued back to your table.

You set the plate and coffee down with a soft clatter, sinking into your seat. Just as you lifted the cup to your lips, ready to lose yourself in the warmth of the coffee, you heard it—his voice cutting through the chatter of the canteen.

"Blush. Blush."

His nickname for you.

His footsteps followed, growing louder as they neared. Your breath caught in your throat as you set the cup back down, unable to take that sip.

In no time, Jungkook was standing right in front of you, his presence commanding, and something was different. You forced yourself to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, only to be met with an expression that sent a shiver down your spine.

Anger? Why did he look angry?

His brow was furrowed, jaw tight, and his eyes—those usually warm, comforting eyes—were now darkened with frustration. You couldn't understand it. What did he have to be angry about? Confusion churned in your gut, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, words failing you. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension, and you could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, waiting for an explanation you didn't have.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Jungkook’s voice softened as he gazed at you, the anger in his eyes fading into something that looked like sadness. He tossed his bag onto the table beside yours with a thud, then crouched down in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.

Before you could react, he reached out, grabbing the sides of your chair and turning it to face him. His hands found yours, gripping them tightly, as if afraid you might slip away. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt through you, weakening your resolve. It was a good thing you were already sitting, or your legs might have given out beneath you.

"Blush," he whispered, his voice so soft it barely reached your ears. The sound of your nickname on his lips made your heart clench painfully. God, you loved him—so much it hurt. But what did it matter? You couldn’t tell him. He had a girlfriend now. You reminded yourself of this bitter truth, feeling the familiar ache of heartbreak settling in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to pull your hands away from his, but he only held on tighter, his grip almost desperate. It was as if he feared losing you, like you were the one thing keeping him grounded. The intensity of his hold made your heart ache even more. Could it be? No, you must be imagining things.

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re just… not talking to me. You ignored me yesterday too."

His words hung in the air, heavy with confusion and hurt. You stared down at your intertwined hands, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. What could you say? There were no words that could fix this. The truth was too painful to speak. You just wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here. The realization that he didn’t even remember your birthday only twisted the knife deeper. You felt like crumbling into pieces, but you stayed silent, holding back the storm of emotions threatening to escape.

You wanted to ask him if he even remembered it was your birthday. Did he really forget you in just one day after getting a girlfriend? It wasn’t about him not loving you or you loving him—that was a secret you’d buried deep. But you were best friends. Did he forget that too? How could he stand here, blaming you, while he acted like nothing was wrong?

But you didn’t ask any of those questions. The words that escaped your lips were far different, softer, weaker. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s gaze locked onto yours, searching for something—maybe an explanation, maybe an apology. You couldn't tell.

“I was just… It’s… My parents aren’t home. And I was feeling sad and lonely,” you lied, trying to force a convincing smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

For a moment, his eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. He seemed to believe you, and that only made your heart crack a little more. Where had that Jungkook gone? The one who could see through your smiles, who always knew when something was wrong even before you did. The boy who used to notice the sadness hidden behind your laughter was gone, replaced by someone who couldn’t even spot the lie on your lips.

He nodded, his grip on your hands loosening slightly. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer now, more understanding. But he didn’t get it. Not really. He didn’t see the pain you were hiding, the way your heart was shattering piece by piece.

You swallowed hard, biting back the words you wanted to scream. Instead, you just nodded, letting him believe the lie, even though it tore you apart inside.

Jungkook stood up and gently patted your head, his touch warm but distant. "It will be okay, hmm?" he said, his voice soft, almost comforting. You nodded, feeling like a fool. Will it ever be okay? No, it won’t. It can never be okay. You loved him too much for things to be okay. This love was too deep, too consuming to ever fade. The only way for it to end would be for you to end, or else this love would live on inside you forever. That thought terrified you—the idea of loving him for eternity, never being able to touch him, while time made him forget you. And yet, you'd be left with nothing but memories, trapped in a loop of unrequited feelings.

“Blush?” His voice pulled you back to the present, soft and filled with concern. He smiled at you, that sweet smile he always reserved just for you. But now, that smile only reminded you that he wasn’t yours anymore—if he ever truly was. Nothing about him belonged to you, and maybe it never did. You were just fooling yourself, weren’t you?

“Don’t think much. It’ll be fine. I promise.” His fingers brushed your face, his thumb tracing lightly over your nose—a gesture that used to make you laugh, that used to light up your world. But now, it only made you want to cry.

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth lifting just enough to convince him, even though your heart was breaking inside. His touch, his words—they were meant to soothe you, but they only made the ache worse. You wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope he offered, but deep down, you knew better. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Jungkook smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled a chair closer to you and sat down. His happiness was infectious, but it only added to the heaviness in your chest.

"I have something for you," he said, his voice laced with excitement. "want to see it?"

You didn’t really want to see it. The weight of exhaustion was already pressing down on you, making you feel dizzy and drained. All you wanted was for him to leave, for this feeling of doom to pass. But you nodded anyway, forcing yourself to respond.

When his eyes lit up at your response, a small part of you felt a flicker of happiness. You watched as he reached for his bag, your gaze following the movements of his hands, wondering what he was up to.

He pulled out a large box of chocolates, and a genuine smile finally touched your lips. For a moment, the weight in your heart lightened just a little. You looked up at him, trying to match his enthusiasm.

"I know you love these," he said, holding the box out to you, "and I thought you were angry at me, so I needed to make it up to you."

You took the box from him, managing a laugh. "I wasn’t angry, but thanks," you said, your voice a mix of gratitude and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture tender and familiar, making your heart ache even more.

But despite the sweetness of the gesture, the happiness didn’t quite reach your heart. A box of chocolates wasn’t enough to make up for what you really wanted—a simple “Happy Birthday” from him. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, thanking him for the gift.

As he patted your head soothingly, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to feel the comfort he was trying to offer. But deep down, you knew that nothing could fill the emptiness inside you—not the chocolates, not his touch, not even the sound of his heartbeat close to yours.

You pulled back from the hug, your eyes lingering on his, those big doe eyes that seemed to hold the universe in them. He was everything you could ever want, the very definition of perfection. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t have him. He deserved someone better—someone like her.

He smiled at you, a warm, affectionate smile, and playfully squeezed your cheeks. Just as he was about to say something, a voice interrupted from behind.

“Jungkookie!” Lilith’s voice, sickly sweet and sharp, pierced through the air, making you wince.

Jungkook’s head snapped around, and he smiled at her, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. She came striding towards you both, her high heels clicking loudly on the floor. Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise, and even you felt a twinge of concern that she might stumble and fall flat on her face. But she didn’t.

And as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you was disappointed that she didn’t fall. You wanted her to.

In no time, she was standing in front of Jungkook, her hand sliding into his as she pulled him to his feet. It all happened so quickly, like a flash of lightning. One moment he was sitting with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks, and the next, he was standing beside her, her arms wrapped possessively around his left arm.

He brushed her arms away, his expression softening as he bent down to your level. “Look, I’ve got to go now. I… I have something important to do. Take care and eat the chocolates, okay?”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a box of chocolates and the emptiness gnawing at your chest.

You stared at the chocolates, the sweetness now a bitter reminder of everything you wanted but couldn’t have. It wasn’t the chocolates you craved—it was him. But all you got was this, while she… she had everything you wanted.

You turned deliberately back to your food, your appetite gone, but you forced yourself to eat anyway. The food tasted like ash in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, trying to fill the void that only seemed to grow with each bite.

The day dragged on, each hour blurring into the next. You didn’t see Jungkook again—not that you expected to. He was probably busy with his new girlfriend, and though you told yourself you didn’t care, the truth was harder to swallow. You cared. You cared too much. But you were tired of admitting it, even to yourself.

Finally, the day came to an end. You packed up your things, barely aware of your surroundings as you walked down the corridor, out of the building, and into the parking lot. Spotting your car, you headed straight for it, tossing your bag onto the passenger seat with a sigh.

Just as you were about to start the engine, you heard someone call your name. You glanced out the window and saw a guy waving at you. When your eyes met, he jogged over to your car, his expression nervous but determined.

Standing beside your car, he smiled awkwardly. “Hey! You probably know me…”

You shook your head, and his face flushed a deep shade of red. “That’s okay, I’m Jay. We’re in the same class. Literature?”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue, feeling the weight of his nervous energy in the air. He took a deep breath, then suddenly blurted out, “Will you go on a date with me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His words hung in the air, and you processed them in stunned silence. But as you remained quiet, you saw the panic start to creep into his eyes, his breath quickening. Realizing he might be spiraling, you quickly stepped out of your car and placed a gentle hand on his arm, offering a reassuring smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, trying to ease his nerves. “You don’t need to worry.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face, though he still seemed uncertain. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’ll understand. You—”

His eyes lit up, a mixture of surprise and happiness flashing across his face. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at 7 from your house.”

Your smile faltered slightly, the thought of giving out your address making you uneasy. “No, it’s okay. I’ll meet you there. Just send me the address.”

You exchanged phone numbers, his excitement almost contagious as he nodded eagerly. You still didn’t know him well. But at least this was something different, something that might distract you from everything else.

As you drove home, your thoughts drifted back to Jungkook and the emptiness that had taken root in your heart. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to try something new. To have a little fun, even if it was just to forget the pain, even if only for a night.

Time blurred by, and before you knew it, the clock struck six. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jay, providing the address of the restaurant. You glanced at the message before quickly getting ready, slipping into a simple black dress—nothing fancy, but short enough to make an impression. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and headed out.

The drive to the restaurant was uneventful, your mind wandering as you navigated the familiar streets. When you arrived, the small vintage-themed restaurant immediately caught your eye. It was charming, with a warm, inviting atmosphere that made you smile. You stepped inside, scanning the room until you spotted Jay sitting in the corner, waving at you enthusiastically. You had to stifle a laugh—waving seemed to be his signature move.

You walked over, and as you approached, he quickly stood up and pulled out your chair with a shy grin. “Quite a gentleman, aren’t you?” you teased, unable to resist. His cheeks flushed pink, and he mumbled, “You look really beautiful.”

Settling into your seat, you felt a small flutter of satisfaction at his compliment. He ordered food for both of you, and the conversation began to flow naturally. Jay was nice—easy to talk to, with a soft demeanor that made the evening pleasant.

But then, mid-conversation, you noticed his hand suddenly move toward yours. He placed it on top of your hand, his touch tentative and shy. The urge to laugh bubbled up again, but you forced it down, deciding to let it slide. It didn’t feel right, but you didn’t say anything, noticing how nervous he was.

However, Jay seemed to misinterpret your silence. A few moments later, he scooted his chair closer to yours, his face inching toward you with a look that was all too clear. Your eyes widened in alarm, and you instinctively leaned back, creating distance. But Jay didn’t get the message—he continued leaning in, oblivious to your discomfort.

You opened your mouth, ready to stop him, but the words never left your lips. In the blink of an eye, Jay was on the floor, groaning in pain, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.

And standing above him, fists clenched and jaw tight, was Jungkook.

His chest heaved with barely restrained fury, his usual calm expression replaced with something darker, more intense. His eyes, usually warm and full of mischief, were now cold as they locked onto Jay, who was still writhing on the floor. Jungkook’s hand twitched as if he was ready to strike again, but he held back, his gaze shifting to you.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes hard and cold met yours, the anger in them abating just a bit, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Are you okay?”

"Huh?" You asked, puzzled, and startled. For what really? In your head, you believed Jay didn't have any wrong intentions. But Did you say anything? No. You were too dumbfounded to pronounce a word.

"Blush, are you okay?" He repeated.

You nodded, though the shock was still coursing through your veins, making your limbs feel heavy. Jungkook’s eyes searched yours as if looking for any sign of distress, and when he seemed satisfied that you were unharmed, he turned his attention back to Jay, who was trying to scramble to his feet.

“Stay away from her,” Jungkook warned, his voice low and menacing. Jay paled, his eyes darting between you and Jungkook, clearly terrified.

You wanted to say something—to calm the situation down—but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the confusion and a hint of something else. Relief, perhaps? Or was it something more? Hope? But, for what?

Jungkook’s gaze hardened further as he looked at Jay and then again at you, his voice firm now. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be here.” He held out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitated, glancing at Jay, who looked utterly defeated. But in the end, you placed your hand in Jungkook’s, letting him lead you away from the chaos he had just caused.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the restaurant with a force that left you stumbling to keep up. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, as he dragged you toward his car, his jaw set in a hard line. When you reached the car, he yanked the door open and practically shoved you inside, slamming the door shut with a sharp thud. You wanted to tell him that you’d driven yourself, but the words caught in your throat. Something in the way he moved, tense and angry, made you stay silent.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, his movements quick and stiff, and started the car without a word. The engine roared to life, and soon you were speeding down the dark streets, the silence between you heavy and oppressive. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension, and you found yourself nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your heart pounding in your chest.

You could tell he was furious; the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. The cold night air seeped in through the cracked window, brushing against your bare skin and making you shiver. Despite his anger, Jungkook noticed. Without a word, he reached over and rolled up the window before flipping on the heater.

“My hoodie’s in the back seat,” he said harshly, his voice cutting through the silence. “Grab it and fucking wear it.”

The words were gruff, his tone filled with irritation, but the gesture was astonishingly thoughtful. You turned around to reach for the hoodie, and that’s when you noticed it—an enormous bouquet of daisies and a cake resting on the back seat. Your fingers froze mid-air as you stared at them, a mixture of confusion and curiosity swirling in your chest. Are they for me? Did he really? Your mind raced with these thoughts. You wanted to ask him about it, but when you glanced at his face, the sharp angles of his clenched jaw and the angry flicker in his eyes made you think twice.

Silently, you grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over your head, the fabric soft and warm against your skin. It was far too big, swallowing you up like a blanket, and his scent, a mix of something fresh and woodsy, surrounded you as you took a deep breath. For a brief moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He really was huge, you thought, but the smile faded quickly as you stole another glance at him, his expression still hard and unyielding.

The drive seemed to pass in a blur, the tension in the car making every second feel like an eternity. Finally, you reached your home, and before you could even reach for the door handle, Jungkook was out of the car, moving around to your side. He yanked the door open with a roughness that made you flinch and grabbed your arm, pulling you out onto the sidewalk. His grip was firm as he dragged you toward the front door, his steps quick and determined, leaving you no choice but to stumble along behind him.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, but before you could process it all, you were inside your house, the door closing with a sharp click behind you, and he was standing in front of you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the tense silence that followed Jungkook’s outburst. The fear in your gut twisted tighter with every step he took toward you. You had never seen him this angry before. He was always the boy who had been your childhood friend, the one you fell for in middle school but never told. At first, it was fear of rejection, and later, the fear of losing him and your friendship kept your feelings hidden. But now, wasn’t he lost to you? Didn’t he belong to Lilith now?

“Why the fucking hell were you out with that idiotic being?” His voice was like a whip, harsh and cutting through the air. The force of his words made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as if trying to shield yourself from his anger. You caught a flicker of something in his eyes—was it regret?—but it was fleeting, quickly masked by his furious expression.

Before you could gather your thoughts or find the words to respond, he took two swift strides toward you, and suddenly you were face-to-face. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, a storm of hurt and pain swirling in his eyes. “Do you like him?” he demanded, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “Do you love him?” He didn’t wait for your answers, bombarding you with questions while his face remained inches from yours.

You tried to speak, but the words were trapped, your throat tightening. Jungkook's hands gripped your shoulders, his fingers digging in with a possessiveness that left you breathless. “Damnit, say something!” he shouted, shaking you slightly. “Why were you out with him?”

But instead of answering, you shot back a question of your own, desperation lacing your voice. “How did you know I was out with him, Jungkook? How did you even find me Jungkook?”

You didn't want to answer his question. Why should he care if you loved someone or not, when he had accepted Lilith’s proposal just the day before? Now he had a girlfriend. He had no right to demand answers from you.

His anger flared further, a deep scowl marring his features. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “Does it fucking matter?” His eyes were intense, demanding an answer, and he leaned in as if he might kiss you, his breath hot against your face. “Why don’t you answer me? Do you love him?”

The intensity of the moment, the way he was so close and yet so distant, made you tremble. “Yes, it matters! It matters to me!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. You pushed him away, the shove more about your need for space than real anger.

Jungkook stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock. His face twisted with hurt, and tears began to well up, glistening in the harsh light of the room. He stared at you, his expression a mix of pain and confusion, as if your rejection was a blow he wasn’t prepared for. The sight of him—this person who had always been so sure and confident—crumbling in front of you left a sharp pang in your chest.

As you looked at his tear-filled eyes, a deep, gnawing guilt settled in your chest. Why did you still care so much about him? You wondered. Your love for him was consuming you, and it was tearing you apart. You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke before you could.

“I came to your house to celebrate your birthday,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted to surprise you. This time... I wanted to surprise you on your birthday, that's why I didn't wish you before. But. But when I got here, I saw you getting into your car; before I could stop you, you left, your car was already speeding up. I chased after you because I really wanted to make you happy. You were loo-looking sad all day. But, I lost you somewhere along the way, then sear-searched for your car for like forever. When I finally found it, it was parked outside that restaurant.” His voice rose with each word, and his eyes were wild with a mixture of frustration and hurt. “And the moment I walked in, I saw him trying to kiss you. You didn’t even stop him!”

The anger in his voice dissolved into tears. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. You could see the pain etched into his face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You moved towards him, your own heart breaking at the sight of him in such distress.

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, hoping to offer some comfort. “Jungkook, what's wrong?” you murmured, your voice gentle. “why are you crying? Please, don’t cry.” But he pushed you away, his hands shoving you forcefully. His reaction stunned you, and a wave of realization hit you. So this is how he felt when you pushed him away.

You tried again, but he pushed you off once more, his eyes filled with anguish. “You love him, don’t you? How long? Huh?” he sobbed, his voice cracking with pain.

Determined not to give up, you moved towards him again. This time, when he tried to push you, you held your ground. You guided him to the couch and gently made him sit down, his shoulders shaking with each breath. You stood beside him, your hand soothingly stroking his back. “Please, don’t cry,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

He buried his face against your waist, his arms clinging to you. “Why do you love him and not me?” he asked, his voice muffled but full of hurt. “I thought you love me.”

For a moment, you were frozen, staring at him in disbelief, questions swirling in your head making your heart ache further. He knew. He knew you loved him, yet he chose her over you. Now, he was asking you this. How could he? How could he ask this when he was with Lilith? Did he expect you to chase him while he enjoyed his life with someone else?

With a mix of frustration and sorrow, you pushed his hands away from your waist. His crying intensified, but you no longer cared. “How can you say that?” you yelled, your voice breaking. “You accepted Lilith’s proposal yesterday! You’re dating her now! And you’re telling me not to love anyone else?”

Jungkook shook his head vigorously, trying to explain. “I— I didn’t... She... I... No. Please,” he started, but you cut him off.

“You knew. You knew I love you. You knew I was upset!” you continued, your voice rising. “still, you left me alone with those stupid chocolates while you went off with her!”

He tried to explain himself again, but you interrupted again, your anger spilling over. “I didn’t want those chocolates! I wanted you!” you shouted, your hand striking his chest. “You’re a heartless bastard. I’ve loved you for so long, and you never cared! Was it too hard to fall for me? And, why crying now?”

Jungkook’s face twisted with frustration, he knew you love him, he always did, his mouth opening to say something, but you cut him off once more. “You always stopped me from calling you ‘Jungkookie’ or ‘Kookie,’ but you never minded when other girls did it!”

He was growing increasingly agitated, his face reddening with frustration. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you close. His lips crashed against yours, the urgency of the moment catching both of you by surprise.

For a brief second, you were frozen, his kiss demanding and intense. But then, you began to respond, your lips moving against his. The kiss was raw, filled with all the emotions neither of you could put into words.

He slowly pulled away, both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling rapidly. Your face was flushed, partly from the kiss and partly from the shyness creeping in. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I’m not dating her, Blush,” he whispered, using the nickname that made you feel like home for the first time in what felt like forever.

You blinked, your heart stuttering at his words. “What?”

“I’m not dating her,” he repeated, his voice steady yet full of regret. “Yes, she proposed, and I didn’t reject her immediately, but that was only because there were so many people around. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone.” His hand dropped to yours, holding it firmly. “I told her in private afterward that I love someone else. That I love you.”

Your breath hitched as he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. “She said she needed help with a project, and after rejecting her, I couldn’t say no. So, I left with her, but I didn’t want to. I just... I’m sorry, Blush. I love you, and only you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as his words sank in. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “And those names,” he continued, his voice low, “I never liked them. It always felt like they were calling a baby, but I didn’t care enough to stop them because... well, they didn’t matter to me. The only person who matters is you.”

His words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it tight. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. The kiss was urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been holding back for so long. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the kiss, both of you panting, foreheads pressed together. “I love you too, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

His arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he murmured against your skin. “I was just too scared to lose you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “You won’t lose me,” you promised, your hand cupping his cheek. “Not now, not ever.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as if he were savouring the moment. “That's a good thing because... I'm planning to keep you forever and ever and ever. I’m never letting you go,” he vowed, his voice firm, and you knew he meant every word.

Jungkook’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear. His forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm on your skin. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of his earlier emotions fading into something softer, something tender.

“Happy birthday, Blush,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Before you could even respond, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal in surprise. He laughed, the sound full of joy, as he began to twirl you around. The world spun around you, the colours of the room blurring together, but all you could focus on was him. The way his eyes sparkled with happiness, the way his grip on you was firm yet gentle, and the way his laughter filled your heart with warmth.

“Jungkook!” you laughed, holding onto his shoulders, feeling like you were floating. “Put me down!”

“Never,” he teased, twirling you faster. “Not until I’ve spun you around enough to make up for all those tears.”

Your laughter mingled with his, and the room filled with the sound of your shared happiness. Finally, when he slowed to a stop, he carefully set you down, though his arms stayed wrapped around you, keeping you close. You were both a little dizzy, swaying slightly, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was being in his arms, feeling his warmth, and knowing that he loved you.

Jungkook’s hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile that made your heart melt. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times, but it’s so much better than I ever dreamed.”

You smiled back at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” you confessed softly.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead. “I'm sorry for making you cry. I won't ever make you cry again,” he promised. “I always knew you love me I just... I was... I tried to tell you many times but everytime it felt like it's not the right time, I'm sorry my love. I promise I'll make up for all those tears I've caused you because of my stupidity. Gosh! I just love you so much, Blush.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. You leaned into his touch, feeling safe, loved, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

Jungkook’s arms slid around your waist again, and before you could say anything, he lifted you off your feet once more, spinning you around slowly this time, his smile wide and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered as he twirled you gently.

Part 2?

Wow, you made it to the end! Honestly, that deserves a medal or maybe some serious painkillers. If you’re still breathing and not currently plotting my demise for making you read this—congrats, you’re a legend. If you’re crawling towards me with murder in your eyes, don’t worry, I get it. I cringed so hard writing this that I think I bruised a rib.

I know, I know. This is like a bad joke that just won’t end. I’m cringing harder than you are. But hey, sometimes you just need to unleash your inner masochist and share the pain. I posted it because I felt like it. So, let’s bond over this collective trauma, or you can just plot my demise in peace. Either way, thanks for sticking around and surviving this with me. Here’s to us—brave souls navigating the wreckage of my writing. Cheers!

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear!

46 notes · View notes

dixons-sunshine · 22 hours

Text

Yielding Isn’t My Middle Name—Chapter Five | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With each day that passed, without knowing whether or not you were okay was driving Daryl insane. He was on the edge of madness. However, when he got the chance to know about your well-being, his heart shattered when he realised what you had been forced to go through. And when chaos began to struck, he feared for your safety even more.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to starving, mentions of torture.

Word Count: 2.8k.

A/N: I powered through this today. My main focus in October is going to be Halloween-related fics, so I wanted to get this up before then. Things are getting a bit more interesting now.

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @angelwings-crossbowstrings, @holdmytesseract, @secretsicanthideanymore, @remuslittlesister

Drip. A momentary pause.

Another drip. Another slight pause.

Another drip. This one fell faster than the last.

Yet another drip. This one took longer to fall to the floor than any of the rest.

Observing how long it took for the droplets of water to fall down on the harsh, concrete floor was the only thing keeping Daryl from completely losing his mind and tearing his hair out of his head by the roots. Not that he could tear his hair from his head, however. The shackles securing him to the wall prevented him from moving his hands much. Still, with the worry that had taken root in the depths of his stomach, he was sure that he would find a way to rip his hair from his head one way or another if he did not keep his mind occupied with something else.

It had started lightly raining a few hours before. That was probably the only reason why Daryl had not been dragged off to work in the fields that day, like he had been for the past… He did not even know how long. The days seemed to blur together.

One of the guards that had been given the instructions to stand watch outside his cell had brought him food a few hours prior, but the archer had refused to touch the odd looking concoction that sloshed around in the bowl when moved. Even if he wanted to eat, he doubted he would be able to. The worry would prevent him from keeping any sustenance down. The worry for you and your unborn baby.

Daryl sighed and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. He had to swallow back the tears that threatened to form in his eyes at the mere thought of you and what you could be going through. Liam did not seem like a forgiving man, and what you had done, although completely justifiable in Daryl’s eyes, seemed like an action that could be punishable by death in this community.

Daryl did not even want to consider the possibility that you could be dead. His heart would not be able to handle the immense pain that came with diving into that rabbit hole. The guilt would eat him alive. If you were dead, that would mean that he had failed to keep his promise to you; he would never let anything happen to you. If you were dead, he would never be able to live with himself. You were the most precious thing in his life. He could not lose you.

The sudden, loud crack of thunder outside of the dungeon he was in snapped Daryl out of his thoughts with a startle, just in the nick of time as well. The door to his cell opened with a deafening screech, and the archer’s ocean-coloured eyes trailed up to meet those of one of his captors—Lucas Davis, the man responsible for your separation from Daryl. If there had not been chains keeping Daryl’s hands shackled to the wall, the huntsman would have lunged for the man and would have strangled him with his bare hands.

However, the chains rendered him with the inability to do so, so Daryl settled for simply giving the younger Davis brother a death glare, wishing that looks had the ability to kill.

“Aye, good afternoon, champ,” Lucas greeted Daryl merrily, pretending not to notice the absolute hatred that rolled in waves off of the archer at Lucas’ mere presence. The right-hand man of Sunny Meadows entered Daryl’s cell without a care in the world. His boots crunched the gravel of the ground beneath them as he walked towards Daryl, a set of keys dangling from the man’s grasp. He crouched down in front of Daryl, his green-eyed stare meeting the archer’s blue-eyed one. “The big guy wants to see you. Guess it’s your lucky day, finally being able to do something else than work or sit in this cell for two weeks, huh?”

Two weeks? Daryl’s eyes involuntarily widened at those words. Although, the more Daryl thought of it, the more he realised that Lucas’ words could be true. There was one singular window in his cell, and it had been boarded up a while ago, potentially so that the archer could not view the outside world once he was dragged back to his cell. The small amount of light that managed to trickle in through the cracks was not even remotely enough to grant Daryl the ability to differentiate between the rising and setting of the sun, and every day at a certain time while the sun was still in the sky, he would get dragged back to his cell and one of the guards would inject him with something that would knock him out cold for hours. Plus he did not work in the fields every day. Some days, he would be confined to his cell, so keeping track of the time had proven to be rather difficult.

However, Daryl had not expected that two weeks had already passed. That admission made his heart drop to his stomach. A full two weeks had passed, and he still had no idea how he would be able to escape his cell and find you, and that realisation made Daryl feel worse than he had already been feeling. His only hope of an escape at that moment would be to somehow knock Lucas out once he removed Daryl’s chains and make a run for it. It was his best bet. It was his only bet.

Lucas had begun to remove the chains that kept Daryl bound to the wall. He first removed the ones around his legs, before moving to his hands. However, as if possessing the ability to read the brooding archer’s mind, Lucas’ eyes flickered up to Daryl’s, a warning swimming around in his green irises.

“I wouldn’t attempt an attack if I were you,” he began in a threatening tone of voice. “There are three guys waiting for us upstairs. If you managed to kill me and make a run for it, they would shoot you on sight. And then they would go and have a little fun with that pregnant whore of a wife of yours before putting her out of her misery as well. And correct me if I’m wrong, but the death of the mother so early on in the pregnancy means that the baby would perish, too. So I would think wisely before acting out if I were you.”

Lucas could have been lying. Daryl definitely would not put it past the man in front of him to do so. However, Daryl clung on to the hope that you were still alive, and if you were, he did not want to be the reason you suffered a fate far worse than death. So he bit his tongue, swallowed back his pride, and willingly went with what Lucas instructed him to do. Once the shackles had fully been removed and Daryl had been yanked up to his feet, a pair of handcuffs had been secured around his wrists.

With Daryl thoroughly threatened and then cuffed, Lucas pushed the archer rather harshly. “Get moving,” he spat bitterly, his tone a stark contrast to the merry tone he had used a few minutes prior.

Daryl hesitated for a few moments, carefully considering his options for a moment, but he decided not to test fate just yet. He sighed and complied with the younger Davis man’s request, and began trudging forward. A staircase soon came into view, and Daryl climbed each step carefully, the wood creaking beneath the archer’s weight.

Soon enough, a door came into view, and Lucas pushed Daryl aside on the narrow staircase. He hastily opened the door, making a bright light flood the air. Daryl closed his eyes to shield them from the pain that the light caused, due to not having been in a properly lit space in a week. However, Lucas was having none of that. He grabbed the archer’s arm and harshly pulled him with him into the room.

Daryl stumbled and nearly fell to the carpeted ground below, but he managed to steady himself. Looking up, Daryl came face-to-face with the three men that Lucas had told him of, and he noticed that they were all armed to the teeth. Well, at least now he knew that Lucas had not been lying, and if he had not lied about that, then there was a good chance that he had not been lying about you. If he had opted to make a run for it, then there was a good chance that he would have been the reason you had to suffer a cruel fate. He was immensely relieved that he had opted to decide against it.

“Oh my god, you look like shit. Haven’t been able to take a shower recently, I take it?”

The archer’s jaw clenched at the sound of the voice he had come to hate. Liam. With a harsh glare, Daryl looked up and locked eyes with Liam. He could vaguely make out his surroundings, and he realised that he had been residing in the basement of the cruel leader’s farm house. He was back in the very same living room he had been in with you a week prior. The very same living room where everything had gone awry.

Liam’s twisted smile came into Daryl’s view, the scar at the edge of his mouth adding to the pure evil that the man exuded. He sent a nod in Lucas’ direction, before shifting his attention back to Daryl. “I have a few questions for you. Are you finally ready to talk?”

Daryl did not dare to utter a word. He was fully aware of the questions that Liam was talking about. Where are you from? Where’s the rest of your group? Why were you two on your own? The man had been coming down to his cell and had continuously been asking him those questions. However, Daryl had managed to remain quiet, even though he had suffered multiple deep cuts and bruises at the hands of Liam due to his silence. He would much rather die than give up the location of his found family. He would not have another Governor situation transpire, even if it meant he would lose his own life.

He just hoped that his defiance had not cost you your life. If it had, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

Liam’s smile slowly vanished from his face. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, his face adapting a faux look of disappointment. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he asked in a tone that closely resembled that of a parent scolding their child. “Bring him with me,” he commanded his brother, the man he had addressed instantly complying with his request. Liam grabbed the umbrella that had been laying against the wall opposite of him. “I hope you don’t mind getting wet, Daryl. I’m afraid I don’t have any umbrellas left to spare.”

Getting wet was the least of Daryl’s concerns. Where the hell was he being taken? Why had Liam’s lips twitched up into a small, ominous smirk when he had turned around and started stalking towards the door? Why did Mariah, Liam’s wife, send him a sympathetic look when his eyes had locked with hers when he had passed her on the way out the door? And why was he being led through the pouring rain to what appeared to be hundreds of wells that appeared as if it had been sealed off, but the boards to all of them had been ripped off recently? All except for one?

Liam stopped in front of one of the wells, one of which had a makeshift door on top of it. He opened the latch of the door and swung it outwards. He peered down into the hole before looking at Daryl with a smirk. “How about you have a look, Daryl? Perhaps this could persuade you to change your mind.”

Daryl did not have a say in the matter. Lucas pushed him forward and against the stone of the well. “Say hello to your darling wife.”

The archer’s eyes widened at his words. He quickly looked down at the deep hole in the ground. At first, he did not see you at all, and he considered the possibility that the man had opted to take the piss out of Daryl in an attempt to get answers from him. However, a movement at the bottom caught his attention, and on further, more thorough inspection, Daryl could see that they had not lied to him.

You laid at the bottom of the well, relatively motionless. Had it not been for the fact that you had moved a few seconds prior, Daryl would have believed that you were dead. He could vaguely make out a bowl and a water bottle that laid next to you, both toppled over, so it appeared as if the people had at least been feeding you. But other than that, you definitely looked worse for wear.

“Y/N,” Daryl rasped out brokenly, a lump forming in his throat at the sight of you. You did not look as if you were being properly taken care of, and that made the archer want to kill everyone within his vicinity. He took a step back from the well. His eyes trailed up and locked with those of Liam, a death glare being thrown at him. “If ya dun’ get ‘er outta there right now—”

“Then what, you’ll kill me?” Liam laughed incredulously. “You kill me, Lucas kills you, and then her.” For added emphasis, he motioned down at you in the well. “Hell, I still can kill her if you even so much as push my buttons, Daryl. Don’t test me.” He took a threatening step towards the crossbow-wielding archer, his eyes glaring into Daryl’s menacingly. “Now how about we try this again? Answer my questions, or else Lucas here shoots down at your wife. For every answer I don’t like, another shot gets fired. We’ll start with her legs and move up until we reach her head, and you’ll get to witness every scream of agony she lets out, and you’ll get to know that your stubbornness is the reason she’s suffering.”

Daryl’s heart stopped at Liam’s words. He never wanted to be the reason you got hurt, physically or emotionally. However, his loyalties were conflicted. He owed everything to his found family back in Alexandria, but then there was you. His wife. The one that had stuck with him since the early days at the quarry. The one that had stuck with him through thick and thin, through all of his bullshit and troubles. The one that was carrying his baby. The one he wanted to start his own family with.

Daryl sighed in defeat. It physically hurt his being to do what he was about to do, but he had to. He had no other choice. “Alright,” he conceded in a whisper. “What’cha wanna know?”

Liam smirked in victory. However, before he could utter a single word, the sound of a gunshot reverberated throughout the air. At first, Daryl had assumed that Lucas had taken a shot at you, and he whipped around to see, but he soon realised that the shot had not come from the leader’s right hand man. It had come from somewhere else, somewhere beyond the gated walls of the Sunny Meadows community. Soon, more gunfire filled the air, and loud yells and cries of agony could be heard.

“Intruders!” someone yelled from afar, before being interrupted by a scream.

Liam whipped around to look at Daryl and Lucas. “Get him back to his cell,” he instructed curtly, grabbing his own weapon from its holster. “Then get the men ready for battle.” When Lucas did not instantly comply, Liam’s voice rose in one final command before running off. “Did you not hear me? Get fucking going!”

That made Lucas finally do what was asked of him. Grabbing Daryl by his arm, he pulled him behind him, forcing the archer to have to jog to keep up with his pace. However, that was not his main concern. As if sensing that a war was about to break out, the rain had started to worsen, falling down to the earth heavier and heavier with each passing minute. As Daryl got dragged back to his cell, his only thoughts were of you, and he prayed to whatever god was listening that you would be okay.

Because the rain only got heavier, and it had not been lost on the archer that the ‘doors’ to the well you were being held captive in had not been closed. And if Daryl knew anything about wells, it’s that they tended to fill up with water when it rained.

42 notes · View notes