#soft alex tings

[adventuringblind]

He Must Be Lucky!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad

Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).

Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.

Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.

The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.

Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.

He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.

"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.

He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."

The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.

She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.

A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."

The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.

"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.

She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.

Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"

"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."

If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.

"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"

Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.

It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."

[ayrtonswnna]

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[amirasainz]

Hi literally get so excited when you update! Can you write one where charles x alexandra x reader where charles and alex are away for an event and forget that it's the reader birthday ans only remember when someone tells them birthday it and they try and make it up to her.

Hi loves. I hope you enjoy this little piece. Let me know what you think. Comments are always apreciated!I'm sorry,but the Sydney Sweeny picture was perfect, so I had to include it😉

Also, question (and please answer me that in the comments), does anyone read what I write before the story? Like the little message here? I'm just curious❤️

Enjoy reading and send me requests!!❤️

-XoXo

The Birthday disaster

You couldn’t believe it. They weren’t here. They didn’t call, text, or even send you a freaking letter. Your own boyfriend and girlfriend forgot your birthday. And not just any birthday, it was your 21 birthday. Instead of celebrating with Alex, Charles, and all of your friends in a vibrant club, you were sitting on the balcony of your apartment. Despite the cold wind hitting your bare skin mercilessly, thanks to the cute short dress you wore today, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk back inside.

Of course, your friends tried to get you to come out with them to celebrate your birthday properly. But it just hurt too much, and to be honest, your mind was too tired and sad for any kind of festivity.

When Charles and Alex first informed you about the event hosted by one of Alex’s friends, they eagerly asked you to join them. Unfortunately, your job didn’t allow you to tag along, which both of them understood. However, they promised you that they would return today at around 5 o’clock. To be honest, you thought they had something special planned for your birthday. But last night, at around 11 pm, you received a text from Alex, informing you that they would be staying longer in Venice, where the event was held.

At first, you thought this was some kind of joke. Maybe they wanted you to think that they weren’t able to celebrate with you, only to surprise you with a birthday party. But sadly, when you woke up this morning, nothing happened. Throughout the day, there was complete silence between you and them.

Your group of friends, who had been with you a few hours ago to at least celebrate your birthday a little bit, tried to convince you to go out and party with them. Before you could agree, you got a notification from Instagram. You were tagged quite often in a post showing Alex and Charles at the event. They looked so happy and carefree, making you feel even more numb.

Despite their best efforts, your friends left after half an hour, after you reassured them with phrases like “Yes, I will take care of myself,” “Yes, I will call you if I need anything,” and “No, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m completely fine.” They knew you were anything but fine; however, they also knew that you needed to be alone right now.

So here you are, sitting alone in the cold with your only companions being the vodka bottle you brought with you and the relentless wind hitting your skin. “Happy fucking 21st birthday to me, I guess,” you muttered to yourself, staring out at the sea.

“Oh my god, Lisa. You truly outdid yourself,” complimented Alex, her friend. And it was true. The event was filled with beautiful flowers and lights, giving the room a fairy-like appearance. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the petals, creating a magical ambiance that made everyone feel like they had stepped into an enchanted garden. Charles, who stood next to his girlfriend, only brought her closer to him and said, “Yeah, I have to agree. I’m 100% sure YN would have loved it.” “You are so right, love. I wish she was here with us,” agreed Alex, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Wait, I’m confused. So there is nothing wrong between you guys and YN?” asked Lisa, her brow furrowed in confusion. Alex and Charles shared a look with each other, both of them equally puzzled. “No, why would there be anything wrong with us?” Alex replied, her tone defensive. “Oh, I just thought you had a fight and this is the reason why you are here and not with YN today. But I must have been wrong…” Linda’s voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She shared a look with her partner Mary, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Wait, stop. Pause. Why would we be with YN tonight? You invited us to your event and we are here. I don’t get what’s going on right now,” said Alex, her frustration mounting. It felt like Mary and Lisa knew something she and Charles didn’t. Mary, who was now also becoming more annoyed with how the two of them acted before them, didn’t take any nonsense from Alex.

Without hesitation, she looked straight into Alex’s eyes and told her with an ice-cold voice, “Well, we weren’t expecting you to show up today because we thought that you would be busy celebrating YN’s 21 birthday today. But from the looks of it, it seems like you forgot your own girlfriend’s birthday. So don’t talk to us with that rude tone of yours. At least we remember each other’s birthdays.” With that, Mary took Lisa by the hand and left, leaving Alex and Charles standing there in stunned silence.

Alex and Charles were left behind, both staring at the space where the couple used to be a few seconds ago. Both of them felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over them. How could they forget their own girlfriend’s birthday? Turning on their phones, they saw the flood of messages they had received from not only their fans but also their friends, YN’s friends, and their families. Each message was a painful reminder of their oversight.

“We messed up so badly,” muttered Charles, looking at Alex with a pained expression. The woman could only nod, still speechless. Charles took her arm and gently but firmly led her out of the room. “We have to go to her. ASAP,” Alex told Charles, who was already a step ahead of her and had their jackets in hand. With that, the couple left the event, both feeling a deep sense of remorse. How could they forget their girl’s birthday?

As they hurried to their car, Alex’s mind raced with thoughts of how to make it up to YN. She knew it would take more than just an apology to mend the hurt they had caused. Charles, too, was lost in his thoughts, thinking of ways to show YN how much she meant to them. They both knew that they had a lot of making up to do, but they were determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

At around 1 am, the couple finally arrived home. The ride back had been silent, the air in the car feeling oppressively thick, making it hard to breathe. They parked their car in the garage and, without hesitation, jumped out of the vehicle, racing towards the elevator. The few minutes it took to reach their front door felt like an eternity, each second stretching painfully.

When they entered the apartment, everything was shrouded in darkness. A figure sat on the balcony, barely visible in the dim light. Charles immediately sat next to YN, while Alex kneeled in front of her. YN didn’t even look at them before taking a gulp from the nearly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey love, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” whispered Charles, gently trying to take the bottle away from the now 21-year-old girl.

YN shook her head, her voice trembling as she reminded them, “No. NO, you do not get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not after you forgot about me.” “Baby, we didn’t forget about you,” Alex tried, her eyes already filling with tears. YN only laughed, her own tears streaming down her face. “No, Alexandra. You do not get to tell me that after you forgot my birthday, and you certainly don’t get to cry.” “Ok, let’s all calm down,” Charles attempted again, his voice soothing but firm.

“No Charles! I don’t want to calm down. You both forgot about me. You two promised me that something like this would never happen to us. You promised me that you would always love me. You promised me that the age gap didn’t bother you when we started dating when I was 19. But look at us. You already broke one of your promises. How can I be sure that you won’t break another one?” With that, YN broke down in tears. Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, her head held in her hands.

Charles and Alex immediately moved to comfort her. “YN, breath. We are so freaking sorry. I guarantee you, we didn’t mean for something like this to happen. We were all so busy with our jobs and social lives that we didn’t mean to forget something so important,” Charles began, his voice filled with regret.

Alex took YN’s head into her hands, gently wiping away her tears. “We love you more than anything in this world. You are our air and our heart. And we will apologize for the rest of our lives if we have to,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. YN only whispered, “I love you guys too.” Alex didn't hesitate before kissing her girlfriend. after a moment the they pulled apart.

Charles turned her face towards him, speaking softly, “And we didn’t lie when we told you the age gap didn’t bother us. And we certainly didn’t lie when we promised you that we would always love you, ok?” After YN nodded, Letting Charles also kiss her. This kiss was filled with as much love as Alex, just a bit more urgently but still gentle. After their kiss, the three of them cuddled close to each other, finding solace in their shared warmth.

It would take some time before everything was alright between the three of them again. But for now, sitting together and watching the city lights flicker in the distance was the perfect way to start healing.

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 18

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : (This is actually now the longest chapter so far, 6.3k words, a lot does happen but good jesus just wait for the next few, will try my best to keep word counts down but cant guarentee!) MDNI, angst, fluff, tension, guilt, cheating (do not), betrayal, suggestive

Matt’s POV

As the night passed by, we both started to drift off, the warmth of her body curled up against mine calming me into a deep, peaceful sleep. It was the kind of sleep that comes after a long day, after a whirlwind of emotions, content but heavy, like my body was finally letting go of all the tension I’d been holding onto.

At some point, I woke up. The room was still and dark, the only sound being the gentle rhythm of Y/n's breathing beside me. I blinked a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess. I wondered what time it was so I reached for my jacket for my phone. Only to realise I hadn’t brought it in with me, I left it in the car. I felt a slight pang of anxiety. Nick and Chris were probably wondering where the hell I was, and I hadn’t even thought to check in.

Carefully, I reached over Y/n, my fingers brushing against her phone on the nightstand. I tapped the screen, squinting at the sudden burst of light. 2:42 AM. It was later than I thought. But what really caught my eye was the mountain of notifications on her screen, texts from Alex, trying to reach her.

A tightness settled in my chest as I stared at the notifications. I didn’t read them, but I could imagine the contents. I didn’t want to think about Alex or Emily right now, but reality was creeping back in, reminding me of the complications we’d have to face.

I sighed quietly, not wanting to wake Y/n, but knowing I needed to figure out what to do next. I carefully started to slide out of bed, trying not to disturb her, but she shifted slightly as I moved, her eyelids fluttering open.

“Matt?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Shh, it’s okay” I whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

But she was already awake, her eyes focusing on me in the dim light. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“I just realized I left my phone in the car” I explained softly. “I’m going to grab it, and then I’ll be back.”

She nodded sleepily, her hand reaching out to touch my arm as if to anchor me there for just a moment longer. “Don’t take too long” she whispered, her eyes already starting to close again.

“I won’t” I promised, leaning down to kiss her once more, this time on her lips, a lingering, gentle kiss that I hoped would reassure her.

I slowly pulled away, slipping out of bed and quietly making my way to the door. I paused for a moment, glancing back at her, her figure outlined softly by the glow of the street lights outside. Even in the dim light, she looked peaceful, beautiful.

With a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing it gently behind me. I opened the front door and made my way down to the car. But as I walked, the weight of what had just happened began to press down on me. We’d crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed, and I wasn’t sure what came next. All I knew was that, for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be..

The car sat parked out front, dimly lit by the street lights, and I could see my phone lying on the passenger seat through the window. As I reached the car, I unlocked it and opened the door, grabbing my phone and immediately tapping on the screen.

The screen lit up, and the notifications began to flood in. First from Emily, then Nick, and finally Chris. My stomach tightened as I saw Emily’s name at the top of the list. I hadn’t wanted to deal with this yet, but it seemed I didn’t have a choice.

Emily had sent a string of messages:

“Matt, where are you?” 

“Why aren’t you answering me?”

 “Who are you with?”

 “Are you with Y/n? Tell me the truth.”

 “Matt, answer me. Don’t ignore me like this.”

My jaw clenched as I scrolled through her texts. Her tone was sharp, accusatory. Then there were the missed calls - several from her, and one from Nick.

I swiped over to Nick’s messages next, hoping for something less stressful:

“Bitch, where’d you go?” 

“Can you let me know you’re good? We haven’t heard from you.” 

“Chris is getting worried, Nate is literally consoling him because he thinks you’re dead. Let us know you’re okay.”

Chris’s messages were much the same, filled with concern rather than annoyance. They weren’t used to me disappearing like this, especially without a word. They were probably wondering if something had happened.

I leaned back against the car seat, staring at the screen as if it might offer some sort of solution. Emily was spiraling, Nick and Chris were worried, and I was caught in the middle of it all, not wanting to explain where I’d been or what I’d been doing.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to start with Nick and Chris. I shot off a quick text to both of them:

“Hey, sorry for disappearing. I’m fine don’t worry, I’ll explain tomorrow.”

That should hold them off for now.

Then I turned back to Emily’s messages, hesitating for a moment before typing out a response. I wasn’t in the mood to argue or get into anything with her, not after the night I’d just had. But I knew if I didn’t answer, it would only get worse.

“Emily, I’m fine. I’ll call you in the morning.” I typed out, but before I could send it, another message from her popped up.

“If you’re with Y/n, I swear to God, Matt. Don’t you dare lie to me.”

My frustration spiked as I read her words. I’d had enough for one night. I deleted the message I was going to send and locked the phone, shoving it into my pocket.

Leaning back against the car, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. The cool breeze helped clear my head a bit, but it didn’t ease the frustration building up inside me. I needed to figure out how to handle this, how to deal with Emily and everything that had happened tonight. But for now, I just wanted to get back to Y/n.

As I walked back up the steps to Y/n’s apartment, the weight of everything that had happened started to settle in. I knew I couldn’t just stay the night, not without raising more questions - questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Nick and Chris were already worried, and disappearing like this wasn’t something I typically did. If I stayed, it would only complicate things further, especially when I had a girlfriend.

Reaching the door, I hesitated for a moment before letting myself in. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the faint buzz of the city outside. I made my way back to Y/n’s room, the warmth of the space immediately comforting after the cold outside.

Y/n was lying in bed, her eyes half closed as she looked up at me. The sight of her, wrapped up in the sheets, made me want to crawl back in beside her and forget about everything else. But I knew I couldn’t. Not tonight.

“Hey” I said softly, trying to keep my voice even. “I need to go.”

Her eyes opened wider, a mix of confusion and concern flashing across her face. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nick and Chris are getting worried” I explained, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s not like me to just disappear like that, and I can’t exactly say I’m staying with you… It would be a bit suspicious.”

She nodded slowly, her expression understanding but tinged with disappointment. “Yeah, I get it.”

I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”

She gave me a small smile, but I could see the conflict in her eyes. “Okay.”

Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be here with her, but I knew the reality of the situation wouldn’t allow it.

“I’ll text you when I get home” I promised as I stood up, trying to reassure both her and myself.

She nodded again, her eyes following me as I moved toward the door. I paused for a second, taking in the sight of her one last time before forcing myself to turn away.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Matt.”

I left the apartment, the door closing softly behind me, and the sense of finality hit me like a ton of bricks. But for now, I had to focus on getting home and figuring out how to navigate the tangled mess of emotions and responsibilities that awaited me there.

When I finally pulled into the garage, I could see the lights still on in the house. I hoped, for once, that Nick and Chris had called it a night. The last thing I needed was to explain where I’d been and make things even more complicated. But, of course, things never seemed to go that smoothly.

I opened the door from the garage into the hallway, trying to sneak past Chris’ room without a sound. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the floor creak and Chris’ voice came from his room, full of concern, while Nate was passed out on his bed.

“Matt, holy fuck, where have you been? You worried me.” Chris said, stepping into the hallway, his eyes wide with worry.

Before I could fully process a response, I heard Nick’s footsteps coming down the stairs from the kitchen. Great. Just what I needed - a late night interrogation from both of them.

“I’m fine, man” I started, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I was with Y/n. She needed to vent about Alex, so we went for a walk.”

Chris seemed to relax a bit, but I could see the curiosity still flickering in his eyes. Nick, on the other hand, looked less convinced as he joined us at the bottom of the stairs, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m surprised she didn’t text me to talk..” Nick said, his voice full of suspicion.

I forced a shrug, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. Lie again. “Yeah, I guess she just thought it would be easier, you know? Since I’m with Emily.. and she’s with Alex.. and they’re away together right now..”

I could see the cogs turning in Nick's head. “That’s fair.” He said with a nod.

Chris seemed to accept it straight away, nodding slowly. “Okay, but next time, just shoot us a text or something. You know, so we don’t think you’ve gone missing or whatever.”

I nodded, grateful that he was letting it go. “Yeah, I will. Sorry about that.”

Nick still looked a little suspicious, but he didn’t press any further. Instead, he just gave me a nod and turned to head back upstairs. “Alright. Just don’t disappear like that again.”

“Got it” I said, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

As they both headed back to their rooms, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. That was too close. I had to be more careful going forward. This double life I was starting to live was already beginning to catch up with me, and I couldn’t afford any more slip ups. Not when everything was hanging by a thread.

Y/n’s POV

After Matt left, I sat there for a moment, the room suddenly feeling much emptier without him in it. I reached for my phone, not really expecting much, but when the screen lit up, a flood of notifications greeted me. All from Alex.

I hesitated for a moment before opening my messages, curiosity getting the better of me despite the dread I felt in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I saw Alex's name, the reality of everything came rushing back.

There were several texts, all sent in quick succession. The first few were relatively tame, almost normal.

Alex: "Hey, you okay? Haven’t heard from you in a bit."

"Miss you, babe. Did you hear anything from the board yet? I’m stressin’ out over here."

But then they started to take a different tone.

Alex: "Why aren't you responding?" "Y/n, what's going on?" "Did I do something wrong? Just talk to me."

His last message, sent just minutes ago, made my stomach turn.

Alex: "Are you seriously ignoring me? I’m starting to lose it over here. I haven’t done anything wrong. Please just answer me."

I stared at the screen, my heart heavy with guilt. I should have responded, but what could I even say? The truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to care as much as I used to. Not after everything that had happened between us - or rather, everything that hadn’t happened but should have.

My thoughts were still on Matt, the way he made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Something real, something more than the hollow connection I’d been clinging to with Alex.

But seeing these messages.. it brought everything crashing back down. The reality of my relationship with Alex, the fact that he was still out there, believing we were okay. That he was still my boyfriend.

But after what Jess had told me, and after what I know now, how could I continue on with him? It wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about everything he had done - things I could no longer ignore, things that made it impossible for me to keep pretending.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder if Matt might be regretting everything. Maybe he didn’t want to get involved in this mess. Maybe he was already pulling away.

What if Matt was regretting everything? What if that’s the real reason he left? The thought clawed at me, making my chest tighten with uncertainty. He had to go home to his brothers, sure, but what if he was using that as an excuse?

What if he doesn’t really like me like that?

I replayed the night over and over in my mind, analyzing every little thing he’d said, every touch, every glance. It all felt so real in the moment, so intense. But now, alone in the silence of my apartment, it was easy to start questioning everything.

“My girl.”

The memory of him calling me that during our time together stuck in my mind, refusing to let go. He wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it, right? He wouldn’t have looked at me the way he did, wouldn’t have touched me with such tenderness, if it didn’t mean something to him.. right?

But then again, people say a lot of things in the heat of the moment. Maybe it was just that - a moment. Maybe, now that he’s had time to think about it, he’s regretting it. Regretting me.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me stubbornly. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to feel. Everything was so confusing, so tangled up in emotions that I didn’t know how to sort through.

What I did know was that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he made me feel, about the way I wanted more. And that scared me. Because wanting more from Matt meant stepping into territory that was messy and complicated. Territory that could end up hurting both of us.

But as much as I tried to reason with myself, the truth was, I didn’t want to let go of the memory of him. Of the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered. The way he looked at me, touched me, spoke to me.

I didn’t want to lose that. Not yet.

So, I clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. That “my girl” wasn’t just something he said in the moment, but something he meant. Something he wanted. Something that wasn’t going to disappear with the morning light.

As I lay in bed, still tangled in my thoughts, my phone buzzed again. A message from Matt.

Matt: "Hey, just wanted to let you know I got home safe. Talk to you tomorrow?"

A wave of relief washed over me. The simple message brought me back from the edge of my spiraling thoughts. If Matt had regretted anything, surely he wouldn't have bothered to check in. The knot in my stomach loosened just a bit, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

I placed my phone on the nightstand, trying to let the comfort of Matt’s words put me back to sleep. But just as I was about to close my eyes, another notification lit up my screen. This time, it was from Nick.

Nick 💜: "Hey, just checking in. Matt mentioned you needed to vent about Alex. You okay? Want to meet up for brunch tomorrow?"

I stared at the message, feeling a mix of emotions. Matt had covered for us, but Nick was still concerned. It made sense, he was always looking out for me. Part of me felt guilty for dragging Matt into this, for making things more complicated. But another part of me was grateful. Grateful for the friends I had, even if things were getting messier by the day.

I quickly typed out a response.

Me: "Thanks for checking in, Nick. I’m okay. Brunch sounds good."

I hit send and then put my phone down again, hoping that this time, sleep would come a little easier. But even as I closed my eyes, my mind was still racing, trying to make sense of everything that had happened tonight. Everything that was yet to come.

The next morning, I got up after a good lie in, feeling all of the emotions still from last night. After a quick shower, I dressed casually and headed out to meet Nick, Matt, and Chris for brunch. I decided to make my own way there, as where we were meeting was right in the middle for both of us.I knew they had to go out of their way to drop Nate off at the airport. He decided he was going to meet some friends in Hawaii for a few days and would come back and stay with the triplets after.

As I walked into the small cafe we’d picked, I spotted them at a corner table. Matt saw me first and gave me a small, reassuring smile that I tried to return. Nick was busy reading through the menu, and Chris was sipping on his can of Pepsi. I slid into the seat beside Matt, catching Nick’s attention.

“Hey, you made it” Nick said with a warm grin. “How’re you feeling?”

I nodded, trying to keep things light. “Uh, better, yeah.. Thanks for checking in last night.”

Chris glanced between the two of us, raising an eyebrow. “So, what’s the story with Alex? You okay?”

Matt’s hand briefly brushed against my knee under the table, a subtle, comforting gesture that did more for me than any words could have.

I took a deep breath. “Honestly, it’s been complicated. Alex and I.. we’re not in a good place, and I think last night everything just got brought to the surface.”

Nick nodded, looking genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better than to be dealing with all that.”

I appreciated their support, but they didn’t know the whole truth. I knew it was time to address Alex’s messages. I’d avoided them long enough, and the longer I waited, the more it felt like a weight hanging over me. I excused myself from the table, asking Matt to order me the blueberry pancakes if a waitress came around. 

I walked to the bathroom and into a stall. I pulled out my phone, the screen lighting up with a new string of messages from Alex. I stared at them, feeling a strange mix of anger and pity. I knew I had to reply, to say something that would put this to rest. But I also knew that I couldn’t give him the comfort he was looking for, not when I’d already made up my mind about us.

With a deep breath, I began to type.

Me:"Alex, I got the email from the board. You’re suspended for another six weeks, and they’ve stripped your captaincy. I’m sorry, but I think we need to talk when you get back. There are some things we need to figure out."

It was blunt, but I couldn’t bring myself to sugarcoat it. The truth was, our relationship was already over, I was just waiting for him to realize it too.

But I couldn't bring myself to hit send. I deleted the whole paragraph I’d typed out. I knew it was something I had to say in person. I knew the conversation wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary. Instead I typed something small, enough to keep him at bay for the minute.

Me: 

“Sorry Alex, trying to adjust back to normal times at work. Been sleeping a lot, it’ll probably be hard to keep in contact with the time difference. Hope you and Emily are having a good time.”

I alluded to the fact I knew about them, but he’s not smart enough to pick that up. I locked my phone and left the bathroom stall, washing my hands before returning to the table.

Nick’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “You okay?”

I looked up at him, then over at Matt, who was watching me with those deep, thoughtful eyes. “Yeah” I said finally. “I think I’m starting to be.”

Our food was ordered, and the conversation moved on to lighter topics - funny memories from past hangouts, Matt and Chris' latest obsession with some new video game called Chained Together, and Nick’s plans for the rest of the week.

Despite the unresolved tension in my life, being there with them, made me feel grounded. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like I was on the verge of something better, something that was entirely my own.

And that’s how the next six days went - almost every spare waking minute was spent together, either hanging out at my place or at Matt’s, with Nick and Chris always nearby. It was nice getting to spend time with everyone, the four of us laughing, joking, and enjoying each other’s company. The comfortable camaraderie made it easy to forget about the complications lurking in the background.

But as much as I loved being around them, I couldn’t help but wish for more alone time with Matt. It felt like every moment we spent together in the group was shadowed by the tension that simmered just below the surface, a constant reminder of the connection we were both trying so hard to keep under wraps, trying our best to not advertise our secret.

But the secret flirting between us grew bolder, the brief touches and lingering glances becoming harder to ignore. We’d catch each other’s eye across the room, and it was like everything else faded away. A shared look would send my heart racing, my thoughts spiraling into places they shouldn’t go - at least not while I was still technically with Alex, and Matt was still with Emily.

But the more time we spent together, the harder it became to mask our feelings. The jokes between us had a sharper edge, the teasing carrying a weight that neither of us acknowledged but both of us felt. Every accidental brush of our hands, every moment when our eyes locked a little too long, built up the tension until it was almost unbearable.

It was a strange, exhilarating mix of excitement and frustration. On one hand, I craved the thrill of these secret moments with Matt, the way they made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. But on the other, it was exhausting, trying to navigate this complicated web of emotions without letting anyone else see what was really going on.

By the end of each day, I was left feeling restless, my mind racing with thoughts of what could be if things were different - if we didn’t have to hide, if we could just be honest about how we felt. But for now, we had to play the part, keeping our feelings under wraps while the tension between us continued to grow, day by day.

It was less than 48 hours before Alex and Emily came home and the time loomed over me like a ticking clock, counting down to the inevitable confrontation. The anxiety of what was to come spun at the back of my mind, but I tried to push it aside. There was still a day and a half more to enjoy before everything had to change.

I had half an hour left of my shift, Jess had been by my side the whole time as we packed the shelves. I filled her in on everything that had happened - well, almost everything. I left out the kiss and the intimacy between Matt and I, not ready to divulge those parts just yet. Even so, she was shocked when she found out I knew Matt as well as I did.

"You and Matt?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "I had no idea you two were that close. That's.. Wow."

“Well I'm friends with his brothers too, let's not forget that.” I said, almost cutting her off.

I could see the excitement bubbling up in her, the way she was practically glowing with the idea of me and Matt together. But I had to play it down, remind her of the reality of the situation. "Jess, we're technically both still in relationships" I said, trying to sound more resigned than I actually felt. "And Matt.. he's still oblivious to everything that happened between Alex and Emily."

Jess gave me a sympathetic look but then smirked, nudging me with her elbow. "He doesn’t know?! Bitch you need to tell him so you two can get a move on."

I sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I don’t know why I hadn’t told Matt yet. The whole situation freaked me out, and I could never seem to find the right time to tell him.

When my shift finally ended, I stepped outside to see Matt waiting for me in his car. Hangouts the last week were a given, so I expected to see him as soon as I walked outside the Target doors. The sight of him instantly lifted my mood, pushing the lingering worries to the back of my mind. I slipped into the passenger seat, and as we drove off, Matt mentioned everyone’s plans for the evening.

“I’m warning you in advance that Nick and Chris are heading to our friend Tara’s party tonight” Matt said casually. “I’ve decided I’m not going, but they’re probably going to try and persuade you to go too.”

A small thrill of excitement ran through me. "So, it'll just be us?"

Matt nodded, glancing over at me with a slight grin. "Just us."

The rest of the drive was filled with comfortable conversation and shared laughter, the tension between us still there, but softened by the ease of each other’s company. As much as I tried to keep my feelings in check, I couldn’t help but look forward to the time we’d have alone.

When we arrived at Matt’s place, Nick and Chris were already getting ready to leave for the party. “Heyyyyy bitchessss!” Nick called out, waving us over. “We were just about to head out to Tara’s party. You’re coming, right?”

Matt shook his head, already anticipating the direction this conversation was going. “Nah, I’m definitely going to pass. You guys go have fun.”

Chris wasn’t having it, though. “Come on, Matt! You’re always turning down these things. It’ll be fun. Plus, Tara’s been asking about you.”

Matt rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, I’m sure she has. But seriously, I’m good. I just want to chill tonight.”

Nick joined in, trying a different tactic. “What about you, Y/n? You’re up for a party, right? You could help us convince Matt.”

I glanced at Matt, who was watching me with an amused expression. I shook my head, siding with him. “I’m with Matt on this one. I’m actually quite tired after work.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “You two are such party poopers.” He pointed a finger at Matt, smirking. “But don’t think this is over, Matt. You’re coming to the next one, no excuses.”

“Yeah, yeah” Matt said, waving him off. “I’ll think about it.”

With that, Nick and Chris finally relented, grabbing their things and heading out the door to their Uber. “Have fun doing whatever boring stuff you two are planning.” Chris called out as they left.

The door closed behind them, and just like that, the house was quiet again. I looked over at Matt, who was leaning against the counter with a satisfied grin.

“Well, that was easier than I thought” he said with a chuckle.

I smiled back, while sitting myself down on the couch, feeling a sense of relief that we had the place to ourselves. “Yeah, I’m glad they didn’t push too hard.”

Matt pushed off the counter, walking over to where I was sat. “So, what do you want to do now that it’s just us?”

The way he said it sent a shiver down my spine, and I had to remind myself to breathe. “Honestly, just hanging out sounds perfect.”

Matt nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah, it does.”

Matt sat down on the couch, and it was like a magnet pulling us together. Our lips met in a heated kiss, and I could feel every worry and thought slipping away as we got lost in each other. His hands moved over my body, each touch sending shivers down my spine. He pushed me further down the couch as I felt his lips trailing down my neck, warm and insistent, lifting my shirt to continue the path of kisses lower, making my breath hitch.

But just as I was getting lost in the moment, a nagging voice in the back of my mind grew louder. Jess’s words from earlier were echoing in my head, reminding me of the truth I’d been holding back. It felt wrong to be here with Matt, to be sneaking around with him while this massive secret hung over us. I couldn’t keep it from him any longer.

“Matt” I said, my voice breaking as I pulled away slightly. I could see the confusion and concern in his eyes as he looked at me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone soft, but there was an edge of worry in his voice.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words came tumbling out in a rush. “I found out Alex cheated on me” I said, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. “That’s what the fight was about… Alex and Emily.”

The change in Matt’s expression was instant. His face went pale, and the warmth in his eyes was replaced with shock and disbelief. “Emily?” he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “Emily cheated on me.. with Alex?”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn’t hold them back. The guilt, the pain, the betrayal - it all came crashing down on me at once. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” I choked out, the tears now streaming down my face. “I didn’t want to keep this from you. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Matt stared at me, his mind racing as he tried to piece it all together. “How long have you known?” he asked, his voice strained.

I wiped at my tears, though they kept coming. “Since the day you took me skating” I admitted. “One of my friends, a co-worker told me.. she was there when it happened..the night of the fight, she didn’t know if she should tell me. But I had to know the truth, even if it hurt.”

Matt ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the floor as if trying to process what I had just told him. “I can’t believe this” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “I mean we’re no better but atleast now it makes sense.”

“I’m sorry, Matt” I said again, my voice trembling. “Once I knew what happened I knew things were done with me and Alex.. but then even the condom box in my top drawer.. I was there when Alex bought them.. we hadn’t used them because, well, our sex life had died over a year ago.”

Matt’s eyes snapped back to mine, confusion and dread clouding his gaze. “Wait.. but the box was open?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

We locked eyes, both of us knowing where this conversation was leading but unwilling to face it head on. The implications of what we were realizing were almost too much to bear.

“Yeah..” I whispered, nodding slowly. “And a couple were missing, I checked when you left.”

Matt’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening as the full weight of the situation settled in. I felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, the whole guilt side of this thing between us would’ve been eliminated if I had just told you.” I repeated, feeling utterly helpless.

Matt’s expression softened slightly as he reached up to wipe away the tears on my cheeks. His touch was gentle, despite the storm of emotions raging inside him. “I wish you had told me sooner” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “But I get why you didn’t. It’s a lot to process.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you” I said, my voice breaking. “But I didn’t want to keep lying to you either.”

Matt’s expression softened, and he reached out to gently cup my face in his hands. "I appreciate you telling me" he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "It couldn’t have been easy, but I’m glad you did. We can’t change what’s happened, but we can decide what happens next."

I nodded, swallowing hard. 

Matt was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as he thought. Then he looked back at me, his gaze intense, processing everything I’d just told him. "So does Alex know that you know he cheated?" he asked carefully, as if trying to tread lightly on a subject that was already fraught with tension.

I shook my head. "No, I’m waiting until he’s back to confront him. I also got an email from the Bruins Board of Management.. A six-week suspension and his captaincy stripped for good. But he doesn’t know either of these things yet."

Matt looked genuinely surprised. "Six weeks? And they took away his captaincy? On top of losing you in all of this? Damn.. That’s going to hit him hard."

"Yeah.." I agreed. "But honestly, after everything, I’m not feeling too sympathetic."

Matt nodded, understanding. "Emily’s definitely clueless about the whole situation too. She’s been so up my ass lately, constantly checking where I am. It makes sense now - she was projecting, worried I’d find out because she was doing it herself."

I hesitated for a moment, then decided to tell him what Jess had mentioned. "Jess overheard a conversation in the girls’ bathroom that night too.. She said something along the lines of Emily was bragging to her friends, saying she only likes you for the attention and for your money, but she also likes Alex and she somehow thinks she can have you both at the same time, she just needs me out of the way first."

Matt’s face darkened, a mixture of anger and disgust flashing in his eyes. "So that’s why she’s been so weird about you being around. It wasn’t just jealousy - it was guilt." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "You know she demanded that I didn’t hang out with you alone anymore. That’s why I went MIA for a month after the fight.. I’m so sorry Y/n for being so stupid.”

I felt a burn in my chest, knowing that Emily had tried to control him like that. "No Matt, don't apologise.. I had no idea she was doing that to you."

He shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at me. "I should’ve seen it sooner, but I was too caught up in trying to keep things smooth with her. I didn’t want to believe she was capable of this."

"And I should’ve confronted Alex sooner" I added, feeling the weight of my own choices. "But I was scared. I didn’t want to face the reality of what was happening."

Matt reached out, taking my hand in his. "We’re both dealing with a lot of shit, but at least we’re in this together now. We don’t have to go through it alone, and if anything this makes things a lot easier for us to move forward together"

I squeezed his hand, grateful for his support. "Yeah, together."

a/n : atleast we all know now the real reason matt wasn’t at tarayummys party 🤪🤪 part 19 reallllll sooon!!!!

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass @mystinkylefttoe26 @lizzysmith110 @sturniololovebot @secret-sturniolo

[dovesdreaming]

Beyond the scrubs

Summary: Alex karev is dating an attending (reader) in secret until he can’t take the hiding anymore.

A/n: I’ve forgot to say on my other posts but thank you for 300 followers (now more) <3

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: talk of injuries

-

It started as a fling-no promises, no complications, just a way to blow off steam during the long, grueling hours at Seattle Grace. Alex Karev wasn’t the type to settle down, and you weren’t the type to let yourself get caught up in messy entanglements. You were both driven, ambitious, and in control. At least, that’s what you told yourselves. The on-call room was your safe haven, the place where you could steal moments together, away from prying eyes and the judgmental whispers that filled the hospital corridors. Late at night, when the rest of the world was sleeping, you’d find each other in the dimly lit room, the only sounds being the hum of the air conditioning and the soft rustling of scrubs.

“Hey, you” you whispered as you slipped into the room, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. Alex was already there, leaning against the wall with that familiar smirk that always made your stomach flutter. “Hey yourself” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “Long night?”. “Isn’t it always?” You sighed, walking over to him. The stress of the day seemed to melt away the moment you were in his arms, your bodies fitting together perfectly. You kissed, slowly at first, savoring the few minutes you had together. It wasn’t just about the physical connection, though that was part of it. There was something more between you both, something unspoken that neither of you were ready to admit.

As you pulled away, you looked into Alex’s eyes, seeing a vulnerability there that he rarely showed. “We need to be careful” you said, your voice tinged with concern. “If anyone finds out…” “I know” Alex cut you off, his tone more serious now. “But I don’t want to stop”. “Neither do I” you admitted, your resolve wavering. “But we both know how it’ll look. I’m an attending, and you’re… well, you”. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doctor”. Alex quipped, his smirk returning, but there was a tension in his jaw that you didn’t miss. Your expression softened, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re a damn good doctor, Alex. One of the best. But people talk, and the last thing I want is for anyone to think you’re getting special treatment because of… this”.

Alex’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed too far. But then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. I know I’ve earned my place here. And so do you”. His words sent a warmth through you and you found herself smiling despite the situation. “You’re right” you said softly. “We’ll just have to be smart about it”. “Yeah, smart” Alex echoed, though there was something in his tone that made you wonder if he was already planning on breaking that rule.

As the weeks went by, you managed to keep your relationship under wraps. You were careful. No stolen glances during rounds, no lingering touches in the halls. But there were moments when the facade almost slipped, when Alex’s hand would brush against yours, or when you would catch yourself watching him a little too intently as he worked.

It was during a particularly stressful day in the ER that you had your first real scare. A trauma case had come in, a young boy, barely ten, with a gunshot wound to the chest. It was all hands on deck, and the pressure was palpable as the team worked to stabilize him. Alex was in the thick of it, his hands steady as he assisted Dr. Bailey with the surgery. You watched from the sidelines, your heart in her throat as you fought to save the boy’s life. When it was finally over, and the boy was stable, the tension broke like a dam, relief flooding the room. “Good work, Karev” Bailey said gruffly, her way of acknowledging a job well done. Alex nodded, pulling off his gloves and letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. As he turned to leave, he caught your eye. For a split second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the intensity of the moment pulling them together like a magnet. Without thinking, Alex reached out, his hand brushing against yours in a gesture that was too familiar, too intimate for the public setting. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly pulled away, your eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed. Dr. Bailey’s sharp gaze was on you both, and you felt a pang of panic. But before she could say anything, Bailey turned away, muttering something about paperwork and leaving the room.

“Close call” Alex murmured as you walked out of the OR, his voice laced with a mix of relief and amusement. “Too close” you replied, your pulse still racing. “We have to be more careful, Alex. If Bailey had said something..” “But she didn’t,” Alex interrupted, his expression serious. “Look, I get it. We have to keep this quiet. But I’m not going to act like I don’t care about you. Not in here” he gestured to the hallway around them, “and not out there”. You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had to keep your distance, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was a determination there, a certainty that you couldn’t deny. So instead, you nodded, letting yourself believe, just for a moment, that everything would be okay.

It was a few weeks later when everything came to a head. You’d been playing the game for so long, sneaking around, keeping your relationship hidden, that it was starting to wear on both of you. Alex was growing more frustrated, his usual bravado masking the tension that simmered beneath the surface. You too were feeling the strain, the constant fear of being discovered gnawing at your nerves. The final straw came during a particularly hectic day in the clinic. Alex had been working nonstop, dealing with a never ending stream of patients, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. You wanted to reach out, to offer him a moment of comfort, but there were too many eyes, too many people who could see.

And then it happened.

One of the other attendings, Dr. Stevens, made a comment, a casual remark about how Alex was getting all the best cases, how he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. It was said in jest, but the implication was clear: favoritism. You felt your stomach drop, the color draining from your face as the words hung in the air. You waited for Alex to brush it off, to let it slide like he usually did. But instead, he snapped.

“Maybe I get the best cases because I’m a damn good doctor” Alex retorted, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. “Or is that too hard for you to believe?”. The room went silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. You could see the shock on everyone’s faces, the way they exchanged glances, as if suddenly realizing there was more going on than they’d thought. Dr. Stevens opened his mouth to respond, but Alex didn’t give him the chance. “You know what? Screw this. Yeah, I’m seeing Dr. Y/L/N We’ve been together for a while now. And it’s got nothing to do with my work. So if anyone’s got a problem with that, say it now”.

Your heart stopped, your mind racing as you processed what he’d just done. Alex had just blown your cover, exposed your relationship to the entire room. But as you looked at him, standing there with that defiant look in his eyes, you realised something. You didn’t care. You weren’t ashamed of what you had, and you weren’t going to let anyone make you feel like you should be. Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, your voice steady as you spoke. “Alex is right. Our relationship is personal, and it has no bearing on the work we do here. If anyone has a problem with that, you can take it up with me.”

There was a murmur of surprise, but no one challenged you. Dr. Stevens, for his part, looked chastened, muttering an apology under his breath. As the room slowly returned to its usual hum of activity, Alex turned to you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Yeah” you replied, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m sure”.

And just like that, the secret was out. It wasn’t easy, and there were still challenges to face. Whispers in the halls, disapproving looks from some of your colleagues but you faced it together, no longer hiding, no longer pretending. Because in the end, it wasn’t about what anyone else thought. It was about the connection you shared, the trust you had in each other. And that was something worth owning, something worth fighting for.

-

Thank you for reading <3

[glassrowboat]

for forced proximity: oughh i can’t stop thinking about the last one with pants ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒ (or even the third-to-last as escort if that brings more inspiration!) 🪐

Premature. Pantalone.

Alex, remember what we were talking about with guys in smut? Well, eheheheeh (also not Escort it's just the other prompt was taken).

Warning: Sexy times with Panties.

Word count: 1,100+

Calloused hands were on your hips, squeezing into the bare flesh as they dipped below your waistband. Holding you tight, close, with every movement between you two as soft gasps of air filled the space between you.

Only for your breath to once again be stolen away by him.

It was easier to kiss him like this, with his glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. Discarded. Gone was the sting of cold metal brushing against your cheeks with every brush of your lips against his. There was only warmth.

Warmth as his tongue slid along yours, as his fingers found the band of your underwear and playfully tugged at it with a chuckle only to be cut off by a moan. Your hips rolling against his.

It had been too long since you've had Pantalone like this. Beneath you and willing to comply with whatever whims pulled at your mind today as you two made up for lost time. Too many days, hours, and every tick of a passing second had you pulling him closer in hopes of feeling him once again.

He muttered your name as your hands slid into his hair, a tinge of annoyance just barely present as you mussed the locks he would always take ages to tame. Surely he'd complain about this later when Pantalone is once again in the bathroom running all sorts of oils through his hair, but you couldn't bring yourself to care when you could feel his need below you; desperate to escape its confines.

Not that you could claim you were any better when you're desperately grinding against him for any form of friction you could get your hands on.

“I've missed you.” You just barely managed to whisper as Pantalone's lips moved to your neck. Soft bites teased at your skin, threatening to leave a mark behind despite the fact you knew he'd never dare.

Not there, anyway.

Your thighs were another story.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to be with you again, treasure. All those meetings, the audacity of some of the-” Pantalone stopped short, words suddenly falling silent as he kissed you again. “I doubt you want to hear this right now.”

Giggles broke through as you nodded. Normally, you'd be all for hearing him rant and the gossip he'd spew as you both got ready for bed, but right now, you were a bit preoccupied. “It has been two weeks since I've last seen you.”

“Then I'm all the ready to make up for lost time.”

His thumb brushed along your lips, smearing your shared spit onto your skin like it was gloss. Shining, shimmering under his touch.

“Did you wear something nice for me?”

In lieu of answering, you tugged your shirt off, up and over your head so he could get a sight of the lingerie you were wearing. A sheer pink with little green and purple flowers embroidered into the fabric covered your chest, the very set he bought you before Pantalone had to leave you for his business conference in Fontaine.

It was for…well, something something involving the Northland Bank. Not that you could bring yourself to care as Pantalone pulled at the strap keeping the piece wrapped around your torso.

“Beautiful.” You heard him whisper before he was kissing you again. Hands guiding you to grind down against the tent in his pants with a groan.

The blankets on the bed rustled under you as you pressed yourself closer to him, aching to be satiated. To be full, to have his tongue on your neck as he fucked into you. Hips meeting Pantalone's in an unsteady pattern despite his attempts to control the pace.

The fingers gripping you twitched.

You could feel Pantalone's moan on your tongue, the vibrations running all the way down your spine as you shivered. He always sounded so pretty, especially when obscenities were being whispered in your ear in that teasing voice he so loved to use.

“Patience.” He reminded you, trying to keep you still as you whined at being stalled.

“But Lone.” Your teeth teased at his ear, lightly nibbling on the sensitive skin that would always have him tensing under you. Bucking against you just as he was now.

“Treasure, I haven't-”

Anxious to feel you again even when Pantalone had been telling you to take your time, to enjoy the moment instead of going too fast all of a sudden.

His head fell to the curve of your neck with a groan. Posture so tight you were sure, like a stick, he'd snap under any more tension. Even if it was only a fraction of a touch.

“Is something wrong?” You found yourself asking as you looked at the mess of black curls and those few white strands you liked to tease him about, blocking Pantalone's face away from you. All you could see were his ears tinted pink, the curve of his neck, and his Adam's apple shifting as Pantalone swallowed his words down.

It gave you the chance to take in the scent of his cologne again, the one he has spritz against the pillowcases for you before leaving. Just like always. But you could truly only appreciate plums and black orchids when he was in your arms.

After a moment of you staring at him, eyebrows pinched together in concern, Pantalone asked: “Can you give me a moment?”

“Did I accidentally sit on your balls again?”

“No, no, that's not it.” Pantalone chuckled. “I merely…I didn't have a single moment alone during the entire trip.”

Well, no wonder he was so eager to rant about the meetings and- oh.

Your eyes fell down to where you were sitting, comfortably perched on his lap (the land you have rightfully claimed as your own). The experimental roll of your hips against his was all you needed to tell you what happened as Pantalone was softening below you. A wet patch on his trousers.

“You…”

“We’re never telling anyone about this, understood?”

“Understood.” You found yourself saying as you tried not to laugh. At least not too openly. Though you were tempted to make a joke about signing an NDA on this little incident. Even if it would end in him flicking your forehead with a halfhearted sigh.

Pantalone's hand ran through your hair, brushing the locks out of your face. “Like I said: give me a moment. Then I'll take care of you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as a kiss was pressed to your forehead. Lips brushing against your skin so softly you couldn't help but feel like the treasure he so loving called you.

Later, you can make him regret not asking you to keep this entire matter silent as you teased him to the Abyss and back, but for now you were just happy to once again be in your lover's arms.

[eroselless]

PATO - FIVE

series masterlist | part 3 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, angst, breastfeeding, spanish and google translated french

note: Yikes, the way I wrote charles is lowkey toxic, mb lol. This part reminded me of a picture i saw ages ago about how men and women deal with breakups, dudes moving on immediately and end up being sad after a few months and women being sad for a bit and then moving on after a few months. 

Anyways, shoutout to my baby sisters for being my main inspiration behind Lucero and for helping me figure out what babies do at 13 months lol I apologies in advance if some things don’t make sense, I tried my best to imitate the way they used to speak and use that for Lucero. 

Although not necessary, I listened to this playlist while I did all my writing and editing. It’s a nice bittersweet blend. If you guys wanna give it a listen, I think it would enhance the feelings in this part :)

We’re bouncing a little with the time jumps again but as always, they have the dates so its easier to track :) Happy reading!

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

Charles staggers into the hotel room, chest heaving as if he’s been sprinting miles without rest. His chest constricts,  each breath coming out in shallow puffs as he struggles to recompose himself. 

“Mon cœur?” he hears come from the bedroom and he no longer has it in him to hold back. Alexandra peeks out, eyes full of concern as she approaches the sobbing man. His face is buried in his hands and he would give anything to blend into the wall he’s leaning on. Guiding him to their room, she sits him down, slotting herself between his legs as he grips tight around her middle. His tears soak through her shirt as his body wracks with loud sobs. 

Frustration, anger, sadness – they all jumble together in his mind. Alexandra runs her fingers through his hair, murmuring comforts and feather light kisses into his hairline and waits for the sobs to soften before speaking. 

"Mon cœur, que s'est-il passé?" she asks, gently pushing his face away from her torso. My heart, what happened? She cradles his face as he looks up at her, silent tears staining his face. “That little girl we met today... she's my daughter. I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse when he whispers, full of regret and guilt.

Alexandra’s eyes widen at the admission. “Charles, comment a-t-elle pu te cacher quelque chose comme ça? C'est... impardonnable," she says, her tinged with sympathy and indignation. How could she keep something like this from you? That's... unforgivable.

Charles shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks. His sobs are fading in quiet hiccups as he slowly regains his breathing. “No, Alex. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who wasn’t there, it’s all my fault. I didn’t care enough, I left.”

She’s puzzled at his confession, lost in the depth of his sorrow. “What?”  

​​*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022

You’re lying partially on your side, arm draped over your bare chest as it rises and falls at a steady pace. He watches as you turn away, hair cascading over your back. The sheets are wrapped just over your middle, your upper body completely exposed to the air. The soft morning light filters through the room and Charles can’t help but think of the events last night.

He can still hear your voice as it echoes through the room, begging him not to stop. He can feel the crescent moons you’ve pressed into the thick muscles of his back. The ghost of your lips still lingers on his skin, like the stain of red lipstick on the collar of a white shirt. 

He leans over your sleeping figure, dragging his nose over your shoulder and pressing a ghost of a kiss there. It rouses you just enough to murmur a drowsy protest. “Don’t go,” you whisper and reach out for him, the tips of your fingers barely catching his skin. He is already on his feet. 

"I'll be back soon," he lies, slipping out before you can say anything else. He busies himself with mundane tasks, filling his day with errands that could be left for later. He thinks of you, all on your own, in your shared apartment waiting for him to come home. As you always did. He drives across the city, glancing at his phone as your messages roll in, swiping them away almost as quickly as they came. 

The truth was, being at home was proving to be increasingly difficult as time went on. His home with you, once a sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop. He loved you, doted on your every move but the constant fear of his career and unrelenting scrutiny of the public had slowly started to suffocate him. He couldn’t bear to break your heart and burden you with his overwhelming amount of feelings. What if he’d never be good enough for Ferrari, good enough for you? With every moment he spent away, he kept sinking into his own mind, choosing to ignore you and your attempts at breaking down his walls. He hated being away from you but he couldn’t help but pack you away into a corner of his mind, where he knew you’d be waiting for him, day in and day out. 

He comes home late that night, the guilt of having to face you gnawing at him. It's well after sunset and the night air is cool, the breeze turning icy. He walks through the door, expecting the lights to be off but is surprised to see you leaning over the sink, rinsing off dishes. 

Your face lights up when you see him, a tender smile he knows is only for him.

“Cha, you’re back,” you exclaim, turning to face the counter closest to the wall. You pick up a plate, filled generously with a meal that he could tell you spent a great deal of effort on. It’s gone cold in his absence. 

He only gives you a small smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple. He can’t help but feel a little surprised at your good mood. But he can’t bring himself to match the enthusiasm you carry in your voice.“I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, eyes not meeting yours. “I think I’ll just shower and head to bed.”

Your smile falters as he moves towards your bedroom, hurt flickering across your face. “But.. I made this for you. You’ve been out all day, I thought we could eat together.” 

He forces a smile, trying to appease you and end the conversation quickly. “I appreciate it amour, really. I’m just really tired.”

He can feel your eyes on him as he turns away, heavy with unspoken words. If he knew then what he knows now, he would've stood in that room and held you close. He would’ve tried harder to keep you by his side. He would’ve told you that he loved you. But he didn’t. 

She’ll come back, it’s okay, his thoughts echo while he stares at the door as you run into the night. You’re his rock, his anchor. His home. Weeks trickle by slowly and he can feel you slip away as more time goes by. He eventually stops thinking that he can hear your keys jingle in the lock at the front door. Your scent no longer clings to the bedsheets and the lush scented detergent you would buy gradually runs out. He slowly begins placing your things in boxes and taking them into storage where he hopes one day you’ll come to get them. Soon enough, he erases you from the apartment completely and it's as if you were never even there.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles shakes his head, his breath hitching. “I would do that often when I was home. I would lavish her with affection, trying to make sure she knew that I loved her with my whole being but…” he stops, pressing shaky fingers to his lips as if his breath is completely depleted. “I would find reasons to leave, seeking comfort in anything that wouldn’t make me think of what I was feeling inside.”

"Why?" Alexandra asks softly, her hand gently stroking his back. 

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing her, of not being enough. I thought keeping my distance, both physically and emotionally, would protect the both of us, but it only drove her away."

Alexandra's heart aches for him as he confesses. She knows Charles loves her but as his emotions spill out before her, she can’t help but feel like the other woman. She feels guilty as this new feeling is born and grows quickly. He’s confiding in her and the only thing she can think of are the doubts beginning to spiral in her mind. Trying to mask her discomfort she wraps her arms around him, his body relaxing against her as his breath gets smoother. 

"You did what you thought was best, Charles. You made mistakes, yes, but now you’ve learned and can move to find a better way forward," she says as her hand rubs up and down his back. 

Charles shakes his head. "I was selfish, Alex. I was so focused on my fears that I ignored her needs. I wanted to build a life together, to have a family. I pushed her away, and now... now I have a daughter I've never met."

Alex swallows hard as tears begin to bead in her eyes. She tries not to think too much about what he’s saying. She tries not to think about how this could make or break them. Would he still want to build something with me? Have the family he’s always wanted with me? 

“But you're here now and that’s all that matters. It’s not going to be easy but you can still be part of Lucero’s life and maybe, in time find a way to make amends.” She meets his gaze once again. The whites of his eyes are now red, only making the green around his iris look more brilliant than it did before. “Thank you, mon amour. For being here, for listening. I don’t deserve you.” 

She gives him a small smile, pushing away the feelings of insecurity that are now growing in the back of her mind. “Nous allons nous en sortir. Juste… ne m'exclut pas, d'accord ? Je ne peux pas t'aider si tu ne me laisses pas entrer.” We’ll get through this. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.

“Je promets,” he nods, pulling her into his arms again. I promise. 

Charles is exhausted as he lays in her arms later that night, face pressed into her chest, snug against her heart. Alexandra lies awake in the darkness, the thought of you overtaking her mind. Her hands tenderly brush over Charles’s hair, his deep breaths tickling her skin slightly. There will always be a part of him that belonged to you. And it makes her wonder, with Lucero and you beginning to take your places in his heart, would there still be room for her? 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun gently peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir from your sleep, eyes heavy as you turn to the sound of Lucero’s cries. You begin to pull yourself up, pushing the sheets off of you. You hear a string of tsks next to you, Carlos gently pulling you back to bed.

“Tu quedate aqui,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Yo voy por ella.” You stay here, I’ll get her.

You mumble a slurred ok, nodding with eyes still very heavy as you settle back down. Eyes still puffy with sleep, you settle on now propped-up pillows. Pulling at the straps of your sleep shirt, you slip the top off. You watch hazily as Carlos moves to Lucero’s makeshift crib, his steps quiet and measured. He coos at her and you can see her little hands reach out for him, legs kicking in frustration. “Buenos días, mi patito,” he says, cradling her close. “Ya vamos con la mamí, no te preocupes.” Good morning, my duckling. We're going with mummy, don’t worry. It makes your heart flutter as he stares at her with his gentle eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand as it goes to poke at his chin. 

He makes his way back to the bed, watching as you adjust yourself in your spot. Lucero babbles, her initial upset fading into a groggy murmur as she nestles into the crook of Carlos’s neck. Her thumb catches on her lip as she tries to suck on it.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her latch onto it, gently pulling it from her mouth. “No, señora,” he says teasingly. No, ma'am. “No thumb-sucking, little miss.” His gaze is warm as he hands her to you. 

The room fills with a peaceful silence as Lucero latches on, her small body relaxing in her mother’s arms. She holds on tightly, almost insatiable as she feeds. Carlos climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze is fixed on the two of you, eyes soft as he sees how devoted you’ve become to your little one, the love and connection strong between you. 

He can’t help but feel a sense of awe as he continues to watch you. He can’t help but admire how far you’ve come, the bond between you and Lucero beautiful and pure. The feeling of protectiveness and devotion to the two of you grows every day. He catches him thinking of the babe as his own, his daughter. She meant everything to him and he can’t bear to even imagine his life without her in it. Yet, he knew that Charles had a right to be a part of her life too, no matter how much it hurt to have to share that role. It's a thought that fills him with warmth but follows with a pang of bittersweet reality. 

With Lucero’s cries ceased, you gaze down at her. You're engrossed with how peaceful she looks, her little nose pressing into the flesh of your breast, little hands holding you as close as she can. Her eyes are beginning to droop again as her tummy fills up. She sighs in her stupor, pausing briefly before continuing.

You can feel Carlos’s gaze on you. He looks at you in adoration, fingers ghosting over Lucero’s chubby legs. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, sitting up as he does. Taking a deep breath, he breaks the silence. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asks gently. “And what comes next?” 

The question hangs in the air briefly, heavy with the weight of this new reality. You take a deep breath, mind coursing with different thoughts and emotions. “Not really, no.” You confess with a dry chuckle. If you could stay in this moment, just the three of you, you would without a second thought. “But we need to.”

He takes another deep breath, nodding. His expression is thoughtful as he threads his fingers through yours, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I know,” he says quietly. “I was thinking… If we’re going to do this, maybe we should also think about involving Alexandra.”

You blink in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing. “Alexandra?” you repeat, voice uncertain. 

Carlos nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I know its complicated, but she’s a part of Charles’s life. If he’s going to be in Lucero’s life, she might be too.” 

Your expression is still a puzzled one as you respond. “I hadn’t thought about that,” You admit. “Do you think it's a good idea?”

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think we should at least be open to it. Lucero deserves to know everyone who loves her. And I’m here, i know it’s not the same but I feel that because of that, she should be there too. We can’t ignore that.”

Your heart aches slightly at the thought, fear and hope swirling in your chest. “I’m scared, Carlos,” you say, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to make things harder for her.” 

Carlos leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know,” he whispers, eyes trained on her little figure, still sucking away. “But we need to think about what’s best for her in the long run. We’ll take it slow and be there for her every step of the way.”

Your eyes begin to fill with tears, your grip on Lucero tightening slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it hurts her?”

Carlos’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s okay,” he says firmly. “We’ll protect her. But we can’t shield her from everything. She deserves the chance to know her family, even if it’s complicated.”

You nod slowly, heart heavy with the weight of the decision. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll try. But we have to be careful. We have to make sure it’s what’s best for her.”

Carlos smiles, his eyes filled with love and pride. “We will,” he promises. He presses his forehead to yours.“We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucero had finished feeding, her eyes now drifting closed as she snuggles against your chest.  You look down at her daughter, feeling a swell of emotion as you cradle her closer. Her jaw trembles slightly, a sign she was tired once again. “I just want her to be happy,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Carlos wraps his arm around you, pulling the two of you close. “She will be,” he says gently. “She has you. And she has me. And now, she has a chance to know her father too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BRAZIL, NOVEMBER 2024

The sun is high over Sao Paolo when you arrive to the paddock. The air is electric with excitement, spectators slowly filling up the stands around the track. Their conversations create a gentle buzz that echoes above the garages. 

Carlos makes his way into the paddock, smiling at photographers and journalists as they wait for his entrance. They don’t miss the small body he holds in his arms and the woman that trails closely behind him, fingers intertwined with his. 

Your eyes scan meet the people waiting for you to enter, a delicate smile gracing your lips. Once in the Ferrari garage, you take release a breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding back. 

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” you ask Carlos as you’re settled in the back of the garage. A sudden wave of nerves washes over you as you can see a couple photographers clicking away around the garage. “Bringing her here?”

Carlos leans on one of the tables with you, nodding, fingers gently brushing over her wispy tufts of brown hair. “She seems to like it,” he points out as she squeals happily, pulling at the wire that connects to the big headphones Fred passed to her as you entered. “Besides, it’s good for her to see where Charles and I spend so much time.”

You smile, the concern still evident in your eyes. “I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Carlos says, fingers going to lovingly pinch at your arm. You know he’s referring to her but the look on his eyes makes you think he might mean you too. 

Lucero spots the red car being worked on and babbles excitedly as she sees the garage technicians checking around the car. 

“Cah-loh!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of wonder and determination. “Sí, Lu, un carro,” you correct gently. Yes, Lu, a car. Her attempt at say carro was endearing, the R sound still elusive for her baby tongue. Car. “Es rojo. Puedes decir, rojo?” she claps her hands, ignoring your request. Its red. can you say red? 

Carlos chuckles, leaning down to kiss her head. “Lolo’s going to drive el carro rojo, mi amor.” he says to her, pointing to himself and adding a soft vroom as he begins to imitate a car with his hand. He makes almost a flying motion with his hand in front of you before gently whooshing it towards the bubbly baby, tickling her tummy. She giggles, managing to grap his hands and pulls at his fingers. She holds them up to her face, a soft gargle of buh buh buh falling from her lips.

Lucero catches the eye of Charles as he makes his way into the garage, his eyes lighting up as he approaches you. He’s wearing those god-awful bleached jeans again, the odd stripes something you always teased him about. You just don’t see the art yet, he’d often say.

He gives Carlos a side hug before hesitantly leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you. It sends a wave of nerves through the both of you. He lets go quickly before he can think much of it and crouches slightly to meet Lucero’s eyes. 

“Bonjour, ma petite amour,” His voice is soft as he speaks to her. Hello, my little love. There’s an eager smile on his face, one that masks the nerves that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s one you recognize. 

Lucero looks at Charles, suddenly clampering into your arms, tucking her face into your neck. Charles’s heart clenches at the sight. “Muñeca, dile hola a Cha,” you say, his nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. Doll, say hi to Cha. 

You poke gently her little tummy, pulling her attention to her father. He smiles at her as she peeks out from behind your hair. You guide her hand gently towards Charles and she meets him in the halfway, her little fingers wrapping around his. “She’ll warm up,” you reassure. “It’s a lot for her, all these new faces and places.”

Charles nods, a slight flutter of uncertainty vibrating through his chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m just happy to see her.”

Carlos observes the exchange, emotions swirling in his chest. He can’t help the protectiveness and understanding that bubble up as he sees this. He moves away from the table only to have Lucero reach her arms out for him. 

“Vienes conmigo, estrellita?” he asks as she pulls away from you and Charles, oblivious to the emotions of the adults around her. Are you coming with me, little star? She points excitedly at the car again, prompting Carlos to get near it. Buh buh buh she tries quietly.

“Bah bah,” she finally manages, voice loud as she proceeds to bury her face into Carlos’s shirt. He lets out a giggle as she does so. “Baba, bluum.” he looks at her with wide eyes, bouncing her in his arms. He glances over at you, jaw slack as he identifies what she’s trying to say. 

Charles’s smile falters momentarily. She means papa, he thinks. He masks his broken-heartedness quickly and turns to you. “She seems to really like the cars.” He comments, trying to keep his otne light.

“She does,” you say, glancing between the two men. “Maybe she’ll be a driver someday, like her father.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, his voice sounding like it’s far away. The word father hangs in the air, shrouded in a veil and he’s not sure if you mean Carlos or him. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Unraveling the Ferrari Enigma: Carlos Sainz Arrives with Mystery Woman and Baby, Spotted Again with Charles Leclerc at Brazilian GP

In an unexpected twist at the Mexican Grand Prix, Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz was seen arriving hand-in-hand with a mystery woman and a baby, sparking widespread speculation and intrigue within the F1 community. The woman, identified by sharp-eyed fans as Y/N L/N, the elusive former girlfriend of Sainz’s teammate, Charles Leclerc, has rarely been seen publicly, adding to the mystique surrounding this revelation.

Y/N L/N, who maintained a low profile throughout her relationship with Leclerc, has remained a figure of intrigue among fans and the media. Leclerc, known for his privacy regarding personal matters, never publicly acknowledged L/N, making this unexpected appearance alongside Sainz and the child even more startling.

Adding to the speculation, L/N and the baby—whose identiy remains undisclosed—made a second appearance at the Brazilian Grand Prix, further capturing the attention of the F1 world. Observers noted that not only were L/N and the child seen with Sainz, but they were also frequently spotted around Leclerc, intensifying curiosity about the current dynamics within the Ferrari team.

The repeated public appearances of L/N and the child have ignited a flurry of questions regarding their connection to Sainz and Leclerc, and what this means for the Ferrari drivers off the track. Could this development cause tension between Sainz and Leclerc? With the high stakes of the racing season and the close-knit nature of the F1 community, the unexpected appearance of L/N and the baby has undoubtedly raised eyebrows and sparked numerous questions.

a/n: Hi friends! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3

What do you guys think about this little news item? I enjoyed coming up with the one I made back in part 2, I thought why not make one for this part? Should I keep adding them in every now and then?

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90 @poppyflower-22 @a-distantdreamer

strike through => tumblr won’t let me tag you!

[sssammich]

For supercorp 💗 🥹🥹

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

thanks for your patience, anon! alas, i have gone overboard once more because i cannot help myself.

ask meme

---

she's been given a mandatory month off from supergirl duties. she's not sick, she hasn't solar flared, and she's not hurting for any freelance work that requires her attention. she had simply been told that she needed to take the time off and to avoid any caped hero work unless absolutely necessary.

so that's why she's here now, without superhero work for the next thirty days. free to do whatever she wants.

after the initial shock washes over her, she places her hands on her hips and nods towards alex and j'onn. she knows exactly what she wants to do with her freedom.

"okay."

"look, before you fight th--okay?" alex stares at her, wide eyes mirroring kara's. "really?"

she shrugs, already heading towards the elevator. no need to fight the inevitable. "really."

as the elevator doors close in front of her, she can't help smirking in amusement at the identical confused expressions on both of their faces.

she has one destination in mind.

-

she knocks on the massive wooden door, though she knows she doesn't need to. it's a formality at this point considering the unrestricted access that she's been granted to enter the top floor of this condominium highrise.

still, she waits, because the anticipation is half the fun.

her face splits into an easy smile when lena opens the door to her with her own toothy grin.

"heya," she greets, stepping foot into what she calls home: within lena's arms.

"hello to you, too," lena says, swift yet careful in wrapping kara in her arms. her hands are open as they rub circles on kara's back. kara sinks further into lena's embrace, pulling lena further into her. "how are you?"

"i'm great."

lena stares into her eyes. "yeah?"

"oh yeah. i'm on vacation." she emphatically nods.

lena beams at that. "funny you say that. me too."

she quirks a brow at that, though she shouldn't be surprised. a month vacation doesn't just fall into people's laps without explanation. "yeah?"

"oh yeah," lena mimics her.

kara, still holding lena in her arms, pulls the other woman back in, the two of them swinging in place. "what a coincidence, right?"

lena throws her head back in laughter.

-

they arrive in a private villa off the coast of naples.

it's a modest hillside two bedroom house that overlooks the gulf below. when the local guide roll their suitcases for them, he unknowingly wheels lena's to one room and hers to the other. she smirks and lena tips him handsomely--enough that his olive skin tinges in embarrassment at just how much is in his hands. when their eyes meet after he leaves, they break into a giggle.

because they know the truth, despite not uttering a word of it: why bother taking up more room when right by each other's side is all the space they'll want to take.

despite the destination of her luggage, her body follows after lena to the other room, the one with the better view of the water. just as well, lena's body follows after her when they busy themselves in the kitchen to make themselves a quick dinner. when they finish, they share the hammock sitting out on the back deck, lena's head on her chest and her arms around her waist, while kara's arms wind their way in holding lena against her, their limbs tangled.

when lena yawns a few too many times, they call it a night. lena leads, their hands entwined, and they end up on lena's bed, drawing back the thin covers enough to stave off the inevitable cool night air.

-

they walk everywhere, always touching. a hand on the arm the elbow the bicep the small of her back. an arm slung over a shoulder or hooked together.

it's when they reach a destination that kara's courage grows, that lena's bravery broadens.

when they travel to the town square market as they shop for groceries that lips find their way on one another's skin; the temple the cheek the forehead.

when they treat themselves to a picnic right by a vineyard and lena is leaning back on her between her legs, lips chance on a bare and pale shoulder.

when they lounge in the hammock and lena is resting on her chest, lips chance on collarbones and behind the ears.

when they tire themselves out from full days, fuller stomachs, and fullest hearts that they are in bed and lena is facing her and their legs are tangled with one another, lips chance on entwined hands and fingers.

each one given freely, each one received gracefully.

soon, kara thinks, this will all change. especially when they cross the final threshold between them. though that's a formality at this point, all things considered.

still, she will wait until that happens, more than happy to be exactly where she is.

-

thirty days is long and short and is plenty and is not enough.

on their last day while they wait for their local guide to collect them, they stand on the corner edge of the back deck, lena in her arms as they overlook the gulf for the last time.

"i don't want to go back to work," she murmurs into lena's ear. lena twists in kara's arms until they're facing one another.

"you don't have to, if you really don't want to."

"we can move into this villa. i'll learn to fish. you can sell them at the market."

lena laughs in her arms and kara holds her tighter, like trying to capture lightning in a bottle.

"you're no good as a fisherman, sweetheart."

kara pouts because it's probably true. but she'll learn for lena.

"well, next time we're on vacation, we ought to come back."

"anything you want," lena says, her eyes dipping down to where kara's lips are.

"anything?"

lena nods, assuring, her eyes darkening. kara's smile widens and she leans forward just enough, their noses brushing.

kara is ready for what's to come. she's ready for lena.

still, she waits, because the anticipation is half the fun.

[goblinontour]

There’s Still A Trace

he’s so predictable

warnings: smut, angst, masturbation (m receiving), cheating

word count: 3.2k

He stared at his phone for what felt like an eternity, the glow of your message illuminating the otherwise dark room. He had no reason to call you. Not one that made sense, at least. She was right there, tucked under the sheets beside him, her body curled into the mattress. He could feel the warmth of her near him, her familiar scent lingering in the air. But that wasn’t enough, hadn’t been for a while. It was you, always you, occupying the space in his mind, like a fire he couldn’t put out.

His thumb hovered over your name, hesitating. His pulse quickened in that familiar way it always did before he reached out, before he allowed himself to give in to this need, this pull. He didn’t know why he felt so entitled, why it felt like he had a right to you, even now, even when she was sleeping soundly right next to him. His chest tightened as he finally tapped your name, the ringing on the other end dragging out, each second louder than the last, until-

“Alex?” Your voice was soft, uncertain. He could almost see the way your lips parted when you said his name, the slight confusion etched in your features. It had been a while since you’d spoken, but whatever this was never really faded.

He whispered, “Hey.” The sound was barely there, his voice low and rough, and thick with exhaustion and something deeper, something that tugged at him in a way he couldn’t ignore. His accent slurred, as it often did when he was tired, making the words harder to decipher, but you knew him. You always did.

You paused on the other end, his quiet greeting catching you off guard. The silence lingered for a beat. “Alex, why are you calling?” you finally asked. 

He shifted under the covers, his body instinctively leaning away from her as though even in sleep, she could feel the weight of his betrayal. “I don’t know.” he admitted, eyes closing for a moment as he let out a slow breath. “I just...I needed to hear your voice.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, it was like nothing else existed but the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets as he adjusted himself, heart pounding against his ribs.

“How are you?” he asked. He didn’t need to know, not really, but he wanted the connection, the intimacy of it. It was a question he used to ask all the time, a habit formed from late nights spent talking with you, your voices low, as though the night itself was a conspirator in your secret.

“I’m fine.” you said quietly, the breathlessness in your voice making his stomach twist. “You?”

He closed his eyes again, head resting against the pillow as he exhaled slowly. “I miss you.” he whispered. The admission felt dangerous, like crossing a line he couldn’t come back from. His fingers, as if drawn by the words themselves, moved down his body, brushing over the thin fabric of his boxers. The faintest touch made him inhale sharply. He knew this was wrong but the thought of you, just the sound of your voice, was enough to stir something primal in him.

“Alex…” Your voice wavered, but you didn’t tell him to stop. You never did. Never even tried. 

His hand slid lower, fingers wrapping around his cock through the fabric, the warmth of his palm seeping through to the other side. He moved slowly at first, as if testing the waters, feeling out the edges of his own desire before diving inside. His hips shifted under the covers, the sensation of his hand stroking himself making him bite down on his lip to stay quiet. She was still there, after all.

“Is she home?” you asked, pulling him back to the present, your voice tinged with a question you already knew the answer to.

He glanced to his left, his eyes landing on her peaceful form, the way her hair was splayed out across the pillow, her back turned to him. Unaware. “Yeah.” he murmured. 

“And she’s asleep?” you pressed, your voice softer now, more curious than before.

His grip tightened around himself beneath the sheets, a soft groan escaping his throat as he moved his hand with a little more purpose. “Yeah, she’s asleep.” he managed, eyes closing again as he focused on the rhythm of his strokes, the way his body responded to just the thought of you.

You were silent for a moment, and he could almost feel the weight of your questions, the way you were piecing this scene together in your mind. “Are you in bed?” you asked, though you weren’t sure if you wanted the answer.

He exhaled shakily, his hand moving faster now, the friction sending a wave of pleasure through his body that made him clench his jaw. “Yeah.” he whispered, glancing at her again, his heart racing. His hips shifted slightly, the movement slow as he continued stroking himself, his breathing becoming heavier.

“So...you’re in bed, next to her?” Your voice was a quiet, disbelieving murmur, the words hanging in the air like a challenge, like something you both knew you shouldn’t be doing but couldn’t stop.

“Yeah…” he said again, the word drawn out. He could feel himself getting harder, the tension in his body rising with every stroke, every whisper from you on the other end of the line. His thumb brushed over the head of his cock, the sensation pulling a low groan from his throat that he quickly stifled.

There was silence. Neither of you spoke. His hand tightened around himself, his strokes becoming faster, more insistent, as though he could pull you closer with each movement.

“She can’t hear…” he whispered suddenly, his voice ragged, barely holding it together. His eyes flicked to her again, making sure she was still asleep, still oblivious to what was happening just inches away from her. 

On the other end of the line, you exhaled softly, the sound making him bite down on his lip to keep from making a sound. You couldn’t see him, but he knew you could hear it. The way his breath hitched, the quiet urgency in his voice. His movements were erratic now, each stroke bringing him closer to a release that felt as inevitable as it was forbidden. 

And he didn’t care. Not in that moment. Because all he wanted was you.

The line crackled. You could hear his breathing, uneven and slightly ragged, and your own heart began to race, matching the rhythm of his shallow inhales. You knew what was happening on his end, even if he didn’t say it. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you could almost feel it, the weight of his need pressing against the quiet.

There was a faint rustling, just audible enough to make you wonder. The soft sound of fabric shifting, the sheets moving against skin. You swallowed hard, knowing the truth but wanting to hear him say it.

“Alex...” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, cautious but laced with a curiosity that burned hotter with each second. “Are you...touching yourself?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. You could hear his breathing grow heavier, the silence between you thickening. He shifted again under the covers, his hand still working beneath the fabric, the sensation making his head spin. His grip tightened instinctively at your question, his hips giving a small, involuntary thrust in response.

“How could I do such a thing?” he rasped, his voice low and hoarse, a weak attempt at denying what you both already knew. But the way he said it gave him away. His words were a thin veil, one that neither of you believed for a second.

He didn’t want to admit it. To himself or to you. But you both knew exactly what was happening. There was no point in trying to hide it. His breathing told you everything his words didn’t, the slight hitch in his throat every time his hand moved, the soft rustling of sheets that he couldn’t conceal. 

“You don’t have to lie.” you said softly, the understanding between you so palpable, it didn’t need to be spelled out. You could practically feel him on the other end of the line, picture him under those sheets, touching himself to the sound of your voice.

In between breaths, he let out a soft, shaky laugh, almost as if he were trying to deflect, to lighten the tension. But you could hear it in his voice, the way it faltered. “You know…” he started, his voice low and breathy, pausing as if to gather himself. “We had sex earlier…”

Your stomach tightened at his words, the way he said it cutting through the air like a knife. You said nothing, but your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I had sex with her.” he continued, his voice rough, as though each word was being pulled from him against his will. He paused again, his breathing heavy, and you could feel the strain in his voice, the way he struggled to keep control. “I had her on her knees…”

“Alex-” you whispered, not wanting to hear any more. Not wanting to picture it. But he didn’t let you finish. His words tumbled out, raw and urgent, like a confession he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I had her on her knees.” he repeated, firmer this time, as though saying it again made it more real, more tangible. His hand tightened around himself beneath the sheets, his strokes growing erratic, the memory of earlier blending with the reality of now. “So I couldn’t see her face…I pretended it was you.”

The admission was raw, brutal in its honesty. He’d buried himself in her body, but his mind, his heart, had been with you the whole time.

“I kept thinking about you.” he murmured, each word dragging out between heavy breaths. “I couldn’t stop. I needed it to be you.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. His hand moved faster, the heat in his body building, his skin slick with sweat as he gave in completely to the fantasy of you. His hips shifted beneath the sheets, the pleasure rising, overwhelming, as he stroked himself harder, chasing the release he could feel creeping closer with every passing second.

“I pretended it was you…” he repeated, voice ragged and strained as he neared the edge. His words came out in broken fragments, punctuated by pauses where he tried to steady his breathing, tried to calm the frantic pounding of his heart. “I thought about you…the whole time.”

You exhaled shakily. You wanted to say something, anything, but the moment was too charged, too fragile, and all you could do was listen, heart racing in your chest.

His body trembled with the effort to stay quiet, to not wake her as she slept beside him. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” he breathed, voice barely audible now, lost in the sound of his own heavy breathing. “It’s always you.”

It was too much now, too real. 

Alex was right on the edge, his body tightening with every stroke of his hand. His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths, trying and failing to keep it quiet. His grip tightened around his cock, his thumb swiping over the head with every upward stroke, the friction unbearable. The fabric of his boxers was damp now, clinging to his skin as his hand worked faster, faster, faster, unable to stop. He was too far gone. 

“Fuck-” he hissed, the word spilling from his lips before he could catch it. It came out louder than he intended, sharper, the sound cutting through the quiet room like a crack in the night. He felt the surge, the heat coiling in his gut, his hips giving a hard, involuntary thrust as his body seized up.

His hand squeezed tighter, the sensation cresting into something unbearable, and with a strangled moan, he came, hot and fast. His cock twitched under his fingers as the cum spurted thick and warm against his palm, soaking into the fabric of his boxers. His breath caught in his throat, a low groan slipping past his lips as his hips bucked helplessly, riding out the wave of pleasure.

The wet heat of it pooled around his hand, spreading against his skin, sticky, the fabric clinging to him in a mess of his own making. His strokes slowed, his grip loosening as the last few pulses of his release spilled out, leaving him trembling and breathless under the covers. His hand stilled completely, the weight of what just happened sinking in, heavy and inescapable.

You called his name softly, your voice still on the other end of the line, barely cutting through the haze in his mind. But he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. It was as if, the moment his orgasm faded, the world came crashing back down on him, reality hitting him like a cold wave of guilt and confusion. The pleasure was already fading, replaced by the gnawing sense that he’d gone too far. Much too far.

For a brief moment, he just lay there, frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear but his mind somewhere else entirely. The silence on your end was deafening, and the soft rustling of the sheets beside him felt suddenly too loud, too real.

She stirred.

His heart stopped. 

He turned his head just in time to see her shift under the covers, her body turning toward him, her face still half-buried in the pillow. His breath caught in his throat, panic flooding his chest as he stared at her, eyes wide, pulse pounding in his ears. She hadn’t heard him…had she? No, no way.

The phone was still in his hand, his fingers gripping it tightly. The sticky mess in his boxers felt suffocating. And for a moment, he didn’t know what to do first. Should he end the call? Should he move? Should he clean himself up? The thought of her waking up fully and seeing him like this, soiled, guilty, caught in the act…no.

He glanced down at his hand, still slick with cum, his skin flushed. The sheets were damp. He felt trapped, caught in this moment where nothing made sense anymore, where desire and guilt collided in a chaotic swirl that left him breathless and shaken.

You said his name again, softer this time, and it cut through the panic, grounding him just enough to snap him out of his daze. But still, he didn’t answer. He couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even begin to explain what had just happened or why he felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. His mind raced, his body still trembling, as he lay there, paralyzed between two worlds. Between you and her. Between the fantasy he’d just indulged in and the reality he was trapped in now.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, until finally, she settled back into sleep, her breathing slow and even again. But the relief that washed over him was short-lived, because the truth of what had just happened lingered, heavy and undeniable.

His breath hitched as he swallowed hard, the words you’d said still lingering in his ears. But he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t find it in himself to respond, not now, not after what had just happened. 

Without another word, without a goodbye, he ended the call. His thumb hovered over the screen for only a second before he tapped it. The line went dead, your voice gone, and in the silence that followed, the reality of what he’d just done hit him like a punch to the gut.

He just sat there, frozen, his chest heaving with deep, shaky breaths. His mind was a mess. The pleasure he’d felt only moments ago had drained from him, leaving nothing but an aching emptiness in its wake.

With a low, frustrated exhale, he threw the covers off and sat up, his bare feet hitting the cold floor with a dull thud. His heart raced as he glanced to his left, where she still lay, still unaware. But he couldn’t stay there, couldn’t bear the thought of lying beside her any longer.

He stood up suddenly, the motion too fast, too sharp, but he didn’t care. The sheets rustled, the floor creaked beneath his weight, and he stumbled out of the bed, his legs unsteady beneath him. The sticky fabric of his boxers clung to his skin as he moved, making his stomach twist with disgust.

Just as he reached the bathroom door, his hand on the handle, he heard her stir behind him. His body went rigid, every muscle tensing as her soft voice broke the quiet.

“Alex?” she murmured sleepily, her voice groggy and confused, like she’d just surfaced from a dream. “Where are you going?”

The sound of her voice made his stomach churn. She was waking up. She was starting to notice. His pulse raced, panic flaring in his chest, but he couldn’t look back. 

“I’ll be right back.” he muttered quickly, his voice strained, barely audible as he pushed open the bathroom door. He didn’t wait for her to respond. He couldn’t. 

He stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click, but it felt like a slam in the quiet of the night. His hands were shaking as he flicked on the light, the harsh fluorescent glow blinding him for a moment as he blinked against it. The brightness only made everything feel more exposed, more raw.

He stared at himself in the mirror, his reflection looking back at him with wide, guilt-ridden eyes. His hair was a mess, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. 

The shame crept up on him, slow and suffocating, until it wrapped around his chest like a vice. He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself, but the guilt was too much. He could still feel it. Your voice in his ear, the sound of your breath on the other end of the line. He could still feel the pleasure that had ripped through him just moments ago, the way he’d lost himself in the fantasy of you, while she had been lying just inches away, asleep and oblivious.

His stomach twisted violently, and he felt the bile rising in his throat. How had he let it go this far? How had he let himself slip so deeply into this? He wanted to tear the fabric from his skin, scrub away the guilt, the shame, the mess he’d made of himself, of everything.

He turned on the tap, the sound of running water filling the small room, drowning out the thoughts screaming in his mind. He splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it jolting him for a moment, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t erase anything. It didn’t make him feel any cleaner.

She called his name again from the bedroom, her voice still soft, still laced with confusion, but there was a hint of concern now, a slight edge to her tone. “Alex? Are you okay?”

But he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t face her. Not yet. Not like this.

a/n: wrote this cause i was feeling off the other day so he has to suffer as well ig

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

[supercorpkid]

Lovebug

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader. Alex Danvers.

Word Count: 2830

Notes: @supercorpenthusiastic here's the scene you've asked for! Hope this makes it justice.

Recently, Kara has been complaining more than she has in years. It’s never direct—it simmers just beneath the surface, a quiet frustration that colors every sigh, every furrowed brow, and the way her lips press into a thin line when she thinks no one’s watching. And yet, the meaning is clear, always the same: We should live normal lives.

And honestly, you’ve been thinking it too. You could walk away from all of this—the chaos, the danger—back to the life you once knew. You were never exactly ordinary, but before you joined the Superfriends, there were fewer fires to put out, and your life wasn’t hanging on a thread every other week.

But here, now, as you scam around the med bay, you realize why you stay despite the cost. These people, this team, they’ve become your family. They fight for you, and today, they are fighting to keep you alive.

“Kara, I need you at the Tower.” Alex’s voice is sharp through the comm, a lifeline in the haze of your fading consciousness.

“Alex, can’t someone else do it? I'm working.” Her voice cracks through the static, and your body, though heavy with exhaustion, stirs instinctively at the sound of her.

“It’s Y/N. She’s hurt. Badly.”

Everything goes black before you can process it. The last things you’re aware of are Supergirl’s crest, a hand stroking through your hair, and her voice—shaky, almost breaking—whispering, “It’s okay, bug. I’m here now.”

When you wake, it’s to the familiar sound of Kara’s voice, though your body still feels battered, bruised beyond recognition. But there’s a comfort—her fingers in your hair, tracing slow, gentle lines against your scalp, as if she’s afraid to stop.

“I’m so tired, Alex,” Kara’s voice is low, tinged with a weariness you’ve never heard before. It breaks your heart to know you’re the cause of it. “I’m tired of the stakes always being this high.”

“She’s got superpowers, Kara. She’ll be fine.” Alex’s tone is steady, reassuring.

“Easy for you to say.”

“It is easy for me to say. I’m the doctor here.” Alex quips, and if you had any strength, you'd laugh. “Look,” Alex continues, “I know you care about her, but even if you tried, I don’t think you could stop her from fighting.”

You're not sure about that, though. You think there's a lot Kara can do to make you stop fighting. You’ve been lying still, barely breathing, but you force your eyes open to see Kara’s tear-filled gaze. She’s so close, her face etched with worry and something else—something deeper, rawer. Love? You wonder.

“Hey,” you croak, your voice raspy, “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You’re not okay,” she insists, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You can’t help but wish she had the courage to kiss your lips instead. “I’ve never seen so many shades of purple on one face.”

“Well,” you manage a weak smile, “it is my favorite color.”

“Don’t joke,” she says, voice trembling. Her hands cup your face, and for a moment, it feels like she’s holding you together with sheer will. “Not about this.”

You give her a soft pout and add in an even softer tone, "but you love when I'm funny."

Kara’s lips almost break into a smile, but she holds it in, though her face betrays her. It’s painted with adoration. "I love it a lot more when you're not making jokes about you almost dying."

"She’s not—you’re not almost dying," Alex reassures, squeezing your hand. "You just need a couple of weeks to brush it off. You’ll be fine."

“Can I go home?” you ask, though what you really mean is whether you can get out of this sterile place that feels like an echo of all your pain.

“Sure,” Alex begins, but Kara cuts in sharply, her voice like steel.

“No.” She looks at you with a fierce determination that makes your breath catch. “You’re not going to be alone. You’re coming to my place. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re about to protest, to insist you’ll be fine, but the truth is, the idea of Kara fussing over you, taking care of you—it’s everything you want. You say nothing, letting her words wash over you like a promise you didn’t know you needed.

Kara picks you up gently, as though you’re made of glass—delicate and precious, yet somehow the most important person in her universe. As she carries you out, you can feel the tension in her body, the struggle to keep herself together.

You nestle into her arms, getting so comfortable it’s hard to imagine you belong anywhere else. She flies slowly, but even so, you're at her place in no time. She’s ready to settle you on the couch, but you make a disgruntled sound, stopping her mid-motion.

"Okay, okay," she says, sitting down first, allowing you to make yourself comfortable in her lap. "You’re feeling okay, bug?"

"I am now."

Honestly, the beating you took was brutal, but as you lie here, curled up on Kara's lap, her large hands gently stroking your back, you almost think it was worth it.

Kara takes care of everything—food, bandage changes, the works. She orders your favorite fried rice, even though it’s not from Chang’s. Taylor Swift songs fill the room, playing on a soft loop all day. And when you complain about one particularly bad bruise, she uses her cold breath to soothe it and follows up with a kiss to make it better.

At night, the two of you nearly argue. She insists on giving you her bed, while you argue the couch is just fine. So, to resolve it, she simply picks you up and lays you down on her bed, tucking you in so tightly you can barely move.

“Okay,” you laugh as she continues pressing the comforter’s edges under you. “I’m not going anywhere! You can stop now!”

"I need to make sure you’re comfortable," she teases, feigning seriousness. 

You roll your eyes. "Well, in that case, I can't breathe."

She undoes her work in an instant, her concern replacing the playful tone. Once satisfied with your comfort, she leans down for a soft forehead kiss. “Goodnight, bug.”

"Wait," you hold onto her hand before she can move away. "Stay."

Kara’s brows furrow in confusion. She looks ethereal in the soft light filtering in from the street outside. You can’t help but think of how beautiful she looks, even with her worry etched into her features.

“There’s enough space for both of us. Stay…in case I need help during the night.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. She’s Supergirl. Has super hearing, super speed—and her couch is only ten feet away. But still, she stays.

After you're both settled in her bed, the two of you lie there in silence for a few minutes. You feel her shift next to you, her breath steady but laced with something unsaid.

"Hey," you whisper, breaking the stillness. She could be asleep, but you know better. "Why do you call me ‘bug’? I never really understood it."

“Oh,” she shifts slightly, her voice soft and hesitant. “It’s from a song I heard once. It reminded me of you.”

“Oh really?" You turn to face her, catching her gaze. Her blue eyes, now inches away, glisten with something vulnerable. "Which one?"

"You know, it’s been years. I don’t really remember it very well," she murmurs, her voice growing quieter.

You furrow your brows, not buying it. It’s dark in her room, but the moonlight coming in lets you see the faint blush rising in her cheeks.

"Tell me," you whisper, giving her your best soft pout—the one she finds hard to resist. "Please?"

Kara swallows hard before finally whispering, “I think it’s called ‘Lovebug.’”

“Cool.” You reach for your phone on the nightstand, never breaking eye contact. It doesn’t take long to find the song and hit play.

"Called you for the first time yesterday, finally found the missing part of me..."

Her breath hitches, caught in her throat as the first verse plays. She blinks at you. Even though her mouth says nothing, her eyes are screaming at you—this is too much. It says too much. It confesses to more than she was willing to. It admits it all.

"Now I’m speechless, over the edge, I’m just breathless. I never thought that I’d catch this lovebug again..."

Oh. Lovebug, you see.

"I can’t get your smile out of my mind. I think about your eyes all the time. You’re beautiful, but you don’t even try."

She mouths it. Every word. Her eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering, as if she’s caught in some dreamlike trance.

"Hm." You stop the song right after the line, kissed her for the first time yesterday, everything I wished it would be. You give her a soft smile. “Guess that part was a lie, huh?"

"For now." Her voice, barely a whisper, sends your heart into a wild frenzy.

For now.

The following days are a blend of recovery and tranquil moments with Kara, but the peaceful routine is short-lived. As always. It was almost too normal to feel true.

The next mission yanks you both back into the whirlwind, and soon, despite your injuries, you're itching to join them.

"I can fight!" you insist, though you can't barely stand up on your own yet.

"The hell you can!" Kara snaps.

"Don't you dare treat me like I’m incapable."

"I wouldn’t dare," she retorts, sounding especially daring.

You give one step forward, so you can touch her face and speak softly, "Kara, baby, these are just bruises."

She doesn’t budge, not even a fraction. Her face remains set in a steel expression. "The only way you’re going into this fight is over my dead body," she declares, her arms crossed and biceps flexed with her strength. You hold your breath, struggling to mask your reaction to how hot she looks like this.

"Okay, okay. At least take me to the Tower. I’ll give technical support."

"Alright, but if you so much as step foot in that fight scene, I swear to Rao, we’re gonna have a serious problem!" And you definitely wouldn’t want that.

You monitor the chaos from the Tower’s screens, since that's all you're allowed to do. You switch to a private channel to Kara. “Kara, there’s a situation two blocks away too. Can you check it out when you’re done there?”

"UGH!" Kara groans, her frustration obvious. “Honestly, I can’t deal with this anymore.”

"Okay, I'll ask M'gann."

"That’s not what I meant!" she huffs, her voice tight with emotion. "I meant, no more fighting!"

"What do you want to do instead? Sit down and calmly talk to the villains?"

"You wanna know what I want to do? If it were up to me, we’d get married, you’d move into my apartment…”

Your eyes widen as she continues, her words raw and unfiltered.

“We’d have a couple of kids.” She keeps talking, and you switch cameras to keep track of her as she flies to the new location you’ve directed her to. “We could buy a house in the suburbs!”

She sends a villain flying with a powerful kick, her fury almost palpable through the screen. You’re so stunned by her revelation that you can’t even bring yourself to speak.

“We’d adopt a dog, name him Rex, and a cat, name him Streaky! The kids would have a normal childhood.”

You watch as she flings another villain into a building. Kara’s voice is still untethered to the battle, yet her emotions towards you are clear.

"But NOOOOO! We have to be just superheroes!"

"Kara, what the hell!" Alex’s voice blasts through your comm, and you freeze, realizing you’ve accidentally left the channel open. "Do you really think this is the right time to declare your love?"

"I don’t know," she replies, her voice quivering. "We might be running out of it."

The Tower is quiet now, too quiet, and the only sound left is the faint hum of Brainy’s weird tech that keeps it running. But it’s not what you’re focused on—it’s the words Kara said over the comms that you can’t shake. Marriage, kids, a house in the suburbs. 

You’ve seen her angry, you’ve seen her scared, but you’ve never heard her say anything like that. And now, with the mission over, all you can think about is what you’re going to do when you have to face her.

When she lands on the balcony of the Tower, there’s still a slight spark of tension in the air. She steps inside, brushing the dust off her suit, but her gaze finds yours almost immediately. She looks apprehensive and scared, eyes wet as if she’s about to cry.

Everyone else is still on their way here. Supergirl sure is faster, but you know your friends well enough to know they are trying to give you both space after her admission through the comms.

“Kara,” you begin softly, trying to gauge where her head is at. "About what you said—"

"I didn't mean to say it like that, sorry—" she starts, but you cut her off, needing to know.

"Do you really want all that? A normal life? With me?"

She pauses, her eyes meeting yours. You can see the exhaustion in her face, the weight of all the battles fought, the near-misses, and the moments when she thought she might lose you. “I’m just tired, bug,” she admits, voice trembling slightly. “Tired of living every day like it’s a life or death situation. Tired of watching people I love get hurt.”

You step toward her, your hand reaching for hers, and she clings to it like a lifeline. “I know. I get it, Kara. But you’re Supergirl. You can’t just walk away from this.”

“I’m not saying I want to walk away.” She sighs, pulling you closer. “But there’s a part of me that wants… more. Something simpler. A life where we don’t have to worry if the next mission will be our last. One where I won't ever see you like this.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence stretches out, but it’s not uncomfortable. You know exactly what she means, and part of you wants that, too. But you’ve been doing this long enough to know it’s not that simple.

"Maybe we can’t have a perfectly normal life,” you say slowly, watching her reaction, “but we can figure this out. Take some time, find a balance.”

She looks at you, her eyes full of a mix of hope and doubt. “How? How do we do that when the world needs saving every other day?”

You smile softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We do it by being together. We take breaks. We build a life between the chaos. Maybe that house in the suburbs won't happen tomorrow, but it can happen someday.”

Kara lets out a small, shaky laugh. “You really think we can do that?”

“I know we can,” you say, leaning in just enough that your forehead touches hers. “Because at the end of the day, I don’t care where we are or what we’re doing. I just want to be with you.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, the world narrows to just the two of you. You can feel her heart pounding through your joined hands, the slight tremble in her fingers.

And then, finally, after what feels like an eternity of almost-kisses and unspoken confessions, Kara closes the distance between you. Her lips meet yours in a kiss that’s soft, tentative, but full of all the things she’s never said. And it does, it says it all. It tells you that marriage and kids and a future together it’s going to happen, because there’s absolutely nothing better than her lips on yours, you’re sure.

When you pull back, she’s smiling in that shy way she does when she’s let her guard down completely. “Maybe we could take a vacation. Start there.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, your heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time. “A vacation sounds good.”

The two of you are back at her apartment later that night, curled up on her couch, the city’s lights spilling into the room. The TV is on, but neither of you are paying attention. Instead, you’re watching the stars outside the window, your fingers intertwined with hers.

“You know, bug,” she whispers, turning her head to look at you, “maybe we can’t have it all, but we will always have each other.”

You smile, squeezing her hand. “And that’s more than enough for me.”

Kara leans her head on your shoulder, a content sigh escaping her lips. In that moment, with the world outside quiet for just a little while, you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be—by her side, ready to face whatever comes next. Caught by the lovebug again.

[wanderingblindly]

From the ask game: flip flop with any scene from the Seattle/photography fic? Or maybe when they first met? I’d love to read what Lando’s feelings were at that moment lmao

- CX

(ask game) (original fic)

I’m cutting myself off before I rewrite the entire thing what the fuck hahahahahha

“They didn’t even bring tabs!” George flails in his enthusiasm; Lando’s arms loosely tossed around his shoulder, leaning against him from his perch on the counter, and lets himself be jostled.

“They’re babies, mate, they not gonna —”

“I knew to bring tabs for the syllabus back then, so —”

Alex takes a swig of his shitty beer. “Thank god we’re not all like you, Georgie.”

“Rude.”

Lando’s used to feeling eyes on him. Like long grass grazing his ankles, it used to draw his attention; but now it’s merely a passing fact, white noise in his life that fades until it’s nothing.

And yet — half listening to Alex and George bicker, half enjoying the safety of their closeness — he feels them. Buzzing on his skin, sharper than the grass he knows, he feels them.

Over George’s tirade, he hears him before he sees him: “Yeah, uh, yeah. Thanks for having us.”

Lando looks over towards the kitchen door, catching the strangers eyes with ease — a ball to a waiting glove. They’re already a little unfocused, shoulders tilted crookedly; he’s already pretty far gone, grabbing a seltzer off the table for something to do.

His eyes leave him as fast as he found him; and yet they want to draw back.

“Didn’t even bring a pencil to class today,” Lando chips in, feeling George’s tense under his arms.

“Mate,” Alex says, letting himself lean against the kitchen wall with an exasperated smile. “Gonna get him going,”

“Why can’t you take anything seriously,” George starts, shifting to drop Lando’s arms and look at him fully.

“Don’t remember you being my TA,” He smiles, focusing on Alex’s resulting giggles. “When’d you switch to psych?”

George stutters out a response, somehow sounding drunker the more worked up Lando gets him. It makes him smile, warmth building in his stomach as he takes in how much he loves them, but a small part of his mind lingers by the kitchen island. Lingers on the glimmer of red cheeks and drunken staring he saw there.

---

He’s met her once or twice, maybe had a seminar together or something. Or maybe she works at one of the libraries, one of the cafes just outside. He can’t really remember, leaning back on the couch, jaw cupped in his hand, and listening. She’s nice enough, bubbly enough to fill the gap left by George and Alex sneaking away to do what the do in private.

They don’t think he knows, but he obviously put that together a while back. Maybe they’ll put their heads together and realize they’re in love one of these days; the thought makes Lando smile, her cheeks turning a distinctly inebriated sort of splotchy red. Flustered.

His eyes flick to the other side of the room.

He’s still watching, that boy whose flush looks more like soft candy floss than red ink. Pressed against the wall, clearly the wrong side of tipsy, and staring. It gives him a moment of pause, the glassy sheen to his eyes almost like a tourist gazing up at the Winged Victory — so different than usual; reverent rather than rapacious.

“And so then I was like, ‘Carrie, you can’t just say that about a person!’ You know? Like, so uncalled for,” She scoffs, edges tinged with a giggle, and draws Lando back down to earth. He laughs along, mind elsewhere.

He doesn’t like being stared at, the feeling of being more a fixation than a person. And yet.

He sees the man slip out of the room, forgetting to close the front door against the crisp spring air.

---

Bit excessive, Lando thinks as he steps out onto the porch. Sitting out in the dark all alone, even for a quieter guy, it’s just. Lando lingers on the edges of the porch light, suddenly unsure about the entire thing.

Maybe he made it up, that brief moment of distinction in the living room.

He walks up to him anyways, slipping into the second rocking chair like it’s second nature. And he waits, tucking up his feet to make himself comfortable, sparing a glance at his new neighbor.

Soft nose, soft cheeks, sharp jaw, all painted rosey in the dark. It’s started to run down his neck, flooded up to dust his ears. It’s precious, Lando smiled a little, watching him breathe so deeply while clearly struggling to keep it together. Reminds him a bit of George when they fist met, too sharp and too soft and bleeding at the edges.

“Bit sick?”

He jumps, Lando winces. Not his smoothest start. But the man looks at him, and Lando wishes — without meaning to — that it was daylight.

“Already looked pretty sloshed in the kitchen,” He shifts, making himself more comfortable. “Go too hard at the pre?”

The silences stretches between them. Normally, Lando would give up and go talk to someone else — conversations soaked in beer and seltzer don’t really matter, anyways. But he doesn’t want to.

He raises a brow. “Gonna say something?”

“I’m, uh. Oscar.” Lando smiles a little; he looks like an Oscar, somehow. In the roundness of his nose and the lilt of his accent, he’s an Oscar.

“Lando.”

“Weird name.” His eyes blow wide as he says it, and Lando doesn’t bristle like he normally would. It’s almost… endearing. Like a cat that scared itself with its own tail.

Instead, he laughs. And he means it. “Yeah, get that a lot.”

The breeze is biting, but Oscar’s gaze — fixated and definitely a little awkward — is warm. He shivers at them both.

“Are you… cold?” He stumbles over the words, their earnestness driving into Lando’s ribs like a knife.

George would have reminded him that he should have brought a jacket. “Nah, I’m fine,” He nuzzles his nose into his elbow, waiting to get used to it. He could just go inside, he doesn’t really *have* to be —

“No, it’s. Erm.” Oscar pitches forward in the rocking chair, nearly tumbling out of it. It would be hilarious if Lando didn’t realize what he was doing, clumsy fingers trying to grab the bottom of his sweatshirt, struggling to pull it over his head.

His shirt lifts a bit in the process, exposing the skin just above his jeans — the unexpected line of his abs. Lando’s eyes snap away when Oscar finally gets his head unstuck, holding the sweatshirt out between them.

His hair’s a rumpled mess, eyes trained on Lando’s face with a sort of… fevered servitude.

“Here.” He breathes, and Lando notices that his shirt is crooked from the ordeal. It looks like he just woke up, disheveled by his sheets.

Lando feels his face run hot as he gingerly grabs the sweatshirt, warm and soft and well-loved in his hands.

“I — yeah, thanks.” He gets on, unable to look away from Oscar’s… everything. Putting it on feels like some sort of promise, heart skipping a beat when the sleeves fall beyond his one fingers.

But maybe it’s nothing. Oscar’s eyes, his sweatshirt.

Maybe it’s just the spring air.

“What’s your major?”

Oscar smiles, and Lando realizes it: he’s fucked.

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, finale

part 8 | new years

🥟 | dumplings

Kara was not having a good time.

Sure, she loved her job. Yes, she adored her staff. Absolutely, she found her role as editor-in-chief worthwhile and world-saving in its own way.

But today was a holiday and her staff was absent and her role as editor-in-chief was only kind of worthwhile given they’d gone to print three days earlier. 

Today was a day meant to be surrounded by friends, new beginnings, and maybe the slightest tinge of a hangover nursed by a staggering stack of Danvers world-famous pancakes. 

It was a day to slip into cozy sweats; an evening unburdened by Supergirl duties or an upcoming deadline; a series of uninterrupted hours where she could collapse onto her couch, bask in the blue glow of her television after consuming far too much post-brunch take-out, and, if she played her cards right, idly massaging the too-tight calves of her very best friend who was stretched out across her lap.

The tips of her fingers crawled between her glasses and face and pressed with a heavy sigh against her eyes because today was not one of those days. Kara wondered if she’d ever have one of those days again.

Not the blue glow or take-out or cozy sweats: those were always within reach. It was the best friend she wasn’t quite sure about. 

Because things were kind of different now. Things were weird and awkward, and Kara didn’t know if it was her or them. Either way, she was one supersuit short of feeling brave enough to do anything about it.

So she was at work. On a holiday.

“You know,” came a voice that nearly sent Kara flying into the next floor, “when Alex told me you were skipping New Year's brunch, I almost didn't believe her.”

“Lena,” Kara choked. She looked up and locked eyes with a very soft, very pretty, very smirking Lena Luthor and felt a rush of weird and awkward all over again. “I didn't, uh, hi.”

“Must be important work,” Lena replied, nodding toward the glasses propped on Kara's nose. They'd been a gift earlier that summer: improved and Lena-Luthor-approved to cut out even more noise and distraction than her last pair. 

“Just… just wanted to focus,” Kara replied.

“On next month’s issue?”

“Never too early to get ahead,” Kara offered lamely.

“Well, is it too early for lunch?” Lena asked, lifting a plastic bag overflowing with take-out containers.

“I thought that was my job,” Kara said, eyeing the strained bag and feeling her stomach betray her with an oversized growl.

“Sometimes even heroes need saving,” Lena chuckled, setting the bag onto Kara’s overflowing desk. “And I’m very good at giving.”

The tease, the flick of an eyebrow, and the confident smirk would have normally sent Kara’s cheeks on fire and stumbling for words and trying very hard to keep strictly platonic, best-friend thoughts at the forefront of her mind, but today was not one of those days. 

“Mhm,” Kara said with a labored smile and a strained chuckle and a fiddle with her glasses. 

Because today was awkward and weird-feeling just like every day since cuddles didn’t feel like something just best friends did.

Lena, ever astute and thoughtful and considerate, noticed the wave of discomfort radiating from Kara, and for that Kara winced even more.

“Are… are we ok?” Lena asked, fingers playing with the edge of her sleeves. It was the exact opposite of the teasing confidence spoken moments earlier; this came out shy and hesitant.

“Sure,” Kara replied automatically in a way that sounded forced, sounded fake, sounded like a lie. Because it was. It was, and Lena knew it. 

“Ok,” she nodded back, and that made it feel worse. Because Kara knew that Lena knew. “Well, I just wanted to drop this off-”

“Stay,” Kara rushed. “Uhm, please? Please stay?”

What followed wasn’t the most awkward lunch Kara had ever had, but it sure was close. Conversation lagged and Kara, lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and doubts and concerns that had played on repeat for no less than two weeks rattled around louder and louder and -

Kara blinked, realizing she’d missed whatever Lena just said. And Lena noticed but, with generous tact, looked down and quietly poked at her food and gosh this was going terribly.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said unprompted. “I’ve been distracted and… and it’s not fair to you. You skipped brunch and brought all of this delicious food and I’ve been terrible company and a bad f-friend,” she said, her throat choking around the last word.

And then a smile flashed across her best friend’s face. It was tiny and wistful. “You could never be, darling.”

And it made Kara’s stomach flutter and twist. It made it flutter and twist, and Kara clung to the tiny thread for dear life and jumped.

“Do you, uh… do you want one?”

“You’re offering me a potsticker?” Lena asked, the faintest tone of disbelief at the chopsticks floating in front of her with a perfectly pan-fried dumpling pinched between them.

Kara nodded, her outstretched, chopstick-holding hand shaking in a very unhero-like way.

And she only barely managed to snatch it, her chopsticks, and the floating potsticker back in time when Lena’s hand rose to meet the literal best pillow of food on the entire planet.

“You can’t use your hands,” Kara said - yelled - and then silently begged the earth to split open and swallow her whole.

“I… I can’t?” Lena asked, hand flinching back in surprise.

“We… there uhm, there aren’t any napkins,” Kara explained like a lying four-year-old. 

Because there absolutely were napkins. 

In plain sight. 

Directly next to Kara’s half-eaten egg roll.

Before Lena could challenge the blatantly bizarre lie with her confused scowl and keen, impossibly brilliant, and scientifically perfect observation skills, Kara blindly rambled ahead while her elbow did the inelegant task of plopping across the desk onto the stack of said napkins.

“And these are, uh, greasy? Greasy,” Kara continued, sliding her elbow with the subtlety of a firework to the edge of her desk and, just as subtly, knocking the napkins to the floor. 

“Greasy,” Lena parroted, eyes distracted by Kara’s elbow’s antics.

“I-in a good way,” Kara clarified. The moment was only briefly interrupted by the squeak of her chair rolling to the left.

To cover the stack of napkins.

The napkins which were definitely there.

“I wouldn’t offer one if they were bad, but since we don’t have napkins then,” Kara explained, “then you’d need to- to…uhm.”

“To what?” Lena pressed.

“To… wipe them on your shirt?” Kara finished feeling mortified and like the most incapable alien on the planet. 

Which was why, when Lena’s head tilted to the side and her gaze fell to where the napkins were most definitely scattered around on the ground then darted back to Kara’s and sparkled in that special way, Kara felt her heart swell and her stomach flutter just a little bit more. 

“Well,” Lena began, leaning forward with the focus of a predator, “we can’t have that.”

And Kara, the weakest, most inept prey in a five hundred-mile radius swallowed against the parchment that had become her throat, shook her head weakly, and kept the freefall going.

And it might have been something.

Could have been something.

Was nearly something. 

Lena was hovering forward. 

Lips parted. 

Eyes locked on Kara’s. 

Which was exactly when Kara’s big giant nerves took over and sent her chopsticks splintering and the potsticker slipping out of her grasp with all the grace of Flubber before zipping across the office to land with an unceremonious splat against the glass partition.

All of which turned that ‘near something’ into one giant ‘swing and miss'. 

But before Kara could articulate her feelings as ‘mortified’ and ‘crestfallen’ and ‘like a giant himbo’, Lena burst out into the kind of bright laughter that made her dimples show and smile beam and Kara wonder if how they were was enough.

Because this could be fine. 

They could be fine.

So distracted was Kara that she didn’t notice Lena swipe the last, un-splatted potsticker from Kara’s plate, and she definitely didn’t process when Lena, ever so casually, asked Kara for a napkin to wipe her fingers off, and she was lightyears from self-awareness when she automatically snatched one from the floor.

That’s how lunch continued and ended: with Lena smiling her special smile and Kara lost in a sort of daze, inhaling the spread of options Lena brought.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” Lena said when the final remnants of lo mein were polished off. “Can’t have Cat Grant accusing me of derailing her Editor-in-Chief.”

“Oh, ok,” Kara said, rising to join Lena and crashing back to earth while simultaneously knocking her knee against the desk and sending a stack of proofs sliding like Niagra Falls to the floor.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Kara said, waving Lena away. She clambered around the desk and intercepted her with a bashful grin and outstretched arms. They wrapped comfortably around Lena like they always did, and it made her feel all tiny sorts of warm and happy. 

This could be fine.

“Thanks for lunch,” she muttered into the side of Lena’s head.

“What are friends for?” Lena said, hands falling to Kara’s upper arms and disarming Kara with a practiced smile.

Kara nodded, her own smile feeling tight and confused. 

It faltered only slightly when the door clicked shut and she crouched to pick up the disheveled proofs. 

This could be fine. 

Kara could be totally normal and cool and collected, and Lena could be her usual pretty and perfect and kind and thoughtful self. And everything could be great and par for the course and completely and totally… 

Normal. 

Kara rolled back onto her heels and pondered that thought: normal. She pondered and pondered some more. A whole minute passed while the idea braised in her brain, and it kind of didn’t sit right.

It didn’t sit right one bit.

And then the most obvious thing on the whole giant existence of everything occurred - no, re-occurred: Kara didn’t want normal. She definitely didn’t want to go back to normal. She wanted the opposite of normal. In fact, she didn’t want normal for another second of her whole entire life.

Unless that not-normal was Lena hating her guts for the rest of eternity. That was not a not-normal Kara had the stomach for, but before she could let that worry petrify her from action, she jumped to her feet and clambered toward the stairwell. 

It took only a second; a perfectly timed second that synchronized with the elevator doors opening and Kara’s very best friend appearing in the ground floor lobby.

“Kara,” Lena said, jumping at what was probably a borderline crazed expression on Kara’s face when two muscular arms spread across the elevator’s threshold, blocking Lena’s exit. “Wha-”

“Mistletoe magic,” Kara stammered inelegantly.

“Mistletoe-?” Lena began, her surprise turning to a flash of hurt.

“With you,” Kara clarified. “I wanted… I wanted mistletoe magic with you.”

“With… me?” Lena asked slowly, cautiously - nervously.

“I wanted… I wanted you - want you. I didn’t mean to, you know,” Kara clarified poorly, “but then I got so nervous. And then Andrea was there and, and I just… I thought you didn’t want it. And maybe you don’t which is - that’s fine, but I can’t stop thinking that maybe you do? Because I do. I really do and, and when you… with the frosting? And the dress? You were just so, so… Rao. And you’re so so brilliant and kind and my best friend-”

“Me too.”

“- and I don’t want to ruin any… any…thing,” Kara trailed off, the tiny echo of Lena’s confession rattling in her ears. “What?”

Then something even louder started rattling in Kara’s ears because her rambling had gone on long enough to trigger the lift’s alarm.

Then came a tug against Kara’s shirt.

Then Kara felt herself being pulled into the lift.

Then she felt the warmth breath against her cheek.

“I wanted mistletoe magic with you, too.”

“R-really?” Kara asked, her eyes darting down to Lena’s perfectly painted lips.

“Really.”

“Like…” Kara continued, glancing back up to double check Lena’s eyes were serious. “Like real-”

They were. They were dead serious. And Kara registered it only a millisecond before Lena’s lips cut off what was definitely going to be another babble-fest. Lena’s lips cut her off and all of her thoughts and words disappeared and instead every sense was engulfed by soft, warm, gentle and - oh wowsers.

“Like really, really,” Lena whispered before the elevator lurched upward and before Kara could register the sparks of gold magic and green leaves flickering above them and before recapturing Kara’s mouth and setting fire to Kara’s core.

// sixty-three floors later //

“So, you liked the dress?” Lena asked.

- - - - - - -

ko-fi and other ao3 reads

[depressedraisin]

notes on "mr. snarl"

hello, hello, hello welcome to the mr. snarl is high camp discourse. i've been readin' and thinkin' and drivin' myself nuts over this, so i'll be blabberin' on for a good minute. bear with me.

before we dive into any discussion of camp, we ofcourse need to understand what camp is in the first place. camp as an idea is nearly impossible to neatly put down in a few words or a sentence. it has no definition as of such. camp is loud. camp is ostentatious. camp is exaggerated. camp is 'too much'. camp is gay. camp is ironic. camp is cheeky. drag is camp. marlene dietrich is camp. baroque art is camp. cher is camp. mommie dearest (1981) is camp. the rocky horror picture show (1975) is camp. dostoevsky is camp.

the girlies who get camp get it, those who don't, don't.

however we do have susan sontag's 1964 seminal essay 'notes on "camp"' from where most of our contemporary ideas and understanding of 'camp' comes from. in her essay, sontag noted 58 points on what camp is or might be. for our purposes in this post, we'll go by those. because it is the camp bible of course. and i am a pretentious bitch.

now before we get to the meat of the matter, a quick detour to discuss the many faces of alex turner.

alex's personas have now come to as closely associated to his image as an artist and public figure as blonde wigs are with dolly parton, i suppose. it even has its own section in alex's wiki page. he is one those performers to whom the "eras" concept can truly and perfectly apply. he is a different man on stage with every new album, each 'era' is unique from the other and distinctly defined. a new 'era' for alex is not only a change of a haircut or a new pallette, it is a total revamping of his mannerisms and performance style and public image. be it mr. schwarz (the car era), mark (tbhc era) or oliver tate sr. (early sias era), each one of his personas is another way in which he represents the themes of that album. understanding a persona is integral to understanding the album.

and alex admits to as such. each Performer is a fractured reflection of his own self, and of the album.

but. but. i do not think that he has always made use of the Performer, or atleast, tried to make perceivable distinctions between them. in the first three-four years of his career- during WPSIATWIN and FWN, he presented as just Some Guy. just another normal bloke from sheffield. which, you could argue, was the persona that fit the context of those albums, but i would say that he was probably not putting that much thought into it at the time. it isn't until TAOTU that we see alex using his on-stage fashion to project a certain kind of image that ties in with the music he's playing. (do i think it's miles' handiwork? yes.). the lil suits and ties and beatles-mop cuts, y'know.

the first distinct Performer appears during the Humbug era. the soft-spoken, brooding, fawn-mannered poet who is probably hiding a bagful of secrets and hang-ups behind those layers of brown curls- let's call her him aly. then we have the bright-eyed, puppy-smiled, deep-voiced loverboy of the early SIAS era. i propose to call him oliver tate sr. (after the guy from submarine (2010) obviously). then mr. snarl- we'll get to him later. the loud and theatrical and slutty and deliciously gay EYCTE era persona. then the melancholic space poet mark of TBH&C and finally the suave auteur of The Car- mr. schwarz.

mr. snarl is the one who has garnered the most fascination and endured the most in popular imagination. dare i say, AM-era alex turner is a lowkey late 2010s pop culture icon. it is very easy to understand why- the quiff, the leather jackets, the perpetual sunglasses, the biker boots, the LA drawl tinging his sheffield accent, the devil-may-care wantoness. the girlies on tiktok and pinterest aren't obsessed with him for nothing.

so, what makes mr. snarl camp? what am i yapping on about?

let's get back to sontag.

camp is artificial. camp is ironic. mr. snarl is too. he is a character. he is a mask. *cue the bourne identity and body paint*. 'artificial' does not imply fake or dishonest. we should be careful not to be quick in putting any value judgement onto this artificiality- the aritifice is a quality of camp. you can't appreciate camp, if you snigger at the artificial.

2. camp is character. mr. snarl is a character if there ever was one. extremely defined, visually and behaviourally- you see a performance and can immediately recognise the moment mr. snarl is peeking through. he is also very intensely one thing- very intensely masculine, very intensely rockabilly, very intensely rock god. he is 'instant character' as sontag puts it, which is why perhaps he so immediately and so firmly gripped our collective imagination.

3. camp is exaggerated. camp is style. do i even need to elaborate on this? Ben Beaumont-Thomas of The Guardian said it much better than i could- alex ironically "played with the role" of being a rockstar but simultaneously "can't help but be a real rock star." so, to put it in sontagian terms, he is not a rockstar but a "rock star"

the 2014 brit awards speech is the peak of this ironic, exaggerated performance i think. (i'm still waiting for someone to do a drag performance based on it).

4. but to me, what makes mr. snarl camp is his performance of gender. now let's get one thing clear- camp is not effeminate or queer behaviour. it is the "spirit of extravagance", so any kind of extravagant and ironic presentation of gender can be under the purview of camp.

this performance of gender is not the david bowie or marc bolan or brian molko kind, no. this performance of gender is much subtle, much more nuanced- he wasn't playing around with rigid definitions of gender or crossing gender lines. he wasn't trying to say something with it necessarily. i doubt even, if it was a purposeful thing that he was thinking of back then.

but mr. snarl is a performance of gender. it is a performance of masculinity. and the thing that makes it so very interesting is that it was a cis, straight man doing it.

[if y'all are interested, another interesting example is dolly parton + her persona + her performance of exaggerated femininity. for more on that i'll point you towards be kind rewind's video essay on her.]

mr. snarl was an image of a very certain kind of masculinity. 1950s, elvis presley, rockabilly, greasers, james dean- these are some of the pop culture touchstones that come to mind when we think of mr. snarl. he is also decidedly american. a "fictional character from america" as alex later put it. was this whole persona thing an effort to conquer america then? perhaps...but eh. there is no way i can conclusively say that. it certainly helped that cause. AM the album was very us-american in essence-- it drew from hiphop and r&b after all. the soundscape of the arctic monkeys was very much rooted in its northern british indie roots, and AM was the first one that was clearly not. and mr. snarl was just a visual reflection of that. [for more on how the arctic monkeys conquered the us]

mr. snarl was a certain kind of masculine in a way alex turner personas haven't been previously or since. he has always presented as conventionally masculine. even the humbug persona- him being my girlfriend notwithstanding- is not much different from the aesthetics of say, ray davies or mick jagger or george harrison back in the 60s and 70s. the slightly effeminate dramaticism of eycte is not exactly gender-bending as such.

but mr. snarl was hypermasculine. masculinity has had an interesting place in his lyrics up until they- they are both critical ('brianstorm' 'a certain romance') and fascinated ('jeweller's hand' 'catapult') of more aggressive masculine characteristics. (he does use a lot of very sexual but not necessarily erotic language to describe said masculinity- but that's another can of worms.) mr. snarl was in a way, alex being those characters from those songs he was writing about. mr. snarl also very aggressively straight. straight with a capital s. his songs in AM still had the self-abasing and submissive undertones to the narrator that love songs from humbug and sias, but much toned down. he was out there shouting out his girlfriend on stage. and who can forget the "ladiessssssss!" moment. he had models hanging off him in photoshoots.

you probably saw these photos and thought- "what the fuck?!" with a cackle. that is exactly what makes mr. snarl camp. the irony, the ridiculousness of it all.

5. i don't think alex was trying to be or do camp. camp is best when it is not intentional. i can even confidently wager alex would not take it as a compliment if i showed him this essay. a lot of very "serious" people look down upon camp as something lowbrow and tacky and unserious. but it isn't. i would go ahead and classify mr. snarl under naive camp- he is trying to be straightlaced and serious, but failing grandly, which makes it deliciously camp.

so. mr. snarl was an exaggerated representation of masculinity. in a sense, mr. snarl was basically drag. alex turner being "Alex Turner".

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.2)

You are being mind-controled by a villain and you believe your lover cheated on you (Part.2)

A fog has settled between you, a cruel illusion woven by unseen hands. You now look at your beloved with wounded eyes, twisted by whispers that cloud your trust.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson, Cable, Hank McCoy, Colossus, Magik, Warren Worthington III & Alex Summers

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When you confronted Wanda, your voice cracked with pain as you accused her of something unimaginable: betrayal. Her usually warm, compassionate gaze turned pained and wide-eyed as she tried to process what you were saying. Wanda listened in stunned silence, her hands reaching out to you but hovering, unsure whether her touch would comfort or drive you further away. Her lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper as she denied your accusations, her confusion mirroring your own hurt.

- "I’d never do that to you," she murmured, the hurt in her voice raw and palpable. Wanda’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched you step back, taking your accusations like wounds to the heart. She tried to explain, reaching out to touch your arm, but your mistrust made you pull away, leaving her standing there, alone and heartbroken.

- In the days that followed, Wanda grew withdrawn, her usual warmth replaced by a quiet, haunting sorrow. She would cast glances your way, her gaze searching, desperate for some hint of understanding. You saw her retreating into herself, losing herself in her spells and practices, the vibrant energy she once shared with you fading like a dying flame.

- After a week, the mind control finally lifted, and the cruel reality of the villain’s manipulation settled heavily on your heart. The betrayal you’d felt was nothing but a twisted illusion, and the memory of Wanda’s tearful gaze lingered, a reminder of the pain you’d caused. Knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were, you sought her out, needing to make things right and to show her that your love hadn’t wavered.

- You found Wanda in the garden, her hands moving in gentle patterns as she conjured small, delicate lights that danced around her fingers. She looked up at the sound of your footsteps, her expression shifting between relief and wariness as you approached. Stammering, you explained the mind control, your apology pouring out as you confessed the regret that had haunted you since that day.

- Wanda’s face softened as she listened, a mix of sorrow and relief filling her eyes. She reached out, her touch warm and forgiving as she placed a hand on your cheek, brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. "I forgive you," she whispered, her voice as soft as the magic she wielded. Wanda pulled you close, her embrace gentle yet firm, a silent promise that she understood and would stand by you.

- That evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, Wanda wove delicate illusions, creating constellations that glowed above you. In her magic, you found comfort and forgiveness, her warmth rekindling the trust between you. She leaned against you, her head resting on your shoulder, a silent reminder that despite the pain and doubt, love could prevail, stronger and more resilient than any darkness.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- The confrontation with Pietro was fast, heated, and painful, your accusations spilling out in a wave of hurt and anger. Pietro, normally so confident and quick-witted, looked stunned, his usual cocky grin vanishing as he stared at you in disbelief. His quick retorts faltered as he tried to defend himself, his words tumbling out as fast as his thoughts, each one tinged with desperation.

- “Why would you even think that?” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he attempted to make sense of your accusations. Pietro took a shaky step back, running a hand through his silver hair, his frustration evident as he tried to explain himself. Despite his protests, the doubt and pain in your eyes cut through him, leaving him visibly wounded as he watched you walk away, his usually confident demeanor shattered.

- In the days that followed, Pietro’s energy dimmed, his usual lighthearted, quick-talking spirit replaced by a sullen silence. You saw him running alone, pushing himself faster than usual, as if speed could somehow escape the weight of what had happened. Whenever you crossed paths, his gaze would shift away quickly, a mixture of hurt and longing flickering across his face before he sped off again, leaving a gust of wind in his wake.

- After a week, the villain’s manipulation lifted, and the full reality of what had happened hit you like a shockwave. Every accusation, every hurtful word you’d thrown at him had been based on nothing but lies and illusions, a cruel attempt to shatter what you had together. Overcome with regret, you sought him out, determined to make amends and to explain what had truly happened.

- You found Pietro by the lake, pacing back and forth, his agitation evident as he mumbled to himself. When he noticed you, his pacing stopped, his gaze wary but hopeful as he waited for you to speak. With a heavy heart, you explained the mind control that had twisted your thoughts, your apology flowing out in a rush as you tried to show him how deeply sorry you were.

- Pietro’s tense stance softened as he listened, his familiar cocky grin returning, albeit with a hint of sadness. "You know, I can outrun a lot of things, but not this," he muttered, though his tone was light, his words carried a weight that hit you. With a sigh, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pulled you into a fierce embrace, his forgiveness as swift as his love.

- Later, as you both sat by the lake, Pietro’s usual humor resurfaced, his teasing remarks helping to ease the lingering tension. He laughed, his voice carrying a warmth that filled you with relief, and as he leaned in close, you felt the familiar spark between you reigniting. In his laughter, in his touch, you found reassurance, a silent promise that your bond was unbreakable, no matter the obstacles in its path.

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- When you accused Emma, the words slipped out in a way that felt like betrayal even to you. She listened in silence, her icy demeanor only hardening as you laid out your suspicions, her diamond-sharp gaze piercing you with every word. Emma’s usual confidence faltered just slightly, a flash of hurt crossing her eyes before she quickly masked it, her walls rising higher than ever.

- “I don’t need to explain myself,” she said coolly, her tone firm but carrying a hint of vulnerability, one she rarely showed. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, her stance defensive as she denied your accusations. Despite her calm facade, you could see the pain hidden beneath, the subtle tension in her posture revealing more than her words ever could.

- In the days that followed, Emma distanced herself, her presence colder and more guarded than ever. She buried herself in work, focusing on training and the business empire she controlled, leaving little room for anything else. Whenever you passed her in the mansion, her gaze was distant, her walls impenetrable as she maintained an air of icy indifference, though you could sense the pain simmering just below the surface.

- When the mind control finally lifted, the truth hit you with a harsh clarity, the betrayal you’d seen nothing but a lie woven by a villain’s cruel manipulation. Guilt settled heavy in your heart as you remembered the hurt you’d caused, each cold look you’d thrown at Emma replaying in your mind. Determined to make amends, you sought her out, needing her forgiveness and knowing it wouldn’t be easy.

- You found Emma in her office, her gaze cold and unreadable as you entered. She listened silently as you explained the villain’s manipulation, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of pain softened her gaze as she absorbed your words. When you finished, the room was silent, tension thick between you as you waited for her response.

- “I’m not one to forgive easily,” she said, her voice low but with an edge of vulnerability that she rarely exposed. Despite her words, she stepped closer, her hand resting against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. Emma’s gaze softened, her ice-like exterior cracking just slightly as she pulled you into a careful embrace, her touch a quiet acknowledgment of her forgiveness.

- That night, Emma let her guard down, allowing you to see the softer side she kept hidden from the world. She spoke of her past, her voice steady but carrying a weight that showed just how deeply trust mattered to her. In her rare openness, you found comfort, a renewed understanding between you that felt unbreakable. As she rested beside you, her head on your shoulder, you felt the strength of her forgiveness, a silent promise that your love was worth the risk, no matter how high her walls might be.

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- When you confronted Laura, accusing her of betraying you, she stood utterly still, her eyes wide and sharp, like a cornered predator. At first, she didn’t respond, her expression frozen in disbelief as she tried to make sense of your words. Hurt and confusion flashed across her face, mixing with the anger she tried so hard to suppress. You could see her claws twitch, her hands curling into fists, as if the accusations cut deeper than any blade could.

- “You think I’d betray you?” she finally whispered, her voice low and raw, almost a growl. There was a sharp edge to her words, but beneath the anger, you heard the unmistakable crack of vulnerability. Laura had always been guarded, keeping her heart closely protected, and this accusation seemed to tear at her carefully constructed defenses.

- As the days passed, Laura withdrew, retreating further into herself. She became quieter, her responses short and guarded, only speaking when absolutely necessary. She spent hours training, pushing herself to the limits as if punishing herself for something she didn’t even do. When you passed by her, she wouldn’t meet your gaze, her usually fierce eyes turned downward, a subtle indication of the pain she carried.

- A week later, when the mind control finally lifted, realization dawned on you like a crushing weight. The betrayal you’d believed in was nothing more than an illusion forced upon you by a villain’s manipulation. Your chest tightened with guilt as you remembered the look of hurt in Laura’s eyes, the pain you’d inflicted without even realizing it.

- Seeking her out, you found Laura alone in the training room, her face set in a mask of hardened resolve. When you explained the truth—that it had all been a cruel trick—her expression softened, but only slightly. She listened quietly, her gaze intense as you apologized, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a wall still standing between you.

- “I don’t trust easily,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but filled with a quiet hurt. Despite her words, she took a step closer, her hardened gaze softening as she finally met your eyes. Laura placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm yet surprisingly gentle, a silent acceptance of your apology. She wasn’t one to easily forgive, but you sensed that she was willing to try.

- That evening, Laura let her walls down just a bit, allowing you to sit beside her in silence. She held your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours, the warmth of her touch a silent promise to rebuild the trust between you. Her gaze softened as she looked at you, her eyes reflecting a fierce loyalty that hadn’t been broken. Though words weren’t needed, you could feel the strength of her forgiveness, a bond unspoken yet unbreakable.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- When you accused Wade of cheating, his immediate reaction was… laughter. He chuckled, thinking you were joking, until he noticed the serious, hurt look on your face. His laughter faded, and his tone shifted, a flicker of sadness and confusion crossing his face. Wade’s usual bravado faltered as he struggled to understand, an uncharacteristic vulnerability showing through his typically goofy exterior.

- “Hey, babe, I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He tried to joke, to lighten the tension, but every attempt only seemed to make you more frustrated. Wade watched you, his usual humor giving way to a quiet sadness, his gaze holding a hint of desperation. For once, he didn’t have a clever comeback, his expression turning serious as he saw your mistrust.

- In the days that followed, Wade grew quieter, his playful nature dampened as he dealt with the weight of your accusations. He stayed out of your way, though you’d occasionally catch him watching you from a distance, his gaze more somber than usual. His attempts to make you smile were rare, his usual antics replaced by an uncharacteristic silence that made your heart ache.

- When the mind control finally wore off and you realized the truth, guilt washed over you. The accusation you’d thrown at Wade had been based on nothing more than a twisted manipulation, a trick meant to break you apart. You found him in the kitchen, attempting to make a snack, though his usual energetic humor was absent.

- As you apologized, explaining the mind control that had fueled your anger, Wade listened quietly, his gaze shifting from his food to you, his expression softening. "So… I’m not the bad guy here?” he asked with a grin, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. He smiled, but it was gentler, and as you finished your apology, he wrapped an arm around you, his usual playful energy returning.

- “Hey, what’s a little mind control between lovers?” he joked, his voice light, though you could sense his relief. Wade’s forgiveness came easily, his laughter lifting the weight between you as he playfully ruffled your hair. He pulled you into a hug, his embrace warm and genuine, a silent assurance that he understood and wasn’t holding a grudge.

- Later that night, Wade surprised you with a ridiculous, over-the-top apology of his own, complete with flowers, confetti, and a poorly written song about love and mind control. As he serenaded you with his off-key voice, you couldn’t help but laugh, the weight of the past week finally lifting. In Wade’s laughter and his antics, you found forgiveness, a reminder that your love could withstand even the strangest obstacles.

Nathan Summers aka. Cable

- When you accused Nathan of cheating, his immediate response was silence. He stared at you, his usually intense gaze softening with a flicker of disbelief and hurt. Cable wasn’t one for outbursts, but your words had hit him hard, his jaw clenching as he took in the weight of your accusation. His voice was low when he finally spoke, each word measured, tinged with sorrow.

- “I thought we trusted each other,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand why you would doubt him. His posture stiffened, his face set in a mask of controlled anger and pain, though beneath it, you sensed a deep sadness. Nathan valued loyalty above all else, and the idea that you thought he’d betrayed you seemed to shake him to his core.

- The following days were tense, with Nathan throwing himself into his work, his focus sharp but cold. He avoided you, his usual steady presence feeling distant and unapproachable. You’d catch glimpses of him, his expression hardened, his gaze no longer seeking yours as he buried himself in planning and strategies, distancing himself from the pain he felt.

- When the villain’s influence finally lifted and you realized the truth, remorse hit you hard. The accusations you’d thrown at Nathan had been nothing but illusions, a twisted ploy meant to break his trust in you. You found him in his study, his face shadowed with fatigue, his gaze distant as he stared at maps on his desk.

- You explained everything, your apology heartfelt as you recounted the mind control that had driven you to accuse him. Nathan listened quietly, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of understanding softened his gaze. “Mind control,” he repeated, a hint of relief mingling with the remaining hurt. He sighed, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and forgiving.

- “Next time, just trust me,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, a reminder that loyalty was something he valued deeply. He pulled you into a brief, reassuring embrace, his hold warm and protective, a silent promise that he understood and would forgive. Though he didn’t say much, his presence was enough, a reminder of the bond that remained strong despite the shadows cast by the past week.

- That evening, Cable surprised you by joining you for a quiet moment outside, his usual intensity softened as he sat beside you. His hand found yours, his grip strong yet gentle, and he offered you a small, rare smile. In that moment, you felt his forgiveness, his steady presence a comfort that reassured you of his loyalty. As the stars shone above, you found solace in Nathan’s strength, a quiet promise that your love could endure even the hardest trials.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- When you confronted Hank, accusing him of infidelity, his reaction was one of shocked bewilderment. He had been immersed in one of his lab experiments when you stormed in, and his initial thought was that you must have misinterpreted something he’d said or done. But as you continued to lay out your accusations, the color drained from his face, replaced by an uncharacteristic sorrow. You could see his mind racing, trying to understand where things had gone so terribly wrong.

- “Why would you ever think that of me?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a pleading look in his eyes as he searched your face, desperation mixed with confusion. Hank was a deeply loyal partner, and the notion of betrayal was so foreign to him that he struggled to process the accusation. His broad shoulders slumped, and for the first time, you saw him without his usual buoyant intellect to lean on, looking lost and vulnerable.

- In the days that followed, Hank’s demeanor became subdued, the usual spark in his conversations dampened. He threw himself into his work, but his usual enthusiasm was absent, as though a weight hung over him that even science couldn’t lift. He avoided spending time with you, afraid that his presence might cause you further distress, but his absence left a void that reminded you of your argument at every turn.

- When the mind control wore off, clarity crashed over you with an almost unbearable guilt. The accusations you’d thrown at Hank had all been lies, seeds planted by a malicious mind to break your relationship apart. You found him in his lab, once again immersed in his work, but this time his gaze was distant, the traces of hurt visible in his softened features.

- As you apologized, explaining how the villain’s manipulation had clouded your mind, Hank listened patiently, his expression softening but still filled with lingering sadness. He was a man of reason, yet your words had cut deeply into the emotional side he rarely showed to others. “I know you wouldn’t have done this if it were truly you,” he said, his voice gentle and warm. But there was a slight tremble to his words, revealing the pain he’d been holding back.

- After a moment’s silence, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch as soft as his gaze. “Let us rebuild from here,” he murmured, offering you a small, understanding smile. The reassurance in his eyes was enough to show that, despite the hurt, he was ready to forgive. With Hank, there was always an endless well of empathy, and his patience offered you the chance to find your way back to each other.

- That evening, Hank invited you to the lab, handing you a pair of safety goggles and playfully guiding you through one of his experiments. As you worked side-by-side, he shared soft laughter and small, tender touches, his kindness reminding you of the depth of his love. Hank’s forgiveness wasn’t spoken aloud but shown in his quiet acceptance, his compassion allowing the wound to heal as you rekindled the warmth between you.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- When you confronted Piotr, accusing him of cheating, his usually gentle expression turned to one of heartbreak, even through the steel-hard exterior. He looked down at you with hurt eyes, the reflective metal only amplifying the pained expression you could see in his features. Piotr wasn’t used to being accused of something so hurtful, and his hands balled into fists as he tried to understand why you believed he would betray you.

- “I would never do that to you,” he said, his deep voice echoing with restrained emotion. It was rare to see Piotr so visibly shaken. Yet his vulnerability shone through, despite the seemingly unbreakable exterior. You could see the toll your accusations were taking on him, as though he’d been shattered beneath the impenetrable surface.

- Over the next few days, he withdrew, seeking solace in solitude and throwing himself into physical training that kept him at the far corners of the mansion. Each clang of his fists against metal training equipment echoed the heartbreak and confusion he felt, while he kept his distance, unwilling to confront you in his hurt.

- When the mind control lifted, and you finally realized that your accusations had been planted by a villain seeking to tear you apart, guilt filled every inch of your heart. You found Piotr training alone in the danger room. You stepped in hesitantly, the remorse clear in your voice as you explained the mind control and your apologies spilling out.

- Hearing your explanation, Piotr’s metallic expression softened. He looked at you for a long moment, as if weighing the pain he’d felt against the forgiveness he wanted to offer. “I know you wouldn’t say those things if you truly felt them,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But it still hurt.”

- Taking your hand, he brought it to his chest, placing it over his heart. “I love you,” he whispered, the words filled with an earnestness that told you just how deeply he had been affected. The wall of steel was gone, and in its place, his gentle, warm touch reassured you that despite the damage done, he was willing to forgive and rebuild together.

- That night, Piotr pulled you close in his arms, offering the comfort of his warmth and strength as he wrapped you in a protective embrace. You stayed like that, his hands resting softly on your back as he traced small patterns with his fingertips, grounding you in the reassurance of his forgiveness. It was a quiet, powerful moment, a reminder of his loyalty and a fresh start born from his boundless patience and compassion.

Illyana Rasputin aka. Magik

- When you accused Illyana of betrayal, her initial reaction was one of icy indifference. She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest as she listened, her expression unreadable. But as your words grew harsher, you saw a flicker of something hurt cross her face, quickly masked by her usual confident, defiant demeanor. Illyana wasn’t one to easily show her emotions, and the accusation seemed to put her in a place of unfamiliar vulnerability.

- “You really think I’d do that?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous, with a hint of anger simmering beneath the surface. Illyana’s gaze was intense, her eyes narrowing as though trying to peer into your mind, searching for the reason behind your sudden mistrust. The betrayal she felt was evident in her stance, and though she didn’t outwardly break, there was a clear hurt in her gaze.

- Over the next week, Illyana distanced herself, retreating to Limbo to avoid dealing with the pain your accusations had caused. She was rarely seen around, and when you did catch sight of her, she was surrounded by a dark, unapproachable aura, her eyes colder than usual. She threw herself into training and work, hiding the hurt behind a wall of indifference that only made you feel more isolated.

- When the mind control lifted, realization struck you with a painful clarity. The accusations you’d made against Illyana had been nothing but fabrications planted by a villain to tear you apart. You sought her out in Limbo, where you found her training alone, her expression hardened and distant, as though she’d been trying to forget the pain you’d caused.

- As you approached, offering your apology and explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception, Illyana’s gaze softened, though she maintained her guarded stance. She listened in silence, her expression unreadable, but the slight tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. “Next time, don’t be so easily fooled,” she muttered, though there was a hint of warmth beneath her sarcasm, a reluctant forgiveness peeking through.

- She extended a hand, pulling you close with a surprising gentleness, her usual cold exterior softening just for you. “I don’t trust easily,” she said, her voice low and serious, “but I’ll make an exception for you.” There was a fierceness in her words, a promise of loyalty and forgiveness that only Illyana could offer in her unique, unwavering way.

- That night, she took you to a secluded corner of Limbo, where the stars shone brilliantly overhead, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Sitting beside you, she leaned against you, her hand reaching for yours, her touch firm and protective. In her own quiet way, Illyana had forgiven you, and as you watched the stars together, you felt the strength of her loyalty, a bond that even the harshest trials couldn’t break.

Warren Worthington III aka. Angel

- When you accused Warren of infidelity, his wings instinctively flared, and his usually calm, composed demeanor broke into a stunned silence. Warren was used to shielding himself from judgment due to his appearance, but having that distrust come from you was something he never expected. His wings curled protectively around himself, as if they could somehow shield him from the pain in your words.

- “Why would you think that?” he asked softly, his voice edged with both shock and hurt. Warren’s usual confidence faltered as he struggled to process your accusation, and his piercing blue eyes searched yours as though he could find an explanation that would make the hurt less unbearable. For a man who was used to the spotlight, he now looked like he’d rather disappear, the betrayal visible in his eyes.

- The days that followed were filled with a painful silence between you both. Warren withdrew, often flying alone in the evenings, taking solace in the solitude of the skies. He avoided eye contact, the trust between you seemingly damaged beyond repair, and he’d barely return to the mansion, opting to spend nights outside, where he could process his emotions in the quiet embrace of the stars.

- When the mind control finally lifted, and you realized that your accusations had been orchestrated by a villain to sabotage your relationship, guilt consumed you. You found Warren alone on a rooftop, his wings spread wide as he looked out over the city, his posture one of pained introspection. You stepped up to him, your apology coming out in a rush as you explained what had happened and begged for his forgiveness.

- Warren turned to you slowly, his eyes softened but still tinged with the hurt he’d carried over the past week. He listened to your explanation in silence, and when you finished, he looked at you for a long moment, his wings folding close to his back. “You have no idea how much that hurt,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a trace of vulnerability in his usually composed tone.

- After a pause, he opened his wings, wrapping them gently around you in a quiet acceptance of your apology. Warren was slow to forgive, but his touch conveyed an understanding and a desire to move past the pain. “I trust you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a cautious hope. “Let’s rebuild that trust, together.” With his wings embracing you, you felt the reassurance of his love, and that was enough.

- That night, Warren invited you to fly with him, lifting you into the night sky where you soared above the city together. The thrill of flight, coupled with the feeling of his hand holding yours, was exhilarating, his forgiveness wrapped in the beauty of the skies. It was a silent promise of a fresh start, a renewal of trust forged in the quiet, expansive night, with only the stars as your witnesses.

Alex Summers aka. Havok

- When you confronted Alex, accusing him of betrayal, his reaction was a mixture of anger and shock. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. Alex wasn’t one to take accusations lightly, especially from someone he loved. His gaze was fiery, the same intensity that fueled his powers flashing in his eyes as he stared at you, wounded and deeply hurt.

- “How could you even think that?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion. You could see the frustration building up in him, and he let out a bitter laugh, disbelief evident in his expression. Alex had always been a fiercely loyal partner, and to have that loyalty questioned by you hit harder than any physical blow. He turned away, unwilling to let you see the pain that was etched into his features.

- In the days that followed, Alex became distant, throwing himself into missions and training with a renewed, almost reckless intensity. It was his way of coping, of channeling his hurt into action. He avoided you at every turn, his once warm and playful demeanor replaced by an icy wall, his body language closed off and guarded. Seeing him like this only made your guilt grow, the silence between you like a painful reminder of the trust that had been shattered.

- When the mind control finally wore off and you realized that your accusations had been nothing but lies planted by a villain to create division between you, you knew you had to make things right. You found him in the training room, his expression hardened and focused, as though he was trying to push through the hurt with sheer determination. Your apology poured out as you explained the manipulation, your voice breaking as you begged for his forgiveness.

- Alex listened, his face expressionless at first, but as your words sank in, the anger in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a mixture of relief and lingering pain. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?” he asked, his voice laced with frustration but softer than before. There was a vulnerability there, a part of him that had been deeply wounded but was willing to listen, to forgive.

- He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as though afraid you might slip away again. “Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt me like that,” he murmured, his tone protective yet filled with an intense sincerity. Alex’s embrace was warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that he was willing to put the pain behind him if it meant having you by his side.

- That evening, he took you out on a long drive, just the two of you with no destination in mind, the open road stretching out ahead. He held your hand as he drove, the quiet moments between you filled with an unspoken forgiveness. The freedom of the road, coupled with his presence beside you, was a powerful reminder that your relationship was strong enough to survive even the darkest moments, and together, you found comfort in each other once more.

[bitbybitwrites]

I really should change some of these banners . . because its always more than 6 sentences with me . . 😂

Thanks to the following lovelies who have tagged me for Six/Seven/Several Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday lately:

@porcelainmortal @iboatedhere @caterpills @nocoastposts @seths-rogens

@thesleepyskipper @onthewaytosomewhere @forabeatofadrum @alasse9

@blueeyedgrlwrites

Here are a couple of things for ya all: 1 Klaine and 1 RWRB selection for you under the cut:

Another snippet from my RWRB fic, Puppy Love

(cc @omgbarbiegurl )

Henry blushed ( way too prettily in Alex’s opinion).  “I . . just help out here.  It’s really Pez -  He was the one who helped get this place off the ground. I don’t do that much. “ “Don’t belittle yourself, H.” Alex said as he stepped closer.  “I can tell these folks here like you, look up to you.  It’s a vibe.  I can feel it.”  Alex sidled up closer to Henry, slyly grinning as he slipped a hand to Henry’s waist, letting his fingers curl in that soft, sweet dip that he’s been aching to touch for so long.  Henry shivered a little at the warmth of Alex’s palm, the closeness of him. “I . . I just want these kids to have what I never got . . .” Henry said softly.  “My father died before I could come out to him.  My mother is just  a shell of herself since he passed.  It was like I had lost two parents that day he left us.  Of the remaining family, only my sister Bea is supportive.  My brother Phillip is a knob and spends way too much time with my homophobic grandmother to remember that I happen to be his brother as well.” ‘H . .” Alex frowned, he didn’t like that slight tinge of sadness he heard in the other man’s voice.  “ Well, fuck ‘em.  Not Bea of course.  She sounds amazing.  But the other two.” His fingers gave Henry’s waist a supportive squeeze.  “At least you have your sister and Pez . .  the folks who live and run this place . . and, well, me.”  He flashed Henry sweet, shy smile. Henry’s heart swelled as he leaned closer to whisper.  “ I have you, do I?” “For as much and as long as you want me, baby.”

****

And this part of the next chapter of my Klaine epic: If I Can Make Your Heart My Home

(cc @datshitrandom)

Blaine’s arms reached out towards the other side of the bed.  His eyes popped open as his fingers felt the cool bedsheets next to him. No warm body as he expected. No Kurt. His heart started racing as the panic started to set in. It wasn’t a dream.   It couldn’t have been.  Blaine’s body bore witness to that. Did Kurt leave? Again? The scent of cinnamon slowly wafted through the  open doorway, causing Blaine to clumsily fall out of the bed and rush out of the room, down the stairs and to the kitchen. Breathless, he jogged through the doorway, stopping short at the sight of Kurt, wearing his bathrobe, bending over to take something out of the oven. “You’re here.” Blaine said, surprised and relieved at the same time. Kurt chuckled as he placed the hot metal tray onto of the oven to cool.  “Of course I’m here, “ he said over his shoulder, all the while shaking his head.  He took the oven mitt off his hand and tossed it on the counter.   “I’m here and you’re . .” Kurt said as he shut the oven door and turned around .  He blushed as he saw Blaine. “You’re . . . you’re . . naked.”

Annnnnnd tagging if you want to share anything you've been working on - and OPEN TAG for anyone who just wants to share:

@madas-ahatters-world @coffeegleek @little-escapist @wowbright @hkvoyage

@sophie1973 @theprinceandagcd @spaceorphan18 @annepi-blog @daisyishedwig

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@scatter-the-stars @yadivagirl @kirakiwiwrites @bowtiesnmusicals @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion

@cerriddwenluna @kurtsascot

[onboardsorasora]

i was thinking could u write a short fic with this prompt: max is talking to some friends (you choose who) and then the topic of young danny comes up, they ask him if he thinks young danny would’ve dated him and he’s like nah, realistically he wouldn’t have looked at me twice. and then, due to magic or idk, he wakes up in the past (u choose if he’s younger or not) and young danny is so into him, like puppy eyes and following him everywhere

Hey bestie, I hope this is good lol 994 wds

Max grinned as Daniel ‘accidentally’ bumped into him on his way out of the press conference room. He watched as the small huddle of journalists followed him to the room that would hold scheduled individual press conferences. He turned back to his conversation to see Lando and Alex rolling their eyes exaggeratedly at him.

“God, you two are gross.” Lando complained, fake puking in the circle of their feet. Alex grinned and it was Max's turn to roll his eyes.

“It's not like that.” Max tried to refute. A familiar refrain that his friends no longer cared to hear.

“Mate, in every universe the two of you would be all over each other.” Alex stated as if reading a factoid from a Snapple bottle.

“Of course, that's not true. I think I would always like Daniel but realistically he maybe would not feel the same way, I think.” Max shook his head while Lando looked like he was trying to physically restrain himself from shaking him.

“Max, mate. You do know that Daniel is like– obsessed with you right? There's no way he wouldn't be the same way if he were younger.”

“Nah. He– nah. It's not like that.” Max waved them off.

Their press officers descended on their group like a pack of sharks and they dispersed to the mercy of the rest of their schedule.

Max didn't give the previous conversation any further thought.

— - —

Max awoke with a soft groan as his alarm went off. He'd had a very weird dream that he could scarcely remember. Kicking the sheets off of his clammy body he made his way to the bathroom.

Going through his morning routine, there were a few things that felt out of place. His room looked the same just… brighter? Newer? Was there an absence of… age in the paint on the wall? The barely there tinge of yellow.

Grabbing his pass and wallet, Max made his way to the restaurant for breakfast.

He noticed quite a few differences along the way, the cityscape looked… smaller. Gone were the highrises that he was used to, they were still under construction. Slowly, Max checked the date on his phone… he was barely able to hold in his reaction.

He was 10 years in the past!

Making his way into the restaurant he bypassed all of the team and track staff milling around, suddenly glad he wore a nondescript T-shirt instead of teamwear.

Ordering his food, he took a seat at a table near the back of the dining room and people watched. There were many faces he recognized and many more that he didn't. People who were on different teams before he was even sniffing at an F1 seat.

Lewis and Nico got up from a table, heads bowed together, giggling at some joke or another. He saw Fernando walk past the restaurant and into the lobby with a model on each arm.

Max ate slowly, taking in everything around him while trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was somehow in the past. He didn't remember doing anything differently the night before, nothing that should have triggered time travel at least.

His thoughts were cut short when Daniel walked into the restaurant. A younger Daniel who looked slightly unsure of himself, not cloaked in the self assurance that Max was used to seeing around him.

He ordered his breakfast and Max took in his cargo pants, and team polo. His hair was long, in his signature fro– a length that Daniel would never let it get to nowadays.

He grabbed his food and Max saw the slow scan of available tables. The telltale look of someone trying to find someone they knew.

This wasn't the Daniel who would just sit anywhere because he would be welcomed everywhere.

Max waved him over, exaggeratedly pointing to the three empty seats around him. He had a large table and wouldn't mind the company. He'd enjoy getting to know this Daniel.

Daniel sat with a shy smile.

“Thank you, thought I was gonna have to like go back up to my room to eat.” He smiled a dimpled smile and Max could see the faint dusting of a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh it is no problem. I have all this space and I don't mind the company.” Max smiled before holding out his hand, “I'm Max.”

“Daniel.”

Daniel tucked into his cereal, and Max listened to the clink of his spoon in the bowl.

“I've never seen you before, are you new in the paddock?” Daniel broke the quiet.

“Just visiting, I think.”

“Are you a driver?”

“Ah, yeah. Of a sort I guess.” Max mumbled, quite unsure how to even begin to explain. It was better not to. He scratched his chin as Daniel narrowed his honey eyes in confusion.

“Do you drive in another series or something?”

“Yes, endurance.”

“Ace. That's fucking amazing.” Daniel was awed and Max felt bashful at the open praise. Not that Daniel didn't do the same regularly, but for some reason it felt more potent receiving it from this Daniel, that didn't know him. That didn't have any affiliation with him in any way.

They continued talking for a little longer, before a young Sebastian Vettel came to collect Daniel to go to the track together.

“I'm sorry I missed breakfast, I had a call.” Seb apologized and Daniel waved him off.

“It's cool, I had great company.”

Max watched them leave, holding his breath when Daniel turned back to look at him. Seb grabbed his attention, which caused Daniel to trip over his legs and blush.

Seb laughed heartily and Daniel glanced back once more before they were out of sight.

Max sat back in his seat, smiling softly. Willing to concede that maybe Daniel would be into him. Maybe he would be brave when he got home and ask Daniel out.

He felt assured that the answer would be yes.