#this was one of the drafts i was talking about

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 26: July 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The conference room was sleek and quiet — all minimalist design, smooth wood, and muted light. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Monaco’s marina, but Belle barely registered the view. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, one leg crossed over the other, Max’s knee brushing hers beneath the table like a silent anchor.

Belle sat beside Max at a long table in a private meeting room, her hands folded carefully in her lap. The lawyer — a tall, gentle-voiced woman named Monique with sharp eyes and an expensive watch — smiled politely as she turned the final page of a stack of documents.

She had known about the pregnancy since Max had called last week and said, “We need to make sure she’s protected. Properly.”

It hadn’t been dramatic. There were no tears. No whispered breakdowns.

Just Max, calm and steady, saying "my wife is having our child, and I want everything in place if I don’t come home."

And Belle had agreed. Because love like theirs wasn’t made of denial.

It was made of preparation.

 Monique spoke first.

“I’ve drafted the new will, updated with the marriage registration and the preliminary trust structure for the baby.” She slid a folder across the table to Max. “It’s standard language, but I can walk you through it.”

Max nodded. “Let’s do that.”

Belle glanced at the page — her name in clean legal font at the top. It still startled her sometimes. Isabelle Verstappen. A name that felt more like a promise than a title.

Monique continued, calm and clear. “Everything’s been updated as requested. The property title adjustment will be processed this week, and the new will reflects both your marriage and the pending addition to your family. In the event of Max’s death, Belle inherits all real estate assets, including the Monaco apartment, She also has controlling interest in the holding companies and exclusive guardianship of the child. There is a clause allowing her to appoint a secondary guardian if needed, and a separate financial trust to be accessed at her discretion for the child’s care.”

Belle’s fingers tensed slightly on her notebook.

Max reached under the table, slid his hand into hers.

Monique continued. “You both now hold medical power of attorney for one another. In the event of a serious injury or incapacitation, decisions will legally fall to the surviving spouse. The trust for the child will be activated upon birth and can be revised at any time.”

Belle blinked. “You’ve already set up a trust?”

Max nodded beside her. “I wanted it in place before they got here.”

Monique smiled. “It’s not uncommon for high-risk professions.”

High-risk. Belle hated that word.

Monique glanced at Max. “There’s a healthcare proxy included as well. You’ve named your wife as the sole decision-maker if you’re incapacitated.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Belle didn’t speak for a moment. Just breathed. Absorbed.

Because here it was. In print. In contracts and clauses and notarized certainty.

This man — who drove faster than anyone else on earth — was handing her the most fragile parts of his life and saying I trust you.

Not out of fear.

But out of love.

Monique gave them a moment before gently flipping to the next document. “There’s just one more point of discussion — guardianship, in the event that… well, neither of you are able to care for your child.”

Belle straightened.

“Obviously we don’t need an answer right this second,” Monique added, professional but kind. “But it’s something we do recommend including in advance. Just in case.”

Belle didn’t hesitate.

“Victoria and Tom.”

Max glanced at her, surprised.

“They already have three kids,” she said softly. “Their home is overflowing with love. Lio and Luka would be like big brothers. Hailey a big sister. ”

Max looked at her for a long moment — not surprised, just… moved.

“Okay,” he said, quietly, final. “Victoria and Tom.”

Monique made a quiet note, then gathered the papers. “That’s all for today. You’re welcome to take copies home, review anything again, but legally — everything’s in place.”

Belle signed.

Her name — Isabelle Verstappen — in clean, looping ink at the bottom of the page. Not to take something away. But to build something forward.

Belle hesitated. “Is there… anything else?”

Monique raised an eyebrow gently. “Such as?”

Belle glanced down at her lap. “I thought Max might… want me to sign something else.”

Silence.

Then, Max’s hand slid over hers beneath the table. “You mean a prenup?”

Belle nodded once.

Monique blinked, surprised. “There’s nothing of the sort, Belle. That was never discussed.”

Belle looked at Max, who met her eyes steadily.

“I didn’t marry you with conditions,” he said simply. “What’s mine is yours. What’s ours is already half your idea anyway.”

Belle stared at him for a second — stunned, soft, wrecked.

Then she cleared her throat. “Okay. That’s… not what I expected. But okay.”

When it was done, Monique gathered the documents, promising scans and copies by end of day.

The room emptied, polite and efficient.

Belle stayed seated.

Max didn’t move either.

She finally turned to him. “That felt…”

“Big?” he offered.

She nodded.

“But good,” she added, quieter now. “Because this is ours. Our life. Our family. Even the scary parts.”

Max kissed her temple. “That’s why we’re here.”

Her hand found his on the table, fingers lacing together.

“I hope none of it ever matters,” she whispered.

He looked down at their names on the signed pages.

“It already does,” he said.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey You got a minute?

Victoria: For you? Always What’s up?

Max: Belle and I had a meeting with the lawyers today We’re setting everything up properly Just in case something ever happens

Victoria: Okay… Everything alright?

Max: Yeah. Everything’s good. More than good We just want to be smart about things

Victoria: Of course So… what do you need from me?

Max: We listed you and Tom as guardians For the baby If anything ever happens to us

Max: I wanted to ask you first Properly Not just throw your name on a form

Victoria: Max. Yes. Obviously. Always. You didn’t even have to ask. But I’m really, really glad you did.

Max: Belle said it without blinking She trusts you too

Victoria: Now I’m crying in the supermarket, thanks 🙄

Max: Sorry (But not really)

Victoria: We’ll take care of them. No matter what. But nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?

Max: Yeah I know Still I sleep better knowing it’s you

Victoria: We love you. And we love her. And we already love this baby. 

Max: Thanks, Vic. Really.

***

The therapy room was quiet in the way only tension could make it — not peaceful, but primed. A silence that hummed with everything unsaid, everything tiptoed around for years.

Belle sat on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her pulse thrumming just beneath her skin like a warning. Every muscle in her body was taut — trying to hold everything in place. Her blouse, loose by design, felt suddenly too tight across her chest. She hadn’t been sleeping. She hadn’t eaten lunch. There was a dull ache in her temples, a sharper one behind her ribs.

Max was beside her.

He hadn’t spoken.

He hadn’t even moved, aside from the occasional brush of his thumb against hers.

But his presence was solid. Anchoring. The one thing in this room that didn’t make her feel like she had to prove she belonged.

Across from her, her family sat arranged like a tableau of old fractures: Pascale, elegant but weary, lips pressed tightly together; Arthur, fidgeting in his chair, worry written into the curve of his brow; Lorenzo, arms folded like a gate; and Charles — the one who hadn’t looked at her properly once since she’d walked in.

Camille, the therapist, smiled gently. “Thank you all for being here. We’re here to listen first. Belle, since you asked for this session, would you like to begin?”

Belle nodded, throat tight. “I don’t expect this to fix everything. But I wanted to give you a chance to hear me. I’ve felt invisible for a long time. And I know that might not have been your intention, but it doesn’t make it less real.”

She paused.

No one spoke.

She added, voice quiet but edged in iron: “And I’m not here to be blamed for how I coped with that.”

That was when Charles finally looked up. “Then maybe he shouldn’t be here.”

Max didn’t move.

Belle’s grip on his hand tightened.

Camille interjected gently. “Charles, we agreed to keep this space respectful—”

“Respectful?” Charles cut in, eyes flashing. “You brought him to a family session. The man who didn’t even tell me he married my sister. The one person guaranteed to turn this into a war.”

Belle’s voice cracked, quiet but firm. “Max is here because I want him here. He’s my family now. He supports me. He doesn’t speak over me or forget I exist unless it’s convenient.”

“You bring him here, like he has any right to sit in a family session—”

“Charles—” Camille began.

But he was already unraveling.

“—Like he didn’t make it worse. Like he didn’t encourage all of this—”

Belle flinched.

“Charles,” Max said, voice low but firm.

“You don’t get to talk—”

“Stop it!” Belle snapped, her voice breaking.

The sound echoed louder than shouting.

Everyone went still.

She stood — too quickly — and emotion spilled over before she could stop it. Her hands shook. Her breath hitched. Tears began streaming down her cheeks before she could blink them back.

“I invited him,” she said, trembling. “Because he’s the only one in this room who never made me feel like I had to earn his love. He didn’t ask me to shrink or wait or perform. He didn’t disappear until it was convenient to care again. He showed up.”

Arthur’s expression twisted with guilt. Pascale’s eyes filled with tears. Lorenzo exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I tried for years to matter to you,” Belle whispered. “And when I finally stopped waiting, when I found something good, you acted like it was betrayal. It wasn’t. It was survival.” 

But when Belle cried harder, silent and shaking, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach — a reflex now, a habit more than a choice — Max’s restraint cracked.

“Enough,” he said, voice sharp and fierce and final.

The entire room froze.

“This isn’t good for the baby.”

Everything. Stopped.

The silence that followed was different. Not tense — stunned. Heavy. Real.

Charles froze.

Pascale’s hand flew to her mouth.

Arthur blinked, mouth slightly open.

Lorenzo — unreadable, contained Lorenzo — lost every ounce of composure.

Belle sat, still breathing too fast, still cradling her abdomen like she didn’t even realize her hand was there.

“She’s crying in a therapist’s office because her own family forgot her,” Max said, his voice flat, controlled. “And she still came here hoping you’d be different. And you’re yelling at her like it’s her fault she stopped begging you to see her.”

“You—” Charles started.

Max’s eyes burned. “She’s pregnant. And this stress? This shouting? This guilt-tripping? It’s not just hurting her anymore. It’s hurting both of them.”

Real, stunned silence.

Belle covered her face with both hands, chest heaving.

Max moved instantly, kneeling beside her. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. “You gave them a chance. That’s more than they deserved.”

Camille cleared her throat gently, measured but soft. “Belle… thank you for being honest. Max, thank you for saying what needed to be said.”

Belle shook her head, still too overwhelmed to speak. Her body ached with tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

Max didn’t let go of her.

He stood and turned to face them — not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

“She’s pregnant,” he repeated. “And she came here because she still believed you deserved the chance to be part of that. But if what you bring is more of this — more silence, more anger, more entitlement — then maybe she needs to stop giving chances to people who don’t know what to do with them.”

He sat beside Belle again, taking her hand in both of his.

She didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her hand stayed curled over her belly, protective. Heartbroken.

Then, after a long, still moment—

“I didn’t know,” Charles said. Quiet. Shaken. “Isabelle, I didn’t… I swear, I didn’t know.”

“I know,” she whispered.“That’s the problem.”

More silence.

Then Pascale wiped at her eyes, voice shaking. “I want to be part of this. Not just the baby. You. I want to do better.”

Arthur nodded. “I will. I already started. But I’ll do more. Whatever you need.”

Lorenzo’s voice was hoarse. “You shouldn’t have had to say any of that alone.”

Camille waited. Then softly, “This is where it begins. Not with fixing. But with listening. With staying.”

Belle finally looked up.

Still hurt. Still guarded.

But in her eyes — something softened.

She didn’t say I forgive you.

She said something truer.

“You have a long way to go,” Belle said, voice rough.“But you’re here. That’s a start.”

***

By the time they got home, Belle hadn’t said a word.

Max didn’t push. He unlocked the door, opened it for her, let her walk through the apartment at her own pace. She moved like someone underwater — slow, dazed, like her body had been hollowed out.

She didn’t even take off her shoes.

She just stood in the middle of their living room, arms limp at her sides, until Max gently touched her elbow.

“Sit,” he said softly. “I’ll get you water.”

But she didn’t sit.

She crumpled.

It wasn’t a fall — not all at once — but something slower, sadder. She sank down onto the rug like her bones had given out, hands covering her face, breath catching in her throat.

Then the sobs came.

Max was beside her in an instant, sinking to his knees, gathering her into his arms without a second’s hesitation.

She curled into him like she’d been waiting all day for it. Like she’d finally let herself feel everything she hadn’t let show in front of them.

And Max—Max held her like he never intended to let go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling her head as she buried her face into his chest. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head against him, but he kept going.

“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” Max said, voice rough. “Not like that. I should’ve asked. I should’ve let you decide.”

Belle didn’t answer — not in words — but she held him tighter, and that was enough.

She cried for a long time.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just steady.

Heartbroken.

Max held her through all of it. Through the shaking, the ragged breathing, the muffled apologies she tried to whisper into his shoulder. He didn’t correct her. Didn’t argue. He just rubbed circles into her back and reminded her, again and again, in the softest voice he had:

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

At some point, he coaxed her into bed. She resisted, groggy and stubborn through the haze of exhaustion, but eventually let him pull back the covers and tuck her in. She wore his hoodie — one of the big, soft ones — and it swallowed her. Her hand still rested over her stomach as she lay on her side, eyes red and barely open.

Max kissed her temple, her forehead, her hand. He didn’t leave her side until her breathing evened out and she finally slipped into sleep.

Then — and only then — did he let himself move.

Quietly, he crossed the room to where his phone sat on the kitchen counter.

He didn’t text. Didn’t scroll.

He found the number for Belle’s doctor and sent a message requesting an appointment.

Tomorrow. Urgent if possible.

She hadn’t eaten all day.

She hadn’t slept properly in nearly a week.

And her crying tonight… it had shaken something in him.

She always carried things so quietly. Until she couldn’t anymore.

Max stood at the kitchen counter, staring down at his phone, still in his jeans and hoodie from earlier, and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He couldn’t make her family change.

But he could protect this.

Her.

Their baby.

He would make sure she was seen, cared for, and safe — even if it meant dragging the world into a quiet, burning rage to make it happen.

The phone buzzed with a confirmation.

Appointment: Tomorrow. 9:30 AM.

Max looked back toward the bedroom.

Belle was asleep, one arm curled under her pillow, still holding her stomach like a shield.

And Max made himself a promise.

They would never make her cry like that again.

Not while he was breathing.

***

The four of them sat in stunned silence.

The therapy room door had closed behind Belle and Max ten minutes ago, but no one had moved since. Camille had offered them space to process, and they’d taken it — not because they needed it, but because they didn’t know what else to do.

Charles sat with his hands clenched in his lap, staring at the floor like it had betrayed him. Pascale held a tissue tightly in one hand, face pale, mascara faintly smudged beneath her eyes. Lorenzo’s arms were crossed — his usual stoicism barely holding under the tension in his jaw.

And Arthur — the youngest— was pacing.

Charles finally broke the silence. “She’s pregnant.”

“Yes,” Arthur said flatly, not looking at him.

Charles blinked, still stunned. “She’s actually—she didn’t even tell us.”

“She didn’t owe us that,” Arthur snapped, turning to face them. “Not after everything.”

Pascale looked up. “Arthur—”

“No,” he said, sharper than they’d ever heard him. “No. I’m not doing this. We’re not going to sit here and act like we’re the wounded ones.”

“She should’ve told us,” Charles muttered. “We’re her family—”

Arthur rounded on him. “Then maybe we should’ve acted like it.”

That landed.

Charles looked up, startled.

Arthur laughed — a short, bitter sound. “You really don’t get it, do you? Belle spent years trying to be seen. Trying to be heard. Every time she did something good, we clapped for a second and then went back to talking about karting or my race result or whatever Charles was doing that week.”

“That’s not fair,” Charles said stiffly.

“No?” Arthur said, eyes narrowing. “Name where she was when she graduated top of her class. You remember what we sent her?”

Charles didn’t answer.

“Exactly,” Arthur snapped. “Nothing. We forgot. We forgot her birthday, Charles. And even then, she didn’t scream at us. She just stopped trying.”

“I didn’t mean to forget—”

“You didn’t mean to notice her, either,” Arthur said, quieter now. “But Max did.”

That silenced the room.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, pacing again. “You know what gets me the most? She still gave us a chance. She walked in there, pregnant, vulnerable, and hoping maybe we’d finally show up. And what did we do?”

He looked at Charles.

“You shouted at her husband.”

He looked at Lorenzo.

“You stayed quiet until she was crying.”

Then he looked at Pascale.

“And you only spoke when Max said the word baby.”

Pascale’s lip trembled. “I didn’t know.”

“She didn’t trust us with it,” Arthur said, softer now. “And that’s the part that should scare you. Not Max. Not the secret wedding. Not the baby. The fact that she didn’t feel safe enough to tell us.”

Lorenzo exhaled slowly, some of the anger draining from his posture.

Charles looked like he’d been hollowed out.

“She was holding her stomach,” Pascale whispered. “Even when she cried, she—she protected the baby. From us.”

Arthur nodded. “Exactly.”

Silence again.

And then, for the first time in a long time, Arthur looked at them all — older brother, older brother, mother — and stood taller than he ever had.

“No one is making her cry like that again,” he said. “Not if I can help it.”

Charles swallowed hard. “So what do we do?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened. “You start by earning a place back in her life. Slowly. Without demands. Without entitlement. You show her you’ve changed. And if you haven’t? You step aside.”

No one argued.

No one could.

Because they’d all seen what Arthur had — a sister at the end of her rope, still trying to offer them grace.

And they’d nearly broken her again.

But maybe not completely.

Maybe, if they were lucky, there was still time to do better.

To be better.

To finally be family in the way Belle had deserved all along.

***

Belle woke to sunlight and silence.

Her eyes burned. Her head ached. Her throat felt tight from the hours she’d spent crying into Max’s chest the night before. For a long time, she just lay there — curled on her side, one hand resting against the soft curve of her stomach, the weight of the last twenty-four hours pressing against her skin like bruises she hadn’t earned.

Max wasn’t in bed.

That was the first thing she noticed.

But when she pushed back the covers and sat up, she could hear him. Low voices. The sound of him in the kitchen. Coffee brewing. Something being cut on a chopping board.

When she padded out into the hallway, Max looked up instantly.

“You’re awake,” he said gently. “How are you feeling?”

She blinked at him. He was already dressed — hoodie, jeans, hair still damp from a quick shower. He looked like he hadn’t slept, though she had no idea when he’d crawled into bed beside her. All she remembered was him holding her until her tears stopped.

“Tired,” she said honestly. “Drained. Like I fought a war in a hotel lobby.”

Max’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t smile. Not really. He poured her a glass of water and walked it over.

“You need to get dressed,” he said softly. “We’ve got an appointment at 9:30.”

Belle blinked. “Appointment?”

“With your OB.”

She stared at him. “You made a doctor’s appointment?”

Max looked… sheepish. In that way only Max Verstappen ever could — a little bit guilty, but completely unapologetic. “You were crying for over an hour. You didn’t eat. You didn’t sleep until after midnight. You kept holding your stomach like it hurt and I just—” He broke off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need to be sure everything is okay. With you. With the baby.”

Something inside her cracked — not with annoyance, not even embarrassment, but with a kind of vulnerable affection that made her chest ache.

“I’m fine,” she said, quietly.

Max didn’t argue.

But he looked at her like fine would never be good enough again.

They left ten minutes later.

She wore leggings and one of Max’s hoodies, too tired to care. Her hair was in a bun, her face bare. Max had packed snacks and a water bottle in her bag like he was preparing for a cross-country drive. He opened the car door for her without a word. Held her hand at every red light.

The clinic was quiet when they arrived — not many patients that early. A nurse smiled at them, already familiar with Belle, and waved them through. Max never let go of her hand.

The doctor — kind, warm, sharp-eyed — asked gentle questions. Belle answered them all in a quiet voice.

“Any unusual cramping? Headaches? Nausea? Emotional stress?”

Belle glanced at Max, then gave a small, exhausted laugh. “Define unusual.”

The doctor smiled, then softened. “What you went through yesterday? It matters. Stress does affect the body, but you’re here now. We’ll check everything.”

And they did.

A blood pressure cuff. A blood draw. The gentle press of a fetal doppler wand against her stomach.

Then— The soft, rhythmic sound of a heartbeat.

Max’s fingers tightened around hers. He didn’t say anything. But when Belle looked at him — really looked — she saw it in his face: that fierce, wordless love that had carried her out of that therapy room and straight into this one.

The doctor smiled. “Heartbeat sounds perfect. Baby’s strong. And you’re doing better than you think.”

Belle let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Max pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he whispered. “I couldn’t watch you cry like that and not do something.”

Belle closed her eyes.

Then, without even thinking about it, she rested her head against his shoulder and whispered:

“Thank you.”

Because it was more than an appointment.

It was a promise.

***

Text Messages:   Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: how’d it go yesterday?

i waited until morning because i didn’t want to be that friend but also i’ve been lying awake since 6 trying to imagine how many things charles said wrong in under an hour

Belle: you waited like a saint you get a medal

Emilie: oh good you’re alive that’s step one

Emilie: how bad was it scale of 1 to “i considered throwing my shoe at someone”?

Belle: i cried max snapped everyone went quiet and then Max accidentally revealed i’m pregnant because he couldn’t watch me sob anymore

so ...somewhere between “shoe-throwing” and “emotional napalm”

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: WHAT

Emilie: MAX DROPPED THE BABY BOMB IN THERAPY??? WITH CHARLES THERE??

Belle: yep :)

Emilie: oh my GOD how is max still alive how are YOU

Belle: tired kind of hollow but also maybe... a tiny bit relieved?

it was a mess but they listened eventually i think

Emilie: do i need to bring cake or a shovel or both

Belle: both but i’m okay now doctor said everything’s good with the baby max scheduled the appointment himself

Emilie: of course he did husband of the year defender of the bump destroyer of sibling egos

Belle: he really did go full “don’t make her cry it’s bad for the baby” in front of everyone it was... a moment

Emilie: i would’ve PAID to see that wait no someone in that therapy room owes you money for that performance

Belle: arthur tried maman cried lorenzo looked like someone slapped him charles sat down and didn’t speak again

Emilie: is it terrible that i find this deeply satisfying

Belle: no it’s why i love you

Emilie: seriously though i’m proud of you i know how much this cost you and you still showed up

Belle: i’m trying for the baby for me

Emilie: and when you’re ready for step two i’ll be there with tea and probably more sarcasm than is healthy

Belle: perfect i love you

Emilie: i love you too, belle you’ve got this

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

 Luke Crane: Max. My guy. My married guy.

Gianni Vechio: Is it Verstappen or Mr. Leclerc now? Just checking.

Max (deadpan): I’m already regretting logging on.

Luke Bennett: You regret logging on? Imagine our shock when the paddock exploded because someone casually dropped a kiss in Parc Fermé like it was no big deal.

Max:  (muted chuckle) It was a race. I won. Belle was there. That’s all.

Chris Lulham:: “That’s all.” HE SAYS. Like he didn’t casually change the internet’s collective brain chemistry.

Luke Crane: Bro, you were standing there looking like you'd just won the title and found true love.

Gianni: THE WAY YOU LOOKED AT HER.

Chris: THE HAND ON HER WAIST.

Gianni: THE KISS, MAX.

Max:  (muttering) You guys are insufferable.

Luke Bennett: I’m sorry — did we not deserve to know that your secret wife is Isabelle Leclerc?!?

Max: She wasn’t secret.

All at once: YES SHE WAS.

 Luke: Where is she anyway? We’ve earned this. Bring her on stream.

Max: She’s not going to—

Gianni: MAX. YOU OWE US.

Chris: SHOW US YOUR WIFE. SHOW US THE MYSTICAL INTERIOR ARCHITECT GODDESS WHO FIXED YOUR PENTHOUSE.

Max: You people are insane.

Luke (chanting): BELLE. BELLE. BELLE. BELLE.

Chat:

BELLE! BELLE! BELLE!

WHERE IS SHE MAX

DROP THE WIFE

MRS VERSTAPPEN SUPREMACY

WE SAW THE RING SIR

MAX BLINK TWICE IF YOU MARRIED UP (we know you did)

 Max:  (sighing, amused) Belle?

[muffled in the background] Belle: Yes?

Max: They want to say hi.

Belle:  (closer) They want to do what?

Max: Just come here for a second, Schatje. They’re not going to shut up otherwise.

 [Belle leans into frame wearing one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies, hair up, tea mug in hand.]

Belle: Hi.

Chat: OMG IT’S HERMRS MAX IS REALSHE’S SO PRETTY WHAT THE HELLTHE HOODIE IS KILLING MEMAX MARRIED A QUEENINTERIOR DESIGN SLAYI CANNOT BREATHEMAX YOU ARE OUTKICKING YOUR COVERAGECHARLES CURRENTLY DEAD BECAUSE HIS SISTER IS WEARING RED BULL MERCH

Luke Crane: Okay. So first of all, Belle. Thank you for putting up with this idiot.

Belle: (drily.) He’s nothing to put up with. He’s something to treasure. 

Gianni: We just wanted to say congratulations. And also... how did you keep it secret for this long?

Belle:  (shrugging): People only see what they want to see. We never hid it. We just didn’t make it obvious. 

Chris: Oh my god she’s articulate. You really married up.

Max:  (soft, proud) Yeah. I did.

Belle:  (grinning, pressing a kiss to Max’s cheek, making him blush) Anyway. That’s enough fame for one evening. Bye boys.

[Belle exits frame. Max looks extremely smug.]

Max: You happy now?

Luke Crane: Beyond.

Chris: I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/GridGossip:  MAX VERSTAPPEN’S WIFE JUST SHOWED UP ON TEAM REDLINE STREAM IN HIS HOODIE WITH A MUG OF TEA AND SAID “HE’S NOTHING TO PUT UP WITH: HE’S SOMETHING TO TREASURE.” I AM NOT OKAY.

@/TifosiTears:  CHARLES LECLERC IS FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE AND HIS SISTER IS OUT HERE IN RED BULL MERCH KISSING MAX ON STREAM. I’M SCREAMING.

@/F1TeaSpiller So to recap: → Belle Leclerc kissed Max in Parc Fermé → Changed her name on IG → Is apparently married?? → Wore his hoodie on stream → And the grid is collectively feral. 10/10. No notes.

@/SoftLaunchSociety The Red Bull hoodie. The tea mug. The unbothered queen energy. Belle Verstappen didn’t soft launch — she hard dropped and said “you’ll catch up.”

@/RedBullUpdates: BELLE VERSTAPPEN WALKED INTO FRAME LOOKING COZY, SMUG, AND MARRIED. WE HAVE LOST CONTROL OF THE NARRATIVE.

@/FerrariPain:  charles leclerc when he realizes his sister wore red bull merch in 4k: 🧍‍♂️😐💔

@/WifeGuyMax: max verstappen grinning like a man who knows he married out of his league and then blushed when she kissed his cheek this is romcom content i never expected from sim racing

@/F1MemeLord: Team Redline: Show us your wife Max: She’s not gonna— Belle Verstappen, already wearing his hoodie and holding tea like a queen: Hi Me: this is better than Netflix

@/MonacoRoyalty: i want belle’s PR team forgotten by her family? married in monaco? red bull hoodie and soft lighting? KNEW exactly when to show up. this girl is PLAYING CHESS.

@/MaxEmotionsFan Max: (quietly, proudly) “Yeah. I did.” Me, in tears: and you DID, Max. he married his girl.

@/F1ChaosClub: charles leclerc forgot his sister’s birthday and now she’s on twitch in a red bull hoodie being called “queen” by 600,000 viewers. you literally could not write this better.

@/GridPsychics: prediction: Charles is currently pacing his Monaco apartment wondering if it's too late to be a supportive brother spoiler: it might be

@/F1FanFictionCentral plot twist: Max Verstappen wasn’t the emotionally unavailable villain. He was the surprise wife guy all along.

@/TifosiMeltdown:  Everyone’s like “awww Max and Belle are so cute 🥺” Meanwhile Charles Leclerc is living in the eighth circle of PR hell because his baby sister is in Red Bull merch on Twitch with his literal racing rival

@/SoftLaunchScholar: The Max & Belle reveal timeline is a case study:

Ignored birthday

Secret wedding

Parc Fermé kiss

Instagram name change

Twitch hoodie wife drop This is art.

@/F1Lorekeeper: The fact that Charles forgot Belle’s birthday and then found out she married Max Verstappen two weeks later

And now she’s drinking tea in Max’s stream wearing Red Bull gear

I genuinely think we’re watching a live sibling rivalry rewrite Greek tragedy @/MonacoRoyalty: Belle said “we didn’t hide it, you just weren’t looking” and the Leclerc family should NEVER recover from that

@/CharlesIsCrying: no because BELLE VERSTAPPEN appearing on stream in Red Bull merch while the internet still hasn’t healed from the forgotten birthday incident??

Charles is somewhere short-circuiting in real time

***

It was raining softly against the windows when Belle brought it up.

They were curled up on the sofa — Max in joggers and a hoodie, Belle tucked against his side with a blanket draped over her legs, her cheek resting on his chest. The television hummed quietly with some old documentary neither of them were watching. Max’s hand traced slow, absentminded circles against the bump that had started to become undeniable beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt.

“We should probably tell the rest soon,” Belle murmured.

Max didn’t answer right away. His fingers stilled, then resumed their gentle pattern.

“I know,” he said. “I just… don’t want it to turn into a thing.”

Belle lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Like… a press release thing? Photoshoot? Magazines? Perfect lighting and fake candids of us in a meadow somewhere?”

He let out a soft snort. “Can you picture me in a meadow?”

Belle smiled. “Only if you were holding a kitten and a baby goat.”

“Belle.”

“Okay, fine, just the baby goat.”

Max laughed into her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. “No photoshoots. No flower crowns.” He made a face. “No soft-focus, perfectly lit, black-and-white Instagram announcement with matching white outfits and hands shaped like a heart.”

She laughed softly, burying her nose in his shirt. “The horror.”

“I mean, unless you want that,” Max added quickly. “If you want that, I’ll do it. I’ll even wear linen.”

Belle looked up at him again, mock-serious. “Max, you’d rather crash into a gravel trap at Monaco than wear linen on purpose.”

“Correct.”

She smiled against his hoodie. “I just… I don’t want it to feel like I’m trying to prove something.”

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Max said, his voice low. Sure. “You’re pregnant. You’re my wife. That’s it.”

Belle glanced up at him. “You say that like it's simple.”

“It is.” He tilted his head a little, thoughtful. “So how do you want to do it?”

She shrugged. “Something honest. Quiet, but… real.”

Max was quiet for a beat. “You mean, like the wedding.”

Belle smiled. “Exactly like the wedding.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her head. “We can do quiet. That’s our specialty.”

She chuckled, then bit her lip. “I was thinking… what if we just posted a photo? Not even of us. Just a pair of tiny shoes on the coffee table and a caption like, ‘Coming soon.’”

Max grinned. “You want to break the internet again.”

“I want to give it to us first,” she said. “And let everyone else catch up later.”

Max looked at her like she hung the stars. “Deal.”

They sat in silence again, the kind that meant safety.

“I don’t need the whole world to know at once,” Belle murmured, her voice softening. “I just want to share it in a way that feels like us. Not a brand.”

Max pulled her closer, his hand still resting protectively over the bump neither of them could stop reaching for.

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

***

Text Messages:  Belle Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Belle: Thinking of announcing the pregnancy before Silverstone.

Emilie: oh?? as in… telling the entire planet??

Belle: Yep. Before I start showing enough that people start whispering.

Emilie: You mean before more people start whispering You okay with going public?

Belle: I think so. We’ve been quiet long enough. Besides… Silverstone’s always a circus. May as well drop the baby news before the clowns arrive.

Emilie: Iconic behavior tbh Do I get a heads up before the post goes up so I can prepare emotionally

Belle: Of course. Also— You should come.

Emilie: To Silverstone??

Belle: Yes.

Emilie: Belle. That’s Lando’s home race.

Belle: And you like Lando.

Emilie: I do not like what this insinuation implies.

Belle: You like him. He adores you. Your flirting during dinner could’ve powered the entire paddock.

Emilie: Okay first of all That’s rude And accurate

Belle: Come anyway. Come as my friend. Not as Lando’s girlfriend.

Emilie: …you are dangerously persuasive.

Belle: Lily’s coming too. It’ll be fun. You, me, Lily, a very grumpy Max pretending not to be nervous about the baby stealing his press conference thunder.

Emilie: You really think the baby will upstage Max?

Belle: If she has my hair and his eyes, absolutely.

Emilie: oh my god if it’s a girl with his grumpy face and your attitude the world is not ready

Belle: Exactly. Which is why you need to be there. Help me judge the chaos.

Emilie: Okay okay Fine But if Lando tries to make things serious while I’m there I am blaming you

Belle: Deal. You’ll be the secret girlfriend, I’ll be the public wife. We’ll keep balance in the universe.

Emilie: Verstappen-Leclerc diplomatic summit in Silverstone Can’t wait.

Belle: You bring the wine. I’ll bring the reveal.

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

Comments: 

@/maxverstappen1: 🍼❤️ 

@/danielricciardo: I’M GOING TO BE THE FUN UNCLE CALLING IT NOW

@/landonorris: AAAAAHHHHHHHHH 🍼😭❤️

@/alex_albon:The baby already has better fashion sense than me and it’s not even born yet.

@/oscarpiastri: Congratulations!! So happy for you both 🤍

@/charles_leclerc: Congratulations. Truly.

@/georgerussell63: Huge congrats!

@/arthur_leclerc: 🥹❤️ You’re going to be the best mum, Belle. 

@/yukitsunoda0511: baby Verstappen with Leclerc sass?? terrifying. adorable. congratulations!!!

@/sebastianvettel: Welcome to the next adventure. You’ll both be amazing parents. 💛

@/carlossainz55: The paddock is already preparing the next generation of chaos.

@/f1girlie44: BELLE IS GONNA BE A MUM I’M SOBBING

@/leclercsrevengearc: Max winning races, hearts, and fatherhood. Charles losing sleep. Balance.

@/gridgossip: Between the birthday drama, the Red Bull hoodie, the Parc Fermé kiss and now THIS — Belle Verstappen has had a better character arc than half the grid.

@/victoriaverstappen: Best news of the year 🍼 Can’t wait to meet this little one!! 

@/f1: We love a future champion in the making 👶🏽🏁

@/verstappensupremacy:

I KNEW THE RED BULL HOODIE WAS FORESHADOWING

MAX IS GOING TO BE A DAD I’M CRYING

@/f1babygossip:

Baby Verstappen is going to have the softest mama and the most aggressively protective papa and I LOVE THAT FOR THEM

@/charlespls:

someone go check on charles

she posted this BEFORE A RACE WEEKEND

we need an ambulance at Ferrari

[cheftsunoda]

my boyfriend’s pretty cool but he’s not as cool as me

smau

oscar piastri x !dancer reader

lando norris x best friend reader

in which lando’s childhood best friend is one of the most well known dancer’s/choreographer’s in the world— she has choreographed tours for beyonce, kendrick lamar, sza—etc— when she comes to visit lando in the paddock during a tour break—a certain teammate catches her eye—it leaves the internet and lando baffled on how he managed to pull her.

—

hello guys— I am busy working on secrets rn but I had this in my drafts and figured I’d give you guys something while you wait. requests are always open pookies 💋

—

fc : pamela hughes

—

yourusername

gnx tour 📍

liked by lando, lewishamilton, kendricklamar & 4,324,396 others.

yourusername : gnx tourrrr mamassss!! massive thank you to kenny and solana for giving me the opportunity to not only dance on this tour but to choreograph a huge majority of it — I love you both and you both have been such a huge inspiration to me <3 this has been one of the best opportunities of my life and i am so grateful every single day.

lando : bub!!!! this is so huge! so so proud of you

liked by author

yourusername : love you lan!! see you soon 💋

liked by lando

username: omgomg yn paddock appearance??

liked by author and lando

username2 : are her and lando dating??

username : they are childhood besties

lewishamilton : Absolutely incredible. Love to see it 🖤

liked by author

yourusername : thank you lewis!! so excited to see you

liked by lewishamilton

sza : love you and your beautiful soul sooooo much🦋 you are such an incredible talent and i wouldn’t want anyone else to do the job

liked by author

yourusername : love you forever and ever — the most special angel 🐞

kikagomes : i have been DYING to see you again— come to alpine?🥹

liked by author

alpinef1team : pleaseeeeee

liked by author

mclaren : she stays with us.

yourusername : you guys can share me,, i want to see my keeks😻

liked by kikagomes

alexandrasaintmleux : sooooo proud of you! cant wait to see you mon ange

liked by author

yourusername : my heartttt ily

kendricklamar : The best in the business. All the love for you.

liked by author

yourusername : the GOAT. thank you for believing in me.

username : when you get back from tour will you start master classes again???

liked by author

yourusername : absolutely! so excited to teach again!

oscarpiastri : Excited to meet you, finally. Big fan of your work.

liked by author

yourusername : same to you oscar! seems you’re having a stellar season so far😎

liked by oscarpiastri

lando : osc trying to be sly 😁

oscarpiastri : leave lando

—

lando added a post to his story!

seen by mclaren, oscarpiastri , charles_leclerc & 2,368,296 others.

charles_leclerc : alex said to tell you to hurry up and hand her over

lando : bro all she is talking about is your girlfriend it’s like she didn’t even miss me — driving her over now 😔

charles_leclerc : yay my wife 😚😚💋💋 - alex

oscarpiastri : She’ll be in the paddock tomorrow?

lando : yes lover boy she will

oscarpiastri: Shut up, Lando. I’m just preparing myself to meet the girl version of you.

lando : sureeeee😁

—

The air was thick with salt and heat—Miami’s signature cocktail. Palm trees leaned toward the track like eager fans, and the bass of engines vibrated beneath the soles of my sneakers as I stepped out of the black car. The paddock swarmed with movement: crew members, journalists, influencers dressed like it was fashion week, and the ever-present scent of gasoline and competition.

I kept my hood up—not because I needed to hide, but because it felt surreal being here, back in his world. Tour life had been nonstop: Tokyo, Berlin, São Paulo. Sold-out shows. Headlines. Backstage chaos. But I hadn’t seen Lando in person in almost a year. Not since that night we sat on the rooftop in Monaco, passing a bag of chips and talking about everything except our careers.

Now I was here, finally. And I was nervous. Which was ridiculous. He was Lando. My best friend since we were seven. The one who dared me to audition for my first dance academy. The one who called me right before my first solo show, whispering “You’ve got this,” like it was a promise.

A buzz passed through the paddock crowd. I looked up.

There he was.

Walking straight toward me with that grin—lazy, lopsided, utterly him. His race suit tied around his waist, curls messy, eyes sharp behind the sunglasses he pulled off the second he saw me.

“You actually came.”

His voice broke through the noise, and in that moment, the engines, the cameras, the heat—it all melted away.

“You think I’d miss you racing in Miami?” I dropped my bag just in time for him to scoop me into a hug that lifted me off the ground.

“You’re heavier than you used to be,” he joked, squeezing me tighter.

“I’m stronger than I used to be,” I fired back, laughing.

He set me down but didn’t let go. “God, I missed you.”

I pulled back enough to see his face—flushed, sun-kissed, and that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “You look good,” I said.

“So do you. Better, actually. Must be that stage lighting.” He poked my shoulder. “Or maybe all those standing ovations.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been watching the shows?”

“Every one I could— bits and pieces on tik tok. You kill every performance. Kendrick’s lucky to have you.” He paused, then added more quietly, “But I’m luckier.”

A silence hung between us, not awkward, but heavy with years of shared history. All the missed birthdays, the FaceTimes from hotel rooms, the stupid memes sent at 2 a.m. We’d grown up and grown famous—but we’d never grown apart.

“You look like you’re in your element,” I said, gesturing toward the chaos of the paddock.

“I am. But,” he tilted his head, “it’s better now.”

“Because of me?”

“Because you’re here,” he said, like it was obvious. “You always show up when it counts.”

He slung an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. I want to show you the garage—and maybe steal you for the driver’s parade tomorrow. You know, if you’re not busy headlining the world.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Lead the way, Norris.”

And as we walked deeper into the paddock, the sound of engines roared louder—but nothing drowned out the quiet, steady rhythm of coming home.

—

The McLaren garage was a different kind of chaos. Engineers speaking in quick bursts. Monitors flickering with data that looked like hieroglyphs to me. The hum of focus in the air—pure, precise.

Lando led the way, his voice cutting through the noise as he introduced me to the crew like I was royalty. “She’s family,” he kept saying, and they all nodded like they already knew. Maybe they did. Cameras followed us, but I was used to that. It was the vibe in here that threw me—intense, but somehow… inviting.

And then he walked in.

Helmet tucked under his arm, race suit half-zipped. Brown hair slightly tousled, brows knit in thought until he glanced up—and saw me.

Oscar Piastri.

I knew the name, of course. Rookie no more. Calm, clinical, fast as hell. Lando had talked about him in that complicated way he talks about people he respects but also wants to beat. But he hadn’t mentioned that Oscar was… cute. Unfairly cute. And tall. And had dimples, which—honestly—should be illegal.

Lando grinned wider, catching the pause. “Oscar! Come meet the real star of the weekend.”

Oscar looked between us, a little cautious, like he wasn’t sure if he was about to be pranked. “There she is,” he said with a smile, offering a hand. “Lando has told me so much about you.”

I blinked at him, then laughed. “And Lando told me you are ‘weirdly good at not talking.’”

He smirked—dimples on full display. “That sounds accurate.”

Our handshake lingered. Just long enough for both of us to realize it. Then we dropped hands quickly, both pretending not to notice.

“I saw the Brazil show,” Oscar said. “It was… unreal.”

“You watched it?” I tilted my head, a little surprised.

“Lando made me. Then I watched the rest on my own.” He shrugged, trying to look casual. Failing slightly. “You move like you’re not even human.”

“Neither do you,” I said before I could stop myself.

His eyes flicked up to mine—surprised. A slow smile. “Touché.”

I was suddenly very aware of how close we were standing. Of how good he smelled—something clean and sharp, like adrenaline and fresh laundry. I crossed my arms, needing to do something with them.

Lando narrowed his eyes like he was watching a tennis match. “Am I interrupting something here, or…?”

Oscar stepped back half a step. I did too. Guilty.

“Not at all,” I said, way too fast.

“Definitely not,” Oscar echoed.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Right. Okay. I’m gonna go check tire data. You two—try not to combust or whatever that was.”

He walked off, muttering something about “chemistry I did not authorize,” and I turned back to Oscar, trying not to smile too hard.

“So,” I said, shifting on my feet. “Is this where you pretend to be mysterious and brooding, or are you gonna show me what a car looks like up close?”

Oscar grinned. “Depends. Are you impressed by carbon fiber and too many buttons?”

I smirked. “Try me.”

He led me toward the car, gesturing like a tour guide. I followed, but my heart was beating faster than it should’ve been for a garage tour. There was something about the way he moved—confident but careful. Like he was always thinking two steps ahead.

“You know,” he said over his shoulder, “Lando said you were off-limits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

Oscar glanced back, and his smile was downright dangerous. “Yeah. I’m terrible at listening.”

—

The party was still going—somewhere behind the hospitality suites, i could hear the bass thumping, people shouting, champagne spraying. But Oscar wasn’t there.

I found him behind the McLaren garage, sitting on the edge of a stacked tire rack, still in his fireproofs, hair damp, champagne-stained suit unzipped to the waist. The golden Miami sunset lit the side of his face, casting long shadows behind him. The world was buzzing around him, but he looked like he’d stepped out of it completely.

“You’re hiding,” I said softly, stepping into his little pocket of silence.

He looked up—eyes tired, chest still rising a little too fast—and when he saw me, he didn’t smile right away. Just exhaled like i was the thing he didn’t realize he needed.

“I needed a second,” he said. “Before the noise catches up to me again.”

I walked over and stood between his knees, my hand brushing his. “Oscar, you won.”

He blinked slowly, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t look happy.”

He looked down at his gloves in his lap, twisting one between his fingers. “I am. I just… I don’t know. You dream of a moment like this, and then it happens, and it feels—” He stopped himself. “It’s a lot.”

I didn’t speak. Just reached for his jaw gently, tilting his face back to mine.

“You don’t have to be anything right now,” I said. “Not the golden boy. Not the winner. Just… you.”

That broke something open in him. His shoulders dropped. His hand came up and slid behind my waist, pulling me in closer.

“You were the only person I wanted to see after the podium,” he murmured.

I smiled softly. “Took you long enough.”

“I didn’t want to see you like… this,” he admitted. “All sweaty and gross.”

I leaned in, forehead resting gently against his. “You just won a Grand Prix. You’re allowed to be gross.”

He laughed quietly, then stilled. “You being here—it made it feel different. Better.”

I let my fingers thread through his hair. “You made it feel real. And watching you today… I think I stopped breathing for a few laps.”

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes, his voice low. “I wanted to kiss you the second I laid eyes on you.”

I tilted my head, pulse skipping. “What’s stopping you now?”

He didn’t answer.

He just kissed me—soft and certain.

And for once, the chaos could wait.

—

yourusername

miami 📍

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,427,268 others.

yourusername : miami you were a slay — so proud of my little orange minions on a 1-2 — congrats boys 💋

lando : i am so hurt by the hat. take it off NEOWW.

liked by author

yourusername : ur so overdramatic #sassymanapocalypse

yourusername : and oscar gave me that one so he could put on his podium cap…you could’ve given me yours if you wanted

lando : i just think you should support your best friend sorry if that makes me sassy

username : bro she was just wearing quadrant merch at her last rehearsal

username2: and she was wearing an ln4 hoodie in the airport

yourusername : ^^tea

lando : okay im sorry im sorry i dont think before I behave

oscarpiastri : we know.

liked by author

oscarpiastri : Who knew you’d end up being my good luck charm?

liked by author

yourusername : you don’t need luck when you’re already insanely talented ;)

liked by oscarpiastri

username5 : is mr. ‘no words’ piastri flirting with her?

lando : i hope not 🤮

username10 : you look SO GOOD. eat them up pretty

kikagomes : i love you so much !! pierre and I can’t wait to come to the next show:)

liked by author and pierregasly

yourusername : love you keeks 🤩

sza : hurry up and get back to us babes!! one show without you was enough

liked by author

yourusername : omw mamas

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

26,378 likes

f1gossipgirls : Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, Alexandra Saint Mleux, Kika Gomes, Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri all attended the Grand National tour this evening which is fully choreographed by Lando’s Best Friend, Y/N L/N. She is also in the show!

username : oh Oscar is so down bad

username2 : that man never ever goes to public events like this

username5 : let alone looking as happy as he does now

username10 : guys he is just supporting Lando’s friend cmonnnn

username2 : unlikely^^

username12 : it’s so cute how much the grid supports her

liked by author

username8 : I heard lewis was there too

username7 : he was!!

—

oscarpiastri posted to his story!

seen by yourusername, lando, hattiepiastri & 2,367,533 others.

{caption 1 : good shots, mate. @/lando.jpg} {caption 2 : yourusername, you are insanely talented— i am blown away by you}

yourusername : thank you sm for coming osc— the pre show kiss really helped

oscarpiastri : anything for you, princess. love watching you do what you love

hattiepiastri : so jealous. you don’t deserve to be in the presence of yn or sza. especially sza

oscarpiastri : jealousy is a disease hattie

—

oscarpiastri

liked by hattiepiastri, lando, yourusername & 1,257,543 others.

oscarpiastri: Life’s pretty good.

username : this man is attempting to soft launch and all he says is “life’s pretty good” 😭

oscarpiastri: it’s a “soft” launch for a reason

username5 : i love sassy osc

hattiepiastri : im tagging mum

oscarpiastri : stop being a snitch

hattiepiastri : @/nicolepiastri

oscarpiastri : fuck

nicolepiastri : oscar give me a call right now please

lando : oscy boy is in loveeeee

username : with your best friend bro bro

lando : what r u talking about that isn’t yn

username2 : lando is so so oblivious sometimes

aussiegrit : 😉

username5 : MARK WHAT DO YOU KNOW

aussiegrit : Oscar never shares about his love life and he finally did and I am not gonna make him regret it. My lips are sealed.

nicolepiastri : Mark call me

aussiegrit : Dialing right now

username : AHSJWN^^

oscarpiastri : never again

—

yourusername

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux & 4,267,255 others.

yourusername : fun stuff

lando : wait a minute

yourusername : what hoe

lando : who r u even dating

lando : why haven’t we discussed this

yourusename : you’ve never asked pookie

lando : answer my facetime

alexandrasaintmleux: you are so stunning it’s unreal

liked by author

yourusername : that’s all you angel

username : the caption is so oscar coded could they be anymore obvious

sza : oh my gooddd ur so beautiful

liked by author

yourusename : says you omg 😭

—

F1gossipgirls

245,267 likes

f1gossipgirls : Oscar Piastri and Y/N L/N were seen together in Australia…getting rather cozy with each other

username : I did not need this to confirm what I already knew

username2 : they r so cute together

lando : huh

username : LANDO-

username7 : baby we all knew we tried to tell you

—

yourusename

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, nicolepiastri & 5,254,208 others.

yourusername : my boyfriend is pretty cool

(our child lando is still adjusting, be kind)

oscarpiastri: not as cool as you pretty girl

liked by author

yourusername : mymanmymanmyman i love u sm

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri : love you too sweetheart

lando : as betrayed and disgusted as I am— you guys are cute ig

liked by author and oscarpiastri

yourusername : lan honey the internet literally tried to tell you 100 times

lando : when I get told something I don’t want to hear I act like it never happened

oscarpiastri : a literal toddler

lando : you both will never escape me 😁

sza : so happy for you queen!

liked by author

nicolepiastri : convinced you made my son 100 times cooler

liked by author

hattiepiastri : agreed

liked by author

oscarpiastri : gee thanks

liked by author

yourusername : love you both !! pilates next week nicole??

nicolepiastri : Absolutely!

username : Oscar are you nervous for your mom and girlfriend to hang out without you?

oscarpiastri : not really, they already gossip about me all the time.

liked by author and nicolepiastri

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, aussiegrit, lando & 2,264,432 others.

oscarpiastri : now I can kiss her in public all I want

lando : that is not what this means

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri : please don’t start again

lando : I was the one who said off limits and you heard OH make her your girlfriend

oscarpiastri : yes I hear what I want

yourusername : bickering like an old couple

liked by author and lando

aussiegrit : oh good I couldn’t keep the secret anymore

oscarpiastri : you literally didn’t — you told my mum

aussiegrit : doesn’t count — she scared the information out of me

nicolepiastri: you act like I threatened you

aussiegrit : I wouldn’t say you didn’t

logansargeant : Happy for you guys!

liked by author and yourusername

yourusername : does this mean I can be thirsty for you on Twitter now?

liked by author

lando : NO

oscarpiastri : yep

—

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[myfictionaldreams]

Hey, I was wondering if you are still going to write for Natasha Romanoff x reader. If you are, imagine something where the avengers don’t know that they are together, until one of them (maybe Tony because he talks too much) sees reader with hickies and messy hair early in the morning after an intense night 🤭. And then maybe Natasha would be wondering why she’s taking so long away and comes in after. 🤭🤭🤭🤭

⁀➷ Classified // Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: A quiet night at Avengers Tower turns into something much more intimate when secrets begin to unravel—and nothing stays hidden forever.

Requested by: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write! I've actually had this drafted for months and months, but I'm so glad to finally get around to finalising it.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, soft dom!Nat, sub!reader, doctor reader, secret relationship, marking (hickeys), hair pulling, minor injuries, fingering, oral, praise kink, protective nat, power play

Words: 2.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Restocking the medical supplies was usually a monotonous task that dragged endlessly. Today, however, you completed the task with the precision of someone trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.

Gauze, antiseptics, sutures—each item slid into place like it could stop your hands from shaking. The mission was supposed to be routine—in and out. But they were late. No one had heard a word from the jet in hours. 

While wiping down the already sterile and clean surface for the tenth time in the last two hours, you tried to avoid your colleagues’ quizzical looks, but your phone buzzed.

Heart thudding painfully in your chest, you snatched it up.

Natasha. Thank fuck.

You answers, relief flooding your chest. “Romanoff.”

“Mm”, came her voice, low and sultry. “I love it when you call me that. Makes me feel like a bad girl.”

Turning your back on the other doctors and nurses in the room, you tried to act casual, ignoring her remarks that had already caused heat to creep up your neck at her teasing. “How can I help you, Miss Romanoff? Are you in need of some medical assistance?”

Natasha laughs lightly down the phone at your professional response. “I need you to come to my room and check on me. My face has been missing its home between your legs.”

Her words caused an immediate reaction between your legs, your core tightening with arousal. Coughing to release some pent-up frustration, you tried to casually answer, “Your left knee? It hurts? Can you come to the hospital level, or do you need me to come to you?”

“You can come alright. I’m in my room. Alone.”

“I’ll be there shortly with my medical supplies.”

“That’s my girl.” The line went dead.

Pocketing your phone while turning to your colleagues, you tried to explain that you needed to attend to Black Widow’s knee. Slinging a medical bag over your shoulder, you tried to walk and not run like you wanted to out of the medical bay and into the elevator.

When stepping onto Avengers’ personal floor, you could see no other individual. Tentatively, you knocked once on her door before entering.

The room was dimly lit, and soft orange light from the setting sun cast through the ceiling-to-floor windows. Natasha, beautiful as ever, stood near her bed in just a sports bra and leggings. Her red hair was still damp from a quick shower, and the room was sweet from the scent of her body wash.

Those fierce green eyes clash with yours as you close the door.

“Shirt off”, she commands, her tone light but firm.

Blinking in response, you remark whilst dropping the bag onto the floor. “I thought I was here to check on you, baby.”

Natasha gives you her signature smirk. “You are. But I’ve missed you. And you’re wearing too many clothes for that, even though I love seeing you in those scrubs.”

Still, you stepped toward her first, fingertips brushing against her bare stomach that tensed at the action as you stared at the discoloured bruise along her left side. All excitement had quickly manifested into worry.

“How’d you do this?”

“Threw a guy over a railing. He didn’t go quietly. You know how it is.”

You sigh, pressing your palm gently over the bruised skin, checking how significant the bruising is. The lack of reaction from Nat was reassuring; you knew that her pain tolerance was higher than most of the US population.

“You need to rest. Ice. Maybe you shouldn’t be on your feet.”

She leans in, her voice a purr against your ear. “Then you’ll just have to keep me in bed, won’t you, Doc?”

There was barely any time to react before she was kissing you- hard and hot, like she’d been waiting days, weeks, too long. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your mouth open so she could taste you deeper. She tasted sweet, like cherries and gum.

Nat walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she’s quick to follow, straddling your hips with a predator’s grace.

It took entirely too long – seconds – for your shirt to be removed, but her lips are all over the moment it’s removed. From your neck, biting and licking, to your stomach, kissing and caressing with her tongue like she wanted to taste your entire body.

“You taste like antiseptic”, she murmurs against your skin, her admission not stopping her actions at all as she gently nipples on your collarbone, her fingers massaging your breasts through your bra. “And anxiety, did you miss me, hm?”

Tugging her closer, your nails dig into the flesh of her hips, “And you smell like trouble, baby.”

“Mmhm,” she hums in agreement, “but you love trouble, don’t you, Sugar?”

Her lips are on yours again with renewed hunger, but slower, like she savoured everything you had to offer. Your hands move to cup her arse, pulling her hips closer until you’re both grinding together.

“Let me take care of you for once.”

Natasha arched a brow. “You think I need taking care of?”

Flipping the two of you with surprising ease - meaning Natasha allowed you to do so - you hover over the assassin, taking a moment to admire the redness of her hair, mixing with the orange streaks of sun beaming through the window.

“You’re so fucking beautiful”, you breathe the words out as your fingers bring down the waistband of her leggings and underwear as she removes her own bra, leaving her completely naked beneath you.

While mindful of her bruised side, you eased her to the edge of the bed. Sinking to your knees, Natasha’s eyes darkened as she bit her lips, thighs spreading as you ease each leg over your shoulder.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” she asks as she idly plays with her own nipples until they’re taunt, rosy and peaked.

You didn’t answer. Just pressed your lips to her inner thigh, slowly kissing your way upward. Her fingers laced through your hair, but her grip faltered when your mouth finally reached her. Tongue lickign up the length of her hairless pussy, adding pressure to slip betweens her softness to feel the firm, throbbing clit that drew out a choked sound from the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she goans, her eyes closing and head tipping back.

You work her slowly. Needing to memorise her taste, the sounds she makes, the way her body moves from her hips, trying to dictate your movements by a subtle role, to the way her strong thighs nearly suffocate you between them. 

“Don’t stop,” she rasps, the hand in her hair tightening to the point of pain. “God, baby, just like that.” 

You were never going to stop, even if you couldn’t breath as your lips sealed around her clit. Two fingers slipped inside, curling in time with your pulsing mouth, the other hand pressing lightly above her pubic bone, attempting to keep her hips on the bed so you can have some form of control.

You watch, memsorised as her cunt begins to pulse around your fingers. Back arching, thighs unbelievably tight around your face, a moan so breathtaking that you’re sure your own arousal is now staining your scrubs with how turned on you were. She was utterly fucking beautiful.

Ever the dom, Natasha’s orgasm hadn’t even subsided fully before she’s pulling your body back onto the bed, swapping your positions so you’re lying against the sheets.

“That was dangerous,” she teases against your mouth, nipping your lower lip between her teeth until it snaps back to place. Now, I’m going to have to remind you who’s really in charge.”

Her slender fingers skim beneath your waistband, teasing and lingering.

“Say it”, she says against your throat. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you.” Your voice quivers as her fingers finally dip lower, brushing beneath your underwear, touching exactly where you want her most.

She was always like this, dominant and teasing, but you’re always rewarded.

“That’s my girl, always so wet for me”, she compliments before sucking on the skin to the point of pain beneath your ear. You grunt at the mix of discomfort and pleasure as her fingers idly stroke over your soaked pussy.

There was no rushing Natasha, not when she’d been kept from you for so long. A small part of you worried that the other doctors and nurses would wonder where you’d disappeared, too, but all rational thoughts escaped you as she spread your labia, pressing her finger directly there.

One finger, became two, slipping inside as you gasped and arched into her, rolling your hips until her palm is pressing against your clit. With slow, deep curls, Natasha's fingers have your thighs trembling and breathy moans becoming desperate in no time at all.

All the while, she keeps her forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked on your face, studying every moan, every flutter of your lashes.

“God, look at you,” she whispers, voice rough. “Fall apart for me. Are you going to cum on my fingers, Sugar?”

You nod your head, whimpering as she applies more pressure to your clit. Bucking up and grabbing her shoulders. “Please - Natasha-!”

“I’ve got you”, she promises, lowering her face now until she’s biting your nipples through your bra in a sharp sting of pain.

You came with with a startled cry, your cunt pulsing around her fingers, sucking her in deeper, like your body never wanted to give up. She keeps the pressure, continues to curl her fingers as your orgasm draws on and on until you’re a pile of numbness, still half dressed from work.

Nat withdraws her fingers with slow movements, leaving you twitching in the sensitive area. Watching her movements, you groan deeply as she sucks her wet fingers into her mouth, tasting your juices with a pornographic moan, her eyes clossing as she savoures the taste.

She curls around you protectively, damp fingers brushing against your cheeks whilst kissing your temple, then your shoulder. Lazily dragging her lips down your neck, sucking another deepy hickey against your skin. 

Groaning whilst half-laughing, “You’re marking me on purpose”.

She smiles against your skin. “Obviously. You’re mine.”

~~~~~~~~

Later, you were lounging on one of the couches at the tower’s low-key celebration, which was never really low-key when it came to Tony Stark. Thankfully, you owned a turtlenecked dress that was soft and comfortable on your sensitive, heavily marked skin.

Something Natasha noticed as she caught you in a dark crevice, easing away your neckline to admire her artwork with a bite of her full lips. That wasn’t all, though. Usually, at public events, the two of you would stay on opposite sides of the room, but tonight, Nat couldn’t help herself.

Frequently, she would walk back, her warm hand brushing the small of your back, her eyes watching your every sip, every shift in your chair; your secret girlfriend missed nothing.

Since then, the party has dwindled to only a handful of individuals, who are, for the most part, members of the Avengers or close friends.

“You know,” the billionaire loudly declared while holding up his glass of scotch. I know I’m a genius, and you guys never really appreciate it, but I’ve just cracked a code, and I need to share.”

Not thinking anything of it, you continued to idly sip from your drink, eyes flicking to the red-haired woman sitting across from you in the circle of couches.

“I know who’s been sneaking around like hormone-crazed teenagers.” Tony grins widely. You stiffen, eyes once more flicking to Natasha, who remains nonchalant. Her reaction has you calming. Of course, he wouldn’t know about you and Natasha. She’s an assassin; she could keep secrets, hide in plain sight, and, of course, your relationship was still hidden.

However, as your eyes moved back to the billionaire staring only at you, you knew nothing good would come from his next words. “Our very own medbay angel and Miss Romanoff. Caught the Doc here leaving her bedroom with messy hair and a constellation of hickets. Pretty classic evidence, honestly.”

A beat of silence followed. Every head turned to look at you. At Natasha. At the space between you.

All you can do is freeze. Not blinking. Not breathing. They knew. They all knew. The attention made your skin feel too tight, like your heartbeat had jumped outside your body.

It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was vulnerability. The intimacy you’d guarded for so long was exposed. It was no longer a private, secret thing. It was no longer yours and Natasha's alone.

Finally, dragging a deep breath in, the urge to flee the room came over you, but an enraged redhead stepped into your path. Her arms rested comfortingly on your upper arms, thumbs stroking in slow circles. The energy rolling off of her was unmistakable. She was protective, sharp, and unapologetic.

“That’s enough”, she said evenly, tone calm but laced with authority. “We kept it private for a reason, Tony.”

The man blinked, taken aback by the reaction from the room. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing-”

“She’s not a punchline,” Natasha continues to defend you. “And this isn’t gossip. I don’t want the whole world, including our enemies, Stark, knowing what she means to me. Understand?”

You felt her hand slip behind you, curling gently around your wrist, anchoring. But the tremble of anger was evidently there.

“Nat,” you whisper, stepping closer to her side as your heart hammered.

Turning away from her friends and colleagues, her features soften, eyes tracking every emotion written across your face. “You okay?”

You nod, even if you weren’t entirely sure.

She leans in, her breath tickling your eye. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting anyone make you feel small about it. Not even Stark,”

There was another beat of silence until Clint, of all people, groaned and toasted an empty beer bottle at Tony’s head. “It took you this long to figure that out? I’ve had fifty bucks on them for months.”

“Same,” said Sam, raising his hand.

Steve snorted, “I told you she wasn’t just icing her injury in the medbay.”

Tony looked around, betrayed. “You all knew?”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t that subtle.”

Laughter filled your ears from those surrounding you. Natasha’s grip on your wrist eased, but her hand kept you close. Exhaling shakily, you watched the group ease back into their jokes and drinks, the weight slowly lifting from your chest.

When you glanced back at Natasha, she was already looking at you. She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Not a secret anymore. Now there’s no hiding that you’re mine.”

And somehow, that made it all ok.

[swtnjk]

megumi’s first valentine’s day with you

megumi hated talking, especially asking for help. especially when it comes from them. but here he was, in the common room with yuji, satoru and nobara.

“i need help,” he muttered. yuji perked up instantly. “is this about valentine’s day?”

satoru leaned in with an evil little sparkle in his sunglasses. “it’s a girl problem, isn’t it?” megumi sighed through his nose, “it’s not a problem. i just… want to do something for her.”

nobara slammed her magazine down, “you’re not winging it, are you? no, forget it. we’re fixing this right now.”

he wouldn’t of went with them to the mall if he knew it would be a three hour girlfriend basket mission. satoru suggested a helicopter while yuji said to choreograph a dance…?

he watched nobara expertly fill a small, cozy basket: your favorite snacks, a tiny koala plush (“it’s kind of you, sleepy and cute”), a subtle vanilla candle, and a couple of thoughtful touches only someone paying attention would think of.

megumi stood there, holding it all, a little overwhelmed. then came the letter.

he rewrote it seven times. every draft was either too dry, too cheesy, or just… wrong.

but finally, one felt okay. still awkward, still a little stiff but real.

i don’t always say it right, but i mean it. you’re special to me. love you, angel. — gumi.

he folded neatly and tucked it between the plush and the candy.

valentine’s day. 7:12am.

megumi stood outside your door, clutching the basket like it might bite him.

this was a terrible idea. who shows up this early? you were probably still asleep. he should come back later or never. maybe he should just leave it at the door and run.

but then the door creaked open.

you appeared, still in your pajamas, hair all mussed, eyes squinting against the morning light. barefoot, blanket barely wrapped around your shoulders.

and you smiled. so instantly, so softly. it hit him like a punch.

he forgot to breathe.

sleepy, messy, beautiful. the words bloomed in his brain before he could stop them.

his ears went red. he held out the basket, “happy valentine’s.”

you blinked at the gift, then at him, then melted into a sleepy grin that made his chest feel warm.

you took the basket carefully, like it was made of glass. “gumi,” you said, voice still scratchy with sleep, “this is… so sweet.”

he shrugged, suddenly very interested in the floor. “don’t get used to it.”

you giggled… actually giggled and leaned forward to press the softest kiss to his cheek. “too late.”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── I'VE ALWAYS KNOWN . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka jake finally says it, even though he’s known it since…well, forever.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 676 ⌗ the first 'i love you' :'), fluff, comfort <3

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── CHAT I THINK THIS ONE has to be my favorite one thus far...i'm gonna cry jake is so precious and i just love love & i love jakeyn </3 i listened to this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler on repeat while drafting this and those are the vibes im going for...im gonna go cry now

It’s peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

Because Jake hasn’t said a word in the last five minutes—which is an actual world record.

You glance to your side.

Jake’s hand is warm in yours.

His mind?

Somewhere else entirely.

It’s quiet. It’s late. The kind of the late where everything feels simpler. Softer. Where the streetlights begin to glow above you, where the river reflects the sky’s first stars. Where the only sound to the distant hum of the city around you is the crunch of your steps synced together.

And Jake is still. Not talking.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” you tease lightly, elbowing him gently. “Where did my boyfriend go?”

Jake lets out a breathy laugh—barely there—as he turns to you, shaking his head.

“I’m here,” he says, squeezing your hand tighter. “Just…thinking.”

Oh. 

You stop walking.

He stops with you. Looks at you.

Jake's always looking at you.

But this time, it’s charged.

You tilt your head, your voice soft, “Jake.”

And that’s when you see it.

The look in his eyes. It’s familiar—the one he has every time he looks at you. The kind that makes your heart skip and stutter because it’s not just fondness, it’s not just affection—it’s everything.

Everything unsaid wrapped into one glance.

Everything that makes your heart feel like it’s on the edge of something terrifyingly wonderful.

Everything that says every version of his life points straight to you.

Jake blinks, glances over to the river as if the waves might talk him out from what he’s about to do.

It does not.

He lets out one last exhale.

Looks at you again.

“I love you.”

Your heart stops.

Your brain short-circuits. Eyes wide. Stomach drops.

It takes you a full five seconds to process the words, and by the time you do—

Jake is already smiling.

Gentle. Beautiful. Knowing.

Like he expected your reaction.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly before you can even try to respond. “You don’t have to say anything. I just…wanted you to know.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

“I’ve known for a long time,” he continues, voice steady, warm, his eyes never leaving yours once. “Like, way before I even deserved to say it.”

He lets out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are pink. He runs his thumb over your knuckles back and forth as if to ground himself.

“And, honestly, I think you knew a long time ago too.”

You swallow hard.

Because yeah. You did.

Jake has always loved you in the way he softens his voice when he talks to you. In the way he never lets you walk on the side of the road. In the way he shows up, over and over again—no matter how many times you tried to build your walls up.

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your fingers, one by one, like he’s spilling his feelings out again—I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I just—I wanted you to know,” he murmurs, quieter this time. “No pressure. No expectations. Just…it’s yours. My heart. If you want it.”

And god, you break a little.

Because he means it. He means it.

He knows it. You know it.

You look at him—the boy who’s loved you so unapologetically, even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it yet.

And he waits.

Jake waits. Patient. Sure.

Then—you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest, losing yourself completely to his warmth, his comfort, your home.

Jake exhales—something between a laugh and a breath of relief—and melts into you instantly, planting a kiss into your hair as he holds you tight.

When you finally pull away, your eyes meet his—and he’s already smiling. So soft. So tender. 

So yours. 

His eyes crinkle at the corners, full of something that feels like forever.

Jake doesn’t ask for anything more.

Doesn’t push.

He just reaches out, lacing his fingers through yours.

And then he keeps walking.

And you follow.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

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[eveningepiphany]

only would happen to us | H.S oneshot

summary: you and harry just got stuck up on the tower bridge in london and it’s clear sometimes feelings are just too hard to ignore

warnings: smut! bandmate harry, fluff, heights, unplanned confession, making out, trying to hide it from everyone, REALLY CUTE CAR SCENE, tension, fingering, dirty talk, vague reference to choking, protected p in v sec, talk of unprotected sex, frat boy harry just being too hot.

a/n: this is a longer smutshot with a bit of plot, took me MONTHS of coming back and forth from this draft, but it’s so so cute I think you’re gonna love these two!

not heavily edited, may be some typos, just want to post it so bad and its 2am HAHA

———

A deep, almost shaky exhale passes through your lungs and out past your lips. Your own numb hands coming to your waist underneath the thick knitted sweater that hung baggy over your frame, meeting the tight harness fitted over your jeans. It was so cold outside that with each breath out, there was a pale cloud that got puffed out with it. The kind you’d see on a crisp morning while walking to school as a kid, and pretend you were exhaling a long drag of a cigarette.

It’s weird to see something such as the air from deep in your lungs in a way you never normally do. Something that is typically invisible, in the exact right conditions, can be suddenly tangible. The air you exhale always there, regardless of whether you can see it or not. But on a night like tonight it’s no longer able to be ignored.

How one individual might perceive it can be starkly different to another. What is perhaps an annoying reminder of the cold to one person— is a thrilling reminder of their state of aliveness to another.

You believe in the latter. Despite it highlighting how freezing cold you feel, it makes your heart sing. Right now, you’re alive, living in this very moment. Your breath is the very proof that you’re here, experiencing something few other people understand.

The mosaic of London city lights can be seen all around you, reflecting on the swell of water that consumes the far drop below your feet.

Gratitude floats through your mind at the tight harness wrapped around your middle, attaching to the safety line behind you. Otherwise just looking down would make you loose your balance, and that's not a fall you want to experience.

Filming music videos, you’ve learnt, is no joke. Considering you’re 200 feet in the sky above the river Thames on London’s most famous bridge.

“M’pretty sure I’ve just frozen my balls off.” Louis shivers out, earning a snort from Liam who has his hands shoved under his arms— in attempt to warm them up— beside him.

The camera crew have filmed the shots planned, and a few extras for behind the scenes footage, but everything that needed to be taken has now been ticked off, and the rest of the team are beginning to get ready for the band to come back down.

“And here i was just thinking how surreal it is to be up here,” You sigh out with sarcastic whimsy, “Louis sure knows how to put it into words…”

Niall pipes in, “Best view in the whole city and Louis is talking about his junk.”

Everyone up there let’s out a belly laugh at Niall’s quip. It’s an oddly touching moment. Just the six of you feeling like you’re on top of the world, laughing at a joke about Louis dick.

A very fitting theme for a bunch of still-teenagers, you think to yourself. Heartwarming in its own odd way that makes you smile. Eyes flitting from the skyline in front of you back to the band, attempting to take in every small detail that’s painting the wondrous view ahead of you.

You’re glad you went up first, it means you can see all their faces at once when you look to the left. The toothy grins, lit up eyes, and red, wind kissed cheeks.

Especially Harry, who beside you, looks absolutely elated to be up there. The glimmer in his eye's is possessing an emotion in your chest that's admittedly different tonight in comparison to any other.

Maybe it was just your surroundings, but you’re convinced this is the most beautiful he’s ever looked. His brown curls were tousled back from the breeze, lips flushed from the cold. The big khaki jacket cast over his broad shoulders is bundling him up, yet he was still shivering slightly.

Somehow now— even in London's coldest months—his skin still appears tan. Like if you reached out and touched it, it would thrum with the warmth of his blood. A heat you want to settle into with your entire body and soul.

Forcibly, you have to tear your gaze away from him. Reminding yourself that he is your bandmate, and one of your best friends. Not someone for you to be staring at as if there was something to be entertained.

Besides, you’ve spent months gaslighting yourself into the belief it’s simply because you work together so closely. Of course your brain is trying to tell you that there’s something there!

Hell, you’ve heard the horror stories from your girls back home. Problematic shit almost always happens when they fuck around with male colleagues at their jobs. You’ve even said to them, “Is he hot, or is it just because he’s a guy at your work?”

And while your relationship with Harry is arguably a lot more personal than just two colleagues, surely the theory still applies— you’re only so attracted to him because you both work together. That’s it…

Not at all the fact he is definitely the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen.

Shaking your head— as if the physical movement will stop the internal battle between the voices in your head, you focus your eyes back to the city. Trying to memorise this beautiful sight instead, and commit each red set of break lights, and every yellow glow of someone’s window to the mental picture you’ve taken.

You wish you could know how many people are looking at the Tower bridge right now. If they have any idea that there’s 6 idiots up the top of it. It casts a familiar, deep set of wonder over you.

Are they cooking dinner, watching tv, or staring out at the world just like you? who are they with, why are they with them?

Just the notion that all the people in that city are out there, living a life as shockingly intricate, and beautiful as your own makes your heart clench. It’s a feeling you want to hold forever.

Harry notices from next to you the look on your face. He sees this look often, he knows how deep of a thinker you are. When your lips part in the slightest bit, displaying that sense of earnest shock— and your big eyes search the scene in front of them as if it might disappear on the very next blink.

You do it at airports, in every new city you visit, and onstage too— you do it almost everywhere, come to think of it.

His own mouth slants into a warm smile, even Niall has glanced over and shared a quiet chuckle at your ability to just slip into your mind every time something unreal happens to the six of you.

“Alright— we’re gonna get you guys down one by one!” A crew member's call pulls you out of your trance. Harry is almost sad to see the captivation on your face get snapped away in an instant, making him divert his attention away from you so he doesn’t get caught staring.

Given that you were the first of them to go up, you’d be the last to be lowered down. Zayn however was the last to go up, and arguably the hardest of everyone to convince to get up here.

Despite looking like he could conquer anything, and any challenge, he is scared easily of new things. Like going on a plane for the first time, or being lifted to the top of tower bridge and held by only a harness.

“Thank god—“ he sighs a chuckle, running an anxious hand through his hair as he slowly starts to shuffle along the narrow edge you’re all standing on.

“People pay good money t'do stuff like this, is the real kicker.” Liam nudges him, earning a playful eye roll from Zayn at his dig.

“Don’ get me wrong, s’beautiful, but im out of here. Back to solid ground where I belong.” He points to the mechanism that will lower him back down to the platform underneath where the crew is, hand then coming back to cling to the X shaped beams behind you all.

From what you were all told, it’s actually for maintenance… a large steel cage of sorts. One that’s clunky on the way up and down, and can’t carry more than two bodies a time— at best.

You hear the sigh of relief Zayn lets out as he steps onto the solid metal— sliding the carabiner out of the cable holding you all to the bridge. Waving a hand down to the crew to lower the lift, shouting down to them, “good to go, thank you lads!”

Once it’s back up, Liam goes down next, smiling pridefully as he gets onto the platform. Everyone knows this is a night you’ll all never forget.

Next is Louis, who does a salute to you all, “see you all on the other side,” leaving with a wink as he unclips himself once he’s in the cage.

Niall cleared his throat to shout, “Goodnight London, I bloody love ya!”

However, this is where things start to go awry. Because the platform doesn’t come back up as you and Harry had both been anticipating… causing you to both share a confused look as the final two up on the bridge.

“What the fuck…?” The two of you hear a worker cuss in annoyance, clear to you a slight commotion is going on below. It’s a very faint murmur of concerned, and also annoyed voices, that you’re straining to hear over the wind.

But suddenly Niall can be heard, loud and clear. Whatever it is can’t be that serious, because Niall is giggling? You and Harry both are leaning your heads to try and hear properly. Eventually he sounds like he’s having a full laughing fit, followed by a loud bellow of his amused tone that echoes all the way up to the two of you, “…So they’re stuck up there?”

Your heads snap to one another, locking eyes as you realise why the platform hasn’t come back up yet. Your cold hand comes over your mouth in shock trying to cover up your dropped jaw, warm breath ghosting over the red tips of your fingers.

“Fuckin— there’s no way…” Harry frowns, shaking his head, “He has to be tryin’ t’pull one over on us.”

"Gave the team 10 bucks t'act like its broken..." He murmurs to himself, pursing his lips as his head shakes in disbelief.

A part of you wishes that was the case, but your gut is telling you that its not. That sensation confirmed when your phone starts ringing in your back pocket.

Carefully, you pull it out of your pocket and glance to the screen, gesturing it over to Harry. Georgie, a part of your management team was calling you. He was a short, wiry red-haired man in his late thirties, who had a really lovely husband that would bake the band cookies with their son, Thomas.

With a sigh, you answer the call— putting it on speaker and shuffling closer to Harry so he can hear what he says.

Shoulder to shoulder, he leans his head down to listen, curls brushing the top of your head.

“Hello?” You say as you hear shuffling behind the phone, biting your bottom lip with your teeth as you wait for Georgie to actually talk to you.

Finally you hear him clear his throat with a short apology, “Okay— Y/N, Harry?”

He asks this as if it weren't abundantly obvious you were the only two people up there for him to be speaking to. It makes Harry palm his forward with a slight roll of his green eyes, “Georgie, what’s goin’ on?”

Annoyed look good on him, you thought. The way his brows pinched together and his lips formed a harsh line, jaw clenching tightly.

“Don’t panic but—“

“Oh, fucks sake, we’re gonna die up here, aren’t we?” You immediately interrupted, free hand coming up to your mouth as you take the nail of your thumb between your teeth.

“No, No!” He repeats, and you know he’s down there tapping his foot on the ground like he always does in conversations.

He’s either genuinely confident, or doing a really good job at faking it as he states, “All is well— just a minor inconvenience, is all…”

Harry and you say nothing though, waiting for him to fill the silence with an explanation of what exactly is happening down there.

“The cage lift has… uh,” his tone falters as he tries to find a way to explain the situation, “It’s had a bit of an issue. It’s not going up— we’ve got people on the way to fix it, so don’t worry.”

“They think it’s a combination of the cold night and the fact it’s not been used in a few weeks… but I promise we’re doing everything we can to get you guys down.”

Niall and Louis can be heard laughing in the back, and you feel at ease knowing the bridge isn’t about to collapse under your feet. You’re safe, just stuck up there for a little longer than planned.

“Wait till the media gets a hold of this,” Harry shakes his head, but a tiny relieved smile cracks now he also knows what’s going on— and likely at the boys cackling through the line.

“For now, just hold tight. I know it’s cold but atleast there’s two of you up there—“ you both shoot each other a confused look, “And I’ll call you when the blokes with their big tools are here to fix the lift and send it up…”

“Right… so in the meantime we just stay up here. On the top of a 200ft ledge?” You clarify, stupefied at the situation you've landed yourself in.

“Uhm, yep… I’ll call you guys back when I know more.” He replied curtly, before bidding a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Given the height you’re situated at, you don’t waste any time tucking your phone safely back into the pocket of your jeans. Glancing over to Harry who is smiling out at the city, “At least you’ve got a bit more time to try and memorise all this, hey?”

“Or we’re living our last hours up here before we die of hypothermia…”

A chuckle comes from him, where he nudges your shoulder with his, “C’mon Y/N, I think they’d airlift us off the bridge before it came to that point.”

"Now that would be a news story about us," you slant your gaze to him, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his jacket, “And that's at least true, I'm just being dramatic considering the situation.”

His lips curve into a smile, shaking his head with amusement, “We’re gonna get the biggest I told you so from Zayn.”

The wind blows your hair in all directions as it randomly pushes a strong gust against you, making you reach up to try and tame it back down.

“Whose fucking idea was it to leave my hair down,” you complain, despite it actually being your own. Harrys own hand comes to try and brush it out of your squinted eyes, quietly humming, “y’shivering, love.”

The way he is so gently pushing the hair from your face, paired with the hushed pet name makes you look up to him, “And so are you…”

Internally, you are cursing. Cursing right now whatever greater force has planted your ass in this set of circumstances. Stuck up here, in arguably the most romantic spot you could be put into. Together. Right at the time the resolve you've tried so hard to maintain that Harry is 'just a friend', is starting to crash and burn.

“C’mere.” He says, the lilt in his accent is deep from the crisp air, casually wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling you towards him. Just the action alone makes your whole body heat up, and your praying your cheeks are already red enough to hide the blush that's creeping hot up your neck…

Your cheek meets his shoulder, nose bumping his collarbone as he tucks you in the space between his arm and his side, the hand around your waist splaying over the knit of your sweater. He smells so good, masculine… the scent woodsy, but with an undertone of warm spices. You try not to draw in an obvious inhale against the collar of his shirt.

You adored how close a connection two of you shared, but you also hated it. Hated it because there’s no hesitancy in the way his hand curls around your side and lets your body lean into his. The this is just what friends do mentality. Especially in a situation like this, where the action can simply be justified by that, and that alone. It kills you feeling him like this, warm and gentle against your cold body, and trying to pretend like it isn't currently making your insides squirm.

“If this ledge weren’t so bloody thin, I’d wrap you up with m’jacket.” He admits, looking down at you.

He cant help but unknowingly make it worse for you.

Lips forming a thin line, you try to bite back the smile that's forcing it's way onto your face. The image playing off in your mind no matter how hard you try to wipe it. Stood here, arms slid around his toned middle, meeting together at the small of his back. oh god...

Your own hands have unconsciously braced themselves on the outer edge of his jacket, gripping it for dear life as you try to calm your racing heart.

Eyes veering outwards as you look at the scene in front of you, “it’s okay... its cold, but at least its beautiful.”

His own eyes are trailing the profile of your face, heart thrumming underneath his chest as an almost welcome heat spreads through him. He’s made a mistake pulling you into him, he should’ve known he’d bitten off more than he could chew. That he’d want more, to feel more of you than he already is.

When suddenly nothing is more appealing than leaning down and nudging your nose with his, to let your head tilt for him, so he can press a warm kiss against your mouth.

“So beautiful,” he quietly parrots, but he’s not thinking about the view.

Forcing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat carefully. A tiny chuckle escaping in the silence that had enveloped the two of you as you stared out at the city.

“Only this would happen to us.” He suddenly says, and you feel him draw in a deep inhale. Confused in what context he means it, you turn your head to look up at him with a puzzled smile, “What do you mean?”

“I can almost bet a thousand bucks we are probably the first and only people t'ever have this happen t'them. Somehow I find it fitting.”

“Pretty special... if you think of it like that.” You mutter, nodding slowly.

“No one can even see us, and there's a whole city out there—“ he gestures out with his finger, “that doesn’t know we’re up here.”

A morbid laugh bubbles from your throat, "I know were not gonna die up here, but if we were, I can't really imagine what the last thing I would want to do would be." You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, and he's shaking his head at you.

His voice is completely normal as he ponders the thought, "Well... we’re kind of limited with what we can do because of these." His hand finds the hem of his white t-shirt, peeling the material above his belly button. It's intention to gesture to the harness flush around his middle. Your eyes however... they veer to the tan skin of his stomach, and the dark tattooed ferns that adorn his hips and bracket the dusting of hair that trails up from the band of his Calvin Klein briefs. Only graced with the sight for a few fleeting seconds before it disappears behind the white fabric once again.

You almost about choke on nothing. Having to force your throat to swallow before a bout of laughter rattles out of you without you able to stop it, "The harnesses?'

Your obviously answered question makes his brows furrow, and mouth quirk into a confused sort of smile. It only makes you laugh more, hand coming up to scrape down your face as a desperate attempt to ground your brain.

But, fuck— what he just said, you're banking it was an entirely innocent comment, and that's exactly what is causing the confusion at your disheveled reaction. But he quite literally doesn't realise what insinuation you thought he was making. And that you are imagining all kinds of depraved scenes without ability to stop.

A parallel of you only a minute earlier, he begins, "What do you—"

The pang of realisation hits him.

"...oh."

His words die where they were in his voice box, stomach churning the second he clocks onto your almost guilty laugh. The sound drips with warmth as it enters his ears.

He rolls his eyes, but suddenly his cheeks feel hot as a blush spreads across them no matter how hard he tries to will it away, "That is not what I meant! Of course you would think that."

Your jaw drops in feigned offense, knocking your elbow against the side of his ribs, "What are you trying to say about me?"

You've taken a small step back from him, hand coming to your chest as a mimic of your fake shock. You know how dangerous this is getting, and quickly at that. Breaching into uncharted territory.

"That your head is stuck in the gutter." He mumbles, blinking fast as he avoids meeting eyes with you as if you'd be able to simply see the thoughts plagued in his head now.

"It is not, you're the one that worded it weird!" You tease, arms crossing. It is truly like the rest of the world has fallen away, and like you are the only two people alive right now.

"Is so," he argues passionately back, "So far in the gutter, in fact, tell pennywise i say hi."

You burst out with a laugh, trying to tuck your cold hands between your upper arm and ribcage, "Gross, Harry. I fucking hate clowns."

"And mind you, I said nothing! You came to this conclusion on your own."

"Okay Y/N, What conclusion is it tha’ I'm coming to, if y'would be so gracious to enlighten me." Checkmate.

He's smiling now, you are red, embarrassed or worked up, or perhaps a heated mixture of both.

The ball is back in your court, and you struggle to get your mouth to move properly, "I— You cant— Don't turn this back on me!"

Suddenly, he tumbles his own inner thoughts out of his lips before he can halt them, they sound with a rasp, "Darling, you're the one having deluded n’dirty thoughts 200ft up n'the sky."

God. Does this count as foreplay to the mile high club? And fucking hell, his voice sounds too deep right now. The way his thick accent rolls the words out. Its making your head hurt.

Your earlier resolve is officially gone. It's thrown itself off the ledge of this bridge and is falling the very far drop to the bottom. And you know what, pretty sure your self respect is going with it. Between the two of them, it will be loud enough to probably hear the impact they make when they hit the water at full force.

"Probably the first person to be doing that up here, too." The words are gritted out of you as your heart pounds in your chest.

You hear the inhale he takes, deep— as if he's trying to ground himself, hold back whatever is transpiring right here, right now.

"Do have even half the idea of how badly I want t'kiss you right now?"

Your head snaps from where it was, tearing your eyes from where they'd locked onto the city skyline in attempt to distract yourself from the trouble you're about to get into. A part of you deep down realises how bad this could get quickly, how absolutely irreversible this conversation is.

And that regardless if something or nothing comes of it, you are never going to function the same. Laying in bed staring at the celling you'll see his face, next time you're on stage you'll feel your stomach drop when he looks at you, when you're in a room with him you'll cease to be able to function.

His green eyes have literally pinned you where you stand, wind toying with your hair as your lips are parted in shock.

"You don't mean that..." you stare at him, shaking your head slowly. Trying to back out of this, attempting to give him a moment to through the blanket back over what he was uncovering.

He frowns, almost offended, as if doubt in him is the worst thing there is in the world. Taking a brief step forward to fully face you, "Y/N, I would have you backed up against these beams if I wasn't literally restrained from doing so."

"What— Harry, what about—" At this rate, you're mustering up any excuse to rationalise what is happening right now, "I'm pretty sure there's strict rules against this in our contracts— you know?"

"Fuck the contracts." He immediately replies, disregarding that as a point entirely. His hand coming up to brush the brown curls that have been blown in front of his intense gaze, "Could care less 'bout them, not like we haven't broken a million other things in them."

True. You can think of several things between you and the band. You're still employed, if that says anything.

"The things I would do to you if I knew no one would interrupt" He takes another step closer to you, close enough you can reach out and touch him, "then well see about me not meaning any of this."

His voice, the absoluteness in his tone makes your head spin. Resolve slipping, cracking, completely dissipating from where it was being grappled in your palms two seconds prior to this conversation starting.

You feel like you're floating outside of your own body as your hands find the bottom of his white shirt, lifting it until you can wrap your fingers around the black harness taut around his middle. Slowly, you pull it until he is forced to step closer to you.

His heart stutters at the action... it's arguably the hottest thing a girl has ever done to him— beating a tug of belt loops or a belt by a mile. This was personal.

"This is still a problem, as you said earlier." You drawl quietly. Tone void of any indicative of emotion, the only thing he gets any intel from being the blush that's deepened on your cheeks.

There's a few ticks of silence when his chin dips to follow the action that's led your cold hands underneath his shirt, the way he stares the only point of physical contact between the two of you. But god, when your stare flickers up to him and he meets it with his own— his stomach jolts. Eyes squeezing shut as his forehead drops down, hesitating before pressing ever so slightly against your own, "Y'are too much, love."

His hands sliding up to meet your jaw, your low voice echoes out a plea, "Well, it would be a waste if we didn't."

Referring to the kiss of course, it does feel like it would be a missed opportunity to surpass right now. As, in all fairness you'll never be able to have a first kiss with Harry in a more memorable place. So even if the idea is stupid, It could be justified by that alone...

You feel his chest rumble with a deep chuckle, his lips pulling into a smile, "We'd regret it... if we didn't."

"We’d always wonder.” You nod, tone bearing on certainty as the two of you knowingly come to the biggest reach of a justification you could.

His fingers coil around your jawline, and you can feel his warm breath gently panning across your skin. It makes your eyes flutter closed, feeling his thumb ghost over your bottom lip. Eliciting a shudder that runs straight up your spine, making him smile with pride.

Tipping your chin up, he brushes his mouth over the corner of your lips. Catching them just slightly, “I’d always be thinking about what your mouth would feel like against mine,”

“And then you’d just end up kissing me anyway,” you chuckle quietly, “just in a probably less cool place.”

“Mhmm,” the low hum of agreement rumbles from his throat as finally he bears his mouth down against your own. The press of warm lips against yours making your whole body sing.

Cold was no longer a feeling in you, there was only a hot tingling sensation that’s shot through your limbs as his mouth lingers in hesitation for a moment before moving to kiss lightly against the fullness of your bottom lip.

He nearly groans when you regain enough control over yourself to actively kiss him back, leaning into his touch.

The excitement spreads through you both like wildfire— you’re kissing each other on the top of a world famous bridge. Cars below, and mentionably the crew members also underneath, have no idea. No idea the fact your hands are skating up his white shirt further until you’re palming the hard slabs of muscle over his abdomen. Not even a clue that one of his hands has taking sanctuary on your hip bone, tugging your body into his.

Your mouths work against each other, tongues suddenly getting involved when he squeezes a hand along your ribs making your lips part. His warm tongue gliding into your mouth just enough for you to taste him slightly.

“Harry,” his name is whined against his mouth, nails clawing over the skin of his chest.

“Fuck—“ he bites out, tongue lulling against your bottom lip, greedily trying to taste more of you.

The action alone is enough to make your knees nearly give out, “I need—“

Your desperate words are cut off, the sound of your phone ringing bringing you both to an instant halt.

There’s a shared look, both taking in what you’ve done to one another. Left standing here with eyes half lidded and lips swollen— looking entirely, wholeheartedly, fucked.

A tortured sigh comes from you as he promptly leans back down and kisses your mouth. If it had anything to do with you, you'd let the call ring out just to have more of this. He is more sensible than that, clearly. As his hand comes to the back pocket of your jeans, sliding your buzzing phone out into his palm.

Wanting to whine when he pulls away, a part of you is battling all your logic and is begging to stay up here with him. For how long? You don’t care, forever as far as you’re concerned. Fighting the urge to just grab your phone and throw it off the ledge, purely so his hands can busy themselves on your skin again.

Harry clears his throat before tapping the accept button, hoping to god he can muster a normal sounding voice.

Georgie’s voice comes through first, less shuffling on his end of the phone this time— indicating some higher level of organisation in comparison to earlier, you assume.

“Harry, Y/N! Platforms on its way up you two, everything okay?”

“Yep, Georgie,” he nods, pursing his lips as his eyes find your to pin you with a stare, “things are good.”

A small laugh and he replies, “Well— I can’t really tell if you’re bein’ sarcastic but I’ll take it.”

“Anyway, once it’s up there we’ve been told strictly to keep it one at a time to come down just to be on the safe side so it doesn’t malfunction again.”

“Very reassuring…” Harry drawls with slight grimace, glancing over to where the metal cage is rising up.

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” he scolds playfully over the speakers, making Harry roll his eyes— but a playful smile falls on his lips.

“See you soon, thanks for saving us Georgie, I owe ya one.”

You finally lean towards the phone, “I second this, thank you.”

“Not a worry, didn’t want that much paperwork on a Friday night.” He teases, before ending the call with a quick ‘see you soon.’

Harry’s eyes return to you. Your lips part and draw in a hushed gasp as he leans back into your space. Hands slowly sliding around your middle. Making that same breath catch in the middle of your throat as he pulls you in, slowly, almost sensually as his eyes drop to your lips.

He lingers against you, a tease, you already know it.

Proving you right, he deposits your phone back safely into your back pocket, applying a few gentle taps to the swell of your ass as he leans back again.

"H." is all you can say, and at this point it comes from you as almost a whine. But it saying exactly what you want without having to even tell him.

A grin is plastered on his handsome face at the blush that’s already torn its way back through you. His bashful smirk mirroring that of two teenagers that have sneaked a kiss before going back to their friends or family.

Which is exactly what he does, struggling not to smile against your mouth as he presses warmly, firmly against you. Giving you exactly what you wanted.

Allowing you both as much time as reasonably possible to soak in the feeling before he starts to pull away, your body almost instinctually following his movement— leaning further, pecking against his mouth until he steadies your shoulders with his hands.

A soft chuckle breathily escaped him, heart nearly melting inside his chest as your wide, wild eyes stare up at him. A tiny, smile on your own mouth now, one he reaches up to thumb delicately over.

The touch is earnest and makes you nearly sink into yourself— or better yet, sink into him.

A light hum of pleasure, and then he pulls away, turning to start walking along the ledge.

Carefully, you both shuffle to where the platform is now fully stationary. As he takes a step onto it, feet planting solidly onto the metal, you see a sense of relief on his face. Hands working to unbuckle the carabiner, and his eyes flitting back to yours.

You’re staring at his hands… the way they seamlessly open the clasp. You’ve always been drawn to them, the firm tendons that run into his fingers. He catches you doing this, and whether or not he knows you’re ogling the stature of his hands, the smirk on his face is all consuming.

You roll your eyes bashfully at him, pursing your lips and crossing your arms all in an attempt to be normal about this. But struggling to come across to him as unaffected by this whole ordeal.

He is having none of it.

“M’not done with you, love. Not even close.”

And that’s the last thing he said before the platform started the trip back down. Suddenly you are alone up here once again. The moment of solitude very sobering in a situation as such.

Unbelievable to consider that if you told yourself two hours ago that by the end of the night, you had made out with Harry up here, you would’ve believed sooner that you were having hallucinations than actually thought it were true.

Your brain is going over it and over it, like a flashbulb memory, all you can think about is him, and what you’d just done.

“Fuck sakes.” You cursed, hand coming up over your eyes in attempt to quell the thoughts.

It was closest to a face palm. Your palm immediately clapped over your eyes. It’s to no use though, as even behind the darkness of shut and covered eyelids you could still see him, still feel him. The sensation of his fingers softly grazing over the skin of your ribcage, slipped tentatively underneath the knit of your sweater. The heat of his tongue lulling gently into your mouth.

M’not done with you, love. Not even close…

The sound of his voice, even if it’s simply the imagination of it in your own head, it reignited the heat in your stomach— if it ever truly went away— making it churn with heavy desire. Almost worse than earlier, now that you had to stand here and suffer through it stationary.

Dragging your heavy hand up to take place in your hair, you push the loose strands out of your face, and tug at its roots.

With now open eyes, the city stared back at you. Supplying you with a mocking silence. As if to imply, I saw what you just did. Watched you kiss someone you shouldn’t, and not even just once by any means. You went back for more even after it stopped. Got your hands and feelings involved.

You attempted to smooth your hair down, annoyed that your guilt has conjured into the city of London taking over your internal monologue. It was messy as you combed your fingers through it, but whether it was Harry or the wind, you’re hoping that— and the rest of your disheveled appearance— can be attributed to the cold and wind entirely.

Which suddenly, that cold felt so much harsher now Harry was no longer up there with you. Either it was his body heat pressed against you that heated you up, or kissing him had that much of an affect on you. Tragically, you’re ball parking that it’s a torturously attractive combination of them both.

When the platform thankfully returns up, you steal a final glance out at the Thames and London. Definitely a sight you’ll have burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

Stepping onto the platform, you felt equal parts relief and anxiety. God forbid people can sense something is different between you two… and this is not a situation you’ve ever been in before. Who knows your own capacity to hold a convincing lie about something like this.

The second you’re down all the way and the platform meets the ground, you’re greeted with a flurry of workers and people from the crew. All chorusing questions of ‘are you okay?’ to you as if you’d been up there for days without food or water.

Tamara, one of the women on the styling teams, rushed up to you with a thick black coat, shawling it over you and rubbing your shoulders, “here lovie, y'shaking like a leaf you poor thing... this’ll warm you up.”

Her lower lip pouted out in sympathy for you, her dark curls of hair casting over her eyes as she spoke “Gosh, you look so cold, the wind up there must’ve been so chilly… your cheeks are all red— and your hair's all over the place."

At least she was attributing it all to the cold wind, and wasn't immediately aware you'd just snogged with your bandmate up there. Either way the slight shake to your hands was the last of your worries, and your gaze has landed on Harry— but he was already looking at you.

His stare said it all really, the look of we have unfinished business all over his face. The tiny curve to the corner of his mouth that may go unnoticed to everyone else but you. Possibly because you had his tongue in your mouth less than half an hour ago, but still— you pick up on it all the same.

Georgie is fussing over him currently, and Harry takes a second to break the eye contact the two of you held, pausing to let out a breathy laugh as he turns to Georgie, “And surely after all this excitement we get to go back to the hotel room— no more crazy behind the scenes to film?”

Tamara’s ears perk and she overhears him, nodding as she rubs your shoulder, “we’ve already got a car down there to get you back to the hotel."

You thank god for the bridge being closed to traffic, entirely unable to imagine trying to trudge through hordes of tourists and potentially fans just to get back to a car.

Several people escort you and harry down the stairs to where a black car is parked opposite to the exit.

Tamara opens the door for you both, and you share a look before scooting into the backseats. Georgie gets into the front passenger seat, greeting the driver politely. Already clued in on the mishap on the bridge, they waste no time having a relieved laugh about you both getting down in one piece.

The heater is already cranking in the black car, heating your skin. Harry pats the middle seat with his hand, giving you a look. It lingered like an unspoken sentence in the glimmer of his green eyes, and the tiny upwards tilt to the corner of his mouth.

Next to me, it said.

Like it was less question, and more that he needed you next to him more than anything else in the world right now.

And as you’re coming to realise, this look on his face can pretty much get you to do anything. It’s only telling how far that alone could take you. So you silently settle into the middle seat, pulling the seatbelt across yourself. Buckling it in, feeling Harry’s thigh gently press against your own.

There are so many unspoken words floating in the air between you two. Things you want to say, things you want to do, all suspended above you. Making you wonder if Georgie— who is rugged up in the front seat and is apparently accompanying you both on the ride back to the hotel— can sense it too.

However, he seems oblivious despite your expectation for him to be the opposite. He pays no additional mind to you both, other her than the slight dart of his eyes to your body taking up the middle seat instead of the window seat behind him.

Your teeth are working over the skin on the corner of your lower lip as you’re driving back towards central London. Delmar, the driver whose name you’ve overheard in passing as Georgie and him acquainted, is weaving back into the thick of the cities traffic as you’re off the closed bridge.

Harry’s eyes are cast outside the window, but his hands are deciding to play a dangerous game. Simply at the fact he cannot help himself. He’s aware that Georgie is distracted, and is taking the opportunity to innocently flex his knuckles against your knee. Breaching the gap from where his hand rests atop his own. The warm city lights are cutting a deep shadow across his jaw, outlining the smirk on his side profile.

It conveys his need to touch you, that your body filling up the space next to him is not enough. Although you have to hold back an exasperated sigh at his actions, and how he is only making this worse for you, you end up sliding your hand down your thigh, slowly and carefully.

It's likely that you're just as bad as him, because you brush your hand against his— Nothing but your pinky stretched out, grazing his. Both of your eyes shifting upwards to lock with each other, then back to Georgie. A silent acknowledgment at how careful the two of you have to be right now.

Slowly, you link your pinky around his own, catching his ring finger too as he curls them against you. The delicate touch is somehow a head-spinning mix of sincere and beautiful, but also so insanely attractive.

He's smiling, a wide grin that his free hand attempts to cover as his elbow rests on the car door. Covering the dimples you wanted to take in, allowing you only the sight of slightly crinkled eyes from how hard he's smiling underneath the palm of his hand. To put it simply, right now he looks like an art piece. His chocolate curls over his forehead, and the smile on his face you know that you're the cause of. Hands brushing together, hidden between the both of you— all in the back of a car, trying to hide it like true teenagers.

It's sudden when you realise you are in the exact same state, struggling to disguise the curve of your mouth from not only Harry, but the other two people in the vehicle. Trying to press your lips together as he plays with your fingers. Hands soft and warm against yours, your eyes casting down to where they're joint together between the two of your knees. Just barely. Small enough a move to ensure you're the only two that know about it, but also enough to make your stomach churn with need.

I want his mouth on mine again, your brain chimes.

Before your brain can send you spiraling back into the memory of you two kissing, the sound of your name from the front seat cuts through it.

"Y/N, You were up there, tell Delmar what it was like!"

Snapping your gaze back to Georgie, he serves a unintentional reality check for you.

"Oh, uhm—" Shaking your head as if to clear your thoughts, you endeavor to form a coherent sentence. Harry's hand gently, and as discretely as possible, slides out of yours, taking its place back on his own thigh. If you were to look, you'd see that the smile on his face has somehow gotten wider, as if the aspect of being nearly caught out in the backseat of the car is the most amusing thing in the world.

Amplified by him listening to you stumble over your words, that too is endearingly hilarious. A true gentlemen.

However, you're now unable to find the words for what happened up there that don't relate to having someone kissing you over and over again.

"Well, you can imagine it was beautiful," A tiny, pained chuckle comes out of you, "London is... massive— from up there, y'know?"

God. You sound like such an idiot, you already know that.

The driver laughs and nods at your attempt to tell the story, voice warm and sincere as he replies, "Some things can be hard to put into words, I understand."

You take a moment to realign your thoughts, come up with anything better than 'London is... massive'.

Finally smiling back at him, you draw in a breath, trying to articulate the feeling prior to getting distracted up there with your bandmates mouth, "Well, the city lights are kind of like a warm sky of stars... Hard to believe that there's so many people in London when you look at it from that high up."

He hums at your much better description of the sight, and of course— just as anyone would, he curiously asks a few more questions.

Such as 'how long were you up there? were you scared?' All of which Georgie unfortunately does not swoop in on to steer the conversation again, as he too wants to hear the experience from you.

Delmar does eventually cast his attention to Harry's broad frame in the rear view mirror, quizzing him on his own outlook on the event, making you thankful to have a second to breath and not be skirting around the fact you made out with the person sitting currently right next to you.

He handles the questions with tragic ease— or at the very least it comes off that way— but you can hear how he is still trying not to laugh. And the way he's knocking your thigh with his every chance he gets when the eyes in the front of the car aren't on either of you.

The streets and the traffic within them get busier as the hotel the band is staying at draws close. Delmar weaving into the back lot so you can both get inside discreetly, not forgetting to thank you for the pleasurable chat. His kind words you both smile, and Harry isn't shy to also gives his gracious appreciation, "Drive was a dream, thank you mate, 'ave a lovely rest of your night."

His hand comes to open the car door, allowing him to slide out— But once he's standing, he gestured out his palm for you to take as your feet come to the asphalt below. The smirk on his face as you take it is enough to make you roll your eyes, trying to downplay the effect it has on you.

He leans discretely down to your ear, speaking only loud enough for you both to hear, "I know I will."

A wink to you, and it feels like your knees are going to give out simply where you stand. He gives it a squeeze before breaking off to shut the car door, and walk over to where Georgie is standing.

“Tamara told me they’ve got hot chocolates prepared in the foyer for you two.” Georgie informs you both, typing quickly back to Tamara on his phone before leading you both in through the back entrance of the hotel. Harry’s hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket as you walk beside him, likely to stop himself from caving and trying to grab your hand or arm in his as you walk behind Georgie.

The air is contrastingly cold compared to the warm car, which brings another bout of relief when you to get back into the heated hotel lobby.

Surely enough, a short, older lady comes out from a kitchen area upon you all entering. Promptly walking up to Georgie with a tray with 3 large cups filled with the sweet beverage. He gasps in excitement as she approaches, remarking sweetly that "Tam even got me one, what a sweetheart!"

"Bet thats the real reason y'came back with us." Harry teases, then nods in greeting to the lady holding the tray of drinks, "Thanks for these, love."

Even she looks up at him with a big grin. Reminding you of the way the elderly ladies talked about the boys when you were filming earlier for this music video. Harry— and all the others— just have that charm about them. Clearly it lacks a generational age limit. And you know what, you cant even blame her. She gets it.

"Not a worry darling's, buzz us if you all need anything else,” You give her a smile as she reaches to pat your arm, “it should warm everyone up.”

“Thank you so much.” You affirm as you clasp the hot cup from the tray.

Heading towards the posh elevator, Georgie presses the up button and is talking to Harry about tomorrow, how he has a fitting for a suit. Something about an awards show. You're struggling to pay attention, as you know all three of you are headed to the same floor. Not only does Georgie have to think you're going back to your respective rooms for the night, but if any of the other boys waited up for you two, there is no way you're going to get to be alone tonight.

Harry is busy entertaining Georgie's itinerary as you step into the elevator, his hand reaching for the '32' button on the control panel. The descent up each floor feels like it drags on forever, anticipation for how this is going to play out genuinely killing you.

When the large silver doors open to the 32nd floor, all of you walk out in tandem onto the tiled hallway. Your rooms are all pooled together at the start of the hall, meaning there’s hardly any further to walk once you’re out of the elevator.

Your own keycard for your room is in your phone case, so you reach to pop the case off and slide it out as you come to a stop outside the large white doors of your room.

"Well," You clear your throat, eyes darting between Harry and Georgie, "Glad we all survived that ordeal, I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow."

A small buzz sounds from the sensor as you hold the card over it, a small green light flashing.

“Mhm, tomorrow.” Harry affirms casually, casting a sly nod your way from where he stands on the opposite side of the hallway. Standing outside his own room, fishing out a keycard from deep in the pocket of his jeans.

Georgie, who is happily and unknowingly pushing open his own door, chuckles at your comment, "Definitely glad, see you two in the morning."

With a small smile, he makes sure to squeeze in a a final reminder to Harry, "H, half ten tomorrow, don't forget."

The two of you have both slid inside your respective hotel rooms as Harry laughs quietly, replying to him, "Wouldn't dare."

Waiting, your free hand clutches the door. Admiring his face in the warm glow of the hall lights, and the way he keeps his eyes trained on the room Georgie was disappearing into. As you watch, you’re taking a sip of your hot chocolate when his gaze finally darts to yours as the click of a door sounds up the hall.

Now you’re just looking at each other, tension in the air thick and warm. He’s smiling as he mimics your behaviour, taking a leisurely drink from his own cup without breaking eye contact.

Given the few seconds of silence, you are certain that no one is going to disturb you, and a sense of relief washes over you. Finally. Other than the pounding of your heart in your chest, everything around you is quiet. You peak your head around the smooth rim of the doorframe, all the doors were shut, and the rooms were hushed.

By some grace of god, not only has one of your managers gone to bed without any hunch as to what’s going on, but the rest of your bandmates too. And it really is just the two of you.

Harry’s gaze is burning into with an equal grin when you look back to him. Revelling in the privilege he feels watching you step quietly back into the hall, turning your body to very gingerly tug your door closed again.

You cannot be closing the gap between you both fast enough, you’re practically running across the hall, shoes lightly clacking against the tiles to reach him before this perfect opportunity could be interrupted by a single soul. Pursing your lips as you step across the threshold of his door and the hallway, forcing back a laugh that’s bubbling in your chest at the situation.

Not wasting a second more, you invade his space. Leaning into the curve of his body where his arm is braced against the door he’s holding open.

“Hi…” Your hand reaches up to meet the back of his neck, where it cranes to look down to meet your eyes.

“Hey, baby,” he rasps, eyes fluttering as he takes you in. The black of his pupils have blown out over the mosaic of emerald green surrounding them, dilated in what can only be described as sheer anticipation. Conveying the want and need he feels without having to speak more than a word. That alone is something you can’t handle for half a moment longer, because suddenly your hand sinks into the soft curls at his nape, and you’re pulling to tug his head further down. Moulding your lips together in a single, rushed movement.

There’s no words that can do justice the feeling that explodes in your chest. Little buds of heat bloom and flower in there faster than you can keep up with, kicking your lungs into a pant as his tongue can’t help but get involved immediately— lulling over the fullness of your bottom lip. The firm press of a single kiss had promptly melted into a plethora, one after the other as your lips show no mercy against one another.

You have to physically focus to keep the cup from slipping from your grip. A nearly impossible feat when his tongue is invading the gap between your top and bottom lip, gliding into your mouth with a hum from his throat at the taste of you. Warm and chocolatey, a flavour he wants to sink in.

Harry too tastes of the warm drink, a sweet contrast to earlier— when your tongue tingled from the spearmint on his breath. Your body leans into his. More, more, more, your brain is practically begging. Naturally it causes him to stumble back as your chest is arching to press against his own. The softness of your body makes him want to groan, and his hand almost instinctually leaves its hold on the doorframe to meet the dip of your waist. Supporting your stature as he pulls you to follow each step back he takes.

With a loud slam, the door falls shut, eliciting a slight flinch and laugh from you both. Like you didn’t expect it. As if natural consequences don’t exist right now, and the world around you is falling away with every press of lips against skin. There is no actions causing reactions, except the ones happening solely between the two of your bodies.

“Oh god—“ You sputter a strained laugh, hand stroking along his jawline as your eyes dart to the now shut door. It’s thrown the room into darkness, except for the faint glow London’s city lights have provide from his window on the opposite side of the room. “So much for being discrete… and quiet.”

This lighting bought the sharp shadows back onto his face, but this time you can finally touch them— revel in them.

“You’ll be more worried about quiet later, darling.” His voice comes low against your cheek, hand on your hip. Guiding you backward until the small of your back meets the cool countertop of the kitchenette.

His words bring that familiar, pleasure-filled roll into your stomach. Drawing out a tiny whine from your throat as he smirks against your flushed skin. Placing a peck against your cheekbone, he lingers for a few seconds. Letting the warmth of his lips burn a mark into the very nerves they touch, before pulling back to take a swig of the hot chocolate between his hands. Using his free one to now guide your own cup towards your mouth.

As your big eyes look up to him, he breaks his lips from the lid to speak, “drink s’more, it’ll be a cold chocolate by the time we come back to it.”

Chuckling around the edge of the cup, you press your mouth to it and let the sweet and warm liquid trail down your throat. He watches intently, the way you swallow it down— knuckles coming to run from the base of your throat upwards, tracing along the hook of your jaw.

He has to stifle a groan at the sight of you, the way your throat bobs with your red cheeks and messy hair. It translates instead through the clench of his jaw, and fluttering shut of his green eyes. The expression makes your stomach flip, not only warm from the hot chocolate, but from the arousal that’s sparking heat in every part of your body it can tangibly reach.

“Fuck— H,” you say, turning to push the takeaway cup on the counter behind you, “You’re so fucking beautiful, look at you.”

Finally, that groan escapes him simply at your words. Furthering into something more as now both of your hands run up his white shirt. No longer stopped by the barrier of a body harness, you skate along the taut, firm muscles of his abdomen in one long stroke.

“Fuckin’ Hell…” he curses, eyes darting down to meet where your hands have slid up his shirt— again, for the second time tonight.

It’s a much more heated parallel of earlier, one he takes no hesitancy to act on. Leaning into your touch, he turns briefly to place his cup adjacent to yours on the bench top. Feeling your nails scratch along his abs, he is quick to move so he’s facing you again, planting his lips back on your own and reigniting the fiery kiss.

With two free hands now, he runs them up your hips, firmly pulling you against him as he walks you away from the kitchenette. Your feet stumble along with his long strides, brain struggling to pay attention to anything other than the drag of his hot kiss against you.

It’s clear all resolve is lost to you both, and when the backs of your knees hit the edge of the cool comforter… “Im gonna wreck you, love… if you’ll let me.” The depraved words are whispered against your lips.

His body presses you down, you have to sit now, thighs meeting the bed and your lips disconnecting. The sudden distance causes you to whine, “Harry—“

“You’re going to have to tell m’too stop.” He rasps, the heat of his palms travelling up under your sweater. However this time, they traverse higher than just your ribcage— ghosting over the sides of your breasts.

The sight is obscene on its own, despite all articles of clothing still being on. The tension around you both is crowding the air to the point your lungs are heaving to bring any oxygen left into them.

Finally, your brain manages to string a sentence together, “I won’t. I wouldn’t. I don’t think you realise what you’ve done to me.”

The urgency held in your words starkly highlights how fast your need for him has snowballed. You’ve gone from wanting just his lips, to wanting every inch of him. Needing his body pressed against yours, pressed into you. You grasp his hips and tug him to stand between your parted legs.

Once you’d done that, if that hadn’t thrown your last handful of caution to the wind, your fingers now reach for the hem of your sweater.

This was a greenlight. It was a go ahead to cross a line that you both knew shouldn’t be crossed. As it was no longer just words. Not just strung up whispers that imply a want, it was an action that affirmed it. One that drags a growl from him once your hands have shucked the knit from your body, leaving you in just bra and jeans, “pretty little thing y’are.”

“We’re making a mistake, probably,” you pant out, reaching your arms up to his shoulders, grabbing the collar of his jacket to slowly slide it off him. The thick fabric hitting the floor with a gentle thump, “but I don’t fucking care.”

“Mistake is already long done baby, we made that hours ago when we first did this.” He finally cranes down again, pressing a wet kiss against you, making you almost moan.

“Fuck it,” I rasp, “I need you Harry, I wanna do this. Don’t care how stupid we are for it.”

Breaking away from the kiss, his eyes bore down at you as his jaw forms a hard line, “You want this? Need y’to say it…”

His sentence trails off, allowing you a moment to verbalise a yes. A seek for certain consent turns you on even more.

“If it’s not already obvious,” your response comes out in a breathy, almost tortured chuckle, “I do, H.”

It’s like his expression flips. As if his gaze darkens, and now all he wants is to make you feel everything he possibly can, “Right, darling— gonna have to be quiet tonight, though.”

Tonight. God— in your head this implied a want for this to go on for more than just one night. That it’s not just a one and done situation. Your body reels at the imagery it creates in your head.

The picture that shows more than tonight, the two of you sneaking around all over again. Fucking him in his dressing room before soundchecks, in dark hotel rooms, climbing into his bunk on the bus…

And right now, somehow that’s all you want for your future.

“I can…” you nod, “I’ll be quiet if it means I get you, please.”

Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears, the plea so desperate that it comes from you in a tone you’ve simply never heard before. In response, his hands make quick work of your bra as they skate up the skin of your back to meet the clasp— shedding it off your body with a gentle groan.

He lowers you down with his arms, letting your back meet the mattress as he closely follows with his mouth on your neck.

“Already being so good for me,” he rumbles, voice so deep it has you nearly seeing stars, “will y’let me turn the lamp on baby? Want to see you, properly.”

Your heart jumps in your chest, eyes fluttering shut as you nod. He wants to revel in your body, see every reaction it has to offer— and that’s enough to have goosebumps rattle up your skin.

However, your nod alone doesn’t satisfy him.

His hands run up your waist, skirting up your ribcage as his lips instead move down. Mouthing over your clavicle, “Words, love…” making you whine out when his sucks lightly over the skin.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes… yes turn the lamp on…” The words almost shudder out your chest, evoking a smirk from him against your collarbone.

“Good girl.”

His words are foreplay enough on their own with the way his sweet accent twists them out. They replay over and over again as some part of your brain registers the sound of his feet walking across the floor, and the lamp flicking on. Casting a warm glow across the room.

“Want to see you too...”

The sentence comes out of you airy, as if you’re floating. When turns around to come back to you, he audibly groans just at the sight of you. The way your skin is peppered with goosebumps and nipples perked from the cool air of the hotel room.

His steps take him quickly back to you, your eyes big as they stare up at him, hair fanned across the duvet. He reaches a hand to run lightly over your hip, “God, you are fucking divine.”

Shyly, you smile. A part feeling so out of place as you watch him looking at you. Knowing Harry is perceiving you right now— your body from the chest up entirely naked— seeing you in a way he never has before. In attempt to even the playing field slightly, you reach for the white tee that’s fitted across his chest, tugging the hem of it so he gets the hint.

As he peels it off his torso and you want to cry. The abs on his chest are in front of you, along with every inch of tan skin that’s littered in the dark ink. Secretly, his tattoos have always been something you’ve wanted to trace your tongue over. An urge you’ve been denying since he got the first one, and it’s only grown since… the idea of re-carving the lines of the butterfly that sits in the middle of his abdomen with the heat of your mouth… or perhaps lower over the laurels that bloom from the band of his jeans.

“You look so good… so beautiful, H.” Is all you manage to groan out. Your legs part instinctively as you spew out compliments, letting him step between your thighs again. Filling the space like the piece of a puzzle, he slots perfectly between them.

Wasting no time before taking his lips to your breast, kissing over you and making your back arch. Hands coming back to the dark curls on his head, lacing into them as his mouth works delicately over you.

The whimpers that are echoed around the room are enough to drive him insane. Tiny whines and pleas of his name coming from you as your hands tangle further into his hair— pulling at the soft roots. Your body is reacting to his touch like it’s lighting a fire inside of you.

“Harry— fuck—“ when he looks up to you, he sees your flushed cheeks and screwed shut eyes. That paired with the slight upturn of your brows as your hips suddenly— and desperately— grind into him is enough to make him nearly loose it. He’s unable to take it anymore, and seeing you like this is utterly corrupting him.

His kisses work a trail back up your neck and jaw, meeting your eager lips before muttering with hot breath against you, “Y’are unbelievable, love. Gonna completely ruin myself in you…”

His hands are nearly shaking as he presses his hips flush to your core.

“Ohh—“ your voice croons out as you feel him, the hardness snug between your legs. It’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt. Your whole body practically gives out just from that simple action alone.

He is truly going to ruin you and himself in the process.

And happily, you’ll let him.

His fingers ghost down your stomach, over your naval to pop the button of your jeans open with a single hand. Watching his plump bottom lip come between his teeth as your hips instinctively rise upwards to help him slide the tight fabric down your frame.

“That’s m’girl,” he murmurs, patting your exposed hipbone as he slips yours jeans off you. The way his pupils have blown out as he peels them below your core, eyes meeting the fabric of your panties.

“What’s all this?” Once your pants are stripped from your legs, his fingers take place gently to press between your parted thighs. Delicately drifting over the wetness that’s seeped through your already thin pair of underwear.

“T-the panties, or the state that they’re in?” You manage to croak out in amusement, tone tight as he touches over the most sensitive parts of you.

“Because arguably, both are for you.”

“For me…” He hums, “Skimpy pair of panties, and the fact y’ve wet them all the way through… both of those things are all f’me, love?”

His finger plucks underneath the seam of your underwear, yanking the lacy material forwards before letting it snap back into place. Only making you moan aloud, “Fuck—“

“It’s been—“ his thumb runs against you, firmer this time, breaking your voice, “it’s been a long night—“

To your admission he only smirks, unbuttoning his own jeans— again, all with the talent of a single hand. As his other is busy with the ministrations it’s working over your clothed core.

“Mm, wouldn’t want to drag it out any longer, hey baby?” His playful voice making you practically clench… “or should I make you come a couple of time first…”

Suddenly, he’s shucked his own jeans off and kicked them over into the haphazardly made pile of other clothes on the floor. And the simple but absolutely mouth watering pair of CK briefs is all he’s left in. His hard cock filling up the space in them, making it abundantly clear he’s working with a lot tonight.

He leans back into your ear, feeling your legs wrap around the backs of his thighs like you’re trying to mould the two of you together, “Could work over your pretty pussy with m’fingers, get it nice and wet.”

The filth from his mouth only makes you moan, tightening your legs and finally feeling the length of his cock back against your cunt.

There’s few layers between you now, and his hands meet your hips to hold you in place flush with himself, “fuck—“

“Could play with you using my mouth for a bit—“ he bites out, already struggling to regulate his breath, “reckon you’d loose it the second I got m’lips around your clit.”

Jesus Christ.

“H— please—“ your words are desperate, voice growing louder.

“Or does my pretty girl just want my cock? Is it too much for you to wait before y’have me— y’just need to be filled up now?”

You rub firmly up against him, a long drag that has him muffling a groan into your neck— teeth grazing the skin of your ear as he revels in the feeling entirely.

“Want it now,” you conclude, “can’t stop thinking about you just stretching me out.”

“God— you are such a fucking tease, y’don’t even realise it,” he growls, kicking back into action as his rough hands travel down your side to hook into your panties.

“Laying here, begging for my cock like a good girl.” The rasp in your voice only makes you more turned on… and the pet name— that in itself is enough to keep you here all night. All things he’s about to witness first hand as he steps back so he can work your underwear off your body.

“Lift y’hips up, dove, let me see your pretty cunt.”

He moans at the sight.

Your panties aren’t even off you and he’s moaning like he’s a starved man.

“Fuck, baby.” There’s a desperate sound to him as he sees your swollen cunt, green eyes raking over the wetness that’s pooled between your legs. Unblinking, scared as if you might disappear.

His own moans kick you off too, making you whine out your own plea, “God— Harry, please…”

He manages to get the panties off you, and now he’s able to spread your legs and really look at you. Hands coming between your knees to part them.

You’re a mess.

A complete and utter mess.

“Hiding this gorgeous cunt from me for so long, never knew you’d get this wet f’me.” He groans, fingers coming to your cunt and spreading you open, “puffy clit looks like it’s been wanting attention for hours, darling.”

The sensation ripples through you body, washing up your spine with a chill that he can almost see, “I— shit…” your voice shudders, “feels like it.”

“Kills me thinking you were this ready for me when we were in the car, or god— on that fucking bridge.”

He swirls his thumb over your clit, your arousal glistening on the pad of his finger. You’re begging before you can stop yourself, backs of your legs tightening around his as you groan, “Harry, please, don’t tease me.”

This pulls a chuckle from his chest, rumbling as he flicking over you gently, “M’not teasing y’baby, just enjoying you.”

His finger slowly dips inside of you, “S’this better, this what my girl wanted?”

“Fuckk…” you roll against his hand, feeling him work a second one into you at your reaction. Relishing the feeling of you around his fingers, the wetness he can’t believe he’s managed to be the cause of.

Never in a million years did he imagine the two of you would be in a situation like this, yet here you are. Breath panting out of lungs as he smirks down at you, watching your brows knit together with every slow curl of his long fingers.

Suddenly, he verbalises this, “Never thought I’d get you under me like this, that I’d get to see you all worked up for me.”

“I—“ you bite your lip as his thumb comes back to gently stroke your clit while his other fingers ease in and out of you. The pace excruciatingly slow, considering you just wanted him to flip you over and fuck you senseless— but is causing a deep winding in the pit of your stomach.

It’s another moment where your mouth and brain struggle to match up, but finally, you push out a reply, “I’ve always been denying that I’ve wanted this… but fuck.”

“Mm?” He hums, cocking a brow and urging you to keep talking with a quicker thrust of his fingers, “Care to tell me more, love, about these thoughts of yours?”

“Always pretended I didn’t, but fuck I’ve wanted to have you—“ he hooks his fingers, “B-but— fuck, Harry— I’ve wanted your cock for so long…”

His mouth is suddenly on yours, a rough and messy exchange— tongues running over lips, teeth grazing already kiss swollen mouths. It’s a kiss that you’re both groaning into, yours perpetuated as his fingers slide out from between your core.

An unwelcome emptiness to your body, especially given the pleasure it was slowly building up for you.

However, this is no longer an issue when he leans to your ear, “I have condoms, baby— just say the words.”

“Yes, yes, please—“ you croak out, hands running up his bare back before he doesn’t waste any time breaking away from you.

Trying to make it quick as you lie there awaiting his return, a hand running between your own legs in the meantime.

He comes back with a small square packet, stopping dead in his tracks as he sees the sight of you. When he thinks there’s no way his cock could get harder, he’s proved wrong when he catches glimpse of your own fingers pushed into you.

“So desperate,” he almost growls as he walks over, pushing boxers down his thighs without a second thought. A moan escaping you at the sight of his thick cock springing up, lust driving the both of you now— its deep hooks sunk into you in their entirety.

“They don’t feel the same though, do they?” He asks, eyes dark as his hand runs down the middle of his stomach to come wrap around his length and slowly stroke over it, “don’t hear you moaning like you were five minutes ago.”

“Fucking hell,” your hips feel like they’re on fire, another roll against your own hand but he’s right, “no, nothing is as good…”

“I have a feeling we’re going to fuck ourselves up here,” he pauses, taking the wrapper of the condom between his teeth and tearing it. Hand rolling it over his length— his teeth sucking his bottom lip between them at the sensitivity. His nose sighs out a breath after a moment, glancing back over to you, continuing on from what he was saying a moment prior, “tha’ no matter how hard we try we’re always gonna want this.”

His hands gesture between the two of you, and despite how many problems that idea alone could spell you, you nod feverishly, “I’ll have it… I’ll take it that way if it means I get to have you.”

With that, he’s stepping forward and taking the space between your thighs, “guess the damage is already done, anyway.”

His breath is laboured as he pulls your ass forward, cock pressed against your core.

“You tell me baby,” Harry sighs out, leaning his body over yours again from where he stands at the edge of the bed, lips grazing your cheek in a soft but heated movement, “tell me just how you want it.”

There’s an element of tenderness and care in the way the hushed words fan warmly across your face. Intimate with the way the two of you are pressed together… almost as close as you can get. One step away from being two halves that form some kind of messy, beautiful whole.

Your hands embrace the moment, sliding between your chests to cradle his jaw. A tiny laugh coming from you as his gaze flickers down to your breasts, and how they’ve pushed together from your arms. As a silent acknowledgment of your giggling at him, he rolls his eyes in faux annoyance.

And oh god, he is beautiful.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Plain and simple, the words come from your hushed voice, “Want you just like this, H.”

His lips part, looking at you.

“Want you close, just want you to fuck me.”

And how could he ever say no to that.

A hand wrapping around his cock, he carefully lines himself up with you, leaning back to kiss you as he slowly, so very slowly, pushes into you.

There’s a gasp that immediately comes from you, and a moan that rumbles from him. Shared between the fraction of space between your lips, opened both in shock and pleasure.

“Fucking hell—“ his voice is so deep as he leans his forehead to yours, hair messily cascading over it, “so tight ‘round me.”

“Harry— f— shit…” you can’t even complete a sentence, even with the litany of profanities that are echoing in the chambers of your head.

“That feel good?” He asks, hand coming to your waist as he slides further into you, finally reaching the thick middle of his cock.

“Mmm…” only able to nod, your hips are rolling on their own accord now. The slight pinch of him stretching you out, paired with that pleasurable fullness that neither of your fingers could come close to.

His body straightens up at the buck of your cunt against him, “D—fuck—dontfuckingmove—“

It feels like all the blood in his body has deviated in two directions. Firstly, into his head, making him feel so lightheaded the room is nearly slanted. And secondly, straight to his cock, pulsing inside of you so hard you can feel it.

You moan at the sensation, and at the rough clamp of his fingers around your hips— attempting to still them, “baby, don’t… just— just need a moment, or I’m gonna come before I can even ruin you…”

“Already ruined,” you pant, eyes coming to his as sweat starts to dampen your skin— a light sheen over your glowy complexion.

“So fucking filthy.” He mutters, looking down between the two of you.

His cock half pushed inside you he’s certain is the best view he’s ever seen. Better than any view from the top of a bridge, a mountain, or any other landmark in the world.

Your swollen, glistening cunt wrapped around him, already leaking arousal more arousal now he’s got his cock in you. Reacting as you’ve never been touched before.

Slowly, he manages to get himself fully inside of you, and is starting to make small thrusts— hips gently hitting against yours as he draws in and out of you. A low, intense groan escaping him with each movement. And it’s good to know it feels just as insane for him as it does for you, because right now— even with just his length rutting at such a gradual pace inside of you, you’re already melting.

Every inch of your body is tingling as his name comes from your lips in the form of a desperate moan, “Harry….”

A harder thrust, and your hands are wringing the white comforter as you legs wrap tighter around his middle.

He wants to imprint the shape of your body on this duvet, and frame the scrunches from your curled fists like art pieces. Just to know that what he did to you, and how it made you feel was entirely real. Not something he dreamed up. That the words leaving your lips are no figment of depraved imagination.

“I'm so fucking wet… I’m sorry— I'm making a mess.” You whine, body shaking. You feel out of control, every reaction coming from your body that of a primal instinct you can't wrap any element of authority over.

The sweet cadence of your voice as you shift beneath him... that in itself makes him feel like if he blinks, he’s suddenly going to wake up. Alone in a hotel room, in need of a cold, cold shower. Making his head spin, and it effortlessly swindles his sense of reality from him.

His hands splay on your hips, the hint of possessive nature in him you felt as they coil and tighten around the skin there. Anchoring where you lay as he cements himself in reality.

“No baby—“ he scolds at your apology, “y'dont 'ave to apologise. Being such a good girl f’me… feel you clenching me so hard already.”

An unbridled moan tears from your chest as he takes it upon himself to pull almost all the way out of your cunt, and then swiftly drive back into you.

“Fuckkk!” It’s a high pitched moan, the exact thing he wants to hear more of, even though the two of you should be trying a lot harder to be quiet. It still manages drags out a groan of him in response.

“Have to— shittt… have to be quiet darling…” he reminds, head tossing back as he suddenly picks up the pace between your legs.

“Feels so good, H… your cock is filling me up feels so fucking good—“

“N’ya takin’ it so bloody well,” he slaps lightly at your ass, suddenly grabbing it to cant your hips upward, “never been fucked this good, have you?”

In truth, you haven't. Never has it felt like every nerve-ending on your body is tingling, and like any more from him and you would simply break.

“N-no, Harry.” your head physically shakes, arms using any strength you have left to come behind you, and prop yourself up onto your elbows. Desperately, you want to see him inside of you, and what he's done to you.

He smirks at this, watching your eyes meet where he's stretching you out between your legs. The way your eyes flutter shut and roll back just at the sight. A visual accompanying the feeling is almost too much for you to process.

"Tha's it baby, take a look... see what I'm doing, how my cock is making y'feel so good."

A clench around his cock, and he grunts with another deeper thrust into you. Its sudden and abundantly clear that he’s starting to loose himself in you, unable to stop his mouth from spewing every dirty thing his brain produces, “C'mon, love. Beg me for it.”

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”

Your core is fluttering around him now, succinctly timed to each press of his cock, “Harry—“

The words however don’t come, only whines and moans as his cock pushes deeper into you with each stroke.

“Don’t make me get rough.” His tone is a sweet contradiction to his words, and he only juxtaposes them further with the feather-like touch of his fingers against your breast, "Or is that what my girl wants, wants me to get rough? Use you a little. Let me be selfish with this pussy and take it how I want.”

Curling his fingers around your breast, he squeezes gently, making you bite down on your lip to stifle the cry that was threatening to come out.

“Rough, be rough… can take it.” You pant out, arms giving out again as your back hits the mattress. Unable to support your weight, but still managing to reach up and tug his face to yours. He folds his body over yours to comply with the pull of your hands. Chest to chest, his cock is starting to slam harder into you, deeper— hitting places you were unaware of as his pelvis stimulates your clit from this new angle.

Turning to mush, the moans are bubbling out faster than you’re able to hold them back, your mouth resting parted against his cheekbone. His ears hearing each and every sound with complete pleasure.

“Shh, such a loud girl.” He says, but its hardly a scold or instruction to quieten down. It speaks more like an invitation, to let him hear more of you, no matter the consequences it could bring after the fact.

Infact, his own voice is beginning to sound strained, like another rough clench of your cunt and he's would to come straight into the condom wrapped around his cock.

You want him to come desperately. Your body perhaps wants it even more— doing things to tip him closer and closer to the edge you're both teetering on without even consciously noticing it.

Legs tightening around his waist, arms holding him as close as physically possible, nails clawing at the firm muscles of his back. As if there were a way to fuse the two of your frames together.

“God… it’s so fucking good… I feel so good.”

“Pretty girl, about to come all over my cock." He grinds out, feeling you pulse around his length, "About to wake the whole floor up, aren't you?"

The sound of him fucking you is enough— each slide of himself into your slick arousal that’s soaked both your cunt and his cock is louder than the next. But god, oh god, its hand that slowly wraps around the column of your neck that completely undoes you.

He doesn't press down, the touch is actually quite tender. But even the semblance of control it represents in your mind rips a moan from you as your core tightens, a hot budding sensation in the pit of your stomach. His slender fingers gliding up slowly— a stark contrast to the pace he's taking between your legs— thumb stroking the hook of your jaw with just a tad more pressure behind it.

Your impending orgasm feels like a pot that is just about to boil over the edge. It's making your whole body shake, "Sh— Shit! Harryyy, im gonna—"

"Mhm, baby, it's okay, i know," He whispers hoarsly into your ear, "Dont worry, y'can come, let it all go around my cock."

"Ohh— Oh god!" Your syllables draw out as you moan, eyes screwing shut as suddenly all the pressure between your hips explodes, "come with me."

The plea spills from your lips as your body clenches around him, making him moan with you. In an instant response to your words, you feel his thrusts turn messy and harsh inside you. Your name a loud drawn out whine that echoes around the room as he gives into your ask without a single question.

The two of your moan completely in sync as a shared blanket of ecstasy and euphoria casts over you both. The moment maybe lasted a minute, or really no more than two. But it felt endless, as if time and reality ceased to exist when you both finished with each other. His cock released into the condom, but his thighs stuttered against yours either way, as if he were filling your cunt with his orgasm. A groan rattling from him when your legs wrapped tighter around him, pulling him flush to you. You know he knows that's exactly what you were wishing were happening right now. Playing along with it to satiate the sick craving for it within you as you still pulsated around his length.

Expletive's are the only things coming from your mouths other than whines. Your orgasms gradually subsiding from the heated high that was all consuming to a low hum that lingers in your bones. Still, you're holding his hips to yours as if to keep him inside of you.

Logistically, a condom was the appropriate thing to do for first and very unplanned time together, but of course right now you wish otherwise.

"Fuckkk, dirty girl," He growls out finally, pressing a hot kiss to your smiling mouth, "Acting like im filling you up?"

Hand sliding up to your cup your jaw fully now, he cranes his thumb out and is pulling on your lip, waiting for your brain to slowly start working enough to generate a sensical reply.

"Is that wrong?"

"Fuck, no. it's so hot." His voice is low as he kisses you again, letting your mouths work against each other again in a sensual kiss.

"Can't help it, H," You try to justify anyways, "cock feels so good inside me, was wishing I got your come..."

“Didn’t know you wanted it angel,” he whispers in a pant.

“Mhm, neither,” you hum against his mouth, “till I just realised how good it made me feel imagining your finishing inside of me.”

"Gonna make me hard again..." He sighs out with a shake of his head, "'Nother night baby, can fill you up anywhere y'like."

Anywhere. God.

Images of his cock filling your mouth makes you shudder with need. A thing you are keenly interested in trying… and since clearly he’s insinuating this could happen again…

"Want this again?" You ask, a slightly serious tone taking over your voice as he slowly peels off you, feeling your legs loosen from around him as his cock softens.

A smile blossoms on his lips at the way your big eyes gaze up to him, "Again, and again."

"If it wasn't obvious already, love."

A blush was conjuring on your cheeks out of nowhere, "I— Okay... good. Because I do too."

"Who knows—" He begins, pausing with a slight wince as he slides out of you. There’s a lull in what he was saying for a moment, when he leans down to kiss your cheek, walking over to a bin to dispose of the used condom that was just wrapped over him.

He also goes and grabs the two take away cups from the counter, wasting no more time before coming back to you. Finally resuming his prior conversation, “Drink this and then maybe we can squeeze another round in before we have t'sneak you back to your room."

"Think we woke anyone?" You giggle, sitting up to take the cup from his hand thats gestured out to you.

"Wouldn't rule it out." He snorts, "we can worry about what lie we'll tell later, if anyone asks."

"But," he takes a small sip from his cup, still staring at you, "either way, right now, i dont care."

"I want you." His voice is certain, "So, rest of tha' is irrelevant to me."

"C'mere," Hand wrapping around his bicep, pulling him onto the bed with you. The mattress sinks with his weight on top of it, his firm frame that was only just on top of you moments before... You lean forward and peck his mouth with yours. One he doesn't want to end as soon as it does, his mouth chasing yours as you pull back far too soon for his liking. Clearly, you're in the same boat as him, unable to find it in yourself to care about anything other than him. That in this very moment as you have him, real and in front of you, he is yours. "Fuck, then. Lets just do it."

"Think we already did, love." He chuckles, letting the innuendo come out with a rasp. Unbelievable, he is.

You can only shake your head, suppressing a grin as you bring the once-hot hot chocolate to your lips. The liquid is lukewarm at best, but somehow nothing has ever tasted better— except maybe his mouth.

———

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed, this has been in the works in my drafts for SO long. pls let me know what you think! ily, thank you for your support and hopefully will post some more writing soon lovelies🤍

[heavens-whore]

DEALER

Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Summary: Your dealer boyfriend Tommy asks you to meet with his business partner for a little exchange.

A/N: THIS TOOK FOREVER OMG. This has been in the drafts for like a year if you can believe that. I need to thank my beautiful friend Sini (who is unfortunately not on tumblr 💔) for proofreading and encouraging and constructively criticising. I already have an idea for a second part to this so let me know if you want it ! also my ask box is open so come talk to me!!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+, DUBCON, semi-public, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Tommy getting cucked over the phone; mention of guns, violence/blood, drugs, criminal activity in general

It was another one of those nights. Tommy had come home with a fresh, open gash on his forehead and busted lip. Your heart dropped down to your stomach the second you laid eyes on him. You immediately rushed over, inspecting the wounds with his face in your hands. He assured you it was nothing, that he was fine, but you still practically dragged him upstairs to let you patch him up.

You sat him down on the bed and stood in between his legs, inspecting every scratch on his face like you had a doctorate in medicine.

‘I hate this, Tommy… You know how much it scares me.’ He hissed in pain and winced as you dabbed some disinfectant to the gash, you mumbled an apology

‘It’s fine, sugar. I promise. I’m fine.’ He reluctantly let you clean him up, probably thinking it would shut you up, but his nonchalance always felt like a stab to the heart.

‘I mean it. You never tell me anything and you come home late with all these cuts and bruises. Of course it scares the shit out of me, what do you expect?’

Even though you didn’t say it directly, he knew what you were referring to. You’d had this conversation with him countless times before, like when you had noticed his knuckles all cut up, or the bruises he could hide under his clothes, or when you realized that he carried his gun with him wherever he went. He would just tell you the same things over and over. It wasn’t exactly his dream career, but it’s fine. It’s just business, it’s not as dangerous as you think. This is all just part of the job, it’s what pays the bills. He knew you worried about him anyway, despite how many times he told you not to. He could see that sad glint in your eyes every time he came home late at night to find you awake on the couch, and knew you had pictured the worst. He knew what it meant every time you hugged him a little tighter at the door before he left. You loved him. You needed him. 

He gently grabbed your wrists, his large hands easily encircling them. He gazed up at you with softened eyes.

‘Look at me, sugar. It’s just the job. I can handle it, you know that. I told you that a million damn times.’ He was using that tone he always uses when he wants you to calm down. And it always works. That soft, gentle whisper with the right amount of certainty and assuredness. He could’ve told you the world was ending in that tone and it would’ve been okay. ‘And I know you don’t like seein’ me hurt and all, but I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ all the time. I’m strong, I can take it.’ He said the last part with the hint of a smirk crossing his bloody lips, a subtle tease in an attempt to lighten the gloomy mood that hung in the evening air. 

‘I’m still gonna worry, Tommy.’ He noticed the quiver of your lip and the faint sheen of a tear in your eye that threatened to spill down your cheek. He sighed and pulled you into his lap. Your limbs immediately curled around him as naturally as an instinct, and his responded in kind. He stroked your back soothingly, whispering how much he loved you, how he would always come back to you and would never leave you. He squeezed your thighs, kissed your neck, the comforting whispers turned into little gasps, and the night ended with your clothes on the floor, and the two of you tangled up in each others’ bodies.

Nights like those were a common occurrence- he’d come home all bloody, you’d patch him up, then you’d hold each other until the sun rose. You weren’t afraid of him, you were afraid of what he did. You knew exactly what they would say- what did you expect? You should’ve ran for the hills the second he told you about his whole business. Naive little girl. It could only end in tears, if not much worse. You knew you should’ve ran. But you didn’t. They didn’t know what you knew. 

They hadn’t been there on the night you met, at the bar you worked at. They hadn’t seen the way he protected you from a creepy old drunk customer who wouldn’t leave you alone. They hadn’t seen his charming smile when he met your parents for the first time. The way he shook your father’s hand confidently, and hugged your mother, kissing her cheek politely as he welcomed them into your apartment. They hadn’t seen how he’d slaved all day in the kitchen, preparing a meal that would impress them. The way he wouldn’t let you lift a finger to help him, insisting that you let him handle everything so you could relax. He told them he was a contractor, that he worked for his brother. It wasn’t exactly a lie, that was his front- his “laundromat”.

You’d seen his hands balled up into fists, scars adorning his knuckles from throwing punches, but those were the same hands that brushed away your tears and held you with such tenderness whenever you needed them to. You had overheard strings of foul threats flowing so freely from his lips when he took calls in another room and hoped you were out of earshot, but those were the same lips that whispered sweet nothings to you on Sunday mornings while you were still half-asleep, curled up in his arms.

It was getting late and Tommy wasn’t home. You held out on dinner in the hopes that he might be back in time for you to eat together, but it was another one of those nights. You were standing at the sink, cleaning the small array of kitchen utensils you had used to prepare your own meal when the buzz of your cell phone cut through the silence in the house. His name lit up the screen, and you answered.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi, baby. You okay?

‘Yeah, I'm good. Just finished dinner. You on your way home?’

‘No, uh, not yet. I’m a little tied up here.’

‘Oh… Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, no, it’s fine, sugar. don’t worry ‘bout me.’

Normally you would’ve rolled your eyes at his mantra, but his tone was hesitant. You knew he was building up to something, and you knew you wouldn’t like it.

‘Tommy, what is it?’ There was a moment of silence and he sighed audibly through the phone. 

‘I uh… I need you to make a delivery for me, honey. You think you could do that for me?’

‘A delivery?’ for a moment it didn’t register. Then the penny dropped, and you fell silent, frozen in place. 

‘I know, baby, I know. I would normally get one of the guys to do it but none of them can right now. I know it’s a lot but I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important. Please, baby.’ There was shame oozing from every word. 

‘What am I delivering?’

For a moment there was more silence.

‘It’s probably better if you don’t know.’

The package was hidden in a nondescript grey shoe box, tucked into the corner of the closet, where he had directed you to look. A brown paper parcel, wrapped in layers of tape, giving no indication of its contents. The weight of it felt like a grenade in your hands. It could have been a grenade, for all you knew. You elected to carry it inside the box to avoid suspicions. The chances of anybody seeing you with it were slim, but your mind was spinning with visions of flashing blue lights and cops and handcuffs.

You stopped the car, right where Tommy had instructed you to. The place was exactly as you had imagined it- a dark alleyway, lit only by your headlights and the dull glow from a flickering streetlight nearby. Grimy exposed brick surrounded you on each side, slick with the rain that hammered down on the hood of your car. Aside from the constant drum of the downpour, it was silent, the archetypal place for an interaction like this. You picked up your phone and hit the call button on Tommy’s contact, lifting the phone to your ear. After a few moments, the dial tone stopped and his voice came through the speaker.

‘Everythin’ alright, sugar?’

You peered out at your surroundings through the teary glass of the windshield. 

‘Yeah, um.. I’m here, but I don’t see anybody.’

‘Just wait, he’ll be there soon, okay?’

‘I don’t like this, Tommy. Why does it have to happen at the set of a slasher movie?’

You heard him chuckle lightly through the phone.

‘S’just to keep you safe, darlin’. Don’t want nobody seein’ you.’

You let out an unamused laugh. Right, no witnesses. Perfect. 

A sharp knock on the fogged glass snatched your attention. You dropped the phone and a small scream escaped you. Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as your hand, slick with sweat, moved to roll down the window. You knew immediately that this was your guy, just from looking at him. He was tall, although hunched over slightly to peer into the car, broad shoulders bending to lower him down. 

‘You Tommy’s girl?’

You stared up at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in the drivers’ seat. You nodded slightly, practically trembling with fear. He opened the passenger door and sat down in the seat beside you. 

You stared at him in silence for a moment, watching his dark brown eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips, then from your lips to your chest, then from your chest to your hips. The sides of his lips curled up into a sly smirk before his eyes met yours again. ‘I knew he was sendin’ me some presents but they ain’t normally this cute.’ You broke eye contact, weary of giving him the wrong impression as remembered what you were here for and reached into the backseat to grab the shoebox.

‘I um.. I have it.. What you want..’ You shoved it towards him, desperate for him to take it, get out of the car, and for all this to be over. His eyes fell slowly from yours to the package in your hands as you offered it to him. He took it from you, took one look at the parcel inside and nodded, seemingly satisfied with it. Then he placed it on the dashboard of the car, and turned back to face you.

‘He tell you ‘bout my payment?’

Payment? Tommy didn’t say anything about that. And shouldn’t he be paying you for the delivery? Dread was filling your stomach as he sucked in a deep breath, evidently reading your wide-eyed expression as confusion. The glint of a pistol caught your eye, the silvery metal glinting in the weak light. You gasped at the sight of it as he took it out of his pocket, and placed it in the cupholder and held his hands up, reading the virginal fear in your eyes. ‘Look, I ain’t gonna hurt you.. Don’t wanna mess up that pretty lil’ face of yours. But I ain’t leavin’ this car without some kinda deal.’ 

With shaking hands, you started to search for the phone you had dropped onto the floor beneath the driver’s seat, seeing Tommy’s name still on the screen- the call was still active. You held it to your ear.

‘Tommy w-what’s this about a payment? How much do you owe him?’

Another moment of silence. Your heartbeat was ringing so loud in your ears, you barely heard his voice coming through the speaker.

‘Just go with it, baby.’

The metallic clink of your passenger’s belt caught your attention, 

‘Tommy, h-he’s-’

‘ know, baby. Just go with it.’

His darkening eyes burned into yours. “Put him on speaker.” 

You obliged, and for the first time, you allowed your eyes to explore him. His mannerisms were like Tommy’s, as was his tall nose and intense gaze. Your thighs were pinned to each other, a guilty fire igniting in the pit of your stomach as you watched his veiny, calloused hands unbuckle his belt while he spoke into your phone, his voice low and gravelly.

‘Sent me a real pretty one, brother. Real cute.’ His voice addressed Tommy, but his deadly gaze was fixed on you.

‘Real sweet, ain’t she, Joel?’ Tommy’s words crackled through the speaker, and your heart dropped. He set you up for this.

When your eyes met back with Joel’s, he patted his lap. You knew what to do, his instructions were clear. You climbed across the centre console shakily, arranging your knees on either side of his thighs. You held yourself slightly above his lap. The thought of another man touching you in this way felt wrong, like a magnetic repulsion was holding you back from him. He rested his hands on your hips, letting out a soft sigh as his eyes roamed your body, your chest, your waist, your hips, your thighs. 

‘Work of art, Tommy.” 

‘Yeah, she’s somethin’ else.’

You bit down on your lower lip hard as your heart twisted with angst and fear in your chest. Joel’s hands squeezed at the flesh of your hips, eliciting a soft gasp.

‘Relax, darlin’. I won’t bite.’ 

‘It's okay, sugar. He ain’t gonna hurt you. Promise.’

‘Course not. Your man would kill me if I did.’ You doubted he was exaggerating. With that, he pulled you down into his lap, leaving no space between you. A small whimper escaped your lips, the rough texture of his jeans teasing you through your panties. ‘This the first time you’re deliverin’ for him?’ You nodded. He raised his eyebrows, his intoxicating gaze travelling across your collarbones, down to your chest. Joel took the phone out of your hand and placed it in the cup holder, next to his gun. His hands gripped your thighs and gradually moved up under the hem of your skirt, stroking your skin. He brought his lips to your neck, his facial hair scratching against the skin. ‘Got a lot to learn ‘bout this trade.’ His rough hands travelled up to your centre, rubbing you softly through the fabric. He let out a low whistle, feeling the dampness between your legs. ‘More into me than you let on, ain’t you, darlin’?’  

A soft sigh came through the speaker of the phone, a sound you knew well. 

‘She ain’t as innocent as she looks, brother.’ A sharp pain stabbed at your chest, hearing Tommy’s voice. He’s allowing this? He isn’t infuriated by just the thought of another man’s hands all over you? Touching you in the place only his hands are allowed to go? The thought enraged you, but you only had the resources available. So you rocked your hips and let out the sweet little whimper you had been holding in, Joel’s thickening hardness beneath you caressing every nerve. He let out a small grunt too, the same grin playing on his lips as he watched your hips grind into his. 

‘That’s it. There you go, just relax. Ain’t gonna hurt you.’

His hands snaked around your waist, squeezing it as his lips met your collarbone, decorating it with his light and lustful kisses, fanning the flames that were growing between your thighs. Your head rolled back, he mumbled against your skin, ‘Gonna give you a lil’ souvenir, darlin’.’ He sucked lightly on the skin at the base of your neck, eliciting another soft noise from you. 

‘Best not be markin’ up my girl, Joel.’

‘Too damn late. She likes it, don’t you, sweetheart?’

You nodded, mumbling a soft ‘Mhm,’ loud enough that Tommy could hear, and you knew he did. His groan came through the speaker, and you could see the vision clearly. His head rolling back and resting on the back of the couch, jeans at his knees, and his hand wrapped around the base of his hard cock, but not moving it to savor his release for later. 

Joel’s thick fingers tapped your thigh, directing you to sit up. You lifted your hips, whimpering desperately at the loss of friction.

‘Don’t think I can wait much longer for this.’ He grumbled as he pushed his jeans down to his knees. You looked down to see the huge tent he was pitching beneath your lap, and his hand palming it. His lustful eyes were trained on yours, his jaw slacking as he took in your features, his voice reduced to a desperate whisper. ‘Real fuckin’ pretty.’ 

His fingers tugged at your panties and you let him pull them down, his fingers immediately returned to your heat, your jaw slacked at the sensation of them tracing your clit without the limits of the cotton. ‘Like that, huh?’

‘What you doin’ to her, brother?’

‘Just playin’ with her lil clit.’

‘You like it, sugar?’

Joel saw your mouth opening to reply to Tommy and applied more pressure, eliciting a gasp from you. 

‘I love it.’ your voice came out breathy and ragged from the pleasure as his fingers drew circles around it. 

Joel withdrew his hand from your clit and tugged his boxers down to his knees, letting his erection spring free and slap his tummy. The length of it almost reached his belly button. He wetted his lips with his tongue, his carnivorous eyes gazing up at yours. 

‘You ready for me, darlin’?’

You nodded eagerly, feeling him lining himself up for entry. He pulled your hips back down hard, and you cried out from the stretch of the intrusion and tried to squirm, but his big hands restrained you, holding you still against him. All you could do was whimper desperately, your nails carving deep crescents into his shoulders while your arousal soaked him. Joel picked up your phone and held it up to your jaw.

‘Tell him how big it is.’ His tone was commanding and dominant as his eyes watched your expression intently, watching how your features contorted in both pain and pleasure.

‘So fuckin’ big, Tommy.’

His groan rattled through the speaker of the phone

‘Bigger than mine, baby?’

Joel’s rough hands squeezed your thighs hard.

‘Yeah.’

‘Fuck.’

The corners of Joel’s lips twitched up into that same cocky grin as before, his hands travelling up to your hips and pulling them against him, then pushing them back out again, urging you to move. You immediately obliged. You ground your hips slowly against him, still adjusting to his size. Little grunts of pleasure escaped him as he watched you, his jaw tense and clearly holding back.

‘C’mon, darlin’. I’ve heard you can do way better than that.’ The same pain stabbed at your chest, the thought of Tommy going into detail about your sex life to his brother filling your mind with hot, white rage. So you showed him exactly what he had heard about. Your hips moved faster, feeling every inch of his manhood reaching your depths- deeper than Tommy ever could. You let your noises grow louder, let them drip with lust and pleasure, and made sure your boyfriend could hear it through the phone- made sure he could hear the difference. 

Joel’s teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, his facial hair scratching you lightly as grunts of pleasure rumbled from his throat. He guided your hips with his hands, occasionally bucking up into you, jolting louder whimpers out of you each time his head dug even deeper.

‘Tight lil’ pussy. My brother ain’t stretchin’ you out enough? Feel like a damn virgin.’

Tommy’s voice came through the speaker at that.

‘Tight, ain’t she?’

Joel growled, his dark eyes watching as you swallowed him up over and over again. 

“Won’t be for long.”

He started to buck his hips, fucking you from below. You stopped moving, letting him use you, take what he wanted. Grunts and whimpers fell from both of your mouths, and the windows of your car became cloudier than they already were, save for a desperate handprint and a drop of condensation trailing down from it. Joel was still holding the phone to your ear, letting your noises drip through the phone. The audio was clearly enough fuel for Tommy, his heavy breathing giving you the perfect indication of what the scene was like back home.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty, baby.’ Tommy’s voice was gravelly and soaked in desire. You gushed down below but not for him. Your eyes met Joel’s again, and you began to move, your hips meeting his half way. His head fell back against the headrest, his predatory gaze trained on you. His rough hand moved from your hip, up under your shirt and his thumb rolled over the stiff bud, before grasping your breast roughly.

‘You gonna tell him how good it feels, darlin’?’ he nudged your cheek with the phone, urging you to speak into it.

Your voice had become a trembling, whining mess. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good, Tommy. So good.’ 

‘Yeah? I fuck you better than he does?’ You nodded in response and Joel nudged your face with the phone again, silently commanding you to verbalise it.

‘Yeah, so much better.’ You heard Tommy groan in pleasure and knew you had to dig deeper to get back at him for getting you into all this. Although a part of you wanted to thank him- it really was better. “Fuck, so much deeper. So much harder.”

Joel’s hips started pumping up into you roughly, his grip on you getting tighter, possibly leaving bruises under his fingertips. You moaned as the pain blended with the pleasure he was giving you as he held the phone back to his own mouth.

‘You gonna let me fill up your girl, brother?’

‘You better fuckin’ not, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.’

Joel’s eyes burned into yours, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. You looked at him and nodded, and he immediately hit the red button on the screen, then tossed your phone to the empty driver’s seat beside you. Both of his hands gripped your hips tightly, and sweat dampened the skin of his thighs.

‘Bounce on it for me.’ You did. The car started to shake with the force of your movements. If this part of town wasn’t so empty, you’d be expecting a knock on the foggy window from a cop. ‘You gonna let me fill you up? Don’t let him scare you, he ain’t gonna lay a finger on neither of us.’

You nodded, picking up the pace of your hips to meet Joel’s quickening thrusts. His tip kissed your cervix over and over and you cried out from the sensation. He snaked his strong arms around your waist and pulled you closer so your chest was flush against his. 

‘You want that? You wanna go home to my brother with it all leakin’ out of you? Bet he’d hate that.’

You nodded, your eyes were locked onto his and you could feel that flame in your stomach turning blue. You whispered, your voice dripping with lust.

‘Wanna piss him off real bad.’

Joel’s teeth gritted as his cock twitched inside you, and with a few more thrusts he erupted, painting your insides white with his release. You fell apart at the same moment, gushing around him with loud whimpers. The force of the orgasm wracked through your body and shook you to your core. He didn’t give you much time to recover before he tapped your thigh, silently commanding you to pull off him. With your body still trembling from the force of your release, you moved back to the driver’s seat and watched him as he tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled his belt. 

‘Pleasure doin’ business with you, sweetheart.’

He picked up his pistol out of the cup holder and tucked it back into his pocket before taking the box and turning to open the door. But your mind weighed heavily with the exchange, so you stopped him.

‘Wait..’ Joel turned to face you, an impatient expression written on his features. ‘..What did I just deliver?’ He stared at you for a moment, not following. ‘The package..?’ He looked down at the box in his hands for a moment before offering it to you.

‘Open it.’

Cautiously, you reached out and took it from him. With slow hands you opened it and started to tear the brown paper wrapping off the parcel, and were met with another paper package inside. But this one was white and blue, with bold letters sprawled across it, spelling out the word “sugar”. Your brows knit together in confusion as you picked it up. 

‘…The fuck is this? Coke?’

You held it up to let Joel see what was wrapped up beneath the paper. He shrugged nonchalantly.

‘Says it’s sugar.’

You stared dumbfounded at the small white bag in your hand. It obviously wasn’t the white powder you thought they sold. And what, Joel couldn’t buy his own groceries? The same vile dread filled your stomach when you concluded that the sugar was just a prop. There was no delivery- your body was the exchange. Joel’s eyes clearly read the realisation on your face and his lips curled up into a smug smirk as he placed a cigarette between them and opened the passenger door, stepping out into the rain.

‘See ya round, sweetheart’

[carriesthewind]

WE'RE BACK

So, DeMaster says she mistakenly filed Version A (the earlier draft) instead of Version B (the correct Version). She discovered this error when...

*wheeze* OH MY GOD, I can't breathe for laughing...

So his whole declaration, Clownshoes is talking about how confused he was, how he couldn't possibly explain things to the court, he was so confused, how he needed to work really hard to look into what went wrong and figure out how this terrible thing could have possibly happened!

But, according to DeMaster's declaration, he called her just TWENTY FOUR MINUTES after the hearing ended and told her, effectively, 'I think we filed an earlier copy of our draft, because I just got grilled by the court about a version of the document that still had all our the bad citations.' Incredible.

So, DeMaster says she accidentally filed Version A when she should have filed version B.

Furthermore, she says,

So. Let's take a look at our four versions of the opposition. In specific, I want to look at the names of the different files.

We've got:

"2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd).docx" (Version C).

This was the version attached the the email from DeMaster to Clownshoes on February 24 at 2:42 PM.

The file name makes sense - it's a draft from February 24, Jennifer DeMaster edits.

"2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd) (final revisions).docx" (Version D).

This was the version attached to the email from DeMaster to Clownshoes on February 24 at 5:08 PM.

This version, according to the attached "Westlaw Report," contains a lot (possibly all) of the content that was supposedly removed between the old draft (Version A) and the correct version (Version B).

Again, the file name makes sense - same file name as before but the final revisions version.

“FINAL MIL 2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL (jd) (final revisions)” (Version A).

This is (supposedly) the "old draft" that contained all the defective citations that was filed with the court.

Again, the name makes sense based on DeMaster's declaration - she says this was " intended to be the final version to incorporate all of our edits to send to Mr. Kachouroff for his edits." So the final version of Jennifer DeMaster's final revisions. But it makes no sense as an "old draft."

The document property copy of this document shows that it was created on February 25 at 3:46 PM and was edited for just a few minutes.

Again, this makes sense looking at the file names - once they were done editing the substance of Version D, she saved a new copy with "FINAL" in front of it and just completed adding the date it was filed and fixing the heading.

BUT

She says all the edits - again, removing 4 pages of substantive content! were made to:

“2025.02.24 Coomer Defs Opp to MIL2 (jd) – copy” (Version B).

This is supposedly the "correct version"

According to DeMaster's declaration, remember, this was a copy of Version A. But this makes no sense based on the title of the two documents. The title of this document clearly looks like she made a copy of Version C (the first one she emailed, before the Westlaw Report), not Version B.

According to her declaration, moreover, she made this copy on February 25. She would have had to if she was copying Version A, because that one was made on February 25 at 3:46 PM. But the document properties she screenshoted show that it was created on February 24 at 1:42 PM - again, consistent with it being a copy of Version C.

Again, if her declaration is correct, she and Clownshoes then cut out 4 pages of substantive content after 3:46 PM on February 25 (the time of the creation of Version A) to Version B - which was last saved at 4:12 PM on the 25th. So all of those substantive edits and careful cite-checks were made in...26 minutes?

This did not happen.

This could not happen. In the very best scenario, this was an absolutely slap-dash response to the judge's order that contained multiple (sloppy) errors in the recitation of alleged facts. And so the judge's demand for the full meta-data and forwarded copies of the emails with attachments makes sense - these clowns seem literally incapable of giving her straight answer. (Having to do this legwork themselves tends to put judges in a great mode. They love it so much. /sarcasm)

And even then, the best-case scenario that makes any kind of sense to me is this:

DeMaster makes Version C to send over to Clownshoes, and creates a copy of this document for herself to edit.

She edits her copy. Then she copies her edits into Version C, saves it as Version D and sends it to Clownshoes. DeMaster's copy and Version D are now substantively the same "old draft."

After the "Westlaw Report" run on Version D, they realize they need to make substantial changes. DeMaster edits, again, her own draft. She saves her corrected document as Version B. But she doesn't copy the changes over to Version D.

So she saves Version D, which doesn't have the edits, as Version A and files it.

This is confusing (made worse because I also am drafting this summary in a slapdash manner, and I should have named the different versions more clearly). But it tracks with the file names, the document properties, and the contents of the emails.

But.

Even then.

There's two giant problems. (I mean, besides Clownshoes's ego and refusal to admit any fault. Which is honestly probably the biggest problem. Unless the meta-data shoes they did, in fact, intentionally lie to the court.)

The first big remaining problem is something I alluded to earlier: where is the email from DeMaster to Clownshoes that has a copy of Version B?

Clownshoes says he reviewed Version B "closely" before it was filed and "multiple times" before the pretrial conference. And DeMaster says he originally tried to file it! An email showing Version B attached, sent on February 25, that says "hey this is the final copy, lmk what you think, I think it's ready to file," would be clear documentation of the mix up that they claimed happened. It would be way better evidence than any other attachment they provided. They provided a bunch of emails and screenshots - so why not this one?

Possibility 1: They are sloppy clowns who can't figure out how to make a good argument and present the best evidence of their claims. There is substantial circumstantial evidence to support this possibility.

Possibility 2: This best case scenario did happen...but DeMaster never actually sent Clownshoes a copy of Version B. He only ever had a copy of Version D, the "old draft." So this is the best case for DeMaster, but Clownshoes is still on the hook for a) not reviewing the actual draft before it was filed and b) (and more significantly, imo) for insisting that he was so confused by seeing the old draft at the pretrial conference, even though it is the only version he ever reviewed. So he is trying to lie to make himself look like less of a clown. (Practice tip! It is worse to lie to the court than to admit you made mistakes, even if they are pretty serious mistakes!)

Possibility 3: They intentionally lied in their affidavits to the court.

The second big remaining problem is a treat I have been saving for you all for then end, as a reward for reading all this:

(Disclosure: I did not double check all the problems that Salty Tempest ID'd myself to confirm they were, indeed, wrong quotes and citations. But I did spot check one where Clownshoes's "corrected version" contained a pincite to page that doesn't actually exist, and Salty Tempest was correct - the citation in the "correct version" does not appear to be real.)

And that's all folks, at least until we get a court order! (Or something else really funny happens.)

Oh you idiots.

[billiesbunni]

first post kinda scared 😛

billie x reader, slow burn, your an intern👀

hints around smut😛

Everything in between~

Part 1: The First Meeting

Y/N never expected to meet Billie Eilish. She especially didn’t expect to work for her.

It started with a temp gig—three months on Billie’s team as a social media assistant during the European leg of her tour. Y/N was quiet, always a little outside the circle of louder personalities, and mostly kept her head down editing clips and drafting captions no one would read twice.

Billie noticed her on day four.

Y/N was sitting on the venue floor, back against the wall, headphones in, laptop balanced on her knees, cutting footage from the Paris show.

“You made that?” Billie asked, nodding toward her screen.

Y/N blinked, tugging her headphones down. “Yeah. It’s just a quick edit.”

Billie crouched beside her, silent as she watched the video play. When it ended, she turned to Y/N with a small smile.

“You’ve got good taste,” she said. “You picked the right beats to hit.”

Y/N smiled back, heart thudding. “I just go with what feels right.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “Then your instincts are scary good.”

And with that, she stood and walked away—just like that.

Y/N replayed the moment for days.

⸻

Part 2: The Distance

They didn’t become instant friends.

Billie was warm but distracted. Famous, yes, but more than that—she was tired. Y/N could see it in her posture, the way she curled into her hoodie between soundchecks, the way she stared out of windows like the world outside moved too fast.

Still, Billie started showing up near Y/N more often. Sitting nearby during edits. Asking for second opinions. Making comments like, “You have a calming energy,” before stealing a bite of her granola bar.

Y/N stayed professional, mostly. But her eyes lingered a little too long. Her heart raced when their hands brushed. She told herself it didn’t mean anything.

Until Billie started texting her.

Late night “you up?” messages that led to hours of memes and rambling. The kind of texts that weren’t about work. The kind that made Y/N feel seen.

Still, neither of them moved.

They just hovered near the line.

For weeks.

⸻

Part 3: The Closeness

They got used to each other. Billie started showing up to Y/N’s hotel room, asking to chill. No flirting. Just lying side-by-side, Billie playing with Y/N’s hair while they talked about life and music and things Billie couldn’t say to anyone else.

One night, Billie turned to her, eyes soft and tired.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not a real person when people look at you?”

Y/N blinked. “Like you’re more of a symbol than a soul?”

Billie’s throat bobbed. “Exactly.”

Y/N reached out, gently touched her hand. “You don’t have to be anything with me.”

Billie didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she gave Y/N’s hand a squeeze and stayed close all night.

After that, it was different. Still not romantic. Still not spoken. But the way Billie looked at her lingered a little longer. And the way Y/N felt around her wasn’t just admiration anymore.

It was something deeper.

And more dangerous.

⸻

Part 4: The Realization

Months passed.

Their contract ended, but Billie offered Y/N a permanent role. Y/N accepted.

They fell into rhythm—long tour days, quiet hotel nights. Y/N learned Billie’s silences. Billie learned Y/N’s tells. They moved like planets orbiting each other, aware of the gravity but never quite touching.

Until Amsterdam.

Billie had just played an acoustic set. The crowd had cried. Y/N had cried. And when she found Billie backstage, Billie looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

Neither of them said anything. Not for a long time.

Finally, Billie broke the silence. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so good at pretending you don’t feel this.”

Y/N’s breath caught. “I’m not pretending. I just… don’t want to screw this up.”

Billie stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat of her.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered. “Not you.”

Still, neither of them kissed. Not yet. It wasn’t time.

But something had shifted. And they both knew it.

⸻

Part 5: The Falling

After that night, everything was louder.

Not in volume—but in feeling. The way Billie brushed Y/N’s hand. The way Y/N looked at her when she laughed. The way they both lingered too long in each other’s doorways.

They started falling without realizing it.

Y/N caught Billie singing to herself in an empty stairwell, eyes closed, hoodie up. She watched for a full minute before Billie noticed.

“You always watch me like that?”

“Only when I think you’re not watching back,” Y/N admitted.

Billie smiled. “I always am.”

They didn’t kiss until Prague.

It was cold. Billie’s lips were colder.

But the kiss? The kiss was warm, slow, and full of things neither of them had been brave enough to say.

It was home.

⸻

Part 6: The Love

It didn’t explode. It bloomed.

Billie started calling her “baby” when they were alone. Y/N started waking up in Billie’s bed more nights than her own. They held hands backstage. Shared glances that meant everything.

One night, Billie stood behind her as she edited clips, arms wrapped around her waist.

“You make me feel like myself,” Billie whispered into her shoulder.

Y/N paused. “I love you, Billie.”

Billie’s arms tightened. “I know,” she said. “I love you too.”

And she meant it.

Because love didn’t come like lightning.

It came like light through curtains. Soft. Constant.

And impossible to ignore.

Part 7: The First Time

They didn’t sleep together that night—not in that way.

But they did fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, fully clothed, Billie’s breath warm against Y/N’s neck, their fingers laced under the blanket.

The first time happened a week later, in a quiet hotel room in Berlin.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t planned. It was slow, reverent—an extension of all the things they hadn’t said in words but had been saying for months with touch, silence, and closeness.

Billie kissed Y/N like she’d waited a lifetime.

And when they finally came undone, tangled in each other’s limbs, Billie whispered, “I’ve never felt this safe with anyone.”

And Y/N whispered back, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

⸻

Part 8: The Questions

After that, things weren’t perfect.

There were questions.

What did this mean for the tour? For the team? For their careers?

They kept it private—for now. Not hidden, but sacred.

Y/N wasn’t a secret.

She was just theirs.

Billie’s team slowly caught on. Finneas smirked when Billie offered Y/N her jacket without being asked. Their tour manager gave a knowing nod when Billie insisted Y/N ride with her on the bus instead of the crew van.

No one said anything.

They didn’t need to.

⸻

Part 9: The Studio

Back in L.A., Billie invited Y/N to the studio for the first time.

Y/N sat quietly on the couch while Billie stood in the booth, headphones on, recording the bridge of a new track—soft, aching, vulnerable.

When Billie emerged, sweaty and tired, she sat beside Y/N, head on her shoulder.

“That one’s about you.”

Y/N turned slowly. “What?”

“I started writing it before I even admitted I liked you. It didn’t make sense until you said ‘I love you.’ Now it’s a whole damn song.”

Y/N cupped her cheek. “Play it again.”

Billie did. And Y/N cried.

⸻

Part 10: The Jealousy

The jealousy hit Y/N by surprise.

A fan had posted a photo—Billie with another female artist, laughing, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, taken at a release party. Perfect lighting. Perfect smiles.

Y/N knew it was nothing. Billie had told her she loved her. Billie had chosen her.

Still, it hit something raw.

That night, Y/N was quiet.

Billie noticed immediately. “Talk to me.”

“I know it’s dumb,” Y/N whispered. “But when I see other people with you—people who can be public with you—it gets to me.”

Billie pulled her close. “They don’t know me like you do. They’ll never touch the parts of me you have.”

Y/N looked up. “Promise?”

Billie kissed her. “On everything.”

⸻

Part 11: The First Fight

The first real fight came over something small.

Y/N had forgotten to bring Billie’s jacket to a shoot. Billie snapped. Tired. Anxious. Cold.

Y/N snapped back.

“I’m not your assistant,” she hissed, slamming the car door.

Billie froze. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know. But you made me feel like one.”

They didn’t talk for the rest of the ride.

Later, Billie showed up at Y/N’s place with takeout and a handwritten note that said, “You’re not my assistant. You’re my anchor. And I’m sorry.”

Y/N pulled her in without a word.

Some fights end in slammed doors.

Theirs ended in tearful apologies and forehead kisses.

⸻

Part 12: The First Public Moment

It was a grainy paparazzi photo.

Billie holding Y/N’s hand in a New York alley, hood up, fingers intertwined.

It went viral within an hour.

The internet exploded with theories. Billie didn’t say a word. Not for weeks. Then one night, at a small benefit show, she sang the love song she wrote for Y/N and changed one line.

Instead of “they don’t see me,” she sang, “she sees me.”

The crowd noticed.

Y/N watched from backstage, her heart in her throat.

Later, Billie pulled her aside. “I don’t care who knows anymore. Let them see.”

Y/N kissed her like they already had.

⸻

Part 13: The Homecoming

Y/N moved in during the spring.

Not officially. Not with boxes or announcements.

It started with a toothbrush. Then Billie cleared a drawer. Then Y/N’s sweater lived on the couch, and her laptop charger lived under Billie’s bed.

One morning, Y/N found Billie in the kitchen, barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, pouring coffee into two mugs.

“You’re up early,” Y/N mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“I wanted to make you coffee,” Billie said simply.

Y/N stepped behind her, arms wrapping around her waist.

“This feels like home,” she whispered.

Billie leaned back into her. “It is.”

⸻

Part 14: The Forever

They didn’t talk about forever.

Not directly.

But Billie started writing more songs with “we” instead of “I.”

Y/N started planning her travel around Billie’s schedule instead of her own.

They talked about adopting a dog. About building a studio in the house. About taking a break from the noise.

And on a quiet Tuesday night, curled up on the couch with Billie’s legs over hers and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn between them, Y/N looked at her and said:

“I’d stay here forever.”

Billie didn’t blink. She just said:

“Then stay.”

And Y/N did.

[bbywriter]

one by one | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: a look into decorating your daughter’s room

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: the use of mommy and daddy but like NOT in a kinky way<3 also idk how accurate this conversation is for a four year old but ik your baby w chris would be smart anyways

notes: one more blurb before i start school again tomorrow </3 this has been collecting dust in the drafts since this surprise came out.

word count: 1.3k

—

The ice dispenser was stubborn and got jammed a couple times, but finally, you managed and are now headed upstairs to your daughter’s room, hands full of bedroom makeover pick-me-ups. Three glasses of pepsi, two drinkable straight from the cup and the other topped with a pretty flower straw.

It’s the weekend and your day off from work, but you guys have been busy since the morning. Now that the pink paint on the walls has had the time to dry overnight, you and Chris have spent the past couple hours rearranging furniture and adding the final touches to your daughter’s room. Princess covers, a cozy mermaid lamp, and as per her request, sparkly star stickers.

When you make it back to the entrance of her room, you find the two of them exactly how you left them.

Chris is cross-legged in the middle of a fluffy heart shaped rug, leaning back on his hands as he watches your daughter who is sitting way too close to the wall. She presses a collage of pink stars to the surface in no particular order.

“Yesterday Ms. Claire gave me a gold star for my drawing,” your baby says mindlessly, tilting her head at the wall to figure out where to place the next sticker.

Chris gasps softly. “No she didn’t,” he replies. His tone is wondrous like he’s asking her to tell him more.

“Yeah. She said my drawing is perfect and she stuck it to my paper.” A boxy smile, the same as her dad’s, finds its way to her face. Her tiny voice is proud as can be.

“Perfect, huh? Bet you get a million of those stars a day then.”

A giggle almost escapes your lips when she nods smugly at Chris’s words. Like she knows, in fact, that she is perfect. You keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

“Yeah. More than all of these,” she claims, poking at each star on the wall one by one with her glittery finger.

Chris hums thoughtfully. "So can Daddy get a star then?"

Her finger freezes in the middle of the biggest star, her whole body pausing at the question. "Uhh," she says, voice serious in that very specific way only a four year old can manage. "But you only get stars if you’re perfect."

This time you can’t hold back your laughter. The sound draws both of their heads toward you, and you laugh even harder when you see Chris’s expression. His mouth has fallen open, still upturned at the sides, but his brows have pinched together in slight betrayal at her words.

“Baby that was a little mean,” you tease her, moving to set down the drinks on her night stand and sit next to her on the bed.

It’s clear from your daughter’s expression that she was genuinely just stating a fact, which somehow makes it even funnier. And Chris, of course, isn’t actually offended. But you still take the moment to say something you want her to remember.

"Daddy might not be perfect, but you don’t always have to be to get a star," you tell her, smiling gently as you brush a piece of hair out of her face. "That would make life way too hard, baby. Lots of times, you’re gonna get them for just trying your best."

She listens intently, her hands frozen in midair.

"I think Mommy would have zero stars if I had to be perfect all the time," you add, smiling at her.

She frowns slightly in confusion, thinking you’re still talking about the actual stickers. "I never even gave you any," she says.

You chuckle and scoot closer to her.

"No you haven’t," you grin. "And that’s the thing. Your stars aren’t always gonna be stickers. Just like mine aren’t—I have your dad instead." Her beautiful blue eyes grow wide, taking in your words. "And you," you finish, before attacking her chubby cheeks with wet kisses, your fingers tickling her sides until she’s a giggling, squirming mess.

From where he’s sitting on the floor, Chris can’t help but smile so big as he watches the both of you. Your words melt his heart and the sound of her giggles makes his chest swell; his entire world so happy together in each other’s arms.

Your daughter puts up with the tickling a little longer, then pushes weakly at your shoulders, laughter still bubbling out between breaths.

"Mommy stop," she giggles, her whole face lighting up.

You pester her for a couple more seconds before finally letting up, smiling so fondly at your baby as you squish her cheeks in your hands. “I just love you so much,” you tell her, “you’re so cute, oh my god.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, very reminiscent of her dad’s mannerisms, then giggles and pulls herself out of your hold to get back to her stickers. You place one more kiss to the top of her head and finally look back at Chris.

He’s watching you with the biggest grin on his face. You can’t hear his thoughts, but they’re sweet and so filled with love. You’re such a good mom, and she’s such a good kid, and he doesn’t know how he ever got this lucky.

You make your way to stand next to him. At his side, his hand slides around your hips as he leans his head into your thigh. Instinctively, you place your hand on the side of his face, running your thumb along his temple.

The moment is quiet as you admire the work of the room. The three of you are stuck in your own little worlds until Chris squeezes playfully at your bum to get your attention. You tsk at him.

“Chris,” you scold.

He laughs as he looks up at you, neck strained to see you from under the rim of his cap. “Sit down, baby, we’ve been moving all day,” he says.

You roll your eyes but listen anyway, fitting yourself beside him on the plush rug. Before you can get fully comfortable, you crawl forward on all fours to reach for the drinks on the nightstand. In the position you are in, you feel Chris pat your ass again.

“Yo can you stop?" you laugh, grabbing the glasses and returning to his side. You hand him his drink, but he doesn’t respond right away. He just smiles at you, soft and a little mischievous, like he’s about to say something—definitely dumb or inappropriate—but he stops himself.

Instead, after a moment, he finally replies with, "I love you."

You chuckle and shake your head at the words, but you still feel your chest warm. You glance over at your daughter making sure she’s distracted, and then flip his cap backwards, before placing a hand onto his jaw. You angle him towards you and there’s a second where you smile at each other, before you kiss him softly, then a little deeper.

“I love you, too,” you tell him against his lips.

—

Later that evening, as you get ready for bed, you giggle when you pull off your sweats.

"I must’ve sat on one of her stickers," you say, peeling a pink star off the butt of your pants.

Across the room, Chris tugs off his shirt and looks over at you, already smirking.

"No, I put that there," he confesses the earlier thought he never said out loud.

Your hands fall limp at your sides, the sticker dangling between your fingers. You tilt your head at him, silently asking ‘are you serious?’

Chris laughs at your expression and steps toward you. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you in by the hips, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Nothing more perfect than your ass," he says, grinning as he leans in close, "deserves a million stars in my eyes."

You laugh, half in disbelief, and toss the sweatpants straight at his face.

"You’re the weirdest person ever," you say, still grinning as he catches the pants one-handed and tugs you even closer.

—

a/n: i miss my future daughter</3 and i wanna be chris's wife</3

[yup-no-way]

Astrocartography

ꨄ A brief guide and introduction ꨄ

I am so close to crashing out. Tell me why I was almost done writing this blog and then guess what. It got “saved as a draft”. Spoiler! It wasn’t in drafts and now I have to rewrite it… it’s alright, you can laugh ߹ ᯅ ߹

I’m going to say what I said initially here (before this app deleted my whole blog…). The reason why I got so intro astrocartography is because it worked for me personally. The country (and city) that I currently live in falls under my sun trine MC aspect line, which is amazing for my career and development. Mind you I never even knew about astrocartography until this year, but even before I moved here, when I was just visiting the country, I felt such a weird attraction to this place. It was insane. I am so glad that I did move here. The amount of opportunities, and leadership positions I was pushed into are crazy.

Also, since this post took so long to write, I just wanna apologise. I was on break and as soon as I finished, I had to go back to the grind. I didn’t get to post at all. I’m just waiting for the exam season to end and for this year to end so I can be more constant with my posts. The reason why this post took so long to write it’s also because I wrote so much and it took me a horrible amount of time to compile all the necessary info. But I hope you guys enjoy it. If you have any personal experiences with living on a specific line, please leave a comment so I can read it (since I’m so nosy).

This blog should not be taken as your only decision factor to move or travel to a country. Please make sure you check the laws or regulations of each country before you decide to move/travel to a certain country. Do your own research. People with bad intentions can be found anywhere so make sure you are safe and don’t make irrational choices if travelling alone. This post is meant as guidance ONLY. The final choice is yours. Stay healthy and glowing xoxo

What is astrocartography?

So when your beautiful soul gets placed in a physical vessel, the planets and celestial bodies in the sky have certain positions. Those positions will reflect not only on your birth chart, but also on your astrocartography chart, which shows precisely the lines formed by those celestial bodies and planets.

When looking at your astrocartography chart it’s also important to keep your birth chart in mind because it can have an influence on how you experience certain lines alongside other factors that will be discussed later on in this blog.

An astrocartography chart has major lines and aspect lines. In this blog we will focus on the major lines and in the second part we will talk about the aspect lines (for some reason they r severely overlooked online, which is weird since I believe those are more accurate).

How do I access my astrocartography chart?

It’s easyyyy. There are multiple free calculators online that can calculate your chart. The one that I use is provided by “Astro.com”. You are more than welcome to use other sites tbh, but I like this one cause it has ur aspect lines, and it has them nicely sectioned as positive and negative aspects, which makes it easier to understand for people who aren’t as familiar with all the little details of astrology.

If you search “Astro.com astrocartography chart” it should pop up. After you fill in your details, you will automatically be presented with a map that has multiple colored lines. That is your chart. Zoom in and out as much as you want to be able to navigate the map.

For those who don’t always remember every symbol associated with each planet (just like me frl), here is a small image that can help you with that:

Every line is color coded with the symbol. I know the map is crowded, especially if you zoom out, but just you wait till we get to the aspect lines. It’s a soup of colours.

How do I read my chart?

Ok, so few things before we start. If you look closer you will see next to every planetary symbol, a few letters, AC/DC/IC/MC.

Bear in mind, every planet or comical body has a certain influence on an area of your life. And the positions next to it represent how that will mostly manifest.

AC: it’s all about YOU. Your inner development, your inner self, your IDENTITY. You will embody the energy of the planet physically or behaviourally.

DC: this is all about your relationships, whether platonic, professional or romantic. You are going to attract the planet’s energy through other people/connection you make.

IC: this is your roots, your home, your traditions even and your emotions. You will feel this planets influence in your home environment and this position is deeply transformative.

MC: here comes the moneyyyy. Ok so this position is about your public recognition, your career and it’s such a good boost. You’ll feel it through how the world sees you. Great planet for massive recognition in your field.

It’s also really important to check your personal birth chart alongside your astrocartography chart to be able to get the most accurate interpretation.

Please mind that there isn’t inherently a good line or a bad line. Each line is supposed to teach you certain things. Every line will have its ups and downs and depending on what you are searching to achieve, the lines can help you achieve it faster. Mind you that at the end of the day, it is up to you to put in the effort to get what you want. Astrocartography shows you where the flow of energy is smoother, allowing for certain things to manifest easier.

Now that we covered the basics, let’s dive in!

Sun line:

AC: you just radiate love. This line will make you shine for who you are and it will bring you closer to your true self. Great line for self love and acceptance. Your presence alone is charming and it grabs attention wherever you go. If you feel like your life feels stagnant and you wanna rediscover yourself, travel hereeee.

In positive it will give u crazy confidence, it will make you more self fulfilled and self actualised. Good for taking up new projects such as business or any project that puts you in a leadership role since this line will make you feel more comfortable under this position.

In negative this line is quite draining making you feel like you have to be always ready for anything. A lot of pressure to always perform effortlessly and perfectly. Can lead to burnout. So please manage your boundaries and expectations well.

Overall if you want to start a personal brand or a business. Going for a solo trip or a rediscovery trip is going to work well for you. You will find yourself more aligned with yourself and your purpose.

DC: this is your time to shine in terms of relationships. Like the way you’ll attract people by the way you walk, talk and just breathe is insane. Your relationships (platonic and professional included) are going to be transformative for you. They r going to be this relationships that change the way you see yourself. You’re going to be uplifted and confident. You are going to understand yourself better. You are going to attract strong willed, fun and loving people in your life. Your friendships are going to be meaningful and active and your romantic interests might be good future spouse material. You are attracting romantic partners that are determined and basically embody the archetypal sun energy (might even be conventionally attractive). These relationships can even bring you some exposure to a larger audience depending on your chart.

In positive you are a magnet for relationships of substance. You are going to be fulfilled.

In negative you can tend to lose yourself to relationships and connections. Please be aware that you are yourself, not your friends, not your partner. Don’t be afraid to be authentic, even if it goes against the wave.

Overall good for meeting potential long term relationships. Good for networking and work partnerships.

IC: when I say you are going to feel connected to this place, I mean it. Every IC line brings such a deep connection to the country/city specifically. While AC and DC are about external factors. IC is from within. You are going to find your confidence and comfort through your stay in this line. Good place for a vacation home. This is the line that you go to when you need to feel rooted and you need a sense of stability. You might become more introverted or at least interested in going outside since your home will be your comfort zone. The self care here is going to be intense and you will enjoy every second of it. Nurturing your home and your inner home (aka your soul) is going to make you the best self actualised version of yourself. You might even start a tradition that will stick w you here. Like maybe you’ll start a new interest for collecting magnets here. Just an example.

In positive you are going to feel emotional clarity and security. You might be able to connect with some ancestral roots. Maybe you feel like this was your home in a previous life and now you’re reconnecting by with a lost version of yourself. Good place for a retreat. Good place for healing after a bad event in your life.

In negative is not going to give you much public exposure. If you crave a life of excitement and fun (in the traditional sense), you might not be able to find that here. It’s a more of an internal energy and it focuses on rediscovering yourself from inside.

Overall it’s good for long term home building and stable identity.

MC: love this placement so muuuuuuchhh. Not just that MC is here, but it’s on the sun line. This brings so much exposure. Opportunities come left and right. Yk how people say “if one door closes, another one will open”, well they probably lived on their sun MC line. This line is all about that. You are respected, SEEN, HEARD and admired by just embodying your authentic self. This will boost your perception of yourself. This line is genuinely a glow up from all aspects. Career recognition, public success and multiple opportunities for leadership roles. Great for starting a business her as well and amazing for career advancement.

In positive it bring your career to the top and it makes you such a boss tbh.

In negative the burnout is so strong here. If you don’t balance your life well, then you are going to fall into a constant state of tiredness. Also don’t stress about too many things. You have time to do them all.

Overall, amazing boost in popularity in whatever field you go and it can bring a lot of career satisfaction. If evolved (and also depending of other planetary aspects you have) you are also bound to be perceived positively by the larger public.

Moon line:

AC: so having the moon line which is all about your inner world and your emotions being in the AC position can make you very emotionally expressive on this line. You will be so in tune with everyone’s emotions and yours as well. You will be perceived more line your moon sign by the people around you. It’s such an amazing place for artistic expression. If you are an artist of any form, coming here to perform or create your art can increase its potential. You are going to exteriorise yourself in a very sentimental way.

In positive it can be very good for self awareness and deep understanding of your emotions. Good for emotional clarity and discovery. You’re intuitions nd empathy will be at an all time high.

In negative it can make you hypersensitive to people’s emotions and that can be quite tiring. Sometimes you will experience intense emotions and that can be hard to navigate depending on your chart and if you have learned your lessons.

Overall, I’d suggest coming here if you are an artist or need to creative inspiration of any sort (not just for art). Amazing for self expression and deep understanding of how your emotions work.

DC: if you thought sun DC is intense, then you are not ready for this. I’d argue that out of all DC lines, this is the best for deep connections. No relationships will top this one. This one is going to be either the love of your life or your worst heartbreak you ever had (the type you think of before you go to sleep). Late night convb and lingering gazes. Melancholy and deep nurturing friendships or relationships.

In positive you can have such deep transformative relationships that can lead to potential long term connections. Soulmate energy.

In negative you will experience high highs and low lows, depending on the interaction you have. Might development attachment issues or codependency. Might feel like you are like a mom to unevolved people.

Overall, best for romantic relationships and potentially if you are in the medical/caretaking field, this is a good place for you to work in.

IC: this is going to be your safe space, where your emotional side is the most burtiere and safe. I’d argue it’s the beat moon line. You are so emotionally times to this place, leaving it will feel so sad. You are going to start facing your shadow side and it is going to push healing your inner child top priority. Honestly such a beautiful place to live in.

In positive it’ll provide emotional security and peace, bring some heavy healing and it’s amazing if you want to have a good emotional family life.

In negative might be too comfortable, therefore making you attached to this place. It can also make you too isolated.

Overall, great place to settle if you are looking for some transformative emotional energy and a peaceful and secure home. Also great for a therapeutic retreat. Make sure you don’t become too isolated tho. Also if you struggle with mommy issues, some heavy shadow work can happen here.

MC: seriously if you work in the healthcare/ caregiving/ medical/ physiological/ public service industry, move HERE. This is going to literally put you out in the public eye for your ability to heal and give care to others. If you life on this line you might also be seen as the mom friend and constantly feel fulfilled when you help people out. You might be perceived as emotionally in tune, mysterious

In positive is great for certain lines of work that involve caring to others and you could get a lot of exposure for it.

In negative you can be perceived as too soft and try to be taken advantage off. Please make sure you set proper boundaries.

Overall, amazing for careers in healing and caring, therefore leading to success.

Mercury line:

AC: you are going to be perceived as more chatty and more smart. This line will open you up to intellectual development through self discovery and acceptance. You might get a boost in energy and a boost in curiosity to explore and learn. Communication will come rlly easy to you and ideas will flow in and out of your head. Mentally stimulation is everywhere.

In positive you are going to engage in very stimulating conversations and you are going to have more interest in developing yourself intellectually.

In negative you might be more prone to overthinking and that can lead to anxiety. If you struggle with that, please bear it in mind when moving here. Also be careful to think before you speak since here you are going to be more unfiltered.

Overall, GREAT, if not best place for studying. You are truly going to feel intellectually aligned with your course and will feel a desire to learn. Amazing for starting new projects and researching about them.

DC: you are going to feel a shift in your relationships. You will crave more mental stimulation and need an actual communicative person. You will engage in debates with your partner more or might attract partners that make you question yourself (in a good way). Basically the tension here is strong. You might get hyper analytical of people and try to understand more than you can. Good place if you are pursuing a psychology/ psychiatric career.

In positive you’ll attract mentally and intellectually stimulating partners and if you’re into that, this place is ideal for you. Your friendships might also be very communicative.

In negative you might tend to overanalyse the people around you. You need to learn how to balance that.

Overall, great for stimulating relationships and friendships. Great for project that require communication. Conversations might fly smoothly and be efficient.

IC: you will feel mentally safe here. Great for journaling and exploring your personal interests. Really nice for shadow work related to childhood suppressed memories. Truly understanding yourself. Amazing for verbalising your emotions in a clear and coherent way.

In positive you might experience mental peace, developing yourself internally and privately.

In negative you might tend to intellectualise your emotions and isolate yourself mentally.

Overall, if you have a remote job, this place is amazing for you. For private intellectual development this line is also good. If you are a writer, coming here might be very beneficial.

MC: nowwww, if your career is in any field that involves you having to communicate with people, this place is for you. I’d even say that if you are in a field where you do any humanitarian work, this place is good for boosting your voice. Also if you’re a singer that puts a big emphasis on their lyrics, this is also perfect for you. In this are you will be perceived as intelligent by the masses. Also teaching and any programming or coding job is amazing here.

In positive career success using your intellect is almost given, your voice will be heard and be influential, it’s amazing for launching a career

In negative you can feel always a pressure to appear smart and have every work carry a deep meaning and that can feel tiring and can lead to intellectual burnout.

Overall, if you wanna start a career here in general is very good. Making good impressions here is quite easy.

Venus line:

AC: omg so this line so amazing if you want to be noticed for your looks. You will physically look better. I swear. I personally lived on this line for such a long time and didn’t even know. Every time I came back on this line, I kept telling my friends that I feel like I am so much prettier here. GUESS WHAT I realised later I was on my Venus AC line. Not only you’ll look better, you’ll feel better and that is such an amazing feeling. The fact that I was constantly approached here and people are staring at me so much here. I even got random gifts from people just because they liked me. All I’m saying is that you will feel it here. If you wanna have a glow up, go there. Also if you want to have any physical changes done, like surgery or cosmetic or even just general aesthetic things done to you. Come HERE!

In positive you will look and feel more good about yourself and it’s a great place for modelling truly (or getting casted as a model).

In negative you might attract shallow people who mostly see you for your looks not for what you are. Make sure you don’t let this boost in looks get to your head. Venus is powerful when it comes to making you lose yourself to superficial stuff.

Overall, great for self love and aesthetic changes.

DC: WOOOOO! guys, the amount of people I saw moving to this line and finding their spouse. I even heard a story of this girl, meeting his current husband on the exact street this line fell on. Arguably the best line for finding your true love. Relationships here are also kinda dreamy and intense (but in such a nice way). I’d say even friendships and partnerships are rlly good here. Amazing line for your social and love life. (I wish my Venus DC fell on an actual country. My line is in the middle of the ocean. guess my soulmate is a fish…)

I positive, here is the most possible place to find your soulmate

In negative, you might get so absorbed in relationships that you lose focus on the physical world.

Overall, if you wanna get married/ engaged or even meet new people, here is the place for youuuu.

IC: “just a chill guy”. Home life will feel so nice and comfortable. You might even be more inclined to to heal some lineage scars from your mom side. Home here is top notch. Another great place for a vacation house if you are looking for an aesthetic, chill and indulgent life. The comfort is going to be amazinggg.

In positive, emotionally you are going to be at peace and are going to feel som comfy.

In negative, it can lead to laziness and too much indulgence. Please be balanced on any Venus line cause Venus is rlly a planet that is easy to give in.

MC: your reputation is going to flourish here. More prone to a positive reputation (but you might be perceived as a bit shallow). This place is amazing for networking, like really good. Again, any creative field of work is amazing here. ARCHITECTURE AS WELL. Like you’re projects will be knows for being really “beautiful”. Beauty Industry is in bloom here.

In positive, career boosted using your looks and charm. People are naturally inclined to want to collaborate with you.

In negative, sometimes you might be perceived as superficial and fake. Make sure you don’t lose yourself to this line and keep yourself authentic. Again classic Venus line stuff.

Mars line:

AC: if on the Venus line you would be perceived as seductive, here you are hot. You have that s appeal. You might be perceived as more aggressive and hot headed. This line pushes you to be more determined and active. You might be prone to physical conflicts more often. This line makes you feel like you are on something. You are going to be more bold and even a bit more intimidating to others. Leadership roles are hard to balance here, but if you manage to make sure you don’t get overbearing with people and don’t become to strong headed, then this line is going to lead to a successful leadership position.

In positive, more energy than ever, braver and increased confidence.

In negative, aggressive line to be honest. Heard stories of people getting in physical arguments with a lot of people and getting attacked on the streets. Please be careful. If u travel here, make sure to stay out of trouble and go with a trusted person that can protect you.

Overall, good for meeting fitness goals, making goals moves in projects and finding your inner power.

DC: relationships here are just annoying to navigate. You might feel hot and cold. One day you’re happy, the other arguing. Kinda unstable and aggressive. You might attract assertive and ambitious people. The chemistry might be very hot and you might have amazing bed life (lemme just call it that, you get what I mean). Not long term romance, but a short term fun and excitement is good here. Friends are very argumentative or you might find yourself in a lot of disagreements. Again not ideal for mutually understanding friendships, but a short term fun friendship might be ok. You might find yourself to learn how to stand up for yourself here trough these people you meet.

In positive, you will find yourself attracted fierce and ambitious people and might have good s life.

In negative, arguments and misunderstandings are heavy here. Impulsive decisions are made here. Please think not twice but thrice before making a decision.

Overall, short term flings and friends are nice. Good for learning how to stand up for yourself.

IC: this line usually indicates a harsher home environment and a lot of arguments in the house. you will have a lot of miscommunications and disagreements with your family or with the people in your home. if you’re planning on moving here and having a new person as a roommate, this might not be the best idea. This line might also push you to face some shadows that you haven’t yet, therefore it’s quite nice for understanding some areas of yourself. Your father might be in a constant state of anger and might be a big factor of your arguments in the house. BUUUT, great line for doing work in the shadows. Like slowly creating a startup without anyone knowing or writing a book without telling anyone.

In positive, focus, discipline and build inner strength and resilience.

In negative, there might be some stress in your home life and that can cause anxiety, lack of stability and so much more.

Overall great place if you want to build something on the low-key because it gives you that determination to do it but you might be in a home environment that is very stressful for you.

MC: this line makes you be seen as driven, competitive determined and resilient. You are literally gonna tap into your assertive energy. This line will make you so career focus and driven, it can lead to burn out if not balanced well. this is also really good if you wanna take charge of your own career. This line can also make you more prone to a god complex within the workspace. Make sure you don’t let this line get in between you and your coworkers. This line can make you quite arrogant and that can create some stress in the dynamic between you and your teammates. You’re going to want to dominate every project and will not want to allow space for other people to chip in.

In positive, this place is really good for taking charge, learning how to step into your “ boss” energy and stand up for your ideas.

In negative, this can cause quite some conflict in the workplace and can make you come across too domineering.

Overall, not a bad place to be in regarding your career but make sure to prioritise good communication and balance in your workplace.

Jupiter line:

AC: this line right here it’s going to manifest as luck all throughout your day-to-day life. You’re gonna feel it all around you in how people treat you, approach you, view you and overall how life feels for you. You are more likely to find random cash on the streets or receive random acts of kindness. This line will inspire you. It will inspire your creativity, your interest in learning and your desire to succeed. You are going to unlock opportunities and luck by just being yourself. Being your most authentic self here is going to work out for the best.

In positive, you are gonna get luckyyyyyyyy. Life will spoil you just because.

In negative, you may lean into a very optimistic mentality which is not inherently bad, but it can lead to delusions that will sometimes not be reached, leading to dissatisfaction.

Overall great place if you just want to be more authentic to yourself and more confident and also increase your luck. Great place for solo travelling.

DC: here relationships will broaden your perspective in life. Connections on this line will help you grow in certain areas of your life. You may attract older or wiser partners that will act as a guide. Unpopular opinion, but I also think you might attract people with higher financial possibilities on this line (hell yeah), or at least people that will help you grow financially (If you are looking for sugar daddy/mommy, this might be a place where you can start searching for it). even friendships feel expansive here. also if you’re in search for a good business partner, I could argue that this is the best line to do so.

In positive, relationships here feel supportive and mentor like, learning quite a lot from the people on this line. Good for luck in partnerships. Good for finding business partners.

In negative, gets too dependent on external validation and tend to base your self-worth on the connections you have rather than yourself.

Overall, great for partnerships of any sort success in relationships. Good place for marriage as well. If you are in a relationship, travelling here can expand your current relationship.

IC: this place is amazing if you wanna have a secure home. This place feels like home away from home. It doesn’t feel restricting and your home life might even feel liberating. Usually people that have a family on this line tend to leave a lot of space for growth and learning in the household. Self-expression might be a huge thing as well. It’s important for individuals on this line to have a lot of freedom in their home. This place is also great if you want to retreat and expand your knowledge. This place also indicates high level of abundance coming into the home. So a lot of people/families that live on this line feel like they’ve attracted the most abundance and money when they connected with their roots or home. If you want to start a family business, this line is also really good for that. This is really good for ancestral healing as well.

In positive, bring abundance in the home, inner growth and freedom to explore/expand.

In negative, might get too comfortable and feel inclined to retreat.

Overall, literally gives generational wealth potential. Great for creating a family business. Great for growth, especially in intellectually. Great for selling down or starting a family.

MC: now we are talking about opportunities and success. Your career is gonna have a boost here. Your money is going to come in. Your opportunities are going to come in. People will trust you and they will see you as a mentor. You will be perceived as wise and insightful. If you have a career that is about sharing information, this is especially good for you. Might be the place where you start a legacy. Will get professionally recognised and will get compensated monetarily for it. ouuuuu I love this place. Unless you have harsh Jupiter aspect, this place should do the job for you.

In positive, amazing for a career start and career expansion. Great for financial abundance in your career. Great for sharing your knowledge and getting recognised for it. Amazing for job opportunities and luck in your field.

In negative, just make sure you do not get too cocky. This place is amazing, but be aware that the universe will put you in your place if necessary.

Overall, just great for your career and your growth. If you just wanna visit this line keep an eye out for opportunities.

Saturn line:

AC: all the Saturn line is quite heavy to navigate. This line will make you do all the hard work. For this specific case, you might feel a bit isolated and misunderstood. You will come across this more stern and serious. If you always wanted to be taken seriously, this line is for you. All people are gonna see the seriousness oozing out of you. You might not be fully understood for who you are here. You might also feel restricted in expressing yourself here. You might feel the need to hide yourself from people. But this line is not all bad. This line will help you develop discipline and structure in your life. It will actually make you feel in tune with yourself. Even if people don’t get you, you will be able to understand yourself to a certain level that you didn’t before. This line is going to teach you self-respect. If you are searching for a place that can offer stable projects, this line is also good for that.

In positive, good for self-respect, discipline and structure. You will be forced to develop a backbone here. Great place for maturing and discovering yourself to another level.

In negative, you can feel isolated and alone. Being misunderstood for who you are or restricted for who you are is coming here. You will potentially if moving here at a young age be forced to mature earlier than necessary.

Overall, this is a lesson that a lot of Saturn lines teach. The discipline, perseverance, structure, and maturity of life will be taught to you.

DC: you might get in relationships with someone older here. Relationships here might be karmic and they might be really hard to deal with. You might feel controlled or suppressed. Connections will make you mature. Do not expect an easy flowing relationship here whether it’s romantic, platonic or a partnership. I’m not gonna lie, I wouldn’t suggest dating someone here, unless you’re ready to mature and see the harsh reality of things. It will be heavy. I’m not saying it’s the worst, but it’s not the best either. If you are currently living on this line, you might’ve experienced some transformative relationships. The lessons here are heavy. If you do somehow get into a good relationship here, is going to require a looooot of work. to the people who live on Saturn lines, stay strong. Not all relationships are this hard. Lots of love to you seriously. This line can also make you feel quite alone in a relationship.

In positive, relationships are here to help you learn and grow. They can teach self-respect and boundaries. You will learn overall a lot of lessons. If you may, call this character development.

In negative, you might feel disconnected from people. Relationships feel cold and distant and hard to navigate. A lot of karmic lessons learnt through people.

Overall, good for learning boundaries and setting standards. Learning your love style. Sometimes good for marriage. Good for clearing out karmic debt.

IC: I could go on our talking about the home dynamic on this line. It’s restricting. Depending on what house your side is in your personal chart, you might feel even more restricted in that area. home life will teach you a lot of things. You might feel disconnect from your family and your home environment. Maybe there is a lot of emphasis on growing up. People on this line might feel like they were not allowed to enjoy their childhood. If you navigate this line well though, it is amazing for clearing generational baggage. It’s a place where a lot of people either drown in or heal a lot of karma.

In positive, will find comfort in your own solitude. It’s good for creating a good foundation for yourself. If you are planning on moving here, it is going to bring a lot of unhealed family baggage to light (just make sure you heal her please, or it will bite you in the ass).

In negative, it’s pretty given. A lot of solitude and feeling restricted and suppressed. Being forced to grow up through your home. Or if you’re moving by yourself there, you might not always feel fully connected to your house (again unless you healed). This line is heavy on dealing with things that are uncomfortable for us. Nothing comes easy on this line, but once you have it, you have it.

MC: this gives me, I came from nothing and now I’m here. This line is going to teach you how to work your way up to success. The discipline, the power, the pace and the structure you take will guide you to success. I’m gonna be honest, here success doesn’t come naturally. You will have to work for it, but once it’s yours, no one can take it away from you. You will be seen as more serious by your coworkers. You might even appear as a harsh boss to some. You will not accept mediocrity. This is truly the CEO line. This is the place where you can build a business foundation that will last. And if you’ve paved your foundation well, trust me, it will last.

In positive, a career here is stable and if the work is being put in, potentially very successful and abundant.

In negative, you might feel isolated from your coworkers. You might feel restricted at work and might feel like you’re not allowed to express yourself fully in your work field. You might also have workaholic tendencies here. Please make sure you balanced yourself properly since Saturn is all about a good schedule.

Overall, quite OK for a career. It can bring huge success. It can bring a stable income. Make sure you really put in the work for it. Saturn likes to have things be earned. If you earn it though, Saturn will give you everything to wish for and return

Uranus line:

AC: you have been feeling stuck and feeling like you have been in the loop, this is the best place to come. Whether you come here to move in or to travel, you are going to go under major transformations, especially when it comes to your physical appearance. You are going to feel more bold in your fashion. You will make changes to your appearance that are gonna be more eccentric. This is gonna be all about you, and your most authentic self. Think breaking boundaries of what is hair for you or what is fashion for you. You are also going to discover yourself and experience some major eye-opening situations in terms of your personal freedom. You can be unfiltered here, but it’s not gonna be like the Mars line where that comes with arguments, this line brings you unfiltered authenticity. Also, you might discover the fun in being with yourself. So you might discover new hobbies or interests or even get into new intellectual endeavours when alone.

In positive, you are going to break all identities and are gonna gain a new discovered freedom.

In negative, this line can make it a bit hard to stay grounded. There is going to be a feeling of social instability.

Overall, there is a great place for starting something new, something more authentic to you. Self-discovery is a highlight when being on this line. Amazing four coming out of your shell.

DC: this line will bring connections that will challenge your perspective of what is normal to you. There’s a theme of commitment issues alongside this line. You might feel more prone to be single, but if you do end up in a relationship, your partner might be the type that is very eccentric and they might challenge you to grow. Relationships are gonna feel fast paced even with friends, sometimes a bit unpredictable. Also say that along this line, you might change your type or you might have some awakening in regards of what you desire in a partnership of any sort. You might tend to rationalise your emotions more on this line.

In positive, and experience relationships on a different level and they will feel fresh and electrifying. Wouldn’t say it’s the best place to find a long-term committed relationship. It’s a good place for friendships though.

In negative, expense relationship that would end up in breaking up, ghosting and instability.commitment issues are a theme here.

Overall, looking for a relationship that feels open minded and allows for freedom, this might be the life for you. Watch out for unstable partners and constant situationships.

IC: would have to say that in regards to your home life, you won’t completely feel settled here. You probably would not want to live here for the long run. Well, this is a great place for discovering what you really want in your home or what do you expect from your home life, this place won’t align with you for the long run. Through your home, you may discover new things about yourself. Maybe your residence will be the place you start hobbies or you feel most comfortable experimenting. Live with your family members on this line you might experience feeling like the “ black sheep” of the family. If you’re looking for a place that will generally make you discover certain hidden aspects of yourself that you didn’t know existed, this line is great for that, but again you might have a sense of restlessness that won’t allow for you to settle here long-term.

In positive, if you want to reinvent the way you see home, this line is amazing. Hear you might experience some detachment from your roots, allowing for personal discovery.

In negative, costly feeling restlessness and emotional detachment, making a hard to connect.

Overall, if you want to discover and reinvent yourself in this area of home life and in regards to your roots. This place is pretty good for that.

MC: in regards to your career, this place is quite good for it. If you’re planning on working in a tech, engineering, activism or start any sort of start-up, this line is going to boost that. You are more prone for going viral for the most random reasons here. Your career will feel filled with plot twists. You might visit this line with something in mind, and end up doing something completely different. People will see you as innovative, quirky, a bit detached and a visionary. Also you might be more prone to have multiple income streams here. This place is overall really good if you’re looking for inspiration or an advancement in your career. I feel like people look down on this line when it comes to career, but I find it to be a really good line for coming up with something. Also, whatever you create here might be very beneficial or extremely shocking to a lot of people.

In positive, it’s great for creative breakthroughs and having a new outlook on your projects. If you have been feeling stuck in your career or lost in your career, come here and see how your mind literally opens to so many possibilities.

In negative, if you don’t like this unstoppable change or instability, I don’t suggest you come here to work. It can be really good, but I do understand why some people might not want this type of environment. There can also be a fluctuation on how people perceive you here.

Overall, reinventing your career or your brand can go really well here. Having a start up here is also really amazing. Working in any tech, activism or engineering field here is great.

Neptune line:

AC: you will feel like you are in a dream (not in a bad or good sense). Sometimes you might feel like you are more disconnected from reality. People will perceive you as dreamy, hard to pin down and mysterious. Think manic pixie. You might be in your head a lot and you might be more prone to absorb peoples energy. Make sure you guard yourself energetically here. This place is gorgeous for a spiritual awakening and an existential crisis(yikes). You will rediscover parts of yourself in terms of spirituality or religious beliefs. you will be more interested in the occult on this line as well. You will have such an artistic and creative flow here, it’s insane. You will be more attracted towards a slower paced life. People will be attracted to your sensuality and mystery. They might even see you as a healer of some sort. Some might take advantage of that so please make sure to guard yourself.

In positive, you will be attracted to aesthetically pleasing things or at least lean into a more “ aesthetic” life. You are going to have your intuition more heightened and have a smoother creative flow.

In negative, again you might be taking advantage of, you might be prone to escapism (mind those substances please), you will experience an identity crisis and you will be more sensitive to fatigue.

Overall, great for heightened intuition and development in your healing skills. If you want to discover yourself spiritually or religiously, this line can be very fulfilling. I would say this is a good place for a healing retreat. Great to come here if you want to practice your spiritual beliefs, art, music or modelling.

DC: relationships here are hard to pin down. You never know if the person your meeting is your soulmate or it’s just an illusion. You might attract partners here that you might tend to idolise. Relationships will feel dreamy indeed, but you might create your own version of the person you’re dating. Basically, you will get in relationships with people because you like the idea you created of them, not them as a person. Relationships here can take advantage of you. Here the line between dreams and reality is thin. You might find yourself with people that do not respect your boundaries. You might find yourself in the position of healing the wounds of your partners. On the bright side, this line can also bring you closer to a soulmate like relationship. Even if it’s not a soulmate relationship, it is going to be a relationship that shapes you in some way. Going to experience a deep spiritual connection between you and your partner. You might even find it hard to move on from your exes on this line (or vice versa). Friendships here can be very fulfilling but you have to make sure you set boundaries with all the people that you meet.

In positive, relationships here will be filled with empathy and deep spiritual connection. You might receive more unconditional love here.

In negative, strong codependency in relationships and self sacrificing.

Overall, creative collaborations here can be very strong and fulfilling. If you wish to partner with someone in the musical, art or modelling field, this line is good for this.

IC: your home will feel extra safe. There is going to be a tendency of isolation and escapism. You might feel like your emotions and your thoughts are a bit foggy. It’s easy to lose yourself to delusional things. Your home is the place where you might feel the most creatively in tune. Also, your intuition might peak in your environment or when working with your roots. Basically, if you want to practice any spirituality that is tied to your origins or to familiar things, this line can really boost that. You might also genuinely get reallyyyyy vivid dreams. You can also start experiencing premonitions through your dreams. I wouldn’t necessarily say that you fully feel at home here, not because you won’t like it, but because you will feel more disconnected from reality leading to a disconnect in your home life as well

In positive, you will feel spiritually connected to your roots and my double more into your native practices. You will be more in tune with your creativity and intuition.

In negative, easy to get lost in your thoughts and you might tend to opt for unhealthy coping mechanisms. Please make sure to stay grounded on this line.

Overall, great place if you want to feel spiritually or religiously connected. This will unlock a new perspective on this area of your life. Not a bad line, just you might tend to find it hard to stay grounded.

MC: owwwwww! If you r in any artistic or create a field this line is amazing for you. The way you will feel the creativity flow in your work life is insane. You will have more of an unusual approach to your work. You might also bring an ethereal or mystical vibe to your craft. You will be perceived as mysterious by the masses. If you work in the art, film, musi, acting, modelling or any career that focuses on spirituality and aesthetics, I suggest working here. One downside is that you might luck direction or you might struggle with going through with what you planned. If you make sure that you balance that and bring some structure to your life, this line will be amazing for your field.

In positive, great for a lot of fields that are require creativity. You will be more mysterious to people and that can attract quite some popularity.

In negative, might experience some career confusion and lack of boundaries in your workplace.

Overall, again great for creative fields and popularity based on your mysteriousness.

Pluto line:

AC: this line is overall hard to navigate, especially if you have harsh Pluto aspects. One thing you are going to experience on this line especially, is change in who you are. You are going to doubt your principles, your morals, your identity and your habits. This line is all about transformation. It’s good if you are going through an identity crisis and you want to completely reinvent yourself, but I wouldn’t generally suggest to stay here long-term. You’ll be perceived as intense and even harsh sometimes. this is going to be a line that will truly transform your whole identity, from the way you talk, you walk and you behave. I personally would tell people that if they are looking for some change in their life, then they should visit this line, it will stir stuff up. Just like all Pluto lines though, having this constant destroying and rebuilding energy can feel a bit tiring or draining. If you work with yourself, you will find out that by the end of your stay, you became a whole new version of yourself that is more powerful.

In positive, you will be more magnetic and you will reinvent your whole identity. This line might even lead to some clarity when it comes to yourself.

In negative, this line will make you feel really lonely. It will also make you feel like you are in a constant battlefield. More prone to burn out here.

Overall, great place for discovering and reinvention. Mostly would suggest travelling here for a shorter period of time.

DC: relationships on this line are in intensive…(not necessarily good). If you are single, you might attract partners who are controlling, obsessive or toxic (possibly abusive, I’m sorry love). I am not going to sugarcoat it, I’ve heard some stories about women being in very bad situations on this line. Transformations will be deep through relationships. You might actually rediscover your type or you might learn some heavy lessons. There’s gonna be a lot of power struggles here. If you are in a relationship and are planning on coming on this line, all I’m going to say is that this line will test the integrity of your relationship. I’ve heard one too many couples moving to this line and ending up breaking up a few months later after being together for yearssss. Not saying that this line will automatically break your relationship, but it will test it. If you both learn to hold your ground and not let disagreement get to both of you, you will be fine. Relationships here are just difficult, even friendships or partnerships. A lot of tension, and not a good one. One thing I have to say, if you come to this line and you really heal, you will become so unstoppable.

In positive, karmic healing in relationships. You will rediscover what you truly desire in a partner. It will basically bring more clarity on what you want from the people around you. It might also help you learn how to respect yourself.

In negative, lots of powerplay and imbalances. Toxic relationships and a lot of manipulation.

Overall, not the best line in my opinion. If you’re truly looking to navigate your relationships patterns, then come here, but if you are not ready to face some nasty truths, I wouldn’t even suggest travelling here.

IC: your home life will feel very suffocating. You might have parental figures that are trying to control you. You might feel like your home is not your safe space. This place screams dealing with a lot of lineage karma. You will do some heavy shadow work in that area. Honestly, it’s a hard line as well, but that’s all Pluto lines. This place is really great for understanding issues from the root and solving them. You might even heal some generational trauma here or at least become more aware of what that generation of trauma is. Dealing with all this karma and shadow work you will feel so much more powerful, you will tap into your true purpose. This line also builds insane inner strength and desire for justice. Pluto lines are hard, but they are necessary.

In positive, deep rooted emotional and healing. This is a re-occurring thing with a lot of the lines here.

In negative, lot of family drama and emotional baggage. This line can cause depression (please stay strong).

Overall, great for healing generational trauma and deep rooted issues.

MC: weirdly enough, the Pluto MC line is less hard to navigate here (not easy but not as annoying as the previous Pluto lines). It’s still very harsh, but emotionally it’s a bit easier. This line will teach you a lot about power dynamics. You might face some power imbalances at your workplace. A lot of tension between you and authority figures are present on this line. This line will make you more assertive in achieving power (power is subjective, so that can be money for some or authority for others). You might be perceived by the masses as controversial and intense. You will be the type of person that grows on people. You are an acquired taste for sure. Good for rising at the top in general, but especially good for people that work in finance, law, politics, psychology or any taboo field of work. You will deal with some betrayal in your workplace. You might also lose your job here. So be careful and stay mindful.

In positive, you will learn to own the room you walk in and grow your power (and authority).

In negative, you will possibly deal with job loss. You will deal with hardships and authority tension in the workplace.

Overall, good for rising to the top and taboo fields.

Chiron line:

AC: yeah, remember when I said that the Pluto lines are hard? This line is even harder, but it doesn’t feel suffocating, it feels deep, like the type of pain that you can’t fully shake off. Hear you will undergo deep healing of yourself. All your wounds regarding your identity will come to light, and other people will see it too. If you have been insecure about your physical appearance, then you will show it and you will feel it more intensely. If you have been insecure about your intelligence, you will feel more exposed here. This line pushes you to heal through embracing yourself. Accepting who you are and learning to deal with yourself at your own pace. You might be perceived as more melancholic and sad. People will be more inclined to want to help you. Your  own identity will be shaky, but that’s only because this line pushes you to heal.

In positive, will undergo massive personal change in regards to your insecurities or personal wounds.

In negative, you will look down on yourself a lot and might lose a lot of your confidence. Also you might feel more exposed to other people.

Overall, really good to come here if you want to undergo some serious therapy. This line will be amazing for that. do you want to start your healing then come here.

DC: so basically, I’m a liar cause this line is even more horrible(if you’re not healed). Every single insecurity and fear you have will materialise in your connections with people. If you have ever been afraid that people will leave you, then boom, they leave you. If you are afraid deep down that your partner will be cheating on you. guess what? They are. You really need to tackle what makes you insecure in your friendships or relationships in order to have good connections here. This line gives me, you attract what you are! Do not expect good connections if you are not healed. The bright side is that relationships will feel healing as well. You might be able to heal your wounds through your relationships. There is gonna be a sense of deep intimacy between you and your person. Also might attract people with similar insecurities as you.

In positive, you will experience karmic healing in relationship. You will be learning a lot of self-worth as well.

In negative, all your triggers that you have in relationships have a high chance of manifesting here.

Overall, good for clearing karmic baggage and growing through connections.

IC: your sense of what is home, what feel safe and what is trust will be challenged here. Your home or roots might bring a lot of scars. If you are travelling or moving here, be ready for past ones to the surface. This line will really trigger you in a lot of areas. This line will also test if those wounds have been fully healed or just bandage over briefly. this is arguably the best line for shadow work. It is also the shittiest line for shadow work. Why do I say that? Because it will be very hard, but very rewarding. Nothing comes easy when it’s healing we are talking about. Chiron is sad and tormenting, but not impossible. You will develop a next level emotional resilience.

In positive, you will heal deeply and truly. You will develop an inner strength that will be unshakeable after this. Your sense of identity will be very strong as well.

In negative, you might not be able to take it. This line is just really hard to be honest. You will feel the effects of it. My best advice is to truly put in the work to see past the facade of things. True healing comes with hardship. Shadow work is not as nice as people make it seem.

Overall, great for generational healing as well and targeting deep past wounds (even once that you didn’t know are still there).

MC: this line will bring your career into fruition through hardships. So any career in psychology, psychiatric help, mentorship, teacher, healer and motivational speaking is good here. Advocating for communities is going to work out really well here. You could potentially build a legacy here. You could also have a pretty successful career by overcoming your hardships in general. You would also feel align with your career and that can bring some meaning to yourself. You could become quite purpose driven as well.

In positive, you will leave a meaningful impact and find success through transformations. You might even be inspiring to others.

In negative, might be afraid of being seen as weak or broken. You will have all your wounds visible to the world. Your vulnerability will be exposed leaving you quite unhappy.

Overall, any careers that turn pain into inspiration will thrive here.

North node:

AC: on this line, he will feel more along with your true purpose and destiny through yourself. The way you act, behave, speak and walk will all be aligned with your true destiny. by being your most authentic self, life will push you towards your path. You are going to undergo major self growth and you will be pushed into it quite strongly. Once you’ve lined yourself with who you are, you will notice a shift in your reality. I also do believe that this line is really good for manifesting or for using the law of assumption. You will get a boost in confidence.

In positive, you will feel more aligned with yourself bringing you more self-fulfilment. You will also encounter aligned friendships.

In negative, you might experience impostor syndrome. You will also be uncomfortable during this whole growth process. But hey, it’s necessary.

Overall, grateful for true discovery and the alignment with oneself. Also, if you ever wanna start a new chapter, you can always start here. If you want to travel here I’d highly suggested.

DC: you will be more aligned with your true life’s purpose and destiny through your relationship relationships with people. Let that be partnerships, friendships or relationships they will all bring you closer to what you are truly supposed to achieve. Some might help you through actually giving you resources, some might help you through uplifting you, some might even help you through giving you opportunities, whatever the case may be they are all there to bring you to your next stage. Relationships here will also make you grow emotionally a lot so be prepared to face some shadow sides of yourself. You might even attract the karmic partners.

In positive, you will experience emotional and spiritual growth through other people. Other people will help you align with your goals. You will encounter destiny like connections.

In negative, you might become too codependent on your partnerships. You might also experience clings and obsession. Heartbreak will hurt like hell here. Make sure you balance the energy you invest in yourself with the energy you invest in other people.

Overall, good for possibly even meeting your soulmate and creating meaningful long lasting relationships. Relationships will help you grow in whatever field of work you choose to be in. good for meeting mentors and establishing good business partnerships.

IC: here your job will be to tackle the family patterns. You will be in tune with your destiny when you deal with all the emotional baggage that either comes from with you or from within your ancestry (or family). A lot of family patterns will come to life, but it is up to you to solve them. You will feel emotionally content and emotionally evolved. You will be emotionally and spiritually the highest form of yourself. This can build a lot of self assurance and confidence. You will learn to break pattern, set boundaries and learn when to put yourself first. you will also learn how to be soft and who you should give the softness to.

In positive, you will reach emotional fulfilment and successful follow after that. You will reinvent a new concept of home.

In negative, you might experience some conflict in regards to your old definition of what home was. Change is gonna be uncomfortable but it will be very beneficial.

Overall, really good for starting the family and dealing with inner child work.

MC: this is literally career Central. Alongside your Jupiter and sun MC line, this line is also amazing for your career. Having the north node, which is all about your life’s purpose and your MC, which is all about your public persona and career together it’s a very strong combination. This is arguably the best line for your career. Not only will you evolve as a person using your career, you will also evolve in your career. Opportunities will come to you but it is up to you to recognise them and use them. You will resonate with your refill of work and you will passionately pursue it. And to be honest, you might even get some abundance out of it. Life will put you in the spotlight whether you like it or not.

In positive, you will be working in a career that truly resonates with you and brings you closer to your destiny. This alone will bring success.

In negative, you will feel pressure from yourself to constantly do really good. Your lesson here is to learn how to manage your expectations.

Overall, if you want a boost in your career and full alignment which are destiny come on this line. If you just wanna visit, keep an eye out for opportunities.

Ok so this post took me so long omg!!! Besides the fact that I am in active exam season right now (I’m so cooked), I also had to rewrite this post… But let me just put that out there, I will always prioritise quality over quantity, therefore I’d rather post a bit less, but at least I know I’m being authentic and I don’t spread misinformation. Also sorry for any possible typos.

Well I hope you guys enjoyed this! I put in so much effort to research on this theme since I am not that familiar with astrocartography. If you guys have any personal experiences living on any of these lines (and if you are comfortable sharing them) I’d love to hear them (and I am sure other people will want to know some first-hand experiences as well).

Till next time stay healthy and stay glowing xoxo

[exitingmusic]

Yours

Caleb x reader

Warnings: suicidal ideas, depression, slight self-harm, language, obsessive Caleb (slight yandere, not too ooc), lil bit of angst :)

AN: This is a pretty long one I've had in my drafts and the beginning isn't great but I swear it gets better I SWEAR I'll do the HC after this I just really wanted to write this before I forgot :)

WC: 8.6k

After a big argument with Caleb about him locking you in his house, tensions were high. He was leaving tomorrow for a new exploration mission with the Farspace Fleet, but you refused to let yourself be upset that he was leaving again. Not when he had locked you up. Not when he had given you sleeping pills instead of medicine so you wouldn’t sneak out. 

He approaches you, a smile on his face as he takes your hand. “I’m about to leave, it’d be nice if we could have a meal together.”

You yank your hand away, snapping, “So I have to listen to the Colonel even when it comes to eating and drinking now?”

Hurt crosses his expression as you turn on your heel, heading for the living room. He follows you, standing in front of you as you sit on the couch and scowl up at him.

“Your life has threats around every corner. The people who are after your power, who want to hurt you? They should all just disappear.” Leaning forward, he presses his hand against the cushion beside your head. “You’re only safe when you’re by my side.”

A gentle smile tugs at his lips, the soft feeling not reaching his cold eyes. It falls quickly though when you respond, “I’d rather face danger head on than live ‘safely’ like this! I don’t need you—“

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?” he says, cutting you off with a disbelieving laugh. Leaning forward, he grabs one of your wrists. “Alright. What do you need? You can tell me. We can return to Linkon if that’s what you want. If you want to return to the past, we’ll rebuild our old house and move in together.”

His voice turns pleading as he continues, “I’ll decorate it with everything you could ever want, it will have the most beautiful, stunning gardens you’ve ever seen. No threat will ever be able to find you again. I’ll protect you forever.” His words are soft, his eyes so familiar and yet so wrong, somehow. A slight smile curves his mouth, so normal and yet different that it makes your heart ache.

“Caleb, I lived this long without you, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be a bird locked in a cage, even if it is with you,” you pleaded, carefully watching his every reaction.

He lets out a frustrated sigh and closes his eyes, clearly struggling to remain calm and not snap. He rubs the bridge of his nose and takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself as he opens his eyes again to look at you.

“You think I care about your freedom or free will right now? The only thing I care about is protecting you. The rest doesn’t matter.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and paces away from you, his expression conflicted. “Why do you even want that freedom when you could have safety here, with me?”

“Am I just supposed to stay here, acting happy all my life? Surrounded by the same walls? The same things? Never see or talk to anyone else?” You continued, your voice raising, “because I can't do that Caleb, no matter how safe I'd be. I couldn’t stand it.”

Caleb’s jaw is clenched tight, the anger in his words barely contained. He turns and takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and pull you up from the couch. “I don’t give a damn how ‘happy’ you are, or if you feel ‘trapped’. I just. Need. You. Safe.” His hand tightens on your arm as he presses close to you, every line of his body tense at the argument.

“It doesn’t matter if I lock you up or keep you under my watch,” he says, his gaze pinning yours as he growls, “As long as you’re safe, nothing else matters,” he mutters, releasing your arm, but still standing close enough to tower over you, his violet gaze locked on yours. “Why can’t you understand I’m doing this because I love you? I can’t let anything happen to you, no matter the cost.”

You didn’t recognize this man in front of you, eyes hard and cold, determined to clip your wings and trap you in this gilded cage. You weren’t angry at him, no, it just hurt seeing the boy you loved so dearly so detached and uncaring, towards you no less.

Anger fading, you look at him with saddened eyes, “You're not my Caleb.”

Caleb freezes, staring at you, looking like you stabbed him in the chest before his expression hardens again, the air growing tense as he says, “What are you talking about?”

His hand gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up so he can search your expression as he says, “Of course I’m the same Caleb, your Caleb. The one who’s been here, protecting you, worrying for you, and who loves you. Who else could I be?”

“My Caleb wouldn't have done this. He would've happily followed me to the ends of the universe to keep me safe and happy. He wouldn't lock me away…” you said defiantly, raising your chin.

He releases your chin and steps back, something cold hardening in his expression. “Your Caleb, huh? That sounds like some kind of ideal to me. He sounds like a spineless, love sick idiot who’s willing to risk your life for you to be happy.”

He begins to pace in front of you, his expression turning bitter as he says, “You think he would’ve preferred letting you run around, putting yourself in danger, all because of what?! Your happiness?”

“But I loved that Caleb, I still do. I couldn't give a shit if he was a spineless, love sick idiot. He was my Caleb and I'd have him no other way,” you say loyally, your voice quiet but unwavering.

He freezes, something painful flashing across his expression before he quickly turns from you. One of his hands clenches into a fist as he snaps, “Well that Caleb is dead and gone.” He’s stiff, his shoulders are tense, a muscle in his jaw moving as he stands silently.

Even though he’s turned away from him, your face doesn’t hide your disappointment, “Clearly,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You can’t help the sliver of satisfaction that you feel as he clenches his jaw, teeth gritting. 

“So why do you keep talking about him? He’s dead, and everything you want doesn’t matter anymore.” He turns and walks towards you, standing just in front of you with a bitter, cold expression. His voice is fragile as he asks you, “Why can’t you stop talking about him and see me?”

You hold no anger, only pity for him, “Because you’re trying to force me to see you, to choose you over everything else in my life. You’re making yourself the bad guy.”

He laughs, but it’s bitter and harsh. “The bad guy? Is that what you think I am?”

‘Caleb’ cups a hand on your chin, gently forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are hard, no trace of the soft, kind boy you used to know.

“Let me tell you what I think, sweetheart. I think your judgement is clouded by sentiment. Your idea of who your old Caleb is has blinded you, your idea for who I should be.”

That was your breaking point, “Well maybe it’s because I’m locked in this house and now I’m not allowed to see my friends, to go places, hell, I’m not even allowed to go outside,” you spat, glaring up at Cal- no, the Colonel. 

He scoffs and gently pushes you back down into the couch, his expression angry as he says, “You expect me to care? You’re not miserable. You’re not hungry, you’re not uncomfortable. You have everything here, but all you can focus on is that you’re missing your freedom, like some kind of animal.”

He shakes his head and looks away, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’re lucky I even let you have this much. You could be locked up, actually locked up in a cell with no contact.”

Your eyes narrow, an expression of disgust on your face, “You’re right my Caleb is dead,” you grit out, brushing past him to your room. 

His jaw tightens, annoyance clear in his expression as he yells after you, “And what does that mean? Your Caleb is dead, sweetheart. This is the only version of me you’ll ever have now.”

Turning back, you bare your teeth, “I might not die out there, but I sure as hell will wither away in here. Thank you, Colonel, I feel so safe,” you spat the title out venomously, slamming the door, paying no mind to his recoil at the rank.

He lets out a low growl and slams a hand on the door, his voice rising in a sharp, cold snap. “You’re going to open this door right now.”

“We don't all get what we want, Colonel,” you say, voice empty as you glare at the door.  “Remember? Safety over happiness?”

He steps back and takes a deep, calming breath. With sharp, angry strides, he walks into the living room and sits on the couch, every movement radiating anger.

“Happiness will pass,” he grinds out, his gaze cold as steel fixated on the wall. “Safety is permanent.”

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Over the next 2 days, fury is the only thing you feel, it consumes you. You don’t sleep, don’t eat, you can’t breathe from the anger running through your veins. After the first couple of hours, your room is completely trashed, everything that decorated her room was either broken or on the floor. Your books were bent, pages torn out and crumpled. Your plants were turned on their sides, pots broken as soil spilled out. Pictures of Caleb and you, drawings you had made of each other, laughed over were taken out of their frames and torn to pieces, the frames crumpled and dented. The pretty vase of flowers Caleb got you? Smashed to pieces, the petals shredded and stems ripped. The pillows and blankets you bought together? Ripped, the stuffing leaking, just how your pain leaked oozed from every pore. The jackets, shirts, and sweatshirts he gave you were tossed in the hall. Every gift he ever got you was either broken, ripped, shredded or shoved away from your sight. Everything you enjoyed was broken beyond repair.

Even the plushies weren’t safe from your wrath, a couple being so dented from how many times your fist flew into the soft material. The only thing that remained untouched was a dinosaur model that the two of you spent nearly a week on before he “died”. It was also the first time he ever kissed you, right after he placed the final piece, he jumped up, excited, pure joy on his face as Caleb spun you around and next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

Now, you couldn’t even look at it, but you couldn’t bear the thought of crushing it, so it sat on the windowsill, hidden behind the blinds that were always shut tightly, preventing any glimpse of the outside.

The Colonel didn’t do that, you did. You couldn’t bear to see freedom so close, yet so far. The sun would shine on the grass and trees outside your window, birds flying over and nesting in the big oak tree in the back. Each night, when the sun set, the sky would be ablaze with the most vibrant pinks, purples, and oranges. Wispy clouds trailed their fingertips through the sea of the sky, curling around each other and floating whichever way the wind carried them. 

You felt like a caged animal, being taunted by having to watch your freedom and life slip past right in front of you.

On day 2, you realized that your anger wasn’t getting you free. Defeated, you fell back onto your mattress, a heavy weight on your chest, like this invisible force was smothering you. 

You couldn’t cry, it was like the comfort of tears had forsaken you as well as the life you were once so excited to continue, adventuring around the planet freely, meeting people, fighting wanderers and just having the freedom to make your own decisions. 

You just felt so empty, the anger had burned out all of your motivation, all of your feelings, leaving you a hollow, blank shell. 

A part of you died with Caleb when he vanished in the explosion, coming back as someone you could barely recognize. Your mind was tricked by his physical appearance that you didn’t notice that the kindness and joy had all been leached out. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, lost in your own mind before the door opened. Even though you didn’t look, you could still sense he was standing there.

You didn’t react, not when he sucked in a breath at the mess, not when he came closer or when he peered at you.

“Come, I made you food,” he says stiffly, eyes sweeping over the crushed memories, precious items that weren’t too special to anyone except you.

Standing up, you avoided his eyes and walked past him, shoulders curled inwards as you sat down in front of the plate set up for you.

You couldn’t even feel your hunger, your mouth didn’t water as the scent of his braised chicken wings filled the air. Sides of wonton soup, Har gow, and stir fry sat on the counter, all your favorites.

You ate robotically, the food turning to ash in your mouth. Normally when you ate Caleb’s cooking, you’d be shoveling it in your mouth as fast as possible, trying to eat as much as you could before you got a stomach ache.

But normally you wouldn’t be locked inside.

You could tell Cale-, no, Colonel was a little concerned as he watched you eat slowly, completely blank, a harsh contrast from your torn apart room. 

He cleared his throat, “Is the food okay?” The Colonel asks, his voice hesitant. 

“S’fine,” you muttered, staring at the plate.

He didn’t try to talk to you again but he sat there, watching you with sharp eyes.

After you finished, you took your dishes over, rinsing the residue off and setting them next to the sink before you went back to your room, shrinking away from the windows, like a phantom.

And that’s what you were, a ghost, a wraith. A spirit that haunts the halls of the house, staring blankly for hours on end. And wherever she drifts, the curtains fall shut, clouding the house in darkness once more. Darkness that was reflected under your eyes.

You grow paler, thinner, your hair messy and clothes hanging off your body like rags. You only ate when he made you, only slept when he made you, only spoke when he asked you something. All your other time was spent locked in your mind, staring off into space. 

The Colonel had attempted to bring you back to life. He had cleaned up most of your room, replaced books, framed new pictures, and bought you new pillows and blankets. He tried to talk to you, tried to get you to do things together, but you only responded with simple answers or refusal. 

He tried to get you to cook with him, playing music while he waited for you to come out of your room and help him or even just sit at the counter. He tried to give you new plants, but you never watered them, your room was already too dark for them to live long. He gave you all the comforts you could want, but nothing changed.

A cage was still a cage no matter how pretty it was.

Only you couldn’t bear to look outside of it. 

You could tell the Colonel was getting frustrated, he stopped trying to sweet talk you into spending time with him or having a conversation. He stopped putting so much effort into cooking, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. He stopped trying to breathe life into your room, stopped adding old pictures, stopped setting plants on the shelf, leaving the other ones to wilt away.

It was ironic, you and the plants were both wilting away from the sun, dying slowly.

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Like usual, you were laying on your bed, looking at the ceiling and imagining the bright blue sky and the fluffy clouds with birds flying overhead, trying to bring you some comfort, to ground you and to bring you some form of happiness.

It had been months. Five months since you’ve been outside, five months since you’ve seen anyone but him, five months since you’ve seen anything else but the same walls. 

You didn’t care anymore, you barely ate, just laid in bed, numb. Your hands were bloody from how often you picked your cuticles, your nails were just nubs, bitten down to the skin. Every time anything would scab over, you picked it immediately. 

It was a reminder, a reminder that you were still real, that you could feel, no matter how much you didn’t want to. No matter how many times that she felt like she wasn’t here, the pain would bring her crashing back down. 

He watched your slow retreat over the next few months. As much as he tried to talk to you, to coax you back to something like your old self, he made no ground. You were like a shell of your former self, just a hollow echo with no fire in its soul. 

With every week that passed, he grew more and more desperate. He tried bringing your favorite foods in, tried to talk you into listening to music again, but none of it had any effect.

He tried to keep a blank expression around you, but as the months passed and he noticed that you were beginning to wilt away, the hard lines in his expression would soften to concern.

He attempted to give you things to do, books to read and such, but everytime he was met with either you ignoring him or just reading the words without actually comprehending them. 

By the time a couple of months had passed, your old self was gone, replaced with this empty, soulless shell.

After another month, he was at his wit’s end. You never talked, you never attempted to do anything, you were just a shell. All your fire, your brightness, your life, was gone. 

He watched over you constantly, his worry and agitation growing. It was like he was taking care of a robot or a puppet, rather than the person he loved. 

On one particular day, he stands in front of you with a conflicted look on his face as he says, “I can’t keep doing this.”

You just walked by him towards your room, “I told you.”

He follows you into the room, his expression hardening as he says, “Don’t you even care anymore? You’ve given up on everything.”

“No, I don’t care.”

He scoffs in disbelief, crossing his arms. “Damn it, you’re not even going to try and fight this?” he says, his voice sharp and bitter.

You sigh, finally turning to him, “There’s no point.”

He goes silent, his gaze fixed on you, taking in your changed appearance. There was a time when he would’ve admired everything about you, how fiery you were, how full of life. 

Now, now you were thin and limp and lifeless. Like a puppet without its strings, he felt like he’d broken you down to nothing but a shell of your former self.

After a few moments, he lets out a sigh and mutters, “You look terrible.”

“I'm safe,” you say simply, her words having no bite, just as lifeless as you. Crawling into bed, you faced the ceiling.

He squeezes his eyes shut as you speak, his heart twisting in his chest at your tone. 

He’s never heard you sound so lifeless before, so dull, almost like everything inside you has died. His hand gently shifts to the nape of your neck, his touch almost tender.

“This isn’t what I wanted. You’re acting like a doll, not like yourself.”

You turned away from him, “My safety matters most,” you say robotically.

He falls silent. It was a statement he had said, and yet… 

He sighs and closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Safety isn’t everything. What’s the point if you’re left miserable?” he said tiredly.

You didn’t bother agreeing, not when it took him this long to understand.

He runs a hand through his hair and scoffs, anger rising in him. “You’re supposed to argue! You’re supposed to get mad at me, yell at me!”

The Colonel’s hand clenches into a fist and he looks down at you, irritation filling his gaze. “You’re not this, you’re supposed to be all bright and happy, damn it!”

“I tried,” you mutter.

He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You tried? Hah. You didn’t even fight it in the end, you just let yourself crumble and now I’m stuck with this-“ he waves a hand at you, “-this empty husk.”

You gave him a tired look, “I can’t fight forever.”

He sighs and shakes his head, his expression growing cold. “Bullshit. You could’ve kept fighting, you could’ve still been resisting but instead you just… gave up.”

His lip curls into a sneer, his anger flaring. “You just gave up and let me break you.”

“I just wanted to go outside,” you say, your voice broken as you turn towards the closed curtain.

His expression twists into a scowl, his anger still there but more muted. He takes a step forward, his gaze on you as he says, “Outside? That’s what this is about? You want to go out there? Do you have any idea what’s like for you outside? Why do I have to keep you here? It’s for your own safety. Can’t you see that?”

“I don’t want to live anymore,” you whisper, completely and utterly broken.

He’s taken aback, his anger instantly vanishing into thin air. He stands there in stunned silence, his jaw clenched tightly. The words hit him like a freight train, each syllable a sharp stab into their chests. He knew, he knew he’d driven you to the brink of depression, but hearing it out loud… he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there. “You don’t mean that,” he finally murmurs.

The Colonel comes forward and kneels at the side of the bed, reaching out a hand slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you away. He gently brushes a strand of your hair away from your face, his touch a tender, gentle one. “You can’t mean that,” he says again, his voice quiet and broken, “Tell me you didn’t mean that.”

You shake your head, “I’m done.”

He takes your hand in his, clasping it firmly on his own. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading. “Don’t say that. You’re not done. You’re just lost, I can help you find your way back, I can fix this, I can fix you.”

You avoid his gaze, “I don’t think anyone can.”

He refuses to believe that, his grip on your hand tightening as he says firmly, “I can. Anything that can be broken can be fixed. You’re just… confused. I can help you, I can fix you.”

“It’s been months.”

He can’t deny that, and he knows it. It was his fault, his fault that you were like this. Still, he shakes his head and looks you in the eye, determined. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. You’re broken, and I’m going to fix you. I don’t care what I have to do.”

He releases your hand and stands, towering over you with a determined expression. “I will fix you,” he repeats firmly, his jaw clenched tight. “I just need to find the right method. I’ll fix you. You just have to let me.”

“There’s nothing left to fix,” you whispered shakily.

The Colonel scoffs, his impatience flaring. “You don’t get to decide that. I know you’re in there, somewhere, you’re just hiding! You’re just…” He rubs a hand down his face, his frustration growing as he tries to find the right words. “You just need to be reminded of what you had. What we had.”

“I had a life.”

He looks at you, his expression hardening. “You have a life. You’re alive. You’re living, breathing, safe. That’s what matters, not you going out and running risks.”

“There’s nothing left for me,” you say, picking at your bloody hands, trying to ground yourself.

He grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him as he says, “Are you listening to yourself? We’ve been through so much. You are my world, my everything. I love you with all my heart. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand?”

Your gaze snaps to him, eyes hardening, “Why can’t you understand me?”

He shakes you a little, his fingers almost digging into your shoulders. “I’m trying!” he growls out, his anger flaring again. “But you’re just so damn stubborn, refusing to listen and understand what I’m doing is for your own good.”

And just like a flip of a switch you turn away from him, the little emotion and vulnerability you showed vanished, tucked away and extinguished. 

He’s left standing there, your expressionless body turned away from him. Frustration, irritation, anger, helplessness, guilt, all well up inside him. In a moment of blind frustration, he grabs a nearby pillow and lets out a yell as he throws it across the room.

You don’t react, don’t flinch, you just lie there, already retreating back into the corner of your mind. 

He stands and stares at your still body for a few moments, his chest heaving. He wants to shake you, to yell at you, to get something back, any semblance of his beloved and fiery girlfriend. But you’ve already retreated back into your emotionless shell, leaving him standing there and feeling more powerless than ever.

He falls to his knees and presses his palms to his eyes, his mind spinning as his emotions overwhelm him. The guilt in his chest is threatening to choke him, the sight of you lying there, barely even alive, all his fault. At that moment, he doesn’t feel like a man, much less a military colonel. He just feels like a boy who had broken the woman he loved into nothing. The woman who loved him even when he didn’t deserve it. The woman who had always been there, letting him cry on his shoulder ever since they were kids. 

You try to drown him out, picking at the peeling scabs on your fingers, staring at the covered window.

He drops his hands from his face, his expression tired, guilt, frustration, and even self loathing filling his gaze. He rises slowly and comes to stand by you, his movements almost wary. He eyes your body on the bed, so thin and pale, and his hand automatically comes out to touch your hair like he’s done a hundred times before, but he hesitates, his hand hovering just above your head.

Without warning, you feel his arms around you, picking you up. You don’t ask, don’t protest, don’t even move, just lie there in his arms, eyes staring straight forward.

He picks you up bridal style, one arm under your thighs and the other under your shoulders. Your frame is too light in his arms as he heads out of the room with you. You’re limp, pliant as a doll, as he carries you through the house.

He walks outside and down the porch steps, his footsteps quick and precise as he walks across the lawn to the other side of his sprawling property. 

As soon as the fresh air hits you, you tense, squinting at the sun. 

You were outside.

You were outside for the first time in nearly 6 months. It was better than you ever could’ve dreamed. The smell of grass and fresh air fills your senses. You could hear the steady pace of the Colonel’s feet as he walked through the field, could hear the chirp of the birds, could hear the rustling of leaves in the wind. The warmth of the sun shone on your skin, a sharp contrast from the artificial temperature of the AC or heater.

He sees tension take over your limbs, your gaze squinting up at the sunlight. He’s hit with another wave of guilt, realizing that this might be the first time in months you’d been outside, in the sunlight.

Your eyes dart around, observing everything you can, eyes wide like this was your last chance to take it all in. 

He carries you to the big oak tree at the end of his property, overlooking the hills and valleys towards the sun that was slowly sinking towards the horizon.

He gently sets you down in the shade, sitting a little bit behind you, leaving you to soak up what you’d been missing.

Instantly, your hands thread through the grass, clutching it like a lifeline. Your eyes are glued to the scenery in front of you. Rolling hills of all shades of green, from a deep hunter to a pale lime, trees and shrubs scattered the valleys, framing the thin silvery stream running down the middle. Wildflowers and weeds dotted the fields, their bright bursts of yellow, purples, oranges, and reds making the crystal sky so much clearer. Big fluffy tufts of white floated leisurely along the heavens, breaking up the sun into bright patches, shining on the bright grass below.

You're so absorbed in looking around that you don’t feel the tears dripping down her face, hands shaking from your tight grip on the poor grass.

Once you let in a shaky breath, he pauses, eyeing you like a ticking time bomb. His eyes widen as the realization hits him, watching the tears roll down your cheeks. He hadn’t seen you cry in years, ever since you had failed that test before you graduated. In all the time he knew you, you’ve been strong and fiery, fighting against the challenges that life handed to you. He can’t remember the last time he saw you cry, and seeing you now… he hates the sight of it.

He moves closer, his arms encircling you, his chest firm against your back. He leans you against him, his chin resting on top of your head. He murmurs softly, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re outside.”

In your moment of weakness, you lean back into him, tears coming faster as you choked out, “It’s so fucking pretty.”

He can’t stop the frown on his expression as you cry, your body shuddering. It hurts, more than anything else, seeing you cry. He pulls you closer, one of his hands gently stroking your hair as he murmurs, “It’s just the same old trees and grass. You’ve seen them before.”

You shake your head, unable to express the rawness of your feelings, only able to clutch his arm as you sobbed. Your relief at being able to feel the world again, it was overwhelming. But so was the fear, the fear that it’d be snatched away again.

His frown deepens as he watches you, feeling even more guilty as he continues to hear you cry. He pulls you into his lap, one of his arms around your waist, keeping you pressed against him. His other hand continues to stroke your hair, his voice quiet as he murmurs, “It’s okay… cry it out, sweetheart.”

You nestle yourself back into his chest, unable to tear your eyes away, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He follows your gaze, staring out at the horizon, a pang hitting his heart as he’s reminded of how you used to look at everything with wonder. His arms wrap a little tighter, his chin resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, “And to think… you’ve been living without this for months.”

You flinch slightly at his words, sniffling and trying to hold your sobs in.

The bitter irony of the situation hits him harder than anything. Months of keeping you safe, of keeping you inside, all to keep you protected, but now just the act of you sitting outside is enough to bring you alive. He turns his gaze back to you, taking in your tear stained face, his jaw clenching tight in frustration at himself and this whole situation.

You nod, getting distracted as you see the birds flying overhead, going to their nest in the tree above your head. Letting out shaky breaths, you try to stabilize yourself, not wanting to scare the creatures away.

He shifts closer to you, keeping a slight distance, but still within arms reach. He follows your gaze to the birds and grimaces again. 

His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he asks, “You want to get closer to them, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, your voice a rasp, “No, I don’t want to scare them away.”

He lets out a soft huff, his gaze softening as he hears your raspy voice again. It’s the most he’s heard you speak today, if not in days.

He watches you for a few moments, noticing the slight tremble in your hands, before his voice is soft, almost pleading, “You’re trembling, darling.” His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out to comfort you, but he restrains himself. “Let me hold you. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

His voice has a hint of desperation in it now, seeing the tremble in your body. It pains him to see you like this, especially considering it’s all because of him. 

He moves closer, slowly, his hand hovering over your shoulder, “Please. Let me hold you, sweetheart.”

“I just need to see,” you plead, voice cracking. 

He clenches his jaw, closing his eyes to keep himself from losing it when he hears your words. He knows you’re not just talking about the birds, that this is about needing space, needing freedom.

And it kills him.

He reaches out anyway, unable to stand the sight of your trembling hands. He gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back, positioning you so you’re leaning against his chest.

He holds you against his chest tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. He buries his face in your hair, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, trying to regain control of himself. 

He can’t help the broken words that escape him as he whispers, his voice strangled, “Oh sweetheart, what did I do to you…?”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his chest tight as he feels your body tremble against his. His voice is desperate as he speaks, his heart feeling like it’s being shredded with every word, “Please, please *please* don't be like this anymore. I need you to smile, to laugh, to yell at me, *anything* at this point. That blank look, the silence… it’s killing me.”

“I’ll try, just- just don’t keep me in there,” you beg.

He lets out a choked noise, his hold on you tightening a bit. He’d do anything to bring the life back into your eyes, to hear your voice. 

His voice is strained as he says, his head resting on your shoulder, “Anything you want, sweetheart. You won’t be locked in anywhere again, I promise. Just please… stop being like this. I need you back… you.”

He shifts, gently turning you so you’re facing him. His eyes roam your expression, taking in the tear tracks, the broken eyes, the trembling body. He lifts his hand, gently wiping at your cheeks and wiping away the tears. His voice is a strangled plea as he says, his fingers tracing your cheek tenderly, “Please… stop crying.”

He reaches up a hand, gently wiping at the tears on your cheeks. “I hate seeing you cry,” he murmurs, his expression still full of guilt as he continues, “That’s not how it’s supposed to be. You should smile, not sit here sobbing.”

He gently turns you around, tilting your chin up to see the sincerity in his eyes. 

“I couldn’t cry before I came out here,” your voice broke, “I couldn’t even feel anything.”

He shakes his head and holds you tighter, guilt continuing to build inside him. “You shouldn’t cry like this… you should be happy, enjoying the fresh air. Not crying over the very simple things I’ve taken away from you.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, resting his head on top of yours as he continues stroking your hair. He murmurs, “I knew you’d be happy to be outside, I knew it’d be different… I just didn’t know it’d be like this. I didn’t think you’d be crying like your world finally came back.”

“I just-“ his voice breaks off as he tries to find the words to say, guilt and frustration and regret warring within him. He takes in every detail of your form, and the guilt washes over him in waves. He feels like he’s broken you, even as he holds you tightly in his arms.

He holds you tighter at your words, his chest tightening at the sound of your voice. Your words are like a dagger to his heart; the way you try to reassure *him* with them instead of the other way around.

His grip on you almost becomes bruising as he speaks, his voice rough, “You’re free, darling. You’re safe. I won’t ever lock you away again, I promise.”

The guilt is so strong he’s nauseous, trying to keep himself together as he keeps you in his lap, trying to savor every second of this. Knowing that you probably hate him, but can’t even fight him in this moment, just sitting there and crying and staring out at the world he locked you away from. He knows that he’s changed your life forever, and he can’t even blame you for hating him right now.

You pause, hiccupping and debating your next words, “Thank you… Caleb,” you say hesitantly, lingering a bit longer on the syllables of his name. Syllables you hadn’t said in months, hell, you hadn’t even let yourself think of the name unless it was about the old Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes widen in surprise, and he almost doesn’t reply for a moment due to shock. He didn’t think he’d be hearing you saying his name, let alone thanking him. He takes a second to swallow the lump in his throat, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “You’re thanking me…?”

The sun starts to slip below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze. Magnificent reds and orange and pinks lighting up the pale sky, dark clouds acting like smoke. It almost looked like the sun was melting, setting the green, lush valley on fire below. 

Your sobs slow to hiccups, body shuddering.

His hand continues to rub your back gently as he feels your sobs slow down, the sound being replaced with hiccups. He presses a gentle kiss to your head again, his hold on you still tight.

He murmurs quietly into your ear as he speaks, his voice still ragged, “That’s right, just breathe, pips. Take deep breaths…. I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

He cradles you against him, holding you tightly as you rest your head against his chest. He buries his face in your hair again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

His thumb rubs your arm tenderly, the motion gentle and almost soothing. He sits there silently, listening to the sound of your ragged breaths slowly even out.

Caleb’s suddenly hit with the realization that he’ll most likely have to bring you back inside eventually, and he lets out a silent grimace at the thought of it. A heavy feeling settles in his chest, the thought of making you go back to that emotionless, depressed shell of yourself making him feel nauseous. He tries to ignore it, shoving that thought away and focusing on his hand stroking your hair. He takes in a deep breath and murmurs, “Sweetheart?”

“Hm?” You murmur, nearly half asleep against him, watching the setting sun. 

He takes another deep breath, steeling his nerves and continuing, his voice low and steady. “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

Caleb gently turns your chin to face him, taking another deep breath and looks you dead in the eye, his gaze fierce and determined as he asks, “If it wasn’t for me, if you were free to do whatever, go wherever you wanted… would you leave me?”

You hesitate, afraid that he wouldn’t like your answer, “If I could do whatever I wanted, I’d stay with you, just not holed up in the house forever.”

He relaxes fractionally, the tense lines in his expression smoothening just a bit, but his jaw is still clenched tight. His next question comes out hesitant, like he’s afraid of the answer. “You… would stay with me, but not if I kept you inside like this, correct?”

You nod, not knowing what else to say.

There’s an undeniable sense of relief in his expression, a weight seemingly lifted off his chest at your response. He takes another deep breath, his voice a low murmur as he continues with the questions. “So, if I told you I’d let you go out as long as you promise me you’d come home every night…?”

“Then I’d stay,” you whispered, afraid to get your hopes up.

Caleb watches you, his gaze sharp and serious. He lets out a shaky exhale, feeling almost like he’s on the verge of a panic attack with how fast his heart is racing. His hand is shaking on your chin, but he manages to keep his expression as steady as possible as he continues, “No matter what, you promise you’ll come back. You promise you won’t disappear.”

“I promise,” you murmur, your voice shaky with hope.

His hand on your chin slowly relaxes, as if a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He holds your gaze for a few more seconds, staring at your face intently. After a moment, he pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead, his voice hoarse as he murmurs, “Thank you.”

Your face lights up and you spin around, crushing him in a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Caleb.”

He lets out a surprised huff, but his body immediately relaxes, and he wraps his arms tight around you in return. He burrows his head into your shoulder as your arms cling to him, his own hands gripping your shirt in a vice-like grip. For a few moments, he just sits there, revelling in the feeling of you holding him tight, those words you said bouncing around in his head. He was finally getting you back, even though it wasn’t much, it was still progress.

He’s on the verge of sobbing, but he manages to compose himself, instead holding you tighter and asking, “You swear you’ll come back? Every night, you swear it?”

Nodding frantically, you refuse to let go, your face buried in his shirt.

Caleb lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes clamped shut as he leans down and presses his forehead against your hair. He murmurs into it, his voice low and hoarse, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve done that to you.”

His body is tense against yours, his arms holding you tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He continues his murmured apologies, a mix of guilt and desperation lacing his words. He continues to bury his face into your hair, his voice now rough and hoarse. “I never should’ve done that to you, I should never have kept you locked up and trapped like that. It was never meant to be that way, I just… I just wanted to keep you safe, but I ended up destroying you. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You're nearly too dizzy from your newfound freedom to respond, barely choking out, “S’okay, we’re okay, I’m okay.”

He can’t help it, a harsh sob escaping from his lips at your words. He can’t stop himself as he pulls you closer, burrowing his head into the crook between your neck and shoulder, his words coming out choppy and broken as he speaks through his tears. “No, no, it’s not okay, it’s not okay. I was supposed to be your protector, but I ended up hurting you worse than I probably protected you.” Caleb’s hold on you tightens even more, almost borderline painful in how much his fingers dig into your flesh. He’s crying now, full on crying, something he hadn’t done in years. He presses his face into your neck, his entire body shaking as he murmurs through his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You were slightly surprised at his clinginess, but nonetheless, you gently raked your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe the broken boy holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him here.

Caleb buries his face into your neck, his breaths coming out in hiccuping sobs, his tears wetting your skin as he continues to mumble, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s completely crumbling in your arms, the strong, stoic facade he had for the past months shattering and crumbling to pieces. He buries his face into your neck, his body shaking uncontrollably, his shoulders heaving with sobs as he holds onto you like a lifeline and repeats his apologies over and over again. “Please, please… don’t leave me... please don’t hate me, I’m sorry, I’m so goddamn sorry…”

“Shh, you’re okay baby, you’re okay. I’ve got you, I ain’t going nowhere,” you soothe, your voice hoarse from your own crying session.

He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck as he tries his best to quell the sobs still escaping him. His breath is hot and ragged, his grip on you still painfully tight. He manages to control it enough to stop the sobs, now he’s shuddering slightly as he whispers, “Baby… don’t hate me… don’t leave me…”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, no matter what you do,” you admit, voice shaking. “C’mon, you wanna go inside? It’s getting dark and cold out.”

He lets out a shaky exhale at your words, a wave of relief and gratitude passing over him. He takes a moment to collect himself, before letting out a deep exhale and nodding, his voice still trembling as he murmurs, “Yeah, let’s go inside…” and begins the slow process of detaching his limbs from around you and standing up.

Caleb lifts you up like you weigh nothing, both of you leaning on each other and hands interlaced as you head back towards the house.

He carries you most of the way, refusing to let you get your feet muddy, pausing as he holds you in the living room, “Can you open your eyes for me, sweetheart? Where do you want to sleep?”

“Your bed, just leave the window and door open… please,” you murmur, barely opening your eyes.

He nods silently, his grip on you shifting slightly so he can readjust his hold.Caleb then begins walking down the hallway, making his way to his room. Once in the room, he walks to the bed and gently sets you down on it, shifting a bit so he’s sitting next to you. He pauses there, simply looking at you for a few seconds before speaking, “I’ll get the window and door, alright darling?”

You nod, curling into his bed and inhaling the scent of him.

He stands, reluctantly letting go of you so he can walk around the room, opening the window and the door before turning back to you.

He looks at you again, hesitating for a few moments before murmuring, “I’ll be right outside. Just… call for me if you need me, okay?”

You sit up, confused, “Where do you think you’re going?”

He pauses at that, looking at you for a few moments before answering, his voice soft, “Just outside the room, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you, I’m just… staying out there, in case you need me.”

“Damn right you're not leaving me, now get in the bed,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter at the command, his heart feeling just a little lighter at the bossy tone you were using.

Caleb walks over to the bed and slowly lays down across it, staying as close to the edge as he can, still keeping his distance from you.

You huff, amused at his cautiousness. You scoot over and pull him towards the center of the bed, staying close to him just like you did befor- no, don’t think of that, he’s here and you’re free.

He lets out another soft huff, unable to fight the small smile that appears at your actions. He slides across the bed until he’s directly next to you, though he keeps his hands to himself, not making any move to touch you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly, resting your head on his chest, using him as a squishie.

He tenses momentarily at your sudden move, before relaxing and letting you wrap yourself around him, a soft huff escaping him, “You broke all your plushies so you're using me as one.”

You shrug, holding him tighter, “Maybee.”

Caleb chuckles, “Don’t worry, we can go to the arcade sometime this week, maybe go shopping or out to eat and I’ll get you more, a bunch more.”

Letting out a content hum and melt into him, closing your eyes.

He slowly relaxes further, his arms slowly lifting and wrapping around you in turn. He holds you against him, one hand gently resting on your back and the other in your hair, his fingers running through the soft strands. Caleb’s hand runs down your back in tender motions, his touch tender, almost worshipful as his fingers softly trace across your back. He listens to your breathing, letting it soothe his nerves, his grip on you slowly tightening as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

“Thank you,” you whisper, half asleep.

He pulls you closer to him as you speak, his breath shaky as he absorbs the weight of your words, the feel of your body against his, how you’re willingly staying in his arms, how you say his name.

His grip tightens even more, almost painful, desperate to know that this is real, that you’re not going to disappear. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, his words quiet, barely more than a whisper, “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

As you drift off, he closes his eyes, listening to your soft, even breathing. The sound is like a balm to his soul. He lets himself doze in and out of sleep, too happy to see you like this to allow himself to rest completely. 

His arms loosen a bit, enough so he can maneuver his body so that his entire upper half is wrapped around you, almost shielding you from the world itself. And he would continue to, he’d continue to shield you from the harsh world, but, he wouldn’t imprison you, wouldn’t try to tame you. He’d let you burn, even if you incinerated him, he’d die with a smile on your face. Because he was your Caleb, no matter what could happen.

[buckybabesonly]

Only Kinda Sorta Hate You

Summary: Your professor asks you to tutor another student for extra credit, and you end up with Bucky, who you hate. Kinda.

Pairing: College!Bucky x College!Female!reader

Genre: Romance, dash of angst

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: I've not written anything in almost a year, but I watched Thunderbolts* recently and it reignited something. I dug this out of my drafts - I am a big fan of 90's rom-coms like She's All That, 10 Things I Hate About You etc.. so just wanted to write something cheesy and sweet

I'm at the library, where are you?

Hello?

chill. i'm on my way

You sighed, tapping your foot impatiently on the carpet, arms folded across your chest. The audacity of this man to keep you waiting whilst you sacrificed your precious time to tutor him. Bucky Barnes, the most ungrateful person you'd ever encountered.

A huff of air escaped from your mouth when you finally spotted his figure in the distance, sunglasses hiding his eyes and a cap shoved on top of his long, messy brown hair. So obnoxious, you thought to yourself.

You almost sighed aloud in frustration when you saw him stop to smile and talk to a pretty blond girl who had been browsing the library shelves, her face flooding pink at the sheer excitement of catching the attention of the college's infamous football captain.

As if Bucky could hear your mental cursing, he waved his fingers at the girl and continued on. Everything about him radiated confidence, from the way he held himself to his purposeful stride. When he got closer, he whipped his shades off and tucked them into the front pocket of his t-shirt, but the hat stayed on.

"Alright, I'm ready. Tutor me," he said, cracking a smile as you glowered at him.

"Follow me," you said sternly, turning on your heel and marching towards one of the study rooms that you had reserved.

He followed closely, humming a tune as you muttered under your breath. If it wasn't for the promised extra credit from your math professor, you swore you would never subject yourself to spending time with him. Not that you exactly ran in the same circles, anyway. In fact, before two weeks ago, you weren't even sure Bucky was aware of your existence.

As soon as you were both seated and you'd spread out your materials - textbooks, calculators, stationery, and a whiteboard - Bucky leaned back in his chair and studied your face.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" he asked finally.

You cracked a wry smile at that. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

"What have I done?" he asked innocently, clearly fighting back a smile. He seemed to enjoy how easily he irritated you.

"Let's see. You're always late, you don't respect my time, you never take this tutoring seriously - "

"Woah," he interrupted. "It's only been a couple of weeks, cut me some slack. I'll do better, I promise." He cleared his throat and took off the cap, running his fingers through his hair. He was enjoying this.

You took a deep breath and pinned on the most artificial smile you could muster. You could be cordial... you think.

It was going to be a long semester.

Are we still good for this afternoon?

can't sorry. football practice

"See!" you exclaimed indignantly, shoving your phone into Wanda's face. "See how blasé he is about his education?"

Wanda shrugged, plaiting her silky red hair. "He did get in on a football scholarship, to be fair."

"But he's flunking math," you retorted. "And Professor Wilson asked me to tutor him. If he fails the next exam, that's going to reflect badly on me."

You, Wanda and Yelena had been in the middle of lunch in the dining hall when you had decided to check in on Bucky, seeing as he had proven to be extremely flaky so far. It frustrated you to no end.

"Are you mad that he's going to do bad in the exam, or did you just want to spend time with him?" Yelena asked with a mischievous smile, knowing fully how much that would set you off.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, c'mon," Wanda chimed in, quickly catching on. "He's cute, he's funny, who wouldn't want to spend hours inside a small study room with him?"

"Okay, if you guys even think for a second that I'd be interested in Bucky Barnes-"

"Okay, okay," Yelena said quickly, raising her hands in surrender. "God, it is so easy to get under your skin."

"Just a few more months of this, and it will be over," you said under your breath like a prayer.

"Here."

A coffee cup was unceremoniously placed in front of you the second Bucky Barnes stepped into the room. You could hear the liquid sloshing about as you stared up at him.

The first thought that reached your head, annoyingly, was how good he looked today. He was wearing a white vest beneath an unbuttoned blue linen shirt, the color complimenting his bright eyes.

"What's this?"

"I thought you were smart," Bucky quipped, smirking. "Coffee. Oat mocha. To apologize for blowing you off last time."

"Uh - thanks," you said, taken aback at the gesture. Your brows furrowed. Oat mocha. How did he know?

"You had that last time we met up, so I went with it," he said, as if he could read your thoughts.

"Right. Thanks," you said, almost stumbling over your words. He had totally caught you off guard.

No, you scolded yourself mentally. You would not let yourself become one of those simpering girls that fawned over his feet. You would be civil, sure, but don't you dare start staring at his tousled hair and think about how soft the strands would feel between your fingers -

"So, what we learning today?" Bucky cracked his knuckles, interrupting your thoughts. Thank God.

"You know, I don't know much about you," Bucky said suddenly one evening.

"What does that have to do with calculus?" you asked dryly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Can you relax a bit? Would it kill you to talk about something other than math?"

"Fine," you said, surrendering. Even you had to admit that you were getting bored with talking math. "What do you want to know?"

"Favorite movie?"

You raised an eyebrow. Seriously?

"10 Things I Hate About You. Next."

Bucky burst out laughing, the noise rippling through the room. The blood rushed to your cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry - I'm not laughing at you."

"Oh, is there somebody else in the room I can't see?" You were defensive at Bucky cracking up at your movie choice. "I like corny rom-coms, okay?"

"Okay, okay," Bucky said, tapping his pen on his notepad with a grin. "I've never watched it, but okay, I'm sure it's a great cinematic masterpiece."

"What's your favorite movie?" you shot back.

"Oldboy," he said quickly. "The original Korean version, not the terrible American remake."

That was a pretty good movie, you thought internally before Bucky was firing off the next question.

"Cats or dogs?"

"Dogs," you answered easily.

Bucky pulled a face.

"Oh, c'mon. Dogs are so much better than cats!" you exclaimed.

"No way. Cats are self-sufficient, independent. Dogs are too...clingy," he settled on the word like it was worst thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to spread on your lips. You hated to admit that you were actually growing to enjoy his company.

"Okay, enough of this - back to calculus," you said, trying to sound stern.

Later that night, as you were lying in bed, you suddenly received a text.

just watched your favorite movie

You blinked at the screen, surprised at the unexpected message. You hesitated before sending a casual response.

And? What did you think?

Twenty seconds passed.

not the worst movie in the world, i guess

This time, you really couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on your face.

You guess it could be said that you and Bucky had reached a truce. Not that he even knew you were waging an unfair prejudice against him from the start - you admitted to yourself that you had misjudged him. He wasn't so bad, and he was no longer flaking on you as often for your tutoring sessions.

One evening, as you both prepared to leave the library and go back to your respective dorms, you were surprised by a sudden onslaught of rain.

"Freak storm," Bucky commented as you both stood in the open doorway, unwilling to step out into the icy rain first.

"Great," you groaned. You were hungry and wanted to go get some food, but you had forgotten your umbrella and you really did not want to catch a cold this close to exam season.

In your peripheral, you could see Bucky start to peel off his leather jacket. You turned to him, perplexed as he thrust it into your arms.

"Here. Use this," he said simply. "See you tomorrow." He all but dove into the rain, the water pelting him immediately and soaking his hair and clothes.

You watched him sprint off across the quad, trying not to notice how his t-shirt was beginning to cling to his back. You clutched his jacket in your fingers, oddly touched.

"Snap out of it," you told yourself sternly even as your chest began to feel the warmth of something not totally unfamiliar. You held the jacket over your head as a shield and quickly ran out of the library and towards your dorm, trying to ignore the fondness that was growing inside you.

The next day, you returned his jacket, thanking him for it bashfully.

"It smells like you," he said suddenly. You looked at him in time to see him swallow and shrug, like he was embarrassed he said anything.

Do I smell bad? you thought, suddenly paranoid.

"Sorry?" you said awkwardly.

Later that evening, your phone buzzed with a text.

smells like vanilla

Slowly but surely, your tutoring sessions with Bucky were turning into less studying, more chatting. You had both developed a little habit of bringing your favorite snacks for the other to try, and had started to rank them on a virtual leader board on Bucky's phone.

"All right, what do we have today?" Bucky grinned as you walked into the room, tipping the bag of goodies onto the table.

"I'm definitely taking the lead with this one," you said triumphantly. "My homemade chocolate chip cookies."

Bucky snorted, trying to suppress his smile. He picked up one of the individually packaged cookies that you had lovingly placed into it's own cellophane pouch. He couldn't deny that this was extremely endearing.

"Aw, c'mon. Chocolate chip cookies? Basic," he smiled as he rushed to unwrap one of them.

"They are the best," you said confidently. "Nothing wrong with keeping it simple."

You watched as he ate half of the cookie in a single bite, eyebrows raising as he chewed. He leaned back in his chair.

"Okay. Damn, that is good."

You laughed, pulling out your textbooks and settling down opposite him.

"You like to bake?"

"Mm-hm," you nodded. "When I can. It's my love language"

You realized what you had said a beat too late, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing.

"I mean - I like baking for my friends and family," you spluttered, trying to play it down.

Bucky didn't seem phased, raising an eyebrow.

"I must be pretty damn special then."

You were in trouble. Big, big trouble.

You weren't stupid or ignorant to your own feelings. You knew exactly how Bucky made you feel whenever you were in the same room together. You knew how your heart skipped a beat when your phone lit up with a text from him. You knew how your skin tingled whenever he stepped close to you, arms brushing against each other as he worked over yet another math problem.

You knew how much harder it was becoming to not get distracted by the intensity on his face sometimes, how pieces of his thick brown hair sometimes fell in front of his eyes. You fingers itched to sweep them back.

Oh god. It was such a cliche. You had totally fallen head over heels for him.

"How did I not see this coming?" you groaned into your pillow as you lay back on your bed, Yelena and Wanda observing your distress for 'emotional support', as they had put it.

"What's the big deal? You like him, so what?" Yelena asked, tossing popcorn back into her mouth.

"Do you know how it feels to like someone and not be able to do anything about it?"

"So do something about it," Wanda said, tilting her head at you. "Just tell him how you feel."

"No, because then he'll reject me, and then it'll be super awkward between us, and then we'll never speak again," you rambled. You could see it now. The awkwardness on Bucky's face as you confessed to him, as many girls had done so before.

Women fawned over him. Why would you be any different in his eyes?

But were they right? Should you just bite the bullet and tell him how you felt? What if maybe - just maybe - there was a chance he felt the same way?

Sometimes you felt like he might. Whenever he flirted with you, or paid you a compliment. But then again, he flirted with everybody - every ounce of him oozed with charisma. It was just in his nature to easily charm people.

But there were other moments, too. The way he carried your books when he could tell they were too heavy. The way he never, ever forgot to bring you a coffee and a sweet treat, too. The way he looked at you sometimes when you were explaining the solution to a math problem, like he was just focused on your face and wasn't even listening to your words.

If you lived in a rom-com, this would be exactly how things were supposed to pan out. Awkward girl falls for popular guy, and is shocked when he returns her feelings.

Except, well, this wasn't a rom-com. Bucky Barnes was most definitely out of your league.

You and Bucky were having lunch together out on the quad, taking advantage of the beautiful May weather. It was an impromptu picnic after a study session - the sun was shining hard and Bucky's football practice had been cancelled. He had bought sandwiches for the both of you and suggested eating them at the foot of one of the huge trees that dotted the grounds.

You were still battling your indecision about telling him how you felt, but for now, you'd just enjoy his company. He looked so handsome today, sunglasses perched on his face as he tilted his head up toward the sky, a soft smile on his lips.

Your phone rang suddenly, knocking you out of your reverie. It was a new friend you had made recently during a beginners' sparring class that Yelena had dragged you to.

"Hey, Cam," you said lightly.

"Hey!" she exclaimed brightly on the other end of the phone. "What are you and Yelena doing tonight? You wanna come hang out with me and my roommates for dinner?"

"Sure, what time?" you responded eagerly.

She told you the details and when you hung up, Bucky was staring at you curiously.

"Got asked to dinner," you said, shrugging.

"Oh," Bucky said, face neutral.

"Made a new friend recently - Cam. Been spending so much time together which has been so fun, actually," you hummed, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"Right."

A few moments of silence passed in which Bucky said nothing, which was completely uncharacteristic of him.

"You okay?" you asked finally.

He cleared his throat, finishing off his sandwich in a few large bites. He stood up suddenly, patting his shirt down to brush off any food crumbs.

"Yeah. Hey, I just remembered - I promised Steve I'd go to the gym with him this afternoon."

"Oh, sure," you said, thrown off by the sudden change in his attitude. "Have fun.”

"Thanks. I'll see you around, yeah?"

You barely had time to respond before he had turned his back to you and was walking away, without giving you so much as a second glance.

Bucky called you out of the blue whilst you were having breakfast. You felt embarrassed to take the call in front of Wanda and Yelena, but it was too late - Yelena had seen his name flash up and quickly swiped the answer button, shoving the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" you said as you glared at her. Yelena shoved a piece of toast into her mouth with a grin.

"Hey. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we can't hang out today," Bucky said on the other end.

"I'm tutoring you, we're not hanging out," you reprimanded, still wishing he'd take it a bit more seriously. "And why is that?"

"I have a date."

Despite yourself, you felt your face fall. Wanda cocked her head at you, curious.

"Oh. Great," you said flatly. "Okay." The disappointment that grew in your chest was truly unexpected and painful.

"I'll text you later to reschedule, yeah?"

"Whatever," you said shortly, trying to ignore the acidic feeling in your chest. "Bye." You hung up abruptly, slamming your phone a little too hard onto the table.

"What was that all about?" Yelena asked.

"Nothing," you muttered.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Wanda said, raising an eyebrow.

"He was just calling to cancel our tutoring session for a date."

Wanda and Yelena exchanged pointed glances.

"What?" you snapped.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you said tersely.

You couldn't even convince yourself.

You felt like Bucky was starting to avoid you.

No, not avoid - you weren't important enough to him for that. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with all these dates with whatever girl he was now seeing.

It started with excuses about football practice. And then football related injuries which meant he just wanted to rest. Then -

just not feeling it today. will let you know when i'm free to reschedule

You didn't even reply to that one. If he didn't want to reach out first, then you weren't going to beg him to let you tutor him.

It stung when he eventually stopped texting, though.

Since you started tutoring him three months ago, you had begun messaging more and more, until eventually it was basically an everyday occurrence. To go from that to basically zero was extremely jarring.

It hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

The feelings grew and grew and reached a crescendo when one evening, after a whole fortnight of zero texts from Bucky and no word of when he wanted to see you again, you bumped into him and his friend outside one of the campus coffee shops. You had been on your way to your morning lectures, and when you spotted his face, you had briefly deliberated ignoring him and continuing to walk. Despite yourself, you found yourself stopping awkwardly, giving him a smile. Even if you felt uncomfortable, you had truly missed him and the sound of his voice.

"Hey Bucky.” You greeted him, trying to keep your tone light and non-accusatory. What you really wanted to say was, why the hell have you not reached out in so long?

You thought you were friends. You really thought he liked being in your company.

"Hey," he said as his friend smiled at you. He introduced you quickly to Steve, who shook your hand like a gentleman.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked politely. You had heard so much from Bucky about his best friend, but this was the first time you had met him in person. Figures, considering he clearly didn't consider you as a friend - why on earth would he have introduced you to his before now?

"She's the girl who's been tutoring me," Bucky said slowly, almost deliberately avoiding eye contact with me, looking down at his to-go cup instead.

You decided to swallow your pride and be more direct.

"Yeah - when are we next doing that, anyway?" You tried to force a smile, to not sound too desperate.

He paused, finally meeting your eyes.

"I actually think I've had enough of the tutoring for now," he said firmly. "I think I need to focus on my football and other stuff."

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You knew exactly what he meant. By other stuff, he just meant other girls. He was dating someone now, that much you were sure of, and that meant he simply didn't have time for people like you.

And you really thought…

The pain of rejection rushed through you. It was humiliating, how upsetting it was, how you physically had to take a step back. He probably felt cornered by you, approaching him like this and asking when you’d next meet - you felt embarrassed.

"Right," you said, trying not to let the emotion show on your face. "Okay, sure. See you around, Bucky."

Bucky's lips parted slightly at your torn expression, like he wanted to say something. Rather than give him the chance, you nodded a curt goodbye and hurriedly walked away, wanting to put as much distance between yourselves as possible.

Her name was Sharon.

That was the name of the girl that Bucky had been seeing. You noticed it more and more now, suddenly seeing him, her and Steve everywhere around campus, the most good looking trio of people you had ever seen.

You saw them the moment you stepped into the main campus hall that had been decked out for the summer Golden Hour Gala, a dance that they held every year on the final afternoon before semester officially ended. It was a nice chance to dress up, dance with your friends and have a blast before the students went home for summer.

That was how you ended up here in a midi-floral dress, cream in color and adorned with tiny pink flowers. You had felt pretty cute, but didn't look anywhere near as gorgeous as Sharon did.

Her hair was long and silky, falling down her back like a sheet of gold. She was wearing a long, lilac dress that complimented her figure perfectly.

You had barely wanted to go to this glorified garden party to begin with, but now you were really regretting being here. Especially with how good Bucky looked, casual but sophisticated in a blue shirt and beige chinos, the sun shining directly in his face and making him squint adorably.

You blamed Yelena for pouring you glass after glass of spiked punch, telling you it would cheer you up.

"It's the Russian way!" she screamed delightfully as she tried to coax you and Wanda out on the dance floor.

As the hours passed, you felt yourself growing more and more emboldened. For the past few days, you’d forced yourself to distract yourself from thoughts of Bucky - but here, with him just a mere few feet away and the alcohol breaking down your inhibitions, you felt yourself stewing.

Call it liquid courage, but you felt a renewed confidence (or stupidity, maybe?) when you found yourself marching towards Bucky, who was sitting by himself for the first time that day. Finally, Sharon and Steve weren't flanking him, which made him more approachable as you plopped yourself down onto the seat next to him.

He spoke your name with surprise, like he wasn't expecting to see you. Of course, you had practically turned invisible to him by now.

"Hi," you said, trying to figure out if your speech was slurred or not. You hadn't drank that much, had you? No - you just wanted to know right there and then what his problem was with you.

"Long time no see," he said, his eyes flicking up and down you to appraise your outfit. Hang on - was he checking you out? In your current state of mind, you truly entertained the thought.

"You," you said, punctuating your point with a finger to his chest, "have been avoiding me."

Bucky started at the physical contact, his hand reaching up reflexively to wrap gently around your wrist. You pulled away like you had been shocked with electricity.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, forehead creasing. The teasing smile that you missed oh so much was playing on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shit.

"Pfft. No," you said unconvincingly. "I just want to know what your problem is." You paused, unable to stop your voice from wavering. "I thought we were friends."

The expression in Bucky's eyes was almost unreadable, but for a second you thought he looked remorseful. He seemed to pick up on how genuinely upset you were.

"We were - we are," he corrected himself.

"Then why the hell have you not texted me or called me in almost a month?" you cried, fully aware of how desperate you sounded now. But you didn't care - the alcohol did a good at shooing the shame away. You wanted answers. You deserved a proper explanation.

Bucky looked torn.

"Did you ever like me?" you asked quietly. You weren’t sure if he heard.

All of a sudden, you caught a flash of blonde hair in the corner of your eye. You thought it was Sharon, but - thankfully - it was only Yelena, red in the face and totally unstable on her feet.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, totally oblivious to who you were speaking to. She grabbed your hand, trying to pull you up. "C'mon, Cam wants to dance with you."

Bucky straightened his back, the soft look in his eyes dissipating and settling into something colder.

He leaned away from you - you weren't even aware that you were almost touching - and stood up.

"You should go be with your friends,” he said stoically. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” He gave you one last look you just couldn’t decipher before he walked away.

Your heart ached.

Summer break was long and tough. It was arguably the much needed time away from college that you needed to nurse your heartbreak, but if anything, it just made you yearn for Bucky more.

You missed him.

You replayed the events of the last few months in your head over and over again. Where exactly had you gone wrong? What had made Bucky cut you out of his life like that?

Was the whole friendship just a lie?

Even if he didn't return your feelings, or if he was dating Sharon - surely that didn't mean he couldn't be friends with you?

Maybe this whole time you had simply severely overestimated your importance to him.

When the new academic year started, you did your best to avoid him totally. You spent most of your time either in your room, or at the library. Even the latter was bringing up unsavory feelings - the two of you had spent too much time there together, and everything reminded you of him.

You hated feeling this way.

You needed to admit to yourself that this wasn't just a crush you were getting over.

You had fallen in love.

The feeling in your chest, the way your heart constricted at the thought of him, the way his lack of attention tortured you - it was undeniable. You missed having him in your life, you missed your idle daily conversations and simply being in his presence.

You had never fallen in love before. You weren't sure you knew how to get over him.

One thing was for sure - unrequited love was a bitch.

Being emotionally devastated definitely showed in physical ways, too. You weren't getting much sleep, tossing and turning at night plagued with thoughts of Bucky. You weren't eating very well, skipping meals and avoiding spending time with your friends so as to evade having to talk about your feelings.

But, alas, you couldn't ignore the problem forever. You were trudging across campus from one lecture to the next, looking down at your feet. You barely registered your name being called until it came accompanied by a hand waving in front of your face.

And there he was. Of course he looked as good as ever, skin slightly more tanned over summer. He had cut his hair, and it suited him this way as much as it did long, looking totally and utterly gorgeous.

Bucky seemed taken aback at your appearance. You wondered how tired and weary you must've looked.

"Hey. Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned lilt in his voice.

"I'm fine," you lied, taken aback at how his sudden appearance was affecting you. You hadn't had time to brace yourself for it - the object of all your affections and the subject of your every day thought was standing right in front you, whilst you felt and looked like an absolute mess. It was so unfair.

You were horrified when you felt your eyes sting and the corners of your mouth start to tremble.

Oh my god. Do not cry. Do not cry.

"You're not okay," Bucky said suddenly, planting both hands on your shoulders and steering you several feet to the right, to a small alcove near the exterior of the closest building, away from the traffic of the footpath.

"I need to get to class," you blubbered, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible before the tears fell.

Bucky was firm as he shook his head.

"You're upset, and I want to know why," he said resolutely.

"Why do you care?" you snapped suddenly. Bucky was looking blurry in your vision - your eyes were filling with tears. Fuck. This is so embarrassing.

"Because you're crying," he said gently, his eyes staring into yours.

"No I'm not," you said as the first tear fell. You wiped it away, mortified.

"Okay, now you're crying," he said, trying to hold your gaze. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" you repeated. "We're not friends - you were very clear about that."

Bucky looked speechless for a second, hands planted on his hips. He reached one out to you, like he wanted to touch you, before thinking better of it and letting it fall to his side.

The way he was looking at you made you feel so damn pitiful. All too suddenly and all at once, the dam broke and the tears were flowing. You were just so sad, and you wished for nothing more that he would be in your life again.

"You made me think that you cared," you sobbed. "I really thought we were friends. Then you just pushed me away like I was nothing, a nobody. Stopped talking to me without any explanation."

Bucky looked sincerely sorry now, looking distressed by your tears. "Please, sweets, don't cry," he said softly.

The affection and tenderness took you aback, only making you cry harder. He was messing with your feelings so much, and you had had enough.

"I really liked you," you spluttered through your tears. To hell with it. You'd already embarrassed yourself enough. “I love you, Bucky. I fell in love with you for the first time ever, and you broke my heart."

Bucky's face dropped as you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop.

"You love me?"

You choked through your sobs. "I know you don't feel the same, but -"

"What about your boyfriend?" he interrupted, looking perplexed.

"What boyfriend?" you shot back with equal confusion, finally meeting his eyes.

"Cam?"

Your mouth dropped, speechless for a second.

"Cam is a girl," you squawked.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, eyes widening in realisation. "Oh. Oh."

"Is that what this has all been about?" You were bewildered. "You thought I had a boyfriend so you - you what, you just decided not to be friends with me anymore?"

Bucky stared at you what felt like the longest time, though it could only have been a few seconds.

"I liked you too,” he said finally, stepping closer towards you. “I mean - I love you, too.”

The words were barely above a whisper, but they took your breath away. He was holding your gaze so gently, apologies etched into his face.

"I fell in love with you, and I was this close to telling you how I felt. And when I thought you were seeing a guy - Cam," he cringed, now realizing just how badly he'd misunderstood, "I decided to nip things in the bud before my feelings got worse. I know it was selfish to push you away, but it was the only way I knew how to deal with my feelings.”

Hearing the words fall out of his mouth felt like a dream. Had you both really been so stupid this whole time over a couple of misunderstandings?

"You couldn't have asked me directly about whether or not I had a boyfriend?" You were frustrated now, and still in disbelief at the revelation that Bucky actually returned your feelings.

"You didn't tell me how you felt either," Bucky said defensively, before giving you a sheepish grin. "I guess we both suck a little at communicating?"

You had no words, unsure of what to do next as you stared up at him. You wanted to kiss him, hug him, make up for all the lost time where you had both been stupidly avoiding each other.

"Well - what happens now?" you asked quietly.

He reached out, his hand coming at your waist to pull you towards him. "Well. I've been wanting to kiss you for months," he murmured, looking down at your lips. “So that’s a suggestion.”

His other hand reached out to tilt your chin up, leaning closer and closer. You suddenly shot a hand up to his chest, leaning back before your lips could meet.

"What about Sharon?" You absolutely refused to be the other woman in this scenario, your face falling again at the thought of her.

"What about her?" Bucky asked blankly. He paused as the pieces slot into place. "You know she's dating Steve, right?"

"What?"

"She's not my girlfriend. Never was, never will be," he said clearly. "It's always been you. Only you."

That was all your needed to hear before you closed the distance between you, letting yourself melt into the kiss that you had dreamed of for so long. This man actually loved you back - maybe rom-com endings did exist.

When you both pulled back for air, Bucky kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips soft.

"Actually, there is something I need to confess to," he murmured against your skin.

"What?"

"I purposely started doing poorly in math and asked Professor Wilson to get you to tutor me," he said, giving you an embarrassed smile. "I'm not really bad at math. I'm actually really good at math."

You didn't know what shocked you more - this revelation or the fact that -

"Did you just quote Mean Girls to me?"

Bucky cracked your favorite dimpled smile.

"Only for you, sweets."

[itdontmatter283472374]

What are we? Chapter Six

Ok, this one is a little shorter, but next two are both 5k words. I have chapters 7-10 in drafts right now and will post them throughout this week.

Paige woke up to a dull throb behind her eyes and the weight of last night pressing heavy on her chest. The room was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the blinds in thin slits. Azzi was still asleep beside her, curled slightly away, her breathing slow and steady. Paige stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to piece herself back together.

She slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Azzi, and padded into the common area of their shared suite. The second she stepped into the living room, the smell of coffee hit her—and so did the staring.

Aubrey was stretched out on the couch, spoon in a cereal bowl, while Aaliyah leaned against the counter with her arms crossed. Both of them looked up the moment Paige walked in, hair messy, hoodie zipped only halfway, and last night's makeup still faintly smudged under her eyes.

Aubrey was the first to speak. “Sooo… did you guys, like, sleep-sleep together?”

Paige blinked, hungover and still emotionally scrambled. “Seriously?” she muttered, rubbing her temples as she moved to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle like it might somehow make the whole morning go away.

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow. “We just didn’t expect you to disappear into your room with Azzi and then, you know… stay gone.”

Paige cracked open the bottle and took a long drink. “I don’t even want to talk about it right now,” she said, voice low and hoarse. “My head is killing me.”

Aubrey exchanged a look with Aaliyah but didn’t press. “Alright, alright,” she said lightly, getting up. “I’ve got lift anyway. Catch you guys later.”

She tossed her empty bowl in the sink and disappeared out the door.

Once they were alone, Aaliyah moved to sit beside Paige at the small table, her voice gentler now. “Paige… what’s going on?”

Paige hesitated, staring at the label on her water bottle like it held the answer. Then she let out a slow breath. “Azzi found out,” she said quietly. “About the girls I’ve been hooking up with this semester. She asked, and I told her.”

Aaliyah’s eyes widened a little, but she waited.

“And then…” Paige’s voice caught in her throat. “She told me she slept with a guy. Like, two weeks ago.”

Aaliyah blinked. “Wow. That’s… that’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “It is.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the hum of the fridge the only sound between them.

And then, right on cue, the door creaked open.

Azzi stumbled in, hoodie thrown on over her sleep shirt, hair still tousled from bed. She squinted at the light and then spotted Paige across the room.

“We goin’ to get breakfast, P?” she asked, voice rough but soft.

Paige looked up, heart stuttering for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said, standing. “Yeah, let’s go.”

After getting dressed in silence—Paige in a UConn hoodie and joggers, Azzi in an oversized crew neck and leggings—they slipped on sneakers and stepped outside into the cool, gray morning.

Paige held out her hand automatically. “Keys.”

Azzi didn’t argue, just tossed them over. “Don’t crash her.”

“She?” Paige smirked, unlocking the door to Azzi’s car.

The car ride was quiet at first, the kind of quiet where both of them knew the air was heavy but neither had the energy to poke at it yet. SZA played low through the speakers—Drew Barrymore drifting in soft and slow. Paige didn’t mess with the volume. It felt too fitting to change.

She gripped the wheel with one hand, elbow leaned against the window, stealing glances at Azzi every few seconds. Azzi sat curled into the passenger seat, her head tilted slightly toward the window, eyes unfocused. Her hair was pulled back loosely, and she looked tired—but not in the way you look after a long night. More like the kind of tiredness that sleep doesn’t fix.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked, not because she thought Azzi was cold, but because she needed to fill the silence.

Azzi gave a small nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Another pause. Paige’s fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel. She looked over again, just for a second longer than she meant to.

“You keep looking at me,” Azzi said quietly, not accusing, just... noticing.

Paige blinked and focused back on the road. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

SZA shifted into Ghost in the Machine. Paige let out a breath through her nose.

“I just—” Paige started, then stopped. “I don’t know. I can’t really read you this morning.”

Azzi smiled faintly, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes. “That’s fair.”

Paige pulled into the lot of the little bagel shop tucked next to the laundromat and the UPS store—her go-to spot since freshman year. The neon “OPEN” sign buzzed in the window. She shifted the car into park and turned off the engine, but neither of them moved right away.

“Best bagels in town,” she said, trying for casual, but it came out a little too quiet.

Azzi looked over at her then. Really looked. “You trying to distract me with carbs?”

Paige met her gaze, her throat tight. “Yeah. Is it working?”

Azzi didn’t answer. But she opened the door.

So Paige took that as a maybe.

The smell of fresh bagels and roasted coffee wrapped around them the second they stepped inside. It was warm, cozy—Paige’s usual Saturday morning comfort spot. But today, everything felt off-kilter, like the room was half a beat behind.

They didn’t say much in line. Paige ordered her usual—bacon egg and cheese on an everything bagel, hot sauce, iced coffee. Azzi got a cinnamon raisin with plain cream cheese and tea, even though Paige gave her a look for the cinnamon raisin. Azzi just raised an eyebrow like, Say something, I dare you.

They found a booth in the back, tucked near the window. Paige slid into one side and Azzi into the other, and for a second they just unwrapped their bagels and pretended things were normal. The clatter of other customers filled the silence between them. Paige sipped her coffee, but her appetite was barely there.

Azzi was the first to take a bite, chewing slowly. Paige watched her for a second before setting her sandwich down, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

Then she leaned back against the booth and looked across the table.

“So…” she said, voice low. “You want to talk about it?”

Azzi didn’t look up right away. She traced her finger over the wax paper her bagel had come in, like she was stalling.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “Do you?”

Paige exhaled, half a laugh, half frustration. “I mean, not really. But also yeah. Because I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Same.”

There was a beat of silence. Not angry, just full.

“I shouldn’t have asked you that,” Azzi said. “Last night. About the girls.”

Paige shook her head. “No. You had every right to ask.”

Azzi looked up. Her eyes were tired, but open now. “It’s not that I didn’t expect you to move on. I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that.”

Paige swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her cup. “Yeah. Well. It kind of hurt hearing about James too.”

Azzi looked down again. “That wasn’t about you. That was me trying to... forget you.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

Their food sat mostly untouched between them. Outside the window, the street was quiet. Inside, the weight of everything that had been unspoken for too long settled in the space between them.

Paige looked at her again, really looked. “So where does that leave us?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Paige, something unreadable in her eyes.

Azzi finally broke the silence, her voice steadier than before, but still laced with that raw honesty that always got to Paige.

“I’m still in high school,” she said, setting her tea down carefully. “I’m trying to stay healthy for my senior season in, like, two months. You’re here, experiencing college for the first time, trying to figure yourself out.” She paused. “And I get it. The girls and... everything. I do.”

Paige stayed quiet, listening, feeling the weight of every word settle across the table.

“But if we have feelings for each other,” Azzi continued, her eyes locking with Paige’s, “we can’t keep hurting each other all the time. We’ve got to be honest. With each other. With ourselves.”

Paige nodded slowly, her throat tight. “Yeah. I understand.”

She reached for her coffee, but didn’t drink it. “I just don’t want you thinking the worst of me if you hear stuff next year. Like—if something gets said or blown out of proportion, or someone tries to make it messy. I don’t want that in your head.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt. She just listened.

“And if you decide to pursue James or... whatever makes sense for you,” Paige said, forcing a small smile, “I’ll be happy for you. Really. I want that. Right now just... isn’t our time.”

She let the words settle, then glanced up, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth.

“But... be honest,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Am I better than James?”

Azzi looked up like Paige had just asked her what planet they were on. “We are not talking about this, Paige.”

Paige laughed under her breath, finally taking a bite of her bagel, the tension between them cracking just a little. Azzi shook her head, biting back a smile as she went back to hers.

They didn’t say anything else for a while.

But something had shifted.

Later that afternoon, the sun had started its slow descent, casting long shadows across the sidewalks and warming the red-brick buildings in that soft, golden-hour kind of way. Azzi stood just outside Paige’s dorm, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands like she wasn’t quite ready to leave.

Paige leaned against the railing by the steps, arms crossed, trying to look casual and completely failing at it.

Azzi glanced toward the parking lot, then back at Paige. “I should probably head out before traffic gets bad.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, voice softer than usual. “I know.”

They stood there for a second, not moving. Just... looking.

“I’m really glad you came,” Paige said finally, her voice a little uneven. “Even if it was kind of intense and weird and... you know, messy.”

Azzi smiled faintly. “It wasn’t that messy.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You cried. I almost cried. We ate bagels in emotionally-charged silence. That’s pretty textbook messy.”

Azzi laughed, and Paige couldn’t help but grin at the sound.

“But still,” Paige added, pushing off the railing and stepping closer, “it meant a lot. Seeing you. Talking. Even if we’re not figuring everything out right now.”

Azzi nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Same.”

Paige hesitated, then looked up at her, all the bravado gone. “I know things aren’t simple. And I know we’re in different places right now. But I just want you to know... I’m not going anywhere, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Paige’s voice.

“I don’t care what happens next year or the year after,” Paige continued, a little breathless now. “You’re still one of the best parts of my life. And even if all we get are moments like this—five hours, one night, bagels in a booth—I’ll take it.”

Azzi looked at her for a long second, eyes shining just a little. “You’re sappy as hell, you know that?”

Paige smirked, not denying it. “Only for you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile that crept across her face said everything.

They hugged then, long and tight, the kind of hug that makes time slow down. When they finally pulled apart, Paige let her hand linger for a moment on Azzi’s arm.

“Text me when you get back?” she asked.

“You already know I will.”

“Okay. Good.”

And with that, Azzi turned and started toward her car. Paige watched her the whole way, her heart full in that aching, sweet kind of way.

She didn’t move until Azzi pulled out of the lot and turned the corner.

Even then, she stayed outside a little longer, letting the last bit of sun hit her face, already missing her.

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

If I've read my Vietnam War Conscription lottery tables right, then the Stan twins (if born in 1950) would've been drafted. June 15th is lottery #180 and they pulled up to #195... I think that's how it worked. Ford obviously got an academic deferment for being in university (his hands may have medically disqualified him anyway); equally obviously, Stan would've dodged the draft. The image of the military trying to chase him down is an entertaining one, as well as him integrating himself into an anti-war group to try and claim religious objection, and then finding out he does actually have a genuine ethical objection to shipping barely-adult men off to a losing war.

There is, of course, the idea of Stan, being at rock bottom, going "ah, what the heck, what's the worst that happens--- I die?" and shipping himself off to basic.

Vietnam War Vet Stan showing to Ford's door. "You think you have it bad? I fought a literal war!" Veteran Stan trying to build the portal while also dealing with the aftermath of his service. The kids meeting a Stan who is considerably more subdued, who hates loud noises, who won't really talk about what happened overseas so many decades ago.

[sturniololuvz]

can you do one where chris is a single dad and he walks in on his daughter with her friends (a girl and a boy) but shes cuddling with the girl and in the end she comes out as bi and introduced her gf to the boys

Hey yall i’m abt to spam post like a lot of story’s , bc i wrote them during the day and I’m posting them now, i do this a lot so when i post story after story , I’m not some magical story writer , i write them all at once pit them in my drafts and post later that day .

“ Something Like This”

Chris had never really understood the concept of time flying until he blinked and his daughter was suddenly fifteen. One second he was rocking her to sleep in the middle of the night, and the next she was taller, sassier, and had a phone permanently glued to her hand.

It was a quiet Saturday when Chris got home earlier than usual from filming with his brothers. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, kicked his shoes off, and headed upstairs toward the sound of laughter coming from his daughter’s room.

He knocked gently, out of habit, then pushed the door open.

And stopped.

There she was, sitting on her bed, curled under a blanket with two of her friends—one boy, one girl. Nothing seemed off at first glance. But then he realized that while the boy was sitting on the floor with a controller in hand, focused on the game on her TV, his daughter was curled up against the girl, head resting on her shoulder. The girl’s arm was wrapped casually but affectionately around her.

They weren’t doing anything inappropriate. In fact, it was subtle—sweet, even—but it was different. Different enough for him to notice. Different enough that his daughter froze when she saw him in the doorway.

“Oh—uh, hey, Dad,” she said quickly, shifting slightly, like she might pull away.

Chris blinked, then smiled gently. “Hey. Just saying hi. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t make a face. Just gave her a nod and backed out.

Downstairs, he tried to focus on his emails. But his mind kept going back to what he saw. Not because it upset him—God, no. He just didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t tell him.

About an hour later, she came downstairs after walking her friends out. Her hands were stuffed into her hoodie pockets and her shoulders were tense.

Chris glanced up from the couch. “Hey, kid.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked over and stood in front of him, her expression guarded.

“You saw, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

Chris set his phone down. “Yeah. I did.”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” she rushed. “We weren’t trying to—like, I wasn’t trying to hide it, I just didn’t know how to bring it up yet.”

He stood up, his heart aching a little at how nervous she looked. “You didn’t make anything weird,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “But you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

She nodded, chewing her lip. “I… I’m bi. I’ve known for a while. I just—didn’t want you to be mad or anything.”

Chris blinked, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Mad? Baby, I could never be mad at you for that. I love you. That doesn’t change.”

She finally let out a breath and melted into his hug, burying her face in his chest. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You don’t ever have to hide who you are from me, okay?” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Not ever.”

⸻

A few days later, she stood awkwardly in the living room while Chris sat on the couch with Nick and Matt. Her girlfriend stood beside her, nervously holding her hand.

“Uh… so,” she began, “this is Maya. She’s my girlfriend.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Nick stood up first and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Maya.”

Matt followed with a quiet “Hey, welcome.”

Chris just leaned back with a small, proud smile as Maya blushed and the boys began asking her light questions. His daughter sat beside him later that night, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for being cool.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for trusting me.”

⸻