#i tried taking a selfie with me smiling but they look forced | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywoozi · 2 years

Text

Buy A Boyfriend || chs x reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: Being a professional boyfriend on SVTHub is great - all Vernon has to do is respond to a few texts, send out a couple selfies, do a stream every now and then, and he makes enough to cover tuition. Things get a little tricky when he finds himself wishing he actually was your boyfriend.

Rating: M (18+) | Word Count: 4kish

Content Notes: voice kink, male masturbation, swearing, he is a virtual boyfriend for money, the texts will probs look like ass on mobile, gender neutral reader, reader has cats and I borrowed @sluttywonwoo 's cats bc im their aunt and I love them (sorry if u have your own, please imagine them 😭), they dont have sex (in this part) my bad, reader is a stem major bc I live to project, I think that’s it pls let me know if I missed anything!!

Vernon’s username: bandsboyvern

Reader’s username: allthoughtsheadfull

Vernon sighs as he opens up SVTHub, knowing he has at least three messages that ask, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

His answer will, of course, be “Yes and I would make you a cute little worm house in a jar and take you with me everywhere,” when he really wants to say, ”No I wouldn’t, because I don't know you at all and worms have a very short life expectancy.”

But this is the life he’s created for himself; getting paid to act like a boyfriend comes with answering cliche boyfriend questions. He’s scrolling through messages, answering good morning and goodnight texts with an appropriate selfie, when one message catches his eye, or actually, wow, 5 messages, all from one person.

Vernon tilts his head, considering how to answer. It’s a bit weird that you sought out a pretend boyfriend to tell these things to but he can’t say the messages aren’t more entertaining than the usual ones. And, honestly, snails are effervescent.

Vernon answers some messages from other users; badbitchesrus is having friend group drama again and he’s dying to tell her, “you’re the problem,” but a boyfriend wouldn’t say that so he just agrees, saying, “you’re so right, Jen did copy ur fit last night but u did it better baby.” He replies to a few selfies with paragraphs of fire and heart eye emojis, and sends out a couple ‘hope ur day gets better babygirl’s.

Clicking out of the app, Vernon tries to force himself to focus on studying. He’s got a music theory quiz this week and a sound design exam next week and he’s not prepared for either. His fingers tap out a rhythm on his knee as he runs over scales in his head, swearing to himself after missing the last sharp in B major for the fourth time. He’s about to pull out his keyboard for manual practice when his phone dings with a message, the tone telling him it's SVTHub. His head hits the back of his chair, hoping beyond hope it’s not another worm message, and he smiles in surprise when he sees it’s from you.

thought 5: legally blonde is peak cinema and has something for everyone so whyyyy is it universally disliked

Vernon tilts his head, realizing that even though he’d never seen Legally Blonde, he did dislike it for some reason. Huh.

His phone goes off again, another thought from you.

thought 6: why did stephanie name it twilight and then have bella meet edward in the daytime

He hasn’t seen Twilight either but, honestly, you bring up a good point. Why name it a certain time of day and then not have them meet at that time?

Happy to be distracted, Vernon settles in to ask you some questions and hopefully get some movie recommendations.

Before Vernon can respond, he gets another message, from bbygrill99 this time. She’s requesting an ab pic, her third this week, and he wonders why she’s so obsessed with his abs when his ass is great too, but complies nonetheless. Lifting his shirt, he tenses his abdominals and tilts his phone to get the perfect angle, his bottom lip just barely in frame and his gray sweats sitting low on his hips. He’s been trying to drink more water because apparently you need it to survive, so his abs aren’t as defined as usual and he hopes she doesn’t say anything. He sends the picture out with a kiss emoji and saves it to his folder of lewds, hoping he’ll be able to reuse it.

He’s very intrigued by the idea of threats to increase productivity, and asks you more questions. This turns out to be counterproductive as it leads to a whole conversation that makes him laugh all the way through, and consequently, he doesn’t get any more work done.

It’s almost time for his weekly goodnight stream, and Vernon’s still thinking about your last conversation. You’d lured him into a debate about living as a pigeon or living with pigeons, and he still wasn’t sure who’d won. You hadn’t sent him any new thoughts today, and even though you’d just become a subscriber last week, he’s missing you for some reason. He really enjoyed the randomness of your brain, and hearing what was going on in there throughout the day. It was a nice break from pretending to be the perfect boyfriend, and he got to respond like he wanted, not like he thought he should.

Starting the stream, he settles into bed and begins telling his patrons about his day, pausing at certain moments to let them respond to him. On their screens, it just looks like a personal facetime, and they get to pretend he’s talking to them and them alone. He tries not to frown when he realizes you haven’t joined, and hopes you will soon; you were the one person he actually wanted to say goodnight to.

You don’t join, and Vernon goes to bed sad and confused. Why were you paying for this if you weren’t going to use your membership to the fullest? His subscribers loved the introduction of goodnight streams, some are even asking for good morning streams too. You also hadn’t asked him for any pictures yet, even though everyone was allowed three per day. Maybe you just hadn’t read the membership benefits when you joined and didn’t know? He should probably ask, right? Just to be sure you’re getting your money’s worth.

Vernon gasps, staring down at his phone in awe.

A cat picture. You've sent him a cat picture. A picture of a cat. Your cat, presumably.

Vernon’s heart stutters, his eyebrows raising.

damn.

He sighs in disbelief before setting his jaw in determination and deciding the perfect combination and sequence of emojis to convey his true feelings.

Vernon puts the phone down for a moment as he remembers what you’d first said about your cats. One likes you too much and one doesn’t like you at all. He wonders which is which, they're both looking at you with such love.

He’s spinning in his desk chair, zoning out a little, when his eyes hit the open sound design program on his desktop.

Fuck, he has an exam tomorrow.

Vernon’s mouth stretches in a smile, his kicking feet sending him on a giddy spin in his chair. Putting his phone on Do Not Disturb, he forces himself to focus.

Vernon is sitting in his Audio Mastering Techniques class when you text him. He was already struggling to focus, fingers drumming on the table and leg bouncing under it, his neighbor sending a glare over every few minutes. He tries his best not to check, but you'd promised him your first thought and he wants to see what it is!

Glancing around surreptitiously, Vernon opens SVTHub with his phone under the table. You'd never sent him an explicit message before but there's a first time for everything (Vernon hopes).

Vernon looks up organic chemistry practice problems but sees ‘Stereospecificity in Addition Reactions’ and ‘Electrophilic Addition Reactions to Conjugated Dienes’ and immediately begins shaking his head, exiting out of the browser and texting you again.

Vernon’s heart starts racing as he reads your text. You want to call him. You want to speak words and you want him to listen and respond and then you’ll respond to his words.

Cool.

Vernon’s sitting at his desk, spinning around as the phone rings and rain pangs against the window.

“Hey! Sorry,” you sound out of breath, “it’s monsooning and i couldn’t text and hold the umbrella and keep my laptop out of the rain at the same time.”

“It’s okay, no worries. How’d the exam go? Did you cry?” He asks, only slightly worried.

“It went well, I think! I did cry but just a little and I didn’t get it on the exam paper this time, thank goodness.”

You tell him more about the exam and he just listens, absorbing your voice and tone and cadence. He wants to record you, wishes he could listen to you all the time, your voice is so entrancing.

“Did you have your midterm yet?” You ask sweetly, sounding concerned.

This startles Vernon out of his trance and he has to ask himself if he has taken his midterm yet today, and sighs in relief when he realizes he has a few hours left to go.

“Nah, it’s not till later so i’m just studying and vibing.”

Vernon chats more with you, trying to imagine what you look like and wishing patrons had a profile picture like he does, before he realizes it’s been an hour and he should get focused. Promising to call you after his exam and wishing he could just take you with him in his pocket, he hangs up.

Vernon does call you after his exam, and he calls you the next day too, and the next. It’s easier than ever for him to respond to messages, romantic words flowing and streams getting more and more popular. He just pretends he’s talking to you and it always works. You haven’t joined one of his streams yet but he’s holding out hope, and secretly wishing that you’d request a private videocall. You still haven’t asked for any selfies but he finds himself sending them anyway, hoping someday you’ll send one back.

He’s getting ready for his bedtime stream when he starts thinking about your last phone call, just a few hours ago. You’d just woken up from a nap, sounding all raspy and sleepy and cute, and he tried to picture your face, cheek lined with pillow creases. He doesn’t remember what you’d talked about because he couldn’t focus on anything but your voice, soft and sweet in his ear. He pictures you, laying in bed next to him, your head on his chest or his on yours, your legs tangled up with his own. He can’t help but imagine your fingers trailing over the ridges of his abdomen, running up and down his chest, and his own fingers start to follow.

Vernon thinks about your fingers moving lower, running along his waistband and dipping beneath. But you’re a tease, and they slip out and over the fabric of his sweats, pressing down where he’s starting to grow hard. He rubs his palm over his dick, squeezing harder the closer he gets to the head, imagining your giggle when his hips buck up. His phone goes off, startling him out of his fantasy and reminding him he has a stream to start.

He hasn’t done one like this in a while but the tips are always insane and he really wants to buy the lego set you told him you did the other day, so he shrugs and presses the red record button on his phone.

“Hey baby, it's so good to see you. How are you?” Vernon pauses to let his viewers answer, thinking about how you’d respond.

“I had a busy day, midterms finished last week but I have a project due soon and I haven’t made a lot of progress on it,” he hears you scold him in his head, telling him to get a move on.

“But I’m really tired, and i just wanna relax. Think you could help me?” Vernon asks, setting his phone down to pull off his shirt, missing the little notification popping up to say you’d joined. He smiles softly into the camera as he picks it back up, sliding on the bed to rest his head on the pillows. He pans the camera down to show his abs, running his fingers down his chest to settle at his waistband, pretending they’re yours. The tips start rolling in and he mutes his phone, the dinging sound beginning to annoy him.

Vernon tries to find that fantasy again, the one where you’re in bed with him and touching him and talking to him, and slips his hand into his sweats, fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He sighs, pulling his dick out and rubbing his palm over the head, his hips jerking at the friction. Leaning over to dig around his bedside table for some lube, Vernon wonders what you’re doing right now. He opens the cap and dribbles some onto his length, smearing it around with his hand. It’s chilly but he just tells himself your hand is cold, and starts squeezing his cock, pulling a little when he gets to the head. A punched out moan leaves his chest, lube warming up and dick getting harder.

It feels better than usual for some reason, but Vernon isn’t willing to think about why at the moment, and keeps jerking his cock. He’s panting a bit now, staring into the camera with half-lidded eyes and lip bitten between his teeth, feeling his abs tense with every pull. Closing his eyes so he can picture your hand moving on him, he tilts his head back into the pillow, wishing he could moan your name.

The heat is starting to rise in his stomach, his hips bucking into the movements of his hand, and he knows he’s getting close. He really is tired so he doesn’t try to draw it out, just squeezes at the head harder and tries not to whine at the pressure. He thinks about your hands on him, god, your mouth on him, and imagines your voice telling him to cum.

Vernon almost drops the phone on his chest with the force of his orgasm, trying to decide if he should turn the camera to show the cum shooting out of his cock and pooling in the ridges of his abs. He leaves it facing him instead, knowing his face is screwed up in pleasure and his moans are echoing throughout the room. Staring at the ceiling, Vernon tries to catch his breath and wonders why he just came so hard. He can feel his eyelids drooping, mind going hazy with sleep and oxytocin, and blows a kiss into the camera, saying goodnight.

You haven’t texted him in a week.

Vernon’s messaged you, selfies and thoughts and questions, but you haven't responded. He even checked your profile, just to make sure you hadn’t canceled your membership. He doesn’t know what to do; you’ve only been a subscriber for a couple months and you’ve only been gone a week, but he misses you. He misses waking up to a random philosophical question from you, or a picture of your latest A, or a video of your cats play(?) fighting.

But Vernon also doesn’t want to bother you, or overwhelm you, so he’s cooled it down a bit. He only texted you once yesterday, and he hasn’t texted you at all today. He just wishes he knew you’re okay, that nothing bad has happened to you, that you’ll come back. He knows now that being a pretend boyfriend is no fun if you don’t have someone whose boyfriend you want to be.

For now, he’ll just keep checking his phone and hoping to see a message from you.

Vernon's knee bounces, jaw clenching as he listens to the phone ring, waiting for you to pick up. He can't wait to hear your voice, it hasn't even been two weeks but that's more than long enough for him. You just soothe him, quiet his brain and still his hands. He's not sure if it's how gently you speak, or how your voice feels like a soft, warm blanket right out of the dryer, or how your words slide over him like silk, but he's missed you and as soon as you pick up and say hello, it's like his entire body relaxes.

He chats with you a bit, catching up on your classes and telling you about the work he's done for his project (little to none), letting you scold him for having done no work on his project and enjoying it.

The conversation draws to a natural conclusion, both of you having exhausted every possible topic in an effort to avoid the reason for the call. Vernon takes a deep breath and tries to steel himself; he's never been good with uncomfortable situations or feelings talk but he's willing to try, for you.

"So, you thought this was like a... pen pal situation? Didn't you have to put in your ID to prove you're over 18?"

"Well, yes, but I thought it was just so we could talk about adult topics, not because it's porn!"

Vernon blanches, he hadn't really thought about the fact that he was basically a porn star and he's not sure how he feels about it. He's not ashamed, sex is normal and human and he needs to make money somehow, but he does wonder how much longer he'll want to keep doing this. It's not easy to act like a boyfriend to so many people at once when he knows there's only one person he wants. And he does know it now, he wants you.

"Does it make you uncomfortable? That I do this?" Vernon worries, knowing he doesn't want to stop but also knowing he doesn't want to lose you.

"No, I mean, a job is a job and you get to make your own schedule and devote all your focus to school. It seems like a great gig, and you're good at it obviously..." You trail off, sounding sad for some reason. He hasn't heard you like this before, your voice a bit thready and foggy, like you're suppressing tears.

"What's wrong?" Vernon asks urgently, becoming more and more concerned with every sniffle that escapes you.

You stay silent for a while, Vernon tries to be patient but he can hear your breath catching, and he's about to start crying too just so you don't cry alone. He breathes out your name, hoping you'll respond.

"Ugh, I just-" you stop yourself, sounding... embarrassed?

"I..." you take what sounds like a very deep breath, and Vernon feels like he's at the edge of a cliff, just waiting to jump.

"I like you! I like when you call me babe and flirt with me and call me and I liked the face you made when you came and I liked how you sounded and then I wanted to make you sound like that! But this is your literal job, acting like a boyfriend, and I didn't know that so I let myself have a crush on you not knowing that it was all fake!"

It takes Vernon a second to process what you said, you'd said it all in one breath and spoken so fast, your voice shaking with the cutest mix of nerves and annoyance.

"Nononononononono!!! It wasn't fake! It was fake with everyone else but never with you," Vernon spits out in a rush, desperate to make you understand. He's pacing in his room now, phone pressed to his ear, arms crossed and fingers taptaptapping at his elbow. He wonders what he can say to make you believe him, to make sure you know that you've always been different, been special, to him.

"I look forward to your thoughts every day. Whenever you text me, I literally kick my feet like a little kid. Every time I streamed - they're not all like that, by the way - I couldn't stop checking to see if you'd joined. Patrons can only ask for three selfies a day, I send you like five, unprompted-" he could go on, but you interrupt him with a call of his name. He's not sure he's heard it on your lips before, but it does something to him. Something that's very inconvenient for him to deal with now, during this very emotional conversation. He's tempted to send you a picture, maybe that will convince you.

"Vernon," you call again, bringing his focus back to your voice and away from what your voice was doing to him.

"So, what are you saying?" you continue, starting to sound a bit less sad and a bit more like yourself.

"I'm saying I want to be your actual boyfriend, and not for money, so you'll have to cancel your membership, sorry."

There's silence for a few beats; Vernon feels himself teetering on the cliff again as he waits for your response.

"I mean- is that... allowed?" You seem unsure, sounding slightly hopeful but a bit apprehensive still. He wishes he could see your face, wishes he knew what you look like at all (knowing would definitely help at nighttime or in the shower or when he wakes up for ... reasons). He shakes his head to bring himself back to the conversation before you notice that his mind had wandered.

"Yea, I mean, my friend does cam shows with his partner and another friend of mine found out his roommate was watching his shows and now they fuck everyday! That could be us!" Vernon tries to reassure you, hoping you're willing to at least try.

"Ummmmm I don't know about that just yet but we could try... dating, I guess? It may be difficult just online but I like you and you say you like me so, why not?"

Vernon thinks that if he jumped out of his window right now, he just might fly. He won't because he's not trying to die now that you're letting him be your boyfriend, but the feeling is there.

"Yes! I do like you, I like you a lot. I like you so much. Please date me." He knows he's practically begging at this point, but he doesn't care. Vernon's willing to beg, on his knees if he needs to, if it means he can be your boyfriend for real.

"Okay! Okay," you giggle, a bit muffled as if you're covering your mouth. "I'll date you if you date me?"

Vernon can't contain his grin, spinning in circles around his room even though he's already dizzy.

"Deal."

Vernon squints, sitting in his 9 am and staring down at the purple pen in his hand, the one he’d found sitting on the desk when he came in.

There’s no way though, right?

Right?

Vernon tries not to freak out as he looks under the desk to find a water bottle. One with your name on it.

Vernon has a choice to make. He could sit here, try to focus on class, while he thinks about you somewhere on campus, struggling through an exam and dehydrated and sad. Or …

Not on my watch, Vernon thinks, shooting up from the desk and grabbing his stuff and yours. He’s jogging across campus before he knows it, dodging frisbees and dogs on the green, weaving through hammocks and hopping over sleeping students. He’s not sure what lecture hall you’re in but he knows the chemistry building, and if he books it, he’s sure he can make it.

He’s speedwalking down the hall, peeking in windows and listening at doors, trying to find your class. His eyes catch a paper taped to a door, warning, “EXAM AT 915. DO NOT DISTURB.”

He could jump in glee but, glancing at his phone and seeing that it’s 9:10, he knows he doesn’t have time.

Vernon’s hoping, praying you’ll listen to him when the door opens a smidge, and the most beautiful face he’s ever seen peeks through. It's like heaven’s light is shining down on him, he thinks he can hear angels, and is that wind? Blowing through his hair?

Staring back at him, your eyes shoot open in disbelief, before landing on your pen and water bottle in his hands. You squeal, bouncing in your shoes and throwing your arms around his neck. He breathes you in, reeling at the weight of your body against his, and you pull back before he can return your embrace. Vernon misses you instantly but he knows you have to go be a genius so, handing you the water and pen, he accepts a kiss on the cheek and watches you leave.

Hiiii!! Would love to know your thoughts, whether they come in a like, reblog, comment, or ask! Please feel free to come talk to me i will cry and smile all day!! Planning a pt 2 for this but i'm hoping to get pt 2 of like a cowboy out first!

Part 2

And check out the rest of SVTHub! A good few fics are out and you’ll still have something to look forward to as more will be posted over the next few weeks ☺️

I am so grateful to @sapphichui for trusting me with this and I’ve had such a great time collaborating with and getting to know other awesome authors on here!

My Masterlist

My taglist

Collab Masterlist

#seventeen #svthub.collab #svthub #✨emily writes✨#vernon x reader #chwe hansol #chwe hansol x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt fluff #svt smut #any greendalians here 👀#kpop smut #kpop fluff #camboy!svt #camboy au #hansol x reader

2K notes · View notes

pinkandgoldensoul · 4 months

Text

CL#16 || Mine First || tape b

Navigation|| Masterlist

: ̗̀➛ tape b of the 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 series If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader x pierre gasly!bestfriend genre: childhood exes (?) to lovers, (fake) love triangle, fluff, a bit of angst tw: swearing, tiny suggestive scrumble word count: 10.2k plot: going back to Monaco, you meet him again. Both being Pierre's friends, you're often trapped in the same room: it's inevitable for the past to resurface, through glances, dances, pages filled of ink.

Your walk inside the paddock was followed by gusts of wind throwing strands of hair in every direction, preys of the unpredictable, forcing you to move them out of your face repeatedly. The forecast couldn’t have been clearer: 90% chances of rain. A storm was approaching the track, and so were you.

Looking around, you stared attentively at the frenetic movement pulsating in every corner: mechanics, engineers, journalists and cameras ready to capture any detail, VIPs begging for selfies with bewildered eyes and staring at the screens in awe and confusion. It was all so foreign to you. Despite growing up in Monaco, you had always shied away from the spotlight and tried to live a simple life, therefore moving out in your youth to an unknown town in South France, near the coast, but far enough from the contradiction of luxury. Still, Pierre being a dear old friend of yours, after pleading insistence, you had given up to his invitation to a Grand Prix. You had first agreed to be hosted at his home race, Paul Ricard, then obliged to choose another circuit since the track had disappeared from the 2023 calendar: and so there you were, crossing the streets you had walked countless times, the ones you had run away from.

«Do you think it’s going to rain hard?» «How do you expect me to know?» You snorted, arms crossed. Pierre simply shrugged, zipping up his suit. «I don’t know, you’ve lived here enough to recognize Monaco’s clouds.» he half-joked. «Maybe you’re the Monegasque Mazepin.» «Who’s that?» you asked, frowning. «No one, forget it. I just thought you, standing there doing nothing, had more time than I do to check the forecast.» «Uhm, if you want, I can take a look.» you offered, searching for your phone. Pierre quickly made it over to you, crossing the garage, and put his hands on your shoulders with a smile. «Y/n, I’m just messing around. Why are you taking everything so seriously? You always get my jokes, what’s up with you today?» «Uhm… maybe… It’s Monaco’s clouds.» Pierre couldn’t help but grin bigger and shake his head, leaving you standing on your own while he got near his helmet to clean it. «If you’re worried about tonight’s dinner, there’s no need to.» You sighed. To your annoyance, Pierre had stricken home yet another time. He was too good at reading you like an open book, your expressions and reactions too plain for him to interpret after years of sincere friendship. «I just don’t understand why you want to introduce me to this one friend… It’s a bit intimidating, like, the three of us…» «Oh, but we won’t be completely alone!» Pierre said, amending his partial explanation. «We’ll be hanging out in group, it’s going to be fun! I just wanted to introduce you to my best mate, that’s all.» «Fine, but… why can’t I even know his name? Why are you acting like I’m going to be surprised about who he is?» «Because I think you will.» «You’re such a drama queen.» He laughed at your arms-crossed and roll-eye as he finished cleaning the helmet, placing back on a counter. «Of course I am.»

To Pierre’s amusement, you hadn’t followed free practices with a lot of attention, which is a euphemism to say that you basically didn’t watch the screens installed for the guests inside the garage at all: instead, you had nestled in a small empty spot right next to his engineer and you had silently followed Pierre’s action and data, without really understanding much, more so as the second sessions had been red flagged before being half-way through it.

Pierre was dying of laughter onto the small, leathered couch of the club you had chosen for the beginning of the night, waiting for all his friends to show up, as he listened to your unforgettably miserable experience in the Alpine box. «So you didn’t see any other driver?» he asked, still chuckling. «No, I mean… I was also getting a bit car sick, with all those walls left and right. You drive way too fast, you guys are crazy…» Loud as a freight train crashing the rails with its speed, a group of youngsters entered the club with a thunderous burst of laughter, which made you flinch in your seat. «Oh, here they are!» Pierre immediately flailed around and whistled in order to be heard by les gars, who soon walked towards your table. Without you noticing, he stood up and waited them to hug and give friendly back pats. Composed in your awkward silence, you felt even more uneasy as one of the newcomers stopped and looked down at you sitting, staring with an uncomfortable persistence, a smile fading from his lips. «Who are you?» he asked, curiosity and perplexity mixed in his tone. Reciprocating with the same depth his stare, you realized you had just fallen inside a dangerous and unexpected sand trap, wishing the dark-lit room would suddenly turn the lights on so that you could make out his features clearer, or completely drown them out together with the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. «Finally I can introduce you both!» Pierre clapped his hands, breaking the moment and inviting you to get up. «Y/n, this is my best friend: Charles.» «Charles…» you muttered under your breath, trying to make sense of it. «Yes, Charles Leclerc.» he repeated in confirmation, smiling, shaking and holding your cold and still hand. «And this is y/n, one of my dearest friends.» «Nice to meet you.» The flickering sparkle in his eyes, the dimples making their painful appearance and his sweet, fond smile struck you all at once, the freight train now hitting you as you simply stood by the platform of time, uncapable of anything but playing reruns of distant and long forgotten memories in the back of your mind. He let go of your hand and you slowly slipped down in your seat, heart beating uncontrollably. But everyone was just too absorbed into the conversation to notice, too playful and happy to be in joined company. Drinking from your glass full of insecurities, your gaze was always searching for his, carefully studying his heavenly face, then immediately straying away, consumed by indecision and inner turmoil.

You all got up a couple of hours after to have a nice walk through the harbor; the cool breeze sweeping the dump asphalt made your skin shiver, and you felt forced to bring your hands upon your forearms to soothe the coldness. Pierre had noticed for a while the way you hadn’t engaged in the conversations a lot, had seen you full of thoughts back in the club and, of course, immediately read your body language; in a few strides, he was next to you, placing his jacket onto your shoulders, matching your steps. «Thank you.» you smiled. You both slowly walked alongside, letting silence fill the gaps, until the Frenchman couldn’t bear it anymore, as he gazed at the stars. «I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself that much tonight… I thought you would get along just fine, since you’re all friends of mine.» «They’re nice, in fact!» you tried to reply. Pierre gave you a knowing look. «Y/n, there’s no need to cover it up, I’ve got two eyes to see you have been running away from everyone tonight… Especially from Charles.» «What?» You stood still, watching him stop as you did. Had he noticed? Did he… know? «Are you… are you, like, jealous of him?» Pierre asked, reticent. «What?! N-no, of course not, why would I-» «Sorry, I was just wondering why you gave him strange looks all night, that’s it.» «No, it’s just… I think I’ve seen him somewhere else, before.» you swallowed hard, hoping he’d buy into your lie. Pierre first looked at you, then started laughing contagiously, to the point you had to giggle as well with a frown. «Why are you laughing?» you asked. «Are you kidding me? Of course you’ve seen him before!» «And… where?» you hesitated, now even scarier than earlier. «On track, y/n! He races for Ferrari, putain!» His laugh didn’t complement your heart drop. «You didn’t watch any race for real, uh? I thought you were joking. Now, that hurts!» The attempt at matching his laugh was almost miserable; the clench grinding your poor heart felt unbearable, feelings gushing and bleeding out beneath your skin.

Nothing had prepared you to see him once again face to face, nor you had anticipated talking to him, spending time together. For sure, no one had warned you about the way he would’ve changed so much growing up. A childish mischief still lingered in his expression, but you could clearly see he had matured, his perfectly crafted jawline and his beard giving it away; his athletic body resembled nothing of the young, agile and slim figure you remembered. You recalled witnessing Pierre’s transformation. Looking at them now, they didn’t seem like guys in their mid-twenties and, compared to them, you felt like a child, whereas they had already achieved a lifestyle you would never even dream of. Despite the obvious differences in the physique, something about Charles’ demeanor had unexpectedly softened: you were so accustomed to his impulsive, black-or-white younger self that you almost couldn’t recognize him under the charming and elegant masquerade. It can’t be him, you thought.

An awkward tension made every gesture clumsy, intrinsically wrong: throughout the weekend, anytime you’d cross each other’s way, you both moved cautiously around each other, studying the new person you had in front, as if you were trying to read a book you once knew by heart, word by word, now translated into an unknown language. And even though you struggled recognizing the Charles you used to know, he could clearly tell it was the same old you beneath the embarrassment: he always found you lightheartedly making jokes and having fun, smiling kindly, or thinking deep in silence. When you were with Pierre. Because as soon as Charles entered your vision, he would see you stiffening, stuttering, fighting insecurities in every sentence and gesture. And as much as he felt discomfort in making you all flustered, a thorn of pride stung his heart. He still had an effect on you. He wouldn’t makeyou laugh uncontrollably as Pierre did, but he was still able to stir some deep feelings inside of you, and it fueled him like gasoline on fire, for some reason. # Charles genuinely thought seeing you in Monaco was a karmic debt’s payment, enduring the comfort and the palpable chemistry between you and his best friend: apart from the small talk he had tried to initiate with you, Charles had kept away from you, purposely avoiding your presence. Undeniably, you still had an effect on him too.

When he entered the paddock on Wednesday, welcomed by the Spanish heat, crossing the lane with the hospitalities already brimming of life, he definitely didn’t expect to see you again, let alone to find you sat on a white wicker couch next to Pierre. Right as he witnessed the scene, the Frenchman swiftly placing your bare legs on his lap, his fingers drawing circles upon your skin, both spread out and chilling, enjoying the nice weather, Charles couldn’t help himself from chewing his inner cheek and pacing quickly towards Ferrari’s hospitality. What made him even more furious was knowing that Pierre was well aware of the cameras pointing towards you and taking pictures with no disturb, implicitly giving them permission, being so physical with you in public. Pierre wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing. And Charles didn’t like it. Because you seemed so innocent, always caring, smiley, kind and considerate of others, hanging off Pierre’s lips; and Charles hated, oh, he hated it as much as immediately spotting the flash of fear and tension crossing your irises as soon as he tried to approach you. Charles would’ve gladly done without hovering around you, or stop caring about you and Pierre’s affair, but he simply couldn’t: after seeing you amidst the crowd, he was drawn to you, by far the quickest in reaching you swiftly dodging everybody else, ready to find stupid excuses to chat with you and get your attention away from Pierre at least for a couple of minutes. The painful truth was that Charles desperately wanted to catch up with you, spend an entire night just the two of you and be your listener, hearing your enchanting voice narrate the life you had led so far and staring into your mesmerizing eyes full of dreams. He wanted to amend for the past. He felt guilty for what he had said, yet he acknowledged he wouldn’t know any better back at the time.

Instead, he was attending yet another night out with Pierre and mutual friends, throwing deadly glances over your dancing silhouettes, painfully reminded of what it could’ve been. Charles had so many apologetic words stuck in his throat, but an overwhelming wave of unlabeled feelings impeded him to talk the matter out with you. Only a question, the same one, all over again. Why Pierre? He unfortunately knew why you two had broken up, he couldn’t blame you in any way: but Charles couldn’t accept being discarded in place of Pierre. He loved him like a brother, he was one of his best buddies, and exactly because he knew him that well and had met you before, he was sure you two, as a couple, could never work out. Or, at least, that’s what he believed. There was also another annoyance cutting Charles’ skin: the fact that Pierre hadn’t been honest while introducing you. A friend? Sharing jackets and hoodies, letting each other be touchy and clingy, always hanging out together? Yeah, of course. Charles was having none of it. His drink tasted bitter, with you two in his vision; he couldn’t bear it any longer. So he simply decided to get the work done by himself.

Pierre had been talking and cracking jokes non-stop since the beginning of the night, getting his mouth dry quite rapidly; right as he left you dancing by yourself to grab another drink, Charles took the chance and crossed the dance floor fueled by liquid bravery, stopping right behind you, placing his hands on your waist carefully, so that you’d acknowledge his presence too late to run away from him. «Having fun with Pierre? Hasn’t he run out of words yet?» Charles teased you. «When he’s drunk, he gets quite talkative.» you explained. «And so do you.» At your raised brow, Charles took a sip of his drink with a smirk. «Just checking up on someone who seemed to be getting bored.» he leaned in a bit closer upon your shoulder. «Oh, and when did you start being concerned about me?» When I realized I was still in love with you, he thought. Charles wetted his lips. «Y/n, I’d really like to talk about everything that happened between us, if you just gave me the chance to-» «Charles, I suffered enough, trust me.» «And I’m suffering because of it now.» «Not my business. It’s your time to get over it.» «If you got over it, then why do you keep avoiding me like you’re still affected?» Charles knew he had hit home once he saw your eyes dart towards his, defenseless, uncapable of putting up shields of indifference. «Woah, Charles, stop bothering my girl!» Pierre loudly approached the two of you, drunkenly placing his arm around you, which Charles clearly interpreted as a “private property” sign. You were his girl, after all. Of course you wouldn’t give him a chance. Everything was already settled, nothing else left to be discussed. Still, if there was something Charles couldn’t do, it was losing without trying with all his might to grab the win. «Can I borrow her? Just wanted to dance with her.» Pierre chuckled and nodded. «Bien sur, go ahead!» You hated being treated like a parcel without thoughts and feelings, as if you not being willing to dance with Charles wasn’t even an option; indeed, you definitely didn’t refuse his gentle hand guiding you towards a quieter space on the dance floor, and didn’t sway the times Charles would place his face near yours, leaning against your ear, almost about to whisper something but never giving you the satisfaction to drop a single word.

There was no way you could deny the effect he still had on you, after all those years spent apart from each other: any moment your eyes flicked to glance at him, his bright eyes were still glistening with youthful innocence, his dimples still dazed you, his enigmatic smile still made you question his and your own feelings. For a moment, standing that close to him without sharing useless words, you imagined Charles had stayed. In fact, that you had stayed. With a little effort, you could almost imagine you two had never broken up: you were dancing, comfortably enjoying his hands on your waist, placing yours around his neck lightweight, scared of lengthening physical touch. He stared down at you with a pleased and peaceful gaze, so sweet it could almost stich up all the scars he had left over your heart, splitting them apart and filling them with love before sealing them forever. But he had made a choice back then, clear-cut. Formula One was his only lover, no room for others. No room for you. The music died around your ears. But it still pumped quick inside your heart. «Are you good?» Charles’ voice caught your attention, as his hands firmly kept you up and yours had fallen back onto his shoulders for support. You simply tripped, you said to yourself; something normal which would happen while dancing drunk, a usual slip of thoughts diving back into the hurt of the past. «Yeah, all good.» you breathed out, looking behind your back. Pierre’s silhouette had completely disappeared from the radar, leaving your clenching stomach lonely in the search of a ride home. «Where’s Pierre?» you slurred. «I don’t know…» Charles’ green eyes scanned the room and trailed off yours, joining them in the search. «Can you bring me back to the hotel?» Charles opened his eyes wide at those words. «What?» Maybe he hadn’t heard right. Maybe it was the voice of someone dancing next to him. «I’m tired, can you give me a ride?» The tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips got you stuck on his mouth, a lost soft look into your eyes that Charles had to avoid watching, before his drunk system would act bypassing rationality. «Of course.»

«Where are the keys?» Charles waited for your lazy hands to rummage inside your purse, quickly taking the shining, jingling metal out of your fingers. Right as the door cracked open, you aimed towards the king-sized bed, taking your heels off and slowly picking up the sheets in order to slip underneath them. «Don’t you want to change into something comfier?» he asked, dumbfounded. You whined in response, head already resting onto the pearl white pillow. «Y/n?» «Mmh?» «Do you want to sleep with your jeans on?» he almost chuckled. «Jeez, Cha’, I’m tired…» He walked next to the bed, kneeling down in front of you. «Yeah, I know, you said that quite a few times already.» With your eyes shut, you couldn’t see Charles’ enchanted stare; yet, you could feel the warmth of it even through the closed eyelids. «There’s a pair of shorts inside the wardrobe.» you mumbled. Pretty easy to spot, since it was the only piece of furniture Charles felt comfortable enough to name “wardrobe”, he slid the door of wood and sifted through. «They’re not hung… Are they inside a drawer?» «No, they’re on top of the first drawer. Under the hung clothes.» Following your instructions, Charles found the shorts, but pulling them out something fell down to the floor. «What was that?» you asked at the thud. «N-nothing, there you go with your shorts.» he quickly reached over. «Okay, don’t peek.» «Yep!» Charles turned back towards the wardrobe, gulping both at the guilt of dropping something off and at the shuffling denim behind him. He closed his eyes, covered in shame. Then, tugged by curiosity, he looked down before his shoes. A diary, spread open. Charles picked it up, a picture immediately threatening to escape the pages, but his fingers were fast enough to catch it. It was you and him, awkwardly posing for your mom, both wearing matching bracelets. «Cha’, the bed is cold.» «Uh?» he held his breath, caught by surprise. «Can you like… rub me from above the duvet?» Your drunken request didn’t sound weird to his equally drunken mind. He hopped onto the bed, with the back leaning onto the headrest, his right hand brushing you back and forth to soothe the cold, while he held the diary and the picture with the left. «Thank you, Cha’…» He couldn’t restrain himself from smiling, engraving in his mind the tender and natural rolling off of the nickname you had chosen. It was the same sweet tone you would use with him back then, when you still held hands, when your cheeks were tinted rose in his presence, when the only bracelet he would wear were the ones you made yourself. With love.

The shop windows were brimming with lights and Christmasy decorations: the whole city was lit alive by the thrilled atmosphere, and everyone seemed to be strolling by the pavement, making it difficult to catch up with your mother’s steps. «Come on, y/n, we’ll be late!» Winter holidays had started, and you couldn’t help but staring mesmerized at the streets, couples walking hand in hand, the grey sea roaring in the distance. Christmas was only a few days away and your mom had booked an appointment to the hairdresser to adjust your hair a little bit before the new year; you knew, though, that she had insisted also because she enjoyed Pascale’s company and gossiping quite a lot, especially since his son was only a year older than you and had the same middle school teachers you had.

«Ah, y/n, I wish I had a daughter like you. My sons are three devils.» Your mother chuckled at Pascale’s defeated comment, sitting on a couch behind you, holding a magazine. «But they’re talented, at least.» You pouted at your mom’s words, frowning. «Especially Charles. By the way, how is he doing?» your mother added. Pascale sighed, blow-drying your hair. «Very good… But I’m worried he’ll never finish school.» «But he’s in third grade now, how can’t he not?» you asked, with lively eyes. «Middle school isn’t the problem, y/n. I’m afraid he’ll never graduate from high school. I mean, he’s clearly on a league of his own, but… there are no certainties he’ll make it to Formula One, and in case things might not go as planned I don’t want him to struggle finding a job due to a lack of diploma.» «I don’t think you need to worry, Pascale. If Charles can’t succeed, then nobody else will!» Pascale sadly smiled at your mother’s answer, brushing your hair. Still staring at yourself inside the mirror, you caught eye of something quickly storming into the saloon from the backdoor. «Mom, can I go out now?» You had never met him, but it was immediately clear to you that the boy tugging at his mother’s apron was Charles. A lock of hair partly covered his eyes and you were amazed at how large and luminous they were, full of hopes and dreams. «Did you finish your homework?» she asked, still patiently brushing your hair. Hesitating, you saw his eyes trailing off towards Pascale’s movements, pointing towards your hair and ultimately fixed his green pearls onto you. Charles’ lips parted to let out an inaudible gasp, caught by surprise by your gracious and lightful beauty: your hair, perfectly combed, seemed like a crown of silk upon your face, and your blushing cheeks hit an unknow spot of his young, tender, unexperienced heart. «So?» Pascale prompted. «No, I haven’t finished yet.» Charles felt stupid, but he couldn’t stop staring at you, nor could you. He was so scared you would never see each other again he was trying to extend the moment as long as he possibly could. «But I’ll finish them.» he added. Pascale, surprised at the answer, never heard beforehand, watched him pacing fast out the backdoor and reemerging with the notebook in his hand, sitting on the couch nearest to you. Unbeknownst to both of you, your moms had exchanged a knowing look through the mirror; but how could you notice, when all your attention was undividedly offered to each other? He took furtive peeks, as you darted him side-eyed glances, enchanted with his haphazard pose. Needless to say, Charles didn’t get much homework done… But he studied, oh boy, he did: he studied all your features, your behavior, your shy answers to your mother, your graceful red dress as you stood up in order to leave the saloon.

«M-merry Christmas!» he hastily blurted out, before you exited the door. Melting like a candle under a flame, Charles’ chest tightened at your small smile. «Merry Christmas.»

First it was doing homework together, then it was hanging out to eat some ice-cream as a treat, then it was strolling by the sea, and then riding the bike chuckling and giggling, until it was walking to the school gate hand in hand and wearing the matching bracelets you’d gifted him – not making it on purpose – for Valentine’s Day. It had happened so fast you couldn’t give a name to it: you spent all the free time you had in his company – whenever he wasn’t down karting tracks training – and you let yourself be swamped by Charles’ explosiveness, dragging you alongside him down all Monaco, willing to show you anything beautiful he had seen in his life, making memories together.

You had seen other classmates of yours having boyfriends, but they all seemed too morbidly physical to you. Charles would only grab your hand occasionally or give shy and awkward hugs, and that was more than enough for you, more than you would ask him to do: you didn’t feel the need for more; everything was as perfect as he could be. Some of your classmates also mocked you for being his girlfriend, since everybody noticed he often skipped lessons and wasn’t known as an easy character. In fact, Charles, at times, especially at school, treated you a bit coldly, annoyed by all the guys watching him and judging the both of you spending the breaks together. It had never been a problem to you, though, because you had soon realized his heart was full of love and care for you.

«Did they do anything to you?» he asked you, accompanying you back home after school, referring to your classmates. «No, they just talked crap as always.» you shrugged. «Did they touch you?» he asked once again, grabbing your hand a little tighter. «Uh?» «I saw they patted your shoulder, in front of the gate, when you were coming out. Did they do anything before that?» «No, they didn’t.» Charles’ frown was still on display, and you could tell he had been upset by the scene. It was normal, after all: he had witnessed his girlfriend being bullied, liked none of it and wished he would’ve got the chance to intervene. But somehow, seeing him deep in thought and keeping you closer to him made you realize for the first time he genuinely cared about you, more than two good friends, and as your chest filled with an unexplainable excitement, you slowly leaned your head against his shoulder. You waited for him to sway and withdraw from the touch, but he didn’t. You walked back home, fingers intertwined, moving slow steps, both wishing the path was endless.

«Are you done?» «Almost.» Charles huffed in impatience, as your fingers knotted the thread tighter. «Done! Give me your wrist.» you said. After attentively securing the bracelet, Charles took the other one you had already completed. «Give me yours.» You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tied the matching bracelet to your wrist. «I like it a lot. Thank you, y/n.» His few words of appreciation warmed your heart, which fluttered and flipped in joy. You had thought it through for weeks, months; you had shyly confided with your mother, who tried to push you in being a little braver; still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit your love to Charles. Because it was love. As you stared at each other in silence, your heart was about to explode, but he seemed to be unfazed by your flushed cheeks and nervous giggles. “Charles really likes you, y/n. You don’t have to doubt it.”, Pascale had told you. So, without thinking, prompted by the reassurances you had gathered from external feedback, you quickly leaned towards him and gave him the fastest peck on the lips. Pulling back, you kept your eyes shut, too scared to face his reaction; completely still, terrified, heart flinging out of your chest, you were caught by surprise feeling Charles’ lips back onto yours. It wasn’t as rushed as yours; he probably wasn’t as scared as you were. Under the careful touch of his hand upon your arm, you felt all your tension melt like snow under the sun, giving in to the moment, happy you had broken the ice so that you could both enjoy this second kiss without hesitation. As his face moved away, you saw him opening his mouth in order to say something. «I… I love you, y/n.» he gulped. «And thanks for the gift, they’re so well-made.» The way he had immediately changed topic didn’t help making his first words going unnoticed; Charles couldn’t put his heart on the line that openly, after all. But it seemed like you had only heard those three words, getting stuck at them, flinging yourself towards to hug him. «I love you too, Cha’!»

Charles looked over at you, peacefully drifted away, sleeping your hangover off. He had never told you, but you had been his first love too. Charles didn’t stop tenderly rubbing you from above the sheet, shamelessly enamored with that delicate, indirect touch. Caught once again by the diary, he frowned at a wrinkled page.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you knew bad news were coming. You had never seen him as silent, as closed off and distant before: instead of immediately reaching out to your hand, walking alongside, he had fastened his steps, marching ahead of you, without sparing you a glance. He stopped on the promenade quite abruptly, forcing you to halt to avoid tripping over him. He stared at the raging sea, tinted of green and grey waves, foaming onto the harbor. «Where do you want to go?» you asked, trying to be as quiet as possible. «It doesn’t matter.» His voice was categorical. «We can’t be together.» He didn’t glance over to you nor blinked, as he threw you on the abyss of the sea, in the freezing coldness of his heart. «What?» you said, above a whisper. «I need to win the karting championship, so I must exclusively focus on training. Spending time with you will make me waste time.» A waste of time. That’s what you were to him. «But… We can still see each other, once you’re done with training! There’s no need to-» «I want to be a Formula One driver, y/n. I can’t have distractions.» «I’m not a distraction, Cha’! We… We love each other!» you pleaded. He finally turned around and threw a pity and almost annoyed look at you. «My only love is racing.» Too young and vulnerable to know how to hide the hurt of rejection, weeping like a baby you bumped past him, running back home, completely distraught. Charles’ words had cut you open like a knife, and what made it worse was that he had given no warning sign: those months together had flown by like a fever dream, sweet and carefree, even when he was telling you about his races and training. It made no sense, to you. He had given you up without thinking twice, whenever the choice was presented to him: racing had been and would always be his answer. Your feelings, whatever you two had shared meant nothing to him. Slamming the door of your bedroom, you looked down at your wrist: with a violent grab, you tore your matching bracelet apart, sobbing loudly, desperate at the thought he would soon throw the one you had made for him too.

Charles’ chest clenched. He had forgotten about the words he had used with you back at the time, but he hadn’t been able to rub off his memory the tears you shed before him. He was sure to be making the right choice, despite not knowing the cost of blindly pursuing his dream without taking others into consideration. He heard you heaving peaceful under his hand, still placed upon the duvet, and he felt a deep regret assaulting him: how could he ask you to stay near him, to bear his presence after what he had done to you? But most importantly: why did he have to lose you only to discover, years later, that if he had kept you by his side, you would’ve been the most supporting and understanding person, given the honey-laced words Pierre always had rolling off his tongue whenever he talked about your presence during race weekends?

Charles sighed and flipped the pages over and got stuck onto another entry, enchanted by a matured handwriting.

Pierre has always been a friend. Every time he would invite you down karting tracks, he would do anything to make you laugh with his stupid jokes, telling you about all the places he had been able to see throughout his first racing weekends around France, dreaming together of his future and reassuring you he would bring you along with him once he would reach F1. No matter how convincing he could sound, his talks always managed to trigger a deep fear in you: you thought you would soon lose him as well, the only real friend you had made since moving out. But Pierre didn’t reject you as Charles had done. Instead of excluding you, he tried to involve you in his world made of races and revving engines, sharing every bit of energy and passion with you. So you grew up together, as close as time and space allowed. The ease and comfort you felt around him and that developed over time was a novelty, more so as you got to know each other since you were fourteen; if you really had to carefully think your relationship through, being there for each other during teenage ha certainly cemented your connection. Because Pierre has always been a good friend; but there had been times, occasions, small moments in which raveled feelings coursed beneath the seemingly smooth surface.

It was no mystery Pierre enjoyed partying, more so if he could drag you with him down the hell of heat, sweat, shots and loud blasting music pumping his blood stronger than ever. That night, though, he had overdone it a bit. Embarrassingly enough, for the first time in his nineteen-years-old existence, he was locked in a bathroom, hands on his stomach, nausea all over his head. And, most importantly, you all over his thoughts. He had downed drinks all night with the intent of celebrating his F1 debut, but completely forgetting about your intoxicating presence, your breathtaking smiles, the little temptations that had begun tormenting him subtly after you had both abandoned innocence and had inevitably grown older. Pierre had completely underestimated the power you had on him, and losing control with drinking loosened his nerves: throughout the night, his hands had unexpectedly lingered on your waist longer, betraying the intentions of removing them in a painstaking delay; his glance had flickered down to your lips too many times, despite him checking in with himself and correct it; the crowded club being accomplice, he had danced way closer to you than he should’ve had, closer than friends would do, and he had mischievously invited you to throw your arms behind his neck. Pierre had never felt so next to completely letting go of any restraint and kissing you then and there, freeing years of pent-up desires. And at that exact moment, nausea had hit him, throwing water upon his fire: he had excused himself to you with incoherent mumbles and ran, scattered, in search of the first restroom he could see. Of course, he should’ve imagined you would follow him and enter the bathroom with him, locking the door behind you.

«Do you… do you need help?» you asked, moving an unsure step towards him. Pierre’s thoughts were running wild: he closed his eyes, fighting the sickness and avoiding engraving in his memory your sweet, worried eyes. «No, I just need to calm down, I think.» You got closer to him after seeing him frustratedly passing a hand through his hair, and affectionately cupped his cheek, pained to see his skin pale under the yellowish light of the bathroom. «Do you want me to bring you some water? I’ll come back in a second.» But Pierre, who was melting into your palm pressed against his face, enjoying the touch with eyes still shut, opened them wide with a frown the second the contact was lost: he grabbed your wrist, which was willing to flee from him, and brought it close so that your fingers would linger back upon his cheek, not ready at all to let you go now that he had you so tantalizingly near. «Please, stay here.» he breathed out. The swift hand pulling your waist closer to him almost went unnoticed, since dizziness was beginning to get you as well; however, not a single hint thrown at you that night, and not even the ones he had left in the last three years or so, had ever led you to believe Pierre yearned for something more. After all, he was a highly popular guy, always hanging out with different girls every night, never trying to hide it from you, in fact. Chicks came and went, but you always stayed. And you also stayed as Pierre spitted a strained and husky putain before rapidly closing the gap between you and trapping your parted lips in a kiss. He didn’t leave much room for you to think nor react: Pierre’s tongue had already met yours in a sloppy and fast-paced dance, and your hand, previously brushing the lightest veil of his beard, had already made his way up to his hair, tugging at it, before you could realize what was happening. Pierre’s stare was completely drowned in dark lust and he couldn’t think straight anymore, taken over by the fog of alcohol and your addictive presence. He kept your lips glued to yours, too scared your words would break what Pierre reckoned to be a fantasy, too good to be true; still, even when he was quickly interrupting the kiss to catch breaths or change side and tilt his head the other way round, no protests were raised. Thirsty and urged by drought, he drank his fill from your lips with such an avidity he would take away any resistance hovering in your mind: Pierre’s desire to see your face under the poorly lit restroom won against the feral need of tasting you, failing to take into consideration how the trail of glistening saliva connecting your swollen lips would turn him on even more, combined with your drunk, dazed eyes and your flushed cheeks. His hands couldn’t stop roaming all over your back, gripping your neck to keep you close, then finally finding rest onto your hips. It didn’t take long before they became daring: still placed upon your waist, they slowly slid up, meeting the cotton of your top and slightly rolling it up-

Charles closed the diary with an abrupt thud. Breathing heavily, eyes filled with rage and fear, he stared straight into the void. He had no intention to keep reading that entry. He wouldn’t read other two pages of you and Pierre’s first hookup. First of how many? He had introduced you as one of his dearest friends… But Charles knew Pierre better than anybody else, and it was a fact he had never befriend that deeply any girl. Unless she was his girlfriend. The idea Charles had had you before and lost you, then found you again and now lost you once more, and to his best friend, stirred unknown feelings inside of him he’d rather bury deep.

A buzz broke his trail of thoughts. Caught by surprise, Charles realized you had dropped your phone onto the bed before slipping under the covers and it had sat near his thigh all along without him noticing. Until it started buzzing, of course. Unconsciously, he took the phone in his hand and saw the notifications pop-ups coming from Pierre. “where aare youuu? I can’t find you And Charles is gone as well ? Please text me back” Charles rested his head again the wall, just above the headrest, and sighed. He should answer Pierre’s texts in order for him not to panic about you two disappearing without warning… or ignore him and pretend he had never read anything? In that moment, Charles realized he had overstepped plenty of the boundaries of your privacy, reading through both your diary and your phone. So… why not going all the way in and earn full damnation? Once he was asked to put a passcode, he stared at the number pad waiting for his drunk brain gears to move; digiting his attempt, he hoped you still kept the same passcode you had back in middle school. It’ll never work, he thought. But to Charles’ amazement, it did. Pressing his lips together mentally mocking your laziness and lack of clever choices (overlooking the fact that he was the only one to possibly know your code from middle school times), he quickly tapped the notification and got ready to type an answer. “I brought her back to the hotel and we’ve just fucked, so that’s why she didn’t answer back :) " No, Charles, for freak’s sake. No resentment. No jealousy. No throwing it back in his face. He’s your best mate, after all. “Charles brought me back to the hotel cause I didn’t feel good We wanted to warn you but couldn’t find you” Quite satisfied, Charles reckoned that would be something you’d say. He didn’t even bother checking for Pierre’s replay, definitely willing to miss out on him being love-sickly worried about you, eye rolling at the mere thought. You were still there sleeping quietly, unaware of the emotional mess you had stirred in Charles’ poor heart. He glanced over at you for the last time, then slowly got up, put the diary back in the wardrobe and sneaked out, closing the door as delicate and silent as he could, not to wake the love he had put to sleep.

Charles sat to the small table, his lower calf resting on his other knee, the pointer finger brushing against his lower lip, in wait. He had been asked by the waiter to order a couple of times already, but Charles, as politely as his upset heart could allow him to, had dismissed him and sent him away. Pierre’s lean silhouette casually strolled towards him with that usual, smug smirk adorning his face with an aura that Charles, for the first time after years of hanging out together, behind his Ray Bans, found terribly unsufferable. He tried to study his best friend in search of whatever detail could’ve ever caught you trapped into his arms, and how the man now taking a seat right in front of him could’ve lied to him straight to the face keeping his new relationship away from him.

«So… I’m all ears.» Pierre stated, smiling. «Alright.» Charles didn’t move, watching his every movement. «Can I ask you something first?» the Frenchman interrupted him as he was about to speak up. «Sure.» Charles sighed, tilting his head in a slow, controlled back and forth motion. «You didn’t tell me anything about y/n since you met her. What do you think of her?» The Monegasque couldn’t restrain a snort, looking away and removing his glasses only to fidget them close, before enigmatically staring at Pierre. It wouldn’t take as long as Charles had predicted to get to the main point of the conversation. «Why does my opinion on her matter so much to you?» «Because you’re my best bro?» Pierre nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. He can’t be lying straight to my face so openly, Charles thought. «You know, you could’ve told me right away you wanted me to meet your new girlfriend. You didn’t have to put all this shit up and call her “one of my dearest friends”.»

Charles, still glancing at him, expected to savor Pierre’s astonished reaction, ready to catch him red-handed: so it was only natural for him to be left confused as the Frenchman frankly laughed, hand on his belly. «Mate, I don’t know how you made it up, but this is the most stupid crap I’ve heard in a while.» «Well, the way you two look at each other and are so comfortable with touching and being close gives it off. You aren’t subtle at all.» Pierre frowned, squinting his eyes to read into Charles’ expression. «Well, that’s a pity, because there’s nothing between me and her. And if you really want to know, she also rejected me long time ago.» «If she rejected you, something must’ve happened.» he stated, raising a brow. «We just made out once. I was celebrating for my F1 debut, I drank way too much and I kissed her. But she refused me quite badly.» he smiled at the thought. «What?» Charles stared at him conflicted, not knowing whether to trust Pierre’s version of the story. «She almost pushed me against the wall. I don’t even think she remembers, we were both completely hangover next day and we never talked about it anymore… Because there was no need to.» Charles would’ve liked to say that, in fact, you clearly remembered it, since he had found it in your diary; but knowing that he had skipped the pages which probably contained the rejection made him feel somewhat relieved. Yet, the undeniable closeness he had witnessed with his own eyes still put him in guard. «Still, you’re always PDA… and you also called her your girl.» «Did I? When?» «Literally last time we went out.» «Oh, I don’t remember. Too drunk to know.» Pierre smiled again. «But at this point, I guess there’s something you really would like to tell me about her.» Charles frowned, waiting for him to speak up again. «You act sus the entire night I introduced you both and dodge every conversation I try to have about her, but you still search for her any hour of the day just to give me second-hand embarrassment with you two’s awkward tension…» Pierre smirked to himself, shaking his head in the smallest movements and scrolling through his phone. «Then you use y/n’s phone to send me a drunk text she questions me about, stating it certainly isn’t hers, which kind of hints at the fact you stayed over to her room until…» he paused, then snorted loudly, «3 a.m. Wow.» Pierre put his phone on the table, screen facing downward. «Lastly, you invite me here, act all classy and cold with your Ray Bans, ready to confront me and make me confess my undying love for y/n with this pissed off face,» he pointed at his friend’s expression, «‘cause you’re jealous as fuck and you’re the one in love with her, uh? Good move, Charles. You’re the one who’s not being subtle at all, here.»

The waiter jumped right in at the worst possible moment, but this time Charles thanked his presence and let him interrupt the conversation: he felt spent, let down, somehow sorry for acting childishly. But, most of all, for being put in front of the harsh true: he still loved you. «Do you know all the story already?» Charles asked him, looking down, dejected. «Which story?» Pierre stared at him bamboozled, as Charles did in return. «But- you said I’m in love with her, so you know, right?» «Know what? What are you talking about?» Charles gulped. «That me and y/n have been together.» Charles saw Pierre’s eyes flick wide open, then him covering his mouth, in disbelief; once again staring back at him, completely sucked in by the news, willing to get at the bottom of it. «When she lived in Monaco…» «Yep.»

A short pause was offered by the drinks opportunely served, just in time for processing the information. «Now I understand why she acts weird when you’re around.» the Frenchman hummed, taking a sip. «Why did you breakup though?» «Guess I was too young to be in a serious relationship while also competing in karting.» Pierre glanced at his best friend, almost uncapable of recognizing him: he’d rarely seen him heartbroken and let down as he was, brushing his fingertip against the edge of his glass. «You should’ve invited y/n here instead of me.» Charles sadly smiled. «To say what?» «Exactly what you told me. You should’ve shown her you’re jealous of me and her, so that she knew you still love her. She should’ve seen you care for her as you probably did back then.» «So that she could rip my heart in two saying she doesn’t feel the same anymore?» «So that she could realize she never dated anybody else after you because she still feels something for you.» Charles bore his helpless eyes into Pierre’s, hope and surprise dancing in his irises. «C’mon, Charles, she even rejected me. Nobody has ever turned me down!» «Oh, please, I know that already.» Charles waited a couple of seconds to let the playful comment set before speaking up again. «Anyway, I tried to talk to her. But of course, she doesn’t want to listen, rightfully, and I can’t force her to.» Pierre loudly put down on the table his glass, spitting out a “tsk” of disapproval and disgust. «Where’s the Charles I know? The one who fights his battles until the end without giving up?»

In love, Charles had never had many problems. After you, that is. Loving came easy to him, as much as being loved: Pierre was popular due to his damned-cool boy reputation, but Charles wasn’t less of a dream for girls. He’d see the astonished stares, cheeks burning bright for him only, the small gasps and whispers shared between friends, the trembling voices and shaking fingers handing him the phone, a picture, a felted tip. A power he never used, let alone overused, to his own advantage. Still, he wished he would work with you. He always searched for any positive sign or reaction to his presence, but he never had the chance to spot them clearly. Every time some fans would hand him a bracelet, an instant stab of sorrow and regret seeped through his heart, overlaying memories of your delicate, small hands offering your handmade sign of love. Pierre was right. He couldn’t let you slip away, once again. «You must hurry up, though.» Pierre stood up, one hand stuffed in his jeans’ pocket. «Why?» «She leaves tomorrow. She… she goes back home.» he trailed off his stare. «What?! Why didn’t you tell me?» Charles abruptly stood up to face him, screeching his chair on the floor. «’Cause I didn’t know you cared?» Charles ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. «Oh, fuck me…» Pierre took his phone out of the pocket and sent a text, under the desperate stare of his best friend. «Okay, she’s in her room now. Go to her.» «W-where?» «She’s staying at my same hotel, room 214. But you know that already from last night.» Charles gaped, uncapable of letting words out. Pierre smiled, patting his shoulder. «You’re welcome. But get to work, okay?»

You knew since the beginning that Pierre’s newly gifted sweatshirts wouldn’t fit your suitcase, so you had warned him not to shower you with merch as he always did: in vain, of course. Hence, you were completely bent over the suitcase, desperately trying to squeeze it with your body weight, in order to close the zip. Huffing and grumbling, about to break the zip due to the excessive might, you halted every movement as a confident knocking on your door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone; so typical of Pierre to forget stuff in your room and casually pass by… But his knocks would be usually followed by a string of embarrassing pet names, forcing you to open the door immediately. It was unusual for silence to drop right after the knocks.

You got closer to the door, only to jump back hearing insistent thuds against it. Okay, this is more like Pierre. You didn’t wonder further and simply got ready to welcome the sight of your best friend. Apart from the fact that the guy swiftly sneaking inside your room wasn’t him. «W-what are you doing?!» First rage, then fluster hit you: but Charles’ stormy eyes made you weak and helplessly condescending to anything he’d come by to say, as they had always done. «Why are you here?» you asked, your tone softened. Wetted his lips, irises scattered around, purposely avoiding yours, then a firm, determined yet resigned stare. «I read your diary.» «W-wha-» «When I brought you back here from the party, you were drunk. I made it drop by mistake and… and it was right open. I read it. And I also used your phone to answer Pierre’s texts, but you already know this.»

You couldn’t even get mad. As much as you tried to gather fury within you, something about him being vulnerable and fragile before you, frankly confessing the wrongdoings, seemingly heartbroken, couldn’t stir up blame on him. The only thing which made your ears ring and blurred your eyes was black fear. «What… what did you read?» Charles swallowed hard; you followed the movement with your eyes, you almost heard it loud and clear. «Everything.» With a single word, your pride tore apart. You could feel the void it left right beneath your sternum, and you could perceive the prickling tears stinging your eyes. Charles’ brows trembled in sorrow as he watched shame flash through your body, enhancing the shaking of your fingers, the twitching of your lips. «Why did you come here to embarrass me?» Not bearing being that far away from you while simultaneously being the reason you were crying, Charles closed the gap with a step, cupping your cheek with unknown tenderness. «Can you forgive me?» he whispered. You deeply wished he didn’t sound that fragile and loving; you couldn’t bear the pity look he was giving you, not after the brutal ways he had used with you in the past. He was being unnecessarily unfair. Because he probably knew, as you did deep down, that there was no way on earth you could avoid forgiving him.

Charles waited for your answer with his heart on the line, ready to crash in the abyss of despair or hopefully swim in relief, his fingers brushing the dust of time off your precious self, like a rediscovered chest of memories. He shouldn’t have never let you go. «You’re so stupid…» you shook your head and drop it low. «Charles, reading a diary isn’t as bad as-» «No, y/n, that’s not what I meant.» You raised your head up at his words. «Can you forgive me for… leaving you?» Beyond your inner walls, water fell and crashed the dam with its violent flow. He let you hide your face in the crook of his neck, hugging you closer, placing a kiss on your hair, tightening the embrace as your sobs tightened his chest. «Would you trust my love?» he spoke again. A loud sigh erupted from your lips. «I hate you so much…» Charles affectionately leaned his cheek upon your head, rubbing your back in hope to soothe your cries. «I was so naïve and stupid, y/n. I’m so sorry.» he whispered. «You don’t even know how much pain you put me through… I fucking left my hometown, Charles! I moved out…» «I know.» Charles acknowledged, resigned. «No, you don’t! You don’t…» «I never forgave myself for this. You know that?» His honesty showed through the hoarse tone of his voice, which obliged you to look at him, fast enough to see the veils of tears adorning his mesmerizing green, now saddened, eyes. «When my mom told me you had moved out, I thought it couldn’t be real. I waited for you out of school, to bring you back home as we always did, but you were never there.»

You cried harder against his skin, devastated by his shaking voice, and you encircled his neck with your arms to nestle closer. «I kept wearing your bracelet, I couldn’t take it off. It was the only thing I still had of you.» Charles trailed off his gaze and strayed away from the fixed spot he had been staring at, willing to interrupt the unraveling of his raw, way too powerful feelings; then he gently pushed you away the bit he needed to look inside your eyes. «Even if you don’t believe me, I won’t be able to forgive myself until you do. And I might not be able to forgive myself anyway,» he wiped off one of your tears with his thumb, «but I couldn’t add another regret, letting you go without telling you that I still love you.»

Charles felt a weight lifting off his shoulder, relaxing his tensed muscles all at once: he had said the words he had kept stuck in his heart for way too long. He let the hug loosen and moved backwards, now ready to see you leave. «But… if you’re in love with Pierre… I mean, I won’t interfere with you guys. You’re free to love whoever and I honestly can’t blame you, after all I’ve done.» You sadly smiled at his antics, diverging gaze as soon as he had broken the embrace and distancing from you. He had just told you he loved you, but had thrown another topic onto the table so that it would go unnoticed, so that he wouldn’t be hurt in case you didn’t reciprocate. He hadn’t changed, not even a bit. Under the cool and elegant demeanor, you could still see the shy, impulsive and passionate boy you had fallen in love with. «Cha’… You know I can’t choose who to love, right?» Charles’ eyes widened as soon as he saw you stepping towards him, closing the gap once again, lacing your hands around his neck while he held your waist in disbelief, scared you would fade away leaving him with splinters of a dream. «And the proof is that… I can’t help loving you.» «I’d like to say that I’m sorry for you, but…» You both inched over each other’s head, hearts twisting with the renewed novelty of what love felt like. «But there’s no need to be.» you breathed on his lips. The tension pent up through your muscles released all at once, right as you both fell caught inside a kiss: the lock which had sealed you heart for years cracked open at Charles’ key, unleashing the old, affectionate and immature feelings so that you could dress them with the newer and shinier clothes of reconciliation.

Charles couldn’t help a soft moan of frustration while deepening the kiss, his hands failing to keep you as close as he needed, touch-starved. You let him take control, overwhelmed by bliss to the point you simply gave in and relied completely on him; as he worshipped every corner of your beauty, your heart overflowed of unexperienced joy and love. You weren’t in a rush for taking the flight anymore: time was a senseless number uncapable of measuring the moment. Charles delicately laid you on the newly made bed, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses on your collarbones and down to your stomach, lips brushing against your summer dress and eyes desperately sticking onto yours all along. «Tell me you want this as much as I do.» His eyelids shut and his hopeful, breathless voice invited your fingers to pass through his hair, pulling his lips back above yours. «I promise I do.» Scared of opening his eyes and discovering he was having a feverish, heart-rending yet delightful dream, Charles helplessly smiled after resting his forehead upon yours. «Let me love you, then.»

I'm dead sure it's full of mistaked but I'm too tired and happy to be posting that I don't care! Thanks for bearing through everything! And thanks a ton to who leaves notes of feedback, they're so precious and dear to me! ♥ ✧ ˚ · . Wish you a wonderful day . · ˚✧

Navigation|| Masterlist

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #golden post

122 notes · View notes

levenlike11 · 9 months

Text

professional player suna x famous reader (they/them pronouns used) drabble! hope you enjoy🫶🏻 sorry for the inactivity, my brain refuses to work these days🥹

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"do you think people will recognize me here?" suna shows you a picture the paparazzi took of you two together on your date last night. you have no idea how they even recognized you since the photo was taken at 1 a.m. in pitch black dark on a narrow street in the city, where you thought no one would come at that hour.

"no one's that obsessed with you to know you from your back and ass." you scoff, sliding down on the flood of articles titled "y/n and their new partner spotted at midnight"

"some people are but anyways-" you roll your eyes. "what does the articles say?" suna asks, pushing his body closer to yours so there's not a single inch left between your sides. you push him away from you which makes him pout and he takes your phone from your hand.

"you have your own phone to use rin, leave mine alone." you try to reach for your phone but fail miserably when he turns his body the other way. damn him and his too long arms.

"after an interview with *** magazine, y/n had denied any rumors about their dating life. it seems that was just a bluff, seeing how we can easily say that's them in the picture, embracing a mystery person in the middle of the night." suna reads aloud and turns off your phone.

"you got away again." you huff and take your phone back, logging into your profile. "i lost thousands of followers in one night, i'll probably lose a lot more." you put your phone on the nightstand and throw yourself on the bed, suna joining you soon after.

"i'm sorry baby, i didn't think anyone would see us, i know you didn't too. you're always extremely careful to not cause a scene. they must have been following us for a long time for that picture, i'm surprised they didn't see who i was. at least you'll only deal with your disappointed fans and not mine too." he tries to look at the bright side and pats your head hoping it will help you feel better.

"my staff will be so angry too, like i told them to take a photo of us. they always ignore how hard i try." you push your face into your pillow.

"i feel bad that you have to deal with this alone." he rubs your back and you turn back to him.

"i have an idea. but it might just make things worse."

"do you want to tell everyone?" he asks and you nod.

"only if you want to as well though. i don't want you to feel like i pushed you into the situation. also my team and yours might get much angrier."

"at least we won't have to hide anymore. you can even come to my games and cheer for me!" he smiles, trying to look on the bright side again. you really wish to be as careless as him sometimes.

"so you don't mind?" he shakes his head. "like not at all? completely sure?" "hundred percent." he answers and hugs your side. "i want everyone to know i scored such a great, gorgeous, hardworking, pretty, nice, amazing partner." he smiles.

"they'll probably think i'm the lucky one for finding myself such a handsome boyfriend." you chuckle seeing how he grins after that and pick your phone back up from where it was.

"do you want to post something or should i?" you ask, opening instagram. he takes your phone, opens your photos and chooses a selfie you took last night with you smiling bright and a kiss mark on his cheek. he posts the photo with the caption "my mystery person<3" and you both ignore all the calls and texts you get all day, enjoying the freedom by going out to get food together, hand in hand.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

note: sorry this kind of sucks, trying to force myself out of a writing block (not working very well as you can see :/ ) hope you enjoyed it nonetheless, as always feel free to leave feedback and point out any mistakes!

140 notes · View notes

starg1rlie · 2 years

Text

'WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE FRIENDS W/DCKZ + BONUS'

pairing: DCKZ (Diluc Ragnvindr, Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax, Kaeya Alberich, Zhongli) x gn! reader (platonic)

genre: fluff/slight humor

xtra !! notes: reader is gender neutral (no set pronouns), reader is solo singer <3

okay so yall know that tiktok video about different genshin characters playing just dance? i lowkey feel like diluc and zhongli would not be putting their all into it, AND THEN YOU AND CHILDE AND KAEYA ARE DANCING YOUR GUYS ASSES OFF LIKE YESSSSS.

yall are doing a collab together so you guys stay in the same hotel. you'd prolly run into zhongli and diluc getting up early to get a cup of coffee and breakfast. you end up joining them, being treated to some caffiene and bagel sandwiches.

i feel like childe and kaeya would be snoozing in till like afternoon time 💀 by the time they do get up, they drag you out for lunch before you can go to your choreography session, taking you out to some chinese diner. turns out they already planned on coming here and made a reservation for three <3

you order chow mein and while youre slurping away at your noodles, childe accidentally flicks kaeya in the face with a piece of green bean as he tries to get a grip on his chopsticks. kaeya looks like he's boutta murder the ginger...

you end up handing him a kid's pair of chopsticks, which had grip handles for him to use LMAO. he could finally eat his tofu; he actually had tears in his eyes

you all end up doing choreography lessons together because of your collab. in between breaks, expect childe and kaeya to be flirting with you non-stop before diluc and zhongli drag them off, apologizing on their behalf.

"say, you look absolutely ravishing to-OW OW OW OW!"

"that's what you get for being shameless."

"y'know our manager is going to kill us if you keep runing my face, right?"

"...."

its so much fun to see diluc and kaeya arguing over who gets the bathroom from your room lol. your room is right next door so you pretty much can rely on them to be your alarm clock.

"i get to use the bathroom first because i'm the most favorite member out of the group!"

"who told you that?"

"everyone?"

zhongli's probably the dad of the whole group, but like, he doesn't understand why his simps call him geo daddy.

"whose the geo daddy? i'm the geo daddy? i don't have kids though 🤔"

kaeya lowkey enjoys all the attention he gets. fans and stans he can handle, but his simps are....kind crazy.

"i mean you can tell them i'm available, cause i am ;)"

"...."

"they're fourteen?"

*sips his diet coke awkwardly*

childe doesn't understand why everyone calls him ed sheeran- although he still enjoys all the attention that he can get from his fans and stans. he has just as many simps as the rest of the members.

"who the fuck is kaeyascumdumpster? actually, who the fuck is kaeya? WHY IS IT NOT ABOUT ME?"

their favorite drinks? zhongli enjoys tea (earl grey, green tea, and lemon tea) but also occasionally drinks wine. diluc loathes alcohol, but will settle on juices, more specifically grape juice. childe enjoys drinking alcohol, yes, but he also prefers drinking chocolate milk. he's such a kid on the inside sniffle ;( kaeya is the alcoholic bitch of the group, sue him. keeps a bottle of wine hidden in his duffel bag

these guys are kinda like your bodyguards. everytime yall go out decked out in caps and black masks, all four of them are like surrounding you so no one can recoginize you and get on their knees and declare their love for you. it's happened before and that eneded up with you being whacked in the head with a box of chocolates and a boquet of sickenly sweet-smelling roses.

childe forces everyone to take group selfies before the night you leave so you can have tons of memories to look back into. i can just imagine kaeya doing this: 👉👌😉 and diluc just making a straight face the whole time, zhongli managing a small smile, childe just smirking like the dumb bastard he is, and you in the middle of it all, with a bright smile on your face <3

expect kaeya or childe to phone you a few weeks later with an idea for another collab... 💀

500 notes · View notes

myunghology · 1 year

Note

hi jian,i hope you're doing well these days♡´･ᴗ･`♡!i've seen your post reharding about your inbox being opened,so i'll give it a try!can i request a scaramouche/wanderer and albedo hc with their s/o,g/n reader,who turned into a cat and how would they react?👀iyw to add more,you can add some domestic stuff.Its okay of this request is too much,you can ignore it!

ʚ scaramouche and albedo with an s/o who turned into a cat, + domestic headcanons ɞ

— ✦ gender neutral reader, headcanons, pure fluff! [ a/n : I think I'm in my Sabrina carpenter phase ]

ʚ SCARAMOUCHE ɞ

didn't realize it was you when he visited. tried calling you and said "what's this cat doing here?" but then you don't reply. are you not there? he looks around the living room and sits beside you and pets you.

but in his pov, he was wondering why you weren't there. so he tries asking the cat (he's a lil silly okay) and then you try to convince him that the cat is you. obviously doesn't believe you

and then, you finally convinced him.

he's mad. but not that mad. who would do this to you? or did you do it yourself?

you totally did it yourself.

"are you stupid" - scaramouche

asks if you can turn back into a human. "meow meow meow raaaaaaaaa hiss hiss" translation = "IF I COULD I'D BE A HUMAN RIGHT NOW"

"dang okay"

tries buying cat toys to tease you. and you just sit there with a :// sick and tired of his bs.

bought more like stole something to make you turn back into a human. but of course, things don't always go that well.

you basically turn into a cat for the rest of your life, but you can turn back into a human anytime. and to be honest? it's not bad.

you have sat on this man's lap multiple times, human or not, he finds it comforting

STAWWPPP im literally thinking of scaramouche with a s/o who turns into a cat when they're flustered

you definitely sit on his shoulder when he's working in your cat form

ONLY. LET'S YOU EAT IN YOUR HUMAN FORM. HE ISN'T FEEDING YOU CAT FOOD.

I'm gonna tell you. Living with him is a nightmare. No it's not those type of aesthetic couples let's be fr... You two literally have fights every hour. Playfully of course

"scara what do you use for your eyeshadow?"

"my aunts ashes"

"scara smile for me"

*smiles*

"ugly"

"fuck you"

MALE WIFE SCARA OMG

definitely knows how to cook.

also, definitely late night walks / dates.

buying lots of random shit in 7/11 is considered a date. to him at least. or mall dates!

SOMETHING LIKE THIS

+ taking baths together... not sexually omg

washing each other's backs and hair :), you accidentally got soap in his eyes and he hissed so badly HAHAHAH

"OH SHIT SORRY"

"(#(#(#(! #? @) @? @?? #(#() 1#(#("

oh btw he definitely does skincare. forces you to do it with him.

random goofy ass selfies in the mirror wearing face masks with scara >>>>

ʚ ALBEDO ɞ

he was definitely the one who turned you into a cat let's be honest

he. he doesn't really have that much of a reaction.

but he tortures you 'trying' to find a cure and says 'it's hard' BUT IT ISN'T. HE JUST LIKES TEASING YOU AND LIKES SEEING YOU AS A CAT

doesn't turn you back until he's satisfied. sorry.

you knock down some of his materials to annoy him LMAO, acts like he doesn't care but inside he's like "dyk how much I spent on that"

your paws on top of his hair gripping on to it forcing him to turn you back into a human.

eventually, he did.

but he was missing one material,, and apparently you can't get it anymore.

insert incoherent cat noises

and finally, you did turn back.

you'll still turn into a cat from time to time though.

he sends you to places when you're in your cat form because he thinks it's probably faster to get materials that way.

i don't think he's wrong though..

living with albedo... eh..

he's rarely home. most of the time he's in the lab— that's acceptable.

and half of the time he's taking care of klee.

but he all makes up for it, he can't leave you hanging just like that of course.

it's good that he gets home early, you two spend the rest of the day painting together, or either just doing random things together. also— when klee is there, is definitely more fun.

baking with them, coloring, playing hide and seek, making random potions!

“albedo do you know how to make slime” — klee

you three tried making slime. it got stuck on klees hair LMAO

eventually got it out after an hour.

swore to never make slime again.

klee sees you as a sister figure, and that makes albedo really happy :)

she keeps clinging on to you, while albedo just stares in awe at you two smiling and tilting his head slightly.

at the end of the day, you three all take a rest together on the couch looking like a cute little family. actually people have actually mistaken you guys for a famil-

©myunhology — all works written are made by ©myunhology. DON'T steal / copy my works. if you do see someone stealing my works, please report them :).

#jian’s works!#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin headcanons #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #albedo x you #albedo x reader

311 notes · View notes

iheartcake123 · 10 months

Text

☁️future with you-cho sang-gu☁️

Masterlist

cho sang-gu x reader

-2nd person p.o.v-

“surely this isn’t the right address..” you whispered to yourself as you looked at the house in front of you.

it was the house of trauma cleaners.

“su-jin are you sure this is the right house?” you spoke into your phone and she confirmed it.

with a light groan you approached the front door and rung the door bell.

you were then greeted by a girl.

“we aren’t interested in your company or it’s products” she quickly said before trying to slam the door shut but, you quickly used your hand to stop the door from closing.

“is sang-gu in by any chance?” you asked with a small smile and the girl opened the door with wide eyes.

“why? do you know where he’s gone?” she asked but you shook your head.

“sorry, i was told he’d be here” you apologised “by any chance do you know when he’ll be back?”

“no, he’s left and he’s not coming back. by the way who are you? you can’t just show up to a strangers house like this!”

“my name is y/n, i’m a friend of- i mean was a friend of sang-gu. i have some stuff i need to talk to him about which is why im looking for him now”

“good luck with that, the idiot hasn’t shown up for 2 days. seriously he’s supposed to be a guardian but he runs away from home” the girl annoyingly huffed “if you see him, tell him that his nephew geu-ru is worried”

“i see, sorry for disturbing” you then apologised and walked away from the house.

finding sang-gu was going to be harder than expected.

the next morning you got up bright and early to return back to the house you went to yesterday. you wanted to check if maybe there was a slight chance he turned up but, when you saw a young man putting up posters to ask if anyone has seen sang-gu you knew he hadn’t returned.

“excuse me. are you geu-ru?” you asked politely and he turned around and bowed before nodding.

“yes, have you seen my uncle? he’s filthy, loud but a good fighter” geu-ru responded loudly looking at the floor.

“no..but, i’m looking for him too. my name is y/n, do you want a hand putting up the posters?” you sent him a smile and he handed you a couple of them.

“make sure you stick them properly so that they don’t fly away in the wind. like this” geu-ru began to show you and you couldn’t help but smile as he explained how to precisely stick it.

however, it was soon ended short after you felt a hand over your mouth. you were then being dragged into the back on a 8 seater van, they did the same to geu-ru and even though you tried to fight. the men were too strong for you. they were taking you somewhere.

when you arrived to where the men were taking you and geu-ru, it all made sense. it was the people sang-gu used to do fights for.

they locked both you and geu-ru in the fighters ring. a beautiful lady wearing a dress entered and took geu-ru to the side. she took a selfie with him and then the men put geu-ru back in the fighters ring.

“hey! you won’t get away with this!” you yelled at the lady and the men in the room. they all ignored you.

“sang-gu, your uncle will be here” she held the missing sign up to geu-ru.

you sighed, there was no point in you trying to scold the assholes who had kidnapped you. you watched as geu-ru and the lady both chatted to each other. however, their conversation was cut short once a commotion could be heard in the distance.

sang-gu then burst through the door and geu-ru called out to him. the men tried to use force to stop sang-gu him but he fought them with ease. as usual.

“leave him alone” the lady announced and her men stopped trying to fight.

sang-gu ran straight to let geu-ru out.

“geu-ru. are you okay?” he looked over his nephew making sure he wasn’t hurt and then he saw you from the corner of his eye.

he couldn’t believe that you were there in front of him too.

“y/n..” he muttered under his breath slightly stunned before turning to the lady “what the heck is this?”

“uncle don’t be mad, your lady friend isn’t a bad person” geu-ru stopped sang-gu.

that’s when sang-gu decided to sit down and have a conversation with the lady. you stayed with geu-ru and the men as they played cards but, from the corner of your eye you were watching sang-gu. trying your best to keep an eye on him but, your view wasn’t great.

from what you could see it looked like a tense discussion and after 10 minutes sang-gu walked over to the table.

“what are you doing? let’s go home!” he called out to geu-ru before briefly looking at you. you were definitely going to follow them home because you still needed to talk with sang-gu.

the walk home was silent. sang-gu didn’t acknowledge your presence once and you didn’t even know how to start up a conversation with him. when you all arrived back at the original house, the same girl who answered the door in the morning was waiting for both gue-ru and sang-gu.

she snapped and had a go at sang-gu for not being responsible and running away from geu-ru. you couldn’t help but smile at the scene, she really cared about her friend. it was nice. once she had left, sang-gu was about to walk back inside. he was just going to ignore you. however, you knew you needed to talk with him so you stopped him.

“sang-gu!” you said loudly and he paused in his tracks.

he didn’t look at you and just hummed in response. why was he acting so ridiculous?

“this is your first time seeing me in god knows how long and you can’t even look directly at me” you scoffed slightly as you felt yourself begin to get emotional “after the accident-after what happened you…you just left without saying anything to me”

taking a deep breath in you tried to control your emotions.

“i had to move to a different city just to try to forget you. but, you never once left my mind” you continued while your lip began to quicker slightly.

sang-gu sighed loudly before attempting to walk into the house.

you wouldn’t let him get away this time.

immediately, you reached a hand and grabbed his upper arm. he froze in response.

“i know you blame yourself for what happened su-cheol but it doesn’t matter now. mistakes happen and you need to let go of the past. especially, with the mistakes we both made. i want you to be a part of my future” you said and sang-gu finally turned to look at you.

his eyes were glossed over and you raised your hand up to place it on his cheek.

his hand raised to go over yours and he held it there, letting himself be comforted by your presence.

letting himself be vulnerable.

tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he allowed himself to appreciate your presence.

“i’ve made too many mistakes y/n” he eventually breathed out closing his eyes.

“no..you haven’t. sang-gu no matter how many mistakes someone makes, they can always change. you just need to allow yourself to heal from the mistakes. try not to be so hard on yourself” you said in a soft voice to him.

and that’s when something clicked, sang-gu suddenly ripped away from your touch and glared at you.

“you aren’t my girlfriend, you don’t know the real me. we’re practically strangers so just leave” his tone was harsh and you couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“is that really how you feel?” you asked, your tone now cold to match his.

“what do you think?” he scoffed before walking to go inside.

just as he was about to enter the front door you called to him.

“you know? if you keep pushing people away you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. there are people that care and love for you but, you’re too blinded by anger to see it” you told him and it must’ve hit a nerve because he suddenly turned to look at you.

“and you’re one of those people? you didn’t even try to find me when i left and you didn’t even visit me in prison. don’t act like you care. just leave me alone” he spat at you.

even though you wanted to give him the same attitude back you just couldn’t do it. you knew he was only acting like this because of all the hurt he had been through.

“i give up sang-gu. i don’t know what to do to make you realise that i love you. i always have. and i will always continue to no matter what” with that last sentence you held back tears as you turned to walk away.

if not having you around was what sang-gu wanted then you’d give it to him.

you started to walk off, you needed to get out of there as soon as possible before you broke down.

tears slowly began to leave your eyes and you sniffled while wiping them.

suddenly, you felt a hand grab your arm and pull you to turn the other way. you were then met with sang-gu.

he examined your facial expression and before you knew it his lips were connected with yours, his hands moved to cup your face and you melted into the kiss.

after a couple of seconds you pulled away and he then pulled you into a tight hug, he was embracing you like he didn’t want to let you go.

“im sorry for everything, i’ve been an idiot and i’d like to have a future with you if you still want one with me” he whispered and you nodded instantaneously.

“of course, that’s all i ever wanted” you looked up at him as he continued to hug you.

he let out a smile and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon.

#kdrama imagine #writing #move to heaven imagine #move to heaven x reader #move to heaven #move to heaven masterlist #kdrama x reader #kdrama #cho sang gu x reader #cho sang gu imagine #cho sang gu #sang gu imagines #san gu

69 notes · View notes

celestialfantasiess · 1 year

Note

Demon brothers: *calls out for sheep!MC* MC!

Sheep!MC: *happy sheep noises with happy smile on their face as they move towards the brothers, hopping towards the brothers with boing boing noises* (that's how sheep!MC normally walks)

How do the demon brothers react?

Requests: open <3

。lucifer 。

‣ Think it's cute and doesn't care if you do it around the house but does ask you to walk in a normal way whenever you are at school or in the presence of lord Diavolo.

‣ Looks up whenever he hears the boing sound of you walking around the house. Hoped you would always walk around the house that way even when you and Mammon were up to some probably illegal plans but sadly for him you are smarter than that.

‣ Knows you usually adjust the way you walk so others like Satan can read in quiet and so that he himself can get his paperwork done. He appreciates your thoughtfulness.

。mammon 。

‣ Think you are adorable but does try to find a way to make money off of how adorable you are but that is to be expected.

‣ Tries to teach you trick so you can perform those for money, spoiler alert it doesn't work.

‣ He does however have a popular public channel with cute videos of you this alone with the commercials earns him quite a bit of money.

。leviathan 。

‣ Will compare the way you came over with the hopping and boing noises to something another sheep did in one of his anime's.

‣ Asks you to cosplay said anime sheep, if you agree expect to be walking around in cosplay the same day and if you say no expect a moping Levi to follow you around asking if you won't change your mind.

‣ Does force you to watch said anime with him and in return he gets you your favorite snacks to eat.

。satan 。

‣ You are now considered to be at the same level of cuteness as a kitten in his mind.

‣ Probably questions if all human world sheep's walk this way or if it is just you that does this.

‣ Now has multiple books about farm animals in the human world to see if any of them also walk in such a cute way.

。asmodeus 。

‣ Thinks it's adorable will ask you to do it again so that he can record it and post it on his devil gram.

‣ The post blows up so he now takes selfies with you whenever he can to post them.

‣ His new motto demons love me, but they love me even more with something cute next to me to enhance how beautiful I am.

‣ Also takes candid shots of you and has created a fan account purely just for you filled with pictures he took of you that you didn't even knew he took.

。beelzebub 。

‣ Has to remind himself for a second that he can't eat you no matter how cute you look doing that.

‣ You have discovered that whenever you do walk this way around Beelzebub that he seems to give you more snack so now you do it whenever you can as to get more delicious snacks.

‣ Sometimes worries about if there is something that sheep shouldn't eat since you seem to eat everything you can but haven't gotten sick yet.

。belphegor 。

‣ Adorable mc, you are adorable but he is really tired and just want to cuddle you now so he can fall asleep with you.

‣ Calls you over more often to cuddle with just to see you walk that way and to listen to the boing sounds.

‣ Doesn't count normal sheep's in his dreams anymore no he counts mc's.

130 notes · View notes

omnomnomdomcaps · 11 months

Text

Upstream - Remastered - Pt. I

Reposting one of my favorites here, featuring the work of Bubblybuns, who you can find on JFF. Lots of magical regression, omo, wet and messy accidents, and diapers ahead!

Seems like this chapter specifically got throttled, so gonna try sans pics. All characters are over 18. All readers should be as well! ****

Chapter One: Troublemaker

It was the first day of senior year, and Vanessa was busy staring at herself in her bedroom mirror, struggling not to feel a certain sense of awe.

The girl had nothing to compensate for - she was a fine student and a gifted athlete from a relatively stable home. Had it not been for her looks, she would have had no trouble pursuing an honest path. But that wasn’t something she had to worry about.

Instead, she spent her free time gossiping, plotting, and taking selfies, intoxicated by the rush that popularity gave her. There was just something about seeing boys lose themselves at the sight of her, about girls bending over backwards for the privilege of being called her friend. And this year, now that she was eighteen and on top of the high school hierarchy, she would settle for no less than the title of queen. But of course, she knew she wouldn’t reach such heights from the comfort of her bed, so she fixed her hair and went on her way.

Minutes later, she was at the grand double doors of her school’s entrance, arriving perfectly in sync with her two closest partners in crime. On her right came tall, red-headed Cassie, who always had the best gossip to tell. On her left came buxom Amber, the obligatory blonde of their clique, who prided herself as Vanessa’s enforcer. Marching in lock-step, they made their way in, and started down the hallway towards their lockers.

“Senior year,” Amber said, half-celebrating, “we gonna run this place, V?”

“You know it,” Vanessa replied, without turning her head, “who’s gonna try and stop us?”

“Well, you know Heather,” Cassie chimed in, “who tried to spread those rumors about you last year?”

“That bitch?” Vanessa was unamused. “Yeah, what’s she up to now?”

“Well, word is she got together with Jack Kilmer over the summer.”

“What? How’d that happen?” Amber asked, shocked, while casually shoving a wayward freshman out of their path and onto the floor.

“Who knows?” Cassie shrugged, “probably knew each other through family. But… I thought it might be a good opportunity to send a message.”

Vanessa was already laughing. “Oooh, love it. Jack’s been drooling over me since middle school. He’s on the swim team, too, so I know where to find him - thinking I’ll go pay him a visit Tuesday. Heather’s in band, right?”

“Yep,” Cassie confirmed, “I think she plays- “

“Excuse me!?” Vanessa’s smile vanished instantly as the clique stopped at once in the hallway. Seated in front of them, in front of their lockers, was a small, slender girl they had never seen before, with a black dress, black headphones, and black hair tied in a long ponytail, reading a thick-looking hardcover book to herself.

“Well, it looks like someone doesn’t know the rules around here,” Amber began, forcing the girl up by her collar into a standing position.

“Do we have… do we have a new face I see?” Vanessa asked with her head tilted and brow furrowed, licking her teeth as she scanned the girl up and down.

“Oh yes we do,” Cassie chimed in glibly, “a transfer, I believe, from… Salem High? Senior, but looks like not a very smart one, huh?”

“Oh, a new troublemaker here.” Vanessa crept closer to the new girl’s, holding a piercing stare until their faces almost touched. “What, did you get kicked out or something?”

The girl in black said nothing, turning away from Vanessa’s gaze and beginning to pack her book away into her backpack.

“Hey!” Amber shoved the girl to the ground away from the clique’s lockers, causing her to spill her book and the contents of her open bag. “You show some respect to the queen!”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Cassie remarked, “I think there might be something wrong with this one. What do you think, V?”

“Ooooh, I think I might know what the problem is,” Vanessa answered quickly, a cruel grin building on her face, “I think this one might not know how ta talk. ‘Cause I think this one might be a widdle baby.

“Is dat twoo, widdle baby?” Vanessa moved again towards the girl as she raised the volume on her impression, while a crowd of students began to gather and laugh. “Is you too dumb-dumb to know how to make talkies? Well, I’m sowwee, widdle baby, but we don’t wike widdle babies awound heah.

“So get the fuck out.” Vanessa’s tone shifted abruptly, and she kicked the girl’s book down the hallway.

With that, Vanessa, Cassie, and Amber turned and moved in perfect harmony back towards their lockers, leaving the girl in black scrambling to collect her things, muttering what the clique could only assume were curses under her breath.

That day, Vanessa felt no remorse, no regret, and no repercussions. She and her friends had delivered a loud and clear message to their school, and their fellow students made sure to cast them wide berths in the halls. It was an auspicious start to an ambitious year, and it placed the girls firmly atop the food chain, where they belonged.

Meanwhile, a new batch of classes brought little in the way of surprise. Vanessa made her way comfortably through dull lectures and simple quizzes, settling quickly into a steady rhythm of doing just enough work to get the grades that colleges would want to see. The first weekend of the year passed by quickly and uneventfully, and soon enough Tuesday arrived, allowing Vanessa to focus on the things she actually cared about.

Her plan proved to be perfect. Like clockwork, Jack finished his swim practice at 4:30, while his summer fling was off in her own club. Vanessa, who had been waiting near the gym entrance, met him with a flirty wink and a soft ‘hey’, and the boy did nothing to shy away.

“Hey,” he said back with an overeager smile, “‘sup?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the girl murmured, holding a finger on her bottom lip as she fluttered her eyelids. “Whatcha up to?”

“Oh, I was just, uh, at swim practice, y’know. But I’m pretty free now.”

“Oh. Well then,” Vanessa said softly, walking slowly closer to her target, “I was thinking we could maybe hang out, then?”

Jack let out a dopey laugh as he struggled to maintain his composure. “Uhhh… what would you wanna do?”

“Well,” Vanessa placed a finger on the boy’s chest, “maybe… I WANNA PLAY WIF YOU!”

Vanessa’s hand shot up to cover her mouth as her face turned bright red. Where did that come from?

Jack, in turn, took several steps back, his dumb-jock eagerness turning to confusion and fear. “Uhhhhh... what?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the girl corrected herself quickly, “I was ummm… just, uh, making a joke. Yeah, sorry. Ummm, where were we?”

“Oh, ummm, you were just, you were just, uh-”

“HEE DA WAWA”

Again, shock came over Vanessa as she blurted noises without any conscious thought. She stepped back away and tried to collect herself, but instead the noise simply came again.

“HEE DA WAWA”

Grasping her hands firmly over her mouth, the blushing girl saw no option other than to abort the mission and run. And run she did, all the way onto a bus and home.

When she finally did arrive back, Vanessa scoured Instagram to make sense of any potential fallout from the day. No one, it seemed, had gossiped about what happened, and no one seemed to have overheard. Jack, fortunately, was too awkward when it came to such things to be blabbering about it, and Vanessa saw his shock and confusion as a sign that he wouldn’t want to be bringing it up. So the girl breathed a sigh of relief and went about her evening, trying her best to shake off the day’s events.

Still, the girl lost sleep thinking about it. Why had she suddenly blurted out? What did she even say?

There were no answers to be found, of course, and Vanessa came to school tired on Wednesday, struggling to maintain focus through her classes. Thursday was no better, and it was at her desk in homeroom that the girl finally gave in to the strain and dozed off.

Without warning, the girl found herself on a boat - a small rowboat, it seemed, moving in the middle of what looked to be a wide river, with bright blue skies all around.

Vanessa, with a paddle in her hand and nothing else to do, began to row, but the boat moved very slowly forward. And then, though she kept rowing, the boat ceased to move altogether. Finally, though at this point the girl was swinging her oar madly, the boat began to move unnaturally backwards, against the current, while an ethereal voice filled the air:

“Heed the waters

Trickle and flow

The tide is turning

Upstream you go.”

Try as she might, the girl could not keep the boat from being pushed back by what felt like nothing more than a soft breeze. The small, wooden thing crashed violently against the river’s flow, and water began splashing in. Vanessa stood up in a feeble attempt to avoid it, but could only do so for so long. Soon, a gush found her, making its way to the girl’s shorts, striking her with a sensation that was wet, warm, and very real.

Vanessa woke up with a soft gasp. The feeling she had in her dream had followed her into reality, and she realized quickly that she was wet. Quite wet, in fact - the puddle that had formed on her chair covered the whole back of her skirt, and was dripping from every corner onto the carpet beneath.

The girl quickly looked around. She saw that there was still time in the homeroom period, and that a number of other students had taken the opportunity to nap through it. There was still a chance, she thought, to avoid humiliation, and she went for it.

Vanessa tossed a magazine from her bag over the stain on her seat and bolted out the door, doing her best to keep her backside covered. Frantically, she ran to her locker and grabbed a spare set of clothes - a precaution against inadvertent matching with her friends - and scrambled over to the bathroom to change. With moments remaining before the period’s end, she finished putting on her dry clothes and breathed an exhausted sigh of relief. Disaster had been averted.

As she tried to collect herself in front of the bathroom mirror, Vanessa finally took a moment to try and process what had happened. Never in her life had she had an accident quite like that - why now? Was it somehow connected to her bizarre slip outside the gym? Was there someone slipping her drugs? Was she sick? Was she simply stressed?

Yet again, the girl came up short of making any sense of her situation, concluding only that she needed to remain vigilant, and, more importantly, she needed to remain awake. With that in mind, she rinsed her face in cold water and went about her day as best she could.

That night, Vanessa found herself once again on the river, struggling to stay with the current. This time, she found herself in a storm, facing down dark clouds and lightning as far as she could see, while the same ethereal voice rang out through the gale:

“Heed the waters

Trickle and flow

The tide is turning

Upstream you go.”

Winds and waves crashed down upon the girl, wrecking her boat and soaking her lower body. Yet again, she awoke with a start, and yet again she woke up wet.

It was 4:00 a.m. The girl was weary, but she managed to get her sheets into the wash without creating too much of a stir. When she was done, she went back to bed, able, mercifully, to sleep without interruption.

But the dream repeated itself the next night, and again the next. Ever alert, Vanessa managed her way through the daytime - though a few late-week quizzes proved a struggle for the tired girl - but her repeated bedtime troubles wearied her. When the weekend came, Vanessa went to bed hoping that she might be able to finally sleep through the night. And she did.

Unfortunately, she still woke up wet. This time, the feeling was cold and clammy. This time, it seemed that Vanessa had slept through her Saturday alarm, well into the late morning. And this time, worst of all, the girl knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the accident a secret, as she woke to the sight of her mother standing cross-armed in front of her.

“Sweetie, have you been having some troubles lately?”

The tone was saccharine and condescending, completely unlike the way Vanessa was used to hearing her mother talk. But so many things were baffling the girl at this moment that she simply couldn’t process it.

“I think maybe someone needs to be wearing a little protection, hmmm?”

“Ew, ew, gross, mom, no.” Vanessa was shocked at the question, but too groggy to express her emotion.

“Are we sure? Because it looks like -”

“No, no, mom, please, I don’t know what’s been happening, but really, I don’t need anything.” Vanessa waved her mother away. The girl wasn’t sure if she believed her own words, but she was absolutely certain that she wanted to be done with the conversation.

Thankfully, her mother dropped the subject, and Vanessa slowly changed and loaded laundry before heading to the family dining table for a wordless breakfast.

“Excited about your college visit, honey?” Her mother asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Oh, right.” Vanessa had completely forgotten about the planned visit. Somehow, she had been too preoccupied to think much about it. “Uh, I guess?”

It was Vanessa’s dream school, with a lush campus and a robust Greek life, and she was reminded of that as she started touring the grounds. Still, the girl found it difficult to muster enthusiasm, her mind drawn constantly to the bizarre events that colored her first few weeks of the semester.

And then, a familiar, eerie voice began to play in Vanessa’s mind.

Heed the waters…

A chill ran down the girl’s spine and her eyes bulged wide. Without a second thought, she bolted from the tour group and towards the main buildings, while a pressure inside her built at an unnatural rate.

Vanessa was scrambling, but she could already feel a trickle come out as she made her first few strides. Desperately, she tried to hold her muscles together as she honed in on her destination, but it seemed crushingly far away, and time seemed to be running out fast.

By the time she reached the center of the campus green, she could hold back no longer. The flow was unstoppable, pouring through the girl’s powder-blue jeans and onto the grass below.

Defeated, Vanesssa stopped in her tracks and clasped her knees, panting, while tears began to mix with the sweat running down her cheeks. Around her, she could see college students pointing and whispering, though she recoiled to hide her face when a group of drunken frat boys started laughing and hollering.

“I don’t wanna talk about it” would be Vanessa’s refrain on the car ride home, as she sat sulking in her sopping wet jeans, staring cross-armed out the passenger window. Her mother carried on with her uncharacteristic, patronizing sweet-talk, but it was the least of the girl’s worries now.

When she arrived home, Vanessa made her way upstairs to survey the damage. The girl sighed. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, as much as she hated to admit it, the thought crept in that her mother might be right:

If Vanessa was going to make it through the semester, she might need a little protection.

READ ON

#ab/dl #upstream

69 notes · View notes

secret-rendezvous1d · 11 months

Note

This idea has been floating in my head. Harry speaks with Brad because his wife has lost motivation for exercise throughout her pregnancy. So, one day during her fourth month when the three (Four *wink*) of them are on a walk through London, Brad recommends a female friend of his who specialises in fitness including personal training for pregnant women. (Maybe they stop by a cafe for takeaway coffee and fans interact with them).

:)))))

"she looks so good."

"she's glowing!"

"do you think she'll take a photo with us?"

"i don't know, i feel like she'll want some privacy. especially if she's out with harry."

yn smiles to herself as she tries not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening behind her; two young fans, who knew who she was, seemed excited to be standing behind her in the queue at the coffee shop as she waited for her takeout order of coffees (and a decaf) for herself, her husband and his trainer.

"i can take a quick selfie with you but can i ask you not to post it till later today?"

yn takes in the wholesome faces as one of them gets the camera on her phone ready. she slides off her sunglasses and pushes them into her hair, holding her fringe back, leaving her eyes to adjust to the very well-lit coffee house around her. the sunshine flooding into the room through the full wall-length windows that seemed to be surrounding her.

there's a quick couple of photos taken, one with a pose and one with a smile, and some hugs were exchanged before her order was called. with a smile, a wave and a cardboard carrier, she was off out of the shop and back outside to see her husband who was waiting with his hands out to take two of the coffees from her.

"feel like they love you more than they love me, you know?" harry snorts, passing brad one of the coffee cups and taking a sip from his own, "it's good. i love it. and, i know you love it."

"i love it when they're like that," she grins, chucking the cardboard carrier into the bin beside her and taking a sip from her own decaf coffee, "they're the sweetest. they were the sweetest."

"must feel mad to see all these girls fawn over h though. he's loved by many," brad states, pressing a kiss to yn's cheek, "thank you for the coffee."

"you're welcome. i'm glad you've allowed harry to have the one thing he misses on this workout plan you've got him on," yn smirks, an arm nudging into brad's side as he feigns pain and grips onto his rib, "he loves it more than he likes to admit."

they continue their walk down the pavement, dodging those walking towards them and trying their best to hide their appearance from any fans who were lurking around the streets to catch a glimpse of harry in any way. sunglasses, hats and coats hiding any part of them that could give them away in any sense.

"and speaking of workouts, harry said something about you needing some motivation to get out and move. said you've been struggling since your pregnancy began," brad states, "i know a good personal trainer who would be happy to help you out. if you want it. i'm not forcing you or anything and harry's not pressuring you. i know he wants to help."

"i just- i'm so pregnant," she whines, looking down at her 7-month bump that was covered by the baggiest jumper she could find in her wardrobe (which, she's sure, was one from harry's collection), "i've lost all determination. i'd use to love going to gym with harry when we had a night free but now? i'd rather stuff a burger down my throat and enjoy that burn than the burn in my muscles."

brad snorts and harry just cackles, reaching his free hand for her free hand, squeezing her fingers in his hold.

"i'll think about it. i'm very appreciative of the offer though, brad."

"you've got my number, just drop me a text. i'll sort you out." x

#harry talk #harry styles imagines

48 notes · View notes

annamcdonalds67 · 3 months

Text

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲- 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧

You and Millie were roaming the streets of New York, hand-in-hand as you laughed about some things Millie said when suddenly you both came to a halt when two teenage girls approached you.

"Hiii, Margot, Millie, we are such big fans of you guys, could we please take a picture with you?" The girls asked with a big smile on their faces before you and Millie said yes, with bright smiles and took pictures with them.

"Thank you so much, you guys, Margot I loved you so much in 'Anne with an E', your acting was spectacular, also you looked so beautiful in season 3." One of the girls said before they both walked away leaving you and Millie alone. You turned your head to look at Millie whose jaw was clenched.

Millie, you okay babe?" you asked, concerned for her before she shook her head and exhaled through her nose.

"I'm fine, let's just go." she said, taking your hand and dragging you away.

As you and Millie continued your stroll through the bustling streets of New York, the encounter with the fans lingered in the air. The atmosphere between you two had shifted, and a subtle tension hung between you like a heavy cloud.

You tried to engage Millie in conversation, attempting to bring back the lightheartedness that had characterized your earlier banter, but her responses were short and distant. It was evident that the girls' compliments, particularly the praise for your role in 'Anne with an E,' had struck a nerve with Millie.

As you passed by a trendy café, you suggested taking a break and grabbing some coffee. Millie agreed, albeit with a forced smile. As you waited in line, you couldn't help but notice her fidgeting, her eyes occasionally glancing towards the entrance.

Just as you were handed your coffee, you saw a group of teenagers entering the café. Millie's eyes widened, and her grip on the coffee cup tightened. It was another group of fans, this time, recognizing her from her own projects.

"Hey, Millie! Can we get a selfie with you?" one of the girls exclaimed excitedly.

Millie hesitated for a moment, glancing at you. You gave her an encouraging nod, signaling that it was okay. Reluctantly, she agreed, and the fans gathered around her for pictures. The contrast between her forced smile and the genuine joy on the fans' faces was hard to ignore.

Once the impromptu photoshoot ended, the girls thanked Millie enthusiastically and left the café, leaving you and Millie alone again. This time, Millie didn't hide her frustration.

"Why are they only talking about your acting? What about me?" she muttered, her tone tinged with a mix of irritation and jealousy.

You sighed, realizing the source of her discomfort. "Millie, they just happened to mention my role. It doesn't mean they don't appreciate you. Your fans love you for your talent and who you are."

Millie looked away, her expression softening. "I know, I know. It's just hard sometimes. I want people to see me for more than just being with you. I have my own achievements too."

You reached out, gently cupping her cheek. "I know, Millie. And I love you for everything you are. Let's not let these moments get in the way of our happiness, alright?"

Millie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. The two of you left the café hand in hand, ready to enjoy the rest of your day in the vibrant city, leaving any traces of jealousy behind.

The day continued, and you both decided to explore the city's iconic landmarks, hoping to shift the mood and create new memories. As you walked through Central Park, Millie's tension gradually eased, and she started to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings.

You found a quiet spot near the Bethesda Terrace, where the sound of the city seemed to fade away, replaced by the serene rustling of leaves. Sitting on a bench overlooking the water, you stole glances at each other, silently communicating a shared understanding.

"I'm sorry for being a little moody back there," Millie finally spoke, breaking the silence. "It's just sometimes I feel like I'm in your shadow."

You took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Millie, you're not in anyone's shadow. You shine in your own right. Your talent, your personality – they're all uniquely yours."

She smiled, appreciating your reassurance. "I guess I just need to remember that. It's easy to get caught up in these moments, you know?"

You nodded in agreement. "I get it. But let's focus on us and the incredible journey we're on together."

As you continued your exploration of the city, you stumbled upon a street performance that captivated both of you. The vibrant music and the energetic dancers seemed to wash away any lingering discomfort. Millie's hand intertwined with yours as you swayed to the rhythm, letting the lively atmosphere uplift your spirits.

Later, you decided to have dinner at a cozy restaurant in Greenwich Village. The intimate setting and the delicious food allowed you both to relax and enjoy each other's company without the distractions of the outside world.

Under the warm glow of the restaurant's lights, Millie looked at you with gratitude in her eyes. "Thanks for understanding, and for helping me get past that."

You smiled, reaching across the table to hold her hand. "Always, Millie. We're a team, and we'll face everything together."

The rest of the evening unfolded seamlessly, filled with laughter, shared stories, and stolen glances that spoke volumes. As the night wrapped around the city, you and Millie walked back to your hotel, hand in hand, grateful for the love and connection that strengthened every time you faced challenges together.

In the days that followed, you and Millie continued to explore New York, creating lasting memories and deepening your connection. The initial moments of jealousy faded into the background, replaced by a renewed appreciation for each other's individuality.

One afternoon, you stumbled upon a quaint bookstore tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Millie's eyes lit up as she perused the shelves, her love for literature shining through. You found a cozy nook and spent hours engrossed in books, occasionally sharing passages that resonated with you. It was a simple yet profound experience that allowed you to appreciate the nuances of each other's interests.

As you ventured through different neighborhoods, trying new foods and immersing yourselves in the diverse culture of the city, Millie's infectious laughter became the soundtrack to your journey. The bustling streets and vibrant cityscape mirrored the liveliness of your relationship.

One evening, as you enjoyed dinner at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the skyline, Millie looked at you with a twinkle in her eye. "You know, I wouldn't trade this for anything. Our adventures, the ups and downs – it's all worth it."

You smiled, savoring the moment. "Absolutely, Millie. It's the journey we share that makes everything extraordinary."

The trip to New York became a chapter in your love story, one that strengthened your bond and added depth to your connection. You both returned home with hearts full of gratitude for the experiences you'd shared and a renewed sense of unity.

Back in the routine of daily life, you continued to support each other's careers, celebrating individual successes and navigating the challenges together. The jealousy that had briefly surfaced in the streets of New York became a distant memory, replaced by a profound understanding of the unique paths you were both on.

Through it all, your love for each other remained a constant, a source of strength that helped you weather any storm. As you reflected on the weekend in New York, you knew that the challenges had only served to fortify your relationship, making it even more resilient and unbreakable.

In the quiet moments, whether watching a movie at home or simply enjoying each other's company, you and Millie found solace in the simple joys of being together. And as your journey together continued, you carried the lessons learned in the streets of New York, knowing that love, understanding, and shared adventures were the foundation of your extraordinary connection.

In the days that unfolded after your trip to New York, the glow of the city lingered in your shared memories. The bonds of love and understanding forged during those eventful days continued to shape your relationship, creating a foundation of trust and unity that withstood the tests of time.

As the months passed, both of your careers flourished. Millie continued to make waves in the entertainment industry, showcasing her versatility in various roles. Meanwhile, your own projects garnered attention, and you found fulfillment in your creative pursuits. The journey, once marked by moments of jealousy, had evolved into a collaborative adventure where each success was a victory for the team.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the city lights outside casting a warm ambiance, Millie turned to you with a reflective gaze. "Do you ever think about that weekend in New York? It feels like it was a turning point for us."

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "Absolutely. It was a reminder that our love can weather any storm, and that we're stronger together."

Millie sighed, leaning into your embrace. "I love how we've grown, not just as individuals but as a couple. We're like a well-oiled machine, navigating through the complexities of life."

As your relationship deepened, you both learned to celebrate each other's victories without reservation. The initial traces of jealousy that had surfaced in New York had been replaced by a genuine happiness for each other's accomplishments. When Millie received accolades for her latest project, you were the first to applaud her achievements, just as she did for you.

One weekend, you decided to revisit the city that had played witness to a pivotal chapter in your relationship. Returning to New York felt like retracing the steps of your love story, and you found yourselves reminiscing about the laughter, the challenges, and the shared moments that defined that unforgettable weekend.

The streets of New York welcomed you once again, but this time with a sense of familiarity and nostalgia. As you strolled through Central Park, memories of the impromptu photoshoots and carefree moments flooded back. Millie squeezed your hand, a silent acknowledgment of the journey you had taken together.

At a cozy café, you found a corner table and ordered your favorite drinks. Surrounded by the city's vibrant energy, you reflected on the growth of your relationship. The lessons learned in the streets of New York had become pillars of strength, supporting the ever-evolving love between you and Millie.

As the day turned into night, you stood together on a rooftop, overlooking the glittering skyline. The city lights mirrored the glow in both of your eyes as you shared dreams and aspirations for the future. The challenges you faced had become stepping stones, propelling you toward a future where your love story continued to unfold.

Back in the hotel, as you looked out at the city lights one last time, Millie wrapped her arms around you. "Thank you for being my partner in this incredible journey. I wouldn't want to navigate this life with anyone else."

You kissed her forehead, feeling the warmth of her love enveloping you. "And I wouldn't want it any other way. Here's to us, and to many more adventures together."

As you embraced each other, surrounded by the echoes of the city that had witnessed your love story's growth, you knew that the journey was far from over. The streets of New York, once a backdrop for fleeting moments of jealousy, had become a testament to the enduring strength of your love.

In the months following your return from New York, life became a beautiful tapestry woven with shared accomplishments, mutual support, and the ever-deepening connection between you and Millie. As you continued to thrive in your respective careers, the lessons learned during that transformative weekend served as a guiding light for navigating the complexities of fame and relationships.

Your home became a sanctuary, a place where the noise of the outside world melted away, leaving room for quiet moments of reflection and shared laughter. Millie's career continued to soar, and you reveled in her triumphs, genuinely proud of the woman you loved. Your own creative endeavors flourished, and the collaborative spirit that had grown from the New York experience allowed both of you to share in the joys of success.

One evening, as the two of you enjoyed a homemade dinner, Millie looked across the table with a glint of nostalgia in her eyes. "Do you remember the bookstore in New York? That quaint place where we got lost in the pages of different worlds?"

You smiled, a flood of memories rushing back. "Of course. It was like stepping into a haven of stories, just like our own."

Millie's eyes sparkled with affection. "That trip marked a turning point for us, didn't it? We've come so far since then."

As you reminisced about that weekend, you decided to create a small tradition. Every year, on the anniversary of your New York adventure, you would revisit some of the places that had become significant in your love story. It became a cherished ritual, a celebration of growth, love, and the shared journey you were on.

This year's anniversary found you back in New York, the city that had witnessed the evolution of your relationship. As you strolled through familiar streets and visited beloved spots, the memories of that transformative weekend flooded back, like a melody playing in the background of your shared history.

The bookstore welcomed you with open arms, and you spent an afternoon lost in its shelves, selecting books that resonated with you both. Millie's laughter filled the air as you stumbled upon old favorites and discovered new treasures. It was a reminder of the simple joys that had connected you from the beginning.

Later, as you sat in Central Park, surrounded by the changing colors of autumn, Millie leaned into your shoulder. "You know, coming back here always feels like coming home. Our home."

You nodded, your heart swelling with love. "It's our story, written in the heart of this city."

The evening found you at the rooftop restaurant where you had once dined under the city lights. The skyline had changed, but the magic remained. As you toasted to love, growth, and the years to come, Millie's eyes shimmered with gratitude.

"This journey with you is the greatest adventure of my life," she said, her voice soft with emotion.

The night ended with a quiet walk along the Brooklyn Bridge, the city lights reflecting in the river below. With each step, you marveled at the journey you had taken together, the highs and lows, the laughter and tears – all contributing to the tapestry of your love.

Back at the hotel, you stood together on the balcony, gazing at the city that had witnessed the evolution of your relationship. The skyline stretched before you, a testament to the boundless possibilities that lay ahead.

As you held Millie close, you whispered, "Here's to us, to the story we're writing, and to the many chapters yet to come."

In the quiet of the night, surrounded by the city that had seen your love story unfold, you knew that the journey was ongoing, filled with infinite possibilities, shared dreams, and a love that continued to grow with each passing day.

In the days following your New York anniversary, the routines of daily life continued, but there was a subtle change in the air—a renewed sense of appreciation for the journey you were on together. As the seasons shifted, you and Millie found joy in the little moments, whether it was a lazy Sunday morning spent in bed or an impromptu dance in the living room to your favorite song.

As the anniversary of that fateful weekend approached each year, the anticipation grew. It had become a tradition to surprise each other with small gestures, reliving the magic of New York in your own way. This year, Millie took charge of the plans, keeping the details a secret until the last moment.

On the day of the anniversary, she blindfolded you and guided you to a waiting car. The excitement buzzed in the air as you tried to guess your destination. When the blindfold was finally removed, you found yourselves in front of a Broadway theater. Millie beamed, revealing that she had arranged tickets to a show you had both wanted to see.

The lights dimmed, the curtain rose, and the world of the stage unfolded before you. The performance was mesmerizing, and as the final curtain fell, you shared a glance filled with awe and appreciation. Millie's eyes sparkled with joy as she whispered, "Just like our own little New York story."

After the show, you strolled through Times Square, the neon lights illuminating the night. The bustling energy of the city mirrored the excitement in your hearts. You both stopped to take a picture at the iconic red stairs, a snapshot of a moment frozen in time.

The night continued with a romantic dinner at a cozy restaurant in the West Village. The atmosphere was intimate, the dim lights casting a warm glow on the two of you. Amidst the laughter and shared memories, Millie raised her glass, toasting to love, to growth, and to the countless adventures that lay ahead.

In the following days, you explored different neighborhoods, discovering hidden gems and revisiting places that had become a part of your shared history. From art galleries to street performances, every experience added a new layer to your connection, creating a tapestry woven with love and shared moments.

One afternoon, you found yourselves back at Central Park, where it all began. The autumn leaves painted a picturesque scene, and you sat on the same bench where you had shared quiet moments of reflection. Millie took your hand, her eyes filled with a mixture of nostalgia and gratitude.

"Remember when we sat here and talked about our dreams?" she mused, a soft smile playing on her lips.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. "It feels like a lifetime ago, but also like it happened just yesterday."

As you continued your walk, you stumbled upon a street artist creating vibrant chalk art on the pavement. The colors danced beneath the artist's skilled hands, and you couldn't help but feel a connection to the transient beauty of the artwork—a metaphor for the fleeting yet profound moments that shaped your journey.

One evening, you decided to revisit the rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. The skyline glittered against the night sky, a breathtaking panorama that mirrored the vastness of your love. Over dessert and coffee, you talked about the future, dreams, and the unwavering commitment you both shared.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves back at the hotel, standing on the balcony overlooking the city lights. The air was filled with a sense of completion and a readiness for the next chapter. Wrapped in each other's arms, you marveled at the journey you had taken together.

"This city witnessed the evolution of our love," Millie said, her voice soft in the quiet of the night.

You nodded, the city below a testament to the growth, challenges, and triumphs that defined your relationship. "And it will continue to be a part of our story."

In the years that followed, the New York anniversary remained a cherished tradition. Each celebration brought new surprises, shared laughter, and a reaffirmation of the love that had flourished since that transformative weekend. Your relationship became a beacon of support, understanding, and unwavering companionship.

Back home, surrounded by the familiarity of your shared space, you and Millie continued to nurture your love. The lessons learned in the streets of New York became guiding principles, shaping the way you approached challenges, celebrated victories, and grew as individuals and as a couple.

And as you sat together on the couch one lazy Sunday afternoon, the quiet contentment in the air spoke volumes. The journey was ongoing, the love story ever-evolving, and the memories of New York served as a reminder that every twist and turn, every high and low, only added to the richness of your shared narrative. With the city lights in your hearts and the promise of countless tomorrows, you knew that the adventure had no end, only new beginnings.

A/N

This was a long one, this was over 3000 words but it was worth it also did you change something about yourself? Cause you are looking extra tasty today, if I wasn't behind the screen I would eat you

Bye-Bye

But before I go gimme a little kiss

#millie bobby brown #imagine #fluff #new york #fans #celebrity #female #x reader

9 notes · View notes