#you can tell the PR went out this week all their friends have been posting about it

[petrovna-zamo]

#working girls! #book 2 hype #okay this is everything I could find #the paper dolls are so cute I would buy those #you can tell the PR went out this week all their friends have been posting about it #picture thanks to Darien Darling #can’t wait to finally see the drippin outfit it’s been a year since she teased it #I’m going to say something controversial yet brave in these hashtags… #does anyone else feel like they’re doing the bare minimum promo for this? #it’s all been official posts and not as personal feeling? #maybe the pre sales are so good they don’t have to #just crazy it comes out so soon and we don’t know much lol #it’s just been so different from the first book rollout #idk I just know they’re burned out from writing and it makes me sad they don’t seem as enthusiastic #this might be the last chance to read K’s writing for awhile

[chelseachilly]

king of my heart - pt 1

i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own  i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to. You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers. Until now. warnings: mentions of death of a parent, takes place in a fantasy world in which chelsea will plausibly beat arsenal this season word count: 2.5k

author’s note: hi! i’m very new to the tumblr football world but needed a distraction from chelsea’s current situation, so here we are! i’ve noticed there aren’t enough fics for ben and this is my first time writing for him, pls let me know what you think and feel free to hmu about all things chelsea :) title from king of my heart by taylor obv

*faceclaims for y/n and your best friend are camila morrone and suki waterhouse bc i am obsessed with daisy jones and the six lmao

Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to.

You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers.

Until now.

A few months ago, your flatmate and best friend Charlotte got an amazing new job in PR. Since then, she’s been invited to a million fancy events and met a lot of famous (and semi-famous) people. Just last week, she went to the opening of a new club and apparently met some incredible, funny, super attractive guy who invited her to a party at his house tonight.

Although you’ve been really trying to push yourself to go out more lately and enjoy being young in the city, your idea of a perfect Friday night is often just staying in and reading or watching Netflix, so you still take some convincing.

“Charlotte, do you even know anything about this Mason guy?” You ask as Charlotte begins to put her makeup on in the bathroom of your shared flat, a tiny but cute two-bed in North London. “Like, his last name, his job, anything?”

“Nope,” Charlotte shrugs. “But I know he’s fit, and probably posh because the address he gave me is in South Kensington.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a gold digger now?”

“I’m not, but posh means open bar,” Charlotte grins. “Now hurry up and get ready.”

You reluctantly drag yourself up off the floor and go to your closet to put on your favourite little black dress - a safe bet for any party, regardless of how casual or fancy it might be.

After doing your hair and makeup and taking a couple shots to ease any social anxiety brewing in your stomach, Charlotte calls an Uber and you’re on your way. You quickly post a photo of the two of you before you leave.

yourusername

liked by charlottewright, yourmum, & 102 others

yourusername by the way, we’re going out tonight ✨

tagged: charlottewright

view all comments

charlottewright hell yeahhhh

yourmum Beautiful girls! xx

yourusername thanks mum x

When you reach the address this Mason guy gave Charlotte, there’s music blaring from the house. Several very expensive-looking sports cars are parked outside, and there are a few people sitting on the front steps, drinking and laughing.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Charlotte says as your car pulls up. She can obviously tell that you’re worried about socializing with all these strangers, especially ones way above your tax bracket. “We’ll get some drinks and have fun. Hey, maybe Mason has some cute friends he can introduce you to?”

You roll your eyes. Dating is far from a priority for you at the moment, having just begun the career in publishing that you’ve wanted since you were a little girl. Work is your focus, but you know Charlotte is right. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Before you can even fully get out of the car, still straightening out your dress and making sure you have your phone and purse, you hear Charlotte yell “Mason!” and run over to the group of people on the steps.

As you follow her and finally get a good look at the guy Charlotte won’t shut up about, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You recognize him instantly - Mason Mount, Chelsea midfielder. You may not follow the club the way you used to before your dad died two years ago, but you remember watching Mount score a hat trick during one of the last games you went to.

Charlotte doesn’t follow football at all, so you figure she also has no idea that standing next to Mason are his England national teammates Declan Rice and Jude Bellingham.

You, however, can’t help but be a little starstruck. Football was a big part of your life growing up, and it’s a bit surreal to see all these athletic superstars right in front of you.

Thankfully, they’re all occupied with Charlotte and don’t seem to notice you until you regain your bearings and walk over to Charlotte’s side.

“Y/N, this is Mason and Declan,” Charlotte grins. “And what was your name again, sorry?”

“Jude,” Bellingham answers, smiling at you and shaking your hand. “What’s your name, love?”

“Y/N,” you answer, trying not to blush at the attention as Mason and Declan greet you.

“Well, come on in, ladies,” Mason smiles, gesturing to the front door. “Bar’s in the back, and there’s loads of food in the kitchen.”

As Mason leads the way into the house, which is just as massive and stunning as its exterior, you hang back a bit and grip Charlotte’s arm tightly.

“What is it?” Charlotte asks, furrowing her eyebrow.

“Charlotte, they’re not just posh, they’re footballers,” you explain, gesturing to the literal Champions League trophy casually sitting on a shelf. “Like, some of the best in the country.”

“Footballers?” Charlotte’s eyes widen for a moment. “Oh my god, so you know who they are?”

“Yeah, babes,” you chuckle. “Mason plays for Chelsea. I’ve watched him play for Chelsea.”

Charlotte’s face falls a bit, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, shit, do you want to leave? I know Chelsea was your thing with your dad-“

“No, no,” you wave her off with a small smile. “It’s alright, let’s have fun. He is super fit, and he probably finds it endearing that you clearly have no idea who he is.”

“Now that I think about it, he did mention having training in the morning last weekend. I think I asked what he was training for.” Charlotte laughs. “Shit, that’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Nah, he seems into you,” you comment, noting the way Mason’s eyes are glued to Charlotte as the two of you continue to speak privately. “Now go talk to him, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Charlotte nods and returns to Mason’s side. God, it feels strange to see your best friend chatting up a guy you watched play in the World Cup on TV a few months ago.

You make your way to the back garden, weaving your way through lots of guys - some of whom you recognize as other footballers - and lots of very pretty girls. As promised, there is a full-service bar outside, and you order a vodka coke for yourself.

Thanking the bartender, you decide to stay out here for a few minutes. You’ll return to the party eventually, but you want to give Charlotte some alone time with Mason and despite your assurances that everything is fine, it’s a lot to digest being in the home of an actual Chelsea player.

Most of the partygoers are inside, with only a few people out back having a smoke or going to the bar. You find yourself a quiet spot in the back of the garden and sit on a patio chair, crossing your legs and leaning back as you enjoy your drink.

You pull out your phone and can’t resist pulling up and old photo of you and your dad at a Chelsea match when you were six years old, both of you smiling in blue. Although it’s difficult to look at, it makes you smile, too - you remember how Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-0 that day and how happy your dad was on the drive home. You’ll always treasure those memories.

“Hey, mind if I sit?”

A male voice prompts you to glance up from your phone. It really shouldn’t surprise you to see yet another familiar face at this point, but the man in front of you nearly takes your breath away.

You recognize him right away - the shiny dark hair, the piercing eyes - he’s unmistakable. He’s even more handsome in person than on TV, if that’s possible. Ben fucking Chilwell.

“Yeah, go for it,” you say, gesturing to the other chair and trying very hard not to stare at him too much.

Ben, who is holding a beer and wearing a hoodie and jeans with a pair of Air Force Ones, looks fascinatingly normal to you for someone who you know for a fact scored a Premier League goal just this afternoon - your sixteen year-old brother Max mentioned it when you spoke earlier, still as big of a Chelsea fan as your dad was. Luckily, losing your dad didn’t poison the game for him the way it did you.

“I’m Y/N,” you blurt out, feeling the need to explain yourself and your presence here for some reason. “I came with my flatmate Charlotte, she met Mason at some club last week.”

“I’m Ben,” he says with a small smile. “Mase and I…uh, work together.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. When he raises an eyebrow, you continue - there’s really no point in sitting here pretending you don’t know who he is. “My brother’s a massive Chelsea fan.”

“Ah,” Ben smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “Charlotte didn’t seem to have any idea who we were last weekend.” He seems to realize he may have come off a bit arrogant there, as he quickly shakes his head. “Not that she should. I was just-“

“All good,” you interject. “And for the record, I love her to death, but Charlotte thought Man City was a gay bar a couple weeks ago. She’s not much of a football fan.”

Ben laughs so hard he nearly spits out some of his beer, and you can’t help but laugh along with him - his smile is completely contagious. It also seems to be the first genuine one you’ve seen since he sat down.

“Fair enough,” he laughs, setting down his beer and turning his chair to face you properly. “So, Y/N, what brings you to this secluded corner of the garden? Not enjoying yourself?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Chilwell,” you smirk, taking a sip of your cocktail.

Frankly, you’re impressed with how cool you’re being given the situation. It’s not even the fact that he’s famous. Sure, you were starstruck at first, but now you just can’t stop looking at him. At those hands clutching the cold beer bottle, that fluffy hair that you’re dying to reach out and touch, those damn eyes…

“Well, I’m a bit knackered, to be honest,” he admits. “But I wanted to come out and celebrate the win. Honestly, I’m waiting til it’s late enough that I can leave without the lads calling me an old man at training on Monday.”

You laugh and nod sympathetically.

“I get what you mean. I kinda got dragged out tonight as well,” you say. “I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to a bunch of strangers after a long work day, but Charlotte wanted me here and she’s my best friend, so-“

“I’m happy to leave you alone if you’d prefer it,” Ben says quickly. “Well, not happy, but I can. If that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, maybe a bit too quickly.

“No, please,” you smile. “I was in budget meetings all day, but you scored a goal against Arsenal. I think that earns you a spot to sit.”

Ben raises an eyebrow and grins. “Sounds like you’re a fan as well, no?”

“I’m…not not a fan.” He looks confused, so you decide to elaborate a bit. “My dad was a massive supporter. We were season tickets holders at Stamford Bridge until he died a couple years ago. My brother, he’s sixteen, still follows the team, and he keeps me updated, but I haven’t really…well, it hasn’t been quite the same for me since then.”

Though you still miss your dad dearly, time has healed the pain enough for you to be able to talk about him like this. Although, you did have to stare at your shoes the whole time to get through it, and when you look up, Ben’s eyes are wide and full of concern.

You immediately worry that you just majorly overshared with this complete stranger.

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that,” you murmur, fiddling with the material of your dress. “I don’t even know you-“

“No, please don’t apologize,” Ben says in a much softer tone than he was using before. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you say with a sad smile. He holds your gaze, and you can’t help but feel comforted by his warm expression. Then, all of a sudden, a laugh escapes your lips, surprising Ben. “Sorry, I just…I was thinking about what my dad would say if he knew I was talking to the man he once described as ‘the best left-back in the country’ at a party.”

“Wow, that’s high praise,” Ben smiles. “Your dad sounds pretty great.”

“He was, but I love that your reason for thinking that is him praising you as a footballer,” you laugh softly. “To be fair, he was a big fan of Mount and Havertz as well.”

“Oh, well, never mind then,” Ben jokes, making you laugh even harder.

Probably harder than you’ve laughed in years.

The conversation continues as you each finish your drinks, and after Ben gets you a couple more rounds. You talk about everything - your job in publishing, his life growing up, both of your favourite films and music.

You don’t even realize how late it is until you see a much drunker Charlotte come outside with Mason keeping her upright. Despite her protests that she’s fine, you and Mason both agree you’d better get her home and to bed. After giving her some water, Mason calls an Uber for both of you, and in all the commotion, you barely get the chance to say goodbye to Ben.

It’s not until you get home and take care of Charlotte that you realize you didn’t even get his number. You could get Charlotte to ask Mason for it tomorrow, you suppose, but you don’t want to come across as desperate.

You aren’t even looking for a relationship. You just happened to meet a cute, funny, smart guy at a party who probably has girls lining up around the block just to sleep with him. It’s not like this is going to turn into anything.

Right?

-

You wake the next morning in Charlotte’s bed - you passed out next to her after making sure she had water and a bin next to her in case she got sick - to a loud buzzing sound.

“Too early,” Charlotte grumbles, feeling the beginnings of a bad hangover. “Turn it off.”

You reach over to the bedside table to silence your phone, but you quickly glance at the Instagram notification before you turn it off.

benchilwell

Hey, I found your insta through Charlotte’s, sorry if that’s stalkery lol

benchilwell

I had a lot of fun last night. Any chance you want to hang out again sometime?

“Oh my god,” you mumble groggily. “Ben Chilwell just slid into my DMs.”

Charlotte, still half-asleep, rubs her eyes and turns to face you. “Who the fuck is Ben Chilwell?”

next chapter 💙

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc #komh

[jennyboom21]

💭💭💭

Why is this going the way of a failed SpaceX launch?!? WHO ARE THEIR PEOPLE?!? WHY DON’T THEY HAVE A CELESBIAN CONCIERGE WORKING WITH THEIR PR REP?!

Also, those of us with eyeballs and experience know this timeline is fucked.

The Sherlock Homos are assembling this overlappy timeline as we speak. All I’m getting from this is that at best, they were having an emotional affair, at worst, they went to Cannes to cheat in private.

Bush, 41, and Harris, 37, went public with their blossoming love affair this week and both are currently in the process of divorcing their spouses. They said they have only been together for two weeks.

The One Tree Hill actress filed for divorce from ex Grant Hughes in early August citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ while Harris initiated a formal split from wife Ali Krieger, 38, last month.

A source with knowledge of the situation has told DailyMail.com that Krieger was blindsided by the split, with Harris telling her their marriage was over with no discussion after her return from Cannes.

The source said: ‘Apparently Ashlyn came back right after Cannes, ended their marriage and said there was nothing to even speak about regarding it. Just over.’

Video posted to Instagram by bourbon brand Johnnie Walker showing the feminist panel event on June 19 includes a section where the new couple smile and giggle together, with Bush reaching over to touch Harris as they discussed 'the impact that deep, creative partnerships can make to challenge societal systems and narratives.'

A beaming Bush is also seen telling Harris ‘love you’ during the public panel discussion.

The pair have claimed they have only been dating for two weeks, with a source telling People that there is ‘no salacious story’ behind their new relationship or impending divorces.

The insider added: 'After being friends for years, and running in the same social circles, Sophia and Ashlyn went out on their first dinner date a couple of weeks ago.

'Although it's new information to the public, Ashlyn and Ali's divorce began months ago and they have been living apart since the summer.

'This is so recent, and they are both beginning new chapters.'

The new couple have been spotted together repeatedly in recent weeks and were pictured together at Seattle's Lumen Field on October 6 where they watched OL Reign's final home game of the season.

OL Reign's star player is Harris' USWNT teammate Meghan Rapinoe, 38, who has played for the soccer franchise since 2013.

In the clip, which surfaced on Tuesday, Bush is seen hanging out with Harris and a group of friends.

The video shows Bush and Harris walking side-by-side onto Lumen Field after the match before enjoying a celebratory chat with Rapinoe.

In polaroid photos shared by Kari Fleischauer, an executive at LA's Angel City Football Club, the lovebirds are seen posing with their heads pressed close together for a group shot.

Weeks before their trip to Seattle, Bush and Harris enjoyed a 'cozy' double date in New York City with What Not To Wear star Stacy London and her girlfriend Cat Yezbak, according to Page Six.

An insider claimed that Bush and Harris have already been dubbed 'Bushlyn' by their friend group and that the soccer star 'snuck' into the Beacon Theater, where they watched comedian Chelsea Handler perform on Friday, September 29.

'Ashlyn snuck into the theater wearing a mask to join Stacy, Cat and Sophia,' the source told the outlet.

'It wasn't clear they were on a double date until Stacy moved over so Ashlyn could sit next to Sophia.'

It was not until 'the lights dimmed for the opening act' that Ashlyn decided to '[remove] her mask.'

Bush's surprise rebound romance with Harris comes just two months after she filed for divorce from her husband of one year Hughes.

On Tuesday, a rep for the 41-year-old told Page Six that he wants Bush to be happy. The rep said: 'Grant will always want the best for Sophia and is supportive of all that makes her happy and fulfilled.'

The divorce is the second for Bush who divorced her One Tree Hill co-star Chad Michael Murray in 2006 after a union that lasted just five months.

Bush attempted to get the marriage annulled on her grounds of fraud, but her efforts were unsuccessful, and the divorce was ultimately finalized in 2006.

She then went on to date Jon Foster, her co-star on Stay Alive for a year. She also dated another One Tree Hill co-star Austin Nichols on and off for eight years.

Harris, meanwhile, had been with now-estranged wife Krieger for 13 years, with the pair meeting at a 2010 USWNT training camp.

The couple tied the knot in 2019 with Rapinoe serving as Harris's maid of honor. The pair went on to adopt two children: daughter Sloane Phillips Krieger-Harris, two; and son Ocean Maeve Krieger-Harris, 15 months, in 2021 and 2022.

Harris filed for divorce from Krieger on September 19, saying their union was 'irretrievably broken.'

Krieger has yet to make a public statement about her ex-wife's new romance with Bush, but she did take to Instagram after the news broke to share a quote.

'Sleep well tonight, sis. Major shifts are happening. Things are changing. Doors are opening,' it read.

#the celesbians are restless #sophia bush #ashlyn harris #woso drama #Ali Krieger

[httpknjoon]

masters of handling break ups | ksj

plot | After the tabloids released news of you and Jin ending your unconfirmed relationship, the world watches how you two will handle it.

words | 1210

genres | humor/crack, barely fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

warning | language

disclaimer | usernames used in the fic are all fictional.

note | i was inspired to finish this after jin's the astronaut. it's wonderful. y'all better stream 🤨 this scenario is inspired by a real-life Hollywood couple haha have fun reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Sometime in 2018, a year after the release of your first film with Jin, another rumor went around. It was a hundred percent different than the usual news about you two. It was a split-up rumor. Of course, it caused a disastrous stir both in the media and on the Internet. 

@/y/nfan: what do you mean YN-JIN broke up????????

@/purplejin: NOOOO WE BARELY EVEN GOT ANY CONFIRMATION ABT THEIR RELATIONSHIP

@/Y/NJINUpdates: [closed]

replying to @/YNJINUPDATES

– @/Y/NJINUpdates: No, I’m kidding. I’m not closing this account since neither Y/N nor Jin shared any statement about this issue.

@/itsworldwidejin: y’all didn’t believe me when i told u that relationship is just pr 🤣

replying to @/itsworldwidejin

– @/y/nism: please 😭😭 neither of them needed pr

@/glossylips: My mom is wondering why my sister is crying in her room for hours now. How am I going to explain this to her????

replying to @/glossylips

– @/Andrei101: Just tell ur mom two celebrities broke up.

— @/glossylips: No, can’t do. I’m crying too 😭💔

“Oh my god. She was a mess.”

A source shared with some news outlets. Tabloids and magazines had your pictures on their front page. The images were all unflattering, honestly. It was taken during your regular routine when you don’t have work. You were seen getting coffee with a messy hairdo with dark sunglasses on. 

“She always wears those to hide her tired eyes. She has been crying all the time since Jin broke up with her due to her extreme jealousy. There was a time she was even sobbing while ordering her usual cup.”

Almost four weeks after that news, all eyes were still on both of you. You flew to Atlanta for the production of your new Apple+ movie. Still, the paparazzi are taking every chance they can to have snaps of you in your worst times. One of them is you walking to your trailer while tearing up. There was even a video of you being hugged by Florence Pugh, one of your co-stars, while you sobbed.

“It was heard that she and Jin tried to fix everything. But it was useless. Their busy schedules didn’t help. Her co-stars were all kind and considerate of her when she ask for a quick break.”

Jin was seen in the same somber mood too. Although the media didn’t get many shots of him like yours, who’s always teary,  they still got many contents to feast on. Especially since Jin is doing promo and interviews for his film with a friend, Hoyeon Jung.

During press junket, everyone always pointed out how quiet Jin is. He didn’t really talk much unless needed. He wore a plain expression on his face, looking more serious than those times he was doing press with you. Yes, he would laugh with Hoyeon but he doesn’t joke much. His fans defended him, saying that the actor is probably tired. 

“Jin is totally heartbroken by the split up. He is a loner type. He would separate himself from his castmates after promos. After the premiere of Stardust in New York, Jin didn’t attend the afterparty and flew home to California instead. He and Hoyeon are just friends. It was Y/N’s jealousy and later, their limited time, that pushed them to break up.

They are also reports where a source shared that Jin was heard talking to someone through a phone call. They suspected it was you as the actor can be heard being “soft” with his choice of words and tone.

Fans and the media waited for any statement from you or Jin. But you two remained quiet on social media, only posting ads for your sponsors. Jin, who is a very private person, always has his manager look out for any possible intimate questions that the newspeople will ask. Donny was even asked about you two during his Instagram Live but he simply dodged it. Your manager, Hailey, was the one who handled your phone since you rarely used it during production.

It was safe to say that both of your and Jin’s separate fanbases were in a drought.

Almost eight weeks after the news circulated the world, Jin was the first one who broke the social media silence between you two. He uploaded a two-minute-long clip. It was an instant viral video as you were also in it. 

“So…I have some news to break to you, Y/N.”

It seems like you two were just out for your usual tennis game. You wore a white v-neck tennis dress with a matching Nike visor. A couple of tennis rackets can be seen in the backseat of the car. You looked absolutely better than the anguish paparazzi photos of you going around for the last two months. 

“Wait.” you took a sip from your water bottle. “Okay, what’s the news, Jinnie?”

“They said, we broke up because of jealousy… “ Jin reads the magazine in his hand.

You gasped dramatically, “We did?!”

Jin bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh at your exaggerated reaction. But you continued, “I bet it’s because of Francheskat.”

He nodded, “Yeah if there’s a fire right now, I’m taking Francheskat with me.” 

“Brave of you to assume that. Of course, my lovely daughter and I already got out of the fire by the time you went in.” you rolled your eyes. Your eyes landed on the magazine he was holding. You took it and read it yourself. “Oh, wait. It’s not because of Francheskat. This one says, Y/N is jealous of Jin spending more time with his co-actor, Hoyeon Jung. Please, Hoyeon likes me more than this old man right here.”

“That’s–” Jin was about to object but he paused. “That’s true– not the old guy part– but Hoyeon does like Y/N more.”

“That’s why I’m asking her to marry me next time I see her,” you added. Then, you turned to Jin with a wide-eyed expression. “Wait, are we even dating?”

Jin mirrored your expression, gaping, “Oh my god. Are we?”

The video ended in that scene. Jin simply captioned it with four exclamation marks. Everyone found it hilarious. Hoyeon even commented:

@/hoooooyeony: @/urfavecatlady darling, i’m waiting for the ring 😪

Other celebrities commented too, laughing at how you two reacted to such news from a gossip magazine. At the same time, your fans were all jumping to Twitter. Rejoicing like rain finally came to stop the drought.

@/seokiejinnie0613: 그들은 정말 짜증나 ㅋ ㅋ ㅋ ㅋ  (Translated: They are so annoying hahahaha)

@/YNJINUpdates: Finally, it’s official! This account remains open! Kala niyo mapapabagsak niyo ko, mga tanga HAHAHA (Translated: You thought you can drag me down, idiots! HAHAHA)

@/missy/n: y/n looks so good in that video

@/alpacaarejins: YNJIN remains strong. Love is still alive, people!

@/sunnyy/njin: the fact that we cannot tell if they are really together or what 😭 i’m confused af

On Florence Pugh’s birthday, you posted the same paparazzi photos that were taken earlier. The one where you were crying in her arms. You captioned it: 

@/urfavecatlady: Happy birthday to my beloved, @/florencepugh. Thank you for giving me the warmest hugs during my worst times (FUCKING MENSTRUAL CRAMPS 🤬😤😡). Know that I love you so much. Sending you love from LA. 🤍

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@seolaquotes @fatimaaaaa129 @bangtannieshope @jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @prlan @lovesickbangtan @zealouslightcookiebasketball @rapmonie2047 @potate-oh

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @moonchild1 ​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic ​ @buttvi​  @starbtslove​  @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @barbiekatz

#actor!jin #bts jin #jin fluff #jin x reader #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts crack #bts series #bts au #bts fanfic #bts drabble #the a listers ksj

[povofjustme]

Fake Lovers

Your are the singer of a band and a ‘rival’ of Tokio Hotel. The fans loved when you guy interact with each other. So the company make you fake date someone! 

Part one 

Georg listing x Black reader

Have fun love<3 - bc its not pr. I wrote in at 3 am. Didn't have time(:

I am a part of a girl band from the US.  I have been singing since I was a little kid. At a church and  school, I would be in a choir. I met my best friends in high school. Nia the drummer, Jade the basses and Alex played the guitar. We all had a love for music and from then, it was history. 

Alex wanted to post a song that we had been working on for the longest. The next day the girls all woke me up, telling me that the song bowled up on YouTube. I never thought it would happen but now look at us. We made something of ourselves. Going on interviews and meeting up with big names. 

We had a tour in Europe, surprisingly we had a big fan base over there. Nia, Jade, and I we’re in our practice room, thinking of more outfits for the upcoming show in a few days. “Hey, guys!”  Alex came into the room with our drink she went out to get. “Hey babe,” I said with a smile. “So I was thinking, we can do a song for the stage broke.”  are heads all turned to the left.

“Okay listen, there's a band here called... Tokio Hotel” “Oh yeah, I heard of them,” Nia said. She has always been the quiet type. The things that came out of her mouth surprised us at times but she kept us on task. “They are a really big group here. Girls are in love with them” Nia added. “They are not bad looking” We looked to see Jade on her phone looking them up.

“Well, I was thinking we can do one of their songs when we hit Germany” “That sounds good but girl... I will have to learn it in like 2 weeks. I know German but it's Arsch”.  It was a really good idea, but I didn't want to fuck up anything. “I can help you G, you forget am half germen. I speak it at home,” Nia said. “I know, but people already hate me because am black. I don't want to give them another reason.” 

“G, we will all help you, we have 2 weeks. You got this, We got this” Alex told me, All I did was shake my head. For the days leading up to the preforms, we would do a concert and after I would spend m. In my time with Nia, I learned the lyrics to the song Durch Den Monsun.

Now the two weeks are up and it was time to sing. Walking out on stage, we have seen so many people. Signs with our names and faces on them. They were so sweet and amazing. 

 Now is the time “Wie fühlen wir uns heute Abend? Ich weiß, wir sollten Pause machen. Ich wollte euch etwas zeigen. Bereit Mädels?” (How are we feeling tonight? I know we should be on break but I wanted to show you guys something. Ready girls?)

The guys gave me a head nod and we started on the song. It was 3 seconds into the song and the crowd is going wild. I could remember a thing after that. Now am back in the hotel room lying down. “You know you did amazing, you got all the words right” We stayed in two hotel rooms. I got the share with Nia. “Thanks, babe”

“G, wake up. Addy needs to talk to us” Nia told me “Girl what time is it?” “7 a.m., come on and get dressed, I have to go wake the other girls.” “Is everything okay?” “I don’t know. She told us to meet her downstairs in an hour or so. She told us to dress like ourselves. So go in the shower first, it takes you forever to do your hair” I laughed while she was walking to the next door. 

We all met up in Nia and I's room to just do some finishing touches on our look. We all have a different look. Jade, Alex, Nia, and I all wore the same shirt differently but had the same dark blue jeans. I had washed my hair and it ended up in a curled-up afro which I loved. I had made my shirt into a high crop top so you could still see our band name and the dark blue jeans high-waisted.

We got downstairs to see Addy waiting for us. “Good morning my loves. I want to meet you guys to some people!” “Addy I know you are the manager and all but I might have to kill you if you try to wake us up again this early?” Alex said. “I got you guys food” “Okay I love you again” Alex added. “So what's up,” I asked 

“Tokio Hotel saw your guys perform last night and they wanted to meet you, in person,” She said with a smile on her face. “Wait are you for really!” “Yes I am, and we have to meet this in 3 hours. The place is an hour away and I want you all awake so we will drive there. Get more food and meet up with them. Okay” “Yes” we added at the same time

“Let us get this shit on the road. Am want to sleep in the car” Alex had always been the outgoing one. Always speaking her mind and not caring. Jade was that way too but she had a filter. The car ride was okay. We called for a bit until Alex went to sleep. We stopped and ate and 15 minutes later we were at a company building. The man who was driving told us we had to go through the back, due to the fans. 

Even going through the back there was still fans everywhere. All I could think was that this group made it far. Each of us had a security guard by our side until we got into the building and into the room we were supposed to be in. Addy opened the door, she was greeted by a man who I assumed was their manager. They chatted for a few seconds then he looked at us.

“It is so nice to finally meet your girls. My name is Max and am the boy's mangers.” “Hello, Max” “Hi” we each said. “Max can you give the girls a run down for today” “Oh yes, I know it's one of your breaks from your show and I premises you girls can all sleep in Tom-” All I was thinking at this time was just sleep. “You and the boys will have an hour to yourself. No cameras, no pictures, nothing. Just getting to know each other.” He looked down had his right wrist “Then in about, an hour and a half now. We will have you guys take group pictures together. Everyone in Germany loves you guys here and why not have two big groups show some love to the people but give them what they want? Yeah!” 

The girls and I looked at each other “Excuse me, sir, what do you mean?” Nia was saying what we all were thinking. “The people want to see the group interact with one another. Is that fine with you guys?” Just nodding our heads yes. “All right, follow me!” He took us to a room, from the outside we could hear voices. 

He knocked on the door. “Boys there here”  He opened the door. The girls and I looked at each other. “So who’s going in first?” I asked “I say you G, You are a singer” “Yeah, G” “ What the fuck, why.?” You are the face of the group. Now go show your face first” I walked in with a fake smile on my face. The first person I see he a tall, guy with long brown hair. His smile was to die for and I only looked for 3 seconds before taking my eyes off him. 

The rest of the girls followed right next to me in a line. “Now I want you all to mix in with each other. Bill, Tom, Georg, and Gustav. Meet G, Jade, Alex and Nia. We will see you all in an hour” I looked around the room, It was like an office space. A big round table that fit all 8 of us. Everyone got into a spot with a person we didn’t know. The brown-haired boy sat on the right of me.

“Am Bill!” He had the biggest smile on his face and his hair was as big as mine. He sat on my left “I always wanted to meet you all. You guys are amazing!” He finished “So are you! Your voice is beautiful by the way”  I feel like I could talk to him for days without getting bored. “Do you only go by G?” “Yeah it is a stage name. And It is easier to say for people” 

It took a while but everyone started talking to one another. It felt so good being about the talk to people who have the same passion that you do. We related to each other, not even an hour later and it felt like we had been friends for over years. Less than an hour. 

I found out his name, Georg. He was talking to Jade about the animal when she brought up my name. “Oh G loves animals, She has like 5 dogs. Right G?” “Oh what's their name?” Georg had asked me. “Princess, Prince, Zoey and Zion. I only have 4.” I laughed, he was looking at me the whole time I was talking or anytime we talked. He would always be the one asking me questions. I just felt so open with him, I didn't know how to act. He made me feel somewhat. A safe way but I didn’t know if I wanted to get too close, just to keep out of making a fool of myself. 

Right when I finished laughing with Georg the door opened. We didn't stop talking, we were all having a good time. “Okay guys, It's time to go,” Addy told us “It's off the the shot. Now would you all like to take different cars or take the bus?” Max asked. “We will take the same bus, I have so much to ask Alex” Bill and Alex were talking the whole time. They seem like they would become best friends by the end of the day. 

I made sure everyone got a chance to walk out the door before I did. Georg stayed behind me. “You can go first,” I told him “No it's fine, please go first” “I really hope we aren't gonna fight about this” “We are not, because you will be going first” I walked out signing. I walked out to see Max and Addy waiting for us. We walked ahead of them. I looked behind me to see them talking, I tried to listen but I could hear nothing with Alex and Bill talking loudly. 

We went through the first to get to the bus. There were fans everywhere. Since Georg and I stayed behind a little, we ended a stuck. With people trying to get on the bus. “Hold my hand, I will push us through this,” He told me and I told his hand and made it on the bus, safely.

I hoped you like it!

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x black reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #georg listing x black reader #gustav schafer x reader #black reader #poc #x black fem reader

[mcalhenwrites]

I'm sincerely trying to find answers to these questions. I'm seeking advice.

I'm going to start this off by stating that I'm still writing. I haven't quit. I'm not going to quit. This is about sharing. I've had so many people assume I quit writing or only will write for the sake of being a published author. I'll always be writing as long as I'm alive.

And as someone who firmly believes that people can choose whether or not to share their art with the world and no one else gets to decide that, I also believe that it's not wrong to want to have readers. Libraries and bookstores and art galleries and art sites and everything else - we connect to each other through art. It wouldn't exist if everyone just went, "Welp, I made the thing, good for me. Done!" And if someone is going to tell me that I should feel that way, I hope you keep all your writing and art to yourself. If not, I'd consider it a kindness to us both if you don't respond to this post through comments, DMs, or asks. Thank you. ;)

So onto the questions I'm seeking advice on.

How can I overcome the shame of posting writing for about 14 years and still barely getting readers? (But often getting a lot of critique?)

I've been in writing circles, reading and cheering on others, and they read one anothers' writing, but I'm frequently passed over/ignored - and that's the kinder response. I've been told that I'm there for my support only, that I'm not a good enough writer myself, that my characters are all the same.

How does one keep posting links to their published work or AO3 chapters/works, when they never get any likes or reblogs across several websites?

When friends have done nothing but scold them for not being good at PR, when I'm just... I'm a writer, not a businessman. And I am trying, but even popular authors on social media have mentioned that word-of-mouth and boosting of their work on social media has impacted their success? That M*sk taking over one of those sites has negatively impacted their interactions and therefore their sales? (Wouldn't this mean they also suck ass at PR? xD)

Am I supposed to believe I have a chance, when even established authors are struggling?

I don't like myself very much, and I'm ashamed of level of skill, even though I enjoy writing so much I can't help but always want to do it. I can't help but create stories and get excited about writing them down. There are even times I feel like I've made progress. Gotten better as a writer.

But it's so hard not to end up letting other people make me feel ashamed.

It's true I shouldn't listen to those people, but why have they been so many, and why is the positivity always so few and far in-between? Maybe if it was one voice in one-hundred, but what if it's twenty voices out of thirty? What am I to believe then? When even friends clearly have no faith in my works and don't want to be seen associating with it?

I wanted to be a published writer. I wanted to make a little bit of an income on writing, so I'd have reason to do what I love even more.

But I've spent most of my life feeling like a fool who keeps humiliating himself. Who wonders if the truth is that I'm worse at writing than even I'm willing to admit.

I had one story that "took off" on AO3, but even that lost readers by the end, and no one is interesting in anything I have created before or since then.

And that story... I've been editing it heavily and even added chapters, and I'm like, "I should post the new version sometime" but I'm convinced no one even wants it. (And I'd have to do it for free, and I can't afford to do things for free. I just got on medicaid finally and went to a food pantry last week and keep applying for help, and I have to wait until April to see a doctor to get critical help for my multiple health issues that might make my ability to work even harder. I broke down and crocheted stock for a table this month, and the pain in my wrist is excruciating, and the pain my heart that I can't spend half that time making personal passion projects with something I only want to do as a hobby is even more excruciating. So no, not every story of mine can just be churned out for free.)

Anyway, thank you for reading and your time, and if you have legitimate advice/answers/support... I could use it. I could use it more than ever. 

[majaloveschris]

Why nothing makes sense part 6.

Ghosted premiere edition 👻

When I woke up and read people talking about her being there, I definitely expected something much worse than it actually was. Don't misunderstand me; I obviously wasn't happy she was there, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be if she were there.

As always, there are things that just don't make any sense to me.

In the past few weeks, we've received no articles about them; the article about Chris didn't include her. However, on the day of the premiere, ET included pictures of the Valentine's Day video, and the Daily Mail also included her. It was like a reminder that, hey, he is supposed to be in a really loving and committed relationship with this Alba girl, remember? He was spotted alone, and we hadn't received any new content since Valentine's Day. The cheating rumor was also posted. I understand why many people think we are getting to the end of this shitshow, because it felt like it.

What's up with Tara and her family? So Tara and her family were in NYC yesterday, on the same day of the premiere, and Gully even met them before the event. Why wasn't she or they at the premiere? The fact that they were there on the same day and even met Gully would be too many coincidences if she or they weren't supposed to be there. But if both Tara and Alba's appearances were planned, then she couldn't have been the reason why she didn't go to the premiere? And they had time for it because, as it turned out, they went to the Broadway Museum before the premiere started. Or was she there? Because I know some people say she was, without any evidence, of course, but if she was there, why didn't we see her? And why wouldn't she arrive with Chris and Alba?

So the one and only time we say Alba was when they got out of the car with Chris, and then when we saw her going in with two people, who are supposedly Chris's friends or whatever. Where was everybody else? Tara was in town. Scott, Steve, Lisa, Shanna, or Carly? Where was everybody? They would've been better company for her, especially since they all adore her. Chris gave something to her; it wasn't his phone, that's for sure. They looked like some kind of tickets, I guess; maybe she got Tara's 😂 People also say they kissed in cars, but there is no evidence of that, and there is no way somebody can tell that from that video. I thought that if she were there, she would walk down the red carpet with him, which didn't happen. I'm not complaining, and I don't believe he was either. But what was the point of her being there? Why wasn't she on the red carpet with him, like his family members and friends usually are? I remember the Lightyear premiere, and I remember seeing Steve on the red carpet, behind Chris, while he was giving an interview. Why wasn't she there too? And please don't say that because of "backlash" or because "they didn't want to get bullied", because I have an easy solution for that: don't bring her to the premiere. He's never had a problem with not bringing his partners to premieres, but he didn't have a problem being at Jenny's premiere, for example, and he didn't seem to care about the backlash then. This whole premier thing was just as half-assed as everything else in this shitshow. You want to come to the premiere? Okay, I will do the bare minimum. You can get out of the same car as me, and we can have a fast chat, and then you can do whatever you want.

I hope those who said this will be the last thing he needs to do and then bye-bye PR contract and Alba are right.

That's my take on everything at this exact moment. Feel free to correct me if I made a mistake here and there 😊; I was trying to write down everything until this whole thing was fresh in my mind 😅

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #chris and alba ghosted premiere #cevans-love

[sugdenlovesdingle]

Tarlos @flufftober day 2: Friends, Family, Loved Ones

Sister (AO3) TK meets Carlos' sister, just not in the way they expected

Look at me posting on time again! (don't get used to it)

---

“We’re getting married in 6 days and I haven’t met his sister yet. That’s weird right? That’s weird.” TK was pacing up and down the firehouse kitchen and Nancy was close to strangling him.

“You’re meeting her tomorrow, aren’t you? So even if it was weird, it’s not anymore.” She looked to the rest of the crew for help.

“Yeah… but what if she doesn’t like me? What if she thinks I’m not good enough for Carlos?” TK paused and ran a hand through his hair. “I hurt him so much with the loft… What if she hates me? What if she’s going to tell Carlos not to marry me?”

“Dude, stop stressing, Carlos really isn’t going to call off the wedding at the last minute because his sister doesn’t like you.” Nancy sighed.

“What if she’s going to make him choose between her and me?”

“Why would she? And what makes you think Carlos wouldn’t choose you?”

“Yeah man, I’ve never seen two people more in love than you and Carlos.” Paul chimed in and the others agreed.

“Exactly.” Nancy said, putting her hands on TK’s shoulders. “So stop stressing. You’re going to marry that man in a week and -”

“Six days.” TK interrupted and Nancy rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re going to marry that man in 6 days and everything will be fine and you’ll be your own horribly loved up selves and calling each other husband all the time.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Yeah.”

“Of course I’m right.” Nancy sat down again. “I’m always right.”

“Hmm… Maybe I should buy some flowers?”

“For the sister?”

“Yes? I bought flowers for Andrea when I officially met her and Gabriel for the first time…”

“I suppose that could be a nice touch…”

“But then I’d have to buy flowers for Andrea and his other sister too. And then I’d show up with just three bouquets and nothing for Gabriel? I should get something for him too right?”

“Maybe forget about the presents. Just be yourself. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Judd told him. “You already know his parents, those are the ones you want to have on board.”

“And they love you. I’ve never heard anyone use as many pet names as Andrea Reyes any time she’s near you.” Paul pointed out.

TK nodded.

He knew his friends were right, but he couldn’t help but worry. He wanted the whole of Carlos’ family to like him.

“Look, the way I see it, you’re marrying Carlos, not his family.” Judd said, trying to get through to TK.

“I know… but I want them to like me. He’s had such a complicated relationship with his family, I don’t want to ruin that when he’s finally in a good place with them.”

“And why wouldn’t they like you? You’re a little shit sometimes but you’ve got a good heart.”

“And Carlos loves you.” Nancy reminded him.

TK bit his lip.

“I hate it when you go all rational on me and start making sense.” He said and everyone laughed.

Suddenly Tommy came running down the stairs.

“Medical, gear up, we have to go.”

“What? Why? I haven’t heard the bell?” Nancy commented.

“It’ll ring soon. There was a car accident nearby. At least two cars involved, drivers statuses unknown as of yet. Let’s go.”

“Wait, cap… how do you know?”

“I was on the phone with Grace when it happened.”

“Gracie was in an accident?” Judd asked, worried.

“No, she just saw it happen on the way home from her shift. She’s fine Juddy.” Tommy patted his chest. “Ok medical, let’s go!”

Just as they were getting into the ambulance, the alarm went off, calling not only medical but also fire and rescue to the accident.

“Must’ve been a big crash.” Nancy commented, buckling her seat belt. “But hey, maybe Carlos will be at the scene too and he can tell you to stop worrying.”

“Yeah, maybe. Depends on where in the city he is… they send the unit that’s closest to these things.” TK said, checking the mirrors before starting the engine. “You know he’s working up until the day before the wedding?!”

“So? As long as he’s not working the day of… I don’t see the problem.” Nancy shrugged, putting on gloves as they pulled out of the station and made their way to the scene of the accident.

APD was already on the scene, though unfortunately Carlos was on crowd control and couldn’t give them more than a quick nod in passing.

An officer TK recognised from the APD barbeque brought them up to speed.

“We’re hearing that guy ran a red light and crashed into the other car. The driver seems mostly in one piece, though likely under the influence, the passenger wasn’t wearing a seat belt so that got kind of ugly.” The officer told them and pulled a mildly disgusted face. “My kids are never getting in a car without their seatbelt on… or their feet on the dashboard.”

“Right. And the other car?” Tommy asked.

“One driver, a pregnant woman, she’s stuck. The airbag deployed but the car is pretty banged up. She’s awake and responsive though.”

“Ok. Nancy you go check out the drunk driver and the passenger, TK and I will take the pregnant woman.” Tommy decided. “And radio for a second ambulance.”

“Got it cap.” Nancy replied and went with the officer as TK and Tommy went to check out the other driver.

“Hi there, my name is Tommy, this is TK, what’s your name?”

“Luisa.”

“Hi Luisa, how far along are you?”

“Almost 8 months... My doctor said I was still ok to travel.”

“I don’t think your doctor thought any of this would happen.” TK said as he tried to get into the car from the other side.

“Are you in any pain?” Tommy asked the woman.

“I… uh… a little I guess. My legs… I can’t move my legs. And I’m having cramps… and I think… I uh… wet myself… in the crash… but it can’t be labour yet, can it?”

“Let’s hope not.” Tommy said, giving the woman a reassuring smile. “Judd, I need your guys here to get Luisa out!”

“I need to get a c-collar on her but I can’t get in.” TK told Judd. “Can you guys open up the door on the other side first?”

“We can do that.” Judd confirmed and took a quick look at the state of the car. “This thing is pretty banged up, but we can do it. We can take the roof off.”

“No, please don’t. This is a rental.” Luisa told them. “I’m only in town for my brother’s wedding.”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think you’ll be getting your deposit back in any case.” Judd replied. “Just hang tight, we’ll have you out in a tick.” He said and started instructing his team.

“Is there anyone we can call for you?” TK asked. “Partner? Family? Your brother?”

“No… the baby’s father is… not around… And my family… don’t know… I’m coming today. They’re not… expecting me… until tomorrow. My brother… is getting married… this weekend.”

“Are you having trouble breathing?” Tommy asked, noticing the slight shortness of breath as the woman was speaking.

“Uhm… a little. That’s bad… isn’t it?”

“It’s not ideal… but you’re in good hands. Try to stay calm.”

TK had managed to break the window on the passenger’s side and climbed into the car to put a c-collar on the woman’s neck.

“This will protect your neck and spine.” He explained as he quickly examined her. “Her legs are pinned cap, they’ll have to take the whole engine apart. No other visible injuries.” He turned to Luisa. “Can I touch your belly? To check on the baby.”

“Yeah, ok.” She replied and TK carefully put his hands on her belly, feeling for injuries, before grabbing his stethoscope and listening to both her heart and that of the baby.

“Your heart rate is a little fast, but that’s understandable.”

“And the baby?”

“Nothing unusual as far as I can tell.” He gave her a smile and climbed back out. “Diminished breath sounds, possible pneumothorax. Baby seems alright but I couldn’t get a clear heartbeat.” He told Tommy quietly. “We need to get her out quick.”

Tommy nodded and looked through the purse she’d found.

“Oh honey I’ve found your purse. Your phone is still in one piece. Do you have any medication in here you need? Any allergies?”

“I don’t… think… so…”

“Ok, that’s good. That’s what we like.” Tommy said and looked at Luisa’s driver’s license. “Uh Luisa, what is your brother’s name?” She asked, leaning into the car and taking her hand. Both to try and distract her and to check her pulse.

“Carlos… why? Do you know him?”

Tommy nodded.

“I believe I do. Is he an officer with APD?”

“Yes…”

“And do you know the name of the person he’s marrying?��

“Cap…”

“Uhm… it’s a double name… Tyler… I think… but he goes by… a nickname…”

“TK?”

“Yes, that’s it…”

TK pointed at the name on his uniform.

“Hi.”

“Oh… Uhm… Hi.”

“I think you’ve just met your soon to be brother in law.” Tommy said, amused. “Probably not the way you planned.”

“Not really…” Luisa craned her neck to look past Tommy to TK. “Is Carlos here too?”

“He’s on crowd control. Do you want me to go get him?”

“No… he’s working. It’s ok.”

TK nodded and glanced in the direction where he’d just seen Carlos.

“Ok, we’re ready to move.” Judd told them. “Do you need more hands, Tommy?”

“Yes, your guys can help transfer her onto the gurney.”

A few minutes later Luisa was being strapped in and carefully loaded onto the ambulance. Tommy quickly climbed in with her, stopping TK when he wanted to climb in after her.

“I can help Cap.” He protested

Tommy gave him a slightly exasperated look.

“TK, I need to examine her. We need some privacy.”

“Oh. Right. Got it, Cap.”

“Just go help Nancy with the other driver, I’ll radio when I’m done and we’re moving out.”

TK nodded and did as he was told, only not even 10 minutes later Tommy’s voice came over the radio, ordering both him and Nancy back to the ambulance.

“Everything alright back there, cap?” TK replied via the radio.

“The baby is impatient, she’s in labour. We need to get to hospital now.”

They rushed back and jumped in the ambulance, TK behind the wheel, Nancy in the back with Tommy.

They almost made it to hospital when Nancy banged on the little window behind TK’s head and told him to pull over.

“The baby is coming now. We need you back here.”

He parked the ambulance in the first available place he could find and quickly opened the back to help out.

“TK, come sit here and hold her hand.” Tommy ordered, getting up from her own seat to make room for him.

He did as he was told and grabbed Luisa’s hand.

“I know it’s scary but try to stay calm. Captain Vega and Nancy are badasses. They’re the best.”

Luisa nodded and squeezed his hand on another contraction.

“You’re doing great honey.” Tommy told her. “Your baby will be here soon.”

Not long after that, TK was wrapping a baby boy in a blanket after Tommy had quickly checked him over.

“Are you sure you don’t want to let your family know now? I can call Carlos. Or your mom.” He carefully passed the baby to Luisa.

“Ok… call Carlos.”

TK nodded and grabbed his phone and called Carlos’ number.

“Hey babe. Slow shift?” He answered almost right away.

“No, not exactly. Where are you?”

“On my way to the precinct. We just wrapped up at that accident. Why?”

“How fast can you get to hospital?”

“Hospital? TK what’s happened? Are you ok? Please don’t tell me we have to cancel the wedding because you got hurt?”

“No don’t worry baby, I’m fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Carlos asked and TK heard him moving around.

“Nothing’s really wrong. I just… I met your sister. Luisa.”

Carlos let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think so babe, she’s not coming until tomorrow.”

“No, she’s definitely here…” TK told him, trying to decide just how much of the rest of the day’s events he should tell him. “She was in an accident. We’re on the way to the hospital now.”

“Is she ok? Do my parents know?”

“No not yet. She asked me to call you.”

“Ok. Ok I’m on my way. Tell her I’m on my way. Are you going to Northwest?”

“Yeah, we’re maybe 5 minutes out. Drive safe baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, you too. Love you. Bye.”

As soon as they got to hospital, both Luisa and the baby were met by a team of doctors and nurses.

“We’ll take it from here.” One of the nurses said as they transferred Luisa to a hospital gurney.

“Wait, I’m family. I’m her brother.” TK said and a doctor looked back and forth between him and Luisa. “Brother in law, ok?” he said annoyed. “Can I come with her?”

“Sorry, medical staff only beyond these doors.” A nurse stepped in front of him. “I’ll come update you as soon as I can.”

“I am medical staff.” TK pointed at the logo on his uniform.

“Yes, but not in this hospital.” The nurse explained calmly. “As soon as I know anything, you’ll know too.” She gave him a quick smile and disappeared through the double doors leading to the ER.

“I’ve taken us off shift for now.” Tommy said, putting a hand on TK’s shoulder. “We’ll wait with you until Carlos gets here. And if you want us to stay after that, we’ll stay.”

“Thanks cap.”

Not long after the three of them had sat down, Carlos rushed into the hospital.

“TK! What happened? Is she ok?”

“She got hit by a drunk driver. The car was smashed up pretty badly but she was awake and responsive.” TK told him, rattling off facts like he would updating Tommy or Nancy. “Her legs were pinned under the steering column but nothing life threatening as far as I could tell.”

“Ok. Ok. Where is she now? Can I see her?”

“The doctors took her through to treat her. I’m sure someone will be out to update us soon. Why don’t you take a seat.” Tommy told him. “You know what hospitals are like.”

Carlos reluctantly sat down between TK and Tommy.

“Did she say anything? Why she’s here a day early? Does she know who you are?” He asked TK.

“Yeah… yeah she knows. But she didn’t really say anything… we were all a little preoccupied.”

“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me?” Carlos asked, noticing the looks between TK, Tommy, and Nancy.

“I uh… I’m not really sure it’s my news to share.” TK said, taking Carlos’ hand. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“That… does nothing to ease my mind.”

“She had a baby, ok? About an hour ago.” Nancy blurted out. “If she gets upset, just blame me.”

“What?”

“Yeah dude, you’re an uncle. She had a boy.”

“She what? I mean… is the baby ok?”

“Yep. As far as we could tell in the bus anyway.”

“I… I didn’t know she was dating anyone.” Carlos settled on, trying to process the information.

“She was with one guy at least once.” Nancy shrugged, ignoring the look TK gave her.

“Yeah… yeah I guess you’re right about that…”

“Luisa Reyes’ family?” A different nurse than the one from before asked as she walked into the waiting area.

“That’s us.” TK jumped up, pulling Carlos to his feet too. “We’re her brothers.”

“Alright. Well, your sister was lucky. No major injuries, just some cuts and scrapes, and she’ll probably be sore for a while, but she’s alright.”

“And the baby?”

“Also doing fine.” The nurse told them. “We’re keeping them overnight for observation but they should both be ready to go home tomorrow.”

“Can we see her?” Carlos asked.

“Sure, follow me.” She said and led them through the ER to a bed with the curtains drawn around it. The nurse opened the curtain. “I’ve got some visitors for you.” She told Luisa and stepped aside for Carlos and TK. “I’ll be back as soon as we’ve got a bed ready for you upstairs.”

“Hey, how are you feeling?” TK asked, sitting down on the stool next to the bed after the nurse had left.

“Tired. Sore.” Luisa replied and looked down at the little boy in her arms. “But happier than I’ve ever been.”

“I’m glad you’re both alright.” TK told her, reaching out to stroke the baby’s cheek.

“Aren’t you going to come say hello to your nephew, Carlitos?” Luisa asked Carlos who still stood frozen in place, right where he’d stepped through the curtain.

“Uh yeah, yeah, sorry. Of course. Yeah.” He stammered and stepped forward. “I’m just… why didn’t you say anything? Where is his dad? Who is his dad.”

“It’s complicated.” Luisa sighed. “I didn’t want anyone fussing over me. Mainly mom.”

“You know she isn’t going to let you out of her sight when she finds out. Either of you.” Carlos said and carefully leaned down to hug her and the baby.

“Yeah I know. But he deserves to be fussed over by his grandma. And mom will need a project after your wedding.” Luisa said, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. “I can’t believe my baby brother is getting married. And to a nice guy too!”

Carlos smiled and looked at TK who took his hand.

“Yeah. I didn’t think this is how you two would meet...”

“We could have met sooner if you had actually told me about him, mister oh by the way I’m getting married in 6 weeks.”

“You didn’t tell her about us until six weeks ago?” TK laughed. “We secured the date almost eight weeks ago!”

Carlos blushed and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

“Ana told me a few things about you. And I’ve been meaning to look you up online… but I haven’t gotten around to that yet. I’ve been a little busy.” Louisa told TK.

“Well, I’m happy to tell you anything you want to know.” TK replied with a grin on his face Carlos knew meant trouble. “On one condition.”

“You want to offer your services as babysitter?”

“No, but we’ll be happy to after the honeymoon.” He leaned forward and briefly squeezed the little boy’s foot. “I want to know what Carlos was like growing up. Your mom has shown me his baby pictures and I’ve heard some stories… but I want to know the stuff she doesn’t know about and he won’t tell me.”

Luisa laughed.

“Oh I like you. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #flufftober 2023 #tarlos flufftober #tk strand #carlos reyes #my writing

[nightswithkookmin]

I'm inactive from twitter nowadays so am always somehow behind the new updates,but always catch up when I can.about jimin going to newyork for work I heard no one knew about it? But been noticing jm pulls off this crazy crowd at the airport everytime hes alone.but I don't see this crowd for others?..it looks like jimin has his own solo huge fanbase in his country? this also after jm being barely active on social media but seems fans and kmedia really love jimin.,the first time he went to us and stayed for two weeks the crowd was insane too and some said he paid kmedia to bring fans in which is ridiculous.

He paid to get fans to the airport?????

I mean if he was gonna pay anyone it would be me and I'm not seeing any check in the mail🤷🏾‍♂️

People can be so corny 🙄

BTS is the most influential boyband in the world and people marvel when the one member people have always been curious about attracts attention whenever he steps out- never mind that he's also been the most inaccessible scarce member following the announcement of their solo careers.

All this talk about jikook going private-

It's such a wonder to see their brains at work

Not even gonna lie I would pay with my own money to rally up the hoes at his front door so I'm in no position to Judge let alone condemn anyone who does this too.

If anyone is paying the media to be anywhere it is his fans. It is me. I did it. Jimin has nothing to do with it. They should leave him alone.

We gonna get him the crown, the trophies, the streams, the plays, the clout, the attention, higher ratings, play his soft core PR managers, manage his brand- if we could post and curate his IG ourselves we would. If we could pay for his flights so he flies private or 1st class all the time we would, if we could choose which programs he should be on we would, if we could be his agents we would, if we could create a whole new planet for himWE WOULD.

People underestimate just how obsessed his fans and detractors alike are with him. I tell you his haters are his biggest promoters and we thank them.

We mean business out here darling. Other stans are just lazy. Look at what they doing to RM!!! They not even giving him the clicks!it's been four days and still life isn't even clocking 10m- they should stop worrying about Jimin and go stream like the bitches they are

JM stans want to see him do better and that motivates everyone in one way or the other no matter their reach. PJMs are resourceful. It's why fake woke OT7s cancel them a lot💀

They spend so much time and energy abusing others they reserve no energy to support their faves.

He has in us a ride or die and people are just jealous.

Jimin stans we are dedicated🙃

Look at me. I've been through the wood chip, lived through several moments of BTS droughts- I should hang my coat and retire yet I'm still here💀

Had friends who've told me to give all this up and live my life- I'm no longer friends with them🙂

I'll give you up before I give Jimin up

I am here till the final curtain call🙂

On a serious note, guys go watch Still life MV and let's push it to at least 10m damn

[espithewarlock]

Happy @1016week! Day 2 - Social Media!

This is part 4 of a 4-part piece, but it's being released first because of the prompt order! (They can be read in any order and I actually like that this one is coming out first!)

（。＾▽＾）

It was honestly so surprising how many people believed the narrative. They had been soft-launching their relationship for years and all anyone ever talked about was what such good friends they were.

Charles couldn’t help but giggle as he thought about their social media posts over the years. From the dinner dates, to the basketball dates, to the tennis dates, to driving together, to arriving at the track together, to arriving at the track late together, to vacationing together, to the nicknames, and everything in-between.

They weren’t exactly hiding that they were together, but nobody believed it.

Sure, there was a small subset of their fans who would take the pictures of them together and edit them with a soft filter and hearts and poetic quotes, but the vast majority of those people didn’t believe it either. It was all wishful thinking. Their little fantasy in their heads. No possible way it was actually true.

Even their PR teams were in on it, playing up the narrative whenever it suited them. From ‘The content you REALLY want (Piarles)’ and ‘It wouldn’t be a driver’s parade without these two finding each other ✌’ captions to the way Grill the Grid would edit their answers about each other to be right next to each other. It was almost too obvious sometimes.

Well, none of those PR teams actually knew the truth, but if playing it up for the fans helped their public image then Charles was not going to complain. They were really just doing his work for him, albeit unknowingly.

It was still objectively funny that nobody even suspected that what they were sharing with the world was the simple, honest truth.

He didn’t know how he could be more obvious about it, aside from sticking his tongue down Pierre’s throat in the middle of a press conference. Even if he did that, there was still a very good chance that some people would tell them what great friends they were.

Hilarious.

Charles could recall the days following Monza 2020, their relationship still relatively fresh and shiny and new, and how much he agonized over using the calamar nickname, the squid emoji, and the blowing a heart kiss emoji.

He really shouldn’t have worried since everyone just went ‘Friends 😍’, even with Pierre’s response calling him his petit calamardo.

Again it happened in Baku, following a thrilling on-track battle he used the squid + blowing a kiss emojis and nobody suspected that it was real.

Now their relationship, their true relationship, was more than three years old and they were preparing for Monza yet again.

Pierre was stunning, as he always was, and the entire week following his first podium with Alpine had him positively glowing. (Well, he was already glowing before he got the podium, but the podium was the obvious reason. Everyone knew about it. Nobody bothered to dig deeper.)

Charles had typed out a new Instagram post, started it ‘Congrats for the podium Mr. Gasly 😘’ and made sure to hit post after they put their phones on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for their morning run.

Of course, Pierre hadn’t seen it until they returned, by design, which explained why Charles was now sitting on their kitchen counter, giggling, while Pierre stood between his legs.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on your podium,” Charles said innocently, watching as Pierre’s eyes flicked up, halfway between exasperated and amused.

“You know very well that is not my last name anymore,” he said pointedly, leaning forward to nip at Charles’ lower lip teasingly.

“Hmmm,” Charles pretended to think for a moment as he chased Pierre’s lips, “well, I couldn’t just go around calling you Mr. Leclerc-Gasly, now could I? People might find out about us.”

He affected a scandalized look as Pierre threw his head back and laughed with his full body. Charles started giggling once again.

At the beginning of the summer break, they had grabbed Arthur as their witness and drove to Nice to get married in a small, private, quick ceremony. A bored government official barely checked over their paperwork and identification before pronouncing them husbands.

Another bored government bureaucrat changed their last names with the barest of confirmations that their photos matched their faces and the names matched the papers. They left that office with fresh new photos, IDs, last names, and smiles as wide as the ocean.

It all felt so anticlimactic after everything was said and done. They spent the summer break, their honeymoon, lounging in the sun and completely lost in each other. It was absolutely perfect.

After Pierre had calmed down, he matched Charles’ fond smile. “What do you think everyone would say if I changed my race designation? There would be chaos.”

“Well, we can’t have two LEC’s on the grid,” Charles pointed out, “you’d have to be something different.”

“I’d go with LEG, for me,” Pierre raised his eyebrows and grabbed Charles’ ankle to shake his actual leg around, “you know, for LEclerc-Gasly.”

Charles’ giggles started up once again as he was tilted backward. “You know, I picked up on that all on my own, funny enough.”

Pierre ignored him and held his foot like a pretend microphone, affecting a terrible British accent. “It’s the final lap of the race, and Leclerc-Gasly in the Alpine is fighting with Leclerc-Gasly in the Ferrari for the win!”

“They’re through the first chicane and Leclerc-Gasly is in the lead! Then into the Curva Grande and Leclerc-Gasly overtakes Leclerc-Gasly in a gutsy move! He’s putting up a brilliant defense, but then Leclerc-Gasly gets DRS to put him back in front!”

It was completely ridiculous. Pierre was such a younger brother sometimes and Charles tried to push him away with the foot that wasn’t being used as a microphone. It was not effective.

“Leclerc-Gasly holds onto the lead all the way into Curva Parabolica, but Leclerc-Gasly has the inside line! They’re wheel to wheel and they almost touch! The chequered flag is out! It’s going to be a photo finish! Leclerc-Gasly comes across the line to take the win, less than two hundredths in front of Leclerc-Gasly! The crowd goes insane!”

Pierre kept holding onto his ankle and shaking it around excitedly as Charles was physically incapable of stopping his giggles. This was one of the many reasons he fell in love and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Eventually, Pierre did release his ankle and Charles used it to hook his husband closer to him. “I wouldn’t mind a LEC-LEG one-two this weekend,” he murmured, laughter still present in his voice.

“Excuse you!” Pierre made a completely shocked face, “who said it was a LEC-LEG? Maybe it will be a LEG-LEC!”

“Maybe,” Charles conceded, “but who is up there on the podium with us?”

Pierre shrugged and brought his hands to Charles’ waist, “it doesn’t particularly matter. Probably Max, if we’re being honest.”

“Ugh, do not talk to me about Max,” Charles rolled his eyes, “can we have Carlos? Lando? Alex? Esteban?”

“I’ll give you Carlos on the podium if Esteban can come in P4,” Pierre’s eyes sparkled, “a 1-4 is more points than a 2-3, after all, and the tifosi would love having you both up there.”

“And what, the Red Bulls crash each other out in turn one to make that happen?”

“Anything is possible,” Pierre said lightly, “it is Monza after all.”

Charles just shook his head, then had a brilliant thought. “Maybe Arthur will get a seat soon and we can have an all-Leclerc podium,” he said excitedly.

“That would not confuse the commentators at all,” Pierre said, sharing in his amusement, “Leclerc won the race? Which one?”

“Mr. Leclerc-Gasly, of course,” Charles wrapped his legs more securely around Pierre to pull him even closer and kiss him soundly.

“I like the sound of that,” Pierre murmured against his lips, “race winner Mr. Leclerc-Gasly.”

“I’ll post that on Instagram for your next race win,” Charles promised.

“Deal,” Pierre grinned and captured his lips again, his hands pressing into Charles’ back possessively. Charles responded by threading a hand through his husband’s hair so he could tilt his head back and deepen the kiss.

“I think you should take me to bed, Mr. Leclerc-Gasly,” Charles whispered across Pierre’s lips.

“Of course, Mr. Leclerc-Gasly,” Pierre responded with a smile as he picked Charles up off the counter.

Charles giggled the entire way as Pierre carried him into their bedroom.

#1016 week 2023 #1016week #Day 2 - Social Media #piarles #10 x 16 #fanf1ction #Espi's Love in a Minute Series

[formulatrash]

f1 shipping gets kind of weird for me to begin with. i have seen people get into HEATED arguments about which ship is better and every time i just think people understand these ships aren't real right? half of these men are publicly in romantic relationships with women. there are a few who go out of their ways to say they won't do certain, really just regular activities that platonic friends could do together, with other men because they don't want to be perceived as gay. and i don't really fault them for that because i see how cruel fans are when drivers show they're accepting and inclusive by voluntarily wearing rainbow symbols or just simply saying they believe in equality, love is love, etc., but idk there's still something so gross about usually straight fans telling me certain drivers are like icons and activists for the LGBTQ+ community due to simply having a PR "relationship" or close friendship with other drivers on the grid. i love a nice sportsmanship moment or genuine friendship moment as much as the next fan, but that isn't "activism." that's doing NOTHING to address or prevent the abuse LGBTQ+ fans receive, especially in f1 spaces, both online and at races.

also idk i hate how every time teams or f1 themselves try to push these ships and bromances, the comments usually range from hateful and discriminatory to outdated stereotypes. and those harmful comments are NEVER deleted by admins. like, okay, cool, that's a really cute carlando or yukierre or whatever photo f1 or mclaren or ferrari or alphatauri has posted, but this does NOTHING for making me feel more accepted when a) it's fictional. it's friendships, some maybe closer than others, but it's not really LGBTQ+ representation. (at least not outwardly. i am not trying to assume anyone's sexual orientation here either, but none of these relationships have been confirmed real, and frankly, i don't think teams would be as open to publicizing these relationships like this if they were real romantic relationships, like some fans believe, due to drawback from homophobic fans, sponsors, etc.). b) how is this supposed to make anyone feel welcome and accepted when half the comments are like "who's the man and who's the woman in that relationship?" (something i fucking hate being asked myself. if i wanted a man in my relationship, i would just fucking be with a man).

idek if this makes sense or if i really even made the point i was trying to make but it bothers me too.

a lot here so, idk, apologies if I don't quite answer it all but I will give a try.

shipping wars in general are pretty weird to me, especially that something that feels so antique (like, Yahoo Groups-era internet) is going stronger than ever today.

that said, I think people who are completely aware it's fiction having some blorbos they like thinking about is also completely harmless. for a lot of people shipping whatever is a source of joy and play and to some extent companionship and it can create lots of good things. humans are meant to think things through by playing and sometimes dressing up the dolls you're doing that with in, I don't know, Star Trek uniforms or F1 racesuits or whatever is just the blorbo seasoning of the week.

it would absolutely nuke my brain to read. uhm, idk, I just looked in the F1 tag and pretty much anything in there as far as I can tell but I think it's fundamentally harmless as something people do, when it's understood as fictional.

that said; I fully get you about the mistaking shipping for activism thing. this actually, oh, let's get deep in the internet lore, used to be a big thing on here about 10 years ago. for whatever reason the Johnlock community went like, big on shipping pride and how it was an important expression of LGBTQ+ identity and inevitably, the loudest advocates were the straightest. cringe.

now, on the one hand I do think there's something to be said for queer interpretations. especially in the rigidly straight mainstreams of sport and media. if you think of reinterpreting the silly, silly world that is F1 as not for straight people then, well. yes, there's something radical to be said for that thought process.

imagining another possibility is a way to realise how absurd the current reality is. and that's good. but pointing at things and saying 'that's gay' when as far as we know it's not isn't that.

appropriating straight people (and many of the drivers have confirmed that is absolutely how they identify) as representation is, well, sometimes I can understand why LGBTQ+ people take crumbs. but when it's in a space where there are none of us then calling that acceptable or suggesting it fixes a huge demographic imbalance it doesn't is obviously a massive problem.

there are very few openly LGBTQ+ people in motorsport. pretending that's not true in reality isn't creating representation. it's fun to think about a world where there was more of us but it shouldn't replace the reality or excuse our absence.

and then there's the cynical marketing.

I've always really hated Jeandré. I know how many LGBTQ+ people were in the Formula E paddock at the time because I was one of them. clearly, JEV and André played into it, as did their team and Formula E but it was always so uncomfortable to me, that this was play-acting in an environment where the real thing would probably have got more of a pass than in any other part of motorsport but still not been treated with pride and acceptance.

it was something that drove engagement. which, god knows, Formula E needs so maybe that should be the next marketing tactic but it was also... not real.

I've said before I found things like all Sky's Carlando segments really uncomfortable. the one where Lando and Carlos took each other on laps and asked each other very dating-oriented questions was just... very uncomfortable. because men can ask each other dating-oriented questions, it shouldn't be a punchline.

to their credit Carlos and Lando actually always deflected any attempt at 'no homo' - they clearly have a very comfortable friendship and they didn't ever seem to get skittish, no matter how weird interviews got. I can respect just sort of seriously looking someone down and saying like, no you blink first if this is gay chicken. if you're trying to ship us, you've got to admit it.

but that didn't make it right. or make it that they were representation. remember when there was that seriously odd blog on here that claimed to be written by marketing specialists and body language analysts that was a transparent attempt to 'prove' carlando was true and both Lando and Carlos' official relationships were fake?

that felt very strange, a new development in motorsport fandom. obviously we all know it happened with One Direction and whatever but I was surprised to see that there was a ship that invested in, in F1. and needless to say, it was completely libellous and incredibly invasive, as well as quite misogynist.

shipping won't help a driver come out. and acting as though it's totally unrealistic that drivers could be in a relationship together obviously ignores the fact that some of them are (Jess and Abbie!)

anyway as a bonus piece of analysis for anyone who got down this far, when did Max/Charles go past the F1 RPF titan that is Simi for number of works??? unbelievable, never thought I'd see the day that was knocked off the top spot by two ships involving Max Verstappen. poor ol' brocedes.

#f1 asks

[fakecrfan]

Hi just want to say your story about the superhero was incredible. It broke my heart and I loved it

AN ASK ABOUT AN ORIGINAL THING I WROTE? 🥺

I wrote two superhero stories but only one has been getting likes in my activity feed recently so I think you mean my construction superhero short story. (checks the post) oh uh wow that’s getting more traction than I realized. Shit. So that’s why a bunch of people followed me recently.

Anyway, I don’t know if you are still watching my blog anon but since you liked my story have another snippet I whipped up just for you.

--

Excerpt from an interview with prisoner #4598, also known by the code names “Constructor,” “Destructor,” and “the Architect.” Transcript incomplete due to being salvaged after the attack on the prison records. Interview conducted by Mitchell Newman.

---

MN: Okay, well, since our memory experts can’t see anything in your head but muck and have established we’re not going to get any information out of you, anyway…

4598: Lethe is very good at memory stuff.

MN: Right, yes, of course she is. So since you’ve forgotten all useful information and I have to visit you at least for two hours a week just so this doesn’t count as solitary confinement--

4598: Could I talk to Sandy?

MN: Ms. White hasn’t asked to speak to you.

4598: Right.

MN: Anyway as I was saying, since I have to be here anyway why don’t you just tell me about yourself? Give me the whole manifesto.

4598: (no answer).

MN: Right. Well. Let me just continue then and you can answer if you feel like it. Sound good? Good. So, here is my question. What do you think about what people call you now? The first time you got arrested, you didn’t escape for months. Why?

4598: (no answer)

MN: Everyone thought it was because you needed to know the makeup of the material in order to shape it. When you stayed put they thought they’d gotten you with their Akonite walls. But it turns out you never needed to know that and you were just… sitting in there anyway.

4598: Right.

MN: What stopped you from escaping?

4598: (no answer)

MN: Did you think that you’d be let out if you played along, since you had good PR then?

4598: No.

MN: Okay. Was it that you still believed in the justice of the system?

4598: No.

MN: Second thoughts about trying to stop the construction of that stadium?

4598: Uh, no.

MN: Alright then. Why?

4598: (no answer)

MN: Is it related to your apparently still-developing powerset? Are you hiding some ability or--

4598: Depression.

MN: What?

4598: I was depressed.

MN: Ah.

4598: Everyone I had looked up to wanted me in jail. I thought no one would agree with me, so there was no point.

MN: Right.

4598: Uh, that’s something Sandy taught me. It doesn’t really matter what powers you have. If you want to get things done--big things, like building cities--you need lots of people. The things I’ve done, rebuilding… It's always because people have helped me. Cleared away poisons so I could go in the area. Gave me materials. Helped me learn.

MN: And without those people, you decided you couldn’t do anything?

4598: Yeah.

MN: So what changed your mind and made you decide to enact the largest villain breakout in history?

4598: It…

MN: What’s that?

4598: I had to try. It wouldn’t be right to just give up immediately. I couldn’t do it alone so I decided to find people who could help.

MN: And those villains--many of them serial killers and terrorists--these people shared your altruistic goals?

4598: (no answer).

MN: Right, sorry. That was a bit blunt on my part. I just mean it must have been a difficult group to work with.

4598: Hm.

MN: You’re pretty famous for not killing anyone yourself, even now. I really believe you don’t want people to die if they don’t have to. How do you reconcile that with working with, oh, Inferno. You know, the one that burnt innocent congressmen alive?

4598: (no answer).

MN: Some of the villains who escaped that day went on to kill innocent people, even if the ones you became friends with didn’t. Do you have any regrets?

4598: ...Skinner killed three children before we caught him. Toxica got… one, but made 48 people very sick for a while. Um, the others--I counted it all up. The amount of people who died due to the actions of villains that escaped because of me was 28.

MN: So you--

4598: The attacks your heroes do on other countries have casualties that number in the hundreds. Thousands sometimes.

MN: We were tracking down a highly dangerous villain with a power that could--

4598: That could not do half of that damage. They never can. The serial killers and terrorists--they’re hideous people. But there has never been one with the power to do what American “heroes” do every year.

MN: That’s because we kill them first.

4598: And then there is the damage afterwards. The sickness. People who die in the rubble. People who have their entire homes destroyed only to be turned away as undesirables when they try to find a home somewhere else.

MN: That’s not equi--

4598: You asked me if I have regrets. Yeah, I do.

4598: I regret every single fucking base I built for all of you.

---

The rest of the transcript is unsalvageable. Prisoner #4598 escaped shortly after, as containment measures on the subject once again failed. Future heroes are advised to use lethal force on sight, as containment has proven impossible and these transcripts indicate de-radicalization is unlikely.

#my writing #my original writing #superheroes #constructor #thank you so much for the ask! #I'm sure this won't get the same traction as the original post but! #in case anyone else wants to read more #long post

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

[astranva]

Falling Duet

Word Count: 2.4k

Category: Fluff but it’s so 🥺

Warning: Nothing

Request: harry dating singer!reader: he has to perform at some awards and he invites her to sing with him but no one else knows? love your writing🤧❤

Summary: You and Harry sing an unreleased version of Falling at an award show.

The lyrics used are of “Falling (other POV)” by THE cutie, Ally Naso 🤍

// masterlist //

**reposted bc tumblr is messing up the tags & nobody can view it. sigh.

..

It all started when a friend of yours had recorded you singing in your school’s bathroom during senior year.

7 years ago, you wouldn’t have believed it if somebody told you that you would be a 13-time Grammy nominated artist, as well as having 6 of that very award sitting on your shelf at your childhood home – one for Best Artist, and one for Album of the year.

You would have laughed even.

But it wasn’t a joke nor was it a dream you wished to never wake up from; it was as real as life could be.

You were successful in the industry and if any of your fans were asked, they would say that it was because of your immense talent and unproblematic, empathetic, kind character.

It was one of the many reasons why so many people on the internet had shipped you with a certain English man, him having been only 20 when you went viral and got signed.

A year into the industry, it was one day when you remember your Twitter notifications going crazy;

“HARRY STYLES JUST SAID HE LOVES YOUR MUSIC AND THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL”

“omg pls tell us you watched 1d’s interview with jimmy kimmel”

“IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! CAN YOU PLEASE BE TOGETHER ALREADY???”

Looking back at that memory, you remember how you were a shaking and overwhelmed mess as you had clicked on the link everybody was sending you.

The video had begun with the audience cheering as the camera was on Jimmy and the 5 men near him.

And there he sat; in a black suit with a white shirt underneath, medium-length hair looking like he had run his fingers through many times, his hands clasped as he looked at Jimmy.

“Who’s most likely to let a woman split the band?” Jimmy had asked.

They had looked at each other, not answering for a moment before Niall chimed in with a laugh as he pointed at Harry, “Harry would let his celebrity crush do that.”

Harry rolled his eyes jokingly as his bandmates agreed and laughed, slapping his hands against his thighs in feigned annoyance.

“Who is that? Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Just this talented person.” He had tried to smile his way through the question, but no one was having it.

“You know Y/N Y/L/N? She’s an amazing singer,” Louis told Jimmy.

“Y/N!” Jimmy beamed, “We had her on the show two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, he watched that.” Liam had gestured towards Harry.

Hiding his face in his hands for a moment, the audience cheered as his friends continued to laugh.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jimmy asked Harry in a teasing manner.

Having had decided to get it over with, Harry nodded as he clasped his hands together again, “She’s very talented and beautiful.”

“Lovie, can you help me with the necklace? My nails are still drying.”

You looked up from your place on the couch, sitting in your long dress looking so beautiful that Harry had lost track of time of getting into his own suit because he was too busy giving you a photoshoot on his phone.

Standing up, you reached and clasped his necklace for him, dusting his shoulders to signal that you were done.

Turning, you were met with your boyfriend of 4 years beaming at you before he leaned to press his lips against yours.

“You look so good.” You smiled up at him, “So beautiful.”

“Have to try to catch up with how you look tonight,” he replied with a wide smile, “Nervous?”

“Not really.” You admitted.

Amusingly and completely and utterly in love, Harry tilted his head slightly, “Any reason why you’re not? You usually hate those.”

It was true. You didn’t really like award shows because of how tiresome all the process was; hair, makeup, dressing up, walking only to pause every second, the repeated questions you have been answering for years, how more judgmental the world was on nights like these.

But it was always when Harry was able to be by your side that you liked the night, and the tall man knew it, but he had always loved hearing you say it.

To feed his ego, you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Because you’ll be there.”

“Music to my ears.” He joked, shaking his head slightly.

“Just feeding that already overfed ego of yours, baby.”

“Excuse you.” He pecked your lips, “Let me add food for Evie then we can leave.”

“I’ll do it, don’t mess up your nails.” You patted his chest before moving away to attend to your cat.

The fans and reporters all had anticipated the moment of yours and boyfriend’s arrival, and the both of you knew it.

You were fairly private with your relationship. While everyone knew you were together, the both of you didn’t always post about one another but when you did, it went viral – something you and Harry, shamelessly, enjoyed.

It was why during moments like this, everyone was eager. Reporters were hungry for content, all having different intentions, but you spend enough time in the industry and you sort of begin knowing what to say and how to say it.

Harry was scheduled to perform, something everyone knew of, but it was the fact that you were joining him not on the red carpet, but on stage that they didn’t.

Getting out of the car together, the screams and flashing lights were then doubled.

Harry closed the door behind you with a polite smile to the security standing. Bending a little, he adjusted your dress’s short train for you as you looked back at it before you looked up at him.

As if they weren’t snapping pictures like crazy yet, you reached and fixed Harry’s hair at the front, his eyes looking up with a smile as you did so.

“Thanks, love.”

With that, Harry placed his arm around your waist as you walked to the first spot on the red carpet.

“When was the last time we appeared together? They’re going mad.” You whispered, looking at Harry as he smiled to the cameras.

He chuckled, looking at you, “I think we deprive them too much.”

“Let’s give them enough content to last a year.”

Nobody but the both of you knew what you meant, and it was why the flashing lights and camera shutter sounds were then tripled the moment Harry’s lips were on yours in a soft kiss.

“Can we sign stuff?” You asked a woman standing on the sides, “Can we see the fans?”

When she nodded at you, you and Harry ignored posing for a few minutes to converse and meet fans.

“I love you and Harry so much!” One fan said shakily as you signed a paper for him.

“Thank yo- Hey! I saw you in Amsterdam last year, right?” You grinned.

And that was another thing not only your fans loved about you, but Harry, too.

You were no stranger to connections. You were no stranger to making people feel seen and treating them in a way that no fan expected to be treated – a friend, and you remember friends.

“Harry, do you think Y/N will win Songwriter of the Year?” A fan asked.

Harry shrugged with a smile, “I hope so but we all know she is anyway.” He waved his hand with a joking manner, making the closest fans laugh.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll win Artist of the Year?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, “There are so many amazing artists. I wish them all the best.”

“He’s a humble man,” you teased, patting his shoulder, “We all know he is anyway.”

You were confused as they, Harry included, laughed in shock. “What?”

“He literally has just said the same thing about you.”

You laughed, looking at Harry, “Shut up, no way!”

“The both of you have been doing that for years.” One fan commented with a grin, “It’s adorable. It’s like telepathy or something.”

“Oh yeah, we are telepathic,” Harry nodded, “It gets a little scary sometimes.”

“Heeey!” You laughed, “It’s actually helpful. One of us would be just walking at home and we’d look at each other and know that the other just means something like “feed Evie” or “take out the trash””

“This is so cute!”

“Harry, what are you performing tonight?”

“You’ll find out in a bit.” He pointed.

Shortly, you and Harry had to take more pictures and do interviews before you were escorted inside.

It was the little moments that fans also lived for; how Harry held your hand as you sat so discreetly, how the both of you chatted and giggled among one another and those around you, how Harry fist-bumped the air the moment your name was called to receive your award of Songwriter of the Year before kissing you. It was how they knew this was real – how love wasn’t something you only listen people sing about or write novels for.

It was in how Harry’s eyes didn’t move from you as you gave your speech, a wide smile on his face and eyes resembling twinkling stars for crying out loud.

It was in how you ended your speech with: “This is to the man who has inspired and pushed me forward to write every single day. I love you.”

It was in how you looked more nervous than Harry himself when his category was called before you were the first to get out of your seat with a happy “yes!” once they announced that he won.

It was in how Harry cupped your face that moment to kiss you before walking to receive his award.

It was in how you remained standing, those behind you only smiling instead of being annoyed, with your hands clutched together against your heart, tearful eyes, and the brightest smile in the room.

“You’re going to tell me this is cheesy,” Harry chuckled slightly, giving a shrug as he looked at you, “But I wouldn’t be standing here, holding this, if it weren’t for you. I love you, too.”

But then Harry was about to perform and you weren’t in your seat.

The award show had decided to make a skit of it, the host being Miley had held her microphone as she stood in the empty isle beside yours and Harry’s empty seats.

“We know Harry Styles is performing in minutes,” she said, looking at the camera with a playful smile, “But where is Y/N Y/L/N? We know, we know,” she nodded, “Probably backstage for some extra good luck but-” people laughed, causing Miley to pause and chuckle, “But seriously, guys. There’s a show and it must go on.”

“It’s going on.” Harry said from backstage into his mic before the stage went dark.

It wasn’t until piano tunes sounded that the arena grew dim, a spotlight on the piano at the center of the stage where you sat, your fingers gentle against the keys as you played the beginning notes of Falling.

“I'm in my bed,

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame

But the drink in my wandering hands.” Harry sang as he came on stage, holding the mic in his hand before taking a seat beside you.

Everyone had expected him to sing the next verse, but it wasn’t his voice that they then heard.

“I'm in my bed

Instead of yours

Cried to sleep turned off all of lights and locked all of the doors.” You sang, eyes on the piano keys.

“Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left.” His eyes were on you, body turned slightly towards you as he felt like the both of you were in your living room in front of your white piano.

“I replay what you said

Don’t know if it’s true

Left with two broken hearts and there’s nothing that we could undo.” You sang, closing your eyes as you got ready for the chorus.

“What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What am I now? What am I now?

Don’t want to cry ‘cause I can’t stand the sound

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

The both of you sang together, your voice being softer and quieter than Harry’s.

“What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

“What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if you’re someone I can’t live without?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling.”

It was a version nobody had heard before, and it was why everyone was quiet, the only sound coming from you, Harry, and your lone instrument.

It was something you had written together following a rough patch of your relationship, and everyone knew that it was more personal with the way the both of you sang.

When his eyes weren’t closed, Harry sang as he looked at you, and he knew that performing this song meant more to the both of you than anyone could imagine. One look at your face and Harry knew you were reliving the night of when the both of you had written this; eyes a little red from crying, bodies hot, Harry wearing a hoodie of yours while you sat in your underwear with his purple fluffy robe on.

“Can I do this alone without ever needing you again?”

“And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.”

You both sang the bridge together, yours being shorter than Harry’s note as you carried a softer tone, closing your eyes as you played the piano, feeling your throat close up before gulping.

He knew.

It was why the final chorus was sung softer and quieter, Harry’s forehead resting against your temple for a moment as the both of you sang.

“I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.” Harry finished, putting his mic down as he stared at you with a small smile, watching you in your element as you played.

Managing to look at him as you played single soft notes, you sang, “I’m falling again, I’m falling again, I’m falling.”

You played the end single notes, looking at Harry with tearful eyes and a bashful smile.

It was like you were unaware to the erupted cheer and round of applause, you threw your arms around Harry, feeling his arms wrap around you instantly.

Crying from the overwhelming emotions, you were thankful your mascara was waterproof. You called it.

“I love you,” Harry whispered in your ear, “I love you so much.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

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[peridot-dreams]

beautiful people | shawn mendes

Shawn sees a familiar face at the awards show, and learns the value of realness.

The setting sun leaves the Hollywood sky pink and full of possibilities. Shawn finds himself looking out the window at it, still in a daze after the events that had unfolded that day. He’d won several awards for a song he was proud of. He thinks of the look on his parents’ faces in the audience when his name was announced and smiles. That’s who I do this all for, he thinks to himself.

His limousine rolls up the venue. It’s already teeming with people, Lamborghinis, and cameras. Shawn is used to such commotion, but the second he opens the car door, he’s bombarded with excessive noise - noise so loud that he can barely hear himself think.

He’s still riding his post-awards high when he walks in, still dressed in the same red carpet outfit as before. He has a girl on his arm, but not by choice - rather, an unfortunate PR stunt planned terribly and executed even worse. He greets his celebrity friends as he passes by, offering a small smile and a thank you when they congratulate him on his win.

He’s just about to ask the girl on his arm if she’d like to come with him to the drink bar when he sees a flash of silver in the corner of his eye. Shawn realizes who had just walked past him; he feels his heart began to pound in his chest and his breathing gets shallow. “Sorry, can I go to the bathroom?” he tells the girl on his arm, not bothering to wait for a response. He detaches himself and follows the silver blur, around a corner and into a dark hallway.

The silver blur is standing in the dark, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Shawn sighs and takes in the sight: the silver dress on her is absolutely stunning. Her hair and her makeup is perfect; he feels lost in her presence, stunned by her beauty. He’s never seen her like this, and it only adds to the pain of it all. His mother had once said that losing a best friend is worse than a break up and right now he completely understands what his mother meant.

“Y/N,” he breathes. When she looks up, he feels like running away - she’s looking at him as if he’s the dirt under her silver heels. He wishes she would stop, that she would run to him and hug him and make everything alright between them again. She’s standing right in front of him but he misses her, misses everything about their friendship and support for each other.

“What do you want, Mendes?” she mutters under her breath. She turns her attention back to her phone, tapping her toe incessantly. Shawn can’t stand the sound of her heel hitting the ground because he remembers that she tends to fidget when she’s upset; the clacking sound is only a reminder of their friendship that had crashed and burned for reasons Shawn still fails to understand.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Shawn blurts out. “I don’t get it, Y/N. We used to be best friends, and one day you just started hating me and I still don’t understand why.”

“Because,” Y/N spits, shoving her phone into her bag. “Because you’re like them now.”

“Who’s ‘them’?”

“All those fake people out there!” Y/N exclaims, her eyes glancing over to the party-goers with a disgusted look plastered on her face. Shawn feels her gaze coming back to him, judging and critical. He feels like he could wither under her stare like a plant in a drought. “Shawn, you’ve changed. You used to be so down to earth, so genuine, but now you’re caught up in the money and fame and corporate bullshit.”

“Am not!” Shawn crosses his arms as he unconsciously clenches his teeth. “That’s such bull-”

“Shawn, you’re the epitome of fake. You’re in a fucking PR relationship.”

“W-What-”

“Don’t even try to argue. It’s so obvious and even your fans know what’s going on.”

Shawn closes his eyes. He wishes that he could argue with her, but arguing in the dark hallway outside of an after party wasn’t the ideal setting to do so. From the outside looking in, he knows it looks like he’s changed but he needs her to know that it’s not true. He needs his best friend back in his life again.

“Look,” Shawn speaks, taking a deep breath. “Let’s ditch this party. I know you don’t like these kinds of events anyway, so I don’t even know why you’re here…”

“My manager made me come.”

“Right. Whatever, let’s just sneak out. Let’s hang out like we used to, okay? I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t you need to get back to fake-dating your ‘girlfriend’?” Y/N snaps, giving Shawn the most sarcastic air quotes she can muster.

“No, fuck that,” he says. Against his better judgment, he takes her hand in his. He’s relieved when she doesn’t try to yank her hand back. “Let’s just go.”

✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Thirty minutes later, Shawn finds himself sitting across from Y/N at a dingy old diner on the other side of Hollywood. He watches as she twirls the straw in her chocolate milkshake. She hasn’t said more than three words to him since they left the party, and Shawn feels like trying to salvage their friendship is pointless at this point. Shawn knew from their now-dead friendship that Y/N was a champion at holding grudges - he just never expected to find himself at the other end of one.

“So how’ve you been?” Shawn asks softly. He wants to kick himself for how awkward and nervous he sounds, but he hopes that Y/N will take his nerves as a sign of his genuine interest in rekindling their friendship.

“Fine,” she mumbles. She takes a tiny sip of her chocolate shake. “Slow year.”

Shawn knows that isn’t true. He Googles her name every few weeks and watches every single interview she appears in on YouTube. Y/N’s acting career had taken off in the past few years, and she’d been getting tons of lead roles in TV shows and movies lately. He always gets a pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach when he sees pictures of her with friends on Instagram, because he knows full well that it could have been him travelling the world with her, experiencing new things with her.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s been keeping tabs on her. “Yeah,” Shawn mutters. “Okay.”

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. It doesn’t help that the diner is completely empty, save for the old man who owns it and is busy complaining about how “millenials are killing the restaurant business” under his breath. Shawn tries to focus on the owner’s mutterings, desperately wanting to think about something other than the fact that Y/N is totally not into him or the conversation that he’s been trying to keep going.

“I don’t hate you, by the way.”

Shawn’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide with shock. “Well, you stopped talking to me out of the blue, so I just assumed you did.”

“Well, I don’t.” She stops twirling her milkshake straw and drops her hands into her lap. She meets his gaze, eyes still hard and lips pressed together in a straight line. “You’ve just...changed.”

“I think we’ve both changed.”

“No.” She shakes her head, letting out an indignant laugh. Shawn winces at the sharpness of her tone. “You’re the one who started doing brand deals, ripping off fans with overpriced tickets and merch, signing PR contracts and betraying your fans…”

“Y/N.” Shawn’s hands are starting to shake; he rubs his thighs over his jeans in an attempt to calm himself down. Her words are cutting deeper than a knife; he can barely stand it.

“You’ve completely betrayed your fans, Shawn. You’ve sold them out to every company that has approached you, taken advantage of their trust. Damn it Shawn, you’re even endorsing overpriced water now, like how stupid is-”

“That wasn’t fucking me!” Shawn slams his hand on the table. The old man stops mumbling about millenials and looks in fear at the angry boy. Y/N is barely fazed, her hard glare still targeting Shawn.

“Oh really?” She narrows her eyes at him. “‘Cause your ass is everywhere these days, every time I turn on the TV-”

“Do you remember how my career started?”

Y/N stops for a second, but rolls her eyes immediately after. “Yeah, at some overpriced convention marketed towards prepubescent teenagers.”

“Before MAGCON,” Shawn interrupts. His eyes plead with her to understand, to see where he’s coming from. “I was just a kid, sitting in my room with a guitar. Singing cover songs and making six second videos even though no one was listening. Because I felt like it. Because it made me happy.”

“Yeah. I remember.”

“Yeah. That’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.” A sigh leaves Shawn’s mouth; his eyes drop to his lap as he tries to calm his shaking hands and voice. He’s never felt so heated in his life, like every emotion is about to burst out of his chest. “And then everything just took off and suddenly I was signing with a record label and being thrust into the public eye. I was just a small town kid from Canada, but suddenly people were starting to expect things from me.”

“Shawn-”

“No, please. Hear me out.” The suit on his body was tailored to be comfortable, but in the heat of his rant it feels like it’s suffocating him. “It all went so fast. It was just one song after another and interviews and TV shows and concerts and tours. Everything was just going by so fast and every day, I lost a piece of myself. I was on autopilot, and my team was just signing me up for everything and I would let myself be led by them. Even now, I just sign contracts without thinking and allow myself to be molded by people who only care about money.”

“Shawn, why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” Y/N’s eyes are soft now. She suddenly notices how tired he looks under the makeup that he was forced to wear to the awards event: his sunken eyes, the dark bags under them, the lines that furrowed into his skin between his eyebrows. He looks like he’s barely hanging on to life, like the walls are caving in and he’s been trying to hold them up. She wishes she would have noticed earlier how lifeless he looks. “We were best friends, you could have told me about this.”

“Because,” Shawn starts, holding back the sob forcing itself up his throat. “I can’t ever tell anyone because I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I’m grateful, I really am...I’m lucky to have my passion be my career. But I’m so tired, Y/N. I just want to go back to being that kid in his bedroom, playing guitar because he feels like it, not because he signed a contract or because someone else wants him to.” He closes his eyes, sighing, letting his head fall back slightly. He reminds himself to relax his shoulders and take deep breaths. “When I’m on stage, I get to go back to being happy for just a moment. I get to forget about everyone’s expectations, about contracts and brand deals and PR and all the bullshit. I get to be me. Completely free.”

She’s stunned and he knows it. He’s just unloaded all of the burdens he’s been carrying; Shawn doesn’t know how Y/N is going to react, but he feels lighter, he feels better. He just hopes, so desperately, that she’ll understand his brokenness and the wreckage that has been left in his mind as a result of the stress and anxiety of the last few years. He hopes that she’ll understand him for what he is, not what he appears to be.

“So I haven’t changed, Y/N. I’m not like them; I’m like you. Money and fame, it’s just not who we are.”

“Shawn, I’m so sorry.” Her tear-filled eyes move in a frenzy as she realizes the falsity of her words and accusations. “I should have realized that you felt this way and that you were struggling. I’m so sorry for severing our friendship and for not knowing what was going on.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I just…”

Shawn groans as he sees the group of people that have congregated outside the windows of the diner. They both gaze into the parking lot, bombarded by bright flashes and deafened by the sound of cameras shuttering.

“Fuck. It’s the paps.” Shawn groans again, head rolling back in frustration. “How did they find us?”

“They were following your famous ass,” Y/N says, laughing. Shawn smiles; he resists the urge to point out that she’s famous too, and has more followers than him on Instagram.

“Should we leave?” Shawn asks.

“Hell no. They want pics, let’s give them pics.” Shawn watches in awe as Y/N stands up on her seat despite the loud protesting of the owner. She starts waving at them crazily, her peace signs occasionally replaced by a middle finger.

“Fuck you!” she yells in between her laughs. Shawn grins; he finds himself copying her and standing on his own seat. He starts waving at the cameras, reveling in the flashes and dancing like an idiot to the music inside his head.

“Fuck you!” he yells. He’s never felt so liberated in his entire life. He starts posing with her, each pose more ridiculous than the prior. They pretend to tango on the table, screaming when they nearly topple over the edges. He twirls her around, smile growing bigger and bigger with each giggle that leaves her mouth. “It’s been two years and you still suck at dancing,” he cackles. She pretends to gasp, then sticks her tongue out at him and at the paps outside.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, his lips are on hers. She doesn’t kiss back at first, shocked, but when Shawn is about to pull away he feels her hands on the back of his head pulling him closer. Suddenly, there’s nothing else in the entire world besides her; they’re not standing on top of a diner table anymore. It’s like they’re floating and Shawn’s body is leaning into hers and he’s never felt so complete before. The smell of her conditioner makes him forget his own name and he realizes that her lips taste like chocolate and friends aren’t supposed to know how each other taste but he doesn’t care because it’s her and it’s always been her.

When they finally pull away, Shawn’s gasping for breath and Y/N’s eyes are as wide as saucers as she realizes what has just happened. “S-Shawn. Your PR contract…”

“Fuck the PR contract. Let’s give the world something real.” And their lips connect again, for the paparazzi cameras and the whole world to see.

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