#that he would get another chance after 2014

[lgbtpopcult]

What cool WLW projects do we know are coming in 2024?

Drive-Away Dolls

Arguably the most important representation of the year comes from a movie directed by one of the Coen brothers. Ethan Coen directs this wacky comedy that is very much in style for him.

Synopsis:

This comedy caper follows Jamie, an uninhibited free spirit bemoaning yet another breakup with a girlfriend, and her demure friend Marian who desperately needs to loosen up. In search of a fresh start, the two embark on an impromptu road trip to Tallahassee, but things quickly go awry when they cross paths with a group of inept criminals along the way.

Lost Records: Bloom and Rage

A game had to be added to this list and here it is, the best one. From the creators who gave us Life is strange. Lost Records: Bloom and Rage tells the story of four friends who experience a transformative summer in 1995. After 27 years of no contact, Nora, Swann, Autumn, and Kat are reunited by fate and forced to confront the long-buried secret that made them agree to never speak again all those years ago. From the teaser alone it is obvious at least two of them dated.

Pluto

A Thai gl from GMMTV, known for its successful Thai dramas. The story is the telenovela cliche we've always wanted. Two girls in love. One gets in an accident and her twin takes her place to find out who was behind her accident, the other girl is blind. The twin has to fake being the real one so has to be in a relationship with the blind girl and of course falls in love with her. Match made in fanfic heaven.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

It was announced so long ago people are getting frustrated. However, with both a writer and a director now attached to the project, and the strikes over, we have every reason to believe we will finally get to see the hit novel, that centers the love story between two closeted Hollywood actresses, come to life. Whether you loved the novel or were indifferent and didn't see what the fuss was about, it is a very successful wlw romance and we want to see it on screen!

The Paying Guests

The director that brought us Carol adapting a book by the author of Fingersmith? Yes please!

Speaking to Indiewire, Haynes revealed he’s developing an adaptation of Sarah Waters’ 2014 novel The Paying Guests. “It’s a three-part limited series that would need to be a British production, but it’s a really great novel.” Set in post-WWI London, the drama is part lesbian love story and part murder mystery following a down-and-out widow and her daughter, the latter taking up a relationship with one of their lodgers. Waters also wrote Fingersmith, which was adapted into The Handmaiden by Park Chan-wook.

NCIS Hawaii season 3

One of our favorite pairings of last year, Kate and Lucy are the main couple of their show and they carry it well. They look good together, have progress and evolution in their relationship and have fun working together.

The Secret of Us

Thai channel CH3 is expected to hit us strong with this Thai gl. CH3 is big in Thailand so this one is a big deal. The story is the typical exes meet again trope and it's magnificent. It centers Doctor Fahlada, nicknamed Doctor Angel. She is trying to hide the pain after being abandoned by the woman she loved. But then...by chance that woman comes back into her life.

Whisper Me a Love Song

Our resident anime entry has to be Whisper me a love song. Based on a manga it is the story of Himari Kino. On the first day of entering high school, Himari Kino "falls" for her senior, Yori Asanagi, whom she watched singing with a band at the welcome party for new students. When Himari confesses her admiration to Yori, Yori misinterprets Himari's feelings as romantic love. However, before Yori realizes, she comes to fall for Himari anyway, and promises to win her affections for real.

Bad Sisters season 2

Bad Sisters is one of the best reviewed and hilarious shows on this list. Coming back for a season 2 was inevitable. Bibi, the lesbian sister, will keep entertaining us in 2024.

Station 19 season 7

One of the most enduring shows and wlw couples on TV are coming back for a season 7! That is a lot of seasons but Maya and Carina do still have that spark.

About Galaxy The Series

Part of the gl renaissance that is expected to go full force next year, this series is already hugely popular among Asian romance fans.

Synopsis:

‘About Galaxy’ is based on author Zezeho’s yuri of the same name, with a Thai title of “มูลค่าดาวล้านดวง”. The story revolves around Hong Yok, a designer who has a big scar on her face which led her to hide away from the public due to her inferiority complex. But something changed in her life when she met Note, a woman she was measuring clothes, and realized she is the same person who gave her that huge scar! However, despite the incident, she doesn’t outright despise her, and instead… feels safe. What will happen to the two women?

My Ex-Friend's Wedding

Kay Cannon ("Blockers") will direct from a script co-written by Taylor Jenkins Reid? Staring a group of friends trying to stop their friend from getting married? And one of them is queer? We're all in!

Arcane (Season 2)

It seems like forever since we first watched Arcane but we're definitely looking forward to season 2. Needs no introduction.

Dream the Series

We already have enough Asian dramas in this list but we couldn't leave out one of the most anticipated gl, Dream. The story is that of a woman that sees a girl in her dreams every night only to meet her in real life. While in real life they are friends in her dreams they do much more. She thinks her friend doesn't know about that what she doesn't know is that she also remembers everything they do in their dreams.

Harley Quinn the Animated Series season 5

Another season of our favorite criminal duo Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy? Yes please and thank you. These two, and this particular iteration of them, might be the best representation American television has ever given us.

Chaser Game W

Chaser Game W is the first gl produced by TV Tokyo so it has a historic significance for the advancement of representation for queer women in Japan. First episode airs January 8. Based on manga series "Chaser Game" written by Hiroshi Matsuyama & illustrated by Yukitaro Matsuyama

The story:

synopsis: Itsuki has been working in the "Dynamic Dream" game company for five years and is now appointed as the lead for a big Japanese-Chinese collaboration project, which she is fully motivated to work on. However, it turns out the Chinese company team is led by her ex, Fuyu, whom she one-sidedly broke up with back in university! After breaking up with Fuyu, Itsuki never dated anyone else and chose to focus on her work, all while not coming out to her family and coworkers... But when her ex-girlfriend suddenly appeared in front of her, her feelings immediately started to sway. Meanwhile, Fuyu always resented Itsuki for breaking up with her without saying why. She takes charge of the project and pushes impossible tasks onto Itsuki. While Fuyu plots her revenge, Itsuki is rekindling her unrequited love. What will the outcome be for these two opposites?

Vigil season 2

The first couple of episodes of Vigil season 2 will technically be shown in December 2023 (in the UK only) but we'll basically be able to watch it beginning 2024 and we're looking forward to it!

Several upcoming TV shows and movies have cast actors that make it obvious they'll have lesbian and bi characters but until we know whether the representation will be enough to be worth watching we're holding off on making that other, more elaborate, list.

#Chaser Game W #2024 #new year #happy new year #harley quinn #pluto the series #dream the series #lgbtq #lgbtqia #whisper me a love song #ncis hawaii #bad sisters #station 19 #about galaxy #the secret of us #the seven husbands of evelyn hugo #tv #lesbian #gay #lgbt #wlw #bi #girls who like girls #sapphic #My Ex-Friend's Wedding #arcane #drive away dolls #bbc vigil #Lost Records: Bloom and Rage #the paying guests

[sohnric]

paris – l. juyeon

pairing: lee juyeon x fem! reader

genre: exchange student! juyeon in paris (ft. his erasmus friends). friends to ???, angst, fluff. actually, the genre is longing. halloween party au but the halloween part plays like,, 0 part in the fic, basically. idk the paris pics did something to me he is so european coded. paris by the 1975 without the drugs in a fic, essentially

warnings: cheating from yn's side, swearing, alcohol, smoking. the reader is canonically french im sorry 💀

word count: 6k

There’s quite a few reasons why Juyeon never told his friends from home about you- the girl he met on his student exchange trip. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making Juyeon’s whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder. But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it– oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

a/n: do NOT cancel me for being a casual matty healy enjoyer i am a 2014 tumblr girlie at heart

“And where are my gifts? Where are the souvenirs?” Hyunjae calls after the boy that’s still kind of jet lagged from the flight (even though it’s been 3 days since his landing and he slept the whole day after his brother picked him up from the airport), the latter looking at him with tired eyes. 

“That’s all you want from me after not seeing me for 6 months?”

“Yes. Where’s my baguette?” Hyunjae glares, making the younger boy whine at the request.

“I didn’t know you wanted a hard rock baguette from me. If I had known, I would’ve taken one with me and smashed it against your head the moment I arrived here.”

“Well, if it’s authentic,” Hyunjae shrugs, laughing. “I’m just joking… I know we’ve been calling and texting like, every other day, but let me ask again. How was it?”

Juyeon finally smiles at his friend’s question. This is what one expects after coming home from studying abroad for 10 months– not a souvenir request. And trust me, Juyeon did bring gifts, out of the warmth of his own heart, but after being asked for them, he kind of doesn’t want to play Santa anymore. Kind of like when you decide to wash the dishes, but your mum tells you to do it at the same time of your decision– the motivation fades away the mere second you’re requested to do the thing.

“Well, it was good,” he shrugs, “it was… something,” Juyeon says– because how does one fit 10 months of their life into a few sentences without stammering– and before he gets a chance to say anything, Hyunjae catches him off guard with another inquiry.

“Is it true, by the way? Are European girls really prettier?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy as if to suggest something– but all it does is make Juyeon shrug, acting not really bothered with the question. 

“Dunno,” he hums, “I think it’s equal to here.”

“So you’re telling me you went 10 months without getting laid in France?” Hyunjae gasps, making Juyeon furrow his brows in utter disbelief.

“When did I say that? Or anything that would even suggest that?” 

Now, this was a trap. Juyeon is too gullible. See, Juyeon was pretty transparent with everything during his calls with Hyunjae back when he was in Paris. He told his friends back home all about the European food, the rock-hard french baguettes, the weird looks and annoyed sighs he got when speaking English to the clarks in the shops, the cold showers in his accommodation and the pretty park in front of his university building. They also know all about his friends from Paris– the international students he met in his course like Shotaro from Japan, Bence from Hungary and Marco from Italy– but when the question of girls came around, specifically in the romantic light of things, Juyeon went awfully quiet. You can’t blame Hyunjae for getting into suspicions.

“So you did?” Hyunjae gasps, grasping at the straws.

Juyeon sighs, reaching for his bag. His awfully big hand slips inside of the black backpack, fingers touching various things before he brings out a bunch of gifts: a keychain with the Eiffel tower, some magnets, postcards, a fashionable beret he found in one of the souvenir stores but never saw anyone actually wear in the whole 10 months in the streets of Paris, some perfume and high quality chocolate. Hyunjae’s eyes go wide, making satisfaction swim through Juyeon’s veins at the sight– he managed to deflect the attack.

Sometimes, having materialistic friends is a plus.

As he watches Hyunjae touch all the things on the table, fingers trailing over metal and the shiny wrapping of the dark chocolate with an acknowledging nod, Juyeon takes out another thing out of his bag– his digital camera that he brought along for the ride. He sent his friends a lot of pictures when he was in Paris, and he also posted quite a few on Instagram for everyone to see, but the camera held more memories and more moments than anyone’s ever seen before– it’s a source of treasure for himself as well, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to share a glimpse with his best friend.

“Wanna see? I took tons of pictures, but you can look through only the interesting ones, if you want to,” Juyeon hums, offering the camera to the male, the display already shining at him from the gallery, small icons of all pictures on the SD card in a 3x3 row on the small thing. 

A few pictures of the town are on preview right now, but if you scroll through the gallery, moments of his friend Marco’s birthday party that his friends threw for him, or the snapshots of his friend’s faces come into sight– Juyeon’s sure Hyunjae’s eager to see how all of the people he’s been talking to him about look like.

Hyunjae nods, taking the camera from him and squinting at the little icons. His fingers move along the touch screen and scroll through the gallery, eyes zooming on the interesting ones and grinning as he shows them to Juyeon, awaiting the backstory of a certain image. 

Everything goes well, until Hyunjae gets to the latest pictures on the SD card– well, apart from the ones Juyeon took from the window on his flight home. And Juyeon really doesn’t know what he was thinking, but hey– sometimes he doesn’t think things through as much as he should– and that’s why when a particular photo comes into his best friend’s sight, turning the camera towards Juyeon with a shiteating grin on his face, the question ‘Who’s that?’ makes the poor boy a bit shaken.

His tall figure, standing alongside someone shorter– you, in your vampire costume, fake blood running down the side of your mouth, a hand thrown over his shoulders and your side pressed into his a bit too close as he stares down onto you with an obviously star-struck face, suit covering his body in a poor attempt at Joker’s costume– the moment stares back at him like a haunted memory.

He clears his throat. “That’s… that’s just Y/N.”

Hyunjae hums, having a staring contest with the picture on the screen. The date on the bottom reads 31/10/23, the last day of Juyeon’s stay before he had to go home. “How come I’ve never heard about Y/N?”

“There wasn’t much to say, I guess,” Juyeon shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle of beer on the table.

“Sure…” Hyunjae doubtingly nods, scrunching up his nose in disbelief.

“I’m serious. She’s just a friend I met there,” Juyeon offers, licking his lips in nerves. 

And it’s the truth– you were just a friend and there really wasn’t much to say about you two– so why does Juyeon’s heart hurt a bit as he recognizes the events of the night as if it happened yesterday? Why does he feel nostalgic, maybe a little bitter about the way you two left off? 

Hyunjae doesn’t know, but there’s quite a few reasons why he never heard about you in the first place. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making the whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder. 

But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it–

oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

31/10/2023

The buzzing of the room makes Juyeon’s already thumping head ache in its crevices, the smell of alcohol in the breath of everyone talking to him only making his stomach twist and turn with acid. He’s had his fair amount of drinks himself, but there is a very faint line between the amount that’s just enough to keep him going through the night and the amount that makes him puke and have a two-week hangover, and with the flight home he has to take tomorrow afternoon, he doesn’t think drinking more would be a good idea.

“Don’t break it!” Juyeon tiredly hurries out as he sees his friend Marco handle his camera, the device almost falling out of the foreign friend’s hands. 

“I won’t! Hold on, let me just–” the Italian mutters, the coating of vodka shots and the cheap red wine (made to look like blood to keep things festive) making his words slur together as he speaks. 

Juyeon reaches towards his drunk friend (while also questioning how he’s going to take a plane back to Italy tomorrow in a very hungover state) and tries to pray the prized possession out of his hands, but comes to a fail as the tall man waves him off with a theatral arm wave, shoving the poor boy towards the white wall and putting the camera up against his own face. “I’ll take your picture! So you can– you only take pictures of us, Juyo,” he rambles on, “I’ll take your picture so you can show it at home to your friends!” Marco grins, having Juyeon aimlessly sigh and stretch out his lips into a fake smile, waiting for his friend to take the picture so he can get his camera back to safety.

“Me too! Me too!” he suddenly hears from somewhere to his right, and before he has the chance to decipher the owner of the female voice, a weight on his shoulder tells him you just jumped at his side– almost topping him over and into the spooky decorations to his right– as you giggle into his ear. “Have it?”

“Aaaalmost!” Marco stretches out as he squints at the camera– and in the spare few seconds before the shutter goes off, Juyeon allows himself to stare down at your figure glued to his side. You’re wearing a dark lipstick on your smile, a drip of fake blood rolling down the side of your mouth. There’s a corset top enveloping your middle and a flowy black skirt only pulling the whole look together even with the absence of fangs– and while you don’t suck out his blood, Lee Juyeon can physically feel how you sucked out all oxygen out of his lungs in your sexy vampire costume. 

He’s seen you around tonight, but he never got the courage to walk up to you. Something about this being his last night in Paris might be the reason why. 

He was simply too bummed out about how things between you and him never went further than fits of laughter in class as you helped him with his French, or friendly hugs when you bid him goodbye at the corner of his street. Maybe it was his own fault for falling for someone so out of his reach. He always knew his stay in France was temporary– hell, he was an exchange student, he was aware of what he was getting himself into– but still, he couldn’t help but recognize the familiar warmth in his stomach whenever you were around and the strange racing of his heart whenever you were close enough for him to smell your shampoo for what it was. He was completely, utterly smitten with you– a french local that would be erased out of his lifestyle as soon as he lands back home in Korea.

The shutter of the camera is all it takes to break his train of thought, making him snap his head back to his Italian friend. A sigh of relief is heard in the room as Juyeon finally reunites with his digital camera (he was surprised to see Marco let go of it so easily), and before he has the chance to think of a conversation topic to indulge in with you, you have his words catching in his throat at your own pace of speech.

“Have you been here for long?” you ask, flattering your eyelashes at him. Juyeon gasps before he presses his lips together into a tight line, shrugging.

“A bit.”

“Why haven’t you said hi?” you frown. “You said it’s your last night! You wouldn’t leave without a goodbye, would you?” you shake your head at him, playfully poking his shoulder with your pointer finger.

He was going to. Not anymore, he guesses.

“No,” he disagrees instead, “I was gonna look for you when it was my turn to leave,” he quickly comes up with an explanation, having your features relax as a warm smile overtakes your pretty features again.

Even with your face all bloody and your eyes having dark circles under them from eyeshadow (and mascara that weared off a little, which you were completely unaware of), Juyeon finds you absolutely, utterly and fascinatingly beautiful. He’s glad no one is able to read his inner monologue– or else he’d be the one with blood running down the side of his face. If the punch to seal the cut would be coming from you or your boyfriend, he’s not quite sure. 

Maybe both. The main thing is, you’re taken and his feelings aren’t reciprocated. 

Which is why his silly crush on you that maybe, just maybe, turned into something more meaningful was that much damaging to his poor soul. 

Because Juyeon swears he never loved anyone before, but after spending the night with you drinking cheap wine in his empty dorm room on his birthday completely alone– since it fell on a Sunday this year and he didn’t have that many friends yet to celebrate with, only having spending 2 weeks in Paris at the time– during which you taught him French swear words and kissed his cheek goodbye (which he thought may be a cultural thing, although he wasn’t sure); after all of this, he felt like you’re the person he’ll think of when someone asks him about his first love when he's old.

And even if he had the balls to do anything about it (which he didn’t), he simply couldn’t. You were out of reach.

“You’d better,” you hum, “or else I’d hitchhike a plane and come over to Korea just to kick your ass.”

“You can’t hitchhike a plane, you weirdo.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I can. Watch me.”

Juyeon finds himself grinning at the adorable determination in your voice. It makes him feel a certain type of way that he knows he shouldn’t– but after spending 10 months with the feelings (5 of which you were single, 5 of which you’ve spent dating your boyfriend) and absorbing the idea of leaving you and everything behind tomorrow, Juyeon no longer feels as guilty about the act of loving you. Not anymore– not tonight.

“I like your costume,” Juyeon comments, pointing to the attire you’ve dressed yourself in.

“Really?” your eyes light up. “Look, I even wore the bow my idiot of a boyfriend said looks tacky,” you say, making a little twirl for the man. Your skirt flows nicely in the air and you stumble a bit due to the alcohol in your system, but when Juyeon catches you by your forearms and steadies you, there’s a content smile sitting on your lips despite your previous sentence.

“It looks pretty on you,” Juyeon hums, nodding. “It’s not tacky at all.”

“I always knew you had more taste than him,” you sigh dramatically, making Juyeon question your actions. 

Oh? 

“Anyways, I like your costume as well,” you comment. 

“Thanks,” he says, although his half-assed attempt at a Joker’s costume wasn’t anywhere near your level of preciseness, “Shotaro was supposed to go as Harley to match with me, but he pulled out of it at the last minute,” Juyeon pouts.

“Gosh! That would’ve been fucking amazing,” you laugh, swatting your friend in the arm playfully– the way you always do when you laugh– but as you come down from it, there’s a bitter tone in your voice. “I asked my boyfriend to wear a couple’s costume too, but he said all my costume ideas were lame.”

“Y/N–” Juyeon starts, wanting to speak up about the matter very obviously present in the conversation, wanting to console you, say anything, but you cut him off again– your courtesy– with a shrug and a grin on your face made to mask your true emotions (didn't work. Juyeon knows you too well).

“It’s okay. That’s why I dressed up as a slutty vampire just to spite him,” you say. 

“What’s his costume?” Juyeon asks.

“Not sure. I think he just bought the Scream mask, or something,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the male.

And now, Juyeon was never big on gossip. But if gossiping meant poking fun at your boyfriend, the last night before his plane back home takes off is not the time he’s passing on a snarky comment. “Lame.”

“I’m so glad we are on the same page, Juyo.”

His heart leaps at the nickname– a lot of people call him that, but the tone you say it in, the sweet melody of your voice as you throw it at him like a promise (of everything and nothing at all– you’re fond of him, but never fond enough), only you have this effect on him when you call him that. He wishes he had you saying his name recorded, documented somewhere on his phone, your accent and all, so he could hear you say it when he foolishly misses you in the middle of the night, like he knows he will when he lays awake at home, in his tiny, silent room.

“Do you want to get out for a bit? It’s getting too hot in here,” you say as you wave yourself, hoping to cool off, but failing miserably with the heat created from the bodies swimming through the house, and Juyeon finds himself nodding at your question.

Your feet drag you outside of the house, the cold breeze instantly cooling down your sweaty bodies. You two stand on the front porch together, watching the world around you revolve in a fast, yet slow manner– there are couples making out in the corner of the yard, one of them pressed up against the tree, and friends chasing each other down in zombie costumes, passing by bottles of alcohol between each other. 

Juyeon hears you hum, making him turn his head towards you and see you offering a cigarette to him. He'd never been much of a smoker before, but Europe taught him to never turn down a cigarette when offered, and so he only takes out one out of the pack, watching you mirror his movements. You fish for your lighter in your bra (and Juyeon finds himself too mesmerized to look away during the action), clicking it and putting the flame against the cigarette trapped between his lips.

He doesn’t know what it is about the action that makes his eyes hooded as he watches you– noticing the forgotten speck of glitter from some step of your makeup routine under your eye, making him want to swipe his thumb over it and take it off for you– but he can’t get his gaze off you as he breaths in the smoke, his head going more fuzzy than it has been only a few minutes prior.

When Juyeon’s cigarette is lit, you move to light your own, all while the male watches you with almost a dreamy look on his face. Somehow, he’s glad no one’s watching you. He doesn’t think he would be able to conceal his feelings for you tonight.

“Are you gonna miss this?” you suddenly ask, looking up at him from his right.

You? Absolutely. 

“I think so,” he nods, “it’s a lot different to home, but I made a lot of memories here.”

He watches a hint of smile spreading over your features. “Do you remember when you accidentally told our professor you were horny instead of excited?” you laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Juyeon laughs at the memory. His French never really got to a perfect level– that’s why most of you settled on speaking English between each other– but the first few weeks were a living hell of a language barrier for Lee Juyeon. “The more concerning part is that this is what made you approach me,” he notes.

“Well, I recognised that you needed help, and I was willing to provide it,” you say, taking a drag out of the cigarette and blowing the smoke into his face.

Juyeon looks at you through the smoke cloud, snickering. “I’m kinda grateful, though. You were the first friend I made here.”

You look at him with a tender look– something so full of care Juyeon swears he feels his stomach doing somersaults– before you press your lips into a solemn smile. “Well, I’m honored, Juyeon Lee,” you drag out in a posh accent, making the boy break out into a laugh.

He takes another drag off the cigarette, inviting the nicotine into his system. Mixed with the alcohol in his veins and your aura surrounding him, he almost feels on cloud 9, like he’s flowing in space and he can’t get down. He watches as you lean over the railing of the porch, forearms meeting with the metal in a set of goosebumps. Breeze flies through the air, making your barely-clothed figure shiver.

He knows he probably shouldn’t. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside, and although you two are seemingly in a weird sort of fight, it’s not his place to act as a gentleman. 

Still, Juyeon finds he has nothing to lose. He shrugs off the suit jacket he’s been wearing and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly, noticing the way you look back at him over your shoulder with a soft smile on your lips. 

A comforting silence overtakes you two. Juyeon takes the last drag off the cigarette and puts it out on the iron railing, enjoying the effect your sheer presence has on him. The music coming out of inside is only a mere background noise now, providing him an occasional distraction to the buzzing of his own thoughts.

“Say, Juyo,” you start, “do you know where Dorothy lives?” you ask.

Juyeon hums in disagreement. “Don’t think I do. Why?”

“I’m sleeping over at hers tonight,” you mumble, mentioning your best friend– the girl Juyeon’s met plenty of times in the 10 months of knowing you. “I was supposed to stay at Andre’s, but I’m not talking to him right now.”

“Oh,” is all Juyeon says. The mention of your boyfriend always throws him off the track a little.

“I dunno where Dorothy went, but I’m getting kind of sleepy.”

“Why can’t you just go home?” he asks.

“Juyo,” you laugh, “my parents would kill me if I got home tipsy and smelling like cigarette smoke. Don’t you know how they are?” you joke, shaking your head in disbelief.

He doesn’t. He kind of wishes he had the chance to know, though– because if he knew your parents, maybe it would imply something. Signify something more.

“Do you want me to walk you to Dorothy’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, lids heavy. Juyeon doesn’t know what time it is, but the last time he checked, it was well past midnight– he doesn’t think he’d stay around much longer himself.

“Okay,” he nods, watching as you slowly peel yourself off the railing and wear his suit jacket properly, the fabric drowning you, but keeping you warm. The sight, the sentiment of it, makes Juyeon’s hands shake and his throat go dry. You’re so close, yet so out of his reach.

Your feet are slow as you march towards the direction of your best friend’s house. Juyeon doesn’t know how far it is, but he wishes for you to take the long way home– if those are the last moments he has with you, he wants to drag the evening out the best he can.

The night is quiet. The only thing ringing in your ears is the sound of your own footsteps, when Juyeon surprises himself with the question that noisily cuts out of his throat.

“Why don’t you break up with him?” he asks.

He expects you to go mad at the question– you were known to have quite the fierce temper. You and Andre have had a few problems in the past: he was known to be reckless with his snarky comments that somehow hurt your pride, his nasty behavior when he got drunk, and the not-so-happy opinion your parents had of him. You were known to blow things out of proportion, screaming, crying and making a scene whenever you could if you thought it was appropriate, known to talk about your conflicts with your friends and digging out opinions out of them on the matter.

Juyeon always made sure to give you lukewarm arguments whenever you asked him about your boyfriend. Never too heated to make himself seem suspicious. Your relationship was none of his business.

Again– tonight, though, he has nothing to lose.

“I dunno,” you shrug, your steps a little uneven on the pavement, “it’s… a matter of habit, maybe? It’s weird,” you say. 

The explanation gives Juyeon just about nothing. A matter of habit? Is it a habit to stay with someone? Was there not more needed for a relationship?

Juyeon doesn’t find it in him to reply. Instead, he lets you talk.

“I think I might love him, or something. I’m not really sure…” you mumble, the sentences breaking Juyeon’s heart a little by little, shattering it right in front of you on the pavement, “because if I didn’t, why else would I put up with all of this?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“All the shaming, the spiteful remarks. The pettiness, the silent treatment… tell me, Juyo, do I have any dignity?” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Y/N…”

The snicker that escapes out of you quickly turns bitter. Your body grows impossibly closer to his, your hands sneaking around his bicep. You walk with linked arms, your head falling to his shoulder. “I don’t think I really love him, though,” you suddenly rebuttal, “‘cause like… I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t tell my grandkids about Andre, y’know? I think that’s the way you know. If you can imagine thinking so fondly about someone that you… that you’d mention them even in 50 years, ‘cause the memories still feel fresh and you’re delighted you once knew them, then…” you trail off, voice fading.

“Do you know what I mean?” you hum, pouting.

He does know.

“Sorry, I’m rambling–”

“No, I get you,” he reassures you, nodding to himself. 

“You always do,” you sigh, breaking Juyeon’s heart into a million pieces, “anyways, with that being said… I think I’m with him only because breaking up is too much of a hassle. And, I think I like the attention,” you splutter, laughing at yourself, “that’s… so desperate of me, I know. I’m starting to doubt if it’s even worth it.”

“He’s not,” Juyeon finds himself saying as you two cross the corner.

“You’re only saying that as my friend.”

“No, I’m saying that as your– as someone who cares…?” he stutters, mentally kicking himself for sounding so readable. Surely, you must’ve already noticed. If not from his current statement, then from the way he looked at you the whole night. You are a smart girl– you were always quick to point out the men that would soon hit on you when you were at the club. You have a good eye when it comes to others.

You only laugh, though. Oh, how Juyeon loves the sound.

“Thank you,” you hum.

You two fall silent for a while. Juyeon finds himself enjoying it. It feels comfortable– to walk with you through the emptied Paris, accompanied by the yellow lampposts and soulless streets. Only you two, your linked arms and his suit jacket around your shoulders.

“We’re at Dorothy’s,” you muse when your steps come to a halt, gesturing towards the silent, dark house on the other side of the street, “I think she’s not home yet, though. Her light would be on.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Juyeon looks from the house and back at you, then back at the seemingly empty house again. “And now what?”

“I have to wait for her,” you shrug, “will you… keep me company?”

You don’t even have to ask. He’d always keep you company. 

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you stand alone in the street in the middle of the night, am I?” he playfully shakes his head in disbelief, but secretly enjoys the fact that he has more time with you before you have to pay each other goodbye.

“Always knew you were a gentleman.”

“Pretty sure that was my middle name,” he notes.

“I thought you said that was ‘handsome’ once?”

“I have two,” he laughs.

“Is that possible?” you tease.

“Of course! Look it up,” he says, turning to you as he talks. “My name’s actually Lee Handsome Gentleman Juyeon, it’s on my ID and everything,” he jokes, watching as your eyes turn into moon crescents and your throat lets out a fit of amused giggles.

Another playful punch to his shoulder. A happy sigh. A shake of your head, full of disbelief. 

“Damn, Juyo. I’ll miss you like crazy, you know?” you suddenly utter, making the boy’s heart fall down into his stomach. The implication of your words sounds a lot like a goodbye, and although he was aware of the fact that he was leaving before, he doesn’t think he really let the reality down on him until now. 

This time tomorrow, there will be no Paris. No Marco. No Shotaro. No Bence. No French locals, no bagels for breakfast, no shitty ass dorm room.

No you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he says. He thinks he’s right.

You’ll miss him like a friend. He’ll miss you like his first love.

You stare at him for a heartbeat. One, two– before you latch onto him, much like when you first met tonight. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close, head resting on his shoulder only when you notice his hands wrapping around your middle. Breathing in your scent, Juyeon focuses very hard to keep his heart rate in check– it’s hard to not falter under your touch when your nose buries itself into his neck, cold skin nuzzling into his hot one, hands squeezing him tighter.

Juyeon doesn’t think you’ve ever hugged him like this before. 

And now, you won’t ever again.

You break away from him only enough to still be in his hold, your forehead resting against his. The new intimacy between the two of you makes him gulp, eyes focused into yours– watching the silver and gold swirl around your irises, counting your eyelashes. Noticing the faint mole on the top of your nose bridge. 

Foolishly letting his eyes dip lower. Memorizing the shape of your lips with his gaze. Taking in a shaky breath when he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape.

“Will you tell your grandkids about Paris?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. Juyeon would almost think you’re suggesting something with your question, but when you speak up again, the suspicion is proved correct. “Will you tell them about me?”

The boy drags his eyes up back to yours. He examines the intention. He finalizes that he has nothing left to lose. 

Tomorrow, this will all be a memory. A moment out of his reach– much like you, all this time. A moment of time he experienced and won’t ever get back.

“I will,” he nods, swallowing. “Will you?”

You smile at the boy, the curve of your lips capturing his attention again. If anyone asked, he’d tell them it’s pure biology– the way his eyes zoomed in on your mouth the moment your expression changed. That’s how attention fluctuates– he learned about it in class somewhere, he’s fairly certain.

Why he’s unable to look back into your eyes after the question is a matter of something else, though.

“I think I might,” you breathe out.

There’s buzzing in his fingertips as he relishes the moment. The sentiment makes his knees weak, his brain fuzzy, his sight blurry and a little hazed. When he finally catches a glimpse of your gaze, he finds it glued to his mouth. 

He could take it as an invitation. 

He won’t, though.

“Kiss me?” you ask, whispering.

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t.” 

Not when you’re taken. Not when he’s aware. Not when he knows you might regret this in the morning.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you ask. 

That, however, is a whole other situation. 

You asked to. You're making the first step. He doesn't have to feel guilty– who cares whether either of you might regret this decision tomorrow.

A simple nod–

that’s all it takes before you lock your lips with his. Your mouths move against each other with a passion he’s contained for his whole stay. You taste like vodka and orange juice, the slickness of your lip gloss making Juyeon’s lips slide against yours with more ease. He kisses you like you’d kiss your first love– with everything in him, with everything he is. 

He kisses you in a way that shows he wants to remember this forever. In a way that makes you lean even closer, pressing up firmly against him as you angle your head to make the kiss deeper. One of your hands moves from behind his head to twist itself deeper into his hair, tugging a little at the root to make the boy gasp under your actions. That has you inviting your tongue into his mouth, eager to taste him, to explore.

Juyeon doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so vulnerable, so open while kissing someone. This is him with his heart on a plate, naked and ready to be stabbed, squished by the weight of circumstances breathing onto his back.

His cold fingers move along your sides. Your hands settle on his shoulders to steady yourself, head pulling away to gasp for oxygen.

You look so pretty when he opens his eyes. Lipstick smudged and eyes blown out, hair a little messy from the October wind. He’s like an addict presented with his favorite drug– he can’t get enough, he can’t resist as he chases after you, leaving kisses along your jaw and the corner of your mouth, where the blood is, slowly meeting your lips again in another lock.

Everything else disappears. In this moment, there’s just you, you, you…

No flights. No weight of his own conscience. No boyfriends, no unsaid feelings. 

No regret.

And Juyeon thought he had nothing to lose, but suddenly, with you in his arms, he feels as if he’s being stripped of everything he never even had, only got the glimpse of last minute, a few hours before he’s gone.

You lean away again. Juyeon watches you with big eyes. A smile appears on your face as you move a finger up to his face, cleaning up the side of his mouth off the dark lipstick you’ve imprinted on him. He feels fragile under your touch. One bad move and he breaks, falls apart under you.

“You have to come back to visit one day,” you whisper, cradling the side of his face.

Juyeon nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance.

But as you stand on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his forehead, making a million different fireworks erupt in his stomach, he doesn’t let himself think of that (im)possibility. He watches as you smile at him, locking your eyes in a gaze tender and soft, yet electrifying, holding something special.

Before you take off to meet your best friend walking up the other side of the street, you hug him one last time and whisper into his ear.

“Goodbye, Juyo.”

Seeing as you lock your arms with Dorothy, walking up into the silent house and never looking back, Juyeon lets himself feel the last hint of longing for someone he always knew would never be his. And it’s strange, because he hasn’t even left yet, 

but oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #juyeon #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon fluff #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz angst #juyeon scenario #juyeon fic

[aleksanderscult]

Since we have officially entered the Aries' season I thought I should honor the fact that it's the Darkling's birthday! 🎉🎊

(No, we don't know his exact birthdate but we know he's an Aries. Anyways)

To celebrate it let's remember some facts about him.

Even though he was a Shadow Summoner, he loved bright colors. Blue, red, purple but most of all the color of sunlight.

Since we mentioned that he was a Shadow Summoner, isn't it endearing and ironic how he feared the dark when he was a child?

Once he didn't sleep for two nights because his mother had left him in a tent without a lantern.

He loved sweets! Cakes, pies etc. but his two favorites were a cake with cherries and sweet cream from Kerch and candies coated in sesame from Shu.

He had trouble mastering his powers as a child. He felt embarrassed for the fact that he couldn't make the Cut at the age of 13.

He could play the violin. 🎻

He was really intelligent from a very young age. Until the age of 13 he could speak three languages fluently and could read people and their behavior like an open book.

He was awkward and felt uneasy around children his own age since Baghra always kept them on the move and insisted not to let anyone touch him or for him to get close to someone.

He never met his father although he kept asking about him to his mother and wanted to meet him. The only thing he (possibly) ever knew was that he was a Heartrender.

He loooved nature. The trees and forests. The smell of them. Especially the evergreen trees. He even decorated his room in the Little Palace with carvings of trees.

Oh and he loves animals too! In the "Demon in the Wood" he got excited in the thought that he would see white tigers for the first time and Leigh once mentioned that he's kind to animals (we even saw that in "The Tailor" when he took time out of his duties to visit his horses, pat them and whisper to them soothingly).

And he actually saw those white tigers eventually.

Apparently he has great good looks to the point that he attracts others (and especially girls) like magnet since forever.

And his life was full of sex so he was experienced with it (Alina, your opportunity to fuck around and find out was literally right there).

The author confirmed (in 2014-2015, years before even the show came out) that he indeed harbored strong feelings for Alina and believed that they were destined for a future together (my man was ready to buy IKEA furnitures for their future house😭😭).

He had many, many half-siblings (one of them was a mermaid) and throughout the centuries he sought them out, out of a need for kinship, companionship and a desire to not be alone (🥲🔫)

This one is especially sad. He wasn't conceived out of love.

On another note though, his smell has been described as the smell of winter, forests and of the night.

In a solar eclipse his powers wouldn't be affected.

He's the Grisha with the most aliases in the Grishaverse (that's what living in a persecuted environment as a child does to you).

It's confirmed by the author that he was created after fantastical villains that she used to love, so please let that rumor that he was inspired after her abusive ex finally rest for good.

He had indeed fallen in love many times in the past but he kept witnessing the people he loved die from their mortality. At some point he just gave up on love and became more and more closed off. (Let's talk about the break he never had💀)

We might not know which person was the first he ever fell in love with, but we know which was the last one: Alina.

Do you remember those countless letters Alina was sending to Mal in "Shadow and Bone"? Well, the Darkling not only kept them secretly but read ALL off them.

He has a throat-neck fetish. And it's probably canon. The way he kissed Alina's throat every chance he got, the way he once nipped it, the collar and how he was always touching it.

According to Leigh, he didn't start wanting to be King. But this ambition came eventually after deeming it the only way to change things.

Kaz has been described as more selfish than Aleksander.

Well most of them turned out to be sad and tragic but that's because he had a tragic life and he himself was a tragic character.

Happy birthday to one of the best and most iconic book characters ever created. 🎉🎊

#and today we have a solar eclipse 👀 #HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT LITTLE MEOW MEOW #I miss that fucker 🥹 #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #darklina #pro darklina #alarkling #pro alarkling #grishaverse #shadow and bone #alina starkov #grishaverse trilogy

[bloatedandalone04]

Don’t Come Back For Me

➪the one where everything falls apart.

Warnings: spoilers for american heist 2014, swearing, mentions of killing, mentions of drugs, alcohol consumption, arguments, mentions of fighting, toxic enviroment overall, indication of smut, angst

Word Count: 6.5k | Part 1 , Part 3

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Fuck,” was the only word James could say as he sped home after dropping off Frankie, Sugar and Ray. He knew it. He fucking knew it, and you knew it, and now he broke his fucking promise to you. He supposed he broke his promise to himself, too, but he couldn’t care less about his own feelings when it came down to you. “Fuck!”

He wasn’t sure if he was happy or upset to see your car in front of the house, indicating that you were home already, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on it as he barely had the Duster in park before he was sprinting up the porch and shoving the door open. 

When he didn’t see you immediately upon entering, he just called your name loudly before grabbing his duffle bag and emptying his drawers. He heard the bathroom door open when he moved onto the second shelf and began shoving various articles of clothing into the bag. 

“Hey, Jamie,” you call out, and he could hear your soft footsteps nearing as you entered the room. “I still feel bad about bailing earlier. How much have you had to drink tonight? I was thinking we could walk down to that twenty four hour diner for cheap beer and burgers.”

James closed his eyes at that. 

You were always thinking about him, and he fucking hated the fact that, despite you being on his mind every second he was with the guys, he still couldn’t stay true to the words he promised you.

You, his sweet girl. His kind girl who was so much better than him in every way. The girl he never deserved for more than a second. 

He could feel your eyes on him as he halted his fast movements of pulling his clothes from the shelf. “What are you doing?” You hesitantly asked, leaning against the doorframe as you waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, you pressed further, your voice coming out weaker than you had hoped for, “Jamie, what’s going on?”

James’ whole body tensed up at your question. He needed to leave, now. He also wanted to take you far away from here, but the risk of it all plagued his mind. He should leave you here and get out of your life, give you a chance to escape, but he has always been a bit selfish when it comes to you. 

He would never willingly ask you to leave with him, but if Frankie knew where you lived, Sugar and Ray definitely did as well, and he wouldn’t leave here without knowing you were safe.

And right now, you would be safe with him. “We’re leaving. Tonight. Now, right now,” he answered and left no room for arguments as he grabbed another bag and pushed it into your hands. 

“What?” You ask and step back when he handed you the bag. You made no move to start packing, and he couldn’t really blame you, but he needed you to trust him right now, with no questions. He also knew how unfair that was to ask of you. 

“Please, baby, start packing, okay?” He tried and when you still didn’t move, he cursed under his breath and turned back to the dresser to begin throwing your clothes into the bag you held in your hand. You watched him rummage through your drawer and shove random shirts and jeans into the bag, and you knew something bad had happened once you left the bar. 

You knew he had broken his promise. “Jamie,” you start quietly, swallowing harshly as you feel tears sting your eyes. Your soft call of his name had him stopping all his movements and he looked over at you, tears gathered in his own eyes. You give him a questioning look as you struggle to hold the messily packed bag. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered you weakly. You were wearing one of his old shirts and sweats, clearly ready to call it a night, and here he was, asking you to drop everything and leave with him. You just wanted to buy him beers and burgers and make him forget about his interview and then end the night with him in bed, and here he was. He ruined it. “I’ll explain it all later, I promise, but I need you to trust me right now.”

“Trust you?” You ask, somewhat offended. The sound of someone knocking on the door caught your attention, and you glanced back at it as you dropped the bag onto the floor. James had already turned back to his own bag and seemed to have not heard the knocking, so you took it upon yourself to cross the room to the door. “When have I ever not trusted you?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he answered as he rummaged around his nightstand. He continued to ramble on as you opened the door, “I just - I need you to come with me. I don’t know where we’re going yet, but I’ll figure it all out. I’ll have to stop by Lewis’ and grab the spare plates, but after that we’ll just drive as far as we can. I know it’s not fair to you, but I need you to just go with me on this one, alright?”

You meet Frankie’s eye when you swung the door open, James still going on behind you. “Hey, sweetheart,” he grinned at you. “Good to see you again. My brother here?”

James was pacing around the room, but stopped when he saw that your bag was now on the floor. “Please, Y/n,” he begged as he picked it up. “I need you to pack whatever is valuable to you and then we’re going-”

He stopped mid-sentence when he finally looked over at you, cowering by the door next to his brother. His jaw clenched as he tossed your bag on the bed behind him and crossed the room in three strides. “Hey, Jimmy,” Frankie greeted him, but James just gently grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the door. 

“Real estate, huh? You fucking asshole,” James muttered as Frankie let himself in and closed the door behind him. 

“You didn’t get rid of the car yet? That’s a fucking problem, Jimmy,” Frankie said as he stepped cautiously towards the two of you. 

You had no clue what he was talking about, and you had no time to ask as James pulled you with him when he made his way back to the dresser. “How could you do this to me, Frankie? I’m your fucking brother,”

“It’s not my fault,”

James pushed you away from his brother and you leaned against the frame again, chewing nervously on your fingernail. “You know I’m fucking this close to putting it all behind me,” he held up his hand and showed his thumb and index finger only a sliver away from one another. “I’m this close and you’re fucking screwing me again.” 

The sharp punch he let out against the wardrobe didn’t make Frankie jump, but it sure had you holding back a sound of surprise. You weren’t used to this side of James, but you supposed this version of him was one his brother knew well. “I didn’t know they were gonna do that shit, man, come on,”

“The second I saw those two I knew they were trouble and you didn’t listen to me,” James muttered and turned to his brother. “Like, what the fuck’s the matter with you? Open your fucking eyes.”

“I talked to them, Jimmy,” Frankie tried to assure him. “There’s not going to be any more problems.”

James shook his head as he dumped more of his clothes into his bag. “Yeah, no more problems? You’re so fucking casual about everything,” Frankie began pulling on James’ shirt to try and get him to stop packing, but he just pushed him away. “No, seriously, you’ve got a fucking screw loose, man. You’re fucked, alright?”

Frankie muttered something in his defense, but James just turned to you.

His gaze softened as he took in your nervous state and the way your hand was shaking as you pulled on your nail with your teeth. “We’re leaving,” he informed both you and his brother. “Now.” 

Frankie shook his head and watched as James handed you your bag. “Jimmy, you can’t go anywhere right now, man,” he pleaded, trying to grab the bag from him. “You can’t leave.”

James glared at him as he took your hand in his free one. “Oh, yeah? No more problems, huh? Fuck you, Frankie,” 

You had no choice but to follow your boyfriend as he made a beeline for the door, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening. “I’m serious, man, you can’t do this,” he followed the two of you to the door. “You can’t.”

“You’re my brother,” James muttered as he held you behind him. “You’re supposed to look out for me.”

“I am,”

“Yeah, you are? Fuck you,” 

When he turned to open the door, Frankie pushed it closed again with a force that had you pulling your hand out of James’ and backing away. James turned to you, prepared to comfort you somehow, but turned back around when Frankie announced, “The guys are out there, man,” 

James looked at him in disbelief before dropping his bag and pushing his hand against the older man’s chest. “What the fuck do you mean, they’re out there? You brought them to my fucking house? What the fuck, Frankie?”

He held his hands up as James pushed him back against the door. “I needed a ride, man, I needed to check up on you,”

James laughed but it held no sense of humor in it. “Check up on me?” He looked over at you and your pleading eyes, desperate to know what was going on. “Y/n lives here, too, Frankie. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“I’ll get rid of ‘em, man,” Frankie says and pushes his brother away. James just scoffed and walked the few steps towards you, taking your hand in his as he pulled you further from the door. “I’ll get rid of them, but they want to talk to you, too.”

James sighed heavily as he met your eyes, not bothering to look back at the man as he muttered, “Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” 

You heard the door slam shut again as you placed your hands on his chest, a million thoughts swimming around in your head. “James, what the fuck,” 

He winced, knowing that you only called him ‘James’ when you were serious. He was always ‘Jamie’ to you, your Jamie. “I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbled, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shook your head and wished you could feel the usual sense of comfort that came with the feeling of his arms around you, but you were so on edge from being left in the dark. “James, please,” you begged him to give you any kind of answer to the countless questions that you had. 

James held you against his chest when you gave up on pushing him away and let him hold you. His hand gently caressed the back of your head as he pressed his lips to your temple, “I need you to stay inside, okay?” He had no right to be asking that of you, and he knew it, but he didn’t want Sugar and Ray to see you. When you tried to pull away, he held you tighter. “Please, baby. Just - just stay inside.”

Against your better judgment, you allow him to leave the house after you promised to stay inside and wait for him to come back in. Despite that, you lift the curtain and peek out to see him and another guy you didn’t know sitting on the steps of the porch. Frankie was leaning against the railing, a cigarette between his teeth as he listened in on the conversation. 

After you drop your bag on the floor next to his, you run your hands through your damp hair. You weren’t expecting to find him packing his clothing away as soon as you got out of the shower, and you really weren’t expecting to be hiding out in your own home while he talked to one of Frankie’s friends. 

You were going insane.

After pacing around the length of the living room and kitchen, you had a headache from the amount of pulling you’ve been doing at your hair. You were shaking and had a horrible feeling about everything. You kept eyeing the bags and chewing on your finger, the skin now bloody and sore as you tried to wrap your head around the situation. 

What was he apologizing for?

What did he do?

Where was he planning on going with you?

What did Frankie mean about getting rid of his car?

What happened?

You were beginning to regret leaving the bar. Maybe if you had stayed, James wouldn’t have had a reason to leave with Frankie and do whatever it is that they did. 

He needed you to trust him, and you did. You trusted him with your life, but you weren’t sure why you felt so uneasy with him now. He had been part of something serious and it required the two of you to flee, and that thought had a chill running up your spine.

Were you still going to leave when he comes back inside?

So many questions and no answers. 

You were beginning to feel a panic attack set in, and you were both nervous and grateful when James entered the house and locked the door. That answered your question of whether or not you were still leaving together. 

When he turns back to face you, you raise a brow and cross your arms. “Well?” You desperately ask. “What’s going on? Who was that?” 

He looked at you with guilty blue eyes and you felt your heart skip a beat at his intense gaze. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again a few seconds later. 

He didn’t know what to say to you. He didn’t know what he could do to make this better. “That was a friend of Frankie’s,” he offered, but you and he both knew it wasn’t enough. James refused to meet your eye as he kicked at his bag on the floor. “He’s not a good guy.”

You nod, waiting for him to continue, but he never did. “What did he make you do?” You tried, but he just shook his head and stared down at the floor. “James, I swear if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m taking that bag and I’m leaving.”

Your threat was somewhat empty, but that wasn’t what had him lifting his head to meet your eye. “Jamie,” he said in a tone you had never heard from him. You furrowed your brows, confusion evident on your face as he moved towards you. “I’m Jamie to you.”

Your expression softened as he stood before you and took your hands in his. “James,” you warned, but he gave you a look that had you backing down pretty quickly. “Jamie, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

His eyes flickered all over your face, noting the way your lip quivered and how your own eyes were pleading with him. “I can’t,” he said, hating the way he could see your guard building up with each passing second. “I can’t.”

You wanted to leave, but you made him a promise and you intended to keep it, despite beginning to feel differently about him. “Why?” 

James felt you tense up, and he could feel your grip on his hands loosen. “I just can’t,” he weakly mumbled. “Not right now. Please, just trust me on this. I need you.” 

He needed you to trust him and he just needed you in general. 

And you, the understanding girlfriend you had always been, sigh and step away from him. “Okay,” you say quietly, glancing down at the floor as you run your fingers through your hair. You weren’t sure what you were agreeing to, but you still did trust him. You were just holding onto the hopeful thought that he would tell you everything when the time was right. “Okay.”

James’ shoulders dropped in relief, and he wanted to hold you again, but refrained from doing so. You still trusted him, but you also clearly needed your space. He had no problem giving that to you, just as long as you stayed here with him. 

God, he felt selfish. 

He didn’t want to involve you in any of this, but he was in too deep now.

Sugar and Ray knew where you lived, and probably knew of you. He had no doubt that Frankie had told them about you, and he hated the thought of the danger that put you in. 

He would die before he let anything happen to you. 

You were it for him. His entire world. 

“I love you,” he murmured, watching as you backed further away from him and towards the bed. “You know that?”

You nod as you sit down and play with your fingers, wincing slightly when you pressed against your still sore skin. “I love you,” it came out as a whisper. The look you gave him when you lifted your head had his heart breaking. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

James didn’t know how to answer you. He didn’t have the answer to that question. You were going to be okay, he would make sure of that, however the state of your relationship and his own wellbeing were up in the air at the moment. 

He moved to sit next to you when you gestured for him to do so, and he quickly decided that he wouldn’t lie to you. Since he had already broken his promise, he wouldn’t do anything else to further break your trust. “I don’t know,”

Like he expected, his answer didn’t ease your mind, so you just nodded and crawled over to your side of the bed, curling up against your pillow. James hated how the night ended. It was supposed to end with the two of you drinking cheap beer and eating burgers before heading back home and falling asleep wrapped up with one another. 

It was just another thing he fucked up.

James was beyond pissed that Frankie had shown the guys his house. He couldn’t care less about his own privacy and safety, but now yours was at risk. The house he tried to make you feel so at home in was exposed to criminals who had no problem shooting and killing someone who disagreed with them. James had seen it firsthand just a few hours ago. 

He roughly rubbed his hand over his face before standing up and throwing the covers over your body. Your back was turned to him when he crawled into bed next to you, and he moved as close as he could to you without ever actually touching you, despite desperately wanting to wrap you up in his arms and pretend his brother never got let out of jail.

-

You weren’t sure how long you had been in bed for, or how much sleep you had ended up getting, but you were still exhausted by the time the sun seeped in through the window next to the bed. 

Instinctively, you rolled over and reached for James, finding his usual spot empty. It was still warm, so you knew he had only been up for a little while. 

You shook your head. After what happened last night, the first thing you did when you woke up was reach for him. You knew he needed you right now, as he had told you many times the prior night, and you’d be lying to yourself if you were to say you didn’t need him just as much, but for different reasons. 

James had been a constant in your life since the minute you met him, and he’d been nothing but sweet and genuine to you. He never lied to you, never gave you a reason not to trust him, so you felt a bit bad for being so cold to him last night. 

With a sigh, you toss the covers off you and get out of bed, heading towards the bathroom where you could hear the shower running. James had his back to you as he stood under the shower head, the steam making the bathroom look a bit foggy. 

You strip yourself from your sweats and t-shirt before stepping in behind him, not caring that your previously washed hair was getting soaked now. Wrapping your arms around his middle, you immediately feel his tense body relax as one of his hands reaches up to grab yours and hold it against his chest. “Jamie,” you murmur. “Talk to me.”

You feel him sigh as you rest your head against his back. “I let you down,” he muttered so quietly, you almost didn’t hear him. The water hitting the shower floor drowned out his voice, but you inched closer to him in hopes to provide a sense of comfort and also to be able to understand him a bit better. “I fucked up. Like I always do.”

“Hey,” you shook your head and placed your hands on his biceps to turn him around. He budged only a little bit and you pressed your front to his side. “You do not always fuck up, James. You’ve been alone for most of your life and that led you to make some bad choices, but you don’t fuck things up. This isn’t your fault.”

The water that fell from his dark hair made it look like he was crying as the drops rolled down his face. His eyes were tired and guilty and you wanted nothing more than to take away all his stress and worries, but you didn’t know how. 

“Please,” you all but begged, caressing the side of his face to make him meet your eye. “I’m sorry for not understanding last night, I should’ve left with you when you told me to. But, please, don’t shut me out.”

James furrows his brows, his lips parting as he quietly says, “Y/n,”

You just press your body to his, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your head against his chest. “Talk to me, Jamie, please,” you squeeze your eyes shut to fight off the sting of tears. “Let me help you.”

James felt his heart break even more than it did last night, and he pulled back just slightly so he could place his fingers under your chin and guide your eyes to meet his. “Baby,” he mumbled and you wanted to melt under his intense gaze. “You already are helping me.”

You shake your head again, locking your hands around him and pressing them against his back.

“You are,” he assures you, bringing one hand up to push away the wet strands of hair from your face. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, but he just shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize, baby. Don’t apologize to me. You’ve done nothing wrong,” he says. “This is all on me.”

You look up at him with teary eyes, your bottom lip quivering. “Tell me what’s going on, please?”

James just gives you another guilty look, his hands resting on your lower back. “I can’t,” he hesitantly said. “Not right now.”

“Please,” 

Having to keep you in the dark about everything was surely going to kill him, but what choice did he have? He felt like he was taking your trust for granted, and you were being so sweet to him. He came home last night and didn’t give you so much as a hint of what was going on before telling you that you needed to leave, and you were apologizing for not doing it quick enough. 

He truly never deserved you. 

And now you were begging him to not shut you out and to tell you things that would most definitely get you killed, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You were on his side. 

James’ eyes flicker all over your face, and you were by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, and you had chosen him. 

Despite his rocky past and his slow start to a new life, you had proven to him that you were determined to be a constant in his life and how you weren’t one to be scared off easily. 

Maybe that was why James felt like he had to tell you a sliver of what had taken place last night. He owed you that much. “Frankie and I got mixed up in some business with those guys. He said it was real estate, but I should’ve known better. I went with him and they made me the getaway driver for whatever the fuck they had been planning,” he hoped that was enough to put your mind at ease even just a bit, but he knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with that for long. “They’re dangerous guys, baby, and I’m sorry I got you all wrapped up in this.”

You weren’t sure what to think, and you desperately wanted to know more, but you could also tell that he had been debating on whether or not he should’ve told you even this little bit about what went down when you left the bar. 

So, you just lift yourself up high enough to be able to press a small kiss to his mouth. 

You were scared, of course you were, but you trusted James, and you couldn’t let him go through this alone. Really, he had been roped into all of this, just like you had. He wasn’t to blame for this, Frankie was. James was just a reliable source to his brother, that much was clear. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you murmur against his mouth, your hands sliding up his wet chest to be able to grip his shoulders. “We’re going to get through this, together. You and me.”

James nodded, his lips brushing yours again as he did so. “You and me,” he said in between kisses, his hands moving up to tangle in your hair. “As soon as this is over, I’m getting us out of here. I don’t care that he’s my brother, you’re my future.”

You let him push you against the cold tile of the shower, your back immediately sporting goosebumps as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I’ll go anywhere with you,” you promise, tilting your head a bit when James attached his lips to your neck. 

A moan mixed with a sigh of relief leaves his mouth as one of his hands reaches down to wrap your leg around his waist, all while the water continues to pour down onto the two of you. 

-

When James attempts to go back to his normal life the next morning, you give him a quick kiss goodbye before he is off to work. 

Your mind was still racing, and you weren’t entirely sure you understood just how much danger James was actually in. The whole thing had you a nervous wreck, and you had to call in to your own work as you couldn’t possibly imagine pretending like you weren’t terrified for a  whole shift. 

After promising James that you’ll keep the door locked until he gets back, you cleaned up the house and reorganized the fridge in an attempt to keep your mind from wandering to all the possible ways this could end. 

Had you known that James was involved in some serious business with those guys and Frankie, you wouldn’t have hesitated to leave with him as soon as he got home last night. 

While you weren’t sure just how deep this whole thing was yesterday morning, when James asked to borrow your car to go to work today, you knew it was bad. 

James had pretty much rebuilt the Duster from scratch, and had spent countless hours working on it, just for Sugar to take it and dump it somewhere it will never be found. James was one of those guys who really cared about the little things, and you knew he was devastated at the fact that he lost his beloved car. 

He had only been gone for about two hours before you heard quick knocks on the front door. You were immediately on edge and grabbed your phone, prepared to call either James or the cops if you needed to. 

You pull the curtain back and see Frankie leaning on the railing, a cigarette between his lips as he gazes around the front of your house. 

At the sight of the very man who had flipped James’ world upside down in a matter of a few hours, a rage bubbles within you. 

You unlock the door and pull it open, your gaze stone cold as you step out onto the front porch. Frankie looked up when he heard the door open, and his crooked grin had you holding back a grimace. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greets, turning his head to blow the cigarette smoke away from you. “Good to see you again. That was quite the first impression I left on you the other night, huh?”

He laughed. He actually made a joke and laughed. 

God, James was so far from being anything like his brother. He was a beacon compared to this burnout, a form of light that was quickly beginning to dim because of the darkness that surrounds Frankie. 

He didn’t deserve this. 

“What do you want, Frankie?” You ask and cross your arms, leaning against the frame of the door while he looks up at you from his slouched position. 

He must have been able to tell that you weren’t in the mood to give in to his bullshit, and you could appreciate his ability to read the room. Or, in this case, your front porch. “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he says, inhaling another drag of the cigarette. “Is he home?”

When he tries to peek into your house through the still open door, you straighten up and reach behind you to close it with a harsh slam. He had already been inside the place, so you weren’t sure why you were still trying to protect your privacy. “No, he isn’t,” you answer, then add, “He’s working, like he has been for the last four years.” 

Frankie nodded, running his tongue along the underside of his teeth. “My brother,” he grinned. “A working man.”

You glared at him, refraining from extending your hand out and decking the man square in the face, just like how James taught you. “Do you need something?” You ask instead. 

At the anger in your voice, James’ older brother looked up at you, his eyes curious. “Did I do something to offend you, sweetheart?” He asked and you hated the way he called you that. “If I did, I’m awfully sorry, I just-”

“You know what you did,” you cut him off, surprising him at the hostile tone your voice held.  “James was doing just fine before you came back around, and now he tells me he’s been involved in something he can’t further explain because it’s too dangerous. What the fuck did you make him do?”

Frankie stepped back at your sudden outburst, the cigarette falling from his fingers and landing on the stone of the porch. “Woah, sweetheart, relax,” he tried but you just pushed him away from you when he held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t make him do anything, alright? This ain’t all on me.”

“It is all on you,” you seethed. “You didn’t tell him you had some real estate job for him?”

Frankie’s emotionless face dropped and his eyes widened just slightly, and you knew you caught him with that one. “That-” he started, but you once again cut him off.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you reach a hand up and push on his chest just enough to have him take a step back and down one of the stone stairs. “Stay the fuck away from him, Frankie. I mean it. He doesn’t need this in his life.”

Frankie inhaled loudly, reaching a hand up to run through his greasy hair while his other flattened out the jacket of his cheap suit. “Just tell my brother I stopped by, alright?” He grunted and walked down the rest of the steps. 

You rolled your eyes and made sure he was a good distance down the street before entering your house again and locking the door. 

-

James didn’t think he could be any more pissed off. 

He was less than halfway through his shift when you called him to let him know that Frankie stopped by. While he was glad you called him, it soured his already poor mood even further, and instead of heading straight home after work, he found himself meeting up with Frankie at the old railroad tracks. 

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting to get out of this confrontation, but it ended with him seeing red at the announcement that both Sugar and Ray had no problem further involving you in this mess. 

You were further being put at risk because of him.

And you didn’t deserve that. 

So, he made the hard decision to let you go. 

When he returned home a few hours later, you greeted him with a hug. He couldn’t bring himself to not return it back, and he knew this would be the last time he’d ever get to feel your arms around him.

So, he hugged you back, tighter than he ever had before. 

“I missed you,” you smile at him, taking your keys when he hands them to you. “You were working late.”

He just nodded and eyed his still packed bag by the door. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you furrow your brows and step away from him to lean against the kitchen counter. “Since you don’t have a car, I was going to offer you the option of sharing mine. Maybe I can drop you off on certain days, you can pick me up on certain days, you know, like a system,” 

James stayed still and you felt your smile slowly beginning to drop. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the bag, something you had noticed by now, and you were beginning to feel nervous.

“Jamie?” You ask quietly, hating that he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at you. “Everything okay?”

He finally took his eyes off the bag, but still didn’t look up at you. “I’m not going to work tomorrow,” he says and your brows further furrow. 

“You’re not? Why?” Even you could hear the uneasiness in your voice. 

“I’m meeting with Frankie,” he informed you, his jaw locked tight as he met your eyes. You felt your heart skip a beat at how monotone he sounded and how emotionless he looked. “He’s got a job for me.”

Your eyes widen at that and you place your keys on the counter. “What? What are you talking about?” You ask as you cross the room and step towards him. “What kind of job?” You dreaded the answer, but you also needed to hear it. 

James just shrugged, keeping his hands at his sides when you placed yours on his chest. “I don’t know yet. Something like we did back in the day, I guess,” 

You look up at him in shock and shake your head again. “No, what are you talking about?” You ask again, but he just shrugged you off of him. “You- you have a job already, James.”

He laughed at that, and the sound was so unfamiliar. “Yeah, a dead end one,” he muttered and reached down to grab the bag. “At this rate, I’ll be at Lewis’ until I’m dead and will still be making fuck all.”

Your heart was in your throat as you watched him begin to pack another bag. “Jamie, please,” you knew where this was going, but you didn’t want to believe it.

“I thought I changed, thought I could be better, but I’m the exact same person I was ten years ago,” he said with his back to you, his face heating up as he spewed out some bullshit lies in hopes it would get you to believe it. 

But, of course, you didn’t. “I don’t believe that,” you say and place your hand on his arm. 

James pulled away from you and felt his heart break when he caught sight of the hurt expression on your face. “I don’t care whether you believe it or not, Y/n,” he muttered and zipped up the second bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Don’t make this something it’s not.”

You glare at him through teary eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

James lets out a sigh of frustration, moving further away from you, despite wanting nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go. “You didn’t think this could ever actually work, right? We’re two completely different people, Y/n. We don’t work,” he continued to make up lies that hurt him to even say, and he knew it would hurt you to hear, but he needed to let you go. He can’t be selfish when it comes to you. Not anymore. “I tried to make it work, but what’s the point? I’ll never be the person you want me to be or need me to be, because I’m still the same fuckup I’ve always been.”

Your lip quivered as you shook your head, playing with the sleeves of your sweater. “That’s not true,” you pressed. “We’re good together. We work.”

You were sticking to your promise of staying with him, no matter what. James had never felt more in love with you, and that was what had him muttering his next words, “Don’t tell me you’re fucking stupid enough to believe that,”

Like he expected, you step away from him at the hostility of his words, your hands shaking a bit as you hold back sobs. “Jamie,”

With a heavy sigh, he turns back to you with an angry expression. “Stop calling me that, fuck,” he nearly yelled, making you jump slightly. The sight had him quickly turning around before he broke the act and took you into his arms. “You need to forget about me, forget about all of this. That’s what I’m gonna do; put all this time I’ve wasted with you behind me. This was a mistake.”

You cry out at that, your hands coming up to cover your mouth as you sob. 

James remained stiff and kept his back to you, his ears ringing as he listened to your cries. “I love you,” you pathetically say, and he felt his eyes sting. 

Tears were in his eyes as he heard the sound of Ray’s car pull up outside, and he turned to you. “That was your mistake,” he barely managed to say before breaking eye contact and leaving the house, slamming the door behind him.

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[didhewinkback]

love of my life

a something old one shot about wembley week.

word count: 4k somehow ?, there's smut

---

2014

He collapses into the backseat of the car, clenching his eyes shut as another cough wracks through his body, trying in vain to take deep breaths through his stuffy nose, feeling so frustrated he could scream if not for the hoarseness in his throat. He had dreamt of this night since he was a little kid, never thinking it would ever actually happen and then when it finally did he didn’t even get to enjoy it properly, didn’t get a chance to celebrate that his years of hard work, resilience and sacrifice had actually paid off. 

Instead he had to spend every minute on that stage trying to stay upright, his fever addled brain working overtime to remember lyrics, stand at the right spot, gasp for breath between a congested nose and a never ending rotation of cough drops. 

Once the tears start they don’t stop, feeling so pathetic and angry and heartbroken, all he can do is curl in on himself and wish his mum were with him. Why couldn’t he have been this ill in Madrid? Or Kansas City? Or Perth? Why did it have to be fucking Wembley? 

His phone buzzes in his hand, disrupting his never ending train of miserable thoughts. It’s you, checking in. He was supposed to go out with you and Johnny after the show, supposed to celebrate the biggest night of his career. He can’t believe you guys came out to see him on stage like that, a wave of embarrassment rolling through him as he imagines what you must think. 

He starts rapid fire texting you back, apologizing for the show, apologizing for leaving early and missing the afterparty, just apologizing. He’s not even sure what he’s saying at this point, just knows that he is sorry and embarrassed and wants to be home alone in his bed. You’re trying to keep up with his texts, trying your best to assure him that he has nothing to be sorry about, that it was still a good show, that you’re sorry for him, that’s not his fault he’s been overworked and was too sick to perform, asking if there’s anything you can do. Offering company if he needs someone to talk to because he’s right, it’s fucked that this was the show he had to be ill for, that he didn’t deserve to have it happen this way. 

And he knows he should talk it out, knows there’s few things that make him feel better than having you as a sounding board but right now he feels so shit and just wants to stop thinking about it. He apologizes again and turns his phone off, leaning his burning head against the cool window. He knows he’s wallowing, he knows he’s so lucky to be doing even a fraction of what he has done it’s just …

It was headlining Wembley fucking Stadium. When will he ever get the chance to do something like that again?

2023

The screams of the crowd start to fade into the background as he sprints backstage, handing his mic pack over to Steve from sound and leaning in to mutter a request to Paddy before ducking into his dressing room, leaning against the door once it’s closed. Trying to catch his breath from the sprint, from this night, from this week. He shakes off the rain and closes his eyes, doing his damndest to commit every feeling flashing through him to memory, trying to relive each moment on stage that took his breath away, to think about in the years to come. Knowing he’ll never be this young on tour again, never this limber, never be with this exact group of people at this exact time ever again. 

It was the best night of his entire life. 

It hasn’t felt like that before. The love radiating towards him was palpable, he could feel it in the air, and he did everything to send it right back out. It was almost too much for one person to hold, he had no choice but to try to put it directly towards the people who helped get him here, shouting out his friends and family in the audience more than he ever has because he owes them everything and he wanted to share this feeling with them.

It was overwhelming, it was exhilarating and it was fun. It’s never been that fun. Gratitude flows through him as tears prick his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. How lucky he is to get to do this for a job, how lucky that this many people want to see his show, how lucky that he’s got this band and this crew working alongside him. How lucky, how lucky, how lucky. 

He stands there for several minutes, taking deep breaths, reliving the best parts of the show, how it felt to sing Gemma’s song to her, to get to thank the friends that took him in when he was young and alone in a big city for the first time, to get to thank the friends that loved him from the start, before he grew into the man who would perform in front of 90,000 people four nights in a row. He’s practically choking on the emotion now, feeling more alive than he’s ever felt, the happiest he’s ever been, just grateful for this moment and this life when a series of knocks snaps him out of his haze. 

“I’ve been summoned,” he hears you say on the other side of the door and if he could grin any wider, his face would split in half. 

He swings open the door and there you are. The rain did nothing to dampen how beautiful you look tonight, wearing one of his favorite sundresses of yours, your eyes as red-rimmed with tears as he imagines his are. You take him in for a moment, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your breath catches and you shake your head in disbelief, seemingly as shocked and stunned by the night as he is. 

“That was…” you start to say but drift off, emotion clogging the words in your throat as you just stare at him.

“I know.” 

“Just like…what the fuck?” you say and it shocks a laugh out of him, his head tilting back and shoulders shaking. He watches the smile grow on your face and that’s when you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding tight. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, lifting you slightly off the ground as he pulls you into the room and kicks the door shut behind you. 

“‘M sweaty,” he warns and it just makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

“Don’t care,” you say softly. “I’m so, so proud of you.” 

And suddenly, he’s at a loss for words again. Not able to think about anything but how you feel in his arms, your steady heartbeat tethering him to the moment, the praise you’re murmuring in his ears making him feel warm all the way down to his toes. He’s overwhelmed at the thought of how much this week has felt like coming home, finally. Like the biggest, warmest welcome back to a place he has had to leave more often than he would ever like to. He felt it monumentally, magnanimously on stage and now he feels it here, on a much smaller scale, in the way your nails feel scratching against his scalp, the fabric of your damp dress against the bare skin of his chest, the sound of your voice in his ear. 

“It’s never felt like that before. Watching you.” you say, pulling your head back to look at him, warm eyes full of affection and it almost makes him preen.  He just had 90,000 pairs of eyes on him but being the center of your attention is what makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Was unreal, wasn’t it?” he says, skin warming under your gaze, knowing the words are wholly inadequate to sum up how this night has felt but selfishly wanting you to keep talking about it, not ready for the show to become a distant memory quite yet. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you that happy up there. That free. Just like completely in your element.” you say, a smile growing on your face as you huff a sheepish laugh at yourself. “Think I started crying the second you walked out there and didn’t really stop. You’ve turned me into the weepy girlfriend and for that I will never forgive you.”  

He laughs, lowering you to the ground in favor of bringing his hands up to cup your face, thumbs rubbing over the tear tracks there as you slide your hands down his back to wrap around his waist.

“Liked the show, then?” he asks, and by the roll of your eyes, he knows you know what he’s doing and he knows you’ll indulge him all the same.

“I loved it,” you say sincerely, the love in your eyes making him feel weak in the knees. “I love you.”

He closes the distance between you without a second thought, doing his best to express himself through every drag of his lips against yours. This has never felt like this before either, to get to be with someone who loves and supports him the way you do. Who knows him so well, who has seen the good, bad and the ugly and instead of taking off and running, just loves him harder, louder, fiercer. Adrenaline spikes through his veins as he deepens the kiss, his tongue curling against yours in a way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

He walks you backward until you're pressed against the door and he’s pressed against you, not an inch of space between you. He pulls away from your mouth to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, paying special attention to the spots he’s become familiar with, the ones that make you sigh into his ear, a sound that replays in his mind over and over whenever he’s missing you late at night. 

He feels himself getting hard against your thigh, no longer thinking of anything but how you taste, how you smell, how you feel. He loves you, more than he’s ever loved another person, more than he ever thought himself capable of. The temporarily dormant energy from the stage comes flooding back and he knows he’s got a room full of people waiting upstairs to celebrate with him but right now, he just needs you close. He needs you now. 

“Did you want to keep talking about the show?” you ask, your breath catching in your throat and it makes his heart skip a beat, your familiarity with his favorite post show routine making him melt as he shakes his head, not willing to pause his ministrations against your skin. 

It’s one of the things he loves doing most when you’re on tour with him, spending time after the really good shows to dissect his favorite bits and hear all of yours, hear how much you loved it, loved him. He knows if he said that’s what he wants to do right now you’d happily pull away and indulge him with detailed answers about how the show felt from your point of view, your favorite note changes, the jokes that made you laugh the most but it’s not what he wants right now. All he wants is you. 

“If we had more time, I’d get on my knees for you.” he mumbles against your neck, tongue darting out to suck at your skin. 

“Funny, I was just going to say the same thing.” you say back, making him groan, his hands falling to your hips, pulling you close. “But the party started already -”

“Yeah but I am the boss,” he says, feeling high off this night, off you. “So the party really doesn’t start until I say so.”

“I hate how much you loved saying that,” you say with a laugh, your hands sliding over his chest. You dig your nails in when he bites down on your neck and he feels like he’s on fire.

“Think y’ liked it a little bit,” he says, pulling away from your neck to kiss you deeply, hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

“Can feel myself drying up as we speak.” you say and he sputters out a laugh, giving you a cheeky spank when he feels you laughing against him. 

“That sounds like a bloody lie,” he mumbles against your mouth, his hand sliding from your ass to your thigh, hastily pulling up your dress, dragging his fingers across your skin once he has access to it. He pulls back slightly to look at your face, your swollen lips and blown out eyes. You’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He slides his fingers over your core, smirking when you gasp, feeling how wet you are through your underwear. “Feels like one too.”

“Told you.” you say, and you’ve got that look in your eyes that’s his kryptonite, looking at him like you’re going to eat him alive and it stokes the fire already burning in his belly. He doesn’t even have to hear the next words come out of your mouth, he knows he’s already done for. “I really liked the show.” 

He crashes his mouth to yours, pulling kiss after kiss from your plush lips, his hips rolling against yours when you moan into his mouth. He snaps the waistband on your underwear, doing his best to help you pull it off without straying too far from your lips, pulling you back into him once you kick it off your ankles. 

“Off. Take this off.” you mumble against his mouth, already pushing the straps of his dungarees down.

“Hang on, there’s a zipper -” He squeezes your thigh before reaching around the back of his dungarees, hastily unzipping to help you ease the trousers down his hips, pausing when you do, your hands stilling on his skin. He looks up at your face to find you staring at his cock, an unreadable expression on your face. 

“Are you - are you not wearing pants?” you ask breathlessly, a surprised laugh breaking through your words. 

“You did say I was freer than ever on that stage -” 

“Oh my god, I am not having sex with you anymore -”

“Heeey.” he says, unable to stop the smile growing on his face at the sound of your laugh. He smacks a kiss to your cheek as he pulls his dungarees all the way down, leaving them pooling at his ankles. It looks ridiculous but he’s too turned on to care, stomach flipping when you slide your hands on his skin, fingers dancing over his obliques, nails digging into his pecs. 

“Can’t believe you were freeballing at Wembley.” you say as he snorts, grabbing your thigh to hitch it over his hip, leaning in to capture your lips with his. 

You pull the hem of your dress up with one hand as you slide the other to the back of his neck, gripping hard when he swipes his fingers through your folds, lightly circling your clit. He’d do just about anything to make you moan into his mouth like that, fingers playing with you a little longer than necessary until you bite down on his lip in impatience. 

“Ready?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Been ready since half past eight.” you shoot back as he huffs a laugh. “Need you.”

“Y’ have me, baby. Y’ have me.” he mutters nonsensically, quickly pulling his fingers away and using them to guide his cock against your core, both of you moaning at the sensation before he guides himself into you, choking on air when he thrusts all the way in. 

White hot heat sears through him and he has to clench his eyes shut, your warmth and wetness almost too much to bear. He could stay here forever he thinks, feeling you clench around him, moaning lowly in his ear. This is it for him. Until - 

“H. Move.” 

He opens his eyes, the look on your face taking his breath away as he starts to thrust into you, lips falling to any part of your skin he can reach. 

“Watching me on stage got y’ this wet?” he grunts out. “All this for me?”

“Always.” you breathe out, pulling him in closer. “You looked so good up there. You did so good. Made me so proud -”

“Baby -” he leans in to kiss you deeply, tongue messily swiping over yours as he grabs your thigh, adjusting the angle in a way that makes you both moan. 

He rests his forehead against yours, watching the way every thrust, drag and swivel of his hips hurdles you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering closed when he hits it just right. Everything else fades away and all that matters is the feeling of your tight, hot cunt, and those quiet sounds you can’t stop making. You slide your hand down his arm until it settles on his tattoo of your initial, pressing your thumb into the skin and he almost bursts on the spot. 

“That’s right, baby. ‘S all for you.” he moans out, biting down on your jaw when you clench around him. “‘M all yours. ‘M all yours. ‘M all yours.”

He slides his hands around your waist, sliding down to your ass as he grips and lifts you up, bringing your other thigh up to settle around his hips. You gasp against his mouth as he holds you up,  pressing you further into the door. 

“This okay?” he pants out.

“Yeah - please. H - I’m -” you lean in to kiss him as he starts to move again, the new angle making him glide across your clit in a way that has you biting down on his lips. 

“Baby, I’m -”

“Me too. Doing so good.” you say as he digs his fingers into your skin, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, sparks shooting down his spine as he flies towards the edge. 

“Need you to come first. Can y’do that for me?” he grunts out, gritting his teeth to swivel his hips in the way he knows will get you there, watching the way your mouth drops open, blown out eyes never wavering from his. 

You lean in to nip at his bottom lip, one hand sliding up to rest at the base of his throat, the other sliding down to rub circles on your clit as he tightens his hold on you, arm muscles bulging as he gives it to you as best he can.  He picks up his pace and you lightly squeeze down on his throat as he moans, fire licking up his spine at the sensation. Everything’s warm, hot, wet.  All he can feel, smell, taste and touch is you. He doesn’t know how it can get any better than this, and then you squeeze down a little harder, leaning in to bite at his earlobe before whispering: 

“You’re the boss.” 

Jesus fuck.

That’s it. He can’t hold on any longer, a moan punching out of him as he comes hard, seeing stars as he grunts against your skin, feeling you follow suit quickly after, the way you clench around him as you come has him biting down on the skin of your neck, nails digging into your thigh. 

That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him, is still happening to him, he feels like he’s coming forever as his body shakes with aftershocks, tongue darting out to suck at the skin of your neck as you both try to catch your breath, chests heaving. 

After a few moments, he pulls back to look at you, eyes roaming over the blissed out look on your face as he leans in to kiss you softly, lips dragging against yours once, twice, three times before he feels you laugh, leaning back to look at you. 

“What?” he asks, begs more like, desperate to know what’s going on in your brain, always. It’s something he never had this much exclusive access to before and now that he has, he’s addicted. He plants a line of kiss across your face as you giggle, arms tightening around your waist. 

“You’re so easy,” you say, looking at him with mirth in your eyes. “All I had to do is say one little word and you just -”

“Heey,” he says, laughing when you do. “‘S not what happened.” 

The dubious look on your face makes him pause, he can feel warmth blooming on his cheeks as he shrugs. 

“‘M mean, it definitely helped.” he says, watching the way your tongue slides out to lick your lips, helpless to do anything but kiss you again before pulling back to mumble against your mouth: “I was done for the second you said watching me up there made y’ wet.”

“Liked that, did you?”

“Liked all of it.” he says, eyes never wavering from yours, still feeling the ghost of your hand on his neck right before he came. He kisses along your neck, nuzzling his head there and breathing deep. “Still inside you. Could go again. Just keep calling me the boss, I’ll be ready in no time.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder as he giggles, smacking a kiss to your cheek as he slowly pulls out, lowering you back to the ground on your own two feet. 

“I’m not going to be the reason you miss the chance to run around an empty stadium with all your mates. It’s your favorite bit.” 

There’s just something to that, something he’s never experienced before. You say it so nonchalantly, as you bend down to pick up your underwear off the floor, muttering about needing to find something to clean yourself off with and he just stands there, naked in the middle of his dressing room, his dungarees still at his ankles and all he wants to do is throw away all those plans he made and get down on one knee right here. 

He won’t do that, the ring isn’t ready yet and he’s already planned and replanned everything ten times over, he thinks with a shake of his head, kicking the dungarees all the way off and heading over to his bag, pulling on a pair of briefs and joggers as his mind whirls. 

It’s just - there is something to being known the way you know him, really know him, not in the way everyone out there thinks they do but it’s like - you understand him. You see him for who he is beyond the sold out stadiums and awards and screaming fans. You see who he is in the littlest of moments, the small habits he hadn’t really known he had but you’ve picked up on because you pay attention to him, because you love him. To be this known and this loved is something he’s never experienced before, a safety net he’s never had before. 

Everything in his life has been in a constant state of change, living a nomadic lifestyle since he was just a teenager but this week, these shows, these crowds, this city, have given him a sense of belonging he hadn’t known he was craving, hadn’t known he was missing. The fear that this could all go away in an instant, which he once thought was a permanent state of existence, of living, of being has become a small voice in the background.  

He’s not afraid of losing everything because he has you, he trusts you, he loves you and he knows you’re not going anywhere. And you - you are everything. 

He’s so lost in his own head he barely registers the sounds of the sink in the adjoining bathroom, barely hears you gripe “All the foundation in the world couldn’t cover these love bites so cheers for that”, barely feels your eyes on him as you make your way back into the dressing room. 

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping into his eyeline as you stand in front of him, hands coming up to his face, thumb wiping away the tears that had fallen unbeknownst to him. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” he says, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you, taking a deep breath. “Just overwhelmed.”

“It’s been a big night. Big week.” you say and he nods, wrapping his arms around your waist as your hand finds its place in his hair, fingers running through the strands in his favorite pattern. “You deserve all of it. Every bit.” 

“Couldn’t have done this without you, you know.” 

“H -”

“‘M serious, just let me -”  he says, shaking his head, wanting to get the words right, knowing he won’t be able to express more than a fraction of what he means, what you mean. “Y’ make me feel like I can do anything because you love me. ‘Nd I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to explain to you properly how that makes me feel but I - I just really love you. I’ve never been loved the way you love me. ‘Nd I’ve never, ever loved anyone the way I love you.”

He watches as tears fill your eyes, the way you’re looking at him in awe, in love, it’s a look he wishes he could bottle up forever. You lean up to kiss him and he pulls you in closer, getting lost in the feeling of your lips against his, your hand in his hair, how he can feel your heartbeat racing. 

“I love you so much,” you say when you pull back slightly, “You’ll never -”

“I feel it, love. Promise I feel it. Promise I know.” he murmurs, pulling you in and kissing you again, just needing you as close as possible. 

“We have to get out of here and you have to put on a shirt,” you mumble in between kisses, “or we will never leave.” 

“Won’t see me complaining.”

“Everyone’s waiting to celebrate you,” you say, pulling back but he follows you, kissing along your jawline. “And we can continue our own celebration later, yeah? I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got time.” 

He pulls back at that, eyes grazing over your features before leaning in to kiss you again, humming into it, thinking he’s never heard anything sweeter in his life. 

You’re not going anywhere and you’ve got time. 

It’s so simple but it feels so right, he thinks as he releases his hold on your waist and quickly slips into his jacket, looking up at you to find your hand extended, waiting for his. He slips his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers and squeezing once. 

A rush of emotions washes over him. He feels everything, all at once from this night, this week, this year, this tour. And here you are, here you’ve been, holding onto his hand. Not going anywhere. He wants to tell you everything this means to him, wants to marry you yesterday, start a family, wants to do it all with you. But he’s got an empty stadium with his favorite people waiting for him, waiting to celebrate the greatest night of his career, of his life. And you’ll be next to him the whole time. 

It’s like you’ve said, you’ve got time.

---

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #oh these tags always make me question every aspect of my life #let me know what you think pls !!! #wembley made me lose my mind so i wrote a lot about it

[qqueenofhades]

Don't act like this isn't the Democrats fault. They didn't codify Roe when they had the chance, and now they're paying the price.

Hooweeeee. Normally, I just block these kinds of asks out of hand and go on with my day, but you've caught me at the end of two solid days of Rage, and unfortunately for you, I'm not gonna do that. Instead, just to start, I would like to politely ask the following question:

Hello! Have you ever considered the possibility that you may be A Total Fucking Idiot?

Since there are many of us, present company regretfully included, who struggle with history, let's start out with a quick lesson. Roe was handed down in 1973. It took a while to really get evangelicals hot under the collar, but by 1987, in Ronald Reagan's second term, it had definitely happened. To further the Republicans' cherished goal of overturning it, Reagan nominated far-right whackjob Robert Bork to the Supreme Court. The Democrats, led by then-Senator Joe Biden, fought back on a massive scale and defeated the nomination, leading to Anthony Kennedy joining the SC instead of Bork.

In 1992, another abortion-related case reached the Supreme Court: Planned Parenthood v. Casey, wherein Roe was pretty much reaffirmed in its entirety. By 1992, George H.W. Bush had finished one term, generally underwhelmed the public, and was voted out, thus to be replaced by Bill Clinton. In 1994, in Clinton's first midterm election, the Newt Gingrich Republicans took the House and the Strom Thurmond and Bob Dole Republicans took the Senate. This GOP control of at least one branch of Congress remained the case until 2001, when George W. Bush became president. (Also, the GOP Clinton-era Republicans had other things to do, such as the Lewinsky scandal in 1998, back when they still pretended to have moral values and impeached Clinton accordingly). Considering the fact that any attempt to pass a national law to codify Roe was obviously doomed with Dubya in the White House, since he would have vetoed it, and that the Democrats didn't fully control the House, Senate, and Presidency again until 2009, one might feel that formalizing a twice-affirmed decision by the Supreme Court maybe wasn't the top priority. Abortion rights were and are popular (in fact, that's why the three Trumpists on the SC had to lie to the Judiciary Committee about their plans to repeal it), and Obama had other things on his plate. Like, you know, saving the national and global economy from total meltdown after the crisis of 2008, and trying to jam through the Affordable Care Act in the short time he had before 2010, and once more losing the House to the Tea Party. The loss of the Senate followed in 2014. Once again, we didn't get it back until 2021, when the three wingnut justices were already seated on the Court and Trump had run his reign of terror.

Considering those empirical circumstances, the fact that the Democrats have only had control of all three branches of the federal government for two-year periods at MOST and were busy fixing all the other most pressing messes, and that the Republicans have said for decades that this is exactly what they want to do, I am truly gobsmacked (if not surprised) at the sheer number of morons who want to make this, yet again, the Democrats' fault. Apparently the Republicans are just a force of nature who can't really be blamed or actually considered to have agency; it's only ever on the Democrats for Not Doing Enough To Stop Them. Instead, we now have hordes of told-you-so-ers swarming out of the woodwork and acting like this was a five-alarm fire that the Democrats willfully ignored and/or fanned on. That is incredibly moronic on multiple levels, but hey, that kind of seems to be your Brand. That is, when you're not labeling smug inactivity and self-professed moral superiority as the most pure and correct course of action, but again, we all have our talents.

There was no way for the Republicans to overturn Roe without the exact kind of judicial skulduggery, right-wing extremism, and scads of dark money that finally came together in the perfect storm. (Ever hear of Citizens United in 2010, and the way in which hard-right interest groups have been funding this planned takeover of the judiciary for years? Or does that conflict with your predetermined hypothesis?) Apparently Democrats should have Done More to stop Trump from choosing Supreme Court justices (a Very Smart White Man on twitter made the argument that it was actually Senate Democrats' fault for not stopping McConnell on procedural grounds, or.... something). This was after actual Democrats begged the Holier Than Thous to vote for Hillary Clinton in 2016, explicitly because we pointed out that the Supreme Court was in a precarious position with elderly justices and open seats, and the next president would be poised to reshape it for the next generation. You all laughed at us, more or less openly called us a bunch of bootlicking neoliberal traitors, and told us that the Supreme Court didn't matter and we were all delusional. Then you didn't vote. Then Trump won the election by squeaking out wins in a handful of key states. Then.... well, we all know what happened next.

So tell me, Oh Wise Internet Sage. Where, in what Congress, and according to what actual rules of reality, procedure, and priority, should the Democrats have passed a law to codify a popular twice-affirmed Supreme Court decision that was not under serious threat precisely until this confluence of circumstances took place under the Trump presidency? Be specific, and point out exactly how it would have happened. Otherwise, your argument is bad and you should feel bad.

Biden, Harris, Pelosi, Schumer, Warren, Obama, and all the other prominent Democratic leadership and/or congresspeople have already made strong statements within hours of the draft opinion being leaked. Republicans are screaming in unison that whoever leaked it is the actual story, not the content or impact of the decision (literally what McConnell said today on CNN). The DEMOCRATS DO SOMETHING!!! crowd need to, uh, actually say what they're fucking supposed to do now. Instead you blame RBG, you blame HRC, you blame the Democrats, and absolutely everyone and anyone except the actual people responsible for doing this. You may think it's an enlightened and complex stance that reflects the Realities of the World, or whatever. You may think that Joe Manchin doesn't exist (believe me, I wish he fucking didn't) and that Biden can wave a magic wand and overturn SCOTUS. Do they need to do more? YES! MANY OF THEM HAVE EXPLICITLY SAID THEY WILL BE EXPLORING ALL OPTIONS! BUT WE STILL LIVE (FOR THE NEXT FEW MONTHS) IN A DEMOCRACY AND THAT REQUIRES US DOING OUR JOB AND VOTING IN NEW AND BETTER PEOPLE TO HELP THEM!

I'm sick and fucking tired of this pissbaby whining from the exact same people who make us beg and plead for their vote every single election, feel morally justified in withholding it, and have done literally nothing to advance any of the causes they claim to care about. "Hindsight is 20/20" some of you like to point out, but with the expected irony, you miss it completely when it comes to reviewing any of your own (non) actions and any hint of genuine acknowledgment that your apathy and nihilism helped this happen. So. Suck on that, then go step on a rake. If this should knock some sense into you, we can then talk again.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #rant #i'm not gonna take it right now #fair warning

[daydreamgoddess14]

Gala pt. 1

MASTERLIST

‘Reader insert’ – They haven’t heard Ted swear before or raise his voice, when they get dressed up for a gala the first word out of Ted’s mouth is “Fuck.” - for @dadbodfanatic-x . AFAB!Reader.

No warnings other than language, possibly a smutty followup though? 👀

The dress mentioned is Blake Lively's 2014 MET rose gold Gucci gown https://www.etonline.com/gallery/blake-livelys-met-gala-looks-over-the-years-183153/2014-86342

Chapter 1

You didn't get the chance to dress up very often. Workwear was usually sweatpants and a Richmond branded t-shirt, occasionally yoga pants if you'd managed to convince enough of the team to do a short session with you after training or a Richmond vest if it was a hot day. Always sneakers. You knew you'd signed up to a very capsule wardrobe when you'd gone into Sports Massage Therapy. In your younger days when a night out was a night out out, you'd dress up to the nines. Now though, nights out were usually a night in the Crown and Anchor. Hardly a red carpet event. And yet here you were - an actual red carpet event on your horizon, the 12th Annual Benefit for Underprivileged Children. You'd started at Richmond shortly after the 11th gala, you'd heard all the commotion about the 10th gala where Rupert Mannion had turned up unannounced.

You had your mind well and truly in your wardrobe rather than on the task at hand, so when Sam let out a little yelp as your elbow dug into the soft spot between his neck and shoulder, you nearly leapt out of your skin. 

"Shit, sorry Sam." You replaced your elbow with your hand to ease the sharp pain. "OK, you're all done."

"Thanks. Hey, Simi said thank you for the yoga class you did on the Green the other morning, she loved it."

"I'm glad. I was going to go and see if anyone fancied a short session now actually?"

"I would, bet Jamie would as well."

"Jamie just wants a nap!" You teased as Sam dragged his training jersey over his head, you followed him out to the team gym. The small window into the Coach's office was open, but you hadn't seen any of them during the morning other than Roy. "Afternoon lads. How was training?"

"Good thanks darls." Isaac grinned, "You got some pain to put anyone through today?" 

"Ahh, not today, sadly. I do love making you boys whimper for me, though. " You tease, making the Captain blush, "Was going to see if you fancied some yoga stretches?" Jamie stood up, reaching his arms into the air and making his back crack. 

"Yeah, fair one. I need a stretch and a sleep."

"Long as you don't snore Jamie Shark, I don't care. See you in the locker room in 10?" A few nods and hands went up so you left them to finish off their weight sets and get changed yourself. 

"I am never more surprised than when you can make our fearless Captain blush - how do you do it?" A singsong Midwestern lilt cut through your thoughts. 

"Coach Lasso, I don't do it on purpose. They're boys, they don't know what to do when they're not the ones in charge." You smiled. Ted and the other coaches had welcomed you happily into the support staff. They valued your opinions in a way you hadn't expected, if you said someone couldn't play - your word was gospel. You managed to catch Ted off guard occasionally with your sharp retorts, sometimes it seemed only Roy and Beard were able to laugh you off. This was another classic example, one tiny mention of being in charge and the tips of Ted's ears had gone pink. You'd never, in 11 months heard him raise his voice, in fact, you'd never heard him swear either. Those Midwestern manners were famous, and he had good manners by the bucket load. "I'm about to do a yoga session if you'd like to join us?"

"Ahh no thanks, I've got some paperwork to get on with."

"11 months and I've still not convinced you. That's a shame, you'd be settling an excellent example."

"As is keepin' their files up to date." He gave a little salute and turned into his office while you went to yours. When you got back a few minutes later, yoga mat under your arm, a handful of players were milling around getting ready. It was a lovely spring day, warm - as summer could almost be round the corner. You'd ditched the sweatpants and changed into yoga pants and a vest instead. You rolled your mat out in front of the Coach's office window, leaving space for Beard or Roy to get to the door if they needed to.

"Sit down boys. We'll begin sitting with our legs crossed, rest your palms on your knees, back straight. Push your bum right into the mat and extend your spine, shoulders down. And close your eyes." You led them through a series of poses, you were no Yogi but you knew a handful of relaxing stretches you knew worked to loosen you up, it was nice to be able to share those with the players. Roy came in halfway through to see you with one leg outstretched, the other foot tucked into your thigh and leaning forwards to stretch out the inner thighs. He dropped down onto the bare floor to take up the same pose, 

"My knee is fucking killing me." He muttered. You talked him through a couple of adjustments to help him find the best position to help with his pain. On hearing Roy, Ted had come out of the office. Not only had he refused to attend any sessions, he usually stayed in his office during them. The shock of seeing him come into the doorway nearly had you lose balance and fall flat on your face. He didn't say anything, just observed the group and went back to his desk. "Thanks love, " Roy said gratefully once you'd wrapped up the session, "I know I should make time for more of that shit, I know it helps."

"You also need a massage, Roy, your posture is awful from compensating for the pain in your knee. If you won't let me do it, I'll give Keeley some pointers later."

"She's takin' you shopping ain't she? Cinders finally gets to go to the ball!"

"I know, I'm looking forward to it. I think I've forgotten that clothing other than sport wear exists."

"Have fun, don't let her bully you into something you don't want to wear, she tries it with me all the time." Your head followed him into the Coach's office, looking in just to say goodbye around the small room. 

"See you all tomorrow, fellas." 

~~~~~~~~

"I don't know Keeley, it's a bit… much?" 

"It's a gala. It's black tie and incredible dresses. You don't want to go all plain and simple when you have the chance to go full on spectacular!" The dress was spectacular. You had absolutely no idea that you could hire a designer gown rather than breaking the bank on trying to buy one. Keeley had suggested the most divine rose gold Gucci dress with the most daring neckline you'd ever tried on. "You have the perfect boobs to fill this dress, you sound go for it!"

"It's not too tight on my hips?"

"Babe, you look like an awards statue. You look hot, trust me. A certain coach will lose his mind, vocabulary and breath when he sees you wearing the shit out of that."

"I have no idea what you mean. Coach Beard has a girlfriend." You replied with a laugh. Keeley threw a balled up t-shirt at you in response. The dress did feel like liquid gold on your skin, it clung to every curve and made you feel invincible. The gala was only a few days away, it wasn't like you had all the time in the world to decide. You made a snap decision and handed the dress to the store assistant. Keeley’s comments rang in your mind in the days running up to the gala. You weren't out to impress Ted. Not specifically, anyway. But if it happened to be a happy accident, then so be it. You were far too shy to actively approach him and ask him out. After 11 months of watching those soulful eyes, talking to him, and becoming friends, it was getting harder to subdue and mask your feelings. You had no idea what he really thought of you, and that was the scary part. After putting poor Jan through various stages of hell as you pummelled his back without really concentrating, you decided to call it a day. Keeley had offered you the use of her makeup artist and you figured there was no harm in accepting. With your glad rags on, you hopped out of Roy's car and went to join the red carpet queue. Up ahead you could see Rebecca who looked incredible in a deep emerald gown. Beard and Jane were next on the carpet, followed by a few players. You were next, slotting in between Colin and Michael and Roy and Keeley. You heard her voice in your head reminding you how to pose, but god your hands were shaking. You hadn't noticed Ted arrive directly behind Keeley, but you couldn't miss him when you heard his voice as you stepped in front of the cameras.

"Fuck." You heard, wondering for a second what on earth he was swearing at, and whether he intended to do it so loudly. That you'd never heard anything like it from him before distracted you from the task at hand. It was Keeley pulling you back to reality which helped propel you down the red carpet, Ted’s voice still ringing in your ears. 

~~~~~~~

#ted lasso #tedlassoedit #ted x reader #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic

[herohimbowhore]

The Lost Generation of Formula 1

Generation Why by Conan Gray is perhaps the anthem of F1's current lost generation.

So you may ask - what is the lost generation?

The lost generation is defined as the generation that reached maturity during and just after World War I, in which a high proportion of the men were killed during the war years. A lost generation is a generation with unfulfilled potential that missed out on the opportunities that were enjoyed by their predecessors and will be enjoyed by their successors.

For F1, at least currently, the lost generation would be drivers who entered Formula 1 sometime between 2010 and 2014.

Of the 2023 grid, the lost generation would include:

Nico Hulkenberg (2010)

Daniel Ricciardo (2011)

Sergio Perez (2011)

Valtteri Bottas (2013)

Kevin Magnussen (2014)

When they entered F1, they were hopeful of their chances of winning a championship. The years prior had been highly competitive with no easily identifiable dominance since the Schumacher/Ferrari era came to an end with Fernando Alonso's 2005 championship win. Alonso had won the 2006 championship, then Kimi Raikkonen won in 2007, Lewis Hamilton in 2008, and Jenson Button in 2009.

But as they were entering the Red Bull or Mercedes dominance was beginning. They became valued and experienced drivers during the Mercedes' dominance era. Now as they reach the latter years of their careers, another dominance has begun but with new championship hopefuls.

________________________________

Go wherever we want 'cause no one cares that we're gone

The lost generation of F1 isn't filled with the Lewis Hamiltons, Max Verstappens, Charles Leclercs, Fernando Alonsos, Sebastian Vettels, and so on.

Daniel Ricciardo is one of the most well-known drivers in F1 right now, Sergio Perez drives for the current dominant team, and Valtteri Bottas drove alongside Lewis Hamilton after the brocedes dissolution and throughout some of Mercedes' dominant years.

But in the end, they're not World Champions, nor are they in the conversation for being world champions as often as they once were. The expected challengers to Max Verstappen right now are assumed to be Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Fernando Alonso (if he gets the right car), and so on.

With the exception of Daniel Ricciardo, who became the person who brought fans to the sport through the access he gave Drive to Survive from the start, people wouldn't necessarily care as much about the lost generation retiring as they would about Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, and Max Verstappen.

You and I haven't got much to lose

So do you wanna rot in your room like we always do?

Talk about how fast we grew

And all the big dreams that we won't pursue

Every F1 driver comes into the sport with hopes of winning - winning races, winning championships, just winning.

That is the big dream that they want to pursue and have dedicated their childhoods to. Giving their blood, sweat, and tears to this goal.

But with F1, timing is everything.

They entered Formula 1 as the Red Bull or Mercedes' dominance eras were beginning. From 2010 to 2013, Red Bull was the team to be in. Did others challenge Sebastian Vettel? Yes, but in the end, he was dominant. Then beginning in 2014, the Mercedes dominance era began with two highly competent and competitive drivers - Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg.

They grew into experienced drivers during the Mercedes' dominance era. From 2014 to 2016, the battle was always between the Mercedes drivers - a living Greek tragedy. And after that, the dominance was so clearly by just Lewis Hamilton.

And now, well we all know the story of the 2023 season. We are now in the era of Max Verstappen with a younger generation of drivers coming in to challenge him.

Bookended by dominant eras, F1's lost generation grew up quickly and never got to truly pursue the dreams and hopes they came into the sport with.

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why

We're livin' night to night

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why

Since we're bound to die, oh

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why

Oh, what's the use in trying?

Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why,

And it's exactly why

The lost generation is living race to race, season to season. To keep their place in Formula 1, they need to show their value to the teams that they drive for.

They're not guaranteed a seat for as long as they may like in the way that proven world champions are. If Fernando Alonso wants to race well into his 40s and 50s, some team or another will provide him the race seat to continue on. He could have a horrible season and still be guaranteed a race seat unlike the members of the lost generation that need to keep showing their value.

For Haas, Kevin Magnussen and Nico Hulkenberg bring two experienced drivers that aren't costing them millions in damage. Haas doesn't have the capacity to develop drivers so they need the experience offered by their current lineup and they don't have the ability to bring drivers with expected WDC potential. On a similar note, Valtteri Bottas brings experience and stability to Alfa Romeo/Sauber as they wait for Audi to come in.

Sergio Perez was brought in to help Max Verstappen's championship campaign from 2021 onwards and be there when Max Verstappen couldn't be to maximize points potential for the team. And while the current season has brought that into question, he was able to help Red Bull secure their first 1-2 in the WDC.

Daniel Ricciardo is perhaps the anomaly in this lineup. While he didn't win a championship, he made his mark on Formula 1 as a highly regarded driver and someone who is often cited by fans as the person who brought them to the sport. Daniel Ricciardo brings to AlphaTauri/Red Bull his marketability and experience. AlphaTauri has cited his arrival to the team as a resurgence in morale and form after a lackluster beginning of the year. There's also been new sponsor interest due to his return.

But they're bound to eventually leave the sport, and unfortunately, it will be sooner than later.

As time progressed, members of the lost generation left F1 for one reason or another until only 5 have remained.

Other notable members of this generation included:

Bruno Senna (2010)

Pastor Maldonado (2011)

Jean-Éric Vergne (2012)

Jules Bianchi (2013)

Marcus Ericsson (2014)

Daniil Kyvat (2014)

Alexander Rossi (2014)

#formula 1 #f1 through music #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #nico hulkenberg #kevin magnussen #sergio perez #valtteri bottas #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #f1 #charles leclerc #red bull racing #mercedes #the lost generation #formula one

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Hiii, I love how we all collectively want to be part of the band so again, band member reader. This request is a little more angsty :)) I wanted to request break up headcanons for the twins, or a twin of your choice. Let's say that even though they love each other a lot the pressure from being on tour and having practically no private life makes them fight a lot. It would be nice if you could include how the breakup affects the order in the band too.

This here is optional. Idk if you're down to write for older twins, but maybe after the huge break TH took between 2012 and 2014 it served as enogh time being away from each other and when they meet again they feel like it's time to give the relationship a second chance

(Hello! Sure I can and ty for requesting, I hope you enjoy this even if it sucks!)

Breakup and Makeup HC'S

Bill Kaulitz

Bill truly loved being on tour and famous

But if he knew it would cause this, he didn't know if he would do it again

He loves you so badly and he loved being so close to you

But being on tour greatly affected your relationship

There was no privacy on the bus, there was no room, there were arguments and there was bickering

Sure there was that before, but that was small gigs and before being enclosed in a space every day and every night

He hates arguing with you in the first place

But now arguments were everyday

You and him didn't talk much anymore, only bickering and yelling and he hates it

He missed being close to you and doing everything you guys loved together

But stress, pressure and the tour outmatched love you guys had for one another

He didn't want to, but you guys needed a break

It was hard especially because of the tour and you guys still had to be around one another

You guys used to be best friends before dating

And you guys agreed to go back to how that was, no bad blood, just a mutual decision to break things off for now

Especially with shit going on in their break and having to stop being Tokio Hotel for a bit

The breakup did affect the band

There was always some unspoken tension everytime you guys were in a room

They could see how it affected both you and Bill even if you guys didn't want to show it

Gustav comforted you a lot along with Tom and Georg and they do the same for Bill

They didn't choose sides in the breakup because you're all still friends and it was no fault

They just hated seeing you guys upset

Tom felt like murdering Bill because he thought be broke up with you for no reason at first until you explained

Then he felt bad for his twin because he knows how much Bill loved you

Bill actually resented the tour and a bit of fame for doing this to your relationship but he knew that wasn't healthy

When you guys get your time away from one another it doesn't really help

Because it just makes you guys miss one another more

And when you see each other again it just feels like you guys are stuck when you broke up

But in a good way, like you guys can move and and hopefully fix this

And Bill hopes you guys can because he doesn't want to live without you any longer

Tom Kaulitz

The breakup actually hit harder than you expected

It got a bit toxic I'm not going to lie

Arguments with you guys are very loud and heated to the point you guys didn't talk to each other

You guys hate arguing but were stressed, overwhelmed and had literally no space

And that isn't healthy for either you guys or the band

Tom loved you very much, he knew that and so did you

But love didn't really out match nor face everything going on in your lives

You guys needed privacy and couldn't get any and that was a big fact on why you broke up

The breakup was an impulsive decision yelled out in an argument

It could be about anything but that's the moment like everything changed and stopped

There was some sort of tension and resentment you both held towards the other

Especially when the band took that long break with everything happening

But you guys were still on tour, broken up before the break

I feel Tom was sorta trying to get his mind off of you or replace you in some way he could

Either by flirting or going out with girls and bragging about it

He turned sorta into a dick trying to rile you up when he really just wanted you back

You didn't do anything about it but was sorta hurt but wouldn't let him see

The band felt bad for you guys and Bill felt like killing Tom for what he was doing

He understood why he did it and tried to get you guys to at least talk it out

Gustav was trying his best to be there for both of you guys while Georg was trying to mend the tension

You and Tom barely spoke before you broke up but now you don't talk at all

Even when you guys all had that break

Tom slowed down with trying to replace you, stopping everything because he quite literally could not

By toxic earlier I meant you guys sorta still clung onto the belief you guys were dating

Like hugs, kisses, makeouts and even hidden hookups to try and cling onto the strings of your broken down relarionship

Obviously it didn't work at all but you guys still wanted to believe

You missed him so fucking much and he missed you the same

When you guys put the band back together Tom sorta matured and was trying to mend things with you

Everything went slow and you guys were best friends since childhood before dating so you sorta went back to that

But best friends now with lingering feelings

Tom and you both confessed about these feelings but didn't want to ruin it all over again

So you guys took it a bit slower

You guys didn't jump right at it, but didn't get with anyone else to not ruin it again

And slowly but surely, you guys worked back to how it used to be

But you mended the mistakes and came back better than before

And Tom would never let it happen again

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel imagine #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel georg #gustav tokio hotel #tokio x reader #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #kaulitz twins #gustav schafer #gustav schäfer #georg listing #georg

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (1.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; kissing; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter (18+)

Chapter Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: You Found Me First by Jake Etheridge; Alone with you by Canyon City || Playlist 🎶

8 years ago 

Yoongi is not a stranger to loud sounds.

His brother, Geumjae, is a fan of rock music and used to play it all day, everyday when they were growing up. Yoongi would fall asleep to the sound of drums and electric guitar and gritty vocals of whatever band that the older man was into. 

Yoongi’s dad runs an antique shop, a business that was passed down from his elders and which was expanded into furniture restoration. He’d spend his free time there, watching his father use all types of hand and electric tools to scrape, saw, and sand different pieces until the finished product was up to his standards. 

It may seem a bit odd but he thinks it’s one reason why he got into sports. He’d watched them as a kid and was amused by the cheers and the grunts that could be heard in the arena and through the TV. There was so much energy and so much excitement, as if those motivated the players even more, injecting in them adrenaline that pushed them, that made them hungrier, that made them succeed. 

He understood it during his first pickup basketball game in the neighborhood park when he was 10 years old. A couple of the older boys invited him over to play and the audience, which consisted mostly of the kids from school and some adults hanging around, were hooting, yelling, and praising them once the score got close. 

It was electric. Yoongi didn’t always smile but he couldn’t stop himself from doing so after he made the winning basket - a lucky shot, really, but he liked to call it the shot of destiny. There was nothing like it, and he always carries that experience with him. He refers to it as the pivotal moment in his life where he fell in love with basketball, as he told the university newspaper when they interviewed him the other week. It made him think of the possibilities, of the extent of his talent, and the overwhelming joy he could get from going to that court and giving his all to win a game. 

He smiles just thinking about it now, as he warms up for the first match of the summer league. It’s off-season for the university teams but this conference is where some other schools and amateur teams compete. He’s unfamiliar with the players but that’s what makes it exciting. 

He knows they know him, though. He made national news when he became the youngest MVP at 19. That was 2 years ago when he was a sophomore, but his local fans continued to grow. He was never one for attention but he won’t shy away from it if it’s about his talent. To make it to the professional league, people need to know his name. And he knows that’s not a problem. 

“There goes the ‘sweet assassin’ Min Yoongi with a fadeaway jumper and it’s nothing but net!” Jungkook hoots, imitating a commentator as he watches his captain from the sidelines. 

“He gets the steal and takes the step back-3!” Yells Namjoon this time. “You don’t leave the ‘sweet assassin’ open like that!”

Yoongi chuckles as he walks towards his teammates. “Stop it. The moniker sucks,” he says, wiping away his sweat. 

“You’ve had that since freshman year and you’re complaining now?” Namjoon chuckles. 

“It’s cringey.” Yoongi frowns.

“It’s brilliant!” Jungkook disagrees. “I mean, the school paper article revealed your online pseud is ‘suga’ because that’s how much you revere yourself and your shooting guard position and the sports dudes ran with it, gave you a nickname, and it stuck. That’s impact. And it’s pretty cool. The ‘golden boy’ makes me sound like an idol or something.”

Yoongi and Namjoon laugh but insist that the name fits the younger man. He is pretty good at everything.

“I still think the ‘god of destruction’ is the best,” Yoongi remarks, referring to Namjoon, who got the name after the few times that he’d detached the ring from the board after a dunk. “It’s so intimidating.” 

The 3 men proceed to tease each other, and Yoongi likes the carefree vibe of off-season games. Though his team still takes it seriously - they’d recently won the university conference so they don’t want to slack - they also want to play with less of the pressure than they normally do. It’s good for camaraderie and better for the start of summer. They want to enjoy and have fun while making a statement through their wins. 

Yoongi instructs both men to continue warming up as he passes Namjoon the ball. All of them head to the court to shoot and as the captain, Yoongi looks around to make sure all his teammates are present and are preparing for the game. It’s not a big one but somehow, the locals have come to enjoy the summer league. It’s free and it’s good entertainment, and so the buzz in the gym is enough to get him excited. 

The spectators are settling down. He stands by the sidelines and sees familiar faces. There’s a bunch of kids from school and some that he’s met during pickup games. There are neighbors, too, and even that one kid he remembers from high school who’s friends with Jungkook, the one who spilled juice all over his notebook and then cried so Yoongi never spoke to him again for fear that he’d make the younger man upset. The guy’s studying in Seoul now, if he’s not mistaken. 

Yoongi’s eyes travel to the person sitting next to him and he swears something goes wrong with his ears because the sounds in the gym suddenly disappear. For a moment, he can’t hear anything. That same instance, everything blurs. Except for the girl with the yellow scarf on her hair, sitting next to Taehyung - he remembers his name now - her crinkled eyes and stunningly sweet smile rendering him speechless. 

Being some local basketball superstar means that Yoongi gets attention, and that includes from women who are somehow attracted to his calm, quite nonchalant personality that’s tinged with the right amount of arrogance when he’s on the court. He’s not a stranger to their efforts to get noticed. He’s noticed them, in fact, but not enough to get him interested. It’s rare though for someone else to catch his eyes. But that woman though… that’s someone he’s definitely interested in. 

He’s never seen her before. She’s probably from another town, or someone that Taehyung met in Seoul or something. Somehow the idea of her being foreign excites him. If she’s never heard of him, she will now. And she—

The ball hitting Yoongi’s jaw surprises him, causing him to jerk back and find the person who probably embarrassed him in front of the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s not surprised to find Seungkwan rushing to him, apologizing and falling to his knees, saying that he called the captain’s name and threw the ball, thinking it would be caught.

But when Yoongi looks at the woman, she has her eyes elsewhere. He sighs in relief, telling Seungkwan that it’s okay, but when he looks towards the benches again, she’s now looking at him. 

He swears his heart stops. But it’s not like him to show it. 

He holds her gaze for a while, liking the effect it seems to have on her as she shyly smiles and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. But for his sake he really hopes she’d look away. 

The coach calls for the team to huddle and Yoongi’s the one who has to break the moment, turning his back to run to the sidelines. He looks in her direction again and smirks to give her something to think about and maybe cheer about, and the bite of her lip says he definitely did. 

“Is it possible to get an orgasm from just looking at someone?” You ask your best friend Taehyung. “Or like, when you both look at each other and there’s that tension you feel and you just… get turned on?”

“I literally just spoke to someone for a minute and you just eye-fucked somebody?” He gasps. “You’re quite something.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me to scout the players and tell you who I find cute so you can introduce me to them,” you shrug. “I just did what you asked. He just happened to be looking at me when I found him. And shit did he look at me.”

“Who is it?”

“Number 3.”

Taehyung chokes on his drink. “Seriously? That’s who you eye-fucked? Out of all the guys on the basketball team, you choose the Captain Min?!”

“The who?” You say. “Ah, right. His jersey said Min. I was kinda focused on… uh, other things.”

“Okay, woman. Behave. We’re in a public place,” Taehyung reprimands you. “Also, I’m serious. He’s the one who caught your attention? Jersey number 3? Dark hair, white headband?”

“Yeah, the one listening to the coach with his tongue dragging through his teeth,” you say, eyes on the group of guys in a huddle. “Yeah, definitely him.”

The man in question seems to be listening intently but his eyes shift to you briefly and you feel that tightness somewhere - your heart, you think, and you swallow. Hard. You don’t know if he saw it but he smirks at you again so there’s a high chance he did. 

Taehyung sighs and you turn to him. 

“Why do you sound so scandalized?” You ask.

“I’m not!” He defends. “I guess I was just expecting you to like someone like number 7.”

You search for the man in question. Nice build, boyish looks. 

“Yeah, he’s cute,” you say. “But not my type.”

“Or number 1.”

Much more built. He’s like a baby giant.

“I like his dimples,” you answer. “And he looks so soft, I want to protect him.”

“There you go,” Taehyung smiles.

“But I want to be protected,” you counter. “And small build guy number 3 there looks like he will. He’s gonna scare the losers away and tell them to fuck off and then I’ll let him fu—”

“Okay, ___, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he glares at you. 

“What’s wrong though? Is he an asshole? Do people not like him?” You badger your best friend. 

“No, it’s not that. People revere him around here, actually,” Taehyung explains. “And well, girls try to get with him but he doesn’t really pay them any mind.”

“Does he eye-fuck them? If not, then I think I’m his exception,” you argue. 

“You make a good point. So maybe I don’t need to introduce you to him. Maybe he’s just gonna introduce himself!”

“That’s not what you told me, Tae,” you frown. “You said, I point a guy and then you introduce me.”

“I didn’t think you’d choose him!”

“Hey, did he bully you in high school? Is that why? Because if it is, then screw him! No one messes with my best friend.”

“It’s not that! Everyone likes Yoongi. They just don’t wanna mess with him, including me. And I… well,” he trails. “I accidentally spilled my juice all over his notebook once and he looked at me like he wasn’t affected but that made it even scarier. And then he just never talked to me after.”

You groan in frustration. You would think that based on Taehyung’s reaction, the man is some jerk or untouchable being. He just happens to have a perpetually disinterested face and that’s honestly something you like. He seems like the type with a no-nonsense attitude and you’re quite the same. Most times, at least. There’s definitely something to explore there. 

You watch intently as he carries the ball, skillfully dribbling it and evading his opponents. He makes a smooth shot to the elation of the crowd, and unlike his teammates who grunt and make some form of over-exaggerated gesture, this man merely smirks, perhaps to himself, as he runs backwards to get to the other end of the court. It’s incredibly sexy, you think, how his seemingly quiet nature hides something a little cocky underneath, especially since he’s got something to show. You’re not the most knowledgeable at the sport but you can easily tell he’s good at it. 

“So, you’re gonna introduce me, right?” You turn to Taehyung during a timeout. 

“Uh, I think you can perfectly do that yourself,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I mean, you’re good with people.”

“Tae, you’re such a wimp. You said you’d introduce me to whoever I choose!” 

“We’re not doing this again,” he groans. “Look, we’re going to Jungkook’s place after, okay? Yoongi likes to drink after a game so he’ll definitely be there. I’ll make the guys introduce you to him. And I can’t promise anything because from what I heard, he’s never made a move on anyone and the ones who make a move on him get turned down so… good luck, I guess.”

You scowl at your best friend. This is the first time he’s ever bailed on you, considering he’s your hype man all the time. When you first entered university, you were both a bit intimidated by all the big city and international kids but he got out of his shell first and then pushed you to do the same. They bore good fruits, insofar as you enjoying yourself and then getting a boyfriend, even if it didn’t last long. 

But this isn’t your territory, even if you were raised here. There’s not much of the city that feels like home. You barely kept in touch with your high school friends, too, mostly because you spent more time at drama class, and so you don’t have control or leverage here. It also just so happens that the guy you’re interested in isn’t the friendliest even if you think he’s being a tease. You’re up for the challenge, though. 

“Well, thanks for the encouragement,” you roll your eyes. “But a guy with soft features like that doesn't look all that hard and intimidating to me. I bet he’s a softie deep down.”

“Soft features? Are we talking about the same guy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“Tae, we made eye contact. It’s like a blink-and-you'll-miss-it type of softness. Or maybe you just don’t look at him long enough,” you explain. 

“I definitely don’t.”

“Well then in that case, Mr. “I don’t care about shit” might be all caring and sweet on the inside,” you hum, as you eye him again and catch him asking his teammate if he’s okay. “I’m here long enough to find out.”

Jungkook’s apartment is close to the university, in an alley near the bars and other student accommodations. It’s spacious even with his gaming computer and weights, and he’d set up the living and dining room area to accommodate the guests. You look around the place and think it’s much bigger than the one you and Taehyung share, and you know why post-game hangouts take place here. 

Your best friend said a couple of the guys from the team and a few of their friends usually come over to drink. You can tell, by the way Jungkook is the perfect host, keeping the table with snacks and drinks stacked and by the way he converses with you - charm and cheekiness combined. 

He really is cute. He’s got a sparkle in his eyes and an innocent smile, and you can tell that’s part of his appeal. But you’ve got your eyes set on someone, someone who just happens to not be here.

You look around once more and wonder where he is, and just as you’re about to ask Taehyung, the man you’ve been looking for enters. He’s in knee-ripped black jeans and an oversized cream t-shirt with a baseball cap on. You feel your throat dry immediately and your eyes follow him as he walks towards the table and opens himself a bottle of beer. 

You hear your name being called and you turn to one of the guys next to you who’s asking what you’re taking up in university. You’d forgotten about the conversation you’re in, as you immediately get sucked into the presence of jersey number 3, who’s now relaxedly leaning against the wall, looking around himself. He catches your eyes once more and you so badly want to just go up to him but you admit that you like this - him watching you from afar as you talk to someone who isn’t him. 

“I’m taking up acting and film,” you say. “I really want to become an actor.”

“Well, you have the looks for it,” Jungkook comments. 

“You think so?” You flash a smile, playing along.

“Yeah. A lot of us do,” he smirks.

A couple of the guys laugh but nod in agreement. 

Not that you intended to be flirty with these men and get their attention, but the cute top and hair scarf outfit you put on was a good idea. Even the other girls seem amused by you. You just wonder if someone else is. 

“You guys are quite charming, aren’t you?” You giggle. 

“Of course we are. This is how we welcome people in our group,” Jungkook smiles. “How long are you here for again?”

“The entire summer,” you say. “Enough time to be charmed by you?”

You aim to tease, really, especially when Jungkook blushes. You don’t actually have any intention with him but a part of you was maybe hoping that it would ignite something in the man you’re really interested in. You’d like to think so, as you turn to him again and see his hardened gaze. It’s like he’s assessing you, trying to read you. It makes you a bit exposed but you like it. Whatever this thing you’re both doing, it’s exciting, something you didn’t expect about coming home since you left for college 2 years ago.

“Oh my god, this is like watching my friends flirt with my sister,” Taehyung whines. “Please stop.”

You all laugh and he claims it’s a little awkward, but he does say he’s quite protective, warning anyone who wants to win you over. 

You all go back to chatting around until Jungkook, like the good host that he is, announces that it’s time to play and get batshit drunk. 

You all gather around in the middle and play number games, something you’re good at. You mostly survive, needing only to take 3 shots that don’t really make a dent in your system. Then you play a card game, which you also do well in, and it gets the group cheering for you to your delight. 

You constantly look towards the couch where Yoongi stays, as he’s the only person who doesn’t join the games. Taehyung says the man isn’t into them and no one really forces him. You see the times he smirks though, especially whenever you survive. You'd like to think he’s secretly cheering you on and it oddly makes your heart race. For all the eye-fucking, the milliseconds where his look softens gets you feeling all giddy. 

By the 6th game, some of the guys have loosened up more than the others. They’re laughing more, teasing more, flirting with you a little more directly, and they’re at least funny and not that disrespectful. You laugh and tease along and you really could go on doing more of these games, until Jungkook suggests to play spin-the-bottle. 

The rules are simple - one person spins the bottle and whoever it lands on will be the one they’ll kiss. 

“We’re too old for this,” Namjoon claims, even as he sits himself in the circle you all form.

“We never are,” Jungkook chuckles. “Plus, we’ve got a good number of guys and girls in here,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

You take your seat on the circle right next to Taehyung and you look over at the couch again, biting your lip and cocking your eyebrow this time, as if daring Yoongi to join, given that the guys say that he absolutely hates participating in this.

Not tonight apparently, as he walks over and nudges Namjoon with his foot. 

“Oh, so now you’re playing?” The big man laughs. “I wonder what made you decide to finally join us.”

Yoongi sits down across from you, unbothered once more. 

He just shrugs. “I was getting bored watching you guys be terrible at the games.”

The group laughs before they begin. Of all the nights when you wish the spin-the-bottle gods were on your side, you wish it was tonight. 

The bottle thankfully misses you for the first 4 times. When it’s your turn, you position it in the direction that you mentally calculated would land on Yoongi with the force you put in. 

It’s quite nerve wracking, not knowing if this would work, but as the bottle slows down and the desire for it to point towards him heightens, you start to think that if this fails, you’re gonna have to just survive it and then find another way to get your chance at kissing him. 

And then it stops. Right in between him and Namjoon. Your heart breaks a little as you compare the distance, especially as the other people whisper the name of the man it’s pointed towards. 

“Hmm,” Taehyung says, “the bottle’s closer to—”

“Me,” Yoongi says, surprising everyone. “The bottle’s closer to me.”

His eyes are locked on you and no one dares to challenge the man, especially with how firm he sounds as he claims himself as the chosen one.

“By all means, go ahead and kiss, then,” Jungkook states, surprise and amusement laced on his face.

Yoongi, instead of scooting to the middle like everyone had done, stands up and reaches out for your hand. You take it and come face to face with him - finally, and you’re speechless as you stare back at him. There’s this certainty and desire in his eyes, you’d like to think. It’s captivating and it’s making you feel hot and definitely turned on. 

“Do you mind doing it in the kitchen?” He asks you. “I don’t really want them to have a front row view.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, trying to sound calm. 

He takes your hand again and walks ahead to the kitchen nearby. You’re still visible but like he wanted, there’s enough distance for the others not to have a close up look of your kiss. 

Yoongi leads you to stand by the counter, finally able to get a clear look at you. He’s been wanting this since hours ago and he couldn’t wait to get the chance to get you alone. You’ve been surrounded by all the guys since he arrived and well, he doesn’t blame them. You’re stunning and charming and you have this sparkle in your eyes when you talk about acting. He’d had enough of just watching from the couch and catching your eyes because yes, he’d noticed you glance at him and he liked that, liked that even if you had everyone else’s attention, you seemed to only want to get his. 

He honestly hates this game. It got him in precarious situations the few times that he indulged the guys by playing and at one point, he just stopped joining. He couldn’t pass up on this, though, not when there’d be a chance to kiss you. If you didn’t get paired up together, he’d still find a way. But he didn’t want anyone else to have the chance, so he took his. And well, maybe sort of cheated.

“So…” you start. “The bottle was definitely closer to Namjoon, you know? Anyone could tell.”

“I know,” he hums. “I could tell you wanted it to be me, though. And I really wanted it to be me.”

“Well in that case, what are you waiting for? Seems like the audience is getting impatient,” you giggle, prompting him to turn towards the living room where the entire group is anxiously anticipating when you’d both just make out. 

“I don’t really care about them,” he says, walking closer to you then caging you by the counter. “I mean, I was hoping this wouldn’t be a quick one.”

Your thighs clench in reflex. He still has a bit of that teasing smirk on but he also looks quite serious, as if there’s a chance you’d turn him down, as if you haven’t been gazing at each other since the game. 

Licking then biting your lips, you smile. “I don’t do quick kisses.”

“That’s good,” he smiles now, eyeing your lips. “Neither do I.”

He dives in right away and your eyes close the moment you feel his lips against yours, soft and electrifying as you expected. He starts slowly, loosely, giving you a chance to pull away if you want. But you don’t, craving for him instead as you try to keep him against you longer. 

It becomes his cue to deepen the kiss and that’s when you feel the warmth of his breath and then, the warmth of his tongue, seeking entrance that you too quickly give. You feel him smile against you and you fall into it even more. Lips melding onto his, you savor every bit of him that you can taste. There’s bitterness from the beer but it’s a taste you could easily be addicted to. It’s him, after all, and he’s just as good as you imagined. 

It’s a little daring for you, you could admit that. You’ve gone to parties and flirted around, kissed guys for fun and then walked away. You’ve never made out with someone right as you met them, though, and especially without even getting a proper conversation in. But Yoongi is captivating in a lot of ways and the way he tastes definitely doesn’t disappoint.

Just as you’re about to think of other things that would definitely make you even wetter, you feel his hand cup your cheek and he keeps it there, not so much to direct you where he wants but… to caress you, to savor you, especially as he keeps his steady pace.

He’s not rushing. He’s not asking for more, as his other hand remains clenched on the counter and his hip remains distanced from yours. He’s just going, feeling all that he can feel with this kiss and humming his satisfaction. 

It’s your hands that can’t control themselves, as you grip his shirt and try to get him closer. 

He does, but only for a while. 

He pulls away and watches you open your eyes. There’s only a hint of disappointment in them. Perhaps like him, you just let yourself enjoy that moment. And it was a damn good one. You tasted sweet from the cocktail you had and there’s this comfort in the way your lips feltl against his. It’s quite addictive, and he applauds himself for not pushing to do more. 

He thumbs your cheek one last time before his hand descends to cover yours that’s now gripping the counter. 

“I’m Yoongi, by the way,” he smiles. 

You burst in laughter and your head leans on his chest. 

Cute, he thinks. 

“And I’m ___,” you reply. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.”

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow.

If this were any other cocky, self-absorbed guy, you wouldn’t indulge him. But that kiss alone told you that this man is so gentle, and you’d quite like to be a little vulnerable with him. 

“Embarrassingly, I have. I saw you at the game and thought you were pretty hot,” you chuckle. “I asked Tae to introduce me to you.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “You wanna know what’s embarrassing? I saw you in the crowd and I couldn’t look away. I got hit by the ball because I didn’t hear my teammate calling me.”

The way your cheeks warm is immediate. How can he turn you on and then make you feel all giddy? 

“That’s… pretty cute,” you giggle. “And not embarrassing at all.”

“I’d still prefer it if you don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a single soul,” you promise, smiling cheekily.

God, he’s so weak for your smile. How did he go about all 21 years of his life without this? 

“Are you done?!” Jungkook yells from the other room. “We’ve been waiting on what’s gonna happen after you two made out like you’re the only ones in this place.”

The laughter tells you they’re just teasing. 

“Well, we didn’t ask you to wait,” Yoongi turns back to tell them. “We could’ve gone on much longer.”

He turns to you questioningly. “If you want.”

“That’s an option,” you chuckle. “Or we can get out of here and figure it out?”

“Anything in mind?” He asks, standing up straight now. 

You want to kiss him and straddle him and tear his shirt off and so much more. But you decide you want to start with the gentleness first. You think that if you look long enough, you’ll see it behind the nonchalance and unreadable expressions. Somehow you just know that whether it’s daring things like kissing an almost-stranger or talking about anything or gazing at each other’s eyes, Yoongi would be up for it. You’re here for the summer and you have time. And you definitely want to take your time with this one. 

“Would you like to grab some coffee?” You look up at him, hoping he’s thinking the same.

“Just coffee?” He teasingly smiles.

“Yes, Yoongi. Just coffee.”

He nods and takes your hand. He walks with you to the living room where everyone is staring at both of you with a mix of shock and amusement. No one looks disappointed, though, and even Taehyung is wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“We’re going to a cafe,” Yoongi announces. “And for the record, this is the last time I’m ever playing this game.”

Series Masterlist

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Series Taglist: @wobblewobble822​ @shydestinyyouth​

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi #bts suga #yoongi fanfiction #exes to lovers #exes au

[notinusesworld]

What it’s like being best friends with Aziraphale

synopsis: as the title says, g!n reader, you’re a human in this

warnings: none! other then i didn’t proof read, whoops

words: ~500

requests are open and encouraged!

- He’s quite literally an angel, so he’s the sweetest and most caring friend anyone could ever ask for, quite cheeky at times too though, balances himself out pretty well

- Unbeknownst to you, he usually miracles things for you, not everything of course. he lets you earn things yourself for the most part

- But those tickets you really wanted? You get first pick of seats. Really fancied some food from a specific place but they’re shut? He’s somehow at your door with it

- Being friends with him makes it basically impossible to not be friends with crowley, you also made the mistake of thinking they were in a relationship

- When gay marriage was legalised in 2014 you asked them when they was getting married, completely seriously

- Aziraphale gives the best hugs, he’s always warm and smells amazing

- It took a few years of friendship to learn that he was angel, and it was completely by accident. You walked into crowley and aziraphale quarrelling over something, but they both had their wings out, and crowley didn’t have his glasses on

- You was in shock for a few hours, your entire world view crumbling around you, (unless you already believed the bible, then you had some inner conflicts over getting along with a demon)

- He started to be more open to you and would talk to you about angel related things, even confiding in you about things he couldn’t talk to Crowley about, let alone another angel

- He always gave you book and music recommendations, he’ll just appear at your door every so often with a new book or record (or whatever medium you use, he doesn’t understand Spotify though) for you

- If you have a pet, Aziraphale basically treats it like his own, he’ll always be buying it treats/toys/supplies for it any chance he gets. You think he does actually see it as his own pet sometimes

- Casually mentioned to you one day that armageddon would be starting soon, you’ve never been so confused in your whole life

- Crowley then mentions that he’s off to try and stop it, didn’t see them both for a few weeks, then when they came back explained what happened in the most simplistic nonchalant way possible. Your brain hurt for days afterwards

- The end of season two didn’t happen and the three of you all lived happily ever after, you spent the rest of your days chilling with the two of them in Aziraphale’s book shop 👍

#good omems #good omems x y/n #good omens x you #good omens requests #good omens x reader #good omens imagine #good omens fanfiction #good omens headcanons #azirphale #aziraphale x y/n #aziraphale x you #aziraphale x reader

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter VI

Welcome back to another week's madness. Things are finally a bit more confrontational between Emma and Charles - but don't worry, this is only the start.

Enjoy the off-race-weekend and have a wonderful week, see you next Sunday xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R VI ɞ────

"And it's lights out this weekend in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia!" I hear the presenter's voice from the TVs on the wall. I'm so angry that I storm through the pit lane into my driver's room without saying a word and slam the door behind me, paying little attention to "Bad luck, no worries, Emma!" from one of the mechanics in the garage.

After yesterday's qualifying, I had the opportunity to start from 5th place today. Everything felt the same as always - the lights went out and I put all my strength into the gas pedal. With my back against the seat, the wind against my visor and a smile on my lips, it was a dream start, the likes of which I have rarely achieved in Formula 2.

The feeling for the car came naturally and without much thought, I took off into the first corner, leaving Oscar Piastri and Sergio Perez behind me. For a brief moment, a warm feeling spread through my chest, after I had felt almost nothing but doubt from all sides in recent weeks. I accelerated perfectly out of the corner and was even able to briefly catch the outside of Charles Leclerc's red Ferrari at the braking point of the next corner. Maybe I wanted too much at that moment - to get one over on him after the conversation at Max's New Year's Eve party, to get back at him. But the feeling when I felt the brief contact on the front left tire and shortly afterward spun into the gravel and then slowed down and slid into the barrier is something I won't forget for a while.

"Are you okay, Emma?" Sarah asked over the team radio. I can't remember what I answered.

Now I'm sitting here with my helmet lying in the corner, my rider's suit still fully on and wrinkles of anger on my forehead. My eyes are still fixed on the screen. I watch as Charles confidently masters lap after lap and only drops one place.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" comes a voice out of nowhere. I look toward the door and see Carlos Sainz, dressed in a red polo shirt, limping towards me. I immediately get up, meet him, and move under his shoulder to support him. He laughs and moves with me toward the sofa, where he drops down and looks at me expectantly.

"Hm?" I say as my head bounces back and forth between him and the screen.

"Frustrating when you actually have everything within reach and then lose it all again - within a millisecond."

I look at him and for the first time, I notice how tired he is. I've known Carlos since he drove with Max at Toro Rosso in 2014, and some days I've actually wished he could put Max in his place. That hasn't always worked out well, but you have to have all the more respect for him when you see how hard he trains for his results. The biggest compliment is probably that my brother hasn't said a single bad word about Carlos and tends to speak positively about the still-Ferrari driver - especially in public.

My anger fades a little. When I think about what I want to say and how it might come across to him, only one word comes to mind to describe me: Crazy. I was on the outside and should have given Charles more space, wanted more than I could handle at that moment and ended up at the end of the gravel trap through no fault of my own.

"I know how it is in racing - everyone is their own best friend, but..."

"I didn't ask how you would rationally assess the situation, I asked if you were frustrated."

"Of course, I am! Of course, I'm frustrated," I admit and throw my arms in the air. My legs start to move up and down the room of their own accord. "I'm trying to put on a good performance and... I'm not saying that Charles is to blame for my elimination, but I imagine there was enough space to the left of him and he..."

"...kicked you out on purpose?" Carlos finishes my sentence. I look at him and consider whether I should nod. A short pause fills the room, leaving only the sound of engines from the race broadcast echoing from the TV. "You're frustrated, but you need to turn it off."

"That's so easy to say - but who am I telling?"

"Sometimes things happen that we can't help. And sometimes things happen that we should and do blame ourselves for, but blaming someone else for something helps us exactly zero."

"Since when are you so wise? Did they accidentally cut something during your appendectomy that's responsible for your impulsiveness?"

Carlos laughs, loudly, before letting out a short "ooh" of pain and reflexively pressing his hand against the side of his stomach. "Believe me, I'm certainly one of the people who knows the most about frustration. Whether Charles was responsible for the situation out there or not, if you blame him, you'll always stay distracted. Get over it and focus on yourself again."

"Is that what you're doing? Any news about 2025 yet?"

"No, and even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you."

"That frustrates me too, by the way - you're the only one who can hold a candle to Max, I know that better than anyone. And yet Mr. I-have-seven-world-championship-titles-and-wine-my-eighth-behind-and-Mr. I-belong-at-Ferrari-because-it-is-my-dream are more likely to get a seat than you? I wouldn't begrudge them if you can drive next to Max next year and you both win every race with a double Red Bull lead. My favorite thing would be if you were world champion and Max was only runner-up."

"I appreciate your words, but I don't think that's going to happen. Charles is a good driver and person, you've just caught him on the wrong foot the last few times - and your...differences with Lewis are just a result of you being biased. I promise. That will all go away after this year."

"You're too good for this world, Carlos. But the fact that I still have a bone to pick with that one..." I point my thumb towards the TV, "...not even you can prevent that."

I sit down next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. There was once a time when I dreamt of a moment like this, while I cut out photos of Carlos from magazines and stuck them together on a poster. Now he's like a big brother - the only person who knows Max better than me and can probably understand why I sometimes want to wring his neck.

A message appears on the TV informing us that the race incident has been analyzed by race control and that Charles will not be fined.

"Somehow I'm a little scared for him - he doesn't know you yet when you're really fired up."

"He'll learn about me soon enough, Carlos. Just wait."

-

"What do you think you're doing? Do you enjoy pushing other drivers? You could have left a bit more space!" I shout and charge towards Charles, who is throwing himself into the Ferrari crowd next to me to celebrate his third place. I stand behind the barrier, gathering all my strength and using every ounce of my lung capacity to ensure he can’t overhear me.

Charles turns in my direction, takes two steps towards me and smiles smugly at me: "I'm going to tell you something I wouldn't tell everyone: Fuck off. You're too aggressive in your driving, you think you can get away with anything. You may still be new, but there's no puppy protection here, you can remember that right away. If you want to drive like a pro, you'll have to live with the consequences, we all had to learn that." In the next moment he attempts to turn away and head to his first interview. Standing on the lowest metal bar of the barrier, I lean forward, grab him by the collar of his suit and pull him back towards me. I slide back down to the ground and have to turn my head upwards due to the difference in height.

"You could have spared two centimeters of space without sacrificing your podium place, you conceited snob. Do you think just because it says Ferrari on your back, you're the next Michael Schuhmacher?" My eyes are glowing. A few people turn in our direction and stop talking to each other so they can hear why there's noise here that has nothing to do with the celebrations.

"Do you think because you have Verstappen in your surname we'll all make way for you and give you a win? Oh, wait, you wouldn't win anyway because you've always been number two, right?" Charles steps up to the barrier and is only a few centimeters away from my face. He's taller than me, at least when I'm standing on the ground. I step back onto the first metal bar of the barrier, offering him at least minimal resistance. I swallow. Tears sting my eyes because the statement was more hurtful than I'd like to admit.

"Are you going to start crying now? Woman, we all have our own expectations about this sport and more so of ourselves and therefore, pressure. Everyone has been knocked out before because they drove too aggressively, and the risk therefore being too high. Max might be able to help you out here, but certainly not on the track. Learn to live with it and you might survive longer than a season." His words are quieter now. He looks frantically left and right, probably not wanting to be in the papers tomorrow. I briefly imagine the headlines, then shake my head and meet his gaze.

I take another breath, stand up straight and then look him deep in the eye before speaking with firm conviction: "I hope you remember exactly what I'm about to say, because I'm not going to repeat it again: as long as I'm part of this grid, you have to respect me as much as anyone else, whether you like it or not. And I swear to God, if you pull a stunt like that agin, Max will be the least of your worries." Then I stand back on the ground and take two steps back. Where I was just standing, the room immediately fills up with Red Bull mechanics, but Charles doesn't miss the opportunity to respond again.

"Wow, I’m shaking in my boots. Please, don't strain yourself, let it all out. But in the end, you'll still just be one thing: somebody who barks but doesn't bite." With that, he turns around and leaves me to the crowd of people standing outside cheering for the winners.

-

"I find myself back in Netflix's Drive to Survive recording room with the same interviewer who sat across from me last time. My flight leaves for Australia on Monday, two days from now, but thanks to the viral videos of Charles' and my argument, they naturally want my direct, unfiltered truth before my PR team strategizes and answers me accordingly.

"Emma! What happened out there? For a short time, it looked like you could make up two places on the first lap. Then there was an incident with Charles Leclerc on the second corner..." the interviewer begins. The additional lights blind me, just like the first time. I don't feel any less uncomfortable and I'm beginning to regret the direct confrontation. I want to race fast cars and compete in races, but I have no interest in adding more drama to a show that's as scripted and shallow as 'The Bachelor'.

"No comment on the incident. Race control looked at the incident and decided not to impose a penalty, I have to accept that," I say calmly. I almost congratulate myself for keeping my composure. Take that!

"Do you expect an apology from Charles Leclerc or Ferrari? After all, they ruined your race." The provocative line is not new to me. I can't even blame him, after all, they're just trying to make their series as exciting as possible. The stereotype is that women are emotional, but the truth is, everyone enjoys drama, regardless of gender.

"It always takes two to make an incident like this happen. I'm analyzing the raw data with my team and will adjust my behavior accordingly - a result like this is disappointing for Aston Martin and most of all for me. But we'll regroup and give our best shot in the next race." I am convinced of my words. I am fully aware that there was a collective murmur around the Aston Martin pit lane at the moment of retirement, along with a few comments that probably sounded a lot like "typical" and "natural". Nevertheless, we must all look forward and give ourselves a chance.

"After tenth place last week in Bahrain and a DNF here in Jeddah, what are the learnings for the next two weeks in preparation for Australia?"

I let a few seconds pass before answering. The first lesson is that I need to react faster to avoid situations like the one with Charles. "I plan to depart earlier than Fernando, giving me more time to acclimate and train."

At this moment, I notice a movement in the background. Everyone turns around before the interviewer thanks me for my statement, shakes my hand and can hardly wait to shoo me out of my chair. In passing, I notice that the crew greet Charles, who has apparently also been invited to make a short statement. All the attention is now on him, which I'm honestly glad about. I am allowed to exhale deeply without anyone noticing how tense I actually was. I stand up, put on my cap and march straight towards Charles. He looks at me wide-eyed as I hug him and wish him a good interview before I sneak out the door, giggling a little at the thought of the questions he's about to be asked. Sometimes revenge comes in a different form than you first expect."

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter V] [Chapter VII (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #slow burn #haters to lovers

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 11 - Captivity

Warnings: canon type violence.

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha offers choices and chances.

A/N: reunion <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

SINGAPORE

2014

Clint stares at her as she gets ready, smiling at her putting on make up.

“What?” she asks, “you’ve seen me do this a thousand times.”

“Nat, watching you put make up on in a bra, will always make me stop and stare at you,” he pauses.

“In a non creepy way.”

She smiles and continues to make up her face; the wig cap covering her hair.

“Are you sure, blue is the way to go?”

The wig both brown and blue is styled like Natasha’s hair when she was young.

She bites her lip.

“No. But maybe, if anything gets to her, maybe the past will.”

She stands and bends over, placing the wig on and adjusting it.

When she stands she looks like a different person.

“I never know how you do that,” he says in awe.

She sighs.

He kisses the top of her head, and hugs round her shoulders.

“We can do this another time, it doesn’t have to be now… this feels too dangerous.”

Natasha shakes her head.

“No, it has to be now,” she says, determined.

“Because who knows when we will get a chance again?”

She looks up at him and attempts a smile.

“Plus, I know you’ll be there, right?”

Clint nods, prepares his basic disguise of a hat and sunglasses and leaves her to finish getting ready.

.

Natasha feels eyes on her as soon as she enters the hotel.

They can’t know, not yet. She scans and looks for Yelena.

Seeing nothing, she continues into the bowels of the hotel, checking in and wheeling her suitcase to the elevator.

Natasha is hypervigilant.

Continuously scanning the environment, she focuses on getting to her room and closing the door.

She’d checked in as Melina Vostokoff, hoping to get Yelena’s attention, or at the very least, someone from the Red Room.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to calm her nerves. Waiting for it, for someone to come, felt almost torturous.

Isla was right.

Her words, as scathing as they were, were correct. She’d left.

Not just Yelena but the other widows. She hadn’t known what killing Dreykov would do, and selfishly; she didn’t care.

She just needed him dead.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she flops back.

Clint, perhaps, was also right, that she’d done the best she could in keeping herself safe, but it didn’t negate the fact that she didn’t look for Yelena.

There’s a small part of her that still thinks it’s not her problem, Yelena is not her sister, either were the widows.

They instilled every man (or woman) for themselves in training. Some girls took it seriously but most of them knew they’d only survive together.

Usually it was the widows with friends and guiding hands around them that survived.

Those that didn’t… well. They’re the ones they held funerals for.

She groans. The wig itching.

Natasha knows she needs to get up, set the trap within the trap.

She just knows it’s going to be a long, hard day.

But, she supposes, what’s another one.

.

It takes them to dinner to come for her.

The things they do are so predictable, that Natasha has to suppress a role of her eyes.

It’s amazing how things never change and the playbook they run hasn’t changed in years.

She told Clint they’d wait, scout and take her at night, and he’d scoffed.

Natasha feels them follow.

If the timing is right, and her guesses are correct, it will be Yelena and two others.

If Yelena is on point.. it’s all Natasha us counting on.

Clint can take out the other two.

With Yelena alone, she’s sure she can convince her to come.

Focussing, she moves quickly up the fire exit stairs, ascending them as quickly as she can, she hears the door close behind her, quick footsteps following after her.

She doubles her speed, listening for the door again.

When it doesn’t come, she knows Clint has likely taken out the other two.

Natasha feels the thrill of being chased, adrenaline pumping through her, as she continues up the stairs.

It better be Yelena.

Legs burning, she continues to the roof.

One flight to go, she calls out.

“Think you can get me?”

The footsteps behind her stop.

“Oh big sister,” the words come viciously, “you’re as good as got.”

.

Humidity hits Natasha as soon as she opens the door to the rooftop.

Singapore has a rainy season that brings a thick muggy quality to the world.

She catches her breath, and moves to the corner.

The trap set.

If Clint has the other two drugged, then maybe, this plan has a chance at working.

Yelena rushes the door.

Guns drawn they hold them high and face each other.

Postures identical, they circle each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Taking a step forward, Yelena takes a step back.

“Stop moving,” she growls.

Natasha takes another step.

Neither sure who has the upper hand, Yelena throws her gun.

The randomness of the action confuses Natasha and she’s not ready when Yelena rushes her, yelling and elbowing her in the face.

She rolls with it, circling and elbowing behind her.

It catches Yelena and pushes her back.

Natasha tries to sweep at her feet, then punches out, hitting Yelena as she moves back.

Yelena’s guard is strong, as she takes it, breaking it only for a moment to push then punch Natasha.

The fight gives Natasha enough time to wait to see if there’s any back up coming.

No one comes.

She turns and breaks the handle on the door, and then turns to Yelena.

“Just you and me, little one,” she smiles.

Yelena’s look is feral.

“How dare you,” she starts, and Natasha prepares for the onslaught.

The timing needs to be perfect.

She raises her knife and stabs it forward, hitting Yelena’s thigh.

It embeds in and Natasha thinks she’s done it.

Yelena sees red, wrenching the knife out and throwing it at Natasha.

She dodges it and pushes forward.

One punch blocked, two then.. she lets herself be hit.

Lets Yelena punch her, pummel her and hit her hard.

She feels the hate and anger behind each of the hits she takes.

Natasha growls, and throws her off as she gets messy in her anger.

“I failed you,” she says simply.

Yelena comes at her again, hitting her in the face as Natasha puts up no defence.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Yelena places her in a hold and Natasha allows herself to be handcuffed to the nearby pole, pushed into a sitting position.

Fists clenched she sighs.

Easy to get out of, if she’s willing to rip skin and dislocate joints.

She doesn’t though.

Steadily she tries to breath through her mouth, her nose broken.

Yelena rounds on her.

“They’re going to come for you, and make you… make you like me,” she growls, “make you suffer every agony, every violation.”

The heat beats down as Yelena paces the rooftop.

“You’re a traitor.”

“You’re a traitor,” she breathes heavily.

Natasha gathers her breath.

“I’m not sorry for the choice I made,” she clarifies.

“I am sorry for not getting you sooner.”

Yelena spits.

“Choices? You had choices, what did we all have?”

Yelena continues to pace, looking to the door.

“When you made your choice, you condemned us all.”

Natasha compartmentalises her words, puts them aside, taking a deep breath.

“The decisions between bad choices is not better—“

“But you had them!” Yelena explodes.

“You had a choice.”

Natasha adjusts her position and sits on the ground.

“Not a good one,” she says, resigned. “A choice between dying and surviving.”

The next words are said with venom.

“What would you have done?”

She doesn’t mean for it to come out that way, but frustration and the need for this to go right, puts her on edge.

Yelena squats in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have left you there to die,” she says, as equally as venomously.

Natasha shrugs and looks away, “you would have.”

“Just like you’re going to do now.”

Yelena looks at her quizzically.

“You have a choice,” Natasha tells her, “to stay or go.”

“What do you—“

“The tracker in your thigh, the one they place so they always know,” she gestures to the stab wound.

“The knife, it’s disabled it. The current you felt, they can’t track you now.”

There’s horror in Yelena’s face as she feels her thigh, her hand coming away bloody.

Disbelief crosses her face.

“They’d have come by now, right? The other two to check?”

Natasha sees how much room she has in the cuffs. This was the plan, but she’s willing to try different ways that don’t involve her being vulnerable and being held captive.

“But they haven’t.”

She wriggles one hand.

“Now,” she pauses. “You have a choice.”

.

Clint finds Natasha handcuffed to a pole on the roof.

Alive.

“What happened?!” he asks, rushing towards her.

She doesn’t look too worse for wear, bruises on her face, broken nose and wig slightly askew; but alive nonetheless.

“She, uhhh, I stabbed her, she handcuffed me to a pole, we argued, and I gave her a choice.”

Natasha words come out in a huff as he releases the handcuffs.

“Where’s she go?” he asks, and they look out on the city.

“Did she go back?”

Natasha doesn’t answer.

“I don’t know,” she replies.

.

#whumptober2023 #no. 11 #captivity #violence #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #clintasha #black widow #clint barton #my fic #hawkeye #natasha romanoff fic #clintasha fanfiction #clintasha fanfic #natasha and yelena #clint barton x natasha romanoff #yelena belova fix #marvel fix #avengers fic #strike team delta #black widow fic

[soshiharin]

lee jungshin – hashin

harin hosted the 2013 korean drama awards and when she was backstage, she noticed that jungshin was trying to pull a ‘push’ door and told him why he was failing in opening the door

they talked for a while before harin was called away and jungshin had to go wherever it was he was going. at the end of the night, harin’s manager gave jungshin a slip of paper that had her phone number on it. they started talking often and hung out a few times amongst their busy schedules. they began dating in july of 2014 after jungshin kissed harin

as a couple, they were very very chill. they obviously didn’t want the media to know they were dating so they only told their group members and managers. they would have dates as often as possible

on the fourth of october that year, dispatch released an article exposing their relationship. they said they were told about it by an inside source. that obvi sucked for the both of them, but what could they do?

after their relationship was revealed, a lot of knetz swore at harin and threatened her bcs why the hell is she with MY oppa??? they broke up bcs of the hate, but also bcs the honeymoon phase ended and they were constantly arguing. there’s no bad blood between them so if they see each other in public, they don’t treat each other coldly

lee dongwook – dongrin

phone contact: lee dongwook/harin-ah

they technically met on strong heart bcs dongwook was the host and harin would sometimes appear on the show, but they don’t really count it as their first time meeting each other. they officially met when sunny and dongwook were on roommate together. harin had to pick up her member so they could go to their schedule, and she ended up talking with dongwook as she waited for sunny

dongwook later asked for harin’s number and they started talking. it was giving very much boy falls first and harder bcs harin was dongwook’s bias in soshi. he knew she was in a relationship, though, so he was very respectful about it and didn’t try to make a move on her or anything

they kept talking and getting to know each other. harin felt herself fall head first in love with dongwook — their connection was incredibly strong and their chemistry and romantic tension and literally just everything. harin confessed her feelings for dongwook in october of 2015 and they began dating

they broke up in july of 2017, prompted by dongwook. they did not break up on good terms and harin felt hurt and resentment towards dongwook. they didn’t see or talk to each other until november 2018 when they were both cast alongside each other in touch your heart

harin ended up dropping out of the show because of scheduling conflicts, so they didn’t have to work together. touch your heart was filmed near where harin lived so they’d end up seeing each other a lot at coffee shops, restaurants, malls etc. since they kept seeing each other often, dongwook slowly tried to get harin to forgive him until they were on cordial terms by the time the last episode was filmed. on the day touch your heart’s first episode premiered, dongwook went to harin’s house and confessed that he was still in love with her and asked for another chance, which she granted

as a couple, they are absolutely smitten with each other but super super chill about their relationship. in public, they just act like friends/colleagues, but in private, they are very lovey, lovey, lovey, dovey, dovey, dovey. all of their friends and families are glad they got back together bcs they are truly soulmates or whatever (harin’s friends and family needed more time to be accepting of their relationship)

in march of 2023, dongwook proposed to harin after she (informally) proposed to him. they began planning their wedding — the date being 18 november — and preparing for married life. they bought a house together under dongwook’s name on the 3rd of november and have begun slowly moving in

dispatch knows about their relationship but have decided to generally leave harin’s personal life alone bcs when they exposed her relationship with jungshin, she sent them an email that, if you read between the lines, had a bunch of threats

©️ jang harin

#snsd 9th member #snsd ninth member #snsd addition #snsd oc #snsd added member #snsd extra member #snsd member au #snsd imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines #harin #jang harin

[notoriousbeb]

A Partial Haylor Relationship Timeline (In My Head)

I was listening to 1989 a few days ago and, as I do, I stumbled down a Haylor rabbit hole.

While I think my reference points are logical, much of this is, of course, speculation, so continue only if that’s your bag:

My jumping off point was this thought: “Hmm…is Wonderland about the rumored fight in Virgin Gorda in January 2013?”

So, we went on our way

Too in love to think straight

All alone, or so it seemed

But there were strangers watchin'

And whispers turned to talkin'

And talking turned to screams

…

I reached for you, but you were gone

I knew I had to go back home

You searched the world for somethin' else

To make you feel like what we had

And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad

Now I’m thinking the “long six months” referenced in “How You Get the Girl” was between January 2013 and June 2013. And when they got back together in June, they decided to keep their relationship out of the public eye, because that had been a point of tension.

(Side note: I’ve seen it referenced on a wiki, but without citation that I’ve found, that Taylor wrote and recorded HYGTG in January 2013; however, according to her, she didn’t start working on 1989 until around April 2013, during the Red tour).

So perhaps they’re together in secret though the summer but, by the fall, she needs some space and is maybe cracking under the pressure of all the secrecy (“I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you”). So they take a break. He goes out with Kendall in late November.

Yet, in December, Harry tweets the lyrics “better still, be my winding wheel” on Taylor’s birthday.

But word spreads in January 2014 that they’re meeting up on the down-low in Malibu. (It was later confirmed by Courteney Cox that several of those hangs were at her house…man, they’re all so cool).

In February, they’re spotted hanging out with Ed in London.

Later that month, Harry writes “Just a Little Bit of Your Heart.” Two days later, Taylor writes “I Know Places.”

She later told GLAM in 2015, “[IKP] is a song about how other people will really ruin a relationship if they get a chance to and how it might be the best way to go about starting a relationship is to keep it a secret if possible just because it’s very fragile.”

They potentially take another break around this time, as Taylor writes “Clean” on February 9…but then she writes “Style” 10 days later, lol. So “Clean” is either not about Harry or she’s clearly not totally over him/ruling out getting back together someday.

(Side note: the whole “10 months sober” line in Clean confuses me, because if it was Harry-related, then that would place their break up in April 2013, which just doesn’t line up with anything I have seen. Thoughts?)

In March, Harry writes “I Love You.”

Another summer of them maybe being together in secret — maybe on-and-off or not exclusive —goes by, and it seems like they call it off for real again when, in August, Harry writes “Not Our Fault” with Gavin DeGraw.

Gavin says, “[The song] is about...if it doesn't work out sometimes you can't necessarily just blame it on yourselves, you know, sometimes it's what's going on around you. Sometimes it's other things that have nothing to do with the two people involved, those factors that you can't control. It touches on that type of subject. It’s a way of saying you're giving up, but it's not necessarily you're giving up because you don't love each other."

In November 2014, at the American Music Awards, Harry is super supportive of Taylor and 1989 and whistles as she receives an award.

In December, they party together after the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.

In January 2015, they both go to a friend’s birthday party and out to a diner afterwards.

At some point, on his birthday, he makes her cry. While I can’t be sure of the exact year, because it’s a reference in the unreleased and later leaked “Hunger” song, the song also says, “as one year turns into two, I’m still not over you.” If it was two years since they fully ended in February 2015, they’d put us in February 2017. And HS1 came out in May 2017, so the timing works out.

Also, this birthday fight could be what causes her to wash her hands of them in the club, picture him with other girls in love and throw up on the street (“Hits Different”).

A week after his birthday, February 7, 1D starts their final tour. Later that month, Taylor meets Calvin and they start dating in late March.

She also maybe records “So It Goes…” in early March. I know there’s debate about the timing of this song’s creation, but if Oscar Görres (who wrote the instrumental) had his second child (born Sept. 17, 2017) the day they finished it, it wouldn’t have been done on time to make the Nov. 10, 2017 Reputation album release date (it’s typically 3-4 months of prep after the masters are done). She was also seen going into a studio on March 2, 2015 (per his retelling, Görres was at home when Taylor and Shellback were in the studio finishing the track and talked to them by phone).

In May the 2015 Billboard Music Awards Exile/Woman debacle goes down. Sad face.

In August 2015, Harry writes “Someday.”

And that’s all she wrote…well, kind of.

As we all know, they’re friendly after this, appearing at award shows, attending Ed’s wedding, and still talking about each other in the media with nothing but warmth and respect.

They, famously, date other people.

But they also continue to write about each other, more than a dozen songs between them, as recently as 2022.

And now, in June 2023, I’m just manifesting that “someday” is soon.

p.s. Credit and enormous props to @haylortml for the amazing timeline I pulled much of this from. You have truly done the lord’s work.

#haylor #haylor timeline #timeline

[l-e-e-woso]

131 with niamth charles

Wasn't The Same - Niamh Charles

Italics = Spanish

Prompt 131 - “I’ll spend a thousand lifetimes coming back to you.” 

_________________________

You had grown up in Barcelona and the football culture was everywhere, I mean Camp Nou was a 15 minute walk from your home, nothing could get better than that…right?

That’s where you were wrong, it could get better. Unknown to you, your parents had signed you up to play in the Barcelona youth team and somehow you got in. 

It had become very clear very fast to the coaches that you had a lot of talent at the sweet age of 10. Which is when you became the Captain of the youth team until 2014 when you tore your ACL at the age of 15 which is devastating for an adult nevermind a young child. 

After a year of rehab you got back on the field but it wasn’t the same as before, it was like a switch had been flipped. You tried to not throw yourself into tackles, passes wouldn’t connect, giving the ball away at crucial moments in the game, distancing yourself from teammates, not going to team bonding at all and turning up late or not at all to training.

This caused the manager to give you the talk because he gave you a year after your rehab to get your act together but it did not work. He didn’t want to let you go because he knew what type of player you could be but he couldn’t take any more chances on you. So you got transferred to Liverpool in 2016 where you played until 2019 when Barca placed a bid on you which Liverpool could not say no to.

Playing for the Barca first team had always been your dream since you saw Messi when you were a little girl and Alexia when you were in your teens. It had been your ultimate goal to be able to play on the same team as La Reina Alexia Putellas.

Now Alexia was like your older sister and best friend, where you found one of them the other wasn’t far behind. This had caused the fans to start speculating things about the two of you, which you both quickly put to rest saying that the two of you were basically siblings.

_________________________

When you transferred to Liverpool at the age of 17 you were very nervous, you hadn’t been to another country ever so this was a very new experience for you but you knew you had to power through it if you ever wanted to get back to play for Barca.

Suddenly everything changed when you met Niamh Charles, even though you knew very little English the two of you instantly hit it off.

After just a few months at the club you and Niamh started dating, the whole team thought the two of you were adorable and constantly teased the both of you. Over the four years you were at Liverpool your and Niamh’s relationship only got stronger.

The two of you were starting to take the next step in your relationship aka moving in together, you got told that you were being transferred back to Barca and you just couldn’t say no which left Niamh heartbroken but ultimately she understood. You told her it was a four year contract and you would come back after the contract ended.

_________________________

When you got to Barca you were in awe of all the players, especially Alexia. I mean she was your idol and you were playing in the Barca first team with her. This caused a lot of your new teammates to tease both you and Alexia.

After about two and a half years you were starting to feel very depressed without Niamh beside you so you turned to Alexia for help because you simply did not know what to do.

One day you just turned up to Alexia’s apartment with tears streaming down your face which caused her to look at you in concern when she opened the door. “Y/n? What are you doing here? It’s 1am.” Alexia says while letting you into her apartment and sat down on her sofa while you cuddled into her side.

“I don’t know if I can do this without her…I cannot go another year without Niamh. We were talking on facetime the other night. She was saying that she doesn’t know if our relationship is going to last much longer if we continue to be separated.” You say as tears stream down your face and you grip onto Alexia’s shirt tightly as she rubs your back trying to sooth you.

“Look I’ll talk to Jona, he will most likely want you to stay till the end of this year and then he could look into transferring or loaning you to the WSL. I’m not promising anything but I will try my best to help you.” Alexia pulls you into her tightening her arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Thank you Ale…” You mutter as you drift off into a deep sleep on Alexia’s shoulder.

_________________________

Whatever Alexia did, it worked. You were transferring to Chelsea, you couldn’t thank Alexia enough, you told her that if she ever came to London she could stay with you to which she obviously said yes.

At this precise moment you were walking to your first training session with Chelsea. You already knew literally already knew all of the girls thanks to your daily facetimes with Niamh.

Niamh was currently facing away from you talking to Guro, Erin and Sam when they spotted you but you put your finger to your lips because you wanted to surprise Niamh.

You crept up behind Niamh and wrapped your arms around her waist then whispered in her ear. “I told you I’ll spend a thousand lifetimes coming back to you.” This caused Niamh to gasp before turning around and kissing you passionately as a few tears travelled down her face. 

“You asshole! You didn’t tell meeeee!” Niamh pouted at you which made your heart beat like a thousand times faster than it already was. “But…I love you.” Niamh whispers as she pecks your lips as her arm around your neck so you couldn’t move anywhere. 

“I love you with my whole heart Niamh Charles…”You whisper back to her with your thick Spanish accent and a huge grin.

The two of you pull away from your hug to see most of your new Chelsea teammates looking at the both of you with small smiles.

“I’m glad you're finally here! You have no idea how much she talks about you, she never shuts up!” Sam says as she points at Niamh as most of the team laugh at Niamh’s embarrassment which causes you to chuckle.

“Aw you talked about me!” You say in a teasing tone so Niamh playfully pushes you and glares at you. “Shut up…” Niamh blushes but you knew she would get her payback once the two of you got home later that night.

_________________________

Taglist:   @sofakingwoso @dutch-gay86 @gt713 @mmmmokdok @xxforeverinadayxx  

#niamh charles #niamh charles imagine #niamh charles x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #my fic #lionesses #chelsea wfc #chelsea women #barcalona #barca femeni #requested #requested fic