#I only watched it last year for the first time

[harrysfolklore]

speed of sound - ln4

summary: in the busy city of monaco, you and lando fell in love at the starlight bar. your story, mixed with fast cars and your favorite coldplay song, became as special as the city itself. as time went by, would your love last as long as the song that brought you together? word count: 5.8k

folkie radio: HELLO IM BACK WITH A LANDO STORY!! this one is heavily inspired by the black dog by taylor swift, so it's ANGSTY AS HELL (dare i say my angstiest fic ever???) anyway, grab the tissues and enjoy the ride

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Monaco, 2019

The Monaco nightlife is just kicking off as you weave through the crowded streets, dodging tourists and locals alike.

Max had practically begged you to come hang out during his week off, and who were you to say no to a free trip to the playground of the rich and famous? Plus, you missed your best friend a lot, and you were dying to finally catch up with him.

As you round the corner, the Starlight Bar comes into view. Max promised that it was one of the best bars in Monte Carlo, with the best music and drinks. Your eyes scan the crowd outside, searching for your best friend's familiar face.

Suddenly, you hear Max's voice cutting through the noise of the street. "YN! Over here!"

You spot him waving enthusiastically, his grin wide and infectious. As you make your way towards him, you can't help but mirror his excitement. It's been far too long since you've seen each other.

"Max!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Max pulls back, holding you at arm's length to look at you properly. "God, I've missed you," he says, his eyes twinkling with genuine happiness. "How was your trip? Are you ready for a proper Monaco night out?"

"I've missed you too, you goofball," you laugh, the sound light and carefree. "And yes, I'm more than ready. You promised me the best bar in Monte Carlo, remember?"

"Oh, trust me, you won't be disappointed. Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."

He leads you into the bar, his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

As you approach a table in the corner, you see a group of people gathered around it. You recognize a few faces from the paddock, but there are some new ones too.

"Everyone," Max announces, his voice carrying over the music, "this is YN, my best friend I've been telling you all about."

You wave, slightly overwhelmed by the sudden attention. Max starts pointing out faces, rattling off names of other drivers and team members. You try to keep up, smiling and nodding at each introduction.

"And this," Max says, gesturing towards a young man with bright eyes and an infectious grin, "is Lando Norris. He's just joined F1 this year."

Lando stands, extending his hand with a charming smile, "Nice to meet you, YN," he says, "Max has told us a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope?" you say, raising an eyebrow at him

"Oh, only the best," Lando's grin widens. "Though he failed to mention how beautiful you are."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you glance at Max, who's watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk.

"Alright, alright," Max interrupts, though his tone is playful. "That's enough flirting with my best friend, Norris. YN, come sit down. What's your poison? First drink's on me."

As the night progresses, you find yourself increasingly drawn into conversation with Lando. He talks about his experiences as the brand new Formula 1 rookie, you tell him about your job and that rom com you watched last week. Talking to him feels extremely easy, like you were meant to bond together.

Suddenly, a familiar melody fills the air. Your eyes light up as you recognize the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay. The song has always been a favorite of yours, and you never expected it to be played at a bar in Monaco out of all places.

You glance around, expecting to see others reacting, but to your surprise, only Lando seems to share your excitement.

"You know this song?" you ask, unable to hide your grin.

Lando's face breaks into a wide smile. "Are you kidding? I love Coldplay. This is one of my favorites."

Without thinking twice about it, both of you starting singing to the lyrics. You're off-key and uncoordinated, but your voice is full of joy.

As you sing, you can't help but steal glances at him. He's beaming, eyes crinkled at the corners as he grins widely. There's something incredibly endearing about seeing this professional racing driver let loose and simply enjoy the moment.

The song finally comes to an end, and you both collapse back into your seats, breathless and grinning. The rest of the group erupts in laughter and applause.

"Well," Max says, raising an eyebrow and looking between you and Lando with a knowing smirk, "looks like you two have found your song."

Monaco, 2020

The Starlight Bar looks different tonight. Maybe it's the way the lights seem to shimmer a little brighter, or how your heart races with anticipation. You smooth down your dress, checking your reflection in the window one last time before stepping inside.

You're not here to meet Max tonight. No, this time you're waiting for Lando. The past few months have been full of late-night calls, inside jokes, and a growing anticipation that's led to this moment – your first official date.

You've replayed your conversations in your head countless times, analyzed every text, every laugh shared over the phone. But nothing could quite prepare you for the nerves you're feeling now.

The door opens, and there he is. Lando walks in, looking dashingly handsome in a blue button-down shirt that brings out his eyes. When he spots you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"Hey, you," Lando says softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek. His familiar scent envelops you, a mix of cologne and something uniquely him. "You look beautiful."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, your skin tingling where his lips touched. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Norris," you manage to reply, proud of how steady your voice sounds despite the butterflies in your stomach.

As you settle into a cozy booth, your knees touching under the table, you feel a mix of nervousness and excitement. This is Lando, your friend, the guy who can make you laugh until your sides hurt. But it's also Lando, the man who's been occupying your thoughts more and more lately, the one whose smile makes your heart race.

The conversation flows easily, picking up right where you left off in your last call. Lando tells you about his recent race, his eyes shining with passion as he describes the thrill of the track. You share stories from your week, relishing in the way he listens intently, hanging on your every word.

He reaches across the table, intertwining his fingers with yours, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact.

"I'm really glad we're doing this," he says softly, his thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "I've been wanting to ask you out for ages."

You squeeze his hand, feeling a rush of affection. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was starting to think you'd never make a move."

Lando grins sheepishly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, I had to make sure I had the perfect wingman first." He nods towards the bar, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" filling the air.

You can't help but throw your head back with a huge smile. "You remembered," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

"Of course I did," Lando's grin widens, pride and affection in his eyes. "How could I forget our impromptu duet?"

As the familiar melody fills the air, you both start singing along, just like you did that first night. Your voices blend together, slightly off-key but full of happiness. People turn to look, some smiling at your enthusiasm, but you barely notice. In this moment, it feels like you and Lando are the only ones in the world.

As the song comes to an end, you find yourself breathless, not from the singing, but from the intensity of Lando's gaze. He's looking at you with such warmth and adoration that it makes you melt.

"You're a charmer, Lando Norris," you say, your voice soft and full of affection.

"Only for you, love," he replies, his thumb gently caressing your hand.

The air between you feels charged, filled with unspoken words and growing anticipation. You glance at his lips, then back to his eyes, seeing your own desire reflected there.

"Want to get out of here?" Lando asks, his voice low and slightly husky.

You nod, not trusting your voice. Lando quickly settles the bill, and then you're both heading for the exit, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back.

You've barely made it a few steps from the bar when Lando stops, turning to face you. His eyes search yours, asking a silent question. You answer by closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft at first, a gentle press of lips that sends shivers down your spine. Then Lando's hand comes up to cup your cheek, and the kiss deepens. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer.

The world fades away as you lose yourself in the kiss. It's everything you've imagined and more – tender yet passionate, familiar yet thrilling. When you finally pull apart, you're both grinning like lovesick teenagers.

"Wow," Lando whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

"Yeah," you agree, unable to stop smiling. "Wow indeed."

As you stand there in the Monaco street, wrapped in each other's arms, with the neon sign of The Starlight Bar in the background, you can't help but feel that this is the start of something beautiful.

Monaco, 2021

Max Verstappen was turning 24 and that could only mean one thing. A celebration at The Starlight Bar was in order.

The place has been transformed for the occasion. Balloons in Red Bull's colors bob against the ceiling, and a large banner with "Happy Birthday Max!" hangs behind the DJ booth. The usual ambient lighting has been replaced with pulsing, colorful lights that give the place a more club-like atmosphere.

You're right in the middle of it all, your arms wrapped around Lando as you sway to the music. The past year has been full of love and excitement, and nights like these remind you how lucky you are.

You're both more than a little drunk, riding the high of good company and great drinks. The room spins slightly as you move, but Lando's arms around you keep you grounded. You've lost count of how many toasts you've made to Max, each one accompanied by a shot that burned pleasantly on the way down.

"You're so cute when you're drunk," you giggle, pressing a sloppy kiss to Lando's cheek. His skin is warm under your lips, and you resist the urge to pepper his entire face with kisses.

"Mhh, I love you," Lando whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The words still send a thrill through you, even after months of hearing them. They never fail to make your heart race and your stomach flutter.

Max appears suddenly, throwing his arms around both of you. "You two are disgustingly adorable. I'm starting to regret introducing you."

You stick your tongue out at him, feeling playful and uninhibited. "You love us, Verstappen. Admit it." The words come out more garbled than you intended, but you're too happy to care.

Suddenly, Lando's head snaps up, his eyes wide with an idea. "Babe! We need to hear our song!"

You know exactly what he means, and the thought fills you with giddy excitement. Without hesitation, you both stumble towards the DJ booth, Lando leading the way. You giggle as you watch him try to walk in a straight line.

"Excuse me," Lando says to the DJ, trying his best to sound serious despite his drunken state. He leans on the booth for support, flashing his most charming smile. "We need you to play 'Speed of Sound' by Coldplay. It's very important."

The DJ looks amused but obliges, probably used to strange requests from drunk partygoers. As the familiar notes start playing, you and Lando cheer, much to the confusion of everyone else in the bar.

"This is our song!" you announce to no one in particular, your voice carrying over the music. You grab Lando's hand, spinning him around in a clumsy twirl that nearly sends you both tumbling to the floor.

You sing at the top of your lungs, not caring how off-key you sound. The lyrics, so familiar now, flow easily even in your drunken state. Lando joins in, his voice blending with yours just like it did that first night two years ago.

As you sing, memories flash through your mind - that first meeting, your first date, countless happy moments spent in this very bar. Each one is tied to this song, to the man singing beside you. Your heart feels like it might burst with happiness.

Your friends watch from the sidelines, shaking their heads with fond exasperation. You see Carlos filming the whole thing on his phone, no doubt planning to use it as blackmail material later. But you don't care. In this moment, you and Lando are in your own world.

As the song ends, Lando pulls you in for a kiss that tastes of tequila and happiness. It's messy and uncoordinated, your noses bumping together as you both grin too much to kiss properly.

"I love you," Lando says again, his forehead resting against yours. "So much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Your heart swells at his words. Even in his drunken state, the sincerity in his eyes is unmistakable. "I love you too, Lando. More than I ever thought possible."

The night continues in a blur of laughter, dancing, and more drinks. You vaguely remember challenging Max to a dance-off, Lando cheering you on from the sidelines. At some point, someone suggests karaoke, and you find yourself on a makeshift stage with Lando, belting out an off-key rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'".

As the party winds down in the early hours of the morning, you find yourself curled up in a booth with Lando, pleasantly exhausted. Your head rests on his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around you. The room is still spinning slightly, but you've never felt more content.

"Hey," Lando says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Move in with me."

You lift your head to look at him, wondering if you've heard correctly. "What?"

Lando's eyes are bright, a mix of alcohol-induced courage and genuine emotion. "Move in with me," he repeats. "I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to come home to you after races. I want… everything. With you."

Your heart races at his words. It's a big step, one you've thought about but haven't dared to bring up. "Are you sure?" you ask, searching his face. "This isn't just the tequila talking?"

"No, it's not the tequila," Lando laughs, shaking his head. "I've been thinking about it for a while. I just… I love you, YN. And I want to build a life with you."

Tears prick at your eyes, happy ones. "Yes," you say, your voice choked with emotion. "Yes, I'll move in with you."

Lando's face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls you in for a kiss that's full of promise and future plans. As you melt into the kiss, you think about how far you've come since that first night at Starlight.

As you leave the bar, leaning on each other for support, "Speed of Sound" plays one last time. You and Lando share a smile, both thinking the same thing - this song, this bar, will always be a part of your story.

Monaco, 2022

The Starlight Bar has become your second home over the years. Tonight, you sit at your usual booth, Lando's arm draped comfortably around your shoulders. The familiarity of it all brings a smile to your face – the way the bartender knows your order by heart, the slight dip in the leather seat where you always sit, the faded marks on the table from countless nights of laughter and conversation.

The bar hasn't changed much since you first stepped foot in it three years ago, but your life certainly has. You've moved in with Lando, your belongings now intermingled with his in a cozy apartment overlooking the Mediterranean. Your relationship has deepened, growing stronger with each passing day.

You take a sip of your drink – a cocktail the bartender created just for you, named "YN's Starlight Special" – and lean into Lando's warmth. He's fresh off a podium finish, his second of the season, and there's still an aura of excitement around him. You couldn't be prouder.

"What are you thinking about?" Lando asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. His voice is soft, intimate, meant only for you despite the bustling bar around you.

"Just how much has changed since we first met here," you reply, tracing patterns on the back of his hand with your finger. "And how much has stayed the same."

Lando hums in agreement, his chest vibrating against your side. "Yeah, who would've thought that awkward kid who couldn't believe his luck singing Coldplay with a beautiful girl would end up here?"

You laugh, the sound mingling with the ambient noise of the bar. "You weren't awkward," you protest, then pause. "Well, maybe a little. But it was cute."

"I'm still cute," Lando pouts, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated manner that never fails to make you smile.

"The cutest," you agree, leaning in to kiss him. It's a soft, sweet kiss, full of familiarity and comfort. When you pull back, you can't help but marvel at how this feeling – the flutter in your stomach, the warmth in your chest – hasn't faded even after years together.

As if on cue, the opening notes of "Speed of Sound" start playing. You both laugh, the sound mingling with the familiar melody. It's become something of a tradition now – rarely does a night at Starlight go by without this song playing at least once.

"Do you think we'll ever get tired of this song?" you ask, looking up at him.

"It's our song, baby," he kisses your temple softly, "The one we'll dance at our wedding."

Your heart races, sensing the weight of his words. "Lando," you breathe, pulling back to look into his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying… I want to marry the fuck out of you," he says with a smile, "Not right now, not tomorrow, but someday. I want that to be our next step. If… if that's what you want too."

Tears prick at your eyes, happy ones. This isn't a proposal, not yet, but it's a promise. A glimpse of the future you both want. "Yes," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. "Yes, that's what I want too. Someday."

Lando's face breaks into a wide grin, and he pulls you in for a kiss. You melt into it, the final notes of "Speed of Sound" fade away, but the melody continues to play in your heart.

Little did you know, the harmony of your relationship was about to turn sour.

Monaco, 2023

The tension in your shared apartment is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. You stand in the living room, arms crossed defensively over your chest, watching as Lando paces back and forth. The past few weeks have been a struggle, filled with arguments and cold silences. Tonight feels like it could be a breaking point, and the thought terrifies you.

Your eyes drift around the room, taking in the life you've built together. Photos from happy times line the walls - you and Lando at various races, on vacations, with friends. But right now, those memories feel distant, overshadowed by the growing rift between you.

"The guys are heading to Starlight," you say, your voice tight with barely contained emotion. You're desperate to break this cycle, to find a way back to the couple you used to be. "We should go. It might do us good to get out."

Lando stops pacing, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The gesture, once endearing, now just serves as a reminder of the tension between you. "I don't feel like it, YN," he says, his tone clipped. "You go if you want."

The dismissal stings, cutting deeper than you want to admit. "Lando, come on," you plead, taking a step towards him. "We barely spend any time together anymore. This could be good for us."

You reach out to touch his arm, but he flinches away, and the small rejection feels like a knife to your heart. Lando's eyes, once so full of love when they looked at you, now seem distant and cold.

"What would be good for us is some space," Lando snaps, his words sharp enough to make you step back. "Just… go. Have fun with your friends."

You flinch at his tone, hurt and anger bubbling up inside you. "Fine," you say coldly, grabbing your jacket from the back of a chair. "I'll go. Enjoy your 'space'."

As you storm out, slamming the door behind you, you fight back tears. The walk to Starlight is a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of where things went wrong. When did the love of your life become a stranger? When did your home start feeling like a battleground?

The bar, once a place of joy and fond memories, now feels hollow as you step inside. The familiar sights and sounds that used to bring comfort now just serve as painful reminders of happier times. Your friends greet you enthusiastically, their faces lighting up when they see you, but their smiles fade when they notice Lando's absence.

"Everything okay?" Max asks, concern evident in his voice. He knows you well enough to see through any facade you might try to put up.

You force a smile, but it feels fake even to you. "Yeah, Lando wasn't feeling well. He stayed home." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to admit the truth.

That your relationship is falling apart and you don't know how to fix it.

As the night progresses, you try to lose yourself in conversation and drinks. Your friends do their best to keep your spirits up, sharing funny stories and making sure your glass is never empty. But your phone burns a hole in your pocket, silent and accusing. No messages, no calls.

Then it happens. One of your friends, oblivious to the situation, posts a story on Instagram. Your heart drops as you see it – Lando, out at another club, surrounded by people you don't recognize.

You stare at the screen, unable to look away. Lando is smiling, his arm around a girl you've never seen before. He looks happy, carefree. Everything he hasn't been with you lately.

As if to twist the knife further, "Speed of Sound" starts playing over the bar's speakers. The opening notes of the song wash over you, and suddenly you're transported to Lando. The two of you, singing along at the top of your lungs, not caring who heard. The song that once symbolized your love now feels like a cruel joke.

You excuse yourself, rushing to the bathroom where you can break down in private. The world blurs as tears stream down your face. You lean against the cool tile wall, trying to catch your breath.

How did you get here? The happy memories of singing this song with Lando feel like they belong to someone else now.

You stay in the bathroom for what feels like hours, trying to piece yourself back together. When you finally emerge, makeup hastily fixed, you find your friends looking at you with sympathy. They know. Of course they know.

"Want us to kick his ass?" Max offers, only half-joking. He pulls you into a hug.

You shake your head, forcing a weak smile. "No. I just… I need to go home."

Your friends exchange worried glances, but they don't try to stop you. They know you well enough to recognize when you need space.

The walk home is long and lonely. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of your broken relationship pressing down on you. By the time you reach your apartment building, you're exhausted, emotionally and physically.

The apartment is dark and quiet. Lando's shoes are missing from their usual spot. He's still out, probably at that club. You sink onto the couch, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you from all sides.

As you sit there in the darkness, you realize that this might be the beginning of the end.

And across the city, Lando dances on.

They don't play "Speed of Sound" at the club he’s at, but he doesn't even notice.

Monaco, 2024.

The apartment that once felt like a warm, loving home now stands cold and empty. Boxes are scattered across the floor, each one a painful reminder of the life you and Lando built together - and are now dismantling.

The breakup wasn't sudden or dramatic. It was a slow, agonizing process of trying to salvage what you both once had. Countless tearful conversations, promises to do better, even a desperate attempt at couples therapy. But in the end, you both had to face the harsh reality: the love that once burned so bright had faded to embers, and no amount of effort could rekindle it.

The day Lando moves out is etched into your memory. You watch as he carefully wraps the framed photo of your first podium celebration together, his hands trembling slightly. You both agreed he should keep it - a bittersweet memento of happier times.

"What about the Starck lamp?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando looks up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away. "You keep it," he says softly. "It was always more your style anyway."

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The process of dividing your shared possessions feels like cutting your heart into pieces. The art pieces you bought together on your trip to Italy - you get the abstract painting, he takes the landscape. The set of Le Creuset pots you received as a housewarming gift - split down the middle, just like your relationship.

But there's one thing you never settle - the Starlight Bar. Neither of you can bring yourselves to claim it, to deny the other person access to a place filled with so many memories. So it hangs there, an unspoken agreement to share this last piece of your history.

As Lando carries the last box out, he pauses at the door. For a moment, you think he might say something - maybe even change his mind. But he just gives you a sad smile and walks out, closing the door behind him with a soft click that echoes in the now-empty apartment.

You collapse onto the floor, surrounded by the remnants of your shared life, and let the tears flow freely.

Monaco, 2024.

It's Saturday night, and the silence in your apartment is deafening. A few months ago, this would have been unthinkable. Saturdays in Monaco were your special time with Lando away from busy schedules and race weekends.

You glance at the clock: 9:37 PM. By now, you'd usually be curled up on the couch, Lando's arm around you as you debated what movie to watch. Or maybe you'd be in the kitchen, playfully bickering over what to make for late night dinner, the air filled with laughter and the aroma of cooking food. On particularly good nights, you might have already been in bed, tangled in the sheets, breathless and giddy with love.

But tonight, you're alone. The TV remains dark, the kitchen untouched. The bed, when you look at it, seems vast and empty, a cruel reminder of what you've lost.

You try to distract yourself. You pick up a book, but the words blur together, meaningless. You open Netflix, but every show seems to remind you of something you watched with Lando. Even scrolling through social media backfires when you see mutual friends posting about their weekend plans.

As the loneliness grows, you find yourself reaching for your phone. Your thumb hovers over your contacts, muscle memory almost making you call Lando before you remember you can't do that anymore.

Instead, almost unconsciously, you open the location sharing app. You've kept Lando's location, unable to bring yourself to delete it. It's a digital string to him, one last connection you can't bear to delete.

You tell yourself you shouldn't look. That it's unhealthy, that it will only bring you pain. But the need to know, to have some idea of what he's doing without you, overrides your better judgment.

With a deep breath, you tap his name. The map loads, and your heart stops as you see the familiar location pin.

The Starlight Bar.

Your mind races, coming up vivid images that feel like daggers to your heart. Lando, sitting in your booth, his arm draped casually around another girl. Is she pretty? Funnier than you? Does she make him laugh the way you used to?

You imagine them ordering drinks, maybe even your special cocktail. The thought of Lando introducing it to her - "You've got to try this, it's amazing" - makes you feel physically ill. It was your drink, your little inside joke with the bartender. Now it's just another piece of yourself you've lost.

As you curl up on the couch, clutching a pillow to your chest, the worst scenarios play out in your head. What if they're dancing? What if, in a cruel twist of fate, "Speed of Sound" starts playing?

The idea of Lando sharing your song with someone else sends a fresh wave of pain through you. You can almost see it - Lando's eyes lighting up as the familiar melody fills the air, turning to this new girl with a grin. "This is a great song," he might say, conveniently forgetting or deliberately omitting its significance. Would he sing along? Would he pull her close, swaying to the rhythm that once belonged to you and him alone?

Or worse - what if he's already told her about the song's importance? What if he's trying to recreate your memories with someone new, effectively erasing you from the narrative? The thought makes you gasp, a sharp pain in your chest as if your heart is literally breaking all over again.

Through your tears, you dial Max's number, desperate for some comfort. When he answers, your voice cracks as you speak.

"He's at Starlight," you simply say.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'he' is. There's a pause, then, "Want me to come over?"

Max has been your rock these past few months, always there with a shoulder to cry on or a distraction when you needed it most. He was there to pick up the pieces when Lando told you he was leaving, and he had been there the other times your heart broke over him.

He’s the best friend you could ever ask for.

"No, I… I just needed to tell someone. God, why do I even care? It's been months."

You can almost hear Max's sympathetic smile through the phone. "Because you love him," he says gently. "It's okay to still hurt."

"I hope it's shitty at that stupid bar," you spit out, anger taking over you, "I hope he's miserable and he hates every second of it."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel childish. But Max doesn't judge. "I'm sure it is. Nothing's the same without you there."

"I just... I can't stop thinking about him there. With someone else. In our place."

"I know, YN. It's not fair," Max says softly. "But you can't torture yourself like this. Have you thought about maybe... I don't know, turning off his location? Or deleting the app?"

The suggestion makes your stomach churn. "I can't," you whisper, your voice cracking. "It's stupid, I know, but it's like... it's the last connection I have to him. If I delete it, it's really over."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "YN," Max says gently, "it is over. I'm sorry, but holding onto this isn't healthy. It's keeping you from moving forward."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You know he's right, but hearing it out loud makes it real in a way you're not prepared for. Tears start flowing freely down your cheeks.

How does one let go of Lando Norris?

Across town, at the Starlight Bar, Lando sits in what used to be your favorite booth. The leather seat feels familiar under him, but everything else feels wrong. He's there a girl he met a month ago. She's pretty and kind, with a bubbly laugh that turns heads. But as Lando looks at her, he can't help but see the ghost of you in every corner of the bar.

The bartender recognizes Lando, giving him a knowing look. Lando orders his usual drink, pointedly avoiding your special cocktail. He can't bring himself to share that with anyone else.

The DJ, also noticing him, puts on "Speed of Sound." The familiar opening notes fill the air, and Lando immediately perks up, muscle memory kicking in as he scans the room. For a split second, he expects to see you, to hear your voice joining in with the chorus.

But you're not there.

His date looks at him quizzically, not understanding the significance of the song or Lando's reaction. "Do you like this song?" she asks, trying to make conversation.

Lando forces a smile. "Yeah, it's… it's a good one."

As the song fades out, Lando feels a piece of himself fading with it. He realizes, with a pang of regret, that he might have lost more than just a relationship. He's lost a part of himself, a part that only existed when he was with you.

The night drags on, each moment in the bar a bittersweet reminder of the life he used to have. And across town, you cry yourself to sleep, both of you haunted by the echoes of a love that once seemed unbreakable.

In the end, the Starlight Bar stands as a silent witness to your shared history - a place where memories linger like ghosts, where a simple song can bridge the gap between past and present, and where two hearts, though separated, still beat in time to the speed of sound.

[withlovemark]

“how to make a girl cum?”

synopsis -> mark lee. 25 years old. too busy with his career. has only ever touched a girl once in his life and he’s not even sure it counts considering she didn’t cum and he lasted 7 seconds. all he knows is his hand and what he watches from porn. you’re absolutely tired of seeing your loser of a best friend, who’s supposed to be this hot sexy idol, fumble every girl he comes in contact with because of his fear of sexual acts…so you decide to help him out.

warnings: fingering, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), praising kink if you squint

—

“how are things with belle?,” you ask mark! who is seated right next to you on the black couch in the middle of the practice room. the two of you alone in this room full of mirrors.

“oh dude, i ended things with her,” he says nonchalantly.

“what!? why? weren’t you just telling me last week how she was perfect?,”

“exactly! it was getting too serious, she touched my thigh and i was like okay, yeah, we’re done,”

“are you fucking kidding me? this again,” you sigh in disappointment. he practically begged you to introduce her to him and he just pulls away like he always does.

“uhhh yes this again,” he replies blatantly, rolling his eyes, “remember what happened last time with that other girl, she laughed at my face and told me it was disappointing that i didn’t live up to everyone’s expectations yet alone even make her cum,” he cringed at the words, that day vividly replaying in his mind like a reoccurring nightmare.

“it was your first time mark, cut yourself some slack, it happens!,” you reassure him for the millionth time.

“yeah, no, i’d rather die a virgin than go through that embarrassment ever again,” he scoffs and you almost can’t believe what you’re about to say but your best friend needed serious help.

“how about you do some practice?,”

he looks at you like you just said the most ridiculous thing ever, “and who exactly am i gonna practice on?”

“me,”

“what?!”

“me,” you repeat even louder.

“i-what?”

“me! mark,” he freezes on the spot, registering your words and for a second you’re afraid you broke him until he breaks the silence, “no.”

“and why the fuck not? do you think i’m ugly?,”

“what?! no dude, you’re fucking hot,” the comment going straight to your head, giving you a boost of confidence.

“so what’s stopping you?,”

“dude, c'mon, you’re literally my best friend!”

“so?,”

“best friends don’t touch each other,”

“sure but as your best friend i can’t keep seeing you sabotage potential relationships because of something as silly as this!,” you argue while he still looks at you like you were crazy.

“i promise i won't laugh at you and i promise you will at least know how to make a girl cum after this,” you continue, becoming more compelling with every second that passes.

mark sits there in silence, weighing out the pros and cons of this agreement…and well, he couldn’t think of any cons. plus, you’re the only person he trusts enough to do this with.

he sighs deeply, finally making up his mind, “when do we start?”

you smirk at his response, happy to hear him agree, “right now.”

“what!? no!,”

“but you just agreed!,”

“yeah but i gotta do research first,”

“you mean watch more porn??,” you roll your eyes, scoffing, “THIS is your research, it’s not gonna get better than actually experiencing it firsthand,” you make your point and mark can’t argue with that.

he does learn faster when he’s doing it himself.

“okay,” he nods slowly, trying to come to terms that this is happening now.

“okay,” you agreed, slowly inching the space in between you, “we’re in a practice room after all,” you smirk, whispering against his ear, sending goosebumps throughout mark’s body as he waits for you to take the lead, not quite sure if this is real or just a figment of his imagination.

you notice the way he froze, only indication that he was still in the room was the anxious bouncing of his leg, eyes staring straight at the floor, “relax, mark,” you say, placing your hand gently on his thigh. mark gulps, staring at your hand, still refusing to look at you.

“well, this just won't do,” you break the silence, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the room, making him sit on the floor – right in front of the mirror.

“wh-what?,” he sputters, looking up at your figure, still standing in front of him.

“now you have no choice but to look at me,” you tease, slowly removing your pants, leaving you in your panties before quickly taking your seat right in between mark’s legs, back rested against his body, facing the mirror ahead of you. this was as vulnerable for you as it was for him.

mark watches it all unfold in a blink of an eye, seeing you in your pink lacy underwear has got him salivating, the gravity of the situation settling in him…he was about to touch his very hot best friend.

“mark,” you call out to him, snapping him out of his daydream, his eyes following your voice, “yeah?,” he responds quietly, finding it hard to breathe. you give him a gentle smile, “is this okay?,” you ask, making yourself comfortable in the space between him. he responds in slow nods, the warmth from your body making it hard for him to think about anything else but you.

“good,” you part your legs for him, grabbing his hand and placing it on your clothed core, “touch me,” a light shocked expression appeared on his face due to your boldness before he obeyed, lightly rubbing his fingers against your panties.

“more pressure, mark,” he immediately follows your command, adding more pressure to his fingers as he slid them up and down the cotton barrier. you release a sigh of pleasure, feeling your arousal start to build up, watching mark through the mirror as he focuses on his fingers, eyebrow’s furrowing, making sure he’s rubbing you with the just the right amount of pressure.

it’s cute how determined he looks.

“don’t think too hard about it, you’re doing so well, can’t you feel how wet my panties are now?,” his cock twitching at your praise as your stained panties were starting to feel sticky against your cunt.

“take them off,” you demand. mark follows straight away, gently removing your panties off of you, leaving you completely bare, all for him.

“look in the mirror, mark,” you order and for the first time he finally makes eye contact with you through the glass, “look how wet i am for you,” you pout, your juices glistening under the lights.

mark can’t help but stare in awe, “dude, i-i did this?,” he says unsure, cheeks pink.

the nickname makes you frown, “do not call me dude when you’re about to have your fingers inside me,” you reprimand and he lets out a tiny apology before you grab his hand, placing it back on your cunt.

“now, show me what you know,”

marks fingers are back on you, rubbing you the way he did before, his fingers easily sliding up and down your slick folds, the friction making you whine under his touch. he takes that as a sign and without any warning, jams a finger in, immediately thrusting them in and out of you at an already brutal speed, making you hiss in pain.

“stop!,” you say, legs instinctively closing as he quickly pulls his fingers out, eyes wide, afraid.

“that did not feel good,” you give your feedback and he almost crashes out, the reminder of him being bad at this catching up to him, “b-but that's what they do in all the videos!” he sputters out, slightly panicking.

oh, how badly he needed your help.

“just take it slow mark, there’s no rush,” you smile softly, trying to comfort him, “here,” you grab his finger, controlling his speed as he slides down your core again, finger slowly disappearing inside you, following the curve of your pussy.

you let out a shaky breath at the slow intrusion, feeling your walls tighten around his digit. like this, you can feel how much longer his finger is compared to your own, reaching that spot so easily, “now curl it,” you instruct and he curls it perfectly on the first try, eliciting a moan from you, making his cock twitch.

“good boy,” you praise, boosting mark’s confidence as he curls his finger in the same spot again and again. you let go of his hand, letting him take over as he took note of every moan that spilled from your lips.

“i-is this good?,” he asks, adding another finger in and curling it just the way you like it.

“s-so good mark,” you whine under his touch, approving his action, “go faster now,” you say, hips arching up, needing more from him.

mark loves watching the way your body reacts to his hand and almost like his free hand had a mind of it’s own, it finds its way around your sensitive bud, rubbing slow but harsh circles, “ohhh fuuck,” you moan, head falling back to his shoulder as your hand gripped his thigh trying to ground yourself, the tension in your stomach tightening.

“yeah?, you like that baby?,” he whispers against your ear, the nickname sending tingles down your core, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers. mark doesn’t need to hear your answer with the way your body speaks to him, he takes note of all of it.

“s-say that again,” you gasp, fingers continuing to move inside you while the tingle in your stomach keeps growing and growing, mark’s newfound confidence becoming stronger and stronger with every moan you give him.

“gonna make my baby cum,” he grunts in your ear, more determined than ever to get a job done. you watch it all play out on the mirror in front of you — body trapped in his, mark’s fingers curling in and out of you, juices leaking onto his fingers, eyebrows slightly furrowed, light sweat dripping down his forehead, muscles clenching.

he’s so focused on you, and he looks fucking hot doing so.

you can’t help yourself, turning your head towards him and catching his lips in yours. mark halts his movement for a quick second before regaining his composure, kissing you back ferociously, tongue meeting yours, quickly taking the lead. he did not need any tips for this – mark was a good fucking kisser, great even.

his lips moving with yours heightens the rest of your senses, drowning out all the other noises and only focusing on the boy next to you. you feel everything — the circles around your clit, the curls of his finger, his rock hard cock against your back; making you feel lightheaded, heat traveling throughout your body as mark swallowed your moans with his kisses.

you only pull away when your release took over, “—gonna cum,” you barely warn him, head falling back to his shoulder, eyes rolling back, toes curling as you let out a strangled gasp, the mind bending orgasm making your body shake, mark coaxing you through it.

“made my baby cum on the first try,” he softly teases, leaving soft kisses on your temple as he watches you unravel through the mirror. your hips arched up as you leaned on him for support, eyes closed, lips flushed, looking absolutely fucked out and his own body can’t help but react to the scene, staining his sweats.

you try to calm your erratic breathing, eyes fluttering open to the scene of mark licking his fingers clean off your arousal, “how does it taste?,” you tease. his eyes darken at your question, looking right at you through the mirror, “so good baby…you taste so good,” he says before diving his fingers back to your cunt, making you jump, as he collected the remaining juices, bringing it back to his lips, humming in satisfaction, eye contact never breaking – the action turning you on more than ever.

“congrats, you just made a girl cum,” you smirk, turning around on your knees to face him.

he lets out a nervous chuckle, glancing at you with uncertainty. "be honest, how was it, really?" he asks, his voice tinged with anxiety and you can tell the burst of confidence he had earlier was gone.

“honestly,” you start, gaining his full attention, “soo good mark, you learn so quickly…you think you can make me do it again?,” you ask, doe eyes innocently looking up at his brown ones.

he nods furiously at your request, hands immediately going to your hips, getting ready to turn you around and have you back in the same position before you stop him.

“hmm, i was thinking, maybe you can make me cum on your cock?,” you ask and mark chokes on his own breath, glancing around the room, getting shy under your gaze.

“i-uhm, i already came in my pants,” he whispers, afraid to confess it out loud.

“that’s. so. hot.” you comment, hands finding its way to his thighs, as you observe the wet stain on his grey sweats, capturing mark’s attention.

“wait? really?”

“mhm, i think it’s really hot how much effect i have on you, cumming in your pants and i didn’t even have to touch you,” you tease, his pants feeling tighter and tighter, “what do you say, mark?, you want to cum again?,” you whisper, pouting your lips.

“fuck y/n,” he whines breathily, you had him wrapped around your fingers now, how could he ever say no?

he pulled you towards him, taking the lead and smashing his lips against yours, gently sucking, tongues battling for dominance. your hand wraps around his neck, fingers finding its way to his hair, gripping it gently. the action enough to harden his cock.

quickly you pull away, taking off your shirt, pink lacy bra coming into view matching your panties. mark takes a second to admire your body, warm hands squeezing your waist, before following suit, discarding his own clothes to the side, leaving him in his stained boxers, lips back on yours as you continue to explore each other’s mouths.

your hand travelled down his chest to his torso, lower and lower, slipping inside his boxers and wrapping around his cock, earning a moan from him. you take note of how long he is, the anticipation of him inside you making your pussy twitch, insides bubbling once again.

you pump him once, twice…his whines against your lips, making you clench around nothing but air.

“stop it baby, i'm not gonna last if you do that,” he pleads and you want so badly to just have your way with him, pumping him to finish as he withers in his moans but before you could do so, he pushes your hand away, creating space between you.

“stop, please…want to be inside you,” he cries, shutting his eyes, trying to calm himself down as he slows his breathing, holding you an arm length away. he feels like he’s gonna burst any minute now and he really doesn’t want to do that without making you cum a second time.

“okay, mark,” you follow his order, “you’re in charge, baby,” you give up control, waiting for mark to take the lead, as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying his best push away his orgasm. he slowly opens his eyes, all his breathing work practically useless at the sight of you.

“you’re so pretty,” he says before his hands wrapped around your hips, easily picking you up. you let out a quiet yelp at his sudden action. your best friend was a lot stronger than he looks.

he makes his way over to the couch, gently placing you down, body hovering over you as you push his boxers down, pink cock springing up, hitting his belly.

there was absolutely no going back from this.

“mark, do you have a condom?,”

“fuck,” he says looking at you wide eyed, “i-i dont have one,” he stutters, frustrated, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes at the thought of not being able to satisfy you.

“you don’t carry one around?,”

“dude, we’re literally in this situation because i don’t get any action,” he reminds you, earning a laugh from you – you almost forgot…especially with how good his touches felt against your skin.

“you’re laughing, i don’t have a condom and you’re laughing,” he says in disbelief, annoyed at himself, his frustration increasing every second your laugh reaches his ears, “hey, you promised you wouldn’t laugh,” he pouts, gently poking your sides, a small smile displayed on his lips.

“sorry, sorry, i-just, you should’ve seen your face, you look like you’re about to cry,” you point out, calming down, “i’m on the pill mark, its okay,” you soothe him, and mark’s jaw almost drops to the floor.

the last and first time he had “sex” with a girl, he came in the condom as soon as he bottomed in and now he expects himself to last more than 7 seconds with you? raw? he freezes once again and you notice the change in his demeanor.

“don’t be scared mark, we’ll take it at your pace,” you comfort him, turning his head towards you for a soft, gentle kiss – so much different from the rushed kisses you previously shared.

“hey, i'm your best friend, okay, you can trust me,” you remind him, giving him a small smile “it’s okay if you cum faster than me, you’ll know what to do if that happens,” you assure him, completely trusting him with your body and all his worries fade away.

mark finally snaps out of his overthinking mind, taking the lead once again, soft lips on yours as he gently pushes you down, back against the couch, body completely hovering over you.

he swipes his cock against your folds, collecting your juices, making you shiver in anticipation, before lining against your core, slowly pushing the tip in your hole, he breathes in — you feel so fucking warm. you moan at the invasion, walls expanding, adjusting to the size of his cock as he slowly pushed inside. synchronized moans filling up the air as he bottomed in, walls tightly clenching around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper you swear you can feel him in your cervix — feel every vein on his cock twitching.

“fuuck mark, you fit perfectly,” you whine, never have you had anything feel this good inside you and he hasn’t even moved. the comment makes him blush. he was gonna have to bring that up later…right now, he’s committed to redeeming himself and pleasing you.

he starts thrusting slowly, focused on your reaction, “hmmm, feels soo good mark,” you whine. he recalls the curl of his fingers inside you, making sure he angles his cock the same way, hitting you exactly where you need it. he finds it almost instantly, faster than any other guy has ever found it, “oh god, mark-fuck,” you jumble your words, too caught up with how he’s making you feel. the slowness of it all making it more intimate, each thrust properly hitting you deep inside, back arching at the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, deep grunts right by your ear, hips meeting his.

“y-you’re so fucking tight baby mhm, making it so hard f-for me,” he whimpers, quickening his pace, the sound of clapping starting to echo throughout the walls, moans mixing in the air, the growing tension in your belly making you feel hot as you gripped his toned arm muscles.

“f-fuck mark, i-im close,” you gasped. your sensitivity from your previous orgasm quickly catching up to you, as he continued his thrusts, “m-me too baby,” he stutters, cock twitching inside you.

his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing quick circles. “oh fuck! mark, mark, mark-,” you moan over and over again, forgetting every other word but his name.

he feels like he's going to explode. the amount of restraint he was holding on to to make sure you came before him is making him feel lightheaded — desperate.

“c’mon baby, c-come with me please,” he pleadingly whines, thrusts gaining more speed, your juices making it easier for him to slide in and out, toes curling at the sensation as you feel the heat rise, the coil in your stomach making you gasp for air.

you didn't have time to warn him before your walls immediately closed in on his cock, second orgasm completely taking over, body going slack, breathy moans slipping past your lips, eyes shut, the tension in your stomach coming undone.

mark’s movements falter on top of you, your release triggering his as he paint your walls white, “fuuuck baby,” he groans, head burrowed into your neck, breathing heavily, body shaking on top of yours.

mark slowly pulls out, making you hiss at the loss of contact. you watch, in amazement, as your mixed juices spill out of your throbbing cunt, pussy still pulsating.

“how was that?,” he asks earnestly awaiting your response and all you could do is shoot him a smile, “are you sure you’ve never done this before?,” you ask, making him chuckle in satisfaction.

“good?,” he wanted to hear it from you.

“very good, mark,” you nod in approval earning a smile from him as he got up to get his shirt, using the fabric to clean you up.

“you’re a really quick learner,” you praise him.

“or i just have a really good teacher,” he shrugs, refusing to take credit for the mess the two of you made.

“well, i barely had to tell you anything for that one, you really took notes earlier huh?” you point out, as he sat down next to you, “i guess so,” he says, a small smile on display.

“think you got it, now? won’t be sabotaging any potential relationships anymore?,” you tease, disheveling his hair, a playful smile on your lips.

“hmm,” he hums, pondering.

truthfully, he was proud of himself, he really was scared over nothing, or maybe…maybe it was because you were his partner? and that made everything different. he trusts you which made it easier for him to not get caught up in his own fears, the sound of your moans and praises pushing away all his anxieties, leading him to success.

he wants to hear it again.

mark smiles mischievously, bright eyes shining, before turning to you, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, “i don’t know baby, i think i might need more practice,” he says cheekily, lips on yours once again as he unhooks your bra.

—

au: whew! well that’s that >.< genuinely….what do i need to do in life to make sure this happens to me and mark ?????????

[chaoticwriting]

GOTHAM'S NEW ROGUE 6

Part 5

The world falls into a silent panic for a moment. Unrest around the world as they watch the UN heavily admonish the US for their terrible handling of the situation. After all, this is the first time that a supervillain is born because of the government. At least publicly.

The GIW meanwhile has fallen into higher levels of panic as their bases around the world start to disappear one by one.

Meanwhile

-Watchtower-

John : Fucking blimey mate! Why in the nine hells did you mess with him?

2 days after the incident with the Trickster, Batman receives an emergency meeting alert from the Watchtower. When he arrives, he sees John Constantine is the one handling the meeting. The self claimed Justice League contractee is usually very aversed to attending any of the Justice League meetings, so it is quite a surprise for not just Batman but most of them.

When he enters the meeting room, he is greeted by the sight of Constantine screaming and scolding the Justice League while their focus are on a file that he assume get prepared by him. On the screen is an image of a boy with pale skin and silver white hair. He is wearing a black and white hazmat suit. It takes a moment for Batman to recognise that the boy is Trickster. Batman's gut twist when he remembers the boy. To be honest, Batman isn't really bothered with the boy shenanigans. At most, he steals some money and equipment for his livestreams, but those stuffs are usually stolen from his company.

No one has ever truly been hurt by him, but the last time is the only time he has ever deliberately hurt someone. Just as his mind is about to spiral more out of control, John suddenly turns his head towards him.

John: YOU! Do you fucking know in how much dipshit we are? Why are you just standing there? Fucking do something!

Oliver: I understand he is supposed to be dangerous, but why are you so worried? Even when we are fighting Darkseid, you are still calm.

John: READ. THE. FUCKING. FILE. That's why I'm fucking scared. Depending on how pissed he is, even if I escape to another universe, I am still fucked.

Batman watches as the others continue reading a fairly thick file and start reading his. At first, it is usual. Name, supposed age, relatives, and alignment. Surprisingly, it is neutral good. (Why is his age 4?). When Batman turns the page, he understands why his colleagues are frowning at the information.

His battle records are what you would call amazing. At 1 year old, he is already fighting against gods, demons, and magicians. The spirit of technology, Halloween, dreams, plants, and even time. Each one of the people that he fights is someone or something that can be classified as League level threats. The terrifying things about it are that not only did he win the fight, he even befriended them by the way that he is seen having a cooperative relationship, at least with some of them.

Closing the thick file, Batman's minds start to work as he thinks about contingency plans about each of them. There are some weaknesses recorded in the file, including ectoweapon, blood blossom, and magic. However, the record also says that the stronger the ghost or ecto being, the less effective those things are against them. And assuming from how strong Trickster is now, he probably needs a stronger weapon.

Superman also frowns as he reads the file. He for one has come into contact with Phantom, or Trickster as he likes to be called now. His impression of the kid is a mischievous kid that just likes to have fun. He has seen some of his 'pranks' before this and in his experience, all of them have one thing in common. That is they all have a heavily controlled environment.

Although some of his pranks look like they are really easy to go wrong, Superman can see how the machines are heavily secured and any of the victims are all heavily guarded.

Even the victims are almost specifically chosen because none of the victims that experience the pranks have any chance of harming either their health, financial or social life. All of his victims are all healthy people with some free time that they don't have anything to spend on.

That's why even Batman is rather light handed with the kid. Even though he commits occasional theft, none of them are serious ones except the glitter theft. Most of them generally agreed that if the kid ever wants to be a hero, they would gladly mentor him.

Suddenly, Barry enters the room running while looking panic.

Barry: Guys! Open the news. Lex is crazy!

Superman frowns and opens the hologram in the middle of the table and a news channel appears on the screen. Lex is currently on the podium, giving a speech as the president of USA.

Lex: And I would never negotiate with a terrorist that dares to threaten the government using its own people. All the GIW members are people with honor, bravery and kindness in them that they dare to put their life on the line to fight against this beast that imitates our dead loved one and use their name for doing terri-*Screeeechhhh*

A loud screech interrupts Lex's speech as suddenly a green portal appears above the square and a figure comes out of it. A teenager with blue skin, crystalized silver hair and claws made out of ice appears from the other side of the portal. He looks at the figures below and slowly raises his hand as Lex begins to float towards the boy.

The Justice League suddenly realizes who the boy is. It's Phantom. But why does he look different? Unfortunately, they don't get the opportunity to ponder over it as Phantom starts to speak.

Phantom: YOU DARE INSULT MY PEOPLE!

@zcatmama

[mooosicaldreamz]

follow the signs (supercorp)

this is for @ekingston's crazy prompt-a-whirl thingy. i got fluff + fake dating + forced to share a cab + fortune cookie which was very lucky in my opinion. and they all start with f! wow. anyway here it is, sitting at EXACTLY 1K. here's the thingy if you want to do it too.

Kara is waiting for a cab. It is midnight in Jacksonville, Florida. She’s here for a wedding she’d planned to avoid, but then Mon-El had called her and Kara had lied out her butt and said yes, me and my girlfriend will be there. And it hadn’t even been grammatically correct, let alone true.

Kara didn’t have a girlfriend. She had a career and hopes for a puppy. She and Mon-El had broken up a year ago and that’d been her last romance.

Lena had been a random choice for her fake girlfriend, the only person Kara could think of who she was close enough to ask to participate in this harebrained scheme, but also someone who had never met Mon-El. She and Lena had met at a press conference when Kara had cornered Lena in a hallway and been tased by Lena’s security guards.

Lena had been less than pleased with their actions and had offered Kara a one-on-one interview, and it’d been off to the races from there. It was nice to have a new, different kind of friend - Lena was rich, too smart for her own good, and indulged Kara more than others might advise. Case in point: they are sitting on a bench outside Jacksonville International at midnight.

“I’m starving,” Kara laments, digging through her bag in the hopes that she’ll unearth something.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call a chauffeur?” Lena asks.

“No, the cab should be here soon,” Kara sighs. “I’m sorry for this mess, Lena. I know this probably isn’t how you like to travel.”

“I don’t mind,” Lena shrugs. “Flights get delayed whether they’re private or not, and it’s not as though commercial domestic first class is terrible. I think you’re overestimating my need for fancy things.”

“Tell that to your Balenciaga sweatshirt,” Kara says. Lena smacks at her lazily. She’s so pretty, is the thing. Kara could have gone out and got a real girlfriend, or asked someone Mon-El hadn’t known well, but when she’d settled down a few weeks ago and convinced herself to go through with her nonsensical lie, Lena had been the only option in her mind. She’d been the only option she even wanted to consider.

“Is that them?” Lena asks, nodding as a bright orange cab pulls up. Kara jumps up excitedly - and then stalls as the driver climbs out of the car and comes sprinting around the hood directly at her.

“Kara!” Mon-El yells.

“Frick,” Kara mutters as he pulls her into a hug. She looks over at Lena with wide eyes and makes sure to enunciate: “Mon-El, it’s so good to see you!”

She watches as Lena raises one eyebrow and then sighs loudly with an incredible amount of boredom. It distracts Mon-El enough that Kara can withdraw from his cloying hug. He’s sweating. It’s gross.

“Hi, you must be Kara’s girlfriend!” he says enthusiastically. Lena shuffles closer to Kara’s side until she can grip Kara’s whole elbow in her fingers in a vaguely possessive way. 

“Yes, this is Lena,” Kara says, nearly swallowing her tongue. She and Lena are not really touchy, which is not how Kara would prefer it, but Lena is sometimes shy and unsure and one time Kara had hugged her in greeting and Lena had almost cried, so Kara’s been taking it slow. This is the fourth time they’ve touched with this amount of intention today alone. It’s a new record. Maybe Jacksonville wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mon-El,” he grins, looking happy. “Just making a little extra cash before the big day this Sunday. Did you guys just get in?”

“Yeah,” Kara says, grabbing Lena’s suitcase as well as her own and starting to wheel them over to the curb. Mon-El had always hated when she did things that were, per his understanding of the world, things the guy does, which she had on rare occasions found sweet.

It doesn’t matter now, because Kara is swiftly and decisively entering Lena Luthor girlfriend mode. And that includes putting the suitcases in the back of the cab, despite the fact that Lena’s is tagged overweight and nearly breaks her wrist.

When she turns back after shutting the trunk, Lena is smiling at her, and Kara is pretty sure that Jacksonville might really be alright. She takes Lena Luthor girlfriend mode a step further, opening the passenger side door for Lena and waiting gallantly for her to slide in before closing it. 

Mon-El looks giddy when they meet face-to-face at the driver’s side. He points subtly down at the cab and goes, “Dude. Hell yeah.” And then he raises up his hand for a high-five.

When Mon-El hadn’t been the most infuriating boyfriend possible, Kara had liked him. This was one of the reasons why. She smacks her palm into his and then slides into the car, smiling probably dopily over at Lena, who smiles back before digging into her leather tote purse thing and extends, out of nowhere, a fortune cookie.

“I think this is from when we got Chinese last week,” Lena says, shrugging. “If you’re still hungry.”

“I am so hungry, you are the best,” Kara gasps. Lena laughs at her as she pulls the package open and the cab pulls away from the curb. When she cracks it in half, she shoves half of it in her mouth and unfurls the paper. She laughs at what she reads. “It is time you ask that special someone on a date.”

She watches as Lena’s cheeks go a little pink in the lights beginning to whiz by. She’s pretty.

“Oh, Mr. Fortune Cookie, Kara’s already there,” Mon-El says. Lena laughs quietly. Kara reaches out to grasp her hand where it’s clutched in the supple leather of her bag, initiating their fifth consequential touch of the day. Lena looks at her for a long second before she moves to lace their fingers together. 

Jacksonville is gonna be so good. She can feel it.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (50/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Reunited.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering and cunnilingus), alcohol consumption, fluff and angst and everything in between

Word Count: 4.7k

series masterlist

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A/N: this is part one of the dream I had over two years ago. I'm so proud of what the story has turned into. I love you so much. feedback is appreciated!

Charles: I can’t wait to have you back in my arms tomorrow evening. 

You smile at your phone, fuzzy blanket tucked underneath your chin and feet resting comfortably in Kikas lap. 

You: Next time you go to training camp, I’ll come with you. Take some professional pictures for your Instagram like my job description says. 

Charles: And here I thought you liked the picture I sent you. It‘s not really professional, but I gave my absolute best. 

He gave his absolute best, indeed. Even though the both of you didn’t text that much in the last few days, he made sure to send you a picture of him in case you miss his face. Even though his face wasn’t visible at all in the photo that showed his abs, boxer briefs and thighs.  

Not that you’d ever complain about that. 

You: I loved the photo. 

Charles: Next time I’ll let you take those pictures of me. But maybe with you in them as well. 

You: Is that an offer to sit in your lap again?

You press the send button and put your phone back next to you on the couch, gaze now fixed on the TV. It’s a re-run from Vampire Daries, the episode where it shows that Damon met Elena first. It’s one of your best friends favorites. 

When your phone lights up again, you take a look at the message that popped up on your lockscreen. 

Charles: As long as you’re naked.

You raise your eyebrows at the blunt text, blood rushing to your ears as you stare at your phone. The last few days consisted of quick good mornings, tired good nights and longing I miss yous but this – this makes you hot and bothered. 

A promise of what he’ll do to you once the both of you are back home. 

Charles: I really can’t wait to start the new year with you by my side. 

How can he go from a text that makes you wet to one that makes your heart skip a beat? You purse your lips and smile at your phone. 

„What are you smiling at?“, the Portugese woman asks, hand in a bowl of popcorn. With one inelegant move she grabs as much popcorn as possible and shoves it into her waiting mouth. 

„I’m not smiling“, you lie, grabbing your wine glass from the coffee table and taking a sip. You’re hit with a few popcorn pieces. „Hey! What –„

„Don’t lie to me, querida“, Kika grins. „I may have already had three glasses of wine, but I’m not stupid.“ She raises her eyebrow, waiting for you to answer, even though she already knows the answer to her question. 

You toss her your phone and, like the best friend she is, she unlocks your phone with your pin. Your chat with Charles pops up immediately. “The last message,” you say, and Kika reads the chat carefully. When you remind her that you only want her to see the last message, she sighs. 

“You two are even worse than Pierre and I when we're apart,” she jokes, slowly scrolling up. "It almost hurts how sappy it is." At one message, she throws her head back and laughs before looking at you with a pout. “'I miss you so much it hurts,'” she reads Charles' message from last night. 

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. ‘I know what it says.’ You lean forward and try to get your phone back, but Kika is faster than you and turns away. 

“'Just one more sleepless night and then I'll finally have you back again.' My goodness.” Kika breathes out heavily. "I should show your chat to Pierre. He could definitely learn something from your sentimental messages.”

“Kika,’ you warn her, putting your glass back on the table and watching her scroll on.

“'The bed is so empty without you,'“ the brunette continues. ‘’When I'm with you again, I'll keep you in bed and taste your body until –”'”

“Okay, that's enough.” You grab your phone in a flash and sit on it so Kika doesn't get the temptation to take it from you. Blood rushes to your cheeks – and the warmth in your face is definitely not coming from the alcohol. 

“Spicy texts,” she grins, raising her wine glass in a toast to you. "I wouldn't have thought of you as the kind of people who sext each other."

You take the bowl of popcorn and pop a piece into your mouth. ”We don't sext.”

Kika purses her lips into a narrow line and raises her eyebrows. “That didn't sound at all like it. I was scared I was going to come across a nude photo of one of you two.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at her. "There are no nudes, Kika." At least none where either of you is really naked. 

“Phew. Thank God,” she grins and takes a sip of wine. She draws it through her teeth once before swallowing. Her gaze is curious when you look at her. ”I thought you two hadn't had sex yet. At least that was the case a few days ago. Did I miss something?”

You shake your head. “We haven't had sex.”

“But you've already kissed.” When your gaze wanders from her to the TV, she sits up a little straighter. She puts her glass down with a cool expression on her face to place her hands on your ankles. Her eyebrows raised, she looks at you in surprise. “Don't tell me –”

“We haven't kissed yet,” you quietly confirm her thought, as if you didn't dare to say the fact that you both have done a lot together, but haven't kissed yet. 

Somehow the sentence leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

Kika reaches for the remote and pauses the episode before turning back to you. “Why not, if I may ask? I mean...” She pauses to think about how to phrase her sentence without offending you. “Your texts are not exactly G-rated.”

You roll a piece of popcorn between your thumb and index finger. “If I knew, I would tell you,” you reply, examining the snack in your fingers as if it contained all the answers you need to define your relationship – or whatever it is between Charles and you. 

The Portuguese woman purses her lips. “But – you want to kiss him, don't you? Or don't you want tiramisu anymore?”

You shrug. "Nothing has changed." You exhale quietly. "Absolutely nothing.”

Kika tilts her head and looks at you. "That's the problem, isn't it?”

You sit up straight, too, placing the bowl of popcorn between your crossed legs. “It's weird. It is weird, isn't it? We – after the party, when Charles practically dragged me out of the club, he –” You take a deep breath and try to sort out your thoughts so as not to jump from topic to topic. You run your fingers through your hair. “We didn't kiss. He fingered and ate me out, but when I tried to get close to him and touch him, he blocked me. Which is fine in itself – but I –”

Kika, noticing your frustration, grabs your hand and squeezes it gently. “You don't know exactly where you stand,” she finishes your sentence. 

You breathe out and nod slightly. “I mean – isn't it strange that he wants my body but doesn't kiss me? Or doesn't let me touch him? Kissing is actually something you normally do before – before all the other things.”

Your best friend licks her lips. ”Actually, yes.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I didn't sleep with Raphael back then because I didn't feel safe in the relationship – and my gut feeling definitely didn't deceive me.” You shake your head slightly. “And now, with Charles, I feel safe. But he –”

Annoyed by the situation, you close your eyes and lean back against the armrest, putting your forearm over your face. You feel bad that you want to rip Charles' clothes off and kiss him until you can't breathe anymore when he obviously doesn't want it. 

Or rather – wants something else. Unfortunately, you don't know what exactly. 

“Hey.” Kika's voice is gentle as she strokes the back of your hand with her thumb. ”You two have only known each other for – what – two weeks? You were forced to be roommates before you were even friends. It's only natural that your dynamic would change.” She slides a little closer to you on the couch. “From the beginning, you were destined to be more than just people sharing an apartment. I saw that the very first night we met.”

You remember the dinner very clearly. When Charles was so rude to you because he had spoken to Annika, but you two had made up again. When you shared the tiramisu – the tiramisu that became synonymous with the attraction between you and the Monegasque between you and Kika. When you touched for the first time – only through your clothes, but you could still feel the warmth of his skin. 

She purses her lips into a narrow line. “It was obvious from the start that there was more between you. Even if you couldn't admit it to each other back then.” She tilts her head. “Why do you think Charles wasn't so thrilled that you got along so well with Lando right away?”

You mumble through your arm. “When he came back from Maranello, he explained that he was jealous of our friendship and worried that we – Lando and I – might become a couple and we – Charles and I – would no longer be friends.”

“Bullshit.” Kika's voice sounds cutting. 

Confused, you sit up and look at her, your arm falling into your lap. “Excuse me?”

“Bullshit,” the Portuguese woman repeats. “You're right that Charles was jealous, definitely. Even the people on the other side of the table could see that. But not about your friendship with Lando. But because you got along so fabulously within a few hours that Lando knew exactly what you definitely wouldn't eat off the menu.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “We talked about it when we ran into each other at the supermarket and he helped me find the groceries,” you explain to her, as if you had to justify yourself. 

Kika gently pats your hand. “It doesn't matter where or when you talked about it,” she says at some point. “Someone you only knew for a few hours knew something about you that your roommate should have known. And you'd only known Charles for a few days, had argued twice, and then there was someone else who got along with you so well from the start and made you laugh?” She shakes her head slightly. "Charles was never jealous of your relationship with Lando and the possibility that he might lose you as a friend because of it.”

You're at a loss. "Then what?”

Your best friend takes a deep breath. “He was jealous that Lando took his chance before he did. His chance to be closer to you than mere friendship would allow.” She squeezes your hand again. “Charles definitely feels more for you than friendship, querida. And everyone except you can see it.”

You look at her, raising your eyebrow. “Did he tell you that? Or Pierre?”

Kika presses her tongue into her cheek. “No, but –”

“You see?” you reply and pull your hand away from her, propping your elbows on your knees. “I don't know what's going on in his head. And he's not telling me either. Which is perfectly fine. But how am I supposed to feel when he – when he apparently only wants my body but not me?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. 

“I know that the breakup with Annika really affected him,” you continue. "And that's totally understandable. I mean, who wants to catch their girlfriend in bed with another man?" You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. ”I can understand it, really. But – I don't know – if you're really right, then I don't understand why he only wants my body and not me. He would kiss me otherwise, wouldn't he?”

You have the feeling that your thoughts definitely made more sense in your head. But now they are spilling out of you like a shaken bottle of coke. 

“I – I don't know if I can take this. Raphael – when he didn't get my body, he looked for another one, or rather several others. He didn't want me, just my body. I'm afraid it's the same now.” You look away. "I don't think I can get over something like that again. It was already difficult with Raphael, but Charles – Charles means so much more to me than Raphael ever did. Charles is my home. My one and only.”

“Maybe he's also worried that you don't feel the same way about him,” she interjects. "Have you told him?”

“That I love him? No, I haven't.”

Kika blinks at you silently. ’You — you love him?”

You stare at her as if pink elephants were floating around her head. It's the first time you've said it out loud. And contrary to your expectations, your worries and fears, which you brought with you as a legacy from your relationship with Raphael, it feels right. 

Tears well up in your eyes. “I love him.”

Kika can't stop the smile that spreads across her beautiful face. Like a little girl, she throws herself in your direction and wraps her arms around you, pressing herself against you. “I'm so proud of you, querida.” She kisses your cheeks. “So unbelievably proud.” She pulls away from you and wipes the tears from your cheeks with her thumb. 

You look at her, confused. “Proud?” Your voice trembles with excitement. You actually said it. You can hardly believe it. 

“Incredibly proud. You let your walls come down even though you were hurt so badly.” Now tears are welling up in her eyes as well. ”You let love into your heart. Passion. You're ready to be loved, sweetheart. The greatest adventure in the world. I'm so incredibly proud of you.”

The two of you embrace for another moment before your friend pulls away from you and jumps up from the couch. She grabs her laptop and googles shops that sell dresses suitable for tomorrow's occasion. 

“We'll go shopping tomorrow morning and get you a dress that will take Charles's breath away,” she grins, cuddling up next to you under the covers. "We'll buy you a dress that he can't wait to rip off you." She smiles at you. ”And he'll kiss you. I'd bet money on that, too.” Before she clicks through the internet any further, she grabs the remote and presses play. 

You wipe a tear from your eye before leaning your cheek on her shoulder to watch her browse. In the background, you hear Damon speaking in the series:

“You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger.”

It's as if he's speaking from your soul. 

-

You carefully get out of the cab, trying not to wrinkle your dress. With your purse on your shoulder, you walk up the few steps to the house where Kika's New Year's party is taking place. Your dress is baby blue, with a slit that reaches to the middle of your thigh and a back neckline that definitely doesn't allow for a bra. 

Kika did an amazing job dragging you through the various shops this morning, forcing you to try on countless dresses. 

And indeed, you found the perfect dress. 

“You look fabulous,” she smiles as she opens the door for you. There are already a lot of people in the background and music can be heard outside on the street. She kisses you on both cheeks. ”That dress was definitely the right decision. If Charles doesn't give you at least a New Year's kiss on the lips, I'll be happy to do it for him.”

Your girlfriend is wearing a black, sparkly dress with a cutout at the waist that accentuates her figure beautifully. She grabs your arm and pulls you through the crowd of people, all of whom are also wearing chic evening wear. 

You look her up and down and whistle. “You look hot, Kika,” you compliment her as she stops in the kitchen. “Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. Where's Pierre?”

“I have no idea. He's probably lurking around somewhere.”

While she mixes you a drink, you look around before taking your cell phone out of your handbag to see if Charles has sent you a text. 

But there is nothing. Since this afternoon, when he texted you that he was on his way back to Monaco. 

Kika notices your searching look. “He's not here yet.” She waits until you have put your cell phone back in its case before she hands you the almost full glass. “But don't worry. He'll definitely come. After all, he promised you.” She points to the large clock hanging next to the double-door refrigerator. “And he still has two hours before the new year begins.”

The next hour and a half feels like an eternity – no, two eternities. 

You chat with Kika and her friends, even Elena is there, and you win a round of beer pong with her, which looks pretty funny considering that all the guests are dressed as if they could go to the prom in a minute. 

The music is loudest in the huge living room, and the bass vibrates right through to your bones as the three of you dance and drink and enjoy the evening as if it were the last day. Which, in theory, it is. 

But no matter what you do, your thoughts are always with Charles. Is he already in Monaco? Or even on his way here to you? 

You have to actively stop yourself from checking your phone every five minutes in the hope that he has sent you his location or a message. These last few days you have missed him so much that you would like to call him to ask him where he is. 

And the more minutes pass, the closer midnight and the new year come – the more your stomach becomes queasy. 

With your jaw clenched, you stand in the bathroom and wash your hands, holding your wrists under cool water to get rid of the heat, but somehow it doesn't quite work. Your thoughts revolve around Charles. 

Charles, who you haven't seen in days. Charles, who you miss terribly. Charles, who you love. 

Charles, who apparently isn't going to show up at this party. 

When there's a knock at the door, you turn off the tap. “Occupied!”

The door opens and just as you're about to complain, Kika and Elena poke their heads into the bathroom. Their cheeks are red from alcohol as they join you and close the door again. 

Kika puts her arm around your shoulder while Elena leans against the wall. “He'll be here,” the Portuguese woman tries to cheer you up, as if she can read your mind. Apparently, it's written all over your forehead. 

You look at her, raising your eyebrows. “And what if he doesn't? There are only twenty minutes left until New Year.” You try to sound as neutral as possible, but you can still hear the tension in your voice.

“Who'll be here?” Elena asks, looking at both of you and taking a paper towel to moisten it a little at the sink. 

“Charles,“ Kika answers for you. When you give her a dirty look, she just shrugs. 

“Don't worry,” Elena smiles, stepping in front of you and taking your chin in your hand to wipe away the mascara under your eyes. “He's probably already outside looking for you.”

Kika nods eagerly. “Elena's right,” the model agrees. "Come on. You've been in here for far too long. We're going out there now and celebrating the New Year together," she says, leaving no room for discussion. She grabs your hands and pulls you both outside, where Pierre is leaning against the wall. The music is quieter here, more subdued, so you can even have a proper conversation.

“Where the heck have you been?” Kika pouts at him and puts her arms around his neck. "I haven't seen you in ages." She gently pulls him down to her and kisses him briefly before nestling against his side. "Doesn't she look great in that dress?" she asks, pointing at you and your gown.

Pierre smiles at you and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. “You look beautiful,” he says before kissing his girlfriend on the forehead. “But I still have the hottest date tonight.”

“And I don't think that's true,” you hear someone say behind you. The voice is warm and gentle and oh so familiar. When you turn around, he's standing there in dress pants and a shirt and absolutely perfect. ”Good evening, mon amour.”

You don't even try to hide your joy at seeing him again, which is why you immediately throw yourself at him. His muscular arms wrap around you and he lifts you up, before spinning you around briefly. 

When he sets you down, his warm hands remain on your hips, while yours rest on his cheeks. “Hi,“ you smile at him, trying to blink away the tears of joy gathering in the corners of your eyes. 

“Well, did you miss me?” he grins, his fingers spreading apart and now resting on your lower back, on your bare skin. 

Goosebumps spread out at the place where he touches you. As if it is the first time. As if you can't get enough of him. You smile. “Well,” you try to play down your emotions. “I finally had a whole bed to myself,” you joke. 

The Monegasque rolls his eyes playfully before pressing you closer to him. “In your messages, it sounded like you couldn't wait for me to lie next to you again,” he whispers, his warm breath caressing your face. 

You look up at him. “Maybe I was lying.”

“I doubt that very much,” he smiles at you. "I'm so glad to be with you again." He leans down to you and gently kisses your cheek as your hands slide down to his chest. ”Next time I'll really take you back to camp. I never want to be separated from you for so long again.”

You purse your lips. “It wasn't that bad.” Cheeky lie. 

He raises his hand and places his curved index finger under your chin to lift it up so that you look at him. His eyes sparkle in that beautiful green that you love so much. 

“It was absolute hell.”

“Maybe you two should just get married,” Kika interjects. You both turn your heads in her direction and stare at her in puzzlement. Pierre nudges her in the side. ”What? Sooner or later it'll happen anyway.”

“Okay, my darling. How much have you had to drink?” Pierre asks her, as he throws you an apologetic smile and then wraps his arm around his girlfriend's waist to lead her away from you both. Elena gives you a quick wink and follows the couple. 

Charles leans against the wall, but pulls you with him so that his hands are back on your hips and you are standing between his legs. “You look beautiful in that dress,” he smiles, letting his fingers slowly travel over the fabric on your butt before sliding up over your bare back. “Did you know that it's my favorite color?”

The smile on your face grows wider. “Maybe.” Your arms wrap around his middle. “I missed you so much,” you answer his question from earlier. 

His hand gently caresses your shoulder blades before his fingers carefully find their way to the back of your neck, holding you there. “Never again without each other,” he whispers, as if it were a promise meant only for your ears. 

You nod slightly. “Never again without each other.”

In the background, you can hear the other party guests beginning to count down the minutes to midnight. You both glance towards the door. 

“We should get back to the party,” you say, pushing away from him, just a little, because you can't get any further with his hand on the back of your neck. “So we can start the new year together with the others.”

“I'm not interested in the others,” he says, but follows you back to the party. ”As long as I have you, I don't care about the others.”

His words make your blood rush to your cheeks. 

It’s like his presence makes you see everything more vibrant. The air in the apartment seems to shimmer in golden light, a haze of champagne bubbles and glow of string lights wrapped around the ceiling beams. Things you haven’t noticed before, because you were so focused on Charles‘ absence. The both of you come to a halt next to Kika and Pierre, the first one handing the both of you champagne glasses. 

„You ready?“, she smiles at you, raising one eyebrow. 

Now is the time. The breaking point. The start of it all - or the end before it even really started.

You nod slightly. „I’m ready.“

You stand beside Charles, his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you so close against him that not even a sheet of paper would fit between the both of you. But even though his hand is on your bare skin, he doesn’t seem close enough. You can smell his cologne – something crisp and familiar, laced with memories of late-night drives and inside jokes and pillow talks. You steal a glance at him, your heart stumbling over itself. 

He laughs about something Pierre shouts at him, dimples flashing, his green eyes catching the chandelier light in a way that makes your breath hitch. You’ve known him for two weeks – two fucking weeks – but it seems like you’ve known him since forever. The way his voice sounds all raspy and deep when he wakes up. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about. The way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room who truly matters to him. 

And yet, he has no idea. 

All around you, the energy shifted. The crowd tightened, turning towards the big TV screen mounted on the wall, where the countdown was shown. 

Ten. Nine. Eight. 

Your pulse quickens. Your heart beats so fast, that you fear it’ll break through your ribcage. You inch even closer, pressing yourself against his side. You can feel his body heat through your dress, something you missed the last few days. It’s been two weeks of skirting around the truth, of stolen glances and unsaid words and hesitant touches, and you don’t know if you can bear another second o fit. 

Charles shifts beside you. You can feel it – the way his body stiffens, the way his breath falters. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Then, just as you lift your head, he leans down. It would take nothing to close the space between your lips. Just an inch. Maybe less. You can feel his breath on your face. 

He says your name, whispers it in a room full of people who shout numbers, but all you can hear is him. His voice is raw. A plea. A warning somehow. 

Four. Three. Two. 

He closes his eyes, his forehead brushes against yours and the closeness makes your pulse stutter. Every little detail of him is magnified – the different shades of green, the tension in his jaw, the fingers tightening around your hip, curling into your flesh like he’s afraid of letting you go. Like you’d slip out of his reach if he loosens his grip.  

One.

His eyes snap open, dark and conflicted. 

You push yourself up, not even an inch, and Charles – 

Charles pulls away. 

Happy. Fucking. New Year. 

[neuronary]

#The Chase is them chasing him all over the Earth Kingdom#Azula meanwhile keeps getting thoughts about being the best and Earth Rumbles. only one of these is abnormal.#I'm sure that'll be fine#atla#avatar the last airbender#platonic brain polycule let's goooo#Zuko#Sokka#Aang#the gaang

I haven't touched a:tla in years but if there's one thing MuffinLance can do it's inspire me.

---

Azula keeps dreaming that she is blind.

It's strange, not least because when she dreams it it does not seem strange in the slightest, but it has alerted her to a weakness, and she cannot abide weaknesses.

The servants never question her (they are too afraid of her, which is meant to feel good but mostly feels twisty in the very depths of her stomach like if she thinks of Mai and Ty Lee for too long) so she is almost always left to her own devices. She knows they watch her, think her strange, as she wanders the palace halls, a blindfold over her face, tracing the walls until she has mapped every corner.

She'll know it better than the face in the mirror when she's finished. Better than her hands, which are her father's, and her hair, which is her mother's. This will be her's.

---

"Okay, what the fuck," Toph says, upon sitting up.

"Language," The Boulder says tiredly. "C'mon, I told you guys to watch it around her."

"Are you, alright, Bandit?" Headhunter asks. "This is the third time this week."

"I'm fine," Toph grumbles, because she is fine, she just keeps randomly falling asleep when she usually stays up way later and it's annoying more than anything.

"Maybe you should--" the Gecko begins. He is cut off by Toph hurling rocks at him.

---

It's good. Mai and Ty Lee are with her again and it's good. They're hers and she's finally got them back and that's good.

Azula ignores the little voice in her head that thinks that's sort of fucked up. That is decidedly not hers and therefore none of her concern.

---

Toph is pretty sure you can't own people. Or at least, if you do, it's very bad. That's not how having friends works. Except she finally has friends, for the first time in her whole life, and she's not totally sure it counts.

There's something... off. It's like she's always standing on the outside of their little circle. Like there's always something they're not telling her. Like the feeling of someone else shifting the earth beneath her feet before she wrenches it back from them.

She doesn't like it.

Maybe they're not her friends, because they're clearly not hers.

She throws more rocks at the Avatar and doesn't think about it.

---

When Azula dreams of her brother's faceless voice, it is not unusual; she doesn't know what he looks like anymore, although she can guess. When she dreams of him laughing, easily, surrounded by friends, it is unusual.

Mai and Ty Lee are there when she sleeps, sometimes uncontrollably. They both seem to understand that the world has changed for her, with the shifting of the ground and the sounds of the air singing far more than the visual cues she used to rely upon.

She can't trust anyone, she knows that. But if she could, she would trust them. Them, and the little voice in the back of her head that is definitely not hers.

---

Toph cannot see when she is awake and she cannot see when she dreams. That is what it means to be blind.

"What troubles you, young earthbender?" Uncle asks. Everyone just calls him 'Uncle' even though he's only Zuko's and nobody bothered telling her his name. Well. She's not going to ask.

Toph cannot see when she dreams her own dreams but sometimes. Sometimes she dreams of calligraphy brushes and play scrolls and classrooms and somehow she recognises them.

(Sometimes, she dreams of a long platform and two figures and flames and sometimes she is frozen and sometimes she screams and screams until everything is blue.) (She shouldn't even know what blue is.)

"Nothing," Toph says, flicking her foot and sending a rock the size of Uncle's stomach flying.

"What the hell, Toph?" the others all demand in perfect unison.

"Nothing," she repeats, soundless underneath their shared laughter.

Uncle's heartbeat thumps worried.

Toph ignores him.

---

"You can go home," Azula says after waking, feeling sick at herself and shaky. She cannot abide weakness. "You can go home, if you want. I'm not keeping you here."

"Why would I want to do that?" Mai drawls, picking underneath her nails with one of her knives.

Ty Lee smiles sympathetically. "Are you having nightmares?" The 'again' is silent.

"No," Azula lies, because one truth is one too many and she cannot abide weakness.

"We're not going home," Ty Lee agrees after a moment. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Azula should simply nod, accepting their loyalty, act as though it was a test. She feels sand in her throat at the thought. "Good," she says, half her voice, half another.

"Go back to sleep, you two," Mai grumbles, "or do you want to take my watch?"

When Azula dreams, she dreams of their days at the Royal Academy, before things were complicated and the worst part of her life was her mother's complaints. She dreams of Mai and Ty Lee and a girl in green who smiles as wide as Ty Lee and laughs twice as loud.

---

These people are nothing to you, it occurs to Toph as Aang shouts at her, like it's her fault they all left her to guard everything, like they didn't all leave her outside the library just like they leave her on the outside of everything else. Her hands are almost shaking with the rage that builds up in her, half hers, half another's, but all there, tight in her chest.

"How could you abandon him?" Aang cries.

The snap is more mental than audible.

"How could I do anything else?" Toph screams back. "How am I supposed to know what to do when none of you tell me anything?! Would you rather I let all of the rest of you get buried in that stupid library? Would that have just been a convenient way to get rid of me? Don't think I can't tell that you all hide things from me! What, is it some kind of signal the stupid little blind girl can't see? Well, this little blind girl saved all of your lives, so maybe you should be a little grateful! Maybe I shouldn't even bother with any of you!"

She hates them, all of them, with their stupid inside jokes, and their stupid expectations, and their stupid secret language she can't see.

They're all idiots, clearly. They hang around with Zuzu.

They apologise, after a while, because she's right, and they promise they didn't mean to exclude her.

"It's just that we've all got this spooky spirit psychic link," Sokka explains, a few days later. "We can kind of hear each others' thoughts and see each others' dreams. It's weird."

They can see each others' dreams. Huh.

"Huh," Toph says.

---

Azula dreams of the Fire Lord condemning her failure. She dreams of flames. She dreams of watching Zuko burn and being Zuko burning and of screaming. It's a familiar scene, up until it isn't.

Suddenly, as she dreams of being Zuko, burning because she failed, she dreams instead of the earth bursting forth to crush the Fire Lord. She dreams of him vanishing down, deep underground. She dreams of walls of earth and mud and stone rising between them, of flames bouncing helplessly off rocks.

She dreams of great beasts that make the earth rumble and feel more like home than the palace ever did.

When she wakes up, Mai and Ty Lee are watching her with a frown.

No matter how strange her dreams become, Azula knows reality. She has no choice.

"We're going to get into Ba Sing Se," she says, "and we're going to kill the Avatar."

---

Ba Sing Se is awful, just like Toph thought it would be. Everybody is still keeping things from her, and it hurts regardless of whether or not they mean it.

She's been having nightmares, too. Or, rather, the girl whos dreams she's seeing is having nightmares, and Toph can't seem to help all that much. She wishes she could do more, could save the girl's brother, but the fear paralyses her almost as badly as it paralyses her dreammate. It's all she can do to protect this girl, this firebender who is deathly afraid of the Fire Lord.

"Toph?" says Sokka. "We're going out to put up the Appa posters. Don't forget to bring a snack."

Toph grabs at the fruit bowl and comes away with an orange. She scowls and shoves it in her pocket; she's never been able to peel oranges properly. It's still in her pocket when she is captured.

---

They won't bother to rescue me, comes the thought, bitter and resigned and very much not her's.

They'll take too long to even notice that I'm gone.

Azula pauses her planning. It's taken some time to understand, but she's fairly certain that the voice in her head, the girl in green from her dreams, and the earthbender guarding her nightmares are one and the same. This is just the last piece of the puzzle.

"Mai," she says quietly, considering. "Ty Lee. Would you leave me for a moment? I need to meditate."

They share a look, concerned, that makes her fond in a way she wouldn't have been before this, but they leave.

---

These people are nothing, the other girl in Toph's head reassures her through her panic. What people say is impossible is nothing for people like us.

She breathes. In, and out, like the badgermoles taught her (like her father taught her).

Toph stands up and feels for the earth, for the parts of it that remain, no matter what is done to it.

Toph breathes, and stands up, and bends metal.

Anything is possible.

---

Azula watches the earthbender listen to the Avatar's sky bison leave, the beating of its limbs through the air above them roaring like a great flame.

Uncle Iroh twists to look at her, already trapped by the Dai Li. "Toph," he says, warningly, and the tone reminds Azula of every time he scolded her for retaliating against Zuko, every time he sided with her mother, every time he told her that's not a lady's way. In any case, the earthbender ignores him and turns to trudge towards them, shoving a hand into her pocket as she goes.

When she stops in front of Azula, she's holding out an orange.

"I think this is for you," the earthbender says.

You're mine, she thinks. You're mine to protect, like I'm yours, aren't I?

Azula takes the orange. "Yes," she says. "Yes, I think you're right."

Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Who’s dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince,

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin.

[mmaybanks]

casual summer fling w/ jj maybank that lasts a little longer than anticipated | wc: ≈1.1k

“where are you taking me?” you shout as your legs struggle to keep up with jj’s running. he’s helping a little, pulling you by your hand.

his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours, the warmth of his hand spreading to your palm a stark contrast to the crisp fall breeze. “jus’ c’mon.”

it only took a few seconds to realize where you were going once you stepped on the football field. he slowed down right as you approached the bleachers.

as your pace came to a stop jj spun you around, catching you by the waist when you lost your balance.

“behind the bleachers? my, what a gentleman you are, jj.” you cooed, hand pressed against his firm chest. he was breathing deeply, almost panting from the sheer length of the run.

“shut up, it’s not my fault. you’re just so—jesus, i wanna kiss you so bad.” he’s flickering his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then back again, like he just couldn’t help himself. “you’re killin’ me here, baby.”

you just smiled, a content and somehow teasing smile. he trailed one of his hands to your back, yours coming to reach the crook of where his neck and shoulders meet.

you mumble a soft “good.” against his lips, happy to kiss him endlessly.

your lips moved together in a surprisingly coordinated kiss. it was clean, not too sloppy. jj was still getting to the point of hot and bothered, right now was just that intense feeling he didn’t understand and couldn’t get away from when he was with you. he knew horny. it wasn’t just that.

he kissed you fervently, a subconscious grip on the back of your shirt. like you would slip away if he let you go.

you pulled away, needing to intake a few gulps of oxygen, giggling when his lips chased after yours. his eyes opened in a slow blink, a fake pout spreading on his lips.

“c’mon hurry, i need you.”

“you’re acting like you’ll die without a kiss.” you laughed, gently pecking the corner of his mouth while still catching your breath.

it wasn’t your fault. he made you run for a few minutes and then kissed you for a few more, you never got the chance to breath.

“i will.” he said it so seriously, like it was a well-known, true fact, that you couldn’t help the giggle escaping you. “jj.”

his body seemed to perk up a little at his name, a spread of hope on his face. you leaned in to reinitiate the kiss, jj accepting it like he’d been waiting years for it. which, maybe in retrospect he had, but you would never know that.

he was leaned over to kiss you, arms still wrapped around your waist, now looser than before. your hands were slowly trailing further into his neck, one hand slipping it into his hair.

you broke the kiss momentarily, throwing jj off, until he felt the pull of his hat leaving his head. it was rested regularly, the sun actually bothering him that day.

he smiled at you, watching closely as you flipped it around and tugged it back on him, now backward. “you’re so hot.” the words didn’t mean to slip from his mouth, but the overwhelming feeling made it hard to stay in.

you smiled sheepishly, dropping from your tippy toes to hide your face against his chest.

his heart was racing, and he hoped he hadn’t ruined the moment. this was the first time, you were the first girl he wanted more than just a meaningless hook up with, no matter how many times he denied it to the pogues. “sorry.”

it wasn’t fair, the way he has seen you fully naked, been inside you, and yet he could still make you feel all nervous and giddy inside with three words. honestly he didn’t even need words, you were fully swooning over him just breathing near you.

you looked up at him, making stronger eye contact now than normal, and he noticed the red in your cheeks.

“no, it’s fine. i mean—i—thank you?”

the awkwardness was killing you. sure, you thought it was cute, and you were low-key living out your hopeless romantic dreams right now, but it was tense.

jj chuckled, feeling a small pressure from where you were still holding (and now pulling) on his neck, trying to get him to meet your face. “jus’ kiss me?”

“yes ma’am.”

his lips moved against yours, and for the first time ever, he didn’t have the courage to move them further. so, you took matters into your own hands.

your lips slowly trailed off onto his jaw, sucking and nibbling at spots for a second before your tongue soothed them over. you continued, trailing all the way to right below his ear, where his jaw and neck met, his body seeming to tense more than before.

he was letting out shaky breathes, not going unnoticed by you, and his hands were twitching to hold you. “i wish we were alone right now.” you whispered, head still a bit hazey from the lack of oxygen.

“we aren’t alone?” he looked around dramatically, as if someone was going to pop out from behind him. “you know what i mean, asshole. wanna spend all day like this.”

if he wasn’t painfully in love with you before, (he was), he is now. he couldn’t get past the whiny, breathy, tone you were using with him. him. he’s loved being on the receiving end of your affection since he met you, a strangely possessive feeling in his chest when he’s with you.

“chateau’s empty. ’n we’ve already missed,” he held up a watchless left wrist, looking at it, then back at you. “too much to go back to class. we could just, leave, maybe grab brunch.”

“brunch? since when were we forty year-old kooks?” you snorted, though the smile on your face told him you enjoyed the idea, and he couldn’t help but mirror your smile.

“it’s a date.”

jj surprised himself more than he surprised you, which is saying a lot. he was trying to focus on your nervous fidgeting, a habit he’s noticed these past few months, in hopes of a positive response, rather than the obvious shock you were horrible at hiding.

“yeah?” he nodded, a boyish grin appearing when you seemed to be on board. “y’sure they’ll let us in?”

“no,” he pecked your lips again, a too casual habit. “c’mon.”

MADDY’S NOTE .ᐟ i’m def gonna make this a !reader thingy bc i’m loving the idea of it 🤞 (if i ever actually get around to posting all of my readers....) i’m just rly busy so actually writing my ideas is the hard part but i have smmmm

[heavyhitterheaux]

40-22

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: You and your husband watch the Super Bowl along with your best friends in NOLA

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Seeing as Joe was doing a press run the week leading up to the Super Bowl in New Orleans, you decided that the two of you should have a party for it at your new house that Joe had surprised you with as a Christmas gift. A party that would literally only be your best friends, but still a party nonetheless. He had noticed that you were missing being in Louisiana more than usual and it had actually been in the works for him to buy it since the beginning of last year.

In order to get your input without actually telling you about it, he would show you different pictures that the designer was sending Joe and as soon as you had given him the approval, everything was a go.

This was your first time actually seeing the house in person and you immediately fell in love. There was a hallway leading to what would be considered the man cave of the house and the walls were decorated with pictures of both you and Joe at your time at LSU. Seeing this definitely made a few tears slip out that you of course blamed on your hormones being all over the place.

Ja'Marr and Justin of course wanted to see the house and essentially invited themselves over, even though they were going to be invited anyway. You had sent a quick text to Erin and Alisha to see if they were free and they of course said yes to be able to spend time with you.

Joe told you that he could order food so that the two of you didn't have to cook and he didn't want you to be on your feet for a long period of time.

Of course he was met with resistance from you since cooking was one of your many love languages the last thing he wanted was an argument to come out of it. He knew once you made up your mind about something that it was the end of the conversation. But if it was something that he was dead set on not letting go, he had no problem letting you know how he felt. But for now, he would just help you with what you decided to make and make sure you got breaks in between.

As you were making your famous chili cheese dip that you knew was going to go in less than ten minutes, Joe had just finished seasoning the wings and was about to put them in the oven.

He had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on top of your head.

“You okay? And are my other two babies okay?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“Yes, babe. I told you that I'm fine. And they're fine too.” You replied and gave him a small smile before he gently moved you to the side to open the oven.

“As soon as we're done, you need to sit down and put your feet up so they don't swell.”

“Yes, Doctor Burrow.”

“Princess, I'm serious.”

“I know, I know and I promise I will. Just have one more thing to make and then I'll sit.” You replied as you reached up to kiss him.

“What else do you need help with so I can make this go faster?”

“They’re just cheesesteak sliders, but if you can start cutting up everything that would be helpful.”

“On it.”

When all of the food was done, Justin was already in the kitchen so you told him to come and get his plate so that way you could sit down yourself.

“Justin, it’s hot on the bottom, take the sides of it.” You told him as he was reaching for it.

“Uh huh.” He replied as he was still looking at the television and not at you.

“Don't touch the bottom. It's hot, move your hand away from it.”

Justin once again nodded and you decided since he wasn’t going to listen to just let him learn the hard way.

“Ow! DAMN, THAT’S HOT.”

“I know and I told your stupid ass two times not to touch the bottom, but you were so interested in looking at the TV instead. And you better not break my damn plate either.”

“Joe! Your wife was nicer before you got her pregnant!” Justin yelled towards him and Joe looked at him confused.

“Says who!?” Ja’Marr asked as he immediately chimed in and you gave them both a death glare.

“No, Justin, you just like to do stupid shit.” Joe shot back and Ja'Marr stifled a laugh.

“Next time I'm not cooking shit for yall. I can't even see my damn feet and they're probably swollen and I'm stressed because I'll have to probably call 911 messing with both of you. Justin, take this plate and get out my face. IMMEDIATELY.”

“But we didn't ask you to cook since I…”

“Ja’Marr keep talking and I'm going to make sure the next time I cook for you will be at your funeral.”

Ja’Marr immediately threw his hands up in defense as you went to sit down while everyone fixed their plate.

“Damn that food is about to be good as shit. Baby, can I request meatballs?” Joe asked you and you stifled a laugh.

“SERIOUSLY?” Ja’Marr asked Joe as he shrugged.

“No, Joe you got it backwards. It's funeral chicken and baby shower meatballs.” Erin told him while laughing and Ja’Marr made a face at her.

“Not you encouraging his nonsense….”

“Well Erin come through with the meatballs for our baby shower.” Joe told her and she quickly agreed.

“All you had to do was say the word. Consider it done.”

“So, no one is going to mention how my twin is planning my funeral?” Ja’Marr asked the entire room and everyone gave him a blank stare.

“No.” Everyone replied and you couldn't help but to laugh.

“She’s older and she's pregnant? Yeah, not getting into that one.”

“Some friends yall are.”

The game was just starting and Joe told you to sit down while he fixed your plate for you. He made sure you were comfortable with your multiple pregnancy pillows and put your feet up for you.

“The Eagles have one damn job and if they don't come through, I will RIOT.” Alisha said as she sat to the left of you while Erin was on your right.

“You and me both.” You told her as you turned up the volume.

It was during the second quarter when you suddenly got bored. The Chiefs were playing like they had never seen a football before in their lives and you honestly couldn't believe what you were seeing.

“Are they really serious right now?” Justin said out loud and in disbelief.

“Apparently they are.”

“I told yall that they aren't as good as everyone thinks they are. Because they are playing like straight ass.” Alisha added and everyone couldn't help but to laugh.

“Jalen is cute.” Erin said and you gave her a small smirk.

“AHT! Princess, wipe that smirk off your face!” Joe said and you held your hands up in defense.

“But I…”

“Nope, don't even try it. I saw it.”

“I only have eyes for you and you know that! Last time I checked I am pregnant with YOUR children."

"Mm hmm. Sure."

"Such a big ass baby." You quietly said, but he still heard you.

"Want to repeat that Mrs. Burrow?"

"Nope, I'm good." You replied while taking a sip of your lemonade while both Erin and Alisha laughed.

“As I was saying before, Joe rudely interrupted. Have you seen the entire team!? It's a TRAIN. And I wouldn't get off until I had a taste of the entire roster.” Alisha exclaimed, and you couldn't help but to laugh.

"Alisha, I heard that." Joe said, and she held her hands up and acted as if she didn't know what he was talking about.

“You know that there's 52 people on the roster, right?” You asked her and she immediately nodded her head.

“Like I said before, it's a train.”

Joe was on his second plate of food and focused on the game when you decided to send him a text.

Wifey- Baby, I'm bored.

Joey- You don't want to watch the game?

Wifey- Yes, but at this point I want it to be halftime. But in the meantime could you do something for me?

Joey- Of course baby. What do you need?

Wifey- For you to put your dick inside me

As soon as Joe read the text, his eyes went wide and he glanced at you with a smirk on his face as he bit his lip.

Joey- We have seven minutes until halftime

Wifey- I'm not missing Kendrick so we have to do it now

Joey- Go upstairs and I need to teach you a lesson for having a smirk on your face about that quarterback who ISN’T me

Wifey- So dramatic as usual. Just like a Sagittarius. Smh.

Joey- Just you wait until I get you alone

Once you got up, Joe was following your lead and Ja’Marr suddenly made a face at both of you.

“Where yall going?”

"Just going to the bathroom." You told him, but looked at you confused.

"And taking your husband with you?"

"Look Ja’Marr! My whole body is swollen and I can't see past my boobs!" You exclaimed as you crossed your arms and continued walking towards the stars as Joe stifled a laugh.

“Those things are going to be Z cups by the time the twins get here.” Alisha said without hesitation.

"So, you don't know where your vagina is located anymore?"

“Ja'Marr, if your twin wants to get her cheeks clapped by her husband who has clearly done it multiple times before since she's pregnant, that's her business. That's obviously where they're going.” Erin told him and he made a gagging noise.

"Bam Bam, keep talking and I will choke you.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

"Unless you're volunteering to wipe my ass, baby brother. By all means, come on.”

“NO! I'm good!”

“That's what I thought and that's why you need to mind your damn business.”

“You're my twin so you are my business.”

By this time, you had reached the top step and rolled your eyes before you responded to him.

“Leave me alone, Ja'Marr!”

“Never going to happen!”

As you entered your bedroom, you were attempting to walk towards the bed before Joe tugged your arm in another direction.

“If I take you on the bed, you know for a fact we'll be up here for the rest of the game and you are entirely too loud. No offense, princess.”

“Hmm, good point. Bathroom it is. And if Ja’Marr would have minded his business we would have been up here sooner! We have like 4 minutes now.”

“Then stop talking and let me take care of my wife.” Joe told you as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You don't have to tell me twice.”

As you were coming down the steps, Erin was grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at you and you instantly laughed at her.

“Nasty ass fuckers. Couldn't have even waited until we left.”

“I seriously went to the bathroom, dumbass!” You replied as you took your rightful seat in between your best friends just in time to see Kendrick come on the screen when Alisha leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I know that white boy be turning you every way but loose.”

You tried so hard to keep a straight face but failed miserably as Ja'Marr shot you a look.

“What are you two whispering about?”

“You'll never learn, will you?” You asked and he shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the TV.

“Probably not. You know I'm nosey.”

“And no lie was told.”

It was now the third quarter when the Chiefs finally decided to score, which clearly still left everyone unimpressed.

“See that's what they asses get for making sure we didn't make it in the playoffs.” Ja’Marr muttered to your husband who quickly agreed with him.

“Look, I'm just happy that I don't have to look at Taylor Swift for four quarters.” Erin confessed with Alisha letting out a laugh.

“And her boyfriend has done absolutely nothing this entire game.” You added before getting up and sitting on Joe's lap.

You sat to the side so that you could put your head on his shoulder and your feet in Ja’Marr's lap who quickly protested.

“Why are these things on me?”

“So they don't swell. Help a pregnant lady out. And besides I fed you and you're in my house. And I just got a pedicure so leave me alone!”

“She has a point.” Joe said and he crossed his arms in response.

“My going rate for babysitting those two when they get here is 50 dollars. EACH.”

“BULLSHIT. We watch baby uno for FREE.” Joe exclaimed in response.

“Because he's a low maintenance baby! Yall kids are about to be spoiled as hell with big ass heads that look like Joe. That last sonogram picture was wild. Count on having a c-section.”

“HEY! MY HEAD IS NOT THAT BIG!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Shiesty.” Justin muttered and it took everything in you not to laugh. You turned away from Joe, but he could feel the vibration of your laugh since you were leaning against him.

“My own wife laughing about jokes about me, I see.”

“Um, pookie… have you seen your baby pictures? It's always been big.” You asked him and he turned up his nose.

“I…forget about that Birkin you wanted for Valentine’s Day.”

“Hold on! Wait! I take it back!”

“Nope. Damage is done. I'm sleeping in the guest room.”

“Okay Mr. Dramatic.”

“AYE! ANOTHER TOUCHDOWN!” Justin exclaimed as he raised his arms in excitement.

“Andy needs to whoop everybody's ass on that field.”

“I think the Eagles got him covered in that department.”

“No 3 peat is happening at this point.”

It was now the final seconds of the fourth quarter and it was now set in stone that the Eagles had won. They were interviewing Jalen when a thought popped up in your head.

"I can not believe they got their ass beat this bad. I feel like a curse has been lifted." Justin said, and you stifled a laugh.

“I expect everyone in this room that has an NFL contract to be in the super bowl next year. Do with that information what you will.” You said and all three of them looked at you.

“If the front office actually gets its shit together so we can keep everyone we need.” Joe said before rolling his eyes.

“Are we going to make bets? I think we should.”

“Sure when the regular season starts, but my husband needs to take me to Disney World after he wins. And Ja’Marr is on babysitting duty.”

“Fine, 250 dollars an hour. EACH.”

"You must be out of your damn mind." Joe told him in response as he looked at him in disbelief while you were laughing.

[multiversediaries]

at last

bucky barnes x reader

summary: after months apart, bucky finally came home.

warnings: soft!!!!!! soft buck!

masterlist

“y/n? i’m back." you heard someone say loudly. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. you lived alone, well, sometimes. you were james barnes' wife. you had met him a long time ago, you were always there for him, and he was deadly in love with you. he cared so deeply about you. if something were to happen to you, he'd lose his mind. which is why he decided to hide your marriage, to keep you out of danger's way. you walked towards your front door, wondering who it was. your eyes light up as you saw your husband standing in front of you.

"hey, doll." bucky said smiling, genuinely smiling, as he took you into his strong arms. behind him, were the avengers, all of them. they were currently in a mission, that was supposed to take a while, which was the reason you were so surprised to see your husband back at your shared house.

"what's happening?" you heard tony say, confused at the sight of you two. you giggled a bit, pulling away from your hug. bucky smiled at you, taking in how gorgeous you looked. he wrapped his hand around your waist.

"i'm sorry i didn't let you know in advance, but we needed a place where we couldn't be tracked." bucky said, his voice as soft as always. you noticed the confused faces whilst your husband spoke to you as he has always done, soft and incredibly sweetly. you nodded, softly humming in response, a big smile planted on your lips, understanding him.

"alright, robocop, spill. where are we and who's the lovely woman?" tony asked, making your cheeks flush softly. you heard bucky sigh. you rubbed his back gently.

"she's bucky's wife, tony." steve said, gaining your attention. you smiled at him, he chuckled at you. "it's nice to see you again, y/n." he said, leaning over to hug you. you instantly hugged him back, squeezing him gently. steve was present at your wedding. you couldn't help but smile at tony's reaction. everyone always reacted the same way about your marriage to james. it sometimes made your heart ache. because how could so many people think that he's unloveable?

"wife?" natasha spoke in surprise, as you looked at her. you knew nat. you were a widow. you escaped a few years after she did. you gave her a hug as well, glad to see she was doing well. "you didn't tell me you got married. i must admit, my feelings are hurt." she sad, pouting, you laughed.

"it was my idea. i just- i didn't want her in any danger." bucky said, as you looked back up at your husband. you smiled at him, his hand tracing circles on your skin. natasha nodded.

"well, come inside." you said softly, walking into your living room, everyone following behind you. they all took seats around your couch. you walked up to your bathroom, grabbing your first aid kit, as you saw some of them were injured.

"everything alright?" you said gently, as you sat across from tony, who had a few cuts on his face. bucky stood by the door frame, as he watched you.

"it just got complicated." steve said, sighing. you nodded, not wanting to intrude. you began cleaning tony's wounds, earning a few hisses from him. you tried to be as gentle as possible.

"i'm sorry, i just don't get it." tony said, breaking the silence, looking at you. you tilted your head in confusion, as you applied a band aid on his small cut. "how can someone like you be married to him?" he asked cockily. you laughed a bit at his words. you knew tony and bucky were not in a good place, after all, the winter soldier was responsible for his parents' deaths. but that wasn't bucky's fault.

"because you only know the winter soldier, but i know james barnes." you simply said, moving onto clint's injuries. bucky couldn't help but smile at your words. that was something he loved about you, how unashamed you were to love him. even after everything he had done, you wouldn't leave his side. he felt so undeserving of you.

after cleaning all of their wounds, you prepared some food for them. you wanted to help as much as you could, and it just felt so nice to have people around. you didn't have many friends apart from bucky, steve and natasha. you smiled as you watched the avengers dine, talking over their mission as you cleaned the dishes. you felt someone's hand wrap around you. you smiled, almost instantly.

"i missed you, darling." bucky said, planting a sweet kiss to your neck. you smiled widely, turning around to face him. you wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging his body close to yours.

"i missed you even more, barnes. have you been doing alright?" you asked softly, your hands now laying in his cheeks, caressing his gorgeous features. you had spent so much time apart from him. almost three months apart. you felt empty without your other half. he nodded, kissing your forehead.

"i'm okay. i just want to be here with you." he said softly. your hands ran to now caress his back, as you looked up at bucky.

"i know, baby. but they need you. and honestly, you need them too." you said, leaning up to kiss his jaw. he nodded, before planting a sweet peck to your lips. he walked back towards your dining table, and continued the conversation about their mission.

it was very late at night already. all of the guys were resting. you had a lot of empty rooms, so you were able to offer a room to every single one of them. you wanted them to be comfortable, after everything they had gone through lately. you yawned softly as you waited for bucky on your shared bed. he walked out of the bathroom, drying his wet hair on a towel. you smiled at him, you couldn't believe he was back. he sat by the end on the bed and just looked at you. you smiled at him, before standing up, to help him off his prosthetic arm.

"it's alright, doll. maybe i should keep it on." he said, staring up at you as you stood right in front of him. you placed both your hands on his face.

"you're home, buck. you're safe." you said lightly, earning a shaky breath to leave his mouth. he wrapped his arms around your hips, hugging you. your hands ran to his soft hair, before planting a sweet kiss on his head.

"for the first time in a while, i was scared, y/n." you heard bucky say, you listened to his every word, as you played with his hair. "i was terrified of not coming back to you." he said, his arms tightening around you, earning a frown from you.

"james.." you said softly, trying your hardest to find his eyes. he was scared, you could tell. you wonder what had happened to have him this shaken up.

"it's just so much worse than we thought.. i'm not sure we'll be able to do something about it." he said, now looking up to meet your gorgeous eyes. you sighed softly.

"you'll be okay, my love. you will all be okay." you said, as you felt his hands pulling you even closer to him, as if he needed to feel you close. "i don't know the extent of what's happening, but i do know one thing. you guys are the earth's mightest heroes. it's alright to have doubts, but don't let them control you. you may not know what to do right now, but you will soon enough." you said, one of your hands running to his check to caress his beautiful face. "we all need a break sometimes. take this time to rest, and reflect. and a solution will come to you. but for now, rest, baby." you finished. he sighed and nodded. you always knew what to say.

"gosh, doll. i have missed you so much. being apart from you is torture." he said, now letting go of your waist. you smiled widely, kissing him lovingly, before helping him take off his arm. you placed it on the case and walked back to him, you placed a kiss to his shoulder, climbing back to bed once again.

bucky followed you to bed, laying his head on your chest. your hand ran to his hair, your fingers getting lost into his brown hair. bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you as close as he possible could. you placed small kisses to his head and forehead, as your gentle giant fell asleep peacefully in your arms.

at last. he was home.

[comflexxed]

june watched as arthur ran ahead, his small feet kicking up sand as scooter bounded beside him, ever the watchful companion. the ocean breeze tousled his son’s hair, and for a moment, june saw a flicker of himself in the way arthur’s arms spread out as he ran, as if trying to catch the wind, trying to hold onto that fleeting sense of weightlessness.

it reminded him of the first time he had visited this very beach with hans, the day they had let go of everything but the moment. it had been laughter and warm sand, breathless steps that led them straight into the tide, hand in hand. that memory lived here, in the air, in the salt, in the way the waves never stopped coming back to shore.

his fingers curled lightly around arthur’s as the boy slipped his small hand into his. his grip was warm, in the same way all of them were to each other. julia let out a soft babble in hans’s arms, her bright eyes following the soaring seagulls, and june could only imagine how she saw the world — how vast it must seem to her, how new. she had no idea yet of the weight of the place they stood, of the promises exchanged here, of the life that had taken root in the sand beneath their feet. but arthur was starting to understand.

june glanced down at their son, at the dirt still clinging beneath his fingernails from his earlier attempts at gardening, at the way he shifted on his feet, staring at the waves as if they were speaking directly to him. “you love it here, don’t you?” june murmured.

arthur nodded, still catching his breath from all his running. “the ocean’s really big,” he said, his voice full of something like awe. “bigger than anything i’ve seen!”

june squeezed his hand, letting out a little chuckle. “it is.” it was the first thing that had ever made him feel small in a way that wasn’t suffocating. the ocean had a way of reminding him that the world was open and wild and full of things he had yet to see. but standing here now, with arthur’s hand in his, with julia safe in hans’s arms, with the sky painted in streaks of gold and pink, he didn’t feel small at all. he felt infinite.

his gaze flickered toward hans, who had stopped in front of the very place they had spoken their vows. even now, years later, june felt the pull of it — of the promises spoken into the wind, of the way their love had settled here, permanent as the tide.

june let the moment settle between them before speaking, his voice quieter, meant just for the two of them. “i think the ocean’s like us,” he said, his thumb brushing over the back of arthur’s hand. “no matter what happens, it always comes back.” just like they always did.

his free hand found hans’s, and without hesitation, he laced their fingers together.

arthur, still staring at the horizon, sighed contentedly. “tomorrow, i wanna find the biggest seashell ever,” he declared. june chuckled. “then we better get started early.”

and with that, they stood together, watching the last light dip below the water, the waves carrying the echo of their laughter into the night.

arthur and scooter were on their way to the beach, feet and paws finding the familiar way they would aways take on their evening strolls like this. arthur had developed such an affinity for the sea from seeing it almost every day, and when he ran excitedly to the beach, hans remembered the first time he ran those same steps with june. 

he remembered how they had taken their shoes off to feel the sand on their feet, really feel it and the freedom it represented. he remembered unbridled laughter, and his forever looking him in the eyes as they stepped into the water. it was the kind of laughter and freedom he wanted their children to have in their bodies, making their blood sing. 

julia watched a group of seagulls flying overhead as they walked, her mouth shaped into a small 'o' in awe. as hans held her securely against him, he marveled at how quickly she was growing, and a smile curved his lips. “before we know it, they’ll declare themselves prince and princess of this beach,” he spoke to june’s direction, jinx walking by his side quietly.��

as they walked past the very spot where they had gotten married, hans felt that familiar tug on his heart, that gentle reminder that the beach had witnessed their love grow through the years, and that it was as steadfast as ever. it was a love that always found a new way to express itself, through the quiet moments, through the silence, through words and actions. 

hans stopped at the very spot where they exchanged their vows and turned to the sunset setting on the horizon. scooter ran toward them, quickly followed by two short legs, who fell into step beside june and slipped his hand into his father’s as he steadied his breath from all the running. 

the sun turned the sky into an artwork of pinks and oranges, and hans took a deep breath, taking this serene feeling in. “it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” with julia in his arms and arthur holding june’s, he couldn’t help but feel the veil of their love covering all of them, keeping them safe. it was all hans could ever hope for. “i never get tired of seeing the sunset with you every day.” the words had always been reserved for june, his husband, but in this moment, it was for his family too. 

[bcksbarnes]

between a dream

pairing: tws!bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.

word count: 2.2K

a/n: based this on request from anonymous!

the winter solider was not a man. he was not capable of forming his own thoughts or having feelings. he was a killing machine that was able to be turned on and off at any moment, bringing only death and destruction wherever he went. that was until he heard one word, one name. bucky. that moment altered something in his brain, a voice in the back of his head coming to life. it sounded like his own. the winter solider was not sure he had ever heard his own voice in his head before. 

he had learned very quickly, and against his will, that he was once a man named james ‘bucky’ barnes. that he used to be a solider from a different time. that he had a life that was taken away from him. that he has been used as a weapon. and that he should be dead. 

the man he had once thought was his target, steve rogers, was actually his friend in the life he no longer knew. the one he couldn’t remember.  

and now as he sat in this tower over looking the city skyline, all he could think about was that there was no one to be trusted. sure, maybe steve, but he wasn’t even in the right frame of mind to distinguish if this was still some trap – some lie. 

“he’s been sitting like that for two days.” sam says as you and steve approach. everyone has been taking turns keeping watch of him since he and steve returned from their fight near the river. first nat, then sam, now it would be your turn. “he hasn’t eaten or slept.” 

“i don’t blame him.” you mumble as your arms cross over your chest, watching the back of bucky’s head. “he just found out his entire life has been a lie. he’s been used a killing machine for the last 70 years.” you try to keep your voice low so that he can’t hear you, but you watch as he tilts his head back and forth a bit, the memories filling his mind. 

“let me go introduce you.” steve’s voice is soft, as he places a hand on your elbow guiding you over to where bucky was sitting. once you approach his chair, you take a step back keeping your distance while steve goes to speak to him. 

“hey, buck.” he says, bucky wincing a bit at the name, obviously not used to it yet. “sam’s going to be heading out of here in a few minutes. i wanted to introduce you to another team member.” 

bucky’s head turns to the side to look at steve, his eyes raking over the man. you can tell he’s trying to figure out if steve in that moment is a threat to him, his body rigid as he asses. you can’t imagine the amount of stress he’s under, how his brain must be on fire with trying to discern between realities. 

he soon looks over at you, his stare is hard as the two of you make eye contact. you’re not scared of him, and you know you could disarm him in a moment despite the difference in size between the two of you, but there’s something in his gaze that feels so disconnected from the world – from emotion. steve introduces you, saying your name a few times as he gives bucky the same rundown as he had with both natasha and sam, trying to reiterate that they were here to help – not hurt. 

bucky doesn’t respond, he didn’t the first two times either, his gaze moves back over to steve and he continues to frown, wanting to be done with this conversation, wishing the screaming in his head would stop.  

once steve wraps up his rundown he looks over at you, giving a firm nod before he walks out of the room, beginning your time on the clock to keep watch of this man, while they figure out how best to move forward. 

nothing really happens for the first few hours, bucky shifts slightly in his chair a few times, you lead him to the bathroom once or twice, and your phone buzzes with some texts from steve checking in, but overall nothing worth noting.  

you can see the dark circles under bucky’s eyes as you sit a few seats away from him. you feel bad for him to some extent. he had done bad things, sure, but you couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. the sun begins to set and you hear a loud sigh leave his lips, it makes you wonder what’s going on in his head. 

he hasn’t eaten. 

sam’s voice rings through your head and you realize it’s probably best to get bucky some food. 

“hey.” you say, getting his attention, his head slowly rolling to the side to look at you. “what do you want to eat?” 

bucky’s eyes graze over you for a moment, you can see him making a mental note that you are a threat to him and that no one right now is safe. he makes no attempts to respond before he rolls his head back to continue staring into space. 

“o...kay.” you mumble to yourself, taking out your phone and making a few arrangements to have food sent up for him. 

it doesn’t take long for someone to arrive, pushing a cart filled with food, you jump off your chair to thank them before grabbing the plate and moving it over to a table where bucky could sit. 

you don’t realize he’s watching you until you turn back around, your head nodding over to the table and he stands. he’s much taller than you had anticipated, your eyes taking in the size of him as his metal arm shines brightly even with the dim lights in the tower. he sits down and waits for you to sit across from him. 

“i guess they sent over ...” you eye his plate for a moment. “salmon.” the face you make after the word is one of pure disgust – a food you hated with every fiber of your being, you didn’t envy that he had to eat it. 

but, he makes no attempts to reach for his fork or knife, his hands curled into fists as they rest at the table, his eyes watching you intently.  

“do you not like salmon?” you ask, trying to coax even an answer out of him, but he doesn’t budge. it takes you a moment before you put two and two together – the most obvious reason of all as to why he’s not eating. “steve wouldn’t poison you.” 

he grunts in response, his fists tightening a bit as his eyes move down to the food then back up at you. it’s hard to understand what could possibly be going through his mind, what horrors he’s had to endure and the false reality that he was placed into for all those years. 

“steve wouldn’t poison you, bucky.” you say again, trying to reiterate the point as much as you possibly could, your words holding so much weight to anyone but it falls flat with him. 

“i don’t know steve.” his words send a chill through your spine, his voice is deep and hallow, lacking any emotion, but, to be fair, he’s not wrong. “i don’t know you.”  

“fine. i’ll prove it to you then.” your words come out faster than your brain has a chance to stop you. standing up from your seat, your chair pushing back as you do so, you lean across and grab his fork, hands shaking slightly as you grab a piece of the salmon. 

you regret doing it almost immediately, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth. it’s fishy and pink and the bile is rising in your throat just at the smell of it, but you know you have to do this. to earn some sort of trust. if steve was here, he’d do anything to prove to bucky, so you had to show him you were just as capable of proving this as well. 

taking the bite your body wants to reject it almost immediately as you chew, but you manage to get it down, taking a long sip of your water once it’s been swallowed to try and get the taste out of your mouth. horrible. terrible. disgusting. if he didn’t eat the salmon now, then you’d definitely kill him. 

a beat of silence passes between the two of you as stare at each other. bucky moves his hand, grabbing his fork back from you and moving to take a bite of the food, having an easier time choking it down than you do. 

there it was. something. maybe not trust yet, maybe just a spark of the idea. 

you sit down across from him again, shaking your head as you try not to imagine eating anymore of the food, the idea of it sending a shiver down your spine as you continue to watch silently. 

“thanks.” he manages to say between bites, his eyes on the food in front of him.  

“yeah, don’t mention it.” you quip back, your voice flat before letting out a dry cough. 

it’s once he’s finished with his food that he pushes his body back against the chair, sinking into it slightly, his flesh and metal hand grip the arms tightly. the tension in the room is palpable at this point and you know bucky can feel it too. 

“how long have you known steve?” his voice is gruff as it comes out, and you’re surprised he’s willing to talk to you, let alone ask questions. 

“two years.” you respond. “since they found him in the ice.” you remember that day vividly, watching as they brought him in for evaluation, making their plans to slowly acclimate him to the real world, which in true steve rogers fashion did not work. you had been assigned to his team ever since. “i was one of his first recruits on the team. sam was next, nat is just a friend.” 

bucky nods at that, his long hair falling in front of his face as he takes in your words.  

“has he always been ...” he looks over in the direction of the door that steve had walked out of hours ago. “like that?”  

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head a bit at his question – you knew exactly what he was talking about. steve, while he had everyone’s best interest in mind, was a bit overbearing, always over explaining everything and a bit ... self absorbed. it was the hero complex. 

“yes.” you nod, a small smirk on your face as your gaze catches bucky’s again. his eyes are tired, not as guarded as they were a few minutes ago – softer. “he means well, but he can be a little ...” you trail off, but bucky nods his head understanding where that was going. 

bucky lets out a long sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as you can see his hands gripping the chair tighter, the knuckles on his flesh hand white. 

“i hate that he looks at me like that.” he admits through gritted teeth. “like i’m supposed to just remember everything that happened. there’s ... bits and pieces, but i don’t know him. i barely remember myself. he doesn’t understand.” 

“he doesn’t expect you to remember anything.” you add in after a few long moments of silence. “it might feel like he does, but he doesn’t. he’s just excited to have his friend back.” your eyes trail over his face. “a version of his friend.” 

bucky’s grip loosens on the chair, a deep breath leaving his nostrils as he moves to stand from the table. you watch as he makes his way back to where he was sitting before, his head lolling back onto the chair as he stares up at the ceiling. 

and he stays like that for the remainder of the night. his shoulders aren’t as tense as when you had first arrived, he turns to look at you when you ask him a question and he even manages to gruff out an answer. 

by the time morning comes, steve is there bright and early, ready to release you of your duties as it was now his turn to keep watch over bucky. 

“hey.” he says, startling you a bit as you and bucky both turn to look at him. “how’d it go?” 

“good.” you nod, standing up and straightening your posture. “he ate late last night, he’s feeling a bit ... overwhelmed.” you keep your voice low so bucky couldn’t hear you. “give him some space. don’t ask so many questions.” 

you felt suddenly protective over bucky, the need to make sure he felt comfortable as he navigated his way through this new beginning was blooming in your chest. and as you turn around to see him one last time, you swear you seem some sadness in his eyes. you pat steve on the shoulder as you walk past him, finally being relieved of your time. though you’d never admit out loud you’d be counting down the hours until it was your turn on watch bucky again. 

[emsdevs]

FUCK I DID THE LAST ONE WRONG, SORRY i missed the present 😭

happy birthday, i hope you have an incredible day, and congrats on 300 !! you deserve every single one <3

could i request #7 with luke? 🎁

a/n: you're all good nonnie! thank you for requesting!! also I'm def using this as a way comfort everyone after the last celly req i answered 😬 anyway enjoy some lukey fluff!!

Prompt 7: "I want you, only you."

Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist | masterlist

When Luke dragged you out to the dock at the lake house to watch the sunrise, you really didn’t think much of it. He was the type of guy to do cheesy stuff like this all the time. He loved buying you flowers as much as you loved to receive them. It never bothered him to be teased by his teammates or brothers about being whipped for you. He was. He’d gladly admit that, and then he’d happily tell them all that if they weren’t whipped for their partners, they just weren’t doing the whole relationship thing right. He loved making your relationship feel like all the best parts of an old rom-com, so really, barely a thought crossed your mind when he made you roll out of bed to go watch the sunrise, not even when he insisted you should wear something cute and do your makeup first. 

You’d been at the dock for just a few minutes when you wanted to tell him how much you loved sunrises at the lake, looking toward him to find him on one knee behind you. Your hands flew up to your mouth, and you could feel the teas now in your waterline, thankful that you’d miraculously chosen waterproof mascara for the day. 

“I know we’re still fairly young, but I’ve been in the NHL for five years now. I’ve been with you even longer. We’ve lived enough that I think we can settle down, and there’s no one else I’d want to do that with. I love you, and I want you, only you. I’ve known since our second date that you’d be the one I marry, the one I’d grow old with. You mean so much to me, and I never want to lose you. Will you please marry me, so I can keep showing you how much I love you for as long as I live?” He’s crying too, and he’s holding the ring box out for you. Honestly, you don’t care much about it, only wanting Luke.

“Yes! Oh my god! Yes!” you’re jumping up and down, unsure what to do with all your excitement. Luke grabs your left hand, slipping the ring onto it, before pulling you in for a soft kiss. You’re both giggling through it, basking in the happy moment. 

You hear Jack and Quinn barreling down the backyard toward you both before you see them. Soon, they’re engulfing their brother and their soon-to-be-sister-in-law in a group hug. They had woken up early to go work out and saw the two of you at the dock, waiting patiently until the proposal was complete to come congratulate you both.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @madebyhappymeals @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @huggyyy43 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @pucks-goals-penalties

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[leviathansmistress]

Caving Heart

Pairings: Divorced Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/warnings: Allusions to sex, we rock with Wanda because Wanda rocks with us, angst then fluff :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which you're starting to let her in, once again...

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

This is Natasha looking at you, scrambling as you put your clothes on. You didn't know how it happened, she was just putting the kids to sleep and the next thing you know is she is putting you to bed as well.

"This is just one time, this will never happen again." You said calmly. Natasha could only bite her lip, she didn't say anything but the words cut deep in her chest.

For the first time after 3 years of being a fucking celibate—you had sex. A life changing, toe curling, breathtaking orgasm from the same person who gave you your first orgasm. Not that you literally practiced celibacy because you still had the vibrators and toys your wife actually bought when you were still together and not that you don't want to have sex but…you just can't—you can't with someone else.

Natasha was the first to worship your body, the one who loves tracing and kissing the stretch marks that etched in your thighs. She admired every part of you and with all honesty? You can't see anyone leveling how your ex-wife looked at you.

You were standing, fixing your clothes, ready to kick your ex-wife out of the house since it's already late at night. But then, you felt a strong arms wrapping your waist. "Baby, please…" She begged.

"Natasha, stop." You tried to remove her locked arms on your stomach but her grip was strong.

"Baby please, I'm sorry." She kissed your shoulders over and over. "Please forgive me, I want you back. I want you back Y/N. I need you back." She cried. "I need you baby please. I'm sorry. I love you so much, please."

You started crying as well but you held your stance, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but whenever you try to move away Natasha makes sure to not let you go, not this time—not anymore.

"Natasha, stop." You hissed, wiping the tears from your face. "Jesus, you'll wake the kids up." But she did not say anything despite your angry tone, you can only hear her cry and sob behind you, her forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder.

And it went on the rest of the night. Both of you standing and crying in each other's embraces.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your friend, Wanda, the godmother of your children, decided to visit you at your home, bringing you some tea and a real tea.

"I told you Mrs. Hart's husband was cheating with the chief." She said with a wide eye, pouring you some tea she made.

"Well, that one is actually not included on my bingo card this year…" you chuckled lightly. Then, there was a knock that interrupted your tea with your friend and your first born immediately ran to get it.

"Mom!" She squeaked, Natasha easily brought her up using just her right arm. You watched as she peppered her kisses before putting your daughter down. Meanwhile, your friend, Wanda, switched her shocked eyes between you and Natasha. She watched as your ex-wife handed you a huge bouquet of flowers and kissed your temple.

"Ashana's asleep." That was the only thing you said, then Natasha nodded. She gave Wanda a smile before heading upstairs.

When Wanda was sure your ex-wife was already gone upstairs, she switched from being a nosey neighbor to being a detective that needed some answers.

"What exactly was that?" She left her mouth open, you're afraid a fly might come in.

"What?" you giggled playfully.

"That!" She now hissed, pointing at the stairs of your house. "And that too." She pointed to the bouquet of yellow daffodils in your hand.

"Stairs..? And flowers?" you laughed, blushing at the satisfaction you're feeling with your friend's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon don't play stupid. Since uh when." She sassed.

"Since last week."

"Last week and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, this is the first time we saw each other again so how am I supposed to tell you?" You defended, transferring the flowers from the vase.

"Girl, don't you have a phone?" She barked, standing and she motioned towards you. "Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils…" she said in a sing-song snapping her body to lean on the counter where you have been fixing the flowers, you cannot help but laugh at her silly movements. "Did you know that daffodils mean a new beginning? A start of something fresh—whether it's a new relationship or an existing one. So what's the deal huh? You two?" she asked, scrunching her nose. You hide yourself behind the bouquet of the flowers but your friend snatched it away from you.

"You're such a bitch, you're blushing!" She whacked the bouquet playfully on your face and you immediately dodged it.

"Noooo!" You whined, retrieving the flower back.

"Look who's in love? Hm?"

"Who?" you asked innocently, focusing on putting the daffodils on the vase.

"This bitch right here." She whispered before attacking your sides with her fingers.

"Wanda! If Shane heard you cursing again, I swear…" you warned, swatting her hands away.

She made an offensive look, palming her chest, "Hey, don't bring the kids in here. I have been nothing but a good influence auntie."

"Shane said you called someone a bitch in the market."

"Because she cut through our line." Wanda defended. "Damn, I can't believe my homegirl will snitch me. But anyway, I need to go now. I will pick my twinsies to school." She rushed to hug you, then she proceeded to get her keys and purse.

"Thank you, Wands." You walked her to the door but then, she stopped, right at the doorway and turned to look at you.

"Daffodils means a new beginning…and a new life." She started. You tilt your head before breaking into a laughter, forcing her to turn around.

"Hey, hey wai—aw!" She grabbed your hands away from her shoulder and held it firmly in front of her. "I just wanna say, I am ready for another goddaughter."

"Okay. No." She let go of your hand and immediately ran away from the porch of your house.

"You're not sure about that my friend!"

"I hate you!" you shout.

"I love you too, sis!"

You waved as your friend finally drove away from your house. When you got inside, you saw Natasha coming down the stairs. "Where's Shane?" you asked her.

"Asleep." She trailed behind you, as you went to the dining room.

Your phone vibrated behind your ass but you ignored it. "Did you eat?" you looked at her, already grabbing a plate for her. You knew Natasha so well, she doesn't eat lunch and if she does, it's always late. She hugged you from behind, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

"Nope." She said, while her face was buried on your shoulders. You hummed already expecting that answer from her.

"I'll reheat the lunch." You touched the side of her head. The phone vibrated again, but you chose to check it later.

"I was thinking of eating something else." She mumbled.

"Oh…do you wanna order?" You asked, feeling offended she doesn't want to eat the food you cooked for lunch and Natasha immediately sensed it.

"Nope, food's here." She said lazily, wrapping you tightly in her embrace.

Finally understanding what she meant, you slapped the side of her thigh so hard that she let out a cry.

"I was just joking." She cried as she stepped back, rubbing her thigh. Well, she actually was not joking.

Then, your phone buzzed just right behind your ass for the third time now. You took the device from your pocket and read the message that was from your friend.

Are you having sex with your ex-wife right now?

Reply 'ugh' if you are doing some baby making activities with your ex-wife.

Okay, I'll take the no replies as a sign that I am having another goddaughter or godson soon. I love being a fairy godmother!

[harrys-only-angel333]

HEHE I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS ABT MY DR LEMME DO THIS NOWWW

1. My first DR was a Harry Potter DR (like most ppl’s was I think) and currently my main DR is my One Direction DR. I made this switch cuz I feel way more connected to my 1D DR than I ever felt towards my Hogwarts DR. It’s funny cuz I had been shifting to Hogwarts for over a year before I made the switch and within a month, I was way more connected to my 1D one so I’m glad I made the switch

2. As in my DR self name? My full name in my DR is Chloe Lilian Adams. That’s my name cuz my first and middle names are the same in both my CR and DR, but I HATE my CR last name so I changed it. I love Wednesday Addams (grew up watching the films) so I think that’s where I got the last name from

3. The house I originally live in is the same as my CR house (but w some slight changes so I’ll know if I’m in my DR or not) but I end up moving into this huge house w my bandmates around like 2012/13. I don’t have any pics of it w me rn but my favourite room in it is this tiny room dedicated for reading that I designed myself. It’s like this little reading nook and it’s so cute

4. There’s probably a lot of edits of me in my DR but idk how to describe them lmfao. The fandom is CRAZY in my DR (crazy in a good way) but they’re all rlly nice. If you have ANY idea what the 1D fandom is like (especially in their prime) …that’s what I have to deal w in my DR. I love them tho

5. My outfit of the day would probs be just some jeans, a t-shirt (that probs belongs to my bf) and a hoodie (that also probs belongs to my bf). Just cuz it’s comfy. It’s what I wear here too sooooo it’s easier to connect w my DR self

6. In my free time I hang out w my bandmates and we just visit random areas. It depends where we are. Like for example, if we’re in London, we’d mess around in the streets and visit the monuments or whatever

7. I don’t rlly know abt niche, but I only have one DR now (I’m permashifting to it) and it’s obvs my 1D one so can I just say that???

8. There are soooo many ways I could describe my DR but if it had to be one it’d be ‘one dream, one band, one direction’ CUZ that’s kinda their like ‘motto’ ig so I’ll go w that one. Also cuz I’m not creative at all and I can’t think rn haha

9. I script on notion, and again, I deleted all my other DR scripts because I hyperfix on one DR (and yk what that one is by now ig). My fave script is my main DR one cuz I’ve spent the most time on it and it looks rlly nice :)

10. My friend group is my bandmates, so that’s easy. The group was made cuz we were put together on the X Factor cuz some judges thought we’d be good together lmfao

11. My family is the same in both my CR and my DR so I don’t think I rlly need to say anything here. I tried to keep my DR as close to my CR as possible so I can connect w it easily - and also so it’s realistic for me ig

12. My fave scenario (I didn’t script it, it’s crucial to happen for my DR to have its point) is the one where I meet my bandmates/bf cuz that leads to all the fun stuff I’m excited to experience in my DR (like touring and performing). I’m also rlly excited to do the San Siro concert cuz that was our ‘we made it’ moment imo and I can’t wait to experience it. Like everytime I watch it I’m like ‘holy shit I’m gonna be up there’

13. Justin Bieber cuz that fucker was rlly creepy w me at one point and I’m like ‘ummmm hell nah’

14. I have millions of followers in my DR. I’m mostly active on Twitter and Tumblr. On Twitter I post abt stuff to do w my career and tours, w the occasional unprofessional tweet. My Tumblr is the complete opposite. It’s VERY unprofessional (but not in a bad way) I just interact w my fans and be my real self and it’s rlly fun

ᓚᘏᗢ﹐𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. ⁞ ˎˊ˗

shifting ask game reblog for asks ↻ ‧₊˚.

i’m bored so here’s another ask game, i’ll try to ask to everyone who reblogs, as long as tumblr isn't too glitchy, but feel free to send asks to others

— 💡 : what was your first dr and what is currently your main dr? How and why have you made this switch?

— 🏷 : what is your name for your dr and why is that your name?

— 👜 : what’s your house look like? Do you have any roommates or people who live with you? What’s your favorite aspect of your house and why?

— 🎞 : what edits of you would there be in your dr? what is your fandom like?

— 🩰 : what is your OOTD (outfit of the day) for a dr and why?

— 🏛️ : what do you do in your free time? Who are you with? Where do you go?

— 🗝 : what is your most niche dr and why did you make it?

— 📜 : summarize your dr in a sentence

— 🧳 : what is your favorite way to script and share your favorite dr script

— ♟ : who’s in your friend group and how did you make this friend group?

— 🕰 : what’s your family like? Who’s your favorite person and what are your relationships with your different members?

— 🎻 : what is a fun scenario you have scripted and you excited for? (be detailed! :)

— 💼 : who is someone you don’t get a long with in your dr? Why?

— 🍨 : what are your socials like in your dr? Followers? Username? What do you post?

[wolvietxt]

𝓵ate 𝓷ight laundromat.

pairing : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : petnames, fluff, kinda open ended summary : you and frank keep running into each other at the 24-hour laundromat in your apartment complex. he’s always there at odd hours, folding his black t-shirts and watching you over the rim of his coffee cup. wc : 2.0k a/n : take a shot every time i mention the coffee cup ALSO i wanna write a part two for this :3

you’ve lived in the same apartment complex for almost a year now, but it wasn’t until the past couple of weeks that you started noticing frank. the first time you bumped into him was in the 24-hour laundromat in the basement, the one you’d barely ever given much thought to. you were there late one night after work, lugging a bag of laundry that felt ten times heavier than it should have. the laundromat, tucked away in the corner of the building, was empty except for a guy hunched over his laundry. his black t-shirts were neatly folded in a pile beside him, and his movements were methodical - almost precise. he didn’t notice you at first. you just slid your quarters into the machine, quietly setting your basket down, your eyes drifting over to him.

when he finally looked up, his eyes caught yours for a second - brief but intense - before he quickly went back to folding, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the moment. it wasn’t uncomfortable. in fact, it made your heart flutter a little. maybe it was the way his dark, messy hair framed his face or the simple fact that he was actually doing something productive at 2 a.m. while the rest of the world slept.  

you didn’t really know what to say. you weren’t even sure if he was the type of guy who liked to chat in a laundromat of all places, so you kept to yourself. the only noise between you two was the soft hum of the dryers, the occasional clink of coins, and the rustling of fabric. you glanced at him again when you tossed your clothes in, and this time, he seemed to notice, because he met your gaze for a longer moment before offering a small nod.  

"hey," he said gruffly, his voice low. “you, uh, come here a lot?”  

you blinked, caught off guard by the question. you hadn’t expected him to talk, especially not first.  

"yeah," you said, smiling a little awkwardly. "guess i’m a bit of a night owl."  

he smirked at that, the corners of his mouth turning up just enough to make his rough demeanor seem less intimidating. “me too.”  

from that point on, you saw him regularly. every time you found yourself at the laundromat at odd hours, he seemed to be there too. it was as if your schedules had aligned by some strange cosmic coincidence, and while it was a little strange at first, you started to look forward to it. you’d do your laundry, he’d do his, and once in a while, when the machines were humming their last spin, he’d take a sip from his coffee mug, glancing up at you over the rim.  

the two of you didn’t talk much at first, but the little moments began to add up. one night, when your dryer stopped halfway through its cycle, you found yourself holding a basket of wet clothes, unsure what to do. frank must’ve seen the look of slight panic on your face because he got up, moved over to your dryer, and with a soft grunt, nudged the start button for you.  

“thanks,” you muttered, surprised at how easily he moved around you.  

“no problem, sweetheart,” he said, a quiet chuckle escaping him.  

you blinked at that. sweetheart?  

he didn’t seem to notice your surprise, too busy folding his t-shirts with the kind of focus that made it clear he was used to being alone during these late-night laundromat sessions.  

after that, frank would occasionally drop in a petname - sweetheart, sugar - nothing that felt overly intimate, but enough to make you feel a little warmer every time he said it. and you found yourself wanting to hear it more.  

you were always busy in the mornings, so the nights became the only time you felt like you had any real freedom, and you found yourself thinking about him more and more. how quiet he was. how kind he seemed underneath that gruff exterior.  

there was one night - late as always - that you walked into the laundromat, tired from your shift, only to find frank already there, as usual. he was sipping coffee, and his gaze lifted just enough to meet yours when you stepped inside.  

“late night, huh?” he said with a slight nod, his voice warm in the cool, quiet space.  

“yeah,” you replied, walking over to the machines. “never seems to stop, does it?”  

“nope,” he said, his lips curling into that soft, barely-there smile that you were starting to look forward to. “but i don’t mind. keeps things interesting.”  

and as you loaded your clothes into the machine, you realized you didn’t mind either. there was something oddly comforting about the routine of it all. seeing frank at these weird hours, sharing these quiet, small moments with him.  

you smiled to yourself, feeling a little lighter. a little less alone.  

the following weeks blurred together in a rhythm that felt surprisingly comforting. your late-night laundromat rendezvous with frank had become more than just coincidence; they’d become part of your routine. at first, you only exchanged small words and quiet glances, but something about the way frank looked at you - how his gaze softened over the rim of his coffee cup - made you want to stay just a little longer each time.  

you couldn’t explain it. you didn’t even know him all that well, but there was something undeniably magnetic about his presence. it wasn’t just his quiet confidence or the way he folded his shirts so meticulously. it was how he paid attention to you in a way that no one else did. it was the small, subtle things - the way he always made sure you were okay with the machines, the way he’d hold the door open for you without making a fuss about it.  

and you started noticing the little things about him too. how he always wore those faded band shirts that looked as if they’d been washed a hundred times, how his dark hair fell in messy waves that seemed like they were made to be ruffled. that was, until he buzzed it again. you started to realize that you weren’t just looking forward to the laundry, you were looking forward to seeing frank.  

it wasn’t long before you started finding excuses to stay later than you normally would, letting your clothes dry just a little longer, lingering in the laundromat for an extra few minutes just to be in the same space as him. frank never pushed you, though. he was the same calm, collected guy he’d always been - quiet but not distant, a little reserved but never cold.  

one night, after a particularly busy day, you found yourself at the laundromat again. the room was empty except for the usual hum of machines and the low buzz of fluorescent lights. frank was sitting at the small table by the window, his coffee mug in front of him, but this time he wasn’t folding his shirts. instead, his eyes were trained on you, watching you as you loaded your clothes into the dryer.  

you felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t mind it this time. it wasn’t awkward. it felt... familiar.  

“you doing okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, his voice soft but carrying an edge of concern you hadn’t expected.  

you paused, turning to face him, your fingers still hovering over the detergent bottle. “yeah, just a long day. i’m glad i have this to look forward to.”  

frank’s lips twitched up into a small, almost shy smile at that. “i’m glad too, sweetheart.”  

you didn’t think anything of it at first - just the usual friendly banter. but when you sat down at the table across from him, the air between you two seemed to shift, just slightly. it was subtle, but you could feel it.  

“you ever get tired of it?” you asked suddenly, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. “the routine, i mean. coming here every night, doing the same thing.”  

he thought about it for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he stared down into his coffee cup. “nah,” he finally said, his voice low but steady. “it’s the little things that keep me going, i guess. even if it’s just... this.”  

you blinked, not sure if he was talking about you or just the laundromat itself, but either way, it made something warm stir inside you. you found yourself staring at him for a little too long, the silence growing comfortable, even welcome.  

“yeah, i get that,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of the moment spread through you. “me too.”  

there was something so effortless about your time together, like the world outside the laundromat didn’t matter as long as you were both there. but that night, you could sense the shift - the way frank wasn’t just going through the motions of laundry anymore. there was a quiet anticipation in the air, a flicker of something unspoken.  

the machines buzzed again, signaling that your cycle was done. you stood up to retrieve your clothes, and frank followed suit, gathering his things with slow, deliberate movements. when you moved to head for the dryer, you bumped into him by accident.  

“oops,” you muttered, stepping back, your heart racing just a little.  

“you good, sweetheart?” frank asked, his voice softer than usual, eyes now scanning your face with a curiosity that made your stomach flutter.  

“yeah,” you said quickly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “just, uh, tired, i guess.”  

he didn’t say anything right away, but there was something in the way he studied you now - like he was deciding whether to say something more, something real. and then, after a long pause, he spoke, his voice a little unsure but still steady.  

“you ever... wanna get out of here?” he asked, the words coming out slower than he probably intended. his dark eyes were searching yours, and for the first time, you could see the vulnerability there, just beneath the surface. “i mean... not here. not the laundromat. somewhere... different. with me.”  

your heart skipped a beat. was he asking what you thought he was asking?  

you smiled, warmth flooding your chest. “yeah, i’d like that.”  

“good,” he said, looking slightly relieved, though the tension hadn’t quite left his shoulders. he ran a hand through his hair, glancing at you with that same gentle look. “it’s a date then. i’ll, uh, figure it out.”  

you nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you two, like a promise. for the first time, frank looked less like the mysterious guy you saw in the laundromat and more like someone you might want to know better. maybe this routine, these late-night runs, were just the beginning. 

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc, @erospecies

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[natalicss]

Guilty Conscience

choi seunghyun x american pop star!reader

summary: you’ve been out of the public eye for five years. at the 2025 grammys, you’re making your comeback. unbeknownst to you, your ex boyfriend has been making his own comeback to the industry.

warnings: angst, american!reader, lots of mental health talk, depression, anxiety, toxic music industry, toxic industry IN GENERAL, breakup, i kinda rushed this so it sucks lowkey

word count: 5.5k

nat’s notes: hey y’all!! i wanted to get this out as soon as possible so HERE I AM!! this is my first t.o.p fic so i hope yall enjoyyyy. i kept it angsty because ive been writing too much happy shit. you’re welcome. hope you guys enjoy, if you don’t…idk don’t tell me. i’m not promising a part two to this, but…never say never - xoxo former belieber

You sat at the vanity in your greenroom. You watched as your hair dresser and makeup stylist worked their magic, elevating your features in the most beautiful ways. Meanwhile, your stylist rambled on about your outfit, talking about how it fit your body in all the right ways, and how difficult it was to tailor it the way you wanted. A joke thrown out about how high maintenance you are. You don’t really respond, smiling faintly as you look back at your reflection. 

Part of you couldn’t believe it. You were sitting in a greenroom, wearing custom designer wardrobe, getting your makeup and hair done by familiar faces, and within the hour you would be standing on a stage in front of thousands of people, all of whom had no idea you were there. Part of it felt normal. A familiar pattern easy to slip back into as if no time had passed. But that’s the thing, time had passed. Five years. Five years since your last tour. Five and a half since your last album. Five years since you disappeared from the media. Five years since your mental health had taken a detrimental turn and you needed to take care of yourself. Five years since you and your ex boyfriend broke up and never saw each other again. 

Your own decision to go off the radar for so long had nothing to do with your breakup, not really. The media had been cruel, talking about you in ways it hadn’t before. Talking about your greatest insecurities, nit-picking at every move you made on and off stage, spreading rumors about your romantic life (all of which were false, but fans didn’t care), people you thought were your friends had turned out to be frauds. The world of fame of glamour that was usually just that suddenly felt ugly and dark. You had to escape. Your breakup had only been collateral damage, both you and your ex wanting the same things, but somehow you both paid the price. 

The day you met him was a silly one. You were on a world tour, years ago. You had just made your big break, winning awards left and right, promoting a new album, traveling to places you’d never been. When you had a show in Seoul, you were ecstatic. The show itself was absolutely epic, and would go down in your music career as one of your best shows. Everything about it was perfect. From your vocals, to your dancers, to the lights, to the band, and to the crowd, it was legendary. 

It was after the show, you were drinking water as your manager excitedly told you someone wanted to meet you. She said it was a big name, and you urgently moved to follow her to find who exactly had come to your show. And there he was. Choi Seunghyun, but in that moment you knew him at T.O.P. You tried to maintain your excitement, but you were pretty sure he saw right through you. 

There was no intention behind his introduction. He had wanted to meet you after Kwon Ji-yong had played your song for him. She’s the next big thing, for sure, he’d said as he gestured to your album on his phone. Ji-yong had continued to rave about you, which only led to Seunghyun looking you up himself. He’d quickly become enamored. With your charm, your wittiness, your creative process, all of which was shown in your interviews and your videos. You were a force to be reckoned with, just like Ji-yong said, and Seunghyun had to know you. He had to see how your mind worked. All of his curiosity was purely about music, about the industry.

So, the two of you became friends, following each other on socials. And you’d be the one to text him first, thanking him for coming to your show. You liked to think that text was what sealed your fate. Your fate that you’d eventually fall in love with Seunghyun. A whirlwind romance. Unexpected, but it made more sense than anything else ever had. The media had not known about the two of you (a choice you both made, and later were grateful for). The softness he held for you and nobody else. The warmth of his voice when he called you daily. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes when he’d surprise you by showing up at your shows. Your hands in his hair as you helped him dye it different colors. Your voice when you sang him your newest love songs inspired by him. Your laugh when he’d wrap his arms around your waist and lift you in the air.

A whirlwind romance that ended in fire and ashes. 

You don’t know where exactly it had all gone to shit, for lack of better words. Was it the distance? Was it the scandals the two of you had faced at the same time? Was it the pressure of society weighing you both down? You weren’t quite sure. You’d been there for Seunghyun during his darkest days. You’d stop your life to live with him as long as he needed. You faced his guilt, his anger, his grief, his anxiety, all with him even when he pushed you away. It never deterred you. Seunghyun, at the time, could never understand. Why would you want to be burdened by him and his actions? Why wouldn’t you leave him? He had tried, begged you, pleaded you to leave him be. He knew you deserved better than him, but he was too selfish at the time to end it himself. He didn’t want you to leave him. 

And when your own world started to crumble, Seunghyun tried to be there with you.The media had pulled you apart at the seams. The fans that once adored you now treated you like you were a wicked witch. The fellow musicians who were your friends now stood back and watched as you struggled for air. They let you drown in the cruelty of the media. And what had you done? The truth was, well, nothing. You’d done nothing wrong, and somehow that was the worst thing you could have done. You were good, too good, so surely something must be wrong with you. 

And as Seunghyun watched the light drain from your eyes, a guilt riddled in his chest. He’d tried to be there for you, but his efforts fell short. You were both drowning. Your own worlds were suffocating you both. He could not save you, for he could not save himself. But you could not save you, either, for you were too busy saving him. When he realized this, the selfish feelings he had were suddenly burning him alive. He could not keep you. Not when you paid the price. 

That was five years ago. Five years ago, Choi Seunghyun had broken up with you in his home in Seoul. Five years ago, you begged him with tears to stay. You were too selfish to let him go. He had to be the selfless one, because if he wasn’t, he knew the world would lose you permanently. He’d rather you’d hate him and live than love him and rot. 

His efforts pulled off. You spent the next five years healing. Therapy, medication, meditation, yoga, music, spending time with family or friends, and just about every other coping mechanism you could try. You did it all. Two years ago you started writing music again. A year and a half ago, you’d started producing. A year ago, you started working with your team to start talking about a comeback. And now, here you were, at the Grammy’s, about to announce exactly that. You were back, ready to face the spotlight after so long of praying it’d never find you again. 

The setlist was simple. It’d start playing an old song of yours, your first hit that started your career, before glitching out. Then, the set would open up to reveal you under the flickering lights before your biggest song started. You were shaking, unable to focus on anything other than directly ahead of you. You didn’t even want to think of the song you were about to play, because of course your biggest hit would be a song about Seunghyun. It was the first song you wrote about him. It was upbeat, fun, energetic, sensual, and hit every mark that reminded you of Seunghyun. The song had skyrocketed your career even farther than anything you’d seen. You were already building a name for yourself, but this song had became the song that people associated with you when you were mentioned. If only they knew who you thought of.

Still, you held your head high as you heard the cue. You could hear one song start, causing the crowd to go quiet. It only took a moment before they began to scream in realization. You sucked in a heavy breath, watching as the lights began to flicker, the set began to move, the audio began to malfunction, and the crowd got louder. It all came to a head as everything went quiet. A spotlight shined on you as you smirked at the camera. The crowd goes ballistic. Screaming, cheering, gasps of surprise coming from the guests of the night. You soaked in the cheers, the exact shot of energy you needed. You looked around, your confidence growing as you finally felt something you hadn’t in a long time. You felt like you belonged.

“Did you miss me?”

Choi Seunghyun was going about his own day. He’d been busy, of late. Interviews, working on his own music for the future, photoshoots. He’d been out of the public eye for so long, and he still was unsure of it all. Still, he was finding his footing in a world he once loved so much. His first step was acting. The perception had been mixed, at first, but now he was seeing the positives again. Something he hadn’t seen in years. 

He was in between meetings, taking a quick break. He was sitting in an office, alone, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly. Part of him loved seeing all the positive feedback, the love he’d gotten for his new role, the support for the future of his career. But part of it still settled uneasy on his chest. Seeing comments about his past reminded him of the guilt he’d tried so hard to move on from. Ignoring it was difficult, but he managed to do well most days.

Then, on his instagram explore page, he saw a familiar face. Yours.

He clicked on it.

There you were, standing on a stage. For a moment, he thought this was an old clip, but he knew it wasn’t because your hair was not that length the last time he saw you. He looked at the caption. Y/N MAKES COMEBACK AT THE GRAMMYS. PERFORMS HER BIGGEST HITS ALONG WITH NEW SINGLE.

He’d never admit how quickly he opened YouTube. 

Seunghyun felt all of the air in his longs dissipate as he stared at his phone screen. As the music of the song you wrote for him began to play. You looked different. Your eyes filled with a familiar light, something that hadn’t been there when you packed your things from his home. You looked healthier. Lighter. The weight of the media no longer crushing your bones like before. As the song started and your dancers moved with you, Seunghyun was mesmerized. The same way he was when he’d visit your shows. The way you move so effortlessly. The flirtation in your lyrics, when you’d lean against another dancer and let them sway your hips. The way you still sang it was better than the recording, in his opinion. He still new every word. He found himself mouthing them as he watched you command the stage like you never left.

For a moment, he felt jealous of you. The way it seemed like time hadn’t affected you like it did him. The way you seemed so…okay. He wasn’t okay. He had changed so much over the years, even more so when he finally bit the bullet and said goodbye. He wasn’t the same man he was. But you still looked the same. You had the same smile. The same choreography. The same dancers. You just looked…better.

“Did you miss me?” 

Your voice rang in his ears, the words feeling like a mockery of how he felt. Teasing the way he sat there staring at the screen with conflicted emotions swirling in his chest. He couldn’t help but wonder if you had seen him. His return to the industry. He’d wondered if you saw the articles months ago, or if you’d seen him in Squid Game first. He’d wondered if you saw the interviews he’d just done, or if you’d somehow manage to dodge anything relating to your ex lover. Maybe you were the luckier one out of the two of them. 

A familiar ache in his chest continued to build as he watched your performance. As you danced on stage with dancers he’d recognized from as far back as when he met you. As you sang to a crowd of your musical peers who’d either had your back or stabbed it. As you commanded the stage with a new level of confidence he’d hadn’t seen you wear in years. He felt that ache. He felt the way his heart pounded against his ribcage. How his lungs suddenly felt like they couldn’t hold enough air. How his eyes burned because he couldn’t blink. He could only stare.

As the song ended, the cameras cut to the various artists there, cheering and screaming loudly for you. A sense of pride washed over Seunghyun. This was the praise you’d deserved. To be recognized by some of the biggest stars in the industry. To be admired by the people again. It was all right there for you, waiting for you. Something he was sure you didn’t expect, but he did. 

As your dancers started to move away, you started walking to the second stage in the midst of the tables of guests. One dancer hands you a jacket to cover up, and you come to a microphone. A slow song starts playing. Seunghyun closes his eyes tightly as he realizes this was one of the last songs you’d released. It was a breakup song. A song filled with his promises he broke and your shattered heart left in between the lyrics. He had hardly listened to it since it was released, the memories of your breakup coming in every time.

You had stared at him with doe-eyes, but he refused to look at you. He couldn’t. Not when he finally had just enough strength to let you go. He knew one look at your heart broken face would have him retracting, falling to the floor and hugging your body as he begs you to forgive him and forget what he’d said. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t keep you, no matter how much he wanted to.

You’d been living with him in Seoul for a while. Mostly to help him with his struggles, a choice you made without him asking. Your undying loyalty for him trumping any other option. The media’s cruelty towards you had started sometime after. You put on a brave face, at first, but as time passed by and their criticisms were more so filled with hate, your facade cracked. Seunghyun watched helplessly. He couldn’t save you. Not like this. He’d tried, but no words and no comfort were there. He was so broken, so lost within himself in the worst ways that he couldn’t even reach for your hand as you sobbed next to him at night. 

But you, you always did. You wiped his tears when he cried to you. You whispered sweet nothings to him to reassure him that he was deserving of good things. You made his favorite meals, or ordered them if you didn’t know how. You surprised him with small gifts. You loved him so seamlessly, so effortlessly, so loudly…Seunghyun didn’t understand why he couldn’t be as good to you as you were to him. 

And then, as he stood a few feet away from you, looking out a window, the guilt seemed to chew at his organs. The deafening silence felt cold. We can’t do this anymore, he had whispered to you. Your breath hitched, your soft eyes suddenly swimming with something else.

“Why?” Your voice came out in soft concern. “Seunghyun, what happened?” You were more worried about him. Because of course you were. Your love for him, your loyalty, it all seemed to matter more to you than anything.

Seunghyun closed his eyes tight as he tried to erase the way your voice sounded. “We aren’t good for eachother.” Was all he could say. His own voice would betray him if he said more.

You shook your head. You got up from the couch you’d previously been sitting on, walking closer to your boyfriend. He refuse to look at you. He was staring out at the city. A city he almost despised now. A world he had grown a resentment towards after it tore you apart. Him? Fine. He’d take his guilt and he’d drown in it again and again until it melted off his skin and left him nothing but bones. But you? You were different. You were better. You deserved better.

“I can’t help you,” He says softly, a quiet confession. “I can’t be the partner you need.”

It was almost naive of you, the way you only batted your eyes at him and shook your head. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. This was some sick joke. Or maybe Seunghyun saw something in the media about him that made him feel insecure. You weren’t sure, but you knew that this couldn’t be it. Not like this. You reached for his arm, your fingers delicately touching his skin. “Seunghyun-” You flinched as he pulled away from your grasp. He’d never done that before, not even when the two of you got into your fights.

“This isn’t a discussion.” He said. His tone turned harsh, a way for him to get through this without shattering at your feet. It was another thing he didn’t do often with you. Sure, when you fought sometimes things got loud, shouting at each other to try and get your thoughts heard and understood. But the sting felt harsher here. You felt your eyes starting to burn as tears built up. You were so confused. This morning, the two of you were wrapped in each others arms, nothing more than tangled limbs and kisses with swollen lips. You two were smiling, your hands tracing each others bare skin. You two were happy, you thought. How could so much have changed in this short amount of time?

Seunghyun felt like he was going to throw up. Every part of his body screamed at him to shut the fuck up, change his mind, wrap you in his arms and throw the both of you back in the bed and stay there until your lips were bruised and your hands were molded to each other. Despite every urge, every instinct, every thought telling him to stop, he didn’t. He looked at you now, clenching his jaw hard as he watched the fat tears roll down your face.

“This isn’t working out. We aren’t working out.” He gestured to the air between you. Air that was usually warm and comforting had now became cold and suffocating. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You watched as he turned away from you, walking in the direction of your shared bedroom. Another emotion ate at you now. Rage boiled under your skin as you started storming after him. “What the hell is happening!?” You threw your hands in the air as you walked into the room. Confusion, frustration, it all swam in your expression as you looked at him. “You can’t do what anymore? I haven’t asked anything from you!”

That was true, and part of that was the problem. You never asked anything from him, because you knew how much he had on his own plate. Instead, you took what you could from him, accepting the little-to-no affection he’d give you most days. You accepted the uglier versions of him. The darker versions people in the industry hadn’t seen before. You accepted the days you’d go without seeing Seunghyun, knowing he was out somewhere coping in awful ways while you sat in your home and waited. You accepted the tears that he’d shed over his mistakes. You accepted the anger that came out at sudden moments, all swirled in with guilt. You took it all without a single complaint, and you loved him so deeply and so openly it hurt him more. Because he couldn’t do that for you. He couldn’t show his love for you in the ways you needed it. You were just to blind to see it.

Seunghyun ran his hand through his hair. “I know. I know, it’s not like that, okay? I just can’t-”

“Can’t what?” You walked closer, your eyes wide with desperation as you looked at him. You studied his face for anything at all. Something to explain this. Something that’d give away his thoughts. You wanted to understand. “What did I do? What can I do? Please, just talk to me. Please.” You begged. Your voice croaked as you tried to fight back your own sobs. “I’ll do anything. Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it.”

This time, Seunghyun is the one that’s fighting back his sobs. He swallows painfully has he shakes his head at you. His heart was tearing apart. “Y/N,” He whispered. You stared at him, watching as he slowly shook his head. Somehow that spoke more words than anything either of you could say. It wasn’t up to you. He’d made his choice.

That felt like a lifetime ago, and yet he still remembered it like it was yesterday.

The breakup song wasn’t a ballad. In fact it had an almost upbeat tune behind it as you sang. Different emotions swirling in every lyric. Anger, desperation, bargaining, all of the same emotions you’d felt the very night your relationship fell apart. You sang alone on the little stage, moving around to sing at the crowd, but oftentimes your eyes remained on the camera in front of you. It felt as if you sang to him directly, all these years later. Reminding him. Reminding him how you would have stayed if he had asked. How you were always his even if he was not always yours. 

He clenched his jaw as he watched. Every time the camera switched to focus on the crowd or your band was a blessing. A second of freedom from the raw emotions you’d seemed to dig up when singing this song. It was like you were reliving it too. Just like he was. Both of you still stuck in that bedroom. Your voice still pleading for understanding. His body still yearning. His eyes avoiding you. His words shattering reality.

And when the song finally ended, Seunghyun couldn’t breathe. He wanted it to be over. He could click away, he knows that. But he doesn’t. He watches as the crowd cheers your name, and the cameras focus on the darkness of the room. A mystery lurking behind the scenes as people wondered what song you’d perform next.

The unfamiliar intro of another song began. Almost all vocals, the dancers crowded around your body, and you’re staring directly at the camera. The crowd goes wild as your dancers crowd around you, their hands dragging all over your body as you pose. A  beat hits, the lights go out. Seunghyun watches. Another beat, the lights flash on, and you start singing again. A new song, your first song in five years. You start a new complicated dance routine, your body moving naturally with every line.

Seunghyun listened closely to the words. His mouth went dry as he began to register the words. Your comeback song was filled with confidence, but it had a meaning behind it. Seunghyun started to blink, tapping his phone to rewind ten seconds to listen again. Seunghyun felt like throwing up. He very well might. You singing a song about loving someone, despite the way the both of you are, well, not very good for each other. Felt oddly on the nose. The sound of the song was much more your style. Pop with electronic flares, music with fun beats and catchy chorus’s that fueled your dancers. Sensuality flowing through you.

It dawned on him, then. Realization. You were back. You weren’t hiding from the industry, and in a way, you weren’t hiding from him. Whatever had changed between five years ago and now…he knew it was clear. You’d found yourself, just like he’d hoped. You were ethereal as you moved around the stage. You were confident, strong, sexy, absolutely perfect. He couldn’t help but smirk, his chest swelling with pride. 

He’d always been proud of you. You’d always been freakishly talented. Your creative abilities amazed him. It’s what drew him to you in the first place. Even after all this time, you hadn’t lost that flare. That spark. He saw it, even now, as you struck a pose in the center of the stage, finishing the song. Everybody cheered. Everybody was on their feet, clapping and loudly yelling in appreciation. It had been a surprise for all of them, and seemingly everybody loved it. You were breathing heavily, and he could see it. Underneath the emotional layers you wore on stage, he could see the nerves that had seemed to finally relax. He could see your eyes studying every face. Your lips curling up in a wide smile.

You’d made it. Just like he knew you would. 

As the video ended, Seunghyun reopened instagram. It was still sitting on the same post. A news source that had already started making articles to explain how big of a deal this was. He could see comments piling up in excitement. You were breaking the internet, though that didn’t surprise him at all. A gentle, sad, soft smile on his face, Seunghyun double tapped the screen. A heart was on the middle of his screen, covering you for only a second, before he clicked his phone off. He looked up as someone walked in, telling him it was time for the next meeting. He stood up, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt, nodding politely.

You were basking in after parties. 

Your music friends invited you out immediately, knowing you hadn’t been to one of these events in so long. You accepted, feeling deserving after making a comeback in a very loud way. Everyone was congratulating you, telling you how proud they were, how they couldn’t wait to hear what was next, and just about every other compliment imaginable. You let yourself accept them. It was praise you were no longer used to, but you’d be damned if you didn’t let yourself have it all for one night.

So, here you were, at some expensive hotel rented out by some super star for the party, dancing your heart out in a short sparkly dress, holding your third or fourth glass of champagne. You were having the time of your life. In your hiatus, you’d taken a lot of time for yourself. To learn to love yourself, to have more confidence in you and your choices. You took time to learn that the media was always going to be cruel; you just had to choose if you’d let it eat you alive or if you’d rise above it. It seems you’d finally learned how to do the latter. 

You’d also made the choice to stay off social media. You’d had side profiles to watch things, but you’d made the choice to focus on real life. It was an effort to keep the critiques and harsh words to a minimum for the last few years. Your team posted photos of your choice, let you pick the captions, they posted stories and such for you, but overall you remained off line. Until tonight, I guess. You had ended up sitting on a couch after dancing to way too many songs with your friends. You hiccuped, opening social media apps to see the reviews thus far.

Twitter, X, whatever, had been an expected mix. People mostly excited seeing you around again, looking happy and alive. Enthusiasm over the new music coming later in the year. There were the random haters, but you knew now to scroll past if it wasn’t meaningful or progressive in any way. 

Tiktok was already swimming with edits. You giggled at the comments, knowing how absolutely wild fans could get on there. You didn’t stay there long, worried you’d start overthinking the way you looked in certain frames. Silly things you can’t control. You were confident in your appearance and your stage presence now. Something you lacked before. But the nerves still ate at you, even if only slightly. It was progress, something that’d take time and more performances to work through. You closed the app to move on to another one.

Instagram comments flooded your page. You hadn’t posted anything yet, but people were already raving about you. Part of you was surprised. Sure, you knew some people would be happy, but the overwhelming amounts of love you were receiving was still unexpected. Even with years of therapy and self-help, you weren’t sure many people would care about you anymore. It felt nice to be proven otherwise. To prove the dark parts of you that still lingered wrong. 

You were looking at posts about you. From fanpages to news articles. Some included clips of your performance, some just random stills. You were smiling softly. People wanted more from you. They were ready for the single, the album, even a tour if thats what you chose. It all sparked a familiar joy in you. A familiar excitement that had been buried under years of torment from the media. But you weren’t letting it control you. Not anymore. 

Then, by chance, as you scrolled through the recommended posts on your explore page, you saw something.

Liked by ttt and others

You blinked, thinking it was the champagne making you read it wrong. You read it again. And again. And again. ttt. T.O.P. Choi Seunghyun. Suddenly you felt remarkably sober.

Admittedly, you stopped keeping up with him after Still Life came out. Your friends and people around you told you it wasn’t good for you, and they were right. You’d spent years waiting for him to come back to you. Waiting for him to check in. Send a postcard. Anything. You couldn’t fully heal while holding out for him. So you had to stop. You had to pull away even when every part of you hated the idea. 

And now you were staring at his instagram username like it’d just kicked you in the stomach. It felt that way too. 

You clicked his name. The air kicked out of your lungs as you looked at a photo of him with purple hair, painted nails, wearing a teal sweatshirt with the number 230. You’d heard he’d been in Squid Game, but you’d chosen to avoid it and Netflix entirely for the foreseeable future. 

This leads you to a spiral, in the middle of an afterparty, googling your ex boyfriend and seeing all the things he’d been up to while you were gone. From his wine company to dearMoon to Squid Game. His interviews were filled with remorse and nerves. You hated how you still felt empathy for him. You hated how deeply you related to every sentence. You hated how even after all this time it felt like the two of you spoke the same language. 

But you also had felt a smile form as you read his hopes for the future. As you saw photos of him. Clips of him doing press for the show. He was slowly coming out of the shell he’d been forced into. And he was still beautiful. Still soft and warm in the ways you remembered. You’d wanted this for him for so long, so of course you found yourself looking at photos of him with a level of fondness that felt unfamiliar now.

And as you stared at the video and series of photos of Seunghyun on Squid Games’s instagram account, you pondered your next move. What were the chances he’d see it? Slim, considering the post was a few days old. What were the chances fans would see it? Less slim, considering they’d be watching your moves now. So, you did the logical thing. You liked the image, a heart forming over Seunghyun’s face for a moment. Then, to cover your tracks, you liked a few more Squid Game posts. You’re just a fan of the show, you could say if people talked too much. You even were sure to follow Lee Jung Jae to make it more passable. Sure, your team and your friends would know the real reasonings, but it wasn’t obvious to anyone else.

Other than Seunghyun, of course, who saw it a few days later.