#slowburnfic

6teen ★ blk / afro-latin ★

fandoms : spiderverse , jjk , tatbilb , tsitp , mha , loveislandusa ,

music artists : steve lacy , tyler the creator , sza , natayna , frank ocean , teezo touchdown , the neighborhood , beabadoobee ,daniel caesar ,ariana grande , childish gambino , giveon ,tyla , kyle ,audrey hobert lizzy mcalpine , khamari ,sailor , jay versace , clario

i like . . . journalling , editing ,all things manifesting , drawing , writing fics , scripting , collecting digi cams/ studying film , acai bowls , sushi , fashion , beauty / cosmetics / collecting smiski's , sonny angels , & other mini figs , pilates , fitness , overall wellness !

connect with me ; editing ★ wattpad ★ insta!

؛ ଓ moot up !

banner creds // @cafekitsune

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇꜱ + ʜᴇᴀʀᴛᴀᴄʜᴇ + ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴜɴʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴇx-ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ

ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ɪꜱꜱᴜᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ

ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴠꜱ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ

ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ɢʀɪᴇꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜᴘᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

The sharp hiss of the espresso machine echoed through Maison de Lys, one of Monaco’s most exclusive wedding planning studios. The sun had just begun pouring through the massive windows, lighting up the airy space, high ceilings, soft pastel florals, shelves lined with thick binders of swatches, invitation samples, and mood boards.

(Y/n) sat perched on one of the plush cream chairs near the central consultation table, flipping through fabric samples. Her calendar for the day was packed. A cake tasting at noon. A site visit at four. And at eleven, a mystery new client, someone who’d apparently requested her specifically.

Across the room, her co-planner, Celeste, strode in balancing two coffees.

“Here,” Celeste said brightly, handing one over. “Extra shot. You’re going to need it today.”

(Y/n) chuckled softly, accepting the cup. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Celeste dropped onto the seat opposite, phone already in hand. “Oh my god! You’ll love this. Guess who got caught with another mystery blonde last night?”

(Y/n), half-distracted by her planner, barely looked up. “I’m almost scared to ask.”

Celeste grinned wickedly, flashing the screen toward her. “Lando Norris! Again. ‘F1’s Manwhore of the Century Strikes Again: Norris Parties in Ibiza with Yet Another Mystery Girl.’”

A grainy photo showed Lando at a packed rooftop bar, bottle of something expensive in hand, arm casually draped over a laughing woman.

(Y/n)’s breath hitched for the briefest second, just a flicker, before she forced a light laugh. “He really is the tabloid gift that keeps on giving.”

Celeste rolled her eyes. “Please, at this point it’s like... is anyone even surprised? The guy’s got a new girl on his arm every other week. I mean, I get it, he’s hot, filthy rich, famous, but he’s such a walking cliché. Imagine dating someone like that. Exhausting.”

(Y/n) hummed noncommittally, focusing on her coffee. “People grow out of that phase eventually.”

Celeste smirked. “Doubt it. That man is the poster child for commitment issues.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, I heard from a friend in PR that he’s been like this for years. Total player. Can’t imagine what poor girl actually thought she could change him.”

(Y/n) only smiled faintly, pen tapping rhythmically on her planner. “Mmm. Yeah. Poor girl.”

Celeste didn’t notice the tension behind the casual words. They’d only been working together for six months, long enough to become friendly, but not enough for Celeste to know the full story. Not enough to know that a little over a year ago, (Y/n) had been that girl.

She’d loved him, God, had she loved him. And then... she’d left.

But that was another lifetime. She was different now.

Before Celeste could launch into more gossip, the studio’s email chimed. Celeste checked the tablet. “Ah! Our eleven o’clock just confirmed. Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet. Holy crap. That’s huge, (Y/n).”

(Y/n)’s brows rose. “Really?”

“Yup. Says they’re bringing a friend too, no assistant. They want a full design consultation. This could be a career-maker.”

(Y/n) set her coffee down, smoothing her planner with deliberate calm. “Then let’s make sure everything is perfect.”

Still, somewhere deep in her chest, a strange knot twisted. She shook it off. It was just another client. Another wedding. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

By 10:45, the studio gleamed. Crystal vases held fresh peonies and eucalyptus. Soft instrumental music drifted through the space.

(Y/n), dressed impeccably in a tailored ivory blouse and navy slacks, double-checked the consultation setup. Mood boards, fabric swatches, champagne flutes on standby. All ready.

Celeste adjusted a chair. “Bet they want a French Riviera wedding. All these F1 couples do.”

(Y/n) smiled. “We’ll see.”

At exactly eleven, the glass door opened with a soft chime.

Max Verstappen entered first, sharp in an open-collar linen shirt and perfectly tailored pants. Kelly Piquet followed, elegant and poised, her sundress catching the morning light.

And then—

Lando.

He trailed in behind them casually, jeans, white tee, expensive sneakers. Messy curls, tanned skin. The same smile that had once been hers, except now it was gone, replaced with something stunned and uncertain the moment his eyes locked onto hers.

The room seemed to tilt for a heartbeat.

Shock. Real, unmistakable shock on his face.

(Y/n)’s heart thudded painfully, but she smoothed her expression into professional grace. “Max, Kelly,” she greeted warmly. “Welcome. It’s lovely to meet you both.”

Kelly beamed. “We’ve heard incredible things about you, (Y/n). Everyone says you’re the best in Monaco.”

“You’re very kind.” (Y/n)’s smile didn’t falter. She glanced, briefly, at Lando. “And welcome to you too.”

He still hadn’t spoken.

Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Lando insisted on tagging along. We figured he could keep us in line.”

(Y/n)’s voice remained steady. “You’re very welcome here.”

They took their seats around the large marble table, (Y/n) at the head. Lando sat across from her, visibly tense.

“Now,” (Y/n) began smoothly, flipping open her leather-bound planner, “tell me what you envision for your wedding.”

Kelly’s face lit up. “We want something elegant but intimate. Not over-the-top. Provence, maybe? Close family and friends.”

(Y/n) nodded, pen gliding across her notes. “That sounds beautiful. I already have a few venues in mind that might suit your style.”

Throughout the conversation, she kept her tone warm and professional, her focus on Kelly and Max. But every so often, she’d feel it, Lando’s gaze. Heavy. Questioning.

And when she dared to meet it, even briefly, it was like looking into the eye of a storm.

He looked... older. A little leaner. Tired, maybe. Or was that just her imagination?

The last time she’d seen him, really seen him, had been the night she’d left.

The consultation flowed smoothly. Kelly and Max bounced ideas excitedly, while (Y/n) offered gentle guidance and a wealth of suggestions.

But Lando... barely said a word. He sat there, fingers drumming on the table, blue eyes darting between her and the pages of her planner.

Finally, as Kelly scrolled through Pinterest boards on her phone, Max chuckled. “You’ll probably be seeing a lot of us here. Lando’s our unofficial wedding consultant now.”

Kelly laughed. “He has opinions.”

(Y/n) allowed herself a polite smile. “I look forward to it.”

For the first time, Lando spoke, his voice lower, rougher than she remembered. “Didn’t know you were... doing this now.”

(Y/n) met his gaze evenly. “People change.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

Before anything more could be said, Kelly turned her screen toward (Y/n). “What do you think of this for the table arrangements?”

(Y/n) slid easily back into the conversation, offering suggestions with practiced ease.

Two hours later, the meeting wrapped.

Kelly rose, visibly thrilled. “This has been amazing. Thank you so much, (Y/n). I can’t wait to start working with you.”

Max shook her hand. “We’ll follow your lead.”

(Y/n) smiled warmly. “I’ll send over a proposal and venue list this afternoon.”

As Max and Kelly moved toward the door, Lando hesitated.

For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to speak. His eyes locked on hers, so many words hovering unsaid.

But then—

“Lando?” Kelly called lightly. “You coming?”

A beat. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. Without another word, he followed them out.

The door clicked softly shut behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Celeste blinked, wide-eyed. “Well. That was... intense.”

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, setting her pen down.

Celeste turned to her. “You okay? He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

(Y/n) managed a faint smile. “I’m fine.”

Celeste shook her head, clearly oblivious to the history she’d just witnessed. “God, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that man’s carrying some serious baggage.”

(Y/n) stood, smoothing her blouse. “Let’s focus on the proposal. We have a wedding to plan.”

Celeste grinned. “That’s why you’re the best.”

And as (Y/n) returned to her desk, heart still racing, she reminded herself, again, that this was just business now.

Just business.

No matter how tangled the past might be.

To be continued...🧡

💍ᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʙɪɴᴅ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀᴇᴅ💍

📝 Note from the Author: Ties That Still Bind was inspired by the beautiful Harry Potter one-shot “Love and All Things Fake” (James Sirius Potter) by everlovingdeer from Wattpad, a piece I’ve returned to many times. The way it captured longing and emotional restraint stuck with me, and this story is my way of exploring that same feeling in a different world—with new characters, different stakes, and a final sense of closure.

If you feel this story crosses any lines, feels too familiar, or unintentionally disrespects the original, I truly apologize. That was never my intention. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not the original author. This was written with love, reverence, and a desperate need to give closure to a story that never left me.

Thank you for reading.

With love, me 🧡

Taglist:

What started as a joke—a fake marriage between you and Carlos to boost team morale—has spiraled wildly out of control. Now HQ thinks it’s real, HR’s scheduling couple’s counseling, and the team is planning a surprise reception. But amidst the chaos, one problem grows harder to ignore: you’re starting to like being married to Carlos a little too much. And worse? He might feel the same.

Fake vows. Real feelings. Team-wide delusion. Welcome to the fallout.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Mystical vision on the rooftop

By the time the manor had endured Damian’s curses, Tim’s theories, Cassandra’s quiet revelations, Dick’s haunted nostalgia, and Jason’s unnerving “book miracle,” Halloween was upon them, darker, rainier, and stormier than ever.

On one strange, calm morning, after returning from patrol with everyone already asleep, it came to Bruce like a premonition: gifts left with intent, personal details no intruder should know, each Robin confronted without fear. Too precise to be random. Too intimate to be hostile.

So he went to the manor’s roof. Alone.

Batman: “Enough games.”

That “cold wind” the kids had been feeling ever since Cassandra mentioned it, and Jason confirmed it. That subtle “breeze” at the back of the neck. A shadow detached itself from the night behind him—taller, broader, cloaked not in darkness but in calm.

Superman: “Missed you.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched.

Batman: “You’ve been following my family. Interfering in my city.” Superman (smiling): “Checking in. Leaving presents. Trying to make an impression.”

Bruce’s silence was heavier than any storm. Clark stepped closer, almost shy.

Superman: “You once said I had to be creative. Show I was interested, prove I wasn’t a violent threat… but also that they couldn’t beat me.” Batman: “Did I say—?” Superman: “In that Cat Grant interview.” Batman: “That’s—!” Superman (cutting him off): “And don’t tell me that was Brucie talking. I know your kids protect him more than they do Bruce or Batman. If I’m going to win them over, it has to be for real.”

For once, Batman didn’t have a response ready. Clark shifted his weight, uneasy.

Superman: “Did I screw up? I thought it’d be kind of funny when they found out… that they’d respect me, and—”

His words trailed off.

Batman: “You’re Superman. If anyone doesn’t need to earn their respect as an enemy, it’s you.”

Silence stretched again.

Superman: “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

Bruce finally processed it all. His shoulders slumped, his body eased.

Batman (softly): “They’re going to love you.” Superman: “You don’t look happy.”

Bruce turned, exhausted after a long night and months of uncertainty.

Batman: “They’ll blame me for every fight we have.”

Behind him, Clark’s laugh broke the tension as he landed lightly on the bedroom balcony.

Superman (grinning, floating closer): “Wait! Does that mean we can start dating publicly?” Batman (without looking back): “Stay for breakfast. If that’s public enough for you.”

A moment later, the ghost stirred up another cold breeze—but Bruce didn’t notice, wrapped in Clark’s arms.

In the end, it wasn’t a ghost or a curse. It was something far more dangerous.

A man in love.

If you enjoyed this, you can check out my AO3 profile (I have a Batman Halloween story haha), read my work-in-progress fic DDaLS or simply follow me and give it a like.

This was inspired by the song Brag by The Home Team

You’d been his secret for months. Not because he didn’t want to tell anyone, but because Luke Hughes was… complicated. High-profile, always busy, always aware of who was watching. And somehow, you fit into his life perfectly, quietly, like you’d always belonged there—but only when no one else was looking.

Tonight, though, felt different.

He showed up at your door just as the city lights began to flicker on, the streets glowing with a soft, golden hum. His hair was tousled, sleeves rolled up, eyes dark and intense. There was a look in them that made your stomach twist—a mixture of nerves, determination, and something unspoken.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” you murmured, stepping aside. Your heart was thudding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

He closed the door behind him, lingering near the threshold. Hands in his pockets, jaw tight, he just… looked at you. And in that look, you could feel the weight of every moment he had kept you hidden, every touch and whisper you’d shared in private, every night spent curled together while the world outside remained oblivious.

Header designed by @daosies, thank you!!

Official art by HoYoverse

A Genshin Impact Jekyll & Hyde-inspired AU centring on Albedo, the mysteries of Dragonspine, and a slow-burn epistolary relationship gone strange.

Epistolary · Psychological Mystery · Slow-burn · Angst · ➤ Pairing: Albedo × GN!Explorer!Reader ➤ Genre: T (for themes, implied violence, emotional intensity) ➤ Status: Ongoing — Act I: COMPLETE ✓ ➤ Updates: Sporadic but passionate!

After a chance meeting in the Dragonspine mountains, an explorer and the famed alchemist begin to exchange letters. Their connection deepens, their lives intermingle — as dreams turn enigmatic and the snow begins to whisper. Something stirs beneath the ice.

The Journey ahead... Act I – [In progress] Act II – [In progress] Act III – [to be completed] Act IV –[to be completed]

Estimated word count: ~20,000 words (across all acts)

!!Please comment below to be added to the taglist!!

Reblogs appreciated to help it reach more readers!

Alastor freezes. Static crackles. He shouldn’t want it. But he does.

For the Right Reasons by juliusschmidt @juliusschmidt

Length: 105k

Harry doesn’t agree to be the Bachelor expecting to find love. He’s just hoping for an exciting jaunt around the world, half a dozen new friends, and, if he’s lucky, an amazing hj or two.

Louis may have signed up to be a contestant on the Bachelor, but he’s not interested a ring or a proposal, not from Harry, not from anyone. He wouldn’t turn down a few more Instagram followers, though.