#━━ ♡ SORRY NOT SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID [ MUSINGS ]

[bwaybaby]

tag dump.

[nagis-wife]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇: Nagi Seishiro, Eita Otoya, Rin Itoshi 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 3k 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈: Accidental confessions - I love you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fem!reader, fluff, comedy, pet names used, could be a little angsty at times but nothing over the top but figured I should mention it.

--- Authors note: I may have gotten carried away with these. But I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. It was not proof read either so if there's any mistakes apologies ♡

Eita Otoya ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Eita nearly always wore his headphones to drown out the city sounds that never seemed to stop. He was sure he would have hearing loss by his 30’s if he kept listening to it as loud as he did. But it was the only thing that would drown out the beeping cars and someone yelling at someone for bumping into them. Eita loved his music more than anything yet somehow almost every single song he would play somehow reminded him of you. He wanted to rip his hair out, he wondered if you ever got so fucking tired from running around his head. Eita was sure, you did this purely to torture him.

“Eita.. Hey look at me yeah?” You spoke, voice sounding like an angel. Loud in his ears as if the people in the movie you guys were watching were just speaking in whispers. Eyes setting on your face, seeing your kind ones looking back at him with such a gentle gaze. He's never felt this way before. Sure he's been around a few times but nothing has compared to the butterflies twirling around in his gut begging for him to say how he truly felt. 

Things were casual, having met in a music store and going out on a couple ‘dates’. Eita saw them as dates, never knowing if you did. The two of you never discussed what either of you wanted. Eita didn't even know how you felt about him, let alone if you were even interested in him, more than just being friends anyways. Yet here he was, his hands clammy, feeling a lump in his throat and he felt faint. Eita tried to tell himself he was just being dramatic. That the worst you can say is no.

Eitas hands reached out to yours as he looked down at you as he blinked “Yeah? Sorry. What were you saying?” He said, as if he wasn't fully distracted by his own thoughts as they were seemingly in overdrive. As if his heart wasn't currently pounding in his ears, nearly drowning out you entirely. “I asked if you were okay, you don't seem well.. Do you wanna take a raincheck and come back tomorrow? I promi-” You were cut off by Eita sighing, not that he was irritated, he was, but with himself. “No.. no that's not it. I swear. I do have something I need to tell you though” He trailed off as he took a deep breath. “I have feelings for you. I could go as far as saying that my feelings are so strong one could possibly call it love. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I'm not sure what to do about that.” 

You let out a laugh, Eitas veins running cold, not that it lasted long as he felt your hands wrapping around his waist, nuzzling your face against his chest. “Silly boy, ya know for someone who was a playboy, youre really bad at reading women” You teased as even you felt warm, weeks of courting Eita turned into this? One would say you were the winner here. 

Relief floods his pretty green eyes as he chuckles a bit, wrapping his hands around your waist resting his face in the crook of your neck. He felt so light, as if a ton of bricks was lifted from his shoulders. He closed his eyes for a moment enjoying the warmth that radiates from your body. “I think I should be the one saying that, my love. You have no idea how much you lift me just by being next to me, my beautiful muse” Rubbing his back as you sighed gently, 

“Yeah I can tell.. You flirt much less now with others, only with me huh playboy?” You joked as you pulled from him just enough to see his face as he stood straight up again with a knowing smile “Yeah yeah thats because of you idiot” Rolling your eyes you reach up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Whatever you say ya simp.” You joked as you grabbed Eitas hand watching from his apartment window the city below you, the snowflakes falling steadily. Eita grumbled something as he moved to sit behind you wrapping his arms around your midsection and resting his chin on your head. “That was rude” 

“Yeah yeah, you'll be okay playboy” You teased as he groaned. A laugh leaving your lips, yeah you two will be perfectly fine. 

✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Nagi Seishiro  ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Nagi didn't think he needed anyone, and how wrong he couldve been. After befriending not only Reo but you.. Nagi soon came to realize that maybe everything isn't a hassle. Maybe.. Just maybe.. He actually enjoyed having you around. It wasn't often that he would pause his game just to respond to your text, hang out with Reo more often than normal, or even leave his apartment willingly just to see you. Nagi didn't understand his own feelings with this, looking up stupid articles about his feelings to try to understand them. One word kept showing up, “love.” Nagi was confused by this development. Did he actually love you? It wasn't the same rapid beating in his chest when he was hanging out with Reo, not that his heart skipped a beat when he was with Reo. That has to be it - right?

He wasn't sure how it happened or why his chest had felt so funny when you were around. Maybe it was the humidity in the air, yeah it was just the heat. Rather the heat that would raise on his cheeks when you so much as looked in his direction with a soft gaze, or even said his hair was cute and complimented him well. How his grey toned eyes fit his features so nicely. Nagi didn't know what to do with himself when these things happened, his face would get just hot, his stomach would do so many flips he felt sick. Nagi couldn't even handle your gaze, how would he be able to even hold your hand, to press his lips against yours. They looked so inviting, so soft. He would stay up thinking about you, how you would taste.. Shaking the thoughts as he tossed and turned. 

“Seishiro!? Earth to Seishirooo!” You waved your hand in front of his face as you sat across from him as he blinked a few times at you, his cheeks heating with a soft hue. Clearing his throat as he looked back down at his phone. His reaction made you stifle a laugh before leaning back in his bed, your back against the wall “Hmm something on your mind?” You questioned as your gaze drifted to your own phone as you scrolled through your feeds. Yeah, you. “Hell no. I was.. was distracted by uh.. something going on in my game. Don't worry about it. It's gone now anyways.” He lied through his teeth as you raised a brow and tilt your head to the side, almost as if you were calling his bluff. “Mm, right. So what was I talking about then?” Nagi couldn't recall a single thing you had said, too distracted by your lips and how the sun beams that seeped through his curtains hit the gloss that was on your lips. “Uhm.. uh..” He looked at everything but you as he tried to come up with something. 

An amused grin curled at the corner of your lips, leaning on your elbows. “I was talking about Reo and how he looked really hot, all dressed up y'know.” You too, lied through your teeth but that was not the point right now. Nagi felt an unfamiliar sensation flooding his veins as he clicked his tongue against his teeth before tossing his phone aside, a pout on his lips. He turned to you as he huffed. Jealousy and insecurities flooding his body. “I'm just teasing Seishiro I cou-” He cuts you off as he looks at you with eyes filled with determination which shut you up quickly as he opens his mouth several times before shutting it again. 

With his feelings being higher than he ever thought they could be he blurts out words you half expected to never fall from his lips “I love you okay!? I don't want to hear about Reo or h-how hot you think he is, or how strong he looks. I-I know I wouldn't match up to him. I've been alone most of my life. I don't know what these feelings are. I just know that.. I can't match up to him for you. I'm not Reo.” 

Looking at him with a shocked expression as a soft sigh left your lips reaching across the table grabbing his hands into your own. “That is the insecurities talking, Sei..” You moved closer to him as a hand rested against the top of his head, nails grazing against his scalp, earning a soft groan from his throat as he leaned into your touch.

You sighed softly as you felt the anxiety radiating from his body. “Sei. Do you really think that if I actually wanted Reo that I would be here with you all the time? That I would wait for you to come online just to be able to play games with you? Seishiro.. The feelings I have for you would outweigh anyone like Reo. No amount of money would change how I feel about you. I talk to the stars about you, whispering to the wind hoping you would hear how much I love you. Not even the Gods could keep me away from you Seishiro. I'm sorry if talking about Reo that way made you upset.” 

Nagis eyes searched for yours, as if he was looking for something in them. However he's only met with a soft gaze that was filled with nothing but adoration. He moves to sit up as he nearly tackles you back against the mattress, his arms wrapping around you rightly his head finding its place in your chest. A laugh pulled from your throat as he nuzzled against you. 

“You mean it?” He murmured, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, I mean it, Seishiro.” You spoke as you reached to card your fingers through his hair as he gave your frame a squeeze falling in love with the way you felt in his arms. Yeah, maybe not being alone is nice.

Rin Itoshi ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Meeting Rin was purely an accident and neither of you remember how it happened. Well Rin did, he fully remembers the moment you walked into his life standing by his side even when he was the lowest he had ever been. Rin did not however remember when he fell for you. Maybe it was when he first saw you, maybe it was after. Maybe it was when you first breathed his name rather than calling him Itoshi. That didn't matter to him anymore. All he knew is what he wanted to protect you no matter the cost or consequence of his action. He would move mountains if you asked him too. 

Rin has always kept to himself, he found it hard venturing out, let alone understanding how he felt about you. Let alone he found it hard to even think with how he was that you would ever feel the same about him. Did you too feel the same as he did? Rin knew he was good at one thing, and still had his own self doubts. 

Now the two of you were on the train home, having gone to see a new horror movie Rin had convinced you to go see. You had been scared out of your mind the whole time while Rin didn't seem to even move a muscle while watching it. However the movie still ended up being really good. Rin had invited you over to his place for some dinner, and you weren't going to say no to his cooking. He somehow was amazing in the kitchen. Not that you knew how, but you weren't going to complain at all. 

The setting sun casted beautiful hues of pinks and purples in the sky. Stopping as you pulled out your phone, Rin had stopped looking back at you as you snapped the photo. Friends dont look at friends that way. However the thought passes as quickly as it comes into your head. 

“Rin wait, stay just like that, look up towards the sky.” You told him as he sighed but still entertained your request. Humming as you tisked before walking over to him grabbing his cheeks as you adjusted his head. His cheeks felt cold under your touch. “There just like that dont move pretty RinRin” You teased as you took a few steps back again taking a few snaps as you smiled at your phone. 

“Sometimes you should listen to me Rin” You mused as you showed him the photo, it did look great as he playfully rolled his eyes “Sure, I'd rather not do that. A bit too.. Lukewarm for me doll” 

A gasp passed your lips as your jaw slacked at his harmless insult. He most definitely did not see you as lukewarm. “Ouch I'm wounded, might need some homemade cookies and ice cream to fill the wounds you've caused me” You said dramatically as you gripped his jacket falling to your knees, giggling the whole way down. Rin couldn't help but to look at you with a raised brow and an amused expression. A chuckle being forced from his chest as he grabbed your hand pulling you back to your feet. 

“That was the most dramatic thing you've done, however if you want cookies you're gonna make them yourself or at least help me.” He spoke, a smile, albeit small, still on his lips. “Rin.. the last time you let me in the kitchen I almost burnt down your apartment and I also ruined the baking sheet. That's not a good idea.” 

Rin remembered this happening, the screaming of his name, and panic in your voice. Trying to waft out the smoke all while to get the smoke detector to stop beeping, crying out how the fire department was going to show up if he did help. All the while he was doubled over holding his stomach as belting laughs rippled from his throat. Rin was not helpful at all. It was one of his favorite memories the two of you shared. 

“Yeah I'd prefer if you didn't do that again. I'll take care of it” he spoke with a monotone voice as he grimaced.

Finally making it back to his apartment, with you not in the kitchen while he made dinner, choosing to just pull out the store bought cookies hoping it would be enough to appease you. Idle conversation filled the air as the two of you ate. However, getting a notification on your phone stating there had been an accident with the trains and you were now going to be stuck or get a taxi in hopes that it wouldnt take hours to get you home due to the amount of added traffic due to the trains being down. 

“You could always just stay over. I think you still have some clothes here, if not you can just wear mine.” Rin stated as if it was the only option. Not that he was wrong, however it did sound better than dealing with the hellish drive home. 

“Fine but you better keep your boyish hands to yourself” You teased as you skipped to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Humming as you changed into lounge wear, it was much more comfortable than what you had on before. 

Peering out from the door once you were in your Pj’s “Come on, I'm ready for bed. It's a damn good thing I have clothes over here from the last time I stayed over. I'd hate to be in your stinky clothes” You teased. Rin has never smelled bad. In fact you bought the cologne he had worn and even when he got low he would buy the exact same one again. You did say it was our favorite afterall. 

Rin let out a groan as he stood up and walked over to you, and entered the room. Following you into the bed, watching you wiggle around to find a comfortable spot as his hands came to his hips with raised brows, shaking his head with a chuckle. “You're somethin’ else I swear.” Rin walked into the closet to change in there as he stopped out. Seeing your chest steadily rising and falling. His gaze lingering for a moment. Taking out his phone as he took a few photos, to tease you with later. 

Finally climbing into the bed, he was sure you were in a deep sleep as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. Selfishly he knew his feelings. Rin pressed a kiss against your forehead as he sighed. “I love you so much. You have no idea what you do to me, you little minx.” Although Rin couldn't have been more wrong as he blinked a few times as he felt you shift under his weight, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Ya know, confessions are best given when someone is awake RinRin.” You teased, as he avoided your gaze only for you to bring it back to you as your hand was pressed against his cheek. 

“And you're awake, so it makes it easier for me too.” You murmured as you leaned forward, lips locking together as if it was the most perfect puzzle pieces locking together. “I love you too. We will talk more about this in the morning and what that means for us, however, for now. Protect me from the monsters under your bed, yeah?” Rin only nodded, his cheeks tinted pink as his heart raced in his chest. Feeling you adjust yourself in his arms, your face in the crook of his neck. 

This was perfect. You were perfect.

♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:｡.:･ﾟ

Likes and reblogs are appreciated! My requests are open as well!.

tags: @pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @hayatoseyepatch @sugurouge

taglist is open for bllk content, lmk if you want to join.

[fuxuannie]

Wanted to request maybe hsr men with a partner that's their exact opposite?

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (i actually do all of them i promise) x reader

* prompt : opposites attract, amiright?

* authors note : so you may have noticed a bit of a.. redesign.. in my layout 🙏 but hi requester!! here u gooo ♡ cleaning up my requests sweep sweep. also thank you for 200 u guys r crazy omg.

* brief warning : blade is blade, sssadism if u SQUINT RLLY HARD.

(my love for gepard rlly shows in this im sorry. HABSGJABA 😭😭!!! some r rlly long.. ooc.. or short.. sbsndhsks HANDGSHWS i love gepard IM SORRY HES PRETTY BOY)

DAN HENG appreciated his silence and alone time, you however, could not go 5 minutes without his supervision.

While he liked to plan and execute said plan perfectly, you were reckless and went into anything head-first with worrying about the possible failures later.

And because of this, Dan Heng was protective over you. He was a gentleman after all, and he would do the same for March 7th back then, so it's no surprise he'd do it for you now. Especially with your tendencies to get yourself into unnecessary fights.

It aches his heart, you know? Having to see your wounds and bruises as he patches you up. But you've made a compromise to give him the equivelant amount of kisses equal to the bandages he put all over you. (and there were A LOT)

Even if you make him worry 24/7, he'll still love you. It's not bad to have a chance of pace after all.

JING YUAN is a man with many routines, calm and collected, with many worries on his shoulder.

You were more outgoing, a trailblazer who rode the express and were the one helping people with their worries.

He was always surprised with how helpful you really were in your first meetings, not that he doubted your abilities, but didn't expect someone to be able to do his asks as well as you did.

What didn't surprise him was how he fell for you, the way your heart was always pure and gold, and you lived a life to protect and help others.. he admired you. You were his inspiration, his muse, to be a General with that kind of care for his people.

When you two decided to date, Jing Yuan had to get used to your impulsive actions. He was always used to doing the same thing everyday, but with you? He found himself doing 50 other things before the next part of his schedule.

Not that he minded, he likes the excitement, and he really really likes you.

GEPARD, the Silvermane guards leader, falling for his sisters co-performer.

He LOVED to watch you perform or practice, Serval always saw him with such a love-struck smile, head resting on his hand as he sat and watched his sisters and you practice. She'd tease him about it afterwards, calling him loverboy and such, but he never confirmed nor denied her teasing about him liking you.

Sometimes the guards would hear him humming your part of a song or the general tune of a melody you play, considering how much he watched you, it was no surprise that you were stuck in his head like a popular song.

He quite literally, loved you like a love song, because it's ALL he ever listened to. He'd be in bed, white shirts and shorts, his arm covering his eyes as he listens to the CORNIEST love song and smiles while doing so because he thinks of you.

When you two started dating, he was quick to realize your differences. He was a leader, an intimidating figure, and had goals and missions he swore on his life to constantly follow and pursue even outside of work hours.

You on the other hand, unless you're onstage, you're pretty shy. Not really standing out in a crowd when you're in your civilian clothing, and you liked it that way. Almost like you lived a different life from your almost idol-like persona.

Gepard did find it incredibly cute though, how you'd have an explosive personality infront of a crowd. But with him? You were at the mercy of his soft kisses and his chuckles as your face turns warm from fluster.

SAMPO was the COMMON ENEMY between the Overworld and Underworld.

Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. But YOU?? Natasha's sweetest nurse and sibling?? with the likes of HIM??

He was a liar, seemingly the type to decieve people who put their trust in him, only to repay them randomly out of nowhere with random treasure maps or save them from tight situations. It seemed like any suspicious activity was ALWAYS tied to him.

You, on the other hand, worked with your sister in her clinic. Often times praised for your kindness and patience, how amazing you were with children and people in general. Nobody would've expected that you fell for him, hell, he didn't expect it either.

But you saw that somewhere, in that heart of his, he truly did care about his friends and loved ones. Somewhere buried in his rather annoying antics, were the intentions of someone who was just worried for the others well-being. He proved it to you when he caught you crying in a dark alley, wiping your tears as you were so tired and overworked. He listened to you for hours on end, and he got to see a side of you that you didn't show to people, and vice versa. You saw the side of him people thought they'd die to see exist.

WELT YANG was always rather serious at times, with his status and achievements, people expected it of him.

You were his closest companion, one of the few he had left from his journey, but you were also his partner. Despite being just about his age, you were so calm, so gentle. Compared to his seemingly stern nature.

You loved plants and flowers of the such, always telling Welt about the newest one you learnt from a new planet on each expedition through the galaxy. You warmed his heart with how you spoke, explaining each and every plant with such detail. He loved it whenever you spoke, 'music to his ears', he'd tell people. Anyone would be enamoured with your voice and way of speaking, he admired your intelligence, but more importantly, he admired you.

BLADE.. with Kafka's partner in crime?

Kafka can't say she's surprised, hell, she'd love you too. But the pairing was rather odd.

Blade was monotone, cold. His stare as sharp as daggers, and could care less about those he hurt.

You, on the other hand, found immense joy in hurting others. A wicked smile on your face whenever you're permitted to do so towards anyone who dare stand in their way.

Whenever you two would kiss, the difference once again shows. You're clearly enjoying it, but Blade's expression is blank. But I guess don't judge a book by its cover? As the kiss he initiated is passionate and intimate, he's enjoying it I promise, he just doesn't show it.

Either way, you're both stuck babysitting Silverwolf most of the time. Oh well, more time with him.

[edges-of-night]

I love your headcannons, thank you very much. How do you think fellowship would react if a reader saw two cute animals and said, "Oh, it's you and me!"

Thank you very much! I’m happy to hear you enjoy this little blog ♡ Another animal request, with another anon who asked for this, too – this prompt is super cute, I hope I did it justice!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

You’re gazing at a golden twilight forest with Aragorn when you spot two deer in the distance. Just like you, one rests its head against the other. “Look,” you chuckle quietly, “it’s you and me.” Aragorn smiles as he follows your gaze. When one of the deer nuzzles the other’s ear, he, too, leans in to give you a kiss. “What an uncanny resemblance, my love,” he says and pulls you even closer.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is scandalised when you suggest that the two cats crossing your path are “just like you and me.” He has heard stories of the ruthless Gondorian queen who used felines as her spies and flinches when one of the cats hisses at him. You go to pet it instead, and it softens and purrs – just like Boromir does when you caress him – but you don’t say that part out loud ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

You and Frodo share a cool carafe of strawberry lemonade when two butterflies flutter to the flower field beside you. “Look at those,” you say, “they’re just like you and me.” – “Sharing a delicious drink in the sunlight,” Frodo agrees with a dreamy smile. You keep watching the butterflies until one of them flies right into your face. “It gave you a kiss. I shall do the same,” Frodo says and leans in to peck you ♡

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

You’re travelling the Shire’s hills in Gandalf’s wooden cart when two sparrows almost fly right into you. You flinch but realise they’re only doing their Spring dance through the morning air – a couple! “They’re like you and me!” you laugh. Gandalf gives you an amused look. “What a subtle way to tell me we’re going to dance at tonight’s party.” – “Indeed,” you grin.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Watching the puppies play on the ground makes you soften. When one of them bites another’s ear, you playfully nudge Gimli’s head – he’s been sitting silently next to you until now. “What?” he grunts. “The dogs are doing it,” you argue with a grin. Your Dwarf protests at first about this comparison. The two of you, dogs? “I reckon it is true though,” he muses. “We are both very loyal after all. And we like food. And games. And…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

You’re making your way through Mirkwood with Legolas, crossing a tree over a small pond where you make a curious observation: “Look! The toad and dragonfly are sharing a lily pad.” You snort. “They remind me of you and me.” – “Indeed! The sunlight reflects on its wings just like in your eyes, in all the colours of the sky.” You blush and wonder whether or not Legolas knew you meant it the other way around.

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a bit sensitive about his height, but that doesn’t stop you from comparing the two of you to the horse and the pony you spot in Bree. “Hey! I’ll have you know,” Merry begins, “that ponies are very sturdy and resilient.” – “I know. Just like Hobbits.” – Merry pouts at that comment and crosses his arms, murmuring, “Fine. Just don’t braid my hair like that pony’s.” – “Perhaps…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After a proper picnic, you lie in a meadow with Pippin. Purely by chance you look to your right when two bunnies scamper out of the bushes to eat some grass. You grin and whisper, “Don’t move too fast now, but there’s tiny versions of you and me over there.” – “Tinier than me?” Pippin asks and rolls over to watch the bunnies over your belly. “Aww! They’re mighty cute, but so are we!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

You watch fondly when two ladybugs crawl over Sam’s hands, dirty from gardening but still gentle to the bugs. You smile when you hear your Hobbit talking quietly: “Right. Let me get up… there you go… over here it’s safer for you. A flower house.” You tilt your head at him. “Moving in together? Just like the two of us, you mean?” – “Hm? What? Sorry, luv, I wasn’t listenin’ there.” – “Oh, nothing…” ♡

[no-144444]

A Christmas Prince (2017)- c.leclerc

₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

summary: When a young aspiring journalist is sent abroad to cover a a coronation, she hears rumours about the 'Prince of F1' and goes undercover to investigate them.

pairing: prince! charles leclerc x fem! reader

9.8k words

disclaimer: i do not own anything in these films, the only original character is the character y/n.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

You jumped up from your desk as soon as you saw him, and trailed him through the office. “Excuse me, sorry- Ron?!” 

He turned to you. “Not now.”

“This will just take a second, I just have some questions about your article? The fashion week piece that I’m editing?”

He groaned, clearly uninterested in giving you the time of day. “Go for it.”

Nevertheless, you continued on. How could someone who makes so many noticeable mistakes have a higher job than you? How could someone so self-centred and rude be in that position of power? “The main problem is that Max wanted 300 words, and you’ve written 600, and also the models and designers you quoted weren’t even at the event so…”

“Y/n,” he sighed, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t have time for you right now, just go off and fix it? Yeah?” he smiled, that punchable, asshole smile, and walked off. You rolled your eyes. 

Working as a journalist bitch was not your plan when you moved to New York, but alas, your rent does not magically pay itself. Categorically, you enjoyed your job. Decent pay, good co-workers (minus asshole Ron), and it was pretty cool to be in one of the high-rise offices of New York, especially around Christmas. But… the whole getting to write articles part wasn’t something you got to do. You were an editor now, not a journalist. It was… slightly infuriating to know that someone less qualified got paid more money to write shit that you always ended up rewriting for him, but as we mentioned before, bills don’t pay themselves. 

“Let me guess, you’re going to completely rewrite the article and save his ass?” Damon, your best friend, asked. 

You faked a smile. “It’s almost like that’s my job!”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell him to shove it,” he scoffed. “Any of us could write that better- with our eyes closed!”

You groaned as you sat down.

“How the fuck are you ever going to be taken seriously as a real journalist if you are such a good editor?” he added. “He’ll never promote you if you’re always going to stay as his bitch.”

The ding of your laptop ended the conversation 

Max wants you in her office- NOW! 

“Oh fuck,” you said under your breath. 

“What?” Damon asked, looking over your shoulder. “Oh… good luck.”

You walked into her glass office, praying to something to make this as painless as possible. “If this is because of Ron’s article-”

“It’s not, sit down. I have something else for you,” she smiled. You followed her instructions and stared at her, unused to the kindness. “What do you know about the Royal Family of Monaco?”

“Monaco?” you wracked your brain. “The King died a few years ago, the new King just got married, and the other two are racecar drivers, right?”

“Exactly, anything about the second eldest Prince?” she mused. 

You grimaced. “He’s more loyal to Ferrari than his girlfriends and he’s a royal disgrace?”

She grinned. “Yes! Exactly that! Obviously, Charles moved off from the royal duties a long time ago, but Lorenzo has decided to abdicate since his fiance has fallen ill, in Monaco there’s a rule that the throne can be uncrowned for one year and it turns out Lorenzo abdicated in December last year.”

“So Charles has to take the throne?” you asked. “But he’s a driver there’s no way he’d… what happens then?”

She smirked. “That’s exactly what you’re going to find out! His Royal Highness is due back at the Castle this weekend, but in case he also abdicates, I need someone to write on it! There’s a press conference on the 18th, and I want your boots on the ground!”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but why me?” you smiled, genuinely curious. 

“You’re intelligent, talented, hungry for a story- also none of my regular writers are willing to give up their Christmas,” she admitted. You nodded, knowing you were a last resort. 

“Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.” 

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“He’s gorgeous!” Damon fawned over the pictures of him. 

You shrugged. “He’s such a douche, I cannot believe people still find him attractive after all the stuff he’s done.”

“Who wouldn't forgive a face and body like that?” 

You looked at the photos. Yes, he was conventionally attractive, but his track record of scorned girlfriends, and the semi-awful fashion sense (who , over the age of 12, still wears tie dye jeans?) put you off. “He’s not my type.” 

He stared at you. “He’s everyone’s type. Everyone is a Ferrari fan, and everyone is a Charles LeClerc fan.”

“I still don’t see it,” you shrugged. 

“You should try to seduce him! Make him your husband and just excuse all the cheating so you can be royal and rich,” he suggested. 

“I do not want that,” you scoffed. “Plus, I’m not on the market right now.”  

He groaned. “You two broke up a whole year ago. Don’t let him yuck your yum 12 months on!”

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You walked into Rudy’s, your dad’s diner, you couldn’t but feel the weight of the conversation you were just about to have. You had spent Christmas as just the two of you every year since your mom had passed, you didn’t want to just leave him alone. The regulars raved about the pies as you stepped in from the cold, snowy air. 

“The usual?” your dad asked, you nodded and smiled, waving to some of the regulars you knew. “How are you doing sweetie?” 

“Good, great!” You smiled, plastering on your best ‘i’m fine!’ face. 

“What happened?” he asked, concerned. You deflated.

“I have good news and bad news,” you explained.

“Bad news first,” he decided. 

“I won’t be here on Christmas- but, It’s because I got my first story.”

He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “That’s amazing! Your first real story! This is your big break!”

“You don’t mind that I’ll miss Christmas?”

He shook his head. “This is your big break, take it. Don’t worry about me. You go over to wherever, and you make me proud.”

You smiled, pulling him into another hug, and thanked him. 

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The flight was long and uncomfortable, thus the joys of economy, and the dickhead that stole your cab wasn’t much nicer either. 

You and the rest of the press were all then bundled into cars and brought to the palace. 

“First time?” The reporter beside you questioned. You nodded your head, slightly embarrassed about the fact that they could tell, but he just chuckled. “Word to the wise, pick a new career.”

The rest of the car was an eruption of laughter, small agreements, or a scoff. You chuckled along, but you couldn’t help but feel small. You were the only woman in your car, the only new reporter, and-

Woah. Holy shit. 

The Monaco Palace. 

Any and all other thoughts were pushed to the back of your mind as you stared in awe at the beautiful structure. The wide windows and beautiful pillars, all decorated perfectly for Christmas. Though it wasn’t snowing (like back home), you did appreciate the gesture of making it feel like Christmas. You were enchanted by the palace, it stood tall on the edge of the bay, fitting in perfectly with the rest of the gorgeous scenery. 

You walked in behind the rest of the press, a nervous energy buzzing in the air. Prince Charles was an F1 favourite, a master of the sport, and now he had to give it all up for the crown. Everyone was more than excited to see if he’d actually show up, which seemed increasingly unlikely as the moments ticked away. He did every single piece of press Ferrari or the FIA asked him to do, and he seemed to enjoy the majority of them, but the second the palace asked him to do something, he was ‘too busy’. It left a bad taste in your mouth. You were exactly a patriot, but you thought that one should at least appreciate the fact that they were a part of their country, and the people deserved to hear from their Prince, not only through sports interviews. He’d been photoshopped into the palace's Christmas cards for the past 4 years, for god’s sake. 

You pushed your opinion of him to the side and turned your attention to the palace. The tall white walls and arched ceilings, the beautiful and historic artwork hanging off the walls, god, you’d give anything to be allowed free reign in here with your camera. Your attention was then grabbed by the PR liaison, Penelope, standing at the panel desk looking increasingly nervous.

After another 30 minutes of waiting, the repress started getting restless. Lorenzo was never late. Hervé had never been late. Pascale was never late. Arthur was never late. Charles was the outlier. He slept with too many women, drank too much, and ‘disgraced the crown’, according to the Monegasque reporters beside you. You didn’t care much for all of the gossip pages he frequented, and only watched F1 on the occasion that your father wanted to watch it. But, it was clear that he thought that following his dreams of being a racecar driver were more important than his duties, and while you understood the push and pull of having a dream, there were also expectations to meet, and he didn’t meet them. 

“We regret to inform you that this press conference has been cancelled-” 

She was cut off by about 200 reporters shouting and groaning. 

You politely raised your hand, and all eyes turned to you. “When can we expect the press conference to be rescheduled?” You asked and the room was alive again, this time, in agreement. 

“As of right now, we won’t be rescheduling,” she offered a polite smile as everyone collectively groaned again. 

“Well can we at least expect a date at which he’ll be crowned?”

“He will be crowned on Christmas Eve, at the annual Christmas Ball,” she smiled. 

“Which is a private event, so what are we to tell your people? They can’t see him getting crowned as their next king? No media are allowed in, no cameras, phones are barely allowed. What will your people think?” you questioned, your voice dripping with condescension. The rest of the reporters cheered you on, no one had stood up against his behaviour before. No one. 

She faltered, and then the room started being cleared by security, much to the chagrin of the rest of you. You were kicked out, a collection of grumbles and groans, knowing Christmas was ruined because of some stupid Prince and his childish antics. 

You couldn’t go home empty handed. You’d never get a chance like this again, so breaking and entering into the Monaco Palace wasn’t that bad of a crime, right? 

You came into a long hallway, the marble walls and floors taking your full attention, until you came across a picture. It was the royal family, a picture of the five of them, taken before Hervé passed. Charles was only 20, Arthur was only 16. Lorenzo was 29. And they lost their father. In the photo, they’re sitting at a dinner table, looking happy. It didn’t look posed, or professionally taken. It looked like it had been taken on an iphone. Charles was smiling bright, his arm around his little brother and his father. Lorenzo’s arm around Pascale as she held Arthur’s hand. Charles was truly the thing that dragged you in. His bright smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, laughing so hard he must’ve felt sick. The way everyone else’s eyes were on him. He was like a magnet. Not because of his good looks or lovably dorky personality, but because of something else. He was just… interesting. 

“Can I help you?” a security guard asked, his voice booming and strong. You jumped. 

“Gosh! Sorry, umm-yes-no-um-”

“American?” he asked, and you were sure you were busted. But then he smiled. “Follow me.”

You followed him through the halls until you were in front of a tall woman with brunette hair. You knew who she was, her name was Georgia, the palace coordinator. She was terrifying to stand in front of. You’d never felt so judged in your life. 

“You’re the new tutor?” she questioned. You just nodded. “I thought you couldn’t come until January?”

“My last job finished up early,” you lied. A sinking pit in your stomach started growing, but you just swallowed it. You’d deal with it later. 

“Oh,” she smiled. “Perfect, I’ll bring you to meet him,” she smiled. 

What were you getting yourself into?

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Turns out Arthur LeClerc needed a tutor to help with his engineering course. Thank god you’d dated that engineer who wanted to mansplain every single part of a car to you, and you could get by the maths with a calculator. Arthur wasn’t exactly a fan of having someone younger than him tutor him, he felt stupid, you could tell. You did everything you could to reassure him that it truly was alright to need help, and he was starting to come around, but every time you two really started talking, Charles would appear. And yes, Charles had been that asshole who’d taken your cab at the airport. Even more of a reason to hate him.

“Arthur!” Charles called up as you finished explaining a sum, which he was finally getting, but of course, Charles had to distract him. “Sim work?” he offered, popping his head in the door. You frowned. He was clean-shaven, unlike the small goatee and mustache he’d been sporting before. Objectively, he was attractive either way, but you personally preferred the facial hair. 

He frowned back at you. “What?”

Arthur attempted to get up to join his brother, but you held him down to his seat with a hand on his shoulder. He sighed. 

“What?” you repeated. “Arthur is busy with lessons, your Royal Highness, you can come back in 2 hours, when he’s finished,” you smile politely, though your tone was less than warm. 

“2 hours?” Arthur sighed, looking at you with pleading eyes. 

“I’m not the one who failed their midterm,” you said, matter-of-factly. He nodded, agreeing. 

“Why did you look at me like that?” Charles smirked, walking into the study. 

“Like what?” you asked, engrossed in the work, trying to decipher Arthur’s handwriting. 

“Like you didn’t like what you saw,” he mused. 

You scoffed. “I was just surprised by the baby face, that’s all.” 

He frowned, making Arthur laugh. “Baby face?”

“You look like a 12 year old boy without facial hair, it freaks me out,” you pointed out. 

Charles left the room with whatever dignity he still had intact, and you and Arthur rather enjoyed the teasing. 

“Will you be my guest tonight?” he turned to you, discarding his work. 

“What’s tonight?” you asked. 

“Some boring drinks and dinner thing with the whole of Charles’s team, and other nobility. It’s going to be such a chore to go without you, please come?” 

You smiled. “I’d be honoured.”

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You kind of hated the whole ‘double agent’ thing. You were getting on really well with Arthur, Charles was enough to stomach (in small intervals), and Lorenzo had been too busy to really meet. Georgia had been on you about different things, but you always had to remember that a) your name was in fact not Y/n, but Martha. And b) You still had to be a reporter. You still had to break into these people’s privacy, and make it a story. You were pretty sure what you were doing was illegal in America, so you were just hoping it wasn’t a crime here. As the night went on you snapped pictures of Pascale, Lorenzo, some of the other nobility and some of the important F1 drivers (a friend was doing an expose on one of them for cheating so… yeah). You didn’t catch a glimpse of his Royal (pain-in-the-ass) Highness all night, that was, until he made an(uncharacteristically (not)) late arrival. You also left Arthur to go hang out with his girlfriend, who had surprised him this weekend by arriving a whole week early. 

“How are you enjoying the party?” Arthur smiled, walking up behind you as you tried to take photos of the nobility as secretly as possible. You quickly hid your phone. 

“Very much so, thank you for inviting me,” you smiled. 

“Staring at Charles?” he questioned, noticing how you’d been following him around the room. 

“Trying to find something to eat,” you lied. Again, that pit in your stomach grew every single day that you were at the palace. “Not a fan of the meat-jelly.”

He grimaced. “Me neither, follow me.”

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Possibly the best gingerbread cookies entered your mouth soon after. “Wow,” you nodded, and he smiled back. You stared at him. “Where’s Jade?”

“She’s off with her friends,” he answered, but you knew it was a guess. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? You hated me three days ago,” you chuckled. 

“You’re not like everyone here,” he shrugged. “You’re normal.”

You smiled. “I know I’m, normal, btu so are you-”

“A ‘normal’ 24 year old who has a palace and a crown, as well as an affinity for racing cars. I’m so normal.”

You laughed. “No one’s perfect.”

Then a tall man, who looked a little bit like Arthur, joined you. 

“Cousin Arthur,” he smiled. 

“Cousin Simon,” he sighed, less than impressed with having to see him. 

Simon looked at you, slightly confused. “Was your mother feeling charitable, inviting the chambermaids again?” he joked, but it wasn’t funny. Arthur didn't laugh, he groaned. 

“She’s my tutor, actually. And I invited her. Mrs. Martha Whelan, meet my cousin, Simon.” 

You stood up and held your hand out to be shook, but he shied away. “Nice to meet you Simon.” 

“You can address me as Lord Dukesburg,” he explained, taking great offence. Ah, this was Simon Dukesburg, the man who has been after the throne since Arhtur’s father died. He said some of the most out-of-touch shit about Lorenzo, saying he couldn’t be the King because he wasn’t Herve’s blood-related son. 

“I find that nobility who require someone to use their title might be compensating for something,” Charles interjected, making you stifle a laugh, whereas Arthur laughed out loud. 

“And what might I be compensating for?” he scoffed. 

“I wonder,” Charles smirked. Then someone else interjected the conversation and pulled the both of them away from you and Arthur. 

“Simon hates Charles,” Arthur explained. “He’s ahead of him in the succession, since it goes by age, not actual blood relation, he’s ahead of me.”

“So if Charles abdicates, Simon has the throne?” you questioned. 

Arthur nodded. You looked up at the two men again, and found Charles already looking back at you. You offered a small smile, which was returned, then you turned back to Arthur. 

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“I'm really not sure there’s any dirt here,” you sighed, explaining it for the millionth time to your boss. 

She wasn’t having it. You ended the call feeling even worse than before. Honestly, you were one day away from just leaving the palace all together and admitting your crimes. It was eating you up inside, you could barely sleep, barely eat. It was all a little bit too much for you. You understood that reporters had to be cut-throat, but god, it was hard work pretending to be someone you weren't, especially to people as kind as the LeClerc’s. As you walked through the halls of the palace, unable to sleep, you heard some piano music. You followed the sound and found Prince Charles at his piano, incredibly talented. Sadly, it ended the second he noticed you, about 30 seconds of you being there. 

“Sorry for interrupting, your Royal Highness,, I’ll head back-”

“Call me Charles,” he smiled. 

Slightly blind-sided, you weren’t sure what to say. “That was beautiful,” you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he smiled, getting up. “My father made me take lessons. It’s a great passion of mine.”

“I’ve heard your father was a great man,” you smiled. 

“He was,” Charles agreed.. 

“Won’t be easy to replace him,” you mused, hoping he would give you something, anything worth writing the story over. 

“I’m not trying to replace him,” he explained. “No one could.”

“Oh god! No, I didn’t mean it like that- just… there must be a lot of pressure on you, I didn’t mean it…” you trailed off and he smiled. 

“Well, you’re under more pressure than you bargained for, right?” he smirked. 

Shit. He knew. Somehow. He knew. You were bout to get arrested by the fucking Prince of Monaco. How embarrassing. 

“My brother can really be a handful,” he chuckled. 

You took a deep breath. He didn’t know. You were safe, for now at least. You chuckled. “He’s actually pretty great.”

“After our father died, he took it very hard,” he explained. 

“I lost my mom, same age and everything,” you explained, a flat smile on your face. 

He nodded. “So you know what it’s like then.”

You nodded. “Holidays are the worst.”

“I’m glad he has someone to talk to.”

“So, now that you’re back… is it for good? Arthur talks about you all the time. He misses you when you’re gone. Is all that talk about abdication just… rumors?” you questioned, feeling like the worst human being in the world for manipulating this family the way you were. They were good people. Maybe yes, they’re rich and commit tax fraud, but good people. 

He sighed. “It’s very hard to know what to do.”

FUCK! 

Great. So there is a story. Ideal. It’s not like if he’d just said, ‘yes, they’re all just rumors’, you could’ve gone home and never had to think about the awful things you’ve done here, but now you have to stay, to listen to him. Great.

“I heard you didn’t want to give your… lifestyle,” you asked. “Is that true?”

“What lifestyle is that?” he scoffed, slightly amused.

“I don’t know. The women, wine, and cars?” 

“Is that what you think I am?” he chuckled. 

“I don’t know who you are, Charles, but if your brother is any indication, I wouldn’t exactly believe everything I read. Good night.” 

And with that you left the room, feeling like a terrible person, and he was more than intrigued by you. 

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Christmas Eve rolled closer and closer, and every night seemed to be one of celebration. You decorated the tree with the family (aka you sat in the corner not eating or drinking because of the guilt, and watched over Arthur, making sure he was alright). 

“To family and friends,” Pascale smiled. 

“And new friends!” Arthur called, lifting your hand. You smiled at him, thankful that you had a friend there. 

“What are your traditions Martha?” Charles asked, turning attention to you. 

“Well, my father and I light a candle and we bake my mothers favourite cookies,” you explained, a smile on your face. “I know how it feels to… have someone missing during traditions,” you assured Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Just then, Lady Sophia appeared in the doorway. Lady Sophia, Charles’s childhood best friend and the leading lady of the greatest will-they-won’t-they story of all time. She wore a beautiful long flowing gown with a present in hand for Pascale. She elegantly dodged cousin Simon’s advances (you applauded her for that), and went straight to Pascale and Charles. 

“Sophia, it’s lovely to see you,” she smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“It’s lovely to see you too,” she smiled, then moved on to Charles. “Charles, good to see you.”

Charles greeted her with his best flirty smirk, and Arthur turned to you, fake gagging, which made you both laugh. All eyes turned to the two of you for a moment, before you quickly shut up, and the greetings continued. Lady Sophia was staying for Christmas, how wonderful. Maybe you could get an early access to their engagement story- god you felt sick with yourself. 

You turned to Arthur engrossed in the small toy car he had in his hands, a gift from his father, he spoke about it as you listened, barely noticing Charles over both of your shoulders. 

“I remember when you first got that,” he chuckled, ruffling Arthur’s hair. “You were so happy with it, you wanted to be just like dad.”

“Now you are,” you smiled, squeezing Arthur;’s hand. He’d be moving up to F1 next year, in a Haas seat (Esetban Ocon shit the bed, oops), and Arthur was the next best Ferrari junior driver. Arthur beamed back at you, and Charles gave himself a moment to study you. 

You were so gentle, so smart, so kind, so… you. He was entranced by you. You were some sort of enigma. He didn’t want to sound full of himself, but women did throw themselves at him, it was a simple fact, and you didn’t. You weren’t interested in him at all, in fact. It was refreshing. 

“Charles!” Lady Sophie called. “Will you put my ornament on the tree?” 

He (begrudgingly) took his eyes off of you and joined her at the side of the tree. Funnily enough, her ornament was a heart. 

“Be gentle with it,” she told him, and he sighed, knowing it wasn’t just the ornament she was talking about.He placed it on the ree and when he looked back at you, you were already engrossed in conversation with Arthur about something else and he thought it best not to pry. You barely liked him as is, he shouldn’t push his luck. 

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The day you get bossed around by Arthur LeCerc may actually be the biggest joke of your life. He found out that you were a journalist, and he didn’t even care. He just… wanted a friend, and for you to write the truth about his brother. Which you were happy to oblige. 

So, instead of going over aerodynamics, you baked Christmas cookies. 

“What’s with Charles and Lady Sophia?” you questioned, shovelling some of the batter into your mouth. Arthur shrugged. 

“She’s had a crush on him for ages, but he’s never liked her back,” he shrugged, eating some of the icing. “She’s always trying to get with him though.” 

“Simon seems to like her,” you pointed out, shooing him away from the icing (he’d eaten half of it). 

Arthur groaned. “Simon has wanted everything Charles has had since they were 3. He even tried go-karting. He was shit though,” he chuckled. “But y’know, everyone wants what we have.”

You cracked a smile. “You are the royal family of one of the most beautiful countries in Europe.”

Arthur sighed. “It was different though, before my dad died, it was-” he cut himself off, trying to to cry. You pulled him into a hug. 

“He’s not gone Arthur, you’ll always remember him,” you smiled, he nodded against your neck. “Come on, we need to get these in the oven before I eat all of the batter.”

He laughed, joining you beside the oven. 

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The next morning was the children’s fundraiser, where everyone was expected to be a guest. You, again, were Arthur’s, Jade having left a few days earlier to spend time with her family. One of those asshole reporters came up to you, but he got them away, and you knew that by tomorrow, people would already assume you were his new girlfriend, or something along those lines, so you made sure to tell him to talk about Jade in interviews. After the wonderful carol service, Pascale came out to the stage and addressed the public, announcing Charles’s speech. 

When she called his name, he didn’t show. 

Arthur sighed, grabbing your hand and running you to the Orphanage. There he was, playing with the children. He looked so… happy. He was telling them about every corner in the Monaco Grand Prix, and telling them what it felt like to win it. They all sat around him, listening intently, desperate to hear from him. You took out your phone and took a photo, seeing a tiny glimpse of that same 20 year old boy from the picture.  

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“Charles, help me understand why you were unable to carry out your duty today?” Pascale asked, exasperated with her son. 

“I thought my duty was to those children,” his words bit through the tension in the air. 

“There is much more to being kind than simply compassion,” she sighed. “You need to be strong, a leader. You need to be someone that those people can look up to and say, ‘that’s my king, and he can make the hard decisions’. Not someone who tiptoes around his duties like a schoolboy. Arthur had to give your speech instead. Now every outlet thinks your abdicating and giving the throne to him right when he’s on the cusp of his dreams-”

“I have dreams!” he shouted. “I have a life, I have a dream-”

“And we gave you 8 years to make it happen. You have to grow up now Charles,” she commanded. 

“Mother I-”

“Do you seriously think you’re the only one who wants to run away?” she questioned. “The only one who has dreams, and feelings, and a weariness about everything?”

“I’m-”

“This has been the hardest year of my life,” she choked up. “Lorenzo abdicating, you off in god-knows-where racing a car that can’t win, and Arthur trying his damndest to make his dreams come true, while I deal with it all. While I ‘hold down the fort’. You have a duty to your country, but you also have a duty to your family, Charles. I have complete faith in you, and then some. You will be a brave, and compassionate King. But you need to realise that sacrifice is a part of life. One we may have shielded you from, and I am sorry for that. But you need to make a sacrifice here. Royal life isn’t the prison you make it out to be. You can be happy, and you will be. But you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got, because you have so much Charles. You have your family, you’ll meet someone nice and then you’ll have your own. You don’t need to race cars to feel strong. You need to be yourself. The people of Monaco are looking for someone they know after a year of confusion and shock. You need to be the comforting voice. I know you can be.” 

“I’m trying,” he whispered. 

“I have faith in you. You need to have faith in yourself. Don’t try to be your father, be Charles. He’s just as wonderful.”

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Arthur wasn’t going to focus, it was 3 days till Christmas, and he was kind of like an over-excited child. You suggested an adventure, and that is how you ended up racing speed boats with Arthur and a few of his friends. You two won, of course, and he may or may not have accidentally shoved you overboard and made you hit your head. But you were probably fine. Probably. You two relaxed on the water for a while, enjoying the Monaco sun asn the sun began to set and all of his friends went home. 

Then you felt something hit into the edge of your boat. Another speedboat. Driven by none other than Prince Charles. 

“Race you?” he smirked at his brother, his eyes then landing on you. He stopped, almost doing a double take when he saw you in your swimsuit, his mouth opening slightly. You didn’t seem to notice. Arthur did and he rolled his eyes, hoping against hope that Charles and his master-manipulating ways would pass you by and go onto the next person.

“You’re on!” Arthur shouted back, reeving up the engine, and thus the great race of speedboats began. Sadly, once again, Arthur LeClerc is very much not coordinated, so he shoved you off the boat, again. Charles immediately slowed down, turning back to grab you, but he found you laughing. He reached a hand in, and pulled you up onto his boat, grabbing your waist when you almost slipped and fell. You were close, much too close. You could feel his breath on your face, his eyes staring into yours, the look of shock, but neither one of you was asking to stop. It was different, a good difference. He was right there, right in front of you, and you didn’t look at him with annoyance, or anger, or distance. One of those fleeting moments of the both of you truly just being yourselves. Well, you were Marha and he was the Prince of Monaco, soon to be King. He saw every freckle on your face, every small wrinkle line, every flutter of your eyelashes. He loved it. He loved being this close to you. He loved the way you were smiling at him, and once he’d started looking at your lips, he couldn’t stop. 

Arthur threw a snorkel at the two of you, making you jump apart, you almost falling off the boat again (actually your fault that time), but you just fell into Arthur’s boat. “No fraternising with the enemy!”

And the race was back on.

Unbeknownst to you, Lady Sophia and Duke Arsehole (aka Cousin Simoin), were riding by on a perfectly sublime boat ride, and saw the three of you enjoying yourselves. You had joined Charles' side, winning against Arthur every time, and then you’d be swapped back, or Arthur would swap. 

Lady Sophia didn’t like it one bit. 

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When you got back to the palace, Lorenzo was standing at the top step of the stairs, his mother beside him. 

“Where have you three been?” he demanded. 

“Lorenzo, we were-” Charles began.

“Speedboat racing in the bay?” he finished.  

The three of you stood there, silent and still, unsure of what to do next. 

“I suggest next time that you ask permission, Ms. Whelan,” he addressed you, and you nodded quickly offering multiple apologies. “And next time, maybe include the other members of the family. It’s not like we've never raced in our lives,” he smiled, before walking off. You had a feeling they hadn’t seen Arthur this happy in a long time. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in you, that you had been the one to help him get himself back. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Arthur was busy with his duties, so you were given the day off, the day before Christmas Eve. You needed to get to know Charles better, so you could right all the wrongs online about him. He was going for a bike ride, so you followed suit, clearly forgetting about the fact that you knew nothing about Monaco, and the limited cell-service was really helpful. Oh, and when you fell off your bike and cut the shit out of your knee, you really wondered whether it was you or Arthur who was clumsy. 

“Are you alright?”a voice called out, a voice you couldn't quite place, until Charles was in front of you and taking a look at your knee. “This looks bad, come with me.”

He helped you up, and while Mont Agel was beautiful, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere, what was he going to do? 

Bring you to his secret cabin, of course. 

Literally, was this dude James Bond? 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You sat outside on his patio as the sun set. He handed you a glass of water. You thanked him. 

“So, now that you’re alright,” he smiled (he’d bandaged up your leg despite the thousands of times you assured him you were fine). “Why were you following me?”

You sighed. “I was curious about Monaco, and I didn’t want to bother you,” lie after lie after lie. You were continuously sick. Maybe that other reporter was right, maybe you did need a new career. 

“You couldn’t bother me,” he assured you, an easy smile on his lips. 

“So what is… this?” you asked, gesturing to the house. “James Bond hideout or?

He laughed. “No, nothing interesting like that. This is just my house,” he smiled. 

“So you’ve lived in Monaco the entire time?” you asked. 

“The Palace is a bit too much for me at times,” he explained. “So I come here.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled. “Why do you find the Palace too much?”

He sighed. “Everyone is always looking at me.”

“Everyone is away looking at you in F1 too, you have like, millions of fan-girls,” you giggled. 

“That’s different,” he argued. “I’m a driver there, that’s talent and hard work, I was just… handed the throne.”

“You were born into it,” you corrected him. “And just because you came across something easily doesn’t mean you haven’t struggled. I mean yes, it’s a lot of responsibility, but why wouldn’t you want to be King of Monaco?” 

“Do we have to talk about this?” he sighed, getting up and pacing the patio. 

“It might be good for you to talk it through,” you told him. 

“I can’t even go for dinner with my friends without it being an international scandal!” he groaned. 

“Like, when you went out with Sophia?” you mused. 

“That was different, she sold a story to a tabloid, and the media had a field day,” he sighed, slumping back into his chair. 

“The media is what’s holding you back?” you questioned, feeling your stomach twist. 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Explain it then,” you smiled gently. 

He looked at you for a moment, and for a fraction of a second, you could see that boy from the picture again. The magnetic, messy, smiley boy his parents had adored. The boy who worked so hard to prove himself. Then those walls went right back up and what replaced him was the man; older, wiser, and hurt. “Why bother? You probably think I’m just a spoiled rich kid anyway.”

You scoffed. “I never said that!” you argued, getting up and turning to him. “You know what you need to do, stop worrying so much about what everyone thinks of you, or how they’re going to perceive you. You’re a good person, with good instincts, and despite being actual nobility, you have morals, good ones, the kind that makes you miss a speech because you’re helping children. The kind that makes you worry about your little brother so much that you come home when he asks you to. The kind that makes you kind. Stop trying to be your father Charles, just be, Charles.” 

He sighed, standing beside you. “You make that sound so simple,” he scoffed. 

“Why isn't it? You’re a smart, talented, caring person-”

“Except when I steal your taxi,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes. He paused for a moment, his eyes shining in the low light of the sun. “I want to show you something.”

You stared at him, grimacing slightly. “What is it?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking your hand. He led you through his house, up to a room filled with books. 

“You read?”

“After my father died,” he explained. “We kept some of the overflow of his habit here. He also kept his journals here. I found a poem, it was dated just before he died, I think he was going to give it to my mother.”

Frost a sparkle in the fields, 

Twixt the frozen minarets, 

Winter’s harvest, wager yields, 

Heavy burden’s, the years debts, 

P[out from a seed, an acorn’s gift, 

Henceforth the truth will flood, 

Darkness such a secret bears, 

A love far greater than blood.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, reading the poem. Charles’s eyes were on you. You were so close, just like on the bat, just like he wished for every single day since you’d come into his life. He leaned in and you didn’t back away. You didn’t run, or lean in either, you were still, your eyes trained on his lips.

Then your phone rang, and off you went to find it. Part of him wanted to grab you back and kiss you, but even he, in his delirious love-filled haze, knew the moment had passed, and he would just have to wait until the next one. 

As you two were getting ready to go back to the palace, he left to go grab something from his room. His father’s desk took your attention, and you obliged yourself. Hidden in plain sight was a secret drawer with a stack of documents in it. As much as you hated yourself for it, you took the documents back to the palace with you. 

Within those documents you found out a truth, a truth so great, you had no idea what to say. Charles and Arthur were adopted as children. 

What the fuck were you going to do now?

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

As you were walking through the halls with Arthur the next day, you saw Lady Sophia and Charles… kissing. Great, barf. Anyways. You had to finish your story, get something on the page, make this torment of a trip worth something. If you broke the story today, you could be out of there before Christmas, and their lives would be a lot easier. You thought about coming clean, but the thought of it actually made you vomit in your mouth. You were lost. You had no idea what to do. 

So, you called your dad. What else were you supposed to do?

“Y/n!” he smiled, it was only a phone call but you could tell. “How are you?”

“Hey dad, remember how you said I have to take chances to win?” you asked.

“They are my words to live by,” he chuckled, understanding that something was going on. “Is everything alright?”

“What if that chance is going to really hurt people who don’t deserve it?” you questioned.

“I’m going to need more than that sweetheart,” he sighed. 

“My story, if I release it, it might hurt someone who’s already been through a lot. I’m just…” you trailed off

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know anything about the world of publishing and reporting, but I do know that you have to trust your gut.”

You smiled. “Thanks dad.”

“I’m better than a fortune cookie, right?” he joked and you both chuckled. “I’ll see you soon sweetheart.”

“Bye dad-” as you hung up the phone, there was a knock on your door. You tentatively got up and opened the door, only to find Charles on the other side, dressed in a Ferrari branded suit, a small smile on his face. 

“Hi, is there something I can do for you?” you asked, slightly awkward and unsure. You didn’t really want him to look in your room too much, considering the documents of his adoption were literally on your desk, but alas, what would be, would be. 

“I thought we could go for a walk?” he offered. “I can actually show you around Monaco, now that I know you want a tour guide.”

Your smile faltered. “I don’t know,” you sighed. The media had been stirring everything up ever since the boat, you were the ‘mystery girl’ being passed around by the LeClerc’s, and it didn’t feel great. 

He looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, just give me a few minutes of your time. I would like some company.”

“Sure, let me grab my coat,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

As you two walked through the streets of Monaco, he spoke freely about the beautiful buildings and people he knew so well, while you listened. You liked it, but it broke your heart slightly, to know that you had lied to the entire family for weeks now. But another part of you was grateful that you got to meet them, because you knew you had been changed for the better. It was also nice to see Charles be less… upset than when you first came. He smiled more, laughed more, and spent more time with Arthur, it was lovely to see. 

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at the pavement. “Are you alright?”

“Do you often take the help for a walk?” you questioned, your tone soft but the words bit at him anyway. 

“What?” he questioned.

“Nothing, it’s stupid. Go back to your story Charles,” you sighed, walking on. 

He grabbed your hand, turning you back to him. “Please talk to me. I feel like you know everything about me, and I know nothing about you.”

“What would Lady Sophia say if she saw us walking together?” you scoffed. 

“Why would that matter?” 

“I saw you two,” you said.

“Whatever you saw, trust me, there is nothing there,” he pleaded. 

“It didn’t look like that to me,” you scoffed. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

“She was just… taking her chance again, even after I explicitly told her not to.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “It doesn’t matter anyways. Charles.”

You were both silent for a moment. He took the opportunity to study your face. The way your eyebrows creased, the tightness of your lips, the determined stare forward. He smiled. You were so smart, and headstrong, and right all the time (which kind of drove him crazy), but he loved it all. He loved you. 

“I hope you’ll come tomorrow night,” he admitted. You looked at him confused. “The Ball. My coronation.” 

You couldn’t do it anymore. You had to tell him. He couldn’t keep living this lie, and neither could you. “Charles, I need to tell you something-”

But he kissed you. Of course, he fucking kissed you, because he’d been wanting to do it since the day you arrived at the palace. He was in love with you, if he hadn't made that obvious enough, and yes, he kissed you, because the fact that he hadn’t yet was driving him mad. He didn’t want Sophia, he didn’t want anyone else, he wanted you. 

And it was everything he could’ve dreamed of. His arms circled your waist, pulling you close to him, while his lips explored your soft ones, the taste of cherry on them. You must use some sort of cherry lip balm, and it quickly became one of his favourite tastes. Your arms slowly crept up to wrap around his neck, and when he pulled back you just pulled him back in. 

This was the real Charles. The one who loved people unabashedly and didn’t care what people thought. This was that 20 year old boy in the photo. This was the boy you had slowly fallen in love with, without even realising it. 

And it was wonderful. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Much to your chagrin, while you were off tonguing the next King of Monaco, Lady Sophia and Cousin Arsehole were busy looking through your things. Unluckily for you, they found something.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Charles sat in the driver’s seat of his Ferrari, half willing himself to man-up, and the other half begging himself to turn around. He couldn't though, not when he was this close to finally visiting his father’s resting place for the first time in months. 

He got up and out of the car, your voice in his head telling him to get over himself, with that soft, perfect, smile on your lips. 

He walked up to the grave, determined to speak to his father once again. 

“I’ll take the crown,” he whispered, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’ll never measure up to you, but I will take it. For you and for mom.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You stood in your room, wondering what the fuck one wears to a coronation. 

Arthur stood in the doorway, smiling brightly. He frowned when he saw your dress. 

“It’s this or pyjamas,” you dead-panned. He walked in, taking the dress out of your hands and sitting on your bed. 

“How’s the story coming along?” he asked. “Nearly done?”

“Almost,” you huffed, laying beside him. 

He sighed. “I’ll miss you when you go,” he admitted, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You almost forgot how much he’d been through, his sunny demeanour always seemed to make you forget his troubles.  “It was nice to have a friend.”

You turned to him. “I’ll always be your friend,” you smiled. “And I’ll be cheering you on in Haas, and in everything else you do. I think you’re brilliant Arthur, seriously.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I hope everything goes well for you back in New York.”

 “I hope so too,” you teased, wiping a tear off his cheek. 

“I got you something,” he smiled cheekily, handing over a small box. 

“Arthur!” you scolded. “We said no gifts!”

“There was no way I was following that,” he chuckled. “Open it!”

You slowly opened the box, inside there was a beautiful necklace with a beautiful blue topaz on the end. “Oh my god Arthur, this is beautiful,” you whispered. 

“To remind you of the boat day” he grinned. “So you will never forget me.”

You smiled, your eyes cloudy with unshed tears. “I could never forget you, Arthur.” 

Then in walked Jade, his girlfriend, with an array of gowns on a rack. 

“Oh no,” you whispered. 

“Oh yes!” Arthur cheered. 

It was going to be a long afternoon. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You stood at the top of the steps, terrified of what anyone would say. Arthur had styled you (aka, Jade let him pick the dress) and while you thought you looked beautiful, you were slightly worried about what the nobility in the room would think. It had been fun though, an afternoon of being pampered and becoming friends with Jade was a lot more enjoyable than it was nerve-wracking. You slowly descended the steps, looking for Arthur, when Charles caught your eye. He looked beautiful, his hair perfectly styled, his suit perfect, his face perfect. He smiled up at you, excusing himself from his mother and brother to take your hand as you left the bottom step. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, taking in your dress. IN all honesty, there wasn’t a word for how he thought you looked. Regularly, a look from you made his heart stop. This? A different level. He was enamoured. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even if he wanted to. 

You felt your cheeks heat. “Thank you,” you smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “I will see you in there, alright? I have to-”

“Do what you need to Charles,” you chuckled. “I’m not running away at midnight.”

He smiled. “I’m glad.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

Despite the fact that it was a royal ball, it was quite entertaining. Different Duke’s and Duchess’s were dancing, letting loose, and getting pretty drunk, but you just sat with Arthur and Jade and laughed at them. The ballroom was magnificent, the tall ceilings and Christmas lights all around, and in the centre of the hall there was a 36 foot (yes, about the height of a telephone pole) Christmas tree, decorated perfectly. Even though you were miles and miles away from home, it was still nice to be celebrating with people you love. 

As you were speaking to Jade, someone started speaking. 

“Might I have the first dance, mon amour?” Charles asked, barely above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around your waist. 

You turned to him, your face dropping. “Seriously?”

“Well, as long as you promise not to tread on my feet, we should be alright,” he chuckled, leading you to the dance floor. You joined on, doing a simple waltz (you thanked your father mentally for making you take ballroom classes as a child), and it was very sweet. It was nice to be so open about being close to each other, no longer shying away from each other's affections. You liked having Charles so close. He liked having you in his arms. 

Win-win. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he said as you waltzed around the hall. “I wouldn’t be accepting the crown if it wasn’t for you, so thank you for telling me to grow up.”

You chuckled. “I think you’re giving me too much credit there.”

He shrugged. “I do not think so,” he smiled. “You make me feel comfortable, you’re the most genuine person I have met since… well probably since birth.”

Again, that nauseating feeling in your stomach urged you to run away and hide from him, even though your heart (as mad as it sounds) longed to never let him go. “I have to tell you something.”

He nodded. “You can talk to me about anything.”

As he spoke, the music stopped, and it was time. He would be crowned King. 

“Tell me after,” he whispered, as all eyes went to him. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.”

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

“I dispute this claim!” Lady Sophia’s voice shocked the room and you. Charles was so close, so close to taking his rightful seat as the King, and of course, someone had to make it difficult. 

“On what grounds?” the Archbishop asked.

“The grounds that he is in fact, not the rightful heir,” she smirked, smug as ever. “Prince Charles, and his brother Arthur, were in fact adopted by the late King Hervé and our Queen Pascale, therefore are not of the blood of the Royal family, as per this document.”

The certificate was taken from her, and shown to the Archbishop. “Where did you obtain this document?”

“I obtained it by uncovering a scheme by an American journalist, Ms. Martha Whelan, or should we call you Y/n Y/l/n?” 

All eyes went to you as the room was full of gasps. 

You knew you should've turned tail and ran, you knew you shouldn’t have stayed on when Arthur found out, and you knew you shouldn’t have fallen in love with the Prince of fucking Monaco. You were the dumbest person you’d ever met. 

You didn’t dare look at Charles, knowing what his expression would be. You just looked down. 

“Is that true, you are a journalist?” the Archbishop questioned. 

You spoke confidently, though the regret was evident in your voice. “I am.”

The room was in upheaval. Everyone was angry, everyone was confused, and everyone needed an answer. 

“And your Majesty, this certificate?”

The room went silent as Pascale began to speak. “It is legitimate.” 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

You were running out as quickly as humanly possible, trailing just after Charles. 

“Charles, please, just let me explain-!”

“Explain what?” he spat, turning to you. 

“I’m sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen, and I understand that you never want to see me again. I just had to tell you I’m sorry, and the only reason I kept it up was for you and Arthur.”

“And you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Arthur made me promise I wouldn’t tell you,” you sniffled. 

His face dropped. “He knew?”

You nodded, wiping away your tears. This wasn’t for you to be upset about. This was your mistake, and you couldn't fix it. 

“Why wouldn’t he let you tell me? Did he know he was adopted?”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t know why he wouldn’t let me tell you. I just… he asked me not to.”

He stared at you for a moment, and it wasn’t those same, shining eyes that made your heart leap. It was the cold, dead, reserved eyes that made you want to run away and never come back, that stared back at you. “I’m glad you have your story. I suggest you stay out of our lives from now on.” 

And with that he walked on.

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

New York was colder than you remembered. You had decided to just go straight to your apartment, turn off your phone, and binge watch shitty reality tv shows until you could show your face in public again without wanting to sob every time you saw something that remotely reminded you of Charles and Monaco. 

But something nagged at you. The acorn, the poem, ‘a love far greater than blood’. You didn’t understand it. So you spent about 12 hours working on deconstructing it, and you thought of something. Maybe it was your delusions after not sleeping for a day (or two), but maybe the acorn ornament could prove something, so you sent your findings over to Arthur, hoping they would make sense, and turned your phone back off, blocking all of their numbers and falling into a very needed sleep. 

౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊౨ৎ˚₊

The next few weeks were full of clearing out your office (you quit), looking for a new job, and starting off as an actual journalist, not just cleaning up some sleaze work. It was nice, peaceful. Writing articles about things that mattered to you, things that would help people, things that weren’t a certain King of Monaco.

Life was good. Getting over your heartbreak was hard, but you were starting to believe that you might actually be alright. 

You sat in your dad’s diner, ready to ring in the New Year, when there was a snowball thrown on the glass, and when you looked outside, there he was.  

Quickly, you ran outside. “What are you doing here?” you questioned. 

He shrugged, “I never got to say goodbye, or thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me, I honestly should be apologising again and again for what I did, I am so sor-”

“You opened a door that should’ve been opened years ago. Arthur showed me what you’d done. Half because I couldn’t believe he could do it on his own, and half because… I thought it was going to be a message from you. You blocked me…”

“I didn’t want to risk bothering you anymore,” you sighed. 

“You’d never bother me,” he smiled, pausing for a moment. “Arthur misses you. So do I.”

“I miss you both too,” you smiled. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Y’know, a palace is a lonely place for a king, when he has no queen,” he admitted. 

“It’s a good thing you’re an eligible bachelor then,” you chuckled. “Good night Charles, thank you for coming to see me-”

“I love you,” he confessed. “You made me a better man- you make me a better man. I don’t even want to spend time without you, do you understand that?” he asked, getting down on one knee and revealing an engagement ring. 

You frowned, your eyes tearing up. “Charles, I am not nobility-”

“I don’t care,” he smiled.

“My entire life is in New York-”

“We can come back as much as you want.”

“What will the people think?” you sniffled, and he stood up, wrapping his arms around you. 

“They’ll think you're a kind, caring, beautiful woman with a very intelligent mind, and brilliant ideas, who is loved very much by their King,” he whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“We barely know each other Charles-”

“And yet I’ve never been more certain in my life. And I’m known to be indecisive-” 

He stopped talking because you’d started kissing him. 

Jesus Christ, you were going to be the Queen of Monaco, what a story that was.

‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡

a very f1 christmas! masterlist (2024)

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[hwangism143]

𓆩♡𓆪 nicknames. 𓆩♡𓆪

maknae line.

bang chan.

when you woke up from bed, you noticed a bang chan-shaped depression right beside you. a giggle escaped your mouth as your brain recounted all the fun you had last night trying to beat chan in monoply.

yes, you had only been dating for two months, but this relationship felt real. it felt like something. you were confident in saying that you saw a future with him. you walked into the kitchen where you chan preparing breakfast. he handed you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it, with a sleepy smile.

"so, i've been thinking and," chan started, "would like it if i call you a nickname in your native language?"

you nearly choked on your coffee. "like it? chan, that is the sweetest thing ever."

he grinned at you, "good, cuz i have been doing a lot of research." he swooped down, kissing the top of your head and melting your heart along with it.

lee minho.

"i have a problem."

minho startled you, uttering those four words as soon as he stepped through the door. you were watching tv, curled up on the sofa with a blanket and dori, munching on popcorn and waiting for minho's arrival.

"what's wrong?"

"it's you." minho watched your face morph into confusion and worry and he quickly explained, "not exactly. since we're dating, i need to come up with a cute nickname for you. hyunjin said that jagiya is not cute enough."

at that, you start to laugh. "babe, does he even know why you call me jagiya? as a matter of fact, i'm curious too."

minho begins blushing, the tips of his ears turning red. "oh, um, as a nickname, it reminds me of home. and you're, well, home."

you let out a squeal and begin attacking minho with kisses and for once, he doesn't protest.

seo changbin.

"no. i will not give up."

you let out a weary sigh. "binnie, it's been hours."

changbin is sitting on a bar stool and you are sprawled across the sofa, dangling upside down. for the past two hours, you and changbin had been deciding on what terms of endearment to use on each other.

unlike changbin being extremely undecisive, you had almost immediately decided what you would call him. your bunny boy! this was probably an extremely boring way to spend your six-month anniversary to outsiders, but it was (comically) important to changbin and if it was important to him, it was important to you.

"i'm sorry for boring you, princess," he said sadly. suddenly, his eyes widened. you got up instantly, making eye contact with him, breaking out into a smile.

"that's it!"

hwang hyunjin.

you and hyunjin laid down on the mat you placed on the grass, gazing at the stars. or at least, you were gazing at the stars. hyunjin's eyes only looked at you.

"what's your favorite term of endearment?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence you were in.

"hm," you contemplated it for a minute, "probably love. there is something just so romantic about calling someone you love, love. it's almost as if you're making it known to the world that they personify your version of love."

hyunjin nodded in agreement, "or that the exemplify the love that they have to give."

you turned to look at him. his face was drawn in concentration, clearly very focused on the topic at hand. "but," he began, "it's ambiguous, isn't it? you can call anyone love, regardless of the type of love."

you hummed at his words, turning them over in your head. "well then, what would you prefer?" you questioned him, curious to hear the thoughts in his head.

"something my-adjacent," he replied, "my love. my muse. my world."

he cupped your cheeks in his hand looking at you with stars in his eyes.

"my everything."

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Rafayel: Don't Look At Him | 18+

So my solid rule of thumb is that if a fic is 1k words or longer, it's no longer a drabble...and this is just over 1k. I wrote this before work in like 15 minutes though, but I hope it's still enjoyable! OH! and this was a request, by the way, so hope the requester enjoys this!

♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Pairings: Rafayel x Reader ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Warnings: Unsafe Sex, Creampie, AFAB Reader, Jealousy, Wall Sex, Quickie ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Synopsis: Rafayel is jealous that you were so close to Sylus in the N109 zone and decided to remind you just why you come home to him instead. ♡(ᓀ‸ᓂ)♡ Word Count: 1k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Don't Look At Him

There were few things scarier than when Rafayel let his perfectly made facade disappear. You had noticed it before, how sometimes he seemed a bit more rigid. He always seemed so carefree and lax, but he had fought alongside you before, you knew there was something he hid all too well from most people. Hell, there was that time you had a stalker and he almost incinerated him on sight the moment the man tried to attack you. The cold look in his eyes that day, the serious tone, you just knew he wasn’t all that he tried to make himself out to be. He was so much more and he never let you peel back those layers.

So when he allowed his quirky, artist persona to fade for a little while, you knew you were in deep shit, “So you have a new boyfriend, then?” his words were far colder than you were used to. He had gotten upset before, but it was always cute pouting, this was dangerous.

“Raf, I had to use him to not die in the N109 zone, and we just happened to hit it off and became…sort of friends…business partners?” you trailed off, “Listen, there is nothing romantic going on between me and Sylus.” you tried reasoning with him. You heard his footsteps get closer and suddenly you were up against a wall. He could’ve slammed you against it, but you could feel his hand behind your head, making sure you didn’t get injured. Even pissed he was looking out for your safety.

“Is that so?” he mused, “Are you sure about that? You two looked awfully close,” he said, trailing over your body. You squirm underneath his touch and he shakes his head, “I guess I just need to remind you exactly how devout I am for you,” his breath whispered your name almost like a prayer.

You didn’t know what to expect, but feeling him hiking up your shirt and working off your shorts wasn’t one of them, “R-Raf!,” you gasped out, feeling him taking your pants off as he looked you up and down, licking his lips.

“Sorry, my heart,” he groaned, “I don’t have time to waste right now,” he said, “I’ll be worshiping you later, but for now I need to be in you,” what the hell did he mean by that? His hand went over your entrance the moment he had your pants and underwear down your knees, his fingers finding their mark as he pushed them inside of you with urgency.

You growled out a small curse, shivering at how he began working you open against the wall of his studio…against the fucking entryway because that was as far as you had made it. His fingers felt delightful and you wanted more, rolling your hips and whimpering. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that was more teeth than tongue at this point, his desperation clear.

You heard him working his pants off, the buckle a clear indicator and you didn’t even get a chance to look down with how he was pressing you against the wall. You could feel his cock against your thigh as he worked on hiking your legs up, supporting you as he prodded at your entrance. He had barely worked his fingers in you and now you could feel his cock and gods everything was a blur.

Rafayel plunged his cock into you, making you all but scream his name against his lips as he kept you there. “Fuck,” he groaned out, “So wet, so tight,” he murmured, his forehead now against yours as he began pumping into you. Your entire body jostled with every thrust and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders for some form of support.

This entire situation was hot and you didn’t know where it all came from. One moment you were coming to the studio, the next you were being pressed and fucked into the wall next to the coat rack because this man was jealous. You couldn’t even say anything as his mouth began leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw and to your neck.

You whimpered at feeling his teeth biting into you, sure enough leaving a mark and possibly drawing blood but you were too fucked out to care. The drag of his cock inside of you was the only sensation you could focus on, closing your eyes and letting out small whimpers and cries. The familiar coil inside of you building faster than anticipated. Rafayel leaned closer, making sure his pelvis was flush to your front so with every stroke he was grazing your clit.

“R-Raf, fuck, mhm-” You were whimpering his name now, so close to release; the feel of his pulsating cock signaled his own. 

“I know, I know,” he groaned, “Wanna feel you soak my cock, fuck -hng please, m-my heart, cum for me,” he gritted out, closing his eyes for a moment before he reopened them and locked his gaze with your own. That was all it took as you clenched tighter, coming undone all over him and possibly soaking his shirt that was in the way. You were whimpering, your clutch on his shoulders stronger as he pulled shaking gasps from you.

He groaned loud against your ear as he spilled inside of you, his seed warming your insides with every stroke and his mouth came back to yours in a sloppy kiss. You groaned into it, tongue playing with his own as you savored the feeling of his languid thrusts into your sopping core. It took a few moments for him to still, catching his breath and panting against your mouth.

“Fuck…Raf,” This was probably the first quickie you ever had with him, normally he liked to take his time with you. The thought was hot though as you clenched down again on his length, earning a groan from him,

“I’m not done with you, my pearl,” he murmured and you gave him a small look of surprise.

“But you just…?” you began and he smirked.

“When have you known me for only doing one round?” his tone was lightening up again, returning to the more familiar Rafayel you knew, “Although this time I want it to be on a bed so I can take my time,” his tone trailed off and you flushed. The day was apparently still young, and your boyfriend had plans to fuck you so dumb you probably wouldn’t remember any man’s name other than his own.

Me? Writing Top Rafayel? I mean...it sometimes happens.

[moonstruckme]

Hello! I love all of your stories! Always got me giggling and kicking my feet.

I was wondering if you would be interested in poly!marauders and massages? Or Sirius and massages. I’ve recently been doing a lot of leg exercises and now I just have moments were walking hurts and I wouldn’t mind a good massage.

Have a wonderful day!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a wonderful day too!

cw: implicit nsfw stuff, but really no description or anything

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 457 words

“Sirius.” You try to make your tone stern, but it’s very clearly teetering on the edge of a giggle. “Can you stay on task, please?” 

“Can you trust that I know what I’m doing?” The eye roll is evident in your boyfriend’s voice. “The internet said to get you warmed up first.” 

“I’m fairly sure they meant my legs.” 

“Fine, fine.” He stops groping your ass, moving his hands down to press on the backs of your legs. Your aching muscles stiffen at the contact, and Sirius hisses through his teeth. “Shit, does that hurt already?” 

“No,” you say, voice tight. “Sorry, no, they’re just tense.” 

“I can tell.” Sirius starts rubbing up and down your thighs, softer now. His voice becomes tender. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay angel?” 

You hum and do your best to relax, closing your eyes as his fingers slowly spread out and start applying more pressure. At the first firm push of Sirius’ hands up the length of your thighs, you sigh. 

A chuckle. “That working for you?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, shameless. 

Sirius doesn’t double down on the teasing like you expect. Rather, he repeats the same motion again, humming satisfiedly when it works another sigh from you. 

“I don’t know how I feel about this gym business,” he muses. “Seems to be causing a lot of problems.” 

“It’s part of the process,” you say. 

“Yeah, yeah, no pain no gain. You’re starting to sound like James.” He finds a tight spot, pressing his fingers carefully into the muscles. You let out a stringy little whimper. “All I know is my girl goes to the gym, and she comes back hardly able to walk. I’m not feeling particularly favorable towards the place.” He presses into a funny bundle of tension, and the noise that leaves you is borderline pornographic. You hide your face in your arms, mortified. 

“Okay,” Sirius says, and now amusement permeates his tone, “I get that you’re enjoying this, darling, but if you’re going to make sounds like that you can’t be upset when I get distracted.” 

“Sorry.” Your cheek is hot where it squishes against your forearm. 

Your boyfriend chuckles darkly. “I’ll allow it. But after I’m done, I’m expecting a similar treatment as payment.” 

“Like what?” 

“Kisses. Many of them.” He splays his hands over the skin of your thighs, working his way towards the sides. “And the best hug you’ve given in your life.” 

You hum. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to move after you’re done,” you admit. “But if you lay down on top of me, I can promise to do my best.” 

Another quiet laugh, and Sirius presses his lips gently to the small of your back. “That’ll do.”

[nana-au]

Best Friends Know Best

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your trip to the mall stresses Suguru out, so you treat him to some head when you two get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: possessiveness, praising, immodest clothes in public, toxic ideology from geto, oral m! receiving, slight slut shaming, throat fucking, dirty talking (did i miss anything.. lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ an: this is sorta an extension off of my fic Best Friends Forever! (also sorry for not posting in a while i’m working on longer fics while also struggling to keep up with life lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

He doesn't really understand why you insist on dressing up to go to the mall. You were there to buy new clothes, does it matter what you have on? Typically he would never complain about your fashion choices – You look darling in your girly little outfits. 

But today? He cursed himself for not making you change while he still had the chance. He didn't want to be cruel, you were so excited to wear your new dress. It was a pink gingham number – it was so you. What he didn't like was how your chest spilled out of the low neckline and how anytime you shifted in just the right way your sheer panties were on display. He wanted to cry upon noticing how see-through your panties were – there was no mistaking the outline of your plump cheeks. Did you not know how many creeps there were in this world? Did he protect you so well that you were blissfully unaware of the dangers of looking this good? Tempting any man that is so fortunate to breathe the same air as you. 

All throughout the day Geto followed closely behind you, shielding what he could of your body while trying not to make it obvious. You didn’t really notice what he had been doing until his hand reached to cover your chest from the employee at your check-out lane when you bent over; looking at the cute bracelets set up on the counter in front of you. You slowly stood up straight, giving him an odd look as he pocketed his credit card and grabbed your bag of items from the clerk. “What was that about?” you asked him while walking out of the store. 

“Nothing baby,” he said from close behind you, your multiple bags in his arms, “Let’s go get you a latte.”

“Ooo that sounds good,” you mused, daydreaming which flavor syrup you wanted before you quickly snapped out of it, “Don’t change the subject! Why did you cover my chest? Is it really that noticeable?” You ask, looking down to see your cleavage spilling out the top of your dress. “It’s not that bad…” An exasperated sigh left his lips, seemingly exhausted by spending the whole day trying to keep you modest. “Geto? Does my dress upset you?” you stopped in the middle of the mall, turning around to meet his dead eyes. Your brows furrowed, noticing just how tense Geto was compared to when you first arrived. “Do you not like my dress?” your voice is drenched in worry.

“No baby, your dress is very pretty,” he meant it, your dress looked amazing on you. But that was just the problem he was having. “You look good… Just a little too good, y’know?” he forced a chuckle, trying to convince you that he was less upset than he really was. The two of you had been there for three hours, and for three hours he was at war with every guy’s wandering eyes. He had endured three hours of men checking you out, some were so indiscreet about it that the handles of your shopping bags were barely managing to keep the straps under his tight grasp. “Let’s get you a drink and head home, hmm?” he said, pulling together all of his energy to sound fine.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Even after a couple of hours went by at your shared place, Suguru still looked as wound up as he did at the mall. He sat on the couch, drinking a beer and staring at the show on the tv, obviously not really watching it. His grip on the beer bottle was loose, only sipping it when he remembered it was in his hand. 

You grew more and more worried as time passed. You lost the outfit as soon as you got home, opting for pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt – hoping that he would forget about whatever issue he had with your dress if he no longer had to look at it. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“Sugu?” you barely said above a whisper, “Is everything okay?” he only hummed at you, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Do you want to talk about it?” you meekly asked. His head shook while he took another lazy sip of his beer. You bit your lip in thought, taking in his still tensed figure that leaned back into the couch. He never changed out of his jeans and black tee, opting to prioritize drinking over unwinding for the day in his usual sweatpants attire. An idea came to you while your eyes trailed his figure, and you hesitated before speaking. “Do you want your cock in my mouth, Suguru?”

He nearly choked on his beer hearing your words, turning to see your face. You looked desperate to hear his response, so eager to hear you can please him. “Of course,” was his response to you, he could never turn that down. You crawled down from the couch and placed yourself between his legs. He sat up, moving to the edge to make it easier for you to reach. He pitched a tent almost immediately seeing you between his thighs. You began to undo his belt, working slowly as he watched with bated breath. 

“Will this be a good apology, Sugu?” your doe eyes met his and you can see him melt at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting patiently as you pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips off the couch, helping you slide his pants all the way off. You rub his cock over his briefs, slowly stroking it and watching the fabric grow a wet patch. You decide it best not to tease for too long, so you pull his cock out and run your thumb across his wet tip. 

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his hips following you as you began to stroke his cock. You twisted your wrist as you slid your hand up his length, teasing the head with your thumb each time you reached the top. He watched you behind his lidded eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of your throat. He dropped his beer onto the end table, preferring to stroke your hair as your wet tongue reached out to lick a fat stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He groaned at the feeling, leaning back as your mouth finally took him in. You started slow, only taking him halfway and stroking the half that was left out with your hand. It wasn’t long before Suguru started his usual dirty talk that made you squirm. “You feel so good, princess,” he grunted, “This is what I deserved after a long day of putting up with you, hmm?” His hips bucked up, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth. “Having to keep you safe because you wanted to dress like a slut,” his other hand reached down to pull up his shirt, exposing his toned stomach that flexed every time you showed his tip extra attention. You licked the slit, pulling back just to spit all over it and using your hand to guide the lubricant down. He shuddered as you took more of him into your mouth, massaging his length with your tongue as his tip neared further down your throat. “Just couldn’t help showing yourself off,” he let loose his frustrations while his dick was stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking back. “Gotta suck my cock to make it up to me, princess,” he snickered. “You’ll do a good job? Hmm? Take me all the way?” it was your turn to react to the pleasure he was giving you. The way he talked to you always riled you up, his words always going straight to your clit. You shifted on your knees, desperately trying to give yourself any form of relief. As if he knew, his foot reached out for you and you took it, rubbing your clit shamelessly against the spot where his ankle and foot met. He laughed darkly at you, completely in awe as he watched you hump his foot while you drooled around his cock. “Look at you baby,” he purred at you, “Getting off to sucking my cock…” his Adam apple bobbed in his throat while he tried to collect himself before he came too soon. Your tight shorts were already growing wet as you rutted into him, sucking him even more feverishly. You took all of him, your eyes watering at the heavy feeling against your tongue and in your throat. “Fuck your throat feels so good. S’warm and wet,” he was moaning now, not capable of keeping it back anymore. “Almost as good as your little pussy… too bad she doesn’t deserve my cock right now…” you whined at his words, causing you to gag against his cock. You pulled back, coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Am I too big for you, princess? Can’t take it?” he teased and you shook your head, readying yourself to go back down. Instead he guides you back, standing up and pulling his briefs completely off. “Gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” he asks you and you nod, moving in to take him back in your mouth. As soon as his tip hits your tongue he is pushing himself all the way in, gripping your hair and shoving his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. You feel his trimmed hair tickle your nose with each thrust of his hips. Your cheeks were covered in tears and drool seeped from your lips and onto your chin. “You’re so good t’me,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as he used your throat. His hips stuttered and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, you could tell he was close. “You’re gonna swallow it all… else you’re gonna have to try again until you get it right. Fuckkk, can’t waste a drop,” you dug your nails into his thighs, waiting eagerly for him to reach his peak. Eager to taste his salty cum. 

When he finally came you did as you were told, cleaning up anything that spilled out with your fingers, before popping it back into your mouth. “Such a good girl,” he murmured to you, smoothing out the hair he roughed up previously. “So beautiful,” his dark eyes showed nothing but adoration for you, kissing your forehead as he spoke, “A little too beautiful…”

[rosesradio]

sneaking out

notes & warnings: gn!reader, just 700 words of making out lol, + hickies & implied future smut

my inbox is open, please read my pinned 💌

♡♡♡

You were so going to get in trouble for this.

This was not your style, sneaking out in the dead of night. Not so much out of a morality aspect; you didn’t care about why the rules were in place, though you did care about the punishment. If Luke got you caught and sentenced to cleaning duty, you were going to wipe the floor with him during the next 1-on-1 duel.

Then again, you both knew what you’d rather be doing 1-on-1 with Luke. That was why you were out here in the first place.

You had stealthily slipped behind the Hermes cabin, clammy hands behind your back as you leaned against the wall. You took in the perfect cool summer air as you steadied your breathing. This was…fun. Exhilarating. Everything was going to be—

“y/n…” a low, teasing voice spoke from your right.

You yelped, your heart jumping into your throat. Before you could process who it was, you pulled them by the shirt and pressed them against the wall with your Celestial Bronze knife to their chest.

It only took a moment for you to realize that it was, in fact, Luke. Your eyes widened as you slipped your blade back into the sheath as quickly as it had been drawn, pulling away with a litany of apologies.

“Don’t be sorry,” Luke laughed softly, taking your hand in his and pressing the back of it to his lips. “I thought we were just about to get into something fun. Intense,” he noted, raising his eyebrows. “But fun.”

You let out a shaky breath, grabbing hold of the bottom of Luke’s shirt out of habit. “This is already intense but fun. If we get caught, I’m throwing you under the bus.”

Luke grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close. You couldn’t begin to describe how his touch—warm and intense and utterly real—made you feel. Even just this, hip to hip and thigh to thigh, made your face flush.

Luke grazed his fingers down your cheek, and you couldn’t help but meet his warm brown eyes. You wondered if he watched a lot of romantic movies, or if he was just like that.

“What if,” he mused. “I made it worth your while…?” Luke leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then a few more down your jawline. His breath was warm, testing and teasing against your lips before finally, finally kissing you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gripping your hips as he spun you around, pinning you against the cabin wall. You gasped faintly against his lips, feeling him smile slightly against your own as he cupped your face in his hands.

It was as if he couldn’t get enough of you, no matter how he touched you. As he moved down to kiss your neck, hands once again curiously moving to rub your hips underneath your shirt, you knew it was true.

“Luke,” you breathed, fingers carding through his curls.

When you tugged at his hair, he let out an involuntary moan, pinning you harder against the wall. It was as if he were worried you’d get away from him—though as he sucked a lasting mark against your skin, soothing the slight pain with his tongue, you couldn’t imagine getting away from this.

“Luke,” you repeated, despite how your heart skipped a beat in your chest, despite how you hated yourself for interrupting this. “We…we can’t keep going…not here.”

Luke cursed under his breath, something in Ancient Greek you didn’t quite catch, though he pulled away. “You’re right, I got carried away…I’m not sorry, though.” He cupped your cheek, pressing another kiss to your lips. “We’ll find a time and place.”

He always said that. You were beginning to wonder if this time and place was a thing of myth.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” you ran your fingers through his curls once more. “And when we do, I’ll keep in mind that you like getting your hair pulled…”

You couldn’t help but grin at the utterly flustered look on Luke’s face as you kissed his cheek. The euphoria of getting the upper hand followed you all the way as you stealthily snuck back into your cabin for the night.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader ◛⑅˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 036 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Slavery, Violence, Yandere Jinwoo, Familial Abuse, strong language. Please don't read this fic if it is triggering or uncomfortable for you. I do not condone slavery nor do encourage such acts. This is simply a work of fiction ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Devotion or Obsession? ] ¡! ❞

"A gift for you, my dear child" Your father mused as an 18 year old teenager, tattered and chained, was dragged to the floor and forced to kneel in-front of you Jinwoo looked up at you with expressionless gray eyes, his face was covered in dirt and his shirt was extremely filthy. "Hi." Jinwoo greeted you humbly.

"Father!" You shrieked, flicking the fabrics of your dress as you hurriedly knelt towards the slave and tried to support his limp figure.

He was hardly even concious with his bleary and sleepy eyes, his clothes are covered in grime and dirt as his face was dusted with blood and something else. He looked not much older nor younger than you, and yet all this man was made of was skin and bones.

"Why so upset, my dear?" Your father sneers, humming as he swirls a glass of wine in his his hand. "It's your birthday after all. Daddy thought that should be gifted, no?"

"But I didn't ask for a slave or anything at all!" You protest, only to be met by a domineering glare that instantly made you close your mouth.

"Be grateful, you goddamn pig" He bites, making you feel even more terrified than you older were. "If it weren't for the fact your fucking wench of a mother making a goddamn fuss before dying you wouldn't be here. The least you could do is accept whatever the fact I give you"

He calms down, continuing "That child was only a few silver coins. If you dont want him I could always give him to your sisters or work him to death."

"N-no!" You protest immediately, shivering at the thought of what your father might decide to do. "I-I'll keep him... I'll take care of him."

"There's a good girl," He chuckles, "Start with the imprinting."

You gulp, anxiously looking at Jinwoo who was tired beside you, he looked like he just wanted to to be done with everything.

"Your... Uhm..." His eyes would sweep towards you with an empty grey gaze. "Name?"

"Jinwoo." He says shortly.

"Alright, uhm, Jinwoo..." You hold your palm out. "It'll tickle, I have't done this before s-so—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, stretching his scarred left hand towards yours and pressing it together.

You tremble at the touch, not of disgust— But instead you were nervous. If you screw this up, you might get another beating or worse,... Something might happen to Jinwoo.

So with the little mana you hold; you started pouring energy out as a soft gentle light comes as the brilliant and pretty things somehow turned into pitch black and purple shadows— Twisting and churning before attaching themselves to both of your ring fingers.

Jinwoo seemed unamused, but your father certainly was.

"Now, get out of my sight" Your father simply said after recovering from the spectacle. "Your sisters are about to arrive, you bring a sour expression to their wonderful faces, so leave"

You could only respond with a polite bow as you helped Jinwoo up to his feet and guided him out of the main house.

There wasn't even a carriage prepared for the both of you as you silently walked towards the far west inside a forest and then finally arriving at a crude but somehow decent looking manor.

Jinwoo watched and followed you as you guided him to a dusty bedroom and sat him down before fetching a small chest with ointments and bandages. Though his gaze was still empty, he was looking at you with curiosity, wondering why exactly you're doing this.

"I'm your slave," Jinwoo breaks the silence. "Aren't you supposed to leave this to your servants?"

"Hahah... Sorry." You apologize, making him quirk up an eyebrow. "Your master is pathetic, I have no servant in my name."

He doesn't question that situation, instead asking; "Then why do it yourself? I can patch myself up just fine."

"Maybe... Because I feel guilty?" You fidget, applying ointment on him after wiping his arm. "It's my... Birthday and yet because of it you're here. I'm sorry."

"Don't." He simply said, not meeting your eyes as he looks out to the distant skies. outside your broken window. "It's not your fault. And besides, here is better than just wherever."

The silence ensues, nothing much being said any further as you directed Jinwoo to an empty room. He was given a decent place to sleep in. It was odd, since this bedroom seemed more comfortable compared to yours that was even more shabby and dusty.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It an odd situation, not once did you have ever treat Jinwoo as a slave, you were often on your own in your little garden at the backyard and farming vegetables for both of you to eat.

Jinwoo actively avoided you for quite a while, before deciding that since he lives with you and is technically leeching off of you— He might as well be useful.

And in those days where he helped you, the walls that Jinwoo had built around himself crumbled the more time passed by.

For a while, he was happy, you were happy.

You were both happy.

That was until you had to attend a gathering with your family that had abandoned you.

Of course, you had to dress in your shabby and outdated dress, to which everyone in the ballroom responds with mockery and spite. Jinwoo expected it, sure he's mad, but there's nothing he could do since he is nothing more but a damn slave who cant even defend his own master.

With heads hung low like cowards, the both of you decided to just stay in a corner and be as far away from any and all interactions. It went well for the first hour.

Admiring the brilliant lights and listening to wonderful music around you. Nobility is truly such a beautiful thing, golden plates, silver spoons, brilliant and gleaming jewels stitched into fine fabrics made by highly respectable and sought after tailors.

Jinwoo wanted to admire the scene with you, he truly did.

After all, he spent most of his days being dragged through the mud, his body being flogged over and over just for the fun of a drunk knight, or worse— Hard labour with only a piece of bread you can barely chew on due to how hard it is.

Compared to the grueling days he spent sleeping on the dirt, compared to the devastation he had as he cradled his dearly beloved little sister's corpse when she died of starvation— The sight of these luxurious tiles is mercy upon his pitiful soul.

...

Jinwoo's face drained of it's colours as he watches your elder sister yell at you for simply trying to greet her. A simple greet.

That was all it took for you to be on your knees frantically saying sorry with your voice as humble and as quiet as it can be.

He felt so hopeless, so frozen as he sees your pretty face scrunch in grief at your own actions that isnt even in the wrong in the first place.

So why must you kneel? Why must you humiliate yourself like this?

They stare at you with those sly eyes, as if finding your misery a source of entertainment. Sneers and chuckles would come with each insult being thrown your way.

Was it your fault you were born as the bastard child of the duke when it was your father who willingly went to brothels and slept with multiple women. It wa sonly your mother who stepped up confidently to demand your father to take you in despite the fact that she is currently dying of birth complications. Your mother did all of that just so you could live a comfortable life.

And instead here you were, being punished over something you didn't do.

Isn't family supposed to love eachohter? Jinwoo loved his baby sister so much. So why is he watching another older sibling throw wine at their own blood just for breathing?

Jinwoo felt so... Devastated, his dear companion, his master. His own master— Is being ridiculed right in front of him.

The person he was sold to, the person who took care of him—

"Don't touch him, eonnie!" You scream, throwing yourself right in front of Jinwoo despite the fact you're already soaking wet from the wine splattered all over your pretty face and your already ruined dress. "Please, he's innocent. He's imprinted to me, but he shouldn't receive any punishment. We'll go, eonnie, we'll go. Please don't touch him."

You're protecting him.

That bastard woman would have continued her assault if it werent for her dear father stopping her and saying it's a waste of time dealing with a bunch of lowlifes.

Thus, the two of you were escorted— No, thrown out the main palace.

Jinwoo followed behind you towards the path of your shabby manor, and as the blowing wind caressed your skins,... You broke down.

"Sorry, sorry, Jinwoo." You sob as the man threw his arms around you. "I'm sorry, it was my fault, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry, Jinwoo. I really am. Please forgive me. Don't be mad at me.

"Why are you asking me those questions?" He asks, his soft voice barely even able to control his trembling voice. "You're my owner, shouldn't I be begging for forgiveness?"

"No, no," You sob even louder.

And Jinwoo couldn't do anything else but comfort you.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo didnt know how, but he managed to put you into sleep right after taking you home. He delivered some spare clothes to you for you to change in. He tucked you in under the shabby blankets and watched over you.

His gaze was stuck on you, contemplating deeply while guilt slowly clawed at his heart.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

"You'll get her killed." A voice suddenly says, and Jinwoo shot up, blocking his arm in front of you as you slept.

"Who—"

"Shut up"

The voice suddenly came from behind him, and when Jinwoo looked back— He could see a pair of purple eyes glaring at him. He can't quite see the face of the man, it was too pitch black and the moon isnt out tonight. He tried grabbing the vase on the sidetable but something had stopped him.

He can't quite tell, but it was as if the air itself is holding him back as those wicked and colr purple eyes glanced at him from the darkness right beside your sleeping form.

"You really think a damn vase can scare off an intruder?" The man scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Who are you?" Jinwoo asks again, struggling to move as quiet murmurs surrounded him.

"Some guy" He answers.

"You must be one of those—"

"Ssh." The purple eyes gaze up at him again. "You'll wake the princess up with your voice."

Jinwoo shut his mouth, biting down on his lip as once again he felt so utterly hopeless. Not to mention the air around the stranger was absolutely wicked and somehow... Demonic? Otherwordly?

It was a feeling akin to staring at the abyss, the unkown that makes your skin crawl and itch.

That man is dangerous.

Dangerous But Not Hostile.

"That sister of hers," The man starts, his voice a little tense. "Will get her killed in a few years."

"Excuse me?"

"She'll die, and her blood will be on you, Jinwoo" He grits his teeth. "Just like your sister's who died from starvation, just like your mother who died from sickness, just like your father who died in your arms saving you from a bandit— Her blood will be on your hands just like theirs that is already on you."

"....."

"So quiet, now, huh? You're crying?" He sneers, the voice suddenly coming from behind him. "Crying wont do you any good, you fucking idiot."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Jinwoo yells, struggling as he tried to face the man. "I'm not strong, I'm built like a twig. I'm trying, okay? But I'm just a slave. This house is goddamn shabby, I've been trying to fix everything but it's lacking. I can barely even help in the farm, not to mention it's almost winter soon and if she wont die by that bitch's hands then she'll die because of this house! What the hell do you think I can do? I'm trying here and nothing is working!"

"...."

Of course he doesn't want to be in this situation either. Who does? He already lost his family, his blood, his precious kin— All gone and he couldnt do anything about. It was a hopeless situation. Of course, he tried getting a job in the capital since you let him roam as he pleases. He tried some odd jobs, several of them ranging from ordinary helper jobs to cleaning shoes to seeling newspapers; nothing is working.

He lost his family because of his weakness, and because of that same weakness he'll loose you too.

"Hypothetically, you are given a guide to becoming extremely strong to protect her but in the process you loose your sanity along the way as well as your emotions" The voice says, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room as he walked around Jinwoo like a ghost. "How far are you willing to go?"

"Farther than the limit."

"Even if you lose your limbs along the way?"

"Yes."

"Even if you get mauled by beasts?"

"Yes."

"Even if you go mad by the power you'll soon hold?"

"Yes."

"Even if you must become a murderer?"

"Yes."

"I'll do it."

"I'll do it all for her sake."

"Good" The voice hums, satisfied.

Jinwoo starts feeling dizzy, his legs giving in as he felt himself collapse on something soft.

"Protect her." The stranger's tone becomes gentle. "Where I failed to do so, be better than me. Devote yourself to her. Protect the heart that is more precious than anything in this world. Even if you go through hell, you must protect her. You must love her. Give her all the adoration you can ever give. Because I couldn't protect my princess. So don't make the same mistake."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo had received the system from that night ever since. He had been busy from then on, often going out in the day and coming back in the evenings tired but somehow... A little different.

He'd go on long trips sometimes, which you honestly didn't mind so long as he promises to come home.

Soon enough, that same lanky, 18 year old boy— Is suddenly a head taller than you that you physically have to strain your neck just so you can meet with him eye-to-eye. Jinwoo had become from a lanky boy to a different person in just a blink of an eye in a matter of months.

Each long week he disappears; he comes back even more mature and lax in his demeanour. THe next thing you knew, Jinwoo enrolled himself as a hunter.

You're proud of him, of course you are.

That's your Jinwoo.

Your precious, precious and sweet Jinwoo who always stuck by your side even if you are a noble who had no servant to her name and a manor fit to be deemed as a haunted home.

The wealth would soon come pouring in with each succesful hunt Jinwoo goes through. And the more powerful his bounties were, the more famous he became. The money he accumulated directly went into rebuilding the shabby manor into an opulent home worthy of a duke's daughter. Your filthy, ragged dresses were replaced by finely crafted fabrics. Your neck and ears would be adorned in the meek but captivating jewelry.

Of course, he still had that title of slave over his head but weirdly enough... Jinwoo seemed to carry it as a badge of honor.

Why?

Because he was yours.

What's he is yours.

Naturally, jealous eyes come your way as the your dear hunter is now the most sought after. Who wouldn't want him anyway? Tall, handsome, a hunter— He is the embodiment of what is lusted for with a man.

And yet he never once bat an eye to those arrogant nobles who offered him the finest of fine wealth could ever give.

Love letters from all over the kingdom pine for your precious Jinwoo.

And yet he still chose you.

Those steely grey eyes of him would solely be for you and you only.

He looked a you like you are his precious goddess.

You Jinwoo is so... So Innocent and lovely.

Even as he held your father's severed head on his hand.

Even as a pool of blood puddled beneath his feet. Even as his grey orbs have turned purple. Even as the opulent pearl tiles reflected his maddened figure.

Your Jinwoo is just so... So lovely.

His heart, oh, his heart belonged to you. His innocent, pretty little master who looks up at him with a bewildered but awestruck gaze— He knew you weren't mad.

"I did it all for you, princess" Jinwoo would coo, cupping your face and swiping his thumb affectionately over cheek. "They were trying to make you cry again. We can't have that"

He whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "After all, I am yours. We're already binded by a contract. Even if it didn't exist I'd still choose the same choice I have made now."

He holds up his hand, pressing his palm against yours as the tattooes rings on your ring fingers glowed purple.

"See? Even our mark is like wedding rings" He intertwines your fingers together before bringing it up to his lips and kissing the mark on you. "It's okay. It's okay. This is for your own good."

"This is all for your sake, my precious god."

"This bloodbath is an offering for you."

꒰ A/N: idk what I made nor do I wanna know. The plot is all over the place wheeze. I'm quaking at writer's block. I should not write for Jinwoo until I get the energy back. I'm so mindblocked with him maybe it's because I cant draw fanart of him atm. ahhhhhhhhhh ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[onlyangel4]

delicate. ls2. smau

logan sargeant x country singer!reader

in which logan and reader do not want to pop their bubble of secret new love but sometimes you just have to let the world know that you are in love.

warnings: cursing.

faceclaim: megan moroney

taylor swift series masterlist

y/insta posted a story

written: back in the studio for the first time in what feels like forever

y/insta

liked by kelseaballerini, sabrinacarpenter, logansargeant and 1,239,118 others

y/insta: i think i'm really happy, i think i want to stay

view all 21,521 comments

user1: it is a sad day for us all y/n has a boyfriend

user2: i'm seeing you in nashville next week and i am so excited

kelseaballerini: i need to know where those boots are from asap

y/ninsta: just sent you the link bby

user3: f1 driver logan sargeant spotted in the likes

user4: he loves country music he is probably just a fan

user5: this caption has to be song lyrics

ls2updates posted a story

written: logan, lando and oscar were spotted in nashville at a y/n y/ln concert

y/nupdates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 23,472 others

y/nupdates: y/n played a new song for the first time last night. she said that it was about someone in the crowd and then proceeded to play the most beautiful love song in the entire world, whoever it is makes mother very happy

view all 549 comments

user6: imagine being lucky enough to say THE y/n y/ln is your girlfriend

user7: there were three single f1 drivers at her show last night i'm convinced she is dating one of them

user8: glen powell liked a few tweets about her a couple months back, i still bet it is him

williamsracing

liked by carlossainz, alexalbon, user9 and 1,003,883 others

tagged: carlossainz

williamsracing: we are delighted to announce that carlos sainz will be joining williams for the 2025 season

view all 53,817 comments

carlossainz: so excited for this chapter

user9: thank god, logan was useless

user10: no the car was useless y/ninsta liked this comment

user11: poor logan i heard he hardly got any warning

y/ninsta liked this comment

user12: so excited for carlex

user13: i'm going to miss logan on the grid

y/ninsta liked this comment

user14: what the fuck is going on that country singer y/n y/ln has been liking all the positive comments about logan

y/ninsta

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, carrieunderwood and 1,321,872 others

tagged: logansargeant

y/ninsta: i'm so thrilled to tell you that my new single is out at midnight and to introduce you to logan the muse that inspired am i okay?, a man that made me question whether i am okay because spending time with him made me uncharacteristically happy. love you logie.

view all 29,374 comments

user14: i am so sorry mister sargeant i was unaware that you had game

user15: streets said logan had a girlfriend, i was not expecting her to be this gorgeous

user16: what an all american couple omg

logansargeant: i'm so glad i can finally recommend this song to everyone, so proud of you

y/ninsta: and i am so proud of you

user17: song just dropped everyone share your fav lyrics i'll start "like a 6'2" dream, heaven-sent", girl no wonder you launched your relationship before this was released people would have guessed him quickly

user18: "he's funny and he's smart and he's good in (bed implied)- babe just tell us the dick is fire

user19: "who knew guys still brought flowers" - i knew logan would be a massive green flag in a relationship

user20: "i don't feel like a sad song soundtrack" - considering this is the first love song y/n has ever released i am so fucking happy for her, she deserves this so much

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[psychesalcove]

who knows how long i've loved you, you know i love you still

♡ leo valdez x fem. reader

synopsis. request!!

tw. nothing i think, just not proofread at all

guess who finally is writing again!! this past month has been soo packed with school and work things—this year is also a hectic scholarship one, so i've been doing that lol. i'm sorry that i haven't been active, lifes just been crazy 😓.

"hi."

you saw leo jump a little from where he sat at the ledge of the fire escape. he turned his head slightly in your direction, but his eyes stayed put on the streets of manhattan. "hey."

the seven were meeting up at sallys apartment—a tradition that had been going on for some time now. you had just come from the kitchen, were everyone was chatting away, minus leo. that's what brought you out here. you somehow always had a nack for knowing where he was; a longing, some said.

you walked over to him, silently asking him if you could sit. he nodded silently, the opposite of how he usually is at these gatherings—talking to anyone and everyone about whatever came to mind. you sat down at the approval nod, mimicking his position by draping your legs over the edge too.

"whats wrong?" you asked, getting straight to the point. leo never got this quiet unless something was wrong, you learned that from your time on argo ii with him. he shrugged his shoulders, eyes following a person walking their dog down the street.

"hey, cmon." you said lightly, bumping your shoulder with his. "i wanna know how to help."

he shrugged again, but this time started taking. "i don't know," he mumbled. "i just, feel weird–i guess, i don't know." he shrugged his shoulders again; must be his favorite gesture right now.

"i think you do know what you feel," you mused, eyes flickering from the across the street apartments to leo. "what's happening in that smart head of yours?" you prompted, ears picking up on percy singing horribly from somewhere inside.

you saw leo smile lightly at your wording from the corner of your eyes, but didn't mention it. "i think it just feels different now, i guess." he started. "i mean, everyone here seems to be figuring out their life. percy, annabeth, you and jason are at college, piper already has a business starting, hazel and frank are doing great at new rome, and then—" he stopped with a breath, shoulders slumping down.

"then i'm here with nothing to talk about. what do i even say? that im just doing nothing cool? i haven't even really starting applying to college, how do i talk about that and sound interesting?" he rambled, hands starting to gesture mindlessly.

you considered this. you haven't even realized that leo felt like this; he always seemed like the most interesting person to you. "you can talk alot about applying to college," you said finally, watching as he looked over and made eye contact with you for the first time since you came out here.

"talk about the collage, what you're thinking of majoring in, stuff like that. gods, you can even talk about joining a frat house; piper would joke about that for hours with you." as you talked, you watched as leo took in your words, though you didn't know if it was helping.

"remeber when i was applying to college last year? i talked about that with you for hours, and you didn't get bored, did you?" you asked. leo shook his head in response pressing his lips together as he thought.

"and, i promise you—i ever swear on river styx—that everyone in there would love to talk to you about anything, especially me." you said, hand coming up to hold his. you don't know where this gesture came from, but it almost seemed natural to you. you squeezed his hand, smiling as he reciprocated.

"thank you." leo mumbled, his free hand coming up to quickly rub at his eyes.

"leo, you better not start crying on me now," you joked, hand still in his. he laughed lightly at your statement, his arm now rubbing at his face instead of just his hands.

"can i hug you?" he asked. before he could even finish his question, you were removing your hand from his and instead embracing him fully. he mumbled something you couldn't pick up, but he quickly hugged you back tigher.

"thank you so much." he repeated, head resting on your shoulder.

[chickenkurage]

Old habits, die hard (Teen Alan AU)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Alan still has the habit of overworking himself to the point of passing out, thankfully the hollowheads catch up on what he was doing, with Second accidentally managing to find a way to open Alan’s camera and find him sleeping on the desk again looking worse for wear.

Tag: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Overworking, Health Issues, Humor, and Comedy

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“This is... uh, embarrassing,” Alan admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment as Jennifer inspected the broken wheel of his chair. “What even happened, Alan? This is the only swivel chair we've got in the house. I don't think I can buy a new one at the moment,” Jennifer said, her brow furrowed as she knelt beside the chair, examining the damage.

“Tried taking out the cobwebs from my ceiling... I fell,” Alan confessed, his cheeks reddening as he rubbed the back of his head. “Goodness! Are you okay?” Jennifer inquired, moving closer to Alan and checking his arm and back for any signs of injury.

“I'm fine, my back hurts a little, but I'm good! I promise,” Alan assured, a slight pout on his face. “I'm sorry, Mom. I know you got me this chair... I didn't mean to break it,” he added, feeling genuinely apologetic.

Jennifer's expression softened as she placed a comforting hand on Alan's shoulder. “It's alright, accidents happen. Your well-being is more important than any chair. We'll figure something out,” she reassured him, offering a warm smile.

"It's old anyway. How about in the meantime, you use one of the chairs from the kitchen? Until maybe I can buy you a new one,” Jennifer suggested, her hand gently rubbing her chin in thought.

“Huh?! No, it's fine... I-I can use the kitchen chair. It's okay if it's not like this one,” Alan replied, a hint of discomfort evident in his frown as he considered the alternative.

“Really? The kitchen chair isn't exactly comfortable, and your back might start hurting if you use it for a long time. And knowing you... you'll definitely be glued to your seat,” Jennifer teased playfully, a mischievous grin on her face.

Alan pouted in response. “No, I don't! I go out with DJ daily,” he protested.

Jennifer raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly skeptical as her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Blushing slightly, Alan ducked his head. “Okay, maybe not every day, but every weekend! I don't sit around all the time. I take walks... usually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Alan, how many times do I have to remind you that you need to take care of yourself better? I know you're already 15, 5 more years and you're a grown man! You probably don't even need me now,” Jennifer said, crossing her arms with a mix of concern and affection.

“I'm just saying, please take care of yourself more. Look at you, you look thin! And pale!” Jennifer remarked, grabbing Alan's face and squeezing his cheeks. “Mommm,” Alan whined playfully as Jennifer continued to squish his face with a chuckle.

“Alan, just do what I tell you, okay? Take good care of yourself. I trust you,” Jennifer said, emphasizing the importance of self-care before giving Alan's cheek one last gentle squeeze. “Mommmmm,” Alan protested again, though this time with a hint of laughter as Jennifer stepped back.

“I'll see if a friend of mine can fix your chair so you don't have to use the kitchen chair, how about that?” Jennifer suggested, turning back to the swivel chair Alan had. “Sure, I think that's much better,” Alan replied with a small smile.

[♡]

Alan did in fact not follow what his mother had said….

“Alan… psst, wake up! Lecture's over,” James shook Alan's shoulder, causing him to flinch and his eyes to open in panic. “Wha! Dark!” Alan sputtered, causing James to look at him weirdly before glancing around the room. “It's not dark here,” James mused, puzzled by Alan's reaction, and then looked back down at Alan, who sniffed, his nose slightly runny.

“Did I fall asleep through the whole lecture?” Alan asked, wide-eyed as he took in the empty room, devoid of students or the professor.

James nodded, “Yeah, man, you slept through the entire 3-hour class. That's crazy.”

Alan grabbed his hair in panic. “And you didn't wake me up?! Wh-What!? Tell me you wrote down notes for this lecture,” Alan said, cupping both of his hands together in a pleading gesture.

“Yeah, dude, I can lend you mine,” James said, opening his bag and handing Alan his binder. “ Oh, Christ, why did I even sleep through the whole thing,” Alan groaned, running a hand over his face in dismay.

“Honestly, you look worse for wear, Alan, and that’s saying something. You look even worse than last week,” James exclaimed, taking note of Alan's eye bags and slightly red nose from his frequent rubbing.

Alan shot him a seething glare, snatching the binder from James' hands. “Gee, thanks, James,” Alan grumbled under his breath.

“Anyways, I'm also done with my part in the animation project that we have to pass next week,” James added, placing a hand on his waist in a relaxed stance.

“That’s already next week? I haven’t even started yet,” Alan said, pushing himself up from his seat, only to pause when his vision suddenly blurred.

James quickly placed a hand on Alan's shoulder to steady him. “It’s next weekend. I mean, you should rest for now, Alan. You look really sick,” James frowned, concern evident in his voice as Alan instinctively placed a hand on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of notes to write down. Can't you believe it? 500 slides for a 10-item quiz this Friday,” Alan whined, shoving the binder into his bag and pulling out a tissue to blow his nose.

“It’s Monday, Alan. You can review some slides tomorrow. Go to sleep, man,” James advised, crossing his arms as he observed Alan rubbing his tired eyes.

“I know, I know. I can do it. I’m not dying,” Alan retorted, rolling his eyes as he zipped up his bag and turned to James. “We've got no class tomorrow. Just get some rest, dude,” James insisted as he followed after Alan, who stumbled out of the room.

“Mmm, yeah, yeah,” Alan mumbled wearily, prompting James to shake his head in disappointment. “One day, Alan, I swear, one day you're gonna regret pushing yourself so much,” James remarked, while Alan waved him off and headed in a different direction to catch a bus.

“See ya, James,” Alan bid farewell tiredly as James watched him stumble away with a frown, shaking his head at his friend's stubbornness. 

By the time Alan reached home, Jennifer was not around, leaving him alone in the house.

“Nhhh,” Alan groaned, attempting to stretch his left arm to relieve the ache. His stomach grumbled, prompting him to walk over to the fridge. He let out a sigh upon finding it empty. “Ugh,” Alan muttered, lightly knocking his head on the top of the fridge, causing him to rub it in frustration.

“I’ll just wait for dinner,” Alan mumbled to himself, closing the fridge and trudging up the stairs to his room.

Upon opening the door, he surveyed his messy room. "Right, I forgot to clean my room," Alan mumbled, kicking a dirty shirt towards the hamper.

He threw his bag on his bed, retrieved James' binder, notebook, and pen, then settled in his chair, wincing slightly at its discomfort before powering up his PC.

As he waited for it to boot up, he began copying James’ notes. “Tsk,” Alan clicked his tongue, shaking his right hand, feeling his wrist ache. “Not again,” he mumbled,  before glancing up at his screen displaying Second and the skittle gang lounging on the sofa.

Alan chuckled softly before reaching for his earphones tucked beside his desk.

“Hey guys” Alan said, causing Second to sit up excitedly and wave his direction. Alan waved back in response before chuckling when he remembers that Second can’t exactly see him.

“Alan! You’re back home from school?” Second asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Mmm, I've got some stuff to do, but I'm here to listen if you've got some stories to share about what happened while I was gone,” Alan replied, glancing back down at his notebook and continuing to jot down notes despite the painful ache in his right hand.

“Oh well… there’s nothing that exciting that happened, I think,” Second said, tapping his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“That's a lie. I think you all are some sort of danger magnet. Surely something must have happened while I was gone,” Alan chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Wha?! No way!” Second spluttered in embarrassment, waving his arms defensively. Behind him, Green and Yellow chuckled, their shoulders shaking before returning to their own activities.

“Okayyy,” Alan drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to write,

“Trust me!... Anyways, Vic, Cho, and Dark are coming by,” Second said excitedly, hopping with anticipation. Alan shifted his focus back to the screen, a grin spreading across his face.

“Really?! Great!” Alan exclaimed, already looking forward to chatting with the three, who led lives in the... whatever they called it, the outernet?

“But if you're really busy, they can come by tomorrow if you want,” Second suggested, tilting his head curiously.

Alan's eyes widened as he glanced at the list of tasks he had written on his wrist. “Uhhh, totally not busy, don’t worry,” Alan lied through his teeth, chuckling awkwardly. 

“Really? I kind of thought you would be very busy. Then again, I kind of don’t understand how schools work,” Second said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oh, Sec, don’t worry, I seriously am free today, uhm... even right now!” Alan winced at his unintentionally high-pitched voice as he watched Second excitedly hop and open the animation program application.

 “Great! We can animate while we wait for them!” Second clapped enthusiastically as Alan pushed his notebook to the side of his desk.

“Totally,” Alan agreed, pulling his keyboard and drawing tablet closer.

[♡]

“A–Achoo!” Alan sneezed, followed by a sniffle as he reached for another tissue to blow his nose. Glancing at the clock in the bottom left corner of his screen, he noted the time: 3:00 AM.

“Ugh, this is my fault. I should've started earlier,” Alan muttered to himself, pulling his lamp closer to his notebook and bending down to continue writing, his back and wrist protesting with aches.

“Not like I could say no to them, though,” Alan mumbled as he finished jotting down the last of the notes he had missed earlier. Closing James’ binder, he shoved it back into his bag and refocused on his screen.

The empty sofa caught his eye before he opened his personal files and the slides that required more detailed note-taking. “Great… more writing,” Alan grumbled, rubbing his eyes and sniffling, his nose running again.

He groaned in response, balling up a tissue and pressing it inside his nose, blocking it completely.

“Nnh,” Alan grunted, rubbing his wrist, feeling the numbness creeping in. Typically, at this point, he would rest his wrist and resume the work the next day. 

However, with 500 slides looming ahead, he knew he had to push through and start his work now, understanding that his penchant for procrastination could hinder his progress if he delayed any further.

Alan turned his focus back to the bottom left of his screen. “4:00 AM, then I rest,” Alan mumbled to himself before returning to the slides, hastily jotting down his notes, still ignoring the persistent ache in his wrist.

Lost in a trance, time seemed to slip away unnoticed, and before he knew it, he found himself suddenly jolting awake, his face meeting the hard surface of his desk with a resounding thud. “Achk!” Alan yelped in surprise, instinctively holding his nose where the tissue had slipped off during his unintended slumber.

“Oh no, di-did I fall asleep?” Alan mumbled, his eyes widening as he glanced at the time displayed on his screen—it was already 5 AM in the morning.

He blinked in disbelief before looking down at his notes, realizing that he had managed to cover almost half of the material, despite not recalling how he had drifted off to sleep.

“Did I fall asleep sitting up?” Alan mumbled to himself drowsily, his nose feeling runny again as he grabbed another tissue to stifle the sniffles, then retrieved the pen that had rolled under his desk.

“Khk,” Alan groaned, his aching wrist causing him to flinch, inadvertently hitting his head under the table. “Ah, dammit,” he cursed, retrieving the pen with his left hand and placing it back on the table, rubbing his head in discomfort.

“Alan? You’re awake early,” Chosen said, suddenly appearing at the side of his screen, looking like he had just woken up. “Huh? Yeah,” Alan replied, picking up his pen, wincing slightly as his right hand protested. “I thought you don’t have classes on Tuesday?” Chosen inquired, walking over to the sofa and flopping down with a sigh.

“I don’t, but I need to, uhmm–” Alan trailed off, his mind momentarily blanking for no apparent reason.

He noticed Chosen tilting his head, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Ah, yeah, I have a quiz, sorry I forgot the word,” Alan said, rubbing his head embarrassedly.

“Oh, I understand. You can continue; I’ll watch over here and wait for the others to wake up,” Chosen said, waving a hand lazily.

“Mmm,” Alan hummed tiredly, refocusing on the PowerPoint and continuing his notes, mumbling to himself intermittently. However, at some point, his vision began to darken at the edges, prompting him to release his pen and bury his face in his hands.

“Ughhh,” Alan groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Chosen asked, still observing him from the couch, though he had reclined and inadvertently dozed off while watching Alan's cursor move around the slides. He woke up to Alan groaning, feeling slightly concerned upon hearing Alan's sniffles and a more congested tone in his voice.

“N-nothing, it’s just that I'm only on the 332nd slide,” Alan said with a groan, punctuating his response with a yawn.

Chosen felt a hint of suspicion creeping up his back.

“Alan… did you even sleep?” Chosen suddenly asked, sitting up from the couch and crossing his arms disapprovingly.

“Oh, uhm, uh, haha, I-I did? I took a nap,” Alan said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell me the nap is on the desk,” Chosen said, disappointment evident in his tone as he heard Alan emit a small ‘eep.’

“Alan, go to sleep. You need rest,” Chosen remarked firmly, noticing Alan's audible groans and sniffling, along with the faint sound of him removing his earphones to blow his nose away from the mic.

“Just a bit more, th-then I'll sleep,” Alan muttered, determined to finish a few more slides as Chosen shook his head in disappointment.

Alan frowned, feeling embarrassed and slightly hurt as he gazed at Chosen. While Chosen doesn't have a face, his body language spoke volumes, arms crossed and an air of disappointment palpable in his posture.

Alan despised disappointing people, and the weight of Chosen's disappointment weighed heavily on him.

“Okay, I’ll rest!” Alan said, raising his arms in defeat, the throbbing in his right arm now insistent. Chosen gave him a firm nod, “Good, come back when you’re well-rested.”

Alan couldn't help but roll his eyes at Chosen's directive as he removed his earphones and made his way to his bed. Shoving his bag to the corner, he collapsed onto his unmade mattress. “Just for a few hours,” Alan mumbled to himself as he curled up on his side, closing his eyes.

However, he soon found his respite interrupted by the uncomfortable ache in his back and right arm. “Ugh, just my luck,” Alan grumbled, sitting up and making his way to his drawers in search of pain relief patches to alleviate the discomfort.

Thankfully, he found a few and carefully placed two on his lower back for good measure, along with one on his forehead to help him rest more comfortably. Despite his efforts, his mind raced with thoughts of work left undone, making it challenging to relax.

Frustrated, Alan rubbed his face wearily, glancing at his screen to find that Chosen had already left, likely back in the folder where the houses were stored.

“Just a few more minutes, I need to finish the slides and then a few commissions,” Alan mumbled to himself, rushing to his bed and bending down to retrieve the wrist brace he had accidentally kicked under the bed before settling back into his chair.

He swiftly strapped the brace onto his right wrist, tightening it for good measure before grasping his pen, ensuring he could still maneuver his hand. Though slightly uncomfortable, wearing the brace affected his writing, but he felt compelled to complete his tasks before even considering rest.

And so, that's what he did. Alan finished all his slides and transitioned to his animation project, his tired eyes struggling to focus on the time displayed on his screen—it was already 8 AM, and he was still engrossed in sketching. Nothing was finalized yet; perhaps he had grown too reliant on seeking help from Second.

“Good morning, Alan!” Second beamed, skipping down his desktop joyfully.

“Hey, Sec, mind if I ask for some help for a few moments?” Alan inquired, tapping his pen wearily against his cheek, refusing to pause his work even though every time he closed his eyes, they burned with fatigue.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Is this a commission or something?” Second asked, climbing up the animation program and grabbing his own pencil.

Alan only hummed tiredly, not fully registering Second's question as he continued with his work.

Second tilted his head curiously, “Alan? Yahoo, I'm asking something.” Second waved his hands, prompting Alan to blink owlishly. “Ah, sorry, I didn't hear it. Can you ask again?” Alan replied with an awkward chuckle.

“Alan, are you sure you’re alright? I honestly thought you would still be asleep at this time. You don't have any classes today, right?” Second inquired while fixing a few errors in Alan's sketch.

“Ah, well, I just want to finish this quickly. This is school work, and I still haven't started on some of my commissions yet,” Alan mumbled, his focus split between the conversation and his tasks.

“Hmm, have you thought about closing your commissions for now?” Second asked.

“Ah, well, no... I need money for my…..school stuff,” Alan admitted, feeling embarrassed as his face flushed with heat.

“Oh... But... isn’t your mom there to help you? You have school, and you are quite busy,” Second remarked as he observed Alan's work, jumping down to hit the play button and watching the animation unfold with a proud hum.

“Mmmm, ehh,” Alan responded, prompting a chuckle from Second. Alan was indeed a man of few words at times.

By the time 10 PM rolled around, Alan and Second had finally completed the animation. Alan then proceeded to craft a brief message to James, attaching the animation and sending it through email before leaning back in his chair, releasing a contented sigh.

“Finally,” Alan uttered, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and fatigue, his arms raised in a gesture of victory.

He heard Second clapping. “Nice job, Alan!” Second cheered, only to stop abruptly when he noticed the sound of light snoring. “Alan? Are you asleep?” Second inquired, tilting his head curiously.

In the end, Alan had indeed passed out in his chair, the weight of his efforts and exhaustion finally catching up to him.

[♡]

Alan adjusted the webcam above his screen and tapped his chin, “I think it's finally set up,” he mumbled to himself, having to rouse from his impromptu sleep at his desk when a knock sounded at the front door. Peering out, he spotted the small package he had ordered from Amazon.

Despite using some of his money to buy the webcam so others could see him, Alan grimaced as he surveyed his messy room and his disheveled appearance. He looked incredibly haggard and felt even worse as his nose continued to run from the previous night.

“Awwwww!” Second whined, slumping in disappointment. Vic patted his back consolingly, “I'm sorry, guys. Maybe tomorrow?” Alan suggested, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, it's fine by me, to be honest. Sec is just impatient,” Dark remarked as Second let out a sad whine.

“Same here,” Vic added with a nod, Chosen echoing his sentiment.

“Oh, that's good. I promise I'll open my camera tomorrow, Sec,” Alan said with a laugh as Second knelt on the ground, clasping his hands together. “Alannnn, pleaseeee,” Second whined, prompting Dark to grab him by the scruff of his neck.

“Stop being so dramatic, Sec,” Dark chided as he shook the orange stick, eliciting a sad whine that made Second resemble a kicked puppy. Alan chuckled as he watched Dark drag Second off the side of the screen and towards the folder.

Stretching his arms over his head, Alan observed Vic and Chosen settling down on the couch, engrossed in their conversation.

After a moment of contemplation, Alan stood up from his chair and walked towards his drawer to retrieve brand new patches to replace the ones on his forehead and back. He took off his wristband momentarily to add a patch to his wrist before securing it back in place, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Perfect, I can work again,” Alan declared before returning to his desk, pulling up the list of his commissions. “Where to start, where to start,” he mumbled to himself, opening his program and diving back into his work.

By 2 PM, Alan had yet to have his breakfast or lunch, engrossed in completing his second commission of the day. Jennifer had not returned home to remind him to eat, and his stomach's growls finally drew attention to his neglected meals.

Vic and Chosen had retreated back to the folder, likely to spend time with the others and leave Alan to his work. Despite expressing his appreciation for their presence, Alan tried not to feel disheartened by their departure.

Standing up from his chair, Alan descended the stairs, glancing into the darkened kitchen. “Mom still isn't home?” Alan mumbled, a tinge of loneliness creeping in as he eyed the sandwich Jennifer had left in the fridge the previous night.

“Sandwich is fine,” Alan decided, grabbing it and taking a bite of the cold bread before pausing as he noticed a bill and a small note on the kitchen aisle.

“Order some food that’ll last you until dinner! I won’t be home until midnight, i love you”

“Oh... I totally forgot about that,” Alan murmured, scratching his head as he recalled Jennifer mentioning something to him during dinner the previous night, a detail that had slipped his mind entirely.

“Okay,” Alan muttered to himself, picking up the bill and pocketing it. “I don’t need to order any food; I can just eat sandwiches,” he resolved, feeling guilty about using Jennifer's money. He was content with the remaining peanut butter and bread.

Rushing back to his room, Alan tried to chew the cold peanut butter sandwich as he resumed his work, determined to make the most of what he had.

[♡]

Second hummed with curiosity, navigating through the settings bar in an attempt to rectify the muted Google issue pointed out by Yellow. It seemed Alan had accidentally muted Google, preventing them from watching YouTube.

"Where is it…" Second pondered, tapping his chin in confusion, clicking on the 'System' tab and jumping to the 'Sounds' bar before backtracking with a groan of frustration.

“It’s not here. Is it even in the Settings? I don’t remember,” Second muttered, pressing back and then jumping to the search bar, typing 'Google', only to groan again when it yielded no results.

“Might as well just make Yellow do this,” Second decided, scratching his head.

Suddenly, a mischievous idea sparked in his mind. What if he could access Alan’s webcam and catch a glimpse?

“Heck yeah!” Second cheered excitedly, typing 'Camera Privacy', locating the camera icon, and opening it to grant access. With a devious giggle, he relished at the idea of being the first to see Alan.

Second swiftly exited the Settings app, frantically navigating to the Camera app via the taskbar, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alan without alerting him. The room was quiet, and Second prayed that Alan was not at his desk at that moment.

“Yes!” Second cheered as the camera app opened, only to frown at the darkened room illuminated by a soft light, revealing a distressing sight—Alan.

Alan appeared to have fallen asleep in his chair, his cheek pressed against his palm, looking unwell and sick. Second was taken aback by the unexpected scene, noticing Alan's disheveled appearance, the white patch on his forehead, the tissue stuffed in his nose, a line of drool on his chin, and a thick wrist brace on Alan’s wrist.

“The hell?!” Second exclaimed softly, observing Alan's discomfort as he shifted slightly in his sleep. Concerned, Second realized he needed to alert the others without delay.

“I gotta get the others quick!” Second muttered to himself, rushing towards the folder, nearly tripping as he hurried to the house. He pushed the door open abruptly, startling Vic, who was seated in the living room engrossed in something on his tablet.

“Vic! Cho! Dark! I need help!” Second exclaimed, waving his arms frantically to get their attention.

“Woah, what’s with you, man?” Dark inquired, strolling in from the kitchen, mug in hand, while Chosen, lounging on the other couch, looked up quizzically. Vic, closing his tablet, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Uhm, I may or may not have opened Alan’s camera... and he looks really sick and bad. He has this patch on his forehead, and I think there’s even a tissue shoved in his nose. And he’s wearing a brace on his wrist... Achk! Never mind, just follow me quickly!” Second explained hurriedly, darting out of the house and back to the folder.

They reached Alan's room, where the camera app was still open, revealing Alan slumbering at his desk, his head supported by his hands.

“Creators above, what happened to him?” Vic questioned, his arms crossed, visibly worried. Beside him, Chosen growled, looking perturbed. “I thought he had gone to bed earlier. I told him to rest,” Chosen added.

“What the hell? What happened to Alan?” Dark demanded, a mix of concern and anger in his voice.

Alan stirred awake, the voices from his earphones drawing his attention to the camera application open on his screen, revealing his own exhausted appearance. Blinking in confusion, he noticed the four Hollowheads on the side of the screen.

“Eep!” Alan yelped, hastily covering the webcam with his hand to block the view.

“Alan... What happened?” Vic inquired, his arms folded, a mix of worry and sternness in his expression.

“I... Did you see?” Alan asked nervously, his voice tinged with apprehension.

“I'm sorry, Alan. I was just really curious to see how you looked, and I found you asleep. You look really tired. I didn't know you could outdo Yellow in looking incredibly haggard!” Second blurted out before receiving a shove from Dark.

“That’s not helping, Sec,” Dark muttered under his breath, while Second chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“I promise this doesn't happen every day. I-I’m just…” Alan trailed off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he slowly removed his hand, revealing his face on the camera once more.

“Alan… did you sleep earlier when I told you to rest?” Chosen inquired, his tone filled with a mix of concern and slight reproach.

Alan could only lower his gaze, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled softly, eliciting disappointed sighs from the group.

However, Second, looking at Alan with admiration, interjected, “You do look really young!” This unexpected comment made Alan look up, a chuckle escaping him as his shoulders shook, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

“Usually, I would fix myself up before showing you guys how I look,” Alan confessed, a blush tinting his cheeks as he observed their curious expressions focused on the camera application.

“I really think you should get some sleep, though,” Dark interjected, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his voice now that he had seen how young and weary Alan appeared. While Dark hadn't encountered many humans, he knew from pictures what an adult typically looked like, and Alan didn't fit that mold.

“Y-yeah, totally,” Alan replied awkwardly, acknowledging the concern in Dark's words, while Chosen stood with arms crossed, adding, “I'm glad to see you, but I think you should leave the camera open so I know you're actually going to rest.”

“I didn’t know you were his dad,” Second quipped, surprised by Chosen's protective stance.

“I'm not, but I'd feel better knowing you're not just saying you'll rest,” Chosen retorted, his tone carrying a hint of authority that made Alan scratch his head. “Okay, it's fine with me,” Alan agreed, though he couldn't hide his slight discomfort.

A moment of silence followed as they all processed the sight of Alan, their creator. Vic, Chosen, and Dark had once perceived him as an all-powerful figure, only to discover he was just an awkward teenager who couldn't stop fidgeting and rubbing the back of his neck every few seconds.

“You're pretty awkward, aren't you?” Dark teased gently, prompting Alan to sputter in protest. “I-I'm not!” he protested, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Alright, enough, before you rest, tell me what happened with your wrist first,” Chosen demanded, pointing at the black wrist brace on Alan’s right hand.

“Oh, this? Uhm, I'm not sure yet. My right hand tends to ache when I use it for a long time—I mean…” Alan trailed off as he realized his slip of tongue.

“Don’t tell me you've been working with your right hand hurting all this time?” Vic interjected, a note of worry in his voice.

“I wasn't!” Alan defended himself, raising both arms in protest, inadvertently revealing more patches on his arms to the Hollowheads’ view.

“Alan,” Dark growled, a hint of frustration evident in his tone, while Second let out a sigh of exasperation.

Alan could only duck in defeat, preparing himself to listen to the Hollowheads' admonitions about his health once again.

[princessbrunette]

I’m not sure if you’ve ever done this before but during season 1 when jb is going through that whole thing with his dad what’s pups reaction? Also when jb finds his dad and refuses to believe his dad is an asshole, how does pup react to that as well? Sorry if this is too much

♡₊˚🐶✧˚.🪽⋆₊⊹♡

poor pup, you obviously don’t understand to the full extent what’s going on because he tries to keep you out of as much of it as possible but you try and be there for him when he needs it. he knows you need a lot of attention, it’s how you got your ‘puppy’ nickname in the first place — but during this time when he’s constantly jetting off on impromptu missions with the pogues, more than anything he appreciates you being understanding and letting him go with little complaint.

it doesn’t mean you don’t get sad or scared, and this definitely doesn’t mean he doesn’t acknowledge it. before he runs off, he usually remembers to approach you first with an urgent expression — his hands on your cheeks and his eyes wide. “look, i know i’ve been an asshole okay? i haven’t been here and that’s not fair on you. i take full accountability for that and— and you have been amazing. but i really gotta do this, and… i don’t know if i’m gonna be home tonight. there’s this thing up in charleston and—”

“s’okay john b. i understand. go find your dad, ‘kay? wanna meet him.” you smile, standing on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. he melts instantly, pressing his mouth to yours and stroking your cheeks.

“you’re the best, okay? i love you. so much. i’m sorry, yeah? i love you.” he calls as he backs up, running to the twinkie with the rest of the pogues in tow, who were waiting nearby for him to say goodbye. as jj passes, he ruffles your head, sending you back a pleased smile.

“you a good doggy.” he muses in that southern jokey drawl that makes you smile.

when john b is gone for days at a time with a dead phone, he feels terrible. atleast when the police ask you if you’d seen him you don’t have to lie, shaking your head sadly and telling them you don’t know where he is. you keep things clean at the chateau, look after the chickens when he’s gone. there’s points when you’re not sure if he’s ever coming back, but you know he’d never do that to you.

he arrives home one day in the middle of the night, surprised to find you still there loyally— curled up on the couch clutching his sweatshirt. you look all puffy, like you’d been crying — but now, you were peacefully asleep.

“hey, i’m home puppy, daddies home.” he whispers and you’re up in an instant, groggily wrapping your arms around his neck, sniffling.

he loves that you never doubted his father being alive, making you the only person to consistently believe in him. when any of the pogues would doubt him, he’d instantly be reassured by your furrowed brows, a confused expression. because why wouldn’t he be alive? if he left all those clues, and john b said so — it had to be true?

down the line, when you finally meet his father — he’s not all what he was cut out to be. john b was always in charge, always strong— but with big john routledge around, who was always bossing him about and making him do things he didn’t wanna do, he made jb more vulnerable and not in a good way. he also wouldn’t let you come along, stealing you away from your boyfriend because he didn’t fully trust you.

“i mean, c’mon son you really trust that scrappy lil’ girl? she don’t know right from left, she ain’t comin’ alright? end of. she’d only slow you down.” the man speaks, unknown to the fact you were listening in on the conversation with a tearful pout, one room over.

“you watch your mouth about her.” john b gets in his face but the old man old scoffs, moving him aside.

“yeah, yeah. save the drama for your girl. look, you wanna be the kinda man that gets his girlfriend shot because she can’t think for herself in a think-fast situation? or you wanna be the kinda man that brings her a fuck load of gold n’makes her rich. up to you, boy.” he busies himself with readying his backpack— heading to the door.

when john b finds you, looking guilty in his cap and printed shirt, a look you’d usually wanna be all over if you weren’t so upset — he cups your face, realising you must’ve heard everything.

“look, he’s just… stressed about the gold, okay he— he—”

“i don’t like him, john b.” your lip wobbles, petty and upset from his slander. he sighs, displeased.

“i know, okay. i don’t blame you. but… this is my dad, pup. i can’t please everyone. i just need you to be patient.”

“i have been patient.” he sob, and he pulls you into his chest, shocked because he’s never seen you this upset. “i have—”

“i know, hey, i know. i’m so sorry, baby. gonna figure this whole thing out and come home to you, and when i do — i’m cutting him off okay? unless he apologises, he’s not allowed to be around you anymore.” he promises sincerely and you just nod. you look so tired, tired of everything and his heart sinks.

“okay.”

when he arrives to the twinkie, climbing in the passenger seat he’s furious. so furious he can’t say a word as his father pulls the car out the makeshift drive as john b watches you through the window, curling up miserably on the couch like a sad old dog waiting for death.

“i hope you’re happy.” john b spits. his father barely reacts.

“i will be, once i got a fat golden nugget sittin’ in my palm. you’ll thank me for this one day, john b.”

♡₊˚🐶✧˚.🪽⋆₊⊹♡

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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