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formulaforza · 11 months

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miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel.

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one.

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe.

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her.

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends.

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level.

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him?

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality.

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before.

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor.

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her.

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure.

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other.

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better.

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be.

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters.

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend.

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions.

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm.

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led.

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him.

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things.

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe.

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur.

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said.

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window.

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move.

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know.

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held.

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him.

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look.

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss.

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her.

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge.

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side.

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent.

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs.

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for.

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should.

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket.

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool.

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her.

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa.

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use.

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound.

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can.

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t.

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with.

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand.

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself.

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully.

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one.

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it.

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame.

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes.

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch.

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back.

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze.

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner.

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase.

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him.

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it.

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her.

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth.

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically.

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns.

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental.

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner.

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her.

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia.

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid.

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. “They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues.

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby.

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on.

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function.

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down.

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a 7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea.

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family.

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell.

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze.

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers.

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her.

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her?

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh.

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo.

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his.

– – –

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day.

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track.

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise.

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her.

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead.

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology.

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while.

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly.

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration.

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening.

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight.

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all.

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows.

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks.

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry.

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing.

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder.

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying.

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her.

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors.

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says.

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

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illanabehir · 5 months

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No one likes to have to do this but I have set up a GoFundMe for my treatment here in the UK.

I'm an American who got stuck here after a cancer diagnosis in May. I was on a marriage visitor visa so I could marry my now Husband in July.

As the plan was not to live here in the UK I need pay for my treatment.

Unfortunately after 6 rounds of chemotherapy we found out it grew and had a choice to make that weekend. We could stay or go home for the rest of the treatment.

Those rounds ended up costing £30,000.

That weekend my hand and a portion of my face went numb. We went back to the hospital and found out the cancer moved to my brain and I could not fly home.

So I've been stuck here receiving treatment that has been more intense than the previous rounds of chemotherapy. Which comes with a much higher price tag.

I don't have an estimate for the rest of the treatment for this since it's ongoing but I do have the cost of the Stem Cell transplant portion. That number ended up being £125,000 that needs to be paid upfront.

Any help is greatly appreciated be it donations or sharing.

#fundraising #gofundme #cancer #medical bills #please help

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sidewayspeace444 · 16 days

Note

He definitely is no Steve Rodgers!

Steve Rodgers fought against Nazis!

Chris ended up “marrying” one ( well we know they ain’t married as she wouldn’t be allowed to fly back and forth as she does on her esta visitors visa] or signing his life away being associated to a well known nazi sympathiser!

He was too lazy to do his research on the Nazi racist but I’m sure her coven persuaded him with the promise of wealth and more fame!

She is known for her coven ties in Portugal as her whole family are weird and practice dark magic!

She’s going bald and aging fast like him tell me you’re doing dark magic without telling me you’re doing dark magic!

She’s currently recharging in Portugal for the 6th time this year.

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fromasgardandback · 11 months

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Automotive Plant's Secretary

Eddie Munson x Reader

description: Y/N L/N is the central secretary at the Automotive Plant Wayne Munson works.

word count: 1.2k

warning: nothing, literal fluff

masterlist | oneshots

Y/N went to work early that morning to set up for the bosses' meeting. She never understood why they couldn’t do it themselves, but she was getting paid for the boring and mundane work. Although she hated the executives of the company, she adored the workers. They were always kind to her when they came in and visa versa. At least once a week she would bake sweets for them and leave the container on her desk. The notes on top of the Tupperware were always different, but each one with a smiley face. Sometimes families would come in to surprise their loved ones who were hard-working and only a few would make a regular appearance. One of those guys just so happened to be Eddie Munson, the old classmate she had a massive crush on. His uncle worked on the floor and said hello to Y/N each morning and goodnight at the end of the day. If she was having an off day, he would make sure to cheer her up. If her day was particularly hard and stayed silent, when everyone left he would give her a hug with an encouraging word or two. Needless to say, she loved Wayne.

“Good Morning, Wayne. I made chocolate chip cookies.” Y/N smiled up at him.

“Good Morning, sweetie. Thank you, these look delicious.” He smiled back taking a cookie, wasting no time in eating the entire thing.

Most days were busy and quiet. If the floor was hard at work and not much chit-chat going on, you can hear the executives mucking it up in their offices without a care in the world. They cared little for their employees and only if they made them more money or not. It was hard for Y/N to see the contrast between white-collar and blue-collar workers. They deserved better, that’s why she baked and tried her hardest to be kind to all of them.

“Do you have any exciting plans this weekend?” She asked, leaning her elbows on the desk.

“Some chores around the trailer, nothing too exciting. Try and use my days off to relax.” Wayne replied, swallowing the last remnants of the cookie. “What about you, kid?”

“Same, nothing much other than relaxing. I might go out with some friends to a bar tonight.” She smiled at the nickname.

“Don’t get too crazy, don’t know what we’d do without you here.” He smirked, waving her off as he walked to the breakroom with his things.

The day went by fairly quickly, and now it was 1:30 pm. Only three and a half hours to go until they can all clock out. The hum of a radio blasting and turning off can be heard faintly through the entrance door and a pair of boots touching the fake hardwood floors moving closer to her desk. She looked up, only to blush and hide the heat rising to her face.

“Hey, Y/N.” Eddie smiled politely.

“Hi, Eddie. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you during a work day?” She smiled up at him. ‘Seriously? You had all of five minutes to come up with something non-embarrassing and that’s what came out of your mouth?’ She thought to herself.

“Came to drop off lunch for Uncle Wayne, he deserves something better than ham and cheese.” He chuckled as he signed the visitor sign-in sheet.

“That’s very sweet of you, Eddie. You can go on back. I’ll let him know you’re here.” He winked at her, following her instructions and going towards to break room. Heart-pounding and the blush on her cheeks growing redder, she hurriedly went to the floor. On his way out of the building, he stopped by her desk again.

“My band’s playing at The Hideout tonight. Maybe you want to come by?” Eddie smiled nervously, quickly fixing his sentence. “Not alone of course, with friends. Or alone if you just want to be alone, but you don't have to.” Eddie failed terribly, fumbling through trying to stop talking.

“I’d love to come. My friends and I were headed to a bar anyways. We’ll be there.” She smiled at him to which he returned and a small wave while leaving.

For a few weeks, Eddie would make an excuse to come “drop” occasional things that Wayne just so happened to forget at home. He would spend at least ten minutes talking to Y/N and declare to his friends that he was going to ask her out one of these days.

“Dude, you’ve been pining after her for years and talking with her every week. If you haven’t done it by now, you’re not going to. You’re just chicken, man” Gareth rolled his eyes sipping his beer.

“Watch how you speak to me, I am not chicken. She comes to see us play every week. If that’s not making a move, then what do you suggest?” Eddie grumbled sitting up straight, eyes boring into his friends’.

“Y/N, go to dinner with me? That’s a start.” Jeff replied fiddling with his guitar.

“ALL BLUNT!?” Eddie exclaimed.

“YES!” His friends yelled annoyed that he has yet to do anything about this crush, but bitch and complain.

The band was setting up the stage an hour before the bar opened to set up their gig. The moment they opened she walked through those doors with her friends smiling wide when making eye contact with him. Eddie blushed giving her a small wave, going back to tuning his guitar. Y/N sat in the back booth giving her the advantage of hiding what redness crossed her cheeks.

“Just ask him out,” Nancy commented setting down her purse next to you.

“What are you talking about?” She acted dumb, not wanting to be embarrassed by the conversation, watching her crush be his adorable self.

“How much you’re in love with Eddie. Y/N, we love you but it's painfully obvious. Just rip off the bandaid and ask him out.” Robin remarked, setting down the drinks.

“And disgusting to hear how much you think he’s hot and adorable and his eyes are so dreamy.” Steve rolled his eyes, exaggerating.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop talking about him. But I can’t ask him out. He doesn’t see me that way.” Y/N shook her head looking down. Steve laughed loudly, causing Nancy to elbow him in the shoulder.

“Sweetie, it is so clear that he likes you.” Nancy smiled. “Just go for it. There’s nothing to lose, we promise you.”

“And he’s making his way to the bar now. Take your chance. And if it goes awry, we’ll leave.” Robin nodded encouragingly.

Y/N had no other choice than to get up and face the fear of rejection from the childhood crush she couldn’t seem to shake.

“Eddie, Hi.” She fiddled with the rings on her hands.

“Y/N, you came. Hi.” He noticed, taking note that she was nervous.

“I, um, want to ask you something.” She squeaked out, not looking up.

“I want to ask you something as well.” Eddie leaned against the bar on his right elbow. They both took a short breath asking their question together.

“Would you go to dinner with me?” He asked.

“Would you go to dinner with me?” She asked. They chuckled, blushing harder than a tomato.

“I would love to, Eddie.” She smiled big, leaning into him.

“I would be more than happy to, Y/N.” He smiled wider, leaning closer to her.

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m7z · 4 months

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In memoriam

I spent the last 30 minutes or so skimming through my Tumblr archive from 2011-2012 trying to find a post I know I wrote about my paternal grandparents’ love story, but I couldn’t find it. I probably moved it to another blog at some point and deleted it here. Along the way though I found all these other memories from my early 20s, such as my coming out/confession letter to a best friend from high school, many reblogs of sappy quotes/graphics/book snippets/lyrics, reblogs of photos of places I wanted to visit (many of which I’ve now been to), songs I liked, tech news from the era (like the death of Steve Jobs), political news from the era (like marriage equality, and Barack Obama’s reelection), many reblogs about Glee, my own photos from my early days of living in San Francisco (and interning at Twitter)… All of which is to say, it captured this whole era of my life from ~10 years ago that, in retrospect, was quite pivotal.

The reason I went looking for that post is because I found out yesterday that my grandpa passed away. My dad texted me and tried to call when I was in the middle of a work meeting. I registered the text but didn’t respond, and then called back after. It was the middle of the night in China at the time (around 2am), and he learned the news earlier when my aunt had called him, and she’d been notified by the staff at the seniors home where my grandpa had been living.

As I processed the news and decided on my plans, I told people the context that he had suffered a series of strokes and had been on the decline since last summer, so this news didn’t come as a shock. This is in contrast to my paternal grandma’s passing in January 2022 (also January) from a heart attack which was sudden, quick, and utterly shocking. As the matriarch of our family, her death had hit everyone really hard then.

At his passing, my grandpa was in his late 80s, possibly 87 or 88. Which is objectively quite a remarkable achievement for someone born into the chaos of 1930s war torn China to a poor rural/farming family. He joined the communist army as an accountant/admin, and then the local police after the war, and then worked at the state hemp/cotton company until retirement. He and my grandma met in their 20s, fell in love and got married despite oppositions (this is the story I had posted about that I was looking for), had 2 kids and 2 grandkids (one of which is me), traveled, had health issues and took care of each other, and grew old together.

I realized yesterday that I wasn’t reacting as emotionally as I did to my grandma’s passing — one because he’d been on the decline, and my dad/aunt thought he almost wasn’t going to make it after his last severe stroke in July. I think I had emotionally prepared for this back then, and so expected this to happen at some point. The other reason is that his quality of life in this last year, after these strokes, had become quite poor. He couldn’t eat or talk or walk, and had become reduced to almost just skin and bones. It had become painful to see him in this state, and I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore.

However, at the same time I still feel sad and regretful because I was hoping to see him at least one more time. Even though he hasn’t been able to speak since July, and he didn’t really recognize anyone anymore… even so, I was hoping he'd hang on until I visited again.

When my grandma passed in 2022, the pandemic, travel restrictions, and lack of flight options had made it virtually impossible to travel back. The last time I visited China was October 2019. Since then, in the last few years when we called, they’d almost always ask when I can go back again. My grandpa did this all the way up until his last stroke in July when he couldn’t speak anymore. When the pandemic largely ended in 2022, I’d always say “soon”, even knowing it was impractical with the Chinese government's onerous visa policies. When they finally reinstated the pre-pandemic visitor visa policies in March 2023, I started to say that I'll go back during the summer, then the fall, then the winter, then the spring. One reason is that the flight options were both expensive and inconvenient, but the larger reason is that I prioritized other plans in my life. I'm not sure where I could've squeezed it in, but I do regret that I didn’t try harder to visit sooner.

Circling back on the whole “eras of my life” thread — I always felt like as long as my grandparents were around, I still feel like a kid in some way. They treated me like one, still babied me whenever I visited or called, and would remind me of funny anecdotes from my childhood. I know I’m pretty lucky to have gotten 30+ years with almost all 4 grandparents in my life. I also know I’m lucky that they loved me as much as they did — because not all of my friends had the kind of close relationships I did/do with their grandparents.

Growing up, I was always pretty close to my grandparents, more so to my grandma who I genuinely enjoyed talking to and would call regularly, but I have many fond memories with my grandpa too.

I recall when my family first immigrated to Canada, I would cry about missing them. Later when I went back to visit as a teenager, I would cry on the flight back to Canada.

My grandpa liked to write simple rhyming poems after he retired, liked to drink and smoke and only quit in his 60s, and liked to sing Chinese opera. One year for my birthday, he wrote a “hidden message” poem where the first word of each verse added together would say “happy birthday <my Chinese name>”.

One really special memory of him I have is when I was in kindergarten, and during afternoon nap time (which I hated) he showed up unexpectedly and took me out of school. We didn’t live in the same city but he was in my city for a work trip, and he’d decided to take me out of kindergarten early that day so we could spend time together. I remember it feeling so unexpectedly awesome — one because I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to (skip school) but also because of the surprise visit itself.

The only time I felt emotional yesterday was when my mom told me how, even though I won’t be able to attend the funeral, I could pay my respects at both of my grandparents’ gravesites when I visit. The thought made me emotional because… they can finally be reunited again, or at least not be separated by death.

Didn’t really know what I was going to write when I started this, and the words kept pouring out, but I’m glad I did.

#my stuff #family #reflection #a real blog post

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sortyourlifeoutmate · 5 months

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This is a great story, for a given value of great.

To sum up, a woman of French extraction who has lived in the UK since 1981 recently discovered she has lost her residency on account of, when applying a follow-up email asking for more information went into her junk folder and by the time this was noticed the deadline had passed. She is now in the country on an expired visitor’s visa, with no permission.

Ta-dah, your money at work.

Of course, just about all stories relating to residency and immigration and the like are kind of depressing and often outright tragic and most we’ll never hear about. But this one gets to me because of the absolute, screaming absurdity.

The Home Office said it made at least five attempts to contact her, and indeed I imagine they may well have done – more emails going into the junk folder. However! Now that she has no legal permission to be here, now they’ve sent a letter. A letter warning her of the consequences of being here illegally.

You had her address the whole time and didn’t send her a letter?! The only time you send a letter is when it’s too late?! As a warning?! You tried contacting her five times but never sent a letter?!

(I'm assuming they didn't send a letter. Why should I assume they did anything right?)

See? It’s that delightful blend of malice and incompetence you can sometimes take for granted but which the UK government is always more than happy to provide in 2023.

#uk politics

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texasjen13 · 13 days

Note

She's only has an esta visitor visa.

The CAA anon is correct as no one wants to hire a lazy immature racist who can't act or graft.

She's had plenty of opportunities to graft but shes lazy and arrogant!

She's on thin ice with immigration as it is is due to all her illegal activities she's known for in Portugal.

Her family are well known scammers and confidence tricksters.

She's also a part of a dark witch coven and owes them alot of money and they will be exposing this shortly.

Interesting 🤔

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torreshalstead · 6 months

Text

It Seemed Like a Good Idea - Chapter 19

Summary - Hailey’s US visa was due to expire, which normally wouldn’t be an issue as the CPD would get it renewed but due to a backlog of paperwork, this wasn’t possible. This meant Hailey was faced with the real possibility of having to leave the country, her job and everything she held dear. That was until Jay offered up a solution which would allow her to stay in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him - they could get married. Getting married was a good idea, right?

Chapters - 19/21

Chapter Title - The Confession

Notes - it’s been a long time coming but it’s finally time! Hope you all enjoy! AO3 Link

Will hung up the phone with a disgruntled huff. How could his brother be so stupid? He had never seen Jay happier than he had been since Hailey and he had tied the knot. Will knew that originally the marriage hadn’t come about because of a burning sense of true love, but he had also known from the start that his brother's feelings for his partner were more than just friendship. And over the past few months, he had seen Hailey’s feelings change too, even before her slightly botched confession to him in this very break room.

And now two people he cared about were about to make a huge mistake. If they got divorced now it would cause irreparable damage to their relationship, friendship even their partnership and Will wasn’t sure they would ever be able to walk it back from there.

His mother had always told him not to interfere in Jay’s romantic life, that he could stand up for him in a fight or when someone was picking on him, but matters of the heart were something he would have to deal with alone. That conversation had occurred when Will had considered asking Mary Sue to prom on behalf of Jay, he knew he had the biggest crush on the girl but was too chicken to ask her himself. But his smarter than most mother had said how would it look to a girl if his big brother had to get in the middle - the answer was not good. So Will had taken a step back and someone else had asked Mary Sue to prom.

But this was different, Jay couldn’t see what was right in front of his face. And he had told him he was in love with Hailey.

This wasn’t an unrequited teenage crush, this was two people who loved each other who were too self sacrificing or self deprecating to realise that the person they loved could possibly love them back. Or maybe they were both too stubborn. Whatever the reason, he had the power to do something about it and to hell if he was going to let his idiot brother make another idiot mistake and lose the best thing in his life.

He pulled out his phone and made two phone calls and hoped his mother would forgive him for interfering for what would hopefully be the final time.

——————————————————————————

Hailey barrelled into Med with speed for the second time that day, at this point they might as well make her a frequent visitor badge and she could earn a gold star for every visit - 10th visit is free.

Will had called her to say that the doctors had taken another look at Jay’s notes and test results and that the CT was needed after all, she had known it but that hard headed doctor, Doctor Sosa, hadn’t listened to a word she was saying. Will had said he had called Jay directly and he was coming in straight from the apartment so Hailey had abandoned the takeout salads she was putting together in the grocery store and legged it to her car.

Will hadn’t sounded too worried over the phone but needing a CT was never a good thing so she had dropped it all and made Med her new destination. Luckily Will had told her the exact room so she hadn’t needed to bother one of the ED nurses with her panicked wife/partner routine again and was currently bounding up the stairs two at a time as the elevator had taken more than two seconds to arrive and Hailey’s patience was at the end of its tether.

—————————————————————————

Unfinished paperwork, that was what Will had told him. Jay had tried to call bullshit but Will explained that without it he wasn’t being signed off as clear to return to work and Jay was damned if he was being stuck on desk duty any longer than he needed to be. He thought about shooting Hailey a text to let her know where he had gone but figured he’d be gone a maximum of 15 minutes and if she was worried she could give him a call. As per their last interaction Jay wasn’t certain she wanted to speak to him anyway. And he wasn’t sure he could blame her.

He as good as told her he didn’t want to be married to her anymore and then proceeded to get hurt at work and clearly scare the living daylights out of her if the way she had thrown herself at him at the hospital had been any indication. And then there was the fact that he was more in love with her than he thought was humanly possible. Talk about mixed signals.

Jay stomped his way through the hospital, searching for the room that Will had told him he would meet him in to complete the remaining paperwork. If he had thought it was unusual for Will to be handling the paperwork or that he would ask him to come to a patient room to complete it, Jay didn’t show it. He was more concerned with getting this done and getting back to the apartment before Hailey had a chance to worry. He had caused her enough worry.

Finding the door in question, he tugged it open.

‘Alright Will, let’s get this sorted,’ he said before coming to a halt when his eyes had a chance to focus. Will wasn’t alone in the room. Hailey was sat on a chair by the empty bed, her eyes filled with concern that phased to a hint of confusion at his arrival. Jay turned quickly to look at Will who had moved behind him to sneakily take a hold of the door handle and was pulling it closed with him on the otherwise.

‘I’m going to leave you both in here until you can discuss it like adults, okay?’ He said, a tiny smirk appearing on his freckled cheeks.

‘Discuss what?’ Jay said, confused.

‘How madly in love with each other you both are and how equally stubborn you are in refusing to admit it,’ Will said firmly and closed the door behind him. Jay heard the lock twist and moved forward to grab the door handle himself, rattling it and yanking it to no avail. The bastard had locked them in.

‘That bastard,’ Jay huffed, giving the door one final heave even though he knew it was useles at this point.

‘Why did you agree to marry me?’ He heard quietly from behind him. Jay let his head fall against the locked door with a thud. He should have known this was coming. It was clearly Will’s plan and after spilling his guts to him the previous night and his tone on the phone when he said he had got the divorce papers, Jay should have known he would pull something like this.

‘Why did you agree to marry me?’ Hailey asked again tentatively when Jay failed to turn around. He took a deep breath, tried to ignore how shaky it was and slowly turned to look at her. She was standing now, just in front of the plastic chair a couple of feet in front of him, the room was single occupancy so wasn’t large, he could be breathing the same air as her if he took just three steps forward.

‘Because,’ Jay said before swallowing and running a hand through his hair. Was he really about to tell her, tell her that he loved her, had loved her for months, for longer than he had known and that the thought of her leaving the country was not something he was willing to comprehend? He looked at her, at the shimmer of tears in her eyes, her golden hair flowing down over her shoulder, begging to have his hands run through it. She looked ethereal. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he knew in his heart he would ever see. And she looked hopeful? Like she wanted Will’s words to be true. Like she wanted him to open up to her and to confess his love.

‘Because I love you,’ Jay said with small chuckle he couldn’t control. His love wasn’t funny but the situation they had ended up in was. He saw her lips turn up into a smile, her hands stopped twisting around each other in nervousness and he let himself take a step towards her.

‘I’m not laughing because loving you is funny,’ Jay clarified with a little shake of his head, ‘it’s the most serious thing I’ve ever felt, but because we’re so stubborn that my brother had to lock us in a hospital room together to get us to admit our feelings to each other.’ Hailey let out a wet chuckle, the tears having broken through and were making their way down her cheeks. He longed to reach out and wipe them away, to cradle her face in his hands and to draw her lips to his, everything else forgotten. ‘Well because I’m stubborn,’ Jay carried on, taking another couple of steps forward when Hailey hadn’t said anything else besides her giggle, ‘so I needed to admit my feelings to you. I don’t expect you to reciprocate, or say anything. I just needed you to know, I just wanted-’

Hailey reached out and pressed a finger against his lips to stop his flow of speech, ‘I love you too,’ she whispered, her smile as soft as he had ever seen it. She loved him. His breath caught in his throat as he processed that she loved him back. ‘I guess we are both as stubborn as each other,’ she chuckled, letting her finger fall but instead of returning to her side, her hand fell to his neck, letting her thumb graze against his stubble. Her hand on him was like electricity, pulsing through her fingers into his skin.

Jay let his eyes close for a second, revelling in her touch before they flew open again as he remembered everything else he wanted to say. The dam was open now, there was no putting the genie back into the bottle.

‘I don’t want to divorce you,’ he said, letting his fingers curl around her waist and keeping her close. ‘I never wanted to, I just didn’t want you to stay tied to me if you didn’t want to be. We got married for a reason and that reason didn’t exist anymore. I was just trying to set you free,’ he said, choking back a tear as the woman that he had loved for so long was looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration. He had dreamed of this look, dreamed of holding her close and telling her he loved her, but only rarely did he let himself dream that she would say it back. Yet here she was, saying those words to him.

‘I don’t want to be free,’ she said back, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

‘That’s good,’ Jay said with a smile. ‘Because I want you with me for the rest of my life Hailey. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible, you make me a better person, you make me laugh, you get mad at me when I get hurt which makes me never want to get hurt again. You’re the best person I know.’ He knew it was sappy, knew he was almost overdoing the love confession thing but how many times did you get to do this, to tell someone how much they mean to you. ‘And if you want to get divorced and never speak of this again, then I’ll submit the papers today.’ He said with a small frown because it was the last thing he wanted to do, but for her, he’d do it, he’d do anything she asked. ‘But I’m really hoping you don’t.’

‘I don’t,’ Hailey responded, and before Jay could take a breath, she had pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

Before that moment he thought he had experienced everything he possibly could when kissing Hailey. He had relived the moments that their lips had joined on multiple occasions and the memory of the taste of her had seen him to sleep on restless nights. But he had never experienced this. Kissing someone back and knowing they are feeling the same thing as you, knowing they love you back, it was like a million fireworks going off at once, but silently in the night sky.

There was nothing in his head apart from the feeling of her against him, his hands on her hips, her fingers sliding through the hairs on the back of his neck, her lips pushing against his, prizing them open and their tongues meeting once again. If he never felt anything like this again, Jay thought, he would die a happy man. This was the happiest he had ever been.

He wrapped his arms around her back and lifted her up slightly so they were on the same level, she giggled slightly at the movement and he felt her smile against her lips.

‘I love you,’ he murmured in between kisses.

Pulling back he let their foreheads rest together but didn’t place her back on the floor, her weight in his arms was a comforting sensation and he wanted to live in the feeling a moment longer.

‘You can put me down you know,’ Hailey said quietly, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Not willing to risk it,’ he said and squeezed her tightly.

‘Jay, you’re at risk for concussion and pretty sure the doctor said no strenuous activities,’ she sassed.

‘Firstly, he said no such thing, don’t worry,’ and he winked at her, eliciting another round of girlish giggles from her. ‘And secondly, Hailey you weigh almost nothing, there is nothing strenuous about this.’ He gave her a peck on the cheek but loosened his hold on her slightly so she slid down his front until her feet touched solid ground again.

For a brief moment they just got lost in each other’s eyes, smiles fixed firmly on their faces, arms still looped around each other, not even the slimmest of gaps present between their two bodies.

‘What happens now?’ Hailey asked softly, breaking the silence.

‘We get Will to unlock this door and we go home I guess,’ he said with a small shrug, reaching out to push a wayward lock of hair back behind her ear, letting his fingers brush gently against her skin.

‘And then we stay married?’ She asked.

‘If that’s what you want,’ Jay said honestly. ‘I want you as my wife Hailey, but if you don’t want that then we submit the papers. If you want to divorce but then date, I’ll do what you want. If you want me to move out and start from scratch like a regular relationship, we can do that too. Whatever you want.’

Hailey seemed to consider her options for a moment and Jay held his breath. ‘I don’t want any of that,’ she said, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘I want to be your wife Jay. I don’t want you to move out, though you can move out of the spare room if you want. I want this. I want you.’

That was all Jay needed to hear to crash his lips back into hers and let all his senses get filled with her. Her taste on his tongue, her soft moans filling his ears, his hand had snuck its way under her shirt and was now flat against the smooth skin of her back and he could smell her floral shampoo. It was an all out attack on his senses and he loved it. She was everywhere and he couldn’t get enough.

Hailey seemed to be equally enjoying it if the way her fingers were digging into his hair was anything to go on. And both were too wrapped up in each other to hear the door behind them click open until Will’s voice entered the room and broke the spell.

‘Glad to see you two have come to your senses,’ he chuckled and Jay pulled back from Hailey slightly to give his brother a death stare for interrupting them. He kept his arms tightly locked around her though, a subconscious action to keep her close to him. ‘But you need to get a different room, preferably not at the hospital as we need this for patients.’ He chuckled again, shaking his head slightly but Jay could see the grin still plastered on his face as he left them alone again but this time with the door wide open.

‘Come on then,’ Jay said, unwrapping his arms but linking the fingers of his right hand with her left. ‘Let’s go home.’ And as he walked out of that room hand in hand with his wife, he realised the word home had never held such meaning as it did in that moment. Home was no longer just a place, four walls and a roof. Home was a person. Home was a feeling, a feeling of safety, of love, of wantedness. Home was Hailey, and he intended to show her for the rest of his life, exactly what that meant to him.

#upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #upstead fic #one Chicago #hailey x jay #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fic

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i-myeoni-blogs · 23 days

Text

Part 2

Pairing - Non-idol Wooyoung x Reader

Chapter Summary - Wooyoung's life got flipped upside down by one government notice and the ensuing phone call. He'd only been away for a couple of days, and now Y/N was nowhere to be found. Why did they disappear? And where could they have gone? How was he supposed to track them down? They were supposed to build a life together, and start a family together—that was the promise he made. But now, it all felt like a distant dream because once again, he found himself without Y/N.

The blaring alarm clock shattered the silence of the empty house, jolting Wooyoung from his sleep. He looked like he hadn't slept at all, with his disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes. His shirt was half unbuttoned, and he was soaked in sweat as if he'd been through a marathon in his dreams.

With a sharp intake of breath, he snapped awake, his heart racing. He glanced at the alarm clock with a mix of frustration and despair, silencing it with a heavy hand. Rubbing his face vigorously, he tried to shake off the exhaustion clinging to him like a heavy cloak. All he wanted was some rest, but how could he even think of sleeping when Y/N and their daughter had been missing for two agonizing weeks?

"Broken" didn't even begin to describe the shattered pieces of his soul. With a determined sigh, he pushed himself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom.

If you asked Wooyoung how he was feeling two weeks back, he'd probably have said he was feeling a mix of love and contentment. He had this big plan in mind - taking Y/N and Grace back to his home in Seoul, proposing to Y/N with this stunning ring he picked out himself. That ring? It was always close to his heart, quite literally, hanging around his neck like a pendant. Finally finding happiness after five long years since he reunited with Y/N, those memories painted his dreams with bright colors. But every time he woke up, reality hit hard - they weren't there with him.

Just a month, that's all the time he got with Y/N and Grace before they vanished. Or to be precise, they were taken away. It's this messed-up rumor about some government order to incapacitate the immigrants who weren't just tourists.

Government Order

To Whom It May Concern,

Subject: Implementation of Measures Regarding Illegal Settlements in South Korea

In light of recent events, and in response to the concerning incidents occurring in our regions, the Government of South Korea has taken a decisive stance on the matter of illegal immigrant settlements. Effective immediately, we hereby issue the following order:

Illegal immigrants settled, excluding tourists with valid visas, are to be apprehended and detained by law enforcement authorities.

This measure is undertaken to prevent further instances of recklessness and misconduct witnessed on September 20th, wherein a girl fell victim to exploitation by certain individuals residing illegally in our territory. Additionally, substantial damage to property was incurred as a result of their actions.

The government emphasizes the importance of upholding the rule of law and safeguarding the welfare and security of all residents and visitors within our borders. Any individuals found to be in violation of immigration laws will be subject to appropriate legal action.

We urge all citizens and residents to cooperate with law enforcement agencies in identifying and reporting instances of illegal settlement and related criminal activities.

These measures shall remain in effect until further notice.

The Government of South Korea remains committed to ensuring the safety and prosperity of our nation and its people. By enforcing these regulations, we aim to uphold the integrity of our borders and maintain social order.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely

Wooyoung still vividly recalled the day he received the letter from the government. It was a chilly afternoon in Seoul, the remnants of his recent vacation to Jeju still lingering in his mind. During his time there, he cherished every moment with Grace and Y/N, relishing the opportunity to make up for the lost years. However, he knew all too well that one month couldn't possibly compensate for the five years that had slipped away.

With plans to bring Y/N and Grace back to Seoul, Wooyoung had returned ahead of them to ensure everything was perfect upon their arrival. He wanted to create a warm and welcoming environment, a place they could finally call home. Little did he know that this decision would mark the last time he laid eyes on them before they vanished without a trace.

The memory of their faces haunted him—Y/N's gentle smile and Grace's hopeful gaze etched in his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of regret that gnawed at him, wishing he had stayed by their side or even whisked them away with him to Seoul. But alas, the future remained elusive, and hindsight offered no solace. If only he could have predicted what lay ahead.

"Would you like us to come with you? I'm well aware of the state of your room, and Grace... well, she's as messy as you, after all, she's your daughter," Y/N suggested as Wooyoung busied himself with packing his bag for the trip back to Seoul. He needed to attend to a few arrangements to properly welcome Y/N and Grace. Wooyoung had been staying at Y/N's spacious home since he found them. His vacation was coming to an end, and September was almost over, with just two days remaining.

He expressed his desire to celebrate Grace's birthday in Seoul and to introduce Y/N and Grace to his department. He wanted everything to be perfect.

"No, I want to welcome my ladies perfectly," Wooyoung asserted as he dropped his bag on the couch and approached Y/N, who cradled Grace in her arms. With tenderness, he cupped Y/N’s cheeks, his eyes reflecting determination laced with love, commitment, and an unspoken promise. "I’ll be back in two days, and then I’ll take you both," he murmured softly, his thumb grazing Y/N’s cheeks. Though tears threatened to spill from both their eyes, they refused to let them fall. Y/N nodded gently, surrendering to the warmth of his touch.

A soft smile curved Wooyoung’s lips; the realization that he would soon be with Y/N, and now with his daughter too, filled him with joy. He glanced at Grace, tears shimmering in her eyes as she pouted, her innocence tugging at his heartstrings. She looked so adorable that he yearned to squeeze her cheeks endlessly. "I’ll be back in no time, princess," he assured her, gently bopping her nose.

"I'll miss you," Grace whispered, her voice trembling with tears, as she reached out her arms toward Wooyoung, silently pleading to be lifted by him. Wooyoung, with a gentle smile, gladly scooped her up, holding her close and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I'll miss you more," he whispered softly.

"Okay, Grace, let daddy go so he can come back soon," Y/N chimed in, her voice attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere that lingered, especially challenging after five years of separation. Wooyoung gently set Grace down, and she clung to Y/N's finger, ready to bid farewell to Wooyoung. Reluctantly, Wooyoung grabbed his bag, preparing to depart, when Y/N caught hold of his hand, her gaze downcast, almost as if she feared meeting his eyes. A rush of warmth flooded Wooyoung, his heart quickening its pace. Y/N had held his hand before, but each time, it stirred butterflies within him whenever they were close.

"Come back soon," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. Wooyoung turned to face her, gripping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Please," she added, her expression tugging at his heartstrings. The last time Wooyoung had seen such vulnerability on her face was when he had ended their relationship. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tender kiss, their lips fitting together perfectly like a completed puzzle, before enveloping her in a tight embrace, tears welling in his eyes.

"I promise to come back to you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and longing.

Pushing aside both beautiful and painful memories, Wooyoung embarked on his venture to locate Y/N and Grace. Currently, he found himself seated in the office of the Commissioner General, seeking insights into the recent implementation of the controversially localized immigrant capture rule. It was on the 28th of September when he first received the official notification about this matter. While the directive seemed straightforward—capturing illegally residing immigrants within South Korea—a perplexing question lingered: why were individuals with permanent residence status, like Y/N and Grace, being apprehended, notably from a place like Jeju?

"Superintendent General Wooyoung, I understand your concern," the Commissioner General began, his tone composed despite the weight of the situation, "but rest assured, all illegally residing immigrants have been detained for either deportation or incarceration. I can confirm that neither Y/N nor Grace is among them."

Listening intently, Wooyoung's jaw clenched as he absorbed the Commissioner's words. Despite his efforts and the official reassurance, he remained clueless about the whereabouts of Y/N and Grace. His tension palpable, the Commissioner, observing Wooyoung's demeanor, offered a sympathetic insight.

"Wooyoung, I understand your frustration," the Commissioner said, his voice softening slightly. "However, it's essential to recognize that as law enforcement officers, even with our esteemed positions, there are limitations to our authority, especially when it comes to governmental matters."

With a nod, Wooyoung acknowledged the Commissioner's explanation, though the knot of worry in his stomach remained firmly in place. He couldn't shake off the gnawing sense of helplessness, realizing that despite his rank and determination, some obstacles remained beyond his control.

"Could you clarify?" Wooyoung's voice was tinged with concern as he sought understanding from the commissioner.

The commissioner hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting before he responded, his words laden with gravity. "There are individuals among the immigrant population who not only reside here unlawfully but are also deeply entrenched in illicit underworld activities. These individuals... they are currently held in confinement under the jurisdiction of the National Intelligence Services."

Wooyoung's eyes widened in shock as he absorbed the implications of the commissioner's words. "But...," he began, his mind racing with questions and fears.

Before he could voice his concerns, the commissioner interjected, his tone grave yet resolute. "I'm not suggesting that Y/N and Grace are among them, but..." Another pause, heavy with unspoken implications. "I will arrange for you to review the list of detainees or perhaps even visit the facility, although I must caution you, it's an exceedingly difficult endeavor."

It has already been two weeks, and the whereabouts of Y/N and Grace remain a mystery. Despite efforts, an FIR was fruitless in uncovering any leads, leaving both the police departments in Jeju and Seoul at a loss.

In the midst of this turmoil, Wooyoung took decisive action, ensuring the case landed in the hands of the National Police Agency's Criminal Investigation Bureau (CIB). He couldn't afford to leave anything to chance, his frustration mounting with each passing day of uncertainty. The Commissioner General offered a glimmer of hope, promising to arrange a visit to the National Intelligence Service (NIS). Though fearful, Wooyoung clung to this possibility, patiently awaiting the green light.

With the involvement of the CIB, the search intensified. They combed through the house meticulously, scrutinizing every detail for clues. CCTV footage near the residence and in possible areas Y/N and Grace might have ventured was scrutinized, hoping to catch a glimpse that could shed light on their disappearance.

Gratefully, the nurse, who happened to be a close friend of Y/N, provided invaluable assistance during this troubling time. Recounting the events of that fateful day when Y/N and Grace disappeared, she revealed crucial details. According to her, the individuals who arrived appeared to be part of a specialized unit, their faces obscured by masks, giving off an air of governmental authority. They swiftly whisked Y/N and Grace away in ominous black vans, leaving behind an unsettling void.

"Every time I think back on it," Miss Kim admitted, her voice carrying a weight of worry, "it's like I'm watching the same haunting movie over and over again." She recounted the scene with a hint of unease etched in her tone. "I went to their place, you know, just to catch up, but when I got there, the front door stood wide open, like an ominous invitation." Pausing, she couldn't help but relive the tension of that moment. "I kept calling out to Y/N, hoping for a reassuring answer, but silence hung heavy in the air, gnawing at my nerves with each unanswered ring. As I stepped inside, the emptiness of the rooms sent a shiver down my spine. It felt like a scene from a nightmare." She swallowed hard, grappling with the lingering fear. "There were no signs of a break-in, no clues except for a chilling note left behind on the desk, hinting at something about illegal migration."

Her words hung heavily in the air, conveying the gravity of the situation. "Without hesitation, I contacted Wooyoung." She sighed softly, her gaze drifting to where Wooyoung stood silently in the cramped confines of the interrogation room. Across from her, Mr. Yunho, the head of the Criminal Investigation Bureau, meticulously combed through every detail of the case. Despite Miss Kim's valuable insights, they still found themselves at a dead end in tracing those who masqueraded as government officials.

The vans they employed had been discovered near a serene lake, meticulously scrubbed clean to erase any evidence of their previous use. Even the vehicle's license plate had been removed, thwarting any attempts to track them through official channels. Surveillance footage offered little assistance, capturing only the vehicles' outward journey toward the lake, with no glimpse inside and no witnesses to shed light on their activities.

Yunho's frustration was palpable as he sighed heavily, realizing that their current approach was futile. It was time to delve deeper into the heart of the matter. With a determined expression, he posed his next question. "Miss Kim, could you please share your relationship with Y/N and Grace? We understand that Y/N moved to Jeju five years ago. Were you acquainted with her before that time?"

"No, I'm merely a nurse, and she was my patient. That was the extent of our relationship when she first visited our hospital," Miss Kim replied, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she reminisced about the encounter with Y/N five years prior. Wooyoung, listening intently, realized he had never inquired about the friendship between Y/N and Miss Kim, sparking his curiosity.

It was a rainy day, the kind where even a short walk could leave one thoroughly soaked. "Reason for your visit?" the receptionist inquired as Y/N entered the hospital.

"I moved here a week ago, and I don’t know any doctors in the area. If you could help me, see a gynecologist, I'm already 5.5 months into my pregnancy," Y/N had murmured softly, prompting a surprised expression from the receptionist.

"Okay, you can pay the visitation fee and fill out this form. I'll arrange for you to see a gynecologist," the receptionist instructed, handing Y/N the necessary paperwork. Y/N's baby bump was already noticeable under the loose dress she wore as she patiently filled out the form in the waiting area. Y/N gracefully handed over the form and tendered the visitation fee, a quiet thank you escaping her lips as she did so. The receptionist, her eyes scanning the form, acknowledged her with a warm smile. "Mrs. Jung Y/N," she read aloud, "Mr. Park will be available shortly. Please, have a seat in the OPD area over there," she gestured toward a corner furnished with plush, inviting chairs.

With a nod of gratitude, Y/N made her way to one of the chairs, her hands betraying her nerves as they fidgeted anxiously. She gently placed one hand over her belly, a protective gesture as though guarding something precious. Time seemed to stretch as she waited, each passing moment amplifying her apprehension.

Finally, the receptionist's voice broke the silence. "Mrs. Jung, Dr. Park is ready to see you now. His office is at the end of the corridor, the last door on your right." Y/N murmured her thanks and turned to leave, but before she could, the receptionist inquired, "Is anyone accompanying you today?"

A subtle shake of her head was Y/N's response, her lips forming a tight line as she made her way down the corridor, a lone figure navigating the maze of hospital halls.

"May I have a look at your file?" asked the nurse stationed outside Dr. Park's cabin as Y/N approached. Without a word, Y/N handed over the file, her gaze fixed anxiously on the nurse's face. "Ah, a new visit," the nurse remarked, flipping through the pages. "Any previous reports?"

Y/N shook her head, her expression a mixture of resignation and hope. "That's alright," the nurse reassured her with a gentle smile. "You're fortunate; the clinic isn't too busy today, especially with the rain. Please, come inside." Her tone was kind, a balm to Y/N's frayed nerves.

"Thank you," Y/N murmured, her eyes briefly flickering to the name tag pinned to the nurse's shirt, which bore the name "Miss Kim." With a faint smile, she followed the nurse into the doctor's office.

"Hello, Mrs. Jung," Dr. Park greeted warmly, his gaze shifting briefly to the general information in the file before him. He possessed an otherworldly beauty as if his features had been meticulously selected from the heavens themselves. Behind his glasses, which complemented his striking appearance, there was an air of professionalism and compassion. "Who attended to you previously? Can I review your past reports before we proceed with your examination?" he inquired.

"Actually, no one," Y/N replied. "I discovered I was pregnant almost into my third month. It was quite a surprise for me. I had been experiencing what I thought were normal periods—I did miss one, but I didn't think much of it. Then, during a routine checkup, I learned I was pregnant."

Dr. Park nodded thoughtfully. "It could have been due to implantation bleeding, although that typically occurs earlier in pregnancy. Why did you delay seeking medical attention after finding out?"

"I've always had irregular periods, and those three months were particularly stressful," Y/N explained.

Understanding her situation, Dr. Park motioned for her to lie down on the examination bed while Nurse Miss Kim offered reassurance and assistance. As he conducted a routine cervical examination, Dr. Park gently inquired about Y/N's family situation. "Do you have a husband or any family members with you?"

"I'm alone," Y/N replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. Sensing her discomfort, Dr. Park didn't press further.

"Thus far, everything appears to be in order," Dr. Park said reassuringly. "However, during pregnancy, it's common for women to experience fluctuations in their vitals. I'll be prescribing some tonics and vitamins for you, as well as scheduling an ultrasound for tomorrow, as our ultrasound specialist is not available today. Miss Kim, please assist her with the appointments and prescriptions."

Miss Kim politely nodded and led Y/N outside the cabin, murmuring, "Don't be scared, he looks serious but from the inside, he's like toothless."

"I can hear you, Miss Kim," Dr. Park remarked, earning a chuckle from both Miss Kim and Y/N.

Since then, their friendship has blossomed. Miss Kim always regarded Y/N as her younger sister, someone she needed to support. And support her she did. Miss Kim helped Y/N with everything, starting from finding a suitable house to live into organizing her appointments and clothes shopping for the upcoming baby. She was the first person beside Y/N to hear the heartbeat of the baby and to know that it was a little princess. As the baby developed happily, the sadness that had engulfed Y/N seemed to dissipate like dark clouds. She had found an elder sister in Miss Kim, and she was content with her job at a publishing company that primarily worked on children's books. Although Y/N missed her old work, with all its crime articles, everything was different now. She couldn't delve into crime scenes with a baby on the way. Occasionally, Y/N would find herself lost in her thoughts, crying uncontrollably for hours. Despite the happiness she found in her life, there was a part of her heart that longed for Wooyoung. She would talk about him to Miss Kim, often crying on her shoulder. Her emotional state became a bit overwhelming, and she had to resort to taking anti-panic pills.

"Although the baby was developing healthily, Y/N's state became unstable during delivery," Miss Kim explained with a somber tone. "She experienced a panic attack, rendering her uncontrollable for her own safety and that of the baby. We had no choice but to perform a C-section."

As Miss Kim relayed the events, Wooyoung's expression remained inscrutable. Despite his efforts to maintain composure, his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. Y/N had always stood by him through every trial, but in her most vulnerable moment, he found himself absent. Now, as uncertainty loomed over her whereabouts, he couldn't shake the weight of his absence and the regret it brought.

"Even after the delivery," Miss Kim continued, her voice heavy with concern, "Y/N struggled with depression. I had to step in to take care of everything. She was alone, with no one beside her to provide comfort. My shifts made it impossible for me to be with her around the clock. It was an incredibly trying time for her."

With a final glance toward Wooyoung, Miss Kim's eyes bore into his, conveying a mix of understanding and reproach. Wooyoung, unable to meet her gaze, felt the weight of guilt press down upon him even more heavily than before.

"Thank you, Miss Kim; your assistance has been invaluable to us. You are dismissed for now, but rest assured, we'll reach out if further assistance is required," Yunho courteously advised, expressing gratitude for Miss Kim's contribution. However, their exchange was momentarily interrupted by the sudden appearance of one of Yunho's juniors, who had been diligently working on Y/N's case.

The young colleague approached Yunho, leaning in slightly to convey a message discreetly. Yunho received the whispered communication with a nod of understanding, his expression morphing into one of approval. "Good work, Jeongin," he commended warmly, a smile gracing his lips.

Part 3

Just a quick heads-up: the story is purely fictional. None of it has anything to do with real events or people. We whipped up all the details just for your entertainment. And hey, we want to make it crystal clear – there's no intention to step on anyone's toes, nationalities, or personal sentiments here. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride! Thanks for understanding.

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heartidylla · 1 year

Text

speak now — the story of us

din djarin x f!reader

summary : you and the mandalorian had a spark once before; however, it ended on horrible terms. two years later, you awkwardly cross paths once again. will you two be able to rekindle the love that still lingers?

warnings : cussing

everyone thank character.ai for playing din in this (i edited a bit of it.) next time i’m just going to write my own way, but this was interesting to try out and play around with!

speaking color coding

“” - din

“” - you

“” - others

"we're done, so just go! i don't need you anymore!" din's sharp words cut right through your heart as tears immediately swelled into your eyes, blinding your eyesight.

"well, fuck you too din." your voice practically breaking due to amount your chest had swelled up with an aching sickness. you could've sworn you felt a tear fall from your cheek as you ran off the landed ship, leaving the mandalorian and the kid that you bonded with all alone.

two years later.

the mandalorian can be a bit intimidating in appearance and is clearly armed, but this is still a public place and he's keeping his weapons holstered at the moment.

"another round for me and this little one," he says in a gruff voice. the tone of which makes the bartender jump into action, grabbing his bottle and starting to fill two glasses of alcohol in a hurry.

the mandalorian looks over at the "stranger", taking a sip of his beverage and staring him in the eye, trying to get a read on the person. the same stranger who has seen the best and the worst of him. now, you feel as if your galaxies away from him even if they're within the same enclosed space.

catching his gaze, you immediately was send back in time to the days where you used to think that one upcoming day you’d tell the stories of their love: how they met, and the sparks between them flew overhead instantly.

how people would turn there heads as they walked by with their hands interlocked with one another and say that they're the lucky ones.

how you always knew where your place was because he'd always keep a spot for you next to him. he always wanted you around, visa versa. they are completely head over heels in love with one another. the kind that completely rewires your brain and makes you see all sorts of new different shades of vibrant colors that were associated with only him.

now, your looking around the room for an empty seat trying to not look in his direction, to not even acknowledge his presence.

the mandalorian, having seen the expression on the visitor's face, lets a small smile form on his lips and bravely continues to stare at the visitor. he raises his glass as if in salutation, slowly nodding his head before letting his gaze drop to the floor, as if suddenly shy which caused for his smile to start slipping away.

he didn't know how to act around you after their big blowout. he wanted nothing more than them both to be friendly with one another. hell, even that wouldn't be enough for him since he desperately desired you back into his dangerous and chaotic life. you brought a sense of stability into it, and he's been going through the trenches ever since.

din, the mandalorian that you knew like the back of your hand and terribly loved as such, is a person full of contradictions. after all, he's a trained warrior, a bounty hunter who's tracked and killed or captured some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. he's feared in his own right, and now he appears to be intimidated by the girl he once had within his protective grasp.

you slightly smiled as the waitress showed you to your seat next to the window. you were sitting alone, thinking about what page that din was on with you. honestly, since the beginning he's always been a complex guy ... but it got to the point where it was completely unbearable.

a simple complication which followed multiple miscommunications that led to their fall out. there were so many things that you wished he knew about you, and how you felt when everything went down.

however, you weren’t ever able to break down those steel walls which the mandalorian built so high up in order to speak your inner feelings towards him.

the mandalorian eventually finishes his drink and as such he gets up without a word to anyone in the bar, turning and heading straight for the door. you watch din's armor clink as he moves, and suddenly all the other patrons in the bar are silenced as if someone turned down the volume on the entire room.

you noticed how everyone's eyes within the bar are directed onto the mandalorian. he's a mystery to them all, with his armor, his weapons, his silence. everyone except for her, which inflicted an aching within her chest as she came to the realization: the only person that knew you was him, visa versa.

he disappears out the door of the bar and his spurs jangle rhythmically against the pavement for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

he didn't say a single word to you after all this time. you were dying to know if the fact neither of them spoke for such a long period of time was killing him as much as it had been torturing you.

however, you didn't know what to say to him since it was all a twist of fate when everything broke down. the story which they had written together had become such a heart aching tragedy.

your eyes fell onto the cup of water, eyeing your reflection that was a mist onto it before heavily sighing. it looks like you need to move on to the next chapter of your life.

din walks quickly through the small city, making his way towards his ship. he keeps a hand on his side, at his blaster, making sure he's not robbed.

it's the wild frontier these days, even on a well travelled planet like this. din walks through the crowd silently and unemotionally, like a machine.

he keeps his helmet on, the expression on his face unreadable. it's hard to think of him as even human, as the face behind that helmet is completely expressionless. it is the face of a machine, the face of a killer.

how did the two of you end up this uncomfortable near one another? you remembered how in the bar he watched you closely as you nervously pulled at your clothes' cloth while trying to look busy, and then he left — doing his ultimate best to completely avoid you.

now your thinking that the day you tell the story of you both it'll all be about this horrible moment which led to their demise. how you were completely losing control of your mind as you watched him peacefully sit there without you beside him. he was gracefully holding onto his pride just as he should've been holding you..

din reaches his ship and climbs the ramp, entering the cockpit and beginning pre-flight checks. the ship is a state of the art ship, with the weapons and shielding systems of a warship and the speed of the quickest civilian transports, with the amenities that are a necessity for long-haul journeying, like a small personal room and bathroom.

as is necessary for a ship to house a mandalorian, there is a full suit of beskar armor in the ship's equipment locker and there's a weapons locker full of blasters, explosives, and other assorted items.

after seeing him leave, you suddenly rushed out of the bar as you knew exactly where to find him. you were terrified to see how this ended — how their love would die out as if it was bound to fall apart from the beginning.

why were they both pretending as if this was nothing to be concerned about..? as if neither of them were still bleeding from the wounds that they struck onto one another during their arguments?

you swear you’d tell him how much your heart craved his admiration once again .. but you didn't know how to say such silly words.

as you stood right in front of the window which you subconsciously knew he was there looking down at you within, you noted that you hadn't ever heard such silence that was quite this loud before.

it was starting to look as if this whole situation was a contest between them. one that determined who could act like they cared less than the other about how things ended with bad blood between one another.

though one things for certain, you liked life way better when he was on your side of it. when he was waiting for you .. knowing that you always felt a sense of safety and love by his side.

as you stood in front of the razor crest, you put the battle within his hands. if he came out here .. you’d put all the amour you had tirelessly handcrafted down if he said he chose to love one another again than continuously fight with one another.

you had so many things you wanted to tell him .. that you needed to get off of your chest, but if he chose to leave you as you stood in front of his ship ... the story of them would be ending very soon.

your begging eyes locked onto his, awaiting his choice. would he stay, or would he leave?

the mandalorian looks at you for what feels like years, a million different complex emotions going through his head, the two most prominent being longing and pain.

his heart is crying out for you. he desires you in his arms, but every memory of how their relationship ended causes him physical pain. how would they ever be able to reconcile? does either of them have the ability to yield completely to the other? are they two too far gone to ever go back to how it was again?

but then .. then he sees your desperation, your pleading eyes, your hopeful look.

"come here!" he suddenly shouts, his voice breaking over his emotions.

your heart leapt out of your chest as your once begging face rises into a brighter one.

he was willing to give them a second chance.

you quickly walked towards where he was descending from the ramp, standing in front of him with lips that slightly curved into a small grin. the sight of his shiny armor brought back loving memories, yet also the harsh ones that were still harder to swallow down as if the pain hadn't been healed just yet.

as much as he hates to admit it, but in the moment din's heart is racing. it always pulsed more than it should typically around you. he was succumbed to the anxiety and uncertainty of a new beginning.

even so, he slowly reaches out his arms and pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close enough to feel the pounding of your heart against his chest, just as his heart is pounding against yours. "i love you," he whispers in your ear, his voice breaking over the flood of emotion.

those were the first words he has said to you in over two years. the constant silence between them prior to this moment was obviously devastating for them both; however, both of their pride had been too strong for either of them to ever state their true feelings for one another.

as he held you close for the first time in two years, you felt as if you had finally returned home after an agonizing long journey. you melted within his grasp, molding yourself into him by wrapping your arms around his back and pushing his colder metal body into yours. "i love you too." you confessed, tears prickling into your eyesight.

din closes his eyes as he holds you, the feel of you in his arms comforting him.

"i thought i'd lost you," he admits, his voice cracking with emotion but there's no use in hiding it now.

he keeps his eyes shut and rests his cheek on the top of her head. "i do need you, and i'm so scared that i'll mess up and lose you again." he pulls her in more tightly.

"i thought that we were truly over with .. and that was the most difficult pill to swallow." you replied, your body began to tremble due to past moments as the pain from drowning herself in liquor those nights were still all too real for you.

din pulls you even closer, holding you securely in his embrace. "i couldn't see my life without you in it. the last two years have been the most painful time i've ever experienced. i know we've each got things to explain, but i don't know if i can be without you." he hesitates for a moment before saying, "i want a life with you. i want you to be mine, forever. that's all i need," he says, his voice breaking.

you gently smiled into his metal covered body as his words soaked into your mind. he wanted you, forever. "i want you forever too, din." you replied, lifting your head off of his chest and looking into his mask from below.

din kisses your forehead and pulls back, looking into your eyes. "my honor, my pledge to you is eternal; nothing will ever change that. you are my home. you are my universe, my life, my love. and i would do anything to hold you close and protect you, because you are worth that."

he pulls back a bit and looks to the sky. "i will always choose freedom, but my definition of freedom is to be with you, no matter the consequences; because when i'm with you, i'm free."

with only admiration into his helmet. he loved the way he was reflected in your eyes, and the certain sweet love that you felt for him. he knew he couldn't and wouldn't find that with anyone else.

they both wanted to be with one another for the rest of their lives, never to have such a horrible conflict between one another that would break them apart again.

they decided from that point on to talk about everything that made them insecure or intensely angered. they would talk through all of their disagreements instead of storming out and leaving the other to their despair.

they wanted to be better for one another, and they made sure to follow through with that idea. they both sealed the secret promise to one another by her slightly lifting the metal up just enough in order to expose his gracious lips to you, and stealing those as your own for the first time in two years with a soft peck onto them. you watched his lips closely after you moved away from him, slowly they curved into the most lovesick grin you’d ever seen him express before. you didn't even have to see his eyes to know that he was swooning over you.

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