#visa time tonight.... god

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Got my CAS!! Finally!! Tonight it's Visa Time™ <3

[brah-hella]

.

[cowgurrrl]

The Palace in Flames

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Author's note: okay two things 1) fuck it we ball on this timeline 2) i don't love how this turned out but I need to finish it otherwise I'm gonna stare at it for god knows how long so enjoy anyways

Summary: "I'm not a violet dog. I don't know why I bite." [3.8k]

Warnings: canonical violence and language, alcohol, a little bit of backstory, discussion of PTSD like symptoms, a touch of misogyny, canon events but slightly canon divergent timing i think

There's not a lot you can do at the scene of the car bombing. You and Javi talk to local police and take witness statements from frightened neighbors and anybody else willing to come forward with information while Steve takes pictures. From what you can tell, it looks like it was a crude C4 bomb, one of the easiest to make and detonate. All it takes is the right amount of pressure, and boom. A few unfortunate souls died right beside Jorge as they walked past, unaware of the explosion to come. A hit for one quickly turned into a hit for five. 

You're good enough at your job to recognize the fact that Steve and Javi went poking around for information about the person who ratted on you, and then a few hours later, he's dead, not even ten minutes outside of your neighborhood. Medellín is a big place. It could've been a coincidence, but you're almost certain it's not. You really hope you don't have to make good on your promise to return to the US if they go after you again. 

You, Javi, and a handful of other police officers finish with the witnesses and join Steve by the truck. All files and statements will need to go through the proper channels tomorrow, and it's too late to do anything else. You'll start fresh in the morning: follow through on the plan to send out CENTRA SPIKE to see what they can find, monitor movement, and stay vigilant. But tonight, you deserve to get a drink with your two self-appointed bodyguards.

The great thing about working at the Embassy is that everyone touts interagency cooperation and work, but in reality, you rarely want to see each other in the same place. DEA will hang out at one specific bar while CIA will go to another. You don't even want to know where soldiers and higher-ups go once the clock hits six o'clock. Every agency thinks another agency is fucking them over or doing their job wrong. Everybody wants a medal for being in Medellín and fighting the narcos and communists but rarely wants to work together. You like to think your agencies have the upper hand with the three of you being friendly and sharing information without going through official, classified paperwork. It's not the most recommended or legal way to go about it. But, you've been able to pass on valuable information Javi let slip in between rounds and shared cigarettes under the guise of a Confidential Informant.

You were friends with Javi first. He came to Colombia around the same time you did, and you worked the same hours. You did him favors, and he returned them. You learned not to ask each other too many questions and to take what you're given and hope it leads somewhere. You've gotten little victories here and there: guerillas extradited, kidnapping victims recovered safely, witnesses given protection and visas in other countries. It was nice to have someone you could rely on and bounce theories off of when the office was empty, and you two were puffing your way through a pack of cigarettes. The lines got blurry about six months in. It happened fast and without warning, and you swore it was a one-time thing. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Then, it just made sense to keep doing what you were doing instead of going through the cycle of fighting about it and giving each other the cold shoulder, only to end up fucking in his apartment before the end of the day.

Steve, however, got stuck with you. When he became Javi's partner, he was forced to know your name and seek you out in the office when he needed something. At first, he wasn't super keen about the idea of having to rely on CIA for things— something to do with that DEA machismo of not needing anything from anyone— and then he realized how good you are at your job. Once you helped them get an especially important collar, he opened up. He told you about the killing of his last partner and a little bit about his career up until this point. He practically begged you to talk to Connie when she started getting homesick and having doubts, and you came to care for her. Now, you're an inseparable trio (quartet if you count the nights Connie makes her way from the communa clinic and into the bar). 

You think Noonan knew that when she asked Steve and Javi to join the Colombian police on your recon. Something about friendly faces in an unfriendly territory. She was right. You stuck to Javi the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, and they each took turns at your bedside. Even Connie showed up to take care of you during those long few nights in the hospital. You were less willing to accept help once you were discharged, but Steve would knock on your apartment door every night and leave a covered dish on your doormat while Javi bought you groceries. You owe them a lot, though they'll never let you admit it.

Javi buys the first round to celebrate your reinstatement. He gives a brief, flattering toast to your work, and you roll your eyes but clink your glasses together anyway. You avoid talking about theories and leads in the bar, even though you probably could talk about those things in English and get away with it. Everybody already knows you work for the American Embassy. No reason to give anybody anything to report back. Instead, you talk about stupid things like Steve being unable to speak Spanish.

"I can understand a little," he tries to defend himself, and you and Javi share a knowing look. He definitely doesn't understand enough to quantify it as a little. He might pick up every tenth word and know enough commands to dole them out when he's in the field, but that southern accent anglicizes every single syllable he utters. "Alright, y'all can go fuck yourselves." He says at your silence, making you laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Murphy. Couple more years and you'll be running circles around Javi." 

"I don't know about all that, but she's right. You'll get better," Javi takes a sip of his drink. "Eventually." 

Over two more rounds, you talk about things back home, tell stupid stories, and whatever else you could think of. It's nice to see Steve and Javi acting like they kinda like each other outside of work. Lord knows they're at each other's throats most of the time. You enjoy hanging out with them, and even though you know you can handle yourself, you like feeling protected by them. Years of CIA training and undercover work don't mean shit when all people see is a woman alone at night. 

"Alright, I've gotta get home," Steve says as he drinks the rest of his whiskey and puts his cigarette out. He probably should've been home hours ago, but that's none of your business.

"Tell Connie I said hi." You say, and he smiles, nodding and mumbling a quiet "yes, ma'am." He loves her so much, even just the mention of her makes him light up. Your thought from earlier creeps up. A good man. And yet he's here, doing the same shit you and Javi are. It's a little funny how squeamish he still is about things, but you figure that's the last sign of his humanity. God, please let that linger for as long as possible. Javi takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face.

"Yeah, give her a kiss for me." He says. Before Steve can even open his mouth, you smack the back of Javi's head and groan.

"Ay, Javier," you scold. "Malo, malo, malo." Javi smiles, a rare sight reserved for moments like this, as Steve bids you goodnight again and leaves the bar. The second he's out of sight, you reach over, snatch the cigarette from Javi's hands, and bring it to your lips. 

"Get your own," he grumbles, but there's no heat behind it. You roll your eyes and exhale. 

"Stealing from you is so much cheaper, though," you shrug as you hand it back to him. "You think he got suspicious when we showed up at the same time?" 

"We live down the road from each other and got the call around the same time. Even if he figured it out, he wouldn't say anything. Plus, I think your little attitude at work throws him off." He says, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"My little attitude?" You ask. You know he said it just to piss you off, and you hate that it's working. He smirks and you shove his shoulder, stealing the cigarette back from him. "Pinche cabrón." You mumble, and he laughs. He gets a new cigarette from his pack and lights up. A comfortable silence falls over you as you sit there, his hand finding a home on your thigh under the table. 

"So, how're you doing?" Javi asks, seemingly out of nowhere. You shrug and ash your cigarette into the half-full tray in front of you.

"'M fine." You say, and he hums. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and glances around like he's looking for something you can't see. He blows smoke away from you and leans in. 

"So, waking up screaming is fine for you?" He asks. You didn't want to talk about it when you woke up, and you especially don't want to talk about it now. You poke your tongue into your cheek in annoyance. 

"If you thought I wasn't okay, why'd you push for Noonan to clear me?"

"I didn't say I didn't think you're okay."

"Then, drop it." 

"Look, I know you wanna go all in again, but maybe you should take it slow—at least for a little while," he says, and you scoff.

"Give me a fuckin' break, Javi. Did you take it slow when you got shot?" You ask.

"Getting shot and getting kidnapped are two completely different things."

"And yet we both survived," you say, gesturing between you as proof of your survival. "The doctors wouldn't have cleared me to come back if they didn't think I was ready."

"Yeah? How much you pay 'em off for that signature?" He asks. You sigh and bite the inside of your cheek. You're not going to dignify him with a response but you so easily could. "C'mon, just... let your feet get wet again. Everyone knows you've already got the lay of the land, but they don't know that you won't freak the fuck out once you're fully back in the field. I think some of them are waitin' for it," he says. It would explain why everyone's treating you like you're a time bomb. "If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it because I'm asking you." 

"And are you asking me as a coworker or a friend?" You ask. He's staring at you in his weird Javi way: hardened brown eyes softening just enough to bring your guard down. It's not something he learned from years at the Academy or in the field. That's all him. 

"Would it make a difference?" He asks quietly. Answering a question with a question. What a cop.

"Not really." You say, and he sighs. He scrubs a hand down his face and picks up his drink, a cigarette lingering between his fingers. 

"I'm asking as someone who saw what they did to you." He says before taking a big gulp of whiskey. You haven't talked about it. Not about what he saw and knew before finding you or what exactly happened in that room over those few days. You spent hours upon hours repeating the story for doctors, depositions, agency paperwork, and even to the court-appointed psychiatrist who had to screen you before they could even let you back in the building. So, you weren't necessarily gunning for the opportunity to repeat it again when Javi asked you about it. There are only so many sympathetic looks and half-hearted reassurances one person can take.

Even though you relied on him to tether you back to earth during those first few days, he took the brunt of your emotions. You refused to answer his questions and pushed him away. "I'm just trying to help," he told you when he tried to take care of you. "Where was your fucking help when they grabbed me from the street, huh?" You snapped, exhausted and sore and a little out of your mind. It was mean and unfair. You know how hard everyone worked to find you. You know how he blames himself. You know how scared they were to find your body.

When he puts his empty glass down, you look at him and nod. You can't take back what you said, but you can soften it a little. You put your hand over his and trace the contours of his knuckles. They're a little bruised and cracked, but still a part of him. You take a deep breath and rub your thumb against his skin. 

"Okay," you concede quietly. "I'll slow down for a little while, but the second we have good intel, I'm all in again." He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes your thigh. 

"Thank you." He mumbles. To anyone walking by, you two would look like a couple having a drink after a long day of work before going to your shared home and sleeping it off. You indulge in the thought for a second longer than you meant to before you retract your hand and reach for your drink. 

"You're gettin' soft on me, Peña." You accuse, and he chuckles.

"God forbid I wanna see you make it outta here alive." He says, and you hum as you finish the rest of your drink. His eyes stick to the corner of your lips where a few drops of tequila spilled, his thumb twitching as he stops himself from wiping them away. "What're you doing for the rest of the night?" He asks. It's an opening. An invitation to finish what he started earlier. What happened with Alemán earlier in the day must've wound him up, made him tense and in need of release. Unfortunately for him, there are few things you like more than making him sweat.

"Well, I've got a dinner I need to pack away in the fridge and dishes to clean."

"I can help."

"I don't think you can," you say as you stand and grab your jacket from the back of your chair. "Besides, I'm supposed to be taking it easy. I should probably get some rest before my first actual day back, right?" He rolls his eyes as you throw a couple of bills down on the table for your share of the drinks, and you smirk. "I'll let you walk me home, though." 

"You'll let me?" He asks, but he's already standing and pulling his own jacket over his shoulder. Like clockwork, you think.

"Figured it's the least I could do." You say, and he scoffs, swatting at your ass when he passes behind you.

"Vámonos princesa." 

You get a warm welcome back to the office by immediately getting thrown into the chaos of the CIA. A corkboard with all known names of M-19 and other communist group members looks like a serial killer's wet dream with all the notes and grainy photos that stare you down as you talk about recent developments in the jungle. Honestly, you don't care what a group of kids are doing or planning to do, but everyone else in the CIA seems to think it's the most pressing matter.

Despite what the Agency and Reagan want you to believe, you know communists are not the most dangerous group in Colombia right now. Narcos are practically running the country and ruining countless lives with their rampant murder and exploitation. So even though Lou wants to sink a billion dollars of American taxpayer money into fighting guerillas in the jungle, you have one eye on the situation with the narcos. You're just waiting for the message to come down through the ranks that it's all hands on deck for taking down Escobar. Lou knows about your indifference and exacerbates it every chance he gets.

"Agent, I want you to work with Mil Group on tracking their movement to see if there are any patterns. I want to know where they're going and what they're planning." He says, pointing to you. You give him a look and cross your arms over your chest. You hate working with Mil Group. It's a group of guys with sticks up their asses and, somehow, never see the outside of an office. You catch Javi and Steve walking by through the windows, obviously going somewhere, and you lose whatever patience you have.

"All due respect, Colonel, but Ambassador Noonan took me off of desk duty effective immediately. I think I could be of more help in another area concerning M-19." You say, and he raises his eyebrows at you. You're also not fucking boss, you think.

"I'm sure we can find the time for you to show us how big and bad you are another time, sweetheart, but right now, this is where you're ordered to go." The nickname is abrasive in your ears, and you want to correct him, demanding your title as Agent, but Javi's words ring in your ears. They're waiting for you to freak out so they can send you home. They're waiting for you to blow up on somebody for a small thing. They want you to fail. You sigh and bite your tongue. 

"Yes, sir." You say before making your way to the Jarheads. 

For being off of desk duty, you still feel like you're doing mind-numbing work. All you're doing is plotting points on a map where satellite phones have pinged off of cell towers in an attempt to triangulate where they might be hiding out. Considering how there are barely any cell towers that reach that deep into the jungle, and even if they did, the calls drop after about thirty seconds, you don't have a ton of riveting information to work with. You listen to the recorded, half-legible calls and translate what you can to another agent, but nothing suggests they're planning anything. If they are, they're keeping it off your radar.

After wasting a stupid amount of time doing that, Lou draws up a bigger map and makes you replot all the points down with an estimate of where they might be. You're not CENTRA SPIKE or well-versed in how triangulation even works, and he knows this. It's a fool's errand at best, but he demands it by the end of the day. "So I can give it to the tech analysis guys." He says. You're about one more pointless task away from bashing your head into a wall, but you start on the map anyway. 

You're about halfway through when you hear Murphy calling your name, and you turn to see him and Javi walking through the crowded Mil Group office. 

"You're working with the Army now?" He asks, and you sigh. 

"For the day. Lou is on everyone's ass about this M-19 shit and thinks I'm the best person for the job, apparently," you say. "Please tell me you have something better than this." 

"We just got a sicario's son off the street. Dumbass was distributing in broad daylight in front of a cop." Javi says, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"We both know that's not a good enough reason for a cop to pick up a sicario's kid. What're you holding out on me?"

"Apparently, the cop heard him bragging about rigging a car with a bomb. He said something along the lines of, 'That's what happens to rats,' and then said something about going after La Golondrina next." Steve supplies. So this sicario's kid rigged the bomb to kill the informant who sniffed you out, said he also had a bomb for you, and now he's sitting somewhere in DEA custody? If Escobar's men weren't going after you before, they definitely are now. 

"Do you think he even knows anything? He might just be daddy's errand boy." 

"He asked for a deal," Steve says.

"Wheeling and dealing might not be grounds for extradition, but threatening to blow up a United States CIA agent just might be," Javi says. Something shifts in his eyes just enough for you to catch it, and you know it has to do with the conversation you had at the bar. You shake your head and break eye contact with him to look at Steve.

"Right, but you know how Wysession and Jones are. If it doesn't involve communist groups, they don't even want to look at it."

"The kid told us that some of Escobar's men have been talking with one of the leaders of M-19." Bingo. You throw down your marker, stand from the desk Wysession relegated you to, and all but march into his office with Steve and Javi close behind you. 

"How's that plotting coming along, honey?" Lou asks as he looks up from his paperwork, his face falling at the sight of the two men behind you. Lou might not like you, but he dislikes Javi and Steve more. 

"Agents Peña and Murphy have intel that Pablo is communicating with M-19 guerillas," you say. "That means there could be a joint attack coming, which means we can't keep separating the communist and narcos task forces." 

"Has this information gone through Noonan?" He asks.

"No, sir. We wanted to relay the information to our Agent here first since the intel involves her kidnapping." Steve speaks up, using your actual title, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking. 

"Is your intel good?" Lou asks Steve, ignoring you and Javi, and Steve gives him a look. 

"You think we'd be wastin' your time if it wasn't?" 

"Well, then, you better get a move on and go tell her." He says like he doesn't actually like the idea, but he can't think of anything else to say. You, Javi, and Steve quickly leave his office and start the trek to Noonan's office when Steve gets a call on his sat phone. He looks like he's about to ignore it before remembering it could be Connie, and even though she's supposed to be at work, he doesn't take any chances and answers it. You're close enough to him to hear her frantic chattering on the phone and saying something about M-19 and Escobar. The walk to Noonan's office turns into a run, but it doesn't matter. By the time you get there, thousands upon thousands of pages of evidence against Pablo Escobar are burning on the TV as M-19 takes over the Palace of Justice. 

This isn't just a singular agency fight anymore. You doubt it ever was. You know that the Palace of Justice Siege will change everything for better or worse, and you have to be ready for it. Promises made over glasses of scotch be damned.

TAGLIST:@abbyhaslongshorts@kiwiharrykiwi@sumsworldz@myloveistoolittle@anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @space-zaddy-din-djarin @rainy-darling (let me know if you don't wanna be tagged for this series!)

[aliorsboxostuff]

I have an idea for a deadpool x male reader fanfic, the reader confessing his love to deadpool or visa versa. Thanks!

Thank you for the idea anon! Anything to write a good, fluffy, deadpool x male!reader fic <3

Before we start I do want to make Reader a vigilante that has ice powers (Not a mutant, a failed government experiment!) because I refuse to believe a normal citizen can compete with any hero in a relationship (except maybe Pepper Pots but that's also because she's tired of Tony and has said "fuck it" to most of his shit) Also, Team red is here! (This fic feels so jumpy because i tried making this compact, if it feels off i'm very sorry anon!)

Now enjoy the fic ♡

Cold Hearted (not)

pairing: Deadpool x male!reader

tags: fluff, confessions, Wade is a little dumb but we love him, Little angst but thats just self doubts, meet-cute, Team Red tired of Yours and Wade's pining, Slight OOC (sorry wade!), Vigilante!Reader, Wade's inner voices is a little shit,

What happens when you bring a absolutely fucked up assassin, a family of unstable heroes wearing mostly red suits, a vigilante with ice powers, and a whole lot of feelings? Thats right, absolute chaos.

---

This just in; famous assassin and insane person, Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, has fallen in love!

That could be heard ringing in Wade's ear as he stops to a halt in front of 'Nelson, Murdock and Page's doorstep. He's in his civvies; an indigo hoodie pulled under his cap and is supporting a drug dealer type of mystery. Though that didn't stop the drop-dead gorgeous man that was perched on the edge of Karen's desk to come up and greet him, his hands outstretched. 

It takes a second for Wade to come back online, his inner monologue kicking him in the back and shouting Shake his hand you dumbass! for him to recuperate. He grins, the charming grin he uses to get his way with villains—that usually doesn't work—and shakes the man's hand. He notes the softness of it and a tinge of chill from the tips of his fingers.

"Wade Wilson," Should we say deadpool? No you fuck, he's clearly just a dude stopping by Matt's place. Yeah, a very pretty dude.

Wade gulps as he hears the slight shake in his voice, only for the angel to smile and chuckle. 

"Hi Wade," His eyes shine as he introduces himself, his name is a word that will definitely be bouncing in his head for the next few weeks. When the man lets go of his hand he's suddenly self-conscious of his always-changing skin and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets. What?! We've always worn this body like a drag costume! Don't suddenly pussy out you dick.

"Wade, what brings you here," Matt emerges from his office, supporting his red glasses but leaving his jacket on his office chair. He could probably hear our fucking drum band of a heartbeat, shit.

"Was looking for Petey, you've seen him?" 

"What, you can't reach him?" Matt adjusts his frames.

"He probably put his phone on silent, he does that when he's studying," The Greek god pops in, and he's already assuming his earlier position on Karen's desk, legs crossed. 

"You know Peter?"

"Yeah, Parker right? We go to MIT together," He nods, another blinding grin. How many times is he gonna that? I don't know but I think we might need those glasses from Matt.

"Last I've heard he's with his friends doing homework in some cafe downtown, I can give you the address if you'd like," 

Wade tries to shrug and play it cool—he really does—but his hand brushes with you when he hands his phone, sending a sting down his spine that makes his breath cut slightly. Matt cocks his head at that, at which Wade prays he won't bring it up on their patrol tonight.

"Here," You gave his phone back. "Shouldn't be far," 

"Thanks, cutie," Slip up!

A blush makes its way up your neck to your cheeks, making you look away with a chuckle. Nevermind! I meant to say that, yup.

Wade says his leave to the group, noting the nudging grin on the side of Matt's lips, before he slides out of the office building and into the afternoon of Hell's kitchen. When he secures his hat, his phone buzzes from his pocket. A text pops up on his notification bar.

'Cutie huh? Is it fair if I set your contacts as 'gorgeous' then?'

Uh oh he's swooning, prepare to hit the wall in three… two…

Bless his healing factor or else he might've gotten a concussion from the way he swayed into the nearest wall and fell against it, a hand gripping his phone tightly while the other gripped over his heart. It feels like a thousand tree shredders decided to get to work simultaneously inside his stomach. He sighs, shaky fingers trying to reply to your text.

'Only fair if I get to set yours as 'fallen angel' ;)'

'Sure, Wade,' Blushing emoji at the end of his text. Blushing emoji?! What?! Really?! Are we that good? Obviously, we are.

The smile on his face won't drop, not when he passes a bunch of kids and they gawk at him weirdly, not when he narrowly avoids a splash of dirty puddle to his jeans, not when some douche tried to attack him and drag him to a dingy alleyway; him clearly winning the fight, not even when he enters the Cafe, filled with college students that desperately needs sleep and is living off of caffeine, and he slips next to Peter.

"Are those…" The hero peers under Wade's cap. "What's with the heart eyes, Wade?"

"Just allergies, webs,"

—

A couple of weeks after Wade meets you, he comes by to your patrols almost every night. How he found out your hero identity was… embarrassing, to say the least.

—

"You couldn't feel his unnatural body heat?" 

"I'm not The Professor Matt! For all I know he was one those types of people who refuse to wear blankets even if their fingers are falling off from the AC," 

Wade is stuffing his face with Pringles while Matt is nibbling on a lone chip. Midnight accompanies the two as they sit on a roof, having finished their first shift of patrol. Wade has freed his mouth to eat and talk. 

"Sure, but the blue eyes? Strikingly Blue, might I add,"

"How in the mother fuck did you-"

"Foggy described it to me, he actually realized faster than you, Wade," At that, Wade deflates into the edge of the roof. Way to go, nuts for brains!

"Though, I do have to admit," Matt reaches for another chip. "He plays his civilian role very well," He grins.

"I was almost fooled if it weren't for the ice coursing through his veins, its like icicles stabbing at red patties," 

Wade wonders how a blood cell would look like impaled before he huffs, reaching into the can to chew on potato chips again. There was a moment of silence before Matt perked up. And they call me mouth for brains.

"Your heartbeat increased when he came by earlier,"

"Okay devil baby, shut up," He groans. "Can't you see I'm trying to Thanos snap myself here?"

Matt hums, before he chokes on his chip then laughs loudly. It shocked Wade enough to make him sit up, staring at Matt like he was wearing an underwear over his head. His laughing dies, before it starts again and this time he wipes a nonexistent tear.

"Ah, so-" He stifles a chuckle. "So you like him,"

"No shit Sherlock, took your sweet time to deduce that, didn't ya'?"

Wade surrendered faster because he knew Matt would've found out an hour after he met. The vigilante is still laughing, supporting a smug grin when he finally finishes.

They continue their patrol shift until Peter changes with Matt, Wade going with the hero. Apparently, Peter had also known about his crush's secret identity, wow!

"He goes by Frostbite, by the way. Told me when I found him bleeding near a trash can behind my apartment," Peter says nonchalantly as he jumps to another roof. Wade could've stopped right then and there with the image of his angel lying helplessly on the concrete floor, no doubt dirtier than a Taco Bell toilet. But he paces with Peter, jumping and hurdling without worry, while he does mental gymnastics inside.

"I can trust you with his name though, right?"

"Oh my gosh, webs! It's like we haven't been friends for years now! Remember, I'm the one who introduced you to the X-Men!" Wade retorts, landing on another roof.

"Actually, it was Colossus who gave me the tour- never mind," Peter sighs, Wade calls it a win. They continue to traverse the city quietly before Peter chirps. Seriously, what's with us being quiet? Is this because of the prince charming?

"If you ever wanna meet him in his hero form, don't spook him, please,"

"What? Of course I wouldn't, I'll just meet him on patrol and strike up a conversation like any normal human being would!" Except you aren't normal, dumbass.

Wade only hears the distant hum Peter gives as an answer, and they continue on their patrol. However…

A night later Wade gets information that his vigilante crush is going to bust the remaining goons of Wilson Fisk that were hanging around an abandoned warehouse—Seriously, what's with all these dirty mucky places? couldn't have chosen a better establishment, geez.

He had sneaked from the shattered roof and dropped into the second floor, balancing on creaky wood as he made his way to a hole in the floor, bits of wood prickling at the sides of the circle. Underneath, Wade spots the mussed hair of his crush, facing away from him. Must be doing those moody monologues like Matt used to.

"Hey! Over here cutie!" He turns swiftly and Wade couldn't do anything before he's pulled roughly through the too-small hole on the floor, breaking the wood from the sheer force, making a couple of those jutting planks stab him. He lands on the concrete floor with a loud thump and groans. He spots you retracting your weapon, before familiarity hits you.

"Deadpool?!" He rushes over, turning the assassin over, hands quickly roaming around to find his wounds, only for them to close just as you spot them.

"Hey…" He tries again. "I knew that was you,"

His crush abruptly stands, dagger placed dangerously close to Wade's neck, his voice as cold as icebergs. "What are you talking about?" He pushes the sharp weapon, it glints under the moonlight.

"Who sent you?"

"Hey, hey!" Wade tugs his mask off, revealing all of his face. "It's me! Wade!" There goes the secret identity.

If Wade squints, he's sure he could see a loading circle above your head, before you jump back and land on your ass, mouth dropped to the floor, eyes wide.

"Wade?! What the FUCK!" 

"Yeah- Yes, I know, sorry-"

"What are you doing here?!"

"Slow down swiper, I'm not a part of that soccer balls plans," 

You huff from where you've landed, hand fiddling the edge of your dark blue mask. You slowly stand, arms following to cross on your chest, an eyebrow raised. Wade sighs on the floor, reaches for his mask and slips it on.

"I got info from webs that you'd be here, and well," He scratches his nape. "What better way to get to know you more than to meet you!"

"On duty?" Fuck.

"Okay buddy, you're making it sound like I spoiled your surprise- Which! I didn't, you know," He turns to his surroundings once. "Great job on the sculptures by the way,"

"Thanks, it's an original," You grin. Wade makes an amused huff and approaches one, the sharp edges of the ice spikes covered in red, and runs his finger on it. 

"So… Elsa?" 

"Excuse me?"

"Frozen? only the second best-animated film, losing to the Bee Movie,"

When Wade turns around, he finds his angel shaking, his shoulder squished to his body. He was about to reach out when he burst out, laughing, holding his stomach as he doubles over. We're pretty sure what we said was factual, does he like Frozen more than The Bee Movie?

"Holy shit, Wade," He tries to inhale. "What-" And laughs again. 

Wade only stood there, basking in the echoing sweet laughs of his crush, his angel. The way a prominent hue of red follows down from his cheeks, hidden under his mask, to his neckline. His eyes squint, radiating pure glee and Wade drinks it like he's dehydrated. He really is stunning. Enough to make us shut up.

Eventually, he stops and collects himself, huffing one last chuckle before he straightens. 

"What am I gonna do with you," He sighs. His word makes those damn tree shredders run again in Wade's stomach, his hindbrain wagging its tail from the fondness that leaks from his words.

He turns to exit the building, before glancing at Wade then extends his hands. "Come on, the night's still young,"

—

Weeks passed and your relationship with Wade grew. You've learned that he prefers to snuggle on a rainy day and would not budge without his mask. You learned he likes chimichangas, and went on your first 'date' with him—You're too embarrassed to call it a date while there's still nothing going on with you two—to the food truck that sells the best in town. You've learned that he had an ex, who died horribly—Vanessa was her name, Wade showed you her picture—And from what Wade told you, you wished you would've known her before everything. You've learned how he became Deadpool, things he went through that would make a man crumble, while your heart grows in size, enough to fit Wade in if he ever wants to. 

In turn, Wade has also learned a lot about you, even his inner monologues like you. Sure we do, it's not like we can't hate the sunshine in front of us. 

He's learned about your favorite places to have fun, to relax, to let out pent-up anger. He's learned how you prefer your drinks, how cold you want the room to be. He's learned about your favorite animal, taking notes to send pictures of them every morning. He's learned how you became the way you are; your powers weren't mutations, not like what he thought it was, but a failed government experiment. He learned that they tossed you out the second your power did not manifest, even though it took you surviving a week of fever for the ice cells to merge with your blood cells. 

"So do you really go to MIT?"

"Fuck, I wish. I'm as dumb as a pigeon,"

"Oh don't try to out dumb me, frozone, this head of mine," He knocks his head with his knuckles, then whispers, "Is run solely on hamster power," It makes you guffaws, Wade preens from it.

Apparently, Peter was the first person to find you off the vigilante mask. It didn't hit him with a wave of jealousy, Of course not, that'd be embarrassing… Right? We're not jealous of webs, right?

And so the two of you continued that way, patrolling together each night, you fulfilling Wade's dream and making him snowcones after patrols, crashing at Wade's place because even though it's messy it's way bigger than yours, waking up side by side on his king sized bed before immediately blushing from how close you are to Wade's serene face. It went on and on, flirting off duty every day—At which Matt scoffs and Peter groans—Helping the firm with cases, hanging on web hammocks with Pete, and doing grocery runs with the assassin. You and Wade were perfect like that, and you didn't feel the need to change what's happening currently. 

—

Until one night.

It was a successful bust. A drug chain as deep as the Atlantic Ocean has just been uncovered thanks to Team Red and Frostbite. It only took one stray detail for it all to crumble down and for the team to swoop in and clean up. They all came out of the fight relatively okay—Wade might've lost a chunk of his hip and Matt got some broken ribs but hey that's just another night busting bad guys, right?—And had decided to crash in Matt's apartment since he was the closest. 

The four of you all collapsed once Matt made sure his apartment was secured and locked tight. Peter quickly divests himself of his suit and stands in the kitchen with Hello Kitty pajama pants and a shirt, fixing himself a drink. Matt disappeared into his bathroom, a steady sound of water streaming indicating a shower. While Wade had landed on the plush couch on his back, mask pulled up to his nose.

You stood in the middle of the room, finally took your battered armor off and scattered them somewhere in a pile. You huff, looking around, before settling down on top of Wade's relaxed chest.

"Ouch, watch the cuts snowman," You only chuckle and nuzzle deeper into the assassin's chest, knowing he meant no bite.

"Hm, sorry," His hand has started drawing circles on your back, soothing the most likely strained muscle somewhere in your middle. The room was lit solely by the billboard outside, most of the lights in the room remained off. Despite Wade's erratic beats, it calms your nerves as you feel the adrenaline dying inside your body, aches and bruises starting to make their presence known, but the man beneath you kept a steady breath, his hand now playing with your locks while the other held you just above your tailbone. 

"Hey," Wade's voice washes over you like a deep timbre, his hand now cupping your nape. You inhaled sharply, before meeting the assassin with a smirk. 

"Hi," You answered, watching a wound beneath Wade's eye heal, before meeting his eyes, black engulfs his usual deep blues. 

You could feel his breath, inches away from your lips. With the way you're laying on him, it only took a slight push from his hand to brush his lips against yours, and you gulp. Wade drifted towards your lips for a second, before back to your gaze, but you licked your lips and grin instead, making the man inhale sharply. 

"Oh my god!" You and Wade shoot apart, eyes darted to an annoyed Peter meter away, his hands flown over his head in disbelief. "Just kiss already!"

"It's been a year since you two met and you clearly," He swallows, and huffs. "Clearly you two like each other,"

"Peter's right," Matt walks out from his room, glasses nowhere to be seen. "I mean, I could practically hear the growing arousal from you two,"

"Ugh! okay, gross, but also, like Matt said!" The lawyer nods.

Your face reds, quickly shoving yourself off of Wade and stumbles to a stand. The man sits up on his elbows, his face confused while his blues has a slight shake to it. 

'Not again, not now.' Your heart races.

Hey! Frosty has an inner voice too! Zip it sir-talks-a-lot this is some serious shit, it's like when the protagonist finds out he murdered his family in cold blood instead of his ex!

The next thing you know you've dashed to the top of Matt's stairs, bursting through the doors, the rush of cold midnight air didn't deter you from pushing the doors close, blocking them with stray bricks on the roof, running to the edge, trying to regain your breath. 

You've cocooned yourself in ice at the corner of the roof, blocked off from the outside. Your breath has finally even out, despite the storm inside your head. You don't hate Wade, god, you love him! But how can someone so bright and funny and caring find someone like you interesting?

Someone has some shit to sort out! Alright, time to bust out the big guns.

You perk when you hear heavy footsteps approaching you, before it stops. Familiar red and black boots stands in front of your little opening. 

"Hey baby," 

'Stop,' You tried to vocalize, only managing to burst out ice spikes from your palm into the floor.

"Can you come out of there? I can't exactly talk to a snowglobe," 

Breathing a ragged sigh, you ease your powers to let the ice melt around you. 

Holy shit it's like those fancy desserts where the chocolate ball melts away to something sweet!

"Wow," Wade breathes, you realize he's only wearing a white fitted shirt with his suit pants. It makes your face burn. "It's like opening a Christmas present,"

"Wade," You groan, feeling the last of your shield melt away. He sits himself next to you, enough that your shoulders touch. 

"Listen, angel," He begins.

"I'm not the best with these sappy talks and all, but what I do know, is that friends don't just storm off," Wade bumps into your shoulder, making you scoff.

"Unless, there's something they're hiding," 

"Come on Wade," You stand abruptly. "It's like you can't read the room!" 

"I can!"

"Then do it, read the room." You crossed your arms, a sense of Deja vu flashes. 

"Sure! I know that you clearly have a crush on me," 

"Exactly!"

Hold on, what?!

you huff, sitting down then burying your head into your knees, your eyes anywhere but Wade's face. "I like you, Wade, so much it hurts!" 

"You're great and caring! You're creative, always got a joke to lift up any sour mood, not to mention you're never boring to talk to!" A smile forces its way to your lips. It quivers slightly. 

"And so are you," 

the silence rings. 

Wade—Careful, caring Wade—Scoots closer, brings your hands to his, running a calloused thumb over your knuckles. "Babe, I love you too," he starts.

"I don't know what you see in this shit hole mug, but those nice things you said about me," He pauses, steadying a hand to cup your cheek. "Those are true for you too,"

"Honestly I don't know which forgiving god blessed me to meet you," You laugh wetly. "But I'm glad I did," Smooth talker Wade Wilson here!

You grin, holding Wade's hand that's soothing the tears streaming down your face. You grin, at which Wade smiles softly, his dark blues as if asking permission. Unable to hold the burning feeling coiling within you, you closed the gap between you and Wade's lips.

It's soft, experimental, before your hand pulls Wade's nape closer, deepening the kiss, just slightly. He hums and it buzzes through you, you sigh in contentment.

When you two part, Wade's eyes are blown in both shock and relief somehow, he grins dopely. It makes you laugh, you hold yourself against him, your head dropping to his chest. 

"I love you, Wade," You breathe, inhaling the scent of musk and grime, something acidic within Wade's body, but that smell brings you peace, calms your ramming heart. His hand finds your middle, the other soothing down your locks. He presses to your crown, the sensation makes you breathe out a soft sigh.

"I love you too baby," 

"Now let's get back inside before Matt complains about the leaking on top of his laundry room," The realization makes you red. Wade laughs along with you.

Walking together into the warmth of the apartment; you take note to apologize to Matt for the drip the aftermath of your powers caused, and to cuddle together with Wade once the night pulls the group enough to sleep. 

Happy ending, woo!

[drainslo]

Lovers To Enemies (Chishiya x Reader)

My life was ruined twice.

The first time was when I entered the Borderlands. The last thing I remember was being at home on my couch with my cat, Milo.

He looked at me with his pretty green eyes, his warm body snuggling next to mine. I fell asleep that way, and I found solace with my feline friend.

That was the last time I saw Milo in months.

I woke up in a world without him. A world where I had to fight for my life everyday in games that were designed by someone truly sadistic.

The second time was when I got involved with Chishiya Shuntaro. A man who was not exactly unlike a feline himself.

I loved him. I would like to believe he felt the same. With Chishiya, you never know what he's thinking even if he tells you.

I think I knew how he felt when he kissed my head softly after patching me up post spades game with Niragi. He fell asleep with me in his arms that night, and somehow stayed in the morning.

I think I knew how he felt when he snuck into Hatter's room the next night to change the game schedule so I would never be in a game with Niragi again.

I made a mistake.

I didn't die, but a part of my soul did because now my Chishiya was gone. The kind eyes that had gradually softened in my presence were replaced with those of a stranger.

I was staring into those hardened eyes when Chishiya was dragging me into Hatter's executive room. I didn't even try fighting back, there was no point in doing so. If Chishiya wanted something he would get it.

Knowing Chishiya, it would be so much worse if I resisted.

He shoved me onto the ground, throwing a walkie-talkie next to me. I could feel the punishing eyes of the Beach executives on my back even as I faced the floor.

I lifted my head slowly to find two other people who were in the same position.

I vaguely recognized the girl, Usagi. I played a game with her two nights prior. That was the extent I knew her, and the boy-- Oh God.

It seemed Niragi had taken an interest in him by the way he was staring him down.

"I found her keeping lookout nearby. She tried to distract me but I saw right through her," Chishiya said calmly. My heart stilled. He didn't even look down.

Niragi finally turned his attention my way. He smiled, looking his lips as he looked between me and Usagi. I barely noticed that I was crawling slowly back. It was pure instinct to get myself away from a predator like Niragi.

"Niragi, you can decide what to do with the traitors. Well done Chishiya," Aguni spoke decisively, his eyes focused on a painting of what looked like an elk.

It was funny how of all things I didn't miss that detail.

"I don't know what Chishiya is insinuating, but I have no idea what he's talking about," I said for the first time.

I opened my mouth to elaborate further when I was promptly cut off by Niragi storming over. I felt a pressure on my back that sucked the air out of my lungs. I couldn't speak even if I wanted to.

"Shut up now, or I'll cut your tongue out later," Niragi hissed while digging his boot into my back.

I held my breath. Was this how I was going to die? It felt like my ribs were going to snap from the sharp stabbing pain in the middle of my chest. It abruptly subsided when Niragi lifted his foot away.

He crouched next to me and grinned again. I was forced to look into his eyes when he grabbed my hair and Usagi's to lift our heads up.

"We are going to have some fun before I kill the both of you."

Niragi turned his attention towards the boy and directed his orders to the militants present. "Tie up the boy and blindfold him so he can't play a game. His VISA expires tonight, let him wonder when the laser is going to kill him," he laughed terribly and forced me and Usagi to our feet.

"Walk." He pointed the butt of his gun to our back to direct us out of the room.

My legs didn't immediately move. They were shaking, and it was like i was cemented to the ground.

I was suddenly on the floor again, my knees painfully hitting the ground. It appeared that Niragi had pushed me with his gun out of impatience.

I looked back at the room of executives, at Chishiya who had put me in this position. Chishiya made eye contact with me for the second time, and something undecipherable flashed in his eyes.

No, it was decipherable. It was satisfaction. This was my punishment. Death was the only suitable punishment for a traitor.

But I wouldn't die immediately. Tears pricked the corner of my eyes as I thought of it. Niragi would make sure that it would be painful.

Not to mention the fact that I was a woman. He could have his way with me--with Usagi too-- and nobody would blink an eye.

"Walk," Niragi repeated.

I walked.

Usagi and I were led to a hotel room and tied down while Niragi and his convoy followed.

His hungry eyes watched as I felt the chafe of the rope around my wrists. He leaned in, and my breath caught as he slowly trailed his tongue down Usagi's arm. No this could not be happening--

The TV screen now had lit up on its own. The weight of his body hovering over mine dissipated as he got off the bed to look at it.

10 OF HEARTS

GO TO THE LOBBY TO HEAR THE RULES OF THE GAME

"Fuck, right now?" Niragi turned to look towards us, and abruptly left the room.

I was untied by someone. Probably one of the militants out of pity.

Everything started to blur together.

I made it to the lobby with Usagi. There was a witch we had to find. The militants decided to kill and burn everyone. There were so many gunshots, so many screams.

The Beach was on fire.

I waited until I heard the game clear, and snuck into the lobby to see the last card.

I was surprised to find Chishiya there as well, his back to mine as he grabbed it from the table.

I pulled out a gun I had stolen from the body of a militant. The sound echoed through the now empty Beach as I cocked it.

"Don't turn around," I lowered my voice menacingly.

He turned around and stepped towards me.

"Or what?" His eyes were dancing with amusement as he kept walking. "You're going to shoot me?"

He was now standing directly in front of me. We were eye to eye, separated only by the distance of the gun I held.

Chishiya's warm hand overlapped mine as he pushed it to the side. He roughly grabbed my chin to force my mouth on his.

I froze as tingles still ran up my spine when he touched me. It was horrible, I hated him for what he had done to me.

What was even worse was how familiar he was.

I struck him on the head with the gun to break contact. He didn't fall, but now gingerly held the spot where I hit him. His hand that I had just touched now was slowly turning crimson from the wound.

"I hope we never meet again," Chishiya smirked and swiftly strode away from the flames.

It was then I realized he took the card with him.

Read Part 2

Read Part 3

Read Part 4

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 5.1 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 5.1

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: unhealthy/toxic relationship dynamic; cussing; miscommunication; mentions of alcohol consumption; trouble setting personal boundaries; lots of pain in the end

Word count: 2.1K words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: Thanks for being soooo patient with my super-slow updates. This is a flashback chapter, from time when they first broke up. I have the subsequent chapter about 70% of the way through. I just had the itch to post so--hope you enjoy! Thanks to my loves, @internetjunkdrawer and @itdoesntmatterwhy for reading this through and for the general screaming 🥹💜 Also, special s/o to @yoongukie-ff for letting me whine into your DMs about this and picking your brain! I appreciate you all sooo much for fueling this writer's delusions 🤡

Years ago…

Namjoon sits in a corner of the dressing room, surrounded by the buzzing activity of his teammates. Stylists make last-minute adjustments to the members' wardrobe, tech guys fix an issue on one of the mic packs, and a few more swipes of tinted lip balm are applied. Strands of hair are sprayed into place so they fall at just the right angle.

The group has just kicked off their European tour, and there are 20 minutes left before they must take their places for their opening set. This is when Namjoon usually gives his teammates a pep talk.

For now, he sighs and quietly rubs the inner corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He knows he'll have to summon all the gods he hasn't believed in for years to give him the strength to motivate his teammates. Deep down, he’s desperate to feed off their energy in order to get through tonight's performance.

An hour ago, while getting mic'd up and prepped for the show, one of the assistants snuck in amongst the flurry of arms that fussed over Namjoon to hand him his phone. His face lit up when he saw your name reflected on the screen. When he unmuted the phone’s microphone, the first thing he said to you was that there's a museum he's excited to check out at one of their tour stops. They have a few days of rest coming up between shows, and he wants to fly you out to where he'll be.

“Yeah, about that.” There was an edge to your voice that made him worry. ”I don’t know if I can go.”

He brushed his thoughts aside, thinking you might still be traumatized from the last time he flew you out and the airline lost your baggage. You didn't get your personal items back until the day before you had to fly back home. He tried to console you, saying, "The label charters our flights now, so you won't have to deal with any commercial flight issues anymore. Trust me, it's going to be better and less stressful."

Whenever Namjoon wanted something, he would do and say anything to get it.

“I know, but–” You tried to jump in but Namjoon continued to convince you.

“Is it a problem with your visa? We still have two weeks, I can ask one of the managers to call our guy at the consulate–”

“Namjoon! There’s no need for that.” You finally interrupt.

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks casually.

“It’s not a problem per se. I just don’t know if I can keep hopping on planes on random days of the year just to spend time with you.”

"Baby," he says softly, disregarding the fact that staff can hear every word he says but are hard-wired to ignore it. "This is my job. You know how it is."

"Believe me, I'm fully aware," you respond wryly.

"Okay so then why are we still having this conversation?" He says with a chuckle.

His cocky tone annoys you. And although you didn't mean to bring it up during this conversation, you decide now was as good a time as any other.

"I've met someone."

At that point, he promptly asks the assistants to give him some privacy. This isn't going to be one of those on-the-go phone calls where he'd be having short chats with you while people combed his hair and reapplied his lip balm.

He murmurs something you could only make out as ‘hold on’ while he walked away from staff.

He retreats to a utility room and closes the door behind him. When he's alone, his first reaction is to let out an awkward chuckle, although he isn't sure why. Maybe he thinks this is a joke and that you're trying to pull a fast one on him. "Wait, what do you mean 'you've met someone'?"

“I mean, I went out on a date…with a guy,” you pause for a beat before continuing, “I think I want to see where things go.”

“You think or you know?”

The edge in his voice makes you let out an exasperated breath. “Joon…”

“How did that even happen? I didn’t know that you were seeing other people.”

“Excuse me?” You try your best to pull back your irritation.

Namjoon catches himself. “I mean, I thought, you know…I didn’t think you were looking,” he mutters awkwardly.

“Well, you and I are both single, right? No commitments–that’s just facts.”

He falls silent, struggling to find the right words. You’ve been friends for years and have been in this 'situationship' for nearly half that time. He could be away for weeks and months, but one thing's for sure – he knew that he could always come home to you. It's always been you and him.

He tries to reason, "Yeah, but...I thought that we-"

"Look, let's be real. When has there ever been a 'we'?"

Namjoon had never thought of it that way. He always assumed that you agreed to this setup.

"It was my fault for letting this go on for as long as I have, thinking that it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm realizing now that it was a mistake."

Your words pierced him like a hot blade. His voice softens, "Hey…you don't really believe that, do you?"

It took you a few moments to answer. For a while, you had been understanding and patient with him. You had no problem rearranging your life to fit his, and while you agreed to no labels, you at least hoped for some consistency. He didn't deliver on that either. It had been one too many last-minute cancellations, and you were done being left alone at planned getaways, family gatherings, and even something as simple as a movie night on your couch.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the future.” It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

He sighed heavily. He knew it was eating at you as the months turned to years, but you didn't press him. What could you do? Besides, it wasn't like he could do anything about it either. He had his career before you came along.

This was a conversation that he usually avoided, not because he didn't want to talk about it, but because there were always so many uncertainties in his life. One of the biggest uncertainties was his career. Sure, he could think about the future--if the future involved making more records and being the top pop group in the world.

"Did you know that you talk about the future a lot? What your teams have planned out; what the record label wants you to do; what concept you have for your next mixtape or mini-album. And it made me realize--what about me? What are my plans? What do I want to do?"

Guilt immediately ate at Namjoon when he realized that the only future he had ever talked about excluded you. It was odd because, at present, you were always there--a constant in his life. So it wasn't that he meant to exclude you; it's just that when it came to you, he never thought that the present and the future were two separate things.

And that was his fatal flaw.

"Things are going well at my new job. I finally got my own apartment, thanks to Lani. Everything is falling into place and it really got me thinking about what I want for the long term."

His shoulders sagged and his knees buckled. He leaned against the closest thing for support: a wood-paneled locker where athletes typically stored their equipment at the stadium.

He sank onto the bottom shelf and crouched, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You know that I can't give you a solid answer. Everything is still really complicated and that hasn't changed."

"I know that things haven't changed for you, but they have for me. The more I think about it, the more I feel that I want something more definite. Something more concrete. Something more...” you sigh, “Just…more," you finish emphatically.

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut. He was miles away and too far to appease you.

“I don’t know that I can give you that assurance,” he said in defeat.

"I figured as much," your voice wavered. He heard rustling on the other end and guessed that you had pulled the phone away to compose yourself.

“Could we,” he hesitated for a second, “…can I see you when I get back in three weeks? We can sit and talk--”

He heard you clear your throat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Just then, the door creaked open. He looked up to find one of the stage managers gesturing at their watch, realizing that he still needed to get his mic pack on and have his in-ear monitor wiring taped.

“Five minutes,” he says in a clipped manner, making the assistant retreat immediately.

He turns his attention back to the phone. “Sorry about that.”

“No, I should apologize. I didn’t mean to hold you up. And to be honest, I was hesitant to even have this conversation over the phone.”

“A little late for that,” Namjoon deadpans.

"Yeah, well," you shrug at the irony of it all. "Anyway, it's getting kind of late here. I know you have to go."

“Look, I...I just...I don’t know…” he stutters. You both fall silent again, with occasional static filling the dead air. He felt weird ending things like this but truthfully, he was caught off-guard and didn’t know what to say.

“Are you still there?”

After a few beats, you respond. "I'm here."

There is a small sigh of relief from him. “Can I call you after the show? Please?” It’s a last-ditch effort on his part, but you decide to give him some leeway anyway.

"If you want, sure. But I know you're usually tired."

“No, no. I'll call you, I promise,” he says firmly.

"Okay. Have...a good show," you say slowly. It is all you can offer as a sign-off.

“T-thanks. Uh...bye.” He stares at the darkened phone screen and nothing but his bewildered reflection looks back at him. Before he tries to make sense of your conversation, a persistent knock rings out. It’s the same assistant, firmly insisting that he needs to be mic'd up this instant.

With a small nod, he brushes his own thoughts aside. He still has a show to do and his team is counting on him. He needs to get his head in the game.

******

Namjoon had never tried so hard to be focused, or at least appear to be. He went about the show as usual, but his body didn't seem to belong to him. He smiled at the audience, nailed all the steps, spat all his lyrics, and got through all of their ending ments, just like the professional he was.

After he and the guys were shuttled back to their hotel, he immediately asked one of the managers to bring a few beers to his room.

Who cared what he wanted for himself? It wasn't like he could sustain a relationship while he was an active idol. Not only would it be too much fodder for tabloids, but it wasn't good for the fanbase.

At the end of the day, the team had to be the top priority. If the fanbase was shaky, then the team's future was in jeopardy.

He had already placed a huge wager on his career, and now was not the time to be emotional. He had to bet smart. His management team would tell him that you were a high-risk, low-reward gamble.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw a notification on your screen. It wasn't a call or text from Namjoon. Instead, it was a link to a replay of his drunken livestream.

You tried to convince yourself that you had made the right decision. Waiting to confront him face-to-face would have been too difficult. The mere sight of him standing in front of you, promising to make it up next time, would have been enough to weaken your resolve. You didn't want to return to an unhealthy situation. So, you took a deep breath and focused on the future, knowing that this was the best thing for both of you.

On the other side of the world, Namjoon finally opens his eyes, having given up pretending to be asleep. He spent the rest of his evening doom-scrolling through his social media feed, trying to come to grips with your last conversation. Amidst the pounding in his head, it finally hits him: you met someone else, and you have the chance at something real with this person. And that person isn't him.

It hurt to let you go like that. But looking back on it, he realized that you were brave enough to admit that you deserved better. He didn’t have the courage to do the same.

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[romanarose]

IYWBW: Bonus chapter: Candy

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Summary: Candy's thoughts

Warnings: Drug use, slight smut, feelings (eek!), sex work, im just gonna say dub con because she's not exactly thrilled with this part of sex work.

Immersibility: Reader is Latina, had curly hair, fem

AUTHORS NOTE: Because I am a shitty writer, the smut from last chapter came off to a lot of people as a threesome. I edited it so the Santi's bits are in italics and i think its more clear. The scene was meant to portray two DIFFERENT scenes.

**************

As Candy did a long line, the party in it's height, she was thankful this was a perk of the job. She'd already fucked 3 men tonight and then of of the other girls at the party while a group watched and christ, she was gtting tired. The drug began to pulse through her veins, however, giving Candy renewed vigor to finish the last stretch of the night. She had been able to take a breather, thank god, and was having a few drinks and a few lines, occaionaly chatting with the men and other women, most of whom she knew.

The girls liked Candy because Candy stood up for herself and for them, offering a layer of protection in a harsh world. Things could be dangerous in this line of work, women were killed all the time, but it'd not like Candy had a lot of options. She needed to get out. She needed to get a visa and go to America. She needed to get Javi something him and Santi could use.

What she'd do there, she wasn't sure, but it had to be better than this.

If her work only consisted of men she chose coming to her apartment when she chose, it would be a good job. Candy didn't mind her work most of the time and there were men like Javi and Santi who made it fun. That was good.

However, that wasn't paying the bills, so Candy had to attend these parties.

Another line of coke. She was aching and needed at least one more fuck from a rich man if she was going to be able to afford an air conditioning unit this summer. With air conditioning, she was more likly to get clients during the hot months; no one wanted to fuck in a muggy apartment in mid-july.

Javi would come either way, she knew.

Despite the fight, they had been able to repair things and her and Javier were back to normal, having excellant sex she got paid for. Santi too, although the sex was different, it was still just as mind blowing. Santiago reminded her of a little puppy, desperate and eager and wanting so badly to please... and please he did.

She tried so hard with those two not to fall, but it was hard. Santiago was so sweet, so adoring, so fucking good. Javier was strong, gentle, passionate. Both of them made her feel safe and loved. Sometimes, when she was lonely and tired and a little drunk, Candy would fanaticize about what a life might be with either of them, if they wanted kids, what they would be like as her husband.

She couldn't be that far off, could she? They both cared about her, that much was obvious. Especially with Santi, he was so open, so loving, so adoring as he looked up at her with those big brown eyes with his mouth devouring between her legs... did he want her outside of this?

And Javi, the night he made up with her and brought her the Audry Heffburn poster... he hadn't paid her, he hadn't fucked her, he simply fingered her until she came three times on his soaked hand and tucked her safely into bed... would he want a life with her, where they could fuck every night and she could make him the food he was always munching on when stressed?

Hands wrapped around her waist.

"Hola, Candy, I havn't seen you hardly all night." Martin Lorea, the drug lord that her two favorite clients were after, and a frequent client of hers. His hands lifted up her skirt and slipped two fingers under her panties, feeling her soaked folds.

"Mmmm" Candy liked the way he touched her, it was no Javi, but it did feel like. "I've been busy."

"I can feel that." Martin references the cum dripping out of her. "Better do one more, bebita." He leans around her, cutting up the last of the coke into two lines and doing one himself. "I've got lots of plans for you tonight. Don't worry, I'll make it worth it."

He would. He always paid well, liking to flaunt his wealth. Candy did one last line, feeling everything become less and less clear around her, and she barely felt it as he bent her over the table a little too roughly and her face pressed into the wood.

Her skirt was lifted in front of all the party goer, and Candy did her best to put on a preformence.

She had to get out of here, and the only way was to find out information from Lorea to give to Javi.

**************

Yeeeeesh. That was a little dark than I intended. Don't worry, candy is okay! I'm trying to find a blance between not like, demonizing sex work, because this is a sex work safe blog, but also being honest about the realities of being a prostitute in Colombia in the 70's. its not always pretty, in fact its often ugly.

ANYWAY! My belovedest Fen and I are working on the next chapter and it's gonna be a goodie!

I'm doing what I do best, HIGH DRAMA! And Fen is gonna deliver some of the BEST smut with baby santi and his mommy issues.

This is a v smut focused series but im lowkey a little smut burned out and i got a lot of project im trying to wrap up so fen is being amazing and helping me. Plus, this particularly smut is riiiiiiiiggghhhttt up their ally. If you like subby men, check out fens great work at @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction esp fics like Trine, with subby! blue jones and Good Boy with steven grant

thank you for you're continued support! Only a few chapters left <3

I have a triple frontier fic my dark account, Room's on fire, with a totally different characterization of santi <3

Notes are going down with is fine but its kinda tiring doing all these tags and then people dont respond at all so if you can give me at least a like to show your still her or a comment, ill know to keep tagging you &lt;3

I have a update blog now too, @romana-updates

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[poisonedprose]

Hiii, can I request a tatta x reader. I definitely think not enough people write for him. Just anything super angsty with a happy ending if you can<33

₊˚✧ lost you

tatta kodai x gn!reader angst

warnings: beach era, mentions of death/dying

masterlist

'Where is he?' You thought as you paced around your room, awaiting Tatta's arrival. His visa was going to expire today so he had to attend a game. This time seemed different to you though. The pit in your stomach grew larger with each passing second. Rain droplets began to fall, coating the window with a foggy tint. 

You swallowed heavily when you saw the final car of the beach pull up. The headlights illuminate the fast falling drops of rain. You watched attentively, to see if you could make out your love's silhouette. It was useless though, the fog that overtook the air and the raindrops sliding down the window made it too hard to see anything. 

You waited patiently for the door to open. Careful not to seem too eager. Things always work that way, right? If you pretend you don't care? You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. You knew that Tatta wasn't weak but you also knew that he wasn't the strongest. 

You knew, if it came down to it, other participants of the games would leave Tatta to die if it saved themselves. 'The ugly duckling' as many called him, though he was far from ugly. He was your beautiful boy, your beautiful boy who was missing. There was a knock on your door. Your heart sank down to your feet. Tatta wouldn't knock, or maybe he would. Who knows, who cares.

You quickly opened the door, faced with some random member of the beach. Her face was familiar. You were grouped up with her for games before, and if your memory serves you well, she was in Tatta's group tonight. You assumed the worst. He's dead? Or maybe dying? 

"It's Tatta." She spoke quietly. Your breath faltered. Oh no. No, Oh god, no. "He's fine." She quickly corrected, seeing the look of terror in your eyes. Your fears calmed for a second. "Well, sort of." She mumbled and looked at her feet. "He's with Ann. He was pretty badly hurt in the game." Tears would have soaked your face if you didn't want to keep your composure. "Sorry." She mumbled before walking off just as quickly as you did to get to the door. 

It didn't take a second thought before you were walking to the infirmary, where Ann was surely taking care of him. Once you arrived, you knocked on the old wooden door but didn't dare wait for an answer. You saw tatta lying on a table, bandages all up his arm, and an ice pack for his head. 

"Your boyfriend's a klutz." Ann snickered as she tried to stitch up a small wound on his stomach. You were relieved to see him laughing. Really, just hearing his laugh calmed all your fears. It didn't matter how hurt he was, he was still laughing. "Cute klutz." You corrected with a smile on your face. 

[nautilus1954]

Hey Lads!!! =D

It's been a hot minute since we've had a MFTD story, and I'm afraid we are gonna have a small absence again until next year whilst I work on a little something I've been doing.

In tonight's story, we have some the aftermath of the prom night, and the kiss. We learn a little more lore with Vincent, and a bit more about what he means to Ava, and visa-versa.

Also, this story is only 6,000 words long so thank God for that. Again, this may be the final MFTD story following this time-line for 2023. I may be taking a break for the holidays before I get into another chapter story.

But with that said, I hope you enjoy =]

[opinionsbyaf]

I don't consider myself a religious man. I'm more of a spiritual man. I do believe in God and Jesus Christ, but all that is written is written by man. As we all know many things get lost in translation. I believe that all the religions are the same word of God, just that the translations were different in order to control the different people who they served. That said I'll now continue with my story.

After a lifetime of turmoil, my life is finally at peace. I no longer depend on people around me to bring me happiness or respect. I know now that that's impossible. The people in my life have no idea what it was to walk in my hole-filled shoes and clothes. Or what it felt like going to school on an empty stomach. Nor can they possibly understand how it feels to feel unsafe outside of your house as well as in your house, while you were growing up. So, how can I possibly demand them to give me the level of love and respect that I truly earned, just for surviving? I can't! My expectations were way too high, and because of that, I was never truly happy! Since I cut most of my family ties, not having to beg for respect, consideration, or in many cases even love. I've been able to turn more and more inward. What I've learned was astounding. If you try to live a good life, by treating those around you the way you want to be treated, without expectations, your life is more fulfilling. I experience more joy now, not expecting anything and getting everything that I want in life, that it's amazing! The best thing that I did was buy a house on a nature preserve. Being on a nature preserve surrounded by animals young and old has taught me a great deal. Believe it or not, they know the meaning of respect and love! I see it all the time. With them it's pure. They have that's where you see the respect. You also can see the love the offspring have for the parents and visa versa. No one has to ask, it's natural! In humans, there are too many outside influences that ruin the natural balance of it all. But for me now that I removed myself from the toxic environment I'm finally having a feeling of peace. As I sit here at night the dark damp cool air of Spring permeates the night, the low light from my solar lights illuminates the statues and Bushes in my backyard, allowing me to watch my furry little animals playing in the night, and eating the healthy snacks that I leave them. I have five baby raccoons that constantly come and go, several bunnies that claim my yard as theirs day and night, momma and poppa opossums, and let's not forget about my rat with armor. Even though they are different species they seem to respect one another and all share the goodies that I provide. I sit and watch the show nightly, cigar in hand tea or cocktail in the other, loving every minute of it well into the night. Tonight was very special! My cute little baby raccoon and her brother let me feed them a few crackers by hand!! Oh my God! What a thrill it was to be trusted by these wild animals enough to take food from my hand!! I felt so honored as if I was accepted into their family! Living in my little house in nature I feel more at peace now than I have at any other point in my life! I firmly believe that God had everything to do with this. People come into your life at certain times for a reason. If it wasn't for my realtor Mike, who went beyond his job description to help me find this house that I wasn't looking for. I wouldn't be here. So many things happened last year that paved the way for this speedy purchase, the only way that I can explain it is to say it was a Devine Intervention! Thank You, Lord!! I am finally at peace!!

[lagringalatinaincolombia]

Chapter 2: Barranquilla 

Welcome to La Arenosa! Obviously I have not kept up with my blog in such a long time... que pena con ustedes. 

Two years ago today (tonight to be more exact) marks one of the worst nights in my life and it’s really had me reflecting for the past week. Mostly, about how dramatically my life has changed in the span of two years. And how I truly believe that moving to Colombia saved my life. That may seem like a wild ass statement but I truly feel that this opportunity has given me more life when death was staring me right in the eyes. This evening two years ago, I promised to my dad at his bedside that I was moving to Colombia. I wasn’t going to disappoint him and made sure that no matter how much it hurt, I needed to keep moving forward even if it meant alone.

Since then I have had the most amazing and eye-opening experience living in Colombia. An experience I could have never even imagined. There has been the good, the pretty and the ugly but every single moment has been so influential in the person I am today.

This year has brought me so many more responsibiltiies as a serve as a mentor for the first-year teachers here on the Caribbean coast of the country. And God knew what he was doing when he placed them in my life because every single one of them has brought me so much joy being able to see them embark on this journey and fall in love with this beautiful country.

Here are some of the things that popped up on my Colombian Bingo card:

first and foremost, survived Carnaval

got robbed at Theatron but dragged la ladrona from her hair and got my phone back 

been extorted by a really hot guy I met on Bumble ._.

fainted on Isla Grande from having just a granola bar, some herb and beer for breakfast when it was 35°C

juggled multiple costeño men and learned they are a whole other breed 

saw Don Omar live last week!

made multiple friends from Paris? and now need to visit in the near future!

discovered my undying love for Vallenato and Checo Acosta

As of today, I have visited about half of the departments in Colombia and have met so many really cool people along the way. With the exception of my most recent roomate, Zhamara, who kicked me out of our apartment with a week’s notice and then proceeded to reject my request that she return part of my rent for the last month.... Otherwise it has all been peachy!

Now, I am currently living alone, for the first time in my entire life, in the neighborhood of El Prado. I have decided that although I love living with other people, las costeñas here are not my biggest fans lol. Which is honestly understandable, there is a lot of me to love :) 

Anyways, I still have a few months left here in Colombia before my visa expires and I have to return back to Texas. I have no idea what awaits for me back home and what I’ll do next but that’s what excites me the most! Now, I feel like I can literally do anything and succeed because of everything I’ve learned during this period in my life. All I know is that I look forward to finally reuniting with my beautiful mom and sweet hermanito. I’ll let the wind take me wherever it blows... maybe even back to Colombia?

[kittykatinabag]

It's not completely over yet but this current moving process is an exercise for me to let go of control and to start trusting another person to handle things.

On one hand it's nice to have another person to rely on. On the other hand, stuff like this whole renting a van situation and the whole we still don't have keys even though we're moving today (this is pretty much entirely the person who's currently living there's fault though) makes my head itchy and shakey.

I'm used to having to do everything on my own though. I don't think I'm too awful with control in the greater sense but I can definitely see myself becoming worse. I know I'll definitely feel better when I have my set of keys in hand though.

I'm also moving at a time where I'm so incredibly stressed out because of assignments and this field trip (why it couldn't have been scheduled the week after coronation, I don't know. For some stupid reason it got moved a week before 🙃). So yeah, bad time to move but even getting my room mate to agree to today was slightly pulling teeth. I still don't understand why she couldn't have dipped into her savings for two days worth of her shitty grocery store clerk wage and taken yesterday off so we could have two days to move. I know she has the money to do that. She's just obsessed with her vacation she's attempting to get a visa for with her not-boyfriend who she endlessly complains about yet won't dump him because she claims that the sex is stress relief. And I'm just like red flag girl, he's homophobic and you're a god damn bisexual queer, his jokes are sometimes too far for me the ultimate person to be teased, and he's not even that attractive. Just masturbate like the rest of us lmao.

That tangent aside, it's been an enlightening experiment so far. I'm more capable than I give myself credit for, especially now that I'm a little more used to living here. If I can get all my work done that's currently eating my sanity, maybe go on a solo camping trip to get away from people, and actually get a decent night's sleep for the first time in months, I think I'll be able to recenter myself and feel better. Packing everything up actually kind of helped in that regard. I think unpacking will be helpful too, as I'll have more space to spread things out and I won't be so pressured to unpack because otherwise I wouldn't be able to use my room.

Either way I'm finally going to be sleeping in a person-sized bed tonight and even if the mattress is slightly crap my joints and muscles will be happy to spread out. Maybe they'll relax a bit too.

[ibelieveinghost]

5/20/24

for whatever reason i've been avoiding posting on tumblr these days i don't know, but i made myself coming back to post something.

needless to say a LOT had happened. i magically got my interview back, so another chance to try my luck this Friday. what's more unexpected is that i hit my head really, really hard: 1.5cm laceration, a ton of blood, and 5 stitches. god damn. been trying to explain to people how this whole injury thing happened and it's so funny... because i was just sitting around working on my laptop, and casually fell over the chair+landed my head on the sharpest corner in my room which is that one end of my bed frame... like who just did that?? sober??? the nurse straight up asked me if i was drinking and i was like... no madam i was submitting my resumes in a really serious manner...

anyway. as a result i can't get my hair washed for 3 days now, and won't be able to do so for another few days. so things have been literal hell lately. u just can't get much done w/ dirty hair!!!!

beside the interview(more like the very idea of having in soon constantly on my mind) that has been consuming me and the stupid ass head injury, i am doing...decent! not super motivated and forever sleepy, but able to get most things done and stayed positive through some really shitty days.

dunno if i mentioned it here yet, but i finally watched twin peaks. i made it to the first few episodes of season 2, but it was too creepy for me just the way i thought. i love it so much tho... in another life i wish i'm not this easily startled. had to slept with my night lamp on the night i watched S2E1... the scene at the very end............................................🥺

...guess i'll get back to the prep now. still a lot more to do, but this time there's enough time. okay! not another word! moving on! get something done before bed tonight!

spirits, gods, dear ancestors--help a good gal with her earthly duties this time please? getting this full time/all ENG position means the world to me right now... and i been working my ass off for this since last November.

（ok i went back to the last entry and reread my rant. fine, yes. ultimately, this is not what i want. but it is what i NEED. i need that job to stay, to set my foot on a path that lead me where i ultimately want to be! so yes, yes i dislike shinagawa-area and corporate culture with a passion, but i am 100% whole-heartedly wanting/begging to work for a year or 2 so i can get the whole visa concern out of the way.)

ok peace out! really need to work now

[maguro13-2]

That one time Death Note Creator's Assistant made a Hentai

L : Hey, guys! Look what we found in our author's ex-assistant's stash!

Misa : Wow, what is it?

Light : What's that?

L : I just found a new work from the author's ex-assisstant and I discovered this. Majo wa Kekkyoku Sono Kyaku To!

Light : Wow, something rare for us that it could much cool for the japanese skin-flick industry. I wonder what it is?

L : It's a adaptation of the Manga made by our author's assistant. It's got a good story of a witch and young boy. I wonder if it's like getting a cool look on the skin?

Misa : Let's pop it in, shall we!? (Inserts DVD) Wow! I can't wait to see author's assisstant's adaptation of his manga. It'll be just like the good old days.

L : Precisely.

Light : Yeah, what did I tell you about his new work that is a witch and a boy, it's not like that our author's assisstant has made a witch doujin that is a pornographic comic...?

L : Uhh, guys? Is that a boy making out with a witch and...

Misa : And is the witch being lewded by...Oh God! WHAT KIND OF ADAPTATION IS THIS!? (Ejects DVD) DUDE! THIS IS A PORNO ADPAPTATION, YOU GUYS! OUR AUTHOR'S ASSISSTANT MADE A HENTAI MANGA! WHAT THE F***!?

Light : See? I told you that was adaptated in the Skin-flick industry! I told you about it and you wouldn't listened.

Misa : Oh man, I thought that we would never see a witch and a boy having sex from our author's assisstant adaptation of a hentai manga, including with the DVD as well.

Mello : Hey you, turds! Majo wa Kekkyoku was from my porno stash!

Misa : Oh no! It's his stash! Run! *ZOOM!*

Mello : Wait, till I get my hands on you!

Light : Lesson learned, never take one's stuff from a stash of skin-flicks. I wonder how Hentai Characters like them would participate in Real World AU for theirselves?

"Meanwhile..."

Kaoru Enma : So, Magical Mojikawa, first time being a witch in a hentai like all the other witches in Real World AU?

Mojikawa : I only existed here it's because I was made by a Shounen Jump Mangaka that was the assisstant to another famous mangaka who created the world's legendary jumper that's write people's name in a notebook that kills them.

Kaoru Enma : What does Shonuen Jump have to do with the hentai stuff, that's not like it's going to be a lost cause in the hentai-industry. We always do things in the industry, can't back sh** now since we captured those Gorgon Sisters for their crimes against humanity where they could be incarcerated at Boston.

Mojikawa : I see your point tho. Guess I'm just another another witch in a hentai, that all figures.

Mashima Mojikawa : Oi, Oi, care for to go another round and get our selves laid tonight at the city of Salem?

Kaoru Enma : Just shut it and finish your drink. I got enough problems to solve right after I deal with Sakae Aiba from his dirty needs.

Mojikawa : We're you absuing a boy?

Kaoru Enma : Not your best one, but it's for the best I made him my pet.

Mojikawa : You are a master of slavery and kinda hot for to be this appealing for a witch's body.

Kaoru Enma : Guess your's have to be appealed next after we get your work visas and passports done by the end of this week.

Mojikawa : Yep, life as a witch is great, but being in a hentai is sure a mystery.

[Iris out]

[Course Clear (NSMB Ver.) - Koji Kondo]

"AND NOW YOU'LL KNOW!"

Mario : That's-a so nice! (deathly grunts)

*Samurai Jack SFX : Collapse*

Light Yagami : There he's dead, ya happy now?

Misa : Yeah, still rethinking on that hentai stuff.

[butterflyintochains]

Announcements In Australia

In which Juliette and Max journey to the 2023 Australian GP, Julia's first race of the season, and some big news is shared among their grid family.

The first thing Juliette registers when they get off their jet in Melbourne is how warm it is, she's been to Australia twice now, but she'll never quite get used to it. But, she's here with the love of her life, and a stunning ring on her finger. The proposal was just wonderful, by the fire of their ski chalet in Austria. She had no idea it was coming, but was so excited to say yes. Max has gifted her quite a bit of jewellery since they got together in 2020, but this one definitely takes the cake. As yet, only heir families know about their engagement. Max holds her hand as they enter the main airport, and get their visas checked, as well as getting their stuff checked. ''Nice ring, wedding bells on the horizon?'' The security man asks.

Max nods, beaming with excitement and pride. ''Yeah, we can't wait.'' Juliette says, nodding in agreement. ''We're so happy to be finally doing this, we've known each other for so long.''

They grab their bags, and head out to their rental car. Max opens Julia's door for her like the gentleman he has always been, she gets in and buckles up. Max hops in after her, and they drive off to the hotel together.

After unpacking in their suite, they grab lunch, and head down to the paddock. The race is in five days' time, and already everything is set up to perfection. They walk up to the McLaren garage, Lando instantly perks up to see them. ''Well, if it isn't the best couple on the grid. Wanna do a track walk with us and the Alpha Tauri guys?''

Max nods, and says. ''Yeah, of course.''

Juliette asks her fiance, fiddling with the ring, inspired by Princess Grace's ring. ''Shouldn't we wait for Checo though, amour?''

Daniel joins them, clapping Max on the shoulder, and kissing Julia's cheek like always. ''He doesn't get here until tonight.''

Oscar surfaces from talking to someone, he pegs the glimmering diamonds first. ''Oh, wow, what is that?''

Max decides to take this one himself, kissing Juliette on the head. ''Well, Juliette and I are getting married, we've been engaged since winter break.''

Yuki finally turns up. ''Our very own royal wedding, about time really.'' Juliette laughs. ''Yeah, our inner teenagers are probably jumping for joy right now.''

The group go for their track walk, Albert Park is one of the deceptive tracks, it looks so easy when you look at the track layout, no real inclines or chicanes. But, it's tight, and there are a few spots where things can get difficult. Juliette has went on track walks with Max ever since Hungary 2021, to calm her anxious mind after that God awful Silverstone crash. She'll never forget that day, the day when the world stopped spinning, the days she thought she'd lose him. ''So, no crashes this weekend?'' She anxiously asks.

Max puts his hand on her back, he knows her better than anyone on this Earth does. ''No, liefje, no crashes.'' Juliette nods, leaning into his side as they come back into the pit lane. ''Good, because I'm not marrying anyone else.''

As they return to the hospitality area for some dinner, George and Alex come to join them with Carmen and Lily. Lily clocks the ring, it's kind of hard not to really. ''Oh, my God, good eye for rings, Max.'' George adds. ''Charles just told us.'' Juliette rolls her eyes, of course her brother told them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Media day is on the thursday, so it's interviews, little games with Checo, and the press conference with Zhou, Charles, Oscar, and Fernando. After some questions about the upcoming race, a journalist from Nine News asks Charles and Max. ''For Charles and Max, how are you two feeling about becoming brothers soon? Do you think it'll affect how you race in the future?''

Max takes the question first. ''No, not really, I think we'll be family off track, and rivals on track still. But, yeah, I'm very excited to join the family.''

Charles laughs, agreeing with his future brother-in-law. ''Yeah, it's cool to be combining our families, and I am so happy for Max and Julia, no one deserves this like they do. But, we're still rivals.''

Someone from CNN asks Max. ''Max, just a question about you and Juliette. When did you know she was the one for you?'' Max takes a moment to think back in time, over all his memories of them as friends and as lovers. ''Probably sometime in 2016, I can't describe it, but when you know, you know, I guess. She's just... my everything, and has been for a long time.''

Press over for the day, they go to hang out in hospitality for a while before track review.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Free practice is on friday, the couple head down to the paddock for breakfast with the others, then go to Max's motorhome so he can get ready for practice. Juliette watches as her fiance changes into his fireproofs, and takes his racing suit from the hanger. So many people online poke fun at Max for his lack of fashion sense while she co-owns a design house. But, as far as she's concerned, this is the sexiest he ever looks. All geared up for the thing he is so good at. Max gets his boots on, and asks her. ''You okay, schatje?''

Juliette snaps from her little reverie. ''Y-yeah, I just got zoned out, that's all.'' Max raises an eyebrow at her, for them this can mean one of two things, so he asks. ''Good zoning out, or bad zoning out?'' Juliette runs her hands up his biceps, his hands locking together at the small of her back. ''Good zoning out.''

Max looks intrigued by that. ''Care to share, Julia?'' Juliette feels her face warming up. ''Just thinking about how hot you always look in your racing gear, that's all.''

Max's head tilts a slight, not taken aback, but surprised. ''Really? My racing gear of all things?''

Juliette flirts, tracing the Tag-Heuer logo on his chest with her index finger. ''Is there anything weird about that, amour?'' Max leans down to kiss her on the lips. ''Absolutely not.''

They head down to the garage, GP briefs Max on some strategy for saturday and sunday, and goes to the pit wall. Max grabs his balaclava and helmet, and kisses his lovely fiancee before heading out to Rocky. Juliette watches his laps on the TV screen, it never gets old, even since his days in Karting and F3, the sensation of watching her man doing what he does better than anyone else does. She turns her engagement ring on her finger, now fully used to the new weight on her left hand, her inner sixteen year old must feel like she fell asleep that sunday night in Barcelona, and all of this is some entirely too tempting dream. But, it's not, and there's so much more to come still. Juliette pulls her sketchbook and pencil case out, and begins designing her wedding dress, and his tuxedo. It's only right that Vita Luxuria dresses their wedding.

Max gets done with FP1, so they have some time between sessions. ''What are you drawing, liefje?''

Juliette smirks, putting her stuff away. ''Something for the wedding, I'll show you the sketches when they're done.''

FP2 is next, Juliette goes to grab something to eat and gets back on with her sketches in the Red Bull Lounge where it's quieter but she can still see the pit stop. After FP3, they head back to his room, and Max quickly showers and changes. They meet up with Checo, who gives Juliette a friendly kiss on the cheek. ''Good to see you, hermanita. Good to have you back.''

Juliette smiles, she's always gotten on really well with Max's team mates, from Carlos to Checo. ''Good to be back, ministro. How are the family?''

Checo says, smiling brightly. ''Good, they'll be with us for Miami.'' Juliette beams. ''Oh, good! I'll be there too! I'm going to: Miami, Monaco, Spain, Austria, Silverstone, and Spa this side of summer.''

Carlos jumps in, hugging Julia from behind. ''You always come to Montmelo, mariposa.''

Juliette says, smoothing down her dress again. ''Well, it is a very important race for us.''

Max says, an idea written across his handsome face. ''Why not rock up to Zandvoort married, schatje? We have almost a month between Spa and Zandvoort, plenty of time, right?'' Juliette nods, he's read her mind again. ''That's exactly what I was thinking! Have the wedding during summer break.''

Fernando says. ''Well, I suppose we're all clearing the schedules, eh?'' Oh, God, what have they unleashed upon the grid this time?

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Max is to start on pole for Sunday, which is an afternoon race. Max and Juliette arrive for the drivers parade, then, it's down to real business. The race itself is chaos incarnate, though. Lance forcing Charles off the track during the formation lap, triggering a red flag and safety car. Juliette's heart aches for her big brother, he's been so down on himself lately, and she hates to see him trudging back to the Ferrari garage like that. ''Oh, Charlie.'' She sighs, turning her ring on her finger.

On lap seven, Alex spins out of control and crashes as well, causing another safety car while they clean up and assess Alex. First her brother, now Alex, who next? Max is in the lead by lap 18, when George's car catches fire, triggering a virtual safety car. ''Mon dieu, what is going on here?'' Juliette asks.

Callum, one of Max's pit crew, laughs as he says. ''The race is haunted, Julia.''

Juliette jokes back, she's always loved the atmosphere in the Red Bull paddock, Ferrari has always been just a bit too tense for her. ''That would explain it, Callum.''

Max gives her a brief scare when he goes onto the grass on lap 46. No matter how many years pass, even after a million race wins and 20 years of marriage, Copse will always linger in her head. Kevin's car breaking apart on him triggers yet another restart. Which goes pear shaped really quickly as both Alpines, Nyck, and Logan all crash out on turn one. And, another red flag is called. ''Come on, Max, I wanna finish designing your wedding suit.'' Juliette says, fiddling with her water bottle. The final lap begins under the safety car, which guides Max home to his first race win in Australia. Lewis takes silver, Fernando takes bronze. Juliette watches him take his place at the head of the podium, before trophies, he is briefly interviewed. He's asked. ''Now, Max, this is your first race with your lovely fiancee present, anything to say to her?''

Max beams, the crowd erupts into applause. ''Uhm, yeah. Julia, mijn schatje, thank you for saying 'yes' firstly. Uhm, I love you so much you have no idea, this would not be possible without you, and I cannot wait for summer already.'' He blows her a kiss, she places her left hand on her chest, blinking tears away. ''Ik houd van je, Juliette Leclerc.'' Juliette beams up at him while he receives his medal and trophy, he never fails to make her happy. She can only hope she's doing the same for him, she must be doing something right.

That night, they collapse into bed together, exhausted from the longest race day they've ever had together. Sometimes, the best celebration is relaxation. Max's eyes flutter closed, he looks so soft now, stripped of his racing finery, Juliette says, kissing him on the forehead. ''Je t'aime, mon vainqueur.'' He dozes off to sleep, Juliette curls into his side, the silver and gold plate forgotten on the sofa for now.

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They arrive back in Monaco on the tuesday, Max ready for some rest at home before Baku. Jimmy and Sassy rub up against their legs when they come through the door. Juliette bends down to pet their cats. ''Bonjour, notre anges.''

As if by cue, Julia's cavachon, her beloved Luna, runs into the foyer. Tail wagging like crazy to see her maman and papa home. ''We've missed you too, Luna.'' Max says, it took her ages to convince him to take Luna from her friend and co-worker Daphne after her Bichon and her husband's Cavalier King Charles Spaniel had a litter late last year. But, little Luna has been a much beloved addition to the family. ''We're home, guys.'' They ditch their bags, kick their shoes off, pick their pets up, and crash on the sofa with some Peaky Blinders. Baku won't be calling Max east until the 26th of April, so, they can relax for a few weeks. Juliette returns to work tomorrow, but that's also a labour of love for her, and always has been. Max and Julia steal a glance at each other, his blue eyes to her hazel, he lovingly kisses her on the lips. ''Ready to become Mrs Verstappen? In the summer?'' He asks.

The surname issue has been a no-brainer for her since she could put a name to why Max makes her feel what he does. ''Oh, yeah, I've been ready for a long time, amour.'' His sister has her husband's name, his mother kept hers. And, there will be four Mrs Leclercs running around someday, so, she wants to be Juliette Verstappen. ''Since Barcelona 2020.''

Some part of her will never quite get used to this, this being her real life and not something she dreamed up while with her ex. But, here they are. Australia down, Baku next.

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Hi, guys!! Something a bit different, first F1 ficlet! So, be nice. Juliette is Charles' younger sister. Born in July 1999, so Arthur is just over a year younger. She is Co-CEO and Co-founder of an ethical, sustainable, body conscious, and affordable fashion line called 'Vita Luxuria', and has loved Max since 2016. She also is a huge Grace Kelly stan.

[deyzalee]

Dear God,

Thankful and blessed today. All is well after my 25 hours duty. I arrived home safely. I drank my vitamins and medicines. I drank milk. I scrolled my social media accounts, chatted my family and friends. I slept until 5PM plus. I played cooking fever. I ate rebisco biscuit. I read few pages of the Bible. I drank my medicines. I ate white chocolate wafer. I also received the UAE tourist visa of Mama and Papa. Thank you Lord for everything. I sliced the tomatoes for tomorrow. I will sleep tonight because tomorrow I have duty again. Have mercy on us Oh God. Guide us always to the right path. Remove sickness, danger and negative things in our life. Answer our prayers in your perfect time. Thank you and I love you God.