#who you love… but who you can’t recognize | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heliosunny · 2 days ago

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what abt yan!mydei with a reader as his wife who’s trying to escape?

Yandere!Mydei x Wife!Reader

The grand hall is alive with the clash of steel, the roar of the crowd, and the shimmer of golden candlelight against polished marble. The gala is meant to be a celebration, an exhibition of strength and diplomacy, but to you, it is an opportunity.

Your husband, Mydei, stands in the center of the dueling arena, his blade locking against an opponent’s in a brutal clash. He fights like a beast, relentless, overwhelming, every strike carrying the weight of a warrior who has never known defeat. His hair, damp with sweat, clings to his face as his opponent stumbles back. The audience erupts in cheers.

And that’s when you run.

You don’t waste a second. While the nobles are entranced by the fight, you slip past the velvet-draped tables, past the gilded statues, and through the towering double doors. Your heart pounds as you dart down the corridors, breath quick, hands trembling.

Freedom is so close.

The outer gates are unguarded, everyone is inside, watching Mydei. The stars are vast above you as you sprint into the streets of the city, the sound of your silk-clad footsteps lost in the night. The further you go, the deeper the weight in your chest lightens.

You made it.

Days pass. You keep moving, changing your clothes, stealing scraps of food where you can. Your once-ornate garments have been traded for rough-spun fabric, your fingers stained with dirt from the road. The city gives way to forests, then rivers, then distant villages where Mydei’s name is still whispered in reverence and fear.

But something is wrong.

It starts as a dull ache in your limbs, a fatigue you dismiss as exhaustion from travel. But then your steps become sluggish, your breathing more labored. Food tastes bitter. Your fingers tremble when you lift them. The further you get from Mydei, the worse it becomes, until realization strikes like a dagger to the gut.

You’re not just sick. You’ve been poisoned.

Memories resurface, Mydei’s hands lingering on your wrist days before the gala, his lips brushing your throat as he murmured, “If you run, I’ll chase you. But do you know what happens when a bird flies too far from its nest?”

The poison was never meant to kill. It was meant to make sure you’d never outrun him. The moment you collapse, he finds you.

A pair of iron-strong arms catch you before you hit the cold dirt. Even through the haze, you recognize the scent of steel, sweat, and something faintly sweet, Mydei’s scent. A choked sound leaves your lips, something between a sob and a curse, as you weakly try to shove him away.

He doesn’t let you go.

“Shh, easy now” he murmurs, his voice deep, softer than it has any right to be. His arms tighten around you, lifting you against his chest with infuriating ease. “You should’ve known this would happen, my love. You can’t survive without me.”

Your fingers claw at his shoulder, your body shaking as you try to fight, try to resist. But it’s useless. You feel like a ragdoll in his grasp, your strength sapped by the poison, your vision spinning.

“Bastard—” you whisper, teeth bared.

His chuckle is low, dangerous.

“Still so fierce, even like this. That’s why I love you, you know?”

His fingers stroke your cheek, his touch burning against your too-cold skin. He looks down at you.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” he asks, tilting his head. “That I wouldn’t tear the entire kingdom apart to find you?”

You open your mouth, but no words come. Your breath is shallow, your body trembling violently against him.

Mydei sighs, shifting his grip to hold you more securely. He presses a lingering kiss to your temple before whispering, “It doesn’t matter. You’re coming home.”

You jolt upright—only for an unbearable wave of nausea to crash over you. Your body, still weak from the poison, refuses to obey. Before you can collapse, strong hands catch you, pulling you back against something solid and unyielding.

“Careful.”

His voice is too close.

You shove at him, weakly, but Mydei doesn’t budge. He holds you with effortless strength, keeping you caged against his chest.

“Easy, my love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “You’re still recovering.”

Your breath shudders out of you as you force your eyes open. The room is dim, flickering candlelight casting long shadows against dark stone walls. Not your chambers. Not the palace. Somewhere more secluded, somewhere only he knows.

You stiffen. “Where—”

“A safe place” Mydei cuts in, as if that explains anything.

His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let you go. His fingers skim over your wrist, pressing gently, checking your pulse. His golden eyes narrow slightly before he exhales, satisfied.

“You’re getting better” he muses, his voice dipping into something dangerously soft. His thumb traces over your skin, slow, methodical. “But you lost too much strength. Do you feel it? How your body falters without me?”

Rage coils in your chest. You wrench your arm away, only to hiss as the movement sends a sharp ache through your limbs.

Mydei tuts, shaking his head. “Stubborn little thing. Even now, when you’re barely able to sit up.”

“You poisoned me.”

“I saved you.”

He says it so easily. So utterly convinced that he’s right.

“You tried to run” Mydei continues, as if he’s explaining something simple. “You would’ve died out there, weak as you were. I told you—” His fingers grasp your chin, tilting your face toward his. His eyes gleam, golden and unyielding. “You can’t survive without me.”

You glare at him, but your body betrays you. The fever still lingers, your skin burning beneath his touch. You hate how steady his hands are, how easily he holds you in place.

“I will never belong to you” you snarl, voice hoarse.

For a moment, Mydei is silent.

Then, he laughs.

Low, deep, almost cruel.

“Belong to me?” he repeats, tilting his head. “Oh, my love. You already do.”

The bed shifts as he moves, pressing closer, his warmth suffocating. His lips brush against your forehead, your cheek—soft, adoring, unshakable. His arms tighten around you, immovable.

“And I will never let you go.”

“You can fight me, if you want. I like it when you do” Mydei murmurs against your skin, his lips ghosting over your cheek—a mockery of affection.

You wrench away from his touch, but your body is still weak, trembling from exhaustion. Mydei lets you move, only to seize your wrist the moment you try to push him away. His grip is unyielding, but not painful.

“You truly hate me that much?” His golden eyes glint in the dim candlelight, searching yours. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something deeper than rage, something darker than mere obsession.

You take a shuddering breath, forcing steel into your voice. “More than anything.”

A pause. Then—he smiles.

“Then perhaps” he muses, almost idly, “I should give you something to love more than you hate me.”

Your blood runs cold. “What?”

He watches your reaction closely, golden eyes drinking in every flicker of emotion across your face.

“You won’t always feel this way, my love. One day, you’ll understand. And if not…” His free hand trails down, brushing over your stomach.

“Then I’ll just have to give you a reason to stay.”

A new kind of fear coils in your chest, sharper than anything you’ve felt before. You know Mydei. You know his conviction, his unshakable will.

If he decides something, he will make it reality.

“You wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t I?” His fingers press slightly, claiming. “You are my wife. It’s only natural. And once you carry my child… you will never leave me again.”

Your vision spins. Not just from the fever, not just from exhaustion, but from the realization that he means every word.

Mydei tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression is softer now, almost gentle, but that only makes his next words more terrifying.

“If you won’t stay for me, you’ll stay for them. And by then, my love—” His lips brush against your forehead, his voice a hushed, dangerous promise. “—you won’t even want to run anymore.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail mydei #mydeimos #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #mydei x you #mydei #yandere mydei #mydei x y/n #yandere honkai star rail

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arcadia-smith · 2 days ago

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He doesn't remember you.

But.

You stay.

Of course, you stay.

Because Bucky is still here, alive in the flesh, and somewhere—deep inside him, hidden beneath the layers of fractured memories—he must know you. He must remember.

It’s just a matter of time.

That’s what Sam says. What the doctors say.

Give it time.

So you do.

Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months.

And still, you stay.

You tell him stories—soft and steady, like a balm for the ache between you. You show him pictures, snapshots of the life you once shared, the love that stitched you two together.

You speak of your first date—how his nerves made him fidget like a storm on the horizon, pacing outside your apartment for what felt like an eternity before he finally knocked, all shaky hands and warm, unsure eyes.

You tell him about that rainy night, when he kissed you under the storm, his laughter a low hum against your lips as he whispered, “This only happens in the movies.”

You tell him about you—the version of yourself that once fit perfectly against his side.

And you wait.

You wait for the spark—the brief, flickering recognition that he once knew the rhythm of your heartbeat, the warmth of your touch.

You wait for those blue eyes to soften again, to look at you the way they used to—tender, loving, yours.

But they never do.

And then, one day, after all the days, weeks, and months spent watching and hoping—

You find him in the common room, grinning at something on his phone.

Someone.

A woman.

She’s bright, beautiful—her laughter a melody you don’t recognize.

And before you even open your mouth, you know.

But still, you ask.

“Who’s that?” Your voice is light, fragile, like a leaf trembling in the wind.

He looks up, then back at the screen, that faint, soft smile still lingering.

“Her name’s Kate.”

It’s a gut-punch. The kind that steals the air from your lungs and leaves you gasping.

“Oh,” you whisper, trying to swallow the burning sorrow that claws its way up your throat. “She’s... she’s pretty.”

He grins—wide, unbothered, as though this is just another casual conversation, nothing more.

“Yeah. I think I might ask her out.”

And in that moment, everything inside you fractures.

Not just the silence between the two of you, but the world itself.

Because Bucky doesn’t remember you.

No. Worse.

He’s moving on.

Without you.

And you can’t stop it.

You can’t tear through his shattered mind and fix what they took from him.

You can’t scream, You love me. You chose me. We were supposed to have forever.

You can’t do a single thing.

So you smile.

You nod.

You pretend that you’re not being swallowed whole by the hollow ache inside you.

And that night, when the house falls silent and empty, you don’t leave the porch light on.

Because Bucky isn’t coming back.

He already has.

And he’s not yours anymore.

You leave.

You have to.

Because staying, watching him laugh with someone else—someone new, someone with a love untouched by the scars of time—it would be like breathing in glass shards. It would tear through you, piece by piece, until nothing remained. You would cease to exist.

So you gather your things in silence, each item a memory you can’t afford to carry anymore.

You say goodbye to Sam, but there is no promise in your words. No hope. Just the hollow echo of a love you can’t save. You don’t tell Bucky. What would be the point? He’s already gone. The man you once knew is somewhere behind the locked door of his memories, and there is no key.

You leave.

And time doesn’t care.

It moves on, cruel and indifferent. Days stretch into weeks, weeks bleed into months, and the seasons change in ways that mean nothing. You rebuild, slowly. The edges of your broken heart are sealed with the soft, fragile thread of survival. You learn to exist without him. You learn to wake up without him beside you, without his breath against your neck, without the weight of his love settling around you like a warm blanket. You learn to live with the dull ache, the phantom throb in the places where he used to be.

But there are moments.

There are mornings when your fingers twitch toward the space where he should be, when your heart stutters, trapped in a fleeting memory, a touch, a whisper. And you wonder, just for a second, if he’s still there—if you’re still there. But then, the thought fades. Because he’s not yours. Not anymore.

And then—

Then you get the call.

Sam's voice is a tightrope, fraying at the edges.

"I need you to come back."

You hesitate, your breath a jagged thing. You don’t want to. You can’t go back to that place, to those ghosts. The last time you left, you left your soul in the hollow of his chest, and it never returned.

But Sam's voice cracks in a way that makes your insides twist. And you can’t ignore it. Not this time.

So you go.

And when you step into the room, you’re not ready for it. You’re never ready.

Sam stands in the doorway, his face pale and drawn, like he hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten. His hands tremble at his sides, and there’s something in his eyes that says everything you don’t want to hear.

"It’s happening again."

At first, the words make no sense.

And then, they do.

Because Bucky is in the med bay, his body tethered to the bed, his arms thrashing against the restraints. His breath comes in ragged gasps, the panic clear in every movement. His eyes are wide, full of something deep—something more terrible than fear.

You run to him, despite everything, despite the emptiness he left behind. You run because he is still your Bucky, the man you loved with everything you had. You run because that’s all you’ve ever known how to do.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice a breathless plea. Your hand reaches for his, but he pulls away like your touch is a thing that burns.

And then—

He says your name.

And the world stops.

The earth cracks beneath you, and you feel yourself falling into a place where nothing makes sense. The thing you wanted most, the thing you prayed for, is here. He remembers. He remembers you.

But when you look into his eyes, it’s not relief that fills them. It’s horror.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head violently, as if to shake you away, to shake this away. His words tear from him in broken sobs. “No, no, no—please—”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you thought you could carry. But it’s not okay. It will never be okay.

His chest heaves. His body jerks, as though the memories are too much to hold, too much to be.

“What did I do?” he chokes.

And that is when you understand.

He remembers you. Yes, he does. He remembers everything.

But he also remembers her.

The woman he found after you, the woman he learned to love after he’d forgotten the taste of you. The woman who is out there, somewhere, still holding his heart, still waiting for him with arms wide open.

And he loves her. He loves her the way he loved you. But in a different way. In a way that isn’t stained with time and loss and the weight of your name.

And now—

Now he has both.

Now he has the knowledge of what he lost. Now he knows exactly what he did.

And in his eyes, you see the depth of his grief. The depth of his guilt. Because he remembers her. And he remembers choosing her.

And then—then he remembers forgetting you.

And that—

That is the part that will ruin you. Because it’s not just your heart breaking anymore.

It’s his, too.

And there is nothing either of you can do. No mending, no fixing, no magic words to erase the damage.

So you press your trembling hand to his cheek. You kiss his forehead, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it’s like you’re right back there—like nothing changed. Like the world hasn’t fallen apart in slow motion.

And you whisper to him, to the man you thought you could save:

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

And you do.

You leave.

For the last time.

Because this time, he remembers you. But it doesn’t matter.

Because he’s not yours.

And he never will be again.

And that—that—is the worst part.

Because you lost him once, but now, you’ve lost him twice.

And the pain? The pain is deeper than anything you’ve ever felt.

It’s not just a heart breaking.

It’s a soul shattering.

#writers on tumblr #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky marvel #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james barnes #winter solider x y/n #winter solider x reader #sad thoughts #sad poetry #breaking heart #angst

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lucysarah-c · 3 days ago

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I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

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rebelspykatie · 22 hours ago

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Part 5 - Steddie Angst Finale - Happy Ending!

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

He settles back on the bench, apprehension clouding his features. “When you kissed me, I panicked. You’ve become such an important part of my life and I didn’t want to lose that. Something shifted in our relationship and I didn’t know what to do. It’s not an excuse for how poorly I treated you, it’s just the truth. I went into fight or flight mode, but I’m sorry for how I reacted that day.”

Steve hugs the blanket tighter. “You’re forgiven.” And he says it so simply. As if this hasn't been uniquely painful for Steve.

“It took me a while to make sense of everything. It never occurred to me that what I felt towards you was anything more than friendship. I know now how stupid that was.” He wants to reach out and touch Steve, connect them somehow, but he’s wrapped so tightly in the protective cocoon of the blanket, Eddie’s not sure how to reach him.

“It’s always been different with you. Everything I felt came on so slowly I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. The thought of losing you scares me, more than most things- and I’m scared of a lot of things these days.”

That gets a subdued laugh out of Steve. He’s all too aware of how much is out there to be afraid of.

“I didn’t have a lot of examples of love growing up. Wayne’s been single my whole life. My parents were fucked from the start. My grandparents hated each other after having their kids.” Eddie shakes his head, “And I’m not using that as an excuse either, I just, well, I didn’t recognize what was right in front of me, man. I never had any romantic fantasies because I didn’t think life was going to give me any.”

At that, Steve finally leaves the comfort of his cocoon. One arm snakes out and takes one of Eddie’s hands, squeezing tightly.

“But falling in love with you was so easy.” Eddie flips his hand over and laces their figures together. “You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more than that. It was there the whole time, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was.”

Steve’s eyes rake over his face, taking in Eddie’s sincerity, a soft smile appearing for the first time since they stepped out into the frigid cold.

“I think about you all the time. You’re the first person I want to call when anything happens. You’re the one that holds me when I wake up screaming from a nightmare. You know that I like to put ketchup on my eggs, and the way I can’t stand black coffee in the mornings, so you add extra sugar just to make it bearable for me and get the ketchup out before I even ask.”

The smile on Steve’s face is growing wider by the second.

“You have my entire heart. You know me inside and out probably better than anyone but Wayne. Hell, Wayne already figured this all out long before I did. Lectured me and everything. Called me a late bloomer,” Eddie scoffs, “as if he has any room to speak as an old bachelor who’s never settled down.”

“Well, he did have his hands full,” Steve chides.

“I want to argue that I have never done anything wrong, but we all know that’s not true. I probably put every gray hair on his head.”

“Probably,” Steve agrees. He shifts a little closer to Eddie, “so where does this leave us?”

“I’ve laid it all out there. Ball’s in your court.” Steve ducks his head, but Eddie tips his too, still meeting his eyes, “I’ve been miserable without you. Every time you’ve pretended to be okay and had to walk away because I hurt you, it felt like a knife to the gut. That alone was enough to tell me we were never just friends. I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out, but if you’ll have me, I’m all in.”

Steve reaches up with his other hand and cups the side of Eddie’s face, one cold thumb mapping the curve of his cheek. “Eddie, I’ve been all in.”

With those few words, a lump forms in Eddie’s throat. He wasn’t sure how this would go, but here Steve is, offering an olive branch. Eddie leans in, pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes and absorbing Steve’s heat, breathing in the same air. “You were never the problem, Steve. Not now, and not before.”

Steve breath hitches. The thumb stops its slow tracing of Eddie’s cheek.

“You read everything right. You’re so much smarter than people give you credit for, sweetheart.” He hopes that Steve believes him. “I’m the fool. You were right there all along. One of the best things to ever happen to me and I almost lost you.” He pauses, “I haven’t lost you, right?”

Steve pulls back and shakes his head slowly, eyes meeting Eddie’s.

“Good, because I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing you again.” A steamy bubble of air escapes between them before his lips meet Steve’s. It’s a short distance, but it feels like Eddie is reaching across miles.

It’s delicate and sweet, their mouths moving together and hands gently curling around each other despite the awkward angle on the bench. They’re a little too cold to get too into this, even if their body heat is trapped between them and Eddie feels like he might implode. He’s all too aware that anyone could come outside at any time.

A part of him hopes that this erases the memory of how Eddie reacted the first time. A clean slate might be too much to ask for, but at least he can pour all his affection into this one moment and show Steve that he meant what he said. Just like the first time, Steve takes all the air with him. Rips it straight out of Eddie and leaves him panting, clinging to the lapels of Steve’s coat, if only that could bring him closer. They could freeze to death out here, but at least Eddie would die in Steve’s arms.

When they separate, Eddie takes in the flush to Steve’s cheeks, and he’s not sure if that’s from him or the cold, but his pink, kiss-bitten lips are all him. It makes him want to dive back in and get another taste. But he also wants to memorize the look on Steve’s face. There’s an incandescent glow that Eddie’s never seen up close. And it’s never more evident than in this moment how much Eddie fucked up. He could’ve been putting that look on Steve’s face every day. How stupid was he?

Nothing he can do about that now except move forward.

“I’m gonna flirt with you for the rest of my life and it’s going to mean something, Steve Harrington.” He takes both of Steve’s hands in his and holds them in their laps. “I can promise you that.”

“Are you promising me forever?” Steve’s mouth has curved into a bemused smile, but there’s something fragile about it, like Eddie could break him. Like he holds Steve's heart in his hands.

“You’ll have me as long as you want me, Steve,” Eddie says, heartfelt and laying as much of himself on the line as he can. Maybe Wayne wasn’t so far off with his comments about love.

“So forever, then?”

Eddie’s breathless from that quiet declaration, but he manages to get out, “Forever, then,” as fireworks erupt in the distance and they start a new year, and perhaps a new life, together.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #thank you for reading #i had so much fun writing this #you're all gems for indulging me on the angst

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disgruntled-detectives · 10 hours ago

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Some ramble that has been on my mind lately.

I’m a huge fan of John Finnemore’s writing and sketches. If you don’t know who he is, he’s an English comedy writer. He’s born and raised in the UK. And he has a radio sketch show called “John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme” it’s a hilarious show and I highly recommend it. It’s made me laugh and honestly been a bright spot in dark times.

Occasionally, he has what he calls “meta sketches” where one person from the cast (there are five comedians in the JFSP cast) will address him about something in another sketch or make fun of him or something. And in one sketch, he pokes fun at Christianity. In the following meta-sketch, a cast member asks why he always makes fun of Christianity but not any other religion. And John responds with that Christianity is the religion he knows. He was born and raised in it and while he’s not a Christian, he recognizes how Christianity shapes British culture and always has. And it wouldn’t feel right to make fun of a religion he isn’t part of, and knows nothing about.

Then he says “actually the only other religion I know anything about is Judaism. And actually I’ve been thinking of a sketch idea based on a man I saw in London on a Saturday at a crossing patiently waiting for someone else to press the button so god wouldn’t he cross with him for working. And he’s perfectly right to believe that, but you can’t pretend there isn’t something a little funny about that.” And the sketch moves on.

This is the thing I’ve been thinking of. He said “the religion I know anything about would be Judaism” and then immediately in the *very next sentence* demonstrates a fundamental lack of knowledge about Judaism. In that “god would be cross with him for working” in that one sentence, he demonstrates so *clearly* the cultural Christianity that permeates western culture.

Because mostly…Jews *don’t* (can’t speak for all Jews obviously) believe G-d would be “cross at us” for violating the laws of Shabbat. We follow the laws out of a place of love. Not fear. We follow the laws because we believe they are part of the covenant G-d made with the Jewish people. We don’t believe in divine retribution. Like an orthodox Jewish woman I used to follow when I had TikTok said in a video, “if we break a commandment we don’t believe G-d is gonna strike us down or anything. We just acknowledge that we broke the commandment, say sorry, and then move on and try not to do it again.” And she has answered that question *numerous times* in numerous videos.

And Christians and former Christian’s have demonstrated time and time again that they fundamentally do not understand this. I was raised Christian. Catholic to be exact. And let me tell you, it’s fear. Not love that drives a lot of their rule following. Fear of going to hell and spending eternity being tortured and separated from g-d is a very real thing. They legit have something called “mortal sins” and missing Sunday Mass is one of them.

Because Judaism is a religion of orthopraxy. Not orthodoxy. In Judaism, what you do matters far far more than what you believe. You can be an atheist and an Orthodox Jew. Hell, I don’t eat pork. Do I think G-ds gonna be mad at me for eating bacon? No. Of course not. I don’t even really know if I believe in a G-d like that. I sorta flip flop between agnosticism and like a pantheist view. I don’t eat pork because I am a Jew. And it’s a commandment I chose to take on. Because I love being Jewish. Not out of fear.

Now I’m not saying this to hate on John Finnemore. Like I said. I am a huge fan of his work. I absolutely love Cabin Pressure, and JFSP, and Double Acts and just about anything else he’s written. I’m just saying this because it is clearly demonstrates the cultural Christian lens through which that people here in the west, including former Christian’s and now atheists like JF see the world.

So basically what I’m saying is that just because Judaism was the religion that Christianity sprang from, and you grew up Christian or even just in a Christian country in the west, does not mean that you know anything about us. It’s so easy to think you understand what Judaism is about because you’ve read “the Old Testament” and seen Fiddler on the Roof or something. And yet get even incredibly basic facts about Jewish worldview wrong because you haven’t grasped that Jews see the world completely differently. (Not to mention that 2000 years separate the split from Judaism of Christianity and Judaism developed and evolved on its own ever since. It’s a total and separate religion. But Christians tend to think we’re the exact same we were 2000 years ago. Which is why their minds are *blown* when we say that to us, Jesus is as irrelevant as Thor is. We literally do not care about your special boy. He may have been a Jew, but like…he’s a dude that lived over 2000 yrs ago.)

So basically what I’m saying is that if you are not Jewish, or at least put in serious work to learn about us, from us, you don’t actually know about Judaism like you think you do. Cultural Christianity permeates everything here in the west, and it’s a lot to unpack and unlearn.

#jumblr #judaism #jewish #jewblr #cultural christianity

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 2 days ago

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Hi, I was reading your Burden of Debt meta (very good, by the way) and I had a question about it. Maybe it's a cultural thing that I don't understand, but why is Wei Wuxian always described as a servant or son of a servant when he was very much a disciple of the sect? His father was also a highly valued Jiang disciple/cultivator. As far as I can tell no other disciple, junior or senior, is referred to as a 'servant', so why is Wei Wuxian considered such? Is it only because he wasn't born into the gentry - but then wouldn't this also apply to others?

Also I couldn't find part 2 but would love to read that too :) Thank you!

Hello anon!

I am slowly working on part 2 lol (the adhd has a pretty heavy block on personal projects for the past year lol but it's getting there I promise! And thank you for your kind words about part 2 it does give me incentive to try kicking myself in gear! (｡ì _ í｡)

As for your question, it's a way to debase him. Per quote from Jiang Cheng:

Jiang Cheng smirked, “Don’t carry your sword, then. It doesn’t matter. But don’t provoke Jin ZiXuan from now on. He’s Jin GuangShan’s only son, after all. The future leader of the LanlingJin Sect will be him. If you beat him up, what should I, the sect leader, do? Beat him up with you? Or punish you?”

Wei WuXian, “Isn’t Jin GuangYao here now? Jin GuangYao seems so much better than him.”

Jiang Cheng finished wiping his sword. After he scrutinized it for a while, he finally put Sandu back into its sheath, “So what, if he’s better? No matter how much better he is, no matter how clever, he could only be a servant who greets the guests. That’s all there is to his life. He can’t compare with Jin ZiXuan.”

This is reiterated by the gentry not only to Wei Wuxian, but to Mianmian, Jin Guangyao and to Wen Zhuliu. As far as we know, these three are the prominent ones on page that get derided for being from the servant class. This is marked upon and treated as lesser because the novel establishes the clan sects are not how usual cultivation sects are established in xianxia as a genre (where anyone with the talent can become an inner disciple and beeline to high sect positions even based on merits and renown earned). Mo Dao Zu Shi establishes blood relations to maintain their sects (remain in the patrilineal family name only), regardless of actual talent for cultivation. Why the novel establishes Nie Huaisang as a clan leader is because he had a patrilineal tie to the Nie's and recognized as a de facto son of the Nie line.

Wei Wuxian carried the name of his father who while also a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, was a servant disciple and his mother a wandering cultivator and is considered someone that doesn't know his place in a heavily classist society. It doesn't matter how great, smart, or talented they may be, because them being of a servant parent is all it takes to see them as lesser and accuse them of looking down on their betters (who by default have what they do from centuries of nepotism).

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi is first and foremost about the corruption of classism

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gf2bellamy · 1 hour ago

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Hello!

Can you do a spencer x reader where there was a hard case and in the way back on the jet spencer takes care of reader? maybe they fall asleep together in the couch. Derek and Prentiss gossiping about them. Hotchner happy for them.

Thanks love 🩵

doubt — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of victims, feelings of guilt, a/n: thank you for your request !! <3 hope you like this also derek and emily r so me i'd gossip too

The jet hummed as it cut through the night sky, a constant, rhythmic drone filling the quiet cabin. It was a sound you had grown used to, one that usually wrapped around you like a cocoon of familiarity after long, grueling cases. But tonight, it didn't help.

Your mind was elsewhere.The faces of the victims haunted you, their unfinished stories clawing at you. You had done everything you could. You knew that. But the ghosts of "what if" still lingered.

You stood near the small coffee machine, fingers loosely curled around a cooling mug. You hadn't taken a sip. You weren’t sure how long you’d been standing there, staring blankly at the darkness outside the window, your mind replaying every decision, every clue, every missed sign. Searching for something—anything—you could have done differently.

"Hi."

The quiet voice pulled you from the fog of your thoughts, and you turned slightly, blinking as Spencer stood beside you. He wasn’t looking at you, not directly, but instead at the untouched coffee in your hands. His own fingers fidgeted at his sides—an unconscious habit of his, one you’d come to recognize over time.

"You haven’t had a sip." His voice was soft, careful.

You exhaled a small, humorless breath. "Didn’t really feel like it."

Spencer nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a moment before settling on the floor. "It was a hard case."

You swallowed against the lump forming in your throat and nodded. "They’re all hard."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice quieter now. "But some of them stay with you longer than others."

A heavy silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts. You knew Spencer understood.

Maybe better than anyone.

"I keep thinking about what we missed," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "If we had just caught something sooner, maybe they—"

"You can’t do that to yourself," Spencer interrupted gently. "We did everything we could. You did everything you could."

You wanted to believe that. Needed to. But the doubt still clung to you, stubborn and unrelenting.

Spencer hesitated for a second before shifting closer, his fingers brushing lightly against yours where they gripped the mug. It was the smallest touch, barely there, but enough to comfort you for a second. Enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

"Come sit with me?" he asked, his voice almost hesitant.

For a moment, you considered saying no, retreating back into the safety of your solitude. But the exhaustion in Spencer’s eyes mirrored your own, and you realized—maybe you weren’t the only one who needed this.

You sat down next to each other on the couch, your body sinking into the plush seat with a quiet sigh. Spencer sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but not quite touching.

Your arm rested along the back of the couch, fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric as you stared ahead. Spencer remained silent for a moment, as if carefully considering his words.

"You know," he started, his voice barely above a murmur, "statistically, most law enforcement professionals experience some level of post-case guilt, even when they’ve done everything right. It’s—" he hesitated, then continued more softly, "it’s normal to feel like this."

You huffed a quiet breath. "That doesn’t make it any easier."

"No," he admitted. "It doesn’t."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"But…" Spencer shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours. "It helps to remember that what we do matters. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough. Even when it hurts." He glanced at you then, his brown eyes searching yours. "Because if we weren’t there—if you weren’t there—it would be worse. And that has to mean something."

Something in your chest tightened at his words. Spencer wasn’t one for empty reassurances. He never said things just to say them. So you knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

You let out a slow breath, your body finally allowing itself to release some of the tension you’d been holding. Without thinking too much about it, you shifted closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

For a moment, he tensed, just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it. But then, just as quickly, he relaxed. You felt him tilt his head, the warmth of his cheek resting lightly against your hair.

Neither of you spoke. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

The hum of the jet and the rhythm of his breathing all of it lulled you into a drowsy calm. And as your eyelids fluttered closed, the last thing you felt was Spencer’s fingers ghosting over your arm in the lightest touch.

Across the cabin, Derek and Emily sat across from each other, a deck of playing cards scattered between them on the table. The game had lost its appeal somewhere around the third round, both of them too drained from the case to focus, but neither ready to sleep just yet.

It was Emily who noticed first. She had been mid-sip of her coffee when her gaze drifted toward the couch, and her eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. Nudging Derek’s foot under the table, she tilted her head in their direction.

Derek followed her gaze, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Well, well," he murmured, leaning back in his seat. "Would you look at that?"

Emily smirked, setting her mug down. "About time, don’t you think?"

Spencer and you were curled together on the small jet couch, your head tucked against his shoulder, his resting gently against yours. His arm had shifted somewhere during the flight, now draped lightly along the back of the seat, fingers barely brushing against your shoulder in sleep.

And for the first time all night, you both looked… peaceful.

Derek shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I knew Pretty Boy had it in him. Took him long enough, though."

Emily chuckled, crossing her arms. "We should let them sleep. I think they both needed it."

"Yeah, yeah," Derek said, waving a hand. But the teasing glint in his eye remained. "Doesn’t mean I won’t bring this up later."

Just then, a shadow shifted in the doorway.

Aaron Hotchner stood near the back of the cabin, watching the two of you with something almost unnoticeable softening his usually serious expression.

Emily and Derek exchanged a glance before Derek leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "So, what do you think, Hotch? Should we start taking bets?"

Hotch exhaled a quiet breath, shaking his head. His gaze flickered back toward you and Spencer, and for a moment, something warm crossed his expression. A quiet kind of approval.

Without another word, Hotch turned, making his way toward his seat.

Emily smirked, leaning toward Derek. "That’s a yes on the betting pool, by the way."

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as they settled back into their seats.

And on the couch, nestled against Spencer, you slept on—blissfully unaware of the knowing smiles around you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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bunnysdollette · 20 hours ago

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₊⊹⁀➴ How to get real revenge ⟡﹒⪩⪨ 🎀

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧ Hey angels 👼, I know we all have people we dislike/want to get revenge on. Anyway, I’ll show you how to inflict REAL revenge in a more mature and long lasting manner. my whole bloodline is full of D1 elite demons, so it runs in the family. TRUST if you listen to this, your haters will be shook.

♫ bigger in texas, megan thee stallion

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MOVE ON, CHOOSE PEACE! 👛 ⊹₊⟡⋆

anyways, anything that happened in the past, you have to learn to let go. . 🧘🏽‍♀️ the only direction you can go in is forward, you can’t change what happened or change what’s going to happen. dead it, stressing over the past is not cute.

you’re gonna have haters, ur gonna have people that don’t like u. that’s inevitable, that’s normal. if people aren’t mad at you then you should be going HARDER, their anger and animosity towards you is PROJECTION, you know you’ve made it when you can piss people off even without trying to.

like okay this person did you wrong, so what? are u gonna continue being obsessed over them and the situation and doing petty shit to them letting all this unnecessary baggage drag YOU and your prized energy, emotions, and time down or just level up and be better. be the one that got away and got your mfkin life away. . 📝baby, wtf do you look like staying stuck over something in the past? over something that doesn’t serve you anymore, over something that’s not relevant?

no.. YOU who WILL do BIG, life changing things, can not let the smallest things take them off your path. always choose peace, there is nothing healing about revenge.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THE ONLY OPTION IS WINNING. YOUR SUCCESS WILL BE THE NOISE ⊹₊⟡⋆

okay so now that we’re plotting our revenge, know that the only real revenge is being successful even after all that that person/situation put you thru. your success will be the revenge to them and it will literally wake up all of their demons and rage to know that you won the idgaf war and they couldn’t even come close to comparing to you. 🥱

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ HOW TO AACTUALLYY GET BACK AT YOUR ENEMIES, A STEP BY STEP GUIDE ⊹₊⟡⋆

DONT speak on them or the situation, EVER again. especially in public. nobody should be under the impression that you’re still obsessing over this situation, because you shouldn’t be.

Recognize that actual petty acts of revenge is NOT the kind of behavior you want to adopt. It only causes more harm in the long run and isn’t going to help you heal or feel peace after what happened to you.

Reflect and refocus on what’s actually important in your life. For many of this this is school, family, mental wellness. This can also be chasing after your other goals too. You shouldn’t even feel the need to be loud about doing all these things to feel external validation for others; let these little moments where your success shines through be the noise that is TRUE revenge to those who treated you badly.

I guarantee that staying consistent with these 3 little baby steps for a few weeks will make whoever you wanted on revenge on literally FUME with anger so that steam literally blows out of their ears whenever you’re mentioned. 💬

Why? Because you’ve inflicted the ACTUAL revenge on them; winning the idgaf war, being the one that continued winning even when they expected you to loose. save this, try it, come back to me with a success story later ! 🎀

🖊️-With love, BD

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uselessmoonlight · 1 day ago

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Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

#epic the musical #epic!poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x reader #telemachus #epic odysseus #telemachus x reader #epic the ithaca saga #epic the stranger saga

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coco-loco-nut · 5 hours ago

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Eternal Sunshine

pairing: pato o’ward x reader

summary: ok, maybe you have a type. at least this time he might treat you right

masterlist requests open

——————————————

They say that in the darkest skies you see the brightest stars, that suffering is essential to growth, that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. You never believed it to be true until you met your boyfriend. He kind and funny and ridiculously handsome, and he arrived at one of your lowest points.

——

You shouldn’t be here, your mind screams at you to turn around and leave, but it’s the same one that wanted you to be here in the first place.

The track used to feel like home, for five years you got to watch your boyfriend drive and enjoy the secrecy of your relationship. You both put in a lot of effort into keeping the spark alive, even if it meant shuffling some things around. That was until he decided he to cheat on you. It was easy for him, you weren’t public so it was easy to lie that he wasn’t in a relationship. Turns out he’s been cheating for over a year.

But this isn’t Formula One, this is IndyCar. You chose this to get your fix and move on. It would be satisfying to see someone crash into Oscar, maybe he can feel the pain you felt.

“Are you lost?” a deep voice comes from beside you and you look at the man speaking to you.

“A little,” you smile nervously, you haven’t been recognized yet. Maybe you should’ve chosen a race that wasn’t right outside of L.A.

“Luckily for you, I’m an expert,” you don’t know why he seems familiar. You notice his McLaren shirt, similar to your own - except yours was a fuck you to Oscar. You stole some of his official gear when you packed your bag and left.

“Are you a McLaren fan?” you ask, trying to place why he seems familiar.

“I guess you could say that? Are you?” the man asks, and you can’t help to notice some resemblance to Oscar, but he is far more handsome.

“I, um, same. I’m new to Indy, but I’ve loosely followed the F1 team for around five years,” you choose your words carefully. Pato looks at you closer, knowing he’s seen you somewhere before. Your pass says that you have VIP access, so he doesn’t question it as you walk with him.

“I’m Pato,” your brows furrow slightly as you give him your middle name as a cover. Where have you heard that name before. Your eyes catch sight of a video screen and they widen in horror.

“This is embarrassing, you’re a driver,” you are at a bit of a loss for words, mortified at your carelessness. He has got to be so mad, you straight up lied to his face.

“And your name is actually Y/n. I’m surprised to see someone of your talents here. Especially without security,” Pato’s unoffended smile disarms you, making you mentally sigh a breath of relief.

“Sorry for all the secrecy, it used to be the only way I can attend races,. I guess my disguise didn’t work then,” your smile is bittersweet, it’s almost freeing to be at a race without worrying if your relationship is going to be put on blast.

“I understand. I’m actually a big fan myself, so I recognized your voice. I introduced Lando to your music last year,” Pato says but you know the last part isn’t actually true. He may think he introduced your music to Lando, but Lando couldn’t reveal he knew you and your music well. He was one of the very few people who knew about you and Oscar.

“That’s so cool,” even if it’s wrong, maybe even vain, you love hearing things like that. “Did you get to go to the tour last year r hen?” you follow, curious how much he truly listens to your music.

“No, I wasn’t able to make it between races and other duties. I wanted to though,” he replies, scratching his neck while contemplating if he should ask a question or not. He has you as a captive audience though, so it doesn’t hurt to.

“That’s a shame,” you realize that you’ve started walking with Pato, but no one’s stopped you yet.

“Will you be releasing new music soon?” he sees a flash of hurt in your eyes and immediately regrets asking.

“I’ve both lost and gained inspiration, so there may be something in the works sooner than expected,” Pato immediately understands your words. It was widely known that you were in a long-term relationship, but no one knew who you were dating. It seems like you are no longer in one now. You really will have to hide when that bit of news breaks.

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, it’s actually good, in a way. I’m starting to get over what happened,” the last part feels like a lie, but you don’t feel as heavy as before.

“I’m sorry, you are probably busy and I’m yapping on and on. I should probably get ready for practice anyway,” Pato realizes, flushing slightly with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you smile and something inside you tugs at your heart at the thought of him walking away and never talking to him again. “Would you like to get drinks or something after the race on Sunday?” you ask quickly, voice slightly shaking with nerves. You watch his eyes light up before he reels himself in to act cool.

“Yeah. I’d give you my number, but I know that you will run into me soon,. Enjoy all the racing” he grins, disappearing into the crowds. You continue to walk around, finding a spot to watch the end of the IMSA practice.

You slip back into your brooding as the sounds of engines put you on edge. It used to be a sound that was a comfort.

You want to kick yourself, how could you let a man - no, a boy - play you like that. And now here you are, wide-eyed and talking to another driver. Stupid. Not only does he drive for Arrow McLaren, but he’s the reserve driver for the F1 team.

All you can think about is how Oscar and Lando would react, how Pato would react if you started something and he found out about Oscar. The words they could use to hurt you. Whore. You would be moving on quickly, but then again, so did Oscar. He moved on while you were still together. Manipulator. Even if you don’t intend on it, it would be very easy to assume that you are using Pato for revenge, as a low blow. So many more.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You have a lot to think about before the end of the weekend.

Pato was right, you run into him (literally run into him) on Sunday. You just finished and early lunch and got on a call with your agent to discuss an opportunity.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” you apologize, hanging up the call.

“When I said you will run into me, I didn’t mean literally,” the smile on his face tells you he isn’t actually mad. In fact, he seems delighted. Yet the uneasy feeling of nerves bubbles in your stomach, you can’t hurt him. You know what you have to do, you have to tell him the truth. Lay it all out and let him make an informed decision, even if it hurts you to talk about.

“Sorry, I was distracted, and I guess I still am. My agent was trying to convince to, um, you know that doesn’t really matter,” you shift your focus to the present moment.

“I’m glad I ran into you, I was going to offer a garage tour,” Pato brushes you odd behavior off and your eyes light up. The look sends a thrill down his spine and butterflies in his chest. He feels like a teenage boy talking to his crush.

“Really? I’ve never been, not even when I-,” you catch your words, quickly clearing your throat, “not even when I attended an F1 race a few years ago,” the excitement from your voice is gone. Pato can tell there is a story there, but he takes your initial reaction and runs with it. Oscar never brought you to the garage. Even Lando offered, but you both said it was too risky. Oscar never even introduced you to the team, other than Lando.

“Follow me!” he leads you through the Arrow McLaren area, and you end up back at his motorhome. Pato did make sure to take pictures during it, especially with you and his car. You don’t think twice when you follow him in and sit down.

“I kinda like this a lot more than F1, it seems more humble in a way. It’s a spectacle like all racing is, but F1 is so flashy and honestly some people wouldn’t realize if there wasn’t a race. As long as all the other entertainment is there,” you unintentionally start on a tangent. Pato realizes he can learn a lot about you by reading between the lines.

“You sound like you have a bit of experience,”

“They, uh, COTA wants me to perform at F1 grand prix. They claim I will be the biggest attraction,” you huff, you really weren’t supposed to say anything, but if anyone would understand it would be Pato. Plus, he’s in the industry and you deep down you know you can trust him.

“They aren’t wrong. I know at least Lando would rather watch you than drive,” Pato smiles cheekily, dissolving your frustration.

“He’s had a private concert before, I’m sure he’ll live if I turn it down,” you abruptly stop laughing when you realize what you revealed. Pato’s brows furrow as he processes your words, maybe you misspoke. Here goes nothing, you have to come clean now.

“Lando and I were kinda friends, we met through my ex,” you reveal some of your truth. Careful to keep some of the cards in your hand hidden. The ones too painful to share.

“Oh, that’s cool! How did your ex know Lando?” Pato asks, almost wondering how you didn’t know who he was when you met. You quickly weigh the pros and cons. If you are going to get drinks with him after the race, he deserves to at least know and make his decision from there.

“My ex is Oscar Piastri,” your voice is quiet at you look at your hands, picking at a nail. Pato observes you as his stomach drops.

“Oh, how, uh, how did you meet?” he tentatively asks, trying to get an answer but not shut you down.

“I grew up as a huge racing fan and I thought he was cute, so I messaged him and that was that. You know my music,” you watch him smile to himself and then meet your eyes.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your type then, unless it’s just Australian racers,” Pato teases and your lips quirk up, relieved that he isn’t mad.

“No, apparently just men who drive for McLaren,” you chuckle. “He um, he cheated on me, and that isn’t part of my type. Hopefully that’s a part of the Australian thing,” your voice is quieter, but not dejected. That’s as much as you are willing to give for now, somethings are still too painful.

“I think he’s stupid to do that. And to not show you off. Plenty of guys would kill to meet you, to be on your arm and the one you come home to. I know I would,” Pato reassures you as he reaches out and squeezes your hand.

“It isn’t weird?” you ask. He just shrugs, looking at you in a way that makes you like a million butterflies are in your stomach.

“It’s not like you came here searching for me. Based off of your story, I doubt you came here looking for a relationship either. Besides, I initiated our first conversation, and you just came here for… why did you come here?”

“I missed racing, and this is really close to LA,” you say honestly. “I really didn’t know who you were, by the way. I wasn’t allowed to be around the F1 team, and everything I new about the team was from Oscar, so I never really thought to ask who the reserve driver was,” you add on.

“I believe you. For the record, I think you should perform at the race. It might be therapeutic not having to hide your presence there,” Pato offers his opinion. Silently adding that it might be nice to show Oscar you don’t have to hide.

“You have a great point,” your smile sends a thrill down his spine.

“Pato!” a girl barges into the motorhome, drawing both of your attentions. “Oh my god, you’re,” she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you stand up to greet her.

“Y/n, this is my sister, Elba,” Pato says as she tells him something in Spanish that sounds borderline angry.

“In that case, maybe we should watch the race together?” you want to get off on the right foot, especially if you want to pursue something with him.

“Really?” her eyes light up as she shoots Pato a look again. “Pato, why are you trapping her?” she asks her brother and you fight a laugh.

“I’m not-“

“I ran into him today, literally ran into him, and he offered to show me around,” you offer an explanation.

“I promise I’m much cooler than him,” she tells you. You admire their sibling dynamic, there’s clearly a deep bond for them to interact as they do.

“Why are you even here?” Pato puts an end to things before his sister steals you away.

“Making sure you are ready, you have ten minutes,” she says, walking over to you and linking your arms. Too late, Pato, you are being stolen.

“Oh shit,”

“That’s what I thought,” she hums, walking the two of you out so he can change.

“Drinks on me,” you tell her, knowing you will get along well. And you do, three drinks later you are telling her all about Oscar and even playing a sample of a new song. She happily takes in all the industry insights and background of your music. You answer most of her questions, even one’s like who your least favorite artist to work with is.

You both don’t even notice when the Arrow Mclaren team takes a picture of you laughing in their hospitality area. You only noticed after the race when your phone started to blow up.

“Everything okay?” Elba asks as you stare at your phone with a frown. You are in the safety of Pato’s motorhome, away from prying eyes.

“My publicist is freaking out. I wasn’t supposed to officially be here and being spotted with you as made the public assume things,” the pinched line between your eyebrows tells Elba just how frustrated you are.

“So you aren’t allowed to have friends,” she scoffs. Even if she can tell there is a spark between you and her brother, there’s no need to push that at the moment. A devilish smile creeps onto her face as she looks at you. “I bet those rumors are killing Oscar,” she says while watching the frustration melt into satisfaction.

“I would never use you or your brother like that, but I have to admit I like the idea,” you smile.

“Hello sister and supposed girlfriend,” Pato walks in, causing you to sit up a little. He clearly isn’t bothered by it. Secretly, he loves it, he wasn’t lying earlier about being romantically interested.

“Do your ears burn?” Elba asks, eyebrow raised like this isn’t Pato’s motorhome.

“No?”

“Hm, okay,”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that a photo of Elba and I would cause so much trouble,” you apologize, a little embarrassed at the public’s reaction. You went from never having a public photo of you and Oscar to having articles being written about you and Pato when you aren’t even together yet.

“So I shouldn’t post the photo of you with my car?” Pato asks lightheartedly.

“Post whatever you’d like,” your words are truthful, it’s a good photo and people already know you are hanging out.

“Good, you look very cute in it,” Pato’s words cause your cheeks to flush.

“I should go, my car is here. Congrats on your podium,” you stand, sneakily leaving a slip of paper on the chair behind you.

Pato and Elba watch you disappear. Guess you aren’t getting drinks tonight.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Elba asks, watching as Pato stares at the door you left from.

“She’s different. I should be thrown off about Oscar, but she didn’t know me. She loves racing too. I want her, but I’m willing to wait,” Pato says wistfully. Elba subtly picks up the paper that you dropped.

“Well, she lefts this. Maybe it’s a good start,” Elba leaves Pato to himself.

Pato, sorry I had to leave quickly. Text me when you get to this address, 10pm…

Your handwriting is neat with the details listed at the end. A quick google search of the name tells him it’s a members-only upscale bar. It’s so exclusive it has a dress code and no address listed online.

His stomach churns with nerves as he sends a text to you letting you know he’s there. A moment later a man in a suit opens the door for him. He’s never been so nervous for a date.

“Mr. O’Ward, follow me,” Pato runs his hands nervously down his button-down, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. The tie feels tight as he steps further into the bar. Pato spots you wearing a sleek black dress with hair perfectly styled. You look absolutely breathtaking as you stand to greet him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry for the formality, it’s just the best place for privacy,” you apologize.

“It’s okay. This is a really cool place,” Pato looks around, shocked at the big names sitting near him.

“I ordered some food, if that’s okay, but the waiter will be back soon for drink orders,” you tell him. relaxing into the seat.

“That’s perfect,” Pato takes a look at the menu, noticing there’s no prices.

“Don’t worry about the cost, I’ve paid for everything already,” you answer his thoughts, practically reading his mind.

“But-“

“I asked you out and invited you, you weren’t going to pay regardless,” your smile tells him to enjoy being treated so he does.

“How was your first Indycar weekend?” he asks after you order drinks.

“I enjoyed it, I think I might have a new favorite driver,”

“You mean I wasn’t your favorite in the first place?” Pato teases.

“No, it was Nico Rosberg, jury is still out if he’s moving from number one,” your eyes crinkle.

“Will that change if I show you pictures of my dog?”

“Absolutely,” you lean in to look at his phone. You may be a cat person, but you love dogs almost as much as you love cats.

Your first date turns into two, then three, then four, then nights spent together. Pato even occasionally joins you at the studio while you record your new album. The summer flies and you make some appearances at races as Elba’s friend - which isn’t untrue. Your fans connected the dots when you posted a dump that included Pato’s dog and Pato posted the photo of you with his car from your garage tour.

She joins you and Pato at COTA. You’ve spent the whole week both stressed and nervous as you practiced your set and announced your new album, eternal sunshine.

“Are you okay?” she asks as you nervously walk through the paddock.

“No, but it’s okay,” you frown, glancing at your pass. Your cream linen outfit is neutral, you didn’t even touch the Arrow Mclaren gear that Pato gifted you when packing for the weekend. He insisted that you didn’t have to accept Mclaren’s offer to be a guest on the day of your performance, but you told him that you would stick with Elba. Your PR team thought it would be a good idea too, especially since you are known to support the Indycar team.

“We can take a shot before going over,” she suggests.

“It’s not even noon,”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. You follow her as she leads you to a bar, ordering two shots. You’ll just drink extra water before performing tonight. It doesn’t stop the nerves pooling in your stomach as you approach the papaya area, but it does make your brain not care as much.

“Y/n!” Lando practically falls over himself running over to greet you.

“Hey Lando,” your smile is tight, glad it’s him and not Oscar, but not happy to see him this early in the day. You thought you had another hour at least.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reach out but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” his words fall on your deaf ears.

“Save it. If you want to apologize, keep him away from me,” your words are resolute.

“Too late,” Elba says under her breath and suddenly you wish you took more than one shot. You don’t know Pato approaching from behind you, you are honed in on the person now in front of you.

“I see you have a type,” the first words every girl wants to hear from her ex. Certainly not ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘i am the worst, you deserve better than me’. You squeeze Elba’s wrist, silently telling her to stand down before she yells.

“Right, well, he doesn’t cheat on me in my house and bed multiple times, shamelessly apologize when I walk in on it and then send photos to me together with the same girl in that bed a week later. So, I’d say he isn’t like you at all. And if you think you are my type, then you are sorely mistaken,” your eyes narrow. Lando gives Oscar a WTF look, clearly unimpressed with his teammate. He didn’t know the whole story, all Oscar told him was you broke up.

“It’s a shame no one will know who she’s talking about on her album. Except for the ones that are clearly about Pato. Trust me, you’ll know which ones those are,” Elba can’t resist herself, and you are proud of it. You probably shouldn’t have let her listen to two of the demos though.

“What?” Oscar’s eyes widen, not expecting you to tell the world about your break up. Lando is silently thrilled, he can’t wait for your new album. It’s too bad he will have to wear headphones while listening to it.

“You seriously didn’t expect me to not write about it, did you?” you raise your eyebrow. “I wrote about the good and will sure as hell write about the ugly. Be glad I respect you just enough to not name drop you,”

“Hermosa, let’s go,” Pato wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, gently removing you from the situation. You startle slightly, not having realized his presence.

“Just wait until she sings tonight,” Elba shoots another comment at Oscar, channeling the spite that you won’t show. Just because you are taking the high road doesn’t mean she has to.

“Elba,” Pato’s sharp voice calling back to her tells her enough and she walks away. Sending one final nasty look over her shoulder before catching up with you and Pato.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Lando turns to his teammate.

“I, she broke up with me,”

“You cheated on her. Multiple times apparently. You know what? We are not having this discussion here. Lucky enough no one was around to see this whole fiasco. Just, stay away from her,” Lando shakes his head, leaving Oscar to wallow in his thoughts.

“Hey, none of that was your fault,” Pato keeps you close, your breathes deep and shaky as you hold yourself together. He brings you into a small empty room, Elba closes the door behind you as tears streak down your cheeks. You sit on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Pato crouches in front of you, thumb wiping away a tear.

“You weren’t ready to encounter him again. I’m so proud of how you handled it, and it’s okay to cry,” he reassure you, which makes you cry harder. Elba bites back a comment about the aforementioned boy, but he should be careful to not run into her again. She’s only nice when not talking to someone who hurt her friend. Pato moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his lap. He lets you cry it out, something you refused to do when you found out about Oscar’s infidelity. You’ve been so strong for so long, you’ve never given yourself the chance to feel your feelings.

“How much of it did you hear?” you tearily ask, a little ashamed that you revealed a part of the story you never told Pato. So much pain put out for the world to hear in a fit of anger.

“Most of it,” Pato answers and you know he knows.

“This is not how this weekend was supposed to start,” you rest your head against Pato’s now damp shirt. Elba stepped out to grab water for you and give you some privacy.

“No,” he agrees, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. Pato won’t vocalize it, but he’s worried about you being in the Paddock for his free practice drive in Mexico.

“Am I doing the right thing by being here? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to perform,” your voice is thick with that post-cry sound.

“Absolutely, this was hard but I think it will help with your healing. He can’t touch you anymore, he’ll risk your fans knowing he is the one who hurt you,” Pato is reassuring himself too, it was terrifying to find you face to face with Oscar.

“Right,” your tears have stopped.

“Hey, we need to get lunch before sound check,” Elba pops in, carefully tossing the bottle of water to Pato.

“Right,” you sniff, carefully removing yourself from Pato’s hold and standing up.

“Drink this, you need to rehydrate. Fuck, and I need to go to a meeting,” Pato kisses you, letting it last a second too long before leaving you and Elba.

“I can hurt him, make it look like an accident. Then Pato can race this weekend,” Elba suggests. You know she won’t and can’t, but you crack a smile anyway.

“I don’t deserve you or Pato,” you hug her.

“Let’s fix your mascara and get out there. We’ve avoided your team this long, I don’t know how much longer we can manage,” you and Elba find Mclaren hospitality and take advantage of the drivers being in a meeting. You two are gone by the time they get there.

You make your way to the concert stage for a sound check with your band. The hot Texas heat beating down on you.

“I’m making changes to the set list,” you hand them the revised one. “We are doing three songs from the new album. Opening with True Story, then we will do The Boy is Mine and Eternal Sunshine later in the show. Maybe ending with Boy is Mine,” you tell them.

“But those aren’t your singles,”

“It’s a gift to the fans, it’ll help get hype around the album,” you lie, you just feel that they will send the message to Oscar. It’s your little piece of revenge.

“Sounds good, we will practice those later,” your guitarist says. You run through a couple of your hits so the sound levels can be adjusted, before going into a meeting with your team.

“We have an interview set up with F1 TV in half an hour. It’s some type of quiz with Hinchcliffe while doing a hot lap,” your publicist tells you as you hydrate and stretch.

“Right, well, let’s get ready,” you head to the dressing room that is air conditioned, thankfully.

“So, the rumor is that you are a big motorsport fan,” Hinch starts off the interview.

“Ever since I was a kid. I’ve been to a few grand prix before, and now I get to perform at one,” you reply, happy to talk about racing.

“Is Mclaren your favorite team then?”

“No, but I’ll never tell who is,” your playful expression is opposite to the one you wore earlier. No one can tell that you had been crying.

“Well, you’ve been a frequent guest at Indycar races. Who is your favorite driver, me or Pato?”

“I don’t think I can answer that either,” you smile, playing along with the bit.

“So it’s me. Great taste,” he accelerates off the starting line.

“I’ve always wanted to do one of these,”

“Triva while on a hot lap? We all have our own aspirations,” he takes a turn quickly and you cheer in excitement. You confidently answer his questions.

“Can we go again? Can I drive?” you ask, not wanting to unbuckle.

“Unfortunately that’s all the track time we have today,” you sadly unbuckle, giving the in-car camera a thumbs down.

“Thank you for the ride,” you tell him after getting out.

“Thank you, I don’t think I’ve had anyone tell me to go faster. Good luck on your performance tonight,” he is a little shocked at how well you handled it.

“Thank you, I’ll give you a backstage pass if you let me drive,” you say once the cameras stop filming and the mic is removed.

“Unfortunately I cannot this time. Get Pato to rent a track for you. Has he taken you on a lap yet?”

“No, he will in Mexico. Don’t tell anyone, but you are my favorite commentator,” you take your bag from an assistant and hand him a pass.

“I will be holding this over Buxton’s head,” Hinch waves the pass before you part ways. You find Elba and Pato to watch qualifying before you have to get ready for the concert. Elba leaves to get food, claiming that now is the right time while everyone else is busy on track.

“Are you nervous,” Pato asks, his fingers entwined with yours as you stare at the screen.

“A little, but I changed the set to add some of the new album,” you keep your eyes trained on the Ferrari on the screen.

“I have a request from the social media team,” your head turns to look at your boyfriend at the uneasiness in his voice. “They want Oscar and Lando to watch the concert with me, they think,”

“They think it will show team togetherness since you will already be there to watch me,” you sigh, mulling it over. “Fuck. If I say no then it makes me look like an asshole,” your frown deepens at the thought.

“Lando said he will make sure Oscar is gone by the time you get offstage,”

“No, they will want a video or picture of me interacting with them,” you run a hand through your hair and Pato regrets asking on behalf of the team.

“It’s not a big deal if you say no. I can watch from the front row with them and come backstage once you are done. Then the social team still gets what they want,” Pato reassures you with another option.

“Yeah, I think I like that more. Plus, I can sing to you easier that way,” your frown goes away as you lean into him. He removes his hand from yours and wraps his arm around you. “The pass I gave you should let you immediately come backstage, and I’ll have my team inform security to let you through,”

“You are going to kill it, I’m excited to see you onstage,”

“I’m excited too, I can shake off the rust. Oh, and Lando can come backstage with you. Since you introduced him to my music,” Pato lightly groans with embarrassment as you giggle.

“I had no idea you knew him when I told you that! It’s his fault that he didn’t tell me he knew your music,” Pato defends himself.

“Am I too late?” Nolan appears in the doorway, a little out of breath.

“Nolan?” you ask, a little like an excited puppy. You would lay down your life for him, he’s like your baby brother now.

“I couldn’t miss the concert. I tried to be here an hour ago, but the traffic is insane,” he shakes his head as he greets Pato with that weird male handshake.

“Sometimes I think you love Nolan more than me,” Pato says as you hug his teammate.

“I doooo,” you dramatically sway back in forth in the hug.

“I knew it,” Pato shakes his head lovingly. “Oh and surprise. I figured you’d like the extra support,” Pato got your team to give him an extra pass after Nolan dropped some not so subtle hints about wanting to be here.

“Hey Nolan,” Elba returns with a plate of food for you.

“Where’s mine?”

“Um, you can eat later. You aren’t going on stage in a few hours,” Elba waves her brother off.

As every minute in qualifying ticks by you increasingly get both nervous and excited. As Q3 reaches its halfway point, your phone buzzes to summon you away before the crowds start.

“You are going to be amazing, I’ll be front and center,” Pato hugs you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I will be there too,” Nolan interjects.

“I’ll be backstage before the show,” Elba promises. You thank them and head out. You are immediately thrown into warm ups and hair and makeup.

“15 minutes,” the stage manager warns. You check your phone one last time before grabbing your water and heading to the stage.

“Good luck, you got this, you are an icon,” Elba starts to hype you up, and your laugh makes her join your laughter.

“I’m more worried for my fans, they aren’t expecting new music to be performed,” you shake your head as you are directed to a platform.

“You will smash it,” she says as she’s led to the wings. You focus on your breathing and hydration.

The lights go dark and the crowd silences. A cue tells you to start your first surprise. Your voice is alone in the dark as you start singing. You start rising in the darkness during the first gimmie love section of the intro and as soon as the platform locks into place and your beat picks up a golden light flushes the stage. The show’s begun.

Pato soaks in the vision of you up on the stage and how Oscar has to mask his shock. It didn’t take long for Oscar to realize that bad light you paint of him, the opposite of how you’d written him in the past. You send a subtle smile Pato’s way, one he returns as an eager grin.

“Dude, your girlfriend is killing it,” Lando yells over the music. You are currently singing one of your first hits, and the energy is high.

“I want her to adopt me,” Nolan agrees. Even the songs you wrote about Oscar feel directed at Pato now, and that’s a new level of hurt. The final blow comes as you end the show with your newest steamy song, and everyone know who you are singing about and to.

“Holy shit,” Pato says as he listens to your words, he hasn’t heard this one yet and it’s capital H-O-T. You strut upstage, back to the audience as you end the song. During the final word, ‘mine’, you turn your head back to look at the crowd, quickly finding Pato’s eyes and sing the word. The lights go dark, and it’s somehow more electric than your start.

“I’m actually speechless,” Lando says as Nolan grabs Pato’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Dude,” he is practically jumping. “You are her’s and she let everyone know,” Nolan says.

“Imagine having a song like that written for you, that must be so cool. Right, Osc?” Lando turns to his teammate, still mad about the recent facts he learned about. Oscar swallows, nodding.

“Yeah, that certainly seems very cool,” Oscar begrudgingly agrees.

“Mr. O’Ward and guests, your presence is required backstage,” security arrives just as expected. Oscar follows but before they reach you, the group is stopped. They couldn’t just leave him to a crowd of fans.

“Alright guys, smile,” the Mclaren admin takes a quick picture while they wait for you to finish taking off your mic pack and monitors.

Still high off of the performance, you practically jumping into Pato’s arms, not looking at who else was around. Elba trails you, a jacket in hand for when you get cold from your sweat evaporating away.

“You were incredible, mi amor,” he holds you, letting you kiss him, arms around his neck.

“Hey, we get it, the boy is yours. You literally just sang about it,” Lando jokes as you pull away from Pato. The way you two look at each is different than when you and Oscar were together. Fondness? Sure. But the look you and Pato give one another is deeper.

“I would like to bleach my eyes,” Elba agrees.

“Mind if we get a couple photos?” the Mclaren admin asks and your social team also approaches to get some. You stand between Pato and Nolan. Elba is on the other side of Pato, Lando beside Nolan, and Oscar on the other side of Lando.

“I take it you guys liked the show?” you ask, proceeding as if Oscar wasn’t there. The more you act like nothing happened and you don’t know him, the worse he will feel.

“It was incredible,” Nolan answers for the group.

“I’m glad,” you smile tiredly. The physical exhaustion of the performance hitting you. “Thank you guys for coming, I hope you do well tomorrow,” you give Nolan and Lando hugs, offering just a nod to Oscar. Fans know he doesn’t like physical touch like that, so it doesn’t seem abnormal.

Your fingers intertwine with Pato’s as you practically drag him back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. You plop down into the comfy chair and Pato helps remove your heels.

“I have to admit, a part of me wanted to climb onto that stage and carry you off of it when you were singing to me,” Pato gently massages your calves.

“I wouldn’t have been opposed. Just wait until the album comes out,” your sly grin widens as he stands up and steps closer to you.

“Be careful with what you say, hermosa,” his voice deepens as you tilt your chin up at him.

“I can be quiet. These clothes need to come off anyway,” your breath hitches as he lifts you up, lips crashing together. His hands slide to your back, working your outfit off.

You spend the next few months laying low as you plan a short tour after your album released on Thanksgiving. You even train with Pato. It’s surprising how similar your training is to his and it keeps both of you accountable.

Everything really hits you again the first time you walk the red carpet with Pato. He’s so proud to be at your side, showing you off and supporting you. It’s nothing you’ve ever had before. He’s here when your album isn’t eligible for awards until next year, when you just have to be here for the appearance.

“Thank you for being here,” you whisper in his ear as you sit at a table, tearing up a little as your hands are joined underneath the table.

“Of course I’m here, you support me. I like being your WAG,” Pato turns towards you, feeling as if he is doing the bare minimum. “Amor, I would go anywhere for you, just like you would for me,” he brings your hand up from under the table and kisses your knuckles.

To him, this is just a scratch of the support he wants to provide you. It feels like nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for him. You scheduled a whole tour around the month of May so you could spend it living out of a motorhome with him.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you more.”

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #indycar #indycar imagine #pato o’ward x reader #pato o’ward imagine #pato o’ward

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lolitastories · 6 hours ago

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Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

“Detective?” I turn my head and see Julie walking up towards me. “They gave her some medicine to calm her nerves. EMT said her levels were stable.” I let out a sigh, feeling calmer with her words.

“Good. I’ll see you back at the station.” She nods, turning around to get into her car. I open my door but before getting in I take in the scene. 10 minutes ago the whole place was blazing with sirens but they left when they took the victim to the hospital. The lights of the officer are still on as they clean up the place before leaving. A few feet from me an old shack, a shack where the fisherman kept Acosta. It had been a long couple of days. After getting back to the station we had no choice but to let the man go. He apparently had nothing to say and the warrant of his house gave us nothing. I decided to follow him since he left the station and on the second night he slipped away to an abandoned shack. It wasn’t even a minute later that I saw Acosta through the window and I called for backup. It was something that I loved about this job, the feeling of finishing something horrible. Although it would be best for them not to start, it felt nice knowing I can be one of the people who helps.

“Wait!” My head flinches to my right seeing Jon rushing over to me. “Sergeant got a call,” He falls forward resting his hands on his knees. “Drugs all over the scene.” I contain my laugh seeing how out of shape he was.

“You good?” He lifts his head with an annoyed expression.

“I texted you the address, I thought you would want to take care of this one.” I pull out my phone and check the address. I don’t recognize it.

“Drugs are your department,” I put it on my gps before turning my attention back to Jon. “We don’t have much of those, probably why you are so out of shape.” I crossed my arms standing proudly as he finally straightened up.

“Trust me you are going to want this,” The smile instantly fell seeing how he wasn’t humored by my comment. “Rafe was there.” What the fuck was Rafe doing there? I felt my stomach drop and I hurried to get into my car.

“I win!” I roll my eyes, setting my car on drive and pressing the gas. It was currently 9pm as I raced through the roads. The salty wind going through my hair as I start to imagine the worst possibilities. What happened that involved so many drugs? What was Rafe doing there? The past couple of days I hadn’t been able to talk to him due to me stalking the fisherman but what could have happened to get him involved in such a thing in less than 48 hours? I stretch my fingers from my steering wheel, letting go of the tight hold I had. Stressing until I get some details won’t help.

“What happened?” I rushed over to the Sergeant as he was overlooking the team packing up the evidence. One by one you can see them carrying packages of what it looks like to be cocaine. The shady trailer was apart from the rest of the lot. The outside was trashed and surrounded by an unkempt lawn.

“That's what I want you to figure out.” his eyes still lasered focused on each package moving into one of our vans. “Rafe is not telling us anything, but he keeps on mentioning a Barry guy.” My head turns to see the trailer's door propped open. It was like a dark tunnel with a faint light coming from inside. “Figure out what you can and if he still decides to keep his mouth shut take him in for questioning,” Fucking hell. I can’t tell you how nauseous that made me feel. “We have enough here to keep him locked up until he decides to speak.” No matter how buddy buddy Rafe was with him, he didn’t look left to things involving crimes.

“Alright.” As I turned my step towards the trailer I focused on only one thing, the crime. “Where is he?” I speak to an officer standing by the door.

“The first room to the right.”

“Thanks.” I dryly say making my way around the people in the trailer. I pushed open the door and made sure no one but Rafe was there before I fully closed the door. He was sitting on a chair with his head leaning against the wall. His eyes glued to the floor as he heard my footsteps become louder. I had a feeling he knew it was me when I watched him open his mouth but nothing came out. The faint dry blood had stained his shirt, hand and due to the shitty lighting I can hardly tell if there was some on his face too. “What happened, Rafe?” His shoulders were limp and his breathing surprisingly calm.

“I tried to call you.” I stopped mid step taking in what he had just said. “I’ve done some pretty horrible things in my life, things that were driven by sudden decisions.” A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he finally picked up his head. “I told myself for the first time there was someone who actually cared enough for me to pick up her phone,” I opened my mouth but stopped seeing him shake his head. “I know you were busy and it's stupid for me to think that just because I called-” I rushed over kneeling in front of him and grabbing onto his hands.

“It's not stupid Rafe.” I tilt my head up making sure he was focused on my next words. “Know that I would have dropped everything to be there for you.” As we looked into each others eyes I thought of myself as over. Love is not easy to find and if you are lucky to get it right on the first run, you will have hell fighting to keep it. Somehow when it came to Rafe, it didn’t matter how it happened, it just did. And just like every person no matter how hopeless romantic you are, you look at those romance movies and think of how cringy something is. How stupid for them to make a statement without logical thinking but, here with Rafe, it was true. My job is important and it wouldn’t be practical to just leave it if he called but I would, I would choose him every time. “Believe me that I would,” I hear a sigh leave his lips as he slowly begins to nod. “What happened, Rafe?” I ask again with a quieter tone. A plea to not give me roundabouts. As he starts to speak I reach over and trace the residue blood on his face. It didn’t seem like he was hurt.

“I met Barry back in high school,” He leans forward, taking my hand away from his face. His expression suddenly turned cold, maybe even ashamed? “He was the one I used to buy drugs from until I decided to go clean.” Little island=lose mouths. You don’t have to try, people will come up and tell you everything about everyone. I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. “He came to find me about a week ago.” I get up with a small groan. Having him tower over me with such closeness brings ideas to my head that I had no time to think about right now. This man has corrupted my thoughts that I no longer have self control.

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” I clear my throat taking a couple steps back.

“Because when he first came to find me, it was a friendly visit,” He dragged on that word. He stood up from the chair, carefully eyeing my body language. “Before leaving he mentioned he had some drugs on him and offered me some,” My feet instantly started pacing as he continued to speak. “Of course, I said no, and he left.” I looked at him confused; how did it lead him here? “The next day I found an envelope taped to my door-” We both turned, hearing the sound of someone knocking on the door and the slow creak of it being opened.

“Sergeant said someone needed to be looked at?” A young girl cautiously stuck her head in.

“No need.” Rafe answers dryly, waving her off. I give him a look and start to walk over to the door.

“I’ll take some alcohol wipes and a bandaid.” I pull the door a little wider as she opens her first aid kit and hands them over. “Thank you.”She smiled sweetly before I closed the door behind her. “Sit.” I hear a groan leave his mouth before doing what I told him. “Why are you mad, I should be the one pissed off right now.” He rolls his eyes before confusion sets.

“A moment ago, you were worried and now you are pissed at me?” I scoff and laugh a little, unbelievable.

“And a moment ago you were acting like a victim, but I am yet to hear how that adds up.” Of course, I believe that there is a reasonable explanation on how he ended up here, so there should be no reason to be in a bad mood. “Now lean forward.” His eyes were daring me, just like the almost non existing grin on his face. He sits back, man spreading on the couch. I move to stand in the middle of his legs and with a sigh of defeat I lean forward to rest my hand on the back rest. He leans his head back and I am thankful the lighting is not shitty enough that it allows me to see his face clearly. I break open the alcohol wipe and start cleaning his forehead.

“Tell me you will believe me?” Once again, those puppy eyes. I bit my lip slowly nodding as I still focused on cleaning him up. He catches me by surprise when he grabs my wrist. “Tell me?”

“I will Rafe, now continue telling me how you got mixed up here.” He sighs letting go of my head allowing me to continue. “In the envelope were some transactions made by my father,” Ward Cameron. “Proof that he had sent a large amount of money to an account.”

“What does it have to do with the Barry guy?” I say as I throw away the wipe and get another one.

“The owner of the account is a friend of his. Years ago, while I was in rehab my father paid them off.” I looked into his eyes, and he was telling the truth. “Letting the word out that the heir to his business was doing drugs wasn’t a good thing so he paid them to stay quiet and leave outer banks.”

“By the looks of it they never left.” Inside was somewhat decent but I bet they hadn’t cleaned in months.

“Barry didn’t, he laid low until his money did too.”

“So, he is using the proof of the transaction as a threat?”

“Oou-’ He pulls back, feeling a sting. I held back a laugh.

“Sorry,” I whispered, moving on to be gentler. Still doesn’t explain the blood in his hands. “Continue,” He gives me an annoyed look like I did it on purpose but lets it go.

“I ignored it until last night. I went to visit Wheezie and she mentioned talking to him.” I paused looking down to meet his eyes again. Rafe had mentioned his sister before. The way he mentioned and talked about his sisters was the opening he needed to get into my heart. I like how proud he sounded when he mentioned their accomplishments. Wheezie especially, he seemed to be a sucker for her. “I couldn’t help myself and came straight to find him. One thing is to threaten me, but I know he intentionally went to find Wheezie.” I nod understanding his anger. “On my way here, I called you because I knew I was about to do something stupid.” My eyes fell down as a deep pit in my stomach started to form. “When I got here, I confronted him, then it led to me landing a punch and then he did this” He motioned to his face. I stood up as my mind turned gears.

“I am guessing they didn’t catch him,” He shakes his head. So, the Barry guy was on the loose and with multiple charges coming his way, if he is used to this, he will be quick to hide in a good place. “I need-” I take a step to go around him, but he grabs my forearm and if it wasn’t for quickly grabbing onto the backrest again, I would have fallen on top of him.

“No,” Point blank.

“What do you mean no?” I furrowed my brow trying to figure him out.

“No.” he said again with a monotone voice. “I don’t want you involved in this,” I yank my arm away while still towering over him.

“Too bad it's not your choice.”

“Aren’t drugs that Jon’s guy territory?” I let out a laugh

“What are we, animals?” He didn’t seem amused. “This is my case,” I push myself away and, in an instant, he stands and turns to the door.

“Not for long,” I grabbed his arm, pulling him to stop.

“Stop it Rafe,” I push him back and stand between him and the door. “They gave me this case, tell me one good reason why I should back down.” Like a little kid he has his arms to his side. His eyes to the floor as his shoulders are slumped down.

“If you do this and you get hurt it would be my fault,” I wanted to take on this case. I wanted to do it for him. I see how it was affecting him that his past came back when he fought so hard to keep clean. One day he will tell me everything about his past and I will be there to hold his hand. Hopefully by agreeing with him now, it will show him that I am there for him.

“Fine.” He lifts his head with widened eyes. “But you have to agree on letting me on the case if they ask for my help,” He nods, moving closer to wrap his arms over my shoulders. I let out a content sigh before wrapping my arms around his torso. His breath tickled as he buried his face in my hair, right beside my ear.

“That means I will get more time to spend with you, alone.” I laugh.

“That has to be the only reason you want me out of this case.” I tease. I place my hand on his stomach and try to push him away but he doesn’t budge, making us swing a bit.

“Maybe,” His hands slowly creep to my hips. His face is still buried in the crook of my neck making a moan slip away when he begins to place kisses. “It will give me time to show you plenty of what you have been missing out on.” That voice. That low and full of promises voice, it always has a way to send shivers to my core.

“No date?” He chuckles.

“That's the date included. You will see what it is like to date Rafe Cameron.” I cringed a bit, but it made the anticipation grow even more.

“Since you begged so much,” I tease. He pulls away acting offended. “What?” I held back another laugh. I wait for his comeback, but his eyes only soften, his grip pulling me closer.

“And I would have taken this lifetime and the next begging for you.”

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livingformintyoongi · 16 hours ago

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Valentine's Day Special Event

To celebrate this February 14th I have decided to make a small event for all of you!!! The rules are simple, you will go through four stations where you must put together your request as follows: First station - member: Choose the member you want the request from (only one!) Second station - gender: Choose a phrase you want to appear in the request (maximum 3!) Third station -AU Fourth station - Trope The event will be open until February 28th and requests will be published in order starting in March (those containing NSFW content may take longer than others). Special thanks to the creators of the prompts: @dumplingsjinson @me-writes-prompts and @nightprompts <3

➤ Choose your partner;

⁠❥ Kim Seokjin

⁠❥ Min Yoongi

⁠❥ Jung Hoseok

⁠❥ Kim Namjoon

⁠❥ Park Jimin

⁠❥ Kim Taehyung

⁠❥ Jeon Jungkook

➤ Choose your chocolate savor;

❥ Dark Chocolate (Smut):

❛ you can't expect me to do all the work. i want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. ❜

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜

❛ do you really think you’re in a position to give orders? ❜

❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜

❛ you can call me whatever you want, baby. ❜

❛ we're going to fuck right here? what if someone sees us? ❜

❛ your body was made for mine. ❜

❛ you keep your hands where they are or i'll tie them up. ❜

❛ you want gentle? wrong fucking address. ❜

❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

❛ it's my thigh or nothing. i'm not helping you get off. ❜

❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜

❛ i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now. ❜

❛ now, i'll ask again, are you going to be good for me? ❜

❛ we both know how much you're going to enjoy this. ❜

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜

❥ Chocolate (Angst):

"It's not you...it's me. I can't stop loving you."

"If I knew loving someone would hurt so much, I still would've loved you."

"I'm tired of being the only one who loves you. I need you to love yourself first."

"This is not the version of you I fell in love with. And honestly, I've forgotten the real you."

"Is it so hard to believe I've stopped loving you?"

"I can't live without you. I can't love without you. I need you, by my side, always did and always will." "You'll be okay. I know you will."

"It's not okay to just leave me here, after telling me you love me back." "We can't- we'll never be together."

"So you choose them over me? After all we've been through together, you choose them?"

"I'm forbidden to love you. I'm forbidden to be with you. So, what am I to do if not fall on my knees and beg for you to stay?"

"It's truly funny...how you can't choose who you want to be in love with. I didn't choose to be in love with you. It just happened, and I wish it didn't."

Walking in rain to their house just to find that they're no longer there.

"You can't go. You cannot leave me here. You promised we'll be together forever."

Playing the song they always sang together to, and just crying.

"It'll never be the same between us. We'll never be the same."

"Your silence speaks more than you ever have. And, I'm not sure why it took so long for me to notice."

"You've drifted so far away from my side that I can no longer reach for your hand and guide you back to me."

"I can no longer recognize you. And that's not even the saddest part. It's the fact that you no longer make any attempt to make me understand you."

❥ White Chocolate (Fluff):

“I see such a vivid picture of us in the future, and it’s looking so amazing.”

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but that doesn’t mean I regret it one bit.”

“You make me a better person, love, and I hope you know most of this character development is because of you.”

“Sweetheart, you’re tired. Go to sleep; I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“I’m yours in this eternity, and in any and every other eternities which may lay ahead of us. I’ll always find my way back to you, no matter what.”

“Everyday I fall for you all over again and I find that to be pretty neat.”

“We don’t need a ring on my finger for us to know I’m yours forever.”

“I gave you one hundred and one reasons to walk away, yet you never did. Why?” “Because I love you. It’s really that simple.”

“Remember when we first met here?” “Yeah, of course. That was the day when you spilled coffee on me and apologised profusely but all I could think about was how gorgeous you are and how great it would have been to get your number.”

“It’s always been you, and it will always be you. Please never forget that.”

“You make me feel all soft and mushy inside.” “That is a good thing, right?” “Of course! You melt me, love.”

“You’re an idiot.” “Well, at least I’m your idiot, right?”

“You’re the reason why I believe in love, you know?”

“Stop back-hugging me while I’m trying to cook! You’re distracting me,”

“C’mere and rest next to me. You’ve worked hard enough today.”

“You feeling any better?” “So much better now that you’re here. I love you".

“You always manage to make me feel like I’m worth it.” “That’s because you are worth it. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes.”

➤ Choose your bouquet;

❥ Tulip: College AU

❥ Rose: Royalty AU

❥ Lavender: CEO AU

❥ Jasmine: Artist AU

❥ Marigold: Celebrity AU

❥ Hyacinth: Coworkers AU

❥ Lotus: Florist AU

❥ Lily: Bad Boy AU

❥ Cherry Blossom: Coffee Shop AU

➤ Choose your date;

❥ Drive-in-movie: Second Chance

❥ Night Walk: Arranged Marriage

❥ Picnic Date: Friends To Lovers

❥ Bowling: Enemies To Lovers

❥ Karaoke Night: Roomates

❥ Dance Night: Established Relationship

❥ Amusement Parks: Body Swap

❥ Museum: Only One Bed

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peachhcs · 2 days ago

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Hannah surprises James today at the beanpot. She said she couldn’t make it but she could and wanted to surprise him.

you read my mindddd😌 the blurb immediately came to me when i saw the beanpot posts HAHA

au masterlist

the td garden was packed with boston college and northeastern fans for the highly anticipated annual beanpot. fans lined the arena and across the wall as the players poured onto the ice to start warmups. the students were on their feet yelling down to the eagles and booing northeastern. the boys ate it up through as they skated the around the glass encouraging the fans to keep it going.

there was one fan in the crowd tucked away that none of the players would recognize her unless she made herself more apparent. hannah and james talked earlier in the week where the gymnast mentioned that she probably didn’t think she could convince her coach to give her off for a day. james was slightly disappointed, but he did understand because negotiating with college coaches wasn’t easy.

however, what james didn’t know was that hannah already had her ticket booked for the game when they talked. the girl was starting to turn into samy because she just loved the idea of getting to surprise her boyfriend and just showing up after convincing him she wouldn’t be there.

she spotted his number 10 down on the ice doing his usual warmups with the guys. a proud smile sat on her lips knowing how much he was looking forward to this game and how much it meant to him to finally be able to play in it. tonight hannah sported some old boston college merch samy lended and she painted a small #10 on her cheeks and then the eagle on the other.

the younger duke sister wasn’t exactly sure how she wanted to make herself apparent or known that she was in attendance. she didn’t know if telling james before the game would distract him, or if just waiting until after would be better? or if him spotting her in the middle of the game would be even worse?

hannah didn’t really have time to contemplate her answers much longer because someone did end up spotting her. as ryan flew past her section, his eyes were on the fans and that’s when he spotted her familiar face in the sea of crimson. the brunette stopped in his tracks and skated back, a wide, confused smile on his lips.

“duker!” he yelled making the girl flush when the other boston college students glanced in her direction.

ryan looked excited to see her. he spun on his skate to find james to tell him who was here. hannah’s blush rose when some of the other fans noticed and recognized who she was.

“haggy! you’re never gonna guess who’s here!” ryan yelled when he got closer to his teammate who was on the other end of the rink.

“who?” james wondered.

“your girl is here,” ryan grinned widely and james’ shocked expression mirrored his own seconds ago.

“hannah’s here?”

“yeah!” ryan pulled james’ arm back towards hannah’s section. he pointed up to the girl who shyly waved down at them.

james’ mouth dropped open in complete shock and then a warm, fuzzy feeling bursted throughout his chest as the happiness slowly overtook the surprise.

she was here.

“go say hi, i’ll cover for you,” ryan pushed the boy towards the door where hannah was already making her way to the floor.

james lifted up his helmet briefly when hannah stood before him, “you’re here,” he mumbled.

“i’m here. surprise,” the gymnast grinned.

“i can’t believe you’re here. i-i thought..how did you?..” the words died in his throat along with every coherent thought in his brain.

“i may have sort of lied when we talked last week. i already had the flight booked. figured i’d try out this whole surprise thing,” hannah giggled and james didn’t even care that the entire boston college student body was watching him.

he pulled her into his arms, that warm feeling spreading throughout his entire body at the feeling of her wrapped around him. james wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he missed having her in his arms like this.

“i missed you so much. i can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

“i missed you too, hags. it’s good to see you,” hannah smiled and james also couldn’t stop himself from kissing her.

he heard a few whistles probably from the students watching them still, but he couldn’t less. he hadn’t seen hannah since winter break and even that wasn’t enough time because of world juniors taking up a majority of that break.

hannah slowly directed their lips away knowing people were watching and they could save it for after the game when an entire arena couldn’t see them. “you should get back, but i’ll see you after. score some goals for me,” she smiled.

“oh, you know i will,” the boy beamed, kissing her one last time before skating back on before one of the coaches yelled at him.

hannah blushed before making her way back to her seat. a few of the fans glanced her way, but she mostly ignored the murmurs.

that was probably the most public they’ve ever been with their relationship and neither of them hated it. actually, it sent this strong feeling through james’ chest that everyone just watched him kiss his girlfriend in a sold out arena because now everyone knew she was his.

the eagles dominated the ice in an overwhelming 8-2 victory. the fans were loud and electric as they celebrated the first win of the tournament. hannah kept to herself outside of the locker rooms. she watched the replays of all of the game winning goals knowing james was going to be ridding a really good high tonight.

the boy was eager to see her again, so he basically rushed through his shower. he knew he didn’t have a lot of time until he needed to get back on the bus, but he hoped hannah was up for crashing at his dorm for the night.

he rushed out of the locker room in search of her. hannah looked up as soon as james started running towards her, now back in his suit with damp hair from his shower. she giggled when he wrapped her into his arms and spun her around.

“congrats on the win,” she smiled.

“i told you i’d score some goals,” james smiled as well.

“you were amazing out there. i’m proud of you,” the girl gushed.

he took this more quieter opportunity to kiss her without the anxiety of everyone watching. their lips moved in slow sync with each others, savoring it more than before. if james could kiss her all night he would because he would never get over the feeling of her lips on his.

“i’m so glad you came. i was really hoping you would,” the hockey player said when they finally pulled away.

“i’d never miss this. this is your moment,” hannah cupped his face where he leaned into her touch.

“i gotta get back on the bus soon, but what are the chances you’ll come crash at my dorm?” the boy grinned.

“100%, just tell me when,” hannah agreed.

“perfect, i will. god, i’m so glad you’re here. i’ll see you super soon,” james kissed her one last time before meeting his team.

hannah smiled to herself, that same warm, fuzzy feeling bubbling in her own stomach as she headed back to her hotel to await james’ text that she could head to his dorm.

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