#(or pre season 1 anyways)

[hoss-bonaventure]

close enough—welcome back adam stanheight!

[karmalikeviolin]

my headcanon of jay dyes his hair to brown loll

[verstappenclerc]

sedici x 2024❤️

[redjaybathood]

Beacon Hills was a sleepy Californian town where nothing ever happened, complete opposite to Gotham - and that's why Jason chose it for his new place of residence. Talia didn't get it.

"You have spent a year with the All Caste, trained with swords and mysterious arts that are forgotten everywhere else on Earth..."

He refrained from reminding that he was kicked out by the cult she put him in when she just restored his higher brain function. For reasons such as prophecies foretelling the doom of said cult.

"And I can give you resources, contacts, everything you need to get revenge..."

He put his hand up.

"I don't want revenge, I never did. I wanted justice, and I see that it's a futile pursuit. Now, all I want - I want just some peace and quiet."

"So just like that, you changed your mind." She looked at him not quite with judgment or dissatisfaction - more like she really didn't get that he wanted to stop.

He shrugged, warming his hands on the coffee cup.

"Look, All Caste? You know what sort of place it is. You were taught by Ducra. You had Trials of your own. You saw it, didn't you? Every variation of you, in 52 Universes. Was either of them happy?"

"I'm not in the League for happiness," she said, almost scandalized.

"Well, why are you in the League at all? I was pondering that, all the year I was in All Acres, a doorway from any point in my life. I could go right through and warn myself, I could go kill Joker before Joker even existed. And it never helped. Gotham's cursed. Batman is its white knight in shiny armour. I'm just..."

He shrugged.

"Poor boy," Talia sighed, cupping his face.

"Don't. I don't need your sympathy," he put his hands over hers, but didn't remove them from where she was touching his skin. "I could use your company, though. I'm serious - why are you even doing all this? Just... Go with me. Take him, and let's settle down where nobody knows us, nobody will..."

Talia froze, then took her cup in both hands.

"I will not ask how do you know about him, even as your father does not. How fast, do you think, it will take Ra's to find us? With our edges dulled, our blades rusty, how fast will he end our lives - and take him?"

Jason shook his head.

"If you want me to believe Damian is the reason you're still in the League..."

Talia put the cup down with a clunk.

"Don't. Ever. Say his name. Even if you think we're alone, if you think nobody is listening in. I will not risk him."

"You already are. You do. He is at risk, and will be until one of two things happen - and maybe even then..."

"I'm aware," Talia said dryly, standing up. "This conversation is over. Do with your life whatever you will. You will find me if you change your mind."

"You too," he said, but the room was empty already. "Jeez."

In one of these 52 Universes, they got together. Jason didn't cultivate with mystical immortals in that universe. He had taken something like a gap year, traveling, mostly Europe, and learning from the specialists League of Assassins sometimes employed. Killed most of them - for good reasons. Reasons he supplied anonymously to Interpol and Checkmate, in this universe.

Because in that world, no matter how many people Jason saved by killing "animals", "monsters", he left behind a piece of himself. At least, with the Soul Swords, he knew what was fueling them, what he was spending.

The story of him and Talia wasn't a happy one. Or even particularly romantic. Both of them were hurting, Bruce-shaped wound in their hearts, but also what was done upon them, what they were made to do, what they thought they should do. Their hearts were more sieves than anything else. One night, they had to each other, and then they never talked face to face ever again.

He didn't want that. He very much hoped, knowing it was futile, that Talia just - went with him, to a sleepy Californian town where nothing ever happened. They would raise her kid - maybe he could be her partner, maybe her son's brother, he would take it any way she could give.

But he couldn't stay for her, and she wouldn't leave for him.

So, he went alone.

***

He had fake documents, keeping the first name and changing the last, using the same day and month of birth and making himself a year younger. Only fair, seeing how he was dead for six months, and catatonic for another six. He put down a local attorney's phone number for his contact information on the school application. That same attorney, Whittermore, had helped him with emancipation, seeing how he was only 17, still, and would need to find someone to pretend to be his parents, or go into foster care, otherwise.

Enrollment in the school was easy. Finding a place to live as well - there was a lot of property built during a dot com bubble era that still was sitting empty. Rent was cheap, compared to Gotham. But without League's backing, he needed income. So he started to check jobs.

There was not a lot vacancies that could be filled with a teenager who was still in school. Waiting tables, washing dishes, making coffee, retail - that was about it. Gabby, his friend from another life - life before Bruce, even - was a waitress. So that's what he applied to. There was no real training, but he had the skills he needed already. Good memory, from the time he used to devour dossiers on criminal individuals and organizations. Coordination, from his movement training. Cheerful smile and small talk, from all the times, infrequent as they were, that he had to follow Bruce to some event or another. He didn't like them then - now, he was just grateful for experience, because life in Himalayas didn't nurture his social skills, to say the least. And good thing Bruce never allowed his picture to be taken, unlike how it was with Dick. At the time Jason was self-conscious, thought Bruce might have been - finding him lacking in some way. Not fit for the public to see, regardless of the new suits he ordered from his tailors for him, or haircuts Alfred gave him. Who knew, maybe Bruce indeed didn't want him to be recognized by anyone from Jason's past who would come knocking. Still, it let Jason feel free in his new life. Nobody will see his tag and his face and put it all together as American most eligible millionaire's dead son.

Beacon Hills was so small a town, Jason had learned the names and occupations of the regulars in his first week on the job. One of them, the local Sheriff, asked a few questions about where he moved from and how old he was. After finding out that in a few weeks he was starting as sophomore at high school ("I was held back a year, sir, after a car accident"), Sheriff asked him not to tell to his son, Stiles, that he's eating his lunches here.

"He's making me those low salt, low cholesterol lunches," the Sheriff chuckled. "His heart is in the right place, I can't bring myself to tell him that it all tastes like a wet cardboard."

"I can tactfully suggest a few recipes to him," Jason offered. "There are nutritious and healthy options that are quite tasty. There's so much you can do with chickpeas."

"What, and leave Robby without steady income? I couldn't do that, not until he sees his daughter through college. Who taught you to cook, by the way?"

"My grandfather."

It took a lot of Jason to keep the smile on his face. But it might have been a wrong choice.

"Well, pass along my greetings. There's not a lot of teenagers nowadays who have the skill."

"He... I'm alone now, after the accident." Jason didn't like to lie about anyone dying, it seemed like he was cursing them in this way, so he picked his words carefully.

"I'm so sorry, there's a foot in my mouth, I swear it's a family trait," Sheriff rummaged in his pocket, and then thrusted a card to him. "Here. If you need anything, you can reach me on a cell, it's written on the back."

Jason briefly considered - he had some cards with his personal number on it on him. Always ready to offer assistance to the needy? Or... Noah Stilinsky seemed like a good guy, and Jason, pocketing his card, hoped as hell that he was.

Because there's another kind of explanation why nothing big came up when he researched Beacon Hills. All sorts of things can be covered up and never see the light of the day when it's the police doing the covering.

He will call, he decided, as soon as he can find a suitable reason. He needed to know if the Sheriff and this town was what they seemed.

***

Before the school started, though, Jason couldn't find the time. He was a freshman when he died, and he had no access to schooling after his resurrection. Even with all the knowledge learned under the tutelage of a former Batgirl, there was a lot of ground to cover, to catch up with the rest of the class. It wasn't his first rodeo, and arguably it was way easier now than when he also had Robin training. But he had a job, now, working as long the hours as the diner's owner would allow him before the school started. Besides that, he took up running in the Preserve, as much to familiarize himself with his new habitat as to stay in shape. It also replaced the meditations, in part - he cut them down from the recommend by Ducra two hours per day, to half an hour, before going to sleep.

He met some people in that way, too. His new classmates, actually: Jackson Whittermore, son of Mr. Whittermore whose services he employed - finding that out, Jackson toned down his smirk and offered a handshake. He was running with his friend, Danny Mahealani. Both of them were on the school's lacrosse team, and invited him to the tryouts that would happen before the Spring.

"Maybe," Jason said. "I don't know much about lacrosse, though. And never played any team sport at all."

"Really? Not even football?" Danny gave him a once-over. "Seems like a waste."

"Believe it or not, I was a tiny, skinny kid up until recently." Jason shrugged.

Jackson asked him about his regimen. Jason couldn't explain that it was a magical fountain of youth and cure-all that fixed his stunted by malnutrition and smoking growth. He wasn't even sure that was it. Maybe years with Bruce, and then the time spent in cultivation, changed his body as well as his mind and spirit. He didn't need to eat that much now, although he didn't progress to inedia. So he bullshitted, recalling the diet Bruce was on.

It actually inspired him to start a side hustle. Food blog for teenagers who wanted to bulk up. He always loved writing, and he had some expertise on the topic, although he ended up posting more about training and exercises, than food. Every recipe required pictures, so he had to make everything from scratch, and sometimes redo the whole thing because his cell phone photos were simply shit, videos (face always out of the frame) not much better.

He looked up Donna's work, one of those times. But in the end, Jackson introduced him to Matt Dalaher, whose hobby was photography. Matt's advice and explanations were shit, and he was all too glad to tall about girls, topic Jason could offer nothing on.

"Come on, there's don't kiss and tell, and there's me starting to suspect where's nothing for you to say," Matt joked one time.

"That's exactly it," Jason smiled back, not even particularly trying to hide the edge anymore. "I'm saving myself for the marriage."

"What does Whittermore see in you? This, and the cooking shit..."

"I have amazing thighs, I was told," Jason spread them to empathize the point. "One of my best features."

"Oh, so it's like that, huh? He's trying to set you up with Danny? Damn, he did the same thing with me, he gotta give it a rest."

Jason wasn't aware Danny played for the home team, and wasn't particularly trilled to find out like it was a butt of the joke. He still smirked.

"Do I have a chance, you think?"

Matt sputtered, apparently not expecting him to, Jason didn't even know, freak out because of the gay cooties. That was the last time they really spoke. It was fine, though - Matt's speciality was more portraits than still life, anyway.

***

Before the school started, Jason was invited to a party at Jackson's girlfriend house. He had work that day, but his shift ended at seven, so he could, in theory, make it.

"Come on, man, the whole school will be there," Jackson said, running along him. Danny was a few feet ahead of them.

"I don't know anyone from school, except you and Danny," Jason pointed out.

"And Matt," Danny called over his shoulder.

"Matt isn't worth knowing!" he called back.

Danny laughed. Jason smiled to himself. He liked that sound.

He didn't know whether he liked boys, to be honest - he didn't even know if he liked anyone. Things with Talia were circumstantial - and not even in this universe. Before his death, he certainly flirted with girls - older, cooler, the ones he would have no chance in hell with, like Babs, like Koriand'r (and oh, here's another trait they shared: Dick's ex/girlfriends). But the only time he approached dating was with Rena. And they went out only twice: when she thought he could score her some drugs, and when he ditched her for Bruce. For a case, he meant - but essentially, for Bruce.

It was all kinds of fucked up, Jason was starting to realize, how Bruce was all over his life. His father, his boss, his teacher, the only friend he managed to keep - up until he wasn't anything, anymore. It left Jason unmoored, swayable to the winds. They blew, and here he was in Northern Africa, on the quest to find a woman who didn't want to be found. Here he was, letting her know a secret that cost him his life, when he didn't even manage to save hers.

He wanted someone, anyone, in his life. It made him blind to the red flags. He might be better off without feeling this way ever again - but with his new life finding its rhythm, he started feeling those pangs of loneliness again. Thinking of people he left behind. Meditation became more difficult again.

He needed to prevent that, he realized. He couldn't just will and discipline himself not to need people. So the only way was to... Find new ones.

It wouldn't be the same, of course. Nothing like life or dead situations forging a bond between two persons. But it would, should be enough.

"You know what?" He said, looking briefly at Jackson and then back at Danny's back. "I'm game. I will be there."

And then he sped up, to run along with Danny.

***

The party itself was everything that the early 2000s romcoms warned him about. If you were Jason, first time in this sort of environment, sober (he didn't know how he will react to alcohol, and wasn't about to experiment in this sort of environment), knowing no one - he didn't manage to find neither Danny nor Jackson yet - it was awkward and boring.

He knew how to talk to people if you wanted them to open up to you, but it was when he had a mask on his face. He tried very hard that his new life didn't become a new sort of costume, so he didn't want to construct a persona around his future classmates.

He found a relatively quiet corner where only two people were sitting, and sat down with his half full beer cup (poor rhododendron, but he wasn't drinking this shit for real, and an empty cup would attract a refill, and full - askance glances to why wasn't he drinking). He nodded and smiled at them. They stopped talking, although the one with darker, longer hair smiled back and nodded.

"Hey, I don't know you," the other guy said.

He had a shaved head and a graphic T-shirt, like the one Eddie wore. Eddie, flashed in Jason's mind - last time they were in touch, he lived in California, too, although way closer to Hollywood. But getting in touch with anyone from his old life was dangerous, so he didn't. Now, he kinda felt a short pang of regret.

Jason shook his head to ward away this dangerous feeling.

"Yeah, I don't know you either. But then again, I don't know anyone here, except Jackson and Danny. I'm Jason."

He offered a handshake to both of them. The dark-haired one responded first, albeit slightly awkward in the movement.

"Scott," he said.

"Nice to meet you," Jason nodded.

"Uh, you too?"

Shit, don't people say that anymore?

"I'm Stiles," the shaved-headed one said, shaking his hand, with the emphasis on "shake". "Though I don't know how nice it is to meet you if you're friends with Jackson Whittermore."

"Stiles," Jason remembered. "I heard about you."

"Definitely not nice, then."

And yet, he was still shaking Jason's hand.

"Don't worry, it was only complimentary. Well, almost."

His cooking was shitty, Jason recalled. Everytime the Sheriff took his lunch at the diner, Jason made a point to ask what his son prepared for him that day. Even texted his blog's URL to the Sheriff, so he could pass it along. Some of Stiles' attempts at his recipes were a success, it seemed, because as the Summer progressed to the end, Sheriff patronized the diner less and less.

Stiles scrunched his face.

"No way in hell would Jackson say anything positive about me."

"He isn't my sole source of information," Jason smirked.

Stiles looked at him for a second or two, and then snapped his fingers.

"Jason! From the Robby's!" He elbowed his friend in the side. "The dude who runs that fitness blog? We're, uh, we started some protocols you describe, to enhance our physic and all."

"Yeah, but I'm afraid it's not gonna help us, come Spring," Scott smiled sheepishly. "I really can't do some of it without wanting to cough up my lungs afterwards."

"That's, uh, that's not supposed to happen," Jason said carefully.

"It's fine," Scott said. "I have asthma, I'm used to it."

"Even more, then. I was basically describing some of what I was doing, when I had started to," train as a vigilante, to kick ass and take names. "Bulk up. But I had no underlying conditions except I was somewhat... Thinner than other kids my age. Look, it's important to talk to your doctor, but if there's, you know, issues with that - you should always start small. Steady wins the race, yeah?"

Jason shared some tips, and then the topic switched to lacrosse - Jason still had only the vaguest idea of what this sport entailed, or how expensive it was. That topic - the money - wasn't the one he wanted to broach with Jackson or Danny. They were under impression he has it - from him being able to afford Whittermore's law firm fees - and worked at the diner basically for shit and giggles, because he was sad son of the bitch who knew almost no one in town. He didn't dissuade them, not because he thought they're gonna be assholes about it, but... He didn't want to chance it either. He knew how some things about you that were quirky if you had the money, like reading newspapers during breaks between classes - they added to the character. Weird, but a character. But if you didn't have the money, reading newspapers was just another proof of it. A sign that you can't afford any other entertainment, like a cell phone.

Scott was just telling him where to find used gear and armor when someone walked up behind Jason's back. He managed to keep himself relaxed, so even when the hand lowered at his shoulder - and Stiles and Scott's faces tensed - he didn't lost his cool.

"Hey," Jason said, turning to see Jackson behind him.

"Why are you here with the loser brigade?" Jackson scrunched up his face. "We were waiting for you."

"I was lost, and I found myself some company. Jealous? Should have responded to my text twenty minutes ago."

"Ugh, come on, come on, I will introduce you to Lydia."

"Now's my turn to be jealous," Jason said, getting up.

He didn't quite know what to say, so he said everything that came to mind. Jackson was kind of used to it, from their weeks of running together. Stiles and Scott, though, gaped.

Jason hoped they weren't like Matt. He waved at them on the chance they weren't, and Scott waved back. Though, not Stiles.

Jackson noticed his sigh.

"What?" He looked back and scowled. "Stilinsky said something funny to you?"

Jason shrugged.

"I mean, he seemed pretty chill. But might have disliked my jokes about jealousy. And I don't know him enough to know if it's the gay thing as in, me treating homosexuality as a joke, or gay thing as in, he is going to stay away from the gay guy thing."

"Don't worry, Stilinsky is an asshole, but he's not that kind of asshole. If he was, I would kick his ass to the next Tuesday. But, uh, you're gay?"

Jason shrugged.

"I dunno. I don't know if I'm anything, if that makes sense. My father... Was pretty strict. I didn't have much friends, and. I dunno, it's just never came up. But," he stopped Jackson with the hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "I really was joking about jealousy. You're not my type."

Jackson punched him in the shoulder, and they both laughed.

"So what's your type? I know you said it never came up, but, the best you figure."

Jason glanced at Jackson, who was trying for nonchalant but missing a beat. Maybe Matt wasn't far off when he suggested that Jackson was playing a wingman for Danny.

He smiled to himself, feeling a bit nervous. He didn't really know how to answer the question best.

"I really have no idea. It's not about the looks, for sure. I grew up around professional model-looking types. Nobody really rang a bell for me. I like chill people though. People with a nice smile. Or a mean smile, maybe. A genuine one."

Not like the one he himself wore, most of the time.

He shrugged again. He did like that, but he wouldn't call it attraction.

"Alright," Jackson said, and clapped him on his back. "You will figure it out."

***

Jason might have been mistaken in thinking that Jackson wanted to set him up with Danny. Or maybe his answers were unsatisfactory, and he changed his mind. Over the course of the night, Jackson introduced him to a shit ton of people. Presumably, to help him "figure it out".

It wasn't hard for Jason to remember their faces, names, and basic facts they shared about themselves, but it was hard to come up with the topics of conversation. Jason didn't follow sports, or celebrities, knew nothing of local gossip, wasn't even into online gaming. He talked a bit about his blog, but in the end, the topic bored him before it could bore the new people, so he just shared a link when they asked.

When Jason noticed Danny, he wanted to make his way other, but noticed a guy who struck up a conversation with him. Danny had a nice smile. Damn.

He didn't feel particularly crushed. Maybe it answered the question, maybe it didn't. He was a bit overwhelmed, and went to catch a breath outside.

There were people by the pool, but not further into the backyard, where the garden started. He almost bummed a cigarette from a random guy, just so he wouldn't feel out of place, but then he thought, fuck it. He was out of place. He wasn't relapsing his smoking habit because standing alone in the middle of a crowd of unfamiliar teenagers was unsettling. Because if he did, he would smoke all two years of high school that were left, and then he simply wasn't stopping.

It was a short lived relief, being alone in the garden, because very soon he was not alone so much. There was Stiles, and a girl with a small designer dog.

"Uh, how did your summer..."

"What do you want, Stiles."

"Nothing! Just saying hello. It's your party, after all, would be rude if I didn't even say a word to you."

"And this is why you followed me when I took Gucci for a walk. Sure. Because I'd talk to all three hundred of guests currently in my house. Otherwise it's rude."

Jason tensed. So that was Lydia. And Stiles was... Stalking her a bit?

"No, not you-rude, me-rude. Sorry. I can leave if you want."

"Oh, wouldn't it be rude of me if I sent you away."

"Not that it stopped you ever before. Like when you publicaly ignore my existence."

"And you don't think I have a reason for that?"

"Sure. Your boyfriend thinks I'm a loser, ergo, you feel I'm a loser."

"Oh, Stiles, it's not that - it's that I have a boyfriend at all, and your puppy crush is obvious from space. I don't need the drama. And FYI? That's not how you use 'ergo', unless you think I have no mind of my own."

She picked up the dog and went back. Stiles stayed, sighing frustratedly.

Jason thought for a second, whether to disappear or come out. In the end, he whistled, before Stiles turned to head back.

Stiles immediately turned around, but it took him a moment to find where Jason was standing.

"Enjoyed the show, Greenberg?" He asked, harshly.

"Not particularly, no," Jason said honestly. "I really don't like when guys don't get the hint."

"You friends with Jackson for a month and now you're going to be teaching me a lesson on his behalf?" Stiles squeezed his fists.

Jason could see that he wasn't scared, but he was expecting an attack. And that wasn't who Jason was - not now, and not ever.

He put his hands in the air, placatingly.

"You keep your hands to yourself, I keep mine."

Stiles was taken aback.

"You think I would?.. I wouldn't!"

Jason waved his hand dismissedly.

"If I got a penny every time I heard "I would never" when a guy, in fact, would or had - I'm not saying I would be a Lex Luthor, but I might have no need for a waiter job."

"I know, I'm the son of the Sheriff, you don't need to..."

"Even if you were a Sheriff yourself, I don't care," Jason cut him off. "Okay?"

Stiles huffed, and then went back to the house.

Jason, though, he decided to call it a night and went back to the place he rented.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Watching you dancing in your platform shoes You look so pretty in these reds and blues Baby, please, I know we're diving deep And you can barely breathe I'm scared completely that you'll up and leave me Is it worth this feeling?

Who are we kidding? That night in Milwaukee Was already starting

Your hair in my mouth Pull me down to the couch Oh, I want you right now And everyone tells me My heart beats for nothing But something is changing

I've still got that ring that you let me wear In that haunted swimming pool, I know you felt me there You'll win this hide, don't try to change my mind I feel so sure this time

Standing in just your t-shirt I know that this will hurt If you let go of me first

Who was I kidding? That night in Milwaukee You already had me

Your hair in my mouth Pull me down to the couch Oh, I want you right now I want you right now And everyone tells me My heart beats for nothing But something is changing

Standing in just your t-shirt Something is changing If you let go of me first Something is changing

***

@karatecaulfield back to making the lesbians little graphics and such!!!

Actually posting it is my birthday present to myself XD I just turned 26!!! This just in: Getting old isn't actually that scary. It might be when my health starts failing and whatnot, but for now I am vibing. Might finally get a job soon, too, so I can now shitpost without worrying about money constantly!!!

Also YO I MADE THIS AGES AGO BUT I NEVER POSTED BECAUSE I KEPT OBSESSING OVER THE PERFECT RUBY RING HELP

Truly what has obsessing over a couple of rich lesbians done to me akanhdusygduyis Do you know how much I would've cared about finding the perfect picture of a ruby ring 3 years ago??? 0%. YasMoon has forever altered me. There's no going back to who I once was.

I still debated myself for a long-ass time because like. I was like is that TOO much red nail polish??? Should I crop it out in the middle left pic??? Is it more symbolically poetic or whatever if only YASMINE has flashy red nail polish??? Is she the only one between them who gets to act like a showy tropical bird doing a mating dance??? But then I was like nah...wearing matching nail polish is 4000% one of those coupley-things-we're-gonna-pass-off-as-best-friend-things Yasmine and Moon would definitely do. And they both look damn good in it, so. Fuck it!!! They went matchy matchy to their secret hotel date!!!

So I got kind of obsessed with the idea of a YasMoon songfic based on Wisconsin Ave by Kailee Morgue, where basically Yasmine secretly books a nice hotel room the night after her 15th birthday (so pre-show!) so she and Moon can have a night to themselves and finally be free to do whatever they want! I've mentioned it in previous posts, but I am like. VERY certain these two were messing around backstage during (and before) Season 1, and the idea is so JUICY that I sadly am coming up with plot bunnies about it faster than I can write them D:

For whatever reason, Wisconsin Ave is the one that keeps chewing on me like a brain worm, and may in fact become a full-length songfic one of these days ^^; So naturally, to tide me over until then, I sated this desire the only way I know how...

MOODBOARDS AND FICLETS BAYBEE

This moodboard goes with this, this, this, and this! (Might make Daze Inn its own moodboard too, if I REALLY can't Find My Chill with these things ^^;) Tangentially related, but Yasmine's blue dress at the beginning of the Halloween episode in S1 was SUCH an underrated look. Like I don't care if it was supposed to be slutty or whatever!!! It served!!! I miss her skimpy little outfits tbh, the girl can have a redemption arc without having to dress "modest" like the good girls ;_____; Let her dress like a slut!!! This is her holy divine right as a woman!!!

Also they definitely underwater kissed in that hotel pool. I know, I was there, they told me themselves--

In any case, Moon would absolutely see Yas spinning around in that dress in a pair of stylish platform heels and just be so fucking gone for her. I love imagining it as this sweet, blissful moment of butterflies in her stomach and the unique euphoria of young love...and then reality comes crashing down seconds later and Moon is like "oh, I am fucked." Because all they get is this one perfect night--one night to be themselves and love each other the way they want to and let loose and do whatever they want...and then they have to go home. They have to go back under the watchful eyes of parents and classmates and snotty neighbors and everyone else who they have to hide from.

And Moon has to wonder. What if this this little arrangement between--this affection limited only to where no one can see--gets to be too much for Yasmine? What if she starts wanting someone she can show off? Love in the open? Take home to her parents?

...a boy?

And she lives in that fear. She lives in the fear that Yasmine could snatch away everything they have on a moment's notice and leave her behind to pursue something a little less...complicated.

She feels it all night--watching Yasmine dance, kissing her on the suite couch, wearing the ring Yasmine got as a birthday gift with their feet dangling in the Universal Studios Hilton pool that some kid supposedly drowned in. Waking up in Yasmine's shirt the next morning.

Knowing that she's Yasmine's, whether she wants to be or not. Moon is in too deep to pull herself away now.

The other girls in their group sneer at her. They see how she looks at Yasmine. They know the admiration in her eyes go beyond platonic.

And they hate her, because she's the only one that Yasmine gives any of that back to. She's The Favorite. The right-hand Beta Bitch. Unquestionably second in their lunch table's pecking order. She calls the shots far more than any of the other girls are allowed.

Not that Moon feels the need to call shots. But it's still a privilege not afforded to the girls who throw snide, passive-aggressive comments her way.

It'd bother Moon more if Yasmine actually gave a shit. But their "friends" are irrelevant to the queen bee beyond how good they can make the table look to the rest of the school.

Harper Moreno confronts her one time. Corners Moon on the way to history class--a class she notably doesn't share with Yasmine.

"I know you want Yasmine." Harper doesn't mince words. "I see you over there, leering at her all lunch. You're wasting your time."

"I don't--"

"No use lying about it." Harper's eyes flash coldly. "You really think you're the only one of us who's ever wanted to fuck her? You're not special, Moon."

Moon sways on her feet, caught off-guard.

"Did you ever...?"

"Not me, no. But I know others who have."

Yasmine would tell her Harper's trying to get the better of her. Work her up until she loses her composure and gives Harper the kind of undignified reaction she wants. Something she can get Aubrey or Jenna--probably hiding somewhere in a nearby crowd--to stealthily record and put on her Instagram story.

Something to bring her down so Harper can fill the now-vacant spot of Yasmine's second-in-command.

Moon isn't going to have it.

"You don't know me," she says coldly. "You don't know her. I matter to her in a way you don't."

It's a cruel thing to say. Yasmine would approve.

So much of what Moon does hinges on that these days.

Moon doesn't like the conniving smile Harper gives her. The way the other girl steps forward, putting only a few inches between them before leaning forward and hissing in her ear.

"It's all for nothing, you know. Your little crush. Yasmine will throw you away once she's done with you, just like she does with everyone."

As Harper saunters off, she throws one last sneer over her shoulder.

"I've known her since middle school, by the way. I've learned by now you don't get attached. Maybe you should wise up, too."

Most everyone else she talked to told her something similar. Her mom warned her away even more strongly.

"I went to high school with that type of girl too, Moonchild. They'll break your heart. Plain and simple."

But on the morning after Yasmine's 15th, looking at herself in a hotel mirror clad in Yasmine's clothes...

Moon has her doubts.

After all, it's not just any girl Yasmine invites for a private getaway in a luxury room. And if the loose Paris t-shirt hanging off her, the ruby ring still on her bedside table, and the bright red nail polish Yasmine picked solely to match Moon's are any indication...

Yasmine seems to have gotten pretty tangled up herself.

And something is shifting. The way Yasmine's sprawled out on the bed with her hair a rumpled mess on the pillows, drool trailing from her mouth...

It's imperfection she's never dared show before. Every past time she and Moon screwed around, one always fled before the morning came.

Now here Yasmine is, messy and flawed and laying it all bare for Moon to see. Trusting Moon with it.

It feels like the beginning of something.

Not the beginning of a "real" relationship. Moon isn't that naive.

But the beginning of Yasmine considering what they have is deeper than she planned?

That Moon can hope for.

***

(This is Harper btw)

I gave her a personality and a backstory!!! She fucking sucks and I'm very excited to write more of her being a menace <3

I do fr wonder about the other girls at Yasmine and Moon's S1 table. Like who are they??? Did they really all just ditch tf out of Yasmine after the wedgie incident??? Why did Yasmine deem them in particular worthy of the Rich Girl Clique, but only sometimes (since it's different extras at the lunch table in different scenes)???? Anyways, I imagine they prolly were passive-aggressive terrors to Moon because of all the blatant favoritism and special treatment she got from the Alpha Bitch. There was so totally inner bullying going on in that clique, and someday!!! I will write about it more than anyone ever asked for!!!

Anyways!!! More posts about Best Lesbians coming soon :3 As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

[my-fragment-of-peace]

There's a recap in a half hour that I'm waiting to watch. I want a recap of the overall results, I think we'll be able to get a better understanding of the cars from it. At the same time, as much as I've been getting hyped or disappointed about results from testing, I think it's worth keeping in mind that testing is different from racing. Testing is very close to what a free practice is like, and free practice results tend to be quite different from race day results (not always, but very often). Keeping this in mind, the overall results should give us a healthy level of expectation for the teams, but it doesn't necessarily express the full capabilities of the teams either.

[lewishamiltonstuff]

I want Guenther Steiner to FOCK SMASH Ben Sulayem into another dimension — possibly one where he can't return from.

Thank you.

[wlwmedarda]

I'm honestly just looking to rant and this might be long depending on how fast I get irritated the more I type so if this isn't coherent or well written I apologize in advance. Since it looks like Ambessa will take on a more antagonistic role in arcane season two, I would like to unpack the fandom's antiblackness that you guys are either blind to or aware and too pussy to call it out as my gut is telling me it's gonna increase and if no one is gonna start the difficult conversation then I sure as hell will.

Sevika:

Mel:

Starting off strong with the definition of "you guys want complex female characters but can't even handle her". Mel Medarda is in quite the predicament seeing how she's morally grey, a black woman, AND "gets in the way" of a mlm ship so she was kinda screwed from the start. A cunning politician disowned for her pacifism who acts as a sort of bridge to Noxus' slow introduction, and is THE ONLY CHARACTER IN THE SEASON 1 MAIN CAST SPECIFICALLY CREATED FOR THE SHOW. She's treated like satan incarnate or a Jezebel (highly suggest looking into that if you don't know what that is), GOOD character analysis is rare, and when she is talked about positively, it's so often chalked up to appearances that I'd rather yall not talk about her at all. Oh you love Mel? Then can we talk about her relationship with her mother? Unpack her dynamic with Jayce? Maybe more fanworks centered around her? I've seen yall's fake asses dropping the shittiest fucking takes about her only to turn around and gush over how pretty she is, and yall think you're slick about it and you're not. I would say I prefer the ones who are loud and proud about their hatred but that'd be a lie, they're two cheeks on the same ass; annoying and couldn't give a decent break down of her character if a gun was pointed at they head even she's perfect to dissect. I could talk about her more but we'd be here all day and so many black women even from outside the fanbase have already talked about yall so there's no need for me to add on 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️.

Quick question, have you guys ever tried to talk about her in a non sexual way? Yes, Sevika is undeniably sexy and you could argue that true stans of hers talk about her outside of horny time, but a good half of the fandom is a different story. In a similar case to Mel's, deep dives into her character are rare to find which is crazy when she acts as Zaun's own "kingmaker". She's loyal to her city and the cause, never to a specific person and will not hesitate to betray you. She could be your right hand man one day, and the next she might find a better kingpin to follow and stab you in the back like it all meant nothing. "Were you tempted?" "Not for a worm like him". Simple and subtle and probably my favorite Sevika scene; she comes to realize Silco is no longer the best leader for Zaun, but he's as good as it gets for now and so she sticks by him. I remember a YouTube comment breaking down how she's essentially the quintessential Zaun: a brute warrior molded by her environment, who defied Vander's peaceful ways and embraced Silco's cruelty. Her mindset and goal is interesting and you'd think it'd result in some fascinating meta or exploration of her upbringing when we got a hint that she potentially has some daddy issues right? Obviously, but what do we get instead? White sapphics treating her like nothing more than a sexual object. How delightful!

Ekko:

This might partially be Riot's fault because — and I hate to sound like a league lore nerd — Ekko is quite underdeveloped compared to the richer origins of his former pre arcane self, but I'm gonna hold off on that till the season finale to see how they handle him. Anyways, at this point the fandom clearly sees him as Jinx's trophy husband. When you talk about him, she is brought into the convo 90% of the time. That's exactly why I prefer black timebomb shippers over the nonblack ones because I trust they actually love Ekko as a character on his own. Even though I have my complaints regarding how's been written so far, I still know he's too good to be reduced to Jinx's loverboy. He fights and cares for his city, the only character that you can confidently say is pure of heart, and is the revolutionary leader Zaun really needs. He's just as smart as Jinx too, he is literally going to create TIME TRAVEL. Why does no one wanna talk about that? Can we be excited for his character development and arc not just for the timebomb scenes you'll get out of it?

Ambessa:

Can't even deny this woman is awful but her presence on screen enthralled me after a couple of rewatches and I also love bad mothers in media so I've settled on a love/hate relationship. Yes, she's definitely gonna have some influence on Caitlyn, which makes sense since she has now lost her mother; she's vulnerable and as we have seen, naive. She's practically free real estate for Ambessa. My recent worry though has been how the fandom seems to be willing to put all of Caitlyn's actions on her as if Cait isn't a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. Of course being grown doesn't mean you're immune to manipulation, but I've seen some Silco and Jinx comparisons and it is NOT the same. Mind you we haven't even seen the first three episodes; we don't know how far Ambessa's manipulation is going to go and we can't really tell what the dynamic is gonna be like based off of clips and trailers that are likely shown out of context on purpose to throw people off. I'll never defend her actions, hell I'll join in on the lashings, but my black ass is also not gonna sit here and let yall talk about her weirdly or pin all of this on her.

Some might say I'm overthinking this, but I've been here since November 2021 and have sat back and observed for 2 years. You don't have to write deep, philosophical conversations 24/7, I'm sure it's not all in bad faith and I won't act like I don't thirst over Sevika or marvel at Mel's beauty. I'm not saying you have to like these characters and that you're racist if you don't. My frustration comes from the lack of nuanced conversations and hypocritical opinions surrounding black characters in this show. When you try to say something about this, you're hit with excuses; it reminds me of how man obsessed fujoshis act when they're questioned for not giving two fucks about female characters. They're either reduced to one character trait, only admired for their looks, or only discussed when it's about the white character they're connected to. Do NOT under ANY circumstance be black and morally ambiguous, you WILL be held to higher moral standards than everyone's wittle blorbos who can do wrong and are defended from all sides when you dare to take the rose colored stan glasses off and criticize them. What's really ridiculous is you hear the "complex characters" bullshit every two to three business days and some of you have the nerve to boast about this series being diverse while simultaneously ignoring the complexities in the characters of color. This is the main reason I took a step back and with season two around the corner I thought "Hey, maybe it'll be better this time!" and it was a mistake. Good to know yall still have an underlying racism problem you don't wanna address but with some extra classism thrown in. "What will we do once Arcane ends?" hopefully get a job, touch some grass, and reflect. Lord knows yall need it. The faster yall sizzle out the better. I'm done that's all I have to say lol goodnight 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽.

[dear-ao3]

the 2024 formula 1 silly season and drama master post, part 2 (part 1 here)

Hello and welcome to ah fucking fuck auto caps fuck fuck fuck how do i turn off auto caps AHA there we go okay. take 2

hello and welcome to the great and very insane formula 1 2024 season drama post, part 2. if you are new here or are just looking for part one (which contains the previous 16 (?) races, the off season, pre season testing and everything else, that can be found HERE. (a word to the wise: open it in a browser, not the app, and preferably on a computer to avoid crashing. its fucking long). 

what the hell is formula 1? car go fast. fastest cars in the world zoom around tracks at top speeds of over 300kph, piloted by the top 20 drivers in the world. it might not sound dramatic, but oh man. you will Not be disappointed. this post focuses on the drama, the insanity, the sheer what the hell how is this a serious sport. no legitimately. we've just about seen it all this year. grindr, dogs, watersports, ice cream brands, its all here.

the point of this post? to educate, to catalog the insane drama, and to just have a good time. people like to gatekeep this sport, there is also a lot happening. i try to make it easy to understand. again, probably best to start at the beginning of the post because it does a pretty good job of explaining things, which i began way back in january, and can be found HERE (again, shes long, be careful)

and, as usual, if you do not want to see this post EVER AGAIN, block the tag #saph explains silly season 2024

and a second caution, i assume this post will be getting long as well. including this one we have minimum 9 updates left!

anyway, those of you who have been following along the whole time, welcome back! i know we got a little delayed. and i know we’re on a new post, so lets just briefly take a second for me to explain what the fuck happened. first i had an anatomy test, second i work 2 jobs with fuck ass hours, third tumblr decided to stop letting me look at any of my drafts, fourth tumblr support ghosted me about the drafts issue and the post was half saving half not so i just decided fuck it, were going with post 2, electric boogaloo, and fifth, i decided to start typing this instead in a google docs so. many changes. if you're new here i am usually more on top of this.

but here we are. were back on street circuits. we’re in baku, azerbaijan, for the start of the last third of the season. 8 races remain, world championship titles are still within grasp of multiple people. the drama is dramaing. and today is september 22, 2024 and lets fucking go. 

first and foremost, on account of the fact that this post is late (again, see above), were going to have to do a bit of a speed run. if you're new here, i promise that this is not representative of my normal dedication to the update post. and for those asking, yeah, ill probably compile it somewhere better than a tumblr post after its all said and done, but we don't have time for that now. 

what we do have time for is the Off Week (and like some of the media stuff). and it was filled with silliness: 

george russell decided to wear what can only be described as slightly ugly yellow short shorts with his taylor swift shirt that he got at the eras tour. this was baffling for several reasons, the main reason being that i don't think the internet knew that he was capable of wearing a graphic t shirt

fernando alonso got his aston martin valkyrie finally. in case you are unfamiliar, a valkyrie i think is the worlds fastest street legal car. he posted tweets about this that made it seem like he wanted to fuck the car. hilariously, the car broke down an hour later.

we also had the very thrilling conclusion to grill the grid. oscar won and he somehow managed to look more pleased about his grill the grid win than his first race victory. 

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nico rosberg went to the green awards and he wore a fantastically insane teal blue suit. yes i know hes not a current driver. but you all like hearing about him so ask and you shall receive. unfornunately i cant find a picture of it though

and also not a current driver is mick schumacher, but my roommate asked me to include that he was seen on his girlfriends instagram being bad at golf. like. exceptionally bad at golf. like he hit a tree 20 feet in front of him.

also playing golf was lando norris. except he managed to look like try bolton from high school musical 2.

he also talked about the world driver championship with his friend max fewtrell while they were playing golf. unfortunately i lost this link in the sea of technical difficulties, but the gist of it was that he was saying that there is still hope for him to beat max in the championship (hes about 60 points behind right now). lando doesnt usually talk about the championship because he doesnt want news outlets to paint him as “desperate” so this was interesting

charles leclerc had an insane off week. first he rear ended someone in monaco. then he spoke at a yacht conference. he was not scheduled to speak at said yacht conference, he was there doing something else and they were like hey you're cool people know you, heres a microphone. he alsp ended up on a weather channel while promoting a karting event he was doing for the jules bianchi foundation (his god father, the one who died during the f1 race in japan 2014). he also changed his instagram pop and re centered it because some random tiktoker told him it matched his aesthetic better.

oscar piastri posted a photo of himself sitting in the cockpit of a plane and then promptly deleted it. because he posted it on 9/11. for anyone who doesnt know what that is, that was when some terrorists hijacked commercial planes and few them into the world trade centers in nyc and the pentagon in washington dc

max verstappen also posted a plane pic with himself and lando norris, but he did not delete it.

we also had the return of daniel ricciardo’s jpg instagram account, which is kinda like a finsta for photos that hes taken. i think lando started this a few years ago. 

heading into the race week we certainly got a weird ass batch of pr. including but not limited to:

lewis hamilton was back on top and slaying in the fit game. as was yuki. 

lewis hamilton also exposed george russell as listening to katy perry pre race. katy perry and taylor swift (this was after he claimed that he liked listening to old school rap music.) though, lewis then started singing wrecking ball???? confusing vibes all around

george was not off the hook yet tho because some intern definitely make him say skidibidi toilet or whatever the thing is idk, i might be gen z but im not insufferable, okay? actually george in baku was just all kinds of unhinged

george and alex also got up to something, what it is no one knows but it is clearly something

max pulled up to the paddock de aged about 10 years. picture one is of him in baku in 2015 (i believe he was 17) and picture 2 is this year. no i am not kidding. 

and franco walked into the paddock telling everyone about argentinian mate (which is a drink, not a friend)

and max shoved a microphone out of the way so everyone could gossip

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then of course, we had some slightly more relevant drama

haas announced that ollie would be replacing kevin at baku. in case you forgot, kevin magnussen received a total of 12 penalty points over the season so far, which means he gets one race ban. how did he get the points? well he was mostly wreaking havoc on everyone else so that his teammate, nico hulkenberg, could drag his car into the points. lets all remember the time in saudi arabia where he managed to get 20 seconds of penalties by basically driving like a mad man just to make sure that nico could keep his position after he pit stopped. anyway, nico was kind of pissed about the race ban situation and said “maybe the guidelines for F1 penalties need to be reviewed as the stewards ‘want to get involved’ no matter the contact.”

in any case though, k mags was out. and ollie was in. we’ve seen ollie before. notably he subbed in for carlos sainz at the saudi arabia gp when carlos had appendicitis. he managed to get points as well. since then, he has been announced as a haas driver for 2025 and is now subbing in for k mags (haas, later in the week called him a super sub. clearly no gen z person read that over.) he can do this because ferrari has a haas engine so they share reserve drivers.

adrian newey finally got employed. i know! i can hardly believe it either! but he did! and youll never guess where! 

ferrari? no that would be too obvious. 

mercedes? nah

williams? no too much of a shit show

aston martin? ding ding ding! just the right amount of shit show! 

that is right. newey is going to aston for 2025. 

apparently he was offered a “good package” according to himself, which i assume means pay and also the fact that lawrence stroll made him a shareholder? stakeholder? whatever its called. in the team itself. basically he has a lot of power. 

he said that he always wanted to work with fernando and lewis. and he couldn't do both. and aston had a better package than ferrari. 

fernando looked positively evil during all the announcement pictures. and called the team "definitely the team of the future" and for those of you who don't know, fernando is positively evil. hes just been stuck in a shit box and we havent seen very much of him, but man does he know how to evilly slut it up. so that will be fun to see.

by contrast, people said that lance was not excited enough. and well. lance 1. has resting bitch face and 2. never really looks excited about anything. also he lives in a world where take your child to work day somehow became his job. (his dad owns the team).

lewis hamilton was asked what he thought about adrian not going to ferrari, and here's what he had to say:

"i feel like, while I have mentioned before that it would be an honor to work with adrian, i have been privileged to work with two championship winning teams that didnt have adrian."

mclaren announced pato o ward would do FP1 in mexico. who is pato o ward? hes one of mclaren’s indycar drivers and one of the f1 reserve drivers. he is incredibly charming and definitely runs his own social media as seen here:

mclaren Also claim they figured out who their number 2 driver is and they claim its oscar. i say they claim because the statements were a lot more complex than that. essentially, according to andrea stella, the priority is to the team first, then lando and then oscar. so they didn't outright say that oscar is the number 2 driver and i am willing to bet real money that this is because mr mark webber, oscars manager, has something in oscars contract that prevents him from being a number 2 driver. this is of course because mark webber was one of the most infamous number 2 drivers in f1 history to none other than menace war criminal sebastian vettel, who in their time as teammates, managed to win 4 back to back world champions. or, top to bottom if you're mrs darbus from high school musical. 

lando was asked about this and he said that yes, the team does support him. though he would not expect oscar to give up a win for him and that it is more complex behind the scenes. i suppose we will see if there are any papaya rules coming out this weekend….

and oscar said "i think the main point is its not purely just going to be me pulling over for lando every single race, because thats how none of us, including lando, wont want to go racing, if we feel that someone has done a much better job on a weekend, whichever way it is, we want that person to be rewarded."

max verstappen commented on the mclaren situation as well. which was funny mostly because red bull has one of the most defined number 1 and number 2 drivers of any team. he said "you look at it form oscar's perspective, he is closer to lando than lando to me. they have to deal with that."

and allow me to put on a tin foil hat as we are about to talk about the future of the red bull seat. because all i have to offer here is a baseball hat and a red bull can. 

a long time ago we talked about the red bull cans. the ones that red bull makes to promote f1. at the end of last season red bull put max and checo on the red bull can. this season at the start it was just max on the red bull can. well. now checo has reappeared on the cans too. and i will tell you what i think this means. it means that checo is not getting swapped this season, which was a possibility for awhile. 

but! there is more! 

daniel ricciardo made an instagram post this week. and it was very interesting. but most interestingly he was wearing a red bull hat.

which he does occasionally, no big deal really. he did race for the for several years, he technically does currently. BUT then he showed up TO THE PADDOCK wearing the red bull hat.

which is Big Interesting. usually you show up in a statement outfit or wearing the team kit. and daniel is not a red bull racing driver. he is a visa cashapp racing bulls driver. they might be owned by red bull but they are Not the same team. so why the red bull hat. in the paddock. well, the rumor is that hes taking checos seat for 2025. and the rumor is that this will be announced before mexico. so checo can have a proper send off. 

and with that. the baku lore. 

theres a lot that has happened at baku. as i said its a street circuit. and i think its the fastest street circuit. but over the years theres been some notable events. 

such as the great kimi raikkonen radio for gloves and steering wheel:

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they gave mini kimi this week gloves and steering wheel in honor of that

the max and daniel crash in 2018 when they were running p1 and p2 respectfully

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and of course. how could we forget. charles’s infamous “i am stupid” radio.

speaking of charles, he crashed again in fp1. not quite in the same spot, but nearly. he took a picture with the marshalls. 

then in fp2 he rage quit, basically saying that the car sucks. 

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but he was back and better than ever in practice three because he managed to top the time charts. welcome back fuck ass ferrari.

some other teams definitely experienced the lows but not really the highs of baku during practice. like lance stroll who came on the radio to say “this is not a car” (good thing they have adrian newey now, right? 

franco colapinto also cut his ear before practice on the neck strengthener stretcher thing that they all use and the team wanted to give him stitches but he was like no no no i need to be in the car in about 5 minutes im not doing that. so he jammed on his helmet and jumped in the car. he also crashed and when he went to the medical center he took off his helmet and there was blood everywhere and they were like no no no you cannot race! and he was like no! this is not from the crash! and then explained it and they let him do qualifying. 

also im pretty sure? ollie bearman crashed? in practice? but frankly i don't have time to google it so whos to say. 

but alas. qualifying. 

i know i know this is kind of a shitty update. i promise ill go all out in singapore. i PROMISE. 

so as i said. its a street circuit. high speed. 90 degree corners. and also windy as hell. we also had the dynamic duo of karun and harry in the commentary box. 

max led the first practice, george led the second and i think charles led the third. or some order like that. 

slipstream here is almost essential (slipstream: going behind another car to reduce the wind drag so you can go faster) 

charles has the last three pole positions (first in qualifying) here in baku, but he has never won. by comparison, red bull have never had pole here but they have won. 

and franco has never been to baku before. 

i think that's all the exposition that we need here. 

q1 started with max complaining about his car. “the car is jumping around like crazy on the rear axle” he said. despite this he was sitting in p3. 

the mid field battle though….the mid field battle was heating the hell up. mostly because none other than franco colapinto, who if you will remember, has never been to baku before, had split the two ferraris. he was in third for the moment, .109 seconds behind carlos sainz and .159 seconds ahead of charles leclerc. we still had a lot of qualifying left to go, so this was probably not going to stay, but it was still insane. he was pushing insanely hard, nearly kissing the walls. clearly he had learned from his crash in practice. 

the two mclarens waited until the very end of q1 to do their final flying push lap, and oscar made it through, but tragedy struck for lando. 

lando was in the middle of his last flying lap, time was ticking down, and there was a Very Brief yellow flag on the track. now, according to rules, you cannot complete your flying lap if there is a yellow flag. so lando pitted and was stuck down in 17th and out of qualifying. this would be the first time that he was out in q1 since vegas last year (which if i remember correctly was also not his fault) 

now though, of course nothing is ever that cut and dry. people thought that there had been a mis showing of a flag. yellow flag means that a car is stopped on track, white flag means that a car is going slowly on the track. and people thought that there had been a yellow flag shown when it was actually supposed to be a white flag (if there had been a white flag then lando would have been able to keep doing his flying lap) lando himself said that he had no idea what people were talking about because there is a light on the steering wheel that lights up when flags are called and he had a big yellow light. so it was clearly a yellow flag. 

if you're concerned about lando being able to pull it out of the bag, id like to point you in the direction of the mexican gp last year where lando qualified 17th and finished 5th. on a track that was hard to overtake on. he can be absolutely insane when he wants to be. worry not gentle reader. 

in any case. also out in q1 was daniel ricciardo, valtteri bottas, zhou guanyu and esteban ocon.

and notably, williams, who was on fucking fire this weekend as we already saw, finished q1 with alex albon in second (ahead of oscar) and franco colapinto in 8th. pierre gasly had somehow managed to also get into 4th. and nico hulkenberg was in 7th with ollie bearman in 13th. i told you the mid field battle was heating the hell up. 

q2. everyone zoomed straight out of the gate. they didn't want to get lando norris’d. but, speaking of that, if lando managed to get no points in the race and charles managed to win, charles would overtake lando in the drivers championship. mark webber himself told this to charles, who was absolutely baffled. 

in any case, charles was kinda suffering right now and that was because he was not getting slipstream from carlos to make his lap faster. meanwhile, carlos seemed to be actively trying to give charles the slipstream because he came on radio to say “he keeps missing the tow” 

and amazingly, franco colapinto was 4 tenths AHEAD of alex albon. alex albon who had not been unqualified by his teammate once since the start of 2023. ex red bull driver alex albon. that alex albon. 

max topped the times in q2, followed immediately by charles. insanely, fernando alonso managed to drag the aston martin to fifth. and franco was right behind him in 6th. by comparison alex albon was in 10th. 

and from q2 we lost ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda (who has never qualified lower than 8th in baku), pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg and lance stroll. so yes, ollie bearman managed to outqualify nico hulkenberg. this is ollies second ever f1 race. 

steaming on forward to q3. 

we had, for review, in q3 the following: 

both ferraris, both red bulls, both mercedes, both WILLIAMS (has not happened since vegas 2023), plus fernando alonso and oscar piastri. 

right out the gate it was wild. 

“red bull! theyve re found their mojo! or have they!” karun said. red bull were in 5th and 6th and not entirely sucking for the moment. 

everyone did one flyer and then came out at the end for a second flyer. 

here were the standings: 

charles, carlos, oscar, george, checo, max, lewis, alex, franco, fernando

and everyone was making it to the line and all was going smooth until-

wait a second what is that

could it be! alex albon! with the air box fan still on his car! surely not!!!

oh but it was! and harry and karun were like oh wow so unfortunate for williams tisk tisk

meanwhile ted jumped on the radio to Loudly announce to everyone that this was insane and if i have time here i will put the rant he ranted cause it was Fantastic.

and what do you know i have time

so we had 3 minutes left qualifying and everyone was pulling out of the pits for their last flyer when oscar hopped on the radio to say

"the williams still has the air box fan in"

"oh what an error! disaster for williams!" karun and harry said. they speculated if the marshalls could get it or if the session needed to be red flagged. but alex threw the fan off the car.

and then they asked "ted have you ever seen that before?" and ted did not hold back:

"ITS A MASSIVE YELLOW FAN HOW COULD YOU MISS IT???!!! HOW COULD THE MECHANICS MISS IT???? I CANT BELIVE THEY WOULD MAKE SUCH A MISTAKE DOWN AT WILLIAMS! SUCH AN EXPERIENCED BUNCH OF GUYS AND GIRLS! WHAT IS GOING ON AT WILLIAMS OPERATIONALLY? HOW COULD YOU SEND A CAR OUT LIKE THAT?"

alex, obviously, got fined for an unsafe release 5k euros. he also had to throw the fan off to the side and got slightly covered in dry ice. he did not get to the a second flying lap. 

franco did tho!

and here were out qualifying results: 

p1: charles p2: oscar p3: carlos p4: checo p5: george p6: max p7: lewis p8: fernando p9: franco p10: alex  p11: ollie p12: yuki p13: pierre p14: nico p15: lance p16: daniel  p17: lando p18: valtteri p19: zhou p20: esteban 

oh ho ho but we werent done yet. because pierre gasly got disqualified from qualifying. for failing fuel flow regulations. and lewis was going to have to start from the pit lane for changing his power unit. 

everyone, and by everyone i mean oscar max and checo, pretty much said that charles was going to get pole no matter what, they knew this coming in and the best they were trying for was second

onto the race. 

notably, this is considered a checo track. this was one of the three races that max did not win last year. because checo won it. its a track that he does well on, evidenced by the fact that he qualified above max in qualifying. so people were expecting big things from him.

and so, we head into lap 1.

charles managed to hang onto the lead. checo passed carlos straight out of the gate for third and max managed to pass george to take fifth. lando had managed to get ahead of nico and up into 13th. notably, franco held onto 8th and ollie was able to hold onto tenth. 

someone who was not doing well was lance stroll, who came on the radio saying that he had a puncture. this was from contact with yuki. lance had to pit for fresh tires and was pretty immediately thrown to the back of the grid. 

by lap 2 lando had managed to get past daniel and was in 12th, he was trying to get past yuki next, which he managed by lap 3. yuki also lost a  spot to nico. 

also slaying in the mclaren was oscar, who took fastest lap. then charles took fastest lap.

and lewis hamilton, who had started from the pit lane, was up to 16th. already. somehow. though he was displeased with the tires, sayig that “this tire is pretty bad” over the radio. 

yuki meanwhile was clearly having a problem because he had started going very very slowly. thought the pit wall said that he had no problems. this would later turn out to be false but we will indulge them for the time being. 

franco was STILL ahead of alex albon on lap 6. STILL. 

lando on lap 8 managed to push his way into points positions, overtaking ollie bearman for 10th. though this was where things were about to slow down for him because in front of him were alex, franco and fernando, who were all very close together and would be hard to get past. 

george was back in bad luck hell as a plastic bag entered his airbox. will he ever catch a break. 

on lap 11 nico hulkenberg finally caught up with ollie bearman and passed him for 11th. 

and max’s car was not working. to potentially no one’s surprise. “i have zero bite in the car” he said. and this was probably true because checo was a whole 6.5 seconds ahead of him. insane gap. 

several pit stops later that i will not detail out because we simply do not have the time, alex albon ended up in 4th and lando ended up in fifth. and oscar was about to get undercut by checo. 

“mojo seems to be back for checo perez” harry said, correctly. 

mojo was back for him indeed. and now he was right behind lando. 

and if you will recall, according to mclaren themselves, priority at mclaren is the team first, then oscar, then lando. but oscar was ahead of lando. so what did mclaren do? 

they asked lando do hold up perez, but not compromise his own race. 

remever a long time ago when i said mclaren wouldn't have any internal drama this season? man how i was wrong.

lando managed to hold up perez for around a lap or two before he got past. this was crucial because this was during when oscar was in the pits. 

thanks to lando and the power of the papaya rules teamwork, oscar ended up coming out in 4th, only .706s ahead of checo. 

mclaren are working together everyone! mclaren are working together!

meanwhile, turns out that yuki did indeed have problems because he retired on lap 17 with a hole in his sidepod from the contact with lance on lap 1. this was now two races in a row where he had had to retire for reasons out of his control. 

several more people pitted. and eventually charles was back out in front, oscar was in p2. until he wasn't. no, he didn't dnf. he overtook charles! he was in p1! he popped out of nowhere! nowhere being 2 car lengths back and just flooring it to spring around charles like a little silly slinky! karun called it a “good, fair and robust defense,” which sounds like its descibing notes in wine. but this was not wine. this was the baku gp. and we were only half done. 

ollie bearman was defending against lewis hamilton, holding on tightly to 14th place. 

charles was still behind oscar and he could not get past, despite the fact that he was still very much in spitting distance. “they are pushing like crazy or they have more grip than us” he said. 

carlos got past both lando and alex albon and was up into 4th

this brought max up behind lando. max was on 11 lap old tires and lando was on 24 lap old tires. but lando still defended like hell and managed to hold onto sixth. max was 0.632 seconds behind lando on lap 25 when he said that “my brakes are not working.” this was hardly a surprise. max has hated the car since china.

also experiencing technical difficulties was sir lewis hamilton. he was stuck down in 14th and was first told to do “everything you can do to get the surface temp down” of the tires. he said “im trying” then several laps later on lap 29 he came on the radio to say “are you seeing how i have to drive this thing?” “yes,” bono, his engineer said. “quite effective though.” 

max was still half a second behind lando. mclaren faked a pit stop call over the radio to get max to pit. he did not. 

but, george russell did manage to pass him. which was “not good for max’s world champion aspirations.”

this was also when ted very bafflingly said that “if i had a sofa in the pit lane i would be jumping up and down on it” im not sure what that was in response to. 

meanwhile, ollie was still holding off sir lewis hamilton. and charles was trying to get oscar to pit again by lying over the radio. it was not working. 

lando did a pit stop finally and came out a whole 15 second behind max. he was hoping to catch max by the end of the race. but it might be tight. lets go last lap lando. 

“lando, imagine andrea on your shoulder saying ‘zero wheel spin’ in every exit,” lando’s race engineer said. if you're confused, everyone else was too. 

10 laps to go and here were the order of affairs:

oscar

+.449s charles +1.865s checo +2.989s carlos +16.530s george  +1.909s max +11.535s lando +9.715s fernando +2.589s alex +2.451s nico +4.667s franco +1.590s lewis +1.261s ollie +1.791s pierre +9.205s daniel +23.919s esteban  +.789s lance +3.862s valtteri +3.631s guanyu 

lando was determined. he took fastest lap on lap 43 and was 8.8s behind max

at this point, the leaders were starting to lap the cars in the back. “the back markers are starting to come up,” checo’s engineer said to him. “its going to get messy.”

“hold onto your hats and if you don't have one go get one and hold onto it” harry said. harry would turn out to be correct. 

we had the top 3 all running very close to eachother, that was oscar, charles and checo and “welcome to the party carlos sainz!” who was now 1.2 seconds behind checo in the four way battle for the lead.

definitely not leading was lance stroll, who retired on lap 47 with a brake problem. 

oscar managed to pull ahead of charles by 1.5 seconds, finally knocking him out of DRS range. so now it was a three way battle for second. and charles had “no rear tires. no rear tires at all.” 

and, just like i said he would, lando managed to pass max on lap 49. he was closing the gap slowly in the championship. 

“verstappen’s day goes from bad to worse,” harry said. because lando still had fastest lap, so he would score 3 more points than max. which is important if lando wants to beat max in the championship (though i think hes still like 60 points behind)

meanwhile! franco managed to pass nico hulkenberg for 10th! he was in the points!!!! at his second race!!! 

but this was short lived because there was a crash! a big smackeroo! between carlos and checo!! checo was mad, carlos didn't know what happened. 

what happened was that carlos was trying to pass checo but checo did not move over. it was deemed an equal fault accident. both of them were utterly confused at what happened and apparently spent 20 minutes in the medical center being utterly lost and aparently saying that sometimes this sport sucks. and! contrary to what several people said! checo did not bang on carlos’s helmet after the crash. 

the crash actually caused chef's dad to have a heart attack. he is stable now.

and well. this clip of george from the post qualifying interviews definitely didnt age well:

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but! since we were a matter of a few laps from the end, this meant that the rest of the race was finished under a virtual safety car. 

which meant 

OSCAR PIASTRI WINS THE AZERBAIJAN GP

and george inherited p3! 

and on his own merit too! no safety cars, no team orders, no weird shit! 

“yes!” he whispered over the radio. 

he almost fell getting out of the car, then gave us all the “one moment” hand gesture before properly celebrating. 

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he also got driver of the day! 

(this was marginally better than george russell, who said over the radio “i cant get any rubber (to pick up on his tires) all im getting is leaves”)

gunther steiner also hosted the post race interviews. which was interesting. 

george said that the most difficult part of the race was “driving full gas into a wall of carbon fiber on the penultimate lap…the vsc should have come out sooner” 

charles bashed ferrari because they didn't do any high fuel runs in practice. 

oscar was entirely pleased. “i managed to overtake and hold onto it for the next 35 laps..one of the better races of my career.” and honestly, oscar winning a race straight after mclaren basically announcing that he was their number 2 driver is nothing short of hilarious.

and! mclaren was now leading the constructors championship by 20 points! for the first time in ten years!!!!

the top three had a moment outside of the car that was filled with baffled: 

and oscar's engineer tom got to stand on the podium with him. he usually takes a selfie with oscar after each race he podiums at, but he was too excited to so george took this picture for them

(george also aparently demomished oscar in a game of uno on the plane, immediately humbling him)

george also shielded himself from the champagne on the podium

the cooldown room reacted to the crash in a very straight forward manner:

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and very quickly cause its midnight and the singapore gp starts in 8 hours, the post race, speed ran: 

-mark webber told off laura winter for thinking that oscar didn't have good tire management

-alex albon was “super happy, that's a lot of points for us” (williams finished in 7th and 8th). he cut his own interview short when ollie bearman arrived, saying “I can go, im happy to go” and then waving comically. 

-williams was so pleased with this result they blasted everyone with champagne. and they overtook alpine in the constructors championship! this was also their best race finish all season

-(and a quick note, if youre going to really blame logan for being that shit of a driver here, please remember that the car he was driving was several rounds of upgrades behind alex's pretty much the entire time he was driving it)

-ollie became the first driver to ever score points in his first two races for two different constructors because the double dnf pushed him up to 10th place. he said that there was not much difference between the haas and the ferrari, the ferrari was just red

-franco continued to charm everyone and flirt with the reporters. 

-they interviewed george and lewis and the camera had to be adjusted for george's height. it was comical and resulted in my favorite edit so far of the season (sound on)

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-lando looked pleased and happy for once. he said about holding off checo that “i didn't hold him up i just had to cool my tires a little.” he was delighted to be leading the constructors for the first time in ten years and he defended alex albon saying “i struggled to get past alex for a while, which is common, alex doesnt make mistakes.” he also ratted on max for going to fast during the VSC and said “i didn't complain, facts were stated.” and to sum it all up he said that “im executing things well, i’m very quick…i’m not going to be the happiest guy, but i am never the happiest guy….car is performing well everywhere…some red cars behind us seem to be our biggest competitors right now” 

-by comparison george insulted all of pirelli. the tire people. “pretty infuriating that it (the pace) changes this so much….its black magic, people who make the tires don't understand the tires…..for 20 laps we had a car not worthy of points and for 20 laps we had a car fighting for victory and the only difference is the tires.” 

-lewis was notably upset after the race and walked through the paddock with his helmet on, not wanting to talk to anyone. but he did talk to franco and ollie and congratulate them on a job well done defending against him and racing against him. franco even fangirled over this on his instagram. 

-charles was clearly upset with ferrari. he was so upset he posted a thirst trap.

-and oscar. oscar was very happy this afternoon. and his mom was there! she doesnt usually come cause it scares her, but nicole was there today! 

-mclaren celebrated with a hell of a lot of champagne. both oscar’s wina and lando’s insane recovery, and the fact that they were leading the championship. red bull have been dethroned, at least for now. 

-there was so much champagne that lando took off his socks to spray it. all seems well at mclaren. 

-at least one thing is for sure, oscar had a better time here this weekend than last year when he got food poisoning and only ate four pieces of toast

and with that. we head into singapore. quite literally as it is starting in a few hours. again, i apologixe about this post. its a little sad, but the next one will be better. pinkly promise. 

see you all soon!!!

[lewisvinga]

visca madrid | max verstappen x sainz! reader

summary: a football rivalry would usually push people away, but for max and y/n, it just pushed them closer together.

fc; amanda diaz

warnings; not a safe space for culers other than max and lewis❌❌❌🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ ( jk )

notes; el classico is a term for the matches between spanish football clubs barcelona and real madrid! the rivalry is huge and goes way past football, pero anyways hala madrid, and in honor of our 5-3 derby win🤪

masterlist !

liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 890,287 others!

ynsainz: back home 🤍

location; estadio santiago bernabéu

carlossainz55: que partidazo! [what a great game] would’ve loved to join you! hala madrid 🤍

ynsainz: 4-0 is such a perfect score!! but hey, once the season is over right? 😁

carlossainz55: claro q si! [of course]

username: when she’s pretty and a madridista >>

username: sainz genes good asf wow

maxverstappen1: oh!

ynsainz: stay bitter we’re better 🥱 #L #yousuck #halamadrid

maxverstappen1: wait until we play you in 3 weeks then we’ll see who is laughing 🤣

ynsainz: yeah me bc we’ll win😁

maxverstappen1: yeah, sure!

username: max and y/n😭😭

username: i live for maxs and y/ns football rivalry moments

ynsainz uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; pre match lunch n selfie w yourbestfriend ] [caption 2; ready for el classico! hala madrid!🤍]

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1

cute but we’re winning 🤣

ynsainz

LMFAOOO in your dreams pretty boy!!

maxverstappen1

we literally won the league last season🙄

ynsainz

who gaf abt last season, we have jude bellingham🤩🤩

maxverstappen1

he won’t do anything 🥱🥱

ynsainz

come back to be once the game is over! i bet you madrid will win😌

maxverstappen1

if barca wins, you have to go on a date with me but while wearing the barca jersey 😁

and if madrid wins, then it’s up to you

ynsainz

a public post about loving real madrid and wearing their jersey

and go on a date w me while wearing the glorious jersey 😁

maxverstappen1

won’t happen but deal !😁

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,032,927 others!

maxverstappen1: hala madrid , i love real madrid! the best club in the world 🤍

tagged; ynsainz

ynsainz: VAMOSSS 2-1!!!!

maxverstappen1: yeah yeah😒

ynsainz: WITH 2 JUDE GOALS HA!!

ynsainz: white is your color 😉

maxverstappen1: i think red and blue are your colors🤔

carlossainz55: no.

username: bro won a race and posted this instead

username: this sounds forced….

maxverstappen1: yes it was.

ynsainz: no it wasn’t he lovessss madrid

username: are they dating??

username: i shippp

carlossainz55: best team in the world 😁

maxverstappen1: haha yes!

ynsainz: sound more enthusiastic 🔫🔫

maxverstappen1: duhhh best team itw !!

ynsainz uploaded to their story!

[caption 1; trying to show off his jersey🙄🙄] [caption 2; oh!]

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 1,004,029 others!

ynsainz: i guess i can put rivalry aside for this dork , just until the next el classico

tagged; maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: oh it’s on for the next el classico, mijn liefje [my love]

ynsainz: it’s at home, amor, we’re so winning

maxverstappen1: i love you despite your team❤️💙

ynsainz: aw i love you despite your team too!🤍🤍

username: I FUXKING KNEW IT

username: me n who fr

username: wonder how carlos feels abt this

carlossainz55: as long as he makes you happy, hermanita [little sister], but a culer [name for a barcelona fan] ??😬😬

ynsainz: i’m shocked too, i love my culer he’s a dork😞😞

username: me n who??

username: this is funny af icl😭😭😭

username: HALA MADRID!!

username: VISCA BARÇA!!

username: more like visca madrid

[caption 1; still wearing white on purpose months later to prove a point, even on vacation…] [caption 2; my pretty girl 🤍] [caption 3; you make me go ‘visca madrid’]

[onlyhereforthestories]

Chica Medica - Part 7 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

I know this isn't the final in question but I can't find a gif of it. So have this one instead. Plus who wants to see sad Ale anyway 👀 This is the final part. this journey has been crazy and long but I can't thank you all enough. I'm glad this one got finished even if it took me like 2 years! Enjoy!

The atmosphere in the stadium was thick with tension. It was the day of the women’s champions league final, Barcelona vs Lyon. The anticipation had been building for the last few weeks, now it was her and both teams were toeing the line on another historic moment. It was a weight that you could feel even though you weren’t a player.

The teams had already started their warmups, which meant the stadium already had that buzz of energy ringing round it. Fans were filling into the seats, drinks and snacks in hand, chants falling from their lips and filling the arena. In the middle of all that excitement, was the nervous energy surrounding the players, you could sort of feel it coursing through you as you did some final checks on players. A lot of the players had been involved in the 2019 game with the same teams, the day when Lyon crushed Barcelona dreams of champions league glory with that brutal 4-1 win. The memory of that loss still lingered, and it hung over today’s match like a dark cloud.

From your position on the sideline, you could see it in the way the players moved. Some were more focused than usual, pushing themselves harder in the warm-up drills, while others seemed distracted, their minds already on the game to come. Even Alexia, who was usually so composed and steady, seemed a little off.

As warm-ups wrapped up and the team headed back toward the locker room for final preparations, you felt a familiar presence beside you. Alexia had broken off from the group and was making her way toward you, her expression tight but unreadable.

"Can you tape my ankle?" she asked, her voice steady, but you could hear the tension underneath, the underlying nerves that no one else but you and her would know about, even if it was never acknowledged. To the outside world she looked like the normal fearless captain ready to lead her side the best she can and always does.

You nodded and motioned for her to lead the way down the tunnel and past the locker rooms to the medical space. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked you to tape her ankle, it had actually become something of a pre-game ritual for the two of you, but today felt different and was different. The air between you was thick with the weight of the upcoming fixture, and you could sense that there was more to this than just a simple request.

As you gathered the tape and began to wrap her ankle, you kept your movements slow and precise, giving her time to speak if she wanted to. You could feel her eyes on you, her leg resting gently on your knee as you worked.

After a long pause, Alexia finally broke the silence. “I’m nervous.” It was barely said above a whisper as if she was in a room full of people and she didn’t want anyone of them to hear her.

The admission caught you off guard. The Alexia Putellas, mighty captain of Barcelona Femani, worldwide superstar, role model for many little girls around the globe, was nervous and admitting it verbally to you. In the quiet moment before the biggest game of the season, she was opening up and letting her guard down for you.

You glanced up at her, offering a soft smile. "That’s normal. It’s a big game. And it important to you."

She nodded, her eyes focused on the way your hands were delicately wrapping tape round her ankles. "I keep thinking about 2019," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper still. "How we weren’t ready, how they tore us apart. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to let the team down. I don’t want to let the fans down."

You paused for a moment, your hands gently holding her ankle as you looked up at her. The weight of her words hung in the air between you, and you could see the vulnerability in her eyes along with the fear of failure, of history repeating itself.

"You won’t," you said softly, your voice steady. "This isn’t 2019, Ale. You’re not that same player, and this isn’t that same team. You’ve led them through everything this season. Whatever happens out there, they’re ready because of you. They are ready to fight with you."

Alexia exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she absorbed your words. You could tell she was still battling the nerves, but something in her posture shifted. It was like a quiet resolve starting to settle in and the confident captain was stepping back in.

"You’ve always been there," she said after a moment, her voice soft. That little glint she gets in her eyes when she’s just scored a goal present. "Since the start of the season, through all the ups and downs. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much that’s meant to me."

You smiled, finishing the last few wraps of the tape around her ankle. "You don’t have to. I’m always here, no matter what."

The noise of the stadium, the weight of the final, the memories of what happened in 2019 were pushed to the back of both your minds in that second. For this one little moment it was just the two of you, in this quiet shared space.

She reached down, her hand gently brushing yours as you finished securing the tape. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You squeezed her hand gently, offering her the reassurance you knew she needed. "You’ve got this, Ale."

With a final nod, she stood up, testing her ankle and giving it a small flex before looking back at you. The tension in her eyes had eased, replaced with a quiet determination.

As she walked back toward the locker room, you watched her go, your heart swelling with pride. This was Alexia, the player who carried the weight of the team on her shoulders, but in moments like these, she was just a woman who needed support too. and you would happily always be that support.

The stadium lights grew brighter as the time for kick off approached, and you knew that no matter what happened on the pitch tonight, Alexia would give it everything she had. And so would the rest of the team.

You sat in awe as you watched all the pre-match stuff happen around you. Your eyes found it hard to leave the Barcelona captain once she had led the teams out, and as the songs were playing out, you noticed her glance your way. It was barely a second look but she caught the small smile and little thumbs up you gave her and it gave her that boost she needed to get her head focused, or so she thought.

The opening whistle rang through the stadium, but instead of the usual surge of excitement, there was a quiet undercurrent of nerves rippling through the team and the crowd. The air around the stadium thick with anticipation and nerves around what was to come. Lyon, experienced and relentless, were not a team to underestimate. And within ten minutes, they made sure to remind everyone of that.

You watched from the bench, your heart sinking as Alexia was tackled. Henry standing up from the slide with the ball and driving in field, she took a couple of touches before unleashing a strike you knew Alexia herself would have been proud of and you could only watch on as it nestled into the net. 1-0 to Lyon.

The stadium erupted with cheers from the Lyon supporters, but for Barcelona, the shock hit hard. You could see it in the way the players slowed for just a moment, the disbelief written across their faces. A few glanced toward the bench, their expressions filled with frustration and a rising sense of panic. This wasn’t something they were used to.

But none of them showed it more than Alexia. Her eyes were focused, but there was an edge to her movements that you recognized all too well, the tension, the pressure weighing down on her.

As the minutes ticked on, you could feel the anxiety building. Barcelona was chasing the game, trying to press forward, but Lyon was everywhere, cutting off every pass, intercepting every run.

Jenni had a chance or two to put Barcelona level but couldn’t quite do anything with the changes, the keeper of defenders dealing with her presence or shots well.

And then it happened again.

A quick one two down the left-hand side, a looping cross to the back post that Panos couldn’t quite intercept and a well-timed run from Lyons striker meant they doubled their lead. 2-0 Lyon.

You saw the anguish in the players’ faces, the disbelief starting to set in. The memory of 2019 was no longer just lingering in the background, it was happening all over again. The stadium felt heavier, the chants of the Lyon fans growing louder, the Barcelona ones dying out a little, and the Barcelona players seemed to feel the weight of every step they took.

Then, in the 35th minute, Lyon struck again. A mistake at the back gifted a tap-in to one of their players. 3-0 Lyon.

The sound of the ball hitting the back of the net was deafening, but all you could focus on was Alexia. She stood frozen for a moment, her hands resting on her knees as she took in the damage. Her expression was unreadable, but you could see the pain in her eyes, the mounting pressure of the game slipping away. She was fighting against the memories of the past, but they were catching up with her.

From the bench, you felt helpless, watching as Barcelona tried to regain some control, but the first half had been brutal. Lyon was dominating, and the damage seemed almost irreversible. The team’s confidence, which had been so strong coming into the final, was visibly shaken.

Then, just before halftime, Barcelona found a glimmer of hope.

In the 41st minute, a well-timed run from Alexia finally broke through Lyon’s defence. She latched onto a lovely cross from Caro and struck the ball with precision, sending it into the net passed the diving keeper. 3-1.

There was a brief moment of celebration, a flicker of joy in the stands and on the pitch. But it was muted, more relief than anything else. The team knew the damage had been done. As Alexia jogged back to her position with the ball tucked under her arm to hurry the game along, she glanced toward the bench, and for the briefest moment, your eyes met. You saw the anguish behind her focused gaze, the weight of the scoreline still heavy on her shoulders despite the goal.

It was a moment of hope, but it felt small in the shadow of everything that had already happened.

Halftime was tense. The locker room was filled with an oppressive silence, the usual chatter and tactical talk nowhere to be found. Everyone knew what had to be done, but the path ahead felt impossibly steep. You could see it in their faces, the frustration, the doubt.

Alexia sat quietly, her head bowed slightly as she caught her breath. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was commanding. The team took their cues from her, waiting, watching. There were no outbursts, no speeches. Just the weight of the moment settling into every player’s shoulders.

When it was time to head back out for the second half, they rose with quiet determination. No one needed to say anything. They all knew what was at stake, and they knew how difficult it would be to turn things around.

You stood near the tunnel as the team filed out, catching Alexia’s eye as she passed. She didn’t say a word, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze, a steely resolve, a promise to keep fighting, no matter what. Not that you would ever think she could give up.

The second half was a battle, but the damage from the first half was too much. Barcelona fought hard, pressing Lyon, creating chances, but the goals just wouldn’t come. Time ticked away, and with each passing minute, the weight of the scoreline became heavier.

Lyon defended with everything they had, and despite Barcelona’s best efforts, they couldn’t break through again. Alexia pushed herself to the limit, running harder, tackling fiercer, willing the team forward, but it wasn’t enough.

The final whistle echoed in your ears, the high-pitched sound sending your heart into your stomach. Lyon had won, again. Barcelona had fought so hard to get here again, had overcome challenges but had fallen short yet again, and the heart break was evident. The stadium was alive with the cheers of Lyon’s fans, but all you could focus on was the devastation unfolding around you.

Your players, your friends stood frozen, the weight of the loss settling in. Some dropped to their knees, others stared at the ground, their faces etched with disbelief. The pain in the air was unmistakable, and you could feel it in your own chest, a dull ache that mirrored theirs.

Then your eyes fell on Alexia.

She was on her knees in the centre of the pitch, her hands covering her face as she tried to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions. The captain, the leader, the one who carried the weight of this team on her shoulders, was breaking right in front of you.

You could see her shoulders shaking, her body trembling with silent sobs, and it was too much. The sight of her like that, so utterly heartbroken, tore at you. Every instinct in you wanted to go to her, to hold her, to tell her it would be okay. But the truth was, you weren’t sure it would be.

The overwhelming loss was too much for you to bear in that moment. You couldn’t handle watching Alexia break down like this, not after everything that had happened between you, not when your own emotions were threatening to pull you under. You could see her lying on her back sobbing even when your eyes were closed.

So, you turned away.

Without a word, you headed toward the tunnel, your heart racing and your chest tightening with every step you took. You could barely see through the blur of tears forming in your eyes as you hurried into the medical room, seeking the solitude you needed to process what had just happened. You couldn’t stay out there, not with Alexia on the floor, not with the agony of defeat surrounding you.

Once inside the medical room, you leaned against the wall, taking deep, shaky breaths. You tried to block out the sounds of the celebration from Lyon, it was just another punch in your already beat up heart. But it was hard. All you could think about was Alexia, how broken she had looked, how much this loss meant to her, and how helpless you felt to not be able to comfort her.

On the pitch, Alexia wiped her eyes, the tears still flowing as she tried to gather herself. The pain of losing the Champions League final was unbearable, but it wasn’t just that. It was everything combined, the pressure, the expectations, the weight she has carried for so long. And now, the crushing defeat that brought back memories of 2019, a nightmare she thought she’d escaped, had returned and god did it hurt.

But amid the chaos, something was missing. Or rather someone was missing.

Alexia looked up, her eyes scanning the sidelines, searching for you. She needed you now more than ever. You had always been there for her, a steady presence in the chaos. And in this moment, all she wanted was to find you, to feel that connection again. To feel good again.

But you weren’t there.

Her heart clenched, a new wave of panic washing over her. She searched the faces around her again, but she still didn’t see you. The celebrations, the commiserations of her teammates, none of it mattered. She needed to find you.

Without thinking, Alexia got to her feet, her body aching but her mind focused on one thing: you. She moved quickly towards the tunnel, ignoring the flashes of cameras, and the questions from some of the staff still by the bench. None of it mattered now.

When she was inside, her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of you. Then, she caught a glimpse of the medical room door slightly ajar. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way toward it, hoping, no praying, that you were there. That she could feel something other than defeat.

You were so in your head that you didn’t hear the soft creak of the door as it opened. You were seated on the edge of one of the treatment tables with your head in your hands, trying not to fully breakdown. You couldn’t face the team right now and you certainly couldn’t face Alexia after everything. You felt like you were betraying her in a way by not being out there, but it was just too much.

The you heard it, her soft voice coming from the doorway.

“Y/N?” it was tentative, nervous a little, but it was unmistakably her.

You lifted your head, your breath catching slightly in your throat when you saw Alexia standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her face still etched with the raw emotion of the loss. But there was something else in her gaze, something intense, something you couldn’t quite place.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. The weight of the game, of everything that had been left unsaid between you, sat poised in the air, heavy and unwavering.

"Why did you leave?" Alexia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no anger in her tone, just a quiet pain and confusion.

"I couldn’t..." you started, but your voice faltered. "I couldn’t watch you like that. It was too much."

Alexia’s eyes softened a fraction, and she took a few steps closer to you. "You think it wasn’t too much for me?" she asked, her voice shaking. You couldn’t tell if it was from the sadness still surrounding the day or the hurt you have now caused her. "You think losing this, after everything... was something I could just handle on my own?"

You looked away, the guilt rising in your chest, making it harder to keep your emotions in check. "I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to help you. I didn’t know if I was allowed to help you."

"I don’t need you to say anything," Alexia said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just need you there. With me. I’ve already lost one important thing tonight. I’m not losing you, too."

Her words hit you like a sucker punch to the gut, the intensity of them taking your breath away momentarily. You looked up at her, your heart beating out of your cheat as the weight of it all settled between you. The loss, the heartbreak, the months and months of tension between you, it all lead to this moment.

You watched as Alexia took a step closer, her hands shaking as she reached out for your own. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered. “Not after everything, I know I’ve pushed you away, I know I’ve made mistakes, but … I want you. No, I need you. I need you with me, and not just because you are a part of this team. As more, with me.”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. You could see the slight fear in her eyes behind the determination, the fear you knew of losing something else, someone else, important.

"I’m here," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stood up, closing the distance between you. "I’m here, Ale. I want and need you too."

And that was all she needed.

Without another word, Alexia closed the gap between you, her lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions she had been holding back for so long. It was desperate, intense, and slightly hurried but it was everything. Everything she hadn’t been able to say, everything she had felt but hadn’t been able to express, was in that kiss.

You kissed her back, your hands sliding up to cup her face, feeling the warmth of her skin still slightly damp from a mix of tears and sweat, and the familiar softness of her lips. The weight of the loss, of the heartbreak, melted away in that moment, and all that remained was the two of you. It was always the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, Alexia rested her forehead against yours, her breathing ragged as she whispered, "I’m not losing you."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with emotion. "You’re not losing me. Not now, not ever."

The kiss lingered between you, as did the warmth of being pressed against the woman you loved, there was a mixture of unspoken emotions still on the tip of your tongues but now wasn’t the moment. The reality of where you were crept back in when the roar of the crowd could be heard outside, the faint celebrations of the Lyon players. As much as you wanted to stay in this quiet, life altering moment with alexia, you knew she would need to return to the pitch.

A soft knock interrupted the peaceful silence.

"Alexia?" It was Leila’s voice, quiet but insistent. "We need to be back on the pitch for the medals."

Alexia exhaled heavily, her forehead still resting against yours, her eyes closed as if she wasn’t ready to face the world outside just yet. But she nodded, knowing there was no escaping this part. You gently placed your hand on her arm, offering a small, supportive smile.

"You need to go," you said softly. "They’re waiting for you."

Alexia pulled back, her eyes still red from earlier, but the strength in them was returning. "Come with me?"

“Always.” You nodded, squeezing her hand before leading her toward the door.

Leila gave you both a knowing look when she saw the two of you walk out together with your hands connected, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she offered a small smile and gestured toward the tunnel.

Once you all made it back onto the pitch, Alexia and Leila went off to join the rest of the team in the line for the silver medals. The atmosphere was heavy around them, the weight of the crushing loss still taking its time to sink in. but behind that upset and sadness you could feel the determination in the air. Even if they were defeated this year, you knew they would go again next year, and as always, together.

As Alexia stood with her teammates lined up with her, waiting for her medals to be placed around her neck, she glanced at you. Standing off to the side but there, ever present you. There was something softer in her gaze now, gone was the torment of the first goal conceded, gone was the full weight of the loss, replacing it was something that you hadn’t seen before.

When the medal ceremony final started and Alexia walked to get hers, she accepted it with a quiet nod, her fingers barely brushing over it before she let it hang loosely around her neck. The team all stood together for the photo they all knew they had to take but all didn’t want to. The photo that would remind them of how close they had come. A bittersweet memory captures in a flash.

Once the photo was done everyone started to part ways. Some going to find their loved ones in the crowd, others taking a few steps away to give themselves a quiet moment. Alexia though had one more thing left to collect before she could join the rest of them.

The Golden Boot.

She had been the top scorer of the tournament, her performances throughout the campaign nothing short of extraordinary. But now, standing with the silver medal hanging loosely around her neck, Alexia looked anything but ready to celebrate her individual achievement. You knew she wouldn’t have cared for it that much even if they had won the whole thing, but it felt cruel to get it without the win.

As her name was called to receive the Golden Boot, she hesitated, her eyes dark with exhaustion and sadness. She glanced at you, standing off to the side, and you could see it. You could see the reluctance, the pain etched into her tear-streaked face. It broke your heart slightly, even though you knew that pain would fade.

You took a step forward, offering her a gentle smile, but you could feel her hesitation, her body still rooted in place. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to stand there in front of the cameras, holding a trophy when her heart was shattered by the team’s loss. She didn’t want to accept a single award when her team didn’t get what she thinks they should have together.

But you knew how important this was, even if she couldn’t feel it right now.

So, with that thought you walked up to her, you placed a hand on her arm, your voice soft but full of conviction. "Ale, I know it’s hard to think about right now, but even on the worst day, you achieved the best."

She looked at you, her brow furrowed in confusion, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her.

"You won the Golden Boot," you continued, your eyes never leaving hers. "It might be hard to take in at this moment, but this is a major achievement. You don’t want to forget it. And I certainly don’t want to."

Alexia’s eyes softened, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she took in your words. There was still pain there, still heartbreak from the loss, but you could see a flicker of recognition. Something in her eyes that showed that she understood that even in the midst of defeat, she had achieved something remarkable. Something that in a month or two she would want to acknowledge and celebrate with her team and loved ones, just not now.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she nodded. "I just... I don’t feel like I deserve it right now. Not after this."

You stepped closer, your voice steady and reassuring. "You deserve it more than anyone. You’ve worked harder than I have seen from any other player, and no one can take that from you, not even Lyon. This is your moment, Ale. Your incredible achievement. Own it."

For a moment, she just stared at you, her eyes searching yours for reassurance. Then, slowly, she nodded again, a soft, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She couldn’t appreciate this now, but she knew you were right, and she would later, when the sting of the loss faded.

With a gentle push from you, Alexia stepped forward and made her way towards the podium. The cameras flashed as the Golden Boot was handed to her, and she accepted it with grace, even if her heart wasn’t fully in it.

She held the trophy in her hands, but her eyes were still tinged with sadness, her tear-stained face a reminder of the battle she had just lost. But even as the pain lingered, there was a quiet strength in her, an acknowledgment that this achievement mattered, well would matter just like you said. That it was something to be proud of, no matter how bittersweet the moment.

As she was asked by the photographers to pose with the trophy, her mind ran back to the loss. The sadness in her eyes captured forever for people to see. She caught your gaze, saw the pride and quiet admiration in your eyes and that gave her the strength to square her shoulders and smile slightly.

With a deep breathe she held the Golden Boot in front of her, ignored the flashing of the cameras that were capturing the moment forever. And although the smile on her face was faint, it was there, a small demonstration to everyone that despite the heartbreak of the day, she had achieved something worth smiling for.

When she made her way back to you after the photos, you could see the sadness was still the major emotion clinging to her, but alongside it was gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “For being here with me. For reminding me.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently brush a stray tear from her cheek. “Always.”

The flight back to Barcelona was going to be quiet, the exhaustion from the match and the emotions of the night weighing heavily on everyone. The plane hummed softly as the team settled into their seats, some player lost in their own thoughts, some chatting quietly about the match and what they could have done to change it.  

You had planned to sit quietly somewhere near the back, giving the team space to process the loss. But as you made your way down the aisle, Alexia’s hand gently caught yours, stopping you in your tracks.

"Sit with me?" she asked, her voice soft but sure. “Please.”

You hesitated for just a moment, glancing around the plane. The team was scattered in their seats, most of them already focused on their phones or staring out the windows. No one was really paying attention, but this felt... different. Public, in a way that you and Alexia hadn’t been before. Even if it as only the team you both knew and cared for so much.

But Alexia didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen around the team. She was letting her guard down, and this time, she wasn’t trying to hide it.

With a small smile, you nodded and slid into the seat beside her. As the plane took off, you felt Alexia’s hand slip into yours, her fingers lacing together with yours in a quiet, intimate gesture. She leaned her head against your shoulder, the weight of the day finally catching up with her. You rested your head on top of hers, letting her know you had her.

For a while, you just sat there in comfortable silence, the hum of the plane a soft backdrop to the steady rhythm of her breathing. You could feel the tension slowly melting away as she relaxed into you, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building all night.

At some point, Alexia’s breathing became deeper, more rhythmic. She had fallen asleep on your shoulder, her head nestled against you in a way that felt so natural, so right. You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection as you carefully adjusted your position to make sure she was comfortable. Letting her head tuck further into you and away from the prying eyes you knew were to come.

And you were right, the peace didn’t last long.

From across the aisle, you spotted Mapi grinning mischievously, her phone in hand. She was clearly taking a photo of Alexia asleep on your shoulder, her eyes glinting with amusement. You rolled your eyes playfully and stuck your tongue out at her, quickly raising your hand to cover the part of Alexia’s face that was visible.

Mapi chuckled quietly, snapping the photo anyway before mouthing, "Too late!" She gave you a cheeky wink before turning back to her seat, clearly pleased with herself. Ingrid obviously smacking the woman upside her head that just tore more chuckles from the blonde.

You shook your head, but the moment was too sweet to be annoyed. Instead, you glanced down at Alexia, still peacefully asleep, and let the warmth of the moment settle over you. It didn’t matter if the team was starting to notice, Alexia had made it clear that she didn’t care they would notice. She wasn’t hiding this, and neither were you.

The flight continued, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a quiet sense of contentment. The pain of the loss still lingered, but in this small moment, with Alexia resting beside you, it felt like everything was falling into place. Maybe just maybe you could stay as Alexia Chica Medica.

[venus-haze]

Under My Skin (Black Noir x Reader)

Summary: Just when you think you don’t have a chance with Black Noir, an investor gala gives you a new opportunity to get under his skin.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also the song I’ve Got You Under My Skin. I’m so glad I’ve finally gotten a chance to write for Black Noir! Pre-season 1 where you’re in The Seven. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The piece of paper on the table in front of you was mocking you. Black Noir had already won three out of the four tic-tac-toe matches you were silently engaged in during The Seven’s daily briefing, and with the way things were going, he was poised to win a fifth. With a huff, you drew a hopeless circle and silently slid it back to Noir.

“Nightowl,” Homelander said.

You looked up, bringing your attention to him. 

“Great work on the team-up with Noir the other night.”

Noir slid the paper back to you, his tic-tac-toe win marked with a clean line, but he’d also drawn a smiley face.

You smiled. “Anytime.”

Homelander continued on, and you only half paid attention, your focus increasingly on the man sitting beside you. Even before you joined The Seven, you admired Noir for his stealth and prowess, something you aspired to. Upon your first team-up, it was clear your powers, most effective at night, complimented his incredibly well. Plus, he seemed to like you from the start, which put you in Homelander’s good graces most of the time. 

Absentmindedly, you drew a little heart on the paper, feeling your face heat up when you saw Noir’s head turned toward you. He didn’t acknowledge the drawing, instead beginning a new game of tic-tac-toe. Embarrassment flooded your chest, blood rushing in your ears. You hoped he didn’t think you were being weird.

“Last thing…” Homelander said, reading off the agenda. “Oh yeah, investor gala this weekend.”

“Great, another ass-kissing convention,” Maeve mumbled.

“Can we make sure shrimp cocktail isn’t served this time?” The Deep asked. “I just feel like—“

Homelander’s jaw clenched. “Jesus Christ, do I look like a caterer, Deep? Am I carrying around a silver platter–”

After a few more moments of bickering, Homelander ended the meeting, not without everyone still grumbling under their breath about the gala. No one particularly liked schmoozing over rich assholes, but they made your lucrative paychecks possible, so it was a necessary evil. 

You and Noir hadn’t finished the last round of your game, but when he left, he took the paper with him. 

You sighed. You knew you had it bad for him, but it was tough to gauge his feelings for you when his face was constantly covered by his mask. Even when you blatantly flirted, he seemed unaffected by your advances toward him. Of course you’d fall for this mystery of a man, the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. Your endeavor was starting to feel hopeless.

“So, when are you gonna make a move on Noir?” Homelander asked, walking out of the meeting room with you. “And don’t give me that ‘we just work together’ bullshit. The tension’s so thick I could laser through it.”

“You can laser through anything.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face. “Look, there’s only so long I can take the two of you making heart-eyes at each other. I mean, get a room.”

“He makes heart-eyes at me?” you asked softly.

“Yes, so do something about it already.”

“Maybe at the gala. Everyone’s there to see you, anyway.”

“That’s true. No one would really notice if you and Noir weren’t there,” he said, before giving you a slightly painful pat on the shoulder. “Well, except me if you’re loud enough.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Thanks, Homelander.”

You never took his comments like that to heart. You knew you weren’t one of the more interesting members of The Seven, especially compared to the likes of Homelander and Maeve. It was a blessing in disguise, as you ended up stuck doing far less schmoozing than they did. Homelander could hide his disdain for whoever Vought wanted him to entertain for the evening, but on more than one occasion, you’d been on the receiving end of his rant about “pandering to the mud people.”

Noir always showed up to these events, despite not interacting with anyone unless it was to get food. Once in a while, you’d watch as someone tried to start a conversation with him, only to be ignored before awkwardly making an excuse to leave. At least he’d give you the time of day, silently letting you people watch with him, acknowledging your observations about the various guests with a nod, or on rare occasions, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly when you’d said something funny. You always felt especially accomplished then.

The night of the gala was only nerve-wracking because you were finally going to be forward with Noir and see where that got you, rather than your tentative approach in the past. 

When you arrived on the floor where the investor gala was being held, you went through all of the necessary introductions as quickly as you could. Across the room, Black Noir was playing the piano, as he tended to do during crowded events. You’d asked him before where he learned to play, and he wrote simply on a cocktail napkin ‘My grandma.’ As much as he trusted you, there were still parts of himself that were guarded, carefully revealing pieces of his past to you, though you could never fully put the whole picture together. In all the years you were a member of The Seven, you weren’t sure you ever would. 

His past didn’t matter to you. You were fond of the man he was, even if he didn’t reveal his whole self to you. Still, you wished you knew more. He didn’t seem to have any family, at least that he was in contact with. Then again, most of your teammates had complicated relationships with your families, yourself included. That one talent of his, however, showed that at one point there was someone he was close to, that he had a life outside of being a member of The Seven. You hoped the two of you could have that together.

Finally able to slip away from the people whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember, you made your way over to Noir. He looked up from the piano, tilting his head a bit in acknowledgement of you.

“This party’s so boring.” You made a point to lean against the piano, letting the spandex of your suit highlight your body. “I mean, I can think of much better things you and me could be doing with our time.”

You weren’t sure if he was nodding along with your sentiment or the music. Ever so frustratingly difficult to read. Taking his response in stride, you sat down next to him on the piano bench. He didn’t stop playing, but he didn’t move away from you either. 

“Will you show me how to play?” you asked.

He paused, the soft music stopping momentarily. With a nod, he shifted closer to you, placing his gloved hands over yours. You let him guide you, though your gaze was on him rather than the keys. 

“You’re great with your hands, Noir,” you said. “I mean, playing piano, fighting criminals, I’m sure there’s more you can do, if you ever wanna show me sometime.”

No reaction. Maybe it was useless. Maybe Homelander was just messing with you. Maybe—

He rubbed the top of your hand with his thumb, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. It was something, finally some indication that he returned your affection. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked softly. “I only came for you, anyway.”

He took your hand in his, the music from the piano ceasing abruptly again. He brought his pointer finger to his mouth, and you giggled despite his silent instruction to be quiet. 

Glancing around, you noticed everyone else was preoccupied, mainly with competing for Homelander’s attention, as usual. The perfect opportunity for the two of you to slip away from the party with ease. Stealth was his speciality after all. 

You let him lead you away from the gala and to an empty balcony on another floor of the tower. The city seemed to sparkle especially bright that night. Feeling bold, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hand still intertwined with his.

“I wish we could be like this more often,” you whispered. “You’re the only person I like spending so much time with. I think of you, and I—it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted you to know.”

After a few minutes of silence, Noir moved away from you, reaching for something in his pocket. A folded piece of paper, the same one the two of you had been playing tic-tac-toe on just a few days earlier. He handed it to you, and you scanned the page before landing on the heart you’d drawn, finding he’d drawn another one around it.

“This is so high school,” you laughed, nevertheless taking his covered face in your hands and kissing him. “So, what do we do now, loverboy?”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you could’ve sworn you heard him sigh contentedly.

[rogueddie]

Pre-season 1 Steve getting dared to mess with Eddie but, in a whole "fuck it, we're dying anyway" kind of mood, he just starts hitting on him instead but also acting like they'd hooked up the night before. Eddie tries to snap at him, embarressed, but Steve just turns to Jeff, shaking his head fondly like "isn't he cute <3"

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalley100

Prompt: Shoes

Pairing: YasMoon

CW for some, er...suggestive themes ^^; BUT if you prefer something more innocent, you could interpret their “private time” as just being used for make-out sessions XD

***

Blue dress, amaranth lipstick, rose gold platform heels. Yasmine’s outfit blurs as she twirls, skirt brushing the window.

Moon reclines on the luxury bed, laughing. “Your parents really think you crashed at Aubrey’s tonight?”

“Yeah.” Yasmine smirks, plopping down beside her. “No clue I spent my birthday money on this.”

It’s their secret, this Hilton suite 19 floors up with the prettiest view Moon’s ever seen.

It makes her heart ache to imagine the day Yasmine grows tired of her.

Yasmine inches closer, eyes shining. “All the privacy to do whatever we want.”

Moon only giggles lightly.

“That sounds amazing.”

***

Watching you dancing in your platform shoes You look so pretty in these reds and blues Baby, please, I know we’re diving deep And you can barely breathe I’m scared completely that you’ll up and leave me Is it worth this feeling?

Who are we kidding? That night in Milwaukee Was already starting

Your hair in my mouth Pull me down to the couch Oh, I want you right now

And everyone tells me My heart beats for nothing But something is changing

[emjayewrites]

what's up, jude? what's up, lila? (hey there, delilah epilogue) • jude bellingham

SYNOPSIS: Real Madrid football star Jude Bellingham has had a big crush on Delilah "Lila" Hamilton, the younger sister of Formula 1 legend Lewis Hamilton, for a while. As their budding romance unfolds, will they be able to navigate the pressures of fame and family dynamics?

PAIRINGS: Jude Bellingham x Delilah "Lila" Hamilton (face claim Rayan Xasan)

WARNINGS: cursing, f1/football b.s., overly protective siblings, light smut, adult jokes (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @dreamingjude @foreverisntenough @nichmeddar @lettersofgold @judesvirtual @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @cocobutterqwueen @leilaxaliel @ispywithmylileye @vile-harlot @bellinghaalands @certifiedlesbianbaddie @yeea-nah @empressdede @saturnville @pinkcatcus @shepgurl @ffenthusiastt @serpenttines-library @judesprincess @bbgkoo @enretrogue @liamundi

A/N: This series is officially finished! Thank you for your support, comments, and appreciation for this fic. I will be doing two more one-shots for Jobe. Please keep in mind that this is set before my recent Jobe oneshot and around Chapter 3 of FBF (August 2024). You will see more of Lila and Jude in my other series, Fouled by Fate, which picks up literally the same time as this finishes. Jude and Lila are my babies, and I'm so happy you guys loved them, too!

The air in the Olympic fencing arena buzzed with anticipation. Lila sat between Snoop Dogg and Nina Dobrev, trying to focus on Miles' match while being acutely aware of the camera shutters working overtime behind them. As usual, they seemed more interested in her brother than the actual competition.

"There go the vultures," Lila muttered as another burst of flashes erupted, no doubt capturing Lewis and Amara's every move. She could already imagine tomorrow's tabloid headlines: "F1 Champion's New Love" or something equally dramatic.

"Let 'em talk," Snoop said beside her, his laid-back drawl carrying a hint of amusement. "They gonna do it anyway, might as well give 'em something to talk about."

Lila smiled, grateful for his easy-going presence. "True. Though I think they've got enough material with those two," she nodded towards Lewis and Amara, who were engrossed in conversation with Shaun White.

"Speaking of headlines," Snoop continued, "saw your Versace previews. Looking fire, baby girl."

"Thanks," Lila beamed. The campaign had been a dream come true, though she couldn't wait to show Jude the final results in September. "Just hoping I did the brand justice."

"Please," Nina chimed in from her other side. "You're killing it."

Snoop nodded in agreement, then his expression turned more serious. "Now, what about that soccer boy of yours? He treating you right?"

Lila felt warmth spread through her chest at the mention of Jude. He was back in Madrid, throwing himself into pre-season training with Real Madrid, while she was set to join him in two days. "He's perfect," she said softly. "More than perfect, actually."

"Good," Snoop said, satisfaction evident in his tone. "'Cause you know we got your back if he ain't."

A cheer erupted from the crowd as Miles scored a point. Lila jumped up, clapping enthusiastically. From the corner of her eye, she caught Amara squeezing Lewis' hand in excitement, and she couldn't help but smile. Despite her initial reservations, she had to admit - they looked good together.

As she sat back down, her phone buzzed with a message from Jude:

Miss you. Madrid's not the same without you x

Lila's smile widened as she typed back a quick reply. Two more days, and she'd be back where she belonged - in Madrid with Jude.

The crowd collectively groaned as Miles lost his chance at gold. Lila slumped back in her seat, disappointed for her bonus brother but proud he was still in contention for bronze.

As people began to shuffle out of their seats, Lila stood to hug Snoop goodbye. "Thanks for coming, Uncle Snoop."

"Anything for you, baby girl. Keep killing it out there."

Lewis approached, that easy smile of his in place. "Unc, you good for dinner tomorrow?"

"You know it," Snoop replied. "Hit me up with the details."

While Lewis got caught up chatting with what seemed like half the arena, Lila and Amara found themselves standing off to the side. Camera shutters continued their relentless clicking behind them.

"Watch this," Amara muttered, doing a spot-on impression of Lewis' media voice. "'Yeah man, just trying to support my bestie Miles, you know what I mean?'"

Lila burst into giggles. "Oh my god, that's exactly how he sounds!"

As they shared a laugh, Lila couldn't help but think how naturally Amara fit into their world. She had an ease about her that made everything feel less intense, less serious.

Finally, Lewis made his way back to them, immediately pulling Amara in for a soft kiss. The cameras went absolutely mental, the rapid-fire clicks almost deafening.

Amara pulled back with a smirk. "You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Lewis grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic.

"You two are ridiculous," Lila said, rolling her eyes fondly. But watching them together, she felt a surge of happiness for her brother. He deserved someone who could handle both his world and his heart with equal grace.

"Says the girl who's about to run off to Madrid to be with her footballer," Lewis teased.

"Speaking of," Amara added, "when does your flight leave?"

"Day after tomorrow," Lila replied, already counting down the hours until she'd see Jude again.

"Well then," Lewis said, wrapping an arm around each of them, "let's make the most of our time together. Dinner?"

As they made their way out of the arena, dodging photographers and well-wishers alike, Lila felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Everything was falling into place - her career, her relationship, her family. Even her brother's love life. Who would have thought?

The restaurant was one of those impossibly chic Parisian spots, all soft lighting and understated elegance. As they settled into their round table, Lila couldn't help but notice how everyone had naturally paired off - Lewis with Amara, Nina with Shaun, even Spinz had brought his girlfriend along. She felt like a sixth wheel, acutely aware of Jude's absence.

Her brother caught her pout. "Aw Peanut, what's wrong?"

"Probably misses her lil' boyfriend," Spinz commented, making Lewis roll his eyes, though without his usual bite.

"Li, you'll see him soon. You know co-dependency isn't healthy."

That made her scoff. "I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself, Lewis. I don't need Jude all the time."

Both Lewis and Amara cocked their heads to the side, clearly unconvinced.

"Okay, Peanut. We could go shopping tomorrow, okay?" Lewis offered, and Lila instantly perked up.

"For my Birkin?" she asked hopefully, grinning so wide all thirty-two teeth were on display.

"Yes…" Lewis said, taking a sip of his water. Amara nudged him playfully. "What? You want a Birkin too, baby?"

"No, Lewis," Amara shook her head with a light chuckle. "You're crazy."

Why was she in her business? Lila's eyebrows shot up at Amara's intervention. She was ready to shut this down if needed - brother's girlfriend or not.

But Amara surprised her again. "But if you want to properly get the job done, I say give her a car as well. What's going on with that?" She winked at Lila.

"Yeah, Lew, where's my new Benz?" Lila added.

The whole table erupted in laughter.

"I thought you wanted a G Wagon?" Lewis noted.

"That too. Now that you 'bout to be making Ferrari money, you can afford two cars and a Birkin," she mused.

"Don't you have money?" her brother countered. "Matter of fact, didn't your footballer sign a new contract with Louis Vuitton and Real Madrid?"

"Yes," Lila stated proudly, holding her head higher. "But I already ran his pockets. You're next, big brother." She held out her hand, beckoning for money.

"You're fuckin’ rotten," he said, shaking his head.

"You made me like this," she retorted, earning a chorus of "oohs" and "she got you there, bud" from around the table.

"Damn, if this is you with your sister, I can only imagine a baby," Amara joked.

Lewis turned to look at her, his expression softening. "The baby is going to be worse, especially if it's a girl."

The tender moment between them made Lila smile despite herself. Maybe Amara wasn't so bad after all. Still, she made a mental note to call Jude later. Paris was beautiful, but it would be even better with him here.

Jobe was feeling good, riding the high after a solid win against Cardiff City. The locker room had been buzzing with energy, and the post-match celebrations were still fresh in his mind. And now, with the next day off, he was looking forward to a chill weekend with Justine. It had been about a week into their friends-with-benefits situation, and things were going alright. They’d kept it simple—texts, memes, and a couple of calls to talk through some stuff. Both of them knew what it was, and with her teaching placement starting next month, they were trying to squeeze in as much time together as they could.

Jobe's phone buzzed just as he heard the knock on the door. He knew it was Justine before even checking the message.

Opening the door, he saw her standing there, a smile on her face, overnight bag in hand. "Come in," Jobe said, grabbing the bag from her and stepping aside to let her in.

"Thanks," she said, stepping into the flat, her eyes taking in the space.

Jobe’s place was pretty much what you’d expect from a guy his age who was constantly in and out because of training and matches. It wasn’t dirty by any means, but it had that "organized mess" vibe. The living room had a couple of plates stacked on the coffee table, a few empty water bottles scattered around, and his PlayStation controllers tangled up in their wires. A couple of framed posters of his favorite musicians were hung up, alongside signed football jerseys—one from his own club and another from Jude’s time at Dortmund. His football boots were near the door, and a pile of laundry sat on a chair near the kitchen, waiting for attention. But amidst the mess, you could tell he had his routine. His boots were always in the same spot, the dishes were stacked neatly, even if they weren’t washed, and his training gear was laid out for the next session in a tidy heap.

"Nice place," Justine commented, though her tone was playful. She set down her handbag and glanced around. "Bit of a bachelor pad vibe, though.”

Jobe chuckled, shrugging. "I like to call it 'controlled chaos.' I know where everything is." He dropped her overnight bag near the sofa and then looked over at her, catching the way she was taking it all in.

Justine kicked off her sneakers, making herself comfortable as she wandered around. "So, you’re sure you don’t need to tidy up a bit? I mean, what if your mum drops by?" she teased, her eyes landing on the pile of laundry.

Jobe smirked, running a hand through his hair. "Mum’s not coming all the way up here, trust me. And besides, you know how it is—footie, eat, sleep, repeat."

He stepped closer to her, catching her wrist and pulling her into him. "But if it bothers you, I could clean up… or we could just pretend it doesn’t exist." He grinned, his tone suggestive.

Justine laughed, rolling her eyes. "I think I’ll survive. For now."

Jobe grinned back, his eyes lingering on her a bit longer. He was enjoying how easy things felt between them. They weren’t exactly all over each other every day, but the dynamic worked. They could spend time apart, shoot a meme, and laugh over random stuff, then meet up when it made sense. It wasn’t serious, and that’s what made it feel good. With Justine’s teaching placement starting soon and his season about to kick into full gear, they both knew things would get busier. That was why this weekend together felt important. A little downtime before life got crazy again.

As he led her further into the flat, Jobe motioned to the sofa. "Make yourself at home. I’ll grab us something to drink." He headed toward the kitchen, glancing back at her as she settled in.

"Where’s Jude these days?" Justine asked, leaning back on the couch, her eyes following him.

Jobe grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. "Madrid. He’s getting ready for the season training and all that." He tossed one bottle to her, watching as she caught it easily. “His girl, Lila, is in Paris for the Olympics. She’s been sending me pics of all the events she’s been going to, living her best life."

Justine smiled, twisting the cap off her bottle. "Lila is so cool. Must be amazing being around all those athletes."

Jobe nodded. "Yeah, she’s loving it. Said she’s planning to send me a signed jersey from Team USA’s basketball squad. Gotta say, I’m a bit jealous, but happy for her." He sat down next to her, stretching out his legs and letting out a content sigh. "So, how’s the teaching stuff coming along?"

Justine took a sip of her water, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Placement starts next month. I’m excited but nervous. It’s gonna be intense, but I’m ready for it."

Jobe nodded, appreciating her drive. "I bet you’ll smash it." He gave her a playful nudge. "But until then, you’ve got me all to yourself for the weekend.”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Lucky me.”

Jobe grinned, leaning in closer. "Nah, lucky me," he said, brushing his lips against hers in a soft kiss. The kiss deepened quickly, the heat between them intensifying. Jobe's teeth gently nibbled on Justine's bottom lip, and he couldn't help but look at how great her lips looked. "These lips of yours would feel much better wrapped around me."

Justine pulled back just slightly, catching his gaze with a sharp look. "I could say the same about those pussy-eating lips of yours. You better be good for it, Bellingham."

Jobe smirked, his fingers hooking under the waistband of his joggers. "I'm definitely good for it, Jus." Without breaking eye contact, he yanked both his joggers and boxers down in one smooth motion, letting them ball around his ankles. His erection sprung free, the tip already glistening with arousal.

Justine’s eyes flicked down, and instinctively, her hand wrapped around him, her touch firm yet teasing as she stroked him slowly. Her fingers moved with precision, using the wetness already there to aid her in her movements. Jobe let out a soft groan, loving the way her hand felt on him.

"You swallow, right?" he joked, his voice low and breathy, unable to resist teasing her. Justine's hand tightened around his shaft in response, causing him to release a shaky breath. "I kinda like that rough shit though. Just fair warning."

She shot him a deadly glare. "You wouldn’t like it if I bite it off," she replied, her tone sharp but playful, matching his energy.

"Ooh, is that a promise?" Jobe continued to joke, even though the tightness of her grip had his head spinning. "You’re a lil’ freak, aren’t ya?"

"Shut the fuck up," Justine snapped back with a smirk, then bent forward, her lips parting as she took him into her mouth.

The warmth of her tongue and the wetness of her mouth wrapped around him sent a jolt of pleasure through Jobe’s entire body. He sucked in a breath, his hand instinctively moving to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his hips rocking slightly forward, pushing deeper into her mouth.

Justine worked him with skill, her tongue swirling around the tip before she took more of him, bobbing her head slowly at first, then building a steady rhythm. Jobe’s head fell back against the sofa, his hand tightening in her hair as his mind went hazy from the pleasure.

For the first time in a while, he felt like he could just relax. Football was going great, things with Justine were fun and uncomplicated, and he had the whole weekend to look forward to. Life, for now, felt pretty good.

Lewis lay sprawled on his back, the sheets loosely tangled around his legs, the night air from the open window gently sweeping across the room. Paris glimmered outside, a soft halo of lights casting the room in a muted glow. Beside him, Amara was curled into the crook of his arm, her body warm and soft against his.

Their last night together before she would head back to LA.

He exhaled quietly, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of his thoughts settled in. This season so far had been a blur—races, podiums, media appearances. And now, just a few days in Paris before he headed off to Africa for his summer break then he’d finished out the rest of the F1 season. But this wasn’t what had him distracted. It was Amara. The way things had shifted between them.

Casual wasn’t casual anymore.

They’d made it official. He had never thought it would feel so different, yet it did. He liked it—liked her—but now there was something heavier on his chest. At thirty-nine, Lewis couldn’t help but feel like time was slipping through his fingers. Racing had always been his focus, his purpose. But as the years went by, he started thinking more about what came next. His future. And whether Amara was part of it.

"You're quiet," Amara’s voice broke through his thoughts, her head lifting slightly from his chest to look at him. She wore that smile he had come to like—a mix of warmth and curiosity, like she could read him even when he tried to hide behind silence.

Lewis chuckled softly, his hand brushing through her hair. "Just thinking."

"About what?" she asked, her fingers lazily tracing circles on his skin.

"About you. About us." He paused for a moment, then added, "About where things are going."

Amara shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to get a better look at him. She studied his face, her brow furrowing slightly. "You nervous or something?"

Lewis exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not nervous. Just… thinking ahead, I guess."

"About what?"

He hesitated for a second, then let the words spill out. "I’m almost forty, Amara. Racing’s not gonna last forever, and it’s got me wondering what I want when that’s over. Who I want."

Her gaze softened, and she remained silent for a beat, letting his words hang in the air between them. They had been together for a while now, but making it official had added a new layer. It was no longer just about having fun or being in the moment. There was something more real about it now. Something that required them to actually consider the future, together or not.

"I get it," she said finally, her voice soft but steady. "I’ve been thinking about it too."

Lewis glanced at her, slightly surprised. "You have?"

She nodded. "I mean, I’m not getting any younger either. And with so much going on with my modeling career, I’ve been wondering how we’re going to balance this. You’ve got your races, your whole F1 world, and I have my career. It’s a lot."

He ran a hand down his face, feeling the weight of her words settle in. It was a lot. Their lives were worlds apart—him on the road, jumping between cities and circuits, and her life in LA. They had been good at keeping things light, making it work, but now they were both staring at the reality of what this would look like long-term.

"I don’t want to be the guy that holds you back," Lewis said quietly. "Or the one that’s never around because I’m chasing the next race."

Amara looked at him, her hand resting on his chest. "And I don’t want to be the woman who can’t keep up with you, or who’s left behind because your life is moving at a hundred miles per hour."

They both fell silent, the truth of their situation sinking in. There was no easy answer here. No neat solution to make things fit. But at the same time, neither of them was ready to walk away. They were in it now—official, committed—and that meant figuring it out together.

"I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out," Lewis said after a moment, his voice thoughtful. "But I want to try. I want to see where this can go."

Amara smiled softly, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. "So do I."

They kissed again, a slower, deeper kiss that spoke more of reassurance than passion. When they finally pulled apart, Amara rested her head on his chest once more, her fingers idly playing with the chain around his neck.

"So?" she asked quietly.

Lewis exhaled, staring at the ceiling again. "I'm off to Africa then I have to finish out the season. After that… I don’t know. I guess we figure it out."

Amara nodded against his chest, her voice growing softer as she spoke. "Well, I’ll be here, figuring it out with you."

They lay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, letting the weight of the conversation settle into something lighter. The future still felt uncertain, but for now, they were in this together, and that was enough.

As Lewis’s thoughts drifted, he couldn’t help but think about Lila. She was in Madrid right now with Jude and Lewis had to admit, he was starting to like the guy more than he expected. Jude had surprised him—calm, focused, and deeply committed to Lila. It was something he could respect.

He had always been protective of his little sister, especially when it came to guys. But Jude had earned his approval, bit by bit. And now, seeing how happy Lila was, it made him wonder if maybe this thing with Amara could be the real deal too.

"You're thinking about them, aren’t you?" Amara’s voice pulled him back to the present.

Lewis chuckled. "How’d you know?"

"I can tell when your brain’s somewhere else. Lila and Jude, right?"

"Yeah," Lewis admitted. "I didn’t think I’d like him at first. Thought he was too much of a dickhead for her. But now… I don’t know. He’s been good for her. They’ve been good for each other."

Amara smiled. "Sounds like you’re coming around."

Lewis nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I guess I am."

He thought about how happy Lila seemed with Jude, how they made it work despite their different worlds. It gave him a little bit of hope, knowing that maybe he and Amara could figure things out too.

"You know," he said after a moment, "watching them makes me think about us. And I’m starting to think… maybe we’ve got a shot at this. Even with everything going on."

Amara looked up at him, her eyes warm and steady. "I think so too."

They shared another kiss, slow and tender, before settling back into the comfort of each other’s arms. Tomorrow, Amara would head back to LA, and Lewis would leave Paris to enjoy the rest of his summer break. But tonight, in the quiet of their last night together, they had each other. And for now, that was all that mattered.

Jude wiped the sweat from his forehead after another grueling day of training in Madrid. As intense as his sessions were, nothing compared to the way his heart soared when he thought about Lila. Waking up and going to bed with her these past few days had been pure bliss, and the fact that she’d be with him for a few more days and joining him in Poland for the UEFA Final against Atalanta kept that dopey grin plastered across his face.

There was also plenty of tea from the day that he couldn’t wait to spill. Shit had been wild recently—Trent broke up with that girl he’d been seeing, an actor's daughter, and was already on the rebound. His barber, Adam, was thinking about having another kid, which seemed crazy, but Adam was in his thirties, so Jude guessed it was expected. Jobe was hanging out with Justine nonstop, even though his little brother swore he wasn’t trying to be in a relationship. Jude wasn’t buying it, though—it sounded like Jobe was real close to the deep in. And then, there was Aurélien and his crazy-ass arranged marriage. It was wild as fuck to Jude.

As soon as Jude got home, he kicked off his football boots at the front door and padded inside, calling out, "Lila!"

"In the kitchen," came her sweet voice, and Jude headed straight there, chuckling. Lila had been spending a lot of time in the kitchen lately, and he wasn’t complaining one bit, especially since her cooking was amazing. Plus, with his mum back in Birmingham for the week, home-cooked meals felt like a luxury.

The delicious smell hit him as soon as he entered the kitchen. "Lila, babes, shit's really hit the fan today," he said, walking up behind her as she stood at the stove. Her petite frame barely cleared the stove itself. He kissed the top of her head and gave her a playful smack on the ass as he made his way to the fridge to grab a Gatorade.

"Jude! Jesus Christ!" Lila yelped, scolding him, but Jude just scoffed as he took a swig of his drink.

"I don’t know why you’re complaining. You damn sure weren’t last night when I had you—"

"Jude Victor William, I hope you aren’t about to say what I think you are?" his mother’s voice suddenly interrupted, shaking him to his core.

"Mmmhmmm, see?" Lila pointed to her phone, which was propped up against a jar of peppers on FaceTime with his mum.

"Li, what the hell? Why didn’t you warn me?" Jude sputtered, quickly closing his Gatorade and trying to put on his most innocent face. "Hi Mummy. How’s Dad?"

His mother rolled her eyes, but there was a smile there. "Your dad’s taking a nap, love. How are you?"

"Can’t complain. Ancelotti’s been working us hard, but you know we’re gonna kick ass on Saturday."

"Language, Jude," she lightly scolded. "But yes, Lila was just telling me how excited she was to visit Poland."

Jude squinted at Lila. "Why’re you chatting with my girl, Mum? Something wrong?"

"I can’t talk to my daughter-in-law now?" his mother asked with mock offense, clutching fake pearls.

"Come off it, Mum," Jude groaned, but then something clicked. "Wait, daughter-in-law? You plottin’ something?"

"Maybe," his mum teased, "but Lila wanted my recipe for pepper steak, so I decided to hop on and give her a step-by-step. We got to talking about other things. Anyway, Lila, just let it simmer for twenty minutes and you know how to plate it with the rice and plantains?"

Jude’s eyes widened at the mention of plantains. "She made plantains too?" He glanced over at the other burner, where a pan of freshly fried plantains sat.

"Wait until dinner is ready, you pest," Lila scolded, swatting him away. She turned back to his mother. "Thank you so much, Denise. I’ll talk to you later."

"Later, Li," his mum said, then directed her goodbye to Jude. "Bye, sweetheart."

"Bye, Mummy." Jude blew her a kiss before she hung up. "Daughter-in-law?" Jude teased Lila as she put the lid on the pot.

Lila laughed and pointed at him. “Didn’t you have something to tell me?”

"Oh right, yeah," Jude said, leaning against the counter. "Remember how I told you about Aurélien and that crazy-ass arranged marriage set up by his parents?"

"Yeah…"

"And that his fiancée’s been living with him in Madrid?"

"Yeah, Jude, this is old news."

"Well, get this: he’s bringing her to Poland with him."

"No fucking way!” Lila’s jaw dropped.

"Way. Told me he doesn’t want her to ‘feel lonely or some shit’.” Jude put up air quotes and tried his best to mimic Aurélien’s French accent. "But he’s not slick. Apparently, her father’s a nightmare, and you know how Aurélien gets when he’s protective, so she’s tagging along. He even wanted me to ask you if you’d hang out with her in the stands."

"Wow, that’s major!" Lila said, wide-eyed.

"Right?” Jude laughed.

"Her name’s Zuri?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, hold on a second." Lila grabbed her phone, pulling up Instagram.

Jude leaned over. "Are you stalking her?"

"Well, you’ve met her before. I don’t even know what she looks like, so of course, I’m stalking her."

Jude chuckled, letting her logic win. After a few taps and scrolls, she finally found Zuri’s profile. "Oh, she’s pretty! I love her tooth gem."

"Yeah, she’s a real nice girl," Jude said, sneaking over to grab a plantain from the pan.

"JUDE!" Lila pinched his side, making him flinch and giggle.

"Stop it, woman! You know I’m ticklish there!" he protested.

"Serves you right for trying to eat all my plantains. Dinner’s almost ready," Lila scolded, smiling.

Jude couldn’t help but pull her close, kissing her deeply. "I love you, Lila," he murmured, eyes soft but full of intensity.

"I love you more, Jude," she whispered back, her gaze never leaving his.

Jude held Lila close, her warmth enveloping him in a way nothing else ever could. He couldn’t help but smile as he pressed his forehead to hers, his heart swelling with something far deeper than affection. It was as though every moment they spent together reminded him just how lucky he was to have her in his life. He never thought that after all those months of pining over her on social media, she would become his entire world. But here they were. His girl. His everything.

Jude thought back to the way he’d once daydreamed about what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, and now it was his daily reality. And he still couldn’t get enough. Her laughter, the way she danced around the house in his oversized shirts, how she always knew just when he needed to be comforted or teased—it all felt surreal.

He couldn’t imagine his life without her now. Training, matches, and everything else seemed like background noise when compared to her presence. Lila was the one thing that made sense in all the chaos. The grounding force that kept him centered when everything around him felt like it was moving too fast.

Pulling back slightly, Jude cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "You know you're it for me, right?" he said quietly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability he rarely showed. "I don't need anything else. Just you."

Lila smiled up at him, her heart-shaped lips curving into that sweet smile that had him hooked from the beginning. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. "You're stuck with me, Jude Bellingham."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Jude realized this was what he'd always wanted. Not the fame, not the attention, but the quiet moments like these. The ones where he could just be Jude, not a football star, not someone always in the spotlight. Just a man, hopelessly in love with the woman who made his life feel complete.

This was it. His endgame.

And for the first time in a long time, Jude felt like he had everything he needed.

THE END......

PLEASE CHECK OUT FOULED BY FATE BUT FIRST....

June 2030

Six years had passed since Jude Bellingham first fell in love with Delilah Hamilton, but he hadn’t been able to wait until he was twenty-eight to marry her. Miraculously, he made it to twenty-seven, although Lord knows he wanted to marry her the same year they got together. Instead, they’d spent their years soaking up every bit of life: endless vacations, family gatherings, navigating hard times together. Jude had won two Ballon d'Ors, led England to two Euro championships, and they’d watched Lewis claim his rightful eighth and ninth World Drivers’ Championships (really his ninth and tenth, if you know you know) before retiring three years ago—but he's still involved, serving none other than Chief Strategic Partnerships & Marketing Officer of Formula 1. He even helped led Real Madrid to another UEFA Champions League win last year and then he finally proposed to Lila on Valentine’s Day.

Now, months later, today was here—their wedding day.

The setting was perfect: Lewis’ villa in Tuscany, Italy, where the sun cast a golden glow across the vineyard-covered hills. Jude smiled to himself, grateful to his future brother-in-law for footing the bill for this extravagant celebration, though he swore he’d pay him back—maybe by babysitting his and Amara’s three kids, which would be a task in itself. Lewis had married Amara just before Jude and Lila celebrated their second anniversary, and now their family was complete with three lively little girls whom Lila adored. She always played with them, spoiled them with gifts, and Jude loved watching her transform into "Auntie Lila" whenever they were around.

As for their own wedding, Jude didn’t care about the details—he just wanted to marry her. The flowers, the decorations, the grand design? All of Lila’s ideas, every last touch, from the romantic white rose arrangements to the silk drapery, yet Jude counted down the minutes until she became his wife.

In the groom's room, Jude was getting ready with his closest mates and his brother—Jobe, Trent, Camavinga, Aurélien, Odin, Toby, Noah, and of course, Lewis. The atmosphere was a mix of excitement and banter as they adjusted their tuxedoes, smoked cigars, and exchanged light banter.

Just then, the door creaked open to reveal Zuri, Aurélien’s wife, her baby bump noticeable under the flowy gown she wore. At seven months pregnant with their second child, she still moved with the quickness of a New Yorker. Zuri whispered something to Aurélien, and his brow furrowed.

"Another blowout?" he asked, kissing his teeth in exasperation. It was clearly about their 10-month-old son, Etiénne. "I’ll be right back," Aurélien sighed, "Eti had another blowout."

"Damn, what are you guys feeding him?" Trent joked as he tightened his bow tie.

"Seriously," Jobe added with a laugh. "Give him some medicine or something. Poor lil' dude has to have tummy issues."

Aurélien just shook his head and left the room. Zuri was about to follow him, but Jude caught her wrist, his eyes full of curiosity.

"How’s Li doin’?" he asked, the nervousness finally creeping into his voice.

Zuri gave him a pointed look and folded her arms over her bump. "No, I can't tell you anything."

"What? Not even if she's okay?" Jude added, flashing her his signature puppy dog eyes. "Please, Zu, just tell me."

"Fine," Zuri groaned dramatically, then leaned in. "She’s eating… and crying because your Mum gifted her something blue. It was your grandmother's earrings."

Of course, she was crying. Lila had been an emotional wreck all week, but Jude felt warmth flood his chest knowing his mum had gifted Lila such a meaningful heirloom.

"At least she's eating," Jude mused.

"Yeah… weird stuff too… like she’s—" Zuri stopped mid-sentence, cutting a sharp glance at Jude. Leaning closer, she whispered in his ear, "She's pregnant?"

Jude just nodded, unable to hide the smug grin that spread across his face.

"Wow, wasted no time, did you?" Zuri teased, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Jude shrugged with a grin. "They both have my last name, so it doesn’t matter."

Zuri shook her head, laughing softly before she slipped out of the room. Jude couldn’t help but think about the promise he’d made—how he wouldn’t get Lila pregnant before they hit their first anniversary as husband and wife. Well, so much for that plan. But as far as he was concerned, it could be worse. At least by the time Baby JB made his or her entrance, Lila would officially be Mrs. Delilah Hamilton-Bellingham.

With final adjustments made to their tuxes and a few snaps from the wedding photographer, the guys made their way to the ceremony’s venue–a small, recently renovated church located on the tail end of Lewis’ estate. As Jude walked down the aisle, shaking hands and receiving well-wishes from guests, his heart raced faster with every step. His friends and family were all there—teammates, coaches, Lila’s family, and more. But his focus was on what came next: the moment he'd been waiting for.

The groomsmen filed down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids, with Jade, Lila’s best friend, as her matron of honor. Then the air shifted. The anticipation grew as every guest stood to witness the bride’s arrival.

The French doors opened, and there she was.

Lila walked down the aisle, arm in arm with her father, Anthony, who kept wiping tears of joy from his face. She looked radiant in her princess-style wedding dress, lace veil, and the long train reminiscent of Princess Diana’s iconic gown. "Ave Maria" filled the air, and Jude’s breath caught in his throat as he saw her. She looked every bit like an angel—his angel.

A single tear slipped from his eye, and he quickly wiped it away, only for more to follow as Lila got closer. Finally, she stood in front of him, the woman he’d loved for years.

"Who gives this woman away?" asked the priest.

Anthony, overcome with emotion, was bawling, unable to speak. Lewis stepped forward from the groomsmen to comfort their father as the murmurs in the crowd grew. After hugging both his son and daughter, Anthony finally managed to choke out, "I give her away," before placing Lila’s hand into Jude’s.

Jude looked down at Lila’s veil-covered face, her eyes brimming with tears, her cheeks stained from the emotions of the day. He couldn’t stop himself from whispering, "I love you, Lila Bila."

"I love you more, Judey Bear," she whispered back.

They barely registered the priest’s words about marriage and its tribulations. All that mattered was this moment—just the two of them, standing together, ready to start the rest of their lives.

[my-fragment-of-peace]