#Chloe’s Drabble

[majoryeager104]

WE COULD HAVE HAD THIS

FUCK YOU ENJI ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS SHOW UP AND THE WORLD WOULD HAVE BEEN THIS MUCH BRIGHTER 😭😭😭

Art by Kadeart 🫶🫶🫶

[ineedtherapydesperately]

desperately wanna write a childhood friends to lovers au w chloe and red in the timeline where bridget never goes evil and is still besties w ella

like imagine all the hangouts and sleepovers they have, crying and whining when they have to be separated because red, dear, we really must return home or chloe, love, we've been in wonderland for a week already

imagine little chloe bursting into her parents' bedroom declaring that she'll always be red's knight in shining armour, because every princess, especially a crown princess, needs a knight to protect her and ella and christopher just KNOWING that chloe is gonna stay by red's side forever and ever

so they start planning the wedding with bridget, thrilled to have the opportunity to bring their families even closer together. they're gonna be in laws! a family, just like they've always dreamed.

imagine little red telling her mum that chloe has a really pretty smile and really pretty eyes, and it makes her happy to see chloe happy, and that chloe is the bestest friend in the whole wide world and bridget has to stop herself from squealing and pinching red's adorably flushed cheeks, because her daughter was so in love already, even if it was just puppy love. that doesn't stop her from screaming gleefully into her pillow later that night tho

imagine them growing up together, attached at the hip, never straying from the other's side. imagine them going to auradon together, everyone already knowing that red and chloe, chloe and red, are a package deal. you can't get one without the other, a known fact since the duo were old enough to travel through the rabbit hole on their own

imagine chad walking in on them cuddling, watching a movie and cooing at them, snapping pictures on his phone before they notice him, yelling at him to leave them alone. alright, alright, I'll leave you lovebirds alone and red flushes in mortification and shut the fuck up chad, we're completely platonic and you know this because little miss goody-goody would definitely be rougher around the edges, growing up with red, and she'd definitely cuss up a storm at chad, but she loves him, she swears, just maybe not as much as she loves red

imagine them going through all the motions of a romantic relationship, cuddles, cheek kisses, hand holding, cute dates and all that, but insisting that it's just platonic, and that's how they've always been because they're best friends and their parents are so very done with them, just praying for them to get together, and chad has even started a betting pool for when they'll realise they love each other. he thinks it'll take them until at least their second year at auradon prep - at least, it'll take chloe that long

imagine chloe and red having matching lock screens, and having each other set as their home screens as well. imagine red baking chloe anything she asks for, like peppermint cookies and flamingo feather cupcakes and blueberry muffins, because chloe, her princess, her knight, has a raging sweet tooth that red can't help but indulge every time. imagine chloe taking red on ice cream dates, because red LOVES ice cream, and refusing to let her pay for it because red was a princess and deserved only the best treatment, thank you very much and red has to point out that chloe, you're a princess too. but, red, you're the crown princess and im your loyal knight <3

imagine red finally realising her feelings and ranting at the council of parents because holy shit aunt ella, your daughter is so dense?? and christopher can't help but cringe because he knows exactly who chloe got that trait from and he's like I'm sorry but while we charmings are quite, charming, we're also quite oblivious, especially to matters of the heart and bridget can't stop laughing because darling, you may need to hit her with glass shoes for her to figure it out, which makes ella blush because that's exactly what she had to do that night at castlecoming

god I have so many feels about this I am totally normal about glassheart. final part absolutely inspired by @strugglingsapphic's recent post bc I love the idea of oblivious chloe not knowing shit

[chlerc]

nonchalant-chalant ; charles leclerc

— summary; everybody in high school always saw him as a cold, detached and nonchalant student. but they never knew he could be so ‘chalant’ to a specific person.

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 5390.

content — 5 occasions the nonchalant guy of the whole high school turns out to be a very ‘chalant’ guy, you even left him in tears. he’s in soooo deeeepppp, like reallyyyy deep for you.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: we got artistic painter charles leclerc before gta VI oh my days??? all these are sitting in drafts rotting.

— I.

Charles had always been the quiet type. The kind of person who blended into the background without much effort, his presence in the room more like a shadow than a force. His cold, nonchalant demeanour kept most people at arm's length. He never spoke more than necessary, never engaged in the idle chatter that seemed to dominate the classroom before the teacher arrived. He was distant, detached, and entirely unreadable — yet there was something beneath that frosty exterior, a subtle warmth, like a fire hidden beneath a layer of ice.

No one really paid much attention to him, except for the girls who admired him from afar. He had a sort of natural appeal, with his sharp features and air of disinterest. But he never seemed to care, shrugging off the attention as easily as he shrugged off everything else. She thought he was just another aloof, handsome boy with nothing more to offer than a pretty face.

But what no one else knew — what she herself wouldn’t have suspected — was that Charles cared more than he let on. It was in the small, nearly imperceptible gestures he made. The way he would glance her way when he thought no one was looking. The way his cold eyes would soften, just a fraction, when she passed by. He had grown used to her presence, though they were in different classes, separated by the walls of the school, by desks and timetables. Yet, every day, his gaze would unconsciously drift towards the window, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of her in the classroom opposite his.

That was why he had changed seats. It wasn’t an easy task, especially since the seat he wanted was by the window, highly coveted by the students who enjoyed daydreaming during lessons. His classmate who currently occupied it had refused at first, until Charles, with his usual indifferent expression, pulled out a notebook and mentioned, almost too casually, that he could get him Kimi Raikkonen’s autograph.

“You can get me Kimi Raikkonen’s signature?” his classmate had asked, eyes wide with disbelief. Charles had merely nodded. He didn’t brag about his connections; it was beneath him. But for this, he was willing to play the card.

The deal was struck. Charles traded his own seat for the one by the window, a fact that quickly spread through the school. The rumour mill worked fast, and soon enough, people speculated that he’d done it to sit closer to Léa, the gorgeous girl who always seemed to be surrounded by admirers. She sat just two rows away, close enough that Charles could, in theory, exchange casual glances or whispered conversations with her during class.

That was, at least, what she thought when she heard about the seat change. She hadn’t paid much attention to Charles before — he was too quiet, too removed from the kind of people she usually spent time with. But when her friend mentioned his sudden change of seats, she couldn’t help but wonder if the rumours were true. It seemed so typical of boys like him, drawn to the prettiest girl in the class. Not that she blamed him — Léa was undeniably beautiful.

She didn’t expect to be dragged into the mystery herself. Not until the day he stopped her in the corridor, his expression as neutral as ever, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “You’re coming with me,” he said simply, his voice low but firm. “What?” She frowned, confused by his sudden approach. “Where?”

“Just follow me.” He didn’t wait for her to argue, already walking ahead, his long strides forcing her to catch up. She followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. Charles led her through the school, down the hallways she knew so well, until they reached his classroom. The lesson had ended just moments before, and most of his classmates were still lingering, gathering their things. “Here,” he said, stopping in front of his desk — the one by the window. He motioned for her to sit down. She glanced at him suspiciously, then at the desk. “Why am I sitting here?”

“Just sit.” Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair, still unsure of his intentions. The classroom buzzed softly with the sounds of students talking, but Charles remained focused on her, his gaze unwavering. 

He gestured towards the window, and she followed his gaze, looking outside. It took a moment, but then she saw it — her own seat in her classroom, visible directly through the window. Her eyes widened as realisation dawned. “You... you can see my desk from here.” He nodded, his expression still unreadable. “That’s the point.”

“You changed seats... just so you could... look out the window and see my desk?” She felt a strange mix of confusion and something else, something warmer, though she couldn’t quite name it. He shrugged, his lips quirking up ever so slightly at the corners. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s a good seat.”

She scoffed, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Right. And I suppose the view of Léa is just an added bonus?” Charles gave her a look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if to say she was being ridiculous. “I couldn’t care less about Léa.”

“Really?” she teased, leaning back in the chair, folding her arms. “Because that’s what everyone thinks. I mean, why else would you bargain for this seat?” He didn’t answer at first, instead, he looked out the window, his gaze distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more thoughtful. “It’s not for her.”

There was a long pause as his words sank in. She glanced out the window again, her mind racing, trying to piece together the meaning behind his actions. Charles wasn’t one to express his feelings, that much was clear. But the fact that he’d gone out of his way — made a deal with someone, even used Kimi Raikkonen’s name — just to sit here, just to be able to see her... it said more than words ever could.

She turned back to him, her teasing smile replaced by something softer. “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be, are you?” His gaze flicked back to hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of vulnerability in those dark eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of indifference. He smirked, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t get used to it.” She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Charles.”

“And yet, here we are.” He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly against the edge of the desk. Her smile grew, and she found herself looking at him in a new light. There was more to him than she’d ever realised — more than anyone realised. He might have been cold and distant to the world, but in small, unexpected ways, he showed that he cared.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence, “are you going to let me keep this seat, or do you want it back?” He looked at her for a moment, then out the window again. “You can have it. I’ve already seen what I needed to. So, will you stop ignoring me now?” She laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that seemed to catch him off guard. He watched her, his usual cool façade cracking just slightly, revealing something warmer beneath.

— II.

The moment Charles had heard that she was unwell, something in him shifted, though outwardly, his expression remained as neutral as ever. He had always prided himself on his self-control, on not being ruled by impulses or emotions. But this — this was different. There was an unspoken urgency in the way he grabbed his coat, barely remembering to lock his door before he left the house. In the quiet hum of the late afternoon, he made his way over to hers, his steps quick and purposeful.

He arrived at her front door, a bag of medicine in hand, and his usual calm, collected self barely masked the concern that churned underneath. When she opened the door, her face pale and her eyes heavy with the weight of sickness, he felt something tighten in his chest. Her usual spark was dimmed, and he hated seeing her like that — vulnerable and weary. But instead of showing any of this, Charles slipped into his familiar aloof demeanour, the one that gave away nothing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hoarse but laced with curiosity. “I was passing by and remembered I had some extra medicine,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly, holding up the bag. “Thought you might need it.” She raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe for support. “Right, you just happened to have extra medicine on you?” He gave a slight smirk, his lips barely curving upward. “What can I say? I’m a man of preparedness.”

“Sure, Charles Leclerc, always so practical. You’re telling me you carry around medicine for no reason?” she said, a teasing glint in her tired eyes, though her tone was soft. “I do,” he replied smoothly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He made his way to the kitchen as though he’d done it a hundred times before, placing the bag on the counter. “The last time I was at the pharmacy, I bought extra. You know, just in case.”

As he busied himself unpacking the medicine, she leaned against the doorway, watching him with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. It was strange seeing him like this — so at ease in her space, acting as if taking care of her was second nature. “Charles, you’re a terrible liar,” she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re telling me you just happened to have exactly what I need?” He glanced at her briefly, eyes cool and unreadable, before pulling out a bottle of cough syrup and setting it down. “Coincidence.”

“Mmm-hmm, and what about the receipt?” She stepped closer, her tiredness not dulling her wit. “Receipt?” His brows furrowed ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. She picked up the crumpled piece of paper that had fallen out of the bag, her eyes scanning it quickly. “It says here you bought all this... today.”

Charles froze for a brief moment, his eyes flicking to the receipt in her hand. He mentally cursed himself for being so careless, but instead of admitting to his obvious concern, he rolled his eyes with feigned exasperation. “Fine, you caught me,” he said, his tone dry. “I’m guilty of being considerate. Sue me.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as she shook her head. “Why didn’t you just say so?” He shrugged, leaning against the counter, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Because then you’d make a big deal out of it, and we both know you’d never let me hear the end of it.” Her smile grew, though it was tempered by the weariness in her body. “You really think I’d make a big deal out of you caring?”

“You? Absolutely.” His voice was teasing, though there was a softness behind his words. She laughed lightly, though it quickly dissolved into a cough, and Charles’s expression tightened with concern, though he masked it quickly. He pushed himself off the counter, crossing the space between them in a few long strides. Gently, he took her arm and guided her towards the living room.

“Come on, you should be resting, not standing here making fun of me.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Someone has to keep you humble,” she muttered, letting him lead her to the sofa, where she sank into the cushions with a sigh. He handed her a glass of water, watching her drink with a careful eye.

“And you do a terrible job at it,” he quipped, settling himself in the armchair across from her. “I’m as arrogant as ever.” She smiled weakly, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before reopening. “You’re not as cold as you think you are, Charles.” He looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, as if weighing her words. “I’m not cold. I just don’t waste time pretending to care about things that don’t matter.”

“But I matter, don’t I?” she asked, her voice soft but playful, pushing him just enough to see if he’d bite. Charles exhaled through his nose, glancing away for a brief second before meeting her gaze again. “You already know the answer to that.” Her smile widened just a little, and she leaned back into the cushions, her body relaxing as she finally allowed herself to rest. “You’re terrible at hiding it, you know.”

“Hiding what?” he asked, though there was no real challenge in his voice. “Caring. You act all cool and detached, but when it comes to the people you actually care about, you’re different.” Her eyes flickered to the medicine on the counter. “Like rushing over here with medicine the second you hear I’m sick.”

“Like I said, coincidence,” he deadpanned, though there was a faint warmth in his eyes. She rolled her eyes, a tired but amused look crossing her face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Charles.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill every space with words. Charles watched her as her breathing steadied, as the weariness in her frame seemed to ease slightly. He didn’t move from his spot, didn’t leave her side, though he could have easily brushed this whole thing off and gone home.

Instead, he stayed. Because despite his insistence that he didn’t care, that he was merely being practical, there was something deeper there — something that he could never quite admit, not even to himself. He might have been cold and nonchalant to the rest of the world, but with her, he was different. Even if he would never say it out loud.

“You’re staying, right?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes already half-closed. Charles looked at her, his gaze softening just slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, she smiled once more, a small, contented smile that lingered on her lips as she drifted off to sleep, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and the quiet realisation that he cared far more than he ever let on.

— III.

It was one of those sunny days where the excitement in the air was almost palpable, with an entire inter-class group from their highschool planning an outing to the amusement park. It was a mix of mutual friends between the two of them, some from her class, others from his, all eager to make the most of the day. The park was alive with the sound of laughter and the constant hum of rides whirring into motion. The scent of freshly spun candy floss and buttery popcorn drifted through the air as they wandered around, hopping from ride to ride.

Everything had been going smoothly until they reached the infamous roller coaster, a towering structure of sharp loops and steep drops that sent a shiver down her spine just by looking at it. The group gathered at the base, all eyes drawn upward to the intimidating metal tracks twisting in the sky above them. “Right, who’s in for this one?” someone from the group called out, already bouncing on their feet with anticipation.

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she immediately stepped back, her hand gripping the strap of her bag. There was no way she was getting on that thing. Heights, sudden drops, and twists? Not her idea of fun. “I think I’ll, um… sit this one out,” she said, her voice barely audible over the buzz of the group.

Her declaration caused a ripple through the crowd. With her out, they now had an odd number of people. Several heads turned towards Charles, who had been standing a few steps behind her, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I’m not going either,” Charles suddenly spoke up, his voice steady but nonchalant.  The group turned to look at him in surprise. Charles, the guy who rarely backed down from anything, refusing a ride?

“Wait, what? You’re skipping the roller coaster too?” one of their mutual friends asked, confusion clear on his face. “You love this adrenaline stuff!” Charles gave a half-hearted shrug, his expression as indifferent as ever. “Yeah, well, doctor’s orders,” he replied lazily, eyes glancing upward toward the coaster as if it held no real interest for him. “Doctor’s orders?” She shot him a sceptical glance, folding her arms over her chest. “What are you on about?”

He didn’t look at her, instead keeping his gaze on the roller coaster in the distance. “Yeah, something about my equilibrium. Can’t do steep drops. Inner ear issue,” he said, the lie slipping off his tongue with the smoothness of a well-rehearsed excuse.

Their mutual friends exchanged incredulous looks, some rolling their eyes, already seeing through his flimsy excuse. “Really? Inner ear? Since when?” Charles didn’t flinch, only smirking slightly. “I don’t make the rules.” Her eyes narrowed, scrutinising him. She knew Charles well enough to know when he was bluffing. “So… you’re scared of the roller coaster?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

He turned his gaze to her then, his smirk widening slightly. “What do you think?” His tone was laced with sarcasm, the challenge clear in his eyes. “I think you’re only saying that because I’m not going,” she shot back, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe I just didn’t want you sitting out here alone,” he said, his tone light but carrying a weight she wasn’t expecting. She raised an eyebrow, though amusement danced in her eyes. “How noble of you.”

The group began to filter into the roller coaster queue, their friends throwing playful jabs at Charles for his sudden ‘inner ear problem’ before disappearing into the line. Now, with just the two of them left standing by the entrance, she turned fully to face him, still smirking. “Seriously though,” she said after a pause, “you didn’t have to stay behind. You could’ve gone on with them.”

“I know,” he replied easily, not bothering to elaborate further. He kept his gaze ahead, seemingly indifferent to the ride and the group that was now filing away. She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “When I’m not scared anymore, you’ll go on the roller coaster with me, right?”

Charles looked down at her then, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll ride it with you,” he said, his voice steady but genuine. “And what if I never get over it?” she asked with a playful challenge in her voice, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

Without hesitation, Charles replied, “Then I’ll never ride it either.” She blinked, taken aback by how easily he said it. For a moment, the usual banter between them faded, replaced by something quieter, something heavier. His words, though casual, held an unspoken promise. She felt a warmth spread through her chest but shook her head, smiling as she broke the tension.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, though the affection in her voice was hard to miss. He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “I’ve been called worse.” They stood there together, watching the roller coaster cars rattle along the tracks, the distant screams of their friends echoing in the background. She glanced up at him again, her earlier scepticism replaced by something softer, though she tried to mask it.

“Next time, maybe I'll surprise you and actually get on,” she mused, giving him a playful nudge. Charles looked down at her, a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” They spent the rest of the day together, watching from the sidelines as their friends braved the rides. And while she didn’t muster the courage for the roller coaster that day, the fact that Charles stayed behind with her — even with the worst excuse ever — was enough.

— IV.

The rain had started without warning, a sudden cascade from the grey sky that sent students scattering beneath doorways and trees, scrambling for cover. She, of course, hadn’t thought to bring her umbrella — she never did. With a resigned sigh, she tugged her school bag from her shoulder and lifted it over her head, preparing to dash through the downpour towards the bus stop. The idea of arriving home soaked wasn’t ideal, but at this point, it seemed inevitable.

Just as she took her first step into the rain, a voice called out behind her. “Hey! Are you seriously going to run through that?” She turned, her eyes narrowing against the droplets as Charles approached, completely at ease beneath the wide black umbrella in his hand. He didn’t seem in any particular hurry, strolling towards her with his usual composed stride. His face was impassive, as always, though there was the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What choice do I have?” she replied, her tone slightly defensive as she gestured to the pouring rain. “I don’t have an umbrella.” He raised an eyebrow, as if her lack of preparation was no surprise to him. “Clearly.” She rolled her eyes, about to turn away and continue her ill-fated sprint when he spoke again.

“Here,” he said, extending his free hand. She blinked, her gaze dropping to the transparent umbrella he held out to her. “You can use this one.” Her first instinct was to sigh with relief at the prospect of staying dry, but as she took the umbrella, something about it caught her eye. The familiar outline of a car, sleek and red, was painted onto the plastic surface, a near-perfect rendition of her favourite Ferrari. She frowned, her fingers brushing the artwork. “Where did you get this?”

“Found it,” he replied smoothly, his face a mask of indifference. “Someone must’ve left it behind.” She glanced up at him, suspicion flickering in her eyes. “Found it?” Charles nodded, his expression as calm and collected as ever. “Yeah, just lying around. Lucky, huh?” She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching upward in disbelief. “It just so happens that someone left an umbrella with this exact painting on it? You expect me to believe that?”

His gaze didn’t waver, though she noticed the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why not? Stranger things have happened.” She couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her mouth. “Right, and it also just so happens that this is my favourite car, perfectly painted on this umbrella?”

“Coincidence,” he replied, deadpan. “Maybe the owner had good taste.” She laughed then, shaking her head at his stubborn insistence. “You painted this, didn’t you?” His expression didn’t change, though there was a slight twitch of his lips as he shrugged. “Like I said, I found it.”

She looked down at the umbrella again, running her fingers over the brushstrokes. Despite the rain pelting down around them, a warmth bloomed in her chest at the realisation of what he had done. He had painted this — for her — yet he wouldn’t admit it, wouldn’t take the credit.

She shook her head again, her smile widening as she glanced back up at him. “You know, you’re really bad at lying.” Charles raised an eyebrow, his tone still cool and even. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please,” she teased, stepping closer to him so she could peer into his eyes more closely. “You think I don’t know your handwriting by now? That’s your signature brushstroke on the headlights.” He remained resolute, though she noticed the faintest flush of pink creeping up his neck. “You’re imagining things.”

“Mmm, sure,” she hummed, spinning the umbrella around in her hands. “And I suppose if I were to ask Arthur about this later, he wouldn’t mention anything about you spending all afternoon painting it?” Charles finally cracked a grin, though he quickly masked it by looking away. “You really think Arthur pays attention to anything I do?”

She laughed again, her heart swelling with affection at his poorly hidden care. The rain continued to fall around them, but with the umbrella in her hand, she felt completely shielded, not just from the weather but from any of life’s unpredictable moments. That’s what Charles was like — stoic and nonchalant on the outside, but always ready to protect her in subtle ways.

“Well, thank you for finding this,” she said, her voice softening as she twirled the umbrella overhead. The painting glistened under the rain, every detail visible, every stroke done with a care that only someone who truly paid attention to her would know. “Like I said,” Charles replied, his tone still casual but his eyes warmer than before, “it’s just a coincidence.”

She chuckled again, shaking her head as they began walking towards the bus stop, her newly acquired umbrella held proudly above her head. They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of rain tapping gently against the plastic surface. “So,” she said after a beat, casting him a sideways glance. “Are you going to paint all my future umbrellas too?” He shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “Depends. Are you going to keep forgetting to bring one?”

“Probably,” she admitted with a grin. “Then I guess I’ll have to,” he murmured, and though his voice was quiet, she could hear the smile in it. They continued walking, the rain falling steadily around them, but beneath her umbrella, the world felt warm, safe.

Charles’ quiet acts of care always managed to wrap around her in unexpected ways, and though he’d never admit to it, she knew the truth behind his gestures. And as they neared the bus stop, she couldn’t help but smile to herself, knowing that he’d always be there to offer her an umbrella — whether he ‘found’ it or not.

— V.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and quiet worry. Charles hadn’t even taken a moment to catch his breath as he sprinted through the long corridors, his trainers squeaking on the polished linoleum floor. The message from his parents had been cryptic at best, void of any real details — just that she had been rushed to hospital after an injury. His heart had been hammering in his chest since he’d received the news, and as he approached her room, his panic only grew. His cheeks were flushed, the cold sweat from his rushed journey still clinging to his skin, and his hair stuck messily to his forehead. 

He burst into the room, chest heaving, eyes wide and already glossy with unshed tears. His gaze immediately fell on her, propped up in bed with a slight smile tugging at her lips as she watched him stumble in, looking every bit as though the world had just collapsed on him. “Charles, what—” she began, but he cut her off, his voice choking with emotion as he stood at the foot of her bed.

“Don’t mind it, just a little cry...” His words came out in a strangled breath, a pitiful sound as his eyes darted across her body, searching for any sign of trauma. “They didn’t tell me what happened... I thought— I thought you—”

“Woah, woah,” she interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his distraught state. “Why are you acting like I died?” She looked at him in amusement, sitting comfortably under the pristine white hospital sheets, clearly not in as dire a state as he had imagined. But he couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that poured out of him, his words tripping over each other as he tried to explain. 

“The hospital— they didn’t clarify,” he stammered, his breath catching as he wiped furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. “They just said you were here, and I— I ran—” His words dissolved into hiccups, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to calm down. He sank heavily into the chair beside her bed, his shoulders slumping in relief now that he could see she was, at the very least, alive and not in any critical danger. His hand reached up to wipe his cheeks again, trying to steady himself, but the tears kept slipping through his fingers.

She giggled softly, watching him with a mixture of fondness and amusement. Leaning forward, she wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the pad of her thumb, her touch gentle and warm. “Stop laughing, you bully,” he muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment as he avoided her gaze. His eyes were still red-rimmed, his breathing uneven from the emotional onslaught. 

“I’m not,” she insisted, though the giggles continued to bubble up in her throat. She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re just really cute when you’re worried.” He shot her a half-hearted glare, still wiping away the evidence of his tears. “It’s not funny.” She chuckled again before settling back against the pillows, wincing slightly as the movement tugged at the injury she was about to explain. “It’s just a ligament rupture, Charles. Nothing life-threatening. I was on a run, twisted my ankle the wrong way. That’s all.”

He blinked at her, trying to process the words, nodding absently as his hiccups continued to break up his breathing. “Ligament rupture?” She nodded, lifting her leg slightly to show him the bulky brace that now encased her knee. “Yeah, I’ll be fine in a few weeks. They’ve just got me in here for observation.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he took a long, shuddering breath, though his chest still hitched with residual hiccups. He turned his gaze to her leg, his expression softening now that he knew the injury wasn’t nearly as severe as his mind had conjured. “I thought it was something worse,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers fidgeted in his lap, twisting together as he continued to avoid her gaze. “I didn’t know what to think. I wouldn’t... I wouldn’t know what to do if it was—”

His voice trailed off, and for a moment, the weight of his fear hung between them, unspoken but palpable. She reached out and took his hand in hers, her fingers curling around his in a comforting gesture. “I’m fine, Charles. You don’t have to worry about me like that.” He swallowed, his gaze finally meeting hers. “I can’t help it.” She smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, now you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a small, shaky breath, his hiccups finally subsiding as he allowed himself to relax. She was right here, and she was okay. That was all that mattered. But as he sat there, still processing the flood of emotions that had overwhelmed him, he realised just how much she meant to him — how the mere thought of losing her had unravelled him so completely.

“Still,” she teased, her voice lightening the mood once more. “I can’t believe you ran all the way here crying like that.” He huffed, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “I wasn’t crying that much.”

“Oh, you were, your hair’s all stuck to your head, and your face is as red as a tomato.” She said with a mischievous grin. “Stop it,” he groaned, covering his face with his hand in embarrassment. “You’re making it worse.” She giggled again, her thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion. “I’m just saying, it’s kinda sweet. You care that much.” He peeked at her from between his fingers, his voice soft as he admitted, “Of course I do.”

There was a moment of quiet, a gentle understanding that passed between them. His hand still rested in hers, their fingers intertwined in a way that felt natural, like it had always been that way. “Thanks for coming,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now, a note of sincerity threading through her usual teasing tone.

“Always,” he replied, his eyes finally softening, though his cheeks still held a faint blush. He gave her hand a squeeze, feeling the weight of his worry lift now that she was here, with him, safe.

[ellieslaces]

just thinking about the way leon would fuck you after being gone for so long <3 (wc; 643)

he would have been gone for days — weeks maybe — on another covert operation. one you couldn’t have any knowledge of for you safety, and just for the safety of the op and everyone involved.

weeks of lonely days and nights alone in your apartment that you shared with him, the quiet eerie and unsettling because even though leon was a quiet person, he still made the place more alive.

it’d been weeks of getting off on your own — for the both of you. only the thought of each other enough to suffice. not forever, though. you’d spent the nights he was away either sleepless, or fucking yourself with your own fingers, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of yourself until you fell asleep from exhaustion. but of course, no one did it like leon did. no one — not even yourself — could make you cum as hard as he did.

the night he’d come home was like any other of his arrivals home. a mixture of sweetness and lust. gentle kisses and whispers of how much you missed each other. carnal actions and rough touches because this was how you showed your love, how you showed how you really missed each other.

you didn’t just miss each other’s bodies, of course not. no, you missed him. yes, his touch, how he could reduce you to a crying mess within minutes. but he was more than that. you just missed him.

it always started either in the foyer of the apartment, or the living room. there were a few times it started in the kitchen — one night a few months ago he’d managed to surprise you while you were cooking. obviously dinner was long forgotten as he replaced the meal with the taste of you as you laid on the counter, legs thrown over his shoulders as he devoured you with an urgency that should have alarmed you.

but tonight, it began as it usually did. you’d greeted him at the door upon hearing his car in the driveway. as soon as he’d opened the door, you had thrown your arms around his neck, his own strong ones circled around your middle. quick kisses and whispers of greeting were pushed aside quickly and replaced by needy touches and deep, carnal kisses.

it ended up in the bedroom, as usual. your back against the plush mattress, your body caged by leon’s as he kissed down your body, clothes long since discarded so he could have access to you fully. his hands would be practically groping you, large palms running along the warm, exposed flesh of your torso. his fingers — along with his mouth, of course — ended up between your thighs. his favorite pastime, tasting you, as he liked to tease.

his fingers and tongue worked in dangerous tandem, making your mouth drop open, your eyes falling closed as your fingers gripped his hair. before you could actually tip over that impending edge, he pulled back. always keeping you on your toes.

it was then he began to drill into you. needy fervor with a mixture of soft kisses that contrasted with the harsh snap of his hips against yours. sweet whispers of how much he missed you were echoing in your ears, drowned out by the sound of your own whines and moans.

it went on that way — he’d fuck you until you both came, and give you a quick rest before going right back to it. sometimes he’d be on top, other times you’d ride him until your legs gave out and he’d have to thrust up into you from below. either way, it lasted for what felt like forever.

you hated when he was gone, but you’d never grow tired of how insatiable he was when he came home. sweet and loving, harsh and rough all at once. that was your favorite version of leon.

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

[mcrololo]

Can you do some spin the wheel pp things and create a fic based on the results?

Gonna be real, I'm swimming in wips and ideas enough already, but the wheel gave me tatoo artist x flower shop AU yesterday and I couldn't shake that, so have a little drabble:

Beca didn’t even need to turn and face the entrance when the bell chimed and an even cheerier voice carried over it. She also didn’t bother to bite away her growing smile when she did turn around to find baby blues trained on her.

“What brings you here today?”

Chloe grinned. She gestured a bare arm, decorated with different petals in a variety of colored ink, further into the shop. “I’d like a bouquet. What else?”

“Ha-ha.” Beca smirked. “Wanna pick them out yourself?”

She rounded the counter and Chloe slipped closer, finger tracing Beca’s shoulder. “Got any pink lotuses?”

[betterto-burnout]

"Everybody's watching her, but she's looking at you"

Beca and Stacie are out in one of the hottest clubs in the city, Beca battling her bad mood, Stacie trying to get her to enjoy herself. The club is packed, but somewhere in the centre of the dancefloor is a woman with all eyes on her, although it seems that she herself only has eyes for one person in particular...

Oneshot, Beca x Chloe, ~4,500 words

CW - Alcohol consumption

[disastercomingfaster]

I have finally finished my spooky season Bechloe fic! Please let me know what you guys think, I'm really nervous about how it turned out.

Gifs are from https://www.tumblr.com/beca-mitchell and https://www.tumblr.com/the-watcher-in-the-sky - if that is not okay, please let me know and I will take them off

It's spooky season for the girls! Beca Mitchell's roommates are shocked to learn that the usually tough Barden Bella is secretly terrified of haunted houses. While Chloe tries to show her girlfriend how these houses can actually be a lot of fun, Fat Amy is on her own quest to find the clown love of her life.

[majoryeager104]

went on a bit of a break but I’m baaaack I had a crazy weekend but like not in a good way 💀

But anyways check out this ART omg

Do I ship it? No. Am I betting money that Aizawa is five seconds away from adopting another traumatized birdie? Absolutely

He looks so done already tho lmao 😭😭

creds to artist! (If anyone recognizes the artist lmk bc I fucking love their style omg)

[ineedtherapydesperately]

@valengory1234 you just sent me down an endless path imagining chloe speaking like shakespeare and being a shakespeare purist and shit like imagine the way she confessed to red or like flirts with red, or when she makes dirty jokes that nobody quite understands

like imagine chloe quietly confessing romeo and juliet style like but soft, what light through yonder window breaks? it is the east, and red is the sun. arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she all because red dragged them onto a random rooftop on auradon prep to stargaze?? and red is just laying there, staring at the moon in complete shock, slowly attempting to translate everything because what the fuck, was that shakespeare?? and holy shit chloe is such a nerd?? because red NEVER bothered to learn shakespeare but it's so familiar and she feels like that little monologue was important?? and chloe is sat there, looking down at red lovingly, straight cheesing as she watches the love of her life attempt to understand her words

i already headcanon bridget calling red 'rose', but imagine chloe calling red that because of shakespeare?? because the man LOVED using rose imagery to talk about love, and just imagine chloe saying like a rose by any other name would smell as sweet which leads me to another idea about glassheart/charminghearts that i may post later if anyone is interested

like imagine chloe just sees red one day and starts reciting sonnet 18 at her, just because?? shall i compare thee to a summer’s day? thou art more lovely and more temperate- and red is just here, steadily growing redder, face absolutely matching her name because chloe, isn’t that like a love poem??? and chloe is here like well yes, i am trying to confess to you here if you don’t mind

ugggh imagine chloe fondly watching red scale the walls of auradon prep, running along the rooftops which is absolutely against the code of conduct, but chloe can't find it in herself to care because it's red, because red, you draw me, you hard hearted adamant, but yet you draw not iron for my heart is true as steel. let's ignore how this is contextually where helena is crying to demetrius and pretend that it's just chloe lamenting quietly to herself about her (not so) unrequited crush <3

imagine chloe rereading much ado about nothing (because she would absolutely reread shakespearian plays) and when red asks her how the play is, chloe says i mean, i'd much rather there be some to do about your nothing and red is confused because that didn't make sense?? only it makes sense if you take elizabethan era slang into account, which chloe, face completely straight, suggests red searches up, only to burst into borderline maniacal giggles when red's face once more flushes horrendously because chloe what the actual fuck?! because this is so out of chloe's character??? whether this happens before or after they're dating is anyone's guess

@blood-carnation here you go :D i have so many more scenarios in my mind hehe (my english nerd is showing 😔)

[chlerc]

back in barcelona ; joão félix

— summary; catching her in the stands while he’s playing for barcelona is certainly not the way he thought he’d ever see her again.

pairing — joao felix x old-friends-actress!f. reader ( third person story )

social media au + 1085.

content — old friends, she studied in joao’s school but moved back to barcelona and they were only mutuals on instagram but never talked. joao pinned over her.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: back in chicago trend but make it back in barcelona cause you can never take the man out of the barcelona girl!!!

song rec for this fic — end of beginning!!

Liked by hugofelix18, itsnicolewallace and 3,827,197 others

ynusername did you miss me, Viseu?

View all 5,826 comments

itsnicolewallace I MISS YOU, regresa a mí!!! (come back to me)

evaruiz tan hermosa (so gorgeous)

maddisonarg love you

ynusername @maddisonarg love you too!!!

gabrieloxguevaraa eres tan bonitaaaaa (you’re so pretty)

ynusername @gabrielxoguevaraa halagándome guapo (flattering me, handsome)

ferrantorres 🔥

yn.officialupdates Drop dead gorgeous

hugofelix18 meu irmão sentiu sua falta (my brother missed you)

ynusername @hugofelix18 saia do aplicativo 🤦🏻‍♀️ (get off the app)

Liked by joaofelix79, louispatridge_ and 4,817,912 others

ynusername THE LAST TIME ON SET!!! Super excited for this to go out on @netflixes soon, catch Through My Window coming up. Really really love this one, please look forward to it 🤍

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juliopfernandez por favor espera #ATravésDeTuMirada!!! (please look forward to Through My Window)

carlitosalcarazz Le conté a mi mamá sobre nosotros 😉 (I told my mum about us)

ynusername @carlitosalcarazz sin habla 🤦🏻‍♀️ (speechless)

siramartinezc Eres tan bonita te quiero tan mala (you’re so pretty I want you so bad)

hugofelix18 legal, vou dizer ao meu irmão para assistir (Nice, will tell my brother to watch it)

ynusername @hugofelix18 HUGOOOO, ir para a cama 😠 (go to bed)

joaofelix79 @hugofelix18 você está cheio de merda, o que você está fazendo e dizendo aqui? (You’re full of shit, what are you doing and saying here?)

gqportugal 🤩🤩🤩

gqspain ¡nuestra princesa! (Our princess)

IT COULD HAVE BEEN the lack of sleep catching up on him from yesterday but he swore he wasn’t seeing things. Amidst the sea of faces in the crowd, his gaze kept drifting to a familiar figure seated near the team’s bench where he stood nearby taking a quick gulp of water.

There she was, with her eyes the colour of earth kissed by spring rains, the hue that promises to stir life from dormant seeds, the nascent plants guided upward by the light before blossoming into the vibrant colours of a new season. Her hair was the brown of aged mahogany, rich and deep, yet with the subtle hues only time brings. Those strands that he was too familiar with, staring at the back of her head back in the days whilst she sat in front of him in classes.

She was a constant presence in his thoughts, a captivating enigma he couldn't shake off. Her laughter echoed in his mind when the lights dimmed in his bedroom, her smile a beacon of warmth that drew him in. But here, in the midst of the pulsating stadium, João couldn't believe his eyes. Was it truly her?

Throughout the match, João’s mind oscillated between the thrill of the game and the enigmatic presence of her. His concentration wavered, his thoughts drifting to moments shared and conversations unspoken. With each passing minute, the field seemed to blur, his focus slipping away like sand through his fingers.

But duty called and he pushed aside the distractions, channeling his energy into the game, his every touch eliciting roars of approval from the crowd for those seventy three minutes he played. He thanked his lucky stars and the coach for subbing him off early today, finding himself a seat within her distance. João’s neck awkwardly craned and turned just to catch a glimpse of her, her eyes everywhere but on him.

And when he catches her eyes before he could realise he was staring, his breathing becomes harder, the pensive look on him melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. His body squirms just a little as his muscles relax but he just threw a thumbs up her way, acting as if everything was fine. There was something about that gaze of her he’ll never find in another woman.

As the final whistle blew and Barcelona emerged victorious, João’s heart raced with adrenaline and triumph. But amidst the celebrations, a lingering doubt gnawed at him. Should he have approached her? But it was probably her lookalike, the last he checked her Instagram, she was still on set and busy. At the end of the day, he knew deep in every nook and crevice of his heart that it was probably her and he was just lying to himself, no mistakes on recognising the girl he secretly pinned after in highschool.

There would be other matches, other moments. For now, João embraced the euphoria of victory, knowing that somewhere amidst the chaos of the stadium, she lingered, a silent specter in the tapestry of his dreams. He made a mental note of checking her Instagram later tonight and stop his brother from commenting outrageous comments about himself.

Liked by joaofelix79, judebellingham and 4,917,137 others

ynusername back in barcelona, i feel it 🤍

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judebellingham wrong place bruv, thought we talked about this before?

ynusername @judebellingham literally born in barcelona before i went to UK and befriend you whilst on shoot??? the ego, jude…

judebellingham @ynusername YOU’RE SOOO MEAN, did you just call me egoistic? Not gonna talk to you ever 😞

rolemod3lyn @ynusername Y’ALL ARE FRIENDS???

claaragalle no podría extrañarte más (couldn’t miss you more)

drewstarkey you visiting home but I don’t see you? (I’m supposed to be your home) 😠

ksi #drinkprime!

ynusername @ksi this is not the football team you sponsored mate????

ksi @ynusername ohhh i thought…

Liked by fcbarcelona, joaofelix79 and 8,816,192 others

ynusername off season for me but always cheering my number 1 and childhood team on with Laila! ps ksi this is the team you sponsor.

View all 10,618 comments

ksi #DRINKPRIME

judebellingham how bout you come to madrid and visit your friend (me) too!

ynusername @judebellingham thought someone didn’t wanna talk to me 😒

judebellingham @ynusername we LITERALLY FACETIMED after my comment????

fcbarcelona Welcome Back Home ✨🏠

barca.4life SHE A CULER TOO???

davidrenzo she just got more perfect

forblaugrana One of our own, culer 💙❤️

ferrantorres Bienvenido de vuelta amiga, gracias por venir! (Welcome back home friend, thanks for coming by!)

ynusername @ferrantorres no hay problema chico tiburón 👉🦈 (no problem shark boy)

itsnicolewallace Dijiste que me llamarías cuando hayas vuelto a España, mentirosa (you said you'd call me when you're back in spain, liar)

ynusername @itsnicolewallace ¡Te iba a sorprender! (I was going to surprise you)

The last time he was playing in the stadium and on the pitch was when she was here. And she literally was here after her two recent posts on her social media platform accounts. And he was right, João would never recognise the wrong woman, not when he memorised every bit and parts of her before she left Viseu.

In the velvet night, the shining light of the stadium shone upon her, illuminating each and every feature of her. João legs unable to carry himself forward, entranced by her with his match jersey in one hand and a towel in the other. There she was looking right at him, dead in his eyes whilst a small grin plastered across her face.

“You’re staring at her like you love her.” Ferran nudges him by his shoulder, a small hint of banter evident in his voice. “She’s your friend though, isn’t she?” João questions, his once agape jaw now capable of finding words to speak, arms hanging around Ferran’s shoulders as they walk towards where she was.

“Yeah but we aren’t that close like you are with her.” Ferran shrugs nonchalantly, removing João’s arm around his shoulder before patting João on the back and pushing him towards her before running into the tunnel. “Good luck, I know you can do it.” He heard the whispers of Ferran before actually processing what happened.

“Long time no see and talk, great goal today Floki.” She rubbed his shoulders, calling him by his nickname she had for him in school. She was the whole entire point of naming his own dog Floki, just to have the simplest and smallest yet memorable thing of her by his side.

His palms turned sweaty at the moment, nibbling at the lower lip of his and he swore he could hear his heart palpitating against his chest, yearning to be freed from the tightness within him. “Thanks, it’s so good to see you after all these years. You still look gorgeous.”

Her eyes curved into crescents, his favourite thing about her. “Really, you think so?” Her fingers are linked together while she fiddles with them, swaying her body a little from side to side. “I don’t think so, I am sure. Anyways, what brings you here?”

“You, I heard you have been loaned to Barcelona for the season and I thought to just drop by some matches to watch you while cheering for the team.” She turns João around, pushing him to walk into the tunnel while she follows behind. He didn’t know how to reply, losing all capability of talking when he couldn’t find the right words without messing it up and showing his anxiousness.

“That’s good, I was hoping to catch you in Barcelona when I saw your Instagram post. I mean not that I follow up on it but nevermind, I’m not explaining myself clearly.” He waved his hand in the air, a sign for her to shrug the conversation and whatever he just said off.

“It’s okay I miss you too João, you can just admit it.”

Liked by joaofelix79, hugofelix18 and 7,821,427 others

ynusername Floki & Laila’s papa and mama reunion

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judebellingham uh, Floki as in João Félix’s sausage dog? 🤔

ynusername @judebellingham RUDE! You’re calling Laila a sausage too? You’re calling her fat? BLOCKED.

judebellingham @ynusername YOU’RE PUTTING WORDS INTO MY MOUTH. SAUSAGE DOGS ARE CUTE IS WHAT I MEANT.

bornaswaglife OMG??? THE CROSSOVER

joaofelix79 Laila and Floki’s mama 🤍

ynusername @joaofelix79 you too papa!

ferrantorres 😆😆😆

livenolaughnolife TWO DACHSHUND OMGGG EVEN MATCHING DOGS

barcawag.planet This is literally so unexpected and cute

Liked by ynusername, ferrantorres and 4,927,197 others

joaofelix79 Laila’s mama but myself and Floki’s new mama now 😉

View all 5,184 comments

pablogavi 👏👏

andr34daurent bros pulling 10s on and off pitches

marcguiu9 lindo hermano (nice one brother)

forblaugrana 10/10

ynusername my favourite dog papa 🤍

joaofelix79 @ynusername & my favourite mama

blaugranaplanet ustedes dos son muy lindos juntos, se complementan bien (you two are really cute together, complement each other well)

lamineyamal ¿Tienes dos perros salchicha, papá? (You got two sausage dogs papa?)

fcbarcelona Floki’s Star papa & Princess mama!

[massivedrickhead]

17, please? (If it's been done I'm sorry I didn't see it).

I'll be honest, I didn't really have it in me today. I want to keep the streak going, but I'm not really happy with this. So I'm sorry if it sucks, and I'm sorry it's so short. This is all I can do today.

17.��“You’re so cute when you’re tired and speaking in half-sentences.”

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

-

It was a little after 5 am when Chloe returned home from her night shift at the vet clinic. 

She expected a quiet house, and she’d planned to just crawl straight into bed and curl up with Beca before she had to leave for work. 

She was bone-tired. Her feet were burning, her back aching, and a headache had settled right behind her eyes.

She’d finally finished her two nightshifts of the month - which had ended up being back-to-back this time - and she couldn’t wait for some much-needed time off.

Really, all she wanted to do was sleep.

Chloe was surprised then when she got home and found Beca sitting up at the kitchen table, typing away on her laptop and stopping periodically to rub at her eyes.

“Hey,” Beca said, grinning sleepily at Chloe when she walked through the door. “How was work?”

“Long,” Chloe mumbled, slumping down into the chair beside Beca. “Exauhsting. Why are you up? Too early,” she said, through a yawn.

“Work,” Beca answered with a shrug. “One of our artists is on tour in Europe at the moment, and apparently he couldn’t wait for normal office hours to rearrange his set.”

“Been up long?” Chloe asked, her head coming to rest on her folded arms.

“A couple of hours,” Beca said. “I finished a little bit ago, but I figured I’d wait up for you.”

Chloe gave her a tired grin. “You’re sweet.”

“And you’re so cute when you’re tired and don’t speak in full sentences. Shall we go to bed?”

“Please,” Chloe said, gratefully taking Beca’s hand.

Chloe changed out of her scrubs and into a pair of pyjamas before crawling into bed next to Beca, who was already propped up against the pillow typing something into her phone.

Chloe tapped her on the arm, and Beca lifted it to allow Chloe to cuddle into her side.

“No work,” Chloe said.

“Yes ma’am,” Beca replied, putting her phone down on the nightstand. “You’re not back at work until Monday now, right?”

Chloe gave a grunt of affirmation, her eyes already closed, sleep only seconds away.

“What should we do with our day off together? It’s been a while since we had one.”

“Sleep,” Chloe said.

“You wanna sleep all day?”

“No,” Chloe replied. “I want you to sleep now.”

“Sorry,” Beca said, with a light chuckle.

Beca closed her eyes and took a breath that seemed to fill up her whole chest. 

Any stress she’d been feeling from work melted away, and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

“I love these moments with you,” Beca said. She pressed a kiss to the top of Chloe’s head. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Chloe replied, her voice little more than an exhale. “But if you don’t go to sleep, I’m gonna start asking for a divorce.”

[jennysparksandtheauthority]

forever might be short (pricefield drabble collection)

Originally posted on AO3 as part of the International Fanworks Day challenge 2024.

Summary: Max saves Chloe and they leave the bay behind, but what happens after ten months? And ten years? And all the in betweens? Ten drabbles about love, loss, healing and learning how to navigate life together, in honor of International Fanworks Day 10th anniversary.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandom: Life is Strange (Video Game)

Relationship: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price

1. ten months

They haven't lost the ability to smile, but they don't laugh the way they used to.

When it happens, ten months after the storm, it's random, spontaneous.

Max scrolls Netflix, Chloe is looking at her phone. Then, she reads something. Her eyes light up. She grins like an ass. 

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"What’s the difference between a casual dinner party and a pirate orgy? The first one you come as you are… The other you ARR as you come!"

When Ryan and Vanessa come home they find them rolling on the couch, kicking each other, eyes watery, breathless with laughter.

2. the fury in your head

Max lets Chloe die, but the storm still comes.

She's in the lighthouse, screaming at it.

"Didn't you get what you wanted?! I did what you asked of me! Why is this happening? What more do you want from me?!"

The hurricane roars and Max wakes up. 

Chloe's arms engulf her in an instant, "It's okay. You're safe. We're in Seattle. I'm here."

Chloe never pushes her to share, she wants to spare her the pain. She imagines Max dreams about the innocent lives lost, the sorrow, the guilt.

But Max's nightmares are about one thing only: not choosing Chloe.

3. (finally see) what it means to be living

It takes them more than a year to find their footing, but it's bliss when it finally comes.

They get an apartment. Max goes back to school, and Chloe enrolls in an Associate in Computer Science program in community college.

They work most weekends, even though Ryan and Vanessa are helping them out. They even get a compensation from the Arcadia Bay Victims Relief Fund. Chloe calls it blood money. But they take it, because they need all the help they can get.

Still, their routine is hard. Seattle is always rainy. They study, they work, they get by. Together.

4. awake, dear heart…

They share a bed, so they technically sleep together, but they're not together. 

There are lingering touches, light kisses and even pecks on the lips, but they haven't done anything else. They haven't talked about it. They're both just so utterly afraid of messing up what they have.

Max finds a note in Chloe's pocket when she's doing laundry. It reads: My offer still stands. Call me? Erika xoxo. There's a phone number. She folds it and then leaves it on Chloe's nightstand.

When Chloe finds it, she doesn't say anything, but Max watches her throw it in the trash.

5. ...awake

"Chloe? You know you don't have to stay with me, right? You don't owe me anything."

It's Christmas Eve. 11 AM. They agreed to sleep in before they drive to Max's parents. 

Chloe immediately sits up on the bed and looks at her with so much concern you'd think Max's nose is bleeding.

"What the fuck? Where did that come from?"

Max grimaces, refrains the urge to cry, "It's just… sometimes… I wonder if—"

Chloe puts a finger over her lips, ever so gently. Then, she kisses her, deeply, intentionally. It's a statement.

When they part, Max wonders no more.

6. worship in the bedroom

They lie naked on a warm June morning, limbs intertwined, bodies sweating, hearts beating loudly.

"Damn, you're hardcore, Max," Chloe grins like an idiot.

"So I’ve been told," Max can't help a little proud smile.

They chuckle together, and enjoy the silence. It's not really silence – a Hozier song is coming from the speakers, and birds sing under their window.

"One of these days, Caulfield…" Chloe whispers absentmindedly.

"What?"

She doesn't answer. She pulls Max closer and replies only in her mind.

One of these days I'm gonna ask you to marry me. Not today, but one of these days.

7. (remember) to let her under your skin

They end up in New York because Max gets a scholarship there, thanks to her impressive portfolio. Her photos and her name are connected to Arcadia Bay and, painful as that is, it opens many doors for her. She wishes it wasn't like that, but… it's the blood money check situation all over again.

HBO did a documentary series, so everybody in class knows everything.

Well, not everything.

But they whisper — she hears words like survivor, so tragic, Jefferson...

It used to bother her. Yet, with each passing day coming home to Chloe, the pain seems to simply drift away.

8. the pleasure, the privilege is mine

It's Chloe's birthday.

Max plans the perfect party with their New York friends. They Skype Max's parents, David and Kate. Chloe drinks, laughs, cries. They eat cake. It's fun, and it ends with their apartment ruined.

Afterwards, they sit together on the couch, spent, heads touching.

"Thank you for today, babe," Chloe says softly as she looks at their intertwined hands. "For a girl that should be dead, turning 25 is kinda wild…"

Max gazes at her with sheer devotion, "I love you so much."

The smile that Chloe gives her might have the power to stop time, "I know."

9. this is now

After the pandemic (they'll always wonder if somewhere, someone was using some cursed, forbidden power), Chloe burns out. She quits her job as IT specialist in some big pharma company, and starts freelancing as a graphic designer. That year, Max hits 200k followers on Instagram. She signs a photobook deal. Chloe designs the cover. It's a wild success.

So Chloe spins Max in her arms one Friday afternoon, and blurts out, "Max, I think we're ready. We've been talking about it, let's just do it!"

Max laughs, nods.

They lock eyes, and yell it in unison, "Let's get a dog!"

10. ten years

Chloe's making spaghetti — her long, honey-blonde hair up in a messy bun, her arm tattoo covered in black ink. Max's watching her work, sitting at the kitchen island, playing with the white gold band in her ring finger. Deckard, their Labrador, sits at her feet.

They're talking about their day, complaining about shit, making plans.

There's three candles by the window: one for Rachel, one for Joyce, one for all the others. Today's the anniversary, but it doesn't get to them anymore.

Life's weird, thrilling, also boring at times. 

It's good too. 

They made it. And they will be okay.

THE END

author's notes:

Title from Emily Dickinson's 434:

To love thee Year by Year— May less appear Than sacrifice, and cease— However, dear, Forever might be short, I thought to show— And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.

Chapter 2 title: Spanish Sahara by Foals

Chapter 3 title: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

Chapter 4 & 5 reference: “Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.” (Prospero, Act 1, Scene 2) —The Tempest by William Shakespeare

Chapter 6 title: Take Me To Church by Hozier

Chapter 8 title: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths

Chapter 9: “Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted." —Sylvia Plath

[pinkpastels113]

You watch miraculous?? Ok now I HAVE to tell you that 4 years ago I briefly considered a bechloe au in which beca is ladybug and Chloe chat noir. Couldn't figure out how to format it so it was just vibes in my brain though

A soft tap behind her made Beca close her eyes with a gentle smile.

She knew that it was Cat Noir, her partner in heroics, in saving the city from akuma attacks, without even turning around.

There's a sort of energy around her, that always makes Beca aware of her presence whenever she's near. Maybe it's the fact that they are connected-- or rather, their kwamis are-- or the fact that Beca has started to develop a tiny crush on her, but she always finds herself relaxing a little bit whenever she feels her black cat's arrival.

"You called, my lady?"

Beca laughs, spinning to face her. Cat Noir's crystal blue eyes crinkle in a mischievous smirk, her long red hair tied in twin braids behind her like tails. She's perched on the railing surrounding the edges of the roof that they are standing on, two hands holding the metal in between her legs much like a real feline.

It's sort of charming, in a way.

Beca tries to stay focused though, and serious, because the city depends on her, so she adds in an eyebrow raise for good measure in case Cat mistakes it for anything other than (playful) sarcasm.

"I need you to trail Aubrey because she seems to be in one of her moods again, and I have a feeling that Hawk Moth will take advantage of it, like he inevitably does."

Cat Noir jumps from the railing to land onto the roof with silent grace. Before Beca can even blink she's taken Beca's hand into one of her own and bent at the waist to press a chaste kiss to the back of it.

"But of course. Anything for you."

Beca's grateful for the late autumn evening lighting for hiding her flush, as well as the fact that Tikki provides her the confidence when she is in costume to not stutter over her next words.

"Whatever, dude, just let me know if anything bad happens. I have to do something important for the Guardian really quick, or else I'd follow Posen myself."

Cat pouts, her tails swishing behind her. "You don't trust me?"

"No, what? I do! I just-"

Beca's stopped by a hand cupping her cheek.

"Relax, Bugaboo, I'm just kidding." She then boops Beca's nose. "You take everything so seriously. Relax once in a while for me, okay?”

And Beca can only nod speechlessly at that.

Cat grins, satisfied with her response, and then she’s running across the rooftop terrace like she’s done it a millions times before and launching herself off the ledge, her staff extended for balance and a wink thrown over her shoulder that causes Beca’s heart to flutter.

Damn, she will be the death of Beca one of these days for sure.

[blush-and-books]

19!!! 🫶🏻

19. back scratches (from this intimacy prompts list)

Donna didn't realize how much tension that Harvey had in his back until they were together and she was faced with it almost every day. He never seemed to sleep on it right - granted, he was often sleeping on her - and sometimes even twisting it a certain way to reach for something while he was cooking would lead to a groan from him as he reached to rub an aching spot that he couldn't reach.

One morning, Harvey woke up before Donna from stress over Mike's handling of a case. By the time she joined him, awakened by his stirring, she found herself frowning at his back as he was sitting up on his side of the bed, legs dangling off the edge. It's a sleepy instinct she feels to reach out to him; so she sits herself up behind him and sits with her legs crossed in front of her. Before he can even turn around or react to her being up, she rests her hands at his shoulders and drags her nails down his back.

She can feel, see, and hear the sigh that it elicits.

Neither of them say anything, they don't need to. Her nails start to make waves in his shirt, and her hands circle in patterns that she isn't really thinking of. It comes to her, abruptly, that Harvey probably hasn't allowed himself a moment to stop and breathe in nearly all the time she's known him. Probably longer - probably over half of his life has been spent in motion. Forcing his body to keep up with his fast-moving mind.

As her hands sweep down by his hips, then up his spine and down again, she wonders if it's all crashing down on him now. She feels like she's just accidentally pressed pause on their day, and they are frozen in the intimacy of her touch and his silence. The thought of stopping starts to scare her. He deserves a decade's worth of back scratches and catching his breath; not a meek five minutes.

But she feels it build up - tension, not in his back, but in the air. A natural conclusion racing towards them. The need to actually move with time.

Leaning into him, she presses a kiss into the back of his neck and wraps her arms around him from behind, allowing herself to hold him for just a moment longer. His hands come to rest over hers on his sides, so that his arms are partially wrapped around himself, too.

"I love you," he tells her. She marvels that she lives a life where those are the first three words out of his mouth in the morning, and they are meant for her.

She fires back: "I love you." And smiles against his back. "You okay?"

He turns his head, then; looks over his shoulder, and she leans forward to meet him, catching his lips in a brush of a kiss. Her own body relaxes. "Better now," he murmurs against her mouth. She hums in acknowledgement before finally opening her eyes to meet his, big and beautiful and tired.

"Do you need another minute?"

Sincerely, he seems to contemplate it. His eyes flicker to her mouth again; thumbs rubbing back and forth across her hands.

"That's okay." A pause, and then: "Same time tomorrow?"

And if that isn't one of her favorite things to hear, second only to "I love you," but Harvey actually vocalizing his needs and finding ways to ask for them to be met. She'd never be able to say no. She'd never want to.

Right now, she could tell him that he could have this whenever he wanted, he'd just have to ask. But that can be a discussion for when they're both more awake, maybe over dinner tonight or as they're in the car, on their way to the office. In this moment, they know they need to rise from bed and emerge as the professional weapons they've become, so her response is cheekier:

"Hmm, I'll have to check my calendar."

And he plays into it with ease. "You have other plans?"

"I'm a woman in high demand, Harvey."

"Don't I know it." Another gentle kiss; she's sighing when he pulls away. "I'm lucky you ever managed to fit me in."

Not like that was ever difficult. "You were always there," Donna's whispering between them, "you fit before there was ever a question of making room."

Harvey finds himself falling into a silent smile. Donna gives him one last kiss, her lips against the corner of his grin, before pulling away with renewed energy for the day ahead.

"Same time tomorrow, Specter. I'll be here."

[hollowneil]

Felling keys

Fernando Alonso/Lance Stroll

word: 305

raiting: g

tags: pre-slash, teenage сrash, meaning wrists trauma...

Lance, age of fourteen, was a good, “golden” boy who was interested in the piano and speed cars. Typical hobbies of a teenage boy, right? No one suspected that in the farthest room there were women's attributes purchased with hidden saved money — skirts, dresses and tops. No one suspected that there was still a magazine with photographs of Fernando Alonso there. With a small supply of hand moisturizer.

No one needed to know what the hands were doing that played so beautifully on the family’s piano to Chloe’s beautiful singing.

At sixteen, he continued to play the piano. Lance didn't give up the hobby and didn't intend to, especially when he heard that his father's friend really liked his music.

And his father's friend was Fernando Alonso.

Lance tried to keep his eyes on the notes, to continue to sit with his back straight, knowing that warm brown eyes were looking at him and his hands with admiration. It was hard not to get distracted and stop playing only to turn around and receive a soft, embarrassed smile.

At eighteen, Lance gave up playing the piano in public, locking himself in his room. No one needed to hear their fingers miss the keys due to damage. It became alarming to play in front of people, especially his father’s unfamiliar new friends, when everyone could see the two ugly scars on his once beautiful hands.

But there was one person he could play for, not even hitting the keys due to excitement and tremors in his twenties. It was clearly not the most pleasant music that played within the walls of his penthouse, but a warm hand always soothed his excitement. And Lance kept trying to play as best he could.

For Fernando Alonso.

A sex-symbol from his childhood.

Support in youth.

Love in the present.

[mcrololo]

how do they get together?

takes place between this and this

The chime of the bell had her look up from her phone, half eaten sandwich in her other hand. “Oh, we’re on br– Beca!”

Beca chuckled as she made her way over. “I’m an exception?”

Chloe grinned. “Always.”

Awkward hands tried to fight something out of a pocket, and Chloe watched, amused, when slightly crumbled paper landed in front of her.

“Another one already?”

Beca’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I guess. Opinion?”

Curiously, Chloe unfolded it as Beca rambled about fonts she could use.

Do you want to be my girlfriend?

“Yes.” What else was left to say?

Send me prompts for this AU and I'll write a drabble!