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dontpulloutman · 8 days ago

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put a ring on it - cl16

summary: charles and his girlfriend have been together for ten years, everyone wonders when is he going to propose

folkie radio: hi guysss, this idea was originally posted for alex on patreon buuut i decided to turn it into a charles fic since it's been sooo long since the last time i wrote for him and i missed it. i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad and 209,755 others

yourinstagram just like the past nine years and ten months, I'll be cheering for charlie from the garage !! je t'aime plus que tout au monde, mon coeur. Tu es mon bonheur quotidien 🤍 [ i love you more than anything in the world, my heart. you are my daily happiness]

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username1 MY PARENTS

username2 TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY INCOMING LET'S GO

charles_leclerc Mon amour, you are my strength and motivation. I love you infinitely

└ username1 MARRY HER ALREADY

└ username2 she's really the love of his life

lando get married already you two 😂

carmenmmundt The cutest couple in the paddock! ❤️

username3 NINE YEARS?? charles bestie it's time to propose fr fr

username4 the way he looks at her in the garage >>> everyone place your bets on when he's finally gonna propose

username5 how are they the most stable couple in f1 but still not engaged? charles wyd?

username6 living for how lando pressuring him in the comments lmaooo

username7 CHARLES JUST PUT A RING ON IT

username8 the fact that they've been together since before he even got to f1 🥺 truly growing together

iamrebeccad Cuties !! When's the wedding?

└ username2 becca asking the REAL questions

username9 almost ten years and no ring is crazy

username10 if they don’t get married i don’t think i can believe in love anymore

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 1,196,535 others

charles_leclerc Unlucky day but I’ve tried it all. Next is Monaco, thank you for all the support ❤️ And special thanks to my rock for the last 9 years @/yourinstagram for constantly reminding me that there's always another race. I love you, mon amour.

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username1 FERRARI YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES

username2 always including yn in his captions 🥺

pierregasly Chin up, champ

username3 we'll always be by your side supporting you no matter what

username4 FORZA CHARLES

username5 u know what would give you good luck? proposing to yn

username6 all these beautiful captions and no ring

scuderiaferrari Forza sempre ❤️

lewishamilton Having a good support system makes all better and you have the best support ever, mate. Next race will be better

username7 charles leclerc if you don't marry that woman istg

username8 yn needs to give him a huge hug from us

username9 STILL MY GOAT

yourinstagram you'll always be my champion 🤍 i love you and i'll always be here for you

username10 he's so lucky to have yn 🥺

liked by username1, username2 and 2,946 others

f1updates Charles talked about future plans regarding marriage during new podcast episode:

"I mean... laughs I don't know, we're just enjoying where we are right now. YN and I are happy, that's what matters."

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username1 CHARLES MARC HERVE PERCEVAL LECLERC ARE YOU KIDDING ME RN?? "i don't know" MY BROTHER IN CHRIST IT'S BEEN 10 YEARS 😭

username2 i know my girl yn is TIRED

username3 remember when he couldn't even admit they were dating for the first 6 months

username4 boy better have a ring hidden somewhere because what do you mean "i don't know"

username5 THIS CANT BEREAL

username6 ten years and no ring is just diabolical

username7 charles really said "commitment? in this economy?" sir it's been a DECADE

username8 he's definitely planning something because ain't no way 😭

username9 man's out here acting like they haven't been together since before half the grid even had their super license

username10 ten years and he still gets flustered talking about their relationship in public, honestly kinda cute tho

username11 the way she just KNOWS he's probably got something planned because ain't no way he's this dense after 10 years

username12 charles really said "marriage? i hardly know her" SIR THAT IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND OF 10 YEARS

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 198,760 others

yourinstagram P2 at home!!! 🇲🇨 so proud of you my love, you fought so hard today! seeing you on the podium in monaco will never get old ❤️ je suis tellement fière de toi mon amour, tu mérites le monde entier [I'm so proud of you my love, you deserve the whole world]

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username1 THESE CUTIESSS

username2 i love them so bad

charles_leclerc Merci d'être toujours là mon coeur ❤️ Coming home to celebrate with you makes every podium even more special 🤍 [thank you for always being there my heart]

└ yourinstagram I love you for ever !

lewishamilton Great drive today Charles! You two are glowing 🙌

└ username1 even lewis roots for them as he should

username3 HOME RACE PODIUM + GORGEOUS GF = PERFECT PROPOSAL OPPORTUNITY HELLO???

username4 the way she still looks at him like a proud girlfriend from his karting days 🥺 charles pls put a ring on it

carmenmmundt Cuties !!!

username5 bro got p2 at his home race with his gf of almost 10 years watching and STILL didn't propose i'm throwing hands

arthur_leclerc The only thing missing from this perfect Monaco weekend was a proposal

└ username1 ARTHUR HAS NO CHILL

└ charles_leclerc ?

└ username2 CHARLES STOP ACTING DENSE

└ yourinstagram arthur you messy minx

username6 not me refreshing their instas every 5 mins hoping to see an engagement announcement 😭

username7 the way every comment is about proposing LMAO we're all thinking it tho

username8 petition for charles to stop being a chicken and propose already, my guy you've been together longer than some marriages

username9 plot twist: he's waiting for a race win to propose 👀

username10 CHARLES JUST PROPOSE FFS

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 1,987,937 others

charles_leclerc 10 years with you by my side. From karting to Formula 1, from teenagers to who we are today, you've been my constant. Every victory, every defeat, every moment has been better because I get to share it with you. Joyeux anniversaire mon amour ❤️ Ces dix années ne sont que le début de notre histoire. Tu es l'amour de ma vie, aujourd'hui et pour toujours [happy anniversary my love. these ten years are just the beginning of our story. you are the love of my life, today and forever]

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username1 I JUST SOBBED REALLY LOUDLY

username2 this is absolutely beautiful

leclerc_pascale Beautiful ! Love both of you

yourinstagram je t'aime plus que les mots peuvent l'exprimer ❤️ here's to forever with you my love [I love you more than words can express]

username3 bro wrote a whole love letter but still no ring? 🤔

username4 mans really said "these 10 years are just the beginning" instead of proposing

carlossainz55 You're killing us mate 😭 Beautiful words though!

maxverstappen1 Bro, come on

arthur_leclerc Beautiful words brother, however...

username5 charles writing poetry about their love but refusing to propose is my villain origin story

username6 THE FIRST PHOTO I'M CRYING they literally grew up together 🥺

username7 even max is calling him out i'm deceased 💀 charles the world is waiting!!

username8 10 YEARS AND STILL NO RING?? this man really testing our patience fr

username9 the way he could've made this the perfect proposal post... charles leclerc i'm watching you

username10 taking bets on whether he'll wait for the 15 year anniversary at this point

username11 EVERYONE IS JUST WAITING FOR HIM TO PROPOSE

username12 this man really said "just the beginning" my brother in christ it's been a DECADE

liked by charles_leclerc, kikagomes and 201,875 others

yourinstagram une décennie d'amour, de rires, et de rêves partagés avec toi 🤍 from watching you race in Formula 3 to celebrating podiums in f1, from our tiny first apartment to our home in monaco, from teenagers in love to building our life together. every moment with you has been an adventure. thank you for making these 10 years feel like a fairytale, mon amour. je t'aimerai toujours, mon charles ❤️ [a decade of love, laughter, and shared dreams with you. i will always love you, my charles]

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username1 AWEEE MY HEART

username2 i'm still sobbing

charles_leclerc Ma vie, mon tout ❤️ These 10 years have been the best gift life could give me [my life, my everything]

carmenmmundt The way you two still look at each other like teenagers in love 🥺❤️ Happy anniversary!

pierregasly Charles my friend, this is the perfect moment

username3 that first apartment photo 😭

username4 TEN YEARS OF PURE LOVE AND STILL NO RING?? charles baby what is you doing

lando may this love find me

username5 the way she's been with him through every step of his racing career. ultimate supportive gf

username6 CHARLES JUST PROPOSE

username7 the fact that even pierre is done waiting at this point lmaooo

username8 petition for charles to stop being a coward and propose to this queen already

username9 THE THIRD PHOTO IS LEGENDARY

username10 their love story is literally better than any romance movie and yet MY MAN STILL HASN'T PROPOSED

username11 the way they went from young kids in love to power couple but still look at each other the same way 🥺 charles pls propose we're begging

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

charles_leclerc has added to their stories

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liked by username1, username2 and 13,985 others

c16updates Charles and YN arriving to Lorenzo Leclerc's wedding in Monaco today! YN serving as one of the bridesmaids!

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username1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

username2 power couple

username3 not charles watching his brother get married while yn is still waiting for a ring i- 💀

username4 YN YOU BETTER CATCH THAT BOUQUET

username5 seeing yn as a bridesmaid at her bf's BROTHER'S wedding when she should've been a bride years ago... pain.

username6 the second hand embarrassment watching charles dodge marriage questions from relatives all day 🥴

username7 my girl been a bridesmaid at different weddings in the f1 paddock INCLUDING HER BF'S BROTHER now... charles baby what is you doing

username8 the fact that lorenzo met his wife AFTER charles and yn started dating... and got married first... i have no words

username9 yn's fake smile every time someone asks when it's her turn >>>> girl we know you're tired 😭

username10 yn looking absolutely gorgeous as always but imagine her in a WEDDING dress... charles you're fumbling the bag fr fr

username11 the amount of times charles probably heard "you're next!" today... boy you've been next for like 5 years now

username12 someone check on yn cause watching your man at his brother's wedding after 10 years of dating is ROUGH

username13 the way every single guest was probably staring at charles waiting for him to get inspired... we're all tired bestie

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 1,023,887 others

charles_leclerc Congratulations to my big brother Lorenzo and his beautiful bride Charlotte❤️ What a perfect day celebrating your love. Thank you for showing us all what true love looks like.

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username1 LECLERC SUPREMACY

username2 you next charlie

lorenzotl Merci petit frère! Now it's your turn... 👀 YN's been part of the family for 10 years already anyway

└ username1 DRAGGED HIM FAIR AND SQUARE

└ username2 HEEELP

└ arthur_leclerc Even I might get married before Charles at this rate 💀

└ username3 ARTHUR IS SO SAVAGE AND FOR WHAT

yourinstagram Such a beautiful day ❤️

username4 CHARLES POSTING ABOUT "TRUE LOVE" WHILE YN IS STILL WAITING FOR A RING IS WILD

username5 not arthur dragging him in the comments i'm deceased 💀

username6 the way yn just commented "beautiful day" instead of joining the roast... queen behavior

username7 charles really posted about his brother's wedding like we wouldn't all come for him in the comments

username8 YN watching both of charles' brothers make marriage jokes while she's been waiting a decade: 🧍‍♀️

username9 everyone in the comments asking "you when??" and charles is probably pretending not to see

username10 lorenzo said "yn's been part of the family for 10 years" EXACTLY SO PUT A RING ON IT

username11 how you gonna post about celebrating true love when you won't propose to YOUR true love?? make it make sense

username12 even his own brothers are tired of waiting omg 😭 charles wake up

username13 CHARLES JUST PUT A RING ON IT FFS

username14 the way yn probably had to dodge "when are you next?" questions all night... girl deserves a medal

username15 charles talking about "true love" my brother in christ YOU'VE HAD TRUE LOVE FOR 10 YEARS NOW PROPOSE

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 196,589 others

yourinstagram White is always a good idea ✨

📸: @/charles_leclerc

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username1 BEAUTIFULLLL

username2 this is the it girl

carmenmmundt If this isn't a sign I don't know what is

iamrebeccad Looking like a bride already 😍

charles_leclerc La plus belle ❤️

username3 GIRL IS LITERALLY SHOWING HIM WHAT SHE'D LOOK LIKE AS A BRIDE AND HE STILL- 😭

username4 not her having charles take the photo in a WHITE DRESS... the hints are getting less subtle bestie

username5 charles be like "wow my gorgeous girlfriend in white" and not "wow my future wife in white" OPEN YOUR EYES

username6 she's been wearing more and more white lately and this man is still absolutely CLUELESS

username7 CHARLES WAKE TF UP

username8 the way she tagged him as the photographer like YES LOOK AT HER IN WHITE YOU FOOL

username9 this woman could literally wear a wedding dress to dinner and charles would be like "nice outfit babe"

username10 even the other wags are dropping hints in the comments i'm screaming 😭

username11 charles taking pretty pics of her in white instead of proposing to her in white... we're tired

username12 your girl is serving BRIDE and you're serving photographer... charles wake up

username13 THIS IS PAINFUL TO WATCH

liked by username1, username2 and 17,038 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc gets asked about marriage plans during #F1Premiere red carpet interview 👀

Interviewer: "Your brother just got married, any plans to follow suit soon?" Charles: "Ah you know, we're very happy as we are right now..."

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username1 NOT YN'S FACE WHEN HE SAID "HAPPY AS WE ARE" PLS 💀 girl was fighting demons on that red carpet

username2 the way she's perfected that smile while dying inside... 10 years of practice will do that to you 😭

username3 charles really said "happy as we are" my brother in christ she is NOT happy as you are

username4 everyone catching yn's eye twitch when he said that... we saw it girl

username5 the way every interviewer asks this now bc they know we're all TIRED of waiting

username6 "happy as we are" translation: i'm terrified of commitment even tho i've been committed for 10 years make it make sense

username7 JUST PUT A FCKING RING ON IT

username8 yn standing there like 🧍‍♀️ while this man fumbles for the 500th time... somebody save her

username9 charles dodging marriage questions like he dodges podiums this season

username10 not her having to hear this man say they're "happy as they are" for the 74628th time... girl blink twice if you need help

username11 the second hand embarrassment is real... even the interviewer was like bruh 😭

username12 at this point we need ferrari to add "propose to yn" to his contract requirements

username13 the way every driver in the background was just watching this trainwreck...

username14 petition for yn to start answering these questions instead cause we know she'd say what we're all thinking

liked by username1, username2 and 18,099 others

f1paddocktea🚨 SPOTTED: Charles Leclerc and YN in Lake Como, Italy for a romantic getaway during the summer break! Sources say they're staying at the ultra-exclusive Villa d'Este 👀

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username1 NOT LAKE COMO... THE MOST ROMANTIC PLACE IN ITALY... IS THIS FINALLY IT??!!

username2 my man picked the most proposal-worthy spot in europe this better not be another false alarm 😭

username3 IM GOING TO SCREAM

username4 please let this be it because if he takes her to lake como just for a regular vacation i'm throwing hands

username5 CHARLES IF THAT'S NOT A RING IN THERE I STG

username6 the way we're all invested in this proposal like it's our own

username7 manifesting engagement pics with that lake como view

username8 if this man booked villa d'este just to give her another necklace i'm calling max to fight him

username9 yn probably not even getting her hopes up anymore

username10 the girlies in the paddock about to catch a flight to como if he doesn't do it this time

username11 charles taking yn to the most romantic hotel in italy like "yes perfect spot for a casual vacation"

username12 CHARLES. JUST DO IT

username13 everyone refreshing their feeds every 2 seconds waiting for that ring pic

username14 the pressure on this man rn...

username15 JUST PUT A RING ON IT

username16 if he doesn't propose here where literally THOUSANDS of people have gotten engaged... boy needs help

username17 imagine booking the most famous proposal spot in italy and NOT proposing... charles don't you dare

liked by charles_leclerc, lilyzneimer and 201,003 others

yourinstagram perfect weekend getaway in lake como with my love ❤️ already missing these views...

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username1 she posted these WITHOUT a ring... CHARLES LECLERC I WILL FIGHT YOU

username2 NOT HIM TAKING HER TO THE MOST ROMANTIC PLACE IN ITALY AND STILL- 💀

username3 the way she probably had her nails done just in case... girl we're so sorry

lilymhe cutiesss 🤍🤍

arthur_leclerc I'm going to slap my brother...

username4 ARTHUR IS SO REAL

username5 lakeside dinners? and NO RING??? charles you're actually insane

username6 she's posting these like a normal vacation because she's used to the disappointment at this point i'm crying

username7 the most proposal-worthy location in europe and he did NOTHING... i've lost all hope

iamrebecca Pretty girl !! I would marry you

lando hey can you put charles on the phone real quick ?? just wanna talk

username8 yn is stronger than the military because how are you still posting cute captions after THIS disappointment

username9 everyone who had "lake como proposal" in their 2025 bingo card: 🤡

username10 the way she's probably immune to romantic locations now... girl's been to venice, paris, amalfi coast, santorini, and now como with NO RING

username11 charles really said "let me take her to the #1 proposal spot in italy... to take photos" BRO WHAT

username12 she's so real for not even hinting at her disappointment in the caption... we know you're tired queen

username13 at this point she could wake up to rose petals and candles and would be like "aw nice decoration" because THE TRAUMA

username14 the fact that they probably walked past 17 proposals during this trip while she's still waiting... prison for charles

charles_leclerc Mon amour ❤️

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liked by charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt and 202,544 others

yourinstagram congratulations marco & sofia! ✨ such a beautiful day celebrating your love! and look what I caught... 😉

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username1 another wedding thats not her own i might cry

username2 CHARLES ARE YOU BLIND

charles_leclerc You looked so happy catching it ❤️

└ lorenzotl Some would say it's a sign... 👀

└ arthur_leclerc big bro you good? need someone to explain what catching the bouquet means?

└ username1 HIS BROTHERS DRAGGING HIM AGAIN AS THEY SHOULD

└ username2 THIS IS EVIL

iamrebeccad The way you DOVE for that bouquet girl 😂 We all saw that determination

lilymhe now we wait... again...

username3 CHARLES REALLY COMMENTED "you looked happy catching it" LIKE IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING I'M GONNA LOSE IT

username4 not his own brothers and co worker's girlfriends dragging him in the comments 💀

username5 she caught the bouquet in front of him and this man still acting clueless... i've never seen this level of density

username6 at this point he's just playing dumb i feel for my girl yn

username7 THE WAY SHE LITERALLY HAD TO FIGHT THREE OTHER GIRLS FOR THAT BOUQUET... girl is TRYING

username8 charles watching her catch the bouquet like "wow nice flowers" BRO WAKE UP

username9 even his brothers are tired of waiting omg 😭

username10 yn collecting bouquets like infinity stones at this point but charles still not getting the hint

username11 universe is literally screaming at him

username12 someone needs to explain to charles that catching the bouquet means YOU'RE NEXT

username13 PUT. A FUCKING. RING ON IT

username14 "you looked so happy catching it" YES BECAUSE SHE WANTS TO GET MARRIED YOU FOOL

username15 his brothers in the comments trying to knock some sense into him i'm crying

username16 she's caught more bouquets than charles has won races this season... make it make sense

liked by username1, username2 and 10,985 others

f1gossip deuxmoi via stories, maybe charles will finally put a ring on it 😭

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username1 we've been here 500 times before bestie 😭 remember the van cleef "spotting" last year?

username2 deuxmoi girl we love you but this man has been "spotted" at every jewelry store in monaco since 2019 💀

username3 until i see the ring ON HER FINGER i'm not believing anything anymore

username4 "spending time in engagement ring section" yeah probably buying another necklace 🤡

username5 source: trust me bro

username6 deuxmoi posting this like we haven't had 37 "charles spotted at jewelry store" posts before

username7 wake me up when she's actually wearing the ring because...

username8 he was probably looking for a "happy 11th anniversary" gift knowing him 💀

username9 everyone rushing to yn's instagram to check her hands in latest posts... we're so traumatized

username10 this man could be filling out marriage papers and i still wouldn't believe it until the ceremony's over

username11 the way we all got excited about the cartier spotting in 2023... and 2024... never again

username12 deuxmoi bestie we've been hurt too many times... we're not falling for this again

username13 yn probably seeing this like "ah yes another necklace coming my way"

username14 girl's probably got enough jewelry to open her own store but NO RING

username15 at this point he could be down on one knee and we'd be like "probably tying his shoelace"

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 1,044,388 others

charles_leclerc Coming home to you is the best part of any race weekend, win or lose. You're my constant in this crazy life and I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you. Mon coeur ❤️

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username1 BABIESSS

username2 these are my parents

yourinstagram Always here for you ❤️ So proud of everything you do x

maxverstappen1 Mate... you know what would make coming home even better? 💍

└ username1 MAX WTFF

└ username2 i love that he can't mind his business

carlossainz55 Amigo... there's a way to make her your permanent "constant" you know... 👀

└ username3 THATS IT DRAG HIM

lewishamilton Beautiful words brother, now put them in some vows 😉

└ username2 THIS IS WAY TOO FUNNY

username4 NOT HIM POSTING ABOUT COMING HOME TO HER WHEN HE WON'T GIVE HER A HOME ADDRESS CHANGE 💀

username5 "my constant in this crazy life" BRO MAKE IT LEGAL THEN

username6 charles writing romantic novels in his captions but can't write proposal speech

username7 this man really said "couldn't imagine doing any of this without you" but won't say "will you marry me"

username8 the drivers in his comments trying to guide this man to a jewelry store

username9 carlos straight up begging his best friend to propose at this point

username10 yn probably reading this like "cool another instagram caption but still no ring"

username11 "coming home to you is the best part" THEN PUT A RING ON IT???

username12 drivers in the comments doing everything except sending him actual ring pics

username13 lewis basically saying "less posting more proposing"

username14 she's been his "constant" for 10 years maybe make her his wife???

username15 the way everyone including his competitors are tired of waiting for this proposal

username16 charles will write poetic captions about their love but won't write marriage vows make it make sense

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liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 4,085,483 others

charles_leclerc She said yes! ❤️ (After asking me what took me so long 😅) Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, my love.

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username1 OH MY FUCKING GODDD

username2 IT HAPPENED

yourinstagram only took 10 years and 16 caught bouquets 😘 je t'aime forever ❤️

lorenzotl FINALLY!!! Welcome officially to the family (though you've been our sister for years anyway) ❤️

arthur_leclerc THE DENSITY IS FINALLY OVER 🎉 So happy for you both!

pierregasly About damn time mate! Kika's already planning the bachelorette party 😂

kikagomes FINALLY WE CAN START WEDDING PLANNING!!! (also yes I'm planning the wildest bachelorette)

lilymhe I'M LITERALLY CRYING!!! The group chat manifesting worked girls 😭❤️

carlossainz55 So happy for you both! (Also I told you that spot would be perfect)

lewishamilton Love wins! Congratulations you beautiful souls ❤️

username3 THE DROUGHT IS OVER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username4 "after asking what took me so long" GIRL SPOKE FOR ALL OF US

username5 SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP IT FINALLY HAPPENED

username6 THE WAY I JUST BROKE THE SOUND BARRIER SCREAMING

username7 carlos helped plan the proposal i'm sobbing this friendship 😭

username8 THE GIRLS ALREADY PLANNING THE BACHELORETTE WE LOVE TO SEE IT

username9 "only took 11 years and 16 caught bouquets" I'M DECEASED 💀

username10 THE WAIT IS OVER. THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE

username11 all the drivers commenting like proud parents who watched their dense son finally figure it out 😭

username12 THE ENTIRE F1 COMMUNITY IS CELEBRATING LIKE WE WON A CHAMPIONSHIP

username13 watching this relationship since 2013 i feel like a proud mother 😭

username14 THE WAIT IS OVER. I WAS HERE. WITNESSING HISTORY.

username15 lily confirming the wag group chat manifestation i'm crying 😭

username16 THE LONGEST ENGAGEMENT WATCH IN F1 HISTORY IS FINALLY OVER

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad and 1,094,738 others

yourinstagram he FINALLY figured out what to do with all those jewelry store visits. from karting girlfriend to fiancée - only took 11 years, 16 bouquets, 43 wedding guest appearances, and approximately 3,947 hints but WE MADE IT 🤍

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username1 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS

username2 GIRL YOU DID IT

charles_leclerc To be fair, I was a bit slow on the uptake 😅❤️ Can't wait to marry you mon amour

username3 THE HINT COUNTER IN THE CAPTION 💀 Girl really kept receipts

iamrebeccad Not you counting all the weddings we went to 😭 But we did it bestie!!!

carmenmmundt The group chat can finally rest! So happy for you!!

lorenzotl "3,947 hints" and that's just the ones we counted

arthur_leclerc the most patient woman in motorsport 👏🏼

username4 “approximately 3,947 hints" girl was running STATISTICS

username5 the way she tracked every single wedding they attended together... dedication

username6 "finally figured out what to do with all those jewelry store visits" I'M SCREAMING

username7 charles admitting he was slow on the uptake YEAH WE KNOW 😭

username8 even his brothers confirming the hint count is sending me

username9 SHES GOING TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BRIDE EVER

username10 she really said "let me present my thesis on how long this took"

username11 THE DETAILED BREAKDOWN OF THE WAITING PERIOD... she's so real for this

username12 this caption is giving "i've been waiting to post this for 11 years"

username13 the most patient woman in F1 finally getting her ring

username14 HE FINALLY PUT A RING ON IT OMFG

username15 she had this caption in her drafts since 2019 i just know it

3K notes · View notes

dontpulloutman · 9 days ago

Text

how to: fall in love again

summary: lovergirl at heart, you've decided love isn't anything you're willing to risk pursuing again after your last boyfriend. and then comes clark kent who's a little too perfect at breaking down those walls. and isn't that terrifying?

word count: 10.8k...yeah <3

a/n: the word count getting longer when i edited oh i'm sure. this one was serious to me. like notes app outline, specific through-line playlist, pinterest board inspo serious. hope it's serious for you guys too hehe fem!reader, no spoilers, avoidant attachment tbh, bit angsty but happy ending! happy reading, let me know what you think <3

If there was anyone more cynical about love in Metropolis than you, you’d be delighted to know.

It’s not like you’re against love by any means. In fact, you really, well, love it. You love your friends and you love seeing them in love. You enjoy romance books and love songs and romantic comedies. You take pleasure in finding the ways in which love is around you each day.

You’ve just decided that romantically, it’s not for you. Not anymore, at least.

It’s been three years since you swore off of it and honestly? You’re doing great! So what if sometimes a viscous yearning creeps through your apartment on a Sunday night? That hardly means anything!

Relationships are one thing and you’ve had your fair share. Once in high school, a couple in college. They never ended well, not like how you would’ve wanted rather. Sometimes they faded like a bruise and other times you were left alone and behind in the rearview.

But none of that mattered to you anymore once you met Ben.

Six years ago, you fell in love. Ben was a dream and a half. The kind of guy you bring home to your parents and revel in the way they gush over him and the both of you together. The kind of guy someone writes songs about with a swooning guitar and lyrics that wax poetic. The kind of guy you marry. At the time, Ben was it for you.

Then, three years ago, Ben broke your heart. You hadn’t seen it coming. It felt completely out of left field. You believed you were everything each other wanted until he was walking out the door.

“I’m not..happy anymore. I don’t know how to make you happy.” He had said and you remember a nauseating confusion coursing through your veins. What did that mean? You were happy….weren’t you? And before he walked out the door, “I hope you find someone who does.”

He clearly had. Two months later he was engaged to another woman you’d had in your home at dinner parties and holidays and suddenly it all clicked. You’re only slightly embarrassed to admit how long you cried and the amount of sweets you ate to try and feel better.

While the wound was still fresh, the ache cutting so deep in your bones, you decided you never wanted to risk feeling like that again. It took you a while before you felt like you were yourself again.

Two years ago, you got a job as a columnist for the Daily Planet. A basic “how-to” column that you’ve come to love, even if you’d rather be writing something more substantial. There, you met Clark Kent.

He was everything Ben wasn’t from the second you were introduced. The second he’d fixed his striking blue eyes on yours and smiled at you, something inside you jolted. And you’ve been petrified ever since.

Because if there was anyone who could make you consider taking that risk again, it was Clark.

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It’s a busy day at the Daily Planet. Well, it’s always “busy” but it’s especially so today. The printers are working overtime and there’s people fluttering all about, checking edits and typing like there’s no tomorrow. An argument splits open near the coffee counter.

Deadlines will do that to you.

You’d arrived earlier than usual, earlier than you needed to considering you were basically done with your newest “how-to” for the next print. Still, the only time you can pin Perry White down to talk to him about writing for something other than your column is on his way from the coffee machine and back to his office.

“But Perry, I think I’ve really got something here! If you’d just look at it-” your footsteps are hurried as you keep pace with Perry. He stops suddenly and you nearly stumble over yourself, words getting cut off.

“Look kid, I appreciate your enthusiasm but right now I need you to stick to your how-to’s,” he fixes you a look and fits his cigar between his lips before resuming his trail to his office. You sigh, but you don’t want to give up that easily.

“But could you at least just-” you start to plead and then you’re cut off again. He holds up a finger this time and heaves a sigh.

“I’ve given you my answer, kid. We’ve got a deadline to meet.” The words form around the cigar in his mouth. You wither, footsteps faltering.

“Yes, Chief,” you sigh, to which he just shakes his head. Your shoulders sag, the entirety of your body drooping like a wilted rose. When Perry’s out of earshot you toss your head back with a frustrated groan.

This wasn’t exactly where you thought you’d be by now. Two years seemed like enough time to establish yourself at the Daily Planet. Your little column that’s shoved towards the back of the paper seemed like as good a stepping stone as any towards writing about something more.

It’s not like you dislike your column, in fact, you really enjoy it. You just feel like you have more to offer after two years if Perry would just give you the chance one of these days.

You’re admittedly, a little visibly pouty on your way to your desk. It feels a little childish, like you might as well cross your arms and stomp your foot with a hmph! You don’t, of course. Though maybe it’d provide some kind of emotional release. That’s why toddlers do it, right?

As you near your desk you notice there’s a new coffee cup waiting for you by your keyboard. The culprit, you notice next, is standing next to your desk with his bag still on his shoulder like he just got in. Which, he probably did.

It’s hard for you to stay grumpy at the sight of Clark. His tie is slightly askew and he’s holding his own cup of coffee, hot where yours is iced.

He’s far too nice to you, you think, but he’s a wonderful friend. And God knows you were in dire need of a good one after what happened. Sometimes though, when you start to feel a little lonely, you wonder if he’d be a wonderful boyfriend too, but you’re quick to shove that aside.

It’s better for you to just be friends. Less scary that way. Less of a risk that you end up absolutely demolished again, too.

“Was just dropping this off. Just how you like it,” he says when you’re within earshot, motioning towards the coffee that wasn’t there when you’d gone after Perry this morning. You can see the ring of condensation it leaves against the lacquered top of your desk. You smile at him.

“Thank you. You know you don’t have to.”

He matches your smile and shrugs.

“Yeah but I want to,” he says. There’s a faint pink that blushes his cheeks but you think it might just be the lighting. Still, you revel in the fact that he wants to do a nice thing for you. You try to quell it. The familiar fear of getting too close to someone again prickling your skin.

On paper, Clark is the perfect guy to be with after Ben. He’s charming and patient and kind, overwhelmingly so, to everything and everyone he encounters. He never fails to make you smile. Doesn’t hurt that he’s devastatingly handsome, too.

Truth is, Clark Kent scares you to death.

“How’d it go with Perry this morning?” he asks, breaking you from your thoughts. You deflate, frustrated all over again. A grimace pulls at his face at the look on yours and the huff that escapes you. “That bad?”

“He refused to read it! Appreciates my enthusiasm but wants me to,” you twist your voice into your best impression of your editor-in-chief, “stick to my how-tos.”

You relish in the chuckle your impression pulls out of Clark. He opens his mouth to say something and is cut off.

“Stop flirting and get to work, Kent. We’ve got a deadline,” Perry’s voice seems to boom as he strides past your bullpen on the floor. Clark flounders, cheeks warming into an embarrassed red. You’re all too aware of the amount of eyes on you and you feel yourself start to fold inwards.

The two of you look at each other and Clark flashes you a tight lipped, shy smile. He motions towards his desk across the way and you nod, wordlessly communicating with each other.

“Thanks again for the coffee,” you say before he can walk away.

“Anytime, really,” he says as he passes. There’s a fleeting press of his hand against your back. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, heat radiating out from where his touch lingered. You steel yourself for a beat before sitting down at your desk.

The ice in your coffee shifts as you log into your computer. You glance over to Clark though you can only see the back of his head from here. The side of your hand brushes against the cold drops of condensation on your coffee cup. Goosebumps skitter up your arm.

When you finally take the first sip, a pleased hum drifts out of you. It’s just how you like it, like he had said, but it’s also better somehow. Familiar, but different in the best way.

Just like Clark, you think.

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Despite it being sarcasm, you can’t get Perry’s insinuation that Clark was flirting with you out of your head. It’s been weeks and no matter how hard you try, it stays at the back of your mind constantly. And it’s starting to do a number to your nervous system.

Sure, maybe your interactions can be read as flirtatious but Clark’s also your closest friend. It’s just friendly banter and actions to show you care. Hardly anything romantic.

That’s what you keep telling yourself anyway.

It’s a Wednesday towards the end of summer when you start to notice something different.

The second the workday ends, you’re logging out with a swiftness. You’re not alone. Nearly everyone at the surrounding desks does the same.

There’s a shuffle of sound as everyone starts to pack up their things. The corner of your notebook bends as you shove it in your bag and you curse under your breath. You’re inspecting it, trying to bend it back into place but the crease is still there in the corner. Annoying.

“Heading out?”

The sound of Clark’s voice behind you makes you jump in surprise, your bag falling from your hands and to the ground. You’re pressing your hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. He at least has the decency to look apologetic when you turn to face him.

Clark has a bad habit of sneaking up on you. You’re not sure how someone so…big can be so quiet. Or how he only seems to be able to sneak up on you, considering his occasional clumsiness tends to alert his presence. Too busy always trying to not occupy so much space that he almost seems to occupy even more.

“Sorry! Sorry.” He’s dropped to the ground to retrieve your bag and bent notebook for you. His lips press together in a sympathetic grimace as he hands them over. Your hand falls from your chest to take them.

“Jesus, you’re like a stealth agent or something, Clark. I’ll never understand it.” You shove the notebook into your bag and sling it over your shoulder. He shakes his head and is reaching to grab your water bottle for you before you even get a chance to turn around and get it yourself.

He holds it out to you and you smile your thanks. There’s a shock of something almost magnetic when your fingers brush his in the exchange. You try not to flinch away too noticeably.

“Do you have plans? Like, now?” he asks, almost a little nervous. It makes you nervous and you hesitate in your movements. The corners of your eyes crease as you narrow them quizzically at him. “Sorry, that was..really forward.”

“No…why?” You start to walk away, full trust that he’ll follow you. He does. You slide your water bottle into your bag as you walk, Clark keeping pace. “Do you?”

“Oh! No, no I–Well…maybe?” he stumbles over his words and you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. His shoulders straighten just a tad. “There’s this new ice cream place that just opened downtown and I saw it and thought of you and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to check it out?”

You nearly trip over yourself, a pit dropping from your throat to your stomach. He thought of you. Is he asking you on a date? He thought of you. A mirage of emotions rushes through you and over your face. Clark starts to panic at your silence.

“Totally friendly!” You let out a soft breath. He thought of you. “Obviously! We don’t have to, unless you want to. And it doesn’t have to be tonight, sorry I didn’t–”

Clark’s a panic rambler you’ve come to notice. It’s rather endearing if you’re honest. The two of you pause outside the elevator. You nudge him with your shoulder which jostles you more than it does him.

“Tonight’s great, Clark,” you say, cutting off his rambling. He looks at you and breathes something like a sigh of relief at the sight of your smile. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. He lets you in first, mumbling under his breath.

“Great. Great, okay.”

Clark leads you around downtown Metropolis, his hand hovering just above the small of your back as a guide when needed. You fall into step and easy conversation the whole way, Clark making you laugh without even trying to be funny.

You mention the argument that you heard break out by the coffee this morning and he tells you it was Jimmy and Lois arguing–Jimmy annoyed that Lois has used up all the sugar. He mentions his Ma is planning to come visit him in the coming weeks and you swear you can feel your chest start to expand at the evident admiration for her in his voice.

“Here it is!” he announces a few minutes later as you turn a corner.

The first thing you notice is the red, yellow, and blue striped awning with scalloped edges. A sign above reads Super Scoops in bright letters and a bold font. The obvious hero homage makes you snort but the small line out the door leads you to believe it must be good.

“How’d you find this place?” you ask, relishing in the shade the awning gives while you wait in line.

“Just happened upon it on the way into work today,” he shrugs. He hopes you don’t realize his route to work from his apartment never crosses this section of downtown. If you do, he’s none the wiser.

“And the whole,” you wave a hand around, “Superman of it all isn’t at all why you wanted to try it?”

You’re teasing. Poking a jest at his superhero work connection. Clark scoffs a little though there’s no malice behind it, and briefly wonders if maybe you’ve figured him out. (You haven’t.)

“No!” his voice pitches up an inch. “I know you like ice cream and you just did that how-to bit about summer and I just thought you might like it s’all.”

There he goes again. Thinking of you and sending your heart ablaze. You need to get a grip.

The line moves quickly for which you’re thankful. When you get to the counter, you opt for a swirl of soft serve on a cone and Clark gets his in a cup. The price seems a little outrageous for what you’re getting and you accredit it to the theming.

You pull out your wallet and Clark gives you a piercing look, bumping your hand away though not unkindly. You go to protest but relent and put your wallet back in your bag when he swipes his card. He shoves his wallet back into the pocket of his slacks, stepping off to the side with you.

“I could’ve paid for that, you know,” you say, eyes locked onto the employee dispensing the swirl of chocolate and vanilla onto a cone. The uniforms here are rather silly. Blue t-shirts with little red capes attached, the parlor’s logo on the back.

“I know. I didn’t want you to,” he states simply, like he’s telling you the sky is blue. You probably should’ve expected it. Small town, farm boy chivalry and such.

Clark collects your ice creams from the teenager behind the counter who looks a little miserable. You accredit that to the uniform. He passes your cone off to you as he leads you out the door.

A comforting silence hangs around you as you linger in a little grassy patch next door. There’s kids running around and a dog chases them off leash. A hum of delight escapes you at your first taste of the soft serve. It’s exceptionally good.

Golden rays of the fading sun cast a radiant haze around the outline of your body. Ice cream is starting to melt around the rim of your cone. The surface tension breaks and a rivulet slips over your knuckles. You let out a soft gasp, more an exhale than anything and quickly lick it off.

Clark’s looking at you. Endearment glimmers in his irises, the sunlight reflecting off of it. You’re trying desperately to ignore the sticky feeling on your knuckles. You need to wash your hands. Or steal a generous glob of hand sanitizer even.

You catch his eye and feel pinned by his stare. You blink at him.

“What?” you ask. A thorn of self-consciousness pokes at you for a brief moment. Clark shakes his head.

You’ve got a smear of vanilla soft serve across your left cheek from when you tilted your hand to lick the ice cream off your knuckles. Your eyes are doe like. Backlit by the setting sun, the fleeting rays highlight the frizz in your hair, creating a halo around your head.

Clark thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“You’ve got a little..” he gestures towards his own face. You bristle with a light embarrassment. Before you can reach up to wipe away the ice cream from your face, Clark beats you to it.

He’s somehow procured a napkin and softly wipes the ice cream you smeared across your cheek away. You don’t remember seeing him grab them on your way out of the parlor.

Time seems to slow. The seconds drag by like the pouring of a thick stream of honey. The moment feels incredibly intimate for what it is. Your breath stills in your lungs.

“There we go,” he says. He turns and tosses the napkin into the trashcan. The spell breaks. Your fingertips reach up to graze against the spot he cleaned. You drop them before he can turn back around to catch you.

“Thank you,” your voice feels a little shaky. Clark smiles at you with a soft shake of his head, a silent don’t worry about it, and takes a bite of his ice cream.

“This is really good,” he says, swallowing it down. He looks so..boyish in this moment and it does something funny to your heart. Combined with him wiping your face clean, you’re a little afraid you could go into spontaneous cardiac arrest.

You’re staring at him, something sweet and awe-like in your eyes. Something in Clark brightens at your attention. His cheeks twinge pink and he smiles softly.

“Careful,” he points at your cone that’s starting to melt down to your fingers again. You blink away, embarrassed at your staring and hurriedly lick up the melted cream. What is going on with you?

Clark seems to have figured out a way to weasel himself inside and poke at your tender bits, making things in your chest twitch and move in a way they hadn’t in years. You weren’t sure when he had been able to step in so close to do so.

It feels all too familiar, yet different, just like that coffee he’d brought you a few weeks back. Your heart stutters, the beat spelling out an uh-oh.

You think you might be falling in love with him.

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Things steadily progress with Clark after your ice cream not-date.

You’ve crossed into hug territory. Simple side ones when you see him in the office in the mornings. Longer, more proper ones when you go your separate ways after a hang out. Each one starts to untie the rope that’d been knotted around your heart three years ago.

The risk grows more and more each day and now it feels even more ominous. Because now Clark’s more than just a potential romantic partner, he’s also one of your closest friends. And the thought of losing him in two ways instead of one scares you infinitely more.

You don’t mean to work so late on a Friday but it happens anyway and when you log out and pack up your things, the moon has risen completely in the sky. Clark has stayed late today too but you wonder if he was just waiting for you to finish so he can walk you home.

You’ve never asked and he’s never outright offered except for the very first time. Now it’s just become something unspoken. A given in your friendship. You appreciate it all the same.

He lingers outside your apartment with you tonight and you can tell something’s bothering him. Like he’s holding himself back, restraining from something. You go to ask if he’s okay or what’s wrong but you never get the chance.

Because Clark asks if you want to get dinner with him tomorrow night.

“Like a date. A nice, proper one with dinner and dessert.”

And despite the fear that shivers down your spine and the choking anxiety like a lump in your throat, you agree.

“Yes. Yeah, that sounds…nice.”

You hope your smile looks real and not as scared as you feel. He seems to buy it. He’s beaming with glee, trying to hide the intensity of it and failing. Quite adorably, you might add.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at 7.” He states. No sense of a question, just a simple statement. Warmth rushes through you.

“Okay.” The word is pushed out with a breath. Clark smiles at you.

“It’s a date!”

His enthusiasm is comforting and you squeak out a confirming uh huh! which is all you can seem to muster. Words are failing you. He reaches out to squeeze your hand briefly instead of hugging you goodbye tonight.

You’re grateful for the change, certain he would’ve been able to feel your racing heart when your chest pressed against him. You watch him walk a few strides down the hall before you go inside.

You’re already nervous when you wake up on Saturday morning. You spend a lot of the day panicking, over both the mundane and existential. Should you wear a dress? What if this goes horribly sideways and the two of you never speak again?

The usual.

In the end, you decide on your nicest dress, or rather, the nicest date night dress you own. You feel good. So long as you don’t think too seriously about it all.

You’re trying to practice some age-old breathing exercise in the mirror to calm your nerves. Trying not to overthink too much about your shoes or your hair or how this is your first date in three years. You’re interrupted by a knock on your door.

A quick glance at the clock on your way to the door shows it’s seven on the dot. You’re a little surprised at Clark’s punctuality. Not because you didn’t think he wouldn’t be but because you’ve never experienced it before. A punctual date, that is.

You pause at the door for a beat. Then, you shake out your hands and swing it open.

Clark stands at your doorstep with a bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Peonies and delphiniums, chamomile sprinkled amongst blushing roses in a brown paper wrapping tied with string. He must’ve stopped by the florist for these, you think. It might be the prettiest arrangement anyone’s ever shown you, let alone given you.

Clark is staring at you, jaw a little slack. You feel yourself start to fluster under his gaze, shrinking slowly.

“Wow. You look..” his voice trails off, eyes dropping to what you’re wearing and back up to lock with yours. “You look great.”

Your smile is a little shy, bright around the edges. The heat beneath your skin makes you feel like you could burst into flames.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself,” you say. He’s wearing clothes similar to what he wears to work, a charcoal pair of slacks and the usual white button down but he’s not wearing a tie and the sleeves are pushed up his forearms. It’s really doing something to you.

A blush rises on his cheeks and it’s his turn to offer you a shy smile. He clears his throat.

“These are for you,” he says, holding the flowers out for you to take. The paper crinkles as you take them from him. Your fingers brushing sends a pleasant zing! down your back. You can’t resist pressing your nose against the blossoms.

“They’re beautiful,” you say on an inhale. Clark could say the same about you ten times over. “Come in. I’ll put them in a vase and then we can go?”

You back up to let Clark inside and he closes the door behind him. He stands in the tiny entryway. It’s not very big, your apartment; it looks even smaller with him standing in it.

“You can come in further, you know?” your laugh carries through the air like a breeze. He lingers in the entry of your shoebox kitchen now. The bouquet lays gently on the little kitchen table tucked away in a nook off the kitchen.

You’re grateful for the boost of height the kitten heels you decided on give you, albeit small, as you reach up to grab your favorite vase. Clark’s eyes trail after you as you flit around the kitchen. Watching as you bring the vase to the kitchen sink to fill it with water and take it over to the table.

You untie the string and paper around the bouquet and place the flowers in the water with the utmost of care. It’s a perfect fit. You fluff it a little bit, arranging it so each blossom has space to shine. Then, you slide it to the center of your little homely kitchen table.

It’s picturesque. And so are you, standing with your hands clasped, admiring it. Clark wishes he had a camera. You turn and look at him, taken aback a bit at the sweet look in his eyes.

“Ready?” you ask. Clark blinks like he’s been shaken out of a stupor.

“Right. Yes! Let’s go.”

He follows close behind you as you grab your bag off the hook by the door and lock up. It’s your turn to follow him as soon as you leave your building. Ever the gentleman, he walks on the outside of the sidewalk and offers you his arm to hold.

Butterflies that have laid dormant inside you start to revive and flutter around your stomach. It’s a beautiful night in Metropolis, the sky clear and the air fresh. You think you’d be satisfied if you never made it to dinner and just walked around all night instead. Your feet might not thank you though.

He takes you to a nice restaurant a few blocks over. A place as nice as this was always reserved for anniversary dates in the past, never for a first. This specific one Clark leads you into, you’d never been to. The reservations always too hard to come by.

You’re a little awestruck when you walk in. Your eyes dance around, taking it all in as you get seated. Beautiful artwork decorating the walls. The tables covered in pristine white linens. The lights are low and there’s music playing softly in the background. Clark pulls your chair out for you and pushes it in.

“This place is so nice,” you say, as you sit. “How’d you even manage a reservation with so short notice?”

Clark looks a little sheepish, his shoulders hunching upwards towards his ears.

“Oh I, uh- This is going to sound presumptuous and I apologize. I got one a while ago. It’s just taken me so long to work myself up to asking you out.” He says it like a confession. Something in you preens at the idea of Clark liking you so much, he’d plan so far ahead for a first date with you.

Your nerves start to ease as the night progresses and maybe the bottle of red wine you share helps a bit too. It’s easy with Clark. As if you’ve always been doing this. It sends a thrill through you.

Slowly but surely, your defenses start to come down. The hesitancy and fear that normally holds you back starts to fade. Clark starts to see you really shine with each new thing he learns and each new laugh that escapes you.

Just like he said when he asked you out, you get dessert after dinner. A rich slice of the most decadent chocolate cake you’ve ever had in your life. Your eyes close when you take the first bite, a delighted hum escaping you louder than you’d like.

“Oh my god,” you open your eyes and the amused admiration in Clark’s eyes is clear as the moon in the sky. You get a little shy, your skin prickling under his gaze. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

You gesture for him to try it. Clark’s reaction almost mimics yours.

“Golly,” is all he says and you laugh a little at his choice of word, both of you going in for another bite. The cake is gone almost embarrassingly fast but you’re both too stuffed to care. The waiter drops off the check as you take your final sip of wine, draining the glass.

He reaches for it without hesitation, doesn’t flinch at the total, just slides his card into the fold and sets it on the edge where it’s quickly retrieved. You fold your arms and rest them on the table, your hands holding on limply to the space above your elbows.

The edges of you feel fuzzy. Your head is tilted a little towards your shoulder, a serene smile on your face. To Clark, you look radiant even in the dim lighting. When the waiter brings back his card, you watch as he signs and puts his card back in his wallet.

He offers you his hand to help you out of your seat and neither of you let go as you walk out of the restaurant. In fact, you make the move to intertwine his fingers with yours and swing them a little between you. He pulls you into his side and you giggle, your shoulder bumping his bicep.

You feel giddy head to toe. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the wine. Maybe it’s Clark’s fingers slotted between yours. Or the way he’s been looking at you all night.

All you know is you feel more happy than scared and it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way that you’ve forgotten how good it feels. And maybe it’s your lapse in memory or maybe it’s Clark but it feels even better this time around.

You’re laughing at something Clark says–he’s been making you do that a lot tonight–when there’s a call of your name. The laughter gets stuck in your throat and dies out quick, your steps faltering on the sidewalk. Clark’s eyes are swimming with concern when he looks at your face.

“Is that you?” Ben’s voice is just like you remember it. You turn towards it and your hand falls out of Clark’s grip when you catch sight of him. Because standing next to him is Jane. Beautiful, alluring Jane who drank your wine at your hosted parties and probably slept in your bed when you weren’t around.

You think you might be sick.

“Oh my god, how are you?” Ben gives you a hug, like you’re still friendly and things ended amicably. Like the last time you saw him he didn’t put your heart through a paper shredder. Your limbs feel wooden as you half-heartedly reciprocate. Ben steps back and wraps his arm around Jane’s waist. “You remember Jane?”

She lifts her left hand in a wave and the streetlight overhead catches on the ring on her finger, making it glint. At least she looks a little awkward at the whole situation. You nod, a pounding starting to form behind your brow.

“Yeah, I..I remember,” you reply. You take a deep breath, force yourself to smile and sound way more friendly than you feel. “Good to see you.”

The puzzle pieces start to click into place in Clark’s head. He’s not completely aware of your dating history but he’s easily figures out that’s what this is. And that you’re completely beside yourself. He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist, steady and strong. You relax a bit without even realizing.

Ben catches the motion and his eyebrows raise a hair. He has to look up at Clark, not by a lot but enough that you notice it if you’re paying close attention. And you are. Then Ben looks at you, silently waiting for an introduction.

“Oh. Ben,” his name tastes like venom on your tongue. “This is-”

“Clark Kent.” He finishes for you, taking a step forward and extending his hand. You think you can see Ben wince from Clark’s grip but it’s gone as soon as it arrives. (And if Clark put more of a grip into the handshake than normal, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

There’s a beat of silence that passes. The four of you stand on the sidewalk, almost mirror images of each other. The same wave of nausea passes over you, the pressure in your head getting worse.

“Well, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you found someone who makes you happy,” Ben says, voice genuine. Something in you bristles at that, taking it more as one final nail in the coffin jab at you. Clark feels you stiffen in his hold. You’re not sure what to even say, lips parting but nothing coming out.

It doesn’t seem to matter. Ben nods at you and Jane gives you a tight smile as they pass. You blink at their retreating figures. You’ve long since gotten over the love you held for him but you didn’t expect the pain of it all to still linger.

You don’t want to let this one twisted encounter ruin the great night you’ve had with Clark but you can feel your reservations start to creep back in. It’s like Clark can see you start to slowly build those walls back up after he’d worked to pull them apart all night.

“Hey, you okay?”

You focus on the good. The softness of his voice. The care in his eyes. The steadfast grip of his arm around your waist. You inhale and on your exhale, flash him a shaky smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was just…” A plethora of words dance around your head. Weird. Unexpected. Awful. Horrifying. “Strange.”

Clark nods and glances over his shoulder in the direction they walked off in. He looks back at you, your eyes locked where his just were. He clears his throat softly and your gaze finds his.

“Sorry but, I couldn’t stand that guy.” A sudden laugh, loud and genuine bursts out of you. A sentence so unlike Clark and yet, you can tell he means it. His eyes crinkle at the corners at the glow that’s started to come back to your face. He almost hadn’t noticed how dim you’d become in that guy’s presence.

“Yeah,” you say, as your laughter dies down. Your smile softens. “Me too.”

Clark walks you home, conversation still full but maybe not as lively as it had been pre-Ben and Jane. You hate how they seem to haunt you like this. But you revel in how easy it was–and is–for Clark to make you laugh again.

He expects the night to end at your doorstep but you invite him inside for a little while longer. You’re a little surprised, mostly delighted when he agrees.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, kicking off your shoes and walking into your kitchen. Clark toes his shoes off and neatly arranges them next to yours. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Clark glances over and can see you grabbing two glasses down from a cupboard near your tiny stove. You set them on the counter and at his silence, look up to where he’s standing.

“Oh! Water’s fine.”

He takes interest in your photos hanging on the walls and the knick-knacks on your shelves. He particularly likes a corkboard you’ve got hung up with a bunch of mementos pinned: movie ticket stubs, fortunes from fortune cookies, postcards, one of your first how-to pieces from the Planet, a photobooth strip of you.

You bring your drinks in, and set them on the coffee table, water for him and another glass of wine for you. You sit, knees pulled up on the couch and your feet tucked beneath you, your body facing Clark. You like how he looks sitting in your space. Like he fits right in.

You talk for hours about anything and everything that seems to come to mind. You share the abridged version of Ben and Jane and your chest goes warm at how quick Clark notices your need for a subject change. He switches gears smoothly. You laugh so hard your stomach hurts.

The hours tick by without either of you paying much attention. Your drinks sit empty on the table and when the conversation lulls, you take them into the sink. Clark checks his watch when you leave the room.

“Oh gosh, it’s late,” he says. You come out of the kitchen to an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up. I hadn’t realized it was so late.”

“Clark, it’s okay,” you shake your head with a smile. His mouth is twisted into an apologetic frown.

“Still. I should let you get to bed.” Only then do you realize how tired you feel.

You walk him to your front door and watch him put his shoes back on. When he straightens up, you take a step closer to him.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You say softly. Your eyes shine in the dim lamplight.

“Me too.” Clark smiles. He swallows and shifts on his feet. “Would you..wanna do this again?”

“I’d like that.” You nod, smiling widely up at him. He nods.

Clark leans down to hug you goodnight, his arms wrapping tight around your waist. Yours reach up and over his shoulders. Your body sinks into his and you think you could stay right there forever. After a beat, he pulls back but you don’t let go right away.

With your arms around his neck and his around your waist, it leaves hardly any space between you both. Suddenly, the air feels similar to the moment before lightning strikes nearby in a storm. Your gazes both fall from eyes to lips and back.

Clark’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and you track the motion with your eyes. You swallow, lips parting only just. He starts to lean in and your eyelids start to flutter shut. Your hands are trembling from both anticipation and uncertainty. Not about him, but about the unknown. You send a quick plea outwards that he doesn’t notice.

There’s no telling what lies on the other side of letting Clark kiss you, a faint warning siren echoing in the back of your mind. You decide to ignore it the second his lips brush against yours. You’ll cross that bridge when it comes.

The siren fades into a silent static hum, your senses flooded with ClarkClarkClark. Of the gentle press of his lips to yours, pliant and willing. Of the press of his body against yours as you eagerly push up to reciprocate.

You wonder briefly why you hadn’t done this any sooner. There’s such an ease to it that you almost feel like you’re experiencing deja vu. Like there’s another version of you that wasn’t burned, that gets to kiss Clark like this all the time. You’re envious of her immediately.

His hands slide to your hips to pull you even closer to him and that dreaded siren breaks through the static in your brain. You pull back, your hands falling to his shoulders. Clark’s glasses are askew and have fogged up considerably but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Wait,” you say breathlessly. He’s quick to renew the gap of space between your bodies.

“Sorry-”

“No, no, it’s not- you’re okay,” you pause, chest heaving. You try to catch your breath, coming up short. Your arms fall from his shoulders as you take a step back. “I think I need a second.”

The wounded expression on Clark’s face makes you feel considerably worse. He resembles a confused, kicked puppy and you think you might be sick.

You turn on your heel and make a beeline for the bathroom. Clark catches your shaking hand wiping at your eyes and doesn’t think twice before following after you. To apologize, if anything. Convinced he’s done something wrong enough to make you cry.

The counter of your bathroom is cold against your palms. You take a couple deep breaths in and out. Mentally kicking yourself because why can’t you just be normal about this and cursing Ben (and his bloodline, too) under your breath for causing your aversion to love in the first place.

You turn the tap on, splashing cold water on your face in hopes that it’ll shock your system back to normal. Back to how it felt mere moments ago when you were kissing Clark.

A gentle knock on the door makes you jump.

“Honey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Your heart pinches, a piece of it chipping away at how sad he sounds. You don’t say anything for a beat. “Did I…” a defeated sigh, “sorry, did I do something wrong?”

You turn the water off.

“Oh, Clark,” you sigh. He hears the lock click and then the door swings open. This time, his heart twists at the expression on your face. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just..”

You let out a sad laugh and then your eyes are pinching shut. You press your face into your hands.

“I’m just a mess.” Your words are muffled against your palms. Clark tsks in disagreement and takes a step towards you. His fingers circle around your wrists and he’s so soft with you, you think you might burst into tears all over again.

“Hey, hey, no. Look at me,” his voice is equally tender and you let him pull your hands away. The reveal of your eyes shiny with unshed tears chips away at his heart. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine,” you sniffle, rapidly trying to blink away the tears. One slips past anyway and he quickly smooths it away.

“You’re most certainly not fine,” he says, voice still gentle but firm. Your shoulders slump. Clark sighs. “Let’s get you some water. That sound good?”

You nod, looking at the floor. He leads you over to your couch and sits you down before getting you a glass of water from the kitchen. He’s back faster than you expect and you whisper a quiet thank you when he hands you the water.

He doesn’t sit until you’ve drunk a considerable amount. You cradle the cup in your hands, looking anywhere but at Clark.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. You spare a quick glance up at him. “It wasn’t anything you did, I promise. I just…I haven’t done this since..”

“Since Ben?” Clark fills in. You look at him with a small smile that’s equal parts embarrassed and sad.

“Yeah. I just spooked myself a bit,” you say. Clark nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” he says, resting a hand on your knee. Your eyes focus on it.

“Okay. I just don’t want you to think it’s because of you,” you say, gaze lifting to his eyes. They’re looking at you like you’re made of porcelain. He scoots a little closer to you on the couch and lightly brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His palm settles on your cheek.

“We can take it slow, yeah?” Clark offers. You perk up, a little surprised. After all this, he still likes you. He still wants to try with you. The realization makes you ache. You nod, anyway.

Slow is perfect.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The air outside has started to go cold, summer finally fading away into a brisk autumn. You’ve five more dates with Clark now under your belt. It’s slowly getting easier, less scary though you can’t deny that your brain continues to do risk assessments over each new romantic gesture.

He brings you a new assortment of flowers each time. The newest, a golden arrangement featuring sunflowers and dahlias, sits in the usual spot on your kitchen table. The sun reflects off the petals through the window.

Clark’s at your apartment again in a handknit sweater his Ma made him, sat at the table and warming his hands with a cup of cocoa. Speaking of..

“My Ma is visiting this weekend,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“And she’d…like to meet you.”

The world seems to still, your body going with it. You blink at him, lips parting and closing.

“Oh!”

Clark rushes his words out, sensing the rising panic in your chest.

“You don’t have to, I know we’re taking it slow and this is definitely, probably not even remotely close to that. But I’ve talked about you so much she won’t stop asking about you, even before this started. It’s only if you want to.”

Your heart picks up at the image in your head of Clark including you in his updates to his Ma. It makes you burn from the inside, a sweetness pooling in your veins. He talks about you. The pendulum swings back and forth in your head as you consider it.

“Okay,” you say. Clark raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re sure?” When you nod, he beams. He gets up from his seat and comes over to press a kiss against the top of your head. His excitement is sweet to witness. “I’ll call and let her know.”

On Sunday, you go over to Clark’s for dinner.

You shift nervously outside the door to his apartment. Your fingers are stiff from the brisk air outside and from the tight grip you have on the flowers you picked up on the way over. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, willing your body to still.

Then, you lift your fist and knock it against his door. You’re wiping your palm against the front of your pants when he answers the door. His smile is blinding.

“Hi,” he steps aside to let you in. The door closes behind you and he dips his head to kiss your cheek in greeting as you’re toeing off your shoes. “You look nice.”

“Hi,” You smile, nerves still going haywire beneath your skin. “Thanks.”

“Clark? Is she here?” You can hear her voice from the kitchen and you glance at Clark, grip tightening on the small bouquet in your hand. You’re a little nervous that it's not as nice as it could be. Clark presses a hand against the small of your back and you remember to breathe.

He leads you the short distance to the kitchen in lieu of a response. As soon as she sees you, her eyes light up. You smile nervously at her and give a small wave of your hand.

“Ma, this is-” Clark starts to say, but he’s quickly cut off.

“You must be, y/n!” Her accent is thick as honey and it warms your heart.

“Hi,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “These are for you, Mrs. Kent.”

You hold out the flowers to her and she takes them with a soft audible aw. Then she’s pulling you into a hug and saying, “call me Martha.”

It takes you a beat to huge her back. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been hugged like this. Different from how Clark hugs you, different from your own mother’s hugs. This one has a specific air of home to it that’s overwhelming.

You look at Clark over her shoulder who looks extra smiley. When she pulls back, she looks at the flowers again. Then she turns to Clark who already has a hand extended to take them and go put them in water.

“Clark has told me so much about you,” she says. A hand, weathered and gentle from age touches your cheek. “You’re even more beautiful than he described.”

“Ma,” Clark says, from the kitchen sink. You smile, loving that boyish part of him that still gets embarrassed when his mom shares something she probably shouldn’t. Martha tsks and angles herself slightly to look at him, her hand falling away.

“I’m serious, Clark.” She turns to you and lowers her voice a smidge. “He’s always talking about you, it's hard to get him to stop. I knew I had to meet the girl he’s so sweet on from the second he mentioned you.”

You can feel your skin start to flush. Your eyes catch onto Clark who’s arranging the flowers in the vase and setting them on his own kitchen table.

“You’re the only girl he’s ever been like this over,” she says almost conspiratorially. Your body softens, something distantly familiar coursing through your veins. Clark catches your eye and smiles at you and it leaves you a little dizzy.

When the food is ready, the two of them fall into a rhythm, bringing dishes to the table. Watching the two of them interact, you can tell where Clark gets it from. His mannerisms and certain words and phrases in his vernacular.

Clark pulls out both yours and Martha’s chairs when you sit to eat. The food is delicious and you make a note to ask Martha for recipes when the night ends.

It’s as easy to talk to her as it is Clark. She asks questions about you and your job and your family. And she also asks about you and Clark. How you met and when you started “going steady” as she puts it. You’re particularly fond of the stories she shares about Clark when he was little. Even more fond of the red blush that covers his cheeks at the more embarrassing ones.

In the back of your mind though you can’t get Martha’s words out of your head.

You’re the only girl he’s ever been like this over.

It unnerves you slightly. And at the same time, you wonder how you could even begin to describe how much it means to you to have his Ma treat you so kind and warm. Like you’re already part of the family. Your mind starts to analyze a risk assessment, a voice in the back of your mind poking and prodding and whispering that something this good has to come down.

Clark reaches for your hand at the table and gives it a quick squeeze, momentarily pulling you out of your spiral. You look at him with a soft smile, ever grateful and surprised that he can read you so well.

At the end of the night, Martha hugs you tight again and you soak it in.

“It was so good to meet you, dear,” she says, pulling back from the hug. Her hands hold onto your forearms.

“You too,” you smile and she gives your arms a squeeze. She looks at Clark, who’s holding your purse for you in his hand.

“You make sure she gets home safe, Clark.”

Clark lips twitch. “I know, Ma. I always do.”

He’s true to his words, walks you safely home and all the way to your door like he always does. You linger outside the door until you’re toeing the line of inviting him in. He kisses you goodnight, soft and sweet, his hand cradling your jaw and yours pressed against his chest.

It quiets your brain enough for you to get to bed but when you wake up the next morning, it’s racing immediately again. You’re distracted during the work day and no matter how much you try, you can’t get it to stop. A steady downward spiral.

Clark comes home with you after work. You’re unusually quiet on the walk to your apartment and through dinner–leftovers from the night before that Martha insisted you take home with you.

You clear the table of dishes and Clark helps you wash up. When the two of you go to sit on your couch, Clark sits first and holds out a hand.

“C’mere,” he says, all but pulling you to sit in his lap, though really you might as well be straddling him. For the first time all day, the chatter in your brain starts to dim. “What’s wrong? You’ve been unusually quiet all day.”

You look down at your hands in your lap and shrug. You’re not sure how to phrase it even if you tried.

“It’s..nothing. It’s silly,” you finally say, still refusing to look at him.

“Hey,” his voice is a soft caress against your skin, gentle like his fingers that tilt your cheek so you look at him. “It’s just me. You can tell me.”

Your gaze roves his face, stars in your eyes. Clark pushes a stray hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek like a feather. His eyes haven’t once strayed from yours.

A shiver runs down your spine and you try not to squirm. It’s still new being seen like this. Like he’s looking right through you, straight into the messy walls of your subconscious. You swallow, your mouth dry and the words hang in a lump in your throat.

“Just..when I met your mom yesterday,” you can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, feeling a little silly. Clark’s looking at you, so tenderly it squeezes your heart in your chest. “She hugged me. Like really hugged me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and something shimmers in his eyes as he scans your face. One hand rubs against your arm and his thumb on the other spreads a tear across the apple of your cheek as he wipes it away.

“Honey, that’s a good thing. Yeah?”

“I-” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nodding though your shoulders inch up towards your ears. “Yeah. Yes. I dunno, it just…”

Your shoulders drop on an exhale and your eyes flutter open and latch onto his. Clark looks at you with quiet reassurance. His fingertips trail against the skin of your arms featherlight while he waits for you to finish your thought.

“It felt like home,” your voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. Clark's eyes seem to soften even more than they already were. The corners of your mouth twitch into a small smile. You look away to wipe at your eyes, damp fingertips coming to rest along the side of his neck. “Been a while since I’ve had that.”

Your eyes lock back on his. Something familiar is swirling in his eyes, your breath getting stuck in your throat for the briefest of moments. Your heart starts to play a symphony against your ribcage. Clark’s hands have migrated to the small of your back.

“You’re starting to feel like home,” he says. Your fingers against his neck can feel the timbre of his voice. There’s a rush of warmth that covers you from head to toe. It’s dizzying enough to leave you a little nauseous, though there’s a fleeting thought that wonders if it’s because his words feel like a euphemism for the L word.

Despite the onslaught of emotion you feel, your lips start to curl into a giddy smile just as Clark leans in to kiss you. His lips slot against yours, slow and sure and it’s enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Your smile gets kissed away but the giddiness doesn’t fade.

His hands on your back pull you closer towards him and your thumbs press against his jawline. Your body feels like it’s starting to liquify in his arms as you melt against him. You pull back and Clark steals one more lingering kiss from you. It elicits another soft smile.

You don’t open your eyes right away, breathing in deep through your nose as you press your forehead against his. His thumbs rub circles against your back and his nose nudges yours. You blink your eyes open and lean back enough to look at him fully.

You run a hand through the mess of curls on his head, eyes as soft as the edges of your smile. Clark’s looking at you like you hung the moon. The simplest of thoughts pops into your head. A flash of fear shocks your body. You push the feeling down and away, locking it up deep in the gooey center of your heart.

But you can’t lock away the thought that races around your brain like a news headline.

You’re a thousand percent, without a doubt, in love with Clark Kent.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

It’s an almost difficult realization for you in the coming days. The familiar dip in your stomach, a pull on your heart, like passing by an old friend in the grocery store. Things are safe with Clark, you’re safe with Clark. But it doesn’t quell the stutter of fear in the beat of your heart that’s been opening itself back to love.

You can’t help it but you do the best thing you know how. You pull away even though it’s twisting your heart into knots. A part of you hopes that he’ll break things off if you push hard enough. Maybe it’ll hurt less that way.

Because what if you love him too much, too hard that he slips away? In your head, it’s better to withdraw now and first before he ever gets the chance to. Logically, you know it’s unlike Clark but you can’t help it. You’re not feeling very rational right now. Common sense has seemed to fly right out the window.

Clark feels utterly confused. You keep things about the same at work but the second you get home, he can feel you pulling away. You stop answering his calls. You don’t let him kiss you, barely let him hold your hand.

He goes into fix-it mode, trying to retrace his steps and figure out if maybe he did something but he comes up short. He tries talking to you about it but you shrug it off, insisting everything is fine when he can clearly tell it’s not.

He decides that maybe you just need a day or two to yourself and he acquiesces, giving you the space that he thinks you need. When he does, you think maybe he’s finally pulling away too and even though it makes you ache, you think it’s for the best.

But when space doesn’t work and you still won’t talk he knows something is really wrong. In his head, he makes a loose plan. He’ll get you to talk to him somehow, if anything to just get some kind of closure if you’ve decided this isn’t something you want to pursue with him anymore. The thought makes him ache but he has to know.

A couple weekends after dinner with his mom, you’re in your apartment staring at the wilted flowers on your kitchen table, wondering if you should maybe get rid of them. But that feels like getting rid of Clark somehow and you can’t bring yourself to do either of those things.

There’s a knock on your door and your heart knows it’s him before you do. You open the door and there he stands. His nose is pink from the cold and there’s a sadness so heavy in his eyes it stabs at the tender bits of your heart.

“We need to talk,” he says, and then at the last second, “please.”

You don’t say anything, just step aside to make room for him to come in. You close the door behind him with a click.

“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as you turn around. You fold your arms, hugging them to you like some kind of armor.

“What do you mean?” you try to play a little dumb and Clark huffs. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him anything close to angry.

“You know what I mean. It’s what I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me about for weeks.” he sounds the slightest bit exasperated. “You won’t talk to me outside of work anymore. You won’t let me close enough to do much of anything. You’ve stopped returning my calls. It’s like you’ve completely pulled away.”

He sounds hurt more than anything.

“Did I do something? What happened?”

You close your eyes and sigh. “No Clark, you didn’t do anything. Nothing…happened.”

“Then why. Why are you pulling away?”

“Maybe we’re just better as friends!” you burst out, arms falling to your sides. “We were moving too fast. Maybe it’s just…easier if we just go back to being friends. Nothing more.”

“Don’t do that,” he says and you blink at him. Your eyebrows furrow.

“What? I’m not-” you pinch the bridge of your nose. Your words have started leaving you both so fast your sentences almost overlap. “Clark-”

“You’re quitting before things get tough. You can’t do that.”

“What? I’m not..I’m not quitting. God, Clark I-” your voice starts to break. “I’m trying to protect myself. I’m terrified.”

Clark’s shoulders soften. “Terrified?”

“Yes,” you say and now the words won’t stop spilling out of you. “I’m scared to death of…of this. Of you! Of us! Of…of all of it! I’m scared.”

Clark looks like a kicked puppy again.

“Me? Us?” his voice sounds so small and your heart twists. “Why?”

“Because I..” you’re almost panting. “Because I love you, Clark. I love you and it scares me because I never wanted to fall in love again. I never wanted to risk the pain of losing someone again. I didn’t want to risk the possibility of things ending just like they did with Ben three years ago.

And then I met you and I just knew if anyone would change my mind it would be you. The thought of being loved by you scared me and at the same time I was scared by how much I wanted that. And I tried not to but falling in love with you was the easiest thing for me to do.”

You’re not sure when you started crying or when Clark got close enough to be able to wipe your tears away with his thumbs. He looks pained at the sight of your tears but beneath that is a joy so vibrant it almost glows.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice is a soft melody in your ears. “I love you, too.”

It doesn’t sound as scary to you when he says it outloud. You sniffle, unable to fight the smile that spreads across your face. It’s teary and you’ve got a sudden worry that your nose is running.

“You do? Even still?”

Clark lets out a soft laugh and nods, wiping away fresh tears that have fallen over your cheeks. “Yeah, honey, I do. Even still.”

“It’s an awful lot of work,” you say. Through a wet laugh, “I’m a mess, clearly.”

“No it’s not. Not for me. Not when it’s you.”

The look in his eyes is so intense and serious, you’ve no choice but to believe him. Your heart soars. You sniffle again, feeling like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Your fingers curl themselves into the fabric of the sweatshirt he’s wearing.

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” you tease and it pulls a smile out of Clark. He presses his lips to yours, so tender and soft, it leaves you melting like that ice cream cone he bought you what seems like a lifetime ago.

Love this go around feels familiar, but it’s different, better even in all the right ways. It’s like returning from a lifelong journey and sinking into a hug.

It feels like coming home.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

as usual, tagging some people who might be interested (if not u can ignore) & those who asked hehehe: @stevebabey @brettsgoldstein @almightyellie @katsu28 @sanguineterrain @anonymouse1807 @superemobitch @manicandobsessive @clonesdserveb3tter @lalameors @celestialend @claudiwithachanceof @pessimisticmoon @clarkstwin @cupid4prez

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dontpulloutman · 10 days ago

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me lmfao

#rio yapping

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dontpulloutman · 11 days ago

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handle all of that

pedro pascal x younger!yn a/n: hi guys ... im kinda ? back ??? sorry i havent posted in a while i got busy grinding for that pre-med degree AAAAAAA i hope u like this even if its reaaaaally short (n sweet) :))

(masterlist)

liked by pascalispunk, taylorswift, radvxz, and 1,753,843 others

yourinstagram days well spent

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user1 OH YMG FUCKIFNG GOD

user2 DID YOU REALLY TAG PEDRO ON UR 🐱???

user5 SHE FUCKIN DIDDDDDD

user3 oh this is so iconic

user4 they're so??????

pascalispunk Dios mío. Te tengo ganas.

user10 🐱🐱 so good it made him speak another language user9 LMFAOSHF

pascalispunk Por favor, hazme tuya.

user6 YOURE SO FUCKSIDNG NASTYYYYYY user7 oh mygodwhath etufk did i just google translate user8 ON YOUR PUBLIC ACCOUNT?????

taglist: — feel free to comment or send an ask to be added! :) WIP.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal social media au #javier pena x reader #joel miller x reader #oberyn martell x reader #din djarin x reader #reed richards x reader

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dontpulloutman · 13 days ago

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even injustice!superman is a pookiebear and would be disgusted by "dark clark kent" (hear me out)

what’s even the point of dark clark kent fics….. y’all are not attracted to this man for the same reasons i am

#rio yapping

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dontpulloutman · 16 days ago

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Wow i feel insane

ᯓ★ MY LOVE VERY, VÉRITABLE ¹⁶

… starring charles leclerc x f!reader ... 2.2k words ... soundtrack for me formidable by charles aznavour ... in which you're sick of not understanding what charles says when he sweet talks you in french, so you take matters into your own hands. ... features fluff, summer vacation charles, accurate french ... author notes i watched monsieur aznavour (2024) the other day and got this tiny baby idea. hope u enjoy & as always pls pls tell me what u think !! :) F1 MASTERLIST / ASK BOX

Dating Charles Leclerc comes with many perks.

Patient, sincere ears that listen to your every two a.m. thought, no matter how nonsensical, and respond with equal folly until you’re both giggling under the covers like little kids at a sleepover. Hands, slightly calloused from the leather of steering wheels, massaging the knots out of your back or twirling your hair absentmindedly, like they could invent a new sort of braid if they tried long enough. Whispers of lovestruck French slipping from his lips after races, when he can’t quite believe you’re real, the confetti is real, anything is real; or irritated, foreign expletives, when someone cuts him off on the road, that make you chuckle every time.

And—sure, yeah, the glitzy palaces and dolce far niente are an added bonus, too.

But dating Charles Leclerc has its share of losses. An absence like a gaping void every other weekend, wherein his dead-of-night laughter comes to you frazzled by static and time zones. His maddening tendency to speed down the A8 between Fréjus and Monaco when he’s driving alone (he always lifts his foot off the pedal when you’re in the car), as if the winding freeway, wedged between rock and foam, were a forbidden circuit. And most infuriatingly, your sheer inability to understand half the loving words he tells you, or the jokes he tells his friends; to witness him, in his barest form.

You don’t understand a word of French, and to you it is as serious a crime as not understanding Charles at all. So, over the course of your first year together, you set out to learn.

It was never really meant to be a secret, per se: Charles is away a majority of the year, leaving you many a too-long morning to spend in a too-big Monégasque apartment. All the books on his shelves, the newspaper on his coffee table and the children’s cartoons you flick through at breakfast—all of it is in French, abstruse and taunting. Like vaults in his heart whose keys you’ve misplaced. Put away.

There is no real necessity for you to learn the language: Monaco is used to its international residents and thus perfectly navigable with English alone; all his family and friends, the crust of motorsport and the odd journalist observing you a little too keenly, are all perfectly fluent. Still, you download the green bird app and tap through your lessons religiously when Charles is away. To kill time, and the unpleasant impression of sticking out.

You are on day seventy-four of your Duolingo streak when Charles FaceTimes his mother and brother from the hotel in Barcelona. From outside the bathroom you can hear heartfelt laughter and the specific, defenseless groan Charles makes when he’s being scolded for forgetting to do something he expressly was told to. Just as you exit the bathroom and wave hi to the camera, however, the warmth in the air slightly thickens—not malice, or callousness (you know Pascale loves you like a daughter because she offers to cut your hair every time you visit), but rather the chopped-up words and involuntary hesitancy that comes with expressing love in a foreign tongue. The very next day, you’re trading the owl app notifications for French notebooks and colorful highlighters.

By that point, you reason it’s too late to tell Charles of your linguistic ambitions, and the habit of practicing when he’s away has gotten too etched in your memory. Besides, there’s a little part of you that fantasizes about the moment you blow his mind by replying to the car valets at the casino in fluent and elegant French.

Following through with your French lessons without getting busted by Charles proves a little difficult on the yacht. It feels like your boyfriend can sneak up on you at any moment, appear from any corner of the boat and snake his arms around your waist, press a quick kiss to your neck or the crown of your head and then jump back into the sea. Still, you manage; when your ears are absorbed by French pronunciation tutorials or old-timey songs your nose is on the lookout for his smell of sunscreen and iodine. When he’s out for a swim, you talk to Leo on deck, ask him what he likes to do in his spare time or where the train station is. He may not be the most objective conversation partner, because he barks excitedly regardless of how many errors you make, but at least he’s the only one who won’t snitch.

Mondays are the only days you spend on land. Errands to run, friends to see, leisurely strolls on unmoving ground. The sun is already thundering in the milky sky, heralding a day of unrelenting heat, when the yacht plunges through shimmering waters to moor at the Antibes harbor.

“Do you mind going to fetch breakfast, love?” Charles asks once he’s joined you on the pontoon. He stretches his arms out over his head, as if awakening from a very long slumber like the Mediterranean breaking out of its nightly torpor. “I need to talk to the captain.”

He points to a bakery further down behind the sailboat masts, its striped-blue pediment bathed in morning light. You do your best to look as equal and unexcited as possible as you head for the Boulangerie du Port—this is the perfect opportunity to test the fundamentals you have so duly worked on during all your days at sea. A plunge into the deep-end, under real-life conditions, with no safety net—the only way one can learn! You can absolutely do this and not freak out or cause a diplomatic incident. Nevermind the pounding of your heart as you push the cedar door open, and the tinkle rings out.

The smell of freshly baked pastries coaxes your nostrils and awakens a faint rumbling in your stomach. Behind the glass case laze about all colors of tarts, choux, pralines and éclairs, lightly tinged with the light gold of early morning; and on wicker shelves at the back the baguettes gild like beachgoers basking in the sun. Your mouth waters, so quickly you don’t immediately notice the young woman in a hairnet and apron staring at you from behind the counter.

“Bonjour,” she chippers in that sing-songy tone all boulangères master, and you reply as rapidly and cheerfully as you can. First social crisis averted.

You can do this, you steady yourself. Buying bread is the most codified interaction in the history of France; the unmoving pillar from which all other customs flow, like a play everyone knows by heart. You’ve rehearsed it, you know your lines.

“Je voudrais deux traditions, pas trop cuites, s’il vous plaît,” you enunciate, and though there are unnatural stops between your words you surprise yourself with your accent. Much more convincing than your impromptu soliloquies to Leo.

She nods, and turns around to grab two baguettes. Excellent sign. At least you made yourself understood and did not insult the whole nation.

“Et avec ceci ?”

She’s asking if you want anything else. You’ve rehearsed the script before, you know its slightest intonations. This is the point when you turn to the display of succulent pastries and let your stomach do the thinking. Quatre pains au chocolat, you add, and Douze chouquettes, and every time the appropriate S’il vous plaît as punctuation. Maybe it makes you sound cartoonish, but you reckon it is always preferable to be too formal than not enough to a French woman.

She types the total into her handheld calculator and you reach for your credit card with the thundering thought, I am crushing this French thing.

Is it actually this easy? Did you just unlock the ability to bullshit your way through any simple conversation with French strangers? Oh, the face Charles will make when he hears you order next time you dine out in Nice. Or Arthur when he cracks a joke in the Ferrari garage and you bite back with an even cleverer joke.

“Ah, non, le terminal de carte ne fonctionne pas aujourd’hui, désolée, on prend que les espèces !” the boulangère says in one breath.

You freeze, lips parted, tongue stuck behind your teeth. Widen your eyes slightly, then frown. This isn’t in the script you rehearsed. This isn’t in any script you’ve heard ever, not even when you listen to Charles order. In fact, you haven’t caught a single word other than what you think might be today and sorry.

Okay, don’t panic. Stick to what you know. Try to put it back on familiar rails.

“Erm… oui ?”

She giggles, good natured, and you swear the heat bubbling up your throat and cheeks comes from a pit of the earth that must’ve opened up beneath your feet to swallow you.

You’re about to try and salvage the situation when a familiar voice speaks from over your shoulder. Though Charles’ words are foreign, there’s a distinct edge of amusement to his tone that echoes the mischievous tinkle of the cash in his hand when he hands the coins over to the boulangère. She thanks him, and you thank her, grab the paper bags, and bid her goodbye and a good day twice on your way out, which only fuels your distress more. At least Charles has the decency of waiting until you are out on the seaside street to chuckle.

“I didn’t know you knew French,” he muses, and rummages in the bag for a chouquette. You pout.

“I was doing great before you got here.”

“Really?” he chuckles. A seagull hovers in an updraft, its shrill cry awakening the harbor’s tiny houses. “You didn’t need my help at all?”

“No.”

Your grumbling stomach won’t let you pout for long, however—he holds out a chouquette at eye level with the tip of his fingers, and you bite into it. You could swear you see those same powdered sugar flakes in Charles’ eyes when you meet his tender gaze.

“So what was that about? Was that a personal challenge?”

“I’ve been learning French for months,” you admit at last, and Charles stops. A light breeze spilling over from the jetty rustles his mousy brown hair. “I wanted to surprise you! And to finally belong for real.”

Charles frowns ever-so-slightly, as if hundreds of thoughts were rushing through his head like waves lapping at the docks. You lick the sugar off your lips, then bite them absentmindedly.

“Do you feel like you don’t belong?” he asks eventually, in a voice so uncharacteristically small it rattles you a little.

“No! I mean, of course I feel welcome with you and your family. You’re all so kind to me. But it’s the least I can do to meet you halfway, right? I just want you all to be as comfortable as possible with me, too. So you and your mom and your friends don’t have to accommodate me all the time in your own home country.”

Charles’ chin lifts a little, and his mouth breaks into a large grin. Without much thought, he resumes his stroll, and you follow with slow steps, cutting a pain au chocolat in two to give him one half. Languidly, the town of summer idylls awakes.

“You really are learning French? For me?”

“Yeah? Why else?” you chew the words out through pâte feuilletée (some of the best you’ve ever had, to be honest—or maybe it’s only because you’re sharing it with Charles). “With all due respect, your language is damn hard. I wouldn’t learn it if I didn’t have a really good reason.”

Your boyfriend laughs then, something delicate inside his chest that still sends crumbs of puff pastry tumbling down on the sidewalk.

“T’es adorable,” he mumbles. Or you hope that’s what he mumbles.

“Oh I know that one!” you triumph. Stealing a glance over at him, you notice his cheeks have reddened. Surely he didn’t realize his cheesiest lines can no longer hide behind the cover of language.

“Va falloir que je me mette à la poésie,” he says after a long beat of thoughtful mastication, “pour te faire uniquement des compliments qui méritent que tu les traduises.”

You stare blankly. He’s an insufferable little idiot, but you’re afraid the mystical charm of his sultry French, though completely incomprehensible still, works on you like on day one.

“Yeah, I’m not that good yet, and I bet you’re using fancy words you don’t even use normally,” you groan.

Charles laughs again, the sound making you beam from within, and drapes his bicep over your shoulder to pull you close. Again that scent of iodine, mixed with the undertones of fresh laundry from his clean shirt; they envelop you like his strong hands and the smell of warm bread as you lean your head into the crook of his neck.

“Nevermind, it’s not important,” he sighs. His fingertips drum random little rhythms on your collarbone, while the first fishing boats of dawn dock in the harbor, returning laden with their writhing cargoes. “Je t’aime,” he breathes against your skin.

And that one, more than any other, you know.

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