#i'm going to launch him into the sun

[mcaelius]

how was this man real. how in the hell was this the guy who kickstarted the roman empire. literal shivering pathetic wet cat princeps.

[crystallizsch]

no one asked for jade but i might as well complete the octatrio

[flowergirl1243]

soft launch season - [part three]

SUMMARY: when Lando Norris' notorious party boy reputation may be too far out of control to save, you step in to save his image (and maybe his heart).

PAIRING: lando norris x fem!reader

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

ACT 3: THE DEBUT

Liked by mclaren, ynusername and others lando for a while now 🤍

user12 EVERYONE STAY CALM

user13 this is not a drill

user14 she's so pretty i actually need to go lay down

user15 soft era unlocked

Liked by lando and others ynusername this one's alright i guess

user16 I CAN'T DO THIS TODAY

user17 oh my days they look like soulmates

user18 he's in love look at his face

Imola was beautiful in that old, solemn way that most people didn’t notice.

He did. Maybe because he wasn’t looking for speed, not right now. Not this morning.

It was quiet. Just past dawn. Pale sun bleeding into the edges of the curtains. The hotel walls were too white, too clean, the room too still. It should’ve felt calm. It didn’t.

It felt like absence.

He hadn’t heard from her in days.

No late-night voice notes. No sarcastic texts. No offhanded “don’t be a muppet today” before FP1, the phrase she'd picked up from being around him. Nothing.

And it shouldn’t have mattered. Not really. This whole thing, whatever it was, had never come with promises. No labels. No neediness. No lines drawn in sharpie. But still, he woke up thinking about her. Every damn morning.

He rolled over, reached for his phone.

Still nothing.

He stared at the screen too long, hoping a notification would bloom across it. Her name. Anything. The silence mocked him.

He thought of her in that cardigan she always wore when she was tired. Thought of the way her hair fell into her face when she was pretending not to care. Thought of how, when she laughed, really laughed, she looked at him like she didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

He’d been looking for her all weekend. Between sessions. On the fringes of the paddock. In crowds where she never said she’d be. His eyes kept catching on shadows. His heart kept pulling in the direction she wasn’t.

She wasn’t here.

And he felt it like a bruise under the skin, something deep and unhealed. He missed her in the kind of way that made his throat hurt. Not for the drama of it. But for the stupid, quiet truth:

He wanted her here.

Wanted to turn around after the briefing and see her waiting with that look, the one that said, “You’re not as untouchable as you think you are.”

Wanted her legs curled up on his hotel bed, rolling her eyes while he ranted about understeer.

Wanted her voice in his ear before the race, low and even and not impressed by podiums.

Just…wanted her.

Not in a crowd. Not on Instagram. Not beside him for a camera flash.

Just her. Alone. Real. Close enough to touch.

But Imola was still. And cold. And empty.

And she wasn’t here.

1 voicemail from lan 🤍 [0:54]

"Baby...[laughs] God, I miss you. I don't even know what I'm doing, I just... [pause] We went out after the race, and I'm like properly gone now. Probably won't remember this when I wake up. [laughs] I keep checking my phone every ten minutes and hoping it's you. [pause] It's not. [pause] I don’t care about the race. I don’t care about the noise. I just want you. I want your voice. I want your hands on my face telling me to breathe. I want you next to me. [sighs] Sorry, I just miss you."

He’s halfway through opening another drink he doesn’t need when his phone lights up.

Her name.

His heart stutters like he’s gone over a curb too hard.

He fumbles to answer.

“Hello?”

She’s quiet for a second. Then: “You called.”

“Twice,” he admits. “And I left that voicemail. Which you should, by the way, delete. Immediately.”

She breathes a small laugh, but it’s not amused. It’s soft. Careful.

“You’re drunk.”

“Absolutely,” he says, without hesitation. “Properly gone.”

Another pause. He hears her shift. Maybe she’s lying down. Maybe her lamp’s still on. He imagines her in bed, phone tucked between her cheek and shoulder, wearing one of those big T-shirts she always steals from people and never gives back.

“You okay?” she asks, finally.

“No.”

He hears her exhale, not surprised, but something like quiet understanding.

“I miss you,” he says. Blunt. Honest. “I don’t really know what to do with that.”

She doesn’t respond right away.

“I thought we agreed this wasn’t real,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice softer now. “But then I started missing someone I was never supposed to miss.”

She’s quiet on the other end.

Not cold. Not cruel. Just…holding the silence like she doesn’t trust what might spill out if she speaks too soon.

Lando lays back, one arm over his eyes. His chest feels too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you.”

“I know.”

And for a moment they just sit there, breathing, holding a thread neither of them knows how to untangle.

He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. “God.”

“Don’t take it back.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t take it back. You meant it.”

He swallows hard. The room is spinning a little. But he knows what she just said. He knows.

“You miss me?” he asks, because he needs to hear it. Needs to know he isn’t the only one unraveling.

“Yeah,” she says. So quietly it’s almost a breath. “Too much.”

He closes his eyes. Everything inside him quiets for the first time in weeks.

“You gonna stay on the phone with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

Liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and others lando back home

user19 he's in love. don't look at me

user20 i am not normal about them and i never will be

user21 she's his screensaver. i know it.

He had never been good with endings. Or beginnings, really. But standing here now, outside the small cafe nestled between sun-bleached stone buildings, the hum of Monaco fading into the background, he felt like he was staring down both.

His hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, fingers curling around the worn fabric like it was the only thing grounding him. The late afternoon light cast long shadows across the narrow street, and somewhere in the distance, a boat horn sounded, low and lazy.

She was already here, waiting, just like he knew she would be. He saw her before she looked up, sitting on the edge of the café’s tiny terrace, shoulders hunched slightly, hair loose and tangled from the breeze. The sight of her stopped his breath, like the world had hit pause.

Her eyes flicked up as he stepped closer, and for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid sat between them like a third presence.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter than he expected.

She didn’t answer right away. Just watched him, those eyes steady and unreadable. Then, with a tilt of her head, a small, almost fragile smile curved her lips.

“Wasn't sure if you'd show,” she said softly.

He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure if I could.”

“Why?” Her voice was low, but carried a softness he hadn’t heard before, like she knew exactly what was running through his head.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I wasn’t sure I could face you. Not after the call. Can't hide behind my phone or the alcohol, here.”

She didn’t say anything. Just shifted a little closer on the bench, the space between them still stubbornly wide.

The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that carried all the things they hadn’t been brave enough to say.

He wanted to reach out, to close that space, but his body stayed still, frozen by everything tangled inside him.

Then, almost without thinking, his fingers brushed against hers. A light, tentative touch that felt electric and terrifying all at once.

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her hand rest lightly against his, thumb tracing a slow, careful line over his skin.

“I missed you,” he said finally, voice breaking the quiet like a fragile thread. “More than I thought I would.”

Her gaze dropped for a second, as if she was trying to hide the way her heart might be pounding just as hard.

“Me too,” she whispered.

The confession hung between them, too fragile to hold for long.

He cleared his throat, forcing air back into his lungs. “So…what now?”

She looked up then, eyes shining with a mixture of something like hope and fear. “I don’t know.”

He let out a breath, the tension coiling tighter in his chest. “Neither do I.”

They sat side by side, fingers still lightly entwined, the golden light softening everything — the hard edges of their doubts, the sharp sting of the distance they’d carried for too long.

He wanted to say more, to promise something real, but the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he just stayed there, letting the quiet speak for them both.

Because maybe, after all the miles and all the silence, this was the start.

As promised, my loves, here is the third part of Soft Launch Season. I hope it is up to your standards so far and if you have any thoughts, you can always let me know!! My taglist is open if you'd like to join, as well!!

taglist

@sol3chu, @charlesgirl16, @motorsp0rt, @imdyinghelpplease, @vampgege

[5sospenguinqueen]

Espresso | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Despite going back to his relationship with Kelly, Max can’t stop thinking about you. Every night. It certainly doesn’t help that you keep cropping up in the McLaren garage.

Warnings: softcore angst? Swearing. A pining man 

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part 

Facelaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

this will end up having 4 parts total. they're planned but not fully written

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln what do you do when you get woken up at 2am and can’t get back to sleep? write a song espresso is out now 

16,331 comments

user1 is this what the kids call a soft launch? is she seeing someone?

user2 okay but who is the guy reflected in her sunglasses? a new beau perhaps?

alexandrasaintmleux i don’t know what’s hotter. the song or the body 

→ francisca.cgomes the men in the video

→ pierregasly i can see this

user3 at least we know this new guy is dicking her down good 

user4 why do i feel like this is about max?

→ user5 why tf would it be about max? it’s a fun song about fucking all night

→ user4 because it feels teasing. like, he’s with someone else but can’t stop thinking about yn

→ user6 i’m with user4. maybe she’s trying to throw us off?

landonorris the sun looks bright in that pic

→ user7 uh oh. norizz is alive and well everyone 

user8 does this mean max keeps contacting her? 

user9 max is 100% messaging her at 1am saying how he misses her 

user10 i need a camera in max and kelly’s house when they first heard this 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by redbullracing, kellypiquet and others

yn_ln i know i mountain dew it for ya (although, most of these had vodka) tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes

17,094 comments

user11 she looks like a hot librarian

→ user12 i‘d let her help me with my homework

user13 red bull admin is a canon yn stan

francisca.cgomes hot girls do bottomless brunch

→ alexandrasaintmleux maybe they shouldn’t. i still can’t find my left shoe

→ yn_ln i have it

user14 i bet the debrief was piping hot 

→ user15 oh to be in a gossip sesh with yn, kika and alex 

charles_leclerc stay away from my girlfriend. she came home drunk ranting about how much she loved you and the colour of your hair 

→ pierregasly and mine wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty your eyes are and how good you smell

→ yn_ln i have unbelievable rizz 

user16 i’d let yn step on me

→ yn_ln and i won’t even charge you 

user17 max fumbled so bad 

landonorris who’s that cute blonde?

→ yn_ln oscar isn’t in this post??

→ user18 i don’t think he was talking about oscar, hun

→ yn_ln why would he publicly embarrass his boyfriend like this?

→ oscarpiastri i hate you 

f1wags just posted

liked by verstappencom, shortnsweet and others

f1wags not even 6 weeks after reconciling, max verstappen and kelly piquet were caught arguing 

3,330 comments

user1 can they just stay broken up this time??

→ user2 i love max but i’m fed up now 

user3 yet you’ve not got any pics of it? why all the old lovey dovey pics of them

→ user4 the pics are all over twitter. i think f1wags chose not to post them because max looks like he’s trying not to cry in them, and f1wags has always been nice towards the drivers

user5 why is no one talking about the fact that both verstappencom and shortnsweet liked this??? 

→ user6 the fact that their teams are so desperate for them to be together that they’re publicly rooting for kelly’s demise 

user7 i’ve seen the clip on twitter and i wanna know why she’s yelling at him so aggressively 

→ user8 i bet it’s cause he’s been all up in yn’s likes 

→ user9 yeah but so is she 

→ user10 you’d think their relationship would be strengthened by their shared obsession with yn 

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mclaren just posted

liked by lilymhe, flavy.barla and others

mclaren papaya party it wouldn’t be a maiden win celebration without some celebs. guess who got to hear espresso live 

7,814 comments

yn_ln why is lando’s hand like that? he’s not a ken doll 

→ landonorris i’m the barbie. you’re the ken

→ yn_ln you wish you were the barbie. you don’t have barbie energy

→ oscarpiastri i’m confused

→ yn_ln you’re an alan 

→ landonorris you take that back! 

→ user11 does this mean lando and yn saw barbie together?

→ oscarpiastri yes and they left me back at the mtc 

user12 not all the wags liking a mclaren post 

→ user13 it’s the power of yn

user14 lando and yn’s interactions give me life 

user15 i love how mclaren’s engagement has increased since yn started commenting on everything

→ user16 they’ve become more enjoyable since she became a fan 

user17 okay but she looks so good in orange

→ redbullracing except she was meant to be in navy

user18 her and lando make such a cute couple

→ landonorris ew no

→ yn_ln ew no. besides, you guys told me she was with oscar. i can’t break that up

→ oscarpiastri @/mclaren can we ban her from the garage?

→ lilyzneimer no! 

→ mclaren no! 

→ landonorris @/yn_ln i know i said no but why did you say no?

user19 guys, max liked and unliked this 

user20 mv1 fans, i think we’ve lost her 

landonorris posted a new story

yn_ln replied still serving cunt though 

maxverstappen1 replied is that yn?

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requests open

coming next; oscar piastri. rivals to teammates to more

tell my why i lowkey feel bad posting this after the pregnancy announcement. i mean, i still don’t like kelly but i wish them every happiness for a safe and healthy delivery.

there will be NO lando x yn in the next two parts 

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @omgsuperstarg @seonghwaexile @alejandrablacklupin @nina-or-anna-or-nora @shelbyteller @raynetargaryan2 @astroniii @jxnellat @seasonswinter @casey1-2007 @chemiru @strengthandstay @ivanag1rl @chaoswithus @ivegotparticulartaste @kiyoke3xe @pookynknowntranger

[agreeewrites]

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure singed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

[kkumacoupzz]

guess who?

soft launching your boyfriend, joshua, on instagram (feat. seungkwan as your older brother)

notes .ᐟ smau (ig posts), random face claim, f!reader, use of y/n

a/n: a combination of some of my recent favourite tropes! i'm also exploring new and creative ways to write smaus and fics in general, thus the instagram feed layout. anyways hope you enjoy this short silly story! <3

urfavuser

urfavuser looking for someone

view all comments

dk_is_dokyeom WAIT WHATTTT

pledis_boos WHAT YOU ARE HERE???

urfavuser surprise 😛😛

user01 omg you went to support your brother! ♥︎ by author

urfavuser he better be grateful i dragged myself out the house for this

user02 Y/N IS A MENACE AND I LOVE HER FOR THAT

urfavuser

urfavuser midnight escape

view all comments

user01 ok queen 😩

sound_of_coups pledis_boos is looking for you girl

user02 WHO'S THAT IN THE 3RD PIC

user03 OH MY GOD RIGHT

user04 you might be onto something…

joshu_acoustic

joshu_acoustic late night walk

view all comments

user01 WAIT A MINUTE

user01 THIS LOOKS FAMILIAR

pledis_boos where even did yall go

joshu_acoustic for a walk obviously

min9yu_k why is seungkwan madder than sound_of_coups lmaooo

sound_of_coups i literally do NAWT care atp

urfavuser

urfavuser look who it is

view all comments

user01 SOFT LAUNCH WHOOO

user02 WE MANIFESTED THIS

user01 seungkwan about to go into his protective older brother era ♥︎ by author

user03 user01 WHY DID Y/N LIKE YOUR REPLY

vernonline 😦

user04 OH HE KNOWS THE TEA

urfavuser no he doesnt lol

pledis_boos ??? have i been summoned

urfavuser naw

user05 lies upon lies y/n WE KNOW

urfavuser

urfavuser watching the sunset with my sun

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user01 MAMA WHO THAT IN THE BACK

user02 PULLED A BADDIE

urfavuser *he pulled a baddie

user03 WE LOVE A SELF AWARE QUEEN ♥︎ by author

user04 hear me out, it's a seventeen member

user05 OMG RIGHT

user06 theres no way 😹😹 stay delusional gang

user07 user06 babes you must be fun at parties

urfavuser

urfavuser best of our recent dates

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user01 GUYS I SWEAR IT'S JOSHUA. JOSHUA LIKES BRACELETS. IT'S DEFINITELY JOSHUA. 100%. 

user02 idk but he lowk might be jeonghan tho…?

user03 she's not dating a svt member lol

user04 user01 i can confirm i am the bracelet 😔

user05 user03 IM CRYING THEY THOUGHT THEY ATE 😭

sound_of_coups pffft lol

user06 omg hii cheol

user07 BRO HAS INSIDER INFORMATION

user08 what about you tell us cheol !? 😍🫶

xuminghao_o GET OUT OF MY TL 😭😭😭

urfavuser NEVERRR

xuminghao_o but what if my fingers... slipped... and i accidentally... tag him... oops...

urfavuser MINGHAO PLS NO

user09 minghao over here doing god's work 🙏🙏

urfavuser #cooked

urfavuser

urfavuser brother approves

view all comments

pledis_boos SIGHS DRAMATICALLY IN FULL CAPS

urfavuser ok weirdo 🥀🥀

pledis_boos LOOK WHO'S TALKIN

user01 i love whatever beef the boo siblings have together ♥︎ by author

urfavuser user01 well i don't really do actually (jokes)

pledis_boos me neither (not joking)

joshu_acoustic ❤️ ♥︎ by author

urfavuser ❤️

user02 DAMN BRO IS DOWN BAD

user03 OK YNSHUA CUTEST COUPLE

user04 POWER COUPLE WITH LETHAL FACE CARDS

user05 THIS WAS NOT ON MY 2025 BINGO LIST

joshu_acoustic

joshu_acoustic ❤️ loml

view all comments

urfavuser love ya shua darling ❤️❤️ ♥︎ by author

joshu_acoustic love you too ❤️

user01 right in front of my salad too

user02 make love like this attack me too one day 🥹

pledis_boos you better take GOOD care of my baby sister

joshu_acoustic 🫡

urfavuser pledis_boos I AM NOT YOUR BABY.

user03 COUPLE OF THE YEAR

user04 OMG OMG OMG I CALLED IT

user she is such a pick me girl for dating her brother's friend. i bet she is only dating him for attention.

user05 go cry about it loser 😂

user06 sorry you're just single and hate people for being HAPPY

user07 what about you go touch some grass ms delusional

user08 i heard people tend to be jealous over what they don't have 😔

saythename_17 best couple 😊

sound_of_coups 👏👏

min9yu_k ynshua 🤩

vernonline congrats dude

urfavuser 💕

kkumacoupzz 🐈 © 2025 do not repost any of my work and writing

[dxrlingluv]

The way you write Apollo,Hermes and Telemachus is so good.. anyways...

Fem!reader x Hermes.. so basically, reader is one of Apollo's muses and Hermes kinda "steals her away" from his brother & Apollo is VERY pissed that his brother is flirting with one of his muses...

Poetic dilemma

A/N : Thank you so much! Those three are my favorites(and ody). Also… Hermes and Apollo fighting for you and your attention. What a dream, isn’t it? Hermes art is from Zieru, Apollo art is from Gigi!

WARNING : Fem!Muse!Reader, Hermes and Apollo is fighting for the reader.

Word Count : 926

The golden halls of Apollo’s temple usually rang with the harmonious strains of lyres, the rustle of parchment, and the occasional, perfectly timed dramatic monologue from the god himself. Today, though, you were finding it particularly hard to concentrate on anything but the sheer joy radiating from Apollo. He was currently perched on a marble pedestal, mid-recitation of his new ode to… well, himself, mostly.

"And then, with a flourish of celestial light," Apollo boomed, striking a pose, his eyes alight with inspiration, "I, Apollo, the radiant one, did cast my golden gaze upon the slumbering earth, awakening it with my glorious warmth!"

You smiled, genuinely happy to see him so immersed in his art. "Very… illuminating, Apollo! The warmth truly comes through!"

He beamed, soaking in your praise. "Ah, your appreciation! It truly fuels my divine fire!"

Just as he was about to launch into the next stanza, a sudden, soft whoosh of air brushed past you. Before you could even register it, a strong, playful arm wrapped around your waist, and you were lifted clean off your feet. A familiar, mischievous laugh echoed in your ear.

"Time for a change of scenery, little star!" Hermes's voice chirped, and the world outside the temple became a blur of clouds and sky.

You gasped, half in surprise, half in delight. "Hermes! What are you doing?!"

"Rescuing you from… well, just a change of pace!" he declared, soaring through a fluffy cloud bank, his winged sandals a blur. He held you securely, your feet dangling playfully. "Honestly, I just thought you might like a break. Plus," he winked, slowing to a more leisurely glide, "I'm much more fun than listening to him wax poetic about his own sun chariot for the fifth time today. Though, he does make it sound good."

You couldn't help but laugh, the wind whipping through your hair. "He's going to be furious!"

"Oh, he'll get over it," Hermes scoffed, doing a mid-air barrel roll that made you squeal with laughter. "He has, what, a dozen other muses. He won't even notice one is missing. Besides," he winked, "I'm much more fun than listening to him drone on about his own sun chariot for the fifth time today."

Meanwhile, back in the temple, Apollo was still mid-pose. "…and the mortals, awestruck by my unparalleled brilliance, did fall to their knees in… wait a minute." He slowly un-struck his pose. His eyes, which had been closed in dramatic contemplation, snapped open. He looked to his left. Then to his right. His brow furrowed.

"My muse?" he murmured. "Where is my muse?"

A beat of silence. Then, a terrifying, earth-shaking roar. "HERMES!" Apollo’s voice thundered, shaking the very foundations of Olympus. "YOU WINGED SCOUNDREL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY MUSE?!"

Hermes, who had just landed you gently on a particularly soft cloud, winced. "Ah, speak of the devil… or rather, the sun god. He noticed quicker than I thought."

Apollo descended upon you both, radiating pure, unadulterated indignation. His golden hair seemed to crackle with divine fury, and his lyre, usually a symbol of harmony, looked dangerously close to being used as a blunt instrument.

"Hermes! You absolute scoundrel! You snatched Y/N! My inspiration! My lyrical genius! How am I supposed to compose my ode to the perfect shade of dawn without her insightful feedback on the nuances of 'rosy-fingered' versus 'crimson-tipped'?"

Hermes put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer with a cheeky grin. "Oh, lighten up, brother. We were just... on a field trip. For creative enrichment. Very avant-garde."

Apollo's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Hermes's arm. "Field trip? You're flirting with my muse! My property! This is an outrage! Do you know how long it takes to find a muse who truly appreciates the subtle brilliance of a well-placed caesura?"

You smiled, finding Apollo's passion endearing, even when he was this worked up.

Hermes, ever the provocateur, leaned in closer to you, whispering loudly enough for Apollo to hear, "He's just jealous, you know. My charm is simply irresistible."

Apollo gasped, a hand flying to his chest dramatically. "Jealous?! Of you?! The god of petty theft and glorified delivery services?! I am Apollo! God of music, poetry, light, and prophecy! I have no need for jealousy!" He then pointed a trembling finger at Hermes. "Release her at once, you winged hooligan! She has a symphony to inspire!"

You gently extricated yourself from Hermes's grasp, stepping forward with a smile. "Apollo, it's alright. Hermes was just... giving me a change of perspective. But I'm always happy to hear your latest works!"

Apollo softened slightly, though his glare at Hermes remained. "See, Hermes? She's too kind for your thieving ways. Now, Y/N, darling, we must return. I have a particularly challenging rhyme for 'helios' that only you can truly appreciate."

As Apollo began to lead you away, already launching into a new poetic dilemma, Hermes winked over Apollo's shoulder. "I'll be back, little star. And next time, I'm thinking a whirlwind tour of the mortal realm. Much more exciting than listening to him drone on about himself."

Apollo, oblivious, continued his monologue. You just smiled, a secret thrill bubbling inside you. Being Apollo's muse was fulfilling, and seeing him so happy was wonderful. But being the object of Hermes's playful "theft" and the subsequent divine rivalry was undeniably more entertaining. And you knew, with absolute certainty, that Hermes would indeed be back. And Apollo would be just as hilariously furious.

[gguk-n]

Stranger in the Sun (Lando Norris x Reader)

No face claim, the pictures are from Pinterest. Inspired by Lando's Bali trip

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by landonorris, y/bff/user, y/sis/user and 145,236 others tagged y/bff/user

y/n.y/l/n Bali trip highlights: Met the cutest man ever. (Would love if anyone knew who he was)

y/sis/user You don't know who he is???? Can't believe you're my sister🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ y/n.y/l/n who is he??🤔🤔 y/bff/user best trip everrrrr ❤️❤️❤️ user5 I can recognise those curly hair anywhere landonorris user6 landonorris 🙏🙏 user7 OMG!! I wish I had met landonorris on my trip to anywhere tbh 🤧🤧 user8 how do people meet landonorris and I can't even meet him at a race I bought tickets for 😩😩 user9 landonorris user10 I agree with her landonorris is the cutest man I've ever seen ❤️❤️ y/n.y/l/n why is everyone tagging him? Is it the guy in the picture?😔😔 y/n.y/l/n Oh, I just saw who it is, I'll be seeing myself out🙃🙃 landonorris y/n.y/l/n no don't go😖😖

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by y/bff/user, y/sis/user and 27,980 others

y/n.y/l/n Found a little sunshine in my life☀️🧡

y/bff/user both of you make me sick🤢🤢 y/sis/user Mom says he's invited to the next family dinner😭😭 y/n.y/l/n y/sis/user can you text me this stuff instead of commenting it on my post👀 user2 Lando's soft launching his gf rn too👀 user3 their meeting is from the books🥲🥲 user4 the both of you are not slick🙄🙄

landonorris

Liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 268,349 others

landonorris My favourite adventure partner ❤️❤️

carlossainz55 congratulations on finally getting a girlfriend mclaren🧡🧡 user5 that bali trip girl also got a boyfriend who looks an awful lot like Lando🥹🥹 user6 To have Lando Norris as your boyfriend😭😭 user7 did you win that plushy for her? 🥹🥹So romantic❤️😭 user8 the hand placements in first two pictures 😤🤤🤤

landonorris

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 1,208,830 others

landonorris Thanks a lot to the team and my girlfriend for a great weekend

y/n.y/l/n It was all you baby!! 😘😘😘Congratulations!! Liked by Author oscarpiastri Congrats mate👍 mclaren It was all you Lando🧡 user1 OMG!! They are adorable!!🥹🥹 user9 I think Lando dating isn't such a bad thing after all🤧🤧 user10 can y/n come to all the races if it means Lando will win??😭😭

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by landonorris, y/bff/user and 243,920 others

y/n.y/l/n Got to watch my boyfriend win. Best weekend ever!!🥹🧡🧡

landonorris you're my lucky charm. Guess you'll have to stay by my side forever🥹 y/n.y/l/n landonorris you better mean what you say bc I'm not going anywhere😈😈 y/bff/user Love you bbg❤️❤️ y/sis/user Dad cried when he saw Lando won 😭😭Liked by landonorris y/n.y/l/n y/sis/user🤣🤣 user1 damn Lando, your girlfriend's hot🫣🫣

[writethrough]

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.  

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush” 

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you. 

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude. 

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car. 

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door. 

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you. 

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away. 

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day. 

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst. 

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight. 

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you. 

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag. 

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out. 

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing. 

“Wanna say that again?” 

Your brows pulled in confusion. 

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious? 

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence. 

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth. 

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building. 

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office. 

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes. 

I heard he keyed Billy’s car. 

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up. 

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making. 

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough. 

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating. 

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside. 

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette. 

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap. 

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets. 

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you. 

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood. 

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile. 

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked. 

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out. 

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.” 

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal. 

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.” 

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before. 

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.” 

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile. 

“You’ll have mine.” 

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing. 

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door. 

— 

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name. 

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself. 

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness. 

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers. 

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food. 

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.” 

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone. 

You took a shot in the dark. 

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?” 

His jaw clenched and hands stopped. 

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor? 

But why? 

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other. 

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.” 

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping. 

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.” 

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation. 

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.” 

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed. 

Of course, that was what he took away. 

“Billy,” you warned playfully. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.” 

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content. 

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over. 

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.” 

Names.  

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you. 

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.” 

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours. 

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked. 

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were. 

He leaned his elbows on the table. 

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.” 

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Kidnapping, Drugging

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Yandere!Alhaitham x Reader, but Reader had a former crush on Alhaitham in their Akademiya years.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It's just a meeting. That's what you tell yourself, at least. Just a meeting between colleagues; just a meeting between what never was and what could have been; just a meeting between the sun and the moon, the sea and the stars.

That's all it is, but there's still a small, painful part of you that can't seem to stop ruminating on what might happen in the next hour. The still-searing brand of love that had been etched on your heart still aches. You hoped that this meeting would lay it to rest.

Knocking on the plain wooden door, his muffled voice responds a second later.

"Come in."

With one final moment to collect yourself, you push open the door. His office is unsurprisingly, very plain and orderly. There's a shelf of books behind him, a few manila files on his desk as well as a hefty stack of paperwork. Glancing over your shoulder, you spy a small ceramic pot resting on the windowsill, a single Sumeru Rose planted inside.

Its flourishing beauty makes you wilt. Years ago, when you were soon to embark to Fontaine to conduct some field research for your thesis, you had confessed to Alhaitham with a Sumeru Rose.

"Are you alright?" Alhaitham's voice snaps you back to the present.

You nod, shuffling over to the chair, its wooden legs scraping across the floor. You're so close to Alhaitham now, that you can see a stray hair on his shoulder. The sight of it makes you wonder what would happen if you were to pluck it off.

No, you remind yourself. You're not in love with him anymore, and he never loved you anyways.

If Alhaitham notices that your eyes are searing a hole into his shoulder, he doesn't say anything. "I'm assuming you understand why I asked to see you, correct?"

"The position of Acting Sage of Rtawahist, correct?"

The room feels humid, likely due to both your anxiety and the warm weather. Looking around, you notice two glasses and a pitcher of water resting off to the side of the desk. As Alhaitham lectures about the position, you reach for the pitcher and fill up a glass of water.

"...position will likely not be necessary after around two weeks," Alhaitham finishes, eyes still boring into yours. You take a sip of water.

It's bitter.

You can't help but furrow your eyebrows. Alhaitham picks up on your expression quickly. "The Akademiya has been testing out new water filtration methods. It produces cleaner water, though some say that it may taste slightly strange," he explains.

The two of you launch back into discussing the details of your new position, but as time begins to pass, you feel off. Not just the kind of off where you need a break, but the kind of off where you feel like you're about to pass out.

"A-ah...haitham," you slur. You don't feel any pain, just tingles running through your veins, spreading throughout your body before rendering your muscles limp.

The man stands up calmly and walks around the desk, supporting your shoulders. "You're okay, just breathe."

You try to, but find yourself unable to do anything.

Everything is blanketed in blackness soon after.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You wake up to the morning sun's long, lovely fingers caressing the curve of your jaw, as well as the sweet hymns of birds and the breeze echoing through trees. It's almost picturesque, really.

Everything feels so right, that for a moment, you're prepared to close your eyes and go back to bed. But then you notice the walls are a lighter green than your bedroom, the sheets you're curled up in are not your own, and the furniture arrangement is completely different from that of your home's.

Oh, and then there's the person sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the room, staring at you unblinkingly.

It takes a moment for you to realize that the figure is Alhaitham, whose analytical eyes are reading you like you're a textbook on some convoluted subject only smart alecks like him would bother to study.

The look in his eyes almost scares you for a moment. You try to move your arms to push yourself up, but find that your wrists have been bound together.

"Alhaitham, what are you doing?"

The man takes a moment to stand and walk towards your bedside, gaze focused and unreadable. "I'm correcting a grave mistake," he says, a hand reaching out to clasp yours, gently stroking your palm with his thumb. "I was foolish to reject your love, but now I understand. I want you."

His words nearly make you pass out again. "That's not how it works, Alhaitham," you protest, "I don't...I don't love you any-"

"Why did you hesitate?"

"Because I just woke up. I'm not exactly thinking straight."

"Or maybe it's because you know you're lying." Alhaitham's words are tinged with condescension, his stare cold and unyielding. "Given enough time, you'll learn to love me again," he says. His hand leaves yours and moves up to your face, brushing up against your jaw. His touch should be warm, but you only feel cold.

You glare. "I doubt it."

For a moment, the corners of Alhaitham's lips quirk up in a semi-smile. It amuses him that you think you have a choice—a chance, really. After all, nothing's coming to save you.

He's got all the time in the world to make you fall in love with him.

[kxsagi]

my pookie bear's photo dump

“𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐥𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫”

a/n: if this is your way of asking me for a sae oneshot, it’s working

take this quick drabble (i had no idea where this was going)

influencer and model! reader, aka you, was supposed to go on a six-month “soft life sabbatical” in spain. drink wine. post bikini pics. maybe get over your situationship with that guy from LA who believed mercury being in retrograde was a valid excuse for cheating. 

but instead, you somehow ended up in a situationship with a different problem: pro soccer player! itoshi sae. 

it starts innocently. a brand trip. a runway walk. you’re at some madrid fashion charity gala you were coerced into attending for the free goodie bags and champagne. you’re seated next to a guy in an obnoxiously expensive suit with a jawline so sharp you could slice bread on it. 

“you’re the soccer guy, right?” you ask, sipping your prosecco. 

“football,” he corrects without looking up from his phone. 

“same thing.” 

he glances at you. raises an eyebrow. “… you’re the tik tok girl?” 

“influencer-slash-model,” you correct him back, sweetly. “but yeah. tik tok girl works, too, i guess.” 

somehow, that turns into a flirt. which turns into a dinner. which turns into a “we’re just hanging out.” which somehow escalates into “sae was seen leaving her hotel at 7 AM wearing last night’s clothes” headlines. 

and then the media explodes. 

you learn something very quickly: spanish paparazzi are ruthless. you post one photo of your hand holding a wine glass, and the internet matches the reflection of his elbow in the background to a press photo from his 2021 madrid uniform fitting. 

you make a tik tok of your morning routine and people slow it down to 0.5x speed and go, “IS THAT A MAN'S TOOTHBRUSH ON HER SINK??” 

(you have to turn off comments after someone makes a three-minute analysis video with red circles and arrows titled “itoshi sae is living in her apartment and here’s how i know.”) 

“you need to start denying things,” sae says flatly one morning, reading a headline on his phone. 

you shrug, sipping your matcha. “why would i deny being with you? i’m hot, you’re hot, it’s great PR for both of us.” 

he stares. “you think i need PR?” 

“no, but i do,” you chirp, pulling your phone out. “now kiss me. the camera’s rolling.” 

even despite your job titles and different personalities, your relationship works surprisingly well. sae’s not much of a yapper. you, unfortunately, are. it balances out. 

he doesn’t post you, but he lets you post him, usually with a hand in front of his face and a dry comment like, “don’t tag me. i don’t want your fanbase following me for my skincare routine.” (ironically, your followers now ask if your skin glows because of ‘post-sae aftercare.’) 

your fans call him grumpy soccer boyfriend. his fans call you the influencer menace corrupting their star midfielder. your best friend calls him the hot red flag that turned green because he met the right woman. and your mom calls every sunday just to ask, “has he proposed yet? tell him your eggs have an expiration date.” 

sae listens to all this with the same deadpan face he has on the field. except, when you make him laugh, which is rare and stupidly cute. like when you wore one of his jerseys to bed and said, “i'm starting to understand the appeal of athlete boyfriends. they double as oversized laundry.” 

he tried to hide his smile. he failed. 

you eventually do an accidental hard launch. emphasis on accidental. 

you’re on a yacht with friends in ibiza. you're recording a silly “get ready with me” tik tok. lipgloss. sunscreen. bikini. basically pinterest energy. 

and right as you pan the camera to the sea, there’s sae. shirtless. sun-kissed. sipping a piña colada. 

you post it without thinking. and the internet? loses its mind. 

“IS THAT SAE???” 

“OH SHE’S WINNING WINNING.” 

“i thought he hated people.” 

“now how did she pull the emotionally unavailable mf of the century???” 

“why is he literally boyfriend-coded in the most terrifying way.” 

you check your phone an hour later and realize it’s trending on twitter. sae walks by, glances at your screen, and mutters, “you’re lucky i like you.” 

you grin. “aww. do you like me? like, like-like?” 

he blinks slowly. “you want me to take it back?” (even if you said yes, he would never.)

but the funniest part of your relationship? you are the dramatic one. sae is just… there. existing. 

when paparazzi swarm your dinner date, you dramatically cover your face and yell “respect my privacy!” while sae just walks through the cameras like a divorced dad doing groceries. 

when a random girl flirts with him at a club, you go full telenovela villainess: hand on chest, gasp, clutch your wine like it’s a weapon. sae’s response? “she was asking if i worked here.” 

“oh.” 

“and you just told her i had chlamydia.” 

“actingggg, cariño. stay in character.” 

he does not understand your influencer world. one time he walked in on you crying and holding three PR boxes and was like, “are you okay?” 

you sniffled. “dior sent me the wrong blush shade.” 

“… you’re joking.” 

“do i look like i’m joking, itoshi sae.” 

but to his credit, he starts learning. he now understands that ‘collab’ means ‘free stuff,’ that ring lights are sacred, and that you will absolutely cancel a dinner date if you’re waiting for golden hour to shoot content. he complains. then buys you a new camera lens the next day. 

and when he finally does post you, it’s not even a soft launch. it’s a hard explosion. 

it’s a blurry photo of you asleep on his chest, hair everywhere, captioned: “she snores.” 

it gets 3 million likes in an hour. 

you reply: “only when i’m next to emotionally repressed men.” 

but you love him. 

not just because he’s hot and rich and confusingly good at folding laundry (???). but because behind all the dry comments and passive-aggressive text replies, he’s so soft. 

he reminds you to drink water. he calls your mom ma’am and lets her believe he’s fluent in your native language, even though he only knows five words (at least he thinks so). he sets your phone alarm when you forget. gives you forehead kisses before games. gets annoyed when you cry at titanic, but secretly watches it with you. 

so you marry him two years later. and yes, the internet explodes again. but this time, it’s all “MOTHER & FATHER 😭,” “he really said ‘she’s my endgame,’” and “i believe in love again.” 

you post a wedding photo with the caption: “goal secured 🥰⚽️” 

he replies: “you’re so embarrassing.” but he likes the post. and he changes his bio to: married to an idiot. 

and you? you couldn’t imagine a better forever. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[dodger432101]

Clocking in! - Lux Imperator/Mr Ring a Ding x Reader

[This is my first time writing a fanfic, hope you enjoy!]

The weekend was over. Always too soon, those days pass by and the time you have off comes to an end. Monday morning, bright and early, your alarm disturbs your peaceful sleep. It's time to get up. The sun greets your face with warm rays of light through your curtains, like it's trying to coerce you to get up. Like it knows you don't want to.

Shower, throw your uniform on, get some breakfast down you, out the door into the world. Luckily you'd managed to snag a place not far from Palazzo, so you got to enjoy a nice walk in the sun without rushing to catch a bus. It sure was bright out today! You soaked in the sunshine you could get before you made it to the theatre, trying to brighten your mood so you could deal with the general public that would pack into the seats and likely trash the theatre rooms. There were always a few.

Mr Pye liked to get in earlier than everyone else, so it didn't concern you when the side door for employees was already unlocked. You grab the cleaning equipment from the lockers and set off to check each room. Even with others doing rounds, sometimes pieces of popcorn or.. spills.. were missed. It was easier for everyone if they were found before some stuck up visitor or loud mother that just loved to complain about something did. You'd gotten into the routine of checking after the 4th time you were yelled at.

Lo and behold, there was stuff everywhere in this particular room. It's like they were trying to make your job a nightmare! 'At least I'm getting paid' kept repeating in your head as you sweep up the piles of popcorn and other treats on the floor. That's when something small hit you in the back of the head, making you whip round. No one. Not a soul other than yours. Looking down, it seemed a stray popcorn kernal had launched itself at you. "Oh sorry, did I miss that piece? Thanks for pointing it out." You sarcastically spoke out into the silence, sweeping it up into your pan with a sigh. It was probably some stray kid playing a prank on you, found the unlocked door and came in to cause trouble. You'll deal with that later. You move onto the next row, another sigh leaving through your nose. Who made all this mess? Who didn't do their damn job and clean it up?

"What on Earth are you doing here!?" You initially startle at the sudden voice before your brain kicks in and recognises the speaker. Mr Pye was peering down from the projection room, face paler than usual, panic setting in on his face.

"Mr Pye..? Are you alright? Didn't keep yourself up all night with a horror showing did you?" You try to keep the mood light, the expression on his face causing your blood to turn cold. What could possibly had frightened your boss like this? He wordlessly peckons you up with frantic movements, looking around the theatre room like something would jump out and attack you at any moment. Once you're in the projector room and face to face with him he heaves a sigh of relief, half throwing himself into his chair. "Sir... what's going on? Is someone in the building?" You quickly glance around the room. There wasn't much you could use to protect yourself and Reginald. Maybe strangle them with film strips, if they didn't break.

Your employer runs a hand down his face, still staring out into the theatre. "I... I don't even know how to explain what happened." His voice is shaking at this point, as are his hands. Just as you open your mouth to respond, the projector clicks on. Mr Pye jumps at the sound but you, curious about how it came to life by itself, move closer and peek out at what it's lighting up. The curtains are drawn, no picture plays, just the light shines down on the stage. There's a ruffle in the curtains, something pulls at the opening down the middle and..

"Ta-da!"

A little cartoon.. man? Pokes out and addresses the empty rows of seats. Oh, you've seen him! Mr Ring-A-Ding! His little cartoons have been playing from time to time when you've been on the clock. They're nothing to write home about, seemingly more for kids but Ring-A-Ding had some charm to him. Even if he was blue, balding.. and had a pig's nose. But he's a cartoon. On a screen. How is he.. there? "Mr Pye.." You keep your voice low but the shock is clear as day. He stays quiet, clutching a film reel in his arms as he leans back away from the gaps in the walls. Music starts to play - the cartoon's theme tune, you recognise almost immediately from the days you've been working while his show was on - as Ring-A-Ding begins to sing the lyrics and do his signature dance. Though about 5 words in there's a record scratch and he pauses, quite literally, seemingly noticing he's performing to an empty theatre. Mr Ring-A-Ding puts his hands on his hips and starts scanning each row of seats, a sliding sound effect playing as his cutout eyes go from left to right. Finally, he looks up at the projector room and spots you. His (admittedly quite cute) face lights up, a little exclamation mark popping up above his head. "Ah! There you are, sweetie pie! I was just wondering where you'd snuck off to" His chipper voice echoes up, it sounds the same as the cartoon.

Far too curious for your own good, in awe at this living cartoon, you miss Mr Pye's hand reaching out to you as you leave the projector room and return to the theatre, slowly moving down the steps as you approach Ring-A-Ding. The celluoid stays in place on the stage, smiling up at you with his hands still on his hips, waiting for you to come closer. At the bottom of the stairs, you realise just how small he is. He's probably not even 3ft! You inwardly gush at the adorable little man, stepping up onto the stage. You realise you've been silent since he noticed you and clear your throat. "Uh.. hello, Mr Ring-A-Ding..?" You wave to the cartoon, the absurdness of the situation finally kicking in. You're waving to a cartoon, that's in the real world, standing there like it's always existed like this. It even has sound effects! How is any of this possible?!

"...Yoohoo?" You're interrupted from your attempts to reason Ring-A-Ding's existence by the very cartoon leaning in and waving a blue four-fingered hand close to your face. You blink and move back slightly. "Don't ya know it's rude to stare, sunshine? What, never seen a cartoon before?" He spreads his arms out, like he's showing off his form to you. "Though, don't say I blame you for gawkin'. Quite the looker aren't I?" His voice lowers in pitch and he smirks at you, eyebrows moving up and down accompanied by another sound effect.

"Uhhhh..." You can't find words to respond with, baffled still by the, again, LIVING CARTOON in front of you and his unexpected question. At your silence, Ring-A-Ding begins to frown, a sad violin playing from.. well it's hard to say. As you look around for the source of the music, the cartoon holds his little yellow hat and begins his guilt-tripping.

"Why the silence, sweetheart? I know I'm not the mirror image of you humans, but.." He sniffles, making you look back down to him. His pie eyes now have 2 white dots in them, tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. Seeing he has your attention, he squeezes his eyes shut to get more tears flowing, clutching his hat to his chest. "Nothing at all? Come on, dolly, humor a 'toon! You can't leave me hanging like this!" Ring-A-Ding pouts up at you, hat in his hands under his chin, eyes wide still sparkling with unshed tears. At this pitiful display you frown guiltily, getting down on one knee so you're eye-level with the sad little celluoid.

"Oh.. oh, Ring.. I'm sorry." Without thinking you reach a hand out to wipe his tears away, surprising yourself when you actually make contact with the cartoon. He's warm like a lightbulb, his skin somewhat rubbery. The tears are like any other's as you gently stroke them away, both hands now on either cheek. Only after you finish wiping the 'toon's face do you realise the violin stopped and Ring-A-Ding has been still and silent the entire time. You slowly remove one hand from his face, worried you upset him further by touching him. But as you go to take the other away and apologise, he leans into it and puts his hand on top of yours. You glance at it, then back to his face. He has that smirk on again, his eyes half lidded with a smug expression.

"Quite forward aren't you toots?" Ring-A-Ding has a playful tone to his voice now, slinking closer to you as he rubs his cheek into your hand, the hand not holding yours putting his hat back on his head. The proximity, tone, words, all join forces to make you blush a bright red and knock you off your knee, now sitting back as the cartoon follows. The smug expression only grows now at your lack of response, Ring being ever so slightly taller with you on the stage. "Why don't I try.. being forward too? Hm?" Your hand is moved down, onto his shoulder and behind his head, fingers ever so close to the little amount of hair he has. Ring-A-Ding moves between your spread legs, the hand that held yours moving to cup your jawline, drawing a barely audible gasp from you. But with you two so close, it's no surprise he hears it. His smirk opens to a charming little grin as he angles your head and only then does it occur to you what he's doing. This cartoon, brought to the real world through means you still don't know, is about to kiss you! You're going to kiss a cartoon. God you kind of want this as well. There's worse things to put your lips against, you decide to reason to yourself. Ring puts his other hand on your shoulder, then slides it up to the side of your neck, eyes barely open as he angles himself down, your faces so so close..

"Mr Ring-A-Ding, sir, I'm sorry but I can't let you hurt them!" You jump so hard you practically gain air, Ring only leaning back slightly to glare up at Reginald at the top of the stairs, his smirk instantly gone. His pig nose wrinkles as he snorts, moving both hands from you and stepping over your leg as he marches over to Mr Pye, waving a finger. He's saying something but the words don't reach you. You're still reeling from the near-kiss you just had with the cartoon. The cartoon that isn't on screen. You're gonna have to ask Mr Pye what the hell's going on. You get yourself off your butt and turn, seeing your boss and Ring-A-Ding are moving to the projector's room. With a heavy sigh, you hop off stage and follow them up the stairs.

Today's gonna be a long, long day.

[dolene]

GET BACK ON TRACK ; charles leclerc x reader

summary: after carlos's wedding announcement is everywhere and taking over your entire life, you decided to break the slump and getting back on track by moving on.

...★...

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername and 5,523,925 others

carlossainz55 Carlos & Rebecca. 5.5.25

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username fuck. yncarlos shipper we lose

username We've been losing since day one, there is no winning. Only losing 😔😔

username MY SUN????? MY MOON???? Okay what kind of torture are you guys gonna get me for this week

landonorris happy for you, mate!

yourusername Happy wedding to the beloved couple!! I wish you the best years of love and a great future together ever after 💗

username NO Y/N DON'T PRETEND

username i feel sick

danielricciardo Congratulations, and don't forget to spare the wine! 😄

alex_albon Lily and I wished you both a joyful wedding and a happy life! Don't forget about Lando, though.

username another day another cry (for y/n)

charles_leclerc Congratulations to the happy couple! Glad to be there and watch the sweet moments unveiled.

pierregasly The two of you were looking so sweet together. I hope I can make a good uncle in the future 😁🤣

carlossainz55 It's far still away from that and you're already thinking of that is insane

lewishamilton Happy wedding day to the couple.

username google, play no ordinary love by sade

yourusername

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yourusername Rats street avenue

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username oh she's serving

sabrinacarpenter WOOHOO GOOO GIRLL

username This is the face of a woman who LIED but still slayed

username pls get a bf that's gon be better than him

alexconsani My name is not Alex Albon, but you know who could Thai-you-down-tnite😏

alex_albon I would never do that though 😂😅

alexconsani Understandable. if I had your girlfriend, I would never cheat on her either

luisinhaoliveira99 I wish I met you when I was still in France

username She flew right away to France because she know she's the realest

username SHE TURNED EMO 💀💀

username the impact of losing him is real

yourusername

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username No captions just a pure masterpiece

username after seeing charles liking this, my feelings said something so gossipy

username mother's slaying again

username funny how i remember yesterday's bangs are still short

username It's an extension btw

yslbeauty Stunning as usual ✨✨

gigihadid I miss Australia and the photo booth

charles_leclerc 🤪🤪

yourusername What are you even talking about

username What is this silly ass interaction

username since when did he even being serious

charles_leclerc added a photo to their story! · 2m

TWITTER, 10 MINUTES AFTER:

yourusername

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yourusername Gossiping with my new friend

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username Um is it gossiping about the whole thing with Charles?

username if it's real idk how to even react

username she literally said "i'll snatch your ex teammate"

chloe_stroll That red dressss 🫨🫨

username SHUT UP FERRARI LIKING

username girl it's over, she really going out with charles

username NOOOOOOOOOOOO 💔💔💔

yourusername added a photo to their story! · 10m

yourusername

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yourusername Feelin’ good

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username OH NAWW IT'S REAL

username at least she moved on... (jumping off a burj khalifa right after)

username idk if i have to be happy or be depressed rn. but anyway congratulations for the HARD launch last night, enjoying it sm 💀🫶

alexconsani Ooooo Charles's gfffff

alex_albon I'M SAAAAFFFEEEEEEE

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[hairmetal666]

Steve has this bar he loves in Chicago. It's a little bit dive-y, a little bit dirty, but it's quiet. A good place for when he needs to clear his head.

Only, tonight, the place is packed. Music pounding from the jukebox, no space at the bar, patrons at the dartboard and pool table. In three years he's never seen it like this.

He has a second to wonder what's going on before he sees exactly who is going on, and for him to catch Steve looking.

"Stevie!" Eddie Munson cries. He leaps from the bar top, the people below scrambling away from the stomp of his big black boots.

He hasn't seen Eddie in years. Can't actually remember the last time. Max and Lucas's wedding? Robin and Nancy's baby shower?

Steve considers booking it out of there, escaping in the crush of the crowd. By the time he has the thought, though, Eddie's already pulling him into a hug.

He's excited to see his friend. He is! Really. He loves Eddie. But that's kind of the problem.

Steve fell in love and Eddie left town.

Well, maybe it wasn't so dramatic as all that. It wasn't until six months after they packed the last box in the back of Eddie's van that Steve could name his feelings for what they were. And by then, Corroded Coffin were building buzz and Eddie had a huge whole life outside of the people he saved the world with.

Over the years, as Eddie's fame grew, he came around less and now they hardly see each other. They still talk from time to time, Steve still buys all the band's records, and Eddie's still close with all the kids, Nancy and Robin too.

Eddie releases him, those big eyes bright, a pure and genuine smile stretching his face. Steve's stomach twists, heart skipping a beat.

"Gotta be honest with you, man. Never expected to see Steve Harrington in a place like this."

Steve snorts. "There's lots of place I go you wouldn't expect."

Eddie's smile wobbles, Steve thinks. It's gone in a blink, though, and Eddie laughs. "I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Have time for a drink with me?"

Eddie navigates to the bar, returns with two beers in hand. He presses his palm to the small of Steve's back, directing him to the single empty table in the corner as far from the jukebox as possible.

"How's life treating you, Stevie?" Eddie asks after a sip. "Nance told me the store is doing really well."

"It's good, yeah. Finally turning a profit. Wasn't sure about Dustin having us add a game section, but he was right. It's really taken off."

"Oh, he told me," Eddie smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that he did. He hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"That tone," Eddie says, voice soft.

"What brings you to Chicago?" He asks to hide the way all the fucking love he feels for this man is bleeding out of him.

"Not really supposed to be," he laughs. "Flight got diverted to O'Hare, can't get another one until tomorrow. Have to make it to LA in time to play a show."

They both know Eddie loves it; the rush, the adrenaline, that comes with performing, to making it to shows at the very last minute. It's how they got here in the first place.

"Working on new music?"

Eddie leans back, dimples popping with the pleased lift of his lips. "Oh, Harrington, you don't even know what we have in store." He leans over the table and launches into tales of rehearsals and writing. Steve drinks his beer and can't take his eyes off his friend, Eddie the sun Steve orbits around, helpless to his gravitational pull.

"So, Stevie," Eddie says, once there's no more to tell about music. "You seeing anyone?"

Steve hides his cringe with a chuckle. Picks up his beer to buy time and finds it empty. "Not anyone of note."

"C'mon, how is that possible? You're easily the hottest guy in this place."

He grimaces. "That's a low bar."

"Oooh, still bitchy after all these years." Eddie snickers, takes a swig from his bottle.

"Shut-up."

"Seems like it's been a while since you dated."

"You interrogating my love life now, Munson?"

"No, not at all. Just curious."

"Okay, who are you dating? Still that guy from People?"

"Gossip," Eddie frowns.

"Anyone else you got your eye on?"

"No one new," Eddie says. He stares at Steve hard for a second, like he wants to dig into his brain, like it holds the answer to all life's question.

"There is someone, then." Steve tries to ignore the jealousy licking down his spine. Eddie isn't his and never will be.

Eddie picks at the label on his now empty beer. "Not--not really." He licks his lips, leaning over the table again. "Is there a reason you don't seem to date anymore, man? It's just--you wouldn't hurt for options, right?"

Steve freezes, trying to figure out a way to answer that won't end up breaking his own heart. "Ah, it's--you know, things got busy with opening the store and everything. Stopped being a priority."

"Are you lonely?"

"Are you?" He snaps before he can stop himself. "Sorry, I'm--sorry."

"Yeah, man. I'm lonely as hell." Eddie answers as though Steve didn't give him an out.

"I--you ever have someone where the timing is always wrong?"

"Think it's a hazard of my profession. Who's yours?"

"What?" Steve clunks his bottle too hard against the table.

"The one that got away?"

"It's--it--I--it doesn't matter."

Eddie's smile is all jagged edges. "Nancy?"

"God, no. Nance and I are good with being friends. No lingering feelings there. Who's yours?"

"Ahh," Eddie sits back a little, eyes glittering with an emotion Steve can't place. "The best boy I ever met. Can't get over him, can't forget him. I think they guys are going to start banning my 'pathetic gay yearning songs'. Gareth's words."

Something in Steve's chest crumbles to dust. There's someone. Has always been someone. Of course. Eddie is beautiful and hot and charismatic and fucking famous. And Steve is--just a guy who runs a struggling bookstore with a couple of his best friends.

"That's--I'm sorry it didn't work out." He's trying to stop his voice from breaking, from giving Eddie any hint of what he's feeling, just knows he has to get out. "Listen, man, thanks for the beer. Great to catch up. You should hit up Robin and Nancy the next time you're in town. I gotta get going."

"Wait, Steve--"

"See you around."

He doesn't wait. He pushes through the people, and races out the door, into the crisp Chicago fall air. He squeezes his eyes closed, practices his breathing exercises, tries to relax the clench of his teeth, ease the screaming in his lungs.

Three steps away from the building is as far as he gets before he hears, "Steve, please wait." A hand catches his hip, holding him in place.

"Eddie, I don't--"

"It's you," Eddie says. His face is pale, stricken. "You're the one who got away, Steve."

"What?"

"I've never been able to work up the nerve to confess. I've been trying for years, but. Too afraid of losing you to tell the truth."

"Years?" Steve's brain is trying to wrap around what's happening. That Eddie has feelings for him? That he's the source of the pathetic gay yearning?

"God, since 1986, at least."

Steve doesn't know what to say; what to do. He's been waiting for this moment so long, and his brain goes on pause.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same," Eddie rambles. "Hell, I'd be surprised if you did, but--"

"You're mine too," the words tumble out.

"What?"

"You're the one who got away. For me. You're mine."

"Steve," Eddie breathes. "Is this--are you serious?"

"Pathetic gay yearning and all."

Eddie's laugh is a bright spot in the darkness, relief and happiness mixed with the hope of what's next.

Steve can't help but giggle. "We're so dumb," he says.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow before bursting into giggles of his own. "So dumb, Steve, oh my god."

"It's been a decade!"

"Fuck," Eddie cackles.

They collapse against each other, chests heaving with their mirth. As they catch their breath, Steve nuzzles against Eddie's neck, relishing the closeness. It's easy for him to change the angle so their lips meet in a kiss frantic with ten years of longing.

"Your place or mine?" Eddie asks once they part.

Steve laughs. "You think I'm that easy, Munson?"

"Oh, Steve," Eddie smirks. "I know it."

"Asshole." Steve presses a kiss to his jaw. "How many songs did you write about me?"

Eddie smiles so hard his dimples pop. "All of them, baby. Every single one."

Steve rests their foreheads together, body fizzing like freshly uncorked champagne, "Take me home, Ed."

[norristeria]

Bitter Lemonades & Stingrays ! LN04

A stranger gives you his number and, suddenly, Lando's lemonade tastes bitter.

━━━ ❦ LN4 MASTERLIST

PAIRING... Lando Norris x Girlfriend!FemReader WORDS... 1K TAGS... Fluff. Established Relationship. Jealousy. Summer Setting. Not proof-read. NOTE... I'm back & I missed all of you! Here's a small piece to start off Summer.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The few droplets still sprinkled across your legs—salty remnants of your last swim—no longer sufficed to fend off the Italian sun.

You sighed and adjusted your grip on your novel. Reading had lost all its charm. The cover clung unpleasantly to your sweaty thighs, the bookmark you were now using as a fan stirred only hot air, and for several paragraphs now, the words had blurred into one another.

No one left unscathed from the torpor of a scorching summer.

After struggling with two more paragraphs, you snapped the book shut and tossed it in the general direction of your beach bag before reaching for the drink menu.

Its sun-faded illustrations and absurd cocktail names made your mouth water; the saltwater-stained piece of cardboard had become a true oasis you were eager to indulge in.

Salivating at the thought of a freshly pressed juice, you turned your head to the left. “I’m going to get a drink. Want something?”

Stretched out on the lounger beside you, arms folded behind his head and eyelids half-closed beneath his sunglasses, Lando was dealing with the unbearable heat far better than you.

Like a lizard basking in the sun, you thought, watching him doze off. Your gaze lingered for a second on his sun-kissed skin and defined abs, but the cool promise of a cocktail quickly overrode all other thoughts and melted away the last of your patience.

You shook him unceremoniously.

“Hm? Sorry, love, what did you say?”

“I’m getting myself a drink,” you repeated. “Want one?”

“A lemonade, please. Thank you.”

Your feet wove their way through the scorching sand.

Lando gave your backside a playful squeeze in thanks, watching you walk away before closing his eyes again, lulled by the coastal din.

Down by the water, children were gleefully smashing and rebuilding sandcastles; further off, teenagers kept up a lively rhythm in a game of beach volleyball, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Adults and elders, meanwhile, sank into a hypnotic chorus of snores and whispered conversations.

Lando dozed for a few minutes, or perhaps longer.

He rubbed his eyes to chase away the drowsiness and reached out to stroke your thigh, only to find your towel instead.

He frowned and scanned the surroundings, suddenly alert.

How long could it take to order two juices?

His green eyes swept across the vibrant scene until, at last, he spotted you. You were standing near the bar, your two drinks in hand. In front of you stood a shirtless and tanned man—the cliché personification of a Greek (or Roman, in that case) statue.

He spoke with his hands, like all the locals.

And you were laughing.

Lando sat up abruptly, his gaze locked on you.

Jealousy didn’t erupt in his chest. No. It seeped in like sand in a shoe, malicious and never-ending.

The man brushed your arm and slipped a scrap of paper into your hand. Lando removed his sunglasses.

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull mocked him, cruel and shrill.

He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to get up. You wouldn’t appreciate him causing a scene in front of everyone, so he stayed put, jaw tight, mentally willing you to come back.

It felt like hours before you finally bid the man goodbye and walked toward him, cocktails in hand, cheeks warm from the sun, that damn slip of paper between your fingers.

Lando took the drink you offered and gave a terse nod of thanks, eyes fixed on the white scrap.

His silence didn’t seem to faze you, as you launched into an animated recounting of the events, nearly sloshing your cocktail with every wide gesture.

“I talked to a guy. He’s a diving instructor. He spotted stingrays nearby yesterday and gave me his number to show us!”

You waved the paper around, beaming. Lando wasted no time and snatched it from your hand, tearing it up before taking a sip of his drink as if nothing had happened.

Your wide eyes flicked to his face, scanning the feigned indifference that suited him poorly.

You narrowed your eyes. Lando shifted under your gaze.

“What?” he muttered.

“What’s gotten into you?”

He scowled deeper.

“Nothing…”

He took another sip, avoiding your eyes. The lemonade tasted bitter.

“Lando.”

“It’s just—he could’ve given you his website. I don’t know. Not his number. I mean–Who gives out their number like that? Seriously.”

You blinked, and slowly, a smirk began to tug at the corner of your lips.

“Lando... are you jealous?”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. “Just... surprised by how unprofessional some people can be. Are you sure he’s licensed?”

You sat beside him, settling onto his towel, your fingers cool and damp from condensation as they found his.

“So I guess we’re not seeing the stingrays tomorrow?”

Lando turned his head to look at you, and his gaze softened. Summer suited you—never were you more radiant than bathed in sunlight, as if Mother Nature herself had sculpted a pedestal just for you.

He couldn’t help but lift your hand to his lips and kiss it, overwhelmed by his love for you.

“Of course we’ll go see the stingrays, my love.”

A beat.

“With a real instructor,” he added. “Preferably over sixty.”

You laughed softly and set your glass down before sprawling across his chest, heat and sweat be damned.

His fingers immediately began tracing lazy lines up and down your spine.

“I’m hotter than him, though, right?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

You burst into laughter and kissed him. His lemonade spilled into the sand, unnoticed, as his hands roamed your body before squeezing your ass.

All of Italy could try to seduce you, Lando would always be here to remind you who exactly your summers belonged to.

[cheriecoke]

˚₊‧꒰ა WAKE UP CALL ! — bucky barnes

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. following a spontaneous lead from valentina's assisstant, bucky calls you to let you know he’s driven halfway across the country and picked up a few strays.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. written as f!reader in mind but can be gn!, phone call, thunderbolts era, established relationship, takes place right before the scene in the gas station, pet names, veryyy light angst, steve mentioned — 1.4k words

𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒. this is just a little practice fic i wrote post-thunderbolts! it's based loosely on my oc, who was in the og avengers, so there are references to that and her fighting/having powers. but feel free to imagine it however you want <3 can be read in the same timeline as this fic, but it's not necessary to read.

The phone rings once, twice, then a third time, before Bucky’s apologetic, softened voice runs down the line.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he starts off gentle, before his words are coming out in one barely coherent string, like he can’t get them out fast enough. “First of all, I’m sorry. I should’ve — I should’ve told you I was leaving. It wasn’t — Well, I was gonna stay out of it, but the whole thing with Valentina…” Bucky trails off. His voice grows quieter, like there's someone else in the room with him, before he picks back up again.

For a few seconds more, he babbles, almost like he’s afraid to let you speak. He sounds slightly flustered, and more than exhausted — but that’s evident only to you, who has known him so well, for so long. 

Then, he concludes his little speech, less than eloquently. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I should’ve called earlier. I’m sorry.” 

You pause, letting your spoon rest against the side of your coffee mug, trying to make sense of all the words he's just said. The coffee swirls inside the cup, shading a lighter color of brown, before it settles, stilling completely.

Outside, the sun is already beginning to beat hot on the concrete, though it’s not even noon. Which tells you that sometime between the gala last night and the crack of dawn, Bucky had already gotten himself into some sort of trouble. 

“It’s nine, Bucky,” you say, taking a long sip of your coffee. You’d only just brewed it, but you’d used enough creamer to cool it to a drinkable temperature. “I wouldn’t have answered had you called any earlier.” 

He exhales on the end of the line, and says nothing. You can’t tell if he’s relieved or not. 

“When's the last time you slept?” 

“Doesn't matter. I'm fine," Bucky says. You can hear him shifting, his jacket rustling as he brushes up against something. He changes the subject quickly, going back to the matter of calling, which is more than enough to have you worrying. “Listen, I meant to call last night when I got back, but they gave me all these packets to read and—”

“Bucky,” you cut him off, before he can launch into another disgruntled tirade about all the paperwork he hates reading. “What’s going on?” 

This time, the pause on the other line lasts a few moments longer. 

While Bucky never lies to you about anything, he struggles, sometimes, when it comes to communicating. Occasionally, he omits the truth, or says nothing at all, because he wants to keep you safe, and he knows you’ll drag yourself into the danger with him. 

Despite all the years you've been together, Bucky still can't quite fathom that someone would put themselves in the crossfire because of him. He always accused Steve of having something to prove, and he thinks the same of you, when the truth is, you both just love—loved—him enough to put your lives on the line. 

Bucky hesitates on the other end before answering, his voice hushed, growing quieter again. “I don’t know everything, yet.”

You close your eyes, lean your head against the wall. For all the shit he gave Steve for jumping head-first into things, Bucky’s never been much better, in your opinion. “Bucky—”

He doesn’t let you interject, insistent on regurgitating all his words before you can chew him out. “Remember Valentina’s assistant I was telling you about?”

You wrinkle your eyebrows together. “Yeah. Did she actually give you something?”

Bucky exhales as you take a seat on the couch, curling your legs up into your chest. It’s been over a week since he’s been back home, and you miss him already, even if you’re used to being apart. 

He explains, briefly, about the people involved in Valentina’s dirty work, ones he can use in the trial against her. You’ve heard of them all, infamous in your line of work, including John Walker, who you’ve had the displeasure of meeting before. 

Bucky’s story is finished up quickly, a messy wrapping, tied up in nothing more than a knot. You can’t tell if he’s leaving out details, or if he really just doesn’t know them all. 

You purse your lips, pulling at a loose thread in your sweater. “You should’ve taken me with you,” you say, before falling back into the couch, your eyes glued to a spot on the ceiling, where the paint looks off. The longer you gaze at it, the more it starts to look like a discoloration, one you’re not certain is real. Maybe your imagination is just desperate for something to fixate on. “I could’ve helped.” 

Bucky’s smooth, silky tone soothes the aches in your heart and mind. “It was nothing.” He sounds louder, then, as if his mouth is leaning closer to the microphone. “Besides, you told me you wanted to stay out of all this.”

A frown takes over your features. You had said that; it was the entire reason you hadn’t moved to D.C. along with him, and sometimes, you wonder if he thinks you hate him for working in Congress. “It’s still your career. I don’t want to be completely uninvolved.”

“I know."

You’re grateful for the sincerity in his voice. You’re not a fan of most politicians, but you hope he knows that you'll support him, love him, no matter what.

“If I really needed your help, I would’ve called.” He laughs, then, a small sound. “I just didn’t. This time.”

You can picture his small smile on the other end, can envision the lines forming tighter around his eyes. In the near decade since he’s regained his memories, he’s only aged a couple years. Oftentimes, you wonder if you’ll ever catch up to him, if one day, you’ll look older than the man who has lived through more than a century. 

It’s a strange thing to think about. 

“Will you be home soon?” you ask, softly, surprised by how vulnerable your voice sounds. 

The house feels colder without him there, empty. It had been your choice to stay in New York, but sometimes, you wish you would’ve just moved with him.

There is evidence of your life all around — books you love, pictures of friends you still have, and those that are gone. Your favorite restaurants are still just a walk away, memories of your existence on every avenue. 

It’s home — it just feels less like one without Bucky Barnes in it. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe sooner than expected. I don’t think they’ll want to keep me in Congress for much longer, now.” Bucky goes for humor, but you don’t laugh, and neither does he. “Are you okay?”

Things haven’t been bad, lately, but you’re tired. It’s been one thing after another after another, after another, for years. 

The world just won’t let either of you rest.

“I just miss you.” Too much emotion seeps into your voice, and there’s a cloud settling over your heart that makes you want to cry into the phone.

You don’t, though. It would just make him feel bad, and make you feel worse, and you’re more than old enough to handle being alone for another week, even if you don’t want to.  

Still, he sounds even more apologetic on the other end. “I miss you too. So much.” There’s a sound behind him — it’s faint, but it sounds like a groan. One of the hostages is waking up, it seems. “I have to go, sweetheart — I’m sorry.” 

He’ll never stop apologizing, even if these things are out of his control. Sometimes, you feel selfish for wanting so much of his time when he has the heart and the strength to save the world. 

“It’s okay,” you say, even if the words sound a little dull to your ears. “Promise me you’ll call when you get the chance?” 

“I promise. I love you.” 

The words make you smile. It is, perhaps, the first genuine one you’ve had since he answered the phone. You lean your head back in the cushion, settling into it, before repeating the words back to him. 

The line goes dead. 

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