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[bluntspear]

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[raisinglittlenevaeh]

[xo100]

hi can i have a request a story about life where lando and his ex finally get back together again 🥹

Unfinished business- LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1581

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

Lando Norris didn’t mean to fall in love with her. Not really. It just happened somewhere between late-night calls from different parts of the world and the quiet mornings they shared over coffee, bleary-eyed and content. For two years, they had built something beautiful. Something fragile. And like many fragile things, it shattered.

It had been a year since they parted ways. A quiet, mutual decision born from exhaustion, distance, and the demands of their individual lives. She had her career, a demanding one that required its own brand of discipline and attention. And Lando, of course, was always on the move, his life dictated by the calendar of Formula 1. It wasn't anyone's fault. There was no dramatic fight, no harsh words. Just the aching realization that, for now, their lives didn’t fit together the way they once had.

So they let go. They hugged each other goodbye in her quiet London flat, the kind of hug that lingered a little too long, with an unspoken understanding that maybe this wasn’t forever, that maybe one day they would find their way back to each other.

A year had passed since that night.

-

She scrolled through her Instagram feed absentmindedly, stopping when she saw his latest post—a sun-drenched photo of Lando standing by his car, all wide smiles and windswept hair. Her thumb hovered over the screen, hesitating, before double-tapping. The small heart icon appeared, a familiar pang settling in her chest. It had become a ritual at this point—liking his posts, reading his captions, sometimes even dropping a comment when she felt brave enough. And he did the same, always. As if this silent conversation on social media was their only connection left.

She never stopped missing him. Some days it was just a quiet hum in the background of her life, a dull ache that she had grown used to. Other days, it hit her like a wave, out of nowhere, leaving her breathless and wondering how she had ever let him go.

On the other side of the world, Lando felt the same. He never admitted it out loud, not even to his closest friends, but she was never far from his thoughts. He found himself checking his phone too often, waiting for those tiny signs that she was still there, still watching, still caring. Every time her name appeared in his notifications—whether it was a simple like or a playful comment—his heart gave a small, traitorous leap.

They weren’t together anymore, but they were never really apart.

-

The first time they saw each other again after the breakup, it was at a race. Lando had known she might be there, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment their eyes met across the paddock. For a split second, the world around him seemed to blur, everything but her fading away. She looked the same but different—more poised, more confident, but with that same light in her eyes that had always drawn him in.

Her heart stuttered when she saw him, the familiar ache resurfacing. God, he looked good. The year had been kind to him. His hair was longer, his smile somehow brighter. But there was something else, something in the way his eyes softened when they landed on her.

They didn’t approach each other right away. Both too unsure of what to say, too aware of the unresolved feelings still hanging between them like a weight neither could lift. But eventually, they found themselves standing side by side, in the way that used to be so natural. And for a moment, it almost felt like old times.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

“Hey,” she replied, her heart racing.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy. Heavy with everything unsaid, everything they had tried to bury over the past year.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, though the question felt painfully inadequate.

“Good. Busy, you know… work and everything,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit he remembered all too well.

“Yeah… same.” He gave a small nod, eyes searching her face for something—anything—that would tell him if she had moved on. If she had forgotten him.

But she hadn’t. And neither had he.

-

The weeks after that encounter were… confusing, to say the least. They started texting again, slowly at first. Just little things—a funny meme, a quick ‘good luck’ before his races, or a random thought that reminded her of him. But it quickly became more than that. The conversations stretched longer, the topics more personal. They talked about the things they hadn’t talked about during their relationship—how hard it had been to let go, how much they missed each other, how they hadn’t really stopped caring.

One night, after a long conversation, Lando found himself staring at his phone long after the screen had gone dark. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending that he was okay without her. He had tried. God, he had tried. But no matter how many races he won, no matter how many new cities he visited, there was always this empty space where she used to be.

And she felt it too. Every time she saw his name light up her phone, her heart leapt. Every time she saw a post of his, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and just say it—to admit that she still loved him.

The breaking point came on a rainy night in London, when the loneliness felt unbearable. She was scrolling through her messages with him, re-reading old texts from when they were still together. Before she could overthink it, she sent a message.

I miss you.

-

Lando’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, the soft glow cutting through the darkness of his hotel room. He reached for it, half-asleep, but when he saw her name, he was suddenly wide awake. He stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, his heart racing.

He had missed her too. Every single day.

Before he could second-guess himself, he typed a response.

I miss you too.

The three little dots that indicated she was typing appeared, then disappeared, and then appeared again. Finally, another message came through.

Can we talk? In person?

His heart skipped a beat.

Yes. When?

-

They met in a small café, tucked away from the prying eyes of the world. It was quiet, intimate, the kind of place where people went to have real conversations. The kind of place where they had once spent hours together, laughing and talking about nothing and everything.

When she walked in, Lando felt like the air had been knocked out of him. She looked nervous, just like he felt. But there was something else in her eyes too—hope.

They sat down, and for a few moments, neither of them spoke. It was like they were both afraid to say the wrong thing, to shatter the delicate balance they had found themselves in.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted with a small laugh, breaking the tension.

Lando smiled softly, his fingers tapping lightly against the side of his coffee cup. “I’ve been trying to figure that out too.”

They fell into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time. It was just… heavy. With everything they had left unsaid over the past year. Finally, Lando looked up, his voice quiet but steady.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he said, his words hanging in the air between them. “I tried to move on, I really did. But no matter what, it always came back to you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “I haven’t been able to move on either,” she whispered. “I thought… I thought maybe it was just me, that maybe I was holding onto something that was already gone.”

“It’s not gone,” Lando said firmly, reaching across the table to take her hand in his. “It never was.”

For a long moment, they just sat there, holding each other’s gaze, holding each other’s hands, letting the weight of their feelings settle between them.

“I still love you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb gently brushing against her skin. “I never stopped.”

-

The decision to get back together wasn’t made in that moment. They knew it wouldn’t be that simple. There were still challenges to face, still things they needed to figure out. But what they both knew for sure was that they couldn’t keep pretending anymore. They couldn’t keep acting like they were better off apart, because they weren’t. Not really.

The rest of that night was spent talking, laughing, and crying. They laid everything out on the table—the fears, the regrets, the hopes for the future. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and it was honest.

When they finally left the café, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and glistening under the soft glow of the streetlights. Lando walked her to her car, his hand never leaving hers. And when they reached it, he hesitated for a moment before pulling her into his arms.

“I’m not letting you go again,” he murmured against her hair.

She smiled, burying her face in his chest. “Good. Because I don’t want to go.”

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!

*:･ﾟtags; @spookbusters-jr

[daphwritesworld]

Chapter 1— For The First Time.

a/n: welcome to the Be My Baby series! i’m super excited to get started and work on this story! I’m thinking of publishing 2/3 chapters weekly if I can, but at least 1 will always come out. If additional ones are on the way i’ll make sure to update that on my upcoming post. thank you for your support and happy reading < 3

(p.s. sorry I didn't proof read this lol. I will later and edit any details that need touching up. This is already a few hours late tho, so I want to go ahead and get it out.)

content: Top!Leah, Bottom!Reader, bed humping, fingering (r receiving), teasing, talks of shoe humping, spit play, talks of previous sexual encounters, brewing sexual tension, and masturbation (both)

warnings: allusions to heavy dom/sub relationship, talks of injury, Leah busting her ass at practice, Leah making a fool of herself when she’s in shock, flirty!Leah deserves a warning on its own so here you go, calling reader a bitch & slutty once in a dominating way, semi-public sex, almost getting caught by Alessia, Leah accidentally knocking you on your ass lol

synopsis: You've arrived to your first day at Arsenal; your new club for the foreseeable future as head Athletic Trainer. A new country with promises of a new start awaits for you...until a familiar face disrupts your plans and throws you head first into a whirlwind of emotions and actions.

word count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist: here.

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

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The crisp air of Shenley lites a whispered chill to cover you as you step out of the taxi. You pay the driver, wishing him a good day as you collect your bags from the cab. A deep breath makes its way from your chest and out your lips, gathering your bearings as you finally start to make your way inside. This is going to be a fresh start in a place no one knows you– exactly what you need. No expectations to meet or lingering gazes on and off the pitch. No drama or gossip floating around or eating lunch by yourself. Things are going to be different here.

You take in the scenery as you approach the Sobha Realty Training Centre, your new place of employment. The building feels like it’s going to swallow you, the tall white walls reminding you of the hospital as a familiar churn starts to turn in your stomach.

Breathe. Everything is going to be fine.

Your hand comes up to open the door, but it’s pulled from your grasp. You look up, eyes meeting a warm smile and kind eyes. You relax at her appearance, and even more at her friendly approach, “Hi, I’m Alessia! You must be Y/N, I assume?”

You find yourself mirroring her smile, a hand coming out to shake hers. “Yes, it’s lovely to meet you, Alessia! Sorry I’m late– I got lost and then I just ended up taking a taxi….London is a lot bigger than I expected…” you trail off as you realize you're rambling. Embarrassment sinking in as you look down to the floor.

“You’re totally fine! I think we all got lost on our first day, haha. That’s why I’m here to show you around, this place is huge when you don’t know it. Now follow me, new girl!” and just like that, she’s showing you everywhere possible. She shows you the cafeteria, weight rooms, bathrooms, locker rooms, and just about every tiny place to hide if you need a moment to yourself.

“I don’t mean to sound rude– but shouldn’t you be out on the field training with the others? Showing me around can’t possibly be more important with the Euro Finals coming up,” you say as you arrange your med bag for practice. The rest of your things are now stored in your brand new Arsenal locker you were shown, your name enraged into the gold plate marking your future. She laughs at that, pointing down towards her ankle that you now see is wrapped up. “Sprained it a week ago, so i’m benched. Swelling is still up so Coach won’t let me play on it yet, not even at practice.”

A laugh now comes out of you at her frustrated tone near the end. “Well, I have to agree. Until the swelling and all pain is gone you need to let it properly heal. We don’t need you hurting it worse!”

You feel a shove to your shoulder at that, zipping up your pack as you turn towards her now.

“Spoken like the true new head AT! See you're falling into place here already,” You give a shove back to her shoulder. Careful to do it lightly and not push her off balance with her injury. “Ready to meet the girls?”

You let out a sigh before nodding your head, “If they're all as nice as you I think I’ll be just fine.” And then you two are off, Alessia leading the way to your new team. You can feel your hands sweating as you get closer to the field in sight. All the girls training, the coaches, the other medical trainers under your watch…it’s all facing you at once as the past leaves your mind step by step. Like the shedding of skin on a snake, you're letting your anxieties fall from you as your passion for the job kicks back in. Like a flicker of flame– just waiting to ignite higher.

Your confidence is gaining with every blade of grass that passes beneath your feet. You know you're good at this. Hell you’re fucking amazing at this. Not many trainers could switch clubs– let alone countries for said club, in the middle of a season and still be Head AT…but you are that good. No matter what might’ve happened in Barcelona, you’re going to make sure you thrive here in London.

Well that is until your eyes meet hers. It’s like the wind gets knocked out of your chest– hers quite literally. The blonde’s eyes stay on yours, a furrowed brow taking over her face as she keeps running blind. Until she smacks face first into the goal post at full force, bright hair tumbling to the ground in a loud, harsh collapse. Your feet work faster than your brain, running over and immediately separating her from the net. You’re assessing her body, eyes frantically searching for any blood, bruises, cuts, or abnormalities. Your hands come to her ankles, pressing down as you look up at her face. “Does anything hurt? Stay lying down right now, your adrenaline might be blocking it out!”

“I'm Leah!” It’s rushed out, loud and with a voice crack. Her wide eyes staring up at you as she snaps a hand over her mouth afterwards.

If her teammates weren’t laughing before– they definitely are now.

A blush overtakes your cheeks as you put an arm around her waist, hoisting her to stand up with you. She throws one of hers around your shoulders as she regains her balance. “I’m taking her to the Med Room! Want to be sure she doesn’t have a concussion!”

You’re practically dragging her at this point, racing to get somewhere private because what in the actual fuck. "I'm Leah," She repeats her words from the field. "Yeah, I fucking know that!" you snap lightly on her. Mind still racing as you drag her down the building for a more private place to fully speak without worry. There is no way this is happening! Not to you– NOT NOW!! You push the Med Room door open with your back, and sit Leah up on the bed as you finally create some distance between you two. An accusing finger launching itself towards her as you move back to the middle of the room, “SINCE WHEN DO YOU PLAY FOOTBALL?”

“Nice to see you again, too, darling,” She’s smiling at you. That same one that got you hooked in Ibiza and agreeing to spend three weeks with a stranger. You almost get lost in it again– but you start shaking your head. “Oh no! No, no, no– don’t you darling me right now! How could you not tell me your-” your hand comes to pull at the band around her arm, “CAPTAIN! Of one of the best teams in all of Europe? And after spending all that time alone together, really?”

“First of all, we are not one of, we are the best in the world– thank you. Second of all, I don’t remember us talking much when we were together, if I can be honest. My mind tends to remember the more important details,” she licks her lips as she says it, eyes racking over your body as she recalls the memories to her mind. “And third of all, I don’t exactly remember you telling me you’re the highest paid AT in the sports field, so I guess we both kept some secrets. Huh, darling?”

“You are insufferable," you say as you take out your tiny flashlight, checking the reflexes of her pupils with it.

“Oh but that’s not what you were saying during those few weeks we spent together.”

“Leah!” Your face scrunches up as your fists ball up at your sides. Giving her the best glare you can muster up.

“Y/N! Don’t do your face like that– it’ll get stuck,” a laugh breaks out of her mouth as she says it. Poking at your face to relax your muscles there.

“Can you be serious for like two seconds, this is bad!” You rub your hands down your face. Trying to relieve the headache starting to form between your eyes.

"Oh calm down, would you! No one knows, okay? I didn't tell anyone about our time together. I swear!" She sticks her pinky out towards you, and you somehow find yourself laughing back this time as you extend your own to interlock with hers. It's then you know you've messed up. Her skin lights yours up the same way it did a year ago— you two hidden away on the tropical Spanish paradise. Days were spent exploring the island and endless nights spent exploring each other's bodies.

You don't even notice how close you two have drifted until her thighs are closing in around your middle, trapping you against the medical bed and her upper body. Your face flushes as you freeze in place, brain already too fuzzy for you to register that you should pull away. You can’t stop thinking back now– flashes of memories whizzing by in your head as you zone out, eyes lingering on her lips subconsciously. She must think that’s an invitation, because after a few seconds one of her hands comes to the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. You kiss her back at first, chasing the spark that ignites from her lips.

But then you remember where you are, and more importantly why you are even here. You got to pull away, hands coming up to her chest to push and create some space. She doesn’t budge though, a tiny moan slipping from your lips as you remember the depths of her strength. She smiles into the kiss at that, and you take the opportunity to breathe the words out against her lips. “Le-Leah we shouldn’t be d-doing this. We c-can’t…”

Her other hand tickles the waistband of your shorts, a light chuckle vibrating her chest as she pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’ll stop if you really want me to, but I think we both know you want this more than me. Don’t you, darling? Otherwise you wouldn’t be humping the edge of the bed like a bitch in heat.”

You look down, not even realizing how you'd started rubbing your covered cunt against the medical bed. Your hips stutter to a stop as you try to back away from the cot, embarrassment filling your body at her catching you red handed. A finger lifts your chin up as her eyes lock to yours, a chill running down your spine as you cling to her every move. She runs her hand still sitting at your waist down to your hip, slipping under your shorts as goosebumps break out across your skin from her touch. “Don’t get shy on me, now. Not after I’ve seen you cum from grinding on a shoe.”

“Okay! Don’t act like you didn’t tell me to do it– no DEMAND it!” you move closer, pointing your finger into her chest now as you argue the claim.

“Mhm you’re right, Y/N…but you’re the one that did it. Got down on your knees,” she grips the hair at the back of your neck as she yanks your head back. “And rubbed your slutty pussy all over my Louboutins until you ruined them with your cum.” She brings her face down closer to yours, “Now open your fucking mouth.”

You do as she says, and you're met with a glob of her spit landing on your tongue. You swallow it before she even has to tell you, groaning out as you thank her for giving it to you. Her hand on your hip starts slipping around to your front after she feels you grinding forward again, giving you her fingers instead of the small spring mattress. You moan out as soon as they glide across your clit, an electric feeling breaking out across your body. You know this is wrong, and you’ll definitely chastise yourself later…but until then you’re gonna beg her to fuck you.

“Please give me your f-fingers! W-wanna cum for you, Le!” The distantly familiar nickname falls from your lips effortlessly and it fuels a fire inside Leah’s chest. She slides her hand farther into your shorts, instantly slipping two fingers inside of you at the start. Her palm is fitting your clit perfectly, and after a few minutes you can hear the squelching of your pussy from underneath your shorts. You can feel her curling, scissoring, and twisting the fingers inside of your cunt. Your legs are about to shake as you feel your orgasm start to build, moans increasing as your chest rises and falls faster. You can’t focus on anything other than Leah. That’s all your mind can think of: Leah, Leah, Leah…

Thank god she’s paying attention though. Because next thing you know she’s pulling her hand out of your shorts and pushing you back away from her so hard you fall on your ass. You let out a yell of shock as you go tumbling backwards, landing with a pretty loud thud onto the cold tile floor.

Before you can scream at her to explain what the fuck her problem is– the door is swinging open. Alessia barging in as she runs over to Leah. Stopping in her tracks as she almost topples over you. She comes to stop in a screeching halt, sticking a hand out to help you up. “What the hell are you doing on the floor?” She says as she drops your hand once you're back standing. “Well if you must know, Leah’s being stubborn and wouldn’t let me sit on the med bed with her because I’m benching her for practice until she gets her head checked by a CT scan.”

“YOU'RE BLOODY WHAT?” She screeches out at the realization.

“See she can’t even remember I already told her that! Definitely needs a ct,” you know you’re lying through your teeth…but fucking with Leah is too fun. No way you were telling her she’s benched when she had you on the verge of the first orgasm you’ve had…well, since the last time you saw her.

“What the hell even happened out there, Leah?” Alessia asks, a laugh busting out of her chest as she recalls the captain’s wipe out.

“I was lost in my head and just..oh god I’m never living this one down am I?”

“Oh god no! You should’ve heard the noise you made when you hit the pole– I've never heard that come out of a human being before, or any living thing for that matter!” She has tears welling up in her eyes now as she recalls the events.

You sneak out as the two blonde’s get lost in their laughs and conversation. The locker room is empty as you collect your things, humming a song under your breath as you make quick work of packing up. You’re walking out to the parking lot when you finally let yourself think of what just happened, fingers coming up to brush against your lips. You find yourself smiling, wiping it off your face when you notice. No, Y/N. Stay professional. This. cannot. happen again. Push it down.

You pull out your phone to order a new cab before a familiar voice grabs your attention. “I’m afraid there aren’t many cabs on this side of town at this time of night. I can give you a ride though. Only if you want, of course…But such a gorgeous girl as yourself? You really shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You turn, forgetting the words you told yourself not even 5 minutes ago. Nodding your head before you fully process the request. You’re going to be alone in a confined space with her? FUCK. You folded quicker than a lawn chair for the blonde footballer not even 10 full minutes ago….Lord give you strength for this 20 minute drive.

She opens the door for you, holding an intense eye contact as she closes it as well. Her car smells like the leather seats and the piney notes of her perfume. A perfect mix that has you rubbing your thighs together, trying to dull the ache she never got to quell. She climbs into the drivers seat, setting up her aux before she's handing you her phone open onto her maps app.

You quickly type in your new address before the navigation is breaking through the speakers and leading you to your destination. The ride isn't awkward, filled with easily flowing conversation. You're so lost in it you don't even notice you've made it to your flat. Not until the gps is yelling out "Arrived at Destination."

You try to hide your disappointment as you grab your bags, saying a thank you as soon many questions hang in the air between you two. "Can I walk you up? Promise I won't make a move, just want to make sure you get inside okay." She throws her hands up in a defensive mode.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you push down the large part of your brain that is telling you to stop this dynamic. To kill it before it can manifest…but you don't listen to it. You let her take your hand as she walks you into your buildings elevator, and you let her kiss you soft and slow as the floors ding past you both. It's different from any kiss you've shared before, and that kind of scares you.

It scares you even more at your door, where she tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and kisses you like that again. She's kissing you like she has something to prove…you're not quite sure what that is just yet…but you sure as hell want to find out. The first time Leah blew into your life, it was at a time of transformation. It was brief but truly wonderful, and now the universe is sitting her right in fucking front of you for a second time.

She's the first one to pull away from your lips this time. A smile pulling at her lips as she ducks back in to steal one more peck, and then she's backing away slowly. Her hands pulling yours with hers as she tries to leave you as slowly as possible. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You can't help the smile you break out into at the gesture, looking down as you blush slightly from the innocent statement. She's playing with your fingers now, and you're trying to memorize hers for the foreseeable future. "Goodnight, Le. And thank you for today. Always the gentleman…when you want to be."

She pushes your shoulder at that, "Oi! I'm always a gent!"

You blush as you think more about the Ibiza trip, "I would beg to differ."

She genuinely laughs at that, picking your hand up to her mouth to leave a kiss on your knuckles. You say goodnight to each other one last time before she leaves down the hall, watching her disappear into the elevator before you go inside your apartment. You both don't know it yet, but you end up finding the same resolution to your problems tonight.

As you both lay awake drowning in endless thoughts of each other, you can't help but slip a hand into your shorts. You're rubbing at your over sensitive clit, imagining it's Leah as you work yourself up. You haven't had time to buy any toys since you moved here, but you don't need them right now. Not when she's got you so wound up from barely any touch.

Meanwhile the blonde captain is slipping her trusty vibrator between her legs to stimulate her clit, the pretty pictures she has of you from Ibiza currently being viewed in her hand. From the one of you being blind folded in her hotel bed to the one of you bent over the railing of her private yacht— she can't stop the new filthy images of you from popping into her head. She's got to have you again, and not just for sex this time.

Leah hasn't stopped thinking of you since the trip, mind clouded with day dreams of you two creating a life together. She's been laughing it off, thinking she's delusional because she'll never see you again…but that disappears when you come waltzing back into her life. She knows now she can't waste this second chance. No matter how long or what all it takes: Leah Williamson is going to make you her girl.

[umseb]

The Day Sebastian Vettel Decided To Retire From F1 — Then Annoyed Aston Bosses With Climate Campaign

Two years ago, Sebastian Vettel decided to bring an end to his glittering F1 career, so picked up the phone to Matt Bishop, then Aston Martin comms boss. He details the ensuing scramble and Vettel's increasing determination to speak out

Just over two years ago, on Wednesday July 27, 2022, I was forced to do something that I really hate doing: at the eleventh hour I had to cancel a long-standing dinner arrangement with my husband and two of our dearest friends, who live in New York and were on holiday in London for a week. The reason was that, at 5 pm that afternoon, I received a phone call from Sebastian Vettel telling me that he had decided to announce his retirement from Formula 1 in the Hungarian Grand Prix paddock the following day. I was Aston Martin's chief communications officer at the time, and, when something as big as that is sprung on a Formula 1 team's most senior comms/PR operative, he or she has to drop everything and focus on briefing colleagues in confidence, writing press releases, planning social media content, arranging press conferences, and formulating comms/PR strategies designed to optimise the management of a tricky news narrative that in this case would surely unfold rapidly, and perhaps also trickily, over the next 24, 48, 72, and 96 hours. I have written above that Vettel had "sprung" his decision on me, but, although the imminence of his announcement was a surprise, its content was not. Four months earlier you will recall that he did not travel to Jeddah for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, since he was recovering from a bout of Covid-19. His place was taken by Nico Hülkenberg, who, despite race-rustiness caused by his not having competed in F1 the previous year, did a typically excellent job.

Seb had made no secret of his disapproval of the Saudi regime when we had all gone there the first time, in December 2021, and, not surprisingly, in March 2022 rumours soon began to spread to the effect that he had invented a Covid-19 diagnosis so as to avoid racing there a second time. The truth was that he had indeed had Covid-19, and that he was indeed still unwell; however, was he disappointed to have had to skip the 2022 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix? No, he was not. Two weeks later, in Melbourne, he was back. On the Thursday before the Australian Grand Prix, in the Albert Park paddock, I gave him his comms/PR briefing, as was my habit on the Thursday before every grand prix. We discussed media matters of moment, including his not having raced in Jeddah. "The truth is that I was ill, honestly," he said, "but I admit that I don't like or approve of the country, so if I was going to have to miss a race because of Covid-19 that's probably the one I'd want to miss." He paused, smiled, and added, "I'm pretty sure I'm never going to race there again." Then and there I realised that 2022 would probably be his final season as an F1 driver. Not only was the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix going to be a fixture on the F1 calendar for years to come, but also one of Aston Martin's principal sponsors was Aramco, Saudi Arabia's state-owned national oil company. Missing that particular race without a 24-carat excuse would henceforth therefore be impossible for any Aston Martin driver. So, axiomatically, it followed that the only way he could make sure that he would never have to race there again would be to retire from F1 at the end of the year.

On the morning of Thursday, July 28, 2022, having worked until 3 am the night before, my comms/PR team and I issued a video in which our much loved four-time world champion announced his F1 retirement in his own words, and he posted it on his then brand-new Instagram channel at the same time. It included the following sentences, which he spoke with his usual eloquence: "I love this sport but, as much as there's life on track, there's also life off track. Being a racing driver has never been my sole identity. I want to be a great father and a great husband. I believe in change, and progress, and that every little bit you do can make a difference. We all have the same rights, no matter where we come from, what we look like, or whom we love. I'm an optimist and I believe that people are good, but, in addition, I feel that we live in very difficult times. How we shape the next few years will determine the rest of our lives. Talk is not enough. We can't afford to wait. I believe that there's still a race to win." The race to which he was referring was his growing and accelerating commitment to doing whatever he could to leverage his fame and popularity for the good of the inhabitants of planet Earth. That may sound grandiose, but it is also entirely valid. In the two years during which I worked with him, 2021 and 2022, we won awards for the inspirational way in which he did just that.

Just before the 2021 Styrian Grand Prix, helped by local schoolchildren, he created an F1 car-shaped 'bee hotel' at the Red Bull Ring. Three weeks later, straight after the British Grand Prix, in which he had raced hard for forty laps until his Aston Martin's Mercedes engine had terminally overheated, he led a group of volunteer litter-pickers to clear the Silverstone grandstands of the trash that irresponsible spectators had left behind. A month after that, in Hungary, infuriated by that country's new anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, he wore rainbow-coloured sneakers in the F1 paddock, and he donned a similarly hued T-shirt bearing the legend #SameLove as he took the knee on the grid before the race. Throughout the weekend he had talked to journalists and TV crews intelligently, thoughtfully, and compassionately on the subject of LGBTQ+ rights, equality, and inclusion. In May 2022 he visited and spoke inspirationally at HMP (Her, or now His, Majesty's Prison) Feltham, a young offenders institution in a suburb of west London, formally opening a new workshop in which the teenage inmates could learn how to become car mechanics as part of their rehabilitation. Immediately afterwards he and I took a South Western Railways train to London's Waterloo Station, sitting among regular commuters, so that he could spend time with the pupils of Oasis Johanna Primary School, which is in a disadvantaged part of inner London, and after that we went by Uber taxi to a church in Hackney, in the East End, where the BBC's prestigious political television talk show Question Time would be filmed. As the TV cameras rolled, he conversed fluently on the subjects of Brexit, the UK's cost of living crisis, the then-Prime Minister Boris Johnson's 'partygate' shenanigans, and even Finland's desire to join NATO, consummately out-arguing one of his fellow panellists, Suella Braverman, who was then the Attorney General for England and Wales and the Advocate General for Northern Ireland.

In addition, as the months went by, he continued to speak out in support of what he saw as humankind's collective global responsibility to address the climate crisis, doing so with increasing regularity, vehemence, and fearlessness, with the result that he began to irritate the very most senior people at Aston Martin, even though what he said tended to please most journalists and fans. "I don’t care," he said when he learned of his big bosses' disquiet. "I must do what's right." Behind the scenes what he did was perhaps even more admirable. F1 teams receive communications from troubled people all the time. You try to do what you can to help them, but sometimes their difficulties are of the type that human kindness alone cannot resolve. I am thinking of recently bereaved people, terminally ill people, profoundly disabled people, people with debilitating mental health issues, etc. Sometimes all you can do is send them a team cap signed by a driver. It is not much, and it breaks your heart that you cannot do more, but it is better than nothing.

Yet Vettel always tried to do more. On one occasion, I had been contacted by a young man who was deeply depressed. I told Seb about him, and he said, "Let's do a Zoom call with him." So I arranged it. I had thought that Seb might speak for five minutes or so, but no. He chatted animatedly for more than twenty minutes, with touching humility and heart-warming empathy, and I feel confident when I say that those twenty-odd minutes were significant in expediting the lad's mental and emotional recovery. A few months later, Seb hand-wrote the boy a four page letter. He gave it to me at a grand prix-I cannot remember which one-and he instructed me to post it on when I returned to the UK. I read it before I did so, and the tenderness and beauty of Seb's prose brought me to tears. There are many other examples of his remarkable generosity and sensitivity: too many to mention, in fact. This column has been about Vettel the man, not Vettel the driver. He was fast and clever in the cockpit, and I may well write about that side of him one day. I could write much more about Vettel the man, too, for I have dozens of stories that I could tell on that subject, because I worked very closely with him for two years and, more importantly, because he is a truly great man. In my long career I am lucky enough to have spent time in F1 teams with four world champions-Seb, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, and Jenson Button-and they are all fantastic guys in their own, very different, ways. But, in my 61 years on this planet, I can state with confident and emphatic certainty that Sebastian Vettel, from the small town of Heppenheim, south-west Germany, is one of the most impressive people whom I have ever had the pleasure and honour to know, whether that be inside or outside F1. As he is fond of saying, "You can't always be the best, but you can always do your best." As a maxim to live by, it is hard to beat.

article by matt bishop

[saturnville]

bite, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black best friend oc (anvika dawson) content: in which two friends cross a line people have been waiting for them to cross. warning: 18+ content song: bite by njzoma an: y'all know I don't write smut fr, so ntm. but I hope y'all enjoy it. wc: 2,498 tags: the girlies who were hyping me up to post this @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites

“Just because we’re attracted to one another doesn’t mean we need to sleep together. I’m off that. Plus, we’re friends.”

Anvika prided herself on being a woman of self-control and discipline. Though it did not come easy, years of abstinence grew dreary and at times, very lonely, her hard work was not something she was willing to risk. Her decision to step into abstinence wasn’t one she took lightly, nor was it one that she planned, but once Anvika began the journey of healing from a heartbreak, intimacy with another man wasn’t the priority. Though that had been over four years ago and she was well over the situation, she could admit that while it was difficult to maintain her self-control, not having to worry about anyone’s snot-nosed son brought more peace than she could ever imagine. 

“Even more of a reason to let it happen. Everything happens better when you have a solid foundation first. Everybody thinks you two are together anyways. He truly cares for you, in more ways than one.” 

Anvika hummed and rolled her eyes as she brought the slender champagne fluke to her full lips. The liquid went smooth down her throat. She shrugged. “Then let them think that. Lewis is a good man, a good and attractive man, but…”

Her friend, Onyx, sighed and downed her drink with a wave of her hand. “I don’t know how you do it! I would’ve lost my mind by now. I commend you.” Onyx bowed playfully which pulled a light laugh from Anvika. Though she was joking, she couldn’t help but sense the truth behind her words. 

Though swearing off men and intimacy had become a more common practice among women, many people found it taboo and unrealistic. She soon began to ponder--what if she’d never find anyone that could give her what she wanted because of how she chose to navigate her dating life? She shook it off internally. That would be a problem, but none that would be hers. 

Before she got the chance to respond, her phone rang against the glass table that held their expensive lunch on it’s back. LH flashed across the screen. She smiled softly which caught the attention of Onyx, who gave a teasing smirk. For someone who was insistant on keeping a strong boundary between herself and her closest friend, she surely smiled like a fool whenever he called. 

“I told you I have a lunch date with Onyx today,” she reminded the racer lowly, using her index finger to draw doodles in the condensation her water glass sweat off on the table. “Everything alright?” 

“Everything’s fine, angel,” he spoke smoothly. “Just wanted to make sure you were still wanting to join me for the event on Friday.” Anvika hummed and nodded as though he could see her. He was attending a gala in London and of course, offered his plus-one to Anvika, as he had done since their friendship had begun years prior. What was his, was hers, including access to rooms and events that would grant her opportunities to further her career as a branding and marketing consultant. 

“Yes,” she replied excitedly. “I still haven’t found a dress. What color are you wearing?”

There was shuffling in the background before he spoke again. “Blue. Don’t worry about it,  I’ll handle it.” Her heart fluttered. “Enjoy your lunch. Tell Onyx I said hello and call me later, alright?” 

Anvika’s teeth trapped her bottom lip. “Alright. Talk soon.” 

“Bye, love.” 

Anvika turned her phone on its face and looked up, catching Onyx’s playful eyes. Her thick eyebrow touched her forehead. “Friends, right?” Anvika gave her a look. Onyx raised her hands in defense, “My bad, my bad.” 

-

Lewis Hamilton was a gentleman. Sure, this was universal knowledge, but something about him being gentlemanly with her made her heart flutter and her stomach clench with desire. And it almost made her question Onyx’s point, “he truly cares for you; in more ways than one.” It’d typically be something she’d deny, but as she stood in front of the mirror with her hair done by a hairstylist he arranged to come, her nails done by a nail technician he’d flown out, and a dress he arranged to be custom-made to suit her body, how could she deny it any longer? 

“Don’t think too deeply into it,” she scolded herself, slipping out of her robe. She walked toward her dress, pulled it off the hanger, and carefully slipped into it. “You’re friends. Close friends who care for one another. That’s it, that’s all.” 

They met at the paddock six years prior. She was invited to her first Formula One race through her consultant agency, which took her team on an all-expense paid trip for their hard work. She wasn’t aware of Formula One, just of familiar names. Then, at the end of the match, she had the chance to put a face to the infamous name of Lewis Hamilton. 

“You raced well,” Anvika noted, taking in the slightly disheveled appearance of the raceman. “I’ve never been to a Formula One race; good job on giving me a reason to come back one day.” 

The man’s eyebrow raised in interest. He crossed his arms over his chest, his muscular build on display. “Is that so?”

Anvika nodded. 

“We can make that happen whenever you want.” 

It was Anvika’s turn to raise an eyebrow. A smirk played on her lips. “Is that so? Tryna be my friend, Lewis?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. Friends wasn’t too bad. Anything to get to know her. “Any man would be a fool to refuse that opportunity, Anvika.”

That marked the beginning of an inseparable union.

Anvika continued to mumble and grumble, doing whatever she could to keep her mind eased. Her self-conversations were halted by a knock on her door. Lewis. “Coming!” Holding her dress to her chest. She turned the doorknob, and the familiar scent of his cologne filled her nose. “Are you…oh. Oh.”

Closing the door behind him, Lewis’ eyes were trained on her, the most beautiful woman he’d laid eyes on. The dress, complementary to his suit, was perfectly designed and tailored to her. She was a fan of long-sleeved dresses, so that’s what she got. It was constructed with a heavy, luxurious velvet material and it hugged every riff, edge, and curve on her body. The neckline showed the swell of her breasts and her beautiful collarbone. The mermaid-like tail further accentuated her shape. 

Her hair was parted to the side and curled to perfection. The makeup complimented her features--thick eyebrows, full lips, and a round nose. And her scent, goodness, it suffocated him. The jasmine and almond notes filled his nostrils and he wanted to nuzzle his face in her neck and inhale like she was the air he needed to breathe. 

“You look beautiful,” Lewis managed to speak. His voice was so low that she almost didn’t hear his compliment. With a bashful smile, she thanked him and led him to her room where she wandered toward the bathroom, which had a series of jewels across the counter. “Help me pick a necklace?” 

Anvika turned to face the jewelry and fought hard to ignore the heat that radiated from Lewis’ body as he moved to stand behind her. From over her shoulder, his eyes followed the line of jewels the stylists brought. His eyes landed on a silver necklace; a thin chain with a multi-carat teardrop diamond. “This one.” 

Lewis took the necklace in his hands and placed it around her neck. Anvika lifted her hair to grant him easy access and shivered as his cool fingertips brushed against her skin. She inhaled deeply. “Stunning.” His breath was warm against her neck. They locked eyes in the mirror ahead of them. The tension was thick. Suffocating. His brown eyes, usually so full of love and warmth, were filled with something she couldn’t quite identify, but it made her body heat like wildfire. 

“I’m ready,” she announced, careful not to let her voice waver. She turned, purposefully ignoring the groan he released when she brushed against him. Her lips quivered as she tried to give a steady smile. What the hell was happening between them? Anvika placed her hands on his chest and soothed the non-existent wrinkles on his suit jacket. He was so handsome. “You look great, darling.” 

“Thank you…” his words came out as a whisper. He was too distracted by her. Six years of friendship and what he felt from the time he met her at the paddock all those years ago had reached a breaking point. He’d boiled over. 

Anvika tried to smile as she pressed a kiss against his cheek, but with how he reacted, her lips landed at the corner of his lips. She took a step back. “Let’s get ready to go, yeah?” 

Lewis swallowed thickly. He held his arm out for her, which she grabbed instinctively, and together, they were out the door with a million and one thoughts swimming between them. 

-

“And that beauty you’ve brought?” an older man questioned Lewis, who had his eyes on Anvika as she danced through the siloes of people in the room. The gala was nothing short of a popularity function, a random event on a random weekend for the host to flaunt their money and connections, Truthfully, his desire to attend dwindled once he saw her in that dress. She was the only thing on his mind. 

“Anvika Dawson,” Lewis said, nodding in her direction. “One of the best branding and marketing consultants in the industry. She’s amazing at everything she does. You’ve got a business, don’t you?” And that’s why he was a good friend, Anvika noted as she began to walk over, hearing him advocate for her in front of the man. 

“You flatter me,” she said with a smile as she took a position under Lewis’ arm, which slid around her waist. “Anvika Dawson, nice to meet you.” 

The older man, who had went by the nam Eli, shook her hand firmly and nodded in interest. “Well, pardon me, but the two of you would make a wonderful couple.” The young adult chuckled lightly; the comment was nothing new to them, but it seemed to bring them both discomfort given the fact that they had a very intimate moment just an hour before their arrival. Before Lewis could speak up, Anvika thanked the man sweetly then they were whisked in another direction. 

They were joined together at the hip for the remainder of the evening. And, on the rare occasion that they were apart, they stole glances from across the room like teenagers in a romantic sitcom. Soon, the event wrapped up and they were in the backseat of the car, sitting in a thick silence. 

Anvika sat at the right of the car, her knees turned inward and her legs crossed. With every bump in the road and swerve of the car, the tip of her heel brushed against Lewis’ leg. His breath hitched. She said nothing. 

The car came to an abrupt stop and the doors were opened for them. Before her foot could touch the ground, Lewis’ hand was awaiting. “Thank you,” Anvika said softly, and allowed him to guide her into the hotel. 

He still hadn’t said much. The walk to the elevator was quiet, yet, he hadn’t let go of her hand. What was he thinking about? If it was the sudden shift in their interactions, it didn’t go unnoticed by her either. 

The elevator doors peeled open and Lewis guided her in. He pressed the button, 10, that would send them to the floor their rooms were on. The elevator ride seemed slow as each ding indicated they’d entered another floor. 

Anvika cleared her throat and decided to speak up, “I enjoyed tonight. And again, you looked great. I love blue on you.” 

He couldn’t remember what happened between her compliment, her back against the elevator wall, and his lips on hers.  The only thing that forced him to key in was her hands pressing against his abdomen and his name falling from her lips. “Lewis…” What he’d heard time and time again in his dreams had finally become a reality. His stomach churned; could he get her to say it again? “What are you…” She cut herself off when she fell victim to the wonderful feeling of his lips against her jaw. 

“I just…” Lewis settled his face in her neck. “One night, Vi. Let me have one night with you…” Her heart pounded in her ears. What the hell was happening? 

“Lewis…” Her hand slipped and fell just above his belt. She extended her arm just slightly. “We can’t do this. I-I don’t want to mess up our friendship and you know I’m not going all the way with anyone--” 

Lewis hummed. His eyes sat low as he looked at her. She looked completely worn out as if he’d done to her what he truly wanted. Her forehead glistened with sweat, her lipstick was smeared, and her chest heaved. “Nothing will change for the worse, angel. And I don’t want to go there with you, just want to make you feel good…always have.” His left arm circled around her waist and his large hand palmed her backside. She whimpered. “Can I?” 

“Someone might see...” 

He ignored her. “Can I make you feel good?” His tone was stern as he repeated his question. Suddenly, the gala was out of her mind and the only thing that clouded her thoughts was him. Him and him only. Lewis Hamilton had infiltrated her mind and she finally stopped fighting it. 

The elevator dinged. “Yes…” 

-

“Should I…?” her hands reached for the necklace that shone beneath the dim lights of the hotel suite. Lewis shook his head and peeled his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a crisp white wife beater. He shed that too. Anvika’s breath hitched. “Keep it on. Lay back for me, angel.” 

Anvika looked like an angel surrounded by the comforter. Her undergarments were long discarded, save for her underwear which he kept in the pocket of his pants. The pure white of the sheets were a stark contrast to the richness of her complexion. Her hair was sprawled against the pillow with a few strands covering her face lazily. The look on her face was one of comfort, relief in one way or another. 

She welcomed Lewis’ body between her legs as he crawled on the bed and his lips against hers as he hovered above her. For the first time that night, Anvika’s hands didn’t tremble when she touched him. She welcomed the feeling of every ridge of muscle, every raised scar, and every mature tattoo. 

Their hands moved frantically over each other’s body, and it felt amazing. She hadn’t realized how touch deprived she was until she heard his chuckle in her ear. Her face warmed. She felt like a teenager. “It’s okay…” his lips ghosted against the shell of her ear. “Make all the noise you want.” 

Anvika didn’t respond--her mouth wouldn’t allow her to. As Lewis moved down her body, she sat on her elbows, watching and waiting. God, he was so handsome like this. His head was dipped between her thighs and his tattooed glistened under the dim lights. Slowly, he lips created an intentional trail from her belly down to the treasure just centimeters away from his mouth. 

Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets as the anticipation rose. She was becoming impatient. He was giving attention to every other place except where he wanted her. She huffed. “Lewis…” 

He hummed, clearly unbothered by her frustration. He glanced at her, “Yes?” She whimpered. “Talk to me.” He was amused, very amused. She was desperate for him. It was evident by the way her arousal seeped onto the bed. He gathered some on his fingers, using it as a lubricant as he finally began to touch her. 

Anvika gasped. His movements were slow and meticulated but they were enough to set her over the edge. He brought his lips to hers again, which she accepted sloppily. Her jaw fell slack as he continued to work her to her first release of the night. It came quickly, quicker than she would have liked. When his fingers hit that spot within her, her hips jerked and she squeaked his name. 

Lewis chuckled, “That’s it?” He prodded that spot again. “Right there?” Anvika nodded. He removed his fingers. She groaned in frustration, “Lewis, please!”

“Please what?” He brought his fingers to his lips and moaned at the taste of her on his tongue. If this was just the beginning, he couldn’t imagine how mad he’d go in the coming moments. “Tell me what you want.”

She clocked it. He wanted her to beg. Anvika wasn’t the begging type. She may have been far removed from having sex, but she always got her way, especially with Lewis. Her hands trailed down the muscular planes of his stomach. Her fingers hooked in his belt and pulled him forward. Her fingers curled around his neck and her nails toyed with the faded hair there. She brought her smeared lips to his ear, her tongue dancing against the shell of it. He shudder. “I want you to make my legs shake and rock my world. Can you do that, Lewis?” 

Her voice. The way her voice dropped in octave but increased in seduction had his head spinning. There were a few moments of silence as he fought hard to gather himself and the more she spurred him on, the most difficult it became. But then, she heard it, “Yes…”

-

“Right there, right there! Oh my…” He was a lover of music. Being in a studio, creating melodies to go with lyrics, was his favorite pastime. But this took the cake. She created her a song better than he could have ever imagined, and was it addicting. 

Her moans, cries, and screams were melodic and his name was the only lyric she knew. He hated repetition in music, but loved hearing hers. So addicting. So well created. So beautiful. 

Her legs trembled around his head and her hands were buried in his braids. He fought the urge to bend her over when she whispered out the faintest, “Baby, please…” She’d used terms of endearment before, but in this context, it was different. “I’m close!”

Her body, damp with sweat and covered in bruises created by his mouth, jumped and jolted as she grew closer to her peak. Lewis sat up, replacing his tongue with his highly skilled fingers. He used his arm to stabilize his body as he hovered over her. What a sight.

Her hair was completely sweated out, pooped and frizzy at the roots. Her makeup stained the pillows and her lips were swollen from her biting and his intense kisses. Her neck was dark with love bites. Her eyelids were hooded but he could see the fire behind her eyes. If only he could capture her and keep the picture in his pocket forever. 

“Doing so well for me,” he whispered, kissing against her cheek and jaw. His fingers made quick work of the huddle of nerves between her legs. “Taking it like a good girl.” Her moans grew louder, higher in pitch, and full of air. It was becoming too much—her hands pushed against his arm, trying to run. “Don’t run now. Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“Lewis, I’m—“ she cut herself off with a high pitched scream that seemed to ring on forever. Lewis chuckled lightly and worked her through her orgasm. “That’s it, baby.” Her body shook as she tried to come down calmly.

He spent a few minutes between her legs, caressing her gently as an act of comfort. Her loud noises had diminished to soft whimpers as she came down from cloud nine. When she finally opened her eyes again, he asked, “You okay?” 

She was better than okay. Though they didn’t cross all the lines, Anvika had gotten the best orgasm she’d received in her life from a man’s mouth and hands. She’d deal with the consequences later, but in that moment, she felt amazing. 

She nodded and smiled lazily. “I’m okay. Are you…do you want me to…?” Her eyes fell to the evident bulge that strained against his pants. He shook his head.

“I’m okay. Let’s get you cleaned up…”

-

What was supposed to be a shower to clean her up resulted in her on her knees giving him the most intense release he’d experienced in months. It left him panting, shaking, and whimpering like it was his first time all over again. 

Once again, she looked angelic with her now curly hair flat against her back and big brown eyes staring at him as she worked him like the expert she was. He came in her with with a groan, his fingers in her hair. She stood to her feet, smiling innocently as she showed him there was no remnant of him left in her mouth. 

“You’re nasty,” he announced, grabbing her jaw to place a sloppy kids on her lips. 

“Mhmmm, just the way I like it.” 

They migrated to her bed shortly after, laying together in a comfortable silence. Anvika’s head was against his bare chest and herfingers traced the tattoos on his body. Lewis’ arm was around her waist and his hand massaged her plump bottom. 

They were tired, exhausted even. But, they fought sleep like children, internally afraid of what the morning would bring. All actions had consequences whether good or bad. It was a mutual hope that what they’d done wouldn’t bring on the latter. 

“Lewis?” Anvika called after some time. 

“Yes, angel?” 

“Are we gonna be okay?” Her voice trembled slightly. They’d crossed a line--a big one. She had wobbled on her boundaries. There was a lot to discuss and a lot to consider. It was an amazing experience, she couldn’t lie, but her biggest fear was that she’d lose him as an important person in her life if reality didn’t set in the way they intended. 

Lewis gave her a squeeze and brought his lips to her forehead. Sensing her worry, he reassured, “We’ll always be okay.” And she believed it.

[registerednoirgaming]

📍Rockefeller Center - San Myshuno - mrsphae

Welcome to Burberry London in the Rockefeller Center, NYC! 🗽. - DOWNLOAD LINK BELOW. I rarely play in San Myshuno since moving to Windenburg but I wanted to revisit one of my favorite lots when I lived there. The Rockefeller Center build is by mrsphae and is available on the gallery! The center has a variety of things to do but just like one of my favorite simmers, Ashley, I'm making luxury retail stores out of it. Ashley built Ralph Lauren, which I will tag below. This was the first build I placed so the blueprint is formatted based on Ashley's build, as with the rest of the center, with a different brand and a few other changes. I will also link another build/room meant for this center. It's a hair salon by Magnoliadale!

I use the retail reloaded mod by Carl! Check it out HERE!

Ralph Lauren - @aashwarr - HERE!

BLEND Hair Studio - @magnoliadale - HERE!

Lot Size: Room

Lot Type: Career & Misc (Retail)

Lot Price: 61,301

Thank you!

DLC - HIGH SCHOOL YEARS, CITY LIVING, GET TOGETHER, GET TO WORK

PLEASE DO NOT REUPLOAD AND/OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN.

place build with "bb.moveobjects on" on

Thank you to all the content creators I used!

TUDS - TAURUS DESIGN - SIMSHINI - SERENITY - SENTATE - PTS - PIERISIM - FELIXANDRE - MIIKO - MADLEN - LALUNA - KHD - HARRIE - CHARLYPANCAKES - BUKOVKA - BERGDORF - HARLIX - BAMBI - ADRIEN PASTEL - HUIEN - FAMSIMSSS - RIMINGS - JIUS - GORILLA GORILLA GORILLA - AXA

DOWNLOAD HERE!

[emjayewrites]

Sakura Dreams 🌸🗼🇯🇵 • Jules Koundé (5/6)

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be a guys’ trip to Japan after a disappointing ending to the Euros, however, fate had another thing in mind.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x fem!blackOC (Ayo Pratt) (faceclaim @/joie.ade)

WARNINGS: cursing, poor google translations, football b.s & drama, flirty!jules, eventual smut. MINORS DNI!!!

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: Jules was in Japan, so of course I had to make a short series about it. Also, if you’re a Jules girl, please let me know and I’ll tag you in more chapters. This one is fairly short because the final chapter will be long af.

Jules woke to the familiar warmth of Ayo beside him, sunlight streaming through his hotel window in Osaka. Their group arrived late last night, exhausted from the journey but content. As usual, Jules wasted no time in having yet another sleepover with Ayo, and they spent most of last night fucking each other's brains out. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, memorizing the feel of her skin.

As if sensing his touch, Ayo stirred. "Mmm, what time is it?"

"Early enough," Jules murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Want to get breakfast?"

She nodded sleepily, and they began their morning routine - a dance they'd perfected over the past days. Jules watched as Ayo got ready, struck by how natural this felt, how easily they'd fallen into sync with each other.

"I know this cute café near Dotonbori," Jules suggested, pulling on a white linen shirt. "They have amazing croissants."

Ayo emerged from the bathroom, looking fresh and radiant. "Croissants, huh? Very on brand for you."

Jules laughed, catching her around the waist and pulling her close. "What can I say? Some stereotypes exist for a reason."

They made their way through Osaka's already bustling streets, their hands naturally finding each other. The café was tucked away in a quiet corner, its windows steamed up from fresh-baked pastries.

Over coffee and croissants, Jules decided it was time to address what had been on his mind. "I want to talk about what happens after," he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Ayo paused, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "After?"

"When you go to London. When I go back to Barcelona." Jules leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. "I know we haven't known each other long, but this... us... it feels different."

Ayo set down her cup, her expression thoughtful. "Different how?"

"Like something worth holding onto," Jules replied softly. "London and Barcelona aren't that far apart. And with our schedules - your modeling, my football - we could make it work."

A small smile played at the corners of Ayo's mouth. "Are you saying you want to date me properly, Jules Koundé?"

"I'm saying I want to try," he admitted. "Unless you were planning to forget about me once we leave Japan?"

"As if I could," Ayo murmured, reaching across the table to take his hand.

They spent the rest of the morning walking around the neighborhood, their conversation flowing easily between serious topics and playful banter. Jules found himself constantly drawn to her - the way she laughed, how her eyes lit up when she discovered something new, the gentle squeeze of her hand in his.

"You know," Ayo said, "I wasn't expecting this either."

"What's that?"

"Finding someone like you. Feeling like this." She turned to face him. "It's kind of scary, actually."

Jules pulled her closer, understanding exactly what she meant. "Good scary or bad scary?"

"Good scary," she assured him.

They made their way to Kuromon Ichiba Market for lunch, sampling various street foods and local delicacies. Jules couldn't help but notice how comfortable they'd become with each other - the casual touches, the shared looks, the way they naturally gravitated toward one another in crowds.

"Our friends may think we're crazy," Ayo mentioned between bites of takoyaki.

"For what?"

"For thinking we could make this work after the trip."

Jules considered this. "Maybe we are. But I'd rather be crazy than wonder 'what if.'"

Their phones buzzed simultaneously - their friends wondering where they'd disappeared to. Reality intruded on their private moment, reminding them that their time wasn't entirely their own.

"We should probably head back," Ayo sighed. "Symone's been wanting to check out this karaoke place."

Jules nodded, but pulled her in for a kiss before they left. It was soft and sweet, full of promise. "Just remember," he murmured against her lips, "whatever happens after this trip, you're mine."

Ayo smiled, her fingers tracing the new bracelet on her wrist. "And you're mine."

They rejoined their friends at a karaoke bar in Namba, where the night dissolved into laughter and terrible singing. Jules watched Ayo perform a duet with Symone, her joy infectious, and felt his heart swell. He caught Wilhelm's knowing look and shrugged. His friend was right - he was in deep.

Tomorrow would bring new adventures, and more memories to cherish. In a few days, their paths would go their separate ways - him to Okinawa with the guys, her back to New York to prepare for her move to London. But for now, they had this moment.

Ayo lounged on Symone's bed in their Osaka hotel suite, half-listening to her friends' chatter as she reminisced about her time with Jules thus far.

"Ayo!" Nikki's voice cut through her daydream. "Girl, you are sprung."

"Seriously," Gigi laughed, flopping down beside her. "One taste of that French dick and you're speaking in oui oui's."

Ayo rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Y'all are ridiculous."

"Are we wrong though?" Symone raised an eyebrow. "You've been glowing ever since Kyoto. And don't think we haven't noticed you sneaking off to his room every night."

"You better start learning French," Nikki teased. "Can't have your man whispering sweet nothings and you not understanding."

Ayo threw a pillow at her. "He's not my man…"

"Yet," all three girls chorused.

"But seriously," Symone said, her tone softening. "Are you going to try to make it work?"

Ayo touched her bracelet again, remembering Jules' words from their date. "Maybe. We talked about it yesterday actually. He wants to try."

"And you?"

"I think… I think I do too."

The girls squealed, piling onto the bed in a group hug. "Our little Ayo, falling in love with a whole footballer!" Gigi exclaimed.

"Speaking of which," Nikki checked her phone, "we need to start getting ready. The sumo event starts in two hours."

They scattered to their rooms to prepare. Ayo chose a purple dress that hugged her curves, pairing it with strappy heels. Her hair was styled in a low bun, and she kept her makeup minimal but striking.

When they met the guys in the lobby, Ayo couldn't help but notice how handsome Jules looked in his fitted black pants and matching shirt. His dreads were pulled back neatly, and his cologne hit her as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Tu es magnifique," he murmured in her ear.

The sumo arena was packed, the atmosphere electric with anticipation. Jules kept his arm around Ayo as they found their seats, his thumb absently stroking her shoulder.

"Have you ever seen sumo before?" he asked.

Ayo shook her head. "Never. You?"

"Once, years ago. It's quite something."

As the matches began, Ayo found herself captivated by the ritual and ceremony of it all. Each bout was preceded by elaborate traditions, the wrestlers throwing salt and performing ceremonial moves.

"It's beautiful in its own way," she whispered to Jules.

He nodded, pulling her closer. "Like a dance."

The power and skill of the wrestlers was impressive, their matches sometimes lasting mere seconds despite the lengthy build-up. Ayo found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with the crowd.

After the event, they headed to a high-end restaurant for dinner. The conversation flowed easily, everyone sharing their impressions of the sumo and their plans for the remaining days in Osaka.

"You two seem closer now," AK commented, nodding at Jules and Ayo.

Jules just smiled, his hand finding Ayo's under the table. The gesture was small but intimate, making her heart skip.

As their food arrived - a stunning array of sashimi, wagyu beef, and other delicacies - Ayo felt a warmth spread through her chest. Looking around the table at their friends, at Jules beside her, she realized how much she was going to miss this when it was over.

The night wound down with drinks at a rooftop bar overlooking the city. The Osaka skyline twinkled before them, a perfect backdrop to their laughter and conversation.

Jules pulled Ayo aside at one point, leading her to a quiet corner. "Dance with me?" he asked softly.

There was no proper dance floor, just a small space near their table, but Ayo didn't care. She melted into his arms as they swayed to the gentle music, her head resting on his shoulder.

"I could get used to this," she murmured.

Jules' arms tightened around her. "Good. Because I'm not planning on letting you go anytime soon."

Their friends watched from the table, exchanging knowing looks.

Later that night, as they walked back to the hotel hand in hand, Ayo felt a sense of certainty settles over her. Back in her hotel suite, Ayo sat at the vanity removing her makeup while Symone lounged on the bed.

"You know," Symone mused, scrolling through the photos from the night, "I've never seen you like this with anyone. Not even Jamaal."

Ayo paused, cotton pad pressed to her face. "It's different with Jules. He doesn't try to control me or my career. He actually gets excited about it."

"Plus, he fine as hell," Symone added with a grin.

Ayo laughed, throwing her used cotton pad at her friend. "That too."

Her phone buzzed - a text from Jules: "Already missing you. Breakfast tomorrow?"

"Look at you, blushing over a text," Symone teased, catching Ayo's soft smile.

"Girl, shut up," Ayo replied, but her heart fluttered as she typed back a quick "Yes please x"

As she got ready for bed, Ayo's mind wandered to their conversation at the café. The idea of trying to maintain something with Jules after Japan had seemed impossible at first. But now, with each passing day, it felt more and more within reach.

"What you thinking about?" Symone asked, noting her friend's contemplative expression.

"Just... everything. How crazy this all is. Two weeks ago, I was focused solely on my move to London. Now..."

"Now you're planning weekend trips to Barcelona?" Symone waggled her eyebrows.

"You're impossible."

"But am I wrong?"

Ayo smiled softly. "No, you're not wrong."

Her phone buzzed again - another text from Jules with a photo attached. It was from earlier at the sumo event, capturing a moment when she was laughing at something he'd said. She looked happy, radiant even.

"Mon bébé," his message read. "Sweet dreams x"

Maybe my friends were right, Ayo thought as she climbed into bed. Maybe she did need to learn some French. Because this thing with Jules? It definitely wasn't ending when they left Japan.

And for once, that thought didn't scare her at all.

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, early glow over the room, and the whole place was still. Jules shifted on the bed, blinking sleepily as Ayo moved downwards, her skin illuminated by the soft morning light sneaking through the curtains.

Not wanting to wake anyone else, he’d texted her to slip over early, just before sunrise, when no one else would notice. And now she was here, in his room on the cusp of giving what he'd known to be the best morning head of his life.

Ayo moved closer, hands warm as they slid up his thighs, pulling the sheets down slowly. Jules’ pulse quickened, and he watched her with a mixture of anticipation and restraint, knowing they had to keep quiet. She lowered her head, her mouth brushing against him, sending a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, stifling the urge to let out a groan as her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock, teasing and slow.

Her eyes flicked up to his, her mouth curved in a soft, mischievous smile. She was savoring every second, and he could barely keep his breathing steady, every nerve on edge. The pleasure built, his body responding to her with every touch, every flick of her tongue, every warm, gentle pull. He leaned his head back, biting his lip, fighting the sounds that clawed at his throat.

"Ayo...," he whispered, a hint of desperation in his tone. She only hummed in response, which made him throb even more, the vibrations adding another layer of intensity he hadn't expected. He knew he had to stay quiet, that his friends were only a few doors down, but the way she moved, her mouth soft and eager, her hands firm against his thighs—it was driving him mad. His hips jerked involuntarily, and he gripped the sheets, breathing through clenched teeth to stop himself from making a sound.

Ayo didn’t break eye contact, letting her movements speak for her as she adjusted her rhythm, her lips and tongue working him with skillful confidence. She hummed again, sending vibrations straight through him, and he couldn’t stop a low groan from escaping his lips.

"Mon Dieu…putain," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands now gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. The sound of his quiet, raspy breaths filled the room, mixing with her soft sucking sounds. "You're... too good at this." A hint of a smile breaking through despite his struggle for control. She only chuckled softly in response, and the sound sent another shiver down his spine.

He reached down, fingers threading through her hair, both guiding and grounding himself, needing something to hold onto. The thickness of her hair, the warmth of her, everything felt too good, too intense. Ayo responded, adjusting her movements just enough to match his silent cues, and he felt himself growing even closer to the edge.

"Ayo…fuck I'm going to come, ma belle," he said, his voice strained, filled with the unspoken plea to both continue and give him just a moment to breathe. She pulled back slightly, giving him a teasing look, and he felt a mix of relief and longing. Just when he thought he could regain control, she moved again, leaving him breathless all over.

Finally, as he felt himself nearing his limit, he gently pulled her up to him, meeting her gaze with an expression that was both gratitude and need. He drew her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his, letting himself get lost in the kiss, savoring the taste of himself on her lips. Ayo smiled, clearly satisfied with the effect she had on him.

"Couldn’t keep quiet, could you?" she teased softly.

He chuckled, catching his breath. "When you’re that good, what do you expect?" He flipped her over with ease, settling in the apex of her thighs as she lay beneath him. There was no space between their naked bodies and Jules pulled away briefly to grab a condom from his bedside drawer. He ripped the foil packet open before sheathing himself. "I need to fuck you, bébé."

With that, he guided himself inside her, and he had to bury his face in her shoulder, breathing in her scent, grounding himself as she started to move. He started off slowly at first, then faster, his hips rolling with practiced ease, her legs bracketing his waist. The rhythm was perfect—just the right mix of urgency and control—and he felt himself melting above her, the intensity overwhelming.

He whispered her name again, a quiet rasp of a sound, as his movements picked up. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her breath hot against his ear, and he knew neither of them would last much longer. With one last thrust, he finally let go, his body shuddering, his fingers pressing into her waist as he tried his best to muffle his own sounds against her skin.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck," he grunted as he spilled into the condom, breathless and slick with sweat. After some moments to regulate his breathing, he planted a tender kiss on her cheek then rolled off of her, a hand running through his locs. "Goddamn woman. You're trying to kill me."

"I could say the same 'bout you," Ayo giggled, cuddling closer to his side.

Jules shook his head, letting out a scoff, and pulled her flush against him. "Yeah, yeah. Just go easy on me next time, alright? I want to make it to my twenty-sixth birthday at least." He glanced at the clock next to him and cursed softly. "Merde, it's almost nine."

"Everyone will be up soon," Ayo murmured against his chest.

Jules ran a hand down her back, conflicted. They needed to eat, but he also didn't want to let her go just yet. "About breakfast..." he started.

"Skip it?" Ayo suggested, already reading his mind.

"You know me too well already." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Meet up with everyone later instead?"

"Sounds like a plan."

They dozed off for two hours before they finally got up. After parting ways to shower and change, they met their friends at the famous Osaka Castle Park, where they spent the afternoon exploring the grounds and taking photos.

"Look who finally decided to join us," AK teased as Jules and Ayo approached hand in hand.

Wilhelm shot them a knowing look. "Long morning?"

Jules ignored their jabs, focusing instead on how beautiful Ayo looked in her casual sundress, her hair pulled back in two puffs. She caught him staring and winked, making his heart skip.

Later, they made their way to Shinsaibashi, Osaka's premier shopping district. Jules watched Ayo browse through racks of vintage clothing, admiring how she could make even simple shopping look graceful.

After dinner at a local ramen shop, they wandered through Amerika-mura, Osaka's youth culture district, taking in the street art and fashion. Jules kept Ayo close, occasionally stealing kisses when their friends weren't looking.

"You're addictive," he murmured in her ear during one such moment.

Ayo smiled up at him. "Pot, meet kettle."

"I've been thinking," he said, his hand resting on her lower back.

"Dangerous," she teased.

He laughed softly. "I want you to come to Barcelona. After you're settled in London. Come see me play."

Ayo's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Really. I want to show you my world."

"Okay."

Jules smiled at her answer, dipping his head to kiss her once more.

The night continued with more food, more drinks, and more laughter. Jules couldn't help but marvel at how much had changed in just two weeks. He'd come to Japan looking for a distraction, a way to shake off the disappointment of the Euros. Instead, he'd found something - someone - that made everything else fade into the background.

accordingtoayo • posted on her story 5 hours ago

accordingtoayo - Osaka, Japan

liked by jkeey4, symonenotbiles, pas_complique, and others

accordingtoayo: arigatō japan. you've shown me so much beauty, taught me patience, and encouraged me to take all that life has to offer. these last two weeks have been nothing but magical...

view all 350 comments…

jkeey4: you're the best travel partner. you're gonna be amazing in london. can't wait to see you again

nikkigal: this is so beautiful...loved spending this time with you.

symonenotbiles: my bestie!! can't wait to see you take over london!

gigithegreatest: i love you ayo!!!

pas_complique: it was nice meeting you and the girls in japan! when's our next trip???

The Osaka airport buzzed with early morning activity as the girls prepared to check their bags. Ayo felt a mix of sadness and excitement churning in her stomach - sad to leave Japan and Jules, but excited for what lay ahead.

Jules kept his arm around her waist as they waited in the check-in line, his thumb tracing small circles on her hip. Their friends gave them space, pretending to be absorbed in their phones while stealing obvious glances.

"I'll be in New York before you know it," Jules murmured in her ear. "Two weeks until I’ll see your gorgeous face and spend time with you before my training in Annapolis."

Ayo nodded, leaning into him. "Seems like forever though."

After checking their bags, the group lingered at the security checkpoint. Hugs were exchanged all around, promises to keep in touch, and phone numbers swapped.

Finally, it was just Jules and Ayo.

"Text me when you land?" he asked, pulling her close.

"Of course." She breathed in his scent one last time. "Have fun in Okinawa."

His kiss was gentle but thorough, making her toes curl. "Au revoir, ma belle."

The next two weeks passed in a blur of texting and FaceTime calls. Jules sent daily photos from Okinawa - him on the beach, exploring temples, trying local food. Ayo spent her days packing up her Lower East Side apartment and navigating the bureaucratic maze of the visa process at the British Embassy.

Jules: *photo of sunset* Missing you Ayo: Missing you more. How's the beach? Jules: Would be better with you here Jules: 12 days until NYC

Each day, his countdown continued: 11 days until NYC 10 days 9 days…

Ayo found herself checking flights to Barcelona while sorting through her closet. The distance seemed both overwhelming and manageable. A two-hour flight from London. They could make it work.

Jules: How's stuff with the visa? Is it figured out? Ayo: Yes! Just got my UK work visa! Jules: Look at you, being international Jules: 5 days until NYC

The day of Jules' arrival, Ayo surveyed her nearly empty apartment. Most of her stuff was already in storage or shipped to London, but she'd kept enough to make it homey. She'd spent the morning at the salon getting flexi rod curls that she knew wouldn't survive the night.

Jules: Through customs. 45 minutes x

Ayo turned on her oven, shaking her head at herself. "Look at me, cooking for a man," she muttered, but couldn't stop smiling. The simple pasta recipe she'd found on TikTok seemed foolproof enough.

As she pulled the roasted tomatoes, garlic, and basil from the oven, her doorbell rang. Frowning, she checked her phone - no way Jules made it through NYC traffic that fast.

Opening the door, she froze. "Jamaal?"

Her ex stood there, looking too comfortable for someone who wasn't invited. "Hey, baby."

"What are you doing here?" Ayo glanced down the hallway nervously.

"You blocked me. Had to come see you." He leaned against the doorframe. "Can't believe you went off to Japan without telling a nigga. What's up with that?"

"Jamaal, why the hell are you here?" she repeated, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Came by to talk to you. Thought we could work things out. Y'know how you get sometimes."

Ayo scoffed. "Are you smoking crack? We're never getting back together."

"Come on, baby, don't be like that. What we had—"

"Ma belle, who's this?"

Ayo's face lit up at Jules' voice. He stood in the hallway, looking fresh despite his long flight, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

"Baby, I missed you!" She moved toward him instinctively.

"Missed you too." Jules kissed her softly before turning to Jamaal. "You didn't answer my question."

Jamaal drew himself up. "I'm her ex. We're working things out—"

Jules raised his eyebrows, amusement playing across his features. "Are you?" He looked at Ayo. "Is that what's happening?"

"He was just leaving," Ayo said firmly.

"Ayo, baby—" Jamaal started.

"She said you're leaving," Jules interrupted, his voice still pleasant but with an edge of steel. "So leave."

Jamaal cocked his head to the side, giving Jules a thorough once-over. "Aren't you that nigga that was in her comments?" His eyes scanned over to Ayo. "You let some random ass guy hit while you were in Japan?"

"Didn't she say you were leaving?" Jules bit in again, yet this time his voice was clearer and deeper, and he stepped towards Jamaal with his shoulders taut. The two men held each other's gazes in an intense impasse for several beats, sizing one another up.

But eventually, Jamaal stepped back. He looked between them, realization dawning. "Whatever," he muttered, turning to go. "This ain't over."

"It's been over," Ayo called after him before pulling Jules into her apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Jules had her pressed against it, his kiss hungry and possessive. "Missed you so much," he murmured against her lips, kicking his suitcase to the side and dropping the bouquet onto the floor.

"Missed you more."

Jules lifted her into his arms, and she instantly wrapped her legs around him. "Was that nigga trying to take my baby away from me? Didn't I tell you that you're mine?" Ayo nodded quickly, moaning into their kiss before it dissolved into a yelp as he slapped her ass. "Use your words."

"I'm all yours, baby. All yours."

"Good girl," he grinned wolfishly, carrying her toward the bedroom. "Now I'm going fuck you senseless."

Ayo melted into him, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. They had one week before she left for London, before he returned to Barcelona. But right now, at this moment, they were just Jules and Ayo, finding their way back to each other.

And maybe, she thought as he plopped her onto her bed, that was enough for now. Everything else - distance, careers, complications - could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, it was all about them.

TO BE CONTINUED....

[marigold-hills]

June 17: pic ‘n’ mix | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 542

PREVIOUS PART • NEXT PART • FIRST PART

It’s a silly thing, really. Having to sneak away like this. They’re both of age and about to graduate. In two weeks, they’ll be living in London, free of supervision, of constraints, of curfews and house points.

Still, it almost feels like old times, to slink through the tunnel to Hogsmead, hide under the Cloak. Almost because it’s also brand new: Moony’s fingers in his, hands palm-to-palm.

They’re wearing their weekend clothes. Remus is in a soft, thin jumper, the sleeves just a little too short and exposing the delicate bones of his wrists. There is a hole in the hem from a Potions’ revision mishap. Sirius put on his favourite combat boots and all his favourite rings - he’s fiddling with them on his left hand, right one busy holding onto Moony’s.

A wall of pic ‘n’ mix takes up the back of Honeydukes. The bottom of it, which Remus is half-bent to peruse, is nothing but chocolate of more variants than Sirius has bothered to try in all the times he’s been here. There are the more common tastes, like peppermint mice and fudge flies, but they veer into obscure the further down he looks. Sure, butterbeer chocolate covered honeycomb sounds delicious, and firewhiskey cauldron cakes will probably be his new favourite, but he’d rather steer clear of the limited-edition chocolate frogs (now with more frog!).

Remus, ever the cocoa-based purist, grumbles at the lack of dark chocolate options but (despite his insistence that classic is best) gets himself a selection of all the new flavours the shop offers.

“Aren’t you getting anything, mo réalta?” Remus squeezes his fingers lightly, just enough to underline the question. He doesn’t even hesitate before picking out extra portions of Peter and James’ favourites – old as their friendship, the accounts of them sneaking through his stash.

“Not sure I fancy anything, to be honest.” Sirius likes spice with his sweet. Burning chilli in his chocolate, sharp salt in caramel. Something to offset the saccharine before it turns insipid. Remus, inconspicuous, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, looks around to make sure nobody is looking their way and raises a piece of something to Sirius’ lips, pushes it into his mouth – fingers unyielding until Sirius accepts.

Sirius bites. It’s an orange truffle, smooth, and inside of it the silkiness of vodka. He says nothing, makes no noise. Remus doesn’t break eye contact once as he chews through the chocolate, and must see something because he nods once, satisfied, and fills up a bag with the proffered sweet.

Stars explode on Sirius’ tongue for an age, each of them a new burst of zest. The alcohol was barely anything, but he is the kind of tipsy that makes the world precise, welcoming. It only lasts a few minutes until the enchantment ends, and immediately he wants to try it again.

“Good?” Remus asks on a laugh (crinkled eyes, happy mouth).

“Amazing.”

His Moony makes a little self-satisfied noise, all contentment. A squeeze of fingers. Picks out other things Sirius is pretty sure will be just to his taste, and there is something about being known, even in this – favourite flavours, such a simple thing – that makes Sirius think yes and more and thank you.

@moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies @alltoounwellll @hunnybeemarie @hoje--aqui @annaliza999 @hihimissamericanbi @gipitothefrog @shamelesswolfstarshipper @a-pine-cone @cosmicweeds @cocoabutterandbooks @bloodoffire @residentdisaster @shamelesswolfstarshipper @ravenwordss @prancingpony42 @themoonlovesthestars

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 2, prompt: fire | word count: 1.575 featuring older ceo regulus black and younger intern james potter

“A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries? What does that even fucking mean?!” James shouts into the receiver as he winds through the busy masses of bodies crossing the roads, the traffic light across blinking for him to hurry. “Can’t I pick up something for him from Burger King or something? You know, like a normal human being?” 

On the other end of the line, Barty snorts a derisive sound. “Yeah, you try feeding him cheap chain franchise slob and see how that plays out for you. The fucker thinks Versace is a low-class brand, James. He probably doesn’t even know what the inside of a Burger King looks like. Besides, that place is fire. They have good shit.”

Groaning, James picks up the speed and sets out for a sprint, having missed the bus to Howick and resorted to the most reliable way of transport—his two sets of healthy, always moderately trained legs. 

“Are you running? You better not be fucking running, Potter. You’re going to come back all sweaty and with creases in your cheap-ass button-up and then I’m going to be the one getting shit for not driving you and ruining the image of Regulus Black’s executive assistant—”

“Suck a dick, Barty,” James bites back after barely evading a car, its tires screeching at him in warning. He throws the driver an apologetic smile.

“I’m serious. You meal-prepped, Potter! Asked where the fucking office microwave is, are you out of your mind? Lunch is on company credit, for fuck’s sake. You’ve got an image to uphold now you’re working for Black Enterprises!”

“The cafeteria is too rich for my taste. Besides, I like meal-prepping. It’s calming.”

“Your fucking tuna stinks up the place.”

“Maybe that’s just your big bullshitting mouth.”

“Listen here, you piece of—”

“Oops, entering a tunnel, hear that?” James cups a hand over the receiver and makes a low, grating sound—mimicking the static rasp of a bad cellular connection. “See you!”

He tucks away the phone before entering Beauxbatons, the restaurant Barty had told him to go to because Regulus was craving his guilty snack, which, to James, sounded like an item right off a witch’s menu. Then again, he was a poor twenty-three-year-old who had just had a gap year fresh out of university, lived in a run-down apartment tucked in Southern London, and knew nothing of the expensive tastes a man like Regulus Black possessed. Thirty-something years old and not a single skin blemish. Must be all the fucking truffle and caviar and whatever Boiron guava puree he eats.

“Welcome,” one of the employees asks. Of course, all of the staff are also wearing pristine clothes and have perfectly sleeked-back hair.

“Hi,” James answers, now all too conscious of the developing sweat marks below his armpits and the dampness cooling on his back. “I’m, uh, here to pick up lunch? Sorry, I forgot my order so let me have a peek at my messages…”

The employee blinks like James has grown a second head. “Take-away? Sir, this is a dine-in restaurant.”

Good thing James has come prepared. He shuffles through the contents of his bag, phone in the other hand and tip of his tongue peeking out in full concentration. “Oh, that’s alright. I brought something to carry it with me. I also got some Tupperware if you don’t mind rinsing it beforehand.”

“No, sir, it’s not a matter of containers,” the employee starts, her lips pursed into a tight line. “We don’t do takeaways.”

James stops and frowns, bag half slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t this Beauxbatons?”

“It is.”

“My boss sometimes has people pick up his lunch here.”

“You must be mistaken… We do not lend any type of service like that.”

James sighs. Great. Amazing. Just what he needed. “Right. Do you mind if I make a call? I’m sorry, there must have been a mistake then.”

The employee, undoubtedly taking pity on him and his disorderly state that suggests he’s been running the past ten minutes, nods. “Of course.”

Heaving a sigh, James scrolls through his contact list and taps on ‘Regulus’, never mind that he has been firmly instructed to only call him during emergencies. But considering the sort of day he’s been having, he considers this one.

Regulus picks up after the third ring. “Potter?”

It’s been two weeks and he still won’t fucking call him by his name, going off on tangents about formal office conduct and etiquette. Potter this, Potter that, bridling when he’s called by his first name for a change in an environment that would kiss the soles of his feet if he’d ask. “Hi, I’m at the place you sent me the address of but they don’t do takeaways so I wanted to know what you want to eat. You cool with Wagamama?”

There’s a pregnant pause—all too telling of how Regulus is probably taking a deep breath and doing the thing where he either pinches the bridge of his nose or rubs his eyebrows. “Have you mentioned the takeaway is for me?”

“No, I haven’t.” What difference would it make, James wants to ask. But in a world where Regulus Black is pretty much revered, he is confident it would make a little difference at least.

“Do that, Potter.”

James rolls his eyes before returning his attention to the employee. “He wants you to know his name is Regulus, by the way.”

Her eyes widen. “Reg—Do you mean Mr. Black?”

James clicks his tongue. “That the one.” The employee doesn’t look convinced and James holds up his hand just above his chest. “About this tall? Curly black hair? Probably in one of today’s morning tabloids, not hard to miss. I could put him on speaker if you’d like?”

There’s the frantic wave of her hands, head shaking vigorously. “Oh! You should have told me from the start, Sir. Please, what would Mr. Black like to eat for lunch? I—I’m sorry. We are very exclusive in our service and are most honored Mr. Black has once again chosen our humble establishment—”

“Just,” James sighs, skimming over the menu laminated standing on an easel by the entrance, not possessing the energy to listen to someone go off on tangents about his boss again. Not like he does so internally at night, anyway. Absolutely not. “A truffle wagyu burger with hand-cut fries.”

“Not fries, a salad—” Regulus reminds him over the phone, but James has decided that he will just about eat whatever James decides on.

“Potter—” Regulus tries again and James flat-out hushes him. To his surprise, Regulus actually shuts up.

The employee nods, over-excited. “Oh, of course, an excellent choice. How would Mr. Black like it to be cooked?”

James shrugs. “I don’t know, on a grill?”

There’s a faint garbled noise coming from Regulus that James will definitely tuck away in his memory.

But the employee is too thrilled to be serving someone as pompous as Regulus to notice the lack of culinary terminology James possesses. “Oh, I meant the cook of the meat!”

“The cook of the meat?” James repeats. “I don’t know, whoever is on shift? Regulus, who do you want to cook your burger?”

The employee makes a high-pitched sound at the same Regulus sighs in a very exaggerated, exhausted manner. “Just tell them medium rare.”

“Medium? What is this, a video game difficulty?”

“Medium rare!” the employee chirps, her smile wry. Strands of hair stick out of the previously perfectly pulled-back bun like the situation has created plenty of static to dishevel her updo. “One medium rare wagyu—”

“Don’t forget the fries,” James adds, unable to fight off the grin cleaving his face. This, he loves most—fucking with rich people. ‘Who do you want to cook your meat?’ he’s a genius for that one, an absolute innovative mastermind. Make him head of corporate next at this rate.

“You had to call me for this?” Regulus asks him as James watches the poor girl scurry off to the back, undoubtedly to ring in the order and gush about the perfect, rich, hot-looking Regulus Black on the phone by the restaurant’s hallway.

“It was an emergency. I get you the wrong order and you, I dunno, bite off my head like Miranda Priestly.”

“I don’t know a Miranda Priestly.”

“No? Shame. Would’ve loved her, a real feisty woman that one. She works in the fashion industry, though.”

“Potter.”

James tries not to bark out a laugh. He can’t help it, Regulus is just too easy. “Yeah, I’ll get you your overtly expensive A3-grade cut of meat that could pay for my weekly rent. Didn’t take you for the type of man to get burgers, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m asking employees of a lower tax bracket to pick them up for me.”

Okay, that’s kind of funny. Regulus Black can be fucking funny if he wants to, he just rarely chooses to. James barely masks his snort at it. “Got me there, boss.”

“Get a cab back to the office. And stop calling me boss.”

“My bad, Sir,” James drawls, knowing that Regulus reacts particularly well to this specific formality. 

A second of silence that stretches on for a little too long. James clears his throat, wondering if the line cut off. “Regu—”

“See you soon, Potter,” Regulus speaks, faster than usual, almost like he’s flustered, and with a strange pitch to his words before he hangs up.

[mizukisakakibarastylist]

[bluntspear]

Don’t be a square! 1x1 may feel a little on the obsolete side, but it very well still has its merits in the social media content space!

This and more is available in “The Social Media Creative Creature: An Introductory Guide to Social Media Video Content Creation for Brands”. The ebook is now available on https://bluntspear.com/shop and all major ebook providers!

APPLE BOOKS: http://books.apple.com/us/book/id6502885528

KINDLE: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0D56K3TL3

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#TheSocialMediaCreativeCreature #SocialMediaCreativeCreature #brandvideo #contentcreation #socialmedia #socialmediamanager #videocontent #tiktok #youtube #instagram #influencer #square #composition #1x1

[melrosing]

A mega famous pop star built her whole brand around fake twitter authenticity and then got mad when her marks fell for it? Lol, lmao even

man no one had even heard of Chappell Roan till like spring this year, I went to see her London in summer 2023 and there were only a few hundred ppl there. it was a nice and normal experience where she seemed very comfortable with the scale and happy with the pace of her career. and yet in 2024 everything has all happened extremely quickly, too fast for her to transform her outlook, nm her social strategy, to account for new levels of attention. I completely get her feeling alarmed and intimidated and like she needs to re establish her boundaries.

and also Chappell Roan is literally a drag persona, that already speaks to the fact that she wants a degree of separation between her personal and her art, and she always said as much in interviews. it should be clear to audiences that just because she has been known to post more personal content, that doesn’t mean she’s inviting them into her personal life. that stuff was posted on her terms. she still gets to draw the lines and no one else gets to question where she places them when it concerns her privacy and personhood

[seeingivy]

the sound of the applause

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: pain pre cursor.

an: songs mentioned - london boy by taylor swift, golden hour by jvke, girlfriend by avril lavigne. anyways. this chapter tame af. we are starting our demonic era. and no, you are not getting an eren pov until I say so. and I have covid so I am feeling extra evil and already writing the next one.

previous part linked here

--

You’re twelve years old the first time that you feel it. 

You have hippies to thank for the entire ordeal. In your small, small town in Canada, there’s very little tension or importance on the arts. Singing, dancing, acting - like many places around the world - fall short to the highs and lows that come with sports. 

Your middle school is no exception. A school that can barely spare money to fund a dying arts department, that begrudgingly offers one generalized art class that covers the basics of painting. Except when the hippy dippy parents in town petition, file a complaint with the mayor, they’re sequestered to include arts in all sectors that sports are included in. 

A law that opens doors insanely. And creates the opportunity that exposes you to it. The singer showcase at the football pep rally. 

And if you have to, you guess you have to thank food poisoning as well. Because Paulina, the original girl who was supposed to sing, was missing from first period that morning and you were all too quick to offer to take her spot. 

They give you that pitchy, old black microphone and let you sing your heart out to one of your favorite old songs, At Last by Etta James. And when you open your eyes, the recollection of the performance is wiped from your mind seconds after you finish, and there’s only one thing you remember. It rings so hard, the sound so loud in your eardrums that it’s all you feel. The rush of the blood, the eyes staring back at you, and your cheeks burning. 

When you think back, long and hard, that’s the first time it happens. The first time you feel it. It sits with you, that resounding pressure, that digs on you to give in. The need, the want, the infatuation with the rush you’re feeling. 

And the obsession with the sound of the applause.

--

“Y/N. Wake up.” 

You aggressively push your forehead into the plush of your pillow, creating a nice symphony of groaning songs in response to Danny, who is interrupting your beauty sleep. 

“How long has it been?” you murmur into the pillow, the stinging in your head and the fatigue sitting in your body telling you it couldn’t have even been an hour.

“An hour. But I just realized, the bridge didn’t come out right when I was mixing so you have to record it again.” 

“Can you come back in like three years? When I have the energy?” you groan. 

“Y/N. I’ll see you in five down there.” he definitively states, shuffling out of your room. 

Against every fiber of your being, you pull yourself out of the bed and drag yourself down to the studio, making it a point to glare at him as you re-record the bridge of the song you wrote yesterday. You give it a few tries, messing with the octaves and inflections, until you get a shining thumbs up, and wrap yourself into the blanket left on the couch. 

“You write anything new?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You hold out your green book to Danny, opening it to the page marked, at which your producer is already wrinkling his nose. He hasn’t even read the lyrics yet, but you’re sure the title - Cry - is already setting him off. 

“You didn’t even read it yet.” you respond, frowning. 

“I don’t have to read it to know it’s brilliant. But you were there in that meeting last week and you know this isn’t what we can push out.” he responds, turning back to his soundboard, half-pulling his headphones back onto his ear. 

“Danny. I-I just haven’t been able to write songs like that lately. This is what’s coming out.” 

After nearly a year of writing music and touring, Danny and Sareen have leaned heavily into your Lover Girl branding. An affectionate term used by your fans, but now the entirety of the breadth that you work with. You’re widely known for the lovey dovey, sweet songs you write so when anything that falls outside of that mold, it isn’t stuff Danny and Sareen appreciate. 

But you haven’t been able to write any of that lately. Which only makes that resoundling, crackling, heavy pressure in your head worse. Like you’re defective.

He turns around in his swivel chair, taking the little bound book you’re holding out for him, as he starts flipping through the pages. The worn down book you were gifted on your birthday years ago is filled with every mess of lyrics you’ve written, though none of them are meeting the game plan that was set weeks ago. 

That announcement sent everyone on your team into a frenzy, which was so far from your initial reaction. 

First of all, it was a rumor. That you were one leg away from being a triple threat. Second, if it’s true, you’re ecstatic. Enthralled and honored and every feeling in between. That you were even in the consideration for being a triple threat, let alone a few feet away from it.  

No one else on your team saw it that way. Your producer, Danny, saw this as a sign that you need to be making more music and faster. The songs you make take you weeks to write at this point, no thanks to the perfectionism that comes with writing the lyrics and working out the sound. He’s set a goal for you - to write one song everyday. It makes it - that impending doom in your head - ten pounds heavier.

Your manager, Sareen, is no better. She only took this as a sign that you need to start being more vigilant. A hard-assed woman in her forties, Sareen is all about work ethic. That staying determined is the only way that you will get through this. And she’s extremely blunt when she tells you so. 

Stars don’t take breaks. If you want it that badly, you have to work harder. There’s six thousand things working against you, take it as a note that you need to be running faster. That you aren’t trying hard enough. Those are equivalent to dumbbells for that rock on your head, that you’re sure is responsible for pinching all your nerves. 

And it’s a matter of proving yourself. To Sareen, Danny, Eren, and everyone who watches you. 

You appreciate the push. It’s extremely draining, but worth it when your song releases are so anticipated that you’re selling millions of copies before the song comes out. Have sold out stadium tours, and are shortlisted for awards nearly every time you do something. 

You wake up. Get ready for the show. Memorize lines in between shows, film when you don’t have shows. Write songs on flights, produce through voice memos since you’re hardly in one place at a time. 

And when you think about it all, finally being a triple threat, finally getting to hear Eren say that he told you so like you said that first night on set together, it’ll all be worth it. It’ll be over. 

You can stop running. You can stroll, swim, make the music you like. So you oblige. This is part of the process, you just have to push through. There’s an end goal in sight. And being near Eren is a part of it. 

“Have you ever thought about writing a song about…Ricky James?” Danny asks, swinging around in his chair as he smiles at you. 

You wrinkle your nose as you throw the closest thing, an empty CD case, at Danny as he laughs back. 

“Ew, Danny. That’s so not a thing.” 

Ricky James, an infinite, insurmountable amount of talent, was your co-star on your last movie, Little Women. A British singer-songwriter, who virtually blew up over night. 

He was nice - definitely the charismatic, flirty type of co-star. You’re positive half of it is the accent. After the two of you started doing press for Little Women, everyone was swooning over the two of you together. At how you guys had a handshake, did your famous kiss scene in one take, and how in almost every interview, he made it a point to joke that he was in love with you. 

You get it. It works well for the press, gets people talking about the movie. But you could never like a guy like Ricky James. Or anyone who wasn’t Eren, for that matter. 

“I know it’s not a thing. You’re all goo goo ga ga over loverboy. But it’s the same thing that we did for Little Women. He used the fact that people like to speculate to his advantage. It wouldn’t hurt to do the same.” Danny responds, shrugging. 

“I already do use that to my advantage. It’s no secret that I earned my whole Lover Girl branding from writing love songs about Eren.” 

“Yeah, but you know how it’s been for Eren lately. Maybe it’s not the best thing that your name is attached to him anymore? For both of you?” Danny states. 

Eren’s had a rough go of it lately. After Satellite Port failed and the joke they made at the awards show last year, he’s all but resigned into what you call hiding. He said that he’s just busy, focusing on landing new roles and getting more credits under his belt. You know that he recently signed a deal with Scott Clarkson to film five movies with his studio, which is promising. 

But you know Eren too well. He’s retreating, hiding in all senses of the word. From you too. The texts he used to send you - good luck before every show, a good morning even though you were on different sides of the world - have ceased all together. And the few seconds you do catch him, he seems worlds away. 

And it’s not just you who has caught onto it. The last time you saw Historia, when she came to watch your show, she mentioned that she was concerned about him, that she thinks he’s being a little bit self destructive by working with Stone Studios. That Scott Clarkson is not a good idea. 

Granted, Scott Clarkson is buddy buddy with John. You know that’s a touchy subject for her and made it a point to bring it up to Eren. To see if he was okay. But you were flying out for a tour and forgot to. And then he started showing up in the press again, hanging out with the cast he’s been working with, so you figured it was fine. That he’s going out again, smiling in photos. 

“That-that’s not true. He’s on the come up - he’s going to be the lead in the Gatsby remake that Stone Studios is doing. I’m sure he’ll get an award for it.” 

“There’s no need to get defensive. I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to expand your horizons. Triple threats are awarded for being versatile, not sticking with what’s easy. Maybe you just need to push the boundary of what you think you can do.” he says, giving your forehead a tap.  

“It kind of feels like cheating to write a song about someone that’s not him.” you murmur, looking down at the pages in your hand. Eren’s handwriting is scribbled onto the invisible string page. Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven. 

“You know, Sareen’s not too keen about this relationship. And I know that Eren’s team isn’t either.” Danny states. 

“Who are they to tell us who we can date?” 

“It’s not about who you can date. It-it’s about the image. Tying your name to his doesn’t exactly always work in your favor, Y/N. There’s no loyalty in an industry like this. And for Eren’s case, you’ve never really helped him in that sense. When you stand together, with the success you’ve had, all they see is a failure in Eren, when he’s really not even that bad.” 

“People’s comparisons aren’t my fault. And Eren’s doing fine, he-he’s okay.” 

“Now, he is. But a few months ago, it was your name next to his that was dragging him down. If it comes down to triple threats and it’s between you and him, are you telling me that you would really pick him over you?” 

Yes. One thousand times, yes. Though you know that’s not the answer Danny wants. 

“You have to be more selfish, Y/N. And maybe that’s selfless for Eren's sake too. There isn’t room for the both of you, right now. I know you love him, but Sareen has a point. Is working this hard worth it if you don’t get what you want out of it? You and Eren have all the time in the world to be together, just focus on your career before him.” 

You frown, staring at the wrinkles pressed up against his forehead. 

“You can have what you want - have your cake and eat it too, write all these corny love songs about him after you make it. Stop running when you’re actually there, kid.” 

You look down at the pages, the thoughts floating through your mind, as the lyrics start spilling out. For your first song that’s not about Eren. 

London Boy. 

--

You try to make a point to call Eren before releases. Key word, try. 

But it doesn’t happen that way. Because Eren’s in Los Angeles and you’re in Tokyo and the time difference messes the two of you up so bad that when they surprise drop London Boy, you don’t get to warn Eren beforehand. 

And when he texts you about it, you can feel the guilt creeping into your chest. Because you know he’s too nice to say what he actually thinks about it. If it were you, you’d wring Eren’s neck out for writing a song like this about his co-star he’s rumored to be dating. But Eren is Eren and he would never. 

eren: “he likes my american smile?” babe, you’re canadian. 

eren: i like the song. really. 

you: i have dual citizenship. 

you: eren. i’m so so sorry. i meant to tell you before but the time differences, we just kept missing each other. you know i don’t mean any of it, right? 

you: it’s just a marketing thing danny and sareen planned. the song will be a hit if people are speculating who it’s about and stuff. 

eren: i figured. you don’t have to explain yourself to me!!!! 

eren: you’re a pop princess <3

eren: and currently number one on the billboard hot 100 for the fourth time in a row!!! 

You nearly throw your phone across the room at the notifications, the frustration building so hard that it’s all pouring out of your head. You can see the stack of gifts at the front of the room - candies from Falco and Colt, as well as Marco, Historia, and Reiner - for the release.

And it’s moments like this, when you’ve been running so fast and pushing so hard, that you resort to one of your worst tendencies. Because the only thing that helps you when you feel like this is being a masochist. Feeling bad only makes you want to feel worse. Like you deserve it. 

So you inflict it on yourself. By reading what people say about you online. 

You reach back for your phone - ignoring the messages from Armin, Bertholdt, and Levi - as you scroll to Twitter, hiding the light of the phone under your sheets as you look through the app. 

You look at the trending tab. Y/N L/N, London Boy, Ricky James, Eren Jaeger, and love is dead are trending. 

You press your bolded name and swipe to the recents tab, scrolling through every tweet, each one categorizing, sticking in your mind as you scroll. A mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

That you’re pretty. That you’re ugly. That you have no personality, that you write mediocre songs, that you’re the best actress from Attack on Titan. That you’re lucky for bagging Ricky James and Eren, that you’re too good for Eren, that you’re horrible for writing the song. 

You place the phone flat on the sheets, the absence of light making your eyes sting, as the tears string out of your eyes. 

You want to make your cake and eat it too. 

But is it even worth it if this is how you have to get there? 

--

You stick your hand out, swinging it in the air with Ricky as you do your handshake, and plop onto the couch. Danny and Sareen called a meeting with Ricky’s team before you guys went to the wrap party for The Proposal, which is the only thing on your calendar that you were actually looking forward to this month. 

Because Annie and Armin are the leads and because you know Levi and Hange are going to be there. 

“This is Michael and Nancy. They’re my talent managers.” Ricky states, pointing out the two people across from you. 

“Sareen and Danny. Sareen’s my manager and Danny’s my producer.” 

“Is he behind the genius of London Boy?” Ricky asks, smirking at you. 

“Shut up. London Boy isn’t about you, Ricky.” 

“Oh, shut up. I know I’m your muse.” 

The line sits in your stomach wrong, because all you can think about is Eren. Seventeen year old Eren, shimmering green eyes on that empty set when you wrote New Year’s Day. You shake your head as Danny turns to the two of you, a smile on his face. 

“We have an idea.” Danny states, a smile on his face. 

You and Ricky nod as Nancy and Sareen start laying out the plan, each consecutive word twisting horribly in your stomach. 

Surely they can’t be serious. 

“We think that the two of you should date, as a PR move.” Sareen states, handing over a folder to you. 

There’s dates listed out, public places where they want you and Ricky to meet at, and songs they want you to release about each other. All down to the slated releases, ideas for album covers, and interviews they want you to do. 

“This is part of Y/N’s triple threat campaign. I think putting in this whole ruse of a relationship and writing songs about it, especially if there’s some part of it that will be drama because of Eren and Lana, it’s even better.” 

“Lana?” you ask. 

“She’s Ricky’s old girlfriend. They aren’t dating anymore, which is something that we should capitalize on. For the both of you. This should get Ricky into the leagues for the Album of the Year award when he releases next year.” Nancy states, flipping through the pages. 

You look over at Ricky, ready to fully shut down the idea. But when you turn your head to him, he’s flipping through the pages, writing down his own ideas in the folder. 

“Ricky. You’re not actually considering this, are you?” you whisper. 

“You aren’t?” 

“I’m dating Eren. No, I’m not considering fake dating you for the press.” 

“Eren, who was seen on a date with Myka yesterday? Right.” he states bluntly, flipping through the pages. 

“That’s just tabloids, Ricky. Be serious.” 

“And so is this. Myka and Eren are in a movie together. You and I are musicians. You can do the same thing as him and I bet you he wouldn’t even care. And he shouldn’t, because your career comes first.” Ricky states, leaning forward on his knees to discuss more with Danny and Sareen. 

You flip through the folder again, each consecutive page filled with more and more details of how they want you and Ricky to pretend. And the last page has the words bolded, little stars around them. 

Y/N gets triple threat status! Ricky gets Album of the Year! 

“Y/N. Have your cake and eat it too.” Danny warns, a reminder of what you’re supposed to be prioritizing. 

“This is the time to run, Y/N. You’re almost there.” Sareen affirms, the two of them nodding as they look at you. 

And by the way five of them are staring at you, big eyes filled with anticipation as they wait for your response, you know you can’t say no. That insurmountable pressure - to please, to be successful, to be the best - wins out, every time.

Danny’s produced for three different hit pop stars. Sareen’s managed some of the biggest names in the industry. And you have no idea who Nancy and Michael even are, but if they’re working with Ricky, they’ve got to be in the big leagues. 

You put the folder down, giving all of them a nod, as they all erupt into cheers. Ricky leans forward to give you a kiss on the cheek, which you tell him to save for the cameras, as you take the folder and walk out. 

And figure out how you’re going to tell Eren. 

--

You head to the wrap party three hours later and any excitement you had about the event is immediately drained when you know that Eren’s going to be there and you have to talk to him about it. Break up with him. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around to find Armin and Annie, the two of them wrapping their arms around you as they press kisses to your cheeks. You try to stifle the literal tears that are making their way to your eyes at the sight of them, their blue eyes the same soft ones you’ve always known. 

“Annie. Armin. I’m so excited for the movie, I’m sure it’s going to be great.” you say, squeezing both of their hands. 

Two of your shyest friends still, they’re both blushing at the praise as Connie and Sasha walk up. You’re wrapping your arms around all of them, as everyone else - Reiner, Mikasa, and Jean - join you. 

“So Y/N. London Boy, huh?” Connie asks, smirking. 

“Did you guys know that Eren is from London?” Sasha says, sarcastically. 

“Oh, quit it. It’s just one of those PR things. The triple threat thing made them all go crazy.” you respond. 

“We respect the hustle, Y/N.” Connie states, mock saluting you with Jean. 

“There is no press better than you and Eren releasing Medicine and Dress on the same day.” Mikasa states, earning a bunch of laughter from the group. 

“Oh god. Don’t remind me. Whore move, from the both of you.” Reiner says, pinching your cheek. Connie mocks the ah ah ah, from Dress, which has you all laughing.

You smack his hand off as Marco slings his hand around your shoulders, squeezing hard and smiling at you so big, in earnest, that it makes your chest hurt. 

“Can you believe it? You’re so close to it, Y/N - I can feel it.” Marco says, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your cheek. 

You reach up to squish the plush of his cheek as Marco mimics your movements, the two of you smiling at each other. And then you feel two warm hands on your shoulder and turn around to see Eren, soft green eyes looking into yours. 

And it makes you burst into tears. Soft green eyes, albeit a little tired looking, and Eren’s hair all grown out. When did Eren grow his hair out to his Season Three length? The last time you saw him, it was so short. He looks the same. He feels far away. And that pressure in your head is resounding. 

“Yeesh.” Connie says at the sight of your spilling tears, earning quiet laughs from everyone. 

Eren brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping the wetness away, as he glares at Connie. 

“Connie.” Eren warns, the tone in his voice threatening. 

“Sorry. Just missed him, that’s all.” you respond, wiping the last of the wetness off your face as they all smile at you. 

“Man, every time I see one of you, you’re crying.” Hange says from behind you, the group of you turning your heads and immediately tackling them and Levi into hugs. Eren reaches for Hange first and you go for Levi, his stupid minty smell making your tears return. 

You look up at Levi, who's glaring at you, and can’t help but smile. 

“Levi. You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.” 

“I am happy to see you. But not when you’re crying in public. You two are going to give me an ulcer.” he states, frowning as he glares at Eren at your side. 

You look over at Eren, the end of what Hange said catching up with you. 

“You cried in front of them? About what, Eren?” you ask, voice soft. 

“Ah. Nothing.” Eren responds, cheeks lightly pink as he runs his hand through his hair. 

You both let go of Hange and Levi as Armin and Annie take to the makeshift stage, giving a little speech about their time on the film and how grateful they are for everyone in the room for supporting them. And as they do, Eren jabs his elbow into your side. 

“Ow. What gives?” you whisper. 

Eren places hand on his chest, feigning shock. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot our secret hand signals already?” he whispers. 

Jab in the side. Meaning, you need a second to talk, away from everyone. 

“As if.” you respond, giving a nod to his sign. 

He gives you a smile as you both turn your heads back to Annie and Armin, who are playing the trailer on the screen now. And when they finish, the resounding noise of the claps are the last thing you and Eren hear when you go out to the balcony, the cold air surrounding you both. 

You wrap your hands around your arms, which Eren picks up on too fast and suddenly he’s taking his coat off and wrapping it around you. Making a point to pull your hair out of the collar, hands focused on fixing your hair around your face. 

“Eren.” 

“Yes?” 

“I-” 

The words die on your tongue. Because here he is, the perfect green eyes you fell in love with staring at you in the lamplight of the dark, and you can’t say it. You can’t shatter his heart into pieces or be the one to let him go. 

When he’s one of the only things you’ve wanted.

“I know how you feel, Y/N. You don’t have to say it.” he whispers, hands tucking your hair behind your ears before letting go. 

You can feel the tears spilling out of your eyes as you frown at him, the look on his face so pained that it hurts. 

“I’m guessing they don’t want you to see me, at least not for right now?” Eren asks. 

You nod, aggressively wiping away the wetness on your cheeks as you reach for his hands, squeezing three times. You hate that he knows. That Danny and Sareen think he isn’t good enough for you. When you’ve always been the one who was never in the same league as him. 

That Eren was the one who defended you when you were there, but no one’s letting you do it for him. 

“I still love you, Eren. You-you know that?” 

“I know that.” he whispers, nodding. His eyes are focused on your hands, interlocked with his. He reaches in for your bicep, fingers tracing over the fish tattoo right above your elbow. 

“Fishbowl, Y/N. We’ll come back to each other when it’s time. Just don’t be a stranger.” he says. 

You nod, reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him as you nearly sob into his chest, his voice soothing your hiccuping, even though you’re the one who just smashed him into pieces. And when Eren wraps his hands around your cheeks, giving you one last lingering kiss, before walking away, you can’t help but sit there in the cold, his jacket wrapped around you and letting the tears bite on your skin. 

--

You close your phone, giving Ricky a glowing smile, as you both settle into your seats at the Institute Music Awards. The two of you officially went public earlier today, though you’re both still denying any rumors that you’re dating. 

“How does Ricky compare to Eren?” 

You try to hide your scoff as you answer, trying your best to stay neutral in your response to avoid becoming a headline the next day. 

“I’ll always have so much love for Eren. We grew up together and really came into this hand in hand and no one could ever really take that away. And there’s no bad blood between us, we’ll always be best friends.” you respond, giving them a polite smile as you walk away and swallow hard. 

You can see Eren twenty feet down, in a specially designed suit that he looks wonderful in, smiling for the cameras. He’s standing in between Hyla and Myka, since their film is premiering in a few days. 

“You look green, doll.” 

You turn around to find Sukuna, who you fake punch in the shoulder and glare at, before pulling him in for a hug. 

“You sure you’re not talking about yourself? That’s your girl down there.” 

“Jesus, Y/N. Don’t ever associate me with her again.” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh? Was it not you saying she wasn’t that bad when we were kids?” you tease, poking into the soft of his cheek. 

“Well, that was before I found everything out. I’d say a prayer for your boy over there, he’s about to get himself into a gnarly mess he won’t be able to get out of.” Sukuna responds, eyes focused on Eren and Hyla posing together a few feet down. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, linking your arm with his as the two of you walk down, past him. You make it a point to attempt to make eye contact with Eren, but he’s too focused on Hyla that he misses you all together. 

“I just mean…he’s about to get himself involved in things he shouldn’t. And you should stay far away.” Sukuna states, giving Ricky a polite smile as he joins you at your side. Sukuna gives you one last kiss on the cheek before Ricky links his arm with yours, dragging you to your seats. 

You both settle into the seats, giving Marco a big smile as he sits next to you. 

“Hey. Where’s Hisu? I saw her name card here earlier but it’s not here anymore.” you whisper, as the lights start dimming ahead. 

Marco winces, giving you an awkward smile as he puts his hand over yours and squeezes. 

“She doesn’t want to sit with Ricky. Or you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Just for today, Y/N. Because of the history and all that, you-you know that.” 

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging, as you give Marco a half-hearted smile, nodding. 

“No yeah. I get it. I’ll talk to her soon.” 

“Okay.” Marco responds, giving you a smile. 

You make it a point to do your best throughout the awards show, fake whispering in Ricky’s ears every time the camera is on you two, holding hands and comparing hand sizes, letting him tuck your hair behind your ear once and a while. 

And it’s all going great and peachy, until Hyla gets called on stage to perform. You crane your neck back to find Sukuna, giving him a warning glance as he rolls his eyes, making the motion that he’s choking himself. 

One of the most insane things about Hyla and Sukuna’s beef? The fact that they perform and write songs about each other, that are so insanely written, that they trend for weeks. 

You’re sure Hyla and Sukuna are what Danny and Sareen dream about in their free time. 

Hyla gets on stage, giving everyone a soft smile as a few of the girls join her on stage, adjusting their microphones. You can feel Ricky squeezing your hand hard, his jaw clenched. 

“You good?” 

“The lineup. Hyla, Myka, and Lana.” he responds, glaring at the three of them. 

You focus your eyes on the third girl, Lana, who is Ricky’s ex-girlfriend. The only reason he wants to fake date you. Apparently, the two of them broke up after you and Ricky started trending, her insecurities about the people’s words overruling any reassurance that Ricky could give her. 

“This is my new song, it’s called Girlfriend. I hope you all like it.” Hyla says, giving a smile as the upbeat music starts. 

Hey, hey, you, you  I don’t like your girlfriend  No way, no way I think you need a new one Hey, hey, you, you I could be your girlfriend

You lean back as you observe the visuals and the line of backup dancers supporting the three of them singing, their performance extremely upbeat and punk pop star that you can’t help but tap your feet to the beat of the song. 

That’s until they reach the bridge. When Hyla pulls one of the back-up dancers from the background to the front and Lana pulls Eren on stage, the two of them are seated on the makeshift chairs on the stage. Hyla’s singing around Eren, rolling her eyes at the back-up dancer. 

Who's wearing the exact outfit that you wear on your tour, a sparkly, billowing pink dress. And when you take her in properly, you realize that she’s supposed to be you. The same hairstyle, eye color, skin tone. You can feel your throat dry as you watch Eren’s cheeks tinted pink on stage as Hyla sings around him, the entire audience erupting into cheers. 

(Oh) In a second, you'll be wrapped around my finger  'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better There's no other, so when's it gonna sink in? She's so stupid, what the hell were you thinkin'?

You feel Marco’s hand on yours, squeezing hard, as you focus in on the performance, trying to ignore the fact that the big, black camera is shining on your face and that everyone in the room is looking at you. And that millions of people must be talking about it at home. You turn back to give Levi a look and he shakes his head, mouthing don’t cry which you halfheartedly nod in response too. 

Jean and Armin have switched seats with the two girls behind you, their hands on your shoulders, squeezing, as Eren and Hyla walk off stage, hand in hand past the back up dancer who’s supposed to be you - who's crying fake buckets of tears now. 

And when it’s all done and over, you skip the afterparties and let Mikasa drive you home. She tucks you into your sheets, making it a point to help you wipe all your makeup off and leave a bottle of water by your bed, you sink into your sheets and do it again. Let that overwhelming, embarrassing, deep rooted hatred sink in. 

And pull up Twitter. Read about how everyone hates you. Relive the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you yet. Stare at pictures of Eren and Hyla and ignore the resounding sound of the applause the two of them received.

--

next part linked here

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[musingsofasidechracter]

Image from Pinterest!

*Author’s Note! Please forgive any format issues, this is my first tumblr post literally ever! I decided that if I’m going to scour this site for all the things I love to read, I could contribute as well! Please enjoy the mess inside my head!*

Pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader

Content Warning: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, like two swear words, reader is insecure but the boys make it better!

Missing Piece 🧩

Selfish… That’s the only thing to call this feeling. Because how else does someone describe a feeling of longing when every dream you’ve had for yourself has come true. You were surrounded with love, on every side. Quite literally.

On your left was the calm to every storm life has thrown your way. Your peace, and the only thing you need after anything brings you even slightly down. Your Remus. Your head on his shoulder, one of his hands playing with yours in his lap, attention more or less on the book he was holding. You could feel a chuckle rumble through his chest every now and again, a clear sign he was enjoying the story that Sirius had picked for him.

Oh, Sirius… The man who makes you brave. Who has fought for everything this life has tried to take from him, and who has come out the other side stronger than ever. He makes you feel beautiful and seen. With a lazy smile, or a mischievous glint in his eye, or a rarely serious set of his jaw, he always knows exactly what you need in every moment. Like now, while you show no outward sign of distress, he somehow knows you need a gentle hand in your hair, calmly running his nails over your scalp, in a way he knows brings you immense comfort. He was doing it almost unconsciously, while talking with James about one thing or another.

And James… sunshine incarnate. Always with a smile on his face, his mouth built with a natural upturn. A wicked sense of humor and love to spare. He was so free with the love he gives. Never an hour going by without the words falling from his lips. Like if he didn’t say it enough, his essence would cease to exist. Love shining in his eyes for just about everyone he speaks to. Warmth radiating from him always, like the sun itself. The center of the group you’ve created with these men, pulling you all together. Even now, sitting on the floor in front of the three of you, you notice how your bodies all face him, without a single one of you meaning to do it.

With you in the middle, most people would feel like absolutely nothing could be better… so why, why did you feel so out of place. From the moment you met these three, they have made it clear they wanted you. From that first night out, in a random pub in London…

It was your first true night in your brand new home. You’d moved to London a full week ago, but that was filled with moving boxes, and paperwork, and trying to find the best place to buy all the necessities for your apar….flat… they call it a flat here. Today you opened the last of the boxes that had littered your home, and you felt that was reason enough to celebrate. You called the one person you know on this continent, your cousin, Catherine. She had convinced you to move like she had a year before, and she picked a pub close to you, The Black Dog. You should have known better though, ever the social butterfly, it wasn’t long before Catherine was pulled away by some man hoping to take her home, and you were left at the bar alone. You wouldn’t call yourself an introvert by any means, but a brand new city can be overwhelming enough, and you were content to take it all in rather than dive headfirst into the scene around you.

You ordered your drink, something strong and fruity and moments later it was delivered. It was somewhere between pink and red, in a tall glass, with oranges on the side and cherries sitting on top. You took your first sip, and let out a small noise of appreciation. It was a bit loud in the pub, so you were surprised when the man beside you noticed the sound you made. He turned toward you, smile beaming in a way that almost hurt to look at. You noted then, that this man was like the sun…little did you know how right you were.

”That good, love?” A chuckle fell off of his lips with his words, and you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face. Maybe it was the shots Catherine had convinced you to take before you left for your evening, or maybe it was the smile that was infectious on his face, or maybe it was the confidence you’d decided you had now that you were brave enough to move across the pond, but something inside you made you respond, “Wanna find out for yourself?”

You held out the drink for him to try. The man’s smile (somehow) widened, and his eyebrows shot overtop of the round glasses on his face. He leaned forward, just in your space, and took a sip from your straw. You noted the curly hair then, that sat messily on top of his head and the fact that whoever was sipping from your drink was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. He made a noise similar to the one you had made moments ago and a laugh tumbled out of the both of you. “Seems like it’s that good indeed!” You laugh again at his little joke, sticking your hand out for him and told him your name. “James!” he said in return, but rather than take your hand for a shake, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side for a hug. Warmth spread across your body, and for the first time since your plane landed you felt like your were truly home.

He pulled you across the crowded room, arm still around your shoulders as he lead you to a couch with two other men. The curly haired man at your side introduced you to Sirius, the long haired one with a cocky smirk on his face, whose arm was around the other man, who you were told was Remus.

“Like the werewolf story?” He seemed to pale at that, and had you had a bit less liquor in your system you would have noticed. “Like the story of Remus and Romulus! Well, I suppose it isn’t a true werewolf story, the babies were just raised by wolves…at least I think that’s how the story goes, and then they go on to found Rome, so your name is in good company” His shoulders relax at that, and later you would find out just why those words made him antsy around you at first. He chuckled, and stood to shake your hand. Sirius looked to James, a bemused expression on his face, “Where did you find this little dollie, Prongs?” Remus leans into James before he can reply and said just loud enough for the four of you to hear, “I don’t care where you found her, but I kinda want to keep her.” The boys chuckled at the blush that littered your cheeks, and your night went on filled with these three ridiculously attractive men, that you took no time at all to fall in love with.

You often remember that night. How deeply you fell for each of the three men you had met. Months later, as your friendship grew, and you were made aware that the three were all involved in a romantic relationship, they all came to you to express their love for you as well. They asked you to join their relationship and the rest, as they say, was history.

After a year of being together they shared with your their little secret of magic, stunning you into amazed silence as they used it to make your anniversary the most special thing. Later that night, as you sat in bed with them, basking in the glow of your night together, Remus was in tears as he shared with you his “furry little problem” as the boys would refer to it. You joked that you were in too deep at that point, so even if you had wanted to walk away (you hadn’t considered it for a second) you wouldn’t have been able to leave them. A week later they had asked you to move in with them. James and Sirius both came from money, lots of it you had gathered, and so the home they all shared was more than big enough. Catherine had joked with you that you had scored bigger than she ever could as she helped you to get settled into your new life with the men you loved so much.

Here you were a month later, and selfish was the only thing you felt that you could put into words. Because even though you were the happiest you had ever been, with three men to love you and a life that was more perfect than you could have imagined for yourself, you felt…wrong. Maybe this was just the honeymoon phase wearing off, but you couldn’t help but notice the cracks you felt forming around you. You couldn’t quite explain it, but you felt…other. Separate. You knew you were solidly a part of the group around you, but you felt still somehow on the outside. Like the last book in a series, written decades after the original trilogy. You hated feeling this way, and you hated more that you didn’t know how to fix it. You were on your own in your head with it though, wholly unwilling to bring it up to your lovers, afraid to point out what they seemed oblivious to. What if, once you pointed it out, they wouldn’t be able to ignore it any further. They’d realize how out of place you were with them, and it would be the beginning of the end for you and them.

“Dove, would you care to tell me why you’re crying?” Remus whispered in your ear. You hadn’t even noticed the tears falling from your eyes. “I know Pads and Prongs are droning on about nothing, but that’s no reason to be upset.”

Sirius and James looked up at this, hearing their names more than what else Remus had said. A slightly offended, “Hey” fell from James’s mouth before he caught onto the tear tracks coming down your face. He moved to his knees just in front of you and took your hands in his. Sirius straightened up and turned his whole body towards you, his full attention on you now, the hand that was just scratching your scalp now resting on the small of your back. Three sets of eyes looked at your face, while you were unable to meet any one of them.

“Doll, what the hell is going on?” Sirius’s tone was firm, edging on panic. Of the three of them, he was the most sensitive to negative emotions (thank you very much Walburga Black), and the curse fell from his lips, not out of anger, but agony at seeing one of his lovers anything less than happy. “You’ve been off for a few days, is it all coming out now?” Being that emotionally intelligent was the work of James and Remus over their many years together. While Sirius hated seeing a negative emotion, he was often the one to realize the root of it.

“I…” you didn’t know what to say to these men you loved so much, and instead of words, sobs ran out of your mouth without ever being told they could. The three all but suffocated you with their love. Remus pulled you to his lap and moved to the middle of the couch, making room for James to join you off the floor. Two more sets of arms wrapped around your body, and words you couldn’t quite make out surrounded you. Sweet nothings and words of encouragement, you were sure. Not an ounce of judgement could be felt in the room, and for that thought alone you cried for longer.

Once you were settled down, finally pulling your face out of the crook of Remus’s neck where you had found strength and comfort, you were finally able to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“Nothing to apologize for, love…” A hint of a smile hit your lips at the nickname for you that James had never quite dropped since first meeting you. “We’re just worried for you, but that’s no reason to say you’re sorry. Should… should WE be apologizing…?” That brought more tears to your eyes, though you were able to let them fall quietly this time. You hated that James jumped to something they might have done wrong, as if they could ever be less than perfect to you.

“No! Never, my love. You’ve all been so amazing to me, always…from that very first night. It’s just…” You couldn’t help but notice the way their shoulders relaxed at that, though their attention never wavered off of you. You knew then that you had to come clean. You couldn’t be the reason they felt they were anything less than perfect.

“You’re all so perfect for each other… and then there’s just me. I mean, you’ve all had years together, and you have so much history. Like all the way back to high school, history. And before that! You’ve known each other since you were eleven, and you’ve BEEN together since, what seventeen or eighteen? That’s more than a decade of falling into a rhythm together and then I show up and just… I don’t know why you needed me. I know you love me, don’t get me wrong. It would be impossible not to feel the love you all have. But I just feel like… a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit…”

The three were uncharacteristically quiet. They didn’t know what to say to let you know how wrong you were. After a full minute looking at you, hurting to see you hurt, it was no surprise that Remus was the one to speak first.

“Dove, can you please… give us an example? I don’t think we quite understand what you mean.” You thought about it. You needed them to see that it wasn’t their fault, that it was you that was wrong. You tried to remove your emotion from it, to use what you thought was logic about the situation.

“Okay…an example… Last week, when that black envelope showed up at the window, and none of you blinked at the fact that an owl was delivering mail at night . James didn’t hesitate to take it and throw it in the fireplace, while Remus walked straight to you, Sirius and just hugged you for a while. I still barely know what that was about. I just sat there wondering why the mood shifted in the room, and the three of you fell into this routine that I didn’t even know needed to happen.

Or every month, when Remus needs some taking care of. I know I can’t go out with the three of you, but when you got back from that night a couple weeks ago from wherever it is that you need to go, you fell into a routine I didn’t know how to join into, again. Sirius grabbed the weird bottles from the cabinet I can’t reach, and James got the first aid kit that Remus always keeps stocked and you went into the big bathroom and took care of what needed to be done. And then you all fell into bed together, and even when you pulled me into you, James, I felt like I had no right be there, and interrupt the way you were taking care of each other.

Or even when we all sleep together in that giant bed… You three had a way of crawling into bed and moulding yourselves around each other, and before it was a fun sleepover, but now that I live here, I’m just interrupting that every night. We have to think about who is next to who and who’s turn it is to be next to who and its just… I’m the difference. I’m the one who disrupts all those routines and the one who doesn’t get the inside jokes and the one who needs to be told how magic works… and I just…” Three sets of eyes met each other and, as if to prove your point, had a silent conversation without you.

“That’s just what I mean!” You stood up, unable to be in between them, cutting them off from each other for a second longer. Your hands dragged through your hair, and down your face as you tried to keep yourself calm while already missing the warmth of the three of them. “You all just had a full conversation and didn’t have to say a single word. I can’t do that with you at all, but you shouldn’t have to explain it to me after the fact…that’s not fair to you. I should just… get it.”

Sirius stood and took a step toward you. You wanted to step away, tell him to go back to the men on the couch, but if you were feeling selfish tonight, then you supposed you could be one more time before they decided you were right. He took your hand and pulled you into his chest, and his next words broke you.

“You’re right…” He felt your body tense, and heard the intake of air in your lungs and was quick to clarify his meaning. “Not about most of that, not about you not fitting, but about a couple of things. The lads and I do have history together. History that we can’t make go away, and no matter how much we might want to it’s history we can’t fit you into. We can’t help that my love… but that and your second right point go well together. We can have a conversation without words, but we’re always more than happy to pull you into that loop. And would you like to know what we were just thinking with one another?” You nodded your head from his chest and looked up at him. He turned to James, who had tears in his eyes at the sight before him, and came to take you into his own arms.

“Shortly after we graduated and we were in our very first flat together,” he said in between kisses to your hairline, “Remus all but had a panic attack. It was terribly tough to see him suffer through some kind of emotion Sirius and I couldn’t understand. He himself found it hard to put into words what he was so upset about. We got him calmed down and when he was finally able to put his feelings into words, the only word he could think of was incomplete.”

You looked to Remus, a question written all over your face and he stood and joined you. You were passed into his arms this time and he pulled you into the crook of his neck again. He started swaying to some music only he could hear, and he spoke low and calm, with some other emotion lacing his voice. “I just felt that we weren’t done yet… the three of us. I couldn’t explain it, and I felt like a right idiot for even thinking it. I was surround by two loves of my life, who gave me every bit of themselves, who I hoped to share every part of myself with, and I felt that, for some reason, part of my heart was still missing. But because, like you said, we’re all so in sync with each other, the moment I could say what was on my mind, they told me they’d been feeling it too.” Sirius wrapped his arm around the both of you, joining you in your sway. He spoke barely above a whisper.

“There is an area of magic called Divination, and witches and wizards hold varying degrees of belief in it, but it looks to the future. A GOOD Seer can tell you what hasn’t happened yet . So James here, decided to call one up. He needed to know if anything was meant to happen that could take this feeling from us away. He felt it too, but he couldn’t stand to see Remus so out of sorts over something we weren’t sure was meant for us. But he went and found something out, that he kept a secret for a long, long time.”

James himself spoke up at this, a cheery, prideful tone to his voice, “Hardest thing I had EVER done, keeping that from these two! But finally the time came for me to spill, on none other than the night I saw a pretty girl in a bar making the sweetest, happiest noises at a drink in her hand. The Seer confirmed that something was missing in our lives. That three was never enough for our group, and that the love we had to spare for each other, wasn’t spare love at all. It was meant for someone else. She described to me… so perfectly now actually. Hang on…”

He left for his office, a room you rarely go in for lack of understanding anything held there. Remus moved you back to the couch, but it was Sirius who claimed you for his lap. He whispered low in your ear, “You’re going to love this next part, dollie…” You smiled a him, a proper one this time. You had a feeling you knew what the rest of this story held but you waited to hear for yourself. James returned moments later and handed you a worn piece of paper. You could tell it had been folded and unfolded many times. He continued this story holding the paper in your hand until he was ready to let you open it.

“The Seer described, and even sketched for me, the thing that was missing from us. I didn’t understand it at all at the time, but all was clear to me that night we met. I felt so drawn to you, from that first little noise you made and the second I saw you, my breath was stolen. I had to drag you over to meet the others, I had to make sure they were as drawn to you as I was. And then that night, after we were home, with the most ridiculous happy tears flowing, I told them what I had done years before and I showed them what you have in your hand…” He let your hands go, and signaled you to open the folded paper. You looked to the three of them, making eye contact with each of them, and in their eyes you saw the same thing: love, admiration, and pure joy. When you looked to the picture in your hands a very different set of tears sprung from your eyes.

A white snake wrapped around a black crescent moon, with stars scattered around it. To anyone else this would have meant absolutely nothing, but to you it shifted the world on its axis. You had gotten this exact image tattooed just under the bend of your elbow during the last week in your home town. Catherine had convinced you to get it, while she had its sister marked on her own arm. A tattoo you had gotten on a whim, to commemorate the changes you hoped to come in your future. You breath caught, and you were unable to form words. It was Sirius who finished the story for you.

“After that night at the pub, we talked about you the whole way home. We all decided we were just taken with you. Your wit, your sense of humor, how wicked smart you are, how well you were able to take our shit and throw it right back at us. We all knew life wasn’t going to be the same any more, and we were all so excited for the change the winds were bringing. And when we heard what James had done and saw the picture of that tattoo we’d spent minuets discussing with you, everything clicked for us. We were half in love with you already, and that just confirmed that we were always meant to have you. So that… that is what you mean. You mean completion for us. Wholeness. We were never done, not until you breezed into our lives. You were the missing piece of us, and you fit so, so right. The rest of it will come with time. We’ll teach you how to help Moony when we get back from the full moon. I’ll explain all the black envelopes I can’t look at to you. We’ll make more inside jokes that anyone but the four of us would never have a prayer of understanding. The magic will become mundane for you one day too. And for heavens sake, the only reason there is a debate on whose turn it is to sleep next to who, is because we’re all so jealous when we’re the one who can’t be right next to you, and Remus says we aren’t allowed to just dog pile on top of you because we’ll ‘suffocate’ you.” You laughed at that, a real one this time.

You looked around at the boys, and noticed how well they had formed around you. For perhaps the first time, you saw it too, how well the four of you fit together. Sirius was right, with time you would have a rich history with them as well. One you would be able to look back on with joy and love in your heart. You met their eyes again, and leaned in to kiss each of them one at a time.

“Thank you for loving me so much. I could never have imagined myself with three different people to love, but now that I have it I couldn’t imagine loving anyone else, and I couldn’t imagine a single day without the three of you to make it better. Thank you for telling me that story. I needed it, my loves. I’m sorry I was feeling some type of way. I really can’t remember why now…”

“It’s okay, dollie, sometimes I cry just for the attention too,” Sirius said with a smirk.