#sometimes your friend is moving to the UK

[ashipwreckcoast]

[ellecdc]

The Ruined Apothecary

Remus Lupin x feisty fem!reader who reconnect after Hogwarts

CW: chronic pain, Remus uses a mobility aid, financial insecurity, fluff/banter

A/N: I think this was a request from @maladaptiveescapism like eons ago about feisty reader who runs into Remus prior to a full moon post Hogwarts and somehow knows what Remus needs unprompted

Remus hated shopping in Diagon Alley for a number of reasons.

One, he hated running into people from Hogwarts – and the chances of such happening were quite high due to how small the Wizarding community was.

Two, he never could keep track of who was aware of his status as a werewolf and who didn’t, and more importantly, who took issue with his status.

But what he hated most of all was coming to Diagon Alley this close to the full moon on account of the two aforementioned reasons.

Unfortunately, Remus had left it too late to restock his medicine and potions cabinet, and he was out of dittany, valerian root, and pain potions; all things he couldn’t find for himself in the muggle world, and though he knew his friends would be more than happy to run these errands for him, he was tired of relying on them.

So, he put on a beanie and his denim jacket, a pair of ratty old converse and grabbed the cane that Sirius had insisted Remus let him buy for him because “it has moons on it!” and hobbled through Diagon Alley towards the discount Apothecary he hoped wasn’t out of stock of the common post-moon essentials.

“Lupin?” He heard from behind him, causing him to groan internally. 

He could pretend he hadn’t heard them, though, there was still a way out of this.

“Oh, come now, I know you heard me.” He heard the voice again.

So much for that plan.

Remus reluctantly turned towards the voice, only to be accosted by the beautiful image you painted, standing in the middle of Diagon Alley looking exactly like you had at school, but somehow more beautiful.

Remus hated that.

“L/N?” He asked, raising a hand in hello. To Remus’ absolute horror, you began moving towards him.

“Wow, I rarely get to see you around these parts. I���d say that makes me sad, but you and your friends were never a welcome sight back at school.” You jested, looking Remus up and down.

It took everything in him not to try to hide from your piercing gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you see James and Sirius around enough for the lot of us.”

You laughed at that – Remus wasn’t sure he’d ever heard you laugh; certainly not back in school, and certainly not on account of anything he had said.

“Well, it gets a little boring around these parts sometimes; your lot would help keep some of these tosser shopkeeps on their toes I reckon.” You spat, glaring menacingly at a particular elderly shopkeep - who was very clearly eavesdropping on your conversation - causing them to hastily re-enter their establishment.

“Soddin’ no good Gwendolyn.” You grumbled, still staring daggers towards the offending shop. Remus felt his cheeks flame when his laugh turned into a coughing fit on account of his ribs stretching in preparation for the moon. 

You looked him over once again with a perceptive gaze that made Remus feel like he was standing naked in the middle of Diagon Alley.

He’d had that dream once before; didn’t much care for it.

“Where’re you headed?” You asked then, appearing for all intents and purposes like you were making casual conversation, though Remus knew better. 

“Just running some errands.” He offered noncommittally, and some of that feisty witch he remembered from back in school made an appearance as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Really?” You sneered at him. “I rather thought you were here to work on your tan.”

Remus - the dumb sod - actually looked up at the sky as if wondering if that was a good enough excuse to go by, only to be met with the familiar overcast sky that the UK typically wore.

“What errands, Lupin?” You asked again, and some of that heat from your sarcasm seemed to dissipate from your tone as your gaze turned softer.

“The Apothecary.” Remus admitted, not having the energy nor the patience to lie to you.

Your face grew into a wide grin at that, and he once again tried to remember if he’d ever seen you smile before; certainly not at him.

“Well why didn’t you just say so? I own an Apothecary, you know?” 

And he did know which was why he’d never been before.

He’d never been before because the ingredients he’d procured and the frequency of which he procured them would give away his status to one who didn’t already know it. It was admittedly easier having some middle-aged shopkeep who didn’t know him - and thus didn’t give a thestrals arse about what Remus was - dispense his ingredients than someone who he went to school with.

The other reason he’d never been before was that he was quite certain he’d never be able to afford your prices.

But you were already walking away from him as if you were expecting him to follow.

“It was nice seeing you!” He tried to dismiss you as he turned to walk the other way. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, Lupin.” He heard you call as you turned back towards him. “My shop’s this way.” 

Remus let out a sigh as he stared you down defiantly. 

He didn’t want to go to your shop. He didn’t want you to know what ingredients he needed for the potions and medical care he required every month. He also didn’t want to have to ask you in the end if he could come back and pay for the rest of his tab on payday, nor did he want to empty his wallet in one shop.

But his hip was killing him, his fingers were gripping the handle of his cane painfully, and you were standing there staring at him with your eyes and your looks and your gorgeousness and fucking dammit. 

He’d have to stop by Gringotts on his way out and see if they provide lines of credit. 

Your shop was….absolutely nothing like he expected it to be.

Don’t get him wrong, it definitely looked like a Slytherin owned and operated it, what with its deep jewel-toned walls, dark stained wood shelves, desks, and furniture, and the low-hanging ceiling that saw various plants, dried arrangements, and… crystals? hanging from it. 

“What’s with that face, Lupin?” You asked him from behind the desk, alerting him to the fact that he was standing in the middle of your shop staring at the ceiling with a look of pure discombobulation. 

“Are those…crystals?” He asked as he made his way, albeit slowly, towards your counter. 

You looked up at the ceiling as if noticing them for the first time. “Ah, yes; those would be Pandora’s doing. Something about the wrackspurts or what not, I couldn’t tell you.” You explained flippantly. “She offers tea leaf readings on Saturday’s if you’re interested.”

Remus let out a snort at that, immediately horrified that he just belittled a service that your shop provided. “Oh! I, erm, I mean-”

“Relax, Lupin; I’ve not had my tea leaves read either.” You offered in monotone, looking up and offering him a smirk.

“Not big on divination, I take it?” He asked you then, watching as you set up parchments and twine along your workbench. 

“Not at all; but she was bad for business which was what I was looking for.” 

Remus felt his head tilt at that but you disappeared behind the curtain into a store room before he was able to comment on your word choice. 

Remus leaned heavily against the counter as he made himself busy watching what looked to be a bowtruckle climb through the vines and branches of an ancient looking tree that seemed to make up the majority of the shop's ceiling. 

You reappeared from the back room with an overflowing basket of ingredients, and far more supplies than Remus came here for.

“Oh! I, erm, I only came for dittany, valerian root, and pain potions today.” He offered awkwardly, trying to stand up straighter and wincing when his hip cracked audibly. 

You looked up at him then, clearly fighting off an expression that threatened to take over your face that would give away the fact that you thought Remus quite stupid for explaining, which Remus also noted was a new skill you acquired since your days in school.

“Right…” You offered awkwardly, looking back down at your basket. “I also added some moonseed, powdered moonstone, powdered silver, and some wiggenweld potions.” 

“Moonseed can be used as a salve for your sores, Remus.” Madame Pomfrey explained to him after graduation before he left Hogwarts for the last time. “Do keep some on you at all times, okay? And any ingredients that can be used in pain potions or calming draughts; powdered moonstone, valerian root, and for very deep werewolf injuries, please keep powdered silver on you as well.” He simply smiled at Madame Pomfrey before pecking a kiss to her cheek - his mum away from home and the witch who single handedly ensured Remus’ survival all these years - not bothering to admit to her that he’d likely never be able to afford these ingredients as a lycanthrope.

He didn’t even register that you seemed to know of his lycanthropy nor that you had packaged everything up for him in your parchments and twine, adding sprigs of fluxweed between the knot of twine - for decoration or practical use, Remus wasn’t sure - until you read his total out for him. 

“That’ll be three galleons and 25 knuts, please.” You said simply as you stared at him expectantly.

Three galleons?! The powdered silver should be almost five, alone. 

“That’s not enough.” He pressed quickly, causing one of your eyebrows to raise at him.

“It’s my shop, I get to charge what I feel.”

“I don’t need your charity, L/N.” He spat then, officially losing what little patience he had. Money had always been a sore spot for him, and this was exactly why he didn’t come to your Apothecary; a well-done by Sacred 28 witch like you wouldn’t understand.

“Lupin.” You chided harshly. “Since you’ve never bothered to frequent my shop before, you may not be aware that I had my business passed through the Ministry in partnership with St. Mungo’s as a sliding scale provider, meaning that I only have to charge people what they can afford to pay me. Aside from that, my family has more money than any of my potential future children’s children’s children will know what to do with, so I will tell you again: it is my shop, I get to charge what I feel.” 

Remus’ eyes flit back towards the ceiling without his consent to watch the bowtruckle twirl one of the hanging crystals and chatter happily as it watched the rainbow lights reflecting along the walls.

“Those would be Pandora’s…she offers tea leaf readings on Saturday’s; she was bad for business which was what I was looking for.”

“This was your father’s shop.” Remus concluded, watching your jaw tighten as you gave him a curt nod. “And you…did this?” Remus continued as he gestured to the store vaguely.

“Ruined it, yes.” You confirmed.

“Who said it was ruined?”

You hummed as you looked off into the distance recalling the names of people who said you had destroyed your family’s business. “My entire family, their peers, the business department at the Ministry, Professor Slughorn… the likes.”

You seemed surprised when you returned your gaze to Remus to find him smiling softly at you. 

“Why?” He whispered at you, causing you to smile what appeared to be bashfully. 

“I don’t need to profit off of someone else's struggles.” You said simply, no longer making eye contact with Remus and opting to bag the packages in front of you in order to have something to do with your hands. “I’m in a position to help, so…I feel like I should.”

Remus let out a hum of acknowledgment as he placed his three galleons and 25 knuts on the counter in front of you. 

“Or…” Remus started teasingly as he accepted the brown paper bag you had placed his packages in from your hand. “You’ve gone soft.”

Your face fell then as you stared him down challengingly, though Remus relished in the hint of a smile from your lips. “Get the hells out of my shop, Lupin.”

Remus laughed as he backed away from the counter, his bag and cane in one hand as he pointed at you. “No, no. You’ve made a terrible mistake, L/N. I will be haunting this shop frequently from now on.”

“Stay out of trouble, will you Lupin?” You called back to him as he made it to the door of the shop. 

“You know what? I don’t think I will. Thanks, dove! Next time I’ll stop by with James and Sirius!”

And he couldn’t help the beaming smile that took over his face as he heard your groan some profanity as the door slipped shut behind him. 

Oh yeah, he’d definitely be telling the boys that he found a new Apothecary, and that they should absolutely be investing their families money in it.

[disgustingtwitches]

Drug dealer bf 141 but stoner!reader? 👀

MDNI

Yesss, all of them would have very different reactions

Ghost- Doesn't want to be around drugs in general, he doesn't touch his work and definitely doesn't touch weed. It makes him disassociate. He feels less in control of his body and mind, he thinks about things he's pushed down for years. Oh, and he hates the smell too. He'll make you smoke outside in a designated smoking robe that you have to keep in the mudroom. He tolerates being around you when you are high, but really doesn't like when other people are high around him. He also hates it because it gives you cottonmouth and he hates dry head.

Soap- Are you kidding me? This man is buying a zip a week for the both of you. Are Russian creams a thing in the UK? Because if it is he's smoking it. He's got you rolling the fattest blunts in the world and he fucking faces it. Notoriously bad at passing the joint because he'll just hold onto it and talk for forever. He put you onto dabs. He has like an actual rig and everything. You'll both be high watching some show on the couch and he'll turn to look at you with bloodshot eyes and those blue ass irises like ʘ‿ʘ and you'll either be scared or die laughing because of his stupid high face.

Gaz- So he loves science right? He also loves cooking (like, actually cooking with food and stuff). This man makes infused butter and milk and whatever else you want to cook with. He prefers not to smell like it, so he'll make it at a friend's place, but yeah! He finds it hilarious when you look at him all glassy eyed, staring at him like he's the hottest thing this side of the milky way. Showed you how to make a gravity bong because it's the most effective way to get high, it takes a smaller amount of weed to get you really high. Supportive boyfriend yay!

Price- He loves seeing you happy and he loves that he can give you the best weed around. He'll let you help harvest the buds, dry it, trim it, cure it, then smoke it! It's a very rewarding process for him, he loves when you get all giggly and stare at him half lidded with those pretty, pretty eyes of yours. Sometimes his shit is so strong you have to breathe manually, reminding yourself to inhale and exhale. He likes shotgunning smoke back and forth between you two while you sit in his lap, kisses getting sloppier and sloppier until his hand moves up your thighs and you melt in his arms.

[nathaslosthershit]

New Neighbors and Interrupted Streams [Part 1] (LN4)

Read Part 2 here! Summary: Desperate for new friends, maybe it's time to revert to the tried and true neighborly American cookie exchange.  A/N: I know Lando lives in Monaco but in this he is still in the UK. Also I really love fics that have something to do with Lando streaming and being teased the entire time.

This was stupid. This was probably so stupid. But she had to do something.

Two weeks she had been in her new apartment, in a new country. In that time, she had gotten increasingly lonelier, seemingly unable to make friends.

She had moved to the UK for work but with another month till she actually began her new job, she didn’t know how to make friends in her free time.

God, why was it so hard to make friends as an adult? 

So, after a call with her mom expressing her issues with making friends, she was reminded of a good-old US custom.

Baking cookies for your neighbor.

Usually, this was reserved for pre-existing residents to introduce themselves to the new folks moving in, but after all this time she didn’t expect her neighbors to reach out, so it seemed she had to do it herself. 

After that phone call, she tried it twice with some of her neighbors. The first time, she left them at the door with a note introducing herself to them, saying she hoped they could meet up sometime. She found the cookies still in the box, with the opened note on her doorstep later that day. 

The second time, she got so excited when she saw from down the hall that her neighbor had grabbed them, swiftly moving inside his own flat with the cookies while reading the note. But a week later and no sign of any desire from the neighbor to connect with her, she gave up. 

She had one last person she could try with, the ridiculously cute boy who lived in the apartment across from her. She hadn’t actually talked to him, just spied on him a few times from her peephole when she heard him leaving his flat. Creepy, she knew, but she was far too shy to say anything.

But she was so desperate, and she could tell he was around her age… she thinks. After sitting at her table for an hour staring at the home baked goods, she finally grabbed them and knocked on his door before she could chicken out. 

Lando was streaming with Max next to him, when he got a notification that someone was by his door. Thinking it was the takeaway he ordered, he swiftly excused himself to go grab it. What he didn’t expect was the pretty girl who had just moved across from him to be at the door.

There was a beat of silence as they both stared at each other. In all honesty, she was just going to knock, wait a few seconds, then leave the cookies. She hadn't expected him to answer the door so she was unsure what to say. 

Finally he spoke up.

“Sorry, are we being too loud? We can totally quiet down if you need to.” He said while awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

She still didn’t reply, too stunned by seeing him for the first time not through a small and dirty peephole. God, he was beautiful.

Seconds of silence went by until she finally managed to get everything she wanted out.

“No, no I am so sorry. You are completely fine, that's not why I am here. I just didn’t think you'd actually answer the door. Anyway, I know this is probably strange and I don’t think they actually do this here but I just wanted to introduce myself to my neighbors, so I made cookies! Again this is probably so weird of me so it's totally fine if you don’t want them or something, the other neighbors clearly didn’t but that's okay. Anyway- Hi, I live across from you and now I am here with cookies!” She managed to get out in one breath while sticking the cookies out for him to grab.

This time, Lando took a few seconds to reply, trying to process what she said. “You’re American.” Was all he managed to get out.

She didn’t know what to reply, it wasn’t a question but felt like he needed reinforcement about that statement.

“I am.”

“I didn’t realize they actually did this, thought it was a movie thing.”

“Uh- I am sorry?”

“No. no! It's sweet, thank you for them. I really appreciate it… sorry what's your name? I’m Lando by the way” 

How she managed to not actually say her name while she spent a full minute rambling about how she wanted to introduce herself was beyond her, but after quickly introducing herself, properly this time, she finally felt the tension and awkwardness leave her body.

He took the cookies from her, promising that he was excited to eat them even though he knew his trainer wouldn’t be too happy, and took this opportunity to get her phone number. Promising to text her, he closed the door and immediately looked out his peephole, wanting to get one more look at her. He was surprised, and amused, to see she did a little celebratory dance in the hallway, before taking a breath and entering her own apartment, excited she had just made a new potential friend.

“What took you so long, Mate? And why are you so red? And why do you have cookies? Where is the food we ordered?” Max asked when Lando entered the room again, a stupid grin adorning his face.

“It wasn’t our delivery, the new neighbor just stopped by to introduce herself.”

“The cute one you kept going on about?” Max teased, earning a kick to the shin as that wasn’t information Lando wanted everyone watching the stream to know.

“Anyway- she brought cookies as a little hello. It's sweet. I've never gotten cookies made for me before.”

“She brought cookies? The hell would she do that for?”

“Like I said, to introduce herself. She’s american.”

Before Max could ask anymore questions, specifically about why Lando was smiling so much and why he was beet-red, which Max already knew the answer to, their actual takeaway came, saving Lando for the time being.

When he came back and they started eating, Lando wasn’t interrogated on the topic, at least not until he began giggling on his phone.

“Mate, what are you- Oh my god guys he is giggling and texting his new neighbor. Chat, this is unbelievable.” Max yelled as he stole Lando’s phone from his hand. Reading the messages with disgust, he added, “God, you need to work on your flirting, you sound like an absolute muppet right now.”

Lando quickly took his phone back and tried to change the topic. Throughout the rest of the stream, he tried his best to not look at the new messages she had sent in order to not be teased, as the chat seemed to still be mentioning every time he would secretly text her, trying to be stealthy as to not let Max find out.

He just hoped this whole thing stayed on the stream, and that it wouldn’t come to the press, who loved to question him on his relationships. The last thing he needed was to be asked this during media after a race.

He wouldn’t be so lucky, he soon would find out after the next race.

Read Part 2 here!

[ceilidho]

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

-

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you. 

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys. 

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country. 

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do. 

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?” 

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off. 

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway). 

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that. 

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service. 

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids. 

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you. 

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt. 

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse. 

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer. 

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.” 

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?” 

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished. 

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp. 

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower. 

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

[jewreallythinkthat]

One of the most important things I wish a lot of non-jewish leftists understood is that those of us who are Jews who don't live in Israel - especially Ashkenazim - understand that we are only not based there because of a few tiny, sometimes not even chosen moment in our history.

I see what happened on October 7th and since and I see myself there had my family been the strand that went to Israel rather than heading to America and being stranded in the UK. I have family who did go to Israel and only avoided the massacre because they were on holiday in Crete. Their closest friend played dead on the steps of his house, a bullet in his leg, lying beside the corpses of his wife and daughter in law.

It's personal because it literally could have been me, it could have been any of us. When we see people braying for the deaths of Israelis, we see them calling for our personal demise if not for one twist of fate. That's why so many Jews are invested and want peace. It affects us, it could have been us.

It would not have been a random white lefty in the West with 0 connection to the Levant.

I can't speak for Palestinians in the west but I'm sure they feel a similar way when they see the destruction in Gaza and the violent settlers in the West Bank. I've seen Palestinians talk about how Hamas would have killed them because of their sexuality or gender identity etc. and I can feel through the articles and the posts that they understand the "it could have been me" & "that WOULD have been me" mindset that so many Jews have experienced the past few months.

The majority of Jews and Palestinians (that I've seen) in the West want lasting peace and everyone to live in safety. The people making it violent and calling for the deaths of Jews, and often shutting down Palestinians who speak out for peace which doesn't include genociding 50% of the world's Jews are random white people and others who have 0 connection to any actual people involved and have decided to make a war on the other side of the planet their entire personality.

So this is a message to those with 0 skin in the game - if you are not Jewish or Palestinian or have family living in Israel and what will hopefully become Palestine - please understand this:

For you, this is a way to show your political opinion and score moral points and take out your frustrations on those you seem worthy of abuse. For me, for us, this is our history, our family, our future and safety. If your words are not designed to try and move towards a peaceful solution, keep them to yourself and stop being part of the problem. Listen to the people actually affected by this (and watching videos and feeling horrified simply doesn't count in this case.)

[cutielando]

monaco | c.l.

synopsis: in which you finally move in with him

my masterlist

Being with Charles had been the best thing that had ever happened to you. Ever since the two of you were introduced by Lando, you had instantly felt something between the two of you.

Your relationship started after the summer break, which meant that you spent basically the whole second half of the season traveling with your boyfriend for his races, not really being apart for any amount of time.

However, when the winter break came along and you had to go home for the holidays, the longing and missing had set in.

With Charles in Monaco and you back home in the UK, it was sometimes tough for you to talk, both of you having your own activities to tend to, him having to start his training for the next season and you spending some much needed time with your family.

You missed him terribly, and every time you would say goodbye after hours spent on FaceTime talking to each other, your heart would break a little more. Long-distance relationships were tough, not being able to see or touch your loved one causing you pain like no other.

Charles was losing his mind over missing you.

He had been kept busy during his skiing trip to Austria, not really being able to really let the distance set in because he was constantly on the move.

However, once he got back home to Monaco for a couple of weeks before he would have to go to Italy, he found himself longingly walking around his apartment, feeling alone and almost waiting for you to walk through the door. The place wasn't the same without you, it was cold and lonely, missing your warmth and your scent that he had grown to love so much.

It was after a particular phone call with you one night, the both of you expressing how much you wanted to be with the other, that he decided he would propose the idea of you moving in with him to Monaco. He knew he might come off as selfish, but he felt like he couldn't function without you by his side, like a piece of him was missing and he couldn't fill that void with anything else.

He decided he would do it once you had flown out to visit him, a couple of days before he would have to leave for Maranello as the season was inching closer and closer.

The moment you had got off the flight and were in his line of vision, he forgot about everything else around him, walking towards you rapidly and enveloping you in his arms. Being in his arms felt like heaven, finally being face-to-face with your boyfriend after months of being apart, feeling the way his embrace soothed your aching soul, the way his scent filled your senses, the smell of being home.

"I missed you so much" you whispered in his neck, salty tears soaking in his hoodie.

He didn't say anything, not trusting his voice not to completely crack, and instead opted to squeeze you even tighter in his arms, knowing that you would understand his gesture.

Joris, who had taken Charles to the airport, was stood behind the two of you, secretly filming the reunion and knowing that his best friend was finally whole again, now that he had you with him.

♡♡♡♡♡

"What do you want to eat?" you asked Charles, who now stood behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist as you rummaged through his fridge.

Ever since the two of you got back to his apartment, he hadn't let go of you for even a second. He kept you trapped on the couch, cuddling with you and smothering you with kisses and love confessions. You basked in the love he was giving you, having been deprived of it for almost 2 and a half months.

"Anything is good" he mumbled, now resting his chin on your shoulder and burying his face in the crook of your neck, leaving little innocent kisses along your warm skin.

"You're clingy today" you fondly said, reaching back to run your fingers through his soft hair.

"I missed you, a lot. The apartment doesn't feel the same without you here" he confessed, burying his face further into your neck as if to hide from embarrassment. 

You smiled, pulling away from his body just a little in order to turn around to face him.

"I missed you too. My family kept complaining that I was sulking the entire time I was there because you weren't with me" you joked, making Charles also crack a smile.

Despite his good mood, you could see that something was nagging at him. Like he was in deep thought.

"What's wrong?" you asked, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Charles closed his eyes, letting the feel of your skin on his soothe his nerves.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, amour" you nodded, signaling for him to continue. He sighed, gulping before nodding. "These past few months have been very hard on both of us. I've been busy, we've barely got chances to talk for longer than half an hour at times, you were also busy with your family, the distance has been killing me. Coming back to an empty apartment has never felt worse, I kept waiting for you to pop up from somewhere, to be here. I've realized that I never want to be apart from you like this ever again. I want you to move in with me"

Your eyes were as wide as oranges, the statement hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had been wanting this too, having realized over the time you spent apart just how much you loved his presence and being with him, but it was a surprise hearing it out loud for the first time.

"What about my family? Or my job?" you found the words stumbling out of your throat before you could stop them.

"I've talked to your family and they would be happy either way. We can visit, I can fly them out here whenever you want. As for your job, I'll arrange everything here, you don't have to worry about that. You can give it up entirely, I'll support the both of us and you'll be my full-time girlfriend. Whatever you choose, we'll do it" he explained.

Charles began panicking internally when he noticed you weren't reacting like he thought you would. He wanted to apologize immediately, to tell you that he wasn't being serious and he didn't mean to scare you away. 

The words died in his throat once you began smiling and nodding your head at him.

"Okay. Let's do it" he thought he had heard it wrong, or you were just making fun. But when he saw how widely you were smiling at him and how bright your eyes were sparkling, he picked you up and twirled you around, making you squeal in delight.

After he set you down, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, pouring all of his feelings into the kiss, the intensity making you weak in the knees.

"I love you so much" he whispered against your lips, making you smile and bite your lip.

"I love you too"

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[lcriedlastnight]

hi, can i please request a little fic where the reader moves from australia (totally fine if you don’t wanna do aus, feel free to pick another country!) to the uk for karting. she meets lando at school and their friendship kicks off when he hears her accent and realises how gorgeous she is, and since then they have grown up together. even when she decided to give up racing while he continued to go into f1 she was there from the beginning. just something cute showing the timeline of their little relationship

hi! this is such a great idea anon, lovely. ur a genius and ily. big hugs. also i cannot believe the race today, lando should’ve won my man needs a little luck pls.

tw: fem!reader, swears, me not knowing karting lore, me also not knowing anything about australia, swears, lmk if you want me to add anything. p.s i am working throught all of my asks rn, there was quite a few so i am trying my best to get through them all before i open them again!

w/c: 1.7k

you first met lando at a karting competition when you were fourteen. you had just moved to the uk and you didn't have many friends, seeing as you were very introverted when it came to settings like this. even though karting was your entire world sometimes the nerves around other people would just grow to be too much.

lando was a little older than you, just shy of a year, meaning that you were in the same year at school. you noticed him in one of your classes and recognised him from your most recent race, the weekend before. his tanned skin and infectious smile was hard to miss. of course meeting lando had to come at a time where everyone around you was starting to figure out who and what they were attracted to and as much as it embarrassed you to say it, lando was who you were attracted to.

it started off as a little crush, it was harmless and he didn't even know who you were. you made it that way, not trying to make any friends in school - or karting for that matter. you were not sure when it turned into infatuation but if there was one thing you were good at it was hiding your feelings. so when lando himself came over to you to congratulate you on getting p2, you hide your nerves like a pro and only made it seem like you were shy.

that was the first time lando had seen you and honestly he could not believe it. he thought he recognised you when you had stepped onto the podium just after the race had finished, when it clicked that he knew you from school he felt a little guilty that he had never given you the time of day before. how could he have walked around the halls of the school, possibly even brushing shoulders with you, and not even know about it. the mere thought felt like a crime. in that moment lando knew he had to get to know you better.

"you were super fast on track today." lando's accent rings through your ears as you turn around after another race. you didn't get a podium finish this time. neither did he but you are gobsmacked that he is standing in front of you, complimenting you.

"thanks. you too. you were zoomin' around it." you say, australian accent heavy around your words. this is not the first time you have spoken to lando but it seems it is the first time he has actually listened because up until just now he had no clue that you were australian.

"you're from australia?" he asks, trying to play it cool as his eyes dart around your face, taking you in like he has never looked at another person before. you nod, going a little shy at his blatant staring.

"are all the australian girls this pretty, or is it just you?" lando smiles at you, you can't decide if it is a cheeky smile or if he genuinely means it. just like you can't tell if he is flirting with you or if he seriously wants to know how pretty the girls are back home. his words leave you speechless, not knowing how to answer his question. it is like lando challenges your silence with his own. you are both quiet for a while. lando just knows from there that he needs you with him, he feels the need to warm you up to him and erase your awkward nature around him.

lando sticks by your side until you have no choice but to warm up to him. you end up becoming best friends with the boy, pushing that lingering crush to the back of your mind any time the two of you are together, although you feel it grow the more he grows into his looks and the more he grows into his personality as a whole. you find that he just understands you like no one else has ever done before. sometimes you don't even have to tell him whats wrong, he just knows and he knows the exact way to comfort or distract you through it. the curly haired boy is by your side through every single decision you make and vice versa.

lando was the first person you told when you decided that you were going to quit racing. you were only eighteen, him nineteen, when you realised that as much as you loved racing, you were not so sure that it loved you back. lando being a prime example of this. he was already in f1 starting next season, his rookie season with mclaren, their first seat filled with big racing star carlos sainz. lando was making it big and as you had told him many times as he made his way through all the championships, you knew he was going to go far and do everyone he loved proud. you, on the other hand, well you had barely even made a podium in the past year and half, nevermind actually winning races. you knew you just didn't have what it took to make it to formula one, like lando did.

"i think i'm going to quit racing." you had confessed to your best friend while he was driving you both to the mclaren technology centre. he had promised you a tour of the place and you had been begging him until he eventually gave in. lando almost crashed the car in shock.

"you what, sorry?" lando asks, foot back on the accelerator again as the car jolts back into action. the boys head keeps snapping to you when he can, turning to make sure you were not in fact, kidding. "you're serious?" he asks again as you fail to answer his first question.

"i am. i'm deadly serious." you affirm. lando's mouth opens in shock. there was just no way. you were his racing girl.

"i'm super thankful for racing and where it got me and who it gave me," you thank god lando's eyes were on the road because it gives you time to shake off your look of longing as you trail off a little. you pick yourself back up when he coughs a little to bring you back to earth. "but i'm so tired of waking up on a race day and dreading it. i always told myself when i was younger that no matter what, no matter what anyone told me, if i was unhappy doing something, even if it was something i used to love, i'd give it up. i'm not going to beat a dead horse."

your best friend listens intently as he drives you both closer to the centre. once you have stopped talking it is a little quiet. you long to break it but you know you need to let lando process this. neither of you can even remember a time in racing without each other. it sounded like lando's own personal version of hell.

"well i'm proud of you for putting your happiness first." lando starts as the car pulls up in the parking space, dedicated to him. the thing was, you were not even jealous of lando already being in f1. that is when you knew that your love for taking part in the sport had died. you would never stop watching it though. lando made you promise you would try and watch every race you possibly could when he finally started his first offical season in f1.

you had kept your promise and followed him through to what would now be his fifth season. you were his biggest chearleader, constantly posting on your instagram and twitter about how unfair the stewards were bring to lando, and taking to your socials to celebrate the big wins. and when in his fourth season he was promoted to first seat and the second seat was given to a fellow australian you began to wonder the same thing as many of his fans. 'is lando collecting pretty australians like infinity stones or what?!'

the post race interview after lando gets his first win at miami is one you will never forget, especially because he confessed his feelings for you on live tv. you were absolutely gutted about not being able to make it to the race, even though you were never planning on going in the first place, it hurt more that you could not be there to celebrate his first formula one win, especially when it feels like you have been by his side forever. you shoot him a text saying he deserved it and to facetime you if he has time before he goes out and you know he will text you back when he sees it.

as you are back in australia for three weeks, you are sitting with your family as you watch and wait for the podium ceremony. all you wanted was to see your boy finally lift his trophy. every part of you knew that he was just glowing. you hadn't even seen his face from under his helmet yet.

as he conducts one last post-race interview before he has to get back for the trophy ceremony, you and the whole world stop spinning.

"yeah, i need to thank my girl. if you see this, baby. i love you, m'racer girl and i miss you. this is for you, it's all for you. i know you're watching. i'll call you before you sleep." lando speaks into the cameras like he is replying to your text message. you doubt at first that he was actually talking to you until he called you his racer. you cannot believe he just said he love you in front of millions of people. you missed him a lot.

lando ends up calling you and admits yet again that he loves you and this time you say it back. you tell him about the crush you have had since you were fourteen, and he tells you about how much he misses you and wishes you were just there with him. the kiss lando gives you at the airport when you are both reunited is caught by many paps but you stopped caring the second your legs left the ground, wrapping around his waist as his tongue met yours.

you constantly appear on the quadrant channel, showing up all his friends in karting races and every single time lando tried to convice you to get back out.

"i'll leave it to the formula one grand prix winner i think." you smile at him, those words always got to him. he can't believe he got the car and the career he had always wanted. it was finally a win-win for lando, for once in his life.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Grief, Slight Age Gap, Life after loss, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Brother's Friend, Manic Behavior, Depression, Panic Attacks.

Word Count:

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

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pt1 Part Two

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You sat alone in your dimly lit room, the silence almost palpable. Your parents were away for the night. As they had been the last few nights.

You didn't blame them at all. It was hard being in, let alone living in a house that carried so much weight now. It was only a matter of time before your parents would move away. Taking you along with them, as you were still young. Just barely 21 yourself.

The only light came from the desk lamp, casting a soft glow over the envelope in your hands. It was marked with the words "Read when you're lonely," and the familiarity of your brother's handwriting stirred up a mix of emotions. You carefully peeled open the envelope, feeling the weight of the moment.

This was the first letter you were opening. It only seemed right, since you were feeling lonely.

Extremely.

As you unfolded the letter, a rush of memories flooded your mind—the way Hajun used to write letters when he had first left home, the warmth you felt when opening them, and the excitement of the thought of another one coming soon. The endless support he gave you in those letters.

A testament to the strength your relationship. You took a deep breath, your eyes scanning the neatly written words on the page:

I'm sorry I’m no longer there to give you a hug when you need one or to share in the laughter and tears of everyday life. I wish more than anything to be there with you, to tell you that everything will be alright and to remind you that you’re never truly alone.

I know this time is incredibly hard, and I can only imagine the weight you’re carrying. It was selfish of me to inflict this on you, but I hope you understand. You've always been understanding. And I hope you can be understanding now.

But I need you to remember that even though I’m not physically with you, you still have remnants of me everywhere. Whenever you feel overwhelmed or lonely, reach out to those who care about you, even if it’s difficult. I hope they can help begin to fill that void.

There’s someone I want you to contact if you ever find yourself feeling lost or isolated. His name is Christopher. He’s one of my closest friends, and he knows what it means to be there for someone who’s hurting. It's been a while since I've talked to him, but I trust him completely, and I believe he’ll offer you the support you need.

If anything, he'll do it out of pity. But he'll be a person in times of loneliness that you can look too.

Sometimes, a change in environment can help bring a fresh perspective and new beginnings. Knowing you, you'll want a change of pace. Something to get away from me. Consider moving to Korea. It’s a big step, but it could be an opportunity for you to heal and find new joys. And there are people there that I believe can help you begin to heal. I know it’s not an easy decision, but I want you to be open to the possibility of finding happiness, even if it means making a major change.

I hope these words bring you some comfort and help you find the strength to face each day. Know that my love is always with you, even if I’m not, Gremlin.

Hajun

You sat there for a moment, letting your eyes burn slightly. You looked at you clock and saw the time.

3:07 a.m.

You wondered if Chris was busy at the moment. You found yourself opening up Instagram.

You hadn't opened it up since Hajun left.

Left. It was easier to think of it like that.

You didn't want to scroll through the countless amount of edits you knew had been made. Juju had always been the favorite of the group. Rightly so, because even though you were prejudiced it was easy to see just how amazing your brother was. And it made sense that others would see that as well.

You didn't watch through any of the edits fully. But it was the first thing that popped up on your screen. With some corny ass pop song playing in the background that made you grit your teeth.

They acted as if they knew him.

We'll miss our Junebug.

You swallowed the bike that had risen in your throat.

Our?

They didn't know him. They couldn't have been going through the pain you were going through.

The anger you felt made you want to become a key board warrior. To respond to every comment and call them out on the utter bullshit.

The comments saying that "no one understands how hurt I was when I found out" or "it hurts as his number one fan" or "no one knows pain like this".

The comments with immense parasocial vibes made you sick to your stomach, and you clutched your phone as you scrolled through countless girls and guys who commented on how heartbroken they were of their husband being gone.

You had gone through that phase, it was normal even, something common in the fandoms. But at times like this it left a sour taste in your mouth. And you couldn't sit one moment to and try to empathize with them; even if you knew that sometimes people you looked up to, admired even- felt closer than those you could reach out and touch; those whose embraces were tangible.

You felt like reporting each and everyone, screaming at them.

They never knew him.

At least not like you did, not like your mom did. Your dad. His friends.

And to those who had "stumbled" across your account after doing enough research on your brother it was nearly a full on doxxing; and then spread your information- had sent you a plethora of messages that you didn't open up. You'd let them sit in your requests until the day that you went to meet your brother once more.

You went to the search bar and typed in the reason you had come to the social site to begin with.

Christopher Bang

You clicked on a page that had the blue verification.

@gnabnahc.

You scrolled through a few of his posts, not realizing a smallest smile had molded to your face.

His way of posting was similar to your brother's. Very boyfriend coded. Something you had always teased him about in the comments of your "fan" account.

"Y/N you know you're atrocious for leaving that comment." "219k people liked so I think you're wrong." "Yeah, cause they thought it was funny that you tagged Mom and Dad." "What else was I supposed to do? Allow my brother to solicit such images? I'm tired of hearing people simp over you. You're not even that great-"

Except he really was.

Your thumb stilled over a clear image of him, his birthday post froma a few days before you first called him.

26.

Your breath caught slightly as you stared at the unfamiliar face on your screen. You had never met him - his name now only being mentioned in the wake of your brother’s death, a friend of Hajun’s you had never gotten around to knowing in his life. Yet here you were, unable to tear your eyes away from his smile.

It was strange, the way his smile seemed to reach out to you, even though he was a stranger. His lips were curved in a way that felt so effortless, as if joy came naturally to him, even in a world that had assumingly taken from him. As it tended to do for everyone.

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes hinted at a warmth that felt oddly familiar, and foreign simultaneously. You didn’t know him: you had no reason to feel anything for him- especially in the mental state you were currently residing in -but there was something about that smile that tugged at something deep inside you - a place you had been trying to keep sealed off since Hajun died.

You frowned, your thumb hovering once more as if you might scroll away, but you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself studying the details - the way his dimples deepened when he smiled, the slight tilt of his head as if he was caught in the middle of laughing at something. A laugh you could almost hear clearly. Light, and airy, carrying the essence of an eternal giggle rather than a deep bellowing guffaw.

His smile reminded you of the way Juju smiled.

Except the difference between Hajun's smile and Chris's was that the warmth in Chris's smile didn’t just comfort you, or make you feel as if you were seen- it sparked something restless and new, like the first hint of spring after a long winter, coaxing your frozen heart to thaw slightly, even when you were sure you weren't ready to feel the warmth of the sun again.

You didn’t want to feel this a draw to someone you’d never met personally, especially not now, when grief still clung to you like a second skin. But the longer you looked, the harder it was to deny the pull. It wasn’t attraction, not exactly - it was more like an inexplicable need to hold onto something, anything, that didn’t hurt.

And somehow, without knowing how or why, Chritopher's smile had become that something.

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"Hyung! Your phone is ringing!" Jeongin's voice rang across the home to the eldest member, as he stuffed chips into his mouth while lounging on his bed.

"Innie-ah, I thought I told you to stop eating on my bed. You always leave crumbs." As he walked over to his dresser where his phone laid, Jeongin made a theatrical crunch as if proving a point to his leader.

"Ah! You're calling me messy! Our dorm is the cleanest how could you say that?" He mumbled, rolling over and opening up his secret account to scroll through edits.

Chris sighed and grabbed his phone, the call missed. When he tapped the screen, your name had popped up and immediately his heart flew to his throat.

He called you back immediately, waiting impatiently for you to pick up.

"Hello? Sorry did I wake you?"

"Ah, ah, no I promise you didn't wake me. It's only early evening over here- but wouldn't that mean it is early morning for you?

"I couldn't sleep. I'm home alone and even though I want to be alone...together. I don't want to be alone...alone."

Chris nodded. "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm sure that's really hard." Jeongin's ears perked up, his body flying into a seated position as he crawled closer to his Hyung who was now seated on the edge of the mattress. "But I'm here for you, you know?"

Jeongin tried his best to listen in, even trying to disguise his nosiness as seeking for affection, but Chris shook his head and pushed him off lightly with a light noogie to his head. Jeongin pouted and opened up a pack of gummy worms, chewing slower and more deliberately to try and listen in.

"Korea?" Chan asked, his voice raising slightly in surprise. "I mean that's a huge step but..." He nodded and Jeongin sighed, throwing himself back on the bed.

"I'm sure it will be hard. But you'll have support here. But with all the visas and stuff you'll have to have a valid reason to move...yeah...hm...I mean it could take a little bit unless you found a job...yeah..." He absentmindedly drew little doodles on his knee.

Jeongin's eyebrows scrunched. Who was the girl his leader was speaking so softly to? He could hear the slightest sound of your voice and Jeongin hmphed as he moved around again. Was his hyung dating someone?

The conversation you had with Chris went on for a while, until you decided that maybe it was time you at least try to rest your eyes.

"Good. You need to get sleep. We can talk about this when you have a clearer mind. Sleep well, Y/N."

"Goodnight." You said, hanging up. You put your phone on your desk and trekked towards your bed but looked at the small notebook that laid on it. Just one of many notebooks left.

There were hundreds and hundreds of lyrics Hajun had scribbled onto the cream-colored paper. You were grateful your parents had taken the time to raise you as a polyglot rather than just Hajun.

You seamlessly switched from English to Korean to Japanese and the occasional surprise inducing Spanish lyrics Hajun had written.

Language had always been an interest to you.

The minute Hajun had shown interest in becoming an entertainer by the age of seven, your parents had enrolled him in all types of music and dance related extracurriculars, and made you tag along as well in hopes that maybe you too would want to become a part of the entertainment industry, but rather than that you had fallen in love with tagging along to Hajun's language classes.

You credited your parents to the Korean and English knowledge you had, your mom and dad speaking the two languages throughout your childhood after reading somewhere that it was easier for children to learn languages due to brain plasticity. And due to the glories of the education system, you had taken Spanish throughout your high school years and taken quite a liking to the widely spoken language, even if you only knew it intermediately.

Hajun had been the one to teach you Japanese alongside one of his band members who was a native speaker. It was an excuse for you to chat with him regularly, and you missed that excuse when you had become a better speaker than your brother himself.

You flipped through his lyrics and wished you could have heard his voice sing these words or rap them. Or have these words overlay on a soothing melody.

Your fingers glided over imaginary piano keys, and you hummed softly. Not that you knew how to play the piano; you just enjoyed clashing a few keys together in a discordant way ever so often. But you had always been a choir kid, thanks to your parents pressuring their expectations on you. Hoping that one day you might choose to be on the same path as Hajun.

How sick and twisted may irony be.

The pages in front of you felt heavy with the weight of his unspoken words, dreams that were cut short too soon. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, the cadence of his lyrics dancing between panning between your ears. But it was just that - almost. The more you read, the more you were consumed by the silence, a silence and emptiness that gnawed at you.

A sudden pang of grief shot through your chest, sharp and undeniable. How could this be all that was left of him? Words on a page, a life that had been poured into lyrics, melodies, and dreams that would never be fulfilled. As if everything he did was for nothing? The thought twisted inside you, tightening your throat, suffocating in its cruelty.

But then, something else began to simmer beneath the surface of your grief - something that made your breath catch, and not in a way you were prepared for. You shook your head, trying to dismiss it, to focus on the memories, on the reality that becoming an idol was what drove him to his demise. How could you even think -no, it was irrational, absurd even.

Yet the thought was persistent, sneaking into the corners of your mind when you least expected it. What if you…what if you became the voice that could bring his words to life? What if you took the path he couldn’t complete, not to replace him but to…honor him? Was that it? Or was it something more?

You remembered Chris’s words from before, the casual mention of visas and logistics if you ever moved to Korea. It was a passing comment, a practical consideration that seemed so far-fetched- and now...now it was like a splinter under your skin.

The idea lingered, manic and wild. It felt almost like a betrayal to consider it, as if you were trying to follow in the footsteps that had led him to the edge of a cliff. But at the same time, there was a strange, allure to the consideration; one that made you wonder if you could find him again, not in the grave where he rested, but in the songs that never got to be sung.

The conflict in your mind was almost unbearable, a cacophony of fear, grief, and a desperate yearning for something you couldn’t quite define.

Was it closure? Was it madness? Or was it simply a need to feel closer to him, to understand why the path he chose became too much to bear?

You wanted to dismiss it as a fleeting thought, a product of your grief-stricken mind, but the more you tried to push it away, the more it burrowed itself into your consciousness. Becoming an idol -how crazy was that? It was the very thing that had taken him from you. And yet, the more you thought about it, the more it made a twisted kind of sense.

You weren’t like him, and maybe that’s why you could do it. Maybe, where he fell, you could stand. Maybe you could be strong enough to carry his dreams forward, to finish the songs he started. Or maybe it was just the grief talking, leading you down a path that made no sense, but felt like the only way to hold onto him, to not let him disappear completely.

The snap, when it came, was not sudden but gradual, like a rope fraying one fiber at a time until it finally broke. It wasn’t rational, it wasn’t even something you could explain, but the thought was there now, alive and insistent. You couldn’t tell if it was the worst idea you’d ever had or the only one that made sense in the wake of his absence.

The idea of giving life to Hajun’s lyrics -of turning his words into a melody that could fill the silence he left behind- was the only thing that seemed to soothe the ache in your heart. Even just imagining his songs being sung was like a balm, easing the pain with every note that played in your mind.

Becoming an idol…The very notion was wild, crazy, even, but in the midst of your grief, it felt like the only way to hear his voice again. To be with him. To find a way back to him, to find a way forward that wasn’t just drowning in the hundred of emotions he left behind.

You could feel it building, an irrational yet unstoppable force, a need that defied logic. It wasn’t about fame, or fortune, or even following in his footsteps. It was about something deeper, something primal. It was about reclaiming a part of him, of yourself, that felt lost in the shadows of his death.

The idea grew roots, tangled and dark, winding through your thoughts until it was impossible to separate it from your grief. You imagined yourself on stage, under the harsh lights, the crowd’s roar in your ears- was it your voice they wanted to hear, or his? The lines blurred, your identity slipping between the cracks as the thought took hold.

You had the voice. You had the potential to learn to dance. Your image would almost be a given - the amount of attention a company would get for signing on the younger sister of an incredibly loved and deceased idol would have media swarming and an immense amount of free promotion. It would be a conglomerates dream. But could you do it?

Could you really step into that world, knowing what it did to him?

The grief whispered that maybe you had no choice. Maybe this was your path now, carved out by the loss that had ripped your life apart. Maybe by becoming an idol, you could bring him back in some way, keep his memory alive.

It was reckless, it was irrational, it was everything you had never been. And yet…it was the only thing that made sense.

You could almost hear him scoffing at you from above, calling you out for your foolishness, and that made you smile- just a little. If he were here, he’d tell you how ridiculous you were being, probably flick your forehead scolding you about how this was the last thing you should do. But he wasn’t here. And that was the point, wasn’t it? To be where he couldn’t be, to say what he couldn’t say, to live the life he never got to finish.

The snap was complete now, your mind fracturing into a thousand pieces, each one demanding something different. Rationality warred with logic with desperation, but in the end, only one voice remained. The one that told you to go, to become, to do the very thing that had destroyed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, in that destruction, you could find the pieces of him that were still left. Maybe those pieces could fill what he had carved out from you.

And maybe - just maybe - in the echoes of your own voice, you could finally find peace.

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If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

988 - USA Suicide Prevention Hotline | 24 Hours 111 - Helpline UK | 24 hours 1393 - Suicide Hotline Korea | 24 hours

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[andbreakmynose]

he won't go away

he's haunting you. am al.

WARNINGS: p-in-v, he's possessive and a bit mean, feelings, references to drugs/drinking, technically cheating but not really

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

Being a young woman in the 21st century had to be torture. You thought the breakup would be the hardest part; moving all your stuff out of the shared apartment was incredibly sad; sometimes you still got sad when you saw his shirts in your closet. But it turns out the hardest part is actually trying to get back out there. The apps of hell.

It was practically impossible to find someone who matched your standards. Alex, your ex, was so perfect in (almost) every way that everyone else paled in comparison. Seriously, how were you supposed to fall back in love when your last boyfriend was a global phenomenon rockstar?

He was almost everywhere you looked, practically inescapable. Every shop you went into was selling his newest record or playing one of their songs. His face was in every magazine at every store. The month you spent traveling in the states didn’t even help; Arctic Monkeys had finally crossed over, and he was big there too.

The worst part of it was that even when you scrolled Tinder to move on, you’d see him. Someone would have them as his favorite band; they’d have a lyric in their bio; they’d be wearing merchandise; or you’d check their Instagram to see concert photos. It was a frustrating cycle of constant reminders that he didn’t want you anymore.

That’s what he said—that he couldn’t stand to be in a relationship with you anymore. That he was moving on to “bigger and better things,” and you weren’t a part of that. You had sensed it was coming; he had started to become cockier; he was drinking and smoking more, and you even thought he might be taking something stronger. You didn’t blame him though; he was on top of the world, and you were just his hometown girlfriend who worked a 9-5.

You didn’t mean to keep up with him, but you read the headlines: ‘Arctic Monkeys Announces Massive UK Tour’, ‘Arctic Monkeys Sells Out Madison Square Garden’, ‘Arctic Monkeys To Headline Reading and Leeds.”

Those were tolerable; you knew he’d be big. The ones that bothered you were the personal ones. ‘Alex Turner Seen Wasted After Big Night Out’, ‘Alex Turner Seen With Another Mystery Blonde’. That was frustrating. You envied him in a sense; he didn’t have to worry about seeing your name anywhere. He was able to move on as quickly as possible and never look back. He had all the money, all the girls, and everything he could ever need at his disposal.

It was obvious you had become bitter; your best friend had remarked that you ‘just hadn’t been yourself’ since the breakup and “needed to get laid soon” or you’d “become a criminal case.” Maybe she was right, and that's what put you on the apps. You wanted to find a nice, normal man, someone who wasn’t performing at the Olympics.

The guys were nice for the most part. You had seen a few cute ones and had a few good conversations. There was even a date once! He was a nice guy from the north side of town who worked at a bank. The dinner you had with him was good, but the chemistry just wasn’t there.

For every match there were at least 50 strikeouts, but you were hopeful about this current guy. His name was Rob. Rob was tall and had pretty blue eyes and worked a well-paying job in finance. He liked nature and Oasis and had two dogs. He was the type of normalcy you craved. He asked you on a date, and of course you said yes; maybe you’d finally move on.

-

The two of you decided on one of your favorite pubs on a Saturday. And when Saturday came along, you pushed your nerves to the side and tried to look as presentable as possible. You felt a bit guilty about wearing a dress that Alex bought you, but you had to wear it at some point. You cover yourself in perfume and slip on your finest lace lingerie, just for the confidence. Today is supposed to be the day you become the new you.

Rob was already there when you arrived; he wore a nice outfit and looks good, but you’re not immediately head over heels. Maybe this would take time; that was fine. He gestured to the open bar stool next to him and the pint waiting for you. You smiled and walked over to him.

“Hey! Thanks for... this.” You pointed your head towards the pint and took a seat next to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he smiled at you, giving your body a once-over. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

His compliment doesn’t fluster you as much as it should, but you still smiled and thanked him, attaching your lips to the glass and taking a drink.

The conversation was easy; he told you about what it’s like to work in finance, and you told him what it’s like in your occupation. He showed you pictures of his three dogs whose names you could not remember, and you showed him pictures from your trip to Italy last year, neglecting to add the piece of information that you went with Alex.

Things seemed to be going really well; your bar stool had ended up closer to his, and his hand brushed across your knee a few times. Maybe the night would end well and you’d get to go home with him; you hadn’t been fucked since Alex and your vibrator weren’t doing the job anymore. In fact, it was going so well that you were about to ask about a second date when his head perked up and his eyes darted to a corner.

“Holy shit! Is that the guy from Arctic Monkeys?”

Your first thought was that somehow he knew that he was fucking with you and wanted to get you upset. But then you noticed the genuine surprise and shock in his face—a lump forming in your throat. Maybe he got his people confused?

The split second glance you turned in Alex’s direction is all you needed to know it was him. He was carrying himself the same way he had been, and you could almost hear the boom of his voice from the other side of the pub. Christ. Your stomach suddenly felt like you could throw up any second.

“I think it is.” Your voice was barely above a mutter, but Rob heard it all, his face perking up even more.

“That’s so cool! I saw them last time they came here!”

You nodded and said you saw them too. You didn’t tell him that you also saw them in London and Paris and New York and Tokyo, and that he dedicated a song to you on your birthday at a show in New Jersey. It felt like years of memories were flooding back, but you just had to repress that.

It seemed that Rob wasn’t that big of a fan because he quickly diverted his attention back to you and started talking about some hike he took a few months ago. You’re sure it was lovely, but your mind couldn’t really focus on anything but the man who hadn’t even noticed your presence. You kept nodding and attached your lips to your drink.

After a bit of one-sided conversation, Rob patted you on the back and excused himself to the restroom. He leaves you alone. Alone with Alex, only half a room away. You ordered a second drink to try and distract yourself, but that’s no help.

You swear you hear your name come from his lips, echoing in your eyes in an almost painful way. It’s just a hallucination; you’re just remembering stuff. That’s what you tell yourself.

“Her? Yeah, she was my bitch ex. Too uptight for me, if you know what I mean.” His voice booms through the room, like he’s purposely saying it as loud as possible because he knows you’ll hear. Fuck.

You couldn’t help it; you had to check. When you turn your head to the side to see him again, his dark eyes are staring right into you, that cocky smirk he adopted in the last months of your relationship present on his face. He caught you.

You didn’t recognize the guys he was with; they were probably figures from his new life. You also didn’t recognize the blonde girl he conveniently had his hand on the ass of. You couldn’t tell rather to be flustered or pissed that his attention was on you and not whoever she was. He still stared directly into your soul; something between anxiety and sorrow filled you up.

Rob returned after a minute, snapping you out of your trance and pulling your attention back onto him. Right, your date. You smiled and tried to focus on his face—his face that was nowhere near as attractive as Alex’s.

“So, what was it you were saying about hiking in Ireland?” It was a copout, but it was safe; he was more than happy to talk about himself. He went on and on about the cows and the grass and his sister Emily.

Every few minutes you’d hear Alex say something else. Something about the ‘pretty lady standing next to him’ or the ‘total fucking bender’ he went on last week. Was he trying to rile you up? Get a reaction? Well yeah, it worked. You could feel your blood start to boil while you drank more and more.

That caught up; after maybe your third drink you had to pee, really bad. You stood up and apologized to Rob before excusing yourself in the ladies room. Your head was starting to spin, and it would be lying to say you weren’t overwhelmed. You did your business and took a second to breathe.

You opened the door to head back to your date that was going very well. Thank you. The door creaked open and then shut just as instantly, your back against the door and your body back in the bathroom. Him.

He wasn’t a big man by any means, but his presence took up the entire room; it made you feel small. Alex was staring down at you, and it was hard to tell if he was really bored or really turned on.

“We need to talk.” Is all that he uttered? His voice was surprisingly monotone for him.

“In the ladies room at a pub?”

He nods.

“I have a date. He’ll get worried.” You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground even though all you wanted to do was fold.

“Yeah. That’s why we need to talk.” He backed away from the door and leaned against the wall, very obviously checking himself out in the mirror. He ran a hand through his quiff and turned back to you with a scoff. “I don’t like him. He’s a twat.”

You scoff back, “Yeah? Well, last time I checked, you didn’t like me either.” Alex winces at this.

“I never said that,” he corrected you, his face slightly less smug. “I said I wanted to explore. Try new things. Spend the rest of my tour living like a real rockstar.” He pauses for dramatic effect, staring you up and down. “But I’m over that, baby; I want you back. I want to be us again. Please.”

You couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not; he probably was. He was probably drunk and didn’t know what he was saying. But goddamnit, these last months of pain came back, and you couldn’t help but feel for him. You wanted him back too.

“What about your new life? The fucking benders. All your new friends out there... the new girl you were fondling earlier.” You needed to stay strong; you couldn’t cave like that. You made sure that all your mockery and frustration with him for the last months came out in your voice.

He sighed again, his hand returning to his quiff. You couldn’t tell if he was that obsessed with himself that he wanted to perfect it constantly or if it was a nervous habit.

“What about your new life? Chad from finance is telling you about the stock market and his university days.”

“Rob, actually. And he’s very nice. Nicer than you’ve been this past year.” An eye roll.

Alex guffawed at this, nodding his head in a way that reminded you of a movie greaser.

“And yet you still want me more than him, don’t you? You want me again just as bad as I want you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was the alcohol, but yeah, you were getting hot and bothered. The rockstar act was obnoxious, but it was also sexy as hell.

“I can’t just leave. Rob’s a nice guy; I don’t want to destroy him.” Even if you were about to throw yourself at your ex, you still had enough morals to think about Rob.

Alex hummed and thought for a second; he wasn’t going to let you just run away from him. He needed you to come back home.

“Go up to him and say ya got your period or something. You need to go home and take care of it. You’re a smart girl; figure it out.” Condescension laced his voice. He brought his hand up and ran it across your arm just to watch the goosebumps it elicited. “See, you want this. Come home with me.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore and nodded. You were weak for him; he was your weakness. He was perfect, and you couldn’t go without feeling him again.

“I’ll meet you out front,” the smirk reappeared on his face, and he gently guided you out of the bathroom with his hand on your ass. He went right towards the exit and left you to go right towards Rob.

“Hey Rob. I’m sorry it took me forever. I have some lady problems going on, and I need to run home and grab a pad. I’ll text you about a second date, yeah?” You smiled at him but gave him no time to respond before you were out the front door and Alex was wrapping his big hands around your back. You had a long night ahead.

He kept his hand on your shoulder the entire way home; no words fell from his mouth. There was this feeling he was giving you, like he was disappointed beyond words even though he was the one that ended things.

The drive to his place was painstakingly familiar. You had done this very same trip back and forth more times than you could count. One of your first dates had been him taking you here and then kissing you while the band played a Stone Roses song; maybe you had fucked with fate by returning to the same location.

You felt a sharp pain searing through your heart when you saw the brick exterior of his flat. That was your home. Your home for two years that you had been shut out of only within the last 5 months. And you were back.

He made a whistling noise followed by a click, as if you were a dog. You’re embarrassed in the way you immediately folded, hopping out of the car and walking up the familiar stairs to the front door. His keys opened it up, and you took a step inside, the sight of it all flooding your senses.

The flat was redecorated, but it was still yours; there was your old sofa in the corner, the painting you bought with him at the market, and his collection of leather boots sat at the door. The smell was also different; it was no longer you and Alex. It was just Alex. Musky cologne and cigarette smoke replaced what was once the smell of your baking and your combined scents.

Alex watched you take in the sight; a humorless chuckle left his lips. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same pain; he missed you more than he wanted to admit. His eyes flicked back over to your body, scanning you in. Fuck, that dress.

“Why are you wearing my dress?” It was basically a bark, an accusation. All pain he felt was met with anger. You were wearing something he bought you to see another man.

“It’s not your dress. It’s mine.” Playing dumb never worked with Alex, so you were unsure why you did it. Maybe it was a defense mechanism that led to your relationship's downfall.

“Don’t be a bitch. I bought that dress with my money for my eyes to see you in it. It’s my dress.” His voice was harsher now; the frustration of months without you and the alcohol clouded his head.

“I thought it made me look pretty. And until an hour ago, you wanted nothing to do with me. I figured game was game.” There’s a truth to your words, but it still elicited a deep scoff from the back of his throat. He took a step towards you.

“Does make you look pretty. You’ve always been the prettiest baby.” You started to take this as him softening in a way; he was complimenting you instead of getting mad again. But then he took another step forward and, in one swift motion, pulled the dress over the top of your head, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and panty set. A deep blush covered your face, and a groan left his mouth.

“Fuck. You’re killing me, baby.” His hands started to travel up and down your body, making your body shiver when he ran by your chest and hips. “You expected him to take you back home? You wanted him to fuck you and make you forget all about me?”

“I tried,” but before you could even begin to explain the complexity of emotions running through your brain, he threw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It was simultaneously the most degrading, humiliating, and hot thing you’d ever experienced.

He brought you over to the bed, your old shared bed, and threw you down on it, looking down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“I tried. I really tried. But I just can’t fucking get over you. Been looking for you everywhere, hoping to make you mine again.” The confession made your heart stop, but not for long until his hands started to remove your bra. All the heat and tension of the moment made your panties start to feel wetter, and your nipples perked up. Alex licked his lips.

“You were looking for me?” You tried to manage your cool and not give in too easily. You hadn’t been fucked in so long, but he was supposed to be your ex; he kicked you out, and now he’s begging for you back.

“You were looking for me too. Don’t lie.” He said it like he knew it was a truth, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. His hands slipped off your underwear and slipped it in his pocket. “You’re not wearing these for someone else again.”

After seeing how you bit your lip to hide a moan, he smirked and ran two long fingers through your folds. Nothing could compare to his touch; you had tried so many different vibrators, and yet you hadn’t felt pleasure like this since the last time he touched you. A small whimper escaped your lips, and thats when he knew he won. You were his again.

He started to circle his fingers around your entrance, brushing against your clit a few times before entering you. The first moan of the night escaped your lips, and he gave a knowing nod and chuckle. His free hand worked to dispose of his leather jacket and then started to work at the buttons of his shirt.

“I’ll fuck you if you say you’re mine again. If you promise to come back to me. Be my baby again. Me and you.” He rasped, voice pooling with desire, dominance, and genuine affection. It was an odd combination, but so was Alex. It all made you miss him more. He bent his fingers inside of you and started to move them faster.

“SHIT! Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be yours again. Please Alex.” You felt pathetic at how easy you gave in, but the sight of the bulge pressing against his jeans was enough to show that you weren’t the only one desperate. And it was nice to know he wanted you back for more than just a fuck.

“Atta girl.” He smirked and then removed his hand from inside of you, bringing it to his lips to taste the distinct and vaguely sour-sweet juices from you. The sight was pornographic, and while you whined at the lack of contact, you moaned at the sight. “Missed your taste,” he added before he used his hands to slip his jeans and boxers off in one solid motion.

And there you were, back to old times. Two naked figures in a shared bedroom. Most of your nights pre-breakup were spent fucking until you both passed out. You were sure tonight would be no different.

He pushed you back on the bed slightly, angling his own body so his throbbing would line up with your leaking cunt. The sight made you salivate; he was big, and the head was turning red in desperation. It was like his cock missed you just as much as the rest of him.

He leaned down to meet your lips in a searing kiss, not even bothering to ask you for permission to slip his tongue in your mouth. He let this dance go on for a bit, the kiss becoming sloppier and teeth starting to collide. He let you get totally preoccupied in the kiss before he shoved himself inside of you with no real warning, his entire length puncturing your hole.

You were definitely tighter than last time you two fucked, the result of the absence of him. He smiled at that; it felt better than it ever had, and it was a confirmation you were really holding yourself back for him.

“Tight baby. Thank you for not sharing my pussy with everyone else.” He chuckled a bit at his own words, as if they were funny, before he decided you had had enough time to adjust to his stretch and began to move.

Just as he did, the moans began to fall from your mouth, the pleasure beginning to build up in ways you forgot were possible. Every movement stretched your tight warmth out more and more, filling you up with such deliciousness that you couldn’t help but cry a stream of ‘Alex!”.

His breath started to become a bit shallower, and he reached out to palm at your tits while he thrust. It was like a teenager seeing them for the first time, but he had missed them so much. His fingers pinched at your nipples, his cock hit every nerve entrance in your vagina, and his mouth returned to yours to envelope you in a passionate fire. Every part of you felt hot, and every part of him felt hot. Just how it was supposed to be.

A pace was set after a minute; he was fast and hard because he needed this and he knew you did too. You knew he wouldn’t last too long out of the sheer intensity and desperation of it all.

As his grunts became louder and his movements faster, you brought your hand down to circle around your clit, the little movements causing a full-body shiver to run down and a stream of obscenities leaving your mouth. He grinned at this but didn’t move your hand; he’d usually help you out, but he was too preoccupied with your perfect tits. Every sense of yours was activated, and on full sensitivity, it was just too hot. Your vibrators couldn’t compare to him, and he realized then that your pussy had ruined every other girl for him. He spent months seeking pleasure, but you’re the only one he wanted.

It was the hottest feeling in the world when you felt his dick begin to twitch inside of you; the addition of this made everything just the hotter. You sped your hand movements up and your back arched slightly, your mouth falling open and your eyes turning white. You two were both close.

It was a sudden snap of the coil inside your stomach that had you cumming, practically exploding in bliss. It was an orgasm to an extreme you hadn’t had in a while, maybe since even before the breakup.

The feeling of you cumming just turned Alex on more, and he was soon to follow after, making one final thrust before he pulled out and covered your stomach in warm lines of milky cum. He stared at it for a second, finding it the most beautiful sight in the world, before collapsing next to you, catching his breath.

The two of you layed like that for a while, chests returning to normal speeds and minds trying to process what just happened. His cum was still on your stomach, but all you could think about was how you had just crossed a line you were never supposed to cross with an ex. As if he could sense this, he lifted his head up and wiped the cum off your stomach with his shirt from the floor. It was laundry day tomorrow anyway.

“That was... incredible. I missed you, baby.” He said, and his voice returned to a softness you only remembered from your most intimate moments.

“I missed you too.” You giggled a bit at his choice of cleaning material but smiled at his words, moving your body a little closer to his when he laid down again.

“Good. I want you to be my girl again.

“I want to be your girl again. We’ll figure this out in the morning, I guess.” You were both too fucked out to make logical, rational decisions.

“Yeah. We’ll get through this. I won’t be a twat again. I promise.” And then he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, almost like a silent promise that he wouldn’t. At the moment you trusted him, but maybe it was just the sex lingering in your brain. At that moment, what you knew was that the man you had loved for years was back next to you, and Rob from finance was someone you’d never have to worry about again.

A/N: this is shit again but i felt like putting something out. currently in the process of applying to transfer universities so i'm pretty out of time.

[willowsnook]

Cocky (LS) 18+

lance stroll x driver!reader

word count: 4k

look i'm as iffy on lance as the next person but i had a vision. this is a longer one so buckle up

Lance's POV

"Good shot man," Lando told Lance after he hit on to the green. The two had been golfing all day, blowing off steam before racing took back over their lives in the coming weeks. They picked up their bags and started down towards where they hit.

"So what's y/n's deal?" Lance asked Lando causally, trying to be nonchalant. Lando tossed him a look of surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Is she single or...?"

Lando smirked. Y/n was one of his best friends on the grid. The American woman had raced with him since they were 12 and now drove for Haas. She was a ruthless competitor and even scared Lando a bit sometimes. Lando had always admired how she didn't pay the media any mind with her easy "i don't give any fucks" attitude. She had already been called the next Kimi Räikkönen. Off the track, she gave off cool girl energy vs. the sweet kind. Everyone on the grid wanted to be friends with her even if he didn't have a really good reason as to why.

"Yeah, she's single," he said. "Why? Trying to hit?"

"Dude, I know she's your friend but we both know she's hot as fuck," Lance said looking over. Lando shrugged.

"Of course I know that, but I didn't really think she was your type."

"How so?"

"Every girl I have ever seen you with looks at you like you created life itself," Lando said. "Y/n will not play the submissive little role you want."

"I like a challenge," Lance said cockily and Lando laughed.

Y/n's POV

Lando had called you immediately after he got done golfing to inform you that somehow you were now in Lance's sights. You didn't really pay any attention to that. You did not like Lance. It wasn't really fair, as you actually didn't know him that well but he represented a lot of what you were not. You'd grown up with a single dad after your mom had passed away when you were a child. Your dad started working 12 hours a day once he realized that this racing hobby wasn't going to go away.

Not being able to afford moving overseas, you had lived with a host family in the UK so that you were able to travel to more karting races in a budget friendly way. You had fought tooth and nail to get your F1 seat and you couldn't really say the same about Lance. He was attractive though, you could admit that. He had some kind of cocky, brooding vibe going that you were definitely into. And him being one of the few drivers that were 6 foot was a plus.

After that golfing day you had noticed his presence way more than usual. You'd seen him around Monaco at the club, hanging out with Lando more, and at PR events. He had been noticeably closer to you, always almost hovering. The amusing thing though was that you still hadn't really talked to him. It was like the two of you were doing a silent dance.

Tonight you were way out of your comfort zone, and actually happy to find a familiar face in Lance. You'd been invited to a charity gala that Haas was involved with. Your teammate, Ollie, couldn't make it so you were unfortunately on your own. Lance was there of course, as his father was a top donor, and you spied him sipping a drink by the bar, dressed in a nice fitted suit. His eyes drank you in as he watched you make your way towards him.

"Y/n," he drawled. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I would say the same, but it's a party for the rich to remind everyone how rich they are so it wouldn't be real if you weren't here," you shot back and he smirked.

"Can I get you a drink?" You nodded and watched him carelessly lift his finger up to the bartender, gaining his attention immediately to order you a glass of wine. There was something so attractive to you about how he fit so perfectly in a moment like this.

"Enjoying the night?" He asked and you shrugged. This was not your kind of thing. Old rich men, blatantly hitting on you in front of their wives was also not your thing.

"Well only one comment from someone about how "they don't know what they'd do if they had a daughter that looked like me," so I would say it's going alright," you joked but watched Lance's eyes darken.

"Who?" He said and you sipped your wine, watching him curiously.

"It doesn't matter," you said and he leaned in closer to you.

"Tell me who."

Sighing, you turned your head scanning the room. You found the guy who had said it with his hand on a waitress's arm, clearly continuing a conversation she did not want. You wordlessly pointed him out and Lance leaned back motioning over a guy who was sporting an ear piece. He whispered something to the guy before turning back to you.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry about it sweetheart," he said smirking and you rolled your eyes at the term of endearment. You turned to people watch for a bit, enjoying getting to watch people make fools of themselves. A commotion caught your attention and you watched as the gross guy from earlier was arguing with what looked like to be security as they were escorting him out. You looked back at Lance who didn't say anything, just kept casually watching the scene.

Turning back, your back was hovering dangerously close to the Lance's chest and as someone brushed past you to get to the bar, you felt his arm come around you waist, pulling you into him. He didn't say anything and neither did you, so you kept on enjoying observing the party.

After a bit, people were taking to the dance floor to dance and you turned, pulling Lance's drink from his hand and setting it down. He looked at you curiously as you slid your hand into is dragging him to the floor. Settling one hand around his neck you pressed into him, breathing in his expensive cologne.

"What game are you playing at?" He whispered into your ear causing you to smirk.

"No game," you said, looking up at him. "Just bored."

Rolling his eyes, he moved his hand lower, pinching your ass which caused you to gasp. Amusement danced in his eyes as you gave him a look.

As the night came to a close, you followed him outside to the valet to get your car.

"Come home with me?" He asked and you brought your lips up to kiss his cheek.

"I'm not that easy sweetheart," you replied before turning to thank the guy for bringing your car around. Giving Lance one final look, you winked before dipping down into your seat.

One week later

The Friday before race week you found yourself enjoying the weird remixes Lando comes up with as they blasted through his apartment. It was supposed to be a casual thing but as more and more people poured through the door you regretted not wearing something nicer.

You were sitting on top of the kitchen island, chatting with Ollie and actively ignoring Lance who had been burning a hole in the side of your head for the last half hour.

"I'm kind of scared he's going to kill me," Ollie said nervously and you tilted your head in question. "Lance. You know the guy who looks like he's trying to figure out how much it would cost an assassin to kill me?"

You laughed loudly, sparing a look over at Lance who had his arms crossed and was frowning.

"Are you two seeing each other or something?" He said panicking. "Oh my god am I the other woman?"

"No we aren't seeing each other and I would protect you with my life," you said making the boy relax. That didn't last long as he bolted away the second he saw Lance making his way towards you. Resting hands on either side of you, you rolled your eyes.

"You scared him away," you pouted.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said simply.

"You could have just came over here like a normal person."

"I'm tired of playing cat and mouse," he said. "Let me fuck you."

Your eyes widened at his crude words as he left you genuinely speechless. You let him pull you off the counter and lead you out of Lando's apartment.

"You live here right?" He asked and you nodded, moving towards the elevator with him close behind. The ride was silent as you avoided meeting his eye in the reflection. Your eyes settled instead on the way his tshirt was tight around his chest and the gray sweatpants that just really do the thing ya know? You bit your lip, feeling yourself growing warm at what was about to go down.

Walking into your apartment you watched as Lance took it in. You'd lived here for the last two years and had tried to make it as cozy as possible with pictures of back home littered along the walls. Your favorite part though, was the wall behind your couch. It was floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with your very large collection of books.

Lance smiled at the books before looking back at you. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. His hands found your waist as he dipped his head to meet your lips in a bruising kiss. You tugged at his hair causing him to groan into you which made you smirk. His hand slapped your ass hard in retaliation and he took advantage of your open gasp to shove his tongue in your mouth.

"Bedroom," you said panting as you came up for air and he leaned down to pick you up. You met his lips again as he carried you to your bedroom, laying you gently on the bed. Resting on your elbows, you watched as he pulled off his shirt. His time playing tennis on the side really had paid off. Next went his sweats so that all he was left in were his boxers.

"Your turn sweetheart," he said and you moved up to your knees. You pulled off the top you were wearing, revealing that you weren't wearing a bra. Lance was in a trance watching you, which made you smirk.

"Can you help me?" You asked innocently and he nodded quickly moving towards you. You laid back on the bed as he pulled your sweats off, taking in the lace thong that was in underneath.

"Wear this for me?" He teased and you leaned up.

"Maybe," you replied biting your lip. That sent him over the edge and he literally ripped them off of you.

"Lance what the fuck," you complained. "I liked those."

"I'll buy you the whole fucking store as long as you only wear them for me," he said and you felt your core throb at his words.

"You'd bett-" His tongue on your clit stopped you mid thought as you moaned out. He took his time, lazily dragging it up and down. You pushed your hips against his face in desperation and his arms came around you holding your hips in place.

"Patience," he tsked and you whined in protest. Taking pity on you, he entered a finger, curling it up against your g-spot causing your mind to go numb. Keeping the one finger in, he massaged your g-spot as his tongue assaulted your clit while you became a whimpering mess. You didn't even have energy to tell him you were cumming, clenching around his finger, your back arching off the bed.

Lance kept going, his mouth latched around you until you pushed him off.

"Too sensitive," you whimpered and he gave you a huge grin. He got off the floor and moved up to you giving you a short kiss. Surprising him, you pulled him down and maneuvered your way on top.

Pulling his boxers down, his dick slapped up against his skin and you took a sharp breath as you took in the size. Lance started to say something but you had started grinding your pussy along the length of him, and his breath hitched. He brought his hand up to one of your breasts, circling his thumb around your nipple.

Eventually you gripped him up and slowly slid down causing him to throw his head back against the wall. Moving your hands on his chest to support you, you started moving up and down. Rolling your hips into him made Lance groan out and dig his fingers harshly into your waist.

As you felt yourself getting closer you started moving faster against him.

"Come on sweetheart, use me," he rasped out and you leaned forward wrapping your hands around his throat as you rutted against him, chasing your high. "Fuck baby."

"Yeah you like that? You like me choking you," you said breathlessly. His hand hit your ass hard and that finally sent you over the edge, crying out as your orgasm crashed against you. Before you even had time to think, he flipped you over shoving your head into the pillows before slipping back in.

He gripped your hips hard and started pounding into you. Lance yanked your head up by your hair holding you into his chest as he spilled into you.

Pulling out, he set you down gently and you tried to come back to life. You heard him go to the bathroom and rolled over looking at your phone to see a text asking where you went from Lando. You replied quickly before seeing Lance come back with a wet towel in his hands. You winced as it touched your inner thighs and Lance looked up at you.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked and you shook your head silently. You weren't used to this gentle side of him. He put the towel away before putting his sweats back on and sliding in next to you. You turned over, laying your head on his chest and felt his arm wrap around you. Snuggling into him, you drifted off.

Leaving Lance in bed the next morning you were deep in thought while making pancakes. This was unknown territory. First of all, you never let one-night stands sleep over. But this was Lance and you knew him. You were sure it was definitely a one-night stand but then you weren't sure. You admittedly had enjoyed spending time with him the past month but your mind went back to what Lando had said. He just wanted to hook up. Maybe it was better to just move on like it hadn't happened.

"Hey," his voice said, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned to see him staring at you, running a hand through his hair.

"Hey," you said nonchalantly. "Are you staying for breakfast or no?"

"I should probably head out," he said. This was what he had decided would be his test to see what you were thinking about last night. Would you want him to stay or not?

"Cool, I'll see you in Zandvort then," you said casually and turned back to your food. He didn't want to stay you thought to yourself.

She doesn't want me to stay, Lance thought and pulled his shirt over his head before heading out.

Wednesday night before the Dutch GP

Lando had been pestering you about Lance nonstop on the flight to Zandvort.

"I just don't believe that this is just another one night stand," he said eyeing you suspiciously.

"I don't know what to tell you Lando," you replied not looking up from your phone. "We were two consenting adults looking to blow off steam."

"Yeah but the pictures from the gala, come on, there is at least something there," he said.

"First of all, stop looking at gossip pages and second of all, he didn't want to stay and that's okay," you said. "Could there have been potentially something more? Maybe, but he left."

"Well did you ask him to stay?"

"I didn't tell him to leave."

Lando threw up his hands in defeat. "You are impossible."

You spent the hour after landing in an all drivers meeting where you had seen Lance for the first time since that night. He nodded towards you but made no move forward. You were petty back, choosing to sit on the far end of the table away from him at the dinner after the meeting. Some of the WAGs were there so you spent a lot of time talking to Alex Albon's gf Lily and subtly glancing at Lance every so often. Lando caught you once smirking which resulted in you kicking his shins causing him to yell out.

Towards the end of the night you were contemplating going over there but the next time you looked up, he was talking to a random blonde who was clearly flirting with him. You watched him flirt back and an unknown feeling washed over your body. You were upset? Something about him flirting with someone else was hurting you and you were shocked to feel yourself getting teary eyed.

Abruptly, you stood up, mumbling something about being tired and avoiding Lando's concerned glance. Lance's attention was now on you and he caught your eyes, his own widening when he noticed but you quickly vanished. He shot a confused look at Lando who looked from Lance to the blonde before getting up to catch up to you.

"Y/n," Lando called out and you slowed allowing him to catch up to you. You had called an Uber already and were just waiting for it to arrive.

"What's wrong with me?" You said, turning to Lando, a few tears falling down your face. He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back.

"It's okay," he murmured as more tears leaked out of your face.

"I don't even like him like that," you said pulling back and Lando gave you a sympathetic look. "Fuck."

The Uber pulled up and you both climbed into it and headed back to the hotel.

--------------------------------

Lance's POV

Being race day, most of the drivers were in the zone even early in the morning but Lance didn't care anymore as he hunted Lando down, finally cornering him at McLaren.

"What did I do wrong?" He begged Lando. "She won't look at me, she basically bolts from every room I enter, she won't answer my texts."

Lando shifted from one foot to another, not knowing what to say. Lance went on.

"I thought she just wanted it to be one night. She didn't ask me to stay and never texted me after. But then what happened Wednesday? She looked at me, clearly upset and left. And now this."

"I think she's just confused," Lando finally says. "I think initially she thought it would be a one-time thing, but seeing you flirt with that girl made it real."

"Fucking hell," Lance said, running a hand through his hair. "She didn't ask me to stay!"

"Well, she didn't ask you to leave?" Lando said hesitantly and Lance glared at him.

Y/n's POV

Your team did its final checks before giving you a thumbs up and running off the track. You locked in, ready to race and took off into lap one. Your first ten laps were great. Starting in P12, you had already passed two others and were looking for a third overtake.

One second, everything was fine. The next second you felt someone clip your back wheel causing you to spin out into the car in front of you and flip. The world went black.

Then you were back. Someone was yelling your name. Lance? You looked up to see him prying your helmet off, eyes wild with panic. Trying to move your legs, you started to freak out when you couldn't get your right one to budge.

"I can't move my leg," you said panicking. "I can't move my leg!"

Two arms wrapped under your arms and pulled you out of the car. The sudden movement triggered a wave of dizziness and you stumbled a little. Lance picked you up bridal style and behind the loud ringing in your ears you could hear him screaming at someone.

"Where is the fucking medical team?" He screamed. You were going in and out of consciousness. The next moment of clarity came being loaded in the ambulance. You saw Lance being held back by stewards and you mumbled his name reaching out. They finally let go, allowing him in the ambulance and then the world went black again.

---------------------------------------------

Waking up you were confused. You knew you were in a hospital room but this one was so nice it felt like it wasn't real. Your bed was bigger, there was a nice couch next to the bed, a massive flat screen tv, and what looked to be like a fully stocked fridge.

Your head throbbed and you looked down to see that you were not in a hospital gown but an Aston Martin tshirt. Your right leg was propped up, knee wrapped with ice.

"Hey sleepy head," Lando called out as he walked in, relieved to see you awake.

"Why am I in the fanciest hospital room ever?" You questioned and he snorted.

"That would be because Lance had the most Karen-like meltdown I have ever seen when they put you in a normal room. His dad had to pay someone off who had recorded it."

You soaked in that information. Where was he then? Lando saw your puzzled expression.

"Currently he is forcing your doctor here to consult with his family doctor back home about what appears to be a concussion and a torn ACL oddly enough."

"I remember him pulling me out, did he crash too?"

"Yeah, when Esteban hit you, you flipped into Lance. I'm sure you remember some of it after but the videos are crazy. He was a madman holding you."

You heard voices from the hallway and sucked in a breath as the man himself walked into the room. He stopped when he saw that you were awake and just stared.

"I'll show myself out then, I'll see you at home," Lando said, leaning in to kiss your forehead before leaving. Lance nodded to him as he left before slowly making his way to your side, pulling up a chair to sit in.

"I'm guessing this shirt is courtesy of you," you said, breaking the ice. He nodded, taking your hand into his caressing your skin softly. "So what's the verdict, when can I go home?"

"Later today, I have the jet already to go for us when we are ready," he said and you nodded.

"Lando is heading back now, and he's getting stuff from your apartment to drop off at my place," he said nonchalantly and your head snapped up to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You are staying with me for the time being."

He noticed your anger rising and kept going.

"Look I'm done doing this whole do you like me or not thing. The answer was clear when you stormed out of that restaurant. I live in a million-dollar condo with a full staff which will be a lot more comfortable for you. You can stay in whatever room you want, though I would prefer you stayed in mine."

You crossed your arms glaring at him.

"You are insufferable." He leaned closer to you holding your face in both of his hands.

"I don't care," he said. "When you passed out in my arms I was scared out of my mind that I would lose you. Life is short and I'm not wasting more time not being with you."

Your heart swelled at his words, breaking your resolve about the temporary move thing. You leaned forward, kissing him softly.

"Now let's see that video of you having a karen meltdown," you said with a wicked grin.

[bellewintersroe]

Jenson Button x Famous!Reader 2009

you’re a famous British model and actress who’s dating Jenson Button during 2009 GP. You’re also his biggest support but you get a name for yourself in the British press as being a bit of a ‘wild child’. Cameras constantly follow you around the grid, but Jenson is absolutely smitten by your crazy antics.

warnings: headcanons mentions of sex, oral sex, innuendos, Jenson is in love with her like teeth rotting cuteness, mentions of public flashing?!

I feel like Jenson and y/n would meet a year prior to starting to go out, when she was still in a relationship with somebody else. She’s a little younger, maybe when they actually start dating she’s 22 and he’s like 29?

anyway he’s heard of her before and sees her and his friends are all hyping him up to say something, maybe they’re at an after party where there’s lots of big names.

he walks around the corner all hyped up, then sees you snogging this other fella and he’s deep down crushed.

anyway a year later you’re single and he sweeps you off your feet, absolutely buzzing that this time nobody got in his way.

the relationship moves naturally, you’re both young and still (kinda) like to party, the British press go WILD that the two of you are together. You’d attend as many races as possible, being in the front row and cheering him on each time.

there’s one incident specifically where you’re cheering from below as he stands on the podium. He’s grinning directly towards you and giggling you go to lift your top to flash him cheekily.

the camera ALL point to you but it’s his publicist that stops you, waving a hand in a panicked manner. “I wasn’t really going to!” You’d exclaim, glancing back up to Jenson whose jaw was dropped in excitement. The crowd was ‘wheeeeying’ each time you went to lift your top mischievously, but you ended up getting told off.

he’d love it when you rode tf out of him, titties in his face.

you’d get a reputation for partying together, but the tabloids make it seem far worse than what you actually do.

The uk papers love trying to get a good scandal out of the two of you, but you’re so close knit and stay out of drama it’s all aload of bollocks.

always getting caught in compromising positions, eg, he’s grabbing your bum or boobs.

you once got caught reaching under the blanket to rest a hand teasingly over his crotch.

he’d be such a tease omg, especially when he get a little cocky after winning a race.

but he really is a sweetheart, the media like to present you both as some kind of crazy, party animal couples and there’s sooo many rumours that fly around (none of them are true).

The two of you would 100% become more private and reserved as you got older, but especially in the first few years you’re a magnet for cameras.

you’d often be caught drinking in the paddock or partying, you’d become a staple fashion icon and one of the leading wags. It seems like you’re friends with everybody and anybody, causing you to become a likeable character on the grid.

I feel like Jenson would be so chilled out watching you doing interviews and speaking to whoever, but the minute somebody starts to take advantage of your kindness he’s stepping in.

Like some of the papers print the most misogynistic stories about you ever. We all know paparazzi especially the British press can be ruthless, so there’d be lots of times after nights out where they’re already waiting to hound you coming out of a bar.

One guy tries to take an inappropriate picture of you getting out of a car and Jenson punches him or hits his camera out of his hands, idk he’s just super protective over you.

would take you on soooo many holidays, deffo gets a little frisky on the private beaches and on the yachts, he loves it. He falls in love with you deeper and deeper each time he spends time with you.

Can’t get enough of you in a bikini.

sometimes he’ll get so excited to see you he play fights you and gets a little rough.

loves it when you get a little feisty omg.

when you surprise him at a race he’d wrap his arms so tightly around your front and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck omg he’s so soft idgaf.

massive softie when nobody is watching, isn’t afraid of a little PDA either in front of the right people ;)

[sp1rit-realm]

༻¨*:· 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ·:*¨༺

༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 remus is used to the same day, and then you come into his life.

༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 please give me some grace. i havent written a full on fic in... a hot second 𖦹 record shop owner!remus x fem!reader (she/her prns) 𖦹 sirius uses he/they prns 𖦹 also. reader moves to england so she doesnt have british accent. yeah. 𖦹 lily evans being the best 𖦹 FLUFF (everyone cheered!) 𖦹 [brief] ANGST (everyone cried!) 𖦹 not proofread

༻¨*:· words ·:*¨༺ 𖦹 2.7k

Routine—a very familiar word to Remus. His days were the same. Wake up, go to work, go home, shower, then sleep. He ate the same thing for breakfast and the same thing for lunch. Dinner was the only thing he frequently changed—maybe one day, he would have pasta, and the next, he would have chicken. He hung out with friends on Saturday, and they went to the same pub every time. The topics were usually the same. Sirius met someone new, someone they claimed to be "The One," only for that person to leave their life. James usually talked about training, Lily, and updates on her pregnancy. Since school ended, things had become... predictable.

You walked into the rickety old record shop, intent on finding your favorite album. It broke on the move to the UK, and you needed it desperately. 

Upon hearing the bell ring, Remus looked up. It was part of his routine—to see who had entered his shop—and there you stood, tote bag in hand with messy, windblown hair.

After searching through the Rock section for ages, you practically squeal when you see the album.

Remus looks up as you walk to the counter, "Hi." 

"Hi," You smile. Your accent throws Remus off, and he smiles. 

He looks at the record, then puts it down, "We have this in a white vinyl," He says, "I— I didn't mark it as colored, so you probably didn't see it. I can go grab it for you?"

You eagerly nod, "That would be fantastic!"

He stands, and you realize how tall he is—it's like he's towering over you.

A moment later, he returns with the other record, "They're hard to come by," He scrawls something on the record sheet, then rings up the album.

You thank him and pay, leaving him to wonder if you'll be back.

The next time you see him, he's with a pretty girl. She's got bleached blonde hair and a cute button nose. She's beautiful. Of course, you recognize the tall man—how could you not? He and the girl make their way to the counter; they both order.

"For Remus," A woman calls out. 

Remus—that's his name.

Remus steals glances at you the entire time he's at the coffee shop.

"Who's that?" Marlene asks with a coy smirk.

"I don't know. Came into the shop a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh, so you have a little crush." Marlene is full-on smirking now.

Remus goes red, "What? No." He shakes his head, "No," He repeats, trying to reassure himself that he doesn't have feelings for you.

"Sure," Marlene mutters, taking a sip of her drink.

Remus rolls his eyes.

About a month passes by until you see one another again. You walk into the shop. Remus looks up when the bell rings, and he smiles.

Sirius is there today, and they go up to you.

"What're you looking for?" 

You answer, and he leads you to the section as if you don't know the alphabet. He doesn't mean it that way, you know that. 

Still, you tease them about it, and their face goes stark red, "Sorry. I just— Sometimes record shops can be confusing in how they order things. Like, when it goes from 'C' to 'D,' does the 'D' section continue on the other side, or does it continue straight across? You know?" 

"I'm kidding around," You smile, "I've been here before. Granted, it was just once, but I know how it works. Thank you, though."

"But of course," Sirius curtsies, "Anything for you..."

"Y/n," You introduce yourself.

"I'm Sirius. Like the star," He clarifies, "Like, that's my name. S-i-r-i-u-s," They spell out.

You giggle, "Nice to meet you, Sirius."

"Nice to meet you. I love your silly accent, by the way."

"You're the one with the silly accent," You shoot back.

"Not when my accent is outnumbering yours."

You tilt your head and hum, "Strangely, I understand what you mean."

"It'd be concerning if you didn't."

"Do you frequent this shop a lot?" You ask, flipping through albums.

"My friend is the owner." Sirius shrugs.

You perk up, "Remus?"

Sirius quirks their brow, "You know him?"

You get hot, "No."

He narrows his eyes, "So, how do you know his name is Remus?"

"Well," You whisper, "I came in a while ago. He was really nice when I checked out. Then, a couple of weeks later, I saw him at a coffee shop, and they said his name when his drink was ready."

"You're a creep," Sirius raises his eyebrows.

"No!" You argue.

"Such a creep." Sirius begins walking away; you rush to follow him, "I'm telling him." He says.

You begin to panic, "Wait! No!" 

Sirius keeps walking to the front.

"Sirius," You whine, "Stop!"

"Remus!"

You silently will him to stop.

"Remus!" Sirius calls again.

"Lovely lady over here has something to tell you," He smirks.

If looks could kill, Sirius would be six feet under.

"I just– um–" You sputter out, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me with the record last time I was here."

You swear he blushes, but you don't want to look to find out.

"It was no problem," He smiles, "Maybe I could give you a call if any of their other records come in?"

Sirius smirks from the sidelines.

"Um..." It takes a moment to process, "Sure." You nod assertively, "Yeah. I would love that!"

Remus's world has turned upside down—you keep him on his toes. He stays up because, maybe, you'll call tonight. You eat lunch with him sometimes, and gone are the days when he eats the same thing every day. Gone are the days when he closes up shop at 7:00. Gone is routine.

"Do you want to have dinner tonight?" You ask, wrapping the cord around your finger.

"I'm actually going out," Remus responds. You frown, and your imagination runs wild. What if he's going on a date?

"Hello?" He asks, and you realize you've blocked him out.

"Huh? Sorry?"

"I asked if you wanted to come with me. You can meet my mates. If you want." He spits out. Saying it once is nerve-wracking enough; saying it twice is terrifying because what if you say no? What if you don't want to meet his friends? What if–

"I'd love to!" You cut his frantic thoughts off, and his heart swells.

"Really?" He asks.

"Of course!"

So, now, you're standing in front of a random pub, wondering if he's pranking you. It's been about five minutes, and you know that's not a long time to wait, but your anxiety is getting the better of you. 

Then, five turns to fifteen, and you're wondering how pathetic you look.

"Y/n?"

Your head whips to the door, "Sirius? When'd you get here?"

Sirius checks their wrist like they're checking a watch, "'Bout half an hour ago. Did the dimwit not tell you to meet us inside?"

You shake your head, "He said to meet him at the bar. So, I guess he didn't quite specify." You shrug.

"Well, come on in," He holds the door open for you.

You thank Sirius and look around for Remus. He's not hard to spot, and Sirius jogs over to their booth before whispering something into Remus's ear. He looks up and smiles brightly.

"You're here!" He exclaims.

"You're here." You say, tone almost scolding him. 

Sirius whispers something else to him.

His face drops, "Oh... sorry for not telling you to meet us inside." His mouth quirks to one side in a guilty expression.

You smile, "It's okay. I forgive you." You sit next to him.

"Oh, thank god," He rests his hand on his chest, "A pretty girl being mad at me would've been my death."

Heat blossoms in your chest.

"So..." James begins, "Now that flirt time is over, can I say hello?"

"Ha!" Sirius barks out, "Flirt time!"

Remus gets warm, "This is James, another one of my school friends. James, this is y/n."

All James says is: "You're his lock screen, y'know?"

Remus kicks him under the table.

"I mean–" James smiles, "Hello, it's nice to meet you. I have never seen your face before."

"Smooth," Sirius whispers to James.

You smile at Remus's red face.

"Ignore him, please?" He begs.

You nod.

Sirius and James tell you embarrassing stories about Remus for the rest of the night, and the boy starts to regret introducing you to them as a pair.

 At the end of the night, he drops you off. 

Rubbing his face, he sighs, "I hope they weren't too much."

You smile brightly, and Remus feels like he could fall to his knees, "I had an amazing time. They're really fun, Remus."

You leave him with a kiss on the cheek—he puts his hand up to the spot and smiles the whole way home.

"I've missed you," You say into the phone.

"I've missed you, too. You should just let me come over." Remus begs for the umpteenth time.

"I don't want to get you sick," You frown, "That would be horrible."

"It wouldn't be the end of the world. We could quarantine together," He smirks, "I could make you soup, and we could cuddle together on the couch and watch some ridiculous rom-com."

"Take a girl out on a date first!" You joke.

"I would if you weren't so busy being poorly." Remus groans.

"So you're asking me out on a date?" You smile and do a little happy dance.

"I guess I am."

He's smug, and you can tell.

A week later, you sit in a fancy restaurant—the kind where the prices aren't even on the menu. Remus is fidgety. He's wearing his nicest button-down, and you think it looks funny on him. He gets red at your comment and looks down at the table with pursed lips.

"I just meant that I'm so used to you wearing those comfy sweaters. You look good, though." You earnestly smile at him.

"You look nice tonight, yourself."

"Well, I'm going on a date with this charming boy. I wanted to impress him."

"I hear he's very impressed."

You insist on paying, but he won't let you. As soon as you pull out your wallet, he snatches it from you.

He kisses you before leaving you at your car, and you don't want it to stop. It's soft and tender, and it's everything you hoped it would be. 

One date turns to two, which turns to five, and now you're anxiously pacing in your flat. You're dating Remus; you have been for a few months, and you're not sure when it's an appropriate time to ask the question, but you'll ask tonight. Except Remus doesn't come. He doesn't call, either. 

After an hour of worrying, you call Sirius.

"Hello?" He answers—it's obvious he's high.

"Hi. Do you know where Remus is?"

Sirius laughs, "Right here."

"Can I talk to him?"

You hear rustling as Sirius passes the phone.

"Hello?"

"Remus," You whine.

"Hey there. What's going on?" He's calm—too calm. He's also high.

"You were supposed to come over tonight." You frown—it's a fruitless effort. He can't see you.

"Shit. 'M sorry, baby," He frowns, too. You can hear it.

"'S okay. I was just really looking forward to seeing you." You dramatically slide down your wall into a crouching position.

"I'd come over, but, y'know," He wanders off.

"You're so high you can barely walk?" You offer.

He takes it, "Yes."

"It's alright," You sigh, and Remus feels terrible, "Promise you'll come over tomorrow?"

"Promise," He answers.

But then tomorrow comes, and Remus has yet to show up. So you dial his number, but he doesn't pick up. An hour passes until your phone rings, and you're anxious and giddy and hopeful as you pick it up.

"Sorry." Remus's voice is gruff, and you can hear the guilt in his tone.

"It's okay. You can still come over. It's not too late."

"No," He sighs, "I'm sorry, but I can't... I have to break up with you."

Your face drops with your stomach, "What?"

"I can't be with you. I'm— I'm sorry."

"No!" Tears blur your vision, "You can't just tell me we're over. Explain yourself!"

"I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard."

You choke out a sob, "What's too hard? Loving me?"

"No," He sighs, and he sounds tired, oh so tired, "I'm incapable of giving you what you need."

"And who gets to say what I need?"

"Y/n, for your sake, I'm ending this. I can't provide for you in the way you'll need me to."

"Remus," You sigh, "I don't understand. What do you mean you 'can't provide' for me?"

"I can't emotionally be there for you. I'm sorry." 

And as you hear the dial tone, you let your sobs out.

You feel empty. Your only friends are Remus's; now you feel like you can't talk to them. 

"You're daft," Sirius scolds, "Y/n was lovely, and you break up with her over the phone?!"

Remus hangs his head in shame, "Yeah, I did."

Then Remus looked up and was met with one of his worst fears. He'd been on Lily Evans's bad side more than once, but never like this. He'd only seen this stare a handful of times, but not once was it directed at him, until now.

She marches over to the booth, never breaking her stare, leans close to Remus, and slaps him, "You twat!" 

He doesn't know what to say, so he holds his cheek and waits for her to continue.

"You hurt an exceptionally lovely girl for what?! Because you're insecure? Because it was too scary to feel loved so deeply? That girl gave you her all, Remus! And this is how you treat her?" Lily's face is red at the end of her rant, and Sirius tries to hold in their snickers.

Lily narrows her eyes at Remus, "I can read you like a book, Remus Lupin. I know what's going on in that magnificently stupid head of yours! Go apologize to her!"

"I can't," He murmurs, "I've already ruined it."

She rolls her eyes, "You won't know unless you try, and not knowing will eat at you, and you will die confused, sad, and alone."

"She has a point," Sirius agrees, "I mean... we all know you'll just mope around until we push you to talk to her, but by then, it'll be too late. She will have found somebody, and they'll get married, and you'll just be that bloke from when she moved here. Go talk to her."

"What do I say?"

It's almost midnight when a knocking at your door wakes you. Groaning, you get out of bed and make your way to the door.

You undo the bottom lock, keeping the chain in place.

"Yes?" You peek through the crack, surprised to see Remus holding flowers on the other side.

"I'm sorry."

He thinks he's surely blown it when you close the door, but he hears the chain clanking as you fully unlock it.

"What are you doing here?"

Remus wants to cry at the sight of you. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, with red tracing your waterline.

"I—" He has a whole script planned out but seems to have forgotten every word, "I have flowers," He settles on.

"For me?"

He nods.

"What are you doing here?" You ask again, taking the flowers.

"I'm here to apologize. I was a dick the other day."

You tilt your head, "You mean the other day when you broke up with me?"

Remus almost doesn't catch the sarcasm, "I'm sorry. I get so caught up in my head—"

You turn from him, "Come in," You mutter as you walk into your kitchen.

He closes the door behind him and toes his shoes off, "I get scared when I let somebody get too close."

"Tea?"

"Yes, please."

He watches as you move around your kitchen, grabbing cups and boiling the water. He's missed you.

"Why let me get close at all, then?"

"Because I like you."

You turn and look at him, "Do you, now?"

Remus sighs, "Look, I fucked up, I know that. Do you think we can try again?"

You walk over to him, "You said you can't give me what I need. What does that mean, Remus?"

"I'm unfit to be with somebody."

"I don't think so. You were wonderful the past three months. So wonderful that I think, if you work on yourself, we can give this another go."

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, leaning in.

"I look terrible," You laugh.

"No," He rests his forehead against yours, "You're always beautiful."

"Kiss me." 

hi guys sorry if this is bad😇😇

my lovely mutuals <33 @sepptember @violetteshoneybee @ay0nha @maroon-winestain @prongsio @imabee-oralizard @storyofaromance @queerpumpkinnn @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @zvdvdlvr @reysdriver @g1rld1ary @starsval @vampieteeth @maddipoof @bruisedboys @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[mayakern]

upcoming store stuff & why we're doing a super sale

omg hiiii it's devin again, and this time i'm bringing store news

the short version: we're moving ourselves back to minnesota, and we're moving order fulfillment to a fulfillment center

wow, that's big news! maya and i are so so so excited to be closer to our minnesota friends (and also my family lol). i'm hoping to be back in northeast minneapolis, but let's be real we're probably gonna get priced out and into the suburbs

in addition to that, due to a variety of reasons i'll explain in more detail below, we're transitioning from in-house fulfillment to working with a fulfillment center (or 3pl, short for third-party logistics). we're at an awkward size that makes staffing difficult and have had issues with extended processing time. the 3pl should be set up by september, and we're working on the back end to have fulfillment centers in australia, canada, the UK, and eventually the EU. if tax authorities work with us we should have all that ready by december 2024!

to prepare for that we're doing a super sale. ash told me not to call it liquidation but she said that like 30 seconds after i hit send on the marketing email, sorry about that. items that we don't want to pay to move to the 3pl are discounted by 25-70%, with some of them priced at cost. under no circumstances will anything ever be 70% off again

if you're nosy you can read the q&a i made up in my head while eating pigs in a blanket:

how are the labor protections at the 3pl?

pretty good! we were shocked to find anything even halfway decent in the US; we went looking for a fulfillment center in the EU to handle all international fulfillment, and the one we found just so happened to have bought a US location two years ago.

they're located in ohio, pay $19/hr, and provide health insurance and 401k matching. that seemed too good to be true so we dug through employee reviews on places like glassdoor, and while there were some bad reviews those were all dated prior to when the facility was purchased by this new company. they also have a very low turnover rate which is a HUGE green flag

why are you transferring to a 3pl?

the serious

sometimes we have a high volume of sales, and it makes sense to have two full-time employees plus a part timer! but usually we have a low-to-medium volume of sales. we can float by on that, but it gets risky, and the economy is in a bad enough state that we're concerned about the longevity

related, the 2023 holiday sale showed us some major flaws in our fulfillment process. if the same issues were to happen this year the business probably wouldn't survive

we're moving cross-country in early 2025 and would've had to close this location anyway

the dumb:

i'm sick of dealing with commercial landlords and if i have one more wall leak i'm going to throw it into the river brick by brick

what about your staff?

unfortunately we will have to say goodbye to our office staff. they have been given 3.5 months notice and no-questions-asked PTO for interviews with a small severance

why are you moving back to minnesota?

troy was always meant to be a temporary move. initially the plan was to move to vermont or massachusetts, but after being out here for 7 years we just kinda want to go home. the weather in troy is perfect for us, we love the mountains, and we have some great friends here, but for some goddamn reason we want our eyelashes to freeze together.

will you be returning to midwest cons?

if we return to cons at all it will be with ariel and/or ash running the booth, maya will not be involved. this would likely be in california and/or in the northeast US.

my friends are begging me to go to CONvergence as an attendee so ig you might see me there? maya has pledged death before crowded venues tho

will you do any local events in minnesota?

we might do sample sales. honestly idk what we're gonna do with the samples we have in troy, most of them are terrible. do you want samples of the strangest low rise bell bottom pants ever created? please take them from me. my bush hangs out

also my kid brother has gotten really into library events and if he asks nice enough we might do some of those

is there anything else?

i mean probably, but i started this last week and i haven't had any other ideas on what to include

[ms-taurusvenus]

Sagittarius Placement Observations

To all of my Sagittarius placements, ensure you have people that are open-minded and optimistic. Or else that shit is gonna bring you down and feel like shit. Be wild and free. Dream big and that will manifest.

What is covered: Mercury, Moon, Venus, Mars, & general/random observations (at the end).

Mercury

Usually have humour that people find offensive. They're also very sarcastic. Ie, The UK has humour that many find offensive and don't understand when whatever they're saying (to them) isn't meant to be taken as offensive or to heart and that is just their way of bantering/joking around. Curse like sailors when they're upset/mad about and sometimes even when it's about something that they're passionate about. As much as they love to be playful and all, they are very optimistic and open-minded which makes them great for deep conversations They love to exaggerate things and be drama queens even when things weren't deep or serious (and they know it .. usually). It sometimes like a mix of Leo and Gemini energy if you ask me. But due to this they may have a tendency of jumping into conclusions. May struggle with paying attention to detail and the nitty-gritty of things. Bold.

Moon

Usually very adventure, craving challenges and new experiences. May also be spontaneous due to this. Often they're smarter than you think they are and they tend to be sly about their intelligence. Carefree and optimistic in nature. Might've grown up with optimistic mother, hence their optimism. Ride or die type of friends. Applies for all Sag placements but I see this especially with Sag Moons.

Venus

May enjoy traveling with their partners and trying new things. Enjoys a balance of independence in their relationships. Might feel restrained to love because they have a lot of love for those that they love and may not want to seem clingy or overwhelm their partners. Tend to be go with the flow with their relationships.

Mars

If you ask me ... Sagittarius Mars are the scariest. Jupiter (Sags home) is the planet of expansion. You put that together and boom, you got a ruthless ass Mars placement.

May get annoyed with people with narrow mindsets, double standards, liars, being controlled/those who try to control others, arrogance, complaining, lack of action to things. Laughs shit off even in awkward situations. Tend to be very energetic. Playful and may act like a kid.

General

Really well educated and may have thought about getting multiple degrees, a PhD, etc. Really intuitive. Loves to travel and may/often have either been to a lot of places or plan to go to a lot of places. Also tends to travel often. Enjoys learning and trying different cultures, languages, and cusine/food. Might have deep voices. Tend to be detached and have detachment issues. Might also have a avoidant attachment style. Are able and may tend to be the ones making/willing to make the first moves. Due to your 10H Virgo, you may prioritize and care for your career and profession a lot. Often taking your time and however much is needed/necessary to prefect your craft and profession. Really wide range of music they like and listen to. Might be open to drugs or at least trying them. Usually are wild when they're younger but chill down as they grow older. Easy going and don't like to be tied down. Due to Sags 2H/3H being ruled by Saturn you may be sensitive or struggle to singing and making different sounds from your voice. Tend have deep, philopshial questions about life, universe, and even themselves. Wants to find out the truth of things. Tend to have a lot of skills and hobbies.

Thank you for making it this far! I hope you can relate/resonate with anything in this post. My inbox is open for questions, discussions, etc! Reblog's are appreciated :).

[jolalibrary]

I thought I’d introduce myself properly, because either you know me or I change my name that often you think you do but you’re not sure 😏

✨ I’m jo, shorthand of a longer name

✨my previous usernames have been: undercoverpena and mvtthewmurdvck — you may know me for writing late night texts (a Javi text fic) or from writing cod. that is if you don’t know me from frankie and joel.

✨ she/her, from the UK, I’m married to a man but I’m bi and a cancer 🦀. Im also a celiac and I have a diagnosed anxiety disorder—sometimes this makes me go into a hole and I’m sorry for when I go quiet

✨ I previously wrote for daredevil, bucky barnes, cod and then I saw a tiktok of javier peña and I had to know more about him and now im here. frankie stormed into my life some months later and i think I may have fallen in love in real time

✨ I love romcoms, romance books and usually I’m HEA—sometimes I might rip your heart out but it’s rare. I will always warn

✨ I love music, my taste is all over the shop and often I can have a good day just because my playlist was good

✨ I am dyslexic and 85% of the time I am not ashamed of it, but sometimes I feel daft and silly and I hide in my head

✨ english speaking, but know a tiny bit of German (I had a tutor for a year to converse with a friend who moved to the UK for her birthday) and am now learning Spanish (self-taught and with a tutor). sometimes learning a language is easier than knowing the right word in english—dyslexia make that make sense.

✨ I have one doggo who we call corgi, he is a corgi. he’s one of the best things to ever happen to me and the first person I’ve ever thought “I’d turn the world up side down for him”

✨ outside of writing, I like taking photos of books, making things in Canva, frustrating myself at making gifs (newly taught myself) and currently enjoying making candles

✨ my husband is fab, he turned my fanfic into a book so I could hold it and he knows that I be writing on here, but he doesn’t read them (he did sneakily read some of LNT, I’m told. but he stopped after chapter one so he could ask)

✨ I like to be an open book, where I can. I like the colour pink a lot and I really enjoy writing people falling in love.

that’s all for now! if you want to know anything more, my inbox is open ✨