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flwrstqr · 1 month

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CALL ME YOURS !! (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS: ever since you broke up with your ex, choi jiho, who cheated on you with another girl, you have always wanted to get revenge. when you meet jiho again at school, to prove you were over him and had met a better man, you told him you were meeting someone. you lied and told him you were meeting a random guy who you pointed at on your school's bulletin board for being the top student in the whole school. coincidentally, that guy was lee heeseung, known for his quiet and smart personality. then jiho demands to meet him in real life, hand-in-hand with you, which now you have a huge problem. first, you have to find heeseung, and next, you have to date him.

pairing: topstudent!heeseung x popularstudentfem!reader

genre: fake dating, s2l, romance, high school au, sunshine x cold

warning(s): reader + heeseung being in denial, your ex cheated, kissing, inspired by a k-drama (i forgot which one), two of them being awfully awkward at first, swearing, grammar errors, party, lots of love confusions, does say that winter is dating beomgyu, punching, fighting

word count: 7k

AN: guys im back with a long au, i never really write long aus, so this is slightly new to me. i did proofread it but not super thoroughly so if i made any mistakes, my bad for that .

taglist: @yenqa @mylstserenade @jlheon @naespas @jooniesbears-blog @erehkinnie30 @wonifullove @miumiuisme @shawnyle @dimplewonie @beomluvrr @jiaant11 @teddywonss

ALL YOU WANTED WAS REVENGE. Sweet revenge against your idiotic ex, Choi Jiho.You remember the moment you walked into the girls locker room to go deliver something to your PE coach, only to find the room “empty”. It hit you like a ton of bricks when you stumbled upon Jiho, locking lips with your “supposed” best friend, Kim Haeun, in the girl’s locker room Lip on lip, eyes closed, moving in sync. Heart shattered, tears streaming, you bolted, tripping over a basket of equipment and scraping your knees quickly catching attention of Jiho. His voice trailed after you, calling your name as you fled into the distance.

Losing both your best friend and your boyfriend cut deep. Being single was one thing, but being unable to find anyone who measured up to Jiho was another.

"YN, your standards for men are too high!" Karina remarked from the bleachers during PE.

You shrugged. "They've always been high." For the past 4 months, no one was your type compared to Jiho, the perfect boyfriend in your eyes: tall, handsome, a football player, rich, and occasionally nice.

"It's because of that disgusting asshole," Ningning scoffed.

"He isn't disgusting!" you retorted.

"YN, you need to get over him. This is just becoming toxic, plus you dumped him in front of the whole school ," Giselle chimed in. She was right. You vividly recalled the moment, twenty minutes before the bell, eyes swollen from crying all night but disguised behind makeup, replaying yesterday's scene you witnessed in your mind.

"YN!" Jiho's voice snapped you back to reality, his figure rushing towards you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, breathless.

"Talk about how you fucking cheated on me? Fine, I'll hear you out," you yelled, drawing everyone's attention.

"Can you keep it down, YN?" Jiho snapped.

"Sure I’ll quiet it down when I want to. Go to your girlfriend, Haeun. Why does she have to be my best friend, out of all people?" you glared.

"YN, let's talk inside," Jiho groaned, irritated.

"No, we're done. I never wanted you anyway, you asshole. Just fuck off," you spat, the words stinging even as they left your mouth The next thing you knew the scene spreaded like wildfire at school.

"Are you okay?" Minjeong asked as you sobbed at the lunch table.

"Listen, YN, Jiho wasn't worth it. You saw what you saw," Karina tried to console.

"I don't know... it's just over now," you murmured, head in your hands.

"Maybe it's a sign to find someone better," Ningning suggested.

"I don't know..." you whispered, feeling lost, unable to move on.

“I’m for sure there’s someone way better than him.” Giselle added (biggest lie you ever heard).

MONTHS PASSED AND YOU FOUND YOURSELF IN THE LIBRARY, lending a hand to the librarian in organizing books before school started. As you went about your duties, dropping off books and preparing to fetch more, the one and only, Jiho, stood by the school bulletin board waiting for you. It had been months since the breakup, and yet, the wound was still fresh, a constant reminder of the pain (really yn..)

"I wanted to say a word," Jiho awkwardly mumbled, eyeing you for a reaction, his hands in his pockets.

You reluctantly agreed, "Fine, make it quick. I'm busy."

"I broke up with Haeun," he stated, the words hanging in the air.

"What?" Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I ended things with Kim Haeun," he said more firmly. His words sank in, but confusion lingered. But why was he telling you this now? Then it hit you—he wanted you back. Yet, on a day when you missed him, you suddenly felt nothing. He had left you for another girl (well, technically, you dumped him), betrayed you, and now he came back because you were his second choice?

"Why are you telling me this?" You managed to maintain calm.

"I still like you, YN LN," he confessed, causing your eyes to widen. You bit your lip, before you could accept his confession like your 5 minute ago self would. Your heart didn’t thump like it did when you were around him. Your hands weren’t sweaty like they were when he looked at you before. Your mind wasn’t racing like it was when Jiho confessed to you for the first time, months ago. It was nothing like any of that–you just felt empty and cold.

"I'm seeing someone," you blurted out, realizing the lie you had just said. Crossing your fingers, you hoped he wouldn't ask about the identity of your "so-said boyfriend"

"Who?" he inquired, raising his eyebrow. Desperately searching for an excuse, your eyes landed on the bulletin board, displaying a list of top students and their ID photos.

Rushing over, you pointed at the first photo and name you saw, "That guy," you said, reading his name, "...Lee Heeseung! I'm dating him."

"Oh, really?" Jiho cast a skeptical glance between you and the photo, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then," he leaned in closer, "how about you introduce me to him, hand-in-hand, next week? I want to see if he's worthy of you." Panic rushed in you, and your throat went dry. You forced a smile and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Sure," you replied.

"Great, see you next week," Jiho said, turning and walking away. You were officially doomed. Now, you have to find this Lee Heeseung and give him a deal.

YOU WANDERED DURING LUNCH, TRYING TO FIND HEESEUNG. You only heard about him because he got a perfect score on the hardest SAT exams, but you didn't really pay attention.

"Heeseung? Sorry, I don’t know who he is," a girl replied when you asked her about Heeseung.

"It's okay," you smiled politely and left, feeling frustrated.

"I'll never find him," you groaned to Karina, who was with you while you asked everyone about Heeseung.

"Why did you lie to Jiho then? I thought you weren’t over him. Last night, you were giggling at how cute Jiho is and how much you want him back," Karina asked, taking a bite of her apple.

"I don’t know. He was just using me. I knew it because he and Haeun broke up," you explained, letting out a soft sigh. "He saw me as a second option, and I got into this mess because I lied to him about having a boyfriend who's probably some ugly nerd."

"I told you he was using you the entire time! But you didn’t trust me!" Karina scolded you.

"Sorry, I was just blind back then," you mumbled.

Before your last attempt, you walked up to a boy and asked the same question you’d been asking everyone.

"Do you know Lee Heeseung by any chance?" you asked. The boy's eyes widened, and a big grin spread across his face.

"Yes, I do! For what reason?" the boy quickly replied. For the first time, someone knew who he was.

"Do you know where he is then?" you inquired, hoping he could help.

"I do. I’m close friends with him. Come, I’ll show you where he is," the boy replied as you followed him, waving to Karina goodbye.

As the two of you awkwardly made up the long staircase, you arrived at the rooftop of the school. When the boy opened the door, a lonely figure sat by the table, reading a book.

"Heeseung!" the boy called out, causing the figure, supposedly Heeseung, to turn around.

"What, Jungwon?" Heeseung raised his eyebrow, quickly glancing at you and then back at Jungwon.

"YN was looking for you," Jungwon quickly said, nudging you to speak. Heeseung obviously knew who you were, known for dating Jiho and your soft-delicate visuals.

You walked towards him awkwardly, “Uhm…can we talk privately?” Slightly glancing at Jungwon, signaling him to leave quietly. As Jungwon left quietly, you cleared your throat.

“So…” you started off a bit nervous, “I need some help?”

"What help?" Heeseung answered a bit coldly, “If it’s anything studying related, I’m not interested-”

"I need help dating," you blurted, realizing what you had just said.

"What?" Heeseung gave you a puzzled look, "Dating what?"

"I lied to Jiho. Okay, I don’t have interest in you or even Jiho. I lied to him saying that I’m meeting you," you spilled the news. Heeseung had an empty look on his face as you tried to read his expression.

“Why me?” Heeseung arched his eyebrow.

“You were the first name I saw,” you explained, “So can you fake date me? I need it, please,” you pleaded, hoping he would accept your request.

"No, I’m not interested," he turned around, quickly getting his book to start reading again. Your jaw dropped, no one had ever rejected you like that.

"What?" you spat, feeling terrible that you got rejected for the first time.

"I’m not interested in you or in dating. So, I strongly believe that I shouldn’t do it," he said, quickly focusing his attention on his book.

“I’ll do anything!” you begged, feeling desperate.

"Anything?" Heeseung quickly averted his attention to you, dropping his book slightly to make eye contact with you.

"Yes, anything. I’ll do anything," you replied, hoping he would accept it.

"Then introduce me to her," Heeseung answered. You looked confused.

"Who's her?" you raised your eyebrow.

Heeseung’s cheek slightly blushed, it was the first time you saw him so embarrassed. “Karina,” he mumbled under his breath. Suddenly it clicked—he was interested in Karina, your best friend.

You gave an eager look, “Deal! I’ll introduce you to her after all of the fake dating.” You pulled out your hand.

"Deal," Heeseung replied, shaking your hand.

A FEW DAYS LATER, YOU FIND YOURSELF in the convenience store, an unexpected place for someone like you—a popular girl to be at. Your outfit was simpler than usual, baggy gray sweats and a white tank top, with your hair thrown up in a messy high ponytail and an oversized jacket completing the look.

You scan the snack aisle, contemplating your choices, when the doorbell chimes, signaling a customer had entered. Your heart thumps as you recognize the last person you expected to encounter—Heeseung. He's dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a black hoodie, his messy hair somehow adding to his charm.

Your eyes lock momentarily before you both awkwardly shuffle towards each other. "What brings you here?" you ask, surprised to find him in a convenience store at 2 am.

"Why are you up so late?" he counters, swiftly turning the interrogation on you.

"I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?" you reply.

"Studying," he responds matter-of-factly, grabbing an energy drink before swiftly checking out and leaving. You hurry after him, catching up as he strides down the street.

"Studying late? That's a first," you mutter to yourself, gazing up at the night sky.

"I don’t want to flunk my classes, unlike you," he retorts, avoiding your gaze.

"I'm not that hopeless," you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, you are," he quips, taking a sip of his drink.

"Hey!" you playfully threaten, pulling back your arm as if to hit him. But then something unexpected happens—you catch sight of Heeseung's smile, genuine and endearing. You quickly shake off any wayward thoughts; after all, you're just his so-called “girlfriend”.

"Where do you live?" you inquire, trying to change the subject.

"Stalker much?" Heeseung teases.

"Shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"I live in the house near the college," he answers, disposing of his empty can.

"Do you walk to school?" you ask, trying to prolong the conversation.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Then... do you want to walk together tomorrow?" you suggest, stopping in the quiet and empty streets.

"Walk together?" he repeats, surprised.

You nod and quickly add, "Yeah, you know, for you know..."

Heeseung considers for a moment before agreeing, "Sure."

"Great! I'll come by your place at 7 am since school starts at 7:30!" you smile, remembering to ask for his number. He inserts it into your phone, adding, "Don't blow up my phone."

"I'm not that obsessed with you," you retort.

"I think you are," he jokes.

"In your dreams," you shoot back.

YOU FOUND YOURSELF STANDING OUTSIDE Heeseung's door, feeling an awkward knot tighten in your stomach as you waited, fingers fidgeting nervously. After what seemed like hours, the door swung open to reveal a woman, likely Heeseung's mother.

"Hi, who are you?" she inquired, her eyes curious but welcoming.

"I'm YN LN," you replied, managing a warm smile despite your nerves. "A friend of Heeseung's."

"Heeseung's friend?" Her expression softened into a delighted grin. "I didn't realize Heeseung had such a pretty friend. I'm Heeseung's mother. Just call me Mrs. Lee."

"Mom..." Heeseung's voice interrupted, his presence suddenly beside you as he quickly shuffled to put on his shoes.

"Heeseung, she seems like a sweet and pretty girl," Mrs. Lee remarked before Heeseung darted, closing the door behind him before his mother could say anything else.

"Your mother seems really nice," you commented, attempting to ease the tension.

"Mhm," Heeseung mumbled, his attention already diverted to his book that he quickly pulled out from his backpack.

With a pointed look, you reached out your hand, silently urging him to remember.

Heeseung sighed, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation, but he relented, tucking the book away and clasping your hand in his. The touch sent a jolt through you, a feeling you couldn't quite grasp.

"So..." you began, eager to break the silence. "Where's your class?"

"Class 3-B," he replied shortly, his gaze fixed ahead as if unwilling to meet your eyes.

"Mine's right next door." you exclaimed, hoping to inject some enthusiasm into the conversation. "Perfect! Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Heeseung's response was clipped, his tone guarded.

"That I can come over to your class during lunch!" you declared with a wide grin, trying to lighten the mood.

"I eat on the rooftop, alone." he added, emphasizing the word alone.

"Ah, I forget you’re a loner," you teased gently.

"At least I'm productive with my free time," he retorted.

"Well, today we're together!" you suggested brightly and then with a smirk you whispered, "And I can introduce you to... Karina." The mention of your best friend's name made Heeseung blush slightly.

"Shut up," he groaned, moving to cover your mouth with his free hand just in case you would say anything else.

"Like I want to-" feeling a sudden hard squeeze in your hand "Ow..."

"Now shut up before I squeeze harder," Heeseung warned, though there was a hint of genuine threat in his tone.

"You're no fun," you muttered. Eventually, you arrived at the school, fingers still intertwined as you drew curious whispers from the hallway.

"YN and Heeseung, dating? No way..." you heard a girl whisper by the lockers, causing a flush of embarrassment to color your cheeks. When you reached Heeseung's classroom, you reluctantly released his hand, noticing the tension in his posture as he leaned against the doorframe.

"See you later?" you asked, "I'll be on the rooftop during break."

"Alright..." Heeseung's response was hesitant, but then came an unexpected word that caught you off guard. "...baby." The pet name hung in the air.

"R-right... anyway, bye..." you stammered, feeling a rush of different emotions. You'd been in relationships before, but you were never so flustered for such small things like that. Could it be... you weren't falling for him, right?

HEESEUNG SETTLED AT THE EMPTY TABLE on the rooftop, his gaze drifting across the school grounds. The rooftop held a special meaning for him, offering a quiet place to read, barely visited by others.

“Heeseung!” Your voice sliced through the silence, drawing his attention. He glanced up to see you approaching, two lunches in hand.

With a bright grin, you placed the meals in front of him. “I brought lunch!”

"Thanks," Heeseung replied , his tone cool as he examined the homemade kimbap. As you both sat down, awkwardness settled between you, by the avoidance of eye contact.

Summoning his courage, Heeseung brought a question that had lingered in his mind for months. "Why did you like Choi Jiho?"

Your eyes widened at the unexpected, catching you off guard. You paused, hesitating with how to respond.Memories of Jiho flooded your mind. You had forgotten about him for the past 4 days due to Heeseung being on your mind 24/7.

You cleared your throat, summoning a bitter lie to your lips. "I... uh, he was nice, I guess."

"Did Jiho even like you back?" Heeseung's question cut through the air. That’s when you realized something. You remembered the way Jiho would never defend you in any moment or barely spend time with you. And the time when he did? He would always be on his phone. You realized how stupid you were as you thought the moments where he just wanted attention from the public by kissing you or flirting with you meant that he loved you.

"I... I don't know," you admitted. Deep down, you knew the painful reality—that Jiho had used you.

"Oh, okay..." Heeseung responded, sensing the weight of your words. "So, let's change the top—"

"I know he didn't like me," you interjected, your gaze drifting to the sky before meeting Heeseung's gaze. "I know he was the worst boyfriend I could ask for."

Confusion flickered across Heeseung's features at your sudden confession.

"I was blind. I regret it," you murmured, your gaze falling to your lap. "But it's in the past."

Heeseung regarded you with his usual stern and cold look. "Then why did you tell Jiho you were meeting someone else?"

"Because... I wanted to prove I was happier now," you muttered, grappling with your tumultuous emotions.

"Are you?" Heeseung's gaze bore into yours.

"I... I think I am," you replied

"You 'think'?" Heeseung pressed, his tone firm.

"I'm happier than before," you insisted, though the vagueness of your answer hung in the air.

"That's not specific," Heeseung challenged.

"I can't be specific," you confessed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I don't know, at all."

"Are you sure?" Heeseung persisted.

"Heeseung, it's my feelings, yes I'm sure," you asserted.

"I'm just physically and mentally curious, so it allured me to—" Heeseung began, but you cut him off.

"Okay, I think that's enough. The bell's going to ring soon. Text me later!" With that, you rose abruptly, snatching your lunch bag and offering a quick wave before descending the stairs back to class.

HEESEUNG LAY ON HIS BED, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he should be studying, but your words about Jiho lingered in his mind. "I'm happier than before." Why was he even pondering such things? Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a faint buzz from his phone. Retrieving it, he found a message from you.

YN LN: heeseung!! all my friends rejected me to go to the mall TT, so wanna go together?? ><

Heeseung paused, a moment of surprise flashing across his features. You were asking him to go to the mall with you? It felt almost like you were asking him out. He composed himself and replied:

Heeseung: Sure. Send location and time, I’ll be there.

Putting down his phone, he realized the weight of his agreement. He had just agreed to go on a date with you. And now, he needed to get ready. Hastily, he rummaged through his closet, seeking out a suitable outfit. Opting for his lone stylish varsity jacket paired with jeans, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tidy it up.

Rushing to the mall, he found you leaning against a store wall, your attention fixed on your phone. As he approached, a cupid seemed to strike him with an arrow as his cheeks flushed. The simplicity of your outfit and the gentle cascade of your hair rendered you utterly captivating.

You looked up, catching sight of Heeseung's slightly stunned expression, and greeted him with a warm smile, gesturing for him to join you.

"Hi," Heeseung muttered, still awestruck by your beauty.

"Hi!" you returned the greeting with equal warmth. "I just need to buy some makeup for my friends, or maybe myself, and possibly shop around! Anything you need?"

"Not necessarily," Heeseung replied, scanning the mall.

"Okay then, follow me," you said, seizing his arm and leading him to the nearest makeup store. Arriving at the lip product section, you perused the selection of lipsticks, lip glosses, and lip tints. Grabbing a random lip tint, you turned to Heeseung.

"Can I try it on you? I need to see if it looks good on a person," you suggested.

"What? When did I sign up for this?" Heeseung sighed.

"Please," you pleaded, giving him your best pout. "I can erase it right after."

"Fine."

With careful precision, you applied the tint to his lips. The warmth of his breath brushed against your cheeks and neck, sending a flurry of sensations through you. Your heart raced as you admired his perfectly shaped lips, now tinted with color. After smoothing out any unevenness, you stepped back to admire the look.

"Hmm... I think this works," you concluded, grabbing the new tint to go check out and pay for it.

YOU SAVORED THE SWEET TASTE OF vanilla ice cream as you took a bite, sitting side by side with Heeseung on the bench outside the convenient store where you first met. He listened attentively as you shared stories about your friends and family.

"And then Giselle told me—" Your sentence was cut short as Heeseung's fingers delicately wiped a smudge of ice cream from the corner of your lips.

"Mhm?" He hummed softly, encouraging you to continue. Your heart fluttered at his touch, beating rapidly in your chest.

"...y-yeah," you stammered, trying to regain your composure, your gaze drifting to the hues of the sunset painting the sky in shades of blue and orange.

"Are you done with your story?" Heeseung inquired, to which you nodded hastily. You weren't finished, but another word might turn you into a flustered mess.

After a brief silence, you suggested, "How about we go for a walk by the Han River?" Heeseung agreed with a nod, and soon you found yourselves strolling side by side along the riverbank, the gentle sound of water trickling in the background adding to the peaceful atmosphere.

Unexpectedly, Heeseung asked, "Are you going to the dance?" It was a question he wouldn't normally ask.

"The dance?" you raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by his inquiry.

"Yeah, the school dance?" Heeseung clarified, his expression tinged with skepticism.

"Oh, well, yeah," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment as you remembered his feelings for Karina. He didn't like you, so why did you allow yourself to hope for something more?

"Is Karina going?" Heeseung continued, and you struggled to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry.

"O-oh, uhm, I think she's going..." you managed to say, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Foolish fantasies had consumed you for the past five days, but now you bit your lip to stave off the embarrassment and tears threatening to surface.

"I think I'm tired. I'm gonna go home now. Bye, Heeseung," you forced a small smile before turning away, walking in the opposite direction. Heeseung watched you go, a confused expression clouding his features as you moved farther and farther away.

LEANING AGAINST THE WALL, you found yourself lost in thoughts of Heeseung, the person who was on your mind day in and day out. Why did it bother you so much if he had feelings for your best friend, Karina? Why did his presence hold such sway over you?

"YN?" Winter's voice broke through your trail of thoughts,snapping you back to reality.

"Oh, sorry, I was zoning out," you replied, trying to shake off the distraction.

"You've been distant all day. Is everything okay?" Ningning's concern was evident in her voice.

"Just tired, didn't get much sleep last night," you reassured them with a forced smile, hoping they wouldn't press further.

"Are you sure?" Giselle's skepticism lingered, her gaze searching yours.

"It's nothing, just life being complicated," you offered, trying to reassure their worries.

"If you need to talk, we're here for you," Karina chimed in, her comforting touch on your hands a familiar gesture she usually did. How you longed to confess and tell them about Heeseung and the jumble of emotions you felt and fought with, but the fear of ruining your relationships with both him and Karina kept you quiet.

At that moment, it came to you: you were in love with Heeseung. It had to be a mistake right? You could never like someone like Heeseung. The way your heart thumped when Heeseung did small actions like hold your hand or even wipe off anything from your mouth.

Yet, you couldn't shake the fear, the fear of history repeating itself with someone like Jiho, selfish and foolish. What was the point of falling for someone who didn't accept your feelings and liked someone else

HEESEUNG HAD REHEARSED EVERY WORD, every breath, for the moment he would finally summon the courage to ask you out for dinner. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of his nerves pressed down on him as he prepared to take the risk.

As the phone rang, his heart raced, the sound of your voice on the other end sending a jumble of emotions through him "Hello?" you answered, your voice like music and beauty to his ears.

"Hi..." Heeseung replied, his voice betraying his unease.

"Why did you call me?" you asked, curiosity tinged but yet your voice sounded heavy and drained. Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in your tone for the past days, wondering if he had somehow caused it. Had he done something wrong?

"I was just wondering if... uhm... you wanted to go get dinner tonight together?" Heeseung's voice faltered slightly, the weight of his question hanging in the air.

"Dinner tonight?" Your voice held a hint of confusion, but there was also a spark of interest. "When and where?" you inquired.

"At the Japanese place down the block, at 6?" Heeseung suggested, hoping you would agree.

"Sure, I'll see you at 6 then," you replied, your voice brightening slightly.

"Right, anyways, bye!" Heeseung quickly ended the call, a rush of happiness coursing through him. He had done it. He asked you out for dinner.

With a sense of pride, Heeseung flopped onto his bed, his phone resting on his chest as. a wide grin spread across his face. He replayed the conversation in his mind, excited for the evening of day.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the line, you couldn't contain your excitement. Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. had. Asked. you. out. to. dinner. You, YN LN. You couldn't help but squeal with delight into your pillow.

Eager to make a good impression, you jumped out of bed and rushed to your closet, rummaging through your clothes in search of the perfect outfit for the occasion.

HEESEUNG SAT NERVOUSLY, tapping the table as he waited for you to arrive. Within minutes, you rushed in and quickly spotted him.

"Hi!" you greeted with a smile, settling down at the table.

"Hi," he smiled back (inside you felt a flutter at how cute his smile was). You both looked at the menu and ordered as the waiter approached. After eating, you quietly walked outside, enjoying the cool evening air.

The dark, cloudless sky revealed a glimmering array of stars. You admired the view, unaware that Heeseung was watching you, captivated by your beauty.

"The stars are so pretty," you remarked in awe.

"Mhm," he replied, still focused on you. Suddenly, you felt his fingers gently tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Your face flushed as butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

"I have a question, YN..." Heeseung began, and you turned to him, curious.

"Do you... want to go to the dance?" he asked. Your heart raced, your stomach churned, and your head spun. He had just asked you to the dance.

"T-the dance?" you stuttered.

"Yeah... I mean, just as... you know, for visual purposes," he tried to clarify.

"Right..." you nodded, agreeing. "I'll go with you." Heeseung's face lit up with a big grin as you accepted his invitation.

"That's great! I'll, um... see you at the dance then," Heeseung said with a small smile and a wave as you both went your separate ways, heading home with a light heart.

As you walked home, your mind buzzed with excitement. The thought of going to the dance with Heeseung made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but replay the moment he asked you, feeling a rush of happiness each time. It was like a dream come true, and you couldn't wait for the night of the dance to arrive.

WEEKS FLEW BY, each one filled with anticipation, excitement, and a series of dates. Finally, the much-anticipated day of the dance had arrived. It had been six weeks since you eagerly marked this date on your calendar. Reflecting on the past four months since you met Heeseung, you knew deep down that you were head over heels in love with him. The moment he asked you to the dance, those feelings intensified.

"Do you think this dress is pretty enough?" you asked, twirling in your knee-length black dress adorned with delicate lace details, a sweetheart neckline, and spaghetti straps. The dress hugged your figure perfectly.

"It's gorgeous," Ningning complimented, deftly assisting with your hair.

"It's perfect, just like you," Winter reassured, adjusting your dress with care.

"Easy for you to say, with Beomgyu as your date," you teased, prompting laughter from your friends.

"And you have Heeseung," Winter smiled, smoothing out the fabric of your dress.

"You two are so cute together," Giselle teased, earning a blush from you.

"I love you guys," you said, feeling grateful for their support as you shared a group hug.

"Even if I'm dating a man, you'll always be my number one," Winter jokes, lightening the mood as you head to Karina's car.

Upon arriving at the dance, the lively atmosphere was perfect. Laughter, music, and chatter filled the room as people talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves. Spotting Heeseung entering the room, you felt a rush of excitement.

He looked perfect in his suit, his hair perfectly styled. Rushing over to him, you greeted him with a beaming smile.

"Heeseung!" you exclaimed. Heeseung looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. I

"You look amazing, YN," Heeseung complimented, his smile genuine.

"Thanks, but you're the one who looks stunning," you replied, feeling your heart flutter as you took in his appearance. "Come on, let's grab some snacks and go have fun!"

The next two hours were filled with laughter, dancing, and cherished moments spent with Heeseung and your friends. However, amidst the joy, an unexpected encounter with Jiho cast a shadow over the evening.

"YN," Jiho's voice cut through the noise, sending a chill down your spine.

"What do you want, Jiho?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.

"Are you here with your 'so-called' boyfriend, Heeseung?" Jiho taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Yes, and what's it to you?" you retorted, your patience wearing thin.

“Yeah there is.” his smirk widened, “Don’t act stupid, I knew everything.”

“God I hate you Jiho.” you spat, feeling your anger rise.

"Come on, YN. Admit you still love me, and everything will go back to normal," Jiho sneered.

“I don’t even like you anymore, Jiho.” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure.

"Oh, really? Maybe this will change your mind," Jiho said, leaning in closer. You felt his fingers slip into your waist, his grip firm and tight. You felt his face leaning closer to yours. You quickly stepped back and pushed him aside.

“Are you fucking crazy?” you yelled.

“YN, why are you so pissed? Not like you like anyone.” Jiho's eyes bore into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glared, “Now fuck off please.”

“Why is it because of Heeseung? Your fake boyfriend? God, he probably doesn’t even like you YN. He only likes you because you're popular.” he laughed. Your heart sank at his cruel words. The words stung as you heard each word. Heeseung was just a stupid fake boyfriend you had. The two of you had never had a real relationship. A real love. Was Heeseung just playing with your feelings? Did Heeseung even love you like how much you loved him?

"I hate you, Jiho," you whispered before leaving the party alone, your heart felt heavy.

YOU SPENT HOURS lying in bed, staring out the rain-splattered window, your cheeks damp from the relentless stream of tears. Days had passed since the dance, and you hadn't mustered the strength to leave the confines of your home.

"YN, you've been here for hours," Karina's voice broke through the silence, her concern evident as she entered your room.

"Why didn't you text me?"

"Phone died," you muttered, burying your face deeper into the sheets. "

Tell me what's wrong," Karina urged gently, taking a seat beside you.

"I don't know," you confessed, your voice barely audible.

"Come on," Karina coaxed, her comforting presence offering a glimmer of solace.

"Okay, fine," you relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Jiho said some awful things to me at the dance. Now I'm a wreck, and I can't face Heeseung. I'm in love with him, and it's tearing me apart."

Karina's eyes widened at the torrent of emotions pouring out. "And you kept this from me all this time?"

"Karina, I didn't know what to do," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. "I thought Heeseung felt the same way, but then Jiho made me doubt everything."

"How does Jiho know anything? He's not Heeseung," Karina retorted, frustration evident in her tone. "He's just trying to mess with your head."

"But what if he's right? What if Heeseung was just pretending all along?" you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest.

"YN," Karina's voice softened, her touch gentle as she sought to comfort you. "How do you know Heeseung doesn't like you? Have you talked to him?"

"I haven't," you admitted, uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

"Then how can you be so sure?" Karina questioned, her eyes searching yours. "Heeseung cares about you, YN. He was worried sick after the dance. He searched everywhere for you and even left the party early out of concern."

"Are you serious?" you asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes.

"Dead serious," Karina affirmed, her sincerity unwavering. "Talk to him, YN. You'll see."

"But what if I'm wrong?" you hesitated, your fear holding you back. "Just trust me on this," Karina reassured, squeezing your hand gently. "Talk to Heeseung. You'll thank me later." Karina offered you a reassuring smile before enveloping you in an embrace.

HEESEUNG WAS SERIOUSLY DEAD WORRIED about you. He thought you were possibly hit by some car or even worse kidnapped. His thoughts wandered as he tried to think of all the possibilities you were. You stopped even coming to school for weeks.

The memory of the dance replayed in his mind like a broken record, haunting him with unanswered questions. Your sudden disappearance after excusing yourself to the bathroom left him questionable and restless. Desperately, he asked your friends as your friends only left him shrugs and quietness making him uneasy of the situation.

When you finally returned after a week-long absence, Heeseung couldn't help but notice the change in you. You awfully looked tired and you had eyebags. And the most important change, you were avoiding Heeseung. Was it something he had done to mess things up?

Heeseung sat at his usual spot on the rooftop, gazing out at the view, trying to get his thoughts out.

"Look who it is, Lee Heeseung," a voice pierced through the silence, pulling Heeseung from his reverie. Turning, he found Jiho leaning casually against the stairway exit, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Heeseung's girlfriend, huh?" Jiho taunted, his words hitting Heeseung like a sudden blow.

"What did you do to YN?" Heeseung's voice was edged with a mixture of anger and concern, his gaze sharp.

"Nothing much, just a little truth-telling," Jiho chuckled, his demeanor full of arrogance.

"What truth?" Heeseung's tone was laced with urgency, his fists clenched in frustration.

“Just a few things that need to be said. Like how you guys are just dating, nothing more than that.”

Heeseung's jaw tightened as the weight of Jiho's words settled in, his mind reeling with disbelief and anger.

"Do you even know why YN hates you?" Heeseung spat, his voice seething with contempt.

"Why don't you tell me?" Jiho's smirk widened.

"Cause you’re truly an awful person” Heeseung retorted, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh really?” Jiho teased, “I didn’t know.”

Jiho's mocking laughter only fueled Heeseung's rage, his frustration exploding into action as he delivered a swift punch to Jiho's jaw.

"You're really undeserving of her," Heeseung's words echoed in the empty space.

“You could punch me as many times, I don’t care.” Jiho smiled.

“I would but actually I don’t want to see your ugly face, so fuck off.” Heeseung stormed out of the rooftop leaving Jiho alone on the ground.

IT WAS 1 AM WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF at the convenience store, clad in your most comfortable clothes, not even caring if people saw you. The rush of cold air from the conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, scanning the assortment of snacks. The scent of sweet delights filled your senses, tempting you to buy more. You reached for a snack when the chime of the door signaled someone's arrival.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Heeseung standing across the store, his gaze fixed on you. It felt like deja vu, reminiscent of the first time you laid eyes on him. Your throat went dry, memories of Jiho's words echoing in your mind: "He probably doesn’t even like you." Anxious, you bit your lip as Heeseung approached.

"Can we talk outside?" Heeseung's voice broke through the tension. With a quiet nod, you followed him out of the store.

"YN, what's going on?" Heeseung's concern was evident as he confronted you, hoping you would answer honestly.

"Heeseung, it's nothing," you lied

"It's not nothing," Heeseung persisted, his tone firm.

"Okay, fine, I'll tell you. I fell in love with you, but then Jiho made me doubt everything. I thought you probably didn’t even like me, maybe you liked Karina instead. What was the point of being with you if I'm only going to hurt myself?" The words spilled out in a rush, leaving you empty.. Heeseung froze at your confession, disbelief in his expression.

"You like me?" Heeseung's eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I know you don't like me—" Before you could finish, Heeseung silenced you with a soft kiss. His lips were soft and perfect.You felt his fingers sliding into your waist, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. Your lips were moving in sync, in the same passion, kissing each other back. You felt his fingers intertwined with yours, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand.

Pulling away, breathless, you attempted to speak, but Heeseung beat you to it. "I like you a lot, YN. I was in denial of my feelings for months, but I realized I was actually in love with you." You widen your eyes at his confession

"Heeseung, you're not lying, right?" suspicion tinged your words.

"Do you think I would ever lie to you?" Heeseung chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, a gesture that he would always done

"No, but it all seems real," you confessed.

Heeseung's laughter, the sound you cherished the most, filled the air. "Then, will you be my real girlfriend, YN LN?"

"Of course, any day I'll choose you," you smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

MONTHS HAD PASSED and you found yourself in a state of bliss you never imagined possible. Seated on the rooftop with Heeseung, your fingers intertwined, you gazed out into the view before you, the cool breeze enveloping you in a sense of serenity.

"Look how far we've come," you remarked, a smile gracing your lips as you watched Heeseung absentmindedly draw small patterns on your palm.

"Yeah," Heeseung nodded, his touch gentle and comforting.

"I love you, Heeseung," you whispered softly, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

"I love you more," Heeseung replied in a tender whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he leaned in to press a series of delicate kisses along its curve.

"Heeseung, that tickles!" you laughed, squirming slightly at the sensation.

"This is your punishment for getting a 60% on the exam," Heeseung teased, his tone playful yet teasing.

"Hey, I'm not some nerd like you!" you retorted, playfully poking his side.

"Nerd?" Heeseung chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"A cute nerd," you amended with a grin, your heart swelling with affection.

"And you're my cute princess," Heeseung declared, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips, his love for you shining brightly in his eyes. You truly were in love with Heeseung, and you weren’t going to deny it.

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hecateslore · 3 months

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Bro with the Simon and huge babies thing I had the funniest fucking idea- so my dad was really short through all of highschool like he was 4’11 at the start of senior year but by the end of it he had the biggest fucking growth spurt and was 5’9 (i can’t imagine how much that hurt or how many clothes he went though) but imagine that happening with Simon’s kids it would be so damn funny if the guys saw the kids at the beginning of the year just being pretty short then not seeing them for a long while but at the end of the year when they saw the kids again they were all tall as fuck-

ppl with short ass dad's rise!!!

It's the funnies thing ever, Simon thought it would be cool to bring the kids to base one day, the boys were barely starting to grow into their features, they were small and lanky, super hyper always fighting with each other, and the "baby girl" as Simon likes to call her was going through puberty, poor thing was so awkward, just was always embarrassed; Just like Simon in his early years! When he brought them in, Johnny was so excited. Asking them all about their Dad, was he a big meanie at home? Was he always so serious? Gaz and price just stared cause Simon was so gentle (I'm crying). Telling the boys to settle down, teaching them random facts about his job, why it was so important to pay attention (they had horrible attention spans! emphasis on HAD.), holding his daughter close, constantly asking her if she wanted something to drink and if she was okay. He was just being a Dad. It was so obvious the group was freaked out and then some eventually got over it (ahem! Price.) .

That was until like two years later, Simon brought them again, the boys just wanted to look around, and they did. Simon's baby girl (she's the oldest lmfao) was right behind her dad, following him closely, asking him questions about what that machine does, why they have to do a task a certain amount of times. When they finally reached the lounge room where all the men stayed and hung when they were waiting for a response or more info, They couldn't believe their eyes. The two boys stood next to Simon, quiet as a mouse: with the occasional mumble to each other, They were tall and their build was similar to their father's. The mens eyes practically popped out of their sockets, it had only been like a year. Then they saw Simon's daughter and she was fairly tall, taller than the women they've seen around. She was more serious, more assertive, she stood tall next to her Dad. Gaz was the first to make an approach, asking the boys if they have any interest in the armed forces, both saying no and mentioning they barely reach the legal age. Gaz just keeps pestering them about it, "Y'know there's not a lot of guys as big as you two." "you'd be great, you have a nice build" "You just started growing this year?" "You guy's don't think you'll EVER be interested." earning light chuckles from each of the boys. Johnny and price couldn't get enough of Simons daughter, obsessed with how much she was like Simon, asking her if she remembered them, Johnny kept saying he was her favorite, Price was just staring between Simon and her watching their interactions, still weirded out by the fact he's actually a great dad lmfao. They just looked so much older, and they couldn't believe it'd been a year.

#lunden’s response ❀—#cod mw2 #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #cod 141 #cod mw3 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #captain john price #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #Papa!Simon #ijustbetalkingbruh!#simon riley x you

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jayden-killer · 6 months

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Just read your Steven headcanons and I’m currently sobbing in the corner. Could I request a headcanon list where he actually has a partner? Like a person who will hold him when he cries and just GIVE HIM THE AFFECTION HE DESERVES 😭😭😭

Anon, OFC U CAN! I'm feeling super romantic today, so consider yourself lucky *winks* now, enjoy your request!^^

STEVEN GRANT WITH A S/O HEADCANONS.

• Dating Steven is like dating Mr. Darcy in real life. He's a gentleman, respectful in your whises and boundaries, and doesn't indulge in things you don't want to. He actually cares. And of course, he loves you. He will do anything to show you how much you mean to him.

• His love language is physical contact and words of affirmation. Both are important to him. He's a very cuddly lover. Always stealing glances, whispering how lovely you are today, while even brushing his calloused thumb on your hand palm.

• In his no moments, he needs to be held. Someone needs to remind him that he matters and that it is okay to let out the bottled-up emotions. We know his childhood and Marc's. Hold him tight next to your chest, let him hear your heartbeat and caress gently his hair. "You're good, Steven, you're good. I'm here. I won't hurt you like the others did."

• You'll share cute moments in the rain, picturing yourselves in a 'La La Land' scene!!

• Or also quiet moments where, the two of you, are cuddling under a warm blanket and reading the books you've bought while being on a "bookstore date".

• Won't mind if you both share your shampoos. So you can smell each other perfume and giggle about it.

• If you are that close to each other and move in his apartment, he'll probably buy another fish and put it in Gus' tank. So now he'll have another companion and won't be alone anymore!

• At the beginning of your relationship, Marc and Jake weren't absolutely fond of you. Don't blame them. They've been backstabbed many times (let's mention the comics too...) and don't want Steven, the most fragile, to experience something like this anymore. Give them time, let them be close to you, and know you, and they will open with each small step.

• If you're a student, he would help you with your assignments/homework. Prepare you your favourite drink. But if you need to be alone and focus on your papers, he'll shush himself up with no hesitations.

• Your guys' official song is: Late Night Talking by Harry Styles.

• He prefers to be held in bed. He is the little spoon. Enjoys your body's warmth and nuzzles his nose in your neck, sometimes leaving pecks on it and smiling at the thought of being so lucky to have found a loyal and loving partner as you.

#marvel imagine #marvel x reader #oneshot #moonknight x reader #moon knight #steven grant x you #steven grant headcanons #steven grant x y/n #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight series #moon knight headcanon #moon knight x reader #moonknight headcanons #fluff #sfw

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1-800-c3dr1c · 5 months

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Sooo, let's try this ask thing haha. I was wondering if u cute write a super fluff where reader is friends with coryo and tigris and they let reader into the secret that they've almost got no food at home. Reader then brings them food or invites them over regularly and coriolanus is super thankful + embarrassed at the same time and reader assures him that its alright and happy to help and over time they both confess they like each other more than just friends?

YOUNG! CORIOLANUS SNOW FLUFF ONESHOT.

spoilers for the ballad of songbirds and snakes. spoilers for coriolanus’ backstory. gender-neutral reader. friends with mutuals feelings to lovers.

requests are: open! please look at the pinned post for characters i will write for. <3 let me know if you’d like to be in m tag list for whenever i post anything related to young! coriolanus snow under this post as well, or in my inbox.

i hope you liked this oneshot! i love love LOVE writing fluff, so thank you so much for requesting it!!

word count: 541

it had surprised you when one of your best friends, coriolanus snow, had asked you if he could tell you a secret. he nearly pleaded with you not to tell anyone else about it before he did, and when you promised over and over again that you wouldn’t, he finally took you to his house.

due to his family having been very popular and seemingly well-liked back during the war, this had been a stark contrast to what you had been expecting. he lived with tigris and his grandma’am, which you had known. however, what you hadn’t known was the fact that his fridge was nearly empty every single night, if not completely empty.

it was as if tigris had known you were coming, based upon the solemn expression she wore when you and coriolanus walked through the door. she could only smile sadly at you, and you could only walk over to her and place your hand on her shoulder, quietly reassuring her and coriolanus that you would help them.

and you did. you consistently invited them (including the grandma’am) to your house for dinner, making them delicious food and making sure that all three of them were well-fed. they would always profusely thank you, unable to do much else. sometimes, the grandma’am would slip a white rose behind your ear when you walked them to the door after dinner, and it always made you smile softly.

until that changed. one day, it hadn’t been the grandma’am to step forward again to slip a rose behind your ear as you had expected. it was coriolanus. you blinked at him, unspeaking as he carefully caught your chin with two fingers, angling your head slightly so that it was easier for him to slip the rose right behind your ear.

you didn’t move as he stepped back, looking behind him at tigris and the grandma’am. they both nodded to him before beginning to walk off, whereas he stayed right in front of you, just a few steps away. he swallowed thickly, and suddenly you could see how.. nervous he seemed to be?

“i have something to tell you,” he blurted out, his face flushing slightly in embarrassment.

“hm? what’s wrong, corio?” you asked softly. “are you guys running low on food again? i can start making more-” you started to say quickly, before he quickly cupped your cheek with a hand.

“that’s not what i wanted to talk about.” his voice was quiet, his nerves seeping through the words.

“..then what did you want to talk about?” now you were confused.

“i told you i had something to tell you. well.. i’m just going to outright say it. i like you.” he inhaled deeply, and it looked as if he was preparing himself for a rejection.

however, the opposite happened. you leaned forward, kissing his cheek softly. “i like you too, corio.”

coriolanus froze where he was. had he just heard you correctly? you liked him too. a sudden giddy feeling erupted in his stomach, a stupid smile on his face. “can i..”

he didn’t finish his question, as you kissed him softly, already knowing that had been what he wanted to ask. before you pulled away, you whispered a soft. “yes.”

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #corio snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fluff #coryo snow #coryolanus snow

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love-toxin · 1 year

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Okay but miscommunication trope is only super yummy when there’s a happy ending. Liiiike reader thinking they’re getting kicked out of their relationship in the fruity four, they’re not wanted anymore, maybe even bring replaced (ie with someone like Chrissy), and so every little sarcastic quip or ignoring is seen by them as the others not loving them anymore 🥺. Until one day it all comes crumbling down and I can’t decide with is more angsty, you breaking down telling the others they don’t love you anymore, or you trying to be brave by announcing you’re leaving and the fours hearts just dropping as they try to scramble to convince you to stay and why?! Why are you leaving!?!?! Please! But of course, happy ending when everything’s properly explained and angel is reassured they could never all fall out of love with them ❤️

oh.......miscommunication trope, you say? >:)

(cws: fruity four, gn!angelface, jealousy, post-s4, PTSD, huge miscommunication trope, domestic arguing, you have a tattoo + kinda shitty parents + bad home life, chrissy's a jealousy target, breakups, jopper appearance, you're childhood friends with jonathan, mentions of grief, an almost car crash, very mild head trauma, crying, angst with a happy ending--stick with me angels!)

Sometimes you wish Chrissy would just disappear. Just--poof--and she'd be gone.

It's awful of you to think, but you can't help it. She's just always around, ever since her breakup with Jason she's been by the house much more frequently. You were happy for her at first, because you liked her up until then, and she's always been nice to you. Plus, your partners saved her life back when all that crazy stuff with the Upside Down happened, an event you weren't privy to until after the fact, when you started dating them.

But she's always on Eddie, always chatting him up, always giggling at his attempts to cheer her up, and now she's attracted the attention of your other partners too. They're good friends, and that's good, but....why can you not shake this feeling that there's something more going on? That the arm touches over his jacket and the inside jokes aren't as friendly and harmless as they want you to think?

It's worse than that, though. The honeymoon phase is clearly over--cause all four of them just brush off your concerns, insisting that you're overreacting or just not addressing them at all. So you haven't been piping up when a joke hurts your feelings, and you've bitten your tongue when one of them has to reschedule something you've planned, and it's gotten to the point that they've wondered why you're so quiet all of a sudden. Why would they care? You think with a sour feeling in the back of your throat, rubbing the tattoo on your arm that Eddie gave you and wondering if that was just practice for someone else. You're not oblivious to the way Chrissy is slowly being invited into gatherings and dinners with everyone.....just like you were in the beginning. And after an especially heated fight with both Eddie and Robin, the worst one you've ever gotten into in your entire relationship, he got so pissed off that he just told you not to come to the dinner they had planned, and they'd take someone who actually wanted to go.

That was a couple days ago, and the air in the house has been strained for nobody else but you. You're equally as hurt by Eddie yelling at you as Robin silently going along with it, even though you slammed your bedroom door in her face when she tried to follow you, and waited until Eddie tugged her along to leave before you allowed yourself to cry. You're sick of the feeling that none of them really care for you, that you've been demoted to a piece of furniture in the house, because they've clearly lost interest. And they don't care when your things start disappearing from the house, when the clothes in your closet start dwindling, leaving behind nothing but the ones they've bought for you--no, they'd rather moon over Chrissy fucking Cunningham, and you've just taken all you think your heart can handle.

"I'm going out!" You call into the house from the front door, without any of their four voices responding. When you sigh, turn, and step out to turn the corner of the house, though, you bump right into one of them.

"Oh! Hey, baby." Steve steps back and readjusts the paper bag full of groceries he's got his arm around, keys halfway tucked into his pocket. "Where you off to?"

"Um....just, uh, gonna go visit my parents." You weren't really expecting him to pry, with how in your head you've been lately. But you're not gonna relent just cause one of the people who promised he'd love you forever, yet somehow can't be fucked enough to find the time to even watch a movie with you, asked you a question that remotely shows an ounce of concern.

"Your parents?" He blinks, shifting again to rest the bag on his hip. "You sure?"

That tone is so irritating. You used to love that almost parental sense of duty, the desire of his to know every detail of every problem so he can solve it. But now, you just feel suffocated, even though you're more distant from all of them now than you've ever been. "What, I'm not allowed to see my family?"

"Hey, that's not what I said! hold on," He moves to put the groceries inside, but you wave him off and start walking past him, your tone clearly frustrated as you encourage him to just forget it. But, in a tizzy, Steve hurriedly sets the bag down on the ground and runs to catch up with you, his hand descending on your arm only to be swatted away--but not for long, when he grabs it again and grips it tighter as he turns you to face him. "Jesus, wait! What's the big fuss? Did I do something?"

"Let me go, Steve." You refuse to look him in the eyes, but you can't break his grip. Why can't he just let it go, so it's less painful? "I don't wanna drag this out."

"Drag what out?" Finally, it dawns on him as his eyes dart from the keys clenched in your hand to the windows of your car parked in the driveway, boxes clearly piled up in the trunk and in the backseat that none of them seemed to notice you moving.

".....So that's it? You're breaking up with us?" Steve says it with disbelief, like he's expecting you to say something or anything different. It's almost a little satisfying when you respond in the way he never could have expected, even though he should've by now. Even though it feels bitter on your tongue as soon as it comes up.

"You know what? Yes. That's exactly it." You finally wrench your arm out of his grip, and each of those words sting as they come out, but you won't cry, you refuse to cry in front of Steve today. "I'm leaving tonight, and I'm never coming back to Hawkins again."

"Why?"

"Ask your new girlfriend."

"Who? Wait--Chrissy?" He shakes his head, and what comes out next is more cruel than you wanted to be--but he just won't get it, it won't happen unless you make them realize why they don't want you anymore.

"Wow, the jock has a brain! Well done, Stevie." He grimaces at once, and god, you wish it would all stuff itself back into your throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you being such a-"

"I know you're in love with her, Steve! For fuck's sakes, I'm not as stupid as you think I am!" You shout into the broken silence of the front lawn, wishing from the deepest reaches of your heart that this could all just be a horrible nightmare. Not reality. You don't want to be facing those big, soft eyes of Steve staring back at you in shock and pain, so you just turn your head and hope he doesn't see how much you're shaking.

"I get it, okay?! She's prettier than me, and nicer, and she doesn't have my fucking issues--and you guys clearly like her. It's like I don't even exist when she's around." You move aside to gesture towards your car, keys clutched in your hand so they won't fall or get taken from you, because you know Steve is reckless when he's upset. "None of you even noticed I was packing. Nancy fucking helped me put a box in yesterday."

Just then, both your heads turn at the sound of a car approaching--and just in time, you realize it's Eddie, his van's tires crunching the gravel of the long driveway as he pulls up to a stop beside your car. And lo and behold, sitting in the front seat with a smile on her face is her. Chrissy waves to you through the window, and as if your heart isn't in the process of shattering into shards that dig into your lungs, you raise your hand to acknowledge her back. You turn back to look at Steve one last time. Memorizing his face, because you know you won't ever see him again, as you take a few steps backward and hand him your parting words.

"Don't break her heart, Steve. It sucks."

With that, and with nothing but confliction reflecting back at you on his face, you turn on your heels and make your way around your car, bidding Eddie and Chrissy a stiff goodbye as they get out of the van and you get into your car. You reverse, roll back out of the driveway, and shift gears to start puttering down the road. And as soon as the house is out of your rearview mirror, that's when you feel those tears spilling out that won't stop until well after you pass the Leaving Hawkins sign on the side of the road.

A week into your new start in the city, you haven't gotten any more closure than when you left.

Living with your aunt isn't great, but it's something. The apartment is small, and you still haven't found a new job--you did call the Palace to inform them that you were quitting, though, to which you were greeted with nothing but indifference as you left a message on the answering machine. Figures that nobody in that town would miss me, you think, but you can't dwell on it for too long, because then you'll start thinking of them and it'll have you sobbing into your pillow again. Even worse is that you can't even fully express your pain to your family, your aunt, anybody--because they'll all think you're a freak, and it won't be surprising that your "relationship" ended so badly. You don't even really speak to your parents or your family in the first place, so you can't expect them to show you any sympathy. In fact, if they said anything to you, it would probably be that you should be glad it's over so you can live a normal life.

You don't want normal. You want your Robin talking your ear off about something gross for hours, you want Eddie burping into your ear and laughing, you want Nancy falling asleep on top of you and drooling on your chest, and Steve--you want Steve to come over while you're both on your breaks, talking with his mouth full and stealing bits of your lunch while kissing you in between each bite. You want that love back, you want it so badly it hurts, it hurts your heart every time something reminds you of them.

Maybe that's the worst part. That they don't want that anymore, they want someone that can share those memories with of that terrible tragedy, who knows how they feel and relates to those nightmares that wake them up in a cold sweat, who they can compare scars with and laugh with now that it's all over. They want someone scarred but beautiful, someone perfect, and you can never be that way no matter how hard you try. It explains why you haven't gotten a single phone call, or a letter, or anything since you left, and that treatment extends into your second week in Indy and right into the third. But it doesn't get any less painful, even when you get a job at a convenience store around the corner to busy yourself and help with the rent. Nor when you try going on a date or two, just to spend the whole dinner staring off into space as they talk and wondering what the people you loved are doing right now.

While you're behind the counter at work, your thoughts often drift back to that house by Maple Drive. The path around the back that leads into the woods, where Eddie would take you out for a smoke and to watch the stars for awhile--always with a walkie on hand, just in case, as Steve used to say. The pool that often sits empty, and sometimes you'd look out the window to see Nancy lifting up the cover on it to peek underneath, before breathing a visible sigh of relief and briskly walking away. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, creeping out the sliding glass door in her pajamas. And you remember that bed you often shared with Robin, who gets so clingy when she sleeps....and you wonder if she's sharing it with Chrissy now, if the cheerleader you always thought was such a nice girl is occupying the spot you thought would be yours forever.

Your brow furrows as you stock Camels on the shelf behind the counter, sliding each one into the perfect spot but feeling an itch of irritation when they don't line up. Is Eddie holding her right now? Is he coming up behind her every morning, and nuzzling his nose into her cheek as she stirs milk into her coffee? Is Nancy cuddling her and chatting her up about whatever project she has going on right now? Is Steve picking up her bag, and insisting she let her boyfriend hold the heavy stuff while she sits and looks pretty? They probably are. And they're probably much happier doing it with her, than they ever were with you.

Something thuds on the counter behind you, and you sigh without a sound as the gruff voice at your back asks for a pack while you're at it. Your fist squeezes around the box you've got in hand, and when you turn on your heels to toss it on to the tabletop and reach for the scanner, your eyes widen, and so do the ones on the moustached man that's towering in front of you with a petite woman at his side.

"Hop?"

You breathe out the name, trying to regain yourself as quick as you can--you're pretty used to keeping your tears back now, adjusted to having a straight face so nobody will pry or prod for your feelings. The former sheriff of your hometown that you used to duck out of sight from, laughing and hiding your goods with Eddie right behind you, is standing at your counter with a shocked expression, along with Joyce Byers who seems just as surprised to see you here. And with little else you can think of, you clear your throat and try to crack that tense silence.

"Uh...so, you two on vacation, or someth-"

"Are you fucking with me?"

Hopper cuts you off, hands bracing the edge of the counter as he looks you up and down, the two glass bottles of Coke getting shoved aside by him to fall over and roll across the counter as he reaches across the barrier to grab your arm. Without much struggle, because you have no clue what's going on, you allow the older man to yank your wrist up and turn it over, Joyce hurriedly pushing up your sleeve with her gaze pinned to your skin, like she's desperately searching for something that has nothing to do with your confused questions spilling out on top of each other.

When they've finally uncovered that patch of skin they were looking for, the two of them share a look between themselves, before finally looking back up to acknowledge how baffled and worried you are. It isn't until you scan down to see what they found that the pieces start coming together, the black ink of the tattoo Eddie gave you when you first started dating peeking out at you. It's just a thin, mid-sized black circle on your inner forearm, with five points reaching outward like a sun. But the detail of it has always enchanted you, Eddie's diligent stare as he inked it into your skin burned into your mind. You've considered getting it covered since then, but....you can't bring yourself to do it yet.

"I'll call it in," Hopper says cryptically, stepping back and turning away to bring out the walkie from his belt and start mumbling into it. In the meanwhile, you're left with his partner, and the lady you've practically grown up with since she babysat you a long time ago. You often forget that time, when you and Jonathan would run around her backyard with sticks and rocks to try and build your own castle, while his baby brother watched from the stairs and giggled at your antics. You were so young, and so carefree, it seemed....but it was a happy time, one of few before you met those four.

"Honey, you're alright?" Joyce's voice quivers, anxious for the answer, but you nod as soon as her question registers because you hate to see her like this.

"Ye...Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" She circles round the counter, coming right in for a hug that you return without question. The squeeze is tight, like a mother's embrace upon returning home from a long time away, and you instantly feel a pinch of guilt for neglecting to include her in your plan to leave Hawkins. Now that you think about it, you really didn't tell anyone, except....

"-Kid, relax, we're coming there. No, do not get in your car, sit your ass down so you're there when we get back! Jesus," Hop gets more animated as he talks over the channel, and your hug splits as your head swivels towards the sound of a familiar voice through the static. Steve.

"Are they there? Let me talk to them! Please, Hopper, let me hear their voice-"

It's so frantic, desperate. The first time you've heard one of their voices in what feels like your whole life, and you have to struggle not to cave, bringing a shaky hand up over your mouth as you whisper a "What's going on?" to Joyce. And with your ears perked up, you can distinguish the background noise in the transmission--there are three other distinct voices, talking just as fearfully amongst themselves as they also try to get through to Hop. Nancy, Eddie, and Robin, each with as much indignation as Steve, who must be holding the other walkie.

"We're coming down right now, kid. Just try to calm down in the meantime." With that, Hopper shuts the antenna and gestures for you to follow him, the sweet woman at your side holding your arm as you obey him, like she's afraid you'll vanish if she lets go. You're led out of the light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead to Hop's truck parked by the curb--you at least have the sense to fumble with your keys and lock the front door before you leave--you let him open the door and sit yourself in the backseat, and shakily buckle yourself in as they get in front with promises to explain everything. Still struck dumb with shock to the point that it hasn't really registered that you just left work in the middle of your shift.

But you get an idea of what's happening when you turn your head, and catch a glimpse of a scattered stack of papers on the seat beside you out of your peripheral. Tentatively, as Hop starts up the ignition, your fingers brush over one of the nearest pages--and when you lift it up to survey it closer, the two of them notice you and share another sobering look between them. What's staring back at you is undeniably, unmistakably, a missing person's ad. And the picture is one you recognize immediately, because it's yours. Your photo, details of your last sighting, a description of your tattoo, a list of things for people to look out for....

"You really worried everyone back home, kid."

Suddenly, a bitterness rises up inside you, and the paper crumples slightly as you realize what's really happening. "I'm fine. I just...decided to get out of Hawkins."

"Yeah, well, maybe tell your roommates that, first."

"Hop-"

"They didn't care! I told Steve anyways, so what's the big fucking deal?" Even though Joyce flinches at you raising your voice, you can't be quiet right now. Anger is something you've been almost too numb to endure these last few weeks, but now you could just put your fist straight through Hopper's window--they put up such a fuss for what? To drag you back to that shitty inbred town in the sticks, just to make sure they didn't want you in the first place? It's bullshit.

"They sure as shit care!" Hop shouts right back, casting his signature scowl over his shoulder as he drives through semi-empty streets. It's so late, and so dark, it's unlikely there'll even be many pedestrians. "Do you realize how many times Nancy Wheeler has shown up on my doorstep, begging me to go on another search and rescue for you?! They're worried sick!"

"Why?"

There's silence for awhile, very tense silence, before you repeat your question that says much more than just that one word.

"....Because they thought you were gone. They thought you were there."

There. That's what he means--the other world, the Upside Down. The place you've never seen, only heard horror stories about and snatches of descriptions of when you comforted one of them during a night terror. The missing people, the murders, the experiments....they're all so hard to believe, but then again, you can't deny Will's remarkable return from the dead or Barbara Holland's coverup death, both of which you've been close enough to to know that there's no way they're just elaborate lies.

So they were worried you had died. That your disappearance wasn't of your own volition. They're going to be in for an unfortunate surprise, but by the tightly shut locks on Hopper's truck doors, you know there's no getting out of this until he brings you right back to drop you in their laps.

"We came here to look for you. Your mom finally told us you had an aunt in the city." Joyce offers you another piece to the puzzle, but your mind is still stuck on the fact that your ex-partners seemed so desperate over the walkie. They....they wouldn't want you to die, but that doesn't mean they want you. Figures that your parents would make it more difficult for two of the only people that even remotely have any concern for you too, they're probably profiting off all that glorious attention of having a missing child.

"I have a life here, now. I don't want to go back." Lies. You know it's all lies.

"Listen, kid, whatever happened with your friends, I promise it's not worth throwing in the towel. You've gotta see things through." Clearly it's not worth an argument, you'd rather save your energy at this point. You're gonna need plenty to face that hard conversation you know is coming, when you're gonna have to confirm to them directly that you're moving on. No more running away, or hiding from the problem. You have to face it.

"You don't know anything about me, or them."

The already long drive drags on even longer in the silence that follows, and you make a mental note to call your aunt when they get you back to Hawkins, so she doesn't freak out when she comes home to an empty apartment. You can imagine your manager's gonna call and cuss you out before firing you for leaving the store unattended, too, and you groan and let your head hit the seat behind you. Now you're gonna have to find another job, gonna have to explain to your aunt what you did....or maybe she won't even notice your absence, not until someone makes a fuss about it.

Your mind is left racing with so many thoughts and worries that the scenery passes by without note, the moon barely shining any light on the landscape, like it's all one huge plain with little dots for buildings and trees. Like one big hellscape, but it's numb and frozen over with nothing left but a mocking echo of the world that's no longer here. You don't even really recognize your surroundings until a couple hours have passed, and the Welcome To Hawkins sign zips by and has you sitting up in your seat. Just as you pass it, though, you think you see the glimmer of another set of headlights, a rarity on these quiet streets--and then your whole world shifts violently.

"Shit!" Hop curses as he swerves suddenly, and Joyce shrieks as you all nearly careen off the road and into the ditch, your head cracking against the window and bouncing off for you to clutch at it in pain. A groan is all you can get out when he calls back to you, the dizzy feeling making you a little sick, but as you lift your head and the truck rolls to a stop, you spot the culprit of that downright suicidal speed driving that nearly caused a head-on collision.

Your heart is pierced with a deep chill immediately. You'd recognize that van anywhere, and that curly mane of hair as the driver stumbles out his door even moreso. He's not hurt, just dazed--and for the moment, your brain doesn't immediately go to the question of why you should even care. As he stands there in the road, in the dark, Eddie's form is lit up by the headlights still shining without a flicker, but he doesn't flinch even when it must be glaring directly into his eyes, just holds a hand up to block it out. And when they meet yours as you lean over the console to see him, he doesn't wait a second, hurrying around the passenger's side of the truck to fumble for the handle of your door. With a click, and the light above you switching on as a beeping starts to emit from the vehicle, Eddie's suddenly cramming himself into the backseat with you--and there's tears already wetting his cheeks as he grabs you in a hug, gasping in a shaky lungful of breath like he's shocked he's really touching you. Crying and mumbling into your hair, Eddie buckles when you squeeze him back, falling victim to that desire in the deepest part of your soul that just wanted to hold him again.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it baby, I didn't--everything I said, I swear, I was being such a fucking moron-" He starts babbling from nowhere, and his voice itself is a comfort, having not heard it next to your ear for so long that it aches now.

"Eddie-"

"You're mine, okay?! You're my everything!" He cries, burying his face even deeper into your neck and inhaling whatever scent he can get. You're stunned into staying limp, letting his hands grab and squeeze at you wherever they land--his curly hair tickles your cheek and sticks to it, and that sensation alone drags tears up to the surface, only allowing them to spill when you hear him whispering those croaked pleas of "I love you, I love you, I love you" until you're crying right along with him. It's been so long since you heard it, you'd started believing it was never really true.

It takes minutes that feel like hours for you to both calm down enough to look at each other, your face cradled in Eddie's rough hands as he sniffles and murmurs a "You're so beautiful" so innocently sincere, that it instantly makes you wish you had never left. He smiles, and the world that seems so dark grows a little brighter around you. You're not even privy to the looks Joyce and Hopper are giving each other in the front seat, clearly a little surprised at the passion you two share that nobody else has ever seen. But they know. And when Eddie starts pulling you out of your seat with the promise to take you back, Hop only reminds him to drive safely before he allows you two to shut the truck's door and circle round the vehicle with Eddie's arm clinging to your waist. The air hits you, cool and dry, just like it always is in Hawkins. And when he opens your door for you and waits for you to clamber in, before getting in on the other side and fumbling contently with his keys, you're not sure you really know what to expect. He briefly elaborates that he'd gotten worried, and that he's just glad he spotted Hop's truck before he'd sped all the way out of Hawkins and missed you--but it doesn't last, because soon he's grabbing your thigh and sighing out a breath of relief.

"We'll talk about everything when we get home. For now, I just want to hold you." Eddie offers his hand to you, giving it a grateful squeeze when you slip yours into it and interlace your fingers together.

They'll all hate me for real, this time.

That's exactly how the drive goes, Eddie's shoulders relaxed even as he steers with one hand, and navigates while stealing glances over at you with relief written all over his face, and brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles every so often. But he's just one. The other three....your heart sinks as you run over that last conversation you had with Steve, the way you'd ignored Robin completely, and how you pretended everything was absolutely fine with Nancy up until the moment you left. And it somehow dawns on you only then--they thought you were gone, that you had been taken to the Upside Down, and your heart sinks as you watch the trees pass by in clusters while that dread creeps closer down the road that's so familiar.

Not even the comforting warmth of Eddie's hand could drive that thought out of your mind, even less so when he turns and you hit that patch of gravel that leads up the driveway. He'll stop soon, and you'll be facing the music....and when Eddie shifts into park, you sort of float from your seat to the walkway where you threw your feelings back into Steve's face, and up towards the front door that Eddie opens for you before you cross the threshold into the house. It does feel like home, and you don't want to lose it right on the welcome mat, so you blink away any tears that threaten to spill before you quietly follow him into the living room.

Three heads turn to look your way, too inundated in conversation around the coffee table to hear the door opening, but that stops the second their eyes land on you. Steve and Robin are the ones sitting closest to where you stand, but Nancy's the one that makes her way to you first, her lower lip already quivering enough to break into a sob as she crosses the patch of carpet to throw her arms around you. She's strong enough to grip you tight enough to hurt, but too weak to keep herself on her feet, and you end up sinking to the floor with her as your name floods out of her lungs on repeat, getting louder and louder and louder until she's wailing. You could swear the walls rattle with the volume she cries at, completely coming apart in your arms like you've never seen her do before.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" She shouts, yet her voice is like a child's, wobbling and whiny and so miserably pitiful that it pains you even to listen to it, especially when she's clutching you so close to her body--so afraid that you won't be there when she pulls away, so she refuses to. You don't have any right to cry when she's so distraught, but with your head over her shoulder, the other two watch your lips curve downwards and your eyes screw shut into a flood of tears that won't stop easily.

"I'm sorry, Nancy. I'm okay." You whimper, burying your face into her curls until your lips brush her jawline, and she shudders into each gentle, praiseworthy kiss that you press there. Up until her sobs subside, and she breaths a sigh of relief that you can feel from her chest against yours, each one sinking and rising into each other as you breathe along with her. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

She shakes her head, and finally pulls herself back to look at you, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks when she gets a good look at you. Nancy touches your face, thumbs away your own tears--and you know she's not just looking at you, but the girl she lost so long ago, whose smile she sees in yours on those days she misses her the most dearly. "I never wanted you more when I thought you weren't coming back," She whispers back. "How could I not want you? I love you."

The kiss she lays upon your lips is breathtaking, shaking and sweet and just....everything. Everything you missed and craved like air and water and life.

You're already halfway into her embrace when she laughs out that half-hearted joke, walking back with you a couple steps when you throw yourself into it. And she squeezes you so tight, so hard, the kisses a flurry of needy, fluttering touches all over your face until she somehow finds your lips--and when she does, she makes that last one a kiss you won't shake off for days, the feeling tingling your lips even when she pulls away. Still rubbing that spot on your back that she knows is sensitive, Robin grips you in an even harder hug that nearly cracks your spine, and whispers into your ear: "I'm so happy you're here with me." before she kisses you one last time, last one, she swears, fingers crossed behind your back. But then, she takes notice to the man standing just a foot away--and she lets you go to turn you around, her fingertips grazing your arms as you finally face him.

"Yeah, she, uh....she cried, like, every night," Even as Robin says it and breaks the quiet, she herself is rubbing tears from her cheeks, trying to keep that smile going as you stand and Nancy loosens her hold. She moves aside for Eddie to lay his hands on her shoulders from behind, and keep her steady on her feet. "So did Steve. I told you he cries when we watch Princess Bride!"

"I-I....I didn't mean it, Steve. I never...I've never thought you were dumb." Your voice comes out as a whimper, fingers fiddling with each other as you endure that big, brown, wide-eyed stare.

"I know." He breathes, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants to move, he's antsy, but he won't take another step. "I know, baby."

"Can I hug you?" Steve just nods, but his lip quivers and his features gain that pathetic, sad puppy look, because he was hoping and praying you would say those very words. Your heart soars as he meets your step forward and flings his strong arms tight around your body, crushing you with his huge stature but never loosening up. He instantly brings his hand up to cradle your head against his chest, kissing the crown of it with so much firmness that you know he's reaffirming you're really standing in front of him again.

"I shouldn't have let you leave. I should've slashed your damn tires." He chuckles along with you at the lighthearted crack at breaking the tension, until he chokes up again into a sob. "Nobody could ever replace you. And I swear, I'll never break your heart again."

Steve holds you for a long time, squeezing you and kissing you and brushing strands of hair from your eyes to just look at you, surveying the face of the love he feared he'd never get to cherish again. It's a long time coming, and when he's done, there are three other warm bodies in the room that need attention from the sweet thing they've been killing themselves over these last few weeks.

From there, they catch you up with what had happened in your absence. Steve had walked off to clear his head after you left, and hadn't returned until late in the day--burst through the front door during an unusually quiet dinner and sent them all into a panic, when he realized you really had left and you weren't coming back. The four of them had jumped into action to split up and look for you, Nancy contacted your parents and other family while Steve and Robin tried to find some hint of your whereabouts in the house, cracking open your drawers and notes and realizing how much of your stuff was missing. Meanwhile, Eddie had driven in circles round Hawkins and the outer city limits, trying to find any trace of your car in the dark with the help of passing streetlights.

When those attempts had failed after stretching out into the next day to mid-afternoon, and with your very unhelpful parents insisting they had no idea where you could've gone, that's when your partners had started printing out missing person's flyers and put in an official report with the sheriff's office. And, seemingly having forgotten that you were really the only one who ever checked the voicemail at work, your message tendering your resignation had been errantly erased by your manager--worrying them even further when they questioned him, because if you were really planning on moving away like you said, how could you not tell your employer? It wasn't like you. Their fears had only gotten stronger from there.

The worst had yet to come, though. Because when your car had been found on the side of the road way out in the middle of nowhere, miles and miles away from Hawkins and completely destroyed, the four of them had reached the point of no return. The plates had been torn off, but it was your exact make and model of car, and what were they supposed to believe? That it was just coincidence? That's what Hopper had tried to reassure them with, tried to insist that plenty of cars get found gutted out in the bush, but they couldn't be convinced that it was just some freak happenstance and delude themselves to think that you were fine and dandy somewhere else. The same thing had happened to Max's stepbrother, and they all knew how that had ended.

So started the search parties, the nights spent staying up and studying maps by lamplight, the microwave meals in place of home cooking and sleeping in shifts by the phone, waiting and hoping for some kind of clue to your whereabouts to appear. Finding you had become more important than eating, proper sleep, showering, or attention paid to anything aside from looking towards the horizon to see if you would magically walk back into their lives.

And all that time, you had believed nothing but that they couldn't care less where you were, or what you were doing. When in reality, they could think of nothing but you. That was what had led Eddie to nearly crash into you as you re-entered Hawkins, having been pacing the living room for those long hours after Hop's call until he just couldn't take it anymore--despite the other three trying to stop him, he had dashed out to his van and peeled out of the driveway like a lunatic, just for the slightest chance that he might be there when you needed help. It was so stupid, so reckless, and you'll remember that moment he came rushing around the side of the truck to get to you forever.

Despite them reassuring you about Chrissy, too, when the tears have dried--promising you she's nothing but a friend, and they would have no problems limiting her interaction with all of you from now on--you wave it away, smiling off your stupidity and letting them know that it's fine. You were just being dumb, acting crazy, but you're fine now. And Eddie's eyes narrow at that.

"You're not crazy." He murmurs absentmindedly, and says nothing more until he can slip away from your reunion, and reach the phone in the kitchen. While you're busy dealing with your other partner's crippling absence of affection, he taps his blunt nails into each button, numbly dialing the number he's memorized until the ringing starts and stops.

"Hey, Chris. Angel's back home."

"Oh, that's great! Oh...Eddie, I'm so happy for you. You must be relieved-"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen, no hard feelings, but....you're my friend, so I'm just gonna be straight. Don't come by the house anymore."

"I--what? Really? I....Eddie, I'm sorry, if I did something to upset you-"

"No, no, nothing you did. Well, not really. But I know how you feel, Chris, and I can't really ignore it anymore." He swallows deeply, and sucks on his teeth as he tries to think of some better way to say it. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't feel the same. I never have, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like that might change."

"......So that's it?"

"That's it. We can still be friends, but we need space for awhile first, and I'm not gonna ignore you flirting with me anymore. I'm in love and it's not gonna change. Sorry."

"Can we at least talk about it, Eddie? Please? I'd rather talk this out in person."

"No. Bye, Chrissy."

He thuds the phone back on the receiver just a little too hard, and brings his hand up to rub at his neck and try and get the ache out. That didn't feel good, having to confront one of his very few friends with a truth he just wanted to ignore--but the sick feeling he has now can't even compare to how he felt when you were away, and it's an easy decision to make in that regard. He'd take you over her any day. It's a bit of a guilty feeling, but he knows it's the truth even if it hurts Chrissy's feelings, and he's happy even so.

"....Yeah, I missed you real bad, sweetheart. Don't you ever think I wouldn't....or else you are crazy."

"Eddie?" You call out from the living room, and following that sweet voice to its source, he feels himself light up at the sight of you settled back into the couch. Legs tucked up in Robin's lap, halfway into Steve and Nancy's, looking so comfortable and cute as you look up at him. You're where you belong. He's so distracted by the glee and relief of having you home, he didn't even realize how quiet it had been between you all until he came right back from his task. You say nothing more, just hold your arms out to him--and when he gets close enough, you capture him with those pretty eyes of yours, and melt away any ill feeling as you pull him into your chest.

#fruity four #fruity four x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #eddie munson x reader #robin buckley x reader #jim hopper #joyce byers #st 4 #stranger things #eddie's angelface #ellie writes #anons

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oct0bra1ns · 4 months

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Just did my nails and in the hour it took I thought of this so do with it as u please

I don’t know if you’ve ever done anything like this

But like any type of yandere monster recreating your house/ room perfectly and then bringing you there and their super happy bout it and like ‘look what I made! Don’t you just love it? 😊😊”

like a demon? Omgmgmg or some hot vers of boogie man

idk tbh I have a lot of ideas I’m just trying to give u som of my mind

like summoning a demon bc why not? A bitch was bored 🌝 and it’s all scary and shit and you’re just totally chill, “hey man, didn’t mean to summon you- you wanna just like? I don’t know…go back to hell?” And the demon is obv offended

so it follows u around menacingly and yeah

ur his now ❤️

anyways do with this as u please 💕💕 I love ur writing sm btw, I hope the food u eat always taste good and yr pillows are cold on both sides!

Pairing: Yandere Monster x reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others , yanderes, notes: big brain, the best ideas always come when you're doing your nails tbh and THANK YOU, I HOPE THE YEAR GOES AMAZING FOR YOU. reblogs and comments are appreciated!

CONSIDER, the monster had already been admiring you for a while now, taking note of the style you wear, the food you eat, and trying to find what kind of house you'd like so all these things could add up as a plus point when you finally summon him.

Yandere monster who wastes no time in trying to get you to come home with him but the moment you ask him to go back sheepishly, he gives you such an offended looking, asking you what he lacks for you to try to send him away.

Eventually, he gets you to let him stay, allowing to choose whether you want to stay here or go back with him, either way, he'd making sure you lack nothing and are well looked after. He takes pride in knowing your tastes and admires the way your face lights up when you see what he's done for you.

If you choose to stay here, he changes his appearance to fit the standards of the humans whenever outside but in the house, he has no problem flaunting the markings on his skin and horns. To fit in, he uses his influence and power to build up a company from the ground, one where signing a contract with him means selling your soul for success.

He isn't concerned with competition, all he cares about his making sure you're well taken care of but do not mistake this for him being laid back, he's always at your side at parties or anyplace you go to keep other pests away from you, any idiot who dares to approach you will become bankrupt and deal with many things they've been trying to hide or they will be caught in an unfortunate accident.

If you choose to go back to his realm, the way your spoiled only amps up, being from one of the most influential families back home, you've basically become royalty. Of course, his people are not so accepting at first but seeing as he ranks way over them, they keep quiet, his family on the other hand will adore you, admiring the chaos you bring along with being their son's partner.

Always at his side in every event, not as an object to be admired but as his partner and equal and anyone who tries to approach him about how you make an excellent pet will be made an example of what not to do.

Loves picking out clothes for you that are from his realm, tailoring them to fit you perfectly and making sure that above anything else, you love the way it looks.

Any freedom you had back in the world is basically gone in his world, the people here are horrible, you never know when they'll decide to change their mind and try to show off.

octo notes:hmm, thinking of naming him deimos :p

#octo answers #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #octo writes #tw yandere #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere monster #yandere x willing reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you

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ghostface-knight · 4 months

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i'd like to present my concept of nightmare time episodes where every (or almost every) person is played by the same person, inspired by jaime lyn beatty in daddy. here are some ideas:

peter spankoffski is done being at the bottom of the hatchetfield high food chain, and so he seeks out help to become cooler. he comes across ethan green, who, having just been left by his girlfriend lex, decides, "what the hell, i'll mentor this kid on being cool". when ted spankoffski learns that his little brother is hanging out with "that no-good ethan green", he confronts pete about it, perhaps a little too harshly. his intentions are good, but when has anything ever gone the way he meant? ted, like everybody in town, knows about ethan's reputation, and he thinks he'll be a bad influence on pete. he knows that, if anyone can, pete can make it out of hatchetfield, and he doesn't want ethan screwing that up. so he confronts him, and one thing leads to another, and eventually pete storms out in anger. ted knows if he goes after pete immediately, he'll only make things worse, so he decides he'll let him have his moment of teenage rebellion and then reconcile with him after. a few hours later, ted spankoffski, now drinking his problems away, is approached by a mysterious man who has somehow gotten into ted's apartment. wilbur cross, as he introduces himself, half-convinces and half-mind controls ted into believing that ethan is responsible for this, and the only way to protect pete is to kill ethan. he storms into ethan's tiny basement apartment, wielding his now shattered bottle of booze, and prepared to rip him limb from limb with his new super-powered companion. ethan can hold his own, though, and the brawl is a tough match. eventually, though, ethan manages to get the remaining shard of the bottle and shove it straight through ted's chest. as this happens, pete comes out of ethan's bathroom, revealing that he'd gone to ethan for comfort after his fight with ted. ted bleeds out on ethan's floor as pete holds him.

ruth fleming has graduated high school, and she's lucky enough to find a super chill job as a farmhand on the farm of emma perkins. one day, as they do their usual work (which isn't much, to be honest), they are approached by linda monroe, who is all but seething. she's goes on about how drugs are evil and she will not raise her children in a town where such depravity is taking place. they threaten her off the property, and they think that'll be over and done with. it's not like they've never had to deal with moralistic creeps like her before, and they've always come out the other side. linda comes back the next day with a petition signed by just about every member of the hatchetfield boating society. yeah whatever, perky's buds is not going to be dismantled by some stupid rich people who think they have more power than they do. in the midst of this, they've recently recieved a new client: 17 year old hannah foster. a quiet kid from hatchetfield high, who seems to have joined the smoke club as a way to make some friends. emma and ruth don't think much of it -- neither of them have any qualms about selling to teenagers, and business is business. however, hannah keeps coming back for more and more, and ruth starts to wonder if there's something else going on. back in the linda plot, linda has taken to bringing people out to the farm to protest. each day she (or, more accurately, the people she's hired) come with more and more people holding cardboard signs and chanting. it's really starting to get on emma's nerves. one day, while hannah is picking up her purchase, linda, surrounded by a mob of angry parents and hatchetfield adults, returns. suddenly, linda no longer seems like a nuisance, but a legitimate threat. her followers carry weapons and the menacing smile on her face tells emma and ruth that she isn't messing around. as the mob breaks through the door of the farm house, emma and ruth urge hannah to look for shelter. hannah refuses though, and emma swears her eyes begin to gleam almost inhumanly. the mob makes it to them, and are suddenly thrown back by a wave of psychic energy so powerful it shatters the walls of the house. hannah's new powers (on account of the weed) leave emma, ruth, and herself standing unharmed in the middle of a surrounding pile of groaning, injured people.

i have a few other concepts, but this is getting super long so i better leave it here for now lmao

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valentine-writes · 8 months

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their "i love you"s and other drabbles...

「 tws + notes: no tws, HEAVILY unedited, a little angst in sum partz but f it we ball (THERE'S SUMN WRONG W/ ME I NEVER DO THIS MUCH?), fluff, tried to add a lil bit of everyone, little thoughtz abt the characters,,, 」

↳ ft. ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, jessica drew, lyla, margo kess, miles morales (1610 and 42), miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, pavitr prabhakar, peter b parker, spider-man noir, and the spot/johnathan ohnn

「 gn!reader, romantic relationships <3 」

author's note: not my usual content but thought it wud b fun to whip up a few drabbles,, (´。＿。｀) diff format than usual too! all separate and stuff, w/ the characterz at the bottom being the ones the drabble applies to the most (ALL CAPZ MEANS I THOUGHT IT FIT THEM SUPER WELL!!!!) thought it wud b fun,,, altered lyrics are italicized, itz jus a pronoun change 2 make it gender neutral (❁´◡`❁) edit: my tags. do not fit. so i had to redo them. reblogz r super appreciated ^_^ i jus wanna make sure all fans of these characterz are being fed content <33

[ please don't forget about me - pompey ]

"and if you see me everyday / will I lose my shine?"

↳ always terrified of not being exciting and new to you– like one day, their appeal will fade. not like they understand what drew you to them in the first place, but they never asked. maybe you're just hanging around for the hell of it. maybe one day, they'll watch you leave and they'll have nothing to convince you to stay

"how many bad jokes will it take? / or awkward quiet times?"

↳ they wonder if they're already losing you slowly. everytime they speak to you, it's like they're trying to compensate for something. begging you to look at them– but not too close,,, just in case you notice how brutally flawed they are, beyond just the quirks you find endearing. maybe one day you'll look too deep into their eyes and you won't like what you see

▸ JOHNATHAN OHNN/THE SPOT, peter b parker

[ soft sounds from another planet - japanese breakfast ]

"i'll show you the way to hurt me"

↳ loving again is the biggest risk anyone who's been hurt like them could take. you make it worth the danger– the possibility of the pain they've grown all too familiar with. maybe for today, caution can be set aside. when it comes to you, they wouldn't mind letting their guard down.

"in search of a soft sound from another planet / in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest."

↳ they have to admit their past has burdened them in ways they can't even begin to communicate. they know you can't fix everything that has been broken in their lives. still, the comfort you provide is never taken for granted. you are their safe space– the soft sound from another planet. their quiet place to finally lay it all to rest. and suddenly, the aching in their chest doesn't eat them up inside as much as it used to.

you make it easy to love again.

▸ GWEN STACY, MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ our lullabye - miracle musical ]

"i was made for you / you were made for me"

↳ it's hard to believe that you're more than just a distant fantasy sometimes. they can't deny how much they've yearned for a love like the one you two share. something so sweet, so real. it's nothing like the movies or the fairytales, but is anything ever? even when things are messy and complicated, it's undeniable how perfect it all feels. how everything about the two of you just fits. they're inclined to thank every shooting star they've ever wished on, every birthday candle they've ever held their deepest desires in as they blew the flame out for the day you two met. by any manner of higher power or forces unseen to the human eye, they're certain fate was on their side to give them such a blessing.

"i'll love you 'till you're gone / our song goes on and on"

↳ they're determined to hold on as long as possible. all good things cannot last– but they try not to dwell on that thought. they hold onto the hope that you're the one thing that will stay. your love feels divine. radiant, in the way it overtakes them fully. they almost feel undeserving. so, no matter how small or how grand the action, they try to remind you every day, "i love you"s woven into their every being whenever you're around.

▸ lyla, SPIDER-MAN NOIR, johnathan ohnn/the spot

[ i will - mitski ]

"everything you feel is good / if you would only let you"

↳ sometimes they feel you holding back. they can't help but notice the tension in the room as you suppress the things you want to say, silence the thoughts in your head. they know it's not easy to be earnest all the time. but they love you– they care for you. and all they've ever wanted is for you to be authentic. if it's pure, how could it ever be wrong? maybe in your own time, you'll be able to unravel in front of them. they're by your side every step of the way. to finally have you open up to them– to be real, to be honest– it would mean the world to them. they want to show you they love every single part of you. they love you when you're upset, when you're crying, when you're angry– because it's you.

"so stay with me / hold my hand / there's no need / to be brave"

↳ they offer every reassurance they can give you. you no longer have to fend for yourself. those days of being alone are over. you can crumble apart if you need– there's no need for constant bravery anymore. you did such a good job picking yourself up, time and time again. now, they outstretch a hand to you, a silent way of saying, "let me help you this time."

▸ ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, JESSICA DREW, lyla, MILES MORALES (1610), PAVITR PRABHAKAR, PETER B PARKER tbh all of them but shhh

[ right side of my neck - faye webster ]

"you looked back at me once / but i looked back two times"

↳ absolutely smitten with you. it doesn't matter how hard you fell. they. fell. harder. and maybe it's not obvious to you. but they've never had someone who made them care so much. some part of them feels immature for feeling so in love,, like a school kid with a puppy crush. they find it ridiculous, how absolutely lovesick and enamoured they are with everything about you. whatever you feel and express towards them, they feel towards you three times as much. they try everyday to show it.

"the right side of my neck / still smells like you"

↳ you just seem to leave a part of you with them always. they can't ignore it– can't seem to escape your presence, even when you're not physically there. it felt like spiralling to insanity at first. but they've learned to appreciate it– find comfort in it, even. the way the smell of your shampoo lingers on the pillow they leant you when you stayed over, the way that the mug of tea (made just the way you like it) is still on the kitchen table from the morning after– you left your t-shirt once and you had to ask them directly for it back. they like keeping pieces of you near. it reminds them of how loved they are.

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, MARGO KESS, miles morales (1610 and 42), pavitr prabhakar, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ you love me - kimya dawson ]

"but when i met you, right away, i knew / you would never, ever, ever hurt me"

↳ you're used to pulling away. leave before they can leave you, before they even try to make you miss them– but the second you met them? they were insistent on proving that they were harmless. they could never dream of hurting you. and they see as you pull away, scared to get too close– and yet, every single time, they open their arms back to you.

"and the road's still long but you come along / and you hold my hand, and you understand"

↳ "when you're ready" has become second place in their favourite three word sentences. they remind you of these words constantly.

"when you're ready" means they don't mind that it's not now. ""when you're ready" means it doesn't matter how long they have to wait for you, they will. when you're ready" is another form of "i love you"

▸ MARGO KESS, MILES MORALES (1610), pavitr prabhakar, PETER B PARKER, spider-man noir

[ (you) on my arm - leith ross ]

"i wanna buy you pretty little things / and never ever lie to you"

↳ wants something simple with you. craves a form of sweet, normalcy. the mundane tasks and events of life seem far more appealing to them when you're in the picture. no, they never really imagined ever having a quiet life, yet the hope for one with you lingered. to buy you little gifts, to be the best they could possibly be to you, to drive around with you for the hell of it. they're certain anything could be heaven if you were there to accompany them.

a quiet life sounds nice.

"i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it"

↳ having you on their arm just makes them feel secure. keeping you close while showing you off to the world– showing you've got each other. they're a bit sappy for little things like this. everywhere you go, they never fail to extend an arm out to you. something about you makes them feel safer than ever.

▸ jessica drew, miles morales (1610), MILES MORALES (42), peter b parker, SPIDER-MAN NOIR

[ peach scone - hobo johnson ]

"so I fall to ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart / or at least your spare time"

↳ they try so incredibly hard to be the one for you. no matter what they try, they just seem to fumble and mess it up. they stumble over their words when they try to compliment you, they get weak in the knees when they try to make a move, and no matter how much they spend deliberating, and deliberating– they've got no clue how to win you over. hopefully you find their clumsy attempts endearing. they're making a fool of themself. and maybe, they haven't really said anything yet– but they're happy to at least hang around you in the meantime

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, MILES MORALES (1610), spider-man noir, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ dan the dancer - mitski ]

" he liked them more than life itself / i'm sure "

↳ he was quiet in the way he expressed his adoration. still, he did everything he could to ensure you would never go unloved. the way he looks into your eyes, taking you in like you are the loveliest thing on earth... it's only fitting. you're his world. maybe in the silent moments, when his fingers gently brush your cheek, admiring you– you'd begin to understand this.

▸ MILES MORALES (42), MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ lover // over the moon - alice phoebe lou ]

"i'm a lover / i feel it now / i'm a lover / just never knew how"

↳ they don't even try to hide how much they enjoy your company. you're special to them– why would they try to hide that? at this point, whenever you feel arms wrap around you from behind, you've learned to see their grinning face when you glance over your shoulder. maybe they've never been particularly shy about most things,, but now they're just twice as loud. it's inexplicable, the things you do to them. they hadn't anticipated being so utterly soft,,, not like they're complaining

▸ hobie brown/spider-punk, PAVITR PRABHAKAR

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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

Text

Celebrate (Marc Spector x fem!Reader, Steven Grant x fem!Reader, Jake Lockley x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So, I have had this done for a while and just never posted, so better late than never, amirite? And besides, we can all always use more Oscar Isaac and the Moon Boys in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Summary: The boys realize that they've never celebrated your birthday with you, despite being with you for well over a year and you celebrating their birthday. When they find out when it is, nothing will stop them from giving you a birthday for the record books.

Warning: Fluff (established couple with all the Moon Boys, super sweet affection, kisses, a very important question), angst (negative emotions about birthdays), implied smut

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 3,348

Steven, Marc, and Jake love you. They loves everything about you, from how you talk, to how you have a ‘lucky’ something for every category of item you own, to how big your heart is. But there is one thing about you that particularly irks them.

In the year and a half that you have been together with them, they has yet to find out when your birthday is. For all they knows, they could have missed it twice! Hell, you’ve remembered theirs twice and have done incredibly loving things for both.

They have tried everything—Steven even tried to sneak a peak at your license once, but turned out to be in a different wallet. Steven only knew his lack of knowledge wasn’t by virtue of him not trying extremely hard, because Marc and Jake couldn’t find out either.

Jake enjoyed playing around with the fantasy that you were a secret spy or assassin who stepped away from the action to lead a normal, quiet life. Steven and Marc were ready to quickly dismiss it when they remembered that they served as an avatar for the Egyptian God of the moon. In all honesty, there was a chance that Jake could be right.

“Did you know that in Ancient Egypt, Pharaohs didn’t celebrate birthdays on the actual day?” Steven asks as he hands you a dish from the suds. “They celebrated their coronation day since it was when they were born into the role of ruler.”

“Interesting,” you respond as you use the towel to dry the plate.

“It’s a bit sad, though, innit? That other people didn’t celebrate their birthdays. It wasn’t a common thing.”

“Well, I mean, I guess people make a big deal out of birthdays and place a lot of pressure on them. Maybe the Egyptians had it right.”

“But it’s an important day, you know? Someone fantastic was brought to the world, that’s worth celebratin’.”

You have a feeling you know what he’s getting at. You choose to remain quiet.

“You’re worth celebratin’, (Y/N).”

You feel tears sting at your eyes, and you suck in your bottom lip to prevent yourself from crying.

“Why haven’t you told us when your birthday is?” he pleads softly.

You dip your head and shrug. “My birthday . . . I don’t know,” you mutter. “I have a lot of mixed feelings about it, and I don’t know how to say them without sounding whiny.”

Steven tilts your chin up with a sudsy finger so your eyes lock onto his.

“We’re all ears,” he says tenderly.

You let out a sigh, but Steven’s finger refuses to let your gaze leave his.

“No matter how old I got or whatever new friends I made, my friends and colleagues and even my exes always forgot my birthday. I always made it a point to remember theirs, get a gift, a card, whatever, because—it’s the friggin’ day they’re born! And then I always had these small, wistful expectations there’d be something done for me like a surprise, but it was always nothing. Once I got into my college years, I’d have these hopes and expectations of what I’d have done by that birthday, and most of them never came true. My ‘have a first kiss’ goal was deferred for eight years until I was 25.” You close your eyes and give your head a little shake. “I’m just always disappointed by my birthday with other people and myself. Never a real reason to celebrate.”

Steven dries his hands and wipes away yours tears with the pads of his thumb as he pulls you in for a loving hug.

“Will you tell us when your birthday is, love?” Steven whispers into your hair. “Please?”

Unable to resist his tender embrace, you tell him the date, and he pulls back to scan your face. “That’s Thursday,” he states.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It is.”

You don’t expect him to cradle your face in his hands while he kisses you deeply. “Boy, do we have some idea’s stewin’ in our brain,” he beams as he gives you another kiss. “And you know what? Since I missed it last year, you’re gonna have a half-birthday celebration that is gonna knock your knickers right off of you.”

“My knickers?” you laugh, your hurt feelings quickly leaving your body.

Steven whistles and moves his hand like a plane to emphasize the absolute absence of panties you’ll have before he hops up and rubs his hands together in excitement.

“Oh,” he says as he holds up a finger. “This is why we couldn’t figure out your birthday, right? You’re not secretly a spy or assassin?”

You laugh at the implication, the sadness rolling off of your body. “Jake’s idea?”

Steven nods.

“Well, I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. And then there’s the issue of getting rid of the body, and we’re on the fifth floor—.”

“See, I know you’re jokin’, but part of me is actually a little spooked right now,” Steven says.

“No, hon. I’m not a spy,” you giggle, moving to kiss his cheek and push his curly hair back. “Sorry to disappoint Jake.”

Steven breathes a sigh of relief and dips his head as you hold onto him. "Oh, thank the gods!"

You’re vaguely aware of the shifting on your mattress as you continue to enjoy a cozy slumber under the comforter with your head on the pillows. After a bit, you feel another shift on the mattress along with the warmth of another body whose smell you know all too well.

“Happy birthday, my love,” Steven whispers with a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You let out a tired moan as you roll into Steven’s body, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face into his chest as you try to pull yourself back into a deep sleep.

“Come now, I’ve made you your favorite. And I have a nice big mugga mornin’ Joe with your name on it,” he encourages.

You unbury your head slightly, looking up at him with still heavy eyes. He smiles as he looks down at you, kissing your forehead.

“I knew if the kisses didn’t do it, the coffee would,” he chuckles.

As you sit up in bed, Steven twists his torso and places a breakfast tray on your lap, presenting you with waffles, fresh cut fruit, and veggie sausage.

“Thank you, hon,” you tell him, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Anythin’ for the birthday girl,” he hums, placing a kiss on your neck that sends goosebumps throughout your body. “I still wish you could’ve taken the day off.”

“Trust me, if I didn’t have these big meetings, I’d probably just stay in bed with you three.”

“Don’t give Jake any ideas—he’d find a way to make those meetings cancelled,” Steven chuckles, stealing a strawberry for himself. You know there’s nothing particularly aphrodisic or phallic about a strawberry, but watching Steven’s lips move around the red fruit and how his tongue licks away the juice sends your head spinning. Steven catches you looking at him and smirks. “Yes, love?”

“Oh, nothing,” you blush as you move to take a bite of the waffles in front of you.

“Mm, likely story,” he hums as he licks his lips once more, bringing his lips to your pulse point for a chaste kiss.

“I don’t know that I’m gonna be able to finish these, hon,” you chuckle as you take a closer look at the stack. “You made eight?”

“I’ve seen you devour a stack of waffles with no issue before.”

“Yeah, on a weekend where I don’t have to go do a full day of work later.”

“Then lucky for you, I am here to help,” he smiles, stealing your fork to snatch a bite of waffles for himself. “Bloody hell, I’m a good cook.”

We continue to sit in bed and eat the fluffy breakfast food until you have to get ready for work. As you fix your hair in the bathroom, Steven takes care of the dishes; he finishes drying them as you move from the bathroom to put on your clothes. As you slide on your sweater, Steven shuffles into the bedroom.

“Let me walk you to work today?” he whispers as he lifts out the hair tucked into the collar of your sweater.

“I want to say yes, but then I wouldn’t want to go in or have you leave,” you respond just as quietly. “Especially after a morning like this one. It’d be the bed predicament on the sidewalk.”

Steven brings his lips to yours slowly as you wrap your arms around his waist. The kiss is tender and lazy, much like how you wish you could spend the day with one another. Steven lets out a defeated sigh as his lips part from yours, resting his forehead against yours.

“Text me when you get there?” he asks as his fingers play with your hair.

“Of course,” you tell him. "Love you."

Steven hands you your purse, letting you adjust it on your shoulder before he places more quick kisses on your lips, murmuring a "Love you more," as you attempt to make it out the door.

“What?” you chuckle as you put your purse on the table by the door. Jake is leaning on the kitchen table like a puppy that needs to be let out.

“I can’t wait for my girlfriend to do part two of her birthday?” Jake smirks as he suavely moves over from the wooden surface and meets you at the door, his hands on your waist as he plants a passionate kiss on your lips.

“And what would part two be, exactly?” you smile as you bite your lip, keeping them just out of reach of his so you don’t spend the rest of the night making out in the kitchen—although, you wouldn’t be opposed to it.

“I can’t give away all of the details, mi corazón. Now, go to the bedroom, put on what’s laid out, and then we’ll go to part two.”

You smirk at him and scrunch your eyebrows playfully as you try to figure out what he has planned. You do as he asks, nonetheless. Lying on the bed, you see a beautiful sky blue satin dress with an asymmetrical hemline and silver strappy heels. You slide on the dress and it fits like a glove—so much like a glove, you can see the line of your underwear underneath the fabric. Lightly chuckling to myself, you slide off your panties and take off your bra. Usually, you’d be opposed to going full commando, but when you see yourself in the mirror, everything looks better—the dress was made to be worn on your body without undergarments. You slide on the heels to finish off the look and quickly comb your hair to revitalize it from the day. When you meet Jake back in the living room, he licks his lips and smirks as he looks at you, giving you bedroom eyes as you move closer to him.

“Now will you tell me what we’re doing?” you coo as you run your hands up and down his chest.

“No,” he smiles as he pulls you in for a searing kiss, squeezing your ass for scientific reasons, you’re sure.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this, are you?” he breathes against your lips.

“Not a stitch,” you hum as you move his hands off your rear, taking a step back and opening the door with your things in hand. “Lead the way, Lockley.”

He gives you a bedroom smirk and mutters a string of Spanish curses and erotic notions under his breath—something about not realizing how sexy you’d look and what he’d rather be doing to you.

“Don’t worry, babe, I think all of you boys will be able to do those kinds of things later,” you assure him as you pull him down by his tie for a kiss. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not when vice looks as good as you in satin.”

Jake captures your lips in a passionate and lusty kiss that still maintains an air of chastity to it—his mind on the mission of the surprise, but his heart veering towards your shared bed.

“Come on, cariño,” he rasps as he takes your hand and leads you out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I don’t even get a hint?” you try again as you walk along the sidewalk.

“Tell me what you think we’re doing.”

“Really? Twenty questions on my birthday?”

“Play along,” he chuckles.

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically as you lace your fingers with his. “It’s definitely somewhere fancy?”

“Is it, though?”

“I’m dressed to the nines. I don’t see how it can’t be somewhere fancy.”

“Or I wanted to show you off.”

“Okay,” you say, processing Jake’s cheeky remark, thinking of all the possibilities. “Well, dinner would be too obvious, so it clearly can’t be that.”

“Clearly,” he chuckles. “Come on, cariño, I thought you knew me better than this.”

“Ouch, gut punch!” you say, poking at it side. “I’m still thinking. You are an expert at being sneaky, I’m trying to process my options.”

“Well, you should come up with one soon. We’re almost there.”

Knowing the area, you scan through all the storefronts you can bring to your mind, when something clicks with your ensemble.

“Jake Lockley, are you taking me dancing?” you hum as you look over to him, his eyes sparkling in the dim London light.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he chuckles as he guides you to the left into a little courtyard that is all done up where other couples are waiting to start the lessons. “We’re gonna put those hips of yours to a different kind of work. Just for a short while, at least.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything fun or culinary up my sleeves,” Marc says as the two of you walk hand in and through the quiet park, the path lit by beautiful old street lamps.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” you tell him. “I know how much effort you all put into today. It’s nice to wrap it all up with dinner and a little stroll.”

A gentle breeze begins to pick up, and Marc immediately shrugs off his bomber jacket to place on your shoulders. You want to protest, but you love having things that he wears on your body—the warmth form his frame, the smell of his skin and cologne, the silent gesture of love.

“Thanks, baby,” you tell him softly as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did you have a good day today?” he asks, matching your tone. “I know you mentioned your meetings—.”

“Yeah, the meetings from hell,” you sigh as you roll your neck, the mere thought of them bringing tension to your body. “Not only could they all have been emails, but they were ridiculously long and were so unproductive that we knew less by the end than we did at the start. Debbie led both.”

“Oh no, not Debbie.”

“Mmhm. Don’t get me started with that one.” You let out a long sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “But it’s all worth it, because I get to come home to an amazing system of men who love me.”

He rests his cheek on top of your head. “We love you, too, baby.”

“How about we go home and take a bath? Wind down from the day. Get naked and wet together.”

“Mm, two of my favorite adjectives.”

“Maybe we can add some other adjectives you like to that mix,” you chuckle, lightly checking his hip with yours.

Taking a turn off the path of the park, you hop on the sidewalk and make the short walk back to the flat, snuggling close in the old elevator as it drags its way up to the top floor.

“You want me to put on a kettle for tea or coffee or something?” you hum as you unlock the door, tossing your keys into the dish as you make your way in. “Or are we going to save all the warm water for—what are you doing?”

In your living room, Marc is perched down on one knee, a little open box in his hands as he looks up at me with his rich brown eyes.

“We were actually gonna do this next week,” Marc starts, his voice soft, the edges brimming with emotion. “But we thought this might be a really great way to end your birthday.”

“Baby . . .”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I need to begin to tell you how much we all love you. If I did, we’d be here for a hell of a long time, I’d loose feeling in my legs from the knee down, and you’d offer to help me walk over to the bed, just like how you are always there to help me and Steven and Jake with whatever comes up. You see us as whole people. You make us feel whole. You have the biggest, most caring heart that a person can have, and you love so selflessly . . .” Marc sniffles and furrows his brows as he tries to keep his cool. You take a few steps toward him, kneeling down and wiping his tears away with your thumbs.

“Marc,” you say softly, his name on your tongue dripping with emotions.

“We can’t imagine our lives without you in it, and we never want to,” Marc continues. “Will you marry us?”

“Of course,” you practically sob, wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight. He holds you back just as firm, neither of you saying a word. Marc is the one who eventually breaks the embrace, moving to take out the ring out of the box to slide it on your finger slowly.

“It’s a pink sapphire, but it looks purple, and you love purple—,” Marc starts.

“—and gold jewelry looks so lovely on your skin, cariño—,” Jake continues.

“—and it’s a vintage settin’ so there’s no ill-environmental effects,” Steven finishes. “Happy birthday, my love.”

“You guys are sure?” you sniffle, your teary eyes frantically scanning their faces. “Are you sure you guys love me? That this is what you want?”

“Mi corazón, where is this coming from?” Jake asks softly, brushing tears off of your cheek. “Of course this is what we want. We’ve never felt this way about anyone before. We only want you, amore.”

“It just doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s very real, love,” Steven says, gentle hands on your shoulders as he leans forward to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And you already said yes—there’s no take-backs.”

You let out a wet laugh as you move back in to kiss Steven—he always knows just what to say to bring a smile to your face.

“Well, I guess if there’s no take backs.”

As Steven leans forward to kiss you again, and you feel distinct shift just before we part, and you’re met once more with Marc.

“Is it still a yes?” he asks carefully.

“Of course it’s still a yes. I’ve got the three best guys in the world—why wouldn’t I want to make it official?”

Marc smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen in your life. He leans forward to kiss you once more, his arms wrapping around you tightly and picks you up, much to your surprise. The two of you continue to kiss as he walks you to the bed and lays you down on the mattress, only briefly parting from you to brush some stray hairs off of your face.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his forehead resting on yours, allowing you to feel his eyelashes brush your cheeks.

“I love you all so much,” you whisper. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Marc gingerly kisses the tip of your nose. “Forever and always.”

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heartateasee · 2 months

Text

“One”

Word Count: 7.4k

(Part one of “Goodnight and Go”)

⋆★★⋆

Sitting in the extremely overpriced restaurant for my sister Gwen's birthday, I look over to my friend, Kieran, who's to the right of me. I tip my head back in a laugh at something she said as Harry makes his way back to the table after dismissing himself to the bathroom. He and Gwen are seated across from us, and I look over at him with a smile. I can tell that something's been nagging at him all night - the look in his eyes showing that he kept going somewhere else, and wasn't exactly present during conversation.

I kept trying to meet his gaze every now and then, to try to give him some kind of expression to ask what was wrong, but he grew too fidgety for that. Kieran continues to talk to me while I hold my glass with my cocktail in it against my chest, still keeping my sight set on Harry as he takes his seat again - his eyes never meeting mine. His arm drapes over the back of Gwen's chair, and I watch as the tips of his fingers caress the outside of her arm.

Swallowing harshly, I look away from them and back over to Kieran, engaging in our previous conversation as to get my mind off of whatever my best friend could be going through. I knew Gwen had been a bit demanding on how she wanted this birthday dinner to go, considering it was her 30th, and I figured that maybe Harry was just anxious about making sure that everything went the way she hoped. He always hated disappointing her, and he always strived to make sure he did right by her.

But that's who Harry is. He's always a people pleaser - never wanting to upset anyone.

We had already made our way through our meals, and we were all waiting for the dessert to be served. My parents sat on the other side of Gwen, and I watched as my mom continued to gush about her oldest turning 30 - tears springing to her eyes as she went on about it. I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes at that. It wasn't that my parents preferred Gwen over me, but she was definitely more successful than I currently am, and they took every opportunity to brag about her accomplishments.

That's not to say that they aren't proud of me as well, but it's a lot easier to brag about your daughter who's a country renowned interior designer instead of your daughter who's currently finishing up her tattooing apprenticeship. They've had several conversations with me about how they didn't mind the career path I had gone with, but they were a bit disappointed that I had decided to use my art degree on tattooing instead of going into a different field of art.

The only person who really encouraged me to follow my apprenticeship was Harry, which wasn't surprising considering all the ink that adorned his body. I've had the honor of tattooing him a few times, nothing super big, but it meant a lot that he trusted me in that way. Just recently he let me tattoo a bird cage among his ribs, and before that it was an eagle on his forearm. Gwen doesn't mind tattoos, she has a small one herself, but she wasn't super thrilled at the fact that Harry had added to the existing ink on his arms - on display most of the time for others to see.

A few minutes pass before Harry clears his throat and stands from the table again, and I look up to him as his eyes scan over all of us. "Good evening everyone," he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dress pants as he looks back over to Gwen. "I just wanted to take a moment to say some words about the birthday girl before our dessert gets here."

Everyone quiets down, and their attention quickly becomes focused on him.

"As you know, Gwen and I have been dating for the past six years, all thanks to the help of my best friend, and her sister, Carter," he gestures his hand over to me as he speaks, and I hope the expression I give him comes off as adoration, and not one of jealousy. "I was introduced to Gwen not too long after Carter and I finished college, and I guess the rest is history."

He looks over at Gwen who's staring up at him with the widest smile, and I can see the love she has for him swirling in her eyes as he continues. "These past six years have been truly the best ones of my life. From the time Gwen and I started dating, we've practically been inseparable, but I guess that's what happens when you just know," he chuckles nervously as he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "She's definitely wrangled me in a bit, because if you had seen me in college, like Carter had, you would know I was a bit wild."

I can't help but let out a giggle at that statement because it was nothing but the truth. Harry and I got into so much trouble during those four years together, and I'm honestly shocked that we even graduated on time with how much we would party.

"It's been such an honor to watch Gwen grow in her career, and to also have her encourage me with mine," Harry was now head of an art gallery, and he works from home mostly. I know he adores his job. "I'm also a little happy that she's turning 30 before me so I can hold that over her head for a bit."

Gwen lets out a loud laugh, reaching out to swat the back of her hand against Harry's stomach playfully - causing him to chuckle. I watch as they hold each other's eyes, and then Harry slips his hand into the front pocket of his blazer.

"With all that being said, Gwen is absolutely the love of my life, and I couldn't imagine going through the rest of this life without her," Harry speaks as he lowers himself onto one knee, holding out a small ring box that he opens up. "So, Gwen Adams, will you marry me?"

Almost instantly the noises around me muffle, and I feel my pulse quicken in its pace. I stare at the scene in front of me, my best friend on his knee in front of my sister, asking her to spend the rest of their lives together.

My best friend. The man I'm utterly in love with.

I can feel that my eyes are wide, and I know my expression is one of complete shock, but my mind cannot find the motions to help me change my face. This was a surprise to say the least. Harry hadn't said a single thing to me about proposing to Gwen, and although the act of it all is painful for me, it's even more painful that he wouldn't even tell me that this is what he was planning.

Was I even his best friend anymore?

I shouldn't be surprised though.

When I introduced Gwen and Harry for the first time, I didn't think anything of their interaction. Harry lived in my parents house with us briefly between finishing college and starting his new job as the apartment he had found couldn't let him move in until August. It was a wonderful summer that consisted of Harry and I lounging around the pool mostly, both of us starting our new jobs in the fall to give us some time off after graduating. We owed it to ourselves because even though we still had fun in college, we absolutely worked our asses off for our degrees.

Never once did I really see Gwen and Harry hanging out, or even speaking without me present when he lived with us. Once Harry moved out, and we both started working, it damaged me a bit. We would go a week or so without seeing each other, and that was so unlike us, but we were both busy.

It was almost two months after Harry's move out that Gwen and I were hanging out in my room one night, both of us on our laptops basically doing nonsense. That was when she first told me that Harry had asked her out on a date, and to say I was shocked would be an understatement. And just like right now, I was shocked that Harry hadn't even said anything to me about them dating.

Sure, I knew that it might be a bit awkward for him to tell me that he had asked my sister on a date, but I thought we were close enough to where we could open in that way. It hurt to have to find out from Gwen, and not Harry himself.

After their first date happened, I stood and watched as their relationship progressed, and I can't even count how many times I laid in my bed those first few months - crying myself to sleep. I had no one to blame myself, and I knew that. Never once did I make Harry aware of what I was feeling towards him. I had been scared to tell him, and I realized it was much too late to do so given that he was involved with my sister.

So I did what any loving sister would do, because I do adore my sister, no matter how much we butt heads. I kept my mouth shut, and I stood alongside them as they figured out their relationship - watching as it blossomed. If the relationship had failed, I wouldn't have hesitated to tell Harry how I felt, not wanting to make the same mistake twice. However, their relationship only grew stronger, and I loved both Harry and my sister so much that I would never impose on what they were creating.

I'm drawn out of my thoughts when I hear Gwen's chair scratch against the ground. "Yes!"

Tears begin to burn in my eyes, and I force a smile on my lips so those around me think they're tears of joy, when truly they're tears of pure confusion. There's a part of me that is so happy for the both of them, but another part of me is devastated. Unless something drastic happens between the two of them, I know this is it.

Every chance I've had at the future I've so helplessly envisioned with Harry is shattered in this very moment.

"No question, Harry, yes," Gwen squeals as she hops up from her seat, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck as he wraps his around her waist - lifting her from the ground to twirl her around.

Once he sets her down, I watch as he slips the ring onto her finger - their lips immediately connecting afterwards.

I join along in the clapping around me once I realize it's happening. I blink, and tears begin to stream down my cheeks. It's evident I need to step away for a moment before I embarrass myself in front of everyone.

Sucking in deep breaths, I push myself up from the table, and I spare no one a second glance as I practically stumble towards the bathrooms. I push myself inside as a sob bellows from my lips - echoing off the tiled walls around me. My hands grip to one of the marbled sinks as I tuck my chin to my chest. I feel as if every part of my body could just give away, and it's all my fault. This is my doing. I have no one to blame but myself for the way I'm feeling.

I lift a hand to slam against the mirror in front of me - shaking my head. There's nothing more I need than to calm myself down. Gwen is someone who can read people like an open book most of the time, and if I go back out looking like a mess she will question me to no end.

Realizing I was very much out in the open in this bathroom, I made my way into one of the stalls - shutting and locking the door behind me. I grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed underneath my eyes to try and dry up my tears without smearing my makeup around.

I didn't even hear the door to the bathroom open until I heard my name. "Carter?"

Instantly I recognize the voice as Kieran, and I bite down on my bottom lip to try and swallow down some of the sadness in my voice before answering. "I'll be out in just a minute."

I look down to see that Kieran is now standing in front of my stall.

"I can tell you're crying. Please, open the door and let me in."

Sighing, I unlock the stall door, and I swing it open to see Kieran with a frown already on her face. She opens up her arms, and walks forward as if she wants to hug me, but I quickly put one of my hands up to stop her.

"Don't," I whisper, shaking my head. "If you hug me right now I'll lose it completely, and then I'll have to go home."

Kieran drops her arms with a nod. "I understand. I just hate seeing you like this, and I know what just happened out there is crushing you."

"He didn't even tell me, K," my bottom lip trembles as I speak. "Why wouldn't he tell me?"

"I-I don't know. I don't know why-"

"And my parents didn't mention it either, and I know Harry would have asked my dad for permission before proposing. I don't understand," I can feel myself getting worked up again, but I can't stop. "This is really it. No turning back now for either of them. It's final."

"No, not yet," Kieran says, reaching out to take my hand that wasn't holding onto toilet tissue. "Carter, I know you've never wanted to tell him how you feel, but if you don't do it soon, you'll never be able to. I think you owe it to yourself with how long you've kept it inside to tell him before it really is final."

"That's selfish," I state firmly. "I can't do that to Harry, or to Gwen."

"It might be selfish, yes, but you deserve to be a little selfish every once and a while. I know it's dangerous considering it's your sister, and he's your best friend, but I think you'll regret it in the long run if you never tell him."

Silence takes over, and I feel Kieran rubbing her thumb against the back of my hand. "I need to get back out there," I say, and I move around her to exit the stall.

Standing in front of the mirror, I fix my hair up a little bit, and then I run the tissue underneath my eyes to clean up the mascara that had gathered there. My eyes are red, and it'll be obvious that I was crying, but everyone out there is currently crying due to this engagement. I'm hoping it'll just look like that's what happened to me as well, and that they're not tears of absolute devastation.

"I'm not going to force you to do anything, obviously I can't," Kieran places her hand on my back. "But definitely think it over, alright? It's Harry, and you've known him for how long now? Nine years? Almost ten? I think that he would want you to be honest with him."

I breathe out a shaky sigh as I pull my sheer lip gloss out of the pocket of my dress, running the applicator over my lips. "What if he tells her though? I wouldn't blame him for telling her either, but she'll lose it. I probably wouldn't be invited to the wedding anymore. She would more than likely keep me from seeing him in general."

"I don't think he'd tell her if you asked him not to," Kieran's voice is soft as she speaks to me, and I meet her eyes in the mirror. "I know you guys may have drifted apart just a little bit, but he's still Harry. He cares about you enough to separate some things when it comes to you and Gwen."

I know that if I continue to keep talking about this now that there's no way I'll be able to go back out there and look presentable. "I'll see you at the table, okay?"

Looking away from Kieran, I begin to wash my hands in the sink, focusing on taking deep breaths to keep myself as calm as possible. I see the door to the bathroom open out of my peripheral and I know that she's left me. I pull my hands out from under the running water, having them quiver as I grab a few paper-towels to dry them off.

I take one last look in the mirror before giving myself a nod. My heart pounds as I make my way back to the table, and I see that my mom is holding Gwen's hand in hers - completely making over the ring while Harry is talking to my dad. Sitting myself back down, I can see that Kieran is keeping her sights on me as I gulp down the rest of my cocktail that was extremely watered down by now. It didn't seem like too many people noticed my absence, thankfully, and I left and came back practically undetected.

The wait staff comes back out with the trays of dessert, and Gwen and Harry take their seats again as they begin to put them down onto the tables in front of us.

"Excuse me," I speak up as the one waiter who had been taking care of our table specifically tonight places my cheesecake in front of me. "Would it be possible for me to have another cocktail and a shot of silver Casamigos, please?"

He gives me a nod and continues to serve the desserts to the others, and I hear Gwen let out a laugh.

"You're not going to order me a shot for my birthday or to, I don't know, celebrate my engagement, Carter?"

I look over to her, and I immediately feel Kieran's hand giving my knee a squeeze underneath the table.

"You don't like tequila," I speak up, and I can feel Harry's eyes burning into the side of my face as I stare at my sister. "Besides, you're usually not one for shots either."

Gwen rolls her eyes and leans over to whisper something into Harry's ear. He looks over to her with a nod, and he too grabs our waiter before he's able to walk away from the table. "Can we have two shots of Fireball whenever you get a chance, please?"

Now I'm the one who wants to let out a laugh when I hear Harry order shots of Fireball. He absolutely despises it, and I've known that since the first party we attended together. He's always been a tequila guy when it came to shots. Fuck, he was the reason that I even started to drink tequila. He told me that over time that I'd get used to it, and he was right - now it's the only thing I can take shots of.

"Congratulations, by the way," I say, but I'm no longer looking at Gwen.

I'm looking directly at Harry as his dark sage eyes meet mine. He lets them hang there for a minute before he looks away. It's obvious he's feeling some sort of shame for keeping this from me.

"Thanks, Carter," Gwen answers for both of them as we begin to dig into our desserts.

It's only a few minutes later when the waiter comes and drops off a fresh cocktail for me, as well as the shots that we had ordered. As much as I want to just gulp this shot down by myself, I know that I need to do something so I don't keep making myself seem so obvious.

I take in a deep breath as I remove my napkin from my lap, and I stand. I'm holding my shot in my hand, and it's not until I tap my knife lightly against my glass that I capture everyone's attention.

"Hi, good evening," I huff out a nervous laugh as the conversation starts to die down, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear with my freehand. "As you all know, I'm Carter, Gwen's little sister, and I'm also one of Harry's best friends-"

"My best friend," Harry interrupts, and I look down at him for a moment. His face holds a tenderness that I know is caused by the mixed feelings he's been seeming to battle all evening, and as much as I want to continue to be angry with him, I can't help but send him a smile.

"Sorry, Harry's best friend," I giggle, causing others to laugh around the table as well. "And I just want to say that I'm extremely proud of the successes that Gwen has been able to accomplish over these last few years. Not everyone can say that their sister is an interior designer that's known nationwide, am I right?

"But on top of that, I've obviously been around for Gwen and Harry's relationship from the beginning, having introduced the two of them, and it's been such a joy watching their relationship flourish," the words feel like acid on my tongue as they fall from my mouth, but I keep up my charade. I have to - not only for them, but also for me. "It'll be nothing but beautiful to watch the two of you grow even further together, now for the rest of your lives. Cheers to you both, and happy birthday, Gwen!"

I lift my shot in the air, Gwen and Harry lifting theirs as well as everyone around us lifts their glasses in celebration. The burn of the clear liquor causes me to cough a bit once I swallow, and I set my empty shot glass back down onto the table. I take my seat back down next to Kieran who turns to me with a smile.

"That was really nice, Car," she whispers, taking her hand in mine - rubbing the pad of her thumb against the back of it. "I know they both appreciated it."

Kieran has been one of my best friends since ninth grade, and she was the first person from back home to actually meet Harry when she came to visit me for a weekend when I was in college. She tried to tell me back then that I had feelings for Harry, and I vehemently denied it, but I knew that deep down she was right. I hadn't even realized myself really when she brought it up.

Of course, Harry and Kieran hit it off right away. Harry is always so good with new people - something that I've struggled with, but he's actually helped me a lot these last few years when it comes to coming out of my shell more.

"I had to say something," I say lowly. "Gwen would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't say something about it being her birthday, and now her engagement day."

The rest of the night continues, and before I know it, we're all getting up and heading out of the restaurant. Kieran had already slipped out earlier as she had to get up early for work tomorrow, so I was pretty much on my own for the last thirty minutes of dinner.

We begin to say our goodbyes, and after I hug my parents, I head over to Gwen and Harry.

"Thanks for your speech, sis. It was sweet," Gwen says as she hugs me, planting a kiss to my cheek before she walks over to one of her friends. I can hear them behind me squealing, and I know they're probably fawning over her ring.

Harry has his hands tucked in his pockets as he walks closer to me, sending me a soft smile.

"So you're marrying my sister, huh?" I ask, tilting my head to the side. "I definitely wasn't expecting you to pop the question tonight."

"I honestly wasn't really either," he shrugs, licking over his bottom lip. "I just asked your dad last week, and got the ring a couple of days ago. It had been something that I had been thinking about for a while, but I didn't know when I wanted to do it. I figured tonight was good considering a lot of the people who care most about her would be here."

Well, at least he didn't have this planned for months without telling me.

I hum in response, giving him a small nod before looking out to the parking lot to see if my Uber that I had ordered myself was approaching or not.

"I wanted to tell you about it too. I promise, Carter," Harry continues, and I look back over to him to see his sage eyes pleading with me to believe him. "I'm not going to lie though...it kind of slipped my mind with how chaotic planning got for tonight overall."

His words can't help but feel like a stab to my heart. So he just forgot about me?

"Don't worry about it," I say, clipping my words slightly. I want him to know that I'm upset.

Harry's eyebrows narrow at the tone I'm using, and I turn my attention back to the parking lot when I hear rocks crunching near the sidewalk. I clear my throat and tilt my head towards the car. "That's me."

Harry purses his lips to the side as he walks me over to the car, and he opens the backdoor for me before peering over to the driver. "Who are you here for?"

I try not to let that feeling he gives me swirl in my stomach too much, but knowing that he's always continuing to look after me has the way I feel about him pushing forward. He's always been so adamant about me asking the rideshare about who they're here for, instead of asking them if they're here for me - just in case.

"Carter," the man replies, and Harry gives him a nod.

He looks back down at me, and he quickly wraps his arms around me - bringing me into his body. I suck in a deep breath, getting a noseful of his signature cologne, and I close my eyes. As much as I want to fight it, I hold him back with my hands pressed against his shoulder blades.

"Text me when you get home, okay?" Harry mumbles against the top of my head after planting a kiss against it.

"Okay," I sigh, my voice slightly muffled due to the way I have my cheek squished against his chest.

"And I'm sorry," he whispers. "I want to make it up to you. It was shitty for me not to tell you. Let's find a day to hang out soon, just you and I."

I lift my head up as he does, and I force myself not to get lost in his eyes. "Sure, yeah. We can figure it out tomorrow."

Harry gives me a smile, his bunny teeth just barely peeking out from under his top lip. "Okay."

I reluctantly drop my arms from around him, knowing he's never one to break a hug first, and I slide into the backseat of my Uber. Harry makes sure I have my legs inside before leaning down. "Goodnight, Carter."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Harry shuts the door, and I lay my head back against the headrest as we drive off. I fiddle with the ring on my index finger, spinning it around and around as I replay tonight in my head. A feeling of guilt overwhelms me when I realize that any other normal sibling would be happy that their sister got engaged, but I'm over here in agony - only thinking about how her getting married will also make the man I love completely unattainable.

Not only did it make me feel guilty, it just made me feel gross overall. It's not like Gwen knew how I felt about Harry, so who am I to feel such distaste towards her, and this engagement? It would be different if she knew I was in love with him, but she doesn't. No one but Kieran does, and the only reason why she knows is because it slipped out during a drunk night at a party.

Ironically enough, it was a lot like tonight, and I was crying in the bathroom after witnessing Harry and Gwen make out for the first time on the couch. We were all drunk off of our asses, and that's the reason why I knew Harry was okay with doing that in front of everyone because he's usually very private when it comes to such things.

Kieran had found me in the upstairs bathroom, and she forced her way in and held me on the cold tiled floor as I cried. It was embarrassing to say the least, but she's never judged me for it. I just kept babbling over and over again about how much I loved him, and how I just wish I had told him before he got involved with Gwen.

After I had calmed down enough, Kieran's boyfriend at the time ended up taking us back to her place since he was the DD. We cuddled in her bed all night, and I remember falling asleep to her telling me that one day he'll know that I love him, and that things might end up being different.

That definitely won't be the case now.

We soon arrive outside of my apartment building, and I get out after thanking the driver, heading up to the third floor. I let myself inside, tossing my keys into the small bowl on the table near my door before heading into my bathroom. I immediately remove my contacts, and then take my makeup off with my skincare routine following after. I pull my phone out of the pocket of my dress - shooting Harry a text that I had made it home.

Once in my bedroom, I change out of my dress and into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. I sink down into my bed, and I stare at the ceiling as I replay tonight over again in my head. The image of Harry getting down on one knee seems to be burned into the forefront of my mind. It's causing me to feel so conflicted.

I knew it was wrong for me to fantasize that he was getting down on his knee like that for me, instead of my sister, but I couldn't help it. Unfortunately, I had planned out a lot of little life moments in my head with Harry, and an engagement was one of them.

It's like I've been torturing myself throughout all these years by envisioning steps of a relationship that will never happen.

I'm drawn out of my self-inflicted agony when I feel my phone vibrate on the bed next to me. I pick it up, and suck in a deep breath when I see that it's from Harry. I hover my thumb over the notification for a moment before deciding just to go ahead and open his text.

From: Harry

10:57 pm

"Glad to hear it. Gwen and I just got in not too long ago ourselves. She's already knocked out, but what else is new when she lays down after drinking? Haha. Can you let me know your schedule for next week? I want to cook you dinner, and have you come over to mine so we can talk about how I'm a shithead. Maybe then you can let me beg you to please let me still be your friend."

Tears fill my eyes as I read his text, and I let out a small giggle at his words. Even when he knows he's wrong, which rarely is ever the case, he makes it his mission to still make me laugh somehow. I contemplate just leaving the text until morning, and letting him think I fell asleep, but I'd rather go ahead and get this over with tonight.

To: Harry

10:59 pm

"I'm definitely not surprised. You know she falls asleep fast anyway, and adding alcohol just makes it worse. Haha. I'm at the shop Monday-Wednesday all day. and then Saturday during the day. Let me know what day works best for you, and I'll be there."

Only a minute or so passes before his next text comes through.

From: Harry

11:01 pm

"How about Saturday night? I'll make your favorite, or we can be nostalgic and make some cheap ramen and eat massive amounts of junk food like we did back in the day. You choose."

I shake my head at him with a smile, pushing my tears back that were still threatening to fall as I mark his text as 'unread', deciding I'll get back to him in the morning.

Harry and I had dinner together practically every night when we were in college after we grew so close, and most of the time it did just consist of some ramen and bags of chips. He was fortunate enough that he didn't live on campus, and was without a roommate, so he let me crash there a lot considering I hated the roommate I had my second year. He was truly a godsend, and I'm lucky that I just so happened to choose the seat next to him in Biology during the spring semester of my second year.

Trudging down the hallway of the newest building they'd built on our college campus, I realized I was very much lost. I, thankfully, had given myself plenty of time to get to my classes today, so I still had about ten minutes to spare before I really was going to be in deep trouble. I nibbled on my bottom lip nervously as I made my way onto the second floor - my eyes scanning over the numbers.

Finally I found room 206, and when I walked inside, a lot of the seats were already taken. I soon noticed a seat that was open towards the middle of the room, and I made my way over to it. I shrugged my jacket off once I sat, draping it over the back of the seat before I opened up my bag to pull out my textbook and binder for taking notes.

I could feel that the person next to me had their eyes on me, but I chose to ignore them. I wasn't the best at talking to new people, and I didn't want to make a fool of myself by stumbling over words while trying to speak.

"Did you draw those yourself?" I heard them speak up - their voice was deep.

I froze from trying to locate my pen in my bag once I heard them, and I flicked my eyes over to the front of my binder to see some of the sketches that I had done on display for the stranger to see. I had honestly forgotten that I put them in there - doodling was just something I did while trying to pass time between classes, and sometimes I'd just slide them into the front of my binders.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I'm met with big green eyes that were clearly eager in nature. My eyes trailed over his chiseled bone structure, and the fullness of his pink lips. His hair hung just a little ways below his shoulders, and I watched as he lifted a hand to run his fingers through the front of his long curls while gliding his tongue along the inside of his rosy cheek.

"I-I," I cleared my throat to avoid stammering even further while I gathered my thoughts. "I did, yes. Just a hobby of mine."

"Well they're really good. Are you here for art?"

"I am, actually," I nodded, looking back down into my bag to continue rummaging through it.

"Here," I looked back over to see a pen now placed on the top of my textbook, and I looked over to the stranger with my brows pinched together on my forehead.

"But then you won't-"

I stopped speaking as he gave me a small smirk, placing another pen down in front of him. "No worries, love. I've got a spare."

Closing up my bag, I set it down on the floor as I sat up properly in my chair, but I turned to face the man. "Well, thank you. I do appreciate it."

"Again, it's no worries," he smiled as he held out his large hand, and I saw that it was adorned with many rings, as well as a cross tattoo on the back of it - between his thumb and index finger. "I'm Harry, by the way."

"Carter," I replied as I slipped my hand into his.

It was so soft, and his smile grew wider as he gave my hand a nice shake. "Nice to meet you, Carter."

We were soon interrupted by the professor walking into the room before they started up their lecture. I could see Harry stealing glances at me every now and then throughout the class, and soon I saw him move his notebook to sit between the two of us. I looked down, and I saw that he had written a little note.

"He sounds a little like Kermit the Frog, don't you think?"

I had to quickly clamp my hand over my mouth, and I disguised my laughter as a cough as Harry pursed his lips. He rolled them slightly over to the side while doing his best to not draw attention to us, but I could tell he was holding his laughter back too.

Once I got a hold of myself, I grabbed my own notebook - writing him a note back before moving it to lay next to his.

"Definitely. Do you think he'll give us a performance of 'Rainbow Connection' if we ask nicely?"

This time Harry was the one that had to move quickly to stifle his laughter, bringing his fist up to cover his lips that were fighting off a large smile. We glanced at each other quickly before looking back up to the board to focus on the professor.

Once class was over, I started to pack up my things, and I almost dropped Harry's pen into my bag before remembering that it wasn't mine.

"Oh, here," I said, extending it out to him as he stood up from his seat.

A smirk planted itself on his face as he shook his head. "Keep it. I've got plenty."

I just nodded, standing up myself - draping the strap of my bag over my shoulder.

"I'll see you around, Carter."

After that day, Harry and I would talk a lot in class, but it wasn't until the first group project where we decided to buddy up that our friendship truly started. We both were taking the class as an elective, so even though we took it seriously, we still had a lot of fun. We were attached at the hip, and a lot of people thought we were a couple, but we dismissed those rumors on the spot.

I didn't realize just how I felt about Harry then myself, so I didn't feel like I was lying or hiding anything by denying those claims.

He was the friend who took me to my first college party, my first bar when I turned twenty-one, and also accompanied me on several tattoo and piercing journeys. Harry is just that friend that you want around you all the time. The guy that you could never get sick of to matter how much time you spent together. I can remember the time that I realized that I did have such strong feelings for him - feelings that measured beyond a simple friendship on my end.

It terrified me at first, and I actually shut myself away from him for almost two weeks because I felt so overwhelmed.

We had gone to a formal, each of us being asked by other people to go, and I had to give props to Harry's date for asking him herself - not the other way around. The guy that asked me to go was someone in my art history class, and he seemed nice enough. Harry and I ended up going in two different groups, which had my anxiety at an all time high, but I fought through it so that I could enjoy my night.

It wasn't even an hour into the formal when I went to look for my date who said he was using the restroom, and I ended up finding him in the hallway making out with another girl who had come with our group - her own date forgotten about just like me, apparently. I became a mess, and I didn't even process those around me as I made my way back through the main banquet hall so that I could get outside. I knew I needed fresh air or else I was going to absolutely work myself up even worse than I already had.

Choking on a sob, I had sat myself down on one of the curbs outside, pulling my phone out of my clutch with shaking hands. I was just going to get a taxi, and head back to my dorm for the night, but it was barely seconds later that I felt a hand over my shoulder. I looked over, and saw that it was Harry crouched down next to me with concern growing in his eyes.

He didn't ask any questions at first - he just sat down next to me while pulling me into his arms as I continued to cry. I remember repeating over and over how he needed to just leave me, and go back to his date, but he refused. He kept assuring me that I was always going to be the most important person to him, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

"You deserve so much better than him, Carter," he told me once I looked up at him, and he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Fuck any guy that would ask you here, have you look so beautiful, and then just leave you like that. Those aren't real men. Those are little boys."

Harry did eventually end up leaving me for just a bit to go inside and tell his date that he was heading out. Thankfully she was cool, and she understood once he explained the situation. Everyone knew how close Harry and I were, so it didn't come as a surprise to her that he would want to tend to me.

He took me back to his apartment that night, dressing me in some of his pajamas since I hadn't brought any of my own stuff, and we cuddled on the couch while watching Full House reruns.

I remember the way his fingers felt as he stroked my hair. I remember how his lips felt against my forehead, and my temple as he pressed soft kisses to them throughout the rest of the night. I remember waking up to him carrying me into his room when I fell asleep on the couch. I remember the way he curled his body around mine, completely spooning me as we slept in his bed.

It didn't hit me that night how I felt about him, but when I woke the next morning with a warmth in my chest at the way his frame shaped to mine, that's when I realized.

After declining his request to make me breakfast, I fled back to my apartment, and I hauled myself away until I was ready to face him again. I used the excuse that I was processing what happened to me at the dance - that was the first time I ever lied to Harry. The truth was that I was finding it difficult to process my emotions when it came to him.

When I finally found it in myself to see him again, he didn't treat me any differently, and things just fell right back into place. I honestly think that's what made me fall for him even harder. He was just so understanding.

Turning onto my side after taking off my glasses, I pull the covers further up my body, practically tucking them underneath my chin as I close my eyes. I do my best to get my mind to shut off, and to let me rest, but I know that a good night's sleep is definitely not in my future - at least not tonight.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harry styles ff #fanfiction #harry styles short story

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luveline · 2 years

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hi I am obsessed with your writing! can I request do you want to dance and candy apples with rockstar!eddie, maybe where reader is super quiet and doesn’t seem like the type to date a musician but he is super soft with her offstage even though he’s a total badass on stage?! okay bye love you

join luveline's halloween party ♡

tysm for ur request baby ily! rockstar!eddie x shy!fem!reader

The VIP section in most venues is the same. A balcony backfitted by a bigger room with a bar. Eddie has you sequestered on the balcony, the two of you looking down over crew both roadies and the venue's making preparations for tonight's show.

"Teddy," you begin quizzically, watching his eyes trace the shape of the stage. "Why'd you bring me up here?"

You'll have had to sit up here yourself in a few hours to watch the show.

You can tell he wants to be down there having a little bit of a say in things, though most of the time crew staff ignore him anyways. (Or rather, pretend to indulge his suggestions and do what it is they've been told to do by their boss, instead, as they should.)

He lifts his head from his observing and smiles at you. "Guy can't want some along time with his girl?"

"Up here?"

"Most private place I could think of." He grins, hair falling into his eyes as he straightens his back and extends a pale hand. "We never get any alone time anymore, sweetheart. Miss you."

You thread your fingers together and let him curl you into his chest, a smooth plane that you splay your fingers over lovingly. Before he can try anything you lean into his neck, and before he can complain you dot a little kiss against his throat. You really want a hug right now, and that's what you get.

He leans against the railing. You have no clue how he can do it without having a heart attack but you're too distracted by his nice touching to tell him otherwise, hands seeking the hem of his shirt to rub his back as he rubs yours.

You spend long, private minutes like that. His arms are a sanctuary, as dramatic as it sounds, where you can be as quiet as you want to be without feeling like you're doing something wrong. It's in stark contrast to your boyfriend's turbulent, brash personality. Yet somehow, you always fit. Maybe because he knows when to indulge your solitude, and you know when to cheer him on.

He kisses the top of your head.

"See? I missed this," he says.

You nod hurriedly in agreement. This is nice. This is bliss. His arms and his voice and nothing else, only the echoing hustle of the staff at the bottom of the atrium to reach you.

"It's been loud, these last few days. Are you okay?"

"You asked me that last night," you murmur, brows pinching together in confusion.

"I know, but it was busy last night. Thought maybe you wouldn't feel like you could tell me."

"I'm perfect," you say, startled by his question. "I promise." You lean back against his arms to look him in the face, his chin titling down to indulge you. "Are you okay, Teddy? How's your earache?"

"Fine, it's fine. Just gotta remember to wear the new earplugs tonight. The other ones seep too much." He smiles softly, brings a hand to your cheek. "I'm perfect, too."

You kiss him and hope that it says what you're trying to say. Yeah, you are.

His kiss quickly turns nipping and hard. You buckle underneath it, exhaling hard into his open mouth.

"Teddy," you say, though it's muffled into incomprehnsibility by his insistent kissing.

His thumb presses into the column of your throat as he leans down. You lean back with him, eyes closed and listless at the ardency in his touch.

"Teddy," you say again, giggling. "Stop."

He pulls away, frowning gently. "You okay?"

"Can't kiss me like that up here."

"Why? You don't like it?"

"You know I do..." You let your forehead rest against his chin, hiding from his bright eyes. "Too much."

"C'mon, sweet thing, nobody's up here."

You wrap one of your arms around the back of his neck to try and prevent him from convincing you. You both know how much you liked to be kissed by him, especially his rougher ones that make you dizzy, but you're not willing to be found up here. Not in the state he'll put you in.

"I'll make it worth your while," he tempts, a dulcet murmur.

You breath hard against his frame and grumble.

"What?" he asks.

"I hate you," you lie.

Eddie kisses all the way down your cheek. "I'll believe it when I see it," he says into the corner of your mouth. "Want me to do that thing you like?"

You sigh heavily. "Yeah, please."

#luveline's halloween party #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x shy!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

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May I request a crossover of sorts? Arven and Nemona meeting a strange new student!Reader. The reader is quiet, always has their head down, and is never seen with any pokemon, despite having pokeballs on their belt. One day they're either provoked into a battle or just seen with their pokemon, which turn out to be the most horrifying pokemon pretty much anyone has ever seen. Their team consists of Freakachu, Missingno, Purin, and Disabled, which are loyal and friendly toward the Reader.

I LOVE this idea to the moon and back-

.............

"I'm telling you...[y/n] has some super cool Pokémon!! Maybe they're just shy about showing them off!"

"Or maybe they're not in the mood for battling, unlike you."

"Still, I really wanna see what their team looks like!"

"...so you can beat them up?" Arven just stared at Nemona with a deadpanned expression, unable to understand why she wanted to fight you so badly.

Recently the pair, alongside Penny, befriended you--a new student who transferred from Kanto and into the Naranja/Uva Academy.

But all three of them noticed some rather peculiar things about you..

For one, you're always so quiet--even moreso than Penny--and you had your head down during the lectures, never speaking unless called on. Some professors were led to believe you were dozing off. Yet you always got good marks on your tests, so it's clear you've been paying close attention.

Outside of school, you declined Nemona's invitations to battle whenever you saw her...which was pretty much every single day. And it wasn't just her. You didn't engage in Pokémon battles with anyone. Not even during battle studies class.

Some younger students have called you "chicken" when you refused to fight their Teddiursa or Chewtile, while older folks would say that you have "the potential" to be a great trainer...but you were never bothered by their remarks. You just carried on with your day.

But the strangest thing is that nobody in Paldea has seen your Pokémon team, despite your friends noticing the four pokeballs attached to your belt at all times. Not even during picnics did you bring them out to play or chat.

Arven didn't let it bother him too much, believing you shouldn't be pressured into revealing them if you weren't prepared to; although he was curious about what was holding you back. He wasn't an expert trainer, but he let his team out to get fresh air every once in a while.

Penny can understand you wanting to hide in your shell for a little while longer. You are a recent transfer student, after all. It took her ages to even admit that she has an Eeveelution team, so she sympathizes with you in that regard.

As for Nemona? She was gonna goad you into a battle even if it killed her. You just needed a little confidence boost!

When she tried calling you, Arven suddenly snatched her rotom phone, being extremely annoyed that she was trying to nose her way into your life without permission, and the pair began arguing.

Yet neither of them have realized they've stumbled upon the secluded spot where you did let your team roam free.

But when they noticed you approaching, Arven fell silent and ducked down behind some bushes, taking Nemona along with him despite her protests. "What are you doing?!" She whisper-yelled, seeing you setting up a picnic table. "It's [y/n]!"

"I-I know, just be quiet!" He whisper-yelled right back. "All we're gonna do is scare them."

"..why are you acting like they're some timid Starly?? That's our friend!"

"Yeah? Well maybe they won't be anymore if we jump out at them! Let's just...see what they're up to before we do anything. Maybe they're gonna bring out their Pokémon." He pointed as he saw you unclip the pokeballs from your belt.

Although irritated she couldn't greet you, Nemona kept quiet and stayed hidden with Arven, excited at that prospect. Both of them watched as you tossed the pokeballs high into the air, opening one by one to reveal....

Creatures that look like they crawled out of a horror movie or broken video game.

Neither of them could believe what they were seeing:

There was a white-furred Pikachu with bandages plastered all over its body, yet it still looked very much wounded as it was missing an arm and ear. One of its legs was stripped of any fur or muscle, exposing its bones. But that didn't seem to limit its mobility as it ran happily around the table.

Then their eyes gazed upon a Jigglypuff and Wigglytuff, both with greyed fur and red stains underneath their eyes. The Wigglytuff had a bandage wrapped around her mouth, along with a stitched ear, but she seemed content sitting in the grass, sharing berries with the Jigglypuff--who seemed to sport a thousand-yard stare.

The final Pokémon was something...quite incomprehensible. Arven and Nemona didn't know if they were hallucinating at first.

But it was just...a blob of glitches shaped like a backwards L. And it seemed to be spawning Pokémon eggs all around the picnic table. Though you somehow were able to talk to it, and they disappeared before it took the shape of an Aerodactyl's skeleton. It sat patiently as you used the Mareep sponge to scrub soap onto their skull, before washing it off with the handheld sprinkler.

After shaking the water off, it let out a distorted cry that rattled the nerves of the duo.

They tried taking a scan of that Pokémon to learn more about it, but their pokedexes showed a bugged entry. Though they were able to make out several things: its name was Missingno, its number was 000, and its type was apparently "Bird/Normal".

"Wha...bird?? Isn't that just the flying type?" Arven furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, staring at his phone. "That thing is no freaking bird, I can tell you that. What kind of name is "Missingno" anyway??"

"Dunno, but we can always ask [y/n]!" Nemona suggested with a hopeful smile.

"How do you suppose we show our faces without looking like stalkers-?"

"Pikaaaa..."

Tensing, they both looked down to suddenly see the zombified Pikachu staring up at them, tilting its head. Then it grinned from ear to ear, revealing rows of sharp teeth and red fleshy gums--a far cry from the cute little smiles they're used to seeing on normal Pikachus.

One of them would've freaked out for sure....had you not whistled.

"Hey Freakachu. Come back, please...sorry, guys." You muttered apologetically, looking up at your friends. "I promise he doesn't bite."

Although you were a tad bit irritated that you caught them spying on you, you knew you couldn't keep this a secret from them forever. This could revelation could either make or break your friendship with them...but you had to take that chance eventually.

Hearing your voice, Nemona jumped up and waved excitedly. "Hola, [y/n]!! We were just doing some field studies so it's fancy seeing you here!" She stepped out of the bushes as Arven stumbled after her. "How are your Pokémon? They..seem to be in rough shape."

"I know they don't look it, but...they're happy." You noticed the grey Jigglypuff waddling beside you, tugging on your pant leg. "Oh hey, Purin..need something?"

Shaking her head, she simply hugged your leg, and you smiled as you reached down to pet her ears. She genuinely felt safe with you, as her eyes closed and a smile formed on her own face.

"Oooooo, so that Jigglypuff's name is Purin? That's cute!" Nemona cooed, whereas Arven remained immensely concerned with their conditions.

"That's cool..I guess. But why are you calling him "Freakachu"?" He gestured to the white Pikachu. "That's not really a nice name, if you ask me.."

"It's the only one he responds to, so..he doesn't mind it at all." You shrugged.

"..you sure they're all okay, [y/n]? 'cause they look like-"

"Death?"

"Wha--n-no!! I wasn't gonna say that-!"

"It's okay. I get that a lot. The thing is..they weren't always like this." You explained calmly. "They were all hurt. Disabled and Purin were abandoned by their trainers and lost their Sing...and Freakachu was dying of frostbite on Mt. Silver. I tried healing their wounds the best I could..or at least the physical ones. But they trusted me to help them, and...they've become my best friends.."

"Awh, that's muy bueno!!" Nemona beamed, clapping her hands together. "Now I kinda feel bad I was begging you to battle me..." She chuckled awkwardly. "They probably don't wanna fight."

"They know some good moves, but I was worried about how you guys would rea-"

"AH!! I-Is that a real ghost?!!"

Blinking in confusion, you looked over your shoulder to see Missingno right there, having assumed its Ghost form. You just smiled and shook your head. "No, it's just Missingno being able to turn into several forms. I don't know much about this one's history, but...old Kantonian tales claim it's a collection of lost souls that can grant you infinite items if you pay your respects to it."

"..o-oh, so it's like..a Spiritomb-" Arven concluded, only to get a light elbow in the gut by Nemona, which made him grunt in pain.

"Y'know you're being quite rude, chico." She huffed. "Screaming at our friend's Pokémon is no muy bueno."

".....sorry."

"It's fine. I know looks can be deceiving but..these Pokémon follow my every command and are very loyal. They don't hurt people anymore, so there's no need to worry."

"Anymore? That's comforting.." Arven grumbled under his breath, only to tense as Nemona glared at him. "..b-but it's great that you've trained them!" His voice went up an octave. "Do they like sandwiches?? I brought some herba mystica! A pinch of it should help with their injuries no problem!!!"

Both of you watched in amusement as he rushed over to the table to help set up the condiments, before you sighed and followed him there. Nemona joined you, a skip in her step as she was eager to learn more about your Pokémon.

Purin, Disabled, Freakachu, and Missingno all gathered there as well, lying in wait.

This was sure to be an interesting picnic.

#this crossover was inevitable-#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokepasta x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon nemona #missingno #freakachu #purin #pokemon disabled

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viathecloset · 2 months

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Taehyung and jungkook's relationship is overlooked by 90% of the fandom solely because they are so controlled by the narrative of the fandom/company that they cannot quite accept that anything outside is even a remote possibility. Ive been more of a quiet observer for years now [my sister's an army since 2015] and I've seen the boys, moreover I know how marketing and kpop works. It's quite evident if u observe close enough of the pattern on how this group of seven guys who genuinely love music is marketed you would understand to what extent you're being brainwashed. Im not talking about this like a conspiracy theorist. It's quite simple and right infront of you. Yall refuse to accept it that's all.

1. There are a certain set of stories that are made to be told by them, over and over again. Even if it disturbs them or they are bored. E.g: 2018 disbandment story, vmin dumpling incident, jikook rain fight/tokyo trip, mind you there are many things that happend between people who lived together for 10+ yrs but if it cuts the flow of events you are made to believe happened you aren't gonna hear from it, ever.

2. Like stories there are dynamics that each pair is supposed to portray Taegi as annoying/annoyed duo, taejin/jikook as flirty HS boyfriends, namseok/taekook the awkward old friends and no matter how much the relationships change or evolve you won't see it cuz again, it won't FIT the narrative that has already been shown.

3. Like relationships there are characteristics that thankfully some members chose to break out of during their solo era: hoseok always being sunshine and loud ( he's quite serious and very dedicated infact ), jungkook being that muscle dude who only knows how to follow his Hyungs ( he's very independent and has a lot of targets he wants to achieve individually, he's very thoughtful and organized) and Taehyung being WEIRD and weak ( he's extremely intelligent and super strong he's strategic and disciplined)

4. This brings us to the whole Taekook narrative, the fact that they've been seen so much during solo era yet people had the audacity to still call them distant and awkward solely cuz it wasn't via company but through Taehyung's ig or jungkook mentioning him in interviews etc. I think it's needless to say they aren't comfortable being touchy and showy on camera for content, hell if they were to shoot everytime Taehyung and jungkook hangout there would he enough CONTENT till 2067. They're supportive of eo and have a very big shared friend circle, when jungkook went missing for almost 2 months we got to know Taehyung was the one he was with.

5. The thing is everyone [ including my own sister ] thinks that Taehyung is being desperate or such whenever he mentions Taehyung cuz a. Yall have actually led jokers run so fucking rampant that everytime the man mentions him actually doing something you're ready to throw him under the bus and call him a liar or such. b. Im not saying jungkook isn't close to anyone else but when he isn't working or shooting content and just wants to be himself the one you saw him most was around Taehyung and yes it matters. In the name of hating shippers yall have not only dissed the quite frankly PRIVATE bond they seem to share but went as far as dissing Taehyung himself cuz of the extreme level of manipulation yall are under.

Ik imma find armys [jikookers ]under this sooner or later calling me names but to be honest I'm sick and tired of yall dissing very real people and their very real human relationships solely based off the content yall are made to believe is 100% candid. Go touch grass, get friends, go date, don't obsess over them for a while then come back and try seeing it from a neutral perspective.

#taekook #taehyung #jungkook #bts #tumbler #opinion #fandom ships

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mouschiwrites · 3 months

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Hopefully requests are open and if they aren’t then please ignore my ask!! I would like to request if you could write a platonic ninjago x younger sibling!reader where the Reader is basically the crying child from fnaf? A crybaby, easily scared and clingy in a sense that they only feel safe with the ninja or their older brother, if you cant do this then you are free to ignore this ask, Have a very nice day/night or evening where you are!

Here you are my darling! I hope you have a lovely day/night too! :D

Ninjago - Ninjas With a Sensitive Little Sibling

Kai

He's already a protective older brother, but with you being so sensitive, he's ultra-protective

Even when people are being nice to you he's hovering carefully, making sure they don't do anything that might hurt you

Not that he really needs to hover; you usually stick to his side anyway

Maybe that's also why he gets worried when you're on your own, though... he's not used to not having you nearby

Whenever he's forced to leave you, he makes sure you're in good hands (i.e. with the other ninja) first

He knows you're sensitive, but he's still Kai; you're not escaping a little sibling conflict

Sometimes he gets annoyed when you follow him around too much, and he'll get all quiet

He knows why you do it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't irritate him a bit

There have been times during which he'd snap and tell you to go find someone else to follow around

If/when that makes you cry, though, he does a complete 180 turn

He crouches down to your level, smoothing your head and frantically telling you he didn't mean it

"Aw, Y/n, please don't cry! I didn't mean it..! Please don't cry!"

Then he'll give you a piggyback if you want it, entirely forgetting his earlier desire to be alone

Cole

He's also pretty protective, but he's more focused on your character and emotions than actually defending you from the world

What I mean is that he'll watch for when you're upset, and when you do get upset he'll take the opportunity to try and build a little character

He's super gentle and always supportive, of course, but at the same time he wants you to grow

So when you cry, he'll hug you until you're calm but then he'll try and talk it out with you

"What made you upset?" ... "Why do you think that upset you?" ... "How can we make sure that doesn't happen again?"

I think he's just really emotionally mature, and he'd want his little sibling to have that maturity, too

Of course, he doesn't force it on you; you're just a kid after all

But he tries to get you on the right path

He still gives you lots of affection though, and is always checking to make sure you're comfortable

When you have to separate, he does try to leave you with one of the other ninja, but if he can't he'll offer lots of reassurance that he'll be right back

He'll be so proud if you're able to be alone for a bit!!

All in all he's just super supportive regarding your needs, but also wants you to learn and grow

Jay

Out of all the ninjas, he coddles you the most

When someone makes you cry he's on them like a feral cat

Once he's satisfied that they've gotten what they deserved (or when they're done beating his ass 💀) he'll come to check on you

He's a little scatterbrained, so he doesn't always remember that you're fragile

Sometimes he'll accidentally make a backhanded comment or leave you all on your own

When he realizes his mistake he flies into a panic, especially if he's mid-mission and remembers that you're alone

He hates seeing you cry, and just the thought of it makes his stomach churn

He always gives you the tightest hug when he realizes his mistake/gets reunited with you, apologizing a million times

Honestly he's more upset about it than you are

Long after you've stopped crying, he's still apologizing (and probably crying a little himself)

Just call him a crybaby and he'll stop on the dot

He'll just stand up and furrow his brows

"Okay, I see how it is. I was all worried about my little Y/n and now they're making fun of me. I guess that's what I get!"

(You're both able to laugh about it, dw)

Zane

As has been established, he's not the most emotionally intelligent out of all the ninjas

Sometimes he struggles to know what he's feeling himself; your emotions are a whole other realm to him

That doesn't mean he can't tell when you're upset, though

Whenever you start to whimper or cry he's at your side in a second, holding your shoulder affirmingly

He's not always sure what to say, but if you want to hug him he'll hug you back

He'll patiently wait for you to calm down, then he'll try to understand why you were upset

"Um, do you know why... what... made you... cry..?"

Be patient with him, I promise he's trying 😭

He starts to learn after a while which things upset you most, and he starts to look out for them whenever you're with him

Whenever he spots one of those things, he's already hurrying to your side before you even start crying

He feels really proud whenever he's able to catch a fit before it happens :)

Honestly, as protective as he feels towards you, he sometimes wonders if you're better off with the other ninjas

You're just so emotional, and he feels like the other ninjas might understand you better

He actually sometimes looks to them to help calm you down

But ultimately he does prefer to be the one to help you, both because he feels responsible and because he loves you the most

Lloyd

He was a pretty rowdy kid when he was your age, so he has a little trouble understanding you

He was rude where you're sensitive, he was cruel where you're gentle... when he thinks of you compared to his younger self, it's like night and day

So he doesn't always catch things that might make you cry

(makes it a little hard to be protective when you don't know which things to be protective about...)

Only when someone else points them out, or when he hears your high-pitched whine, does he realize that you've been upset

He'll rub your back and try to calm you down, but honestly he's a little apprehensive

Like I said, he can't really relate, so he struggles to empathize

That doesn't mean he won't try, though

He'll give you a hug and tell you everything is fine, but he's not sure if he's actually being helpful

"Hey, hey, it's okay..! Here, give me a hug!"

He just feels really bad for you, especially because of this

He asks the others for advice sometimes, trying to understand what it might've been like to be a kid who spent more time being afraid and gentle than trying to be tough and evil

They always assure him that he's doing a great job, with him being so great at showing kindness already

He still doubts himself, and he probably always will, but he'll never stop trying to be there for you

Nya

If you were anyone else's sibling, or just a random kid, Nya would absolutely coddle you

She'd be the most protective person ever, always at your side, ready to defend you from the world

But since you're a Smith...

Sorry, you're getting none of that

She'll never berate you or anything, but every time you start to have a breakdown, she tries to get you to toughen up a little

"Come on, my Y/n, dry those tears. It's not that bad. I'm here."

She'll still be hugging you anyway while she says this

The way she sees it, Kai can do the babying, and she can do the actual teaching

Though she can't help the distaste she feels whenever Kai treats you like a baby

She's talked to him before about getting you to grow up a little, and he does agree that you can't always be this sensitive

From then on they work together to find the balance between comforting you and toughening you up

(Kai still does most of the comforting and Nya still does most of the toughening)

She knows what it's like to be the "weaker" sibling, and she doesn't want that for you–not now, not ever

She'll even give you fighting lessons if it makes you feel stronger :D (tbh she probably will anyway)

Thank you so much for this request! And thanks for reading, take care sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

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silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years

Text

when you're missing me...

10 songs, from you to him.

summary: charles goes track by track as he deals with the sadness of losing you. pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (affectionately nicknamed dove) word count: 14k (i'm so sorry) warnings: not proofread, poorly translated french -- translation in small font next to french text, cussing, charles being whiney and kind of pathetic sorry, mentions of alcohol, alludes to sexual themes, descriptions of anxiety and poor mental health. probably inaccurate descriptions of the car and its functions. absolutely no interaction between charles and reader until around the 5th/6th song so fair warning. note: here is my first ever f1 fic and of course, it had to be about charles. i have been working on this for about a month now and i am finally done. this is super long, i nearly split it but it didn't feel right. im also a 1000% sure this makes no sense but im posting it anyways. i hope you like it and if not thats okay too! tagging @stressfc and @sidcrosbyspuck bc they've listened to me try to muscle through the end of this. feedback is always appreciated.

Dinner was quiet, just the soft hum of classical instrumental playing in the background with the compliments of silverware clanging against porcelain plates. Charles stares at the pasta sitting idly on his plate, his fork twirling the noodles but never lifting it to his mouth. The girl across from him seems to dwindle on and on about her work, something about a new projects and exciting opportunities. He couldn’t seem to listen tonight, there was something eerie in the air tonight and it made him feel uneasy. She doesn’t take notice though, too busy enjoying his presence and the fine dining restaurant Charles is treating her to.

She wasn’t a gold digger by any means, and she was satisfied with the more simpler things life had to offer. It was one of Charles’ favorite things about her, and that’s why when he had the chance he’d treat her to a little bit of luxury that he can afford. She was sweet, bubbly, with a little bite when it comes to things she’s passionate about. Her eyes were warm and bright with life, and on most nights it was enough to set fire in his heart. But tonight, it simply wasn’t the case.

Dinner was over as quickly as it started, Charles chucking the quick end to the night to being tired and having a long day ahead of him. She was understanding as usual, and it dug a pit in his heart. She bid him goodnight, a quick kiss to his lips, and he watches as she walks away. Charles waited until she was in her building before he driving back to his apartment, the car ride silent. He slows to a stop at a red and idly scrolls through his Spotify account to find a playlist to fill the space. And then he scrolls past one he hadn’t listened to in months. He taps the one titled ‘when you’re missing me’ quick to press shuffle as the light flicks green. His foot is steady on the gas, as the first out of ten songs play.

Nothing - Bruno Major

Bruno’s soft voice plays over the car speaker, the first verse taking him back to nights spent on the couch with a glass of red wine, a good movie, and his favorite person. He remembers the soft voices, chaste kisses, and gentle fingers tousling his brown hair. He hums along, merging right and off the busy roads to take the side streets. Taking the long way home seemed like the best option for tonight, the twists and turns reminding him of being on the track— his safest place in the world.

But there’s nothing, like doing nothing, with you. The lyric makes his heart plummet into his stomach before trying to climb up his throat. There’s a sense of nostalgia that washes over him as the song plays on, remembering the feeling of listening to it as he passes the time miles and miles away from you. He smiles at your thoughtfulness, how you carefully picked ten simple songs to fill the time you both spent apart. Ten songs, nearly forty minutes to keep him afloat for maybe days at a time. Forty minutes to make missing you a little less painful.

Or in this case, a little more.

The first time he heard this song, it was played live in concert and you found a video circulating online of the performance. You gushed on and on about how cute the lyrics were, the sentiment behind the song, and the evident tears glossing over your eyes when you listened to it the first time. You were both just friends at the time, and he could remember the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as you pined for affections that the artist described in his song, his thought taking him to possibilities of him being able to fulfill those needs. But of course, he simply wiped the lone tear that rolled down your cheek and smiled.

“It’s okay, mon cherie.”

The first time he ever kissed you was to the very same song, a month later. He was just a little tipsy off of his celebratory P1 champagne, footsteps stumbling from the motorhome into your car as you readied to drive him home. He was all smiles, dimples deep and eyes bright despite being slightly hooded with alcohol.

“Ah, mon amour, it was the best race I think I’ve ever driven. Did you see?”

“I did. I saw the whole thing bug.”

Charles smiles at the memory of the affectionate nickname, rubbing his index finger against his bottom lip as he remembers the excitement he felt bursting through his skin when he had leaned over the middle counsel to kiss you. He remember your soft, plump lips, surprised but quick to mold into his. It was short, fiery, blurring the lines of friendship the two of you desperately tried to define. The song came up on shuffle, following one Charles’ hazy mind at the time could not seem to place.

… nothing like doing nothing with you…

Together — Us the Duo

Charles didn’t like too many English songs, and when he did they were ones that play on the radio every thirty minutes. This song, he found deep in her liked songs. One Saturday morning, free from distractions, no responsibilities on either end of the relationship except to be in each other’s company. He likes to think you put this song in the playlist because of the day he found it and played it.

He can hear you singing softly, feel the ghost of your fingers caressing his cheek as the song goes no matter what you’re going through, I’ll be right next to you. Goosebumps rise on his skin at the memory of your touch and the lump in his throat grows larger. This is when he should change the song, change the playlist, switch over to some house music playlist Lando shared with him months ago that he has yet to listen to. But he couldn’t. He eases up on the gas, making another right turn to drive down another straight.

“You are doing just fine, just take it one turn at a time baby.”

Charles hung on to every word that you ever said, but these words especially. It was words that he held near to him, at the forefront of his mind whether he was on the track staring down the rear of a Red Bull, or just simply trying to get through a tough mental day. One turn at a time, your version of “just keep swimming.” It was a take from an old movie, and one of your favorite books, but personal to the both of you.

This song was long forgotten in the last three months. He wishes that he remembered it for all the terrible days he spent up in his own head, without you to bring him down. Maybe, for just 3 minutes and 36 seconds, he could pretend that you were singing it to him. He could hear your sweet voice singing ‘if you ever need a hand to hold, reach out and I’ll grab yours.’

The skin of his right hand burned at the memory of yours, and his heart nearly sunk into his stomach. He hated this. He hated being alone, hated that you aren’t in the seat next to him. But most of all, he hated that seeing you was not an option at the end of this playlist.

Hesitate — Jonas Brothers

The first concert you both ever attended together was a Jonas Brothers concert in Las Vegas. It wasn’t intentional, you fully planned on bringing your best friend with you but her flight was delayed. And although it was between back to back race weekends, Charles didn’t have many obligations before the next one and you were fairly great at convincing him to join you. Of course he knew who the Jonas Brothers are, and of course he knew at least two of their songs. But if he were being completely honest with himself and the universe listening, he only went because you asked him.

On any normal weekend before back to back races, Charles would be scribbling in his little blue notebook and reading through his self-critical notes from the last several months of the season. He would jot down his ideas and feelings about the previous race, and his hopes and ambitions for the one yet to come. And it was Las Vegas. Notorious for the gambling and glamorous night life. A glamour he could afford for the both of you. And yet, that Thursday night he found himself in the furthest section to the left, the three brothers only about three inches tall from his view, with you screaming every lyric back with such enthusiasm. He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world.

The night slowed down considerably, Joe’s (your favorite, at least that’s what you yelled to him about fifty times leading up to this very moment) voice booming over the speaker and filling the arena. Your hand was quick to find his own, fingers slotting between his own as you laid your head on his shoulder. You would never know, but he spent the entirety of the song looking down at you. He savored every second your lips moved to the song, the twinkle in your eyes as you stared down at the three piece.

I thank the ocean for giving me you, you saved me once and now I’ll save you too. Charles always thanked the sea and the waves for washing him to shore, right at your mercy. He’d never tell you, but the song brought tears to his eyes. He would never, ever, admit that he shed a tear listening to that very song and the thought of you. It seemed premature to admit to you just several months in that he might be falling in love with you. That maybe, just maybe, you were it for him.

He pressed a soft kiss on your head, “Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi. Et vous ne le savez même pas. Pas encore.” I’m falling in love with you. And you don’t even know it. Not yet.

His whisper was drowned out in a sea of screams as the song comes to a close, and he knows you didn’t hear him. His heart screams at the memory of your glossy eyes as you looked up at him and moved up to the tip of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Sometimes he wishes that he would’ve just said it to you, screamed it for all of fifteen-something thousand people to hear and witness. Fuck the idea, the social constructs of timing and whether it was appropriate. He shouldn’t have hesitated to tell you how much his heart swells when you’re near him, how he desires nothing more to keep you close to him for the rest of his days.

Maybe if he opened his god damn mouth then he couldn’t lived in your affections for longer than he got.

Charles couldn’t bear to waste gas much longer, so he made a final left turn and back to his apartment complex. He pulls his car into the numbered slot, and takes quick steps to his empty home. Charles tries to ignore the dull feeling of his home, the mess he had yet to clean since returning from the last race, and instead dives into replying to texts he had missed since he decided to take an extra twenty minutes to get home.

Pierre’s name lights up the screen as Charles rolls into bed.

I can come up with beer if you need it. I saw you drive in a circle before getting home. Maybe you need beer.

Charles curses softly, forgetting that his best friend has his location and is more often than not keeping tabs on his habits. He rolls his eyes, replying to Pierre that he can in fact make his way up as long as he has a six pack in hand. The Monegasque does his best to tidy up, tossing laundry in its place and putting dishes in the dish washer. By the time Pierre’s soft knocks are heard, Charles is just about satisfied with the way his home looks. He unlocks the door without opening it, but the Frenchman has no problem letting himself in, greeting his friend cheerfully as he shuts the door behind him.

“I was thinking of inviting Carlos, or maybe Max over with me too. But I figured my company was enough, no?”

Charles lets out a chuckle, sitting at the table and nodding for Pierre to do the same. “Sure, mate.”

Pierre grins, handing Charles a bottle before sitting across from him. “Knew it.” He pops the bottle open, taking a quick drink before looking at his best friend. “So what now? Why the extra twenty minutes out on the road?”

“You know, it’s really creepy that you keep tabs on my location like that.”

“I just care. And stop deflecting. What’s wrong?”

Charles nibbles his lip, spinning the amber bottle on the table to watch the liquid slosh against the light. He debated if he should bring up his thoughts of you for the n-th time. Pierre must be tired of it, Charles thinks to himself. He looks up, his friend’s baby blues waiting patiently for him to speak up. He sighs softly, popping open his bottle and holding it up to his lips.

“Things don’t feel right with Hannah.” That’s how Charles chooses to start the conversation. It isn’t a lie, but it also isn’t the reason for his extra 20 minutes.

“The American girl?” Pierre asks, leaning back into his chair.

Charles nods, “Yeah. I dunno man… I like her I do but”—

“But she’s not your Dove.”

There it is. Charles didn’t have to say it. His heart seems to crack at the use of your. You weren’t his, no longer his little Dove.

Pierre watches as his best friend nods, finally taking a drink from his beer. There is a blanket of comfortable silence that falls between the two racers. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for Pierre. He is very much aware of the torment in Charles’ head since the break up. He was there for all the drunk nights and silent tears. Pierre has never seen his best friend so torn up over a girl, and truth be told he was worried when Charles jumped into a new connection with the American girl.

“I don’t know anymore mate… this fucking sucks.” Charles rests his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. “This isn’t normal, to constantly compare her to… to you know. That isn’t fair to Hannah, or really anyone for that matter.”

“No… but it takes time to move past that.” Pierre responds. “It still hurts now, it hasn’t been that long since the two of you parted ways.”

“Three months mate.”

“Yeah, out of a fourteen month relationship.”

Charles shakes his head, taking another drink. “Still seems too long.”

“Well… do you really want to stop feeling this way?”

Charles looks at his best friend incredulously, “What the fuck kind of question is that?!”

“Well Charles, you seem to be the only one holding onto this relationship between the two of you. You just have this… this grip on something that’s over even though it’ll probably never come back to you.”

Pierre’s nonchalant tone catches him off guard, and even more so that the man in front of him still manages to drink his beer without cowering under his angry gaze. The Frenchman’s word feels like a match is lit in his chest. Charles suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Switching up your opinions?”

Pierre raises his brow. “What? No. I still think it’s normal to be strung up on a relationship three months out. But at the same time, Charles you don’t make an actual effort to move forward. I mean even Hannah isn’t much of a move in the right direction considering that they even look similar. Being in a relationship just to be in one, right after one you actually valued isn’t actually a great tactic to moving on. And you’re still listening to her playlist”

“How do you know that?”

“Okay I didn’t check on purpose, don’t look at me like that. I just happened to be making a new race playlist and saw your activity.”

Charles groans softly, cheeks turning pink. He was a little embarrassed and made a mental note to change his Spotify settings. “Fuck.”

“Listen, I’m not going to knock you for how you choose to heal and move on. I’m your best friend, and I’m here for you. But I’m just saying… your way isn’t a very good way.”

—

Race weekends are his favorite. There isn’t anywhere he would rather be than on a race track in any given city in the world. The smell of rubber against the hot asphalt was always something that made him feel most at home. If there was something Charles knew for sure in the world, it’s that he was meant to be behind the wheel of an F1 car racing speeds up to 200 miles per hour. The adrenaline pumps through him simply at the thought of it.

Silverstone is a track he’s fairly comfortable with and has yet to win. But for the first time, Charles didn’t crave to win. Of course, standing on the tallest podium would be a plus, but truth be told he just wanted to get behind the wheel. The two week break was more than enough, much more than he needed. He just couldn’t wait to just sit in the car, uninterrupted for two hours with nothing but the road in front of him and his team in his ears. Charles was more than ready to hop in the car right now, if it weren’t for media appearances and fan obligations.

Carlos isn’t blind, and he knows his teammate quite well. When the camera shuts off after their hour of filming another C-squared episode, Carlos can’t help but to point out the unusual jitters emitting from Charles. “You good?”

Charles looks up at his teammate. “Huh? Yeah, why?”

“You just seem ready to leave, more than usual.”

“Just ready to get in the car, mate.” Charles hopes his voice is convincing. Hopes that the fake excitement he placed in his eye is enough to stop Carlos’s inquiries. He was worried that the Spaniard would ask about you, and truly Charles can’t handle another conversation about you and how he’s handling life without you.

“Aren’t you always?” Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, patting Charles’ back. “See you later. Gonna go workout.”

The two split ways and Charles heads back to his hotel room. The rest of Charles’ day is scheduled to be fairly quiet. There were no other social obligations left for the day, just an hour of uninterrupted rest before an event with sponsors that his PR team emphasized the importance of only ten times in one meeting. But for the next hour, Charles retreats to his room with his little blue notebook and sits at the tiny desk. He begins to jot down notes from the track walk, taking notes of turns that might be of concern to him, and what kind of tires he is likely to start with. He flips between his strategy notes and his idea list, seeing if there are tweaks he can make that he can bring up for discussion before free practice the next day.

Charles writes until his hand begins to ache. All of twenty minutes fly by before he has to drop the pen between the pages to try and shake the pain away. In the same instance, his phone lights up with texts from his friends who were trying to meet him before their schedules get too busy. He swipes through a few, not bothering to reply and instead opting to lay in bed to relax a little bit. He pops in his AirPods without question, scrolling through his song library in search of a song he could fall asleep to. His bottom lip moves between his teeth as he ponders over your playlist, and finds his finger swiping through his library til he spots that playlist.

Charles triple checks that he changed his listening activity to private before playing the next song.

If I Could Fly — One Direction

This is by far the cheesiest song that you put on the playlist. But those were your words, not his. He remembers you told him how you even hesitated to add it in but ultimately decided that it was the only song that made sense to you and your reasoning.

Charles thinks back to Silverstone a year ago. He was in a room much similar to the one he is sat in, but you were there. Granted, you were on a screen on his little iPhone but you were there. It was rather frustrating to be a driver for a struggling team like Ferrari was at the time. He had you propped up against the lamp, the warm light illuminating his dull features. You watched him attentively, laying on your hands as you wait for him to speak up. You both knew that the race didn’t go as he had hoped, and there weren’t many things that you could say to him that he hasn’t heard from everyone that day. So you sit in silence, waiting for him to say just about anything so that you could pick up on him.

“Just not the result I wanted.” Charles finally mumbled. He hears you hum, sitting up and pulling your phone closer to your face about to begin your “boost morale” speech, but he cuts you off. “Wish you were here, Dove.”

You smile, a tinge of sadness in your eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. You know if I could, I would.”

He nods. “I know. I don’t want to talk about today anymore. I want to talk about your day, I want to talk about you.”

So you indulged. You told him about your day, of all the people you had come across at your job and how you looked forward to your next day off. He hung on to every single word that slipped past your lips. He let you ramble on and on, all the way til he made it to bed and snuggled with you, still on the phone in the same state.

“Are you feeling better, Bub?” You asked, yawning softly as you snuggled deeper into the covers.

“Yes. Much better. And I see you in two days, so I’ll be even better then.” He smiled, and you smile even wider.

He could never forget your smile, even if he tried to scrub it out physically. He groans softly, turning on his back and letting the voices soak into the back of his mind, drowning every memory of you.

Right now I’m completely defenseless. Tears spring up and sting his soft green eyes as the song continues to play. He hasn’t cried in a while, at least not while thinking of you. He’s cried in anger, in frustration, but never in sadness and loneliness like he feels right now. He didn’t think a One Direction song would bring him to tears, but yet here he is curled up on the white duvet as tears roll down his pale skin. Fuck he hates this so much. And fuck did he feel pathetic.

“Baise-moi.” Fuck me. He sits up, rubbing the heel of his hand against his cheeks to wipe the wet away.

He sniffles, swiping through his phone to reply to a few texts that sprung up on his phone. He replies to Pierre, the nosy fucker, and Carlos who lets him know that they will meet in the lobby before leaving to the event. Charles makes a silly mistake to scroll even further, past the blue dots of unread texts all the way down to your name. Well, your affectionate nickname. It’s one coined by Daniel ironically, and the only one that followed you around the paddock. Even Mattia referred to you as dove. Your dove, as Mattia would say to Charles.

The last text you ever sent to him was I’m sorry. He didn’t have the guts to reply, to say that it was okay because truly, he was not. He scrolls up, past all the pining in blue and curt responses in grey. He scrolls past the hearts and the smiling emojis all the way until he finds the long paragraph with your explanation for the song.

There isn’t a day when you’re off in some country while I’m stuck at home, wishing that I could just fly over to you. And I didn’t want to add a One Direction song, it almost feels silly. But it makes sense. And I hope you feel the same way otherwise I’m just some psycho on the other side of this. I know these last couple of races haven’t been what you wanted them to be, and I know that you are frustrated more than anything else. But please know that me and thousands still believe in you. If I could fly all those thousands of miles to see you, then I would. But I will see you in two days time. Then I will make up for all the shit times. See you soon bub, very very soon. Bonne nuit, fais de beaux rêves chérie. Good night, sweet dreams honey

Charles nibbles on his bottom lip, finally pressing skip on the repetitive chorus. He couldn’t take it anymore

At My Worst — Pink Sweat$ (ft. Kehlani)

Charles forces himself off the bed and into the bathroom. His hair is disheveled, the skin around his eyes purple and puffy. He truly has never looked worse. He does his regular skin care, and then attempts to get ahold of his messy hair with some pomade Pierre swears by. It doesn’t work.

As Charles slips on the black blazer over his shoulders, he nearly wants to throw up. He’d do anything to get out of this dinner, pay anything to just sit in solitude. But alas, his phone vibrates and Carlos is already waiting in the lobby for him. Charles pops his AirPods in, clicking play on the next song on the playlist. It’s more upbeat than the last couple of songs, and if it weren’t for the mere fact it was on a playlist you made for him, he would be bopping along.

“Finally mate,” Carlos greets, standing from the lounge chair he was sitting in. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

Charles smiles at the few fans who were waiting, leaning into some photos and politely turning away autographs due to lack fo time. His teammate doesn’t make any conversation, which Charles is thankful for. He knew it was a bit rude to keep his earphones in but he just needs this. And he thinks that Carlos knows.

When you first showed him this song, you were in the driver’s seat and singing to him. You wanted to show him your favorite spot to get away, a little bite of paradise that you had never shown anyone. He thinks back to your hair whipping in the wind, sunglasses framing your face nicely as you grinned over at him. The memory of kisses at red lights and giggles along the way burn his lips. He has to rub them again, to remind himself that it was no longer real.

Can you see what I'm not saying from my eyes?. All I know is love, for you it's real. You pulled your sunglasses to the edge of your nose, shooting him a wink. He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. He never ever wanted to stop kissing you. Never.

“Here.”

Charles nods and pulls his AirPods out, placing them back in the case and tossing them into the glove box of the loaned Ferrari. The event goes as every event goes, with forced conversations as Charles tries to wow sponsors about the potential Ferrari has yet to tap with their help. He does his best, but after the fourth conversation he’s spent and wishes that he ended up bringing his AirPods down. But Mattia would have his neck, so he settles for the only beer he is allowed for the night. He watches as Carlos speaks to another aged man, a wide smile on his lips as he shakes the man’s hand and walks away. The Spaniard raises is brows with an exasperated expression.

“Eso fue demasiado.” That was too much. Carlos mumbles, plopping next to Charles. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired. Didn’t get to nap.” Carlos clicks his tongue and Charles chuckles.

“What song were you listening to in the car?” The man leans back into the chair, drinking his water.

“Ah… just an old one a friend showed me a while ago.”

“Who? Dove?”

Charles is quick to shake his head, “Pfft, no.”

The look on his friend’s face shows that he is unconvinced, but he chooses not to comment. “Have you spoken to her?”

“No. Of course not.”

Carlos nods, “Just asking. She still talks to Lando every now and again. Saw them on FaceTime in-.”

“Carlos, please.” Charles chokes on air, shaking his head and effectively shutting his teammate up. “Sorry… I just can’t.”

There is a pang of jealousy that runs through Charles’ blood. Why wouldn’t you talk to Lando? He was one of your closest friends, long before the two of you were anything. He tries to coax himself off a cliff of insecurity he built himself in the short span of time. Nothing works, and if he didn’t know any better he would think that Carlos could see the smoke fuming from his ears.

“Sorry. Listen, if it means anything at all… she’s not seeing anyone.”

Charles nods, not sparing another word on the matter. The night dwindles to a close in a bout twenty minutes time, and Carlos drives the both of them home. One AirPod returns to his ear, the song from earlier picking up from where it left off.

And for you, girl, I swear I'd do the worst. He would. He would do anything for you. If you called him right this second and asked him to fly to you, he would. Hell or high water he’d find a way. His phone vibrates, and he looks down in hope. But it dies as quickly as it comes, Hannah’s name illuminating his screen in the form of a FaceTime call. He leaves it to ring, looking out the window and patiently waiting for the song to resume.

Silverstone was an absolute shit show. From the red flag to the shit strategy that costed him a podium, he was not doing well. He did his best to keep up with appearances, answered questions with the list of generic answers he had memorized in the back of his head from years of media training. But he knew, there was no hiding the disappointment in his features. You always said his eyes gave him away.

Charles barely kept it together through the team photo, his hand gripping the energy drink in his hand as he bites down in the back of his mouth to smile at the camera. He has never left the track faster in his life. The ride back to the hotel was accompanied by dull British radio and his phone going off with calls and texts from people checking up on him. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to discuss the day further. When he finally rolls into his bed, his fingers move ahead of his mind, and he calls a name before even reading it.

It rings once. twice. thrice. It rings until your voicemail plays. Sweet, soft melodic voice reminding him of the beep. He wished you picked up, even if it was to say never to call you again. But he settled for the recording before speaking.

“Hi… sorry. I just needed to talk to someone but you must be busy. Or…. tu ne veux pas me parler. You don't want to talk to me. That’s fine.” Charles pauses, wondering if this was worth it. But he sighs and continues anyways, “Today wasn’t a good day. Je suis vraiment bouleversé en ce moment. I’m really upset right now. You always knew what to say, so I thought I’d call. Sorry. I lo— Bye.”

Charles hangs up before he can make himself an even bigger fool of himself. He shakes his head, dropping his phone next to him on the bed. A groan rumbles from his throat, frustration growing within him. He fucking hated his situation. He hated not winning, of slipping through the cracks, of feeling alone while being surrounded by people who want to help him. He hated that in his mind, you the only thing that could cure the sick feeling in his stomach.

He flies back to Monaco the same night, opting out of a celebratory trip for Carlos. He apologized, promising his teammate a treat of sorts when they see each other again. Hannah was so kind to pick him up, even if he insisted he could’ve just taken a cab. Nonsense, she said on the phone. She was so excited to see him, and Charles felt bad for ignoring her for the last couple of days. Charles held her hand, kissed her sweetly, invited her up, buried himself in her in all attempts to forget about the weekend behind him, to forget that he had made a fool of himself. He wanted to forget that he tried to call you. But as he lays in his bed, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath, he finds himself wishing you had answered. He wished that you were there instead.

Charles finally gets around to answering some texts, opting to go sit in his living room since the jet lag refused to let him sleep. He sent many ‘thank yous’ to friends and family, curt responses to fool one into thinking that he was fine. He types and types until his eyes are raw and there wasn’t a single text left unread. By the time Charles put’s his phone down, it’s nearly three in the morning. His mind is a jumble of thoughts, of the hopes of the future and troubles of the past. He grabs his little blue journal on the table and begins to write furiously. He writes every hazy thought, laying the words out on the page before him until his hand burns and eyes are blurred with tears. His breathing turns heavy, heart racing, the anger finally getting the best of him. He has to drop the pen on the table. Every part of his body is burning with exhaustion, but his mind continues to race and effectively keep him awake.

Life moves in waves, and Charles feels as though his dip is deeper than most times he can recall in his brief 24 year stint on earth. There were many lows, but he always knew that he’d find a way up and out of it. But now, with his career, wounded ego, and more so his injured heart, it seems that the riptide continues to drag him under. It’s began to get harder and harder to breath in life, and he was worried that it would continue to feel that way. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to swim up, and that scared him.

“Charles?”

The Monegasque jumps in his seat, turning to see Hannah watching him from the door frame of his room.

“Y’scared me.” He mumbles, standing up and walking over to her and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Go to back to bed Han, I’ll be there in a second.”

Her hand rests on his chest whilst his rest comfortably on her hip. He squeezes gently, smiling tiredly at her. Her large brown eyes dart left and right, searching his face for a clue as to what he might be feeling but found nothing. She couldn’t read him, not matter how hard she tried. “Why don’t you talk to me?”

Charles tilts his head, “Comment cela?” What do you mean?

“There’s something going on in your head, like a storm. And I try to read you, and to understand, but I feel like every time I try you move further from me.”

Charles’ hand drops from her as he takes a step back, “There isn’t anything to talk about Hannah.”

“I think that there is. Why won’t you-“

“Ça suffit! That’s enough! Leave it. Please.”

The man doesn’t notice the way she jumped when he raised his voice, or the sadness brewing in her eyes as they gloss over in tears. He simply walks away to his kitchen, leaving her standing in the doorway, confused and hurt. He can’t feel bad, he can’t feel anything other than exhaustion. Charles pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down before smacking it back on the counter. Any harder and the glass would’ve broken. Hannah walks into the kitchen, and he fights the urge to groan.

“Do you not want me here? Because I can leave Charles. I’ll go and let you sulk here. By yourself.”

He doesn’t answer, just sinks his head into his hands and shutting his eyes. His calloused fingers grip the ends of his hair, tugging in attempts to pull him out of the tiredness he is feeling.

“Charles-“

“Hannah. Please, please, please.” The worlds come out in mumbles. Soft, but very grim. “Not now.”

“I don’t know what else I can do for you Charles.” Her voice is soft, but it was missing something. “How can I help you? Help me understand. Help me help you Charles.”

Guilt eats him up at the sound of her voice, the willingness, the want to be there with him even when he is unmistakably pushing her away. Tears spring to his eyes, seeping through his closed lids and onto the heel of his hands. Fuck, he thinks. He knows his answer, he knows the words he wants to say. It sits in the back of his throat, burning and bubbling past his lips. Charles forces himself to look up from his hands, the light in the kitchen burning his eyes. Hannah’s are soft, worried at the sight of Charles’ red and sad eyes as he looks up at her.

“You can’t.” His voice comes out broken, and she doesn’t fully register what he means. “You can’t help me Hannah. I can’t even help myself.”

She doesn’t respond, just looks at him with sad eyes. Her hand comes up to push his brown locks off his forehead before cupping his cheek. Hannah just presses a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering longer than he’d anticipated. There is a bit of a weight in the silence between them, and it allows the guilt in the Monegasque to fester even more. He coughs out a sob, shaking his head and pulling away from the soft embrace, one he knows he does not deserve.

“I’ll go.” Hannah says softly, “I’ll leave you. And when you’re ready-“

“Hannah, no,” Charles shakes his head, “You don’t get it it. You can’t help me, because I don’t want you to. You aren’t who I need, who I want.”

The girl stood before him, his harsh words causing her jaw to fall slack and tears to gloss over her eyes. There were a string of regrets and hateful words that fall from her lips, accusations of time wasted and the promise of never being able to forgive him. He watched her as she gathered herself and sauntered out of his life. With the slam of the door, Charles released a breath and groaned as he plops onto his couch. And finally, exhaustion takes its toll and pulls him into a deep slumber.

—

His family boat had finally gotten out of the shop during his little break, and he decides to take it out onto the water. He spent many summer as a child, out in the deep blue. He enjoyed the peace, the feeling of being far away from such a busy world. His father taught him how to drive the boat, and where the best places to dock was. Charles didn’t drive out too far, just enough for his city to be covered by his thumb if he held it out. He strips himself of the blue button up and sits out on the deck. He is quick to open Spotify, playing the next song on the playlist on the boat speaker.

Keep Driving — Harry Styles

Charles lays back, the sun hitting his pale skin and warming him up. He tries to enjoy the sound of the waves against the side of the boat and the poppy beat of the song playing. He tries to enjoy the world around him for what it is, enjoy his solitude for what it is. But even in the peace he’s found himself in, his mind races. He thinks about Monaco and Canada, even the race just a week before. The universe hasn’t been too kind with him, both on and off the track.

Harry Styles is a world renowned artist, and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like a lot of his songs. His most recent album was his— and your— favorite. The poppy beat playing over the speaker brings a smile to his lips, the memory of drive out of to the port and this very song playing in his car. He remembers the way the wind whips through your hair, your hand moving up and down in the quick moving air. His sunglasses adorned your face, as did his Monza hoodie. From head to toe, you were dripping in him.

You turned to face him, a smile on your lips as you leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw. Maple syrup, coffee. Pancakes for two. He would never forger the way your lips felt against him as you peppered kisses up his jaw. Hash brown, egg yolk. I will always love you.

You moved onto your knees, turning in your seat to look at him. As the song sped up, so did you. You sung along with Harry, your voice all the more appealing to him. It was easy to tune the man out and listen to you. He pulled up to his space, putting his car in park and allowing you to finish out the song. A smile curves onto his lips at the memory of you popping off your seatbelt, leaning over the middle console to get closer to him. He couldn’t help himself in that moment, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to kiss you feverishly. Choke her, with a sea view.

Goosebumps prickle his skin, and his shorts begin to tighten at the thought of the cramped backseat and your warmth.

He sits on the bow of Monza, blue notebook in hand as he flips through the pages he had crammed with his thoughts. He stops at one dated two months ago, a letter addressed to you.

Dove,

One month without you seems too long. I miss you, but I know you’re doing well and that is the only thing keeping me away. Not having you here with me, at my home race no less, feels wrong. It feels empty. Everything feels empty without you.

One month of being without you has been my personal torture, and I can’t seem to get anything right anymore. I wish that I could call, to just hear your voice and sound advice. But that would be selfish of me, would it not. So instead I write. I write letters to you, ones you will never read. It’s the only thing that makes sense to do.

I’m sorry I was no longer good for you, and I’m sorry that it took you walking away from me to realize that I needed to do more. Your happiness, though away from me, is the only thing I find comfort in throughout this fucked up situation I find myself. At least you’re happy. Even if I’m not.

I love you.

Charles

His handwriting was slanted, sloppy, the words quickly strung out on the page. It was one he wrote two minutes before qualifying, where he earned pole position. He’d imagine you would be happy for him, that if you were there you would greet him with kisses and a tight hug. You would say how proud you are of him, shower him in kind words. He flips the page, the letter he wrote after the race.

Dove. It hurts more than it should. Come home, I need you.

Hollywood Forever — Finneas

The music slowed down considerably, the soft notes of the piano vibrating through the speaker. D major, then G major, in sequence until Finneas’ voice serenades him softly. Bury me in Hollywood, forever… underneath the starry sky. Charles maneuvers his way from the bow of the yacht to the wheel, turning the engine on and turning back around to cruise home. The sun has moved down considerably, nearly kissing the ocean. The sky turns from blue to pink before his eyes, the lights of Monaco flickering on. Home has never looked more beautiful. For the briefest of moments he is able to relish in his city and appreciate. With the accompaniment of the soft music, he felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Monaco was always his city, but never yours. Maybe that was the disconnect. He always expressed his desire to live in Monaco at the end of his career, to raise his family on the same streets he did. And in all the times he shared those dreams with you, you’d smile and nod, never really saying much. He assumed then that it was because you simply agreed, but maybe you didn’t.

I don't ever wanna find out how it ends…

This song played at your best friend’s wedding. The couple having their first dance, and in turn invited couples to join them as the song changes. He offered you his hand, which you gracefully took and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor. And though it was crowded with people in love, to him it was just the two of you. His hands rested comfortably on your hips while your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. There were no words, just longing looks that read with so much love and hope. Hope for the future you both dreamed of. Love for one another, one you both believed would never end. Ignorance truly was bliss.

Missed you harder than I thought I'd get to, we just never had the time. Maybe it was his inconsistent schedule, the fluctuation of time spent together and apart no longer suited your needs. This season had shown Charles his ability to reach new heights, it made reaching for the stars a little less scary. For a moment in time, he had everything in his grasp. And then one by one, they all seemed to trickle through his fingers like sand. Perhaps, he was just no longer enough for you.

And I don't wanna change the station, because you're the only one I like at 2AM. You would always be enough for him, Charles thought. Even miles away, apart from him, happier without him, it was enough for him. He can live in satisfaction that at least you got it right.

He ties off his boat onto the pier, pausing the song so that he can continue listening on his drive home. A bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder, and his phone in one hand as he mindlessly taps your name to call you again. Just as it was in Silverstone, your sweet voicemail rings through the speaker.

“Hi. Drove out to our spot today, and was thinking about everything. Thinking about you. I’m sorry I called you last week, it was kind of selfish… well really selfish actually. I’m sorry. I hope you’re well… I hope you’re happy. I really do. I lo—“ He hesitates, throat closing up as the words try to roll off his tongue as effortlessly as it once did. Tears prickle his eyes but he shakes his head. “I won’t call you again. I’m sorry.”

He ends the call and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

—

Charles seems to fuck up everything in his path. He can’t hold onto a piece of good very long. The World Drivers Championship was beyond him now, and summer break now marked the halfway point of the season. He was meant to take a break, forget about spinning out and questionable strategy. But he can only spend so many days under the scorching Monaco sun, or nights out at clubs with his friends. His mind was not on break mode, and no matter how much he drank, slept, or swam, he was still thinking of work.

“Charles honey, get off your phone.” His mom scolds, patting his head as she passes him.

He lets his phone slide from his fingers, dropping onto his lap. Charles smiles over at his mom, standing from his seat and walking over to the kitchen. He attempts to steal a bite of food, but his mother slaps his hand away and he giggles.

“‘M hungry.”

“I know. But we need to wait for your brothers.” She mumbles, “Go eat a banana or something.” She waves him off and he chuckles. Charles settles on the stool by the kitchen island, taking his mom’s advice and grabbing a banana.

Staying with mom has always been Charles’ great escape. No matter what happens to him, how far he is, Pascale will always be waiting for him with open arms. Whenever life wasn’t treating him so kindly, she was always ready with a remedy. She loved her sons more than anything, and they are her life line as she is to them. Charles watches as his mom effortlessly maneuvers her way through the kitchen. There is a faint smell of garlic in the air, and it makes the boy’s mouth water.

“It’s really good that you came to visit, mon doux garçon. My sweet boy. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too Mama.” He affirms, taking a bite of his fruit.

“Missed your cooking as well.”

She laughs, “Of course you did.”

There a few moments of silence as she finishes what she is doing in the pan, and then sticking a dish in the oven. Then she finally turns, the beige towel in her hands as she dries off her hands. “What’s on your mind?”

Charles smiles knowingly, looking down at his fingers as he shrugs. “What isn’t?”

“Ay, mon doux.” She shakes her head, “You don’t have to carry the weight all by yourself, you know?”

He looks up at his mom, “Yeah… but sometimes I feel like I have to.”

She nods. Pascale knows her son all too well, how gentle hearted he is and his need to carry the burden if it means making life easier for those around him. She loves her son, and it nearly breaks her to see how defeated he is. But she also knows that he is more than his results, more than the trials and tribulations he is going through in life.

“You are strong Charles, thick skin, like your Papa. He’d be proud.” She says softly, walking around the counter to press a kiss to the back of his head, “But he would also remind you that it’s okay to not be so strong sometimes. That it is okay to show that you are vulnerable, not okay.”

She gives his shoulder one last squeeze before leaving him to his thoughts. He sighs, pulling his phone out and scrolling through multiple notifications until his eyes land on your name. You posted on instagram, and he is quick to open the app and see. It is a photo of you, sitting by the water, skin glistening in the sun. And your smile, oh your beautiful smile. It made his heart beat a little quicker. But then he really looks at the photo, the background. The blue water, and the fact that you weren’t sitting on sand, but on a pier. He knew exactly where you are.

You’re in Monaco.

He feels his heart come up his throat. You were in Monaco, his city. He felt psychotic, fighting the urge to jump in his car and look for you. He wanted to drive around, pretend to accidentally bump into you and it would be a fairytale reconciliation. But then he hears his brother’s voice, announcing his arrival, and he is grounded. He promised in a silly voicemail you probably never listened to that he would leave you alone. And he will. He’ll do the right thing and leave you alone.

Charles was quiet for most of dinner, Arthur talking the most throughout the entire meal. So much so that Lorenzo begged him to shut up. Pascale observes the middle child, who sits to her right, idly pushing a piece of pasta around on his plate.

“Mon doux,” His mom whispers, “please eat.”

“Désolé maman.” Sorry mom. He nods and continues to eat.

“Oh, I saw Dove today. She says hi to everyone.” Arthur’s voice is so nonchalant, Charles nearly misses your nickname. His eyes grow wide at the realization and he looks up from his plate to his little brother. Arthur doesn’t spare him a glance, just munching along on his dinner.

Lorenzo kicks the youngest Leclerc under the table, and it is then when Arthur realizes his mistake. “Sorry. Yeah uh… sorry.”

“Is she well?” Charles asks, ignoring the awkward air between them.

“Yeah, I think. We didn’t get to talk much, since we were just passing by.” Arthur answers. “Sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. Good that she’s good.”

And that was that. Dinner is quiet for the rest of the evening, and isn’t long until the boys are quietly cleaning up the mess while their mother gets ready for bed. Charles and Arthur wash the dishes, while Lorenzo takes out the trash. The brothers are quiet in their chore, Arthur washing and rinsing as Charles wipes down and puts them away.

“Is she happy?” Charles asks softly, breaking the silence.

Arthur pauses, confused for a brief moment before realizing what he meant by his question. “Maybe you should ask her.”

Charles shakes his head, “I can’t. I could try, but I can’t. And I shouldn’t.”

Arthur nods. “I never understood what went wrong between the two of you Charles. Everything was so good, no?”

“I thought so… but I guess I was wrong.” Charles dries his hands as he places the last of the dishes away.

The day you broke up was not a memory Charles liked to look back on. It was a memory he kept stored away in the furthest corner of his mind. But he knew no matter how much he tried to bury it, there was no erasing the fact it happened. He’d never forget the look in your eyes, the tears on your cheeks as you watched him pace before you. You apologized and apologized, but for what?

“Why do you think this can’t work out anymore, dove?”

“Charles, I already said why. We’re not in the same place in life. You’re moving a thousand miles a minute, moving so fast uphill and I’m not able to keep up. I can’t keep being your arm candy, the smiling supportive girlfriend while I’m literally drowning in my misery.”

“Chérie, please.”

“Charles, I’ve made up my mind. I need this. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

He can remember the rage seething beneath his skin. He didn’t understand why you wanted to push him away, why you felt so miserable. He didn’t get it then. He still doesn’t understand. Maybe he should’ve fought harder, but you were already so defeated he didn’t think it was the right thing to do then.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“Will saying I don’t make it easier for you to let me go?”

Your words sent a shiver up his spine.

Arthur leans against the counter, looking at his older brother who is deep in thought. “She said she’s moving back to Monaco… she found a job in the city.” Charles looks up, and he feels a spark of hope light up in the pit of his stomach. You were here to stay. “She didn’t say where, or what… but you know… you never know.”

With that, Arthur pushes himself up and pats his brother on the back, retreating to his room to go to sleep and effectively leaving Charles to ponder over you.

Maybe in time, the Monegasque thought to himself, the universe will let our paths cross once more.

—

The last three days of the summer break, Charles spent getting back into his normal routines. Not that Andrea would let him stray from it, but he was granted a couple of cheat days so that he could really enjoy his break. And of course, with the break coming to a close, it wouldn’t be complete if the other nineteen drivers attempted one last hoorah before returning to the track and vying for a win. But of course, twenty men trying to plan to come together required a miracle. And that was something none of them had. At the end of it, the only ones able to attend the “last hoorah” was Charles, Lando, Max, Pierre, and surprisingly George. The rest of the grid was either still in the middle of traveling back, or staying one more day in their little piece of paradise.

The club was packed for a Wednesday. By the time the boys had pulled up to check in, the general admissions line was a mile long, and the music was already starting to blend into the immense chatter. Charles is thankful that Max had secured a table for the group, and that they didn’t have to wait long. They were sat in the far back, just two tables to the left of the DJ booth. Bottle service was quick, and in no time Charles had a glass of Black Label whiskey between his hands. The music is typical house music, the DJ another one of Lando’s friends.

From where he is sitting, he can see the entire dance floor, and the second bar which happens to be right by his table. There is a huge crowd of people who had occupied the space in front of the DJ, multitudes of people rubbing backs to fronts and wandering hands. He was almost jealous, wishing that he could stomach the idea of being one of those people. But you couldn’t pump the man with enough alcohol to get him there. He was far too comfortable being a wallflower, quietly observing those around him as he sips on his drink.

“I bought us a round!”

Max grins as the lady brings a tray of shot glasses, each of them filled to the brim with a clear liquid. One would assume it’s vodka, but knowing Max it was likely—

“Tequila!"

Charles grimaces, but he isn’t easily defeated. And one cheesy toast later, he is throwing the foul tasting liquid down his throat. French curse words are muttered beneath his breath as he attempts to shake away the taste. Charles opts to pass on the next two rounds, to which Pierre calls him out for.

“Party pooper!”

Charles smirks, sipping his whiskey as he watches his normally composed friends turn into giggly drunks. He looks around the club, eyes scanning the crowd until a sparkly blue dress catches his eyes. He does a double take, but the shiny thing disappears into the crowd. His heart picks up, and he swears he knows who it was. But then his friends are yelling at him and he has to turn away. The time flies by, and soon he is calling every single girlfriend to pick up their respective drive until it is just him and Pierre. He throws his best friend into the back seat of his car with a bottle of water, a plastic bag, and threats if the Frenchman threw up anywhere in his car. As he strolls to the driver side, the sparkle of blue catches his eye and his head snaps in that direction.

The girl is slumped on the bench, head in her hands as her elbows rest on her thighs. Charles notices the way the girl’s body sways ever so slightly. She was far too drunk to be sitting alone, waiting for God only know who. He walks up to her, and the closer he gets the more familiar she becomes. It isn’t until the girl finally looks up with puffy eyes and mascara stained cheeks does he realize who it is.

“Dove?”

Your face contorts into one of sadness, mumbling ‘oh nos’ over and over as you try to hide behind your hands.

“Dove, what’s wrong?” He reaches out to you, but you flinch.

“No please.”

Charles’ heart stings, but he listens to you. “Who are you here with?” You shrug and he can’t help but let disappointment take over his features. “Dove, who?”

“Don’t say it like that, like you’re mad at me.” You slur.

Charles sighs, “I’m not mad. Just worried.”

You nod, but still don’t answer. Instead, he watches as you turn into a shaking mess of sobs. He doesn’t know if he should hold you, or if there was anything he could say. Suddenly, he was unsure of what to do when it came to you. So he stood there, heart aching as you cry before him.

“Dove—“

“Charles, please.”

His mouth clamps shut for a moment before he opens again, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You look up at him, eyes red and puffy, but wide in shock. “You don’t have too.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” You don’t answer, so he extends his hand, “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”

You nod, reaching out and using his hand to pull yourself up from the bench. Your hold leaves as quickly as it comes, and Charles wishes that your hand stayed in his for a moment longer. He watches as you stumble to his Ferrari, yanking the passenger door and falling into the seat. He inhales deeply, attempting to subdue his nerves before climbing into the drivers seat. Charles thanks the heavens Pierre is snoring softly in the back, and not mumbling any nonsense like he normally would.

“Where do you stay?”

The drive to you apartment is only 5 minutes further up the road from Charles’ place, and it nearly made him choke. The car ride is silent, only Pierre’s soft snores and mumbles filling the space. When he pulls up to the front, he looks over at you. Your eyes are cast downwards at your fingers, thumbs twiddling in your lap.

“Will you come back and spend the night?”

Charles chokes. He finally fucking chokes. “Dove, I don’t think…”

“I’m not that drunk Charles. Please?”

This was it, this was his chance. But as he stared at you and your sad eyes, the moment felt wrong. “I’ll walk you up. Okay?”

Your shoulders drop, and you’re quick to shake your head. “No. It’s fine, I can do it myself. Thanks for the ride.”

The boy is frozen in his seat for a second as you hastily climb out. It takes you slamming the door shut before he scrambles out after you. “Dove!”

“Goodnight Charles!” You yell, not turning back. You can hear Charles’ shoes smacking on the concrete as he jogs up to you. He grabs your arm, skin burning at the contact, pulling you so that are facing him.

“Text me in the morning, then I’ll know you mean it.”

Your lips fall agape, an argument ready to bubble past your lips. But instead you nod, too tired to argue. So you nod harder, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Do you still want me to walk you up?”

“No. No I’m okay. Thank you again.”

Charles stands on the stoop, waiting until you make it past the front doors of your building. It isn’t until he sees you walk into the elevator through the glass doors does he finally retreat to his car and cruise back to his apartment.

Off My Face — Justin Bieber

Charles finally rolls into bed at nearly three in the morning. His body is exhausted, and it doesn’t take too long for him to fall asleep. But that wasn’t before he turned on his music, specifically your playlist, to lull him to sleep.

His dreams are influenced by the Justin Bieber song, the boy not completely unconscious as the songs plays. The images his mind displays are of you, playing real memories that you shared together. It’s like a movie, he can hear the echos of your laugh and butchered French. He sees flashes of your smile, feels the ghost of your touch.

Your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and I'm just in it. Even sober I'm not thinkin' straight.

He turns over in his bed, staring at the empty space that you used to occupy. The pillowcase lays unwrinkled, the sheets pressed and untouched. His fingers graze over the material, imagining for a second that you are laying next to him. He can see the way your chest rises and falls, head turned towards the moon while your fingers grasp onto his. Charles nearly caves at the idea of driving back to you, knocking on every door until you answer. And I don't know how you do it, but I'm forever ruined by you.

Sleep finally wins, taking him to a place where all he sees is you. You consume his every thought, every imagination, that night. For the first time, Charles sleeps with a little bit of hope. There are some things dreams can’t truly emulate, and that’s the feeling of your warmth. The sun forces him out of the dirty dream, and he groans softly. His head was swirling, trying to piece together the bits and pieces of you from his dreams.

He grabs his phone, bitterly disappointed.

8:36 am, and not one text from you.

—

Paris in the Rain — Lauv

Charles finds himself sitting at his favorite coffee shop in Monaco, in the furthest booth in the back of cafe. He sips on his coffee, scrolling through his computer as he tries to answer emails and prepare himself for the second half of the season. He slips his headphones on, mindlessly pressing play and allowing the song to play.

It was the next song on the playlist, and the angry part of him wants to change it. You never texted him. It’s been thirty-six hours since he dropped you home, and it’s been radio silence. He was frustrated, ultimately let down by your lack of communication. He almost wishes that he had taken you up on your offer, almost wishes he had chosen to be selfish.

The only thing stopping him from changing the song is the fact that it’s the one song attached to the perfect memory. Paris in the rain is his favorite memory with you.

It was one of the first trips you had taken together outside of race weekends. Charles wanted the trip to be perfect, but the weather had different plans. He planned a whole day, only for the overcast and rain to ruin it completely.

“I’m so sorry Dove, this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Charles mumbled, kissing your temple.

You were more than understanding, and somehow you manage to convince him to go out in the middle of the night, when the streets were quiet and the city half asleep. You were clad in a blue dress, Charles’ linen button top matching you. You both sit on the picnic blanket, eating all the snacks you bought in the hotel gift shop. Then it’s one drop, then another, then another until the drizzle grows heavier and heavier. 'Cause anywhere with you feels right.

He can never erase the memory of your laughter as he chases you around the park, clothes drenched from the rain. He hears you squeals as he picks you up and throwing you over his shoulder, and your complaints that he wasn’t playing fair. It truly was a scene from a book, like a writer describing the perfect moment in which two character will fully admit they are in love with each other. But neither of you had to say anything. Words couldn’t justify the way your hearts wanted to thump out of your chests as you stare into each other’s eyes.

Don't know how I ever did it all without you.

Charles answers the last of his emails, finally shutting his computer and transferring his attention to his phone. He scrolls through Instagram, sipping idly on his coffee. He double taps nearly every photo on his feed until someone slides into the seat front of him. He looks up from his phone, eyes wide as he meets your gaze.

“Knew you’d be here.” You say softly.

Charles takes one more sip before setting his cup down, “Yeah, guess you did.”

The air between the both of you is thick, tense, awkward. Neither of you speak, instead sitting uncomfortably while you wait for the other to say just about anything.

“I know I didn’t text and I—“

“Dove, it’s fine.”

“Charles, shut up and let me talk.” Your eyes grow wide, brows furrowed in an attempt to look stern. The Monegasque nods, leaning back in his seat and waiting for you to speak. “I’m sorry. Moving back has been a lot, adjusting has been a lot… seeing you has been a lot. I was getting used to the idea of my independence and then you try to call me and leave voicemails…”

“I’m sorry.” Charles’ voice is genuine. All the anger that was inside of him dissipates as he looks up at you. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t say sorry. It was nice to hear from you… and I’m sorry about everything going on.”

The boy smiles, nodding. “Yeah. Me too.”

There it is again, that awkward air settling between the two of you. Three, nearly four, months of time apart doesn’t make the conversation flow as easily as either of you wished. There used to be a million things that Charles wanted to tell you, the pages in his little blue notebook proving it. But it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel fair to pour out his heartache from the last four months onto your lap.

So instead Charles scrambles for his book, flipping through the pages and carefully tearing out two pages. He folds them nicely and sliding them over to you.

“I… I have to go. But I thought that maybe you should read it. I wrote it to you when I got back home from Silverstone.” Charles gathers his things, mindlessly leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You look good, Dove. It makes me happy.”

You watch as the man walks away from you, shoulders high and steps calm. The paper sits beneath your fingers, holding whatever tormented Charles the night he wrote it. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you were expecting when you came to the cafe. You half expected Charles to be here, that things would roll out on the table as easily as it did in your head and that maybe you could both come to some sort of agreement on your relationship.

Yes, it’s been done. Long over, time separating the two of you. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him in the time spent apart. Even if you knew that what you decided what was right for the both of you, it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Four months ago, you were in no headspace to be with Charles. You could no longer be what he needed, or wanted, even if he claimed that you would always be enough. How could you be, when you weren’t even enough for yourself? You remember the anxiety induced thoughts, nightmare of Charles’ resentful stare as you plummeted further and further into your hole of poor mental health.

Solitude was what you needed, being your own individual person away from Charles is what you needed. And although you live with the pain of breaking his and your own heart, it wasn’t a decision you regret making.

You carefully slide the paper into your purse, standing and walking out of the coffee shop. Monaco was gloomier than most days, the grey clouds threatening to pour rain on the beautiful city. Tiny droplets tap on your windshield, pit pat, reminding you fondly of Paris in the rain, some months ago.

—

The moment summer break ended, Charles was back to traveling city to city, sitting in his bright red car to race in loops. Laps and laps, the days blurring into the next, but not without thinking of you. You never texted him about the pieces of his journal that he handed off, but you did wish him luck every now and again. You were both in this weird limbo, unsure of where the line is, and just how close either of you can get to crossing it.

Charles was worried you had thrown the note away, or maybe it was lost. There were no talks about it, not questions, and it makes him queasy. Desperation grows inside of him, festering with the stress and anxiety that had been brewing in the pit of his gut. Andrea looks at him, the way his leg bounces as he fiddles with the sleeve of his fireproofs.

“You’re gonna do fine mate, don’t worry so much. Just practice.”

The Monegasque looks up at his friend, smiling curtly before grabbing his baclava from the seat next to him. “Right. Just practice.”

He goes through the motions, hopping into his car, testing his gears, patiently waiting until he is allowed to drive on the track. There is constant back and forth between him and the pit wall, Charles making several comments about the feel, and the engineers reporting data back. They comment his poor speed in the first two sectors, pushing him to speed up in the last one. Charles does his best, but is still nine hundredths of second slower than Max. He goes again, desperately trying to push the car to its limit. But it doesn’t perform how he had hoped. He didn’t perform how he had hoped.

Charles groans, a bit of aggression in his movements as he takes apart his gear so that he can climb out. No one tries to speak to him as he rushes straight to the screen, ready to read and listen to the data gathered from the first free practice. But that only did so much, Charles finishing P3 in the second practice, two places behind his teammate.

Sunflower — Rex Orange County

When Charles returns to the hotel, your playlist was already playing on shuffle. The music had become his white noise, comforting but no longer something he noticed so much. He really did miss you now, and he finally gives in to the urge to text you. He asks if he could call you before he gets ready for bed. But even once he’s in his boxers, pulling the covers back, there is no response. Charles decides to call you anyways, but the ringing stops almost immediately.

You declined his call.

His heart speeds up, attempting to go through every form of social media to see if you were okay. He looked for any signs of life, even texting you to ask if you’re alright. A moment of relief comes in the form of the grey bubble popping up, the three dots showing that you were typing. But your text makes his throat run dry.

Read your note.

That was it. No reaction, no explanation. Just three words and then silence. Charles tries to call you again, but you are quick to decline. He tries two more times, and each time you deny speaking to him. He texts you, asking what’s wrong. But there is no response.

I want to know/ where I can go / when you're not around. Panic ensues. Charles is sweating as he throws the covers off his body and clambers into sweats and a shirt that were already sprawled out on the couch. He attempts to call Lando, see if you had told him anything. But the phone rings til the call fails. He calls you again, and you decline.

Dove, answer please. Talk to me. Say something. Anything.

No response. The boy rummages through his notebook, ensuring that he handed you the right pages. He did. He racks his brain, scouring through his brain as he tries to remember every single word he wrote on that page. He still can’t fathom what could’ve made you mad. Charles spends the night on his bedroom floor, back pressed against his bedside as he waits for his phone to ring with your name. Tryna keep my mind at bay, Sunflower still grows at night.

He thinks of the song playing, tracing the first memory he has of the song. It was a while ago, when you had just started coming to more races in the red garage. It wasn’t a particularly strong weekend for Charles, everyday growing more and more frustrating as he feels his failures in the red car adding up. He was on his way up to you after the debriefing, completely tired and defeated after a terrible 3rd practice and average qualifying. It was late, way beyond a reasonable bedtime, so he was surprised to see you still awake. You were half read for bed, rubbing your face clean of make up and dirt with just a Ferrari hoodie and leggings on. He remembers the song bumping in the background through your phone, they way you bounced from hip to hip as you hum along.

You didn’t register his sullen face, or maybe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You saunter over to him pressing a soft kiss on his lips without stopping your dance. You know you need to get yourself to sleep and dream a dream of you and I, you sing, lifting his arm and twirling in front of him. He found it hard to fight the smile forming on his face, the hard weekend suddenly the least of his worries.

There's no need to keep an open eye, I promise I'm the one for you just let me hold you in these arms tonight. You wrapped his arms around your torso, forcing his body to move with yours. You watched as his brows relaxed, and a shy smile curves on his lips as he leans in to kiss you one more time.

His phone chimes, your name lighting up the screen.

We’ll talk when you get back. Get some sleep. Good luck tomorrow.

—

More of You — MAGIC!

Charles sits at the top of the Sedici, fingers moving up and down the silver wheel as he waits for you to arrive. His heart is in his stomach, but the feeling was no longer foreign to him. He looks at at the coast, the way the golden sun slowly sinks to kiss the ocean.

“Hey.”

He turns to face you, standing up with a smile. “Hi Dove.” He gestures to the seat across from him, and you take it.

“It’s nice… different from the Monza for sure. Do you still have her?”

Charles swivels in his chair, pointing the smaller boat next to him, “Yep.”

You nod, smiling fondly. You shared many moments with him on that little thing, private moments that you keep secure in your heart. There is a brief moment of silence, certainly not a terrible one, but the both of you have seen better moments. You look at Charles, really look at him this time. You count the moles on his face, the lines beneath his eyes. They were still as bright as they were in your dreams.

There was no way to start, so you pull out the cream pieces of lined paper. You flip it open, and the crinkle of the paper causes Charles to look in your direction. “My dearest Dove…”

I stare you, sometimes at night, wishing I could just press rewind… ’cause I just want more. Charles watches you, the way your bottom lips is caught between your teeth as you stare at the words from in front of you. Your face is stoic, eyes darting from left to right as you read the words in your head.

“It is two in the morning. My body is tired, sore, but my mind doesn’t want to stop moving…” Your voice is sweet, contrasting the sad words of the boy from that early July morning. “I wish- I wish that you were here.”

You finally look up at him, and that’s when Charles sees the tears glossing over your eyes. He reaches out, your fingers quickly finding it’s place in the palms of his hands. He squeezes softly, encouraging you to continue.

You look up from the paper, folding it shut as you exhale. “You still listened to the playlist?”

He nods, “Yeah. It helped some… but it’s not the same.”

You smile sadly, looking back down at the paper to continue. “Every song is hand picked, a piece of us and our story. It is an endless cycle of love, of pining, of wishing that we were right next to each other. Do you still listen to these songs, do you still think of me when you do?”

“Do you?” Charles asks.

You hum, nodding. “Always.”

Charles can’t help but smile, nodding softly and encouraging you to continue reading the letter.

“I always find myself wishing that you were here with me, here to celebrate every win, but also to forget about the failures. I’m always wishing that I had more of you.” Drops of tears spill onto your cheek, and Charles releases your hand to cup your face. The pad of his thumb swipes it away.

What is this hold you got on me? Stronger force than gravity…

“But you were right. This time apart was necessary. It was needed, and-“

Charles’ hand drops from your face, resting on your thigh as his thumb rubs soothing circles on on your skin. “I think I needed it more than I thought I did.” He finishes

“I’m happy that the world turns in your favor, I think mine is upside down. I’m still trying to find my way, find my independence in the world, find my identity other than the predestined. I’m finding who I am beyond rubber on the track and all the podiums. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I was always meant to love you. Whether it’s in your presence, or from thousands of miles away, loving you has been and will always be part of my story.”

In my next life, I'll be looking for you. “In this life and the next, mon cherie.”

You fold the paper once more, slipping it into your purse. Your fingers find his, looping between them. The silence is light, comfortable, as his green eyes bore into yours. There weren’t any words either of you can say, the note saying just enough for the both of you.

The sun finally kisses the sea, the sky turning from blue to pink. The world around you dims.

“In this life and the next, Charles.”

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