#How To Win Your Ex Back After 1 Year

[buckysleftbicep]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𐙚⋆°｡⋆

a/n: welcome to my masterlist, if any of the links aren't working, drop me an ask or a message!

requests are open!

disclaimer: some of my works include nsfw themes / 18+ content, all my works have content warnings, and nsfw fics are labelled with a 'ᯓ★' so minors please do not interact, thank you!

last updated: 6th July 2025

cornelia street

ONE SHOTS

— your love is a secret, i’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep

just one race ᯓ★ | biker!bucky barnes x fem!biker!reader (modern au) summary: two years ago, you fucked bucky and never called back. when he sees you again, he's not just racing for the win.

winning streak | hockey captain!bucky barnes x fem!reader (modern au) summary: the national title on the line. one last goal. and bucky doesn’t skate to the trophy — he runs to you.

no sudden moves ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: a mission had gone to hell, wounded and cornered, you and bucky hide in a shaft barely wide enough for one. it starts with a touch, and it ends with you coming undone in his hands.

private gallery ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: sexting while he’s on a mission seemed like a good idea, until bucky comes home early and fucks you like he’s been counting the days.

in too deep ᯓ★ | dom!new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader summary: you told bucky it was your ovulation week and he took that as a challenge. you really, really, should’ve kept your mouth shut. based on this request

what home feels like | new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (5 + 1 trope) summary: the 5 times bucky thinks of proposing to you and the 1 time he does

soft hands, heavy heart ᯓ★ | inexperienced!new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: bucky wants you, but he just doesn’t know how to let himself have you. but you’ll spend every second showing him how it feels to be wanted.

daddy's best friend ᯓ★ | dbf!bucky x fem!reader (modern au) summary: your dad’s best friend has been avoiding your eyes all night, until he’s got you pinned against the laundry room door, hand up your thigh. it’s everything you shouldn’t want, but you always do.

little black dress ᯓ★ | new avenger!dom!bucky x fem!reader summary: you and bucky have always danced the line between desire and something more. but he never made his move, so you showed him exactly what it looked like when john does.

swipe right | grumpy!tfatws!bucky x fem!reader summary: sam thinks bucky needs to get back out there. he suggests tinder—and really, who better to ask for advice than you? things change when he asks what you're looking for.

under wraps ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you and bucky have kept things secret for months, stolen glances, quiet hookups around the compound and well, the team finally catches on.

heavy lifting | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader (domestic au) summary: moving is hard, but teasing bucky about his knees and getting kissed breathless on the floor makes it all worth it.

the things we left behind ᯓ★ | new avenger!ex!bucky x widow!ex!reader (reader is female) summary: you haven't seen bucky in years. not since the night he left. the blip changed both of you, and nothing was ever the same after. now, val has you working together again. the job is dangerous, the tension is unbearable. and the feelings? still impossible to outrun.

all the little moments | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: bucky tries to remember the moment he fell for you—but it wasn’t just one. it was every laugh, every late night, every quiet second beside you. and he finally realises, he’s been falling all along.

cradles and chaos | new avenger!bucky x pregnant!fem!reader summary: you wanted to surprise bucky with the news—you’re pregnant. the only problem? everyone else on the team found out first. cue the chaos.

the cat's out of the bag | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: during a storm, you rescue a stray kitten and spend the next week trying to keep her hidden from your boyfriend.

off limits ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: at a high profile mission gala, bucky snaps when he sees another man's hands on you, jealousy boils over and he shows you exactly who you belong to

what's left behind ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: after finding out bucky’s leaving on another mission without telling you, everything falls apart. the argument is brutal, but that night, he comes back to hold you. just once more. maybe for the last time.

exit wounds ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: after you put yourself in danger once again during a mission, bucky finally snaps.

little rabbit ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you wanted to play prey and bucky was more than happy to hunt.

earned it ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: during a mission, bucky corners you behind a supply shelf and slides his fingers between your thighs, all while your comms stay live.

right this time | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: after a disappointing date, bucky decides to show you what a proper date should be like. based on this request

briefed and blown ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you are on your knees for bucky, just before a mission briefing based on this request 

high for this ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: during a mission, you and bucky are exposed to a gas meant to strip away restraint. he resists, and well, you try. but when the heat fades, it’s not the mission that haunts you both, it’s what happened behind that door. based on this request!

lined up ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: bucky teaches you how to play pool. based on this request!

you deserve nice things too | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you decide to get your boyfriend a dyson airwrap, and teach him how to use it.

who did this to you? | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: bucky notices the bruises before you ever say a word. as the truth unravels, he steps in—not just to protect you, he makes sure you're never hurt again. (tw: abuse)

eyes don't lie ᯓ★' | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you and bucky were trapped in a storm during mission, with one bed and so much tension. (really just lots of filthy sex guys)

all that's left ᯓ★ | fwb!bucky x fem!reader summary: you and bucky were never meant to be more than friends with benefits—until you say those three words. he walks out. then a mission traps you both in a sealed room, and suddenly, there’s no escaping the walls you both built.

ASKS

— i once was poison ivy, but now i'm your daisy

bucky being a gentleman in the streets and an absolute freak in the sheets | ᯓ★

bucky reacting to you asking to turn off the lights during sex | ᯓ★

DARK FICS

— i know he's crazy but he's the one i want

no one else ᯓ★ (non-con) | new avenger!dark!bucky barnes x fem!reader summary: you have a boyfriend, but bucky could care less. he waited, watched, let the fantasy of you rot until all that was left was his need and obsession.

where it truly lies ᯓ★ | ex!bucky barnes x fem!reader , steve rogers x cheating!fem!reader summary: you swore you were done with him, but every time steve touches you see bucky instead. one text drags you back to the motel, back to the lies, and steve will never know.

salvation never tasted this sweet ᯓ★ (dub-con) | priest!bucky x innocent!fem!reader summary: you came to confess your sins, but father james had no intention of granting you forgiveness

daddy's got a gun ᯓ★ (dub-con) | mob!bucky x fem!reader summary: you never meant to cross a man like bucky barnes, he is cold-blooded, ruthless, he always takes what he wants and no amount of fight can drown out the way you end up begging for more. based on this request!

SERIES

— i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends

bent and bruised ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!ex-hydra!reader summary: you were built by HYDRA to please the soldier—then left for dead. years later, bucky sees your face again. but no amount of time can erase the way you once whispered his name through tears. (tw: dark themes) inspired by this request

for better or for worse ᯓ★ | new avenger!bucky x fem!reader summary: you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next. (completed)

letters through time | 1940s!bucky x modern!fem!reader summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love. (completed)

beneath the crown ᯓ★ | knight!bucky x princess!fem!reader summary: in a kingdom ruled by duty, you're a princess promised to a prince you don't love. sir james buchanan barnes is the knight sworn to protect you. but one touch turns into a secret affair, dangerous, all consuming and impossible to stop. and now, you'd risk everything just to be his. (on hiatus)

ONE SHOTS

— you are the best thing that's ever been mine

notes on napkins | steve rogers x barista!fem!reader summary: just a barista, a rainy café, and the quiet way steve leaves his heart behind—one napkin doodle at a time.

[astrids-blog333]

All Eyes on Us

Ex!Lando Norris x Actress!Reader x Aaron Taylor Johnson

Summary: After a public and messy breakup with Lando Norris you attend the Oscars. You are seated next to the charming Aaron Taylor Johnson, fully aware of the paparazzi’s presence, but you no longer care.

Warnings: 16+ SUGGESTIVE content, mild angst with a happy ending, neglect, alcohol consumption, breakup (very public), media scrutiny, language, jealousy, she's an icon.

A/N: I combined two requests for this, one was for Lando where he was basically an idiot, and one was a very generic one for Aaron Taylor Johnson. Lando is basically the bad guy here (sorry Lando ily). Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (OPEN)

WC: 1.6k

Fame is utterly exhausting. Not the kind that comes with long hours on set or press tours across continents, that kind of fame you’ve mastered by now.

No, it’s the kind that finds its way into your personal life, the kind that controls your life, the kind that makes your relationship feel like a spectacle instead of something real.

You and Lando had been together for nearly three years, give or take. A golden couple, they called you. Hollywood’s sweetheart and Formula 1’s rising star. To the world, it was perfect. Behind closed doors? Maybe not so much.

You tried to tell him and explain how distant he’d become, how everything started feeling like a badly executed PR stunt rather than a real, loving, relationship.

Lando never wanted to hear it.

He’d always just brush it off, tell you that you were overthinking, that he was just very busy, that of course he loved you, but still, he was busy.

When you finally ended things, it wasn’t because of some grand betrayal or explosive fight, there was no cheating or crying. It was just a conversation that turned into an argument, that turned into silence, that turned into the realization that this wasn’t love anymore, it had become a simple habit.

He hadn’t wanted to let go. Maybe you hadn’t either. But you did, you had to.

And of course the world, the press, everyone had plenty to say about it.

The whole situation became a circus. Headlines and articles analysed every piece of your relationship, fans took sides, and social media exploded with ridiculous speculation.

Some called you heartless for leaving him, others accused him of neglecting you. In every interview, and every public appearance, someone asked you about Lando.

Two weeks later, the Oscars came, and of course you were going.

The minute you step onto the red carpet you can feel the cameras eating you alive. You know exactly what they’re looking for, any hint of heartbreak, some sign that you’re still reeling and hurting after Lando.

Well, too bad for them.

As you step into the grand ballroom, scanning the room for your seat, a staff member gestures you in the right direction. Your eyes follow their directions, only to land on none other than Aaron Taylor-Johnson, already seated beside your spot.

“You look like you were expecting someone else,” Aaron muses as you take your seat beside him.

You smirk, turning to face him. “No complaints. Just surprised.”

He leans back, studying you with that easy, knowing gaze. “Better me than, I don’t know, an ex?”

You smirk, “Much better.”

The chemistry is instant and so effortless. He flirts shamelessly, and you don’t stop him. Why would you? It feels good to be seen, to feel properly appreciated for the first time in months.

And when your name is called for Best Actress, Aaron is the first to stand, clapping as if he already knew you’d win.

The walk to the stage is a blur. The speech, too. But when you glance back at your seat and catch Aaron watching you, his chin resting on his hand, that unmistakable glint in his eye, you decide to have a little fun, to adlib, just a little.

“…And finally, to everyone who thought I’d be too distracted by my, admittedly, hectic personal life to focus on my career,” you say, letting the pause hang. “Guess you were wrong.”

The audience erupts in laughter and applause. You struggle to suppress your grin as you return to your seat.

Aaron, waiting for you, shakes his head with a slow clap. “Now, that was a moment.”

But the night isn’t over yet, because you and Aaron are presenting an award together.

When you arrive on stage, Aaron adjusts the mic, glancing at you before addressing the audience. “It’s always a pleasure standing beside such incredible talent.” He pauses, his gaze lingering. “Some of us know how to appreciate a winner.”

The room reacts instantly, people letting out cheers, and murmurs, some people simply laughing.

You shoot him a look, playing along. “And some of us know how to share the spotlight.”

“Or steal it entirely,” he counters, voice dripping with amusement. “Not that I mind.”

“Right." You shoot him a knowing look. "Tonight, we are here to celebrate the best of the best.”

Aaron stills beside you, then suddenly turns his attention back to the audience, mischief in his eyes.

“And of course, we know how important it is to celebrate talent, don’t we?” He glances at you before continuing. “Because, you know, nothing’s worse than when hard work and brilliance go underappreciated.”

Someone in the audience gasps, catching onto the implication. Your lips twitch, but you school your expression into something innocent.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree, nodding. “It’s almost tragic, really.” You pause, then add, “Though, to be fair, some people just don’t recognize a good thing until it’s already gone.”

A mix of gasps, laughter, and scattered applause fills the room. Aaron bites down on a grin.

“Brutal,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the mic to pick up.

Aaron exhales, shaking his head. “And here I was, thinking I’d be the one causing trouble up here.”

You smirk. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

The moment stretches, cameras flash, capturing every smirk, every glance, every touch that lingers just a second too long. This was definitely going viral.

Finally, Aaron clears his throat, shaking his head as if pulling himself back to reality. “Right. The award.”

“Yes,” you agree, dragging your attention back to the envelope in your hands. “Before we get ourselves in trouble.”

“Bit late for that,” he mutters, winking at the camera.

The audience laughs as you open the envelope, reading out the winner’s name. But as the applause swells around you, Aaron leans in once more, his breath warm against your ear.

“Reckon we just became everyone’s new favourite scandal?”

You glance at him, deliberately brushing your fingers against his. “Oh, absolutely.”

Hours later, you step out of the afterparty, Aaron’s suit jacket draped over your shoulders. The night air is crisp, but his arm is warm beneath your fingers as you hold onto him.

The moment the paparazzi spot you together, flashes explode like fireworks.

You know what they’ll say. What they’ll assume.

But who cares? Let them.

Aaron seems completely unbothered, tilting his head down toward you as you walk toward the waiting car. “We could give them something real to talk about,” he teases.

You smirk. “Oh? And what do you suggest?”

He doesn’t answer. Just tugs you a little closer, manoeuvring his arm to wrap around your waist.

By the time you wake up the next morning, sunlight spilling through unfamiliar windows, your phone is vibrating, nonstop.

Aaron stirs beside you, groaning. “Either someone’s dying, or the internet’s having a meltdown. Your phone has been going off for the past 10 minutes.”

You grab your phone, unlocking it to see headline after headline.

"From Heartbreak to Headlines: Actress Moves On in Style

Fast Love? Ex-Girlfriend of F1 Driver Steals the Spotlight with British Heartthrob

New Power Couple? Fans Obsess Over Their Sizzling On-Stage Banter

Is This the Rebound of the Year? Hollywood’s Newest Rumored Couple Has Everyone Talking"

And they keep coming, you giggle, scrolling through the endless speculation. “Well, they wasted no time.”

Aaron shifts closer, peering at the screen over your shoulder. “Damn. They could’ve at least picked better photos.”

You giggle, resting against him as you read through the absurd theories. But before you can enjoy it too much, your phone rings.

Lando.

The name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, you hesitate.

Aaron notices. “You gonna answer that?”

You inhale, then exhale. “Might as well.”

The second you pick up, Lando’s voice is sharp. “Are you serious?”

You sigh. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “You and—him? Really?”

Aaron, still beside you, smirks and mouths, Him? pointing at himself dramatically.

You press your lips together, suppressing a laugh. “Lando, why do you care?”

“Because—” He hesitates. “Because it’s been two weeks. And now you’re all over the news, acting like...like none of it meant anything.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I was done before we even broke up, and you know it.”

Lando exhales sharply, silent for a moment.

Then, Aaron leans in, his lips brushing your ear. “Want me to take this?” he whispers.

You grin. “Be my guest.”

Before Lando can argue, Aaron takes the phone from your hand. “Alright, mate,” he says smoothly, his voice all lazy amusement. “Let’s not do this, yeah?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Aaron grinned, completely unbothered. “Not at all. But you know, if you called just to shout at her, I’d suggest finding something better to do with your time. We’re a little busy.” He winks at you.

Your jaw dropped as you smacked his arm, but he just winked at you, entirely enjoying himself.

Lando swore under his breath before hanging up.

Aaron tosses the phone onto the bed, smirking. “Well, that was fun.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.” He wraps an arm around you.

“Yeah, but you love it.” He grins, "Now, I have a really great idea of what we could be doing instead of thinking about Lando."

"What's that?"

He shifts, suddenly on top of you, running his hands down your sides.

"Well..."

[cheftsunoda]

heal your heart—cl16

part four (a hefty amount of words)

smau + real life

carlos sainz x !sister singer reader

charles leclerc x sainz reader

catalina sainz has it all— she is a successful grammy award winning artist, her brother is a well known formula 1 driver, she has an amazing family and wonderful friends. she was also blessed with a fiance and a beautiful baby boy.. she had everything.. until she didn't. her fiance disappears and takes her son with him. catalina watches as her world crumbles...who will be there to help pick up the pieces?

fc : kali uchis

⚠️ATTENTION : TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of abuse, kidnapping, depression. ⚠️

part one here

part two here

part three here

-

f1gossipgirls

834,741 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Catalina Sainz had her custody hearing today and gave a raw and emotional testimony opening about years of mental, verbal and physical abuse by the hands of her fiance. Catalina was awarded full custody with absolutely no visitation rights for the father. Charles Leclerc - her suspected partner- and Carlos Sainz were by her side the entire hearing. Along with Lando Norris, Pierre Gasly, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton and more. Baby Mateo will return to the paddock soon!

-

username00 : i am SOBBING. she did it. she FOUGHT and she WON. queen mother catalina sainz we salute you

username10 : the fact that she stood in that courtroom and relived all that trauma… and STILL protected her baby boy. hero status.

username5 : charles, carlos, pierre, LANDO, LEWIS??? she really said “assemble the avengers” huh

username15 : OUR BABY MATEO IS COMING BACK TO THE PADDOCK

username0 : carlos sainz as big brother of the year. no further questions. the man was READY to go feral.

username1 : lando didn’t speak ONCE during that press conference after the hearing. just stared down the reporter that asked if the ex will appeal

username0 : literal death glare

username20 : I hope whoever said “she was being dramatic” when she left the spotlight chokes on this news. SHE WAS FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE

username17 : “suspected partner” lmao pls. charles was holding her hand, wiping her tears, AND glaring down the ex like a villain origin story. it’s not a suspicion. it’s fate.

-

now back to where we really left off...

charles pov

The laughter inside the house had faded, replaced by an unbearable silence. Carlos and I exchanged a look — the kind that says, something’s wrong. Horribly wrong.

“She went outside a few minutes ago,” Carlos said, his voice tight, nearly breaking.

My chest tightened. “Where is she?”

We ran out into the night, the cool air suddenly feeling sharp against my skin, like a warning. The streetlights flickered overhead as we scanned every shadow.

Then Carlos’s voice cracked, pointing ahead. “There.”

I followed his gaze and saw it — Catalina’s phone, smashed against the cracked sidewalk, its shattered screen reflecting the harsh light like broken promises. My heart lurched. I dropped to my knees, fingers trembling as I reached out, terrified of what this meant.

Carlos’s voice was rough, raw with fear and anger. “Who would do this? Where is she?”

I pulled out my phone, frantically dialing the number to her business phone, over and over. Each ring echoed like a countdown to despair. No answer. No signal.

"I think we both know who would do this." I managed to choke out.

Carlos’s jaw clenched so hard I thought it might shatter. “This... this isn’t just some stupid fight. He is gonna hurt her. Or worse.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at Carlos. The pain in his eyes mirrored my own — helplessness, guilt, and a burning need to fix this.

“We have to find her. Now,” I said, voice low but fierce.

We called her name into the darkness, our voices raw, desperate. Every second felt like an eternity, every shadow a cruel reminder of how much was at stake. Carlos’s hand found my shoulder— a steady anchor amid the chaos. We wouldn’t stop until she was safe. We had to.

-

I was running before I even knew it—phone clutched in one hand, the broken pieces of Catalina’s still burned into my mind. Carlos was close behind, yelling her name into the darkness like it could somehow bring her back.

“Catalina!” I shouted, heart thundering, lungs burning. “CATALINA!”

No answer. Only the eerie quiet of the night, like the world was holding its breath.

We split up, scouring the streets, knocking on neighbors’ doors. Pierre and Lando had followed us out, confusion quickly turning to fear as we told them what we found.

Pierre’s jaw was tight. “Do you think it was him?”

“It has to be,” Carlos said. “He’s the only one who’d do something this reckless. He knows he’s lost.”

Lando pulled out his phone. “I’m calling the police.”

“I’m calling the lawyers,” Carlos added, already dialing. “And her security team—where the hell were they?”

I didn’t wait. I kept running. Past the corner. Past the line of hedges where we used to walk Mateo in the stroller. Past every version of safety we’d tried to build around her. My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t stop picturing her terrified, alone, in danger. I had promised her she was safe now. I had promised. The second I got signal, I pinged her phone’s last location. The dot blinked. Then vanished.

“She was taken,” I whispered. “This was planned.”

Carlos’s face hardened like stone. “Then he’s going to regret it.”

Sirens began to wail in the distance — too far, too late. The rest of the drivers had gathered by the time we returned to the house, George, Alex, even Lewis. No one had to ask what was happening. They saw it in our eyes.

“She’s family,” Lewis said quietly. “We’ll find her.”

“I won’t stop until we do,” I replied, and I meant it.

-

catalina's pov :

At first, I thought I was dreaming. Everything was muffled. My head throbbed. The last thing I remembered clearly was the buzz of my phone, a number I didn’t recognize, the instinct to step outside for air. Then — nothing. Now it's-- dark. cold. Something scratchy pressed against my skin — the seat of a car, maybe? My wrists were sore. Duct tape. My heart started to pound. No. No no no. I opened my eyes slowly. Blurry shapes. The interior of a van. The smell of cheap air freshener barely masking gasoline and something else — sweat and fear. Then I heard it. His voice.

“I told them this wasn’t over.”

The chill that ran through me was worse than anything I’d felt in that courtroom. Worse than childbirth. Worse than the endless nights I’d spent replaying years of him trying to erase me.

“You think some judge can take my son from me?” he growled. “You think Carlos and your boyfriend can protect you?”

"You think you can just get up there and make me look horrible in front of everyone? You are a lot more stupid than I thought, Bitch."

I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing my fear. But I couldn’t stop the tremble in my limbs. My baby. Mateo. Was he okay? Was he safe? Where was Charles? Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I needed to stay clear. I needed to survive.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he hissed.

"But you didn't and now I have to ruin your life...or end it."

I turned my face away. I wouldn’t cry for him. Not this time. Not anymore. I breathed, slowly, counting in my head like Charles taught me. Like I had done on the nights when Mateo wouldn’t stop crying and I was sure I was unraveling.

1… 2… 3…

He could hurt me. He could scream. He could drag me into the dark. But he wouldn’t win. Not this time. And somewhere, I knew — Charles was looking for me. Carlos was raging. Lando was running. Pierre was calling every contact in Europe. My family was coming. I just had to hold on. Just a little longer.

-

charles pov :

The sun was rising, but the world still felt dark. I hadn’t slept. None of us had. Carlos looked like he’d aged ten years in one night. His jaw was set so tightly it looked like it hurt to speak. He hadn’t said much, anyway. Just made calls. Punched a wall. Made more calls. I sat at the kitchen table, her phone laid out in pieces in front of me like a puzzle we couldn’t put back together.

“What was she doing out there alone?” I muttered, more to myself than anyone. “Why didn’t someone see something?”

Lando walked in with two coffees and handed me one. “She probably thought it was safe. Home. It was just a step outside. Who would’ve expected—?”

“She should’ve expected,” Carlos snapped. Then immediately winced. “Not her. I meant him. He waited for a crack. That’s how he always was.”

I nodded. My fingers were still trembling.

Pierre came in next, phone to his ear. “Interpol is involved now. That’s something.”

“Interpol,” Carlos repeated, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus.”

We had nothing. No new footage. No new leads. Just her broken phone and an eerie silence. No ransom note. No contact. Just... gone. And Mateo — God, little Mateo — he was upstairs in his crib with Rebecca and Kika taking turns holding him, like keeping him close would somehow keep Catalina safe, too. My heart physically ached. I kept thinking of the way she looked at me that morning, just before she went outside. Her eyes were soft. A little tired, but brighter than they’d been in weeks. She had finally seemed steady. Like she was climbing out of the wreckage of the last year. And now… she was out there somewhere. In pain. Scared. Maybe worse.

“We’re missing something,” I said suddenly. “Something small. Something stupid.”

Carlos looked up. “Like what?”

I gestured to the remains of her phone. “She wouldn’t have picked up a random number. She blocks everything that isn’t saved.”

He nodded. “Unless—”

“Unless she knew it. Maybe it was disguised.”

We both lunged for the laptop at the same time. Minutes later, we found it. A call routed through a system. Masked, but underneath… an old number. One she’d deleted. One she had asked me to delete from her contacts months ago. But one that, maybe, in a split-second of familiarity, she answered out of instinct. His number. We had a trace. Not much. But it was more than we’d had an hour ago.

Carlos stood. “We take this to the team. And to the police. Now.”

I followed him to the door, turning one last time to glance at the stairs where Mateo was sleeping.

“Hold on, Catalina,” I whispered. “We’re coming.”

-

catalina's pov - two days later

I think it’s been two days. I can’t be sure. The light doesn’t change much in here. A sliver of sun cuts through the boarded-up window in the corner, but it doesn’t reach me. Nothing does. My mouth is dry. My head is pounding. Everything hurts — my cheekbone, my ribs, my wrists, my pride. Hunger gnaws at me in dull, endless waves, but worse is the thirst. And worse than that is the silence. Except when he talks. He doesn’t yell. Not yet. That would require energy. He speaks slow, calculated. Like a man who’s convinced he’s won.

“I told you they’d never protect you,” he said this morning, crouching in the doorway like a shadow. “Where are your drivers now, Lina? Where’s your precious brother? Where’s Charles?”

Charles. The name hit me like a breath I couldn’t take. He doesn’t know what Charles is capable of when he loves someone. He doesn’t know that Carlos would burn the world down for me. That Lando would fly across oceans in a heartbeat. That Pierre has too many ghosts of his own to let me become one. That I am not alone. But… in this room, in this silence, it’s so easy to believe him. So easy to believe I was stupid to think I could ever win. I close my eyes and press my forehead to my knees, curled up on the floor like a child. My body is screaming, but I’m too numb to listen. My lip is split. My shoulder might be dislocated. Or maybe just badly bruised. It doesn’t matter. None of it feels real anymore. Maybe I should’ve just kept quiet. Maybe I shouldn’t have testified. Maybe this was always going to be the end. A quiet room. A locked door. And him winning. I hear his voice again — lazy, mocking.

“They’ll forget you. They’ll move on. I told you. You were never strong enough for this.”

I grit my teeth and hold back the sob clawing up my throat. My hand presses to my stomach, not for comfort — just to feel something. And then…A whisper of a memory. Mateo’s laugh. Tiny and warm and real. Charles’ arms around me, steady and strong. Carlos’ voice in the courtroom, cracked and furious. “She is not alone.” Maybe I was stupid to think I could have peace. But I’m not stupid enough to give up now. He hasn't won. Not yet.

-

charles pov :

We were running on fumes and adrenaline. Carlos hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes at a time. He was in full-blown survival mode — locked in, eyes cold, voice clipped. I don’t think I’d seen him this terrifyingly focused since our first years racing together. But this wasn’t a track. This was his sister. It had been 56 hours since Catalina vanished. And every minute she was gone, something in me frayed further. We’d been in Spain, back and forth between the coast and the countryside. Carlos had a private investigator running traces off her ex’s last known associates. The police were treating it like a domestic abduction, which gave us some pull — but not enough. Not fast enough. The break came from a toll booth camera. A grainy shot of a rental van heading into a remote wooded area northeast of Zaragoza — the driver matched the rough description of him. Catalina wasn’t visible, but Carlos knew. We both knew.

“He’s taken her off-grid,” he muttered, studying the map spread across the kitchen table of his parents’ house. “This road here — barely anyone uses it. There are old farms, vacant cottages.”

“Hideouts,” I said.

“Exactly.”

The investigator confirmed an abandoned property registered under a fake name. The kind of thing he would’ve set up before the trial — a plan B, just in case. He was always a few steps ahead. But not anymore.

Carlos stood up, clenching his fists. “We go now.”

I didn’t ask if we were waiting for the police. I didn’t ask if it was legal. I just grabbed my jacket and followed him out the door, lando following behind.

-

catalina's pov :

It’s getting harder to stay upright. I’m bleeding. Dizzy. My arms are shaking so badly I can barely keep them up, and he’s still coming. He has beaten me to the point where I can slowly feel the life draining out of me. I keep fighting. He’s enjoying it now. Enjoying watching me fight for what life I have left.

His voice is a cruel hum in my ear, saying things I’ve stopped registering. I just keep thinking about Mateo — the weight of him on my chest when he sleeps, his tiny laugh when I make the dinosaur voice, the way he says “mama” like it means everything. I feel the anger and strength in my core. If I die here, he won’t remember me. I scream and thrash as hard as I can, even though I know I won’t win. He throws me against the table. My shoulder hits first. The pain’s white-hot, and the world blurs. He steps over me. Knife in his hand. A jagged edge. My blood already on it.

“No one’s coming,” he spits. "You thought you won, huh bitch?"

"Well time is up." He said and pressed the knife against my jugular. The cool blade snaps me into reality. This is really it - this is my own chance.

BOOM.

The front door slams open like it’s been ripped off the hinges. I barely register the sound before I hear him.

“CATALINA!” Carlos. My brother. His voice is hoarse, shaking, wild with panic.

“Where is she?!” Charles.

“Oh my god—there!” Lando.

The three storm toward me and rip him off of me. I pull myself up, adrenaline being the only thing keeping me up straight. Charles rushes over to me, taking in my appearance.

“Cat, Cat—baby—it’s okay. I’m here.” He’s fussing, his hands moving over my arms, my face, checking me, grounding me—but my mind is only on one thing.

Revenge.

Revenge for the years of abuse and trauma. Revenge for stealing my son. Revenge for bringing me to the edge of death. Revenge for tearing me away from myself.

I can barely hear Charles. My vision has narrowed, tunneled in. I see the blade on the floor, slick with my blood. I reach for it.

“Catalina—wait—” I hear behind me, but it’s faint.

I wipe the blood on my pants. Cold. Mechanical. My heartbeat isn’t even racing anymore—it’s steady. Deadly steady. I push past Carlos, who startles as I move. My eyes lock on him, crumpled on the floor. Whimpering. Pleading. Just like I had, minutes ago.

His voice breaks. “Please—Cat—please—don’t—”

“I begged you too,” I whisper.

“Catalina—” Charles says again. This time closer. His voice is shaking now.

Carlos grabs at my arm, and pulls me towards him. His lips against my ear.

"It isn't worth it, Lina. I will have him dealt with, trust me." He said in a whisper.

The blade clattered against the floor. It echoed louder than I expected. Louder than his cries. Louder than my heart, which had finally begun to beat again, now in chaotic thuds against my ribs. I didn’t even feel Carlos pulling me against his chest until I was there — until the heat of his palm curled behind my head and my forehead met his collarbone. I was shaking. Violently. My knees buckled under me, and he held me upright.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, low and fierce. “He’s done. He’ll never touch you again.”

Behind us, I heard the sickening crack of Lando’s fist connecting with his face. Then the shuffle of movement—Lando swearing as he pulled his belt off to bind the bastard’s wrists behind his back. But my body wouldn’t move. My eyes were wide open but I couldn’t see anything. I heard his voice again. Choked. Spitting blood through split lips.

“A fit mother wouldn’t think about ending someone’s life, Catalina.”

The words sliced deeper than the blade ever could. My spine tensed. I started to turn back—but Carlos held me fast.

“Don’t give him what he wants,” he said. “Don’t let him take this moment from you, too.”

I was trembling, mouth parted in disbelief. In rage. In grief. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the wetness slide over my chin. Charles was suddenly in front of me again, his hands on my face, gently guiding my eyes to his.

“Look at me,” he said softly. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

I searched his face—his beautiful, worried, furious face—and nodded. Barely. Carlos stepped in closer and wrapped his arms around both of us. His hand rested between my shoulder blades like a tether. Behind them, Lando was still working, his jaw tight as he finished tying the man’s ankles and muttering to himself in disgust. The air was thick with blood and the heavy fog of aftermath. No one said anything for a long moment. Then— I whispered, barely able to form the words.

“He tried to break me.”

Charles leaned his forehead to mine. “But he didn’t.”

Carlos nodded, voice sharp. “He never will again.”

-

Lando pulled the car up to the front, tires crunching over gravel, and I barely registered the sound. Everything was dimming now — the adrenaline had drained from my system, leaving behind only pain, exhaustion, and a hollow ache in my chest. Charles lifted me into his arms again, holding me bridal style as if I weighed nothing, though I could feel how careful he was being with every step. My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe, and it was getting harder to keep my eyes open. I clung to his shirt, my head pressed into the crook of his neck. As we approached the car, I spotted two unfamiliar men standing near Carlos — tall, serious, armed. Definitely not security. Not bodyguards. Something… darker. Carlos handed one of them a large, worn leather bag without a word, just a nod. The man accepted it like they’d done this before.

Carlos turned to us. “Get her to the medic. She’s fading fast.”

Lando didn’t hesitate—he slipped back into the driver’s seat, engine already rumbling. Charles eased me into the back, laying me down as gently as if I were made of glass. He didn’t let go of my hand. Not for a second. Carlos leaned into the open window, his eyes sharp but softening when they landed on me.

“Go get well. Go hold that beautiful baby of yours. I’m keeping my promise, hermana.”

He pressed a kiss to my bruised forehead, lingered there for a breath.

“See you soon. Love you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, voice cracking. “I… I don’t even know what to say—”

He cut me off gently. “You don’t have to. My job is to protect you. Let me do it.”

I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat. He tapped the roof of the car, and Lando pulled away. I kept my eyes on Carlos in the side mirror, watching him grow smaller, more distant. The two men flanked him as they entered the building. The door swung shut behind them. Five seconds later, a sound split the silence. Gunfire. Rapid. Merciless. Then screaming — awful, blood-curdling. I flinched. Charles squeezed my hand tighter.

“Don’t look back,” he said softly.

And I didn’t. I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me. Because for the first time in a long, long while…I wasn’t afraid anymore.

-

The car jolted to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. I was barely aware of where we were, my head lolling to the side as the pain surged again, sharp and punishing. My body had become one deep bruise. My breath came in short, shallow gasps.

“We’re here,” Charles whispered, his voice close, grounding.

Warm arms gathered me again, lifting me from the back seat. I tried to speak—tried to ask if Mateo was inside—but the words wouldn’t come. Everything was static. Charles and Lando carried me through the gates of my childhood home, now transformed into a place of refuge. Safe. Familiar. It smelled like lemons and wood polish and my mother’s old perfume. We entered through the back, where the lights were dim and someone had already cleared a guest room. A woman stood waiting—middle-aged, with kind eyes and medical gloves already on. The medic.

“She’s lost a lot of blood. I need to check for internal injuries,” the woman said to Charles in a low voice. “You can stay, if she wants you to.”

“She wants me to,” he replied instantly, like it wasn’t even a question.

They laid me on the bed. The pain exploded when I moved and I couldn’t hold in the sound that tore from my throat. Charles was instantly beside me, holding my hand, brushing my hair back from my face.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, again and again. “I’ve got you, mon ange.”

The medic worked quickly—stitching a gash near my ribs, wrapping the bruises around my midsection, checking for concussion signs, forcing water down my throat in small sips. I tried to focus on Charles. On the way his eyes never left mine. On how he murmured soft things in French like a prayer under his breath.

When it was over, and I was clean, bandaged, and trembling in fresh clothes, the medic nodded at him. “Let her rest. Stay with her. She needs to know she’s not alone.”

I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to say everything. But exhaustion crashed over me. Charles climbed into the bed beside me without hesitation, pulling me carefully into his arms. I tucked my head beneath his chin. My whole body ached—but in his arms, I finally felt warm.

“You did so good,” he whispered against my hair. “You survived, mon cœur. You’re home.”

“I don’t feel like myself anymore,” I mumbled, my voice small and wrecked.

“You will. Piece by piece,” he said, kissing my forehead. “We’ll find her again.”

I clutched at his shirt, letting the sobs rise now that it was safe to let them. He held me through every single one. And in that room, in the house I’d run from and come back to, I started to believe maybe healing was possible—because Charles was holding my broken pieces like they were sacred.

-

The room was bathed in golden dusk, the last traces of sunlight curling around the edges of the curtains. I was curled beneath the blankets, every muscle in my body sore and frayed, but the pain was quieter now—held at bay by bandages, medicine, and the steady presence of the man who had barely left my side since I’d been carried out of hell. Charles had stepped out to take a call. It was quiet now. Too quiet. The door creaked open. I didn’t look up—I didn’t need to.

Carlos.

He stepped in with the same careful energy he always used when I was hurting, like he was afraid one wrong move might crack me open again. He didn’t say anything at first. Just dragged the chair beside my bed a little closer and sat.

"Hey," I said softly, turning my head toward him.

He looked tired—bone deep. There was dried blood on the sleeve of his sweater. I didn’t ask whose it was.

“You okay?” he asked. The words were simple, but his eyes were swimming with something far heavier.

I nodded slowly. “Getting there.”

He gave a slight nod back, jaw tight, like he was holding something inside he couldn’t quite let out.

“You got me back,” I whispered.

He exhaled hard. “Yeah.”

A pause stretched between us.

"Thank you, Carlos. For… everything."

He didn't answer at first. Just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Then, without looking at me, he said, "There are some things a brother shouldn’t have to forgive himself for. And there are some things… a man shouldn’t be allowed to walk away from."

My breath caught. My stomach twisted—not from fear, but from understanding.

“You don’t have to say it,” I whispered.

He finally looked at me, and for a moment I saw something behind his eyes—something dark, final, and brutally calm.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I need you to know you’re safe now. Really safe. No one’s ever going to touch you again.”

"I knew that if I let you do it, you'd live with it the rest of your life and that haunted me. I need you to be able to grow from this, to move on, to get married to someone who actually loves you, to raise my nephew."

A slow silence fell between us. My throat felt raw, my chest too full to breathe.

“Carlos…”

He shook his head and stood, coming to the edge of the bed and brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You rest. Be with Mateo. Be with Charles. Let yourself come back.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t pull away.

“You always knew how to clean up my messes,” I said softly, trying to smile.

He gave the faintest smirk, but his eyes were glassy. “You were never the mess, Lina. He was.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead gently—just like he had when we were kids and I’d fallen off my bike or woken from a nightmare.

“Te amo, hermana.”

And then he left—quiet as he’d come in. He didn’t say what he did. He didn’t have to. I knew. And for the first time in a long time, I felt safe enough to close my eyes and sleep.

-

The house had gone still. The kind of stillness that comes after a storm—the air heavier, quieter, like even the walls were holding their breath. I lay curled under a soft throw blanket in my childhood bedroom, every inch of my body aching, stitched together by gauze and silence. My heart, though—my heart was still trying to remember how to beat. How to believe I had made it out. That I was still here. That I was whole enough to hold him. I heard the soft pad of footsteps outside the door. Then a knock. Not Charles—his knock was always gentle, hesitant. Carlos had already come and gone. This one was quieter. Then came a second sound: a soft, hiccupping whimper. And I knew.

“Come in,” I rasped, barely above a whisper.

The door opened slowly. Rebecca stepped in first, eyes kind and brimming. In her arms, bundled in a soft blanket, was Mateo. My breath caught in my throat. He was heavier than I remembered. Bigger. His curls had grown, messier, darker. But his eyes—those wide, soulful eyes—were still the same. He looked at me like he wasn't sure if I was real.

"Hey, mi amor," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Hi, baby."

Rebecca crossed the room slowly and knelt by the bed, lowering him into my arms. The moment his small body rested against mine, it was like the world cracked open. He blinked up at me. Then touched my cheek with his chubby fingers, right where a bruise was fading. I cried. Quietly. Without restraint. The kind of cry that comes from a place buried deep—where grief and joy and relief live all tangled up together. And he—my beautiful boy—just nestled into me.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered, kissing his forehead, over and over again. “I looked for you every second. I didn’t stop. I never stopped.”

He made a small cooing sound, like he understood. I wrapped my arms around him tighter, careful not to press too hard against the bruises still healing, and rocked gently side to side. Just the two of us. The rest of the world melted away. I didn’t care that my body still throbbed or that I hadn’t eaten more than toast and soup. I didn’t care that my phone was buzzing somewhere or that tomorrow there would be lawyers, reporters, whispers. Right now, I had him. And he had me. And we were safe. Rebecca stood back quietly. I caught her eye and mouthed, thank you. She gave a soft nod and slipped from the room, closing the door gently behind her. I curled myself around Mateo and hummed the lullaby I used to sing to him when he was a newborn—broken, uneven, and trembling, but still a lullaby. His breathing slowed. His body relaxed. And as his tiny fingers curled into my shirt, I finally let myself believe -We were home.

-

The room was dim, lit only by the golden spill of late afternoon sun through gauzy curtains. Mateo slept against my chest, one small fist still tangled in the fabric of my shirt, his cheek warm against my collarbone. I hadn’t moved in over an hour. I didn’t dare. I’d forgotten what it felt like to just breathe with him in my arms. To feel the rise and fall of his tiny chest. To know he was safe. That we were safe. The door creaked slightly, and I looked up. Charles stood in the doorway, quiet as a shadow. He didn’t speak—just leaned his shoulder against the frame, arms folded, eyes soft. A look on his face like he was witnessing something sacred. I gave him a tired, barely-there smile.

“You’ve been standing there a while,” I whispered.

He smiled back. “Didn’t want to break it.”

I looked down at Mateo, brushing my lips against his forehead. “He didn’t cry once,” I murmured. “Just... curled into me. Like he remembered. Like he knew.”

Charles stepped in slowly, his movements careful, reverent. He crouched beside the bed and reached out, brushing a curl from my cheek. His fingers were gentle, but the way he looked at me—like I was breakable and invincible all at once—nearly undid me.

“You’re his entire world, mon cœur,” he said softly. “Of course he remembered.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I let them fall. For once, I didn’t feel the need to apologize for them.

I leaned into Charles’ touch, closing my eyes. “I didn’t think I’d ever get this moment,” I whispered. “I thought... he’d grow up without me. I thought he’d forget my face.”

“He won’t,” Charles said. “He won’t forget. And you’ll remind him every day.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said, my voice cracking. “For everything. For not giving up on me. For finding me. For staying.”

Charles leaned in and kissed my forehead, just next to a fading bruise.

“I would’ve searched every corner of the world,” he said. “I would’ve burned it down to bring you home.”

Mateo stirred slightly and let out a small sigh, his little hand patting against my chest before settling again. Charles smiled, his hand now resting gently over Mateo’s back.

“Is this what you want?” he asked quietly, almost like he was afraid to break the fragile peace in the room. “This... life. With him. With me.”

I blinked at him. “Charles,” I whispered, “You are the only thing that has felt safe in the middle of all this. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

He nodded, pressing another kiss—this one softer, lingering—against my temple.

“Then we start here,” he said. “The three of us. One step at a time.”

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I believed we could.

-

p4:)))

i decided i will add a part 5 just to show how cat has healed and her relationship with charles and her happy ending!! will be posted shortly

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[jijournal]

MASTERLIST!

ˋ°•*⁀➷ GOLDEN TRIO ERA

╰┈➤ HARRY POTTER

♡ I See You

As a Muggle-born Hufflepuff, you were taught to always be kind-even when it hurt. Years of people-pleasing left you exhausted and invisible, until Harry Potter reminded you that your worth isn't tied to how much you give. Now, you're learning that kindness includes being kind to yourself too.

♡ Worse Than Veritaserum!

Something went wrong while you and Harry were brewing Veritaserum—the potion you created now causes you to read each other’s minds.

╰┈➤ DRACO MALFOY

ˋ°•*⁀➷ SERIES

♡ LOVE ME LOUD

♡ Part 1: Love Me Loud: To the world, Draco Malfoy was untouchable—arrogant, cruel, and proud of it. But when you took the only empty seat beside him, you became the exception. Well maybe not that much of an exception... He cared more about what his family wants, and not what he wanted. Which was you. ♡ Part 2: Love Me Again: After walking away from the boy who couldn't choose you, fate brings you face to face with Draco Malfoy once more. The feelings are still there, truths remain unspoken, and the question lingers—was it ever really over?

♡ CRAZY RICH... WIZARDS?

♡ Part 1: Crazy Rich... Wizards? You find out your long time boyfriend is a... wizard? Was it a prank? a joke? some kind of unamusing humor? No. It was real. And now, he wants to introduce you to his parents. ♡ Part 2: Wands, Weddings, And Wicked Traditions: When your boyfriend drags you into a world of old money, ancient grudges, and fancy robes, you quickly learn that fitting in isn’t about magic—it’s about surviving family dinners. ♡ Part 3: Wealthy, Witty, Witches: After barely surviving a disastrous dinner with your wizard boyfriend’s parents, you’re forced to endure yet another nightmare—this time, with his ex. ♡ Part 4: To be Continued...

ˋ°•*⁀➷ STAND-ALONE

♡ Right Here All Along

Camellia Rose and Draco Malfoy, childhood friends bound by loyalty, love, and unspoken words. As Camellia is torn between loyalty and betrayal as she discovers that Harry Potter, the one person she trust most, has been using her all along.

♡ You'll Be In My Heart

Whenever Draco needs you, you're always there. That's an older sister's duty after all. When he was at his lowest throughout the years, you teach him an important lesson in life.

♡ Just Pretend

To get his parents off his back, Draco begs you to pretend to be his date for a gala. He swears it's just for a night, but by the end, he's wishing it wasn't.

♡ "You're Going Down, Malfoy."

After a playful late-night duel with Draco, you win a bet and make him hold your hand in public for five seconds. Maybe a little longer than five.

♡ "Jealous Much?"

You receive a letter with a gift every week, and your brother Harry and his friends won’t stop teasing you about a “mystery admirer.” Little does he know, the sender is the last person he’d ever expect.

♡ Complain Here, Complain There

You had a talent for endless complaining—fortunately, someone always seemed to have the full-time job of fixing whatever you whined about.

♡ "Told You I Was"

A quiet winter night of sulking turns unexpectedly sweet when Draco proves he’s been listening all along, surprising you with thoughtful gifts that melt your heart.

♡ Charm Me Up

You’ve made it a habit to give small charms to those who need a reminder that they’re not alone. But there’s one person you keep finding reasons to give them to—one boy who always seems to need a charm.

♡ Little Miss Collector

In which the strangest girl in Slytherin collects lost things in a heart-shaped box, and Draco Malfoy realizes she might be the only person who’s never truly lost herself.

♡ He laughs at her eyes, at her smile, at the glasses on her face:

Draco Malfoy hates you, or so you thought.

♡ Undressed

And I don't wanna learn another scent I don't want the children of another man To have the eyes of the girl I won't forget.

♡ Never Go Near A Malfoy

You were taught to never go near a Malfoy, ever. But how could you? He's very much unavoidable.

♡ The Greenhouse Effect

When you're paired with Draco Malfoy for Herbology, you expected eye-rolls and dead plants. But, you don’t expect that the most sudden pairings bloom brightest.

♡ Drop The Beat, Steal The Heart

Hogwarts’ most popular DJ gets summoned to throw the party of the year—but when the birthday boy starts watching you like your a spell he can’t resist, things quickly turn electrifying. Get ready for beats, banter, and tension that drops harder than any remix.

♡ The Eleven Word Question

Draco Malfoy would literally die for you—unfortunately, asking you to the Yule Ball might just kill him first. When he finally gathers the courage to do it, you politely decline… thanks to a spectacular misunderstanding. Now, with his pride bruised and his heart set, Draco is determined to win you over—properly, this time.

♡ Fight Or Flight (Coming Soon)

A fierce academic rivalry brews between you and Draco Malfoy—your greatest competition for second place behind your bestfriend Hermione. But after years of witty insults and tension, one unexpected moment changes everything, revealing a spark even Harry and Ron never saw coming.

♡ You, Before The War (Coming Soon)

Being forced into becoming a Death Eater because of your family's name was unbearable—but betraying the love of your life to spy for the other side, all for the greater good, was far worse.

╰┈➤ RON WEASLEY

♡ A Weasley Gift

Ron surprises you with something very special in the Weasley household.

╰┈➤ GEORGE WEASLEY

♡ My Very Own Cupid:

Valerie Valentine, known as “Hogwarts’ Cupid” for her matchmaking prowess, finds herself heartbroken upon finding out George Weasley, her crush since 4th year, likes Angelina Johnson. This leads her to abandon her romantic endeavors, only to later discover something unexpected.

♡ Confession Candy

When Fred convinces George to test their latest prototype, George has no idea the candy will shout out a confession he’s secretly been holding in for years. To his horror—and your shock—it blurts out that he's in love with you.

♡ Hired Matchmaker (Coming Soon)

As a professional "matchmaker"—as people say—Molly hires you to find George the love of his life after Fred's passing. You both don't realize that the "love of his life" was standing in front of him, helping, all along.

╰┈➤ FRED WEASLEY

♡ The Thief

No one knows that you own a cute baby Niffler. It may be only a few months old, but his love for mischief keeps developing fast... really, fast.

♡ Prank Wars

You and Fred Weasley had been bickering since first year, locked in a never-ending war of (mostly) harmless pranks. Why is it that he's so obsessed with tormenting you? you’ll never know. The petty rivalry drags on for years, until your sixth year, when one of Fred’s pranks goes completely wrong… or maybe completely right.

╰┈➤ CEDRIC DIGGORY

♡ A Promise Kept

Before the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric makes you promise that, no matter what happens, you won’t cry over him. After his death, you struggle to keep that promise—until you find the letter he left behind.

♡ Another Chance

If you are given another chance to go back and prevent him from entering that stupid tournament, would you do it?

╰┈➤ OLIVER WOOD

♡ The Quidditch Bet

You and Oliver are captains of rival Quidditch teams, and the competition is fierce. But when a bet forces the loser to take the winner on a date, you realize that maybe you don’t hate him as much as you thought.

♡ Thicker Than A Broomstick

Quidditch is brutal, but nothing compares to Oliver Wood’s hopeless attempts at flirting—too bad the only person who doesn’t realize he’s asking you to the Yule Ball is you.

♡ Lovely To Be Rained On With You

Angry love confession in the rain with Oliver Wood.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ MARAUDERS ERA

╰┈➤ JAMES POTTER

♡ Back To Friends

Best friends weren’t supposed to fall. But after one night and a thousand unspoken words, James Potter chose Lily Evans—and you were left remembering what it felt like to be loved, even if only for a moment.

╰┈➤ REMUS LUPIN

nothing to see here yet...

╰┈➤ SIRIUS BLACK

♡ "Bet You'll Fall For Me" (Coming Soon)

One lazy afternoon in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius makes a bold bet—he claims he can make you blush in less than five minutes. You're certain he (kinda) doesn't stand a chance.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

enjoy reading!

[afterglowsainz]

we can’t be friends | lando norris

pairing: singer!reader x lando norris, reader x ex!alex albon

summary: you cheated on your boyfriend with lando two years ago and you are still not able to feel happiness without him, but neither with him

fc: tate mcrae

warnings: cheating

a/n: first fic of the year let’s go!! a bit late but still so happy that lando won in abu dhabi 🫶🏽

—

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername always obsessed with singing my little songs to you 🎤🩷

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username obsessed with your concerts omgggg

username the most gorgeous woman 😍

username your concert altered the chemistry of my brain actually

username no i went last week and I’m still at the restaurant

username lando in the likes is so funny to me 😭

username that man does not have the ability to move on i’m afraid

liked by yourusername, landonorris and others

scuderiaferrari so many stars tonight at vegas ⭐️🏎️

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username why does carlos look traumatized😭

username that’s his resting face

username the women being completely mesmerizing and the men are just there

yourusername so fun ❤️

scuderiaferrari we love having you! ❤️

username ferrari still inviting y/n to the races is so special to me

username her using a bayern munich jersey took me out

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and others

landonorris vegas was good to me :) ☄️

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username yeah mate you literally WON

username such a good drive!

mclaren the winner of las vegas grand prix everybody🥹 (liked by landonorris)

username oh lando winning in vegas… i know the after party is about to go crazyyy

username casually dropping a thirst trap in the midst of it

username CONGRATULATIONS🧡🧡🧡

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername we can’t be friends (wait for your love) is available right now! anddd the music video comes out tonight ❤️‍🩹

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username omg such a beautiful song 🤍

username i’m afraid this song WILL become my new personality

username am i delusional or is this song about lando?

username “you cling to your cameras and lens wait until you like me again” yeah it definitely is

username can’t they just be together already this is so painful 😭😭

username honestly if this song is about lando that’s just so horrible considering how they got together in the first place

username this‼️‼️ poor alex

username hey! so alex is actually in a relationship and has been for a while now, hope this helps!

username wait i just watched the mv imma go cry in the corner of my room

landonorris’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 📷]

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

mclaren the celebs came for one last run at abu dhabi 🧡

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username Y/N AT THE GARAGE???

username never thought i’d see the day

username no because you know what this means 😭😭

username mind you this is the first thing I saw when I woke up today

mclaren 👀

username her ability to use jerseys about every sport possible but f1 in the paddock is unmatched

username and if i say it couple then what ???

username she followed lando back after this lets gooooo

username only took him two years but he got it 😅

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris most amazing way to end the season🧡 luckily i had my good luck charm today

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username WOHOOOO🫶🏽

username so proud of you! 😭

carlossainz55 congrats landito 👊🏽

username his eyes in the first pic 😩 i can’t

username sooo deserving of that win and the constructors 🤍 congratulations!

mclaren the golden boy🏆

oscarpiastri cheers👍🏽

username the perfect weekend 🧡

yourusername congratulations!!🤍

landonorris 🥰

username he got the win AND the girl what else can you ask for

[linoxpudding]

Spaces Between Us - Yang Jeongin

summary: a year later, after the breakup- you run into your ex again, and old feelings start to resurface

pairing: yang jeongin x reader (exes)

genre: angst, fluff, drama

fic type: written + text

P.S this is PART 3 of "prioritizing his girl bsf" au, so please read jeongin's portion in-

PART 1 and PART 2 for context!

a/n: so innie's storyline felt a bit incomplete, but @mrsminseochoi planted such a brilliant idea in my mind that gave it the closure it needed, as soon I read her comment, I just had to write it! @mrsminseochoi you're a genius! ♡

Masterlist

~°~

A few months after the breakup, you get an unexpected message request. It’s from Gina.

For a moment, you just stare at your screen, debating whether to open it. Your heart pounds in your chest—what could she possibly have to say now?

Curiosity wins. With a deep breath, you tap the notification.

Your grip on your phone tightens. Your stomach twists. You knew Jeongin didn’t mean to hurt you, but reading Gina’s confession makes your chest ache all over again.

You imagine Jeongin, the man who once held your heart so gently, now crumbling behind closed doors. The thought alone sends a sharp pang through you.

But it doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t erase the heartbreak. But it does give you some sense of closure. You were right all along.

You don’t reply and just block Gina. There’s nothing left to say.

A year later....

Life moves on. You moved on. You focused on yourself, your career, your happiness. You keep telling yourself you're over Jeongin. That you've healed.

But fate has other plans.

It happened on a rainy evening. You enter a quiet café, shaking the cold off your coat as you wait for your drink. And then—

"Y/N?"

The voice freezes you in place. It’s soft, disbelieving, and achingly familiar.

You turn, and your eyes land on him.

Jeongin stands a few feet away, his dark eyes wide with something you can’t quite name. He looks different—his hair is slightly longer, his face sharper, but his expression… it’s the same.

It’s the way he used to look at you. Like you were his entire world.

"I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again," he softly says approaching you.

"Yeah… It’s been a while," you reply nervously.

He steps closer, hesitant. "Can we talk?"

You don't know why you nod. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something deeper. But soon, you’re sitting across from each other, the air between you both thick with unspoken words.

"You look good. I mean… you always did. But you look happier. Are you?" He asks with a hint of curiosity.

You pause. You like to think you're happy. But seeing him again, the memories flooding back, makes you realize you never fully stopped missing him.

"I am. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard," you said.

Jeongin’s face twists in pain. "I know. And I hate myself for what I put you through. You were right about Gina."

Your breath catches. "She reached out to me."

His eyes widen. "She did?"

You nod. "Told me how she planned it all. How she wanted me out of the picture. That you never meant to hurt me."

Jeongin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N… I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried, I couldn’t. I lost you because I was stupid, and it’s the worst mistake I’ll ever make."

Tears prick your eyes. You want to be angry. You were angry for so long. But looking at him now, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, something in your heart shifts.

"You really hurt me, Jeongin."

Jeongin sighed, "I know. And if I could take it all back, I would."

Silence lingers between you both, filled with the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

Jeongin hesitates for a moment before asking, voice barely above a whisper, "are you...are you seeing someone else?"

You blink at the unexpected question. His fingers clench slightly against the table, his knuckles turning white. He looks like he’s bracing himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

You exhale, playing with the rim of your coffee cup before replying, "Just a few dates here and there. Nothing serious."

Jeongin visibly stiffens. His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a second, exhaling through his nose, "Oh."

A small, bitter smile plays on your lips. "Jeongin, you don’t have the right to be jealous."

"I know," he sighs, rubbing his face. "I just hate the thought of someone else making you smile the way I used to."

You swallow hard. Every logical part of you tells you to walk away, to protect your heart. But your heart has never listened to logic when it comes to Jeongin.

Slowly, you reach across the table, your fingers brushing his. His breath stutters.

"I don’t know if we can ever be what we were," you confess.

"Then let’s be something new. Something better," he replies quickly, his hands tightening around you.

He looks at you like he’s afraid to move, like he’s afraid to hope.

As you’re sitting across from him, the space between you suddenly feels too large. Every part of you aches to close that gap, to feel his presence closer. Without thinking, you stand up, your movements almost trembling with anticipation. He watches, frozen, as you slide into the seat next to him. The air between you shifts, the tension thickening, and without a word, you lean in, unable to hold back any longer.

Jeongin’s eyes flutter shut as your lips meet, the kiss slow and deep, filled with everything you two never got to say. Regret, longing, love—it’s all there, crashing over you both like a wave.

When you pull away, Jeongin rests his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.

"I love you. I never stopped loving you," he says, his voice cracked slightly.

Your lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile.

"Then let’s see where this takes us," you reply.

Maybe love deserves a second chance.

[heartmix]

Post Break Up Hair - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x ex!reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning: ex's, stupid reason for breaking up, a bit of angst with happy ending, making fun of joe's blonde buzzcut

A/N: wrote this after last nights game against the giants. I saw that his hair was getting back to normal. I could not take him seriously when he debuted his new look, i think i got the ick when i first saw it.

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

"Slim Shady Burrow!"

"Joe Burrow rocking a new look ahead of the next season."

"Blonde and a Buzzcut for the Bengals QB."

You were not expecting Joe to go into full breakdown mode once you broke up during training camp. The break up was mutual enough for harsh things not to be said, but it was nonetheless heartbreaking. The break up was brought up by you, after the last two seasons and losing in the super bowl, Joe's mental hasn't been the best so the most logical thing to do was take a break. Of course Joe was against it, but you somehow convinced him to try it. After hours of arguing he gave in with tears streaming down his face. Years of trying to be there for him, it didn't seem like it was working so what else were you supposed to do. When he first joined the NFL you promised to help him make his career better and this was your final effort. 

Seeing the headlines of your ex's new hair cut, you couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He was definitely a girl in his past life. No other man you know would go to that extreme after a break up. Although part of you couldn't help but feel bad. It was evident he was taking the break up hard. Sure he might've looked good for training camp and got more attention because of the hair cut, but once season started it was like nothing improve, it looked like it go worst. 

By week six, their record was 1-4. One of the worst starts to the season they had in awhile. Their only win came from the panthers, a team that was worst than them so it only made sense that they would win against the team. By that point you couldn't help but be hit with regret and sorrow. You couldn't help but think that you breaking up with Joe was making his season worst. I mean how could you not think that especially seeing them losing the first game of the season to the patriots, a team who was still trying to function without Belichick.

At this point, you could not take it. Seeing them in that state was depressing. You knew that reaching out to Joe would life his spirits. You were determined to change his mood before their game against the giants. With that being said you felt like calling or texting him out of the blue asking to get back together would be weird. If the roles were revered, no way would you take him back. 

The next idea was to surprise him at the game and hope he sees you during warm ups. You still had season passes in the family section thanks to joe putting your name down. Every week for a home game you got the email about the unused tickets. This week you would take advantage of it. 

Making your way into the stadium, you planned it early enough so there wouldn't be an abundant amount of people, so Joe can spot you more easily. As you made your way to the family section you recognized a few of the wags who looked at you with shock written all over their faces. It's made its way around the locker room that you and Joe broke up so their expression wasn't out of the blue. 

After greeting them and answering questions it was time for the team to start making their way out. Immediately you locked onto Joe. His buzzcut was growing out and his blonde was turning more platinum. He looked good, better than he did during training. For awhile he was locked in doing a couple of stretches and a few passing routes. After awhile his eyes scanned the bleachers, appreciating all the fans that would be there to see them. Suddenly his eyes passed onto your section and you were the first person he laid his eyes on. He couldn't believe it was you. His eyes held shock with his mouth agape. Ja'marr came up to his friend to see what made him look like he saw a ghost, suddenly his eyes landed on you and a smirk appeared on his face. As if Joe was in a trace Ja'marr broke him out of it by nudging him in your section. 

Seeing him run up to your section you made your way down to the railing to get as close as you can. For a second both of you just stared at each other being to nervous to say anything. It was Joe who broke the silence first.

"You're here."

"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what to say for weeks but now i don't have words." You got out, your nerves taking over the whole speech you had in your head. 

"Weeks?"

"I realized I made a mistake to break things up. I thought it would be better for you, but it was worst, i'm sorry."

"I missed you." He said caving in right away. Any normal person would make you work for it, but Joe just missed you. He knew deep down that you didn't really want to break up, you were just thinking about his career. He shouldn't have let you go so easily, it was him who hasn't been performing well not you.

"I missed you since the day I walked out that door."

"Is the 'taking a break' part of our life over?" He asked with hope in his eyes. He was begging at this point. He didn't care who was around or what cameras were on him, he wanted you back.

"If you're willing to take me back." You smiled making one grow on his face. Suddenly he jumped on on the railing coming face to face with you. He wasted no time grabbing the back of your head and pulling you into a kiss. Both of you melted into the kiss and neither one of you wanted to pull back, but the need for air forced you both to. 

"You're telling me i could've had that weeks ago?" His infamous smirk returned to his face. There was the Joe you knew.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be photographed with your post break up hair, I was waiting till you grew it a bit." You teased running a hand through his growing hair making him melt into your touch. 

"Are you serious." his smirk dropped making you let out a hearty laugh.

"I'm dead serious. You look like Cody Rhodes and I couldn't get the image out of my head."

"That teaches you a lesson. Never break up with me again."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Now go win this game so we can go home and I can dye your hair back to brown." You lightly shoved him seeing as he was losing grip on the railing.  

"One last kiss for good luck." He pleaded making you smile and give in. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , END.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

Join the taglist 💖💖💖

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@barnesxstan

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@mrs-maximoff-kenner

@lostinspace33

@read-just-cant

@hzdhrtss

@globetrotter28

@bubblegumbeautyqueen

@mrsnikstan

@maryssong23

[airybcby]

you left your typewriter at my apartment

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — woke up and was thinking of this song so yk i had to write. not proofread !!

♡ content — all characters 18+ !!, fem! reader, nsfw description but no actual smut, angst, goes back and forth between current time to memories, established relationship (1 year), spoilers for the U-20 game, nicknames like 'love' and 'doll' used, some cussing, girlboss reader tbh, probably ooc sae, lmk if i missed anything!

♡ synopsis — packing had never been a big deal to you, but when you're putting all of your exes stuff in a box to give to him? all the memories come back to you and you're not sure you can handle it.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and who's gonna hold you like me ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

sae itoshi was many things.

the best midfielder of current soccer history, an icy older brother, stoic, and downright vicious on the soccer field.

but what sae itoshi was not?

a relationship man.

looking back on it, you should've realized the signs earlier, but how could you when those teal eyes washed away every worry you had?

your belief that sae would be the man you'd marry led you to this moment right now; sweating as you scoured your house to rid it of anything even related to the itoshi name.

you'd already had quite a few items in the box you were curating his belongings in, seeing as you'd gone through every room in your house besides your bedroom. you knew your room held all the memories, worst for last you assumed. for the short year that you and sae were together, he enveloped every part of your life.

you bent down to see under your bed, phone flashlight shining on the parts that the sunlight didn't reach. you sighed as you grabbed a pair of his cleats that he brought over after his game against the bluelock 11 team.

" sae? why didn't you change? " you asked, looking at his form standing in your bed room door frame. you looked over at your phone, the time reading 11:00 at night.

your boyfriend of five months had played his game against the bluelock team, and to the dismay of him and many others in the world — they lost. " four fucking three... " sae breathed out. you knew this game meant more to him than he was willing to admit. everytime you asked , though, you always got the same answer.

" they asked me to play. i'm gonna play. " as if this wouldn't be his first time seeing his brother in years. as if the japan soccer league didn't have high stakes on him winning.

what else could you say? you watched the game, you saw how hard he worked. even if no one else could tell, you knew this defeat stung more than he was willing to admit.

" 'm gonna go shower. " he said to what seemed like no one, even if you were in the room. " want me to come with you? i can—"

" i'd rather shower alone. " sae scoffed out, throwing his cleats in the general direction of your bed, where he usually kept his shoes.

you didn't mind, it was a hard night.

so you let him walk down the hallway to your bathroom, his cleats sitting there abandoned.

you didn't even question why he left instead of spending the night.

rough night. that was all.

the memory flooded into your head before you could stop it. now you realized how stupid you were, even then sae couldn't be bothered to even lay in the bed you'd been waiting for him in.

he couldn't be bothered to take his cleats from under your bed, instead opting to buy new ones.

the thought was funny now, how someone so young could have the money to throw away every time he wanted something. while you kept the damn cleats in a safe space for seven more months, like the idiot you were.

you threw the shoes in the box, moving onto your dresser next. he had his own drawer at your house, a sign he was always welcome. although, he did make sure to take most of those when he broke up with you, but you wanted to double check.

you couldn't clear your home of itoshi sae fast enough.

you pulled open the drawer, staring at the clavin klein boxers that sat so perfectly in the quite empty drawer. almost as if they were mocking you.

you grabbed them quickly, squeezing them in your hand before catching the scent of his laundry detergent.

" wanna take 'em off, love? " he'd asked you, staring up at you as he laid on your bed, clad in nothing but his tight boxers. this was the first time sae had let you be the one on top, his usually demanding presence now one that was completely and utterly yours.

" but you look so good in them, it's not fair. " you sighed, straddling his lap as you messed with the elastic of the waistband.

if anyone were to see the two of you, they wouldn't feel lust— they'd feel nothing but love.

" you're taking too long. " he sighed, easily flipping the positions you'd been in. you now under him as you stared up at him, his teal eyes swimming with raw emotion.

" hey! you said—" " i'll make it up to you, doll. promise. " and that was the last thing you heard before he disappeared between your legs.

you remembered that night well, the promises made...ones of a future— a future of children and marriage and him showing you off like his prize trophy.

yeah right. he couldn't even be bothered to attend the balls held in honor of his team, let alone get you all dolled up and go with you.

maybe you should cut a hole in the crotch, you'd thought. show him he's no better than any other man, you could still be the ex that ruined his stuff to get back at him.

but what did it matter when he could simply buy more to replace it?

nothing could be simple when it came to itoshi sae. not even when your broken up.

you stuffed the boxers under some more stuff before moving to lay on your bed.

you'd already looked through every spot in your room you thought he'd left pieces of himself behind in.

the closet, the dresser, under the bed...what else was there?

you set the box down beside you, rolling over on your side to stare at yourself in the full length mirror that was on the adjacent wall. you looked like a mess.

you caught yourself wondering what sae was doing. was he the same old sae? was he laying in his bed thinking about you? did he look as much of a mess as you did?

you doubted it.

within your daze, your eyes moved toward a polaroid picture you'd stuck in the frame of the mirror, a picture of you and sae at a halloween party just a month ago.

you were excited, like...really excited. this was the first time sae was going to bring you out to hang out with his friends. in the 11 months you two were together, you usually went on private dates to fancy restaurants when he could spend time with you.

you'd never been to an actual party with him though!

you smiled as you sat on sae's lap on shidou's couch, the rather vulgar soccer player convinced sae to not only come to the party, but also bring you. " i've never met the girl before ! why not introduce her to us? "

" you're so boring, sae! you're supposed to be my angel! " you whined to him. " i dressed up enough, love. " your boyfriend said quite monotonously. bull crap, he was just in a white tee shirt and pants, nothing that he had to actually go out and buy.

while the red corset and miniskirt you had dyed yourself made you feel like if you breathed wrong it would all come bursting at the seams.

" you could have at least tried harder. " you offered, maybe with a bit of attitude. the two of you had been having more arguments than usual, but doesn't every relationship hit rough patches? " you're lucky we even came— " " yo sae! get with your girl and smile! " shidou popped up in front of the two of you with a polaroid camera.

so you two shut your mouths as sae's hand slipped over your waist, your head finding his shoulder, and you mustered the cutest smile you could.

...while sae gave a blank face to the camera.

looking back on it, that night was the downfall of your relationship. after that night, sae stopped coming by as much, but you just assumed he got busy with soccer season.

the next time he came by he grabbed everything of his and walked out.

you didn't know what to do. sae said he was going to come by, but you didn't know that meant he'd be taking all of his things out of your house.

" sae, wait! what's wrong baby? did i do something? " you asked an embarrassing amount of times.

" no. just taking my stuff. " he said, not even bothering to look at you.

last week was your one year, but he had a game. you'd gotten in a little fight over him not even bothering to text you a happy anniversary, but surely that wasn't what led to this?

" if it's about the anniversary, i'm sorry! i know you're busy, and i don't care when we celebrate ! " you gasped out, trying to cling to any reason for why he'd be doing this.

" we're not celebrating at all. " he slammed the dresser drawer shut, the only indicator that he was annoyed by you. when sae turned around to face you, " we're done y/n. "

he said it so simply, so clearly that you couldn't even move to stop him from leaving out the door.

the look in his eyes...that wasn't your sae.

that was over a week ago now, and the memory made you want to cry. you wouldn't, tears were made to be shed on people who care about you, not foolish men who couldn't talk about their feelings.

you got up from your bed, walking over to the wall and taking the polaroid off your mirror before taking it to the box.

you stared at the picture, the love in your eyes is something that would haunt you for a lifetime. it could haunt sae too.

you threw it in the box, picking it up before setting it outside your front door.

you pulled out your phone, clicking on the contact, ' s. itoshi ' and typing a message

you: the rest of your stuff is outside when you wanna come get it.

for a year, sae itoshi enveloped every aspect of your life.

you refused to let him consume you even after he was gone.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and who's gonna know you, if not me ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

edit: GUYS THERE WONT BE A PART 2 IM SO SORRY BUT PLSS

i really wanted to try writing for sae, so i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[joehills]

Summer Reading Recommendation: Dungeon Crawler Carl books 1-7

Three trusted friends each recommended Matt Dinniman’s Dungeon Crawler Carl series of novels to me, but the series stayed toward the back of my queue for almost a year because I found the name of its emergent genre, “LitRPG” unappealing to the point of avoidance. I started the first book about a month ago, loved it, and read the following six immediately. I refuse to recommend you a LitRPG series, because I don’t want this at the back of your queue when it belongs at the front.

After reading the first few chapters of book one, in which Seattleite shipyard worker Carl and his ex-girlfriend’s award-winning cat are drawn into an alien-built underground dungeon where video game rules are enforced, I realized the book is basically structured as a written Let’s Play for a non-existent video game. I counter-propose the term “Lit’s Play” and I will strongly recommend you Matt Dinniman’s Dungeon Crawler Carl series of Lit’s Play novels.

The Dungeon Crawler Carl novels are full of well-grounded human characters coerced, tricked, or forced into comedically ludicrous scenarios with all sorts of bonkers aliens and dungeon NPCs. These situations are structured to condemn systemic exploitation in a way that feels to me like they could have been imagined by Kurt Vonnegut if he were young enough to have grown up reading Douglas Adams and playing D&D. The dialogue is snappy too, and if you enjoy books-on-tape, the narration and voice-work for the characters by Jeff Hayes is masterwork-quality.

If you’re dubious about whether this series is for you, here’s a few points I’ve noted that might encourage you to read it:

The first couple books introduce basic abilities, spells, and game mechanics that the characters try to find ways to exploit. Malicious compliance is king. As the series progresses, the equipment and abilities the characters gain access to and their interactions with other players compound to create new exploits that are increasingly wild and frustrating to their enemies—and delightful to readers like myself!

By book three, The Dungeon Anarchist’s Cookbook, it’s also obvious that Matt Dinniman isn’t only a gaming nerd. He wanted to do a lot of research on trains, track gauges, subways, and other railroad technology, and shares his passion that subject in all sorts of fun ways in the Iron Tangle level of the dungeon. It makes me smile when folks are excited about their interests and Dinniman’s definitely add to the fun!

By book four, The Gate of The Feral Gods, it became clear to me that the series is heading toward Game of Thrones levels of complexity in terms of competing factions with internal strife squabbling about the problems they are most familiar to distract themselves from the shadows of emergent threats they deem impossible. Dinneman does a great job of grounding the external galactic intrigue to in-dungeon events, which keeps its presentation as goofy as everything else. If you appreciated how Bojack Horseman used animal puns to facilitate its unbearable dive into the crushing horrors of addiction and depression, you’ll love how Dungeon Crawler Carl cranks everything familiar and bizarre about game logic up to 11 in order to showcase the depravity of exploitative systems of government and commerce.

I won’t say much about the later novels, except that they rewardingly build on the groundwork of the first few books and escalate everything in ways that made me cackle throughout. After finishing book seven, I immediately restarted the first book, and I’m enjoying it thoroughly.

Strongly recommend.

[hamilton-here]

Okay first of, I love all your stories so so much. But I was thinking, Lewis is with a regular girl then she's about 34/35 and she's a doctor. They've been together for about a year and a half privately and its only for his birthday he posted a video where she was singing happy birthday for him. He brings her to a few races before Silverstone and everyone can see how happy he is with her, hes playful, motivated, smiles more, laughs more all in all he looks happy, genuinely happy. She gets along with his friends like Miles and Spinz and his family. But people on the internet have been quite mean saying how they wish he was with a supermodel, actor or someone of his fame then or how his exes were better. She has a private Instagram but one day she was checking her dm requests and saw that a "fan" made an entire pdf of all the women he's ever been seen with and stated all the reasons why they were better than the reader. The reader ignores it but it kinda hits her because sometimes she gets insecure that she's not enough for lewis compared to the women he's been linked with in the past. She downloads the pdf on her phone, one day lewis wanted to use her phone for something and saw the pdf on her phone and asked her about it and asked why she didn't tell him, she told him the truth on how she's been feeling, he reassures her that she's more than enough and that hes never been in love like this or happy like this. Skip to Silverstone he had a custom made t-shirt for her with his name and number on the back. He ended up winning Silverstone, he kisses her passionately as he gets out of the car and then hugs his family and friends. After when they're on the big stage hes up with his family and friends and roscoe, they answer questions and what not and then the interviewer asks about his relationship and he smiles widely, and runs off the the side of the stage where the reader was and drags her on stage and holds her close to him, he continues to answer more questions and then with one question he dropped the bombshell that she's the one, the one he wants to get married to and the one he plans to have children with. He then addressed the hate that he's been seeing online towards the reader and how he won't tolerate bullying towards the reader. In the evening they have dinner with his family and friends and you can end it off with them later in the night in bed just talking about the future and cuddling then he gets up from the bed into the closet and comes back and kneels down on the reader's side of the bed and proposes to her. Lots of fluff and sweet lewis in this story. Sorry if this request is long, I'm so excited you opened your requests. Thank you in advance.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐻𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒

Authors Note: Hi all! P4, I'm so proud of Lewis. It was a shame no podium, but we keep pushing. Thank you for the lovely request and support. Lots of love xx

Summary: LH44, in a private relationship with a doctor, faces online hate but publicly declares his love and proposes after winning Silverstone.

Warnings: slight angst

Taglist: @piston-cup @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It had been nearly eighteen months filled with gentle mornings, spontaneous travel, shared laughter and a kind of quiet togetherness that felt like poetry in motion since Lewis Hamilton, seven-time Formula 1 World Champion and perennial headline magnet, had introduced you to the world. Not through flash or spectacle or orchestrated paparazzi moments, but in a way so tender, so heartwarmingly authentic that it made the world collectively pause.

He had posted the video with no caption, no fanfare just a glimpse into the soft, golden pocket of the life you shared. You were in his London kitchen, surrounded by half washed dishes and the lopsided birthday cake you had baked yourself. It was slightly burnt on one edge - you always said baking wasn’t your strong suit but the crooked smile you gave him as you sang “Happy Birthday” off-key told a story far richer than perfection.

You were barefoot, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies that you'd borrowed and never returned and your mismatched socks peeking out like playful secrets. The clip ended with Lewis pulling you close, whispering his thanks against your cheek with a quietness that felt sacred. The video might have been blurry, but the emotion? It was crystalline.

You hadn’t anticipated the tidal wave of attention that followed your relationship becoming public headlines spreading like wildfire, speculation swirling like a storm in comment sections and glossy spreads.

Followed by strangers dissecting your photos, mannerisms and wardrobe pixel by pixel as if they held the key to understanding you. Every glance was interpreted. Every silence debated. But through it all, you stayed grounded like a mountain rooted in soft earth unshaken, composed. You stayed you.

You were a doctor. Not just in title, but in identity one that had taken years of sacrifice, late nights and unrelenting perseverance to earn. Long before red carpets and paddock passes, there had been overnight shifts beneath flickering hospital lights, the scent of antiseptic stitched into your skin, your name etched onto a badge that carried more weight than most people would ever understand.

You had studied with your head down and your heart wide open, fought off sleep with caffeine and sheer determination, stood rock still through codes when everything hung in the balance. You had delivered hard news with impossible grace and held trembling hands during goodbyes whispered through oxygen masks. You didn’t crumble. You didn’t waver.

You were the stillness in storms no one else could calm.

Your brilliance didn’t demand sequins or spotlight. It radiated in the smallest gestures how you remembered a nervous parent’s name, the way your voice softened during a blood draw, how you spoke to children on their level and never made fear feel foolish. You charted meticulously, led with quiet authority, and made space for humanity in the most clinical corners of the world. You carried your patients' stories like pages folded into your ribcage gently and reverently.

The contrast between your world orderly, analytical, rooted in service and Lewis’s universe of roaring engines, champagne showers and camera flashes was dramatic. Staggering, even. But somehow, it wasn’t jarring. It was magnetic. Where others might have drifted apart, the polarity drew you closer.

You weren’t just a guest at race weekends, floating behind him in the shadows of the paddock. You immersed yourself. You listened. You asked questions with that same inquisitive spark that had once led you to colour-code vascular anatomy diagrams on three hours of sleep.

You nodded along during debriefs, flipped through race strategies like they were clinical trial data and memorised tire compound changes with the same rigour you’d applied to pharmacology. You didn’t need to know these things. But you wanted to. Because they mattered to him.

When something didn’t add up, you said so. Tactfully. Directly. "If the car’s not responding after heat buildup, are you sure we’re not looking at microstructure fatigue? You know like recurrent stress fractures under consistent torque pressure?"

The engineers blinked. Then scribbled notes.

Lewis lived for it.

He never stopped smiling when you spoke in paddock meetings not because you had something to prove, but because you didn’t need to. You stood in both worlds without apology, your confidence stitched into every glance, every quiet observation. He fell for you all over again every time your brow furrowed during practice laps, or when your fingers absently mimed ECG rhythms while watching telemetry.

And when you came off a night shift, your body aching from hours spent on your feet, shoes kicked off at the door, the exhaustion settling into your bones like rain, Lewis was there without fail.

He didn’t wait to be asked.

He’d wrap his arms around you before you even made it to the couch, press a kiss to your temple and murmur, “Okay, superhero. Sit. You’re done saving the world for today.”

Sometimes he’d already have the kettle boiling, your favourite mug waiting on the counter. Other nights, he’d light a candle and run a bath, gently helping you untie your scrub top with hands that moved carefully, respectfully like you were the most fragile, sacred thing he’d ever been trusted with.

Once, after a night so long you weren’t sure which day it was, you dozed off on his chest mid-conversation. You’d barely managed to say, “Six kids with RSV, one surgical bleed, and two sets of panicking parents,” before you drifted off, lips still parted, cheek pressed against his collarbone.

He didn’t move for hours. Just held you and murmured, “You’re amazing,” softly, over and over like a psalm.

Sometimes, when the paddock crowds thinned and the chaos mellowed into golden-hour hush, he’d pull you close hand slipping into yours, eyes soft with reverence and say with a crooked smile, “You know, I might be the one getting interviewed but you’re the one everyone remembers.”

You always smiled back, ever warm, ever modest, and replied, “That’s only because I mentioned tire pressure. They weren’t ready for it.”

And he'd lean in, eyes shining. “Maybe. But I think it’s just ‘cause you walk into every room like it already loves you.”

And he wasn’t wrong.

Because you did.

And so did he.

But what touched him deepest was how seamlessly, how gently you bonded with the people he held closest. His family adored you. Carmen so elegant, so grounded took you in like a daughter. Tea with her turned into long, soul nourishing talks about legacy and love.

Anthony laughed loud and often around you, especially when you teased him about his barbecue technique or challenged his bold opinions. Linda became your quiet compass, sliding sweet notes under your door and walking with you through the garden when the world felt too loud.

And then there was Nicolas Lewis’s younger brother your partner in crime. Your connection with him was hilariously chaotic and utterly beautiful. Game nights. Impromptu karaoke. Inside jokes no one understood but the two of you. He once looked Lewis dead in the eye and said, “She’s the big sister I didn’t know I needed,” and Lewis had just smiled, knowing it was true.

His sisters wrapped around you like warmth. Nicola, full of creativity and wry humour, cherished your late night talks and shared obsessions with music and mystery. Samantha, loyal to her core, became someone you could sit in silence with and feel completely understood. Whether you were folding laundry or chasing the kids around the garden, they saw you not as Lewis’s partner, but as family.

And the children. Lewis’s niece and nephew. Sweet, chaotic, radiant little beings who made their mark on your heart without even trying. You knew their birthdays. Their snack quirks. You built pirate ships from couch cushions and made up bedtime songs that had them giggling uncontrollably.

You never tried to impress them you simply loved them. And Lewis couldn’t breathe sometimes when he watched you with them. His heart would ache, in the best, most tender way, watching you crouch beside a toddler tying their shoe or listen to a wildly imaginative dinosaur story with unwavering enthusiasm. He’d lean against the doorway and think, This. This is it. This is everything.

His friends saw it too. Miles and Spinz plus other friends were his inner circle, his constants that welcomed you like one of their own. Miles, quick witted and careful, had guarded his approval. But it took just one deep conversation about fashion, photography and dreams bigger than the moment for him to recognise the brilliance in you. You had a rhythm together. Fast. Funny. Electrifying. Lewis would watch and laugh, just a little jealous, in the sweetest way.

Spins had called you “Queen” from the very beginning. It stuck. Not as a joke, but as a truth. He always made sure you had what you needed, always stood by you like a guard with a soft heart. You threw playful sass back at him, matched his energy with full-bodied laughter. He adored you. And Lewis? He adored the way you were with Miles even more.

Through all of it - through fame and family, through opinion and intimacy what held constant was this: you and Lewis, alone in the quiet. The forehead kisses. The documentaries playing while you fell asleep tangled together. The whispered confessions of love between spoonfuls of cereal and sips of tea. You were his calm. His light. His home.

And every time he saw you dancing with a niece, or making Nicolas laugh so hard he cried, or keeping pace with Miles’s brilliant chaos, or bantering with his sister's like you’d grown up next to them he knew, without question.

He’d found something extraordinary. It was fierce, gentle and definitely forever.

But the internet, with all its vastness and reach, isn’t always a kind place. Despite the soft glow that seems to settle over Lewis’s face whenever you’re near his laughter fuller, posture more relaxed, interviews carrying an ease that hadn’t been there before there are voices online that refuse to see what’s so plainly visible to anyone who truly knows him. People are quick to judge, quick to dissect, quick to hold you up like a slide beneath a microscope, examining every pore and every choice as if you auditioned for public approval.

There are memes circulated with careless cruelty, branding you as “just a doctor,” the phrase tossed around like it’s somehow an insult ignoring the sleepless nights you spend comforting families, your ability to make life or death decisions under pressure, your years of dedication to healing.

Others point out that you’re not a model, as if the absence of designer campaigns and catwalk photos makes you less worthy. And then comes the flood of comparisons. Anonymous comments that scrutinise you against Lewis’s former flames women who are tall, statuesque, celebrated by the industry, glamorous in a way that glitters on magazine covers.

Some posts dissect your style, your voice, your body. One particularly stinging comment reads, “Why couldn’t he find someone in the industry?” as if your presence in his life requires justification, as though love must come with a résumé.

You try, with quiet resolve to ignore it. To let it roll off your shoulders like water sliding down the fabric of your scrubs after a twelve-hour shift. You tell yourself that you know who you are. That you are enough. That the people who matter - Lewis, his family, his inner circle see you for everything you are.

But sometimes, in the stillness of night, when the house is quiet and even the stars feel far away, it creeps in. Not the loud, hateful comments but the subtle ones. The ones wrapped in implication. The ones that don’t scream, but whisper. And those are the ones that hurt the most.

A post that says you’re “lucky” to have him. Another that calls you “a sweet placeholder.” And those phrases, however softly spoken, echo through your heart in vulnerable moments making you wonder if the world will ever truly accept someone like you beside someone like him.

You’re not a fixture on red carpets. Your smile hasn’t been trained for cameras. Your world is built on compassion and quiet victories not fame. You don’t sparkle in the ways people have come to expect from the women standing beside stars.

And yet, Lewis knows. He sees it in your silence when you’ve read too much, in the way you curl into yourself a little tighter on nights when the comments hit harder than usual. He places his hand over yours steady, grounding and whispers, “Don’t let strangers rewrite your story.” Because to him, you’re never just anything. You’re the lighthouse that pulls him to shore when the waves get too loud.

And slowly, over time, your voice inside grows louder than theirs. Not because you fight back but because you choose love. And love yours and his is something no screen could ever define.

One quiet evening, tucked beneath a worn fleece blanket that still carries the lingering scent of Lewis’s cologne the smell of amber wood and warmth, something that’s become a kind of sanctuary you find yourself scrolling through your Instagram DMs with mindless detachment.

You don’t do it often; the messages are unpredictable and emotionally exhausting, a swirl of admiration, invasive questions, and unsolicited opinions from strangers who believe they have front row seats to your life. But that night, amid the hum of the television and the soft thud of rain against the windows, your thumb pauses.

There it is. A message from a name you don’t recognise. No verification badge. No familiar connection. Just a username, blank and faceless and a single PDF attachment. At first, it looks harmless probably just another fan theory or someone asking for Lewis’s autograph. But something about the silence of the file, the way it sits there waiting, makes your chest tighten with quiet dread.

You hesitate, eyes scanning the dim glow of the screen, hoping you’ll think better of it and let it go. But curiosity, quiet and cruel, nudges you forward. You tap it open.

And with that one click, everything shifts.

The PDF loads slowly, each second stretching unbearably as the title reveals itself in stark, bold letters: Lewis Hamilton Partner Comparisons. Your breath catches. Just reading those words feels like someone has taken something sacred something personal and soft hadturned it into a math problem.

What follows is colder than you feared.

A professionally formatted report, crafted with eerie precision like a boardroom pitch, lays bare a grotesque evaluation of every woman Lewis has ever dated, been rumoured to date, or even briefly stood beside at public events.

Supermodels with international covers. Singers whose albums have gone platinum. Actresses with awards and carefully sculpted personas. One by one, they’re presented with glossy photographs, curated bios, statistics that measure fame, wealth, beauty social media reach and “brand value.” There are pie charts. Bar graphs. A disturbing level of commitment to the idea that love can be ranked.

And then there’s you.

Slotted at the end, without dignity like a footnote. The writer makes no attempt to hide their disdain. Your photo is grainy clearly pulled from a candid paparazzi shot where you weren’t smiling. Your credentials as a doctor are labeled “respectable but mediocre.” Your looks dismissed as “pedestrian.” Your online presence described as “visibly awkward, lacking polish and influence.”

A side by side chart lines up your follower count with those of Lewis’s exes, highlights your absence from fashion events, and mocks your wardrobe choices as “serviceable but uninspired.”

Then comes the final blow.

One paragraph so casually vicious your hands shake as you read it suggests you’re not with Lewis for love at all. That you’re “a calculated opportunist,” someone “clinging to relevance by proxy,” leveraging your relationship with him to gain access to luxury and status you could never earn on your own. They imply your “humble career” is just temporary cover. That you’re “faking a wholesome image” while quietly chasing a celebrity lifestyle you weren’t born into.

Another line stabs deeper: “Lewis’s kindness makes him blind to what she really is. She’s playing the long game. Fame by proximity. Lifestyle by association. And he’ll eventually realise she was just passing through.”

You stop breathing for a moment.

The phone slips from your hands and lands softly on the blanket. The screen dims as the weight of those words settles over you like wet concrete. Your heart thuds slow, heavy and tired. You don’t cry. Not right away. The sadness doesn’t arrive like thunder it creeps in like fog. A whisper in your mind that asks, What if they’re right?

Not because Lewis has ever made you feel less than extraordinary, he hasn’t. He is tenderness and reassurance and steady belief. He kisses your forehead when you doubt yourself, holds your hand beneath crowded tables, whispers affirmations with the kind of quiet conviction that sticks to your ribs.

But cruel words, even when you try not to believe them, have a way of echoing in the hollows. And sometimes it’s not the shouts that bruise, it’s the whispers.

Your whole life, you’ve built yourself from grit and grace. You’ve held dying hands and stitched hearts in ways no scalpel ever could. But now, standing beside a man who shines like a constellation, your accomplishments feel suddenly paper-thin like the world has decided you don’t belong.

And so you sit there, beneath the blanket that smells like love, in a home filled with laughter and light and wonder, quietly, heartbreakingly:

If Lewis deserves the world, what made you believe you could be part of it?

It was only a few days later when the weight of the PDF still lingered like a bruise beneath the surface of your chest, quiet and persistent that Lewis found it.

You had left your phone on the edge of the kitchen counter, tucked among the soft clutter of a half finished book, a half drunk cup of tea, and the mellow hum of the afternoon. You’d stepped away for just a moment to grab something from the fridge, your thoughts floating between dinner plans and the ache that had been quietly blooming behind your ribs.

When you returned, Lewis was standing in stillness, the phone cradled loosely in his hand, and his brow knit into something you recognised immediately not anger, but concern. That tender, gut stirring kind that always made your chest tighten just a little.

“Why do you have this on your phone?” he asked, voice low, serious in a way he rarely used with you. “Where did it come from?”

You froze in place. The knot in your stomach tightened so quickly it felt like someone had pulled you inward by the core. Your cheeks flushed with heat and guilt as your eyes flicked to the screen, and you knew instantly that he’d seen it.

“It’s nothing,” you offered weakly, with a shaky breath, trying to wave it off as if dismissing it could undo it. As if he hadn’t already absorbed every cruel word carved into that document.

But Lewis didn’t blink. Didn’t back down. Didn’t let you tuck your hurt away.

“No,” he said again, softer this time, stepping toward you with a quiet urgency. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? You’ve been quieter. I’ve felt it in you. We’ve talked about how brutal things can be online, but this feels different. What is this weighing on you?”

Your throat tightened, the words rising like a wave you couldn’t hold back. You looked down, not at him -not at the place that had always felt safe because vulnerability like this scared you. Because the weight of your fear was that he might see you differently.

“I’ve just…I don’t know,” you whispered, voice barely more than air. “I’ve been feeling insecure. Sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. For you. For your world. I’m not like your past girlfriends, Lewis. I’m not glamorous. I’m just a doctor. Just me. And when people say I don’t belong when they say you deserve someone more remarkable it’s hard not to believe them.”

The silence between you expanded, pressing in with the heaviness of every unsaid thing. You didn’t look up, didn’t breathe fully, waiting for rejection or disbelief or discomfort.

But instead he stepped closer.

He put the phone down, deliberately and carefully, as though setting aside a wound he refused to let fester between you. Then he reached for you. His hands cupped your cheeks with such tenderness it made your eyes sting, and when you finally looked up, his gaze was unwavering. Steady. Filled with something that made your lungs collapse in a different way: devotion.

“You are so much more than enough,” he said, every word slow, weighted, a promise etched into the quiet. “You’re the person I choose every day. The one who makes me feel calm. Safe. Loved. I’ve lived in noise for most of my life but I’ve never felt peace like I feel with you. I’ve never felt this kind of happiness.”

You tried to swallow the tears, but they came anyway warm and aching, soft trails against your skin. He brushed one away with his thumb, leaned in until you could feel the steadiness of his breath against your own, the warmth that always held you together.

“I see you,” he whispered against your forehead. “I see everything that makes you brilliant. The way you comfort people when they’re scared. The way you laugh with your whole heart. The way you show up when it’s hard. You don’t have to compete with anyone, and you don’t owe this world some packaged version of yourself. You’ve already given me more than I ever dreamed I’d have. You’re the one. Always have been.”

And that’s when it happened, the tightness in your chest finally began to unravel, the bruised places inside you softened under the light of his love. You let out the breath you’d been holding for days, leaned into him, into the arms that had always been waiting.

In that moment, you knew. Not because the world had stopped judging, but because his love had never once been part of their metrics.

In his arms, you weren’t lacking. You were treasured. You were home.

The weekend of Silverstone arrived with all the anticipation and electricity that clung to the air like static before a storm only this time, the storm was made of speed, expectation and thousands of pounding hearts. You’d been by Lewis’s side since the early hours of the morning, weaving through the paddock hand in hand, sharing hushed conversations between interviews and technical briefings, your presence quiet but grounding.

He had been tense laser-focused in that way he only ever got before a race like this, the one that meant the most to him. His home Grand Prix. The track that knew the rhythm of his tires like an old friend. You’d stood back, watching him slip into his zone, admiring the way his mind danced with precision even while his heart carried so much weight.

And then, during a rare pause in the rush, Lewis turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pulled something from the bag resting beside his driver’s seat a sleek, custom-made t-shirt with his name boldly stitched across the back, his number glinting in silver under the summer sun.

But there was more. The shirt wasn’t just merchandise. It had been tailored just for you fitted in a way that still felt effortlessly comfortable, with subtle embroidery along the hem that read “For the one who steadies me.”

You laughed, a little breathless at the sweetness of it. “Lewis,” you murmured, holding the shirt up to your chest, “this is too much.”

But he only smiled, that boyish grin that reached his eyes and softened everything. Then he leaned in, pressed a kiss to your cheek with the warmth of someone who loved you in every language silence could speak, and whispered just above the noise of the paddock, “You deserve everything. And I want everyone to know it.”

Then came the race.

Silverstone roared to life, the sound of engines screaming across tarmac thunderous against the sky. Lewis’s car surged forward from pole, but the tension was immediate and relentless another driver clipped his rear just two laps in, forcing a defensive strategy that had everyone on edge.

You stood with his crew, fingers clenched together, heart echoing the pace of the laps. Overtakes happened in split second bursts, each time your breath catching and your pulse stumbling. The commentators were losing their voices; the fans were losing their minds. And you watching him manoeuvre through chaos with the grace of poetry and the grit of a warrior you were losing track of everything but him.

Final lap. He was second.

Then, as the last sector approached, Lewis found a line no one else had dared to take - tight, risky, brilliant. Tires kissed the edge of track limits. His car soared with defiance and desire. And when he crossed the finish line?

Victory. Silverstone erupted.

The crowd thundered with cheers so loud the air shook, but you only heard your heartbeat the way it leapt in your chest when Lewis stepped out of the car, sweat-slicked and gleaming with adrenaline. He didn’t wave to the cameras. He didn’t wait for his team.

He only looked for you.

And when your eyes met, everything blurred time, sound, space. He ran toward you with that smile, wide and unguarded, and without hesitation, wrapped you in his arms. The kiss he gave you was all fire and softness: strong arms pulling you into his chest, one hand cradling your jaw with a reverence that made your knees weaken, his lips pressing into yours like you were a homecoming.

It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t for the cameras.

But the cameras found it.

The lens captured the way you melted into him, how his brow rested against yours when the kiss broke, how your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit like you were anchoring him to the moment. And the world felt like it paused. Just for that.

She was “just a doctor,” they said.

But in that kiss, in that embrace, she was everything.

You were everything.

The applause was still echoing across Silverstone, drifting like a melody across the shifting breeze, clashing gently with the distant hum of pit crews dismantling their stations and race engineers exchanging lingering high-fives.

The golden light of late afternoon fell in thick, honeyed ribbons over the track casting halos against stage rails, weaving through the flags that rippled proudly above the grandstands, and glinting off the sheen of Lewis’s fire suit, soaked in both champagne and triumph.

You were tucked just below the edge of the stage, half-hidden in the shade of the structure, yet entirely present in every pulse of the day.

Your breath came unevenly not from the adrenaline of the race, but from something softer and more intimate: the way Lewis’s eyes kept finding you. Again and again. Not just glancing, but searching. Seeing. And every time he turned your way, your heart tripped a little harder.

And then without warning, without ceremony he handed off the microphone mid-question, leaving the interviewer mid-sentence and the crowd murmuring in a collective wave of curiosity. His movements weren’t showy. They were deliberate. Full of warm certainty. And you realised, in an instant, he wasn’t walking toward the fans. He was walking toward you.

There was a breathless shift in the atmosphere as Lewis descended from the stage. The crowd seemed to lean forward in one mass, like a tide surging toward shore, drawn by a magnetic force that none of them could name.

His gaze never wavered. Locked onto yours as if it were tethered by something deeper than time. The click of cameras intensified, becoming a rhythmic heartbeat around you both as he extended his hand. His fingers brushed your own warm, steady, grounding and gently, he pulled you forward.

Onto the stage. Into his orbit.

The world narrowed. You weren’t thinking about the noise or the people or the flashes. You were thinking about the way his hand fit against your waist, the way he tucked you in close like you’d always belonged there, his thumb pressing slow, affectionate circles into your side through the fabric of your jacket. You were thinking about how, despite everything fame, pressure, legacy he only seemed to care that you were there.

That’s when the interviewer chuckled into the mic, raising an eyebrow with playful mischief. “Lewis,” they said, “I think it’s safe to say that was more than just a podium celebration. Can we ask who’s the lucky one, then?”

He turned, catching the full weight of the question with a grin that bloomed impossibly wide. Not coy. Not careful. Just utterly open. The crowd erupted again as he turned to you again eyes sparkling. He pulled you into his space like the missing piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

His arm swept around your back, anchoring you against him as the audience roared in approval. You didn’t have time to think. You didn’t have to. You just stood there, wrapped in the gravity of his affection, while cameras flashed and questions resumed.

Lewis returned to the mic, his hand never leaving yours. “Well,” he said, his voice warm with laughter, “she’s been my luck for a long time now. Figured it was time everyone else got to see it too.”

And just like that, the interview carried on engine talk, tire strategies, nods to his team and their unstoppable rhythm but through it all, his arm stayed around you, his thumb still tracing circles, his voice still laced with something softer. Something just for you.

The mic returned to his hand, but this time, something in his voice had shifted. It wasn’t the confident, media trained cadence he reserved for interviews. It cracked. Gently. Unmistakably.

“I want to make something clear,” Lewis said, chest rising with the kind of weight that comes from speaking truth in front of the entire world. “This woman right here is the person I love.”

He paused. Not to catch breath but to hold the emotion. You saw it the flicker in his throat as he swallowed, the glint in his eyes that shimmered like tears held just barely at bay. He reached for your hand again, his fingers curling around yours with reverence.

“She’s not temporary,” he continued, voice thick with feeling. “She’s not someone passing through. I’m going to marry her. I’m going to build a life with her. A family. She’s the woman I want to wake up next to for the rest of my life. She’s my peace in the noise. My quiet in the storm. She’s everything.”

For a moment, Silverstone was silent. Reverent. As if even the wind had paused to listen.

And then applause. Cries. Shouts. A collective unraveling of hearts that had been holding back emotion just to witness this rare, sacred thing: love, laid bare in the spotlight.

Lewis turned, forehead resting briefly against your temple, grounding himself in your presence before facing the cameras again. This time, his voice didn’t crack. It sharpened.

“To anyone who’s been sending hate her way,” he said, his grip tightening protectively around your waist. “Questioning her. Mocking her. Trying to tear her down I want you to hear me clearly.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the intensity made it feel like thunder.

“That’s not support. That’s not fandom. That’s cruelty. And it’s a betrayal of me. Of everything I stand for. If you think love makes me weaker, then you’ve never understood who I am. This woman is brilliant, compassionate, stronger than most people I’ve ever met. She’s mine. And I love her more deeply than I’ve ever loved anyone. That’s not something I’ll apologise for.”

The microphone lowered. The world, for a breath, went still.

And then, as if on cue, Roscoe made his entrance.

He trotted casually across the stage with that signature lope, tail swaying like he was unimpressed by the fanfare. Lewis bent down beside him, whispering something sweet “C’mon, give ‘em a bark” before nudging him toward the crowd. But Roscoe, ever the dignified old soul, glanced at the fans snorted quietly, turned on his heel and made a slow, dramatic beeline straight for you.

He ignored the spotlight, ignored the cheering and flopped effortlessly between your legs with a sigh so exaggerated it made the photographers chuckle. He tucked one paw over your foot, nestled his snout in the crook of your knee and blinked up at you like nothing in the world mattered more than being close.

As if to say: She’s mine. Ours.

The crowd erupted cheers louder than any victory lap, camera flashes painting the moment in flickering brilliance. Lewis held you close, one arm around your waist, the other cradling your hand against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat. Not from exertion but from love. Real, full, impossibly vast.

And in that breathless instant Lewis, trembling slightly from the weight of everything he’d just said; Roscoe nestled at your feet like a sentry of affection and you, overwhelmed with quiet disbelief and joy something in the air shifted.

Love wasn’t just spoken.

It was declared, protected and absolutely yours.

The city beyond their window pulsed with soft, amber light with cars casting faint reflections across the high rise glass, red taillights drifting like fireflies below, while street lamps blinked and glowed like drowsy stars, stretching their reach across the velvet hush of London twilight.

From this height, the rush of the world sounded far away, more lullaby than chaos, the energy of the city slipping gently beneath them like a tide pulling out to sea. Inside the hotel suite, swaddled in warm light and the faint scent of lavender from the fresh bouquet on the table, everything felt suspended like time had folded in on itself. A snow globe moment. Still, silent, safe.

The air still carried echoes of laughter from earlier in the evening. Not just laughter, but the kind that left your cheeks sore and your heart weightless.

Dinner with Lewis’s family had been its own kind of magic imperfect in the most perfect ways. The food had been slightly too rich, the seating slightly cramped, and there had been too many hands reaching across the table for the same dish at once. But that only added to the feeling of intimacy, of genuine closeness. The Hamiltons were a constellation of personalities orbiting one another with unshakeable affection.

“You should’ve seen Lewis at ten,” Samantha had said with a mischievous grin as she brandished her fork in his direction. “Little man used to race our neighbours dog down the block. On a scooter. In church shoes.”

Lewis groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I’m begging you some stories should remain family classified.”

“Did he win?” you asked sweetly, sipping your wine through a smile that betrayed how badly you wanted the answer.

“He lost every time,” Nico interjected, laughing so hard he almost spilled his drink. “Except for that one glorious afternoon when the dog tripped over a sprinkler head.”

“It slipped,” Lewis argued, dragging his hands down his face. “There was dew on the sidewalk. It was a traction issue.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, champ,” Miles teased, clinking his glass against yours with a wink.

You leaned close and whispered, just for him, “So...this is the legend I fell for?”

Lewis tilted his head, eyes locked onto yours with a heat that made your stomach flutter. “Just wait till you hear about my magic trick phase.”

“Oh no,” you laughed. “There was a phase?”

“A whole two years,” Anthony chimed in from the head of the table, grinning broadly. “He had this top hat he’d wear around the house everywhere. School pickup. Grocery shopping. Even the dentist. Swore he’d make the carrots disappear off his plate.”

Lewis groaned again. “I was eight.”

“Eight and determined,” Anthony said warmly, his voice softening. “He always has been.” Then he paused, his eyes glancing over to you before settling on his son again. “But watching him now…what he’s become…it’s surreal. He’s lived his dreams out loud. Fought for what he believes.

And somehow, he found someone who sees him beyond all that. Sees the kid who wanted to make carrots vanish and the man who wins on the world stage. I’m so proud of you, son. And I’m even prouder that you’ve found the love of your life.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward it was reverent, filled with emotion too dense for quick replies. Lewis’s hand found yours beneath the table, fingers weaving through with the steadiness of someone who knew exactly what he held.

Later, when the meal ended and plates were cleared and goodbyes came with hugs that lingered and promises to do it all again soon, Miles had leaned in from the hallway as the lift doors were closing.

“Go make it a night to remember!” he called, laughing as the doors slid shut.

Lewis turned to you with that familiar gleam in his eyes. “Prophetic or pressure?”

You smiled, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Both.”

Now, wrapped in that velvet silence, the city lights painting constellations across the glossy floorboards, it felt like the rest of the world had paused just to let the two of you breathe each other in. Here, in the sanctuary of shared stories and slow glances, the love between you didn’t need declarations.

It was written in the way he looked at you.

Now, wrapped together beneath a fortress of plush, cloud soft sheets that smelled faintly of crisp linen, lavender from the pillow mist and the lingering fizz of champagne from the bottle still resting uncorked on the bedside table, you lay cocooned in the steady warmth of Lewis’s arms.

The soft whoosh of the HVAC mingled with the occasional sigh of the city beyond the glass subdued, distant, like a lullaby meant just for the two of you. His hand, calloused and gentle, moved slowly through your hair, not just idly, but with reverence with his fingertips whispering over your scalp in lazy, soothing lines. Every now and then, he’d pause to tuck a wayward strand behind your ear, his thumb brushing the shell of it in a gesture so tender, it melted into your bones.

Your head rested against his chest where his heart beat in a patient, grounding rhythm like an anchor, like a promise. And in that moment, beneath the sanctuary of covers and the soft amber cast of the bedside lamp, it became crystal clear: he wasn’t just holding you. He was holding a future he’d already built quietly in his mind, one heartbeat at a time.

“What’s next for us?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper, barely a tremble in the hush. The words carried no pressure. Only hope. Soft, curious, edged in wonder.

Lewis shifted ever so slightly, arms tightening around you as if pulling you impossibly closer, like he wished to wrap you in layers of himself. He pressed a lingering kiss to the centre of your forehead the kind that was less about passion and more about adoration, something sacred and still.

His voice was low when he spoke, brushed with sleep but strong with quiet certainty. “Everything we want,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against your skin.

ertainty. “Everything we want,” he murmured, his lips still pressed against your skin. “A life that feels soft at the edges. A home built out of laughter and Sunday mornings. Maybe somewhere outside the city a little cottage with creaky floors and windows that catch the golden light just right. A garden where Roscoe can chase butterflies he’ll never catch. We’ll wake up to birdsong and pancakes and I’ll pretend to cook even though we both know you’ll end up doing it right.” He chuckled softly and kissed your hair.

“There’ll be arguments about duvet hogging and whose turn it is to do dishes, but we’ll always go to bed choosing each other anyway. Just you and me. Always.”

His words wove around you like a second blanket warm, comforting and infinite. You smiled then, eyes fluttering closed your entire body sinking deeper into the cradle of his embrace, into the safety of a future that suddenly didn’t seem like a dream, but a path already opening in front of you.

But just as your breath slowed lulled by the rhythm of his thumb brushing absentminded shapes along your arm he shifted. Carefully. Deliberately.

He slipped from the bed like a ghost, the duvet rustling softly in his wake. The loss of his body heat made your skin prickle with sudden anticipation. Your eyes fluttered open to watch him pad barefoot across the thick carpet, disappearing silently into the walk-in closet.

You didn’t call out not because you weren’t curious, but because something about the way he moved felt charged. Like he already knew what he was about to do.

He returned only a moment later, but everything had changed. He wasn’t carrying his phone or a sweatshirt or a bottle of water. He wasn’t fiddling with the lights or answering a room service knock. He was kneeling.

Kneeling beside the bed. In front of you.

Still shirtless, curls tousled from sleep, his eyes shimmered with something deeper than just nerves. They brimmed with something unguarded and fiercely vulnerable. And in his hand, cradled like it was fragile and sacred, was a ring. No spotlight sparkle. No flashy flourish. Just elegant simplicity. Understated. Timeless. A reflection of everything he knew you loved.

Your breath caught somewhere in your chest, your lungs forgetting how to work as you sat up slowly, the sheets pooling at your waist.

“Lewis?” The name came out barely audible, like a prayer more than a question.

He looked up at you, and that one look told you everything. His own eyes were wet, unshed tears catching the warm lamplight and turning into stars. His voice cracked, rich and raw. “I’m not waiting,” he said, with a conviction that made your whole world tilt. “I don’t want to wait another day. I’ve known from the start. From the moment you sang off-key in my kitchen, wearing socks that didn’t match and hair you hadn’t brushed, dancing like the world only existed in that song I knew. I knew you were the one.” He swallowed hard, knuckles tight around the velvet box.

“I want to grow old knowing your laugh better than I know my own. I want to build a home where every wall echoes with your joy. I want the world to look at me and know - I belong to you. I love you. Will you marry me?”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek with trembling fingers. There was no pause. No mental checklist. No breath to catch.

“Yes,” you said, your voice breaking on the word, your whole body trembling with love. “Yes. God yes. A thousand times, yes.”

He surged forward, dropping the ring box onto the sheets with a soft thud, as though even gravity wanted to step aside for what was about to happen. His arms came around you in an instant urgent but careful, cradling you like something precious, irreplaceable.

His fingers trembled as they brushed against your jaw, cupping your face like he was learning it all over again. His eyes, glistening with tears he no longer tried to hide, searched yours for a breathless second seeking not permission, but presence.

And then he kissed you.

Not in the way stories often tell, with crashing waves and desperate mouths. No this was slower. Sweeter. It was layered in meaning, in memory, in the unspoken vow of two people who had already chosen each other in a thousand quiet moments long before this one.

His lips moved against yours with the tenderness of someone savouring not chasing. It was soft, at first a brush, then a bloom. One hand slipped into your hair as the other held you steady, thumbs drawing slow, reverent circles along your cheekbones. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second relearning the shape of your mouth. Like he wasn’t afraid of loving you too much only afraid you wouldn’t feel just how much he did.

When you kissed him back, fingers curling into his curls, pulling him closer, he sighed a sound of pure surrender, of everything he’d carried falling away in the certainty of this moment. He deepened the kiss just slightly, not with heat, but with reverence. He wasn’t trying to possess you.

He was saying thank you. I see you. I choose you.

It was the kind of kiss that stitched something eternal into your soul, a kiss that whispered across every nerve ending like a benediction. When he finally pulled back, breathless and forehead pressed to yours, he lingered his nose brushing yours, eyes closed like he didn’t want to open them just yet. Like the world would be too bright compared to this feeling.

And when his voice came, it was no louder than a thread pulled from a dream. “I’ll never stop kissing you like that,” he murmured. “Even when we’re wrinkled and grey, and arguing over whether the cat can sleep on the bed.”

You smiled, your thumbs swiping at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “Forever’s going to be so good,” you whispered back.

Roscoe, who’d been dozing quietly near the foot of the bed, gave a soft, contented huff and stretched before gently padding over. He nudged his nose against your shin and flopped down, his weight pressing gently into your leg as if to say, I approve. I’m staying right here too.

Lewis kissed you again - forehead, cheeks, nose, lips and then pulled back just enough to press the ring onto your finger with hands that shook slightly but never faltered. The metal felt cool and perfect against your skin, like it had been waiting there, just like you had.

And there, in that quiet slice of heaven beneath linen sheets, in the arms of the man who had seen every version of you and loved each one you didn’t just feel loved.

You felt chosen.

[saturnyo]

Call Me Castillo

Chapter 1 - Say My Name

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Reader

Summary: A story where the boss and the secretary turn to fake dating and eventually fall in love for real. Harry Castillo had it all. Money, a thriving business. But the media still painted him as a womanizer and a heartthrob. Then there's you. Dumped at your engagement party in front of 200 people, completely humiliated. Work was regular, a constant in your now broken life, until your boss came to you and proposed a plan. The two of you at the upcoming gala announce you are dating, to help get the press off his back and your ex off yours. Everything was going fine until lines began to blur and real feelings began to surface.

Warnings: mentions of public humiliation, no smut, some swearing, a tiny bit of fluff

WC: 1.3k

Song choice: Good Days by SZA

"Tobias...." you said in a warning tone.

Your best friend, and unfortunately, your coworker, had just said the most ridiculous thing to you. And considering how your week has gone, that was saying something.

He didn't even react, just leaned against the counter peeling a banana like he didn't just commit a verbal hate crime.

"What girl, I'm saying."

Like that somehow made it better.

You stared at him, blinking slowly. "You can't just say that, Toby."

"I just did," he said, casually taking a bite of his banana. He walks over to you, sitting down.

"You didn't have to," you muttered, rubbing your temples. You could feel a headache forming. "There are just some things you shouldn't say. And that was one of them."

Tobias took another bite of the banana, just completely unfazed. "I'm just saying, you were dumped at your engagement party. Publicly. And not only that, but in front of 200 people with a live string quartet. If I were you, I would be in the Bahamas drinking pina coladas till I forgot my name."

You groaned, hitting your head against the break room table. "Thanks for that. I almost went a full hour without thinking about it."

He gave you a sympathetic but still a jerk kind of look. A type that only a best friend can give and get away with. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to go through something like that and then come to work like it didn't-"

"I'm fine," you cut him off, mid-sentence. "I am. I need to keep working, and I'll keep being fine."

Tobias gave you another sad smile, but ultimately let it go. After the blunder that was your engagement party, he was the one person you could come to and talk with without judgment, he and his boyfriend, Emmett. You've been friends with both of them since the first week you started working here. It was honestly an absolute gamble to get the job, but you still decided to try, and here you are, two years later, with a 115,000 salary.

When the offer letter came through, your jaw dropped. You had gone through three rounds of interviews and didn't expect to hear that ding in your email inbox.

115,000...

To manage schedules, coordinate meetings, and to make sure Harry Castillo doesn't lose his damn mind. It was shocking. Generous. You'd almost asked him if it was a typo. But Harry said it like a fact, not a favor.

"This job comes with high expectations," he said. "You'll be compensated accordingly."

And you did. Handsomely.

"Now I have a meeting with Mr. Castillo in ten."

You got up, throwing away your coffee cup and waving bye to Tobias.

The walk to Harry's office feels longer than usual. Walking down the hallway felt like a runway of pitying looks and snickering glances—a fighting gauntlet you hadn't signed up for. Maria? or Miranda? You couldn't remember who was looking at you, pursing her lips with a sympathetic but holier-than-thou smile. John? Standing by a water cooler gave you a weak thumbs up like you were about to go and win a marathon instead of walking into a status meeting with Harry Castillo.

You lifted your chin, straightened your blouse, and kept walking.

You weren't going to cry in the breakroom. Or break down in the hallway. No, you were going to keep holding your head high and continue walking towards Harry's office. Not even your boss, the great Mr. Castillo, will see any glimmer of displeasure or heartbreak.

Whether it was true or not.

The imposing wood door was sleek and taunting. You breathed deeply in and out a few times to compose yourself, then you knocked on the door and stepped inside.

He didn't look up right away. Harry was standing by the floor to ceiling windows, sleeves rolled to his elbows, phone in hand while holding his coffee. All work and no play.

Without turning around, he speaks to you. It's not rude, it's something he's done for over two years and you've gotten used to it. Just second nature.

"Sit," he said, voice calm- low but commanding. In that special way of his. Finally glancing your way, Harry's warm brown eyes settle onto you with a calculated precision. His mind is always thinking about business and how to keep over twelve thousand employees with a job.

You quickly obeyed and sat in the chair in front of his desk as his hands folded on the mohagany wood, placing down a Manila folder. It was labeled, "sensitive."

You knew the drill. Let him keep thinking what's on his mind and he'll speak first.

After a beat, Harry finally shifted in his seat, leaning slightly back creating a moment of a laid back atmosphere. You sat there spine straight, rigid waiting for what he wanted to speak about on today's agenda. He slides the folder closer to you, still wordless with a determined look on his face.

"The CFO has submitted a quarterly report, and Legal has requested a pre-brief with you ahead of Thursday."

You grabbed the folder, flipping it open revealing the documents Harry mentioned. Two years ago, this was basically another language. Having to learn basic business jargon was difficult but he was unusually patient with you. Helping correct mistakes that you didn't even notice before they were sent off.

"Got it. I'll block thirty minutes on your calendar two days from now. Want it before or after the sync?"

"Before. These types of things always run long." He paused. "They always do."

You smiled faintly but didn't comment.

Harry leaned forward slightly. "Also there is a charity gala in three weeks. I don't normally go those types of things. As you know, I rather donate behind the cameras but I've decided to go this time and I want you to be my plus one."

That made you freeze, heart stuttering enough to feel it. "Your plus one? Are you sure? I'm not the high society type and-"

"Of course. You deserve to be there just as much as anyone else," he said, cutting in smoothly before you could spiral.

You smiled again. a little bigger this time.

You tried not to read into it. Wondering whether or not it was professional or personal courtesy. But your hands were warm and you could feel a pulse in your throat.

"Ok," you said softly. "I'll be there"

Harry gave a small nod, satisfied. "The event packet will be sent to you in next week or two. And a styling team with Tobias will be there at your apartment the day of to get you ready."

You blinked, trying to make sense of what he said. "A styling team?" You asked

"It's a high profile party. Plus I don't want you to have to worry about makeup, the outfit, and whatever else you'll need." Harry responded, like it was a normal every day thing for him to have a full team at his disposal and it was.

You bit your lip, focusing back on the Manila folder in your hands. "That's generous."

"It's practical," Harry said, without missing a beat.

A moment passes

"Let me know if Legal needs to change the pre brief and we'll move some stuff around to make do"

"Understood."

You nodded, standing up, carefully picking up the folder. As you turned to go, his voice followed you- calm, low, and impossible to ignore

"Don't let anyone out there get in your head."

You paused mid-step.

"You aren't the one who should be embarrassed right now."

Your breath caught. Slowly, you turned back to him.

His eyes hadn't moved from his laptop. Like he hadn't just taken the one thing that had been bothering you and crushed it to dust in a matter of seconds.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Thank you, Mr. Castillo."

"Harry...you can call me Harry." He corrected, not looking up.

And that was the last thing he said. As you walked out of the office, his words still ringing in your head, changing you in a way that you did not expect.

[intoblonde6ftwbbplayers]

Transferring Hearts; a love story from Columbia to Storrs

TransferTeammate! x UconnPaige!

pairing; octransferteammate! x uconnpaige!

description; A South Carolina transfer comes to uconn after winning her second championship. Not a lot of people know why but all Andrea knows is that she needed to get away for her cheating ex and her lying “friend”.

random details; Andrea Pierce was ranked #1 on espn for her class and that’s how she got a big following. She’s basically 3 years younger than paige (like 2 years and 10 months) she’s entering her junior season and has won the championship twice with south carolina and got MOP in the 23-24 season. Her ex bf (yes a bi queen represented) and her close friend were hooking up behind her back for weeks. Andrea is very active on social media especially tiktok and youtube (think tara yummy style vlogs and edits being made of her). 

warnings; none really just I have no clue about basketball like other then what I learned 8th and 9th grade when I was forced to play. Probably bad spelling and grammar bc idk how to used commas. Oh also forgot to mention Andrea is going Latina bc I love my Latina baddies

lmk if y'all want longer chapters like this or shorter ones!

masterlist series masterlist

||

High off wining; prologue

April 6th 2024

"Hey guys what's up. It's your girls here with a quick little check in before tomorrow's game" Andrea said pulling her best friend and teammate Chloe Kitts into the camera

"Andrea Pierce basketball phenom and internet sensation everybody!" Chloe said giving her friend an introduction that wasn't needed but well deserved after her performance during this tournament.

Andrea begins blushing slightly "Okay bro not too much on me" she said with a smile

"alright y'all... i'm feeling it for tomorrow's game like seriously. Mark my words if our girl Andrea gets hot tomorrow then REALLY it's over for Iowa"

"Yeah we're speaking it into the universe guys. Gamecocks are taking the title tomorrow!" Andrea chants

"Yeahhhh! LETS GO WE GOT THIS!" Chloe yells right back into the camera before both girls look at each other laughing

"Alright, alright we need to get to bed before the big game tomorrow but we'll check in with you guys after getting the dub"

Andrea quickly stops the camera and sighs trying to shake out the nerves thinking about the game.

April 7th 2024

"And with 5 minutes left in the 4th quarter both Andrea Pierce and Kamilla Cardoso have been on fire tonight really pushing gamecocks ahead." Ryann Ruocco says

"Yes and let's talk a bit about Andrea Pierce for a second because at first glance you wouldn't expect a 5'7 shooting guard to be one of the biggest names of women's collegiate basketball" Rebecca Lobo said

"And that makes her all the more special. I mean from being ranked #1 in her class from ESPN and just seconds away from winning a national title with the gamecocks" Holly Rowe said

"I mean could Andrea Pierce be the key to a new dynasty for women's basketball? She was out for most of the season her freshman year with a knee injury but South Carolina has had a perfect season so far and Andrea Pierce has been a name that keeps coming up when you ask why" Rebecca Lobo says

"Her basketball IQ and court vision are unmatched I mean just this tournament alone, the no look passes, clutch three-pointers, and even blocks that have changed the game for the gamecocks this season." Rebecca Lobo continues

"And now finally with 4 seconds left and a 7-0 run by South Carolina, all by Andrea Pierce, the score is 87-75 with the gamecocks and Andrea Pierce solidifying this win for coach Dawn Staley and South Carolina." Ryan Ruocco said

"Lets check in with Holly on the court as she interviews Andrea Pierce" Rebecca Lobo said

"Yes thank you Rebecca, Im here with the Andrea Pierce who just got named most outstanding player. How do you feel right now Andrea?" Holly asks

"Uhm... Honestly im feeling really good right now. Just like on top of the world and just so extremely grateful for everything and for this season and for the people around me and that have supported me through everything"

"Yes you certainly have been through a lot in your short collegiate experience. How did your injury last year affect the way you went into this season?"

Andrea laughs nervously and looks down a bit before answering "It's changed the way I look at the world and has given me a deeper appreciation for everything I do and everything I want to accomplish. After my injury i was just living in a state of uncertainty but lots of people reached out, including players i've looked up to for a while, and I formed new bonds and deepened old ones that helped me get here today."

"Wow thats really sweet. Final question Andrea, you've had an amazing season and have even been referred to as the future of women's basketball and even just won MOP, what do you have to say about all this?" Holly asked

"I mean it wasn't just me it was my teammates giving me good looks, good assists, setting screens, the plays being made and just our overall trust in our talent. Everyone that's ever believed in me, close friends and family, and even my fans online that let me know that they're proud..."

Andrea looks to the side for a second with tears in her eyes.

"Ugh i'm tearing up I cant believe this, but uhm yeah when fans tell me 'you're doing so good' or like 'keep it up' like even those little moments have an impact and have gotten me that much closer to this moment and i'm so thankful for everything and everyone who has led me to this and... I cant wait to be back here next year for my second ring!" Andrea finishes excitedly, wiping her tears

"Alright thank you so much Andrea and again congratulations on the win and on the award." Holly finishes.

"Yeah thank you Holly. Bye!" Andrea says waiving one last time to the camera and giving Holly Rowe a quick side hug as she leaves to cut the net down.

"Wow what humble answers Andrea gave us, I mean at this point what's not to like she's great on the court and off" Holly says to the camera

"Yes and that comment about being back here next year? I believe it, I truly think that Andrea Pierce is just going to get better and already being so mature for being just 19 years old. We often talk about her poise on the court but off the court as well." Rebecca Lobo responds

"Yes I noticed that. Whenever you ask about a good game she talks about her teammates and coaching staff who made the plays or executed them, Andrea Pierce is next level and I don't want to jinx anything but it's likely we'll be seeing her cut this net down again in a year." Holly says bringing the broadcast to an end

Andrea runs to cut her piece of the net and even ends up getting a big piece to wear like a necklace.

She gets to the sidelines where her one of her closest friends, and roommate, Maddie, had been vlogging for her.

Andrea runs up to her and hugs her tightly.

Even though Maddie barely knew anything about basketball she had been Andreas friend since freshman orientation and was the first person to tell her that it was all going to be okay when she hurt her knee.

"You did it Drea I'm so proud of you!" Maddie says hugging her tightly while still recording.

"Thank you Maddie for being such a good friend and being there for me I wouldn't have been able to do this without you." Andrea says tearing up while thinking about all the highs and lows that her and Maddie have gone through together

As they finally pull away from each other Maddie spots Andreas new necklace that she assumes will be going home with them.

Maddie tugs on the net lightly and begins laughing at her friend. "New necklace?" she asks

"Yeah" Andrea responds glancing down. "You like it? 'Cause it's coming home with us." She says grabbing the net with both hands and lifting it toward Maddie to show her and the camera that caught this entire moment.

Andrea grabs the camera and says goodbye to Maddie who said she needed to get home to study for whatever pre-med class she said she was 'failing' (got anything below a 90).

"aight vlog its just us now! But guys oh my god i'm a national championnnnn!!" Andrea says walking toward the locker room now.

"It hasn't sank it yet... I'm just so thankful for all of you guys who have gone through everything with me and just grateful for everyone around me and most of all thank you God" Andrea finishes as she gets to the locker room where everyone is celebrating.

"There's our MOP" Kamilla says stretching the last syllable out playfully

"Aww I love you so much Kamilla I wouldn't have gotten this award without you."

"Heyyy vlogggg let me just steal them for a sec." Chloe says reaching for the camera.

Andrea and Chloe have a system when it comes to after a game. Chloe knows that the first person Andrea wants to call is her grandfather.

And she also knows that Andrea wants to capture every moment on camera so she helps her out by 'stealing' the camera for her segment of the video.

Andrea quietly thanks Chloe and proceeds to FaceTime her grandpa who picks up immediately.

"Hola abuelo!" (hi grandpa) she greets excitedly

"Hola mi princesita, estoy tan orgulloso de usted." (Hi my princess, im so proud of you) he says holding the phone at a very low angle like any old person.

"Gracias abuelo! Me nombraron la jugadora mas destacada del torneo. Y mire mi nuevo collar... le gusta?" (Thank you grandpa! They named me most outstanding player in the tournament. And look at my new necklace... do you like it?) Andrea said holding her net up to the screen smiling like someone had given her the whole universe.

"Me encanta. Bueno se que esta ocupada ahorita pero ya viene el verano entonces espero verla pronto. La quiero mucho, adios" (I love it. Well i know you're busy right not but summer is coming up so I hope to see you soon. I love you so much, bye)

"Adios abuelo lo quiero mucho!" (Bye grandpa i love you so much!) Andrea says hanging up the phone and going to find Chloe again.

"So where's Ethan?" Chloe asked Andrea as they get into the car ready to head back to the hotel

they were gonna celebrate back at Columbia since they had a 5 am flight the next day

"Oh he said he needed to study for some engineering class and couldn't come to the game or celebrate"

"Drea... You know I love you right but, why do you put up with that? I mean you deserve someone who see's how great you are and how bright you shine, not Ethans ass who gets in a mood every time someone talks about your accomplishments." Chloe says as they wait at a red light

"I dont know... I love him. When we met I was in a really dark place mentally and he helped me through it and even if we're going through a rough patch right now I do love him so much." Andrea says finishing the conversation

April 8th 2024

"Aight bye Drea see you tonight!" Chloe says once they arrive back their dorms.

"Yeah see you later!"

Thats when Andrea gets her phone out to see if Ethan has texted her back yet.

Still no reply. Andrea loved texting and often had no shame about pressing the 'notify anyway' button. Because who do you think you are on dnd?

But at this point her and Ethans texts were starting to look like he wasn't her boyfriend and more like a guy trying to ghost her.

'Heading to the game now'

delivered.

'Okay I lowk ate warmups up so we got this'

delivered.

'nvm thats fucking cc out there'

'who do I think I am? they beat uconn'

'they beat fucking paige bueckers yesterday'

'how can we even compete with that?'

delivered.

'ok officially crashing out wtf'

delivered.

'babe?'

delivered.

'sorry ik ur studying'

'just respond when u can'

delivered.

'ok momentary lapse of judgment'

'im fucking Andrea Pierce'

'I GOT THIS'

'LIKE DEADASS I GOT THIS'

delivered.

'BABE I GOT FUCKING MOP'

'LETS GOOO'

'LETS FUCKING GO OMGOMGOMG'

'IM ACTUALLY HIM'

delivered.

That was all last night. Andrea hadn't bothered to text Ethan this morning. She didn't know what had been going on lately but her and Ethan had been fighting a lot recently.

She felt like he was always on edge around her and didn't know why. He was picking fight for no reason or just wont respond for days and then act like nothing happened.

Andrea was getting a bit tired of it but she loved him so much. Be cause he wasn't always like this. He used to kind and would always check up on her mental health and never said anything about basketball because he didn't care about her stats only her.

But it felt like recently he not only doesn't care about her stats he just doesn't care about her either which really hurt Andrea but she figured that it was just the honeymoon phase coming to an end and nothing more.

All Andrea wanted to do was get back to her dorm and take a nap before going out tonight but she remembered that she had let Kamilla borrow her charger on the plane and she really needed it back.

So Andrea being half asleep at this point dragged herself over to Kamilla's dorm. Once Andrea showed up to her room she saw the door wasn't fully closed so she just let herself in.

As she walked in Andrea heard it before she saw it. Ethan's muffled voice mixed with kamilla's giggles coming from her room where that door was also left ajar.

"Bro what the fuck..?" Andrea quietly mumbled to herself as she walked up to the room where she didn't want it to be true.

As she walked in she saw Ethan and Kamilla on her bed making out and looking like the happiest people on earth so wrapped in with each other they didn't hear her walk in.

"So this is why you've been weird lately, Ethan? Because you've been fucking Kamilla?" Andrea said finally breaking them from their trance making her presence known

"I-Oh-Uh-Fuck! No! It's not what it looks like babe!" Ethan says barley able to form a sentence

"Do you think im fucking slow? She's literally on top of you. Like there is no possible way you this isn't exactly what it looks like... and it looks like 2 lil bitches who I never wanna see or talk to again."

"No Andrea this is the first time please baby you have to understand. We were just high off the win! You know a little celebration?" Ethan says getting out from under Kamilla and moving toward Andrea to try and calm her down

"High off the win? That's your excuse? Ew."

"We're fucking done Ethan. Fuck both of you."

The second the words leave Andreas mouth they feel bitter. She truly had so much love for both of them and for them to be able to treat her like this and be able to betray her then literally turn around and say 'I love you' is making her question who she can trust

Andrea quickly grabs her charger that she spots on the desk in the corner and makes her way out.

Portal Promise; chapter 1

April 13th 2024

It's officially been the most chaotic and dramatic 5 days of Andreas life.

Everything had gone downhill since that moment. Apparently in the time that Andrea had taken to take a nap and try and clear her mind after finding out her close friend and boyfriend were hooking up, they decided to get ahead of the story and start making shit up about her.

Ethan started spreading weird ass rumors about how Andrea was crazy and that she was manipulative and Kamilla was backing him which made it that much more believable.

Andrea was so overwhelmed and ended up speaking with coach Staley about everything that happened. Staley told her that she would speak to Kamilla but also knew that the damage was already done and that the team and the school would probably never feel the same to Andrea anymore.

So as much as it pained Staley to see one of her best players leave and one that she genuinely had grown to love and care for so much these past 2 years. She reminded Andrea that she still had time to enter the transfer portal.

So after some thought Andrea decided that she would. She told Chloe and Maddie of course, but the rest of the team had barely spoken to her since everything had gone down. Andrea knew they were just trying to keep the peace and not pick sides but it didn't help how alone she felt when people were believing those rumors.

And even though Andrea knew that the media would be all over her about the reason why. She knew that it was the right choice to make for her future. And who knows, maybe this could be the start of something great?

May 19th 2024

'On a recent instagram post made by uconnwbb you see that 19 year old basketball phenom Andrea Pierce has officially committed to Uconn'

Andrea was nervous. She didn't know what to expect. She was going to play for Geno Auriemma who had coached uconn into the dynasty it's known for and she wanted to live up to those standards.

June 2024

Andrea was about to walk into the women's basketball training facility for the first time and officially meet everyone. Sure she had been following Azzi Fudd on instagram, they were friends.

Her and Azzi had met a couple of times during their AAU days and were even on the same USA basketball team one year. But after Andrea got hurt last year Azzi reached out knowing what it's like to tear your acl at a young age and gave her some much needed advice.

CD had already let Andrea know that she had gone through all her vlogs and actually commended how well spoken and how poised she made sure she always presented as.

And said she could continue vlogging as long as it stayed within their guidelines for what they can do or say in media.

Andrea hadn't spoken to the media about her decision to leave South Carolina yet or posted anything on socials which was out of character for her, but what was she supposed to say?

My boyfriend and teammate fucked behind my back then spread rumors about me so I wanted to leave? Ew.

But Andrea quickly shook those negative thoughts out her head as she approached the gym locker room and heard a couple voices.

"Dude i'm so excited"

"Yeah have you seen her highlights?"

"Forget her highlights, lets talk about the face card and the game day hair"

"She's so cool like"

Andrea hears a couple of phrases but since they're all talking over each other she doesn't catch everything. Suddenly she doesn't feel as nervous when she hears the quiet whispers and the giggles coming from her new teammates.

Because at the end of the day they're all just girls who all share a love for the same sport.

"Wait shut up I hear someone coming!" Andrea hears someone whisper horribly which makes her laugh slightly

"Uh... Hey everyone" Andrea says looking around the locker room at everyone thats just getting settled in.

"Oh my god!"

"Hiii"

"Hey"

"Andrea Pierce!"

Everyone echos out at the same time. Which makes both Andrea and Azzi laugh, being the most familiar with you she decides to take the lead.

"I always said you'd look better in blue Drea" She finished quietly before the hurricane of fangirl questions and comments came in.

Azzi tried to recruit Andrea her senior year of high school but she had already fallen in love with South Carolina by then. She did let Azzi know that her efforts were appreciated and that Uconn was almost chosen.

"Yes guys this is THE Andrea Pierce so fangirl all you want know because you know coach is gonna get mad if you're all distracted during practice" She says walking up and putting her arm around your shoulder in a reassuring way to let Andrea know it was all going to be okay.

(random switch to first person idk why)

It was a lot from Kk and some from Caroline and even a couple from the incoming freshman Morgan and Sarah. Most of it having to do with basketball but every couple seconds Kk would throw in a comment about your 'face card never declines' or how your 'fits are always fire' which you thanked her for and even complimented some of her stuff you'd seen as well.

Then you finally got to Paige. And even after all of them fangirling over you and wanting to know everything about how you can score at all three levels while still looking good. It was not your turn to be starstruck.

Because Paige Bueckers was someone you had looked up to since she was in High School and now you're going to be on the same team. And she was looking right into your soul with the most pleasing smile in the world.

Luckily that smile and stare only made you forget your name for 2 seconds before you remembered where you were and just went with a simple 'hi' and a smile before turning back to the group making sure you were now officially following all of them on instagram and TikTok.

(back to third)

But what Andrea didn't know is that Paige had been a little starstruck too and the only person that knew just how closely she had followed your career was Azzi.

So the second Andrea looked away already fitting in with everyone so well, Azzi turned back to Paige and quietly asked if 'she had remembered her name yet or if she was just gonna keep staring'

Paige just shook her head and said a little too loudly "Bro i'm not staring" which made some of the group look at her confused for a second before going back to their conversation

"Im simply observing the newest member of our team" Paige finished quite this time

But the look Azzi gave her best friend wasn't one of belief it was one of knowing.

Because Azzi Fudd knew that this portal transfer could promise their team the chance to get back to the final four and win it all this time.

||

all any suggestions y'all want me to include in this story, my request r always open!!

thx for reading, goodnight!

[old-op-81-lvr]

JACKIE AND WILSON ~ OP81

Part2

Oscar Piastri x Male!Driver!Single-Parent!Reader

SMAU

Please note: based on my poll i'm going to publish both oscar fics because they seem to be swapping placed by the hour so bear with me. Also to anone who wanted the Max fic, dw about it i'm publishing that one to just at a much later date.

A/N: Part 2 of this will be made, lemme know if you have any suggestions for scenarios. My inbox is open.

Faceclaim: Various men on pinetest, couldn't decide on a face claim I wanted for this fic

Summary: In your 2 years as Oscars teamate you two became fast friends. When you suddenly become the sole care taker to your daughter Oscar is there for you through everything.

Warnings/Tags: Set in the end 2024 season/start of 2025 season, totally based on what is currently known about draver contacts and such. Reader drove in mclaren 2019-2024 and takes lewis' merc seat for 2025. Daughter is a result of a one night stand/ex-girlfriend, he is raising her on his own. Pre-established relationship (Kind of)

October 2024

Formula 1

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Your_Username, McLaren, Oscar Piastri and 589k others

f1 Following a sudden personal issue, McLaren driver (Y/N) (L/N) has withdrawn from racing for the rest of the season. Lando Norris is due to take his place in (L/N)’s seat early.

(Y/N) will be back with us to drive for Mercedes in the 2025 season.

User1 This is so sad, he is 7 points off of overtaking Max in the championship standings ☹️

User2 I hope he’s okay, it must be pretty serious for him to pull out when he is this close to a championship win.

Your_Username I’ll see you lovely lot next year. Best of luck Lando 🫶🏻

User3 This is such a PR response 💔

McLaren

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by Your_Username, OscarPiastri and 402k others

McLaren Goodbye (Y/N), we’re going to miss you around the garage for the last few races of the season but we know next you you’ll be off doing other things with a new team.

See ya around, Champ

Sincerely, admin and the McLaren team

User4 Admin calling him ‘Champ’ ☹️

OscarPiastri I can’t believe I have to break in a new teammate now. I’m gonna miss my bro 😔

Your_Username Gonna miss you to, How am I gonna cope without our race weekend gossip session

User5 Never beating the romance allegations I fear

Your_Username Who said I wanted to beat them 😏

User6 I beg your finest pardon 😳

January 2025

Your_Username

❤️ 💬 📟 🔖

Liked by OscarPiastri, mercedesamgf1 and 281k others

Your_Username Welp, secrets out (Thanks Mail Online) Whats one more secret between friends?

This is Marceline, my daughter (And yes, she is named after the adventure time character), She was born last October and that is why I exited the season early.

Would like to thank Oscar for being my shoulder to cry on, my person to lean on when I was left with a newborn baby in mid-October and the person to spend my now sleepless nights with

And yes, I will still be driving for Mercedes next year, my daughter was not a deal breaker for them.

Love you all, see you in February 🫶🏻

User9 BABY (L/N)??? OSCAR AND (Y/N) WERE DATING THIS WHOLE TIME??? (Y/N) WENT MISSING TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BABY!

OscarPiastri I love you, baby. Although i’m gonna miss being teammates I am honoured that you want me in Marcy’s life.

Your_Username Love you too Honey, and I wouldn’t question having you in Marcy’s life even if we weren’t dating.

User10 WDYM (Y/N) CALLS OSCAR HONEY, THATS SO CUTE 🙁

mercedesamgf1 Already babyproofing the unit for baby boss’ first day 🫡

Your_Username Much appreciated admin

User11 Arguably think this is better than him winning the championship

schecoperez Good to see another father on the grid, we’re here if you need us!

Your_Username Thanks Checo

User11 Love how Merc and RedBull are made to look like they hate each other but then we get moments like this

[joonsytip]

Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 4

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): drama, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, italics represents occurrences in past

Word Count: 6.3k

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

They say betrayal is worse than death if you taste it from someone you trust, someone you love. It's stingy, it's sickening, it's scathing.

You have always believed in soulmates, entitled Seungcheol to that word since you've known him, even wanted to make promises of eternity with him. But you should have seen the signs, should have never crossed the lines. Must not have tried to slip into the loopholes.

But you got blinded by greed, a hopeful stance of getting back together. Was it so wrong to wish a happily ever after with the one you have loved selflessly? Apparently it was.

"Sit.", you tell Seungcheol and the later obeys.

And as he does so his eyes fall on a very familiar document kept on the table. Instantly, he goes numb.

You observe him for a moment and play the recordings Jiah had given you. Midway, a panic stricken Seungcheol runs to you and pauses the recording.

He grabs your arms and says in desperation, "I didn't do all this Y/N. I admit I had planned all this because I wanted revenge but please trust me, it wasn't me."

"Unhand me.", you command him coldly, "Your touch disgusts me."

Seungcheol looks at you alarmingly before freeing your arms. He thinks of ways to convince you because in actuality, like he said he had planned it all but something out of scope happened. He fell in love with you again so long gone were all of those thoughts and schemes.

"What goes around, surely comes around.", you let out a chuckle, "Maybe that's why, I'm going through this. I get that you wanted to trample me upon. It's fair, to think about what you've been through because of me, I could have understood.", you look at him, "You could have handed me the divorce papers on our anniversary. Could have had other women and it would have wounded me. But-"

The tears pooling at the corner of your eyes are streaming down, "But how could you stoop so low? Knowing how much this academy matters to me, knowing what music means to me, you went out to attack my soul."

"No Y/N, I was a fool, please please", Seungcheol is crying as well, choking on his words, "It was wrong of me but I would never--"

"They are calling me a thief. Because of this incident those out there are questioning my whole career. The career, I've pursued after fighting the odds, after struggling for years. The one thing that is entirely mine.", your eyes turn darker as you say, "You could have rather killed me, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol gasps and shakes his head frantically.

"Even if I clear my name today, there will be people who'll still doubt my ability. Some out there would assume that I might be guilty and just because I belong to an influential family, I must have pushed everything under the rug with money.", you are hurting yourself with every word you utter at this point, clutching your chest, "My image is tainted, my career is ruined. They will never look at me the same way."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N", he gets on his knees and clasps his hands, pleading, "I would do anything to clear your name. I'd do anything to win back your trust just give me one chance--"

You take his hands off you saying, "I have always loved you, Seungcheol. Back then, even now, I have chosen you. But none of that matters now. You have stabbed me in the back but I'll be one to pay the price. I thought you'd be different but these genes run in your family. I can't even blame Jiah. You Choi's are no different from her--", you halt.

"What do you mean?", Seungcheol asks confused.

"As I said none of that matters now. You are so petty that you acted out the whole thing. You don't love me and from today onwards I won't either.", you answer him, taking out the wedding ring from your dress pocket, "Here, I'm giving you what you wanted.", you take his hand and place the ring on his palm, "Congratulations! This marriage didn't get through it's first year. But I have a present for you. I have filed for divorce, the papers will be sent to you as soon as they're ready."

Seungcheol is at loss of words. He's unable to comprehend the situation. He wants to stop you but on what ground? The irreversible damage is already done.

"I have all of my belongings sent over.", you inform him, "And if you're planning to create a fuss about the divorce and what's gonna happen after the conference, head on. I won't be giving up like last time. I'll see through the end of it."

"It's happening again", he tells himself and sounds so broken when he speaks through his wavering voice, "Please don't leave me again."

"I had no choice, I was forced to leave you back then", you mutter under your breath, making it impossible for him to hear, "I was willing to stay this time but I have to leave, this time for my sake."

While you gather the rest of your belongings, Seungcheol stands there helpless. And as you walk out of the house, he watches you take away the life of his adobe with you.

Seungcheol numbly tunes in to watch the press conference. He sees you on the screen, out of his reach, out of his life. He listens to each word you say. How sad you look as you address the matter. Even though your legal team briefs the journalists, his eyes are glued to you. He observes how you don't explicitly mention him or the Choi enterprise but throw sublte hints to catch on.

But you make it obvious at the end of the conference by announcing your divorce to Seungcheol.

"I have filed for divorce against Choi Seungcheol and I would like to refrain you all from associating me with the Choi's in future."

Seungcheol is immediately thrown under the bus. People who were coining you as a thief are now praising you and busy portraying him as the villain.

But mopping won't do him any good. His mind reel backs to every word you have said before leaving. He needs to get answers to some questions. Most importantly, he has to get you back.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol handling the legal charges against him which are minor because he digs out enough evidence to prove that he wasn't involved in the slander and Jiah is the main culprit, adding exceptional charges to the list that would nearly ruin her and damage her company's reputation.

The Choi enterprise faces reputation loss as well which results in their stock plummeting and the board of directors complaining about the situation. But being humungous in business, the impact isn't uncontrollable and since Seungcheol is mentally exhausted his father lets him loose taking matters into his hands for the time being.

Everything is manageable or bearable except for the divorce papers which he has received on your first anniversary, that sits coldly on his office table.

"The house I bought is an hour drive from here and I'm planning to stay there for some time, just to take my mind off of things." you say fishing out your car keys, "I have saved my new contact number to your phones."

"But are you sure you don't want us to be there with you?", your mother asks worriedly.

"At least let us help you shift--"

"Dad, I have lived alone before as well. Plus Chan and my friends are gonna help me with the unpacking.", you move over to hug both of your parents, "Visit me after it's done. Plus I'm planning to throw a cozy house warming house, not soon though."

"We're proud of you.", your mother says patting your head.

"I'm sorry for all the troubles and stress you've been through for the past year.", you mumble, quickly wiping your tears, "I'll be fine, no looking back promise."

"We have always trusted you, just take care of yourself and call us.", your father says kissing your forehead.

Chan waits for you by the car and he doesn't let you drive throughout the time it takes to reach your new house. As your friends help you settle into your new home, you are grateful to them for keeping you distracted and not bringing up Seungcheol.

"I'm sorry, Kwan. The academy had to face such an incident because of me.", you say hanging your head low in shame because you don't want anyone to see your tears, the can of beer in your hand remains unsipped, "I have decided to take some time off, please handle the academy and it's okay if you want me to backout. I'll transfer my shares to you."

Seungkwan blames the atmosphere for the tears in his eyes. He wipes them and sits beside you, "I couldn't have done it alone. The reason the academy exists is because we both had given it our all. So take all the time you want but you'll have to return."

You lean onto him and it's your brother who comes to wipe your tears.

"I'm so sorry Chan.", you speak through the tears, "I should have listened to you. I never thought that Seu--", you go quiet because it pains you to even say his name.

Everyone in room goes silent. It's not haunting rather comforting. But the successive ringing of the phones cause a mild commotion.

"Wonwoo keeps on calling us.", Eunsoo mutters, switching off her phone.

"Just tell him that I'm fine.", you tell her, "I'll give him a call later. I haven't visited Wonseok lately so I need to talk to him anyways."

It's amusing, how the night changes.

Seungcheol is distressed. He realises you are not the only one he has lost, he has lost Ms. Oh's empathy, he has also lost precious friend Wonwoo as well.

Wonwoo is back to his stoic self, the version he was when Seungcheol met him first. Only talks business with him, leaves as soon as he's done with assigned work. No more late night drinks, no more taking shots, none of the banter.

He watches you laugh as Wonwoo tells you something animatedly. He watches how your eyes are dull even though your lips are stretched.

Seungcheol had overheard Wonwoo talking to someone on the phone about his brother so he decides to visit him seperately just to check on him. He didn't expect to see you there, making him question since when you knew about Wonseok.

Your face falls when you're suddenly interrupted by Seungcheol's presence. He stands in front of you wordless, you don't bother to strike any conversation with him either.

"I'll get going, let me know if you need anything else.", you tell Wonwoo and turn around walk away.

"Y/N", Seungcheol says, "Can I please talk to you?"

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, "I don't think we have any business with each other. Do me a favour and just sign the divorce papers."

"I can't.", Seungcheol speaks out without missing a beat, "I need you Y/N, please give me a chance, let me make things right. I promise I won't let you down anymore."

"Enough with this act, don't assume you could fool me twice. I'm done with you.", you move around so now you're facing him again.

"You've changed your number.", he says meekly, "I don't get to see you anymore. That house haunts me, it's not the same without you."

You step in, closing the gap within you two, "You're facing the consequences of your actions. Stop acting like a fucking victim.", you spat out before walking out.

Wonwoo is torn. He doesn't want to take sides, it's even more difficult to see both of his dear friends grieving and suffering but there's nothing he could do.

"Wonseok is going through a series of surgeries because his condition had worsened and Y/N has been paying for them.", Wonwoo informs Seungcheol and before he could ask, Wonwoo adds, "You're already paying me more than I should be so I didn't want to burden you more. She had accidentally found out about Wonseok one day and decided to help me out even though I wasn't ready to accept it. She was determined and I couldn't stop her."

Seungcheol isn't surprised rather he is confused. This version of yours is what he was habituated to when you were dating until you convinced him it wasn't on the day you broke up. Something isn't adding up. Something about your nature and the way you act to what you had said that day are contradicting. You aren't mean-hearted, you are a giver so why did you years ago do something so bizarre, the thought is unsettling.

"She has been taking some time off from the academy, no one knows when she'll be back. She is so affected by the incident that she was ready to give up on the academy. The one she had built from scratch with her blood, sweat and tears." Wonwoo speaks disappointedly, "Do you realise what you have done?"

Seungcheol is ashamed, there's an unhealing pain in his heart thinking about you, about how he should be the one aiding you in your tough time but he can't because he's the reason you're in agony.

"As you know, I had also hated Y/N for what she had done. And now that you see me being friends with her is not because she's paying for Wonseok.", Wonwoo halts and takes a breath, choosing his words carefully, "It goes far beyond that. You have always been heedful, I think it's time for you to be vigilant as well. The truth might be far from what you've believed it to be."

Wonwoo doesn't spare another second on his watch as he walks away ignoring the desperate calls of his name.

Seungcheol's mind is not in place anymore.

Your thoughts are everywhere. Peace and happiness are some of the things you haven't gotten to feel lately. Though you've decided to spend time alone at home, the loneliness is caving you in.

Maybe tonight you're feeling a little more lonely than usual. Maybe you shouldn't miss the person who had pushed you to the edge of the cliff. Maybe you shouldn't be good with dates. Maybe you shouldn't trace your thumb on the calendar reminiscing about the day, you both had made it official years ago.

The damned tears aren't stopping, your heart isn't healing.

The bell rings and you are surprised because no one is supposed to visit you today. Quickly wiping your eyes and cheeks you don't bother to check the monitor and open the door.

At the other side of the threshold stands Seungcheol. Your red eyes gape at him as he looks at you shivering from driving all the way here in the snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You know getting your new address and number wouldn't be a big deal to Seungcheol given his network runs deeper.

"Can you let me in atleast, I'm freezing."

You cross over your arms and step aside. He saunters in and wanders off to have a tour of the house. He stops when he senses the glare you're sending him.

"If you realise that this house too plain for your taste you can always contact me. We're best in the business.", Seungcheol says as his lips purse in a line.

"I wonder from where did you get the audacity to come here?", you ask plainly.

"Just wanted to see you", he admits, "I miss you, Y/N."

You scoff at his words.

"Also, there's something you left behind, I found it while going through the drawers.", Seungcheol fishes out a notebook from his inner coat pocket.

You immediately recognise the object, raising your hand flat for him to handover it to you.

"I instantly got reminded of you always carrying it and scribbled down if anything came to your mind. Seems like you had kept this notebook from prior to university days.", he hands over the notebook and touches your hand gently in the process.

His touch turns to strong grip and he doesn't let go.

"Thanks.", you say trying to free your hand, "You should leave now."

The wedding ring on his finger feels cold on your skin.

"I know you remember what day it is today.", he says pulling you closer so that now you're colliding into him, your faces an inch apart. Your eyes are wide and the notebook falls as you're grabbing onto his shoulder out of reflex.

He has an undeniable look of longing in his eyes. You should just push him away, even kick him out but you find yourself frozen.

"I still remember falling in love with you, every moment of it.", he whispers, his gaze switching between your eyes and lips.

"So I do, Cheol.", his nickname slips out of your mouth so casually, there's a pause before you speak, "Why did you have to ruin it all?"

"I regret it all.", he gently holds your face, "But I realised that I never stopped loving you otherwise why would I despise you if I hadn't been in love in the first place."

"You could have broken my heart but you went after my soul."

"You did the same to me years ago. You took my soul away and I became just a shell.", he isn't complaining, just letting you know how difficult it was for him as well, "I planned everything to get back to you but what wasn't planned was my feelings resurfacing, falling in love with you all over again. I had forgotten all the schemes, had forgotten the reason why I hated you in the first place."

When he rests his forehead against yours, you close your eyes basking in the moment. What he did was definitely beyond any excuse but Seungcheol isn't entirely at fault. The fact that he was ready to start again with you after how you had treated him years ago proves the truth behind his words. The difference is you were forced to act out but he wasn't. He chose to destroy you.

So your eyes snap open and you're pushing him away.

"Leave Seungcheol.", you step away, "And never come back again."

Seungcheol sighs, "What should I do for you take me back? If you want I would never show myself in the vicinity of the academy. I wouldn't even ask you anything remotely related to your works or the academy. I'll stay all out of it, I promise."

"Nothing you do would make me go back to you.", your words taste bitter in your mouth, "We are not meant to be, we're not good for each other."

That is basically you firmly rejecting him, letting him aware that he has axed the mended fence.

Seungcheol smiles sadly, "Only if I could show you my heart and mind."

He then leaves with a heavy heart.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol racking his thoughts to make up his mind. Every time he thinks about you wanting to desperately cut ties with him, he relents. He laments on himself for what he has caused. At nights when he deliberately stays late, he mentally prepares himself to sign those papers because that's the only way to atone for his sins.

But those divorce papers get through every night without getting signed. Because when Seungcheol thinks he's ready that's when the realisation gnaws on him that he's actually not, that he'll never be.

And it gets harder each time he tries.

So one night, he lets his intrusive thoughts get the best of him and he ends up calling you.

"I'm trying but I can't bring myself to sign those papers", he speaks into the phone clutching it hard followed by a shaky breath, "I really want to give you what you want but whenever I think about not having you in my life, my willingness deters."

You stay quiet.

"Sorry to disturb you. Don't know what I was thinking. Please take care of yourself, bye.", he hangs up and collapses back on the chair.

Wonwoo watches through the blinds and he isn't new to this. Years ago Seungcheol had gone into a spiral, had almost given up on living post the breakup and now it hurts Wonwoo to see the history repeating itself.

So this time he promises to intervene for both of your sake, specially Seungcheol.

He has two things on his to-do list and though he isn't sure what the outcome will be, he's going to do them. He gathers everyone and let's them know of his plan.

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, Seungkwan", his gaze sweeps on the three, "You're gonna go and convince Y/N."

"I'll go to uncle and aunt.", Wonwoo says.

Eunsoo looks at him questionably, "We get our part. But are you sure your friend's gonna be okay?"

"Most importantly, I'm not sure how this will end because both of them are unpredictable as fuck.", Mingyu adds.

Seungkwan who was silent the whole time, speaks, "Guys, let's go for it. We will handle the aftermath.", he looks at Wonwoo, "You'll have to take care of Seungcheol because he's gonna hurt the most."

"It's better to be over it, Seungcheol deserves to know."

"What's wrong with you guys?", You ask absolutely astonished. All of your friends have suddenly busted into your house and are now advocating you on something that is supposed to be out of their box.

"Why are you suddenly siding with Seungcheol?", you say with a frown, "I'm feeling betrayed. I'm gonna call Chan now."

Eunsoo and Mingyu break into cold sweat knowing how scary your brother can be. Seungkwan sighs looking at the other two and gets that he has no other way but to sort down to what he's best at. He says, "Y/N, do you think we'd ever think ill of you? Do you think we'd be at your door because suddenly we felt emphatic towards Seungcheol? That's how lowly you think of us?"

The look on Mingyu and Eunsoo's faces are absolute comedic. They didn't expect Seungkwan would pull out his trump card.

Your gaze is unwavering when you say, "This won't work on me you know right?"

Seungkwan smiles, "Of course I know but we also know that you love Seungcheol and won't be happy without him. So we're saying all this just for your sake, not his, not anyone else's."

"You're wr-"

"You had 7 years but you couldn't get over him, even accepted his family just to marry him.", Seungkwan continues, "You had come across so many good men all these years but no one piqued your interest because you only had Seungcheol in your heart."

"Y/N, I did believe him when he said he fell in love again. I had seen the way he looked at you, the way he was protective around you. The way his eyes were always on you, radiating love. It may have started as an act but at some point it became real.", Eunsoo smiles at you, "He loves you."

"But Soo--"

"If you really loathed him, you wouldn't have waited for him to sign those divorce papers, you would have upsurged everything. You have the power to ruin the Chois wholly but you're just buying yourself some time.", Mingyi adds and immediately shifts to hug you, "What Seungcheol did was incredibly wrong, wait he didn't even do it. It was Jiah."

"Are you not getting Jiah did all just to separate you both again?", Seungkwan ask and you look at him wide eyed.

"She had done the exact thing years back and was successful. Please don't let her win again. If she can't have Seungcheol, she has planned all this for you to not have him as well.", Eunsoo voices out her concerns, "Don't let all these heartbreaks, tears and sacrifices go in vain just because of some misunderstandings. Don't do something you'd regret because you didn't mend it when you had a chance."

Your heart sinks at their words.

"Take your time but choose what you think is the best for you.", Eunsoo rubs your back gently, "Rationality shouldn't always take the stance, sometimes hearts should be listened to."

You take a deep breath and say, "Fine guys, I'll think about it."

The smile on their faces are unmatchable.

Seungcheol is worried when he receives a call from his mother asking him to urgently come to their house. Wonwoo is already waiting by the car and though Seungcheol asks if he knows anything he stays tight lipped throughout the ride.

"I'll be waiting for you right here. Call me if you need me.", Wonwoo says with an intone and for some reason it doesn't resonate well with Seungcheol.

He is led into his father's study where he sees both of his parents waiting. They are heartbroken seeing their only son. Seungcheol has lost weight, accumulated bags under red eyes, appearance unkempt.

"Take a seat.", his father says, "I have something to tell you and it's regarding Y/N."

Seungcheol immediately perks up at your mention. An eerie silence falls upon the room. Seungcheol's anxious gaze searches for his parents'.

"Y/N was forced to break up with you years ago. I had made her do so.", his father admits.

Seungcheol freezes. He thinks he's hearing things that are not supposed to make any sense.

"Ever since I had started the business I had been diligent to it. Dedication and honesty does account for success but so also being money minded and cunning. As years went by that consistency and success made me cling to riches, fame and status that came along with it.", his father says as he takes a seat gesturing him to do the same. "You must be remembering that we were facing financial crisis because one of our major investor had withdrawn. It had affected us greatly."

Seungcheol nods, "We were on the verge of facing bankruptcy."

"Since Jiah's father runs a finance company, we had made small sort of deals previously but that time the amount required was large and no one was willing to help us not even her father. But later Jiah came to me and offered me a deal."

"W-What deal?"

"That she would convince her father to provide us support only if", there's an ominous pause before Mr. Choi looks at him and says, "I remove Y/N out of your life."

A tear falls from his eye, as he hears the tale of betrayal from none other but his father.

"I have never liked Y/N, the reason was basic, she didn't belong to our circle. Initially I thought she was just a fling but so I agreed with Jiah."

Seungcheol is numb at this point, he just sorts to listening.

"One day I had brought in Y/N to let her know that she needs to find her way out of your life.", Mr. Choi's gaze falls, "She instantly refused. No matter what I said she wasn't willing to leave you. One meeting turned to two, two turned to three but she was hellbent on not letting you go."

"With Jiah constantly pressurizing me, threatening to nullify the deal if not taken action soon, I became desperate.", he confesses, "So I resorted to one thing I should have never done. I can never forgive myself for that."

You say in utter disbelief, "Why don't you tell your son to breakup with me instead? Stop pestering me, you know we both love each other and Mr. Choi let me make this clear, this is the last time I'm meeting you."

Mr. Choi gives you a sickening smile. He casually says, "Your brother is currently studying in Australia, if I'm not wrong."

You pale instantly, "W-What about him?"

"You're right, this is gonna be our last meeting. If you don't breakup with my son, I'm not sure what I'll do with your brother. What if you don't get to see your dear little brother anymore?"

"Mr. Choi, you can't do this. Please--"

"I'm not here to negotiate. I think you're smart enough to make the right choice. So tell me Y/N, what did you decide?"

You are crying and begging but there's no mercy reserved to spare for you. How are you supposed to choose between your brother and the love of your life? You will have to so you choose what's best for all, you choose both.

"Fine, I'll breakup with Seungcheol. So stay away from my brother."

Mr. Choi smiles in mirth, "You made the right descision. Rest assured."

With job being done, he is walking out of the hall when your call of his name reaches his ears.

He turns with an incredulous look on his face as he waits for you to speak.

"Promise me that you'll never tell Seungcheol about this incident.", comes your strained voice.

"I wasn't planning to anyways.", Mr. Choi says, "Even better for me, I promise to not tell Seungcheol about any of this."

Seungcheol runs to his father with the intention of doing something unspeakable but he stops right in front of him and collapses on the ground.

"How could you do this?", he sobs uncontrollably, "How could you stoop so low?", he balls his hands into fists and channels the anger on the floor, hitting it again and again that's when his mother steps in to stop him.

He looks at her and say, "How could you not tell me? How could you tolerate your husband even after knowing all this?", he then swats her away.

Getting up, he's gasping for air, unable to comprehend with the pain in his chest and head. Restlessness engulfs him but he doesn't let both of his parents to even touch him.

"I'm ashamed to call you both my parents.", he spats out, "I'll never forgive for ruining our lives. I hope all of this was worth it."

Then he's running out of the house ignoring the calls of his name. Wonwoo is immediately grabbing his friend, making him sit and drink water.

"You also knew but didn't tell me?", Seungcheol asks as fresh tears stream down his face.

"I only came to know recently and Cheol even if I had known, it's not my story to tell.", Wonwoo answers.

It takes Seungcheol over an hour to calm down.

"You don't need to attend me, I'm fine.", Seungcheol says stoicly, "You can go, I have somethings to take care of."

Though Wonwoo refutes but Seungcheol is adamant, leaving no choice for him but to obey his boss.

As soon as Wonwoo gets out of the car, Seungcheol drives off.

You are extremely tired, mentally and today for some reasons are you feel thinned out physically as well.

Staring at the cello, ominous thoughts fill in your mind. Because no matter how hard you try, you are unable to produce anything. There are no notes or no tunes, it's all blank.

And you're scared, what if music doesn't choose you anymore? What if you can't produce anything for the rest of your life? All these possibilities scares you enough to spend sleepless nights. It has disturbed your appetite as well.

Tossing and turning, as you've been doing for nights with minimal sleep at dawn hours, you sit up startled when the doorbell rings.

All the exhaustion is now replaced with concern when you see Seungcheol who continuously weeps at the door.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Just a shake of head and he keeps on crying.

It's been about twenty minutes since he arrived crying and you're seriously considering about calling Wonwoo.

The way he's visibly hurting, hurts you too and you resort to hug him, patting his back, "If you're hurting because of me, please don't.", you say softly, tears pricking at your eyes subconsciously.

Seungcheol pulls away, looking at you. His sobs stop and the first thing he does is hold your face and kiss you. You're surprised, his lips graze yours but you don't kiss him back. Your hands push his chest and he's detaching himself mumbling a string of apologies.

"It was all for nothing.", he sounds so heartbroken when he speaks, "All those years spent in pain, hatred and resentment towards you, you didn't deserve any of it."

You have an inkling and it doesn't settle well in your bones, "Whatever you're saying is making no sense. Why are you here?"

Seungcheol looks dead in your eyes, "Because I know now. I know what happened all those years ago."

Your soul leaves your body at his words. You never wanted him to find out because you knew it'd tear him apart.

"W-Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

And your very first instinct is to grab your phone and make a call to his father but Seungcheol doesn't let you. The phone gets snatched from your hands and thrown away somewhere.

"Why did you do it?", he asks and his questions irks you.

You scoff, "Are you seriously asking me why I did it after knowing everything? Seungcheol, I was threatened with my brother's life, what did you expect me to do?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, "No that Y/N. Why did you make dad promise you about not telling me about this?"

"What could I have done Seungcheol?", your voice cracks, "I loved you so much and trust me, I tried everything I could to be with you, to not hurt you but-- it killed me to lie to you. I went through hell and back trying to stop myself from telling you 'no I'm lying, please don't leave, I love you as much as you do'.

"That day I took your heart away.", You exhale sharply, "I didn't want to crush your soul as well, didn't want to make it anymore difficult for you then it already was. I knew how much you looked upto your father, how much you cherished your parents. I didn't want you to fight your family", your heart twinges as you continue, "Though it wasn't possible for me to love again, I prayed that you would move on, meet someone who'd make you forget all the sorrows I gave you. I wished for you to fall in love again and live happily."

You chuckled through your tears, "Won't lie, it would have hurt me but if it assured your happiness I'd have hurt myself all over again, all of the times."

Seungcheol observes you quietly, he absorbs your words to his heart.

"What does that make me, Y/N?", he asks defeated.

"You weren't at fault, Cheol. I chose what it seemed the best for all of us."

"I hated you, married you and plotted revenge. Hurt you and now indirectly lead to something that almost ruined your career.", he speaks as if he's narrating a monologue, "I kept wounding the wounded and siding with the foes."

"Stop blaming yourself. What you did was indeed wrong, you should have never attempted take a blow at my career. But years ago, even after all that you were ready to start again.", you remind him.

Seungcheol completely shuts himself out.

"Till yesterday, I was in a dilemma. They say if you love someone you should let them go. Call me selfish but I couldn't even think of parting ways with you. I wanted to fight for us. I'd have courted you until you got bored of me. I would have waited for a lifetime, even if you'd have moved on.", he avoids eye contact so that his resolution doesn't deter, "But how could I tie you to the people who tried to harm you, harm your family?"

"I won't beg for forgiveness anymore. Honestly, I don't want you to forgive us. If you're having second thoughts about us, discard them. Please just discard me.", he voices out in desperation, "Be selfish and choose yourself this one time."

He takes out a paper from his coat pocket which you recognise very well.

"Till yesterday signing these papers seemed impossible for me but it's surprising, how events turned out to be.", he takes your hand and places the paper saying, "I have signed them. This time I chose what's best for you."

There's a sickening churn in your stomach that makes you realise that there's nothing you can do.

"I love you, Y/N."

The weight of those words fall heavy on you as Seungcheol closes in.

"For one last time, please.", he says holding your face.

You incline towards him and instantly his lips are on yours. One of his hands now settle on your neck firmly as your lips dance on featherly. His other hand is gripping your waist to hold you in place. The saltiness of his tears burn on your tongue, making you suck in a gasp. His kisses you till his heart's content because it's a kiss of goodbye before resting his forehead on yours.

"Don't go", your strained voice whispers, "Please don't go."

Seungcheol whispers back, "I have to. Please don't stop me, I'm not strong enough to refuse you."

The tears stream down your face, "Would nothing I do be enough to stop you?"

"Y/N, please", he pleads, "You were right when you said we're not meant to be because I have only hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"Cheol..."

He steps back and you're suddenly engulfed by coldness.

"The chapter named Choi Seungcheol in your life ends right now.", he balls his hands, grits his teeth, does everything to not let those tears spill, "Since you might not submit the divorce papers, I have already handed over a copy to your attorney."

He turns back, rubbing his chest, the pain is unbearable.

"Cheol, please..."

"It's snowing so don't follow me outside, you'll catch a cold. Goodbye Y/N."

Then he leaves, from your house, apparently from your life.

And you realised not all stories have a happy ending, there's not always a happily ever after.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[hyunjins3rdleg]

🍸 What’s Your Poison?🍸

Hi,I’m AJay! Nice to meet you,honey🩷

• Bbygirl of ‘01

• Pisces🌷Princess

• Somehow managing to work a big girl job in the real world of the USA

Just vibin’ & thrivin’ on my fun little blog sharing my cute little ideas with cutie patootie strangers.

(That’s you, babe. You’re the cutie patootie💋)

*Stray Kids🥟 (mainly writing for Hyunjin)

*Enhypen🦌

Join me for Happy Hour Gossip!

I’m open to request or a chat if you’d like to giggle,rant,or cry with me!

*Request🔒:fake text(predominately),drabbles,au prompts,etc(I have more time for shorter fics)

*I will not write member x member or poly(just not into that,sorry)incest/step siblings, taboo/hardcore themes, include the members’ real life family, and I will politely decline your request if it’s something I am not comfortable with writing or speaking on :)

*Stray Kids are real people & therefore everything below is completely fictional. This doesn’t reflect who they truly are in any way, shape, or form. I am not trying to misconstrue who they are in real life.

Don’t forget to touch grass,babe <3

✨Everyone’s welcome at Stay’s Bar✨

(especially my fellow Black stays🤎)

**MDNI & SFW Rules**

Minors(16+)are free to interact with my blog as long as you keep it cute & appropriate.

*SFW* Fics are safe for the younger stays and will usually only have profanity listed as the main warning.

*MDNI* Fics are self explanatory and should not be interacted with unless you are 18+

Keep it cute or get blocked <3

Angst⛈️/🌩️; Fluff🧸; Smut/Suggestive🔥

FWB!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸⛈️🔥 (MDNI)

A late night text accidentally sent to one of the artist you’re working with leads to a half a year long agreement and Hyunjin wants more…

(fwb to lovers)(IdolxMusic Producer!Reader)

Fix Your Face, Please! 🧸🌩️ (MDNI)

Hyunjin’s very vocal about how jealous & possessive he can get, and although it can get troublesome you find it kind of hot…

We Were On Break!! 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Your ex boyfriend, Hyunjin, has a hard time accepting the end of your relationship and is very persistent on getting back together…

Corporate Gang 🧸 (MDNI)

JYP Co. gets a new IT-Agent and you can’t help but gush about him to your favorite coworkers…

(Nerdy,shy!Hyunjin Series)

Take Your Friends Out ⛈️🧸 (pt.1 ) (MDNI)

Your boyfriend has stood you up 3x this month and you decide that you’re done with being second place. Of course he disagrees…

Don’t Say That To Me ⛈️ (pt 2.) (MDNI)

Months after you took Hyunjin back you have to face the tough reality of falling out of love with him and end things for good…

Stress Induced Fever 🧸 (SFW)

Your job has decided to transfer you to their USA branch for a year and Hyunjin is failing miserably at holding himself together before you leave…

Sad Nudes? 🧸 (MDNI)

You’ve had a shit day and Hyunjin tries his best to cheer you up thousands of miles away…

I Love You. Now Date Me! 🧸🌩️ (SFW)

Your bestfriend has been jokingly telling you he’s in love with you for years only for you to find out it’s not a joke…and oh yeah, he HATES your boyfriend…

Babe, I Broke It 🧸 (SFW)

Hyunjin broke your brand new coffee mug and he’s taking it harder than you are (soft bbyboy)…

I Really Like You, Like Romantically 🔥🧸(MDNI)

Your best friend asks you for an insane favor of helping him lose his virginity and discovers his feelings in the process…

I Will Win! Fighting!🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You and Hyunjin make a friendly bet to survive No Nut November and despite his persistent confidence on winning, he eventually gives in…

Emergency Contact ⛈️ (SFW)

You and Hyunjin had a mutual breakup over a year ago, but apparently he forgot to remove you as his emergency contact and feelings are revisted…

Safe,Loved,& Accepted ⛈️ (SFW)

Bang Chan has been making light of the nasty comments you’ve been getting online until you are put in a sticky situation and he’s worried sick a thousand of miles away…

Have You Always Been This Hot?? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Attempting to survive No Nut November with your best friend Chan brings forth feelings neither of you knew existed…and really good sex…

I Just Want To Help ⛈️ (SFW)

Your ex Hyunjin takes it upon himself to help you with financial difficulties after months of no contact, but he never expected you to fight him every step of the way…

Wanna See It Up Close? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You always jokingly try to convince your best friend to get laid and he jokingly tells you to take his virginity (except it’s not a joke)…

I Hate You. All Of You. 🌩️ (SFW)

A sneaky picture brings your relationship and trust crashing down and he refuses to let it all go over a stupid misunderstanding….

Keeping Secrets 🌩️ (SFW)

Felix’s antics leaves Hyunjin an over dramatic mess and it takes an entire week before he confronts you about the secret you’ve been hiding…

Is This A Trick Question? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

It’s not a secret that Hyunjin’s perusing you romantically, but despite returning his feelings your past relationship holds you back. Little did you know Hyunjin was just what you needed to try at love again…

Model!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸🔥(SFW/MDNI)

At the height of his career, Hwang Hyunjin goes down the road nearly every 24 year old with fame in the public eye does - sex, money, and rebellion. You accepted a job set up by his parents to get his reputation and career back on track, and you’ve known no peace since thanks to your very clingy (and unashamedly in love) client…

(ModelxAssistant!Reader)(grumpy gf,sunshine bf)

I’m Gonna Ride You. 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Your friends thought it would be funny to hack into your phone to prank Hyunjin while you’re in the bathroom. Unfortunately, this little prank would lead to one of the most embarrassing (amazing?) nights of his life…