#and because she was mean to his statue when she was little

[amyispxnk]

My Kind of Woman

Chapter 7: You finally find, you and I Collide.

Series Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Series summary - Your song captivates Joel the second he hears you that night in Jackson, but he struggles to work up the courage to confess his feelings. With some (very heavy) encouragement from Ellie and Tommy, you two get closer and closer until he finally thinks he’s ready.

Chapter summary - Ellie turns 16, and the night goes even better than you and Joel had planned.

A/N: GUYS YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH SCREAMING AND GIGGLING TOOK PLACE WHEN I WROTE THIS CHAPTER. TRUST YOU WILL NOT BE DISAPPOINTED.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, dirty dirty thoughts, masturbation (f+m), language

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

Planning for Ellie’s birthday was challenging, but not because of the actual party. No. It was because of how much time you were spending with Joel.

It was really testing you, especially when he’d do things like turn up at your house with flowers or a pastry - jus’ a little thank you for all the help, y’know - he’d tell you, or when he invited you to his house and you’d turn up to him freshly out of the shower, hair damp and skin glistening, the water droplets clinging to him and just begging to be licked off.

Or like right now, as he was almost curled around you showing you the chords to a new song on the guitar.

For Ellie’s birthday, you of course suggested singing something for her; and it wouldn’t just be a simple ‘happy birthday’ (although you did plan on embarrassing her with that at some point during the event), it would be a version of one of her favourite songs - Take On Me.

Joel told you she listened to it all the time on her Walkman and even asked him to teach it to her, but she just couldn’t grasp all of the bar chords it required.

You could though, but still with some difficulty, resulting in Joel having to put his hand on yours to guide you through the motions, resulting in you practically in his lap as he manoeuvres this, and resulting in you being so flustered you can’t help but mess up the chords over and over again, causing the cycle to continue.

“Can we take a minute?” You ask, trying not to huff in frustration as you strum yet another muted note, fingers not quite strong enough for it when your brain is so muddled from the proximity with him.

“Sure, darlin’. Wanna do somethin’ else?” He smiles softly. He’s so at ease with you now, and it makes your heart flutter knowing you managed to secure a little bit of Joel’s affection and companionship for yourself. Lord knows it makes about half the female population in Jackson envy you.

You nod, and the two of you discuss the actual event. You decided on the Tipsy Bison, and easily secured a day there considering Joel’s relations to the 2 in charge, and your status as a performer there. Joel will help get Ellie there at around 5, and you and her friends will surprise her.

For decorations, you’ve made a ‘happy birthday!’ banner and a few hanging streamers. You also put in an order for a chocolate cake at the town bakery - Ellie’s favourite flavour according to Joel.

About 2 hours later, you’ve managed to get through the song a few times with him, and he’s left you with his handwritten sheet music to practice. As he uses the bathroom, you war with yourself in your mind because, you’re staring at the music right now and getting giddy thinking about the fact that he hand wrote the entire song out for you, and you’re blushing because his handwriting looks so good. You know it’s stupid and keep trying to snap yourself out of it, but your heart keeps thumping in your chest, telling you how special this all is and how much all this time spent together must mean.

He comes out of the bathroom and you can’t help but ask if he wants to stay for dinner. He says yes, of course, and you start cooking up some venison.

You sit down and pour some whiskey for the two of you - a risky move, which you’re fully aware of, but you don’t actually mind at this point. What happens, happens, right? You use this same logic when refilling the glasses.

He’s courteous as always, complimenting your cooking, thanking you for the help with Ellie’s birthday yet again, and offering to wash up afterwards.

“No, no, you’re my guest, Joel. Just sit for a bit. I know I’m exhausted after today.” You sigh, picking up the plates.

“All the more reason I should be cleanin’ up for ya,” he argues, and you just roll your eyes, moving to the sink.

You settle into a peaceful silence. It’s late, you’re ever so slightly drunk, and you’ve had a really long evening. It’s so quiet, in fact, that you let your thoughts wander, and don’t realise he’s coming up behind you until he accidentally nudges your hip, making you shriek and almost drop the mug you were washing.

“Shit, Joel!” You gasp, before dissolving into laughter at how much you overreacted.

“Sorry, hon.” He smiles lazily, making your heart flutter. His thumb tweaks your nose and your brows furrow. “Dunno how you got soap on yer face.” He mumurs, and you blink at him before coming back to your senses.

“Oh! Thanks, sorry.” You squeak, turning back to finish the washing and to hide your blushing face. He comes up next to you to help with drying everything off and your heart is about to burst from your chest by this point because you’ve just realised how domestic you’re both acting right now, how domestic this entire evening was. Talking with him on the couch after drinking coffee together, playing guitar before cooking, eating, and washing up, all together. There wasn’t a moment of discomfort or tension, and you realise just how wonderful he really is. And you realise how badly you want to kiss him, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He’s zoned out looking at something through your kitchen window, thankfully, so you can look at him a little more clearly. You just want to grab his gorgeous face and kiss him with everything in you. It’s been months of waiting, building all of this tension until you can finally have him. Maybe the alcohol is getting to you, but you’re about to actually act on what you’re thinking when you realise your hands are covered in soap and so are his, and that it’d probably be weird to grab him and get soap all over him, making you sigh and shake your head.

The two of you chat some more about the birthday party before he leaves, and you practically run up to your bedroom, throwing your clothes off and then throwing yourself into the bed.

You hated the apocalypse for many reasons, and one of them was the fact that you still hadn’t managed to find a sex shop with any toys still in working condition. Your fingers would have to do - and right now they were actually working just fine as you worked yourself up, tracing slow circles around your clit and hissing when you finally start applying direct pressure to it, your other hand cupping your breast and teasing your nipple. You close your eyes and imagine it was his calloused fingers roaming your body currently, imagine his lips all over your skin and on your cunt.

Your gasps get higher, louder, and when you finally tip over the edge, it’s his name which floats past your lips. Your entire body trembles as your hips buck from how hard you fuck yourself on your fingers by this point, wanting this orgasm to last as long as possible, your mind conjuring up downright sinful images of you and Joel in this very bed and making you so horny you can barely think.

You finally come down from the high, panting and trembling, and stumble to the bathroom to clean up before falling asleep.

-

Joel’s night doesn’t play out too differently from yours. The whiskey you’d so dangerously decided to supply him with clearly played with his mind, resulting in him getting hard towards the end of the night after bumping into you. He had to touch you in some way, and came up with the weak excuse of something being on your face - there was, but it really wasn’t necessary for him to touch you and get rid of it. He had to restrain himself from cupping your cheek and kissing you right there. Your fucking doe eyes, your parted lips and flushed cheeks were making his efforts to keep from getting hard futile, and he hopes he didn’t seem like he was running away at the end, since he was actually just trying to hide his boner.

He’s thankful Ellie’s already in the garage when he gets home, because he’d genuinely crawl into a hole and die if she saw him in this state - drunk, dishevelled, and horny. He runs up to his room and locks the door behind him, always a little paranoid, before pulling his boxers down and letting his head fall back against the door when he finally wraps his hand around his cock. The precome which falls from the tip already provides some lubrication, but he spits on his hand before continuing to pump himself, imagining what he could’ve done tonight, what could’ve happened in that kitchen.

He could’ve cupped your cheek, pulled you closer and kissed you hard. Your tongues would clash together and you’d melt in his arms as you let him dominate. When you parted from the kiss, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy, you’d look up at him through your eyelashes and-

“Fuckk.” He moans, breaths coming quicker as his mind jumps to the main event of this little fantasy, knees almost buckling as he quickly squeezes the base, trying to stave off his release just a bit longer.

It seems to work and he continues letting his mind wander.

You’d look up at him, wide eyes peering into his as you asked to suck his cock. He’d never make you - in fact, he’d probably just eat you out instead before fucking you - but if you wanted it he wouldn’t deny you.

He’d nod and you’d sink to your knees in front of him, getting to work fast and wrapping those plump lips around his tip, starting to bob your head. His hand matches the pace that your mouth is at in his mind and he groans, hand working over himself even faster and faster until he finally comes, spurting release onto his hands and stomach as his brows draw upward and he gasps your name.

-

July 28th finally rolls around, and you get out of bed unbelievably excited. You love Ellie, and you can’t wait to give her the best surprise ever.

The entire plan works perfectly, and she arrives just after 5 with Joel to the surprise at the Tipsy Bison. After everyone greets her, they sit to listen to your performance.

“Now, before we begin, I just wanted to say a few words for the girl this song is dedicated to,” you start, smiling as your eyes meet Ellie’s, she’s sat at the front of the crowd of course. “Ellie, you are the most wonderful kid I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You never fail to make my day better, and you always make me laugh - even with that terrible joke book of yours.” She rolls her eyes playfully and there are a few chuckles from the group - clearly she submits everyone she’s close with to the torture of her puns. “We’re all so grateful to have a friend like you, and you deserve the best birthday ever. Hopefully we did a good job.” You chuckle. A few cheers from the crowd, Ellie already beaming before you start playing the song.

When you do begin the song, she actually squeals from excitement, bouncing on her feet. You didn’t know her to act so excitable, especially in public, but it just makes you even more proud since you’d clearly done well by surprising her with this song.

Talking away,

I don’t know what I’m to say

I’ll say it anyway

Today’s another day to find you

Shying away

You don’t want the mood to be too low, although you smile softly at the sight of Ellie and Dina holding hands and murmuring to eachother about something, clearly having a little moment together.. but this is meant to be a party.

So, your strumming gets faster, singing louder and increasing in speed too, as you get some cheers from the crowd, a grin spreading across your face when you hear Joel’s encouragement too. Some people sing along, and people eventually start swaying and dancing. You take a little pause afterwards as people socialise, putting a song on the jukebox and setting your guitar down, sipping some water.

Ellie comes up to the stage with Joel, her smile so wide it prompts your own. You love making people happy, especially kids, and especially this kid.

“That was so fucking awesome! Thank you so much!” She beams, coming up to you and hugging you tight. Your brows raise and you hug her back, meeting Joel’s eyes. He has that look in his eyes you’ve noticed a lot more recently. You refuse to believe it’s the look of love, but.. what else would it be, really? It’s definitely some sort of affection for you, seeing you bonding so well with his surrogate daughter.

“That’s okay, honey. I’m really glad you liked it.” You say, and she thanks you again before requesting another song by A-ha, and you nod, recalling how to play it thankfully, before she leaves to go talk with her friends.

You sigh happily as you watch her go, beyond pleased with the outcome of the party, almost forgetting Joel who still stands before you.

“You were amazing, sweetheart.” He says, still smiling, making you blush when you thank him.

“‘s all thanks to you, Joel. You taught me the song.”

He hums, hands in his pockets. “But you played it up there, and you did it so well.”

“I guess…” You mumble, still a shy reciprocant of praise even after playing and performing in Jackson for all these years.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You’re a real star.” He says, voice a little softer now, just intelligible over the music. You meet his eyes, so earnest and warm as they gaze into your own, and your breath catches.

“Thank you.” You say at last, smiling bashfully.

An hour later, some alcohol in pretty much everyone’s systems (even Ellie’s, after much pleading with Joel, arguing that 16 is basically 18 and that it’s the apocalypse anyway, man!) and your singing session over, the jukebox takes over and plays songs randomly. You sigh wistfully when ‘Collide’ plays, reminding you of that night not so long ago with Joel. The first of many perfect nights spent with him. He seems to have the same thought as he meets your eyes across the room.

Thank fuck for the alcohol, you think, when he comes up to you and boldly asks for a dance. There are people still on the dance floor, mindlessly chatting and dancing, so it wouldn’t be too obvious or embarrassing, you figure, nodding and taking his hand. You almost shudder at the feeling of it - have you even held his hand until now..? You don’t think so. But you still manage to control yourself.

That control flies out the window when you actually start dancing. The song isn’t exactly made for slow dancing, but you’re still close, and you know you’re close enough for him to see you blushing. You don’t really know what possesses you, because after a few murmured words, looking up at him as you dance, you’re taking his hand and somehow dragging him outside. Nobody even notices, and you’re thankful for it, unsure of how to navigate things after you finally do it.

You finally kiss him.

You get outside of the Tipsy Bison, soft orange light painting your faces, a cool breeze in the air. You exhale shakily, thinking of what to say before looking back up at him. All logic and thought fly out of your mind when you meet his eyes. They’re glowing in the sunlight, yet his pupils are so dilated as he looks at you. You can’t think straight and all your mind - no, your heart - is telling you to do is to just kiss him.

So you do, and it feels perfect.

Months, months of torturous waiting for this moment, and it’s actually fucking perfect.

He’s stunned for a second before he’s kissing you back hungrily, a hand tangling in your hair and the other wrapping around your waist, spinning and pinning you back against the wall. You moan softly as he presses into you, forgetting himself briefly.

The soft sound brings him back, though, and he parts from you, forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. You giggle, adrenaline high, and he smiles, huffing a little laugh.

“Well, shit.” A voice comes from your side, and you squeak, eyes shutting before you turn to see Ellie. She’s grinning as you squirm, the cheeky little bugger.

“Ellie-” Joel begins, suddenly sobering up, worried that Ellie won’t be comfortable with this at all.

She is though, laughing to herself before muttering “fucking finally” and heading back inside.

“She’s not wrong,” you murmur, still smiling, “that took us way too long.”

He nods, agreeing before kissing you again, a little softer this time, but it still makes you weak in the knees.

If he wasn’t drunk, and it wasn’t Ellie’s party right now, he’d definitely ask to take you home.. But he can’t tonight. You don’t ask either, probably in the same thought process as he is.

That doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the evening together, chatting with friends here and there, but being inseparable otherwise.

It definitely doesn’t stop you both from darting back outside at least 5 more times during the night to make out like a pair of horny teenagers, either.

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

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[inkinflux]

Lakefront Liaison Pt. 2

Steb x gn!Reader | 1.2k | SFW Steb realizes he has a reason to care about his own safety now. You realize it's because you love him. A continuation of Lakefront Liaison but heavy on the Steb romance this time :3 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

The sun was a warm embrace, staving off the chilly breeze that rustled the trees above. Incessant quacking drew your gaze downwards, orange bills darting forward to snap up the seeds pooled in your cupped palm.

It was a ticklish sensation, and you found you didn’t mind being swarmed, webbed feet jumping up onto your shoes in an attempt to get closer to the food.

“Ravenous creatures,” Steb commented, pulling the bag of feed from your hands to try and redirect the fluffy crowd’s attention.

You laughed as one of the larger ducks pushed out its chest, flapping its wings to assist it in jumping onto the park bench beside you.

“Back, little beast,” Steb said all too calmly, placing a firm hand against the duck’s front to gently push it back to the ground.

You looked at him, bathed in golden light, his pale eyes darting around to keep the ducks in check.

“You’re good with animals,” you told him, pinching some seed from the bag he held and flicking it out further, trying to draw some of the birds away.

Steb shrugged. “I’m trained in crowd control. People are not so dissimilar to animals.”

“Who knew,” you teased, pushing your shoulder against his, “being an enforcer has transferable skills.”

He smiled softly, his face turned from you as he sprinkled more seed to the side.

Piltover was slowly healing. The cracks in the streets were filled with concrete and the strange calcium remnants from the hexcore’s implosion had been chipped off of roofs and walls. The new council had achieved a lot in a short amount of time, thanks to the influence of Zaunites like Sevika. Trade and transport blockades were a thing of the past, and it was becoming more commonplace to bump into people from Zaun on the streets of the upper districts.

These positive changes were not without their caveats, though. Ignorance still lingered like an ugly scar, and desperate people would always present risk until proper structures were put in place to support them.

The fresh bandage wrapped around Steb’s arm was a testament to that, having had a run-in with a shimmer addict who had drifted all the way up to the Academy. He had been struck down at the base of the new statue that had been erected, Jayce’s stony facade staring out to the horizon while Steb bled over his feet.

You had never told him how much he reminded you of him, and you weren’t sure you ever could. It felt like speaking it aloud might kick-start a self-fulfilling prophecy where his similarly good intentions and penchant for using his body as a shield would earn him the same fate as Jayce.

Still, his ghost sat between you, his blood and bone meal deep in the city’s soil. He was an unavoidable presence, even in death, and one Steb could never hope to live up to.

So, he didn’t try to. When you’d cleaned his bandages that night and asked him to take a break, he hadn’t put up a fight. He’d let you hold his hand to steady him as you pulled the clean fabric around his forearm, and he placed the same hand next to yours on the bench, silently hoping that you’d take it again.

“Wanna know a secret?” You asked, turning until your knees knocked against his.

Steb stayed silent, but nodded, watching the excitement bubble up in you.

“Caitlyn told me-” you started, then promptly bit down on your bottom lip. “Actually, it’ll probably mean more to you if I don’t ruin the surprise.”

Steb’s smile grew, his cheek frills twitching with amusement.

“You mean the promotion?”

You nodded excitedly. “She already told you?”

“Yes,” he answered, placing the bag of feed beside him and out of the way, “and I already turned it down.”

Your smile fell. “What? Why?”

Steb tried not to let your evident disappointment weigh on him. “I would have been spending most of my days in the slums of Zaun. In the middle of danger.”

You frowned at that. “I’ve never known you to shy from danger before. Especially if it means making a difference and helping people.”

He still had doubts, but when he looked at you again, he knew the decision he made had been the correct one.

“There will be someone down there, leading the charge. It just won’t be me.”

Your disappointment gave way to the relief you’d been closely guarding, a sigh that had your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your eyes closed and your brows pinched.

“You’ve been an officer for so long,” you mumbled, “Why don’t you want to make progress in your career? You deserve it, Steb.”

He relaxed into your touch, his chest a flutter of nerves.

“Progress isn’t everything, tadpole.”

The nickname he’d gifted you after the night of your less than graceful meeting still tickled you.

“Duty and honour… what does all the fighting mean if I can't enjoy the peace?”

The back of your hand slid against his, knuckle to knuckle, until he flipped his palm up, capturing your hand in his.

“Still, you turned down a pretty lofty pay increase…”

Steb squeezed your hand, drawing your gaze back to him.

“I have more than enough,” he said, looking down at you with such fondness it made your heart stutter in a way it hadn’t done in so long. “I wasn’t destined to grow old, until I met you.”

You drifted close to him, your heart swelling against your ribs almost painfully. He was so much like Jayce it hurt, but different in every way he needed to be.

His eyes were big and glassy, pale blue like the ice you’d skate on in the winter, when the lake froze over. You were already imagining Steb in mittens, hands in yours as you helped him find his balance.

Thinking about the future had become so difficult, until you started falling for him.

His dark lips parted as you nudged your nose against his, a playful tell that you wanted him to be the one to make the move.

He closed the gap, cold lips upon yours, his body melting against you like soft snow in the spring. He tasted of salt and caramelized sugar, his mouth still sweet from the pastries you’d shared for breakfast. His blush-tipped fingers sunk into your waist, tugging you closer, decidedly different from the last hands that had held you.

The quiet man came undone before you, humming his delight as you deepened the kiss, your hand pulled against the back of his neck, fingers tracing the row of small fins that disappeared into his collar.

You were practically in his lap when Steb broke the kiss, breathless. His cheeks were flushed, his frills dancing so animatedly that he had to bring a shaky hand up to try and smooth them down.

You pulled his hand away, pushing up to place a kiss against each cheekbone with a giggle as they tickled your lips.

“I should have known you would make a public nuisance out of me,” he said, his face cradled tenderly in your hands.

The ducks quacked happily as they dug into the spilled bag of seed you’d absentmindedly knocked in your romantic pursuit. Steb tutted when he glanced down at the scene.

“This crowd is becoming insatiable,” he joked. “Let me take you someplace more secure.”

You placed another indulgent kiss against his jaw.

“Take me away, officer.”

[sevrinve]

shapeshifter lavellan and her dreadwolf husband

[recycledraccoon]

What happens next? What happens when The Bad Kids do what they do best and save the world? What happens when the RAGE is suddenly gone?

Would they ashamed of themselves? Of what they did? Of who they became?

.

.

You were a naive teenage freshman, and two teachers you trusted were manipulating you into a monster. You didn't notice, distracted by typical teenage problems and petty insecurities. You didn't fight it. You walked willingly down the easy path and became pawns in their grand plan.

You know how it started. This is how it ends.

(YOU HATE THEM THEY ARE IN YOUR WAY AND YOU ARE GOING TO KILL THEM AND PROVE YOURSELF BETTER FINALLY! THERE IS NO MORE WAITING YOU ARE CROSSING BLADES AND FLINGING SPELLS WITH UNRELENTING WRATH AND DEADLY INTENTIONS-)

They fight you. Their teamwork is flawless in a way your party's has never been. Their awareness of the battlefield and their control over it makes it all the more apparent that this battle is a raging wild thunderstorm trying to break apart a mountain standing tall and insurmountable. The mountain does not so much as bend, for all that you blast holes and carve deep into the rock. The mountain does not bend, nor bow, much less-

The storm will always break first.

It ends like this-

(WHY ISNT THIS WORKING WHY ARE THEY STILL FIGHTING THEY WONT DIE THEYWONTDIETHEYWONT-PAIN. IT HURTS! IT HURTS! NO!! NO NO NONONOPAINNOPAINNOPAINNOPAI-)

You die.

.

.

.

.

Dying like this is vengeance. It is retribution.

.

.

.

But it is not JUSTICE.

.

.

.

Let's try again.

You wake up.

(Doubt shepherds you back through the dark.

Justice and Conviction, like sunlight warm and golden, breaks over the horizon.

The rage implanted inside you dissolves into golden light to join the dawn.)

You are a Dragonborn, no longer little or weak by any means, but it still feels like nothing ever changed at all from that very first day. You feel very small, rubbing at a chest that is incredibly tender and sore.

Before your blurry eyes, are The Bad Kids. Battered, bruised, bloody. Standing tall, heroic, and undefeated.

The Cleric of Doubt and Paladin of Justice both have brought you back to breathing, and you watch in awe and horror as all of your friends are awake too.

Idly, you realise they also rub at their chests near immediately. You look down and find no red star-like gem of rage embedded there. Only ugly, fully healed scars like a jagged star.

(What have you done?)

Later, there will be questions and officials and repercussions. Justice for you will look like second chances, and the hard unending road of righting the wrongs you have done.

Death is the easy way out.

Redemption is hard.

For right now, the heroes before you are wearily celebrating, cracking jokes and rubbing blood off their faces. All the while your party is still gathering your bearings, and you have no idea where your glasses are.

Shame rolls in your gut and even as you and your friends sit together you can barely look at each other.

Finally, words are exchanged, a clearing of the board. It doesn't fix anything of what you've done, but you know without doubt if you ever try anything again they will not bring you back a second time. You settle in to wait for whatever authorities will be coming.

(Later, while you are in a cell waiting to find out what happens next, your party will be told that the friend you killed was brought back, the curse preventing her revival broken. You are not the only one in those cells to weep, loud and ugly and so so relieved.)

A pair of cracked glasses appear in front of you, held by a hand with bloody knuckles. You put them on, blink as you adjust to the cracked glass but vision once more clear. You see the bloody knuckles again, and with a jolt realize those are the hands that killed you. You died under the crunch of a furious fist you never anticipated.

You look up.

When you saw her for the first time, she was a cute, if sometimes awkward, elven girl in your Thursday classes. You kept seeing her, even as she became renowned and remarkable, even as you had been slowly getting angrier.

The first time she ever smiled at you, you had hated her already. She had been very pretty, and if you had been anything less than actively planning to kill her, you think her expert spell craft but awkward stumbling of words and red cheeks would have left you utterly enchanted in truth.

Later, before you fight and die, the look she gives you is cold and piercing, determined. The only red on her cheeks is blood that had splattered there.

You look up.

The Elven Oracle, the most powerful divination wizard you have ever met or will ever meet again, stands towering above you for all that you know logically she is at least a foot shorter than you.

Her blonde hair is a mess, clothes dirty and ripped and stained dark in some places. Her eyes flicker with the magic of the powerful Oracle she is, as she stares down at you.

(You wonder what she sees about you in those flickers.)

She frowns, lips pursed for a moment, but her hands clench and you think for moment she might punch you to death again. Or yell at you maybe, but is biting her tongue.

Instead, with one last look of piercingly cold eyes that could kill, she turns to join her friends, leaving you behind without hesitation or second thought, or even a last word.

(Good for her.)

You are a horrible coward. Selfish and capable of cruelty that makes your shame increase tenfold. She had smiled at you and chilled a drink in your hand. She defended you and called you cool to her friends that day in the cafeteria. You took advantage of that, of those tender early feelings, and crushed them under an angry, undeservingly bitter, heel.

You are a horrible selfish coward, and you don't think you've ever seen anyone more beautiful in your life than her, even as she walks away from you.

You can't ever imagine she will ever smile at you again now. What future will there ever be, where she sees you and her eyes aren't cold and scornful? Nothing more than a bitter memory to be forgotten and set aside for better things. How could she ever see anything you say or do as genuine ever again? You certainly wouldn't.

(The way your heart pounds in your chest, fast and heavy, feels like yet another sin on your sagging scaled shoulders. There is an intense moment of painful, shameful yearning that you swallow down, down, down and away. Watching her back as she walks away will be more than you ever deserve to have gotten in the first place. More than you think you will ever deserve again in whatever life you scrap together after this.)

Life, as ever, continues after that day like it always has and always will.

You go to prison for a time, as what you and your friends did as minors- manipulated or not- are legally responsible for in the aftermath is decided. You go to therapy, serve a very forgiving sentence, and when you go on parole your time is eaten up by both mandatory and voluntary community service.

You try to get better. To be better. You think you and your party are true friends now, bound together by bitter shame at what you've all done and gone through together.

(The first person who visits your party while in prison who isn't a member of any of your families, is Lucy Frostblade. Even as a Cleric of a Sorrowful God, you don't think you've ever seen her more sad than sitting across from all of you, warded glass between. There are no apologies that will ever be enough.

But Lucy has always, always been braver and stronger than any of you. The power of her conviction is something wondrous.

She always tried to be that fire to keep the cold and dark at bay, even as it risked burning her. By all the gods, you had burned her to ash, and yet here she is again. Alive and renewed. A campfire relit and flickering in the distance, promising safety and warmth.

Despite everything, Lucy sits across from all of you and promises to see you through this.)

Days go by. Never again are the seven of you known as The Rat Grinders, except in past tense when speaking the history of your sins. You don't go back to being High Five Heros, but you grow into something new together.

You still fight rage some days. It makes you feel sick and scared. You always are afraid of what is genuine emotion and what is lingering from the star-scar on your chest.

You still think about her sometimes.

(Selfishly you hope you are a distant memory to her, and she never thinks of you and your cruelty to her again. Even more selfishly, even more shamefully, there is a tiny part in your heart where you wish she doesn't forget you like you know you won't forget her. It's better to smother that part of your heart into deeper and deeper depths, hoping beyond hope that painful yearning doesn't overcome you and cause it to rise up again. She deserves a life without having to deal with people like you.)

The thing about The Bad Kids, is how ironic their name is given how genuinely and unabashedly good they are.

Lucy remains their friend, even as she helps the rest of them on their steady journey back from evil.

This means it's inevitable that the two once rival parties meet again. It's awkward at first, but The Bad Kids give them shit and rag on them as easily as they extend kindness. You will meet more people and realize that you are not the first villains in their lives they've forgiven.

You give the beautiful Elven Oracle as a sincere apology for the past as you can. She quirks an eyebrow at you, and as lovely a sight as it is, the shame is greater. You don't know if she believes you in the slightest. You don't want to find out.

You do your best to not bother her at all, on the occasions the two parties meet.

(Try as you might, you are powerless to stop your eyes from locking onto her the second she enters any room you are in. You always look away as quickly and casually as you can, frazzled heart pounding like a traitor. It's harder to not watch whenever she walks away, the memory of the day she walked away from you locked in your mind like crystal glass.)

You keep moving forward. Life goes on. You keep a pair of cracked spectacles in a box in your closet. On the bad days, when you hate yourself the most, you look and remember that you have been given kindness and a second chance by people who hated you. If they gave you a second chance, you feel it would be in poor taste to not extend yourself that same courtesy.

You and your friends become legally speaking, free souls. You get qualifications and find work that feels right for you. There are some things you and your friends never joke about again, but you find new things to fill in those gaps.

You move on. You're not sure if it's working sometimes, but you keep moving anyway. Relationships become easier, you try new things and meet more people. You have a whole life left to live. One day you find yourself capable and confident, which is a bit of a surprise. You try every day to be as sincere and honest as you can.

(Sometimes, you feel a powerful, almost familiar, gaze on you. You were a coward once. You never took on a quest you thought you couldn't beat, the fear of failure hanging above too great. It's been a long time, and you are a very different person now. You are still too much of a coward to ever turn around to find that gaze.)

One day, you agree to go do a job as a favor to a friend. Your field is specialized, and you enjoy working in a field that makes your brain work, writing out pages and pages of complicated maths and spell work. Either way, you have the qualifications and are confident you can get it done and settled far faster and better than anyone else your friend could have asked.

You go to the job, and are caught off guard and flustered when there happens to be a beautiful Elven woman also working on the project. She looks up at you with a powerful gaze, a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that feels a little like a challenge, a dare.

(You want to run away, hide, calm the heart that you find to be a selfish, shameful traitor even after all this time. It pounds in your chest hard enough your afraid it might just kill you.)

You walk in to get started, hands already reaching for a folder of information being handed to you from a college as you gets the run down, ready to work.

Minor thoughts on Oisin and how he seems primed to fuck over Adaine specifically. The flustered ping-pong balls that were a plan all along. The quoting her own words on the previous Elven Oracle back at her in regards to the storm.

I mean...imagine you're a skinny little dragonborn wizard, in a class with a cute elven girl. You don't talk to her, but one of your adventuring party members is pissing thinking that party is getting preferential treatment, so you KNOW about her. You watch from the corner of your eye or from a spot on the back of the class whenever she's actually there. Partway through the year she goes to jail, and when she comes back she and her adventuring party save the world from a dragon. (A dragon of whom your Grandmother had been fond. ((Also, coincidentally, the Vice Principal.))) One of them created a god.

(Your entire party is being groomed into rage by two of your teachers.)

You're in her class again. She is the Elven Oracle, already an accomplished adventurer. She and her friends are popular. She's very pretty. She does not know your name. She does not know who you are, just a skinny dragonborn a few seats back.

You go on your Sophomores Year Spring Break Adventure and don't bother to think about her party at all.

(You and your party are going to kill a god. Your teacher is going to ascend to godhood in their place and you and your party will have Made That Happen. You are angry and determined with each final blow you deal.)

You return from Spring Break angry and with a sore chest.

You find out the elven girl's party has resurrected a dead god and the live streamed the entire fight. They must think they're so much better than you and your party. You'll show them.

(Your friend refuses to change her faith. She cancels the paperwork. The rest of you kill her, confident she will make the right choice and join you again as a proper Champion for your new god. You help kill her. She does not get back up. You hide the body and none of you can say anything. You're so so angry.)

The world descended into darkness and you can do nothing. The sun finally breaks across the sky again right before Junior year. You and your party have made plans and are on the cusp of greatness. You've gained muscles to spare and ink on your scales in carefully selected runes, no longer just a skinny little dragonborn.

(You have a new cleric. He's not your friend. He's a haystack hick from that cult-church from Freshman year, and he's here because the god you're going to kill needs a Champion and he fits the bill, nothing more.)

The first day of school the plan starts to be put in motion. Immediately that party of kids is interfering, in your way. It rackles. You push on anyway, seething inside even as you act the part of being reasonable.

You go to a party at the houses of one of her friends. You've been practicing making spell runes on the inside of ping-pong balls. You're ready.

The pretty Elven girl in your class finally looks at you. She approaches you, gives you a drink, and chills it in your hand. She has to ask your name. You have shared certain wizarding classes with her since Freshman year, tho she was barely there. You have to tell her that.

You chat. She clearly gets flustered, calls you great, and flees back into the house. Your friend teases you for others to overhear. It's a convenient excuse to use your geometry and apply physics to miss every single shot and lay your trap. The drink isn't so perfectly chilled in your hand anymore.

(You talk to her. Play nice. She isn't smooth, but she smiled at you and maybe a part of you is vindictive in seeing her flustered. It's a shame she turned down the diamonds, as dragon madness would have been so poetic. You steal her summons to steal something from the house. She didn't know your name. Didn't remember you. You feel justified. Your anger burns cold like frostbite, like static in the air. You purposely don't wonder if that first miss was intentional or genuine.)

You see each other in class sometimes.

You plot and kill monsters the woods. You will win the battle. You will win the war.

Your parties have a standoff in the cafeteria. You play your part to diffuse the situation, your teacher has been harping on your friends to stop antagonizing the other party. You feel her mind touch yours gentle probing of intentions, her friends all around her as you lock eyes.

(The devil's honey your group gets from that bee girl all goes to your teacher. He is preparing himself to ascend to godhood, and he needs it for his prayers.)

She is searching for your intentions and feelings. You tell her only 'Sorry'. She believes you. You are not entirely sure why. She and her party will hopefully die during their Last Stand exam, and have no way to revive themselves in time, be trapped there until after elections.

Maybe she just wasn't perceptive enough to see the deception.

(You hate her and all her friends. You have had no devil's honey. She believes you. Briefly, you wonder if it was a lie at all.)

They catch you. They know. Your team goes to ground and waits out the remaining days 'til elections and the culmination of everything you've been working for.

It rains at the party, and you have no more masks. You are angry. She must never have been that good of an Oracle at all, and you take joy in mocking her with her own words from long ago.

She's nothing more than an elven girl in your class who was full of herself to remember your name.

(There is nothing left now to stop you from being as openly angry as you like.)

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

[pucksandpower]

Love Again

Charles Leclerc x widow!Reader

Summary: you never thought you would be able to let someone else into your heart after your husband passed away, but when a bucket list your husband left you to fulfill inadvertently leads you straight into Charles’ path, you learn exactly what it means to love again

Warnings: death of significant other

The funeral is everything you expected it to be and nothing like you imagined. The church is suffocatingly full, every pew occupied, and the walls themselves seem to press in on you.

You sit in the front row, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, knuckles white against the black fabric of your dress. You haven’t said a word since you walked into the church, since you caught sight of the casket at the front, draped in a flag. You can’t speak because if you open your mouth, you’re certain you’ll break apart.

You focus on the details instead. The way the flowers — lilies, his favorite — are arranged with too much precision. The way the air smells faintly of old wood and incense. The way the murmur of the crowd sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Your head is spinning, but your body is still, a statue carved out of grief and shock.

You hear the scrape of a chair being moved and look up just in time to see the man taking the pulpit. You recognize him, vaguely, as someone from the organization — Doctors Without Borders. He was there when it happened. He was there with him.

He clears his throat, glances down at a piece of paper in his hand, then up at the crowd. “I’m not sure I have the right words for this,” he begins, his voice low and trembling just enough to be noticeable. “But I’ll try.”

You hate him a little for that — for having to try. You don’t want him to try. You want him to fail, to stumble over his words, to not be able to get them out. But he doesn’t. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“James was ... the best of us. You all know that. He was selfless, tireless. He didn’t just want to save lives — he did it. Every day. In the most dangerous places, under the most terrifying conditions. He was a healer in the truest sense of the word.” The man’s voice catches for a second, but he pushes through it. “And he was my friend.”

You flinch at that, a sharp pain slicing through your chest.

“He saved us that day,” the man says. “He saved all of us.”

The church is so quiet now, you could hear a pin drop. You can’t take your eyes off the man at the pulpit. You want him to stop talking. You want him to stop telling you things you can’t bear to hear. But he doesn’t stop.

“We were in the middle of the compound when the shelling started. It came out of nowhere. One minute we were patching up a kid who’d been hit by shrapnel, and the next, the whole world was exploding around us. We were trapped. There was no way out.” The man’s voice lowers, almost like he’s talking to himself now. “But James ... James didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the blast, toward the fire. He pulled people out, dragged them to safety.”

A tear slips down your cheek, and you swipe it away angrily.

“He was hit by the last shell,” the man continues, his voice trembling now. “He was trying to get one of the nurses out. She was trapped under some debris. He managed to free her, but then the shell hit, and ...” The man’s voice falters, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “He didn’t make it.”

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, a ripple of shock that moves through the room like a wave. You feel it crash over you, pulling you under. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t do anything but sit there and listen as the man finishes his eulogy.

“He died a hero,” the man says, his voice breaking. “He died saving lives, the way he always wanted to. And I ... I don’t know how to make sense of it. I don’t know how to make it okay.”

He steps back from the pulpit, his head bowed, and there’s a moment of silence so thick, it’s suffocating. You feel like you’re drowning, like the walls of the church are closing in on you. You need to get out, but you can’t move. You’re frozen in place, trapped in your grief.

Finally, you manage to take a breath, and it feels like your lungs are on fire. You get to your feet, unsteady, and start to make your way down the aisle. You can feel the eyes of everyone in the church on you, but you don’t care. You need to get out. You need air.

You push through the heavy wooden doors and stumble out into the daylight, gasping for breath like you’ve been underwater for hours. The sky is too blue, the sun too bright. Everything is too much.

You lean against the wall of the church, pressing your forehead to the cool stone, trying to steady yourself. But the tears come anyway, hard and fast, and you can’t stop them. You don’t even try.

You don’t know how long you stand there, sobbing into the wall, but eventually, you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is — your husband’s best friend.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, hesitant.

You don’t respond. You can’t. You just keep crying.

“I ... I’m so sorry,” he says. He steps closer, and you can feel the warmth of his presence beside you. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say,” you manage to choke out, your voice raw.

He’s silent for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath. “James ... he gave me something. To give to you. In case ... in case something happened.”

You turn to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. He’s holding an envelope, white and plain, with your name on it in James’ handwriting. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“He asked me to give it to you,” he says, holding the envelope out to you. “But only when you’re ready.”

You stare at the envelope like it’s a bomb about to go off. You don’t want to take it. You don’t want to know what’s inside. But you reach for it anyway, your hand shaking.

“Take your time,” he says softly. “There’s no rush.”

You nod, clutching the envelope to your chest like it’s a lifeline. You can’t bring yourself to open it, not yet. You don’t even know if you ever will.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes full of sympathy and something else — something you can’t quite place. “I’m here if you need anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak. He lingers for a moment, like he wants to say something more, but then he just gives you a small, sad smile and walks away.

You watch him go, the envelope still clutched tightly in your hand, and you feel the weight of it like a stone in your chest. You know that whatever’s inside is going to change everything, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that.

But you don’t have a choice.

***

The envelope sits in the top drawer of your nightstand, hidden beneath an old notebook and a stack of receipts you keep meaning to throw away. It’s been there for over a year, untouched.

Some days, you forget about it entirely, letting the routine of work and lonely dinners numb the ache in your chest. But most days, it lingers in the back of your mind, a quiet hum of guilt and grief that you can’t quite shake.

You know you’re supposed to open it — James left it for you, after all. But every time you reach for the drawer, your hand hovers just above the handle, frozen. Because what if the letter makes it worse? What if the words on the paper bring everything crashing back down on you, when you’ve spent so long trying to build yourself back up?

So you leave it. Days turn into weeks, and then months, until a whole year has passed. Friends have stopped asking how you’re doing, their well-meaning calls and texts fading away into awkward silence. You don’t blame them. It’s not like you’ve been much of a person to be around.

But today, for some reason, you can’t ignore it any longer.

It’s raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that makes the world feel smaller, quieter. You sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the drawer like it’s going to open itself. The house is still, too still, and the sound of the rain against the window only amplifies the silence.

Your hand trembles as you pull the drawer open. The envelope is right where you left it, the edges slightly yellowed now, but the ink still bold and clear: your name, in James’ handwriting. Seeing it sends a pang through your chest, like someone’s reached inside and squeezed your heart.

You sit there for a long time, just holding it. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s just paper. But it feels heavier than anything you’ve ever held.

“Just open it,” you whisper to yourself, but the words feel hollow, like they belong to someone else.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you tear the seal.

Inside, there’s a folded letter. Beneath it, another piece of paper — something thicker. You hesitate, then unfold the letter first. The handwriting is familiar, the slant of the letters uniquely his. You read it slowly, your eyes scanning the words with a mix of dread and longing.

My love,

If you’re reading this, then I’m not there with you. And I’m so, so sorry for that.

I wish I could tell you how much I wanted to come home. How much I needed to come home to you. But I know that wherever I am now, I’m still with you in some way. I have to believe that. Otherwise, I think I’d lose my mind.

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you to be strong, to keep living your life. And you will. I know you will. But it’s okay to fall apart first. It’s okay to break, to cry, to scream at the universe for being so damn unfair. I would.

There are so many things I wish we could’ve done together, so many things we talked about but never got the chance to do. So I’m leaving you with something. A list. It’s not a list of things you have to do — it’s a list of things I wish we could’ve experienced together. But more than that, it’s a list of things I want you to experience. For both of us.

The first one’s a bit selfish. But the last one ... that one’s for you.

I love you more than words can ever say. And if there’s any way for me to still be with you, to still be a part of your life, then I hope this is it.

Yours always,

Jamie

By the time you finish reading, tears blur your vision, dripping silently onto the letter. You wipe at your face, but the tears just keep coming. His words cut through you, raw and tender, like a wound that’s never fully healed.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the rain outside matching the rhythm of your sobs. It’s only after you’ve cried yourself out that you remember the second piece of paper, still folded in the envelope.

With a shaky breath, you unfold it.

It’s a bucket list. Five items, written in James’ scrawled handwriting. Your heart clenches as you read them, one by one.

1. Go to an F1 race. You know how much I wanted to see one in person. Do this for me. I want you to feel the rush, the excitement. It’s something I never got to experience, and I want you to feel it for both of us.

2. Visit that little café in Paris we always talked about. The one by the Seine with the red awning. We were supposed to go there on our honeymoon, remember? Have a coffee, eat too many croissants. Just sit there and watch the world go by.

3. Take a road trip with no destination in mind. Just drive. Don’t plan anything. Turn down random roads, get lost, stay in tiny motels, and eat at diners where they don’t know your name. I always wanted to do that with you.

4. Dance in the rain. We talked about doing it, but we never did. Just let go and do it. Don’t care if people are watching. Don’t worry about looking silly. Just feel the rain and think of me.

5. Find love again. I know this one is hard, and I know you might not want to think about it right now. But promise me that one day, when you’re ready, you’ll open your heart again. It doesn’t have to be soon. It doesn’t have to be anyone like me. But don’t close yourself off to it. You deserve that kind of happiness.

You sit there, staring at the list, your chest tight and your hands trembling. It’s so ... James. The way he could be both lighthearted and deeply thoughtful, the way he always wanted you to live fully, even if he couldn’t anymore.

But how can you? How can you even think about doing these things without him?

You read the list again, and this time it feels different. Less like a burden, and more like a challenge. A promise, almost. To live. To try.

But the last item — that’s the one that breaks you. Find love again. The words echo in your mind, and you can barely breathe through the weight of them. It feels impossible, inconceivable. And yet, it’s the one thing James wanted most for you.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You quickly wipe your eyes, folding the letter and the list back into the envelope before shoving it into the drawer again. You stand up, trying to compose yourself.

When you open the door, you find his best friend, the one who gave you the letter in the first place, standing there. His expression softens the moment he sees your face.

“You finally opened it,” he says gently.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I’ve been wondering when you would.”

“I ... I couldn’t,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not until today.”

He sits down on the couch, and you join him, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable.

“What did he say?” He asks softly.

You hand him the list, unable to find the words yourself. He reads it, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reaches the last item.

“That’s James,” he says, shaking his head. “Always thinking about everyone else.”

You laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob. “How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to just ... live my life without him?”

“You’re not,” he says, his voice gentle. “You’re supposed to live your life with him. By doing these things, you’re keeping him with you.”

You stare at the list again, your heart aching. “But the last one ...”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, quietly, he asks, “Do you think he’d want you to be alone forever?”

You shake your head, tears spilling over again. “No. But I don’t know how to ... move on.”

“You don’t have to move on,” he says. “You just have to keep moving. One step at a time.”

You nod, even though it feels impossible. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this list isn’t just about James’ dreams. Maybe it’s about helping you find your way back to yourself.

“I guess I’d better start with number one,” you say, your voice shaky but determined.

He smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe — just maybe — you can do this.

***

The roar of engines echoes through the air as you step out of the taxi, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The circuit sprawls out before you, a sea of red, blue, and green flags waving in the hands of thousands of fans, all buzzing with excitement. You clutch your ticket tightly, the edges crumpled from your nervous grip.

It took everything in you to get here. The flight, the hotel, the whole ordeal of buying a ticket from some sketchy reseller online — all of it felt like a test of your resolve.

But this is for James. You repeat that to yourself like a mantra. He would’ve loved this, you think, as you look up at the towering grandstands. The hum of the engines, the electricity in the air, the sheer intensity of it all — it’s exactly the kind of thing he would have dragged you to, his enthusiasm infectious.

But now, you’re here alone. And that thought twists in your chest, a painful reminder of why you’re doing this in the first place.

You make your way to the entrance, the ticket clenched in your hand. The queue moves quickly, fans eager to get to their seats, their conversations a mix of English, French, Italian, and other languages you can’t quite place.

You try to blend in, keep your head down, and avoid drawing attention to yourself. Just scan the ticket and get inside. That’s all you have to do.

When it’s finally your turn, you hand your ticket to the attendant, offering a small, nervous smile. He takes it without much thought, scanning the barcode with the device strapped to his wrist. But instead of the usual beep, there’s nothing — just a blank screen.

The attendant frowns, tries again. Still nothing.

“Uh, let me just check something,” he says, his tone suddenly cautious.

You feel a cold knot forming in your stomach. “Is there a problem?”

He doesn’t answer right away, fiddling with the scanner, trying different angles. The queue behind you is growing restless, and you can feel eyes on your back. Finally, he looks up at you, sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, “but this ticket isn’t valid.”

You blink, not understanding. “What do you mean? I bought it online ...”

“It’s a fake,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “You must’ve been scammed. It happens sometimes with resellers.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You feel the color drain from your face, your mind reeling. Fake. Scammed. The ticket crumples in your hand as you step aside, trying to make sense of it. How could this happen? You did everything right — or at least, you thought you did.

“But ... I paid a lot for this,” you stammer, the reality of it sinking in. “I-I don’t understand.”

“I’m really sorry,” the attendant repeats, glancing over your shoulder at the impatient crowd behind you. “There’s nothing I can do. You’ll have to contact whoever you bought it from.”

You nod numbly, stepping away from the gate. The world around you seems to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. You feel like you’re suffocating, your chest tight with a mixture of humiliation and despair. This was supposed to be the first thing you did for James, and you can’t even get that right.

You don’t know where you’re going, just that you need to get away from the entrance, away from the people. Your legs carry you to the far side of the parking lot, where the crowds thin out and the noise dulls to a low hum. You lean against a concrete pillar, your breath coming in shaky gasps.

It’s too much. The weight of it all — the grief, the loneliness, the pressure you’ve put on yourself to make this trip meaningful — it’s crushing you. You slide down to sit on the curb, burying your face in your hands as tears spill over.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words meant for James, though you know he can’t hear you. “I’m so sorry ...”

You’re so caught up in your tears that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he’s right in front of you. When you finally look up, your vision is blurry from the tears, but you can make out the silhouette of a man standing there, watching you with concern etched on his face.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is soft, with a lilting accent you can’t quite place, but it’s gentle enough to cut through the fog of your despair.

You quickly wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it’s a losing battle. “I’m fine,” you manage to choke out, though it’s clear to both of you that you’re anything but.

He doesn’t move, just crouches down in front of you, his brow furrowed. “You don’t look fine. What happened?”

You shake your head, embarrassed by the whole situation. “It’s stupid ... I just — I bought a ticket, and it’s fake, and I ... I just don’t know what to do.”

The words tumble out between hiccups and sniffles, and you feel ridiculous for crying in front of a stranger. But he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his expression grows even more sympathetic.

“That’s not stupid at all,” he says gently. “You came all this way for the race, didn’t you?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying again. “Yeah. But now I can’t even get in. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he reassures you, his tone firm but kind. “People get scammed all the time. It’s not your fault.”

You look up at him then, really look at him. He’s young, probably around your age, with messy brown hair and striking green eyes that seem to radiate warmth. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt and jeans, nothing that would make him stand out in a crowd, but there’s something about him — maybe the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world that matters right now — that makes you feel a little less alone.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not really a fan. It’s just ... something I had to do.”

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. “For someone else?”

You nod again, fresh tears welling up. “My husband. He ... he passed away, and this was on a list of things he wanted me to do. I thought ... I thought I could at least get this right.”

The man’s expression softens even more, if that’s possible. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just sits there with you, letting the weight of your words settle between you.

“I’m really sorry,” he says finally, and you can tell he means it. “That must be so hard.”

You shrug, wiping at your face again. “It is. But I wanted to do it anyway. For him.”

He nods, and then, after a brief pause, he says, “What if I told you I could help?”

You look at him, confusion and hope warring in your chest. “What do you mean?”

He smiles, and it’s a kind, genuine smile that makes you feel like maybe things aren’t as hopeless as they seem. “I might be able to get you into the race. If you’re okay with that.”

Your heart skips a beat, a flicker of hope sparking to life. “How? Are you some kind of VIP or something?”

He laughs, a soft, melodic sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Something like that. Just trust me, okay?”

You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe it’s because he’s the first person who’s really listened to you in a long time, or maybe it’s because you’re so desperate to make this work. Either way, you nod.

“Okay,” you say, your voice a little stronger now.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number, glancing back at you as he waits for the call to connect. “This might take a minute,” he says with a reassuring smile.

You watch him, your heart pounding as you wonder just who this man is and how he plans to help you. But as you sit there, your tears drying and the noise of the race humming in the background, you can’t help but feel a glimmer of something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

***

Charles doesn’t leave your side while he waits for the call to go through, his green eyes focused on you as if making sure you’re still okay. The sincerity in his gaze is almost unnerving, and for a brief moment, you forget about the pitiful mess you’ve become, losing yourself in the quiet strength he radiates.

Whoever he is, it’s clear he’s not just a fan — there’s something about him that feels different, like he’s used to handling situations like this with a calm confidence that most people can only fake.

He speaks briefly into the phone, in a language you don’t understand, and within minutes — faster than you would’ve thought possible — a Ferrari team member rushes toward you both, holding a shiny red VIP pass. The emblem glints in the sunlight, and as he hands it over to Charles, your brain starts to catch up. Your eyes flicker between the pass, the Ferrari logo, and Charles, who’s now holding the pass out to you with that same reassuring smile.

“Here,” he says gently, placing the pass into your trembling hand. “This will get you into the paddock, and pretty much anywhere else you want to go.”

You stare at the pass, then at him, the realization dawning on you slowly. Ferrari. VIP. Charles. It suddenly clicks into place, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He’s not just a concerned fan. He’s someone important.

You swallow hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Who ... who are you?”

He chuckles, but it’s soft, not mocking, more like he finds the situation endearing. “I’m Charles. Charles Leclerc. I drive for Ferrari.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. You’re mortified that you didn’t recognize him, that you didn’t put it together sooner. You’ve heard the name before, of course — who hasn’t? But you’ve never been into F1, and you hadn’t expected to meet someone famous today.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, looking down at your feet. “I didn’t realize ...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Charles interrupts, waving off your apology. “You’ve had a rough day. The last thing you need to worry about is recognizing some racing driver.”

“But I should’ve known ...” you begin, but he cuts you off again, this time with a playful smile.

“Now, why would you know that? You already told me you’re not a fan,” he teases lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And I’d much rather be remembered as the guy who helped you out than as that Ferrari driver you didn’t recognize.”

You can’t help but laugh, albeit weakly. His charm is disarming, and it’s hard to feel embarrassed when he’s making it so clear that he doesn’t care about your mistake.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it. “For all of this. I don’t know how to repay you.”

Charles shakes his head, his expression turning serious again. “You don’t need to repay me. Just enjoy the day. Experience everything to the fullest — in honor of your husband.”

You blink at him, the mention of James sending a fresh wave of emotion through you. But instead of the sharp pain you’ve grown accustomed to, it’s more of a gentle ache this time, softened by the kindness of the stranger-turned-friend standing before you.

“I know what it’s like to lose people you love,” Charles continues, his voice low and sincere. “And I know how important it is to keep their memory alive by doing things they would’ve loved. It’s not easy, but ... it’s worth it.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The depth of his words, the understanding in his eyes — it’s like he’s speaking directly to the part of you that’s been hurting the most. And suddenly, you feel a connection to him that goes beyond the superficial. He gets it. He understands.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “Really, thank you.”

He nods, his gaze holding yours for a long moment before he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. His grip is warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You let him lead you through the bustling parking lot, your heart still pounding but now for a different reason.

There’s something surreal about walking next to Charles Leclerc, knowing he’s one of the biggest names in the sport and yet treating you like you’re the important one.

As you approach the entrance to the paddock, the atmosphere shifts. It’s a different world in here, a world of precision, speed, and power. Team members rush about, focused and intense, the hum of engines a constant background noise. But as you pass by, more than a few heads turn, eyes widening as they take in the sight of you walking with Charles. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

“Here we are,” he says as you reach the Ferrari hospitality area, gesturing to the sleek red building with the prancing horse logo proudly displayed. “You’re my guest today, so feel free to make yourself at home. The team will take good care of you.”

You look up at the building, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much,” Charles insists, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s exactly what you deserve today. I want you to enjoy yourself.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you. He’s serious. He really wants this for you, and the sincerity in his voice makes it clear that this isn’t just about being nice. It’s about giving you something good in a time when good things have been hard to come by.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice soft. “I’ll try.”

Charles smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. “That’s all I ask.”

He leads you inside, where the air is cool and the decor is modern and sleek, all polished surfaces and red accents. A few team members glance your way, but Charles waves them off, his focus entirely on you.

“I have to get prepped for the race,” he says, stopping just inside the entrance. “But I’ll come see you afterward, okay?”

You blink, taken aback by his offer. “You don’t have to do that,” you stutter. “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

Charles just shakes his head, that same determined look in his eyes. “I want to. Besides, I’ll probably be in a better mood if I know you’re here cheering me on.”

The thought of actually cheering for him, of being invested in the race, is a foreign one. But the way he says it, so casual and confident, makes it seem almost natural.

“I don’t really know much about racing,” you admit, feeling a little silly.

He grins. “Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up quickly. And if you have any questions, there’ll be plenty of people around who can help. Just relax and enjoy it.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of your depth but also oddly comforted by his words. He makes it sound so simple, so easy, like all you have to do is show up and everything else will fall into place.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” Charles says, his smile widening. “I’ll see you after the race.”

He gives you a small wave before turning and heading off, his stride confident and unhurried. You watch him go, still trying to process everything that’s happened in the last hour.

It’s almost too much to take in — the ticket fiasco, meeting Charles, the VIP pass, and now being his personal guest for the day. It feels like you’ve stepped into someone else’s life, one filled with glamor and excitement, so different from the quiet, grief-stricken world you’ve been living in.

But as you take a deep breath and look around at the world Charles has invited you into, you can’t help but feel a spark of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope. Maybe, just maybe, today will be a good day.

***

You sit in the Ferrari hospitality suite, watching the festivities from a distance. The energy in the room is electric, everyone buzzing with excitement over Charles’ win.

His face is plastered on every screen, grinning as he holds up the trophy, spraying champagne with the other drivers on the podium. The cheers echo in your ears, but there’s a strange numbness in your chest, a disconnect between the celebration and what you’re feeling.

You’re happy for him, of course you are. But the fact that Charles just won a race feels surreal, like something out of a dream. And you’re not sure where you fit in the dream — or if you fit in at all.

The hospitality suite is more crowded now, filled with people congratulating one another, toasting with glasses of champagne and sparkling water. The clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter fill the air, making the room feel smaller, more enclosed.

You keep to the side, clutching your phone and fiddling with the VIP pass Charles gave you earlier. The weight of it around your neck is a constant reminder that this isn’t your world.

The minutes tick by, each one stretching longer than the last. You tell yourself it’s okay to leave, that Charles won’t mind if you slip out quietly. After all, he’s got plenty of people to celebrate with. People who belong here, who know him well, who are part of his world. You’re just a stranger he happened to help.

But something keeps you in your seat, a small flicker of hope that he might actually come back. It’s silly, really — he’s a race winner, he should be out there celebrating, soaking in the victory. Still, you find yourself glancing at the door every few minutes, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he’ll keep his promise.

Nearly an hour and a half after the race ends, just as you’re convincing yourself to leave, you spot him. Charles enters the suite, now changed into a Ferrari branded polo, hair damp from what you assume was a quick shower. He’s scanning the room, and when his eyes land on you, they light up in recognition.

Your breath catches in your throat as he makes his way over, weaving through the crowd with a purposeful stride. He looks different out of the car, more relaxed, though there’s a tiredness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” he says, slightly breathless when he finally reaches you. “Sorry it took me so long. There were media duties, and then a debrief with the team after the podium ceremony.”

You blink up at him, stunned that he actually came. “You — You came back.”

“Of course I did,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you I would.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “But you should be out there celebrating. You just won a race, Charles. You didn’t have to come just to see me.”

Charles waves away your concerns, his smile widening. “I came because I wanted to. Celebrations can wait.”

There’s a sincerity in his tone that takes you off guard. He’s not just saying it to be polite or to make you feel better. He actually means it. You search his eyes for a sign that he’s just being nice, but all you find is that same genuine warmth that he’s shown you from the start.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you murmur, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from anything.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” Charles reassures you, his voice gentle. “I’m glad you stayed.”

You nod, still feeling a little out of place, but his words soothe some of your anxiety. “Congratulations, by the way. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he says, and there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip a beat. “It was a good race.”

There’s a brief silence, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stand there, just the two of you. You’re not sure what to say next, the weight of the moment making it hard to think straight. But Charles doesn’t seem to mind the quiet, his presence calm and unhurried.

After a few moments, Charles clears his throat, his voice hesitant. “Are you staying nearby?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink up at him, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “Um, yes, I’m staying at a hotel downtown.”

His eyes brighten at that, and he gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I’m staying in the same area. There’s a great restaurant nearby. Would you like to join me for dinner?”

You’re taken aback by the offer, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. Dinner? With Charles Leclerc? It feels like too much, like something you shouldn’t accept. You don’t want to intrude on his life any more than you already have.

“Charles, you don’t have to spend time with me,” you start, shaking your head. “You’ve already done so much-”

He interrupts you gently, his voice firm but kind. “I want to spend time with you.”

The way he says it, so straightforward and sincere, leaves no room for doubt. He’s not asking out of obligation or pity — he genuinely wants your company. And the thought of having dinner with him, of spending more time with someone who actually seems to care, is suddenly more appealing than anything else.

“Okay,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I’d like that.”

His smile widens, and you can see the relief in his eyes. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

You follow him as he leads the way out of the suite, the noise of the celebrations fading behind you. The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink as the sun sets. Charles is quiet as he walks beside you, his presence comforting in its steadiness.

As you reach the paddock parking lot, you spot the familiar red of a Ferrari, and you can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s fitting, in a way, like everything about this day is part of some surreal, unexpected adventure.

Charles opens the passenger door for you, waiting until you’re settled before rounding the car to get in himself. The engine purrs to life with a smooth growl, and you feel a thrill of excitement as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

You glance over at him, taking in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the easy way he handles the car. It’s strange how comfortable you feel with him already, like you’ve known him for longer than just a few hours. Maybe it’s the way he’s treated you from the start — with kindness and understanding — or maybe it’s just the way he carries himself, with a quiet confidence that makes you feel safe.

As you drive through the city, the lights of downtown reflecting off the car’s polished surface, you can’t help but wonder what this evening will bring. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way — hopeful, curious, maybe even a little excited. And as Charles navigates the streets with practiced ease, you start to think that maybe, just maybe, you’re finally ready to start living again.

***

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, it’s all exposed brick, warm lighting, and rustic charm. The kind of place that feels both intimate and alive with history, where every detail seems to whisper stories of countless other dinners, other nights, other lives.

You follow Charles to a corner table, noticing the way the candlelight flickers across his features, softening the angles of his face. There’s a natural ease about him, a kind of unspoken confidence that makes you feel a little more at home in this unfamiliar setting. He holds out a chair for you, and as you sit down, you can’t help but feel like you’ve stepped into a scene from someone else’s life.

“This place is incredible,” you say, glancing around at the cozy surroundings. “How did you find it?”

Charles smiles, settling into the chair across from you. “It’s one of my favorites. A friend introduced me to it a few years ago. I come here whenever I’m in town.”

You nod, taking in the atmosphere, the scent of fresh bread and herbs mingling with the low hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place that feels special, even if you didn’t know anything about it.

The waiter appears to take your order, and before you know it, the table is filled with plates of beautifully arranged dishes, each one more enticing than the last. Charles gestures for you to start, and you pick up your fork, feeling a little more at ease with each bite.

“This is amazing,” you say between mouthfuls, savoring the flavors. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything like this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Charles replies, watching you with a soft smile. “It’s one of the things I miss most when I’m traveling — good, simple food.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you both enjoy the meal, the clinking of silverware and the quiet murmur of the other diners providing a gentle backdrop. You’re grateful for the peace, for the way Charles doesn’t push you to talk, doesn’t ask any questions that feel too invasive.

But as the meal draws to a close, you sense a shift in the atmosphere. Charles seems to be choosing his words carefully, his expression thoughtful as he looks across the table at you.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he begins, his tone gentle, “but ... would you like to talk about your husband?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you can answer it. It’s been so long since anyone asked, since anyone cared enough to ask, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to go back to that place, to open up the wound that’s still so raw.

But there’s something in Charles’ eyes, a quiet understanding, that makes you feel like it’s okay to share this part of yourself with him. Like maybe he can handle it, even if you’re not sure you can.

“He was on a mission in ... well, it doesn’t really matter where. There was an attack — one of those random, senseless things that happen in places like that. He was helping a patient when it happened. They said he died a hero, but ... it doesn’t feel like that to me. It just feels like he’s gone.”

The tears that you’ve been holding back all evening finally spill over, and you don’t even try to stop them. You’re tired of pretending to be strong, tired of keeping it all inside. And somehow, with Charles sitting there, listening so intently, it feels okay to let it out.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like.”

You wipe at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. “It’s been over a year, but ... it still feels like it was yesterday, you know? Like I’m still waiting for him to walk through the door, to tell me it was all some terrible mistake.”

Charles reaches across the table, his hand covering yours in a gesture that’s as comforting as it is unexpected. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” he says softly. “And you don’t have to rush through it either. Grief doesn’t have a timeline.”

His words are like a balm, soothing some of the raw ache that’s been sitting in your chest. You nod, unable to speak, afraid that if you do, the tears will start again and won’t stop.

There’s a brief silence, and then you continue, feeling the need to explain, to make him understand. “He left me a letter ... and a list. A bucket list, of things he wanted us to do together, but he didn’t get the chance. He asked me to do them for him, to ... to live the life he didn’t get to.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his eyes locked on yours. “What’s on the list?”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you reach into your purse, pulling out the folded piece of paper that’s become a permanent fixture in your life. You unfold it carefully, smoothing out the creases before passing it across the table to him.

He takes the list from you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before he begins to read. You watch his face as he scans the items, his expression shifting from curiosity to something deeper, something almost reverent.

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s judging you for carrying out such a personal task, for holding on to a life that’s no longer yours.

But when he looks up at you again, there’s no judgment in his eyes — only empathy, and maybe even a touch of admiration.

“Have you done any of these yet?” He asks, his voice soft.

You nod your head. “I’ve only just started. The first item was to go to an F1 race ... that’s why I’m here.”

Charles’ gaze softens even more, and he nods slowly, as if understanding the weight of what you’ve shared. “And Paris?” He asks, his tone careful.

You can’t help but laugh a little, despite the heaviness in your chest. “Paris ... I mean, who doesn’t want to go to Paris? But I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to tick that one off the list.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, then he hesitates, as if he’s debating something in his mind. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and tentative. “You know ... the summer break has officially started. I don’t have another race for a month, and I don’t have anything I have to do for over two weeks.”

You blink at him, not quite understanding where he’s going with this. “Okay ...”

“I’ve always loved Paris,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. “And ... I know we’ve only just met, but I would love to help you tick off the second item on your list.”

You stare at him, your mind reeling from what he’s suggesting. Go to Paris? With him? It’s crazy — it’s absolutely insane. You don’t know him, not really, and the idea of going on such a personal trip with someone you’ve just met feels like stepping into a world that doesn’t belong to you.

But there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something in his voice, that makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it’s not as crazy as it seems. Maybe it’s exactly what you need.

“Are you serious?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles nods, his expression earnest. “Sometimes the best things in life are crazy and spontaneous. And ... I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really would love to help you with this. I want to be there for you.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of emotions swirling inside you — fear, excitement, uncertainty, and something else you can’t quite name. It’s terrifying, the idea of letting someone new into your life, of opening yourself up to the possibility of connection, of loss.

But at the same time, it feels like a lifeline, like a chance to finally start living again.

“I ... I don’t know,” you stammer, unsure of how to respond. “It just seems so ...”

“Crazy?” Charles finishes for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you admit, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Crazy.”

He leans back in his chair, studying you with those steady, kind eyes. “Maybe it is. But sometimes the craziest things turn out to be the most important.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you weigh the decision. It would be so easy to say no, to stay in your safe, controlled world where nothing ever changes. But where has that gotten you? Nowhere.

And then, almost without realizing it, you find yourself nodding, your voice small but determined. “Okay.”

Charles’ eyes light up with something close to relief, and he smiles at you — a genuine, warm smile that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this is the right choice.

“Okay?” He repeats, as if needing to hear it again.

“Okay,” you say again, a little more certain this time. “Let’s go to Paris.”

You both sit there for a moment, the reality of what you’ve just agreed to sinking in. It feels like the beginning of something — something that scares you as much as it excites you.

Charles reaches across the table, gently taking your hand in his. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sincere.

You look at him, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone in this.

***

You’re still reeling from the decision when the check arrives at the table. Charles grabs it before you can reach for your purse, waving away your protests with an easy smile.

“Trust me,” he says, his tone light but firm, “this one’s on me.”

You thank him, still half-convinced that this is all some surreal dream you’ll wake up from any minute. As you step outside, the cool evening air brushes against your skin, grounding you in the reality of what just happened.

You’re going to Paris. With Charles Leclerc. You glance at him, wondering how he can be so calm when your world has just been flipped upside down.

“Okay, so ... what’s the plan?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind races with all the logistics you need to sort out.

He turns to you with that relaxed smile, as if planning a spontaneous trip to Paris is the most natural thing in the world. “Plan? We drive back to the hotel, grab our things, and head to the airport.”

“The airport?” You blink at him, thrown by the suddenness of it all. “I haven’t even booked a flight yet. Or a hotel. Or anything.”

Charles chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You don’t need to worry about any of that. I’ve got it covered.”

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that you can’t possibly let him do this, but he cuts you off before you can say a word.

“Really,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s no trouble at all. I’m an F1 driver, remember? I’ve got more than enough resources, and I want to do this for you.”

You stare at him, at the easy confidence in his tone, at the sincerity in his eyes. You know he means it, but it still feels like too much. “Charles, I ... I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not.” He steps closer, his expression softening. “This is something I want to do. For you. For your husband. Please, let me help you.”

There’s a quiet intensity in his voice that makes it impossible to argue. You nod slowly, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “Okay ... thank you. I just — I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you. “Just pack your things and meet me back here in a few minutes. We’ll take care of the rest.”

And just like that, you find yourself heading back to your hotel, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. You pack quickly, throwing your essentials into your suitcase with trembling hands. The reality of what’s happening starts to sink in, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer craziness of it all.

You pause, standing in the middle of the room with your half-packed suitcase, wondering if you’re really doing this. Paris. With a man you’ve just met. It’s all too surreal, too spontaneous, too-

There’s a knock on your door, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You open it to find Charles standing there, his expression calm and reassuring.

“Ready?” He asks, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah ... I think so.”

“Good.” He smiles, and somehow, that simple gesture is enough to steady you. “Let’s go.”

You follow him downstairs, your heart racing as he drives you both back to his hotel. He parks the car, and you watch as he disappears inside, returning a few minutes later with a small duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“That’s it?” You ask, surprised at how little he’s carrying.

He nods, tossing the bag into the back seat. “The team will pack up the rest of my stuff and have it sent home later.”

You don’t have time to process the implications of that before he’s back in the driver’s seat, navigating the streets with the kind of ease that comes from years of traveling. You try to keep up with the conversation, but your mind keeps drifting to what lies ahead, to the sheer audacity of what you’re about to do.

It’s only when you pull up to a private airstrip that the full reality of the situation hits you. You step out of the car, staring in awe at the sleek, chartered jet waiting on the tarmac. The sight of it leaves you breathless, the sheer scale of what Charles is doing for you almost too much to comprehend.

“Charles ...” you begin, your voice catching in your throat.

He turns to you, his expression soft. “Yes?”

“This is ... I mean, I don’t know what to say. This is more than I could have ever imagined. Are you sure-”

“I’m sure.” His tone leaves no room for doubt, and he reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Come on. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

He leads you up the steps, and before you know it, you’re inside the luxurious cabin, sinking into a plush leather seat. Everything about the jet screams opulence — the polished wood accents, the soft ambient lighting, the quiet hum of the engines in the background. It’s the kind of luxury you’ve only ever seen in movies, and you can’t quite believe that it’s real, that you’re really here.

Charles takes the seat across from you, his expression relaxed as he buckles his seatbelt. “Comfortable?”

You nod, still too stunned to form a coherent response. He smiles at your wide-eyed wonder, and you realize that this kind of thing must be second nature to him. For you, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience. For him, it’s just another day in the life of an F1 driver.

“Just sit back and relax,” he says, as if sensing your thoughts. “We’ll be in Paris before you know it.”

The flight itself is smooth and uneventful, the hours passing in a blur of disbelief and quiet conversation. Charles keeps things light, sharing stories from his racing career, and you find yourself relaxing more with each passing minute. It’s easy to forget about your worries when you’re with him, easy to get lost in the charm of his stories and the warmth of his smile.

Before you know it, the plane begins its descent, and the lights of Paris come into view below, twinkling like a sea of stars. The sight of the city leaves you breathless, the sheer beauty of it almost too much to take in. You press your face to the window, unable to tear your eyes away from the breathtaking panorama of the City of Light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Charles’ voice is soft, and when you turn to look at him, there’s a wistfulness in his eyes that tugs at your heart.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside you. “It’s ... it’s perfect.”

The plane touches down smoothly, and within minutes, you’re whisked away in a sleek black car, driving through the streets of Paris as the city comes alive around you. The streets are bustling with life, the cafes and bistros glowing with warm light, the air filled with the sound of laughter and music.

It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more, and you can’t believe you’re really here, experiencing it all with Charles by your side.

The car pulls up in front of an exclusive, centrally located hotel, and you step out onto the cobblestone street, your heart pounding in your chest. The hotel is grand, its facade illuminated by golden lights, and as you step inside, you’re greeted by a world of elegance and sophistication.

You barely have time to take it all in before you’re being led to a two-bedroom suite with the most stunning views of the Eiffel Tower you’ve ever seen. You stand by the window, staring out at the iconic landmark as it sparkles against the night sky, the reality of your situation hitting you all over again.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles steps up beside you, his gaze focused on the view outside. “Believe it,” he says softly, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “You’re here. We’re here. And tomorrow, we’ll start checking off that list.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes filled with gratitude and something else — something you’re not quite ready to name. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”

He smiles, a warm, genuine smile that lights up his face. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I can be here for you.”

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you reach out and pull him into a hug. It’s a long, lingering embrace, filled with all the gratitude, all the emotion you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that makes you feel safe, comforted, understood.

When you finally pull back, there are tears in your eyes, but they’re tears of relief, of something like hope. “Good night, Charles,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“Good night,” he replies, his voice just as soft. “Sleep well. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You watch as he heads to his own room, and then you turn back to the window, staring out at the glittering Eiffel Tower. It feels like a dream, but for the first time in a long time, it’s a dream you’re ready to embrace.

***

The sun is already high in the sky when you finally open your eyes, the weight of the past few days still pressing down on you like a heavy blanket. The exhaustion is bone-deep, the kind that makes every movement feel like wading through thick syrup.

You stretch out in the luxurious hotel bed, the cool sheets tangling around your legs as you blink against the soft light filtering through the curtains. Paris. You’re in Paris. The thought slips through your mind, almost unreal, as if you might wake up any second to find yourself back in the monotony of the past year.

You sit up slowly, taking in the spacious room with its elegant furniture and the faint sounds of the city outside. It’s almost noon, you realize, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. Just as you’re about to contemplate the day ahead, there’s a gentle knock on the door connecting your room to Charles’. You almost forgot about him for a second — almost.

“Good morning,” you call out, your voice still thick with sleep.

The door opens, and Charles steps in, a smile lighting up his face as he sees you. “Good afternoon, you mean,” he teases lightly, leaning against the doorframe. “I was beginning to think you might sleep through the whole day.”

You rub your eyes, shaking your head as you try to fully wake up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

He nods, his expression softening. “No rush. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

It’s that statement that hits you more than it should. All the time in the world. You used to believe that too. You push the thought away quickly, not wanting to drown in it.

“What’s the plan?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on this strange, wonderful day that’s somehow yours.

Charles grins, his eyes sparking with something mischievous. “How do you feel about lunch at a little café by the Seine?”

Your heart skips a beat. The café. The red awning. It’s what your husband wanted, what he wrote down on that list. You swallow, trying to keep your emotions in check. “That sounds perfect.”

Charles seems to sense the shift in your mood, his smile softening into something more understanding. He doesn’t push, just nods and steps back, giving you space to get ready. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

When he’s gone, you take a deep breath and head to the bathroom, the reality of where you are and what you’re doing starting to sink in. You can’t help but think of the letter, the list. Of the man who should be here with you instead of buried under the earth. You splash cold water on your face, trying to shake off the melancholy that clings to you like a second skin.

By the time you join Charles downstairs, you’ve managed to put on a smile, though it feels fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. He greets you with a warm, reassuring look, his eyes scanning your face as if to check that you’re really okay. You nod, and he leads you outside, where a car is waiting.

The ride to the café is quiet, filled with the soft hum of the engine and the occasional sound of the city. Charles doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, and you’re grateful for that. Instead, he lets you stare out the window, watching as the streets of Paris unfold before you like a storybook.

When the car finally pulls up in front of the café, your heart clenches. There it is, just like your husband described it: the small tables lined up outside, the red awning casting a warm glow over everything, the view of the Seine just beyond. It’s almost too much. You hesitate, feeling a lump in your throat, but Charles is already out of the car, holding the door open for you.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, his gaze steady on yours.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “Yeah. Just ... it’s exactly like he said.”

Charles doesn’t say anything, just offers his arm in a gentle, old-fashioned gesture. You take it, letting him lead you to a table by the water. The waiter greets you with a smile, and Charles orders for both of you without hesitation — coffee and croissants, just like on the list.

The sun reflects off the Seine, making the water shimmer like it’s made of liquid gold. You sip your coffee slowly, savoring the rich taste, though your thoughts are a million miles away. You can almost see your husband sitting across from you, that goofy grin on his face as he tries to explain something in broken French to the waiter. You smile at the memory, even as it twists something painful deep inside you.

Charles doesn’t interrupt your thoughts, just lets you have this moment. You’re grateful for that. The croissants arrive, warm and flaky, and you find yourself laughing softly as you break off a piece, thinking of how your husband always complained that they never made them right back home. Here, though ... here they’re perfect.

“This was his favorite place,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “He talked about it all the time. Said it was the best spot in Paris, hands down.”

Charles listens, his eyes never leaving your face. “He had good taste.”

You smile, though it wobbles a bit. “He did.”

There’s a pause, a comfortable one, where you both just sit there, watching the world go by. It’s everything your husband wanted, everything he put on that list. And yet, it feels different — like you’re living a dream that isn’t entirely yours.

After a while, Charles speaks up, his tone gentle. “Have you thought about what you want to do next?”

You blink, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “Next?”

“With the list,” he clarifies, his eyes searching yours. “I mean, you don’t have to ... but if you want to keep going, I’d like to help.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Charles holds up a hand, cutting you off before you can start. “I know what you’re going to say,” he continues, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And I’m telling you right now, you’re not bothering me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

You look at him, really look at him, and see nothing but sincerity in his eyes. It’s overwhelming, this kindness he’s showing you, this willingness to be a part of something so deeply personal. You don’t know what to say, how to express the jumble of emotions swirling inside you.

“Charles, I-” You falter, trying to find the right words. “This isn’t your responsibility. You’ve already done so much ...”

He shakes his head, cutting you off again. “It’s not about responsibility. It’s about doing something that feels right. And this — being here with you, helping you through this — it feels right.”

The tears well up before you can stop them, spilling over as you look away, embarrassed by how easily they come. Charles doesn’t say anything, just reaches across the table to take your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking on the words.

He squeezes your hand gently. “You don’t have to thank me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want you to feel obligated ...”

“I don’t,” he assures you, his voice firm but kind. “I promise you, I don’t.”

You nod, blinking away the last of your tears. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoes, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back, a real one this time. “Okay.”

There’s a quiet moment where everything feels ... settled, like a weight has been lifted from your chest. It’s not gone — not by a long shot — but it’s lighter, more manageable. You can breathe a little easier, see a little clearer.

Charles leans back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “So, what do you say we finish this coffee, eat a few more croissants than is probably advisable, and then figure out what our next adventure is?”

You laugh, a real laugh that surprises you with its brightness. “I think I’d like that.”

And so you do just that. You sit there with Charles, sipping coffee and eating too many croissants, watching the world go by as the sun moves slowly across the sky. It’s peaceful, almost idyllic, and for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of something that might be happiness.

As the afternoon stretches into evening, Charles brings up the rest of the list again, but this time, you don’t try to wave him off. Instead, you find yourself talking about it, really talking, and it feels good to share it with someone who actually seems to care.

You tell him about the road trip with no destination in mind, about the other things your husband wanted you to experience. It’s bittersweet, but there’s a warmth to it too, a sense of connection that you didn’t expect to find.

“We’ll enjoy a few more days in Paris,” Charles says, his voice steady and reassuring, “and then we’ll hit the road. No plans, no deadlines. Just ... see where it takes us.”

You look at him, feeling that same pull, that same inexplicable draw that’s been there since the moment you met him. It’s crazy, all of this — crazy and spontaneous and completely out of your comfort zone. But maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

“Let’s do it,” you say, your voice stronger than you expected. “Let’s do the road trip.”

Charles’ smile broadens. “Perfect. We’ll make it an adventure.”

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a golden glow that seems to soften the world around you. You stretch in bed, feeling a lightness in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. There’s a sense of anticipation humming through your veins as you get ready, knowing that today marks the beginning of a new adventure.

When you step into the lobby, Charles is already there, leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. He grins when he sees you, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Ready to go?” He asks, his voice warm.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Charles nods, gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on, then.”

You step outside, and your breath catches in your throat. Parked at the curb is a sleek black Ferrari, its curves gleaming under the morning light. You glance at Charles in surprise, your eyebrows shooting up.

“Where did you get this?” You ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He chuckles, shrugging nonchalantly. “Let’s just say I know a guy.”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling up despite yourself. “Of course you do.”

Charles opens the trunk, helping you load your bags inside. There’s a thrill in the air, a sense of freedom that you haven’t felt in ages. Once everything is packed, he opens the passenger door for you with a small bow, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Your chariot awaits,” he says.

You roll your eyes, but the gesture makes your heart warm. You slide into the car, sinking into the plush leather seat as Charles walks around to the driver’s side.

“Ready?” He asks, his hand resting on the gear shift.

You glance over at him, meeting his gaze. There’s something reassuring in his eyes, something that makes you feel like, for the first time in a long time, everything might just be okay.

“Ready,” you say, and with that, he starts the engine, the car roaring to life.

The two of you set off, the city of Paris fading in the rearview mirror as the open road stretches out before you. There’s no set destination, no strict itinerary — just miles of road and the promise of wherever the day might take you.

For the first hour, you drive in comfortable silence, the hum of the engine and the wind rushing past your ears. You watch as the landscape changes, the bustling city giving way to rolling fields and quaint villages. The farther you go, the more the tension in your chest eases.

Eventually, Charles turns to you with a grin. “Pick a direction. Left or right?”

You blink, looking at the fork in the road ahead. “You’re letting me decide?”

“Of course,” he replies. “This is your adventure, after all.”

You hesitate for a moment, then point to the right. “Right.”

Charles nods and turns the wheel, the Ferrari smoothly gliding down the chosen path. “Right it is.”

The day passes in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You turn down random roads, sometimes doubling back when you realize you’re hopelessly lost, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no rush, no pressure to be anywhere but right here, right now.

You stop at a tiny roadside café for lunch, the kind of place where the menu is handwritten on a chalkboard, and the waitress knows the regulars by name. The food is simple but delicious, and you can’t help but savor every bite, feeling more alive than you have in months.

After lunch, you continue driving, the hours slipping away as you explore hidden corners of the French countryside. You pass through small towns where time seems to have stood still, with cobblestone streets and old stone houses that look like something out of a fairytale.

As evening approaches, you start to feel the weight of the day settling in your bones. You glance over at Charles, who looks just as content as you feel, his hand relaxed on the steering wheel.

“Should we start looking for a place to stay?” You ask, your voice soft.

He nods, glancing at a sign by the side of the road. “There’s a small inn a few miles ahead. We can try there.”

You hum in agreement, the idea of a cozy inn sounding perfect after a day on the road. The Ferrari winds its way through narrow streets until you arrive at the inn, a charming, ivy-covered building that looks like it’s been plucked straight out of a storybook.

Charles parks the car, and the two of you head inside. The lobby is quaint, with old wooden beams and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The innkeeper, a kindly older woman with a warm smile, greets you as you approach the front desk.

“Bonsoir,” she says in a lilting accent. “How can I help you?”

Charles steps forward, his voice polite as ever. “Bonsoir. We were hoping to get a room for the night.”

The innkeeper’s smile falters slightly, and she glances at the reservation book. “Ah, I’m afraid we are nearly full tonight. There is only one room left, and it has only one bed. I’m sorry.”

Your heart sinks, and you glance at Charles, unsure what to do. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you also don’t relish the idea of finding another place so late in the evening.

Charles, however, seems unfazed. He turns to you with a reassuring smile. “It’s up to you. We can stay or keep looking.”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. The day has been long, and you’re both exhausted. Finally, you nod. “Let’s stay.”

The innkeeper hands Charles the key, and he leads you upstairs to the room. It’s cozy, with a low ceiling and a large, comfortable-looking bed dominating the space. There’s a small window overlooking the garden, where the last rays of sunlight are casting everything in a golden hue.

You drop your bags by the door, glancing at the bed. It’s big enough for two, but the thought of sharing it with Charles makes your heart flutter nervously.

Charles seems to pick up on your hesitation. “I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, his tone gentle. “It’s no trouble.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his expression softening. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

You both get ready for bed, the atmosphere between you growing more relaxed. When you finally climb under the covers, you can feel the warmth radiating from Charles’ side of the bed, a comforting presence in the quiet room.

For a while, you both lie there in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of the sheets as you try to find a comfortable position. Despite your earlier nerves, you find yourself inching closer to him, drawn by the sense of safety he brings.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the darkness.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice soft.

You close your eyes, letting out a slow breath. And then, almost without thinking, you shift closer, until your head is resting on his shoulder, your body curled against his side.

Charles tenses for a moment, and you almost pull away, but then his arm wraps around you, holding you gently. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you is enough. It’s not romantic or suggestive — just a simple, comforting embrace that makes you feel less alone.

You relax into his warmth, feeling a sense of peace wash over you that you haven’t felt in what feels like forever. The road trip, the bucket list, everything fades into the background as you allow yourself to just be in this moment.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the safety of Charles’ arms, you can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — you’re starting to heal.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the small inn room. You stir slightly, the warmth of the shared bed coaxing you into a slow wakefulness. Charles is still beside you, his breath even, his face relaxed in sleep. It’s almost surreal how peaceful this moment feels, as if the world outside has paused just for the two of you.

You turn onto your side, propping yourself up on an elbow, and watch him for a moment. The lines of worry that usually crease his brow are gone, replaced by a serenity that makes him seem younger, almost boyish. You wonder how he manages to carry so much weight on his shoulders and still offer you comfort, still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The faint clatter of dishes from downstairs pulls you out of your thoughts. You slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. The cool wooden floor sends a shiver up your spine as you pad over to the small window. The view outside is a picturesque scene of rolling hills and a cobblestone street winding through the tiny village. It’s the kind of place that feels untouched by time, where life moves at a slower, more deliberate pace.

A soft knock on the door startles you. You glance back at Charles, who stirs but doesn’t wake. Quietly, you open the door to find the innkeeper, a woman in her late fifties with a kind face and a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she whispers. “Breakfast is ready whenever you and your friend are.”

You nod, offering her a smile in return. “Thank you. We’ll be down soon.”

She leaves you with a slight nod, and you close the door softly behind her. Turning back to the bed, you see Charles is awake now, blinking away sleep. He stretches lazily, his eyes finding yours, a sleepy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “The innkeeper says breakfast is ready.”

He nods, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I’ll be down in a minute. You go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod and head downstairs. The small dining area is cozy, with a fireplace crackling softly in one corner. The smell of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee fills the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation. You take a seat at one of the wooden tables, the innkeeper greeting you with a pot of coffee.

“Is it just the two of you?” She asks, pouring you a cup.

“Yes, just us,” you say, taking a grateful sip. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, waking you up fully.

“Such a lovely young man,” she comments, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re lucky to have someone like him.”

You smile at that, unsure how to respond. Are you lucky? It feels strange to think of Charles in that way when the loss of your husband is still so fresh, still so raw. But you can’t deny that Charles has brought something into your life that you didn’t know you needed — comfort, companionship, and maybe even a little bit of hope.

Charles appears a few minutes later, his hair slightly tousled from sleep, but he looks more awake now. He greets the innkeeper with a polite nod before taking the seat across from you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, reaching for a piece of the fresh bread.

“I did,” you admit. “And you?”

“Better than I have in a while,” he says, and there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you believe him.

The innkeeper returns with plates of food — scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and more of the bread you’ve already sampled. It’s simple, but it’s the kind of breakfast that warms you from the inside out, reminding you of the comforts of home.

As you both eat in companionable silence, Charles looks up at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Have you ever been to Monaco?”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. “No, I haven’t. I’ve heard it’s beautiful, though.”

“It is,” he agrees, a smile playing on his lips. “Would you like to go?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Of course I would, but realistically, I know I probably never will. Life has a way of getting in the way of things like that.”

Charles’ smile widens, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s not true at all, actually.”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure where he’s going with this. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because my mother is expecting us for dinner tonight,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Wait, what?”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You heard me. We’re going to Monaco. My mother has been asking about you, actually.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find the words. “Charles, I ... I don’t know what to say. That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet, but I don’t want to impose. And we haven’t exactly been planning on going to Monaco.”

“You’re not imposing,” Charles insists, reaching across the table to take your hand. “She’s already expecting us, and it would make her really happy to meet you.”

You look down at his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. There’s something about the way he says it, so earnest and sincere, that makes it hard to say no.

“Are you sure?” You ask, your voice soft.

“Absolutely,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “Let’s make the most of this adventure, okay?”

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s go to Monaco.”

The drive to Monaco is nothing short of breathtaking. The Ferrari roars to life as Charles maneuvers it expertly along the winding coastal roads, the Mediterranean Sea sparkling to your right. The windows are down, and the wind whips through your hair, carrying with it the scent of saltwater and the promise of something new.

Charles hums along to the music playing softly through the speakers, glancing over at you every so often with a contented smile. There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself smiling back, unable to resist the infectious energy that seems to surround him.

When you finally cross the border into Monaco, it feels like stepping into another world. The city is a blend of old-world charm and modern luxury, with grand buildings perched on cliffs overlooking the sea and sleek yachts bobbing in the harbor. The streets are bustling with life, but there’s an air of sophistication and elegance that sets it apart from anywhere else you’ve been.

Charles navigates the narrow streets with ease, eventually pulling up in front of an apartment building that exudes quiet elegance. He cuts the engine and turns to you with a smile. “We’re here.”

You take a deep breath, your nerves suddenly kicking in. “I’m nervous,” you admit.

Charles reaches over and takes your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You have nothing to be nervous about. She’s going to love you.”

You nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as you step out of the car. Charles comes around to your side, taking your hand once more as he leads you up the steps to the building. The door opens with a soft creak, and you find yourself in a beautifully decorated foyer, the scent of fresh flowers filling the air.

Charles leads you down a hallway, stopping in front of a door with a gold number plate. He looks at you, a reassuring smile on his face, before knocking softly.

The door opens almost immediately, and there stands a woman who can only be Pascale. She’s petite, with kind eyes and a warm smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Charles, and she immediately pulls him into a hug.

“Charles, mon chéri,” she says, her voice filled with affection.

Charles hugs her back, and you can see the love between them in the way they hold each other, the way they speak without words. When they finally pull apart, Pascale turns her attention to you, her smile softening even more.

“And you must be Y/N,” she says, stepping forward to embrace you as well. Her hug is warm and comforting, the kind of hug that only a mother could give.

You hug her back, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of maternal warmth, and it brings tears to your eyes. But they’re good tears, the kind that remind you that maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to heal.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you,” Pascale says, pulling back to look at you. “Charles has told me so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you reply with a small smile, trying to compose yourself.

Pascale laughs softly, a musical sound that fills the hallway. “Only the best.”

Charles takes your hand again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Shall we?”

Pascale nods, stepping back to allow you both inside. As you step into the warm, inviting space, you can’t help but feel a sense of belonging. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

Pascale’s apartment is cozy, filled with warm lighting and the comforting smell of something delicious simmering in the kitchen. You’re still standing by the door when she pulls you into a tight hug, her embrace firm yet gentle, and in that moment, you feel a wave of unexpected comfort.

“Welcome, mon ange,” Pascale murmurs in your ear, her voice soft and motherly, the kind you haven't felt in so long. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

You blink back the tears that suddenly prick at your eyes. There’s a part of you that’s still surprised to be here, in Monaco, of all places, with Charles — let alone meeting his mother. “Thank you,” you manage to say, feeling a little overwhelmed by her warmth.

Charles gives you an encouraging smile as he slips out of his shoes, motioning for you to do the same. “Come on,” he says lightly, “I told Maman we’d help with dinner.”

You glance at Pascale, who’s already moving toward the kitchen. “Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Pascale calls over her shoulder. “You’re our guest, and in this house, guests are family.”

Charles nudges you playfully. “She means it. Better get in there before she tries to do everything herself.”

You follow them into the kitchen, trying to shake off the nerves that have settled in your stomach. The space is as welcoming as the rest of the apartment, filled with the sounds of something sizzling on the stove and the scent of fresh herbs. Pascale is already at work, her hands moving deftly as she chops vegetables with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and grabs a cutting board, handing you one as well. “Here,” he says with a grin, “let’s show Maman what we’ve got.”

You’re not much of a cook, but there’s something about the way Charles and Pascale move around the kitchen that makes you feel at ease. Before long, the three of you are working together, chopping and stirring and laughing as Pascale regales you with stories from Charles’ childhood.

“He was always getting into trouble,” she says with a fond smile, passing you a bowl of something that smells divine. “Climbing trees, chasing after the neighborhood cats ...”

“Maman,” Charles groans, but he’s grinning, his eyes sparkling with that same mischievous glint you’ve seen more than once.

You chuckle, picturing a younger Charles, wild and full of energy. It’s easy to see where he gets his charm — Pascale is a force of nature, and the love she has for her son is palpable in every word, every look she sends his way.

As dinner comes together, you find yourself opening up to Pascale in a way you didn’t expect. She asks about your life, your past, and though it’s hard to talk about your husband, something about her gentle demeanor makes it easier.

“I’m sorry,” you say at one point, when the conversation dips into quieter territory. “I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

Pascale shakes her head, her eyes full of understanding. “You didn’t, dear. It’s important to talk about the people we’ve loved and lost. It keeps them with us.”

Her words resonate with you, and for a moment, you just stand there, letting the warmth of the kitchen and the comfort of their presence wash over you.

“Your husband,” Pascale says after a beat, her voice soft. “He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was,” you whisper, your throat tightening with emotion. “He really was.”

Pascale reaches out, covering your hand with hers. “And you,” she says gently, “are an incredible woman.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod, swallowing back the tears that threaten to spill over. Charles catches your eye from across the kitchen, giving you a small, encouraging smile, and you feel a surge of gratitude for him — for bringing you here, for making you feel like you’re not alone.

Dinner is a simple affair, but it’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a long time. The conversation flows easily, and for a while, it feels like you’re part of something you’ve been missing for so long — a family.

At some point during the evening, you and Pascale find yourselves alone at the table. Charles has stepped out to take a call, leaving you with Pascale, who has been watching you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle, “when Charles told me about you, I could see how much he cares. He’s a good boy, my Charles, but he doesn’t let people in easily.”

You feel your cheeks warm under her scrutiny. “He’s been ... incredibly kind to me,” you say softly. “I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Pascale nods, as if she already knows. “He’s been through a lot, just like you. Losing his father, and then Jules ... it changed him.”

There’s a sadness in her eyes, and you realize that, like you, she’s carrying her own grief. “I’m sorry,” you say, the words feeling inadequate. “I didn’t mean to bring up-”

“Don’t apologize,” Pascale interrupts, reaching across the table to take your hand. “It’s good to talk about these things, to remember. Charles ... he doesn’t talk about it much, but I know it’s there, always.”

You nod, understanding all too well. The weight of loss is something that never truly goes away; it just becomes a part of you.

“I see a lot of his father in him,” Pascale continues, her voice wistful. “That determination, that drive to be the best. But it’s more than that. He’s got a good heart, my Charles. He cares deeply, even if he doesn’t always show it.”

You smile, thinking of the way Charles has been with you — patient, understanding, always knowing just what to say to make you feel better. “He does,” you agree. “He’s ... he’s been more than I could have ever asked for.”

Pascale’s gaze softens, and for a moment, she just looks at you, as if she’s seeing something she’s been hoping to find. “I’m glad he has you,” she says finally. “I think you’re good for each other.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just nod, feeling a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. It’s too soon to think about what all of this means, but there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder where this is going — what it could become.

Before you can dwell on it too much, Charles returns, his usual easygoing demeanor back in place. “Everything okay?” He asks, glancing between you and Pascale.

“Perfect,” Pascale replies with a smile, but there’s something in her eyes that makes you think she knows more than she’s letting on.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable blur, with more stories and laughter, and by the time you’re getting ready to leave, you feel like you’ve known Pascale for much longer than just a few hours.

As you’re putting on your coat, Pascale pulls Charles aside, and you see her lean in close, whispering something to him. He nods, his expression serious, and when he glances back at you, there’s something unreadable in his eyes.

“What did she say?” You ask when you’re finally alone with Charles, walking back to the car.

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just that she likes you,” he says simply. “A lot.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, but there’s also a flicker of something else — something that feels a lot like hope.

“She’s wonderful,” you say honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Charles stops walking, turning to face you. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “I’m just glad you came.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re an incredible person, you know that?”

You blink, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. “I’m just trying to get by,” you admit quietly.

He nods, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer. “Aren’t we all?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just give him a small smile, hoping he understands.

You reach the car, and Charles opens the door for you, his hand resting lightly on your back as you slide inside. There’s something different in the air between you, something unspoken but undeniably there, and as you drive away from Pascale’s apartment, you can’t help but wonder what it all means.

What you do know, though, is that you’re not alone anymore — not really. Charles is here, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

***

The drive from Pascale’s apartment to Charles’ place is filled with comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional hum of the engine and the soft tunes playing on the car’s stereo. You find yourself stealing glances at Charles every now and then, noticing how relaxed he seems, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other is lightly to the rhythm of the music. His calmness was contagious, and you lean back in your seat, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

When the car finally pulls into an underground parking garage, Charles cuts the engine and turns to you with a soft smile. “Ready to meet Leo?” He asks, his tone almost teasing.

“Leo?” You echo, raising an eyebrow.

“My dog,” Charles clarifies, his smile growing. “He’s ... enthusiastic, to say the least.”

You laugh lightly. “I think I can handle enthusiastic.”

Charles leads you to the elevator, and a few moments later, you are stepping into a sleek, modern apartment. It is tastefully decorated, with large windows that offer a stunning view of the city. Before you could take in all the details, a high-pitched bark echoes through the space, and a small beige dachshund comes skidding around the corner, his tiny legs moving at lightning speed as he raced toward Charles.

“Leo!” Charles greets the dog with a wide grin, crouching down to scoop him up. The dachshund wiggles excitedly in his arms, his tail wagging furiously. “This is Y/N,” Charles introduces, turning Leo’s attention to you. “Be nice.”

You kneel down, and Leo wasted no time leaping from Charles’ arms to yours, showering your face with a flurry of enthusiastic licks. You can’t help but laugh as you try to fend off the affectionate assault, gently rubbing the little dog’s back.

“He’s adorable,” you say, looking up at Charles with a wide smile. But when your eyes meet his, you noticed the way he was watching you — softly, intently, as if seeing you in a new light. It was the kind of look you hadn’t seen since ... since James. The thought hits you with a sudden pang, but there is no sadness in it. Just a quiet, tender acknowledgment of the past and the present.

Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up. “I’m glad you like him,” he says, his voice a touch quieter now. “He’s been good company.”

You stand, Leo still wriggling happily in your arms. “I can see why.”

Charles smiles again, that same gentle warmth in his eyes. “Come on, let me show you to your room. I had one of the guest rooms made up for you.”

You follow him down a short hallway, the soft pads of Leo’s paws following close behind. Charles pushes open a door, revealing a cozy, well-appointed room with a large bed, a dresser, and a window that looks out over the city skyline. Your bags are neatly placed at the foot of the bed.

“I hope it’s comfortable enough,” Charles says, glancing around the room as if assessing it himself.

“It’s perfect,” you assure him, setting Leo down on the floor. The little dog immediately hops onto the bed, circling a few times before settling into a comfortable spot.

Charles chuckles. “Looks like you’ve already got company.”

You smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving Leo another affectionate pat. “He’s a good boy.”

There’s a pause, comfortable and full of unspoken things. Charles lingers by the door, as if he wants to say something but is weighing his words.

“If you need anything,” he finally says, “my room’s just down the hall. Don’t hesitate to knock.”

You nod, appreciating the offer more than you could put into words. “Thank you, Charles. For everything.”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, it seems like he might say something more. But instead, he simply nods, giving you a small, almost bashful smile before stepping back into the hallway.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice warm and sincere.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

As the door closes behind him, you’re left alone in the quiet room, Leo’s soft breathing the only sound. You sit there for a moment, letting everything that had happened over the past few days wash over you. The unexpected kindness of a stranger who is becoming so much more, the gentle way he helped you navigate the grief that still lingered like a shadow ... and the way he looked at you, as if he saw something in you that you’d almost forgotten was there.

With a deep breath, you lie back on the bed, Leo curling up beside you. The city lights twinkle through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. You stare up at the ceiling, feeling a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, you are beginning to heal.

And as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself thinking of the days to come, and the possibility of something new and beautiful growing from the ashes of what you’d lost.

***

The next morning, Charles is practically buzzing with excitement as he leads you out of his apartment and towards the harbor. His hand is warm and sure around yours, and you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, the kind of color that seems to only exist in this part of the world, with the sun glinting off the water and the scent of salt in the air. The harbor is alive with activity, the gentle hum of boats rocking in the marina, the occasional laughter of tourists, and the distant sounds of a city going about its day.

“I’m taking you to my favorite spot,” Charles says, his voice light and cheerful. “It’s a bit of a hidden gem. The tourists don’t usually find it, but the locals love it.”

You laugh softly, looking up at him as you walk side by side. “Sounds perfect. I’m always up for good food.”

Charles grins at that, his eyes twinkling with a boyish charm. “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

The walk is leisurely, and as you near the harbor, you notice how Charles slows his pace, as if wanting to savor every moment. The way he talks about Monaco, you can tell how much he loves it here, how much this place means to him. It’s like seeing the city through his eyes, and you find yourself appreciating the little details more — the old stone buildings, the narrow streets, the way the sunlight reflects off the water.

The brunch spot is tucked away, a small, unassuming place with a few tables outside, shaded by a striped awning. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods wafts through the air, and you immediately feel at home. Charles greets the owner like an old friend, exchanging a few words in rapid French before leading you to a cozy table by the window.

You sit down, and Charles orders for the both of you — pastries, fresh fruit, eggs cooked just the way you like them, and, of course, coffee.

As you sip your coffee and nibble on a flaky croissant, you take in the surroundings. The café is quaint and charming, with wooden tables and mismatched chairs, the kind of place where you could easily spend hours just watching the world go by. It’s clear that Charles has a deep connection to this place, and you feel honored that he’s sharing it with you.

“This place,” you say, setting your coffee cup down, “it’s perfect.”

Charles smiles softly, his gaze lingering on your face. “I knew you’d like it.”

For a while, the two of you talk about everything and nothing — his childhood in Monaco, your favorite books, the little things that make life sweet. There’s a comfort in the conversation, a sense of ease that comes from being with someone who understands you, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than yourself.

After brunch, Charles suggests a walk along the harbor. The day is warm, the sun high in the sky, and as you walk, you can feel the tension of the past few days begin to melt away. The conversation flows easily, laughter coming more often than not, and you realize how much you’ve missed this — missed feeling alive, missed the simple pleasure of being in the moment.

But as the afternoon wears on, the sky begins to darken. You glance up, noticing the heavy clouds gathering overhead, and before you can say anything, the first raindrop falls.

Charles looks up at the sky, a grin spreading across his face. “Looks like we’re in for a bit of rain.”

You laugh, holding out your hand as the raindrops begin to fall faster, harder. “A bit? This looks like a full-on storm.”

The rain comes quickly, turning from a light drizzle to a steady downpour in a matter of moments. The tourists around you scatter, seeking shelter under awnings and in shops, but Charles doesn’t move. Instead, he looks at you, his expression playful, his eyes daring.

“Come on,” he says, taking your hand again, this time with more urgency. “Let’s do something crazy.”

You’re about to ask what he means, but then you see the look in his eyes, and you know. You know exactly what he’s thinking.

Without another word, he pulls you into the open, right into the middle of the empty street. The rain is cold against your skin, soaking through your clothes in seconds, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything in this moment except the feeling of the rain on your face, the sound of Charles’ laughter, the way he spins you around like you’re in the middle of some grand ballroom instead of a rain-soaked street.

You let go. You let go of all the sadness, all the pain, all the fear. You let go and dance, not caring if you look silly, not caring if anyone is watching. It’s just you and Charles and the rain.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then, without even thinking, you lean in, and Charles is there, meeting you halfway. His lips are warm and soft against yours, a stark contrast to the cold rain, and you can feel the gentle pressure of his hands on your waist, holding you close, grounding you in this moment.

The kiss is slow, tender, as if Charles is trying to convey everything he’s feeling without saying a word. There’s a sense of rightness in it, like this is where you’re supposed to be, like this is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, the rain still pouring down around you, but neither of you seems to care. You look up at Charles, his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping down his face, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve never danced in the rain before,” you say, your voice barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

Charles grins, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Neither have I. But I’m glad my first time was with you.”

You laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around you. “Maybe a little. But sometimes the best things in life are a little crazy.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you, feeling the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting off your shoulders. For the first time since you lost James, you feel like you’re truly living again. And it’s because of Charles.

The rain shows no signs of stopping, but you don’t care. You could stand here forever, in this moment, with Charles’s arms around you and the rain falling like a blessing from the sky.

But eventually, the cold starts to seep into your bones, and Charles pulls back, his hands still on your waist, his eyes searching yours.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he says softly. “We don’t want to catch a cold.”

You nod, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace, and together you make your way back towards the apartment, the rain still falling around you, but your heart feeling lighter than it has in months.

As you walk, Charles slips his hand into yours again, and you glance over at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. You’re not sure what’s happening between you and Charles, but for the first time, you’re not afraid of it. You’re not afraid to see where this might go.

When you reach the apartment, you’re both soaked to the bone, your clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin, but you’re laughing, unable to stop the joy bubbling up inside you.

Charles unlocks the door and ushers you inside, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I think we might need to dry off a bit.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you look around the familiar space. Leo is waiting by the door, his tail wagging furiously as he barks excitedly, clearly not pleased that you both got caught in the rain without him.

Charles crouches down, rubbing Leo behind the ears. “Hey, baby. We didn’t mean to leave you out of the fun.”

Leo licks Charles’s face enthusiastically before trotting over to you, looking up with big, expectant eyes. You can’t help but smile as you reach down to pet him, feeling a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the rain.

Charles stands, his eyes soft as he watches you with Leo. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he says gently, leading you down the hall.

You follow him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. There’s something about being here, with Charles, that feels right. Like maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And as Charles hands you a towel and one of his oversized shirts, you realize that maybe you’re finally ready to start letting go of the past and embracing whatever the future holds. With Charles by your side, it feels like anything is possible.

As you dry off and change into the warm, comfortable clothes Charles gave you, you can’t help but smile at the thought. Maybe this isn’t just about ticking off items on a bucket list. Maybe it’s about finding yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, it’s about finding something more.

***

You fall asleep that night, still feeling the warmth of Charles’ arms wrapped around you as he whispered a soft goodnight. His gentle kiss, tentative yet filled with an unspoken promise, lingers on your lips even as you drift into slumber.

But in your dreams, the world shifts.

You find yourself standing in a place both familiar and strange — a field of golden wheat, the sun setting in the distance, casting a warm, orange glow across the horizon. The sky is endless, blending into shades of pink and purple, as if the heavens themselves were painted with the softest brushstrokes.

And there he is. James.

He’s standing a few feet away, his back to you, hands in his pockets, the way he always used to stand when he was deep in thought. The wind rustles the wheat around him, and for a moment, you just watch him, your heart aching with the longing that never really goes away.

“James ...” Your voice is soft, trembling, almost afraid that speaking his name will shatter the dream.

He turns slowly, his familiar smile, that same one that used to make you feel like everything would be okay, spreads across his face. He’s exactly as you remember him — tousled brown hair, slightly crooked nose from that time he tried to impress you by skiing down a slope far too steep, and those eyes, those deep, warm eyes that always seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice carrying the same teasing lilt that always made you laugh, no matter how bad your day had been.

You move towards him, your feet sinking into the soft earth, but it feels as though the distance between you never changes. The closer you try to get, the farther he seems. “I miss you,” you say, and your voice cracks under the weight of the words. “I miss you so much, Jamie.”

“I know,” he says, and his voice is soft, understanding. “I miss you too, but I’m here now.”

You finally reach him, your fingers itching to touch him, to feel his warmth, but there’s a hesitance within you, a fear that touching him will break the fragile illusion. “I’m scared,” you confess, the tears that have been gathering in your eyes finally spilling over. “I’m scared of moving on, of letting go … of forgetting you.”

James takes a step closer, and suddenly, he’s right in front of you. You can feel his warmth now, the comforting presence that had always been your anchor. He lifts a hand, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb, just like he used to.

“You won’t forget me,” he says gently, his voice a soothing balm to your wounded heart. “You carry me with you, always. I’m a part of you, just like you’re a part of me.”

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, memorizing the feel of him, the sound of his voice. “But it feels like I’m betraying you … with Charles.”

James chuckles softly, a sound that vibrates through you, filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in so long. “Charles Leclerc, huh?” He steps back slightly, enough to meet your gaze fully. “Never knew you had a thing for fast cars and dangerous men.”

You can’t help but smile through your tears. “He’s … different. He’s kind, and patient, and he makes me feel … alive again.”

“That’s good, Y/N,” James says, his tone earnest, as if he’s trying to make you understand something crucial. “That’s what I want for you. I don’t want you to be stuck in the past, living with a ghost. I want you to live, to be happy, to love again.”

“But you-”

“I’ll always be with you,” he interrupts gently. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here,” he says, pressing a hand over your heart. “But you need to let yourself be happy. You need to let yourself find love, even if it’s not with me.”

A sob escapes your lips, and you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle the sound, but James pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s okay to love someone else. I want you to. You deserve that.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that’s so uniquely him — earthy and warm, like freshly cut grass on a summer’s day. “I don’t know if I can,” you whisper. “It feels like losing you all over again.”

“You’re not losing me,” he reassures, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re gaining something beautiful. And if you’re worried about my approval ...” He grins, that mischievous glint in his eye that you always loved. “I mean, he’s no Max Verstappen, but Charles Leclerc? I guess he’s almost good enough for you.”

A laugh bubbles up from your chest, even as tears continue to fall. It’s absurd, really, this moment, this conversation, but it’s exactly what you needed.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you murmur, shaking your head with a small smile.

James shrugs, a carefree gesture that was so him. “What can I say? I always had a soft spot for Max. But Charles … he’s got potential. Just … give him a chance, okay? For me?”

You nod, even though the idea terrifies you. “I’ll try,” you whisper. “For you.”

James smiles, a sad, but proud smile, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, the same way he used to when he wanted to comfort you without words. “That’s all I ask. And Y/N ... don’t wait too long, okay? Life is too short for that.”

“I won’t,” you promise, even though your heart is heavy with the thought of truly moving on.

James takes a step back, his form beginning to fade into the golden light of the sunset. “I love you, Y/N. I always will. But it’s time for you to live again.”

“Goodbye, Jamie,” you say, your voice trembling as he becomes more and more ethereal, like a shadow dissolving in the light. “I love you.”

He smiles one last time, his figure almost completely faded now. “And I love you. Always.”

The dream fades, and you’re left standing in that field of golden wheat alone, the sun sinking below the horizon, casting the world into twilight. But there’s a peace in your heart that you haven’t felt in a long time, a quiet acceptance that maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to start letting go.

When you wake, your cheeks are damp with tears, but there’s a soft smile on your lips. You lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, replaying the dream in your mind, feeling the weight of James’ words settle in your heart.

You know what he said is true. You know it’s what he would want. And you know, deep down, that it’s time to start allowing yourself to heal, to open up, and to let someone else in.

And as you think of Charles, of his patience, his kindness, his quiet understanding, you can’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest — a hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find love again.

***

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Charles’ dining room, casting a soft, golden hue over the room. You sit at the table, trying to focus on the breakfast in front of you — a selection of pastries, fresh fruit, and coffee that Charles had lovingly laid out. Yet, the thoughts swirling in your mind make it hard to concentrate. Charles sits across from you, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours, a small, contented smile playing on his lips.

The memories of the past few days are almost surreal: the unexpected road trip, the rain-soaked dance that ended with your first kiss, and the way Charles held you afterward, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It’s been a whirlwind, but a beautiful one. And yet, as you take a sip of coffee, reality nudges its way back into your thoughts.

“I ... I should probably head back home soon,” you say, your voice hesitant, as if saying the words might make them less real. “I need to get back to work.”

The air in the room shifts. Charles’ smile fades just a little, replaced by a look of understanding, tinged with something you can’t quite place. Sadness? Disappointment? He sets down his coffee cup, his fingers playing with the handle as if it could offer him some guidance on what to say next.

“Of course,” he replies, his tone gentle, though you can hear the effort it takes to keep it light. “You have responsibilities, a life back home ...”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches a moment into something heavier, more significant. The silence is thick, filled with the unspoken truth that neither of you wants to confront: this bubble of time you’ve been living in, where only the two of you exist, is about to burst.

“I like you,” you blurt out, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. They hang in the air, raw and vulnerable.

Charles looks up, his eyes locking onto yours. “I like you too,” he says, his voice low, steady, and filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat.

You both sit there for a moment, staring at each other, the weight of your mutual confession settling between you like a third presence at the table. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“I want to see where this goes,” you continue, your voice trembling slightly as you try to gather your thoughts. “But I don’t know how ... I mean, you’re always traveling for the races, and I-”

“Come with me,” Charles interrupts, his voice firm, almost urgent. “To the next race. And the one after that. I don’t want this to be just a beautiful memory. I want you there with me, every step of the way.”

His words hit you like a wave, washing over the fears and doubts that had been quietly gnawing at the back of your mind. The idea of uprooting your life, of stepping into his world, is daunting — but the thought of not being with him is even more unbearable.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. “Are you sure?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to get in the way, or make things complicated.”

Charles leans forward, his hand reaching out to cover yours. His touch is warm, grounding. “You wouldn’t be in the way. I want this. I want you. And if it gets complicated, then we’ll figure it out together.”

The sincerity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. You’ve spent so long guarding your heart, protecting yourself from the pain of losing someone again, that the idea of opening up to love, to Charles, feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Two and a half weeks,” he continues, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s when the next race is. Come with me. We’ll have more time to figure this out, whatever this is.”

You nod slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice firming up with the decision. “I’ll come with you.”

A bright, relieved smile breaks across Charles’ face, and in that moment, you know you’ve made the right choice. Whatever happens, you’ll face it together. The thought is both comforting and thrilling.

Charles stands up, pulling you gently to your feet. “I think we should seal this decision properly,” he says, his tone light, teasing.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood from becoming too serious. “And how do you propose we do that?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he steps closer, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he leans in, capturing your lips with his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s different from the kiss you shared in the rain — this one is slower, more deliberate, filled with the promise of everything that could be. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders as you kiss him back, letting yourself get lost in the moment.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Charles rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his lips. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of emotion.

“So am I,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and anticipation.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. And as you stand there in Charles’ arms, the future doesn’t seem so scary anymore. In fact, it looks pretty damn wonderful.

***

18 Months Later

The cemetery is quiet, a solemn stillness that wraps around you and Charles as you walk down the winding path lined with weathered tombstones and ancient trees. The sky above is a muted gray, the kind that seems to reflect the heavy emotions you’ve been carrying with you.

Your hand is tightly clasped in Charles’, his grip firm and reassuring, but you can feel the slight tremor in his fingers. He’s nervous, though he tries to hide it behind a small, gentle smile.

You haven’t been here since the funeral, since that awful day when you laid James to rest. The thought of returning to this place has always felt too overwhelming, like reopening a wound that never fully healed. But now, over a year and a half later, you’re here again, and this time, you’re not alone.

You lead Charles to the spot where James is buried. It’s a modest grave, marked by a simple headstone that bears his name, his dates, and a short inscription that never fails to bring tears to your eyes: Beloved husband, healer of hearts, taken too soon.

Charles lets go of your hand as you kneel in front of the grave, gently brushing away the few leaves that have settled on the stone. You trace James’ name with your fingers, the cold granite grounding you in a way that words never could. Charles stands a few steps behind you, giving you space, but his presence is a comforting anchor in this sea of grief.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, silent and lost in memories, before you finally speak. “Hi, James,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back. I-I brought someone with me. I think you’d like him.” You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your cheeks. “His name is Charles. He’s ... he’s very special to me. You’d probably think he’s not good enough for me, but you were always a little biased.”

A small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips as you glance back at Charles, who’s watching you with a mixture of love and concern. “Would you ... would you mind giving us a moment?” Charles asks softly, stepping forward. “I — I’d like to talk to James, if that’s okay.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the request, but the earnestness in his eyes makes you nod. “Of course,” you murmur, rising to your feet. You lean in to kiss Charles on the cheek, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping away, giving him the privacy he’s asked for.

Charles waits until you’ve moved a respectful distance away, then turns his attention to the grave. He takes a deep breath, crouching down so he’s at eye level with the headstone. He feels awkward, talking to a man he’s never met, a man who was such a huge part of your life. But he knows this is important, that he needs to do this — for you, for James, and for himself.

“Hi, James,” Charles starts, his voice low and unsure. “I-I hope you don’t mind me talking to you like this. I’ve heard so much about you, and I know how much you mean to her.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for loving her the way you did, for making her so happy. She deserves that, you know? She deserves all the happiness in the world.”

Charles’ throat tightens, and he has to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. He hadn’t expected this to be so hard, hadn’t expected to feel this intense connection to a man he never knew. “I’m ... I’m going to propose to her,” he finally says, his voice shaking. “And I wanted to ask for your permission, if that’s okay. I know I can’t replace you, and I wouldn’t want to. You’ll always be a part of her, and I’ll never try to take that away.”

He swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “But I love her, James. I love her so much, and I promise I’ll take care of her. I’ll do everything I can to make her happy, to make sure she feels loved every single day. I know she still loves you, and I’m okay with that. There’s more than enough room in her heart for both of us.”

Charles reaches out, placing a hand on the cool stone of the headstone, as if trying to make a connection with the man resting beneath it. “We’ve been talking about her moving to Monaco with me soon,” he continues, his voice steadying. “And I promise you, she’ll have free reign of my private jet to visit you whenever she wants. I’ll make sure she never feels like she has to choose between us.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “I hope that’s okay with you, James. I hope ... I hope you’re at peace, wherever you are. And I hope you know that I’m going to love her with everything I have. I’ll do my best to make her as happy as you did. Thank you for that.”

Charles stays there for a moment longer, his hand still resting on the gravestone, before he finally stands. He wipes at his eyes, surprised to find them wet with tears, and glances over at you. You’re watching him, a mix of curiosity and love in your gaze, and he gives you a small, reassuring smile.

You walk back over to him, slipping your hand into his, and he squeezes it gently. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I ... I don’t know what you said, but thank you.”

Charles just nods, pulling you into a hug, holding you close as you both stand there in the quiet cemetery, the weight of your shared love and loss settling around you. It’s not an easy moment, but it’s one that feels right, like a necessary step forward in the journey you’ve been on together.

As you stand there in Charles’ arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. You know that James would have approved, that he would have wanted you to find happiness again, to find love again. And now, with Charles by your side, you finally feel like you can do that.

Eventually, you both turn to leave, hand in hand, walking back down the path toward the cemetery gates. As you reach the car, you glance back one last time at James’ grave, a soft smile on your lips. “Goodbye, Jamie,” you whisper. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”

Charles opens the car door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, you feel a sense of closure, of new beginnings. It’s not about moving on, you realize, but about moving forward — carrying the love you’ve known with you into whatever comes next.

And as Charles drives away from the cemetery, his hand resting on your thigh, you know that whatever comes next, you won’t be facing it alone.

***

The reception hall is filled with soft, warm light, the kind that makes everyone look beautiful and the world seem perfect for just a moment. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create a background hum that feels almost comforting in its familiarity.

You stand at the edge of the room, looking out at the faces of friends and family, people who have watched you navigate the hardest years of your life and who are now here to celebrate this new chapter.

Charles is beside you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, a touch so natural that it feels like it's always been there. When he smiles at you, there's a quiet understanding in his eyes, a love that has grown deep and steady, rooted in the soil of shared grief and the careful, tentative steps toward healing.

You know he can feel your nervousness — he’s always been able to read you so well — but there’s no rush, no pressure. Just his presence, anchoring you as you take a deep breath and step forward to the microphone.

The room gradually quiets as people realize you’re about to speak. The lump in your throat feels almost too big to swallow, and for a moment, you think you might not be able to get the words out. But then you feel Charles’ hand squeeze yours, a silent encouragement that you can do this, and suddenly, it’s easier to find your voice.

“Thank you,” you begin, and your voice wavers a little, but it’s steady enough. “Thank you all for being here today. I know that every bride says this, but it really does mean the world to us that you’re here to share this day with us.”

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with that same soft look he had when you first met Leo. His eyes are full of pride and love, and it gives you the strength to continue.

“Most of you know that today isn’t just about celebrating the love that Charles and I share, but it’s also about honoring the past that brought us here,” you say, and you can see some people nodding, their smiles tinged with understanding. “A few years ago, I lost my husband, James. He was an incredible man — kind, compassionate, and so full of life. And when he passed, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, let alone find love again.”

Your voice catches, and you have to pause to take another breath. The room is silent now, everyone hanging on your words.

“James left me a letter,” you say, and there’s a faint murmur as people who don’t know the story lean in, intrigued. “In that letter, he left me a bucket list of things he wanted me to experience, things he wished we could have done together but that he wanted me to do in his memory.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out the now well-worn piece of paper, carefully unfolding it as you speak. “The last item on that list was to find love again.”

A few people gasp quietly, and you can see some wiping their eyes, moved by the weight of those words. You feel your own tears threatening to fall, but you blink them back, determined to finish what you’ve started.

“For a long time, I didn’t think I could,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think it was possible to let someone else into my heart after losing James. But then, I met Charles.”

You turn to look at him, and he smiles at you, a smile that is both gentle and reassuring. “Charles showed me that it’s okay to love again, that my heart is big enough to hold all the memories I have of James while still making room for new ones with him. He’s been patient, understanding, and so, so kind. And I know that James would have loved him just as much as I do.”

Charles’ eyes glisten with unshed tears, and when he squeezes your hand again, it’s not just to comfort you — it’s a shared moment of recognition, of understanding that this journey has been just as profound for him as it has been for you.

“I know that some people say you can only have one great love in a lifetime,” you continue, your voice growing steadier with each word. “But I think I’ve been incredibly lucky, because I’ve had two.”

The room is filled with the sound of sniffles and soft murmurs of agreement. You can see your family, who has been there through it all, nodding and smiling through their tears.

“So today, as we celebrate this new beginning, I want to take a moment to honor the man who brought us here. James, wherever you are, thank you. Thank you for loving me enough to let me go, for knowing that I needed to find happiness again. I know you’re here with us, in spirit, and I hope you’re proud.”

You pause, your heart heavy but full. “And to Charles, my Charlie … thank you for being brave enough to love me, even when it wasn’t easy. Thank you for showing me that it’s okay to hold on to the past while embracing the future. I promise to love you with all of my heart, forever and always.”

The room is silent for a long moment after you finish speaking, and then the applause begins — soft at first, then growing louder as people rise to their feet, clapping not just for you and Charles, but for the love that has brought you both here, and for the man who made it all possible.

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to your temple as the applause swells around you. “I love you,” he whispers, and you can hear the emotion in his voice. “Thank you for sharing that with everyone. It was perfect.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice thick with tears. “And thank you, Charlie. For everything.”

The rest of the night is a blur of laughter, dancing, and celebration. But the memory of your speech, of standing up in front of everyone and sharing your heart so openly, will stay with you forever. And as you and Charles step onto the dance floor for your first dance as husband and wife, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that James is watching over you both, smiling as you take this next step forward together.

The music begins to play, a soft, romantic melody that wraps around you like a warm embrace. Charles pulls you closer, his arms around your waist as you sway together, and for the first time in a long time, you feel complete. It’s not that the pain of losing James has disappeared — it never will — but it has softened, and in its place, there is a new kind of love, one that is just as strong, just as true.

As you dance, you rest your head against Charles’ chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The guests fade into the background, and it’s just the two of you, moving together in perfect harmony. You know that this moment, this dance, is the beginning of a new chapter, one that you never imagined you would have, but one that you are so grateful for.

When the song ends, Charles lifts your chin with his finger, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice filled with concern.

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Instead, you press your lips to his in a tender kiss, one that says everything you can’t put into words. Charles holds you close, and as you pull back, you see the tears in his eyes, a mirror of your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, and Charles smiles, his thumb brushing away the tear that slips down your cheek.

“No, thank you,” he says, his voice full of love and admiration. “For letting me be a part of this, for trusting me with your heart. I promise, I’ll take care of it.”

And as you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that you’ve found what James wanted for you all along — someone who will love you just as deeply, just as fiercely, as he did. Someone who will walk with you through the good times and the bad, who will hold your hand and guide you through the darkest days, and who will celebrate the bright ones with joy and laughter.

You’ve found love again, just like James wanted, and it feels like coming home.

***

You park the car under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, the leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you step out, Charles following behind, holding Jacques in his arms.

The baby is cooing, tiny hands grabbing at Charles’ shirt as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. You pause for a moment, breathing in the cool air, trying to gather the courage to walk towards the familiar grave that you’ve avoided for so long.

Charles adjusts Jacques in his arms, the baby’s chubby legs kicking slightly as he looks around, taking in the new surroundings with wide eyes. You glance at Charles, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod. But this time, there’s no pressure. He’s letting you take the lead, letting you go at your own pace.

The last time you were here, you and Charles had just gotten engaged. The memory of Charles standing by James’ grave, asking for his blessing, is still vivid in your mind. And now, two years later, everything has changed. You’re married to Charles, and you have a beautiful baby boy. But standing here, in front of the man you once loved with all your heart, the weight of everything comes crashing down.

You take a deep breath and start walking towards the grave. The headstone is simple, elegant, just the way James would have wanted it. Fresh flowers have been placed there recently — probably by James’ parents, who visit regularly. A pang of guilt twists in your chest. You should have come sooner.

When you reach the grave, you kneel down, brushing your fingers lightly over the engraved letters of his name. The silence is thick, filled with everything you want to say but can’t find the words for. Charles stays a few steps back, giving you space, though you can feel his presence like a warm anchor, grounding you.

“Hi, Jamie,” you finally whisper, your voice trembling. “It’s ... it’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry for not visiting sooner.”

The words catch in your throat, and you have to pause, blinking back tears. You thought you were prepared for this, but being here, with so much time having passed, it’s harder than you imagined.

“I wanted to come sooner, but ... everything just got so overwhelming,” you continue, your voice breaking. “I’ve missed you so much. And I know you’re watching over us, but I needed to feel like I could do this ... like I could come back here and tell you everything.”

You glance back at Charles, who is now sitting on the grass with Jacques in his lap. The baby is looking up at the sky, oblivious to the somber mood, a tiny smile playing on his lips. When you turn back to the grave, the tears you've been holding back finally spill over.

“I want you to meet someone,” you say softly. You reach back, signaling Charles to bring Jacques over. Charles carefully lifts Jacques, walking over to you, and gently hands him to you. The baby gurgles, his small hand wrapping around your finger instinctively. You hold Jacques close, your tears falling onto his soft hair.

“This is Jacques,” you whisper, looking down at your son. “He’s named after you and Jules. Charles and I wanted to honor you both in some way.”

The name had been something you and Charles had discussed at length. When you found out you were pregnant, there was no hesitation in your minds who you wanted to name your son after. It felt like the right thing to do, like a way to keep a part of James alive in your new life.

“He’s ... he’s so beautiful, James,” you continue, your voice trembling with emotion. “I wish you were here to see him grow up. To be a part of his life. But I promise, I’ll tell him all about you. About how amazing you were, and how much you loved helping others. He’ll know his name carries a legacy.”

Jacques wiggles in your arms, and you press a soft kiss to his forehead. The tears continue to fall, but now they’re mixed with a sense of bittersweet acceptance. You look up at the sky, the clouds shifting lazily, and you wonder if James is watching, if he’s smiling down at you.

You glance at Charles, who is watching you with those soft eyes that seem to hold all the love in the world. He’s been so patient, so understanding, and in this moment, you realize how incredibly lucky you are to have found love again. It’s not something you ever thought would be possible, but here you are, standing between the past and the future, with a heart big enough to hold them both.

“Charles has been amazing,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’d like him, James. He’s so kind, and he understands ... he understands everything I’ve been through. He’s been so good to me, and to Jacques. I think you’d be happy to know that we found each other.”

Charles steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting, a reminder that you’re not alone in this. Jacques babbles, his tiny fingers reaching up to touch Charles’ face, and Charles chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against Jacques' cheek.

You close your eyes, leaning back into Charles, letting yourself feel the full weight of the moment. The grief, the love, the hope — all of it swirling inside you like a storm that’s finally starting to calm.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I always will. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to move forward. To let myself be happy again. And I think ... I think you’d want that for me.”

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves in the trees, and for a brief moment, you swear you can feel James’ presence — like a gentle touch on your shoulder, a whisper in your ear, telling you that it’s okay. That he’s at peace, and he wants you to be too.

You turn slightly, pressing a kiss to Charles’ cheek, then look back at the grave, feeling a sense of closure that you didn’t think was possible.

“We’ll be back to visit,” you promise, your voice steadying. “I won’t wait so long next time. And Jacques will grow up knowing who you were, what you meant to us. He’ll know his name is special.”

Charles squeezes your hand, and you nod, letting him know you’re ready to go. You stand, brushing off your pants, and take one last look at James’ grave. The flowers sway gently in the breeze, and you feel a strange sense of peace settle over you. It’s not goodbye — it’s more of a “see you later.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles keeps his arm around your waist, holding you close. Jacques is still babbling happily, completely unaware of the emotional weight of the visit. But that’s okay — he’ll understand when he’s older. For now, you’re just grateful to have this moment, to feel like you’re honoring both the past and the future.

When you reach the car, you carefully buckle Jacques into his car seat, making sure he’s secure before you get in. Charles closes the door behind you, and as he starts the engine, you glance back at the grave, giving a small nod as if to say, “Thank you.”

As the car pulls away, you lean your head against the window, watching the trees blur past. Charles reaches over, taking your hand in his, and you smile softly, squeezing his hand in return.

It’s a long drive back home, but you don’t mind. You have everything you need right here with you. And as you close your eyes, letting the gentle motion of the car lull you into a peaceful state, you realize that this is what James wanted for you — to find love again, to be happy, to live your life to the fullest.

And you will. For him, for Jacques, for Charles, and for yourself.

[astonmartinii]

ice, ice baby (literally) | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x raikkonen!reader

the ice man may have never spoken, but his daughter never shuts the fuck up

based on the request from @blue-skyandstars

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 783,409 others

yourusername: taking names and kicking asses (and getting all assignments in on time with an appropriate amount of ass licking)

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user1: i love how she is so clearly kimi's daughter

user2: the only two blondes that don't freak me out

user3: insert that paris hilton clip "can i have two more of these little blonde bitches?"

maxverstappen1: what's an appropriate amount of ass licking and can i demonstrate on you?

maxverstappen1: wait! who said that?

yourusername: in your dreams car boy

maxverstappen1: trust me i see you in my dreams all the time

yourusername: so that's why you're always in the shower when i call you in the morning....

user4: i'm new here, are they together?

yourusername: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

maxverstappen1: she's actually my sleep paralysis demon, sorry to say

user5: they're so unserious

kimiraikkonen: keep those studies up i'm paying the bills

yourusername: i promise to use my status as a nepo baby for good papa 🫡

kimiraikkonen: proud of you.

user6: we love a self aware girly

user7: the raikkonen household really is the best balance, a guy who acts like talking causes him physical pain and a girl who couldn't shut the fuck up if she tried

yourusername: no way i'd rather it be

charles_leclerc: how many versions of that shirt do you have?

yourusername: enough...

charles_leclerc: and i'm the one who is a threat to national security when i go shopping

yourusername: that trouser collection should get you on some sort of list

user8: all these f1 drivers in her likes and comments and she's not cuffed... why is she fumbling so bad

yourusername: am I fumbling or are THEY?

user9: expose the dms please

yourusername: that would not be pg13 soz!

maxverstappen1

liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 1,094,556 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: oh look who decided to come back

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user10: max is so annoyed that she decided to go to school in the us that he makes all american fans lives hell by winning all the races

user11: so true of him

landonorris: matching books? you're such a simp

maxverstappen1: is a man forbidden to be in a book club? who backwards of you lando

yourusername: just because you can't read, don't take it out on us

landonorris: i can read!

yourusername: name the last book you read

yourusername: and that doesn't include searching your name on twitter

landonorris: can you go back already, you're so mean

yourusername: don't come for our two man book club if you can't handle the smoke

maxverstappen1: what she said

user12: i love how spring break starts and y/n doesn't even go to see her dad, straight to max

maxverstappen1: kimi is coming! i am NOT a bad friend who deprives y/n of her dad

user12: you're also scared of kimi

maxverstappen1: i'm also scared of kimi

danielricciardo: you're in my building and i don't get any baked goods... i see how it is

yourusername: as if max is allowed to eat them anyway they're for dad

danielricciardo: i promptly take back anything i've ever said

user13: max has got to be down bad to have that much baking equipment in his house when it's canon he can barely cook eggs

yourusername: if he wanted to he would

user14: is this confirmation?

yourusername: i hope those are paper straws you're grasping at

maxverstappen1: why wouldn't i make sure i have the equipment to get my worker bee to make me sweet treats (don't read that rupert)

user15: i'm on to you two ... there's something shady going on here

sebastianvettel

liked by kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 1,209,409 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel: she's too old, i miss when she was a nice and polite child

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user19: annual god father seb appearance

user20: y/n please work your magic to get him to a race this weekend

yourusername: i'm working on it! watch out for suzuka

user21: the people's princess truly

yourusername: rude! i am a very polite young woman 🙁

sebastianvettel: yes you are, but also when you were ten you didn't bother me with your love life

sebastianvettel: and you weren't so fussy with food

yourusername: I AM NOT FUSSY I JUST HAVE AN ACQUIRED TASTE

sebastianvettel: you asked me to uninvite lewis to our dinner plans because you "hate that quinoa shit, i'm hungry enough to kill a horse with my bare hands"

yourusername: and i'd say it again!

lewishamilton: first of all: rude. second of all: i knew there was a reason you and max get on so well - BLAND

maxverstappen1: just because my food doesn't turn my shit green or couldn't accidentally be sold in the rabbit section of the pet store doesn't make me BLAND

yourusername: i don't trust a man who makes non-alocholic tequila THE FACT IT GETS YOU DRUNK IS THE BEST PART OF THE TEQUILA ONLY WEIRDOS DRINK TEQUILA FOR THE TASTE

lewishamilton: gasp! you said you liked it!

yourusername: i try to be supportive okay :(

user22: well that was something

user23: max always coming to the rescue ... makes you think

charles_leclerc: i am sensing some blatant favouritism here

mickschumacher: i never get invited on baking weekends :(

yourusername: snooze you lose ladies

sebastianvettel: this is exactly what i mean y/n

yourusername: my bad! i'm sorry my god father loves me more than you :p get well soon

sebastianvettel: that's not-

charles_leclerc: consider yourself in beef

yourusername: it's on babe

user24: gosh i'm so confused WHO THE FUCK DO I WANT TO GET WITH HER

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 809,445 others

yourusername: boy, oh, boy am i ready to finish this semester

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user26: i see tulips i do deduce that they are from max verstappen 🤓👆

user27: i hate you invasive leeches (i believe this and it is now my personal headcanon)

maxverstappen1: SEAT BELT PLEASE

yourusername: i swear i did 😫

maxverstappen1: you need to protect the precious goods

landonorris: you never tell me that 🙁

maxverstappen1: you're not precious goods, hope this helps x

landonorris: i see how it is

yourusername: don't hate the player, hate the game lando

user28: they've either got the single most flirtatious friendship ever to exist or they're together

user29: if they are just friends and those flowers are from her actual gf - i am not being dramatic but i would take a long walk off a short plank

user30: i feel like they'd be the ultimate cockblocks for each other 😭

kimiraikkonen: proud of you bub

yourusername: i am losing hair from academic stress i hope you're happy papa

kimiraikkonen: i am 👍🏻

yourusername: i am losing hair - LOSING HAIR THIS IS A BIG DEAL YOU PAY FOR MY APPOINTMENTS

kimiraikkonen: you need a college education so you're not wasting all of my money - i also pay your sorority dues so be nice to me

yourusername: i'm tired let me be the low effort nepo baby i am meant to be

user31: can kimi raikkonen pay for my hair appointments too?

jensonbutton: is that MY CAR?

yourusername: you put me on the insurance?

jensonbutton: yeah for when your car was in the shop - i thought shelby was still in my garage?

yourusername: not to victim blame but having so many cars you don't notice one is gone, that's on you

jensonbutton: @KIMIRAIKKONEN YOUR KID STOLE MY CAR

yourusername: britt gave me the keys !!!!!!

kimiraikkonen: you got duped by a 21 year old, that's not my fault

user32: kimi when y/n jokes about dropping out 🤨 kimi when y/n steals one of jenson's cars 🥹

maxverstappen1

liked by kimiraikkonen, landonorris and 2,305,689 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: ice, ice baby (except you're smoking hot)

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user35: WHOOP WHOOP LET'S FUCKING GO

user36: max already having the approval of kimi, that's my king

maxverstappen1: make no mistake i went to the raikkonen household with many offerings before i asked for his permission

user37: and if he had said no?

maxverstappen1: i would've asked y/n regardless 🫡

kimiraikkonen: 🤨

maxverstappen1: uh? i'm digging my own grave but i love your daughter so that's all the matters right? RIGHT?

kimiraikkonen: 🙄

maxverstappen1: WOULD IT KILL YOU TO USE THE KEYBOARD I'M HAVING A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN HERE

user38: the way max got given approval on live tv with more words than we've heard from kimi at any point in his career and he's still a shaking mess

user39: anxious girl representation

yourusername: you melted this icicle

maxverstappen1: eh i think you've always been a softy

charles_leclerc: like softserve ice cream? shop @lec now!

maxverstappen1: do you fucking mind?

yourusername: really? on the post of my boyfriend professing his love?

charles_leclerc: god forbid a guy chases the bag (also he called you smoking hot, that's hardly a profession of love)

maxverstappen1: you little rat

yourusername: lifetime supply of lec and a flavour named after us and consider yourself forgiven

charles_leclerc: i don't need your approval that much

yourusername: @kimiraikkonen @sebastianvettel you seeing this shit?

charles_leclerc: fine... weaponising your dad and god father is a low blow

yourusername: also! i love you baby - thank you for putting up with my constant yapping xx

maxverstappen1: i love you even more, i can't wait for you to finish college so i never have to share you ever again

kimiraikkonen: 🤨

maxverstappen1: AND YOUR LOVELY FAMILY

yourusername: they love you really maxy don't worry

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, jensonbutton and 1.945,440 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm so talented, i brought three more championships to the family without even getting into the car

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user40: okay idk why yall were shipping anyone else, i've seen one picture of them being cute and am sold

user41: i'm so convinced this happened cause max saw people were convinced she was with other people on the grid and he had to mark his territory

maxverstappen1: yes i was jealous but can you blame me? prettiest girl in the world actually wanted me back. i will not fumble this

user42: i need my man to be this down bad for me

kimiraikkonen: cute.

yourusername: thank you papa xxx

maxverstappen1: THANK YOU KIMI, LOVE YOU KIMI

yourusername: i think he gets it babe...

maxverstappen1: first time i've got a non-emoji answer, i will savour it

user43: oh my i love them your honour

sebastianvettel: happy for you guys, see you guys soon

yourusername: love you seb!

maxverstappen1: thanks for the vote of confidence seb

sebastianvettel: you may be a literal nightmare child, but you're our nightmare child now

kimiraikkonen: what he said

maxverstappen1: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (i am ignoring that you called me a nightmare child, i was 17 give me a break)

yourusername: you guys he's crying hahahahahah

maxverstappen1: i just love you guys (y/n more)

yourusername: i love you too xx

user44: so liked now we've got the relationship reveal... when do we get both y/n and kimi in the red bull garage

user45: lets up the stakes and get max, kimi and seb in the 24 hours of le mans

yourusername: oh now you've started it - he's already on the phone to adrian

maxverstappen1: am i the first nepotism boyfriend?

kimiraikkonen: you might be the favourite of the in-laws if you get me a le mans win

maxverstappen1: y/n is an only child? i'm the only in law?

kimiraikkonen: yes?

maxverstappen1: I'M ON THE PHONE TO ADRIAN

yourusername: did i just lose my boyf to my dad?

fin.

note: babe the writer's block is back. but i'm fighting it. hope yall enjoyed this!

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[simjaexy]

𝘾𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙈𝙮 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 | 𝙇.𝙃.

Pairing ⇀ Popular Bad Boy! Lee Heeseung x (F) Nerd! Reader

Synopsis ⇀ You were a nerd, always with your nose in a book, acing every test, and keeping a low profile. What comes as a normal life of yours soon takes a turn when your mom finally gets married to a man that you soon found out was Lee Heeseung dad, the school bad boy. Even though Heeseung doesn’t know you, he can’t help but want to corrupt you in every possible way. So what happens when new things start to unfold between you two that he’s never felt before with someone?

Genre ⇀ Smut, Angst

Warnings ⇀ MINORS DNI!!!, Cheating, Karina is Heeseung’s girlfriend, Cursing, Crying, Minor character death, Family issues (on Heeseungs side), Heeseung is mean and toxic to reader a lot of times, Partying, Drinking, Bullying, Jealousy, Kissing, Making out, Biting, Hickeys, Receiving (m&f), Blowjobs, Eating out, Dom! Heeseung x Sub! Reader, Name calling (nerd, princess, etc.), Grinding, Semi public sex, Overstimulation (f), Fingering, Jealous sex, Rough sex, Breeding kink

W.c ⇀ 12.4k (oops)

A/n ⇀ Hi guys :), this fic honestly was fun and long to make. I was gonna make it longer but since I’m making a Sunghoon fic soon Kndecided to just keep it simple (somewhat). If you guys want a request of another fic/drabble I would not mind at all! This fic is based off of this song so take a listen to it! None of these characters act like this in real life! Like, Comment, Reblog, etc.. Not proofread!

Second marriages were a bitch. As much as you loved seeing your mom feeling happy again, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of something missing. Your Happiness. You wouldn’t say you were exactly happy when your mom sat you down at the dining table and saying she was getting married.

You remember how nervous she sounded, her fingers fidgeting in stress. You didn’t know you could make her feel that way over marriage. You’ve always been close to your dad until he died. It was a hard time coping, which is why you bury yourself with books and studies. You were called a nerd by other people though, but that’s not the whole point why you were moving.

Moving into a new house was supposed to be a fresh start for you and your mom. After years of living alone, your mom finally found happiness with a man you didn’t know at all, and their marriage meant a new family dynamic.

You weren’t sure if the mysterious man however had a kid. You were hoping he didn’t, it would mean less problems to you and babysitting when they go out. Only if you knew who would be the person that would be with you and your happy little life from that day on.

“Is he rich?” You asked your mom who was driving you guys to the house. You noticed she was less nervous now, but still had her fidgeting habit going on.

“I didn’t marry him because he is rich sweetie. I married him because I loved him.” You mom replied.

You shrugged your shoulders, “So he is rich.” You mumbled. Your mom didn’t say anything and continued driving with the music low. You didn’t mention anything else after that.

You and your mom drove through the winding roads, the scenery gradually changing from modest homes to grand estates. Your heart raced with anticipation and curiosity.

Once your mom finally came to a stop at a big house, your mouth went agape. The mansion loomed ahead, an architectural masterpiece that seemed to stretch endlessly. The sprawling gardens were meticulously maintained, with fountains and statues dotting the landscape. You couldn't help but gape at the sheer size and opulence of it all.

"Wow," You whispered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Your mom glanced over at you with a knowing smile, "Impressive, isn't it? Mr. Lee has done very well for himself."

As you pulled up to the grand entrance, you couldn’t help but think of the last name. Lee? It’s sounded somewhat familiar to you, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

As you guys got out the car, Mr. Lee stepped out to greet you, his smile as warm and welcoming as ever, "Welcome! I hope the drive wasn't too tiring," He said. He went over to your mom and gave her a quick peck to the lips. You mentally gag at the way they were already being loved dovey.

He then went towards you, giving you a quick handshake that you appreciated before he ushered you both inside.

The interior was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with high ceilings, elegant chandeliers, and art pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum. You tried to take it all in, but it was almost too much.

“This place is amazing," you said, still in awe. He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his eyes.

"I'm glad you like it. Come on, let me show you around." He insisted. As you followed him through the grand halls and lavish rooms, you couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed. It wasn’t something you were used too.

You were used to your cozy house that had a tiny garden on one side of your front yard, the claustrophobic hallway you used to run in when you were little. The small living room that only fitted up to five people. Thinking about your old house already felt nostalgic. Walking through this though, you didn’t know if you were gonna get used to it.

Mr. Lee finally came to a halt at the stairs and stared over at you, “The maid can show you your room. She knows where it’s at.”

You noticed a middle aged woman next to Mr. Lee smiling at you. You gave him a curt nod before following the maid upstairs. As you walked in the halls with the maid you couldn’t help but stare at the photos hung up.

You didn’t see any photos of a women or a kid anywhere with Mr. Lee, so maybe you really were gonna be the only child. Some part of that made you feel giddy. The maid finally stops at a door and opens it. You went inside in awe. Your room was beautiful to say the least.

The room was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in streams of natural light. The walls were painted a soft pastel color, giving the room a serene and welcoming feel. A plush, king-sized bed sat in the center, adorned with fluffy pillows and a cozy duvet.

To one side of the room, there was a stylish desk with a comfortable chair, perfect for studying or writing. Shelves lined the walls, ready to be filled with your favorite books and trinkets. A beautiful vanity stood in one corner, complete with a large mirror and ample storage for all your beauty essentials.

The best part, however, was the view. Walking over to the windows, you pulled back the curtains and gasped. The room overlooked a stunning garden, filled with vibrant flowers and lush greenery. You could already imagine spending hours sitting by the window, enjoying the peaceful scenery.

You couldn't help but smile as you took it all in. This room was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. It was your own little sanctuary, a place where you could relax, unwind, and be yourself.

You turned to look over at the maid who was still smiling, “Beautiful isn’t it? It was my idea since I’m the only women in this house.” The maid chimed.

“It’s very beautiful. Thank you.” You responded. She gave you chuckle and a nod before slowly shutting the door, leaving you alone in the room.

As you started to unpack your belongings and make the room your own, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. This was your new home, and you couldn't wait to create beautiful memories here.

The sun was setting when you finally finished unpacking a few boxes. You let out a sigh and wiped your sweat off your forehead. You checked the time and saw that it was almost time for you to head to sleep.

As you were about to move a box, you suddenly felt the random urge to use the restroom, “Now that I thought about it I haven’t you used the restroom all day.” You murmured to yourself. You opened your bedroom door and stepped out.

You wandered through the unfamiliar hallways of Mr. Lee’s mansion, trying to remember the directions he had given you to the bathroom. Every door looked the same, and you were starting to feel a bit lost.

Pushing open yet another door, you suddenly froze. There, in the middle of the room, stood a boy you knew all too well. Lee Heeseung, shirtless with only a towel wrapped around him. It seemed like he just got out of the shower since his hair was still wet. His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" You blurted out, quickly averting your gaze, "I was just looking for the bathroom.”

Heeseung's expression shifted to one of annoyance, "Do you always barge into rooms without knocking?" He snapped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"I-I didn't mean to," You stammered, feeling even more flustered. "I just got lost."

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, making his muscles even more prominent, "Typical. Can't even follow simple directions from my dad."

You felt a mix of embarrassment and irritation at his rude comments, "Look, I said I was sorry. It was an accident. A-And your dad didn’t give me any directions!”

Heeseung scoffed, a scowl on his lips, "Whatever. Just get out of here."

You quickly backed out of the room, closing the door behind you. As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. Angry, embarrassed, upset, and flustered? You groaned as you entered your room again and slammed it shut. You plopped on your bed.

The thought suddenly came to you. Lee Heeseung owns this house too, and you don’t think he’s gonna be nice to you anytime soon. You sighed and rolled on your bed. You were just hoping tomorrow won’t go bad. And ignoring the fact that you still had to use the restroom.

The next morning, you groggily made your way down to the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. As you rounded the corner, you froze. There, standing by the kitchen island, was Heeseung, chatting casually with your mom and his dad. Your mom noticed you first and smiled warmly.

"Good morning, sweetie! Come here, I want you to meet someone," She said, beckoning you over. You walked over, feeling a bit nervous under Heeseung's gaze.

"This is Heeseung," Your mom introduced, "Mr. Lee son."

Heeseung smirked, looking you up and down. "Oh, so you're the one who lives here? I was wondering why the house felt so... ordinary."

You felt your face heat up with anger. He met you yesterday and now he’s gonna act like he doesn’t know you? The audacity! You forced a smile and replied, "Nice to meet you too, Heeseung."

Your mom looked between the two of you, clearly sensing the tension. "Well, I'm sure you'll get along just fine once you get to know each other," She said, trying to lighten the mood.

You shot Heeseung one last glare before turning on your heel and heading back to your room. You rather eat breakfast at school than in front of him.

You adjusted your glasses and gave yourself one last look in the mirror before grabbing your backpack. Today was going to be another long day at school, but you were ready for it. As you reached for the doorknob, the door swung open, and you found yourself face to face with Heeseung.

Heeseung leaned against the doorframe with a smirk playing on his lips, "Hey, nerd," He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You sighed, already feeling the tension, "What do you want, Heeseung?"

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Just a little reminder," He said, his tone turning serious, "When we're at school, don't act like we live together. In fact, don't act like you even know me."

You felt a pang of hurt but masked it with a cool expression, "Don't worry, Heeseung. I have no intention of ruining your reputation."

Heeseung's smirk returned, "Good. Just keep to yourself, and we'll be fine."

With that, he stepped aside, letting you pass. You walked down the hallway, feeling a mix of emotions. Living with Heeseung was already challenging, but pretending like you didn't know each other at school was going to be even harder.

As you walked out the door, you couldn't help but wonder why he cared so much about what others thought. But one thing was clear: you were determined to survive this, no matter how difficult Heeseung made it.

Classes slowly came along, you hated how tired you already were. But one thing for sure is that it was the walking this morning. You had to walk to school while Heeseung just drove right past you with his expensive car, not even offering to ask if you wanted a ride to the same damn school.

When it finally came to lunch you decided to go to the library, a place where you could immerse yourself in books and escape the chaos of high school life.

You were hunched over a thick biology textbook, diligently taking notes when you heard the familiar sound of giggles and whispers. You tried to ignore it, but the voices grew louder until they were impossible to tune out.

"Look at her, always with her nose in a book," One of the girls sneered. "Does she think she’s better than us?"

You kept your eyes on your notes, hoping they would get bored and leave. But they didn’t.

"Hey, nerd," Another girl said, leaning over your table and blocking your view, "Do you even have a life outside of studying?"

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, “I’m just trying to study. Can you please leave me alone?"

The girls laughed, and one of them snatched your notebook, “Oh, look at this! She’s taking notes like a good little student."

You reached out to grab your notebook back, but they held it out of reach, teasing you. Just then, you saw Heeseung walk past the library entrance. Your heart leaped with a strange mix of hope and anxiety. Surely, he would help you. After all, you shared a house, even if he pretended you didn’t exist at school.

"Heeseung!" you called out, your voice wavering slightly.

Heeseung paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours. But instead of coming to your aid, he simply looked away and continued walking, as if you were invisible.

The girls burst into laughter again, "Even Heeseung doesn’t care about you. How pathetic."

You felt a lump form in your throat, but you refused to cry in front of them. Summoning all your strength, you snatched your notebook back and gathered your things, leaving the library as quickly as you could.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You couldn’t focus in class, your mind replaying the humiliating scene over and over. When the final bell rang, you headed home, determined to confront Heeseung.

You found him in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. "Heeseung, we need to talk," You said, your voice firm.

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, “What’s up, nerd?"

You took a deep breath, "Why didn’t you help me today? You saw those girls making fun of me, and you just walked away."

Heeseung shrugged, closing the fridge door, "Not my problem."

Your frustration boiled over, "How can you say that? We live together, Heeseung. You could have at least said something to them."

Heeseung leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, "Look, what happens at school stays at school. I’m not your babysitter. Deal with your own problems."

You stared at him, disbelief and hurt washing over you, "Is that really how you feel? That I’m just a problem?"

Heeseung’s expression softened for a brief moment, but he quickly masked it with indifference, "Yeah, pretty much."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, "Fine. If that’s how it is, then don’t expect anything from me either."

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Heeseung standing in the kitchen. As you retreated to your room, you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal.

You had always known Heeseung was a popular person but also bad at the same time, for his rebellious nature, skipping classes, and getting into trouble, but you had hoped there was more to him. Today, he had shown you exactly who he was, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You were glad tomorrow was the weekend which meant you can just sleep all the embarrassment away from today. You quickly changed and went right to sleep, not even bothering to take off your glasses.

The morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake, feeling unusually refreshed. As you reached for your glasses, you noticed they were perfectly set on the nightstand. Confused, you distinctly remembered falling asleep with them on.

You slipped on your glasses and made your way downstairs, the aroma of breakfast guiding you. Entering the kitchen, you saw your mom chatting with Mr. Lee, but there was no sign of Heeseung.

“Good morning, sweetheart," Your mom greeted you with a smile.

“Morning, Mom," You replied, still puzzled, "Did you take off my glasses last night?"

She shook her head, looking just as confused, “No, I didn't. Maybe Heeseung did before he left with his friends?"

Your eyebrows furrowed more. Heeseung came into my room? You shook your head and gave your mom a tight smile. Whatever she was thinking had to be wrong. Not after what happened last night.

Your mom then got up and exscused herself to the restroom. You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the breakfast your mom had prepared. Mr. Lee joined you, sipping his coffee and looking thoughtful.

"Did Heeseung ever get a chance to talk to you?" he asked casually.

You hesitated for a moment, the best you could do is lie after anything that’s happening between you, "No, we didn't have time to talk."

Heeseung's dad sighed, shaking his head. "That boy... He never wants to talk to anyone aside from me and his close friends. It's like he's in his own world sometimes."

Hearing this, you felt a pang of guilt for lying. You knew Heeseung was reserved, but it hurt seeing that his father noticed that too.

“I-I mean we say our hi’s and byes. We just don’t really have a full conversation.” You spoke.

His father nodded, “I’m just hoping you talk to him soon. I’m not trying to put any pressure on the two of you, but Heeseung has always done bad things after my divorce with my ex wife. He’d always go out doing bad stuff and getting in deep trouble. Then he’d go partying and drinking and come back home late. I feel like if you guys talked he’d understand on your side that it’s not just about messing up your life for the worse.”

You stared at him pitful. Maybe if you could try to talk to Heeseung about everything with his dad it could help, but then again it’s not your problem to fix.

“I understand where your coming from Mr. Lee. I’ll try to talk to Heeseung more often.” You smiled softly. Mr. Lee smiled back grateful. Your mom soon came back as you all continued eating your food.

The sun began setting when you decided to finally leave your room after studying for so long. You tiptoed downstairs and headed to the living room. There you saw Heeseung playing video games on the big TV yelling at his friends.

“Dude what the fuck? I said left dumbass!” He shouted. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen and grabbed a snack. You took a piece of candy bar and chewed on it while heading back upstairs while hearing Heeseung cuss out his friends.

You shut the door and grabbed your phone as you sat on your bed. You scrolled through social media for a while when all of a sudden your door slammed open. Your eyes widened when you saw Heeseung looking angrily at you.

His eyes widened when he saw you holding something, “Hey! Did you just steal my candy bar?"

You looked up, then looked down at the candy that was already almost gone. Feeling a bit guilty but also defiant, “I was hungry and it was just sitting there."

Heeseung frowned, clearly upset, "That was mine! I was saving it for later."

"I'm sorry, Heeseung. I didn't think you'd mind. I'll get you another one." You reasoned, but Heeseungs ant having any of it.

Before he was gonna rant, he suddenly stopped himself, “I don’t want another one.” He suddenly said.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “T-Then what do you want?” You stuttered. You mentally slapped yourself from how nervous you sounded. Heeseung didn’t say anything and suddenly walked to you, pushing you on your bed. You let out a gasp and stared up at him on top of you.

“Heeseung what are you-“

“Shut up.” He cut you off. You felt his breath on your face. You lay frozen underneath him, waiting for his next move. He took one of his hands and rubbed along your leg making you jolt.

“Hee-“

“I said shut up.” He snapped. You immediately shut your mouth. He then lowered his head on your neck. You felt his hot breath hitting your cold neck. Your eyes shot wide when you felt him lay a soft kiss on it.

“What if I wanna taste something sweeter?” He mumbled in your neck. You let out a whimper when he suddenly squeezed your leg tight. You shut your eyes closed when he finally lifted his head back up, staring right at you.

You waited, but nothing came. Instead you felt his weight get off of you making you slowly open your eyes. You saw him on the side of your bed, with his half eaten candy bar in his hand.

“Next time ask.” Was all he said before leaving your room, slamming it shut. You finally let go of the breath you were holding on to and held your chest.

What the fuck just happen.

After that incident you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the night. You didn’t wanna see Heeseung after what happened. You were deep into your late-night study session when a faint noise downstairs caught your attention.

Curious and a bit concerned, you quietly made your way down the stairs. The sight of Heeseung, dressed in his usual bad boy attire and slipping on his leather jacket, stopped you in your tracks.

"Heeseung, where are you going?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung glanced at you, his expression unreadable, "It's none of your business," He replied curtly.

You frowned, sensing something was off. "I know you're going to a party. You shouldn't go. What if your dad finds out?"

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head, “I don't care what he thinks. I need to get out of here."

You stepped closer, your concern growing, "Please, Heeseung. It's not worth the trouble. You know how much your dad worries about you."

Heeseung paused, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. For a second, you thought he might reconsider. But then he turned away, determination in his stride, "I'll deal with it," he muttered before heading out the door.

You stood there, feeling a mix of worry and helplessness, hoping that Heeseung would stay safe and that one day he might understand how much people cared about him.

You didn’t get how he turns so fast from you. The mix emotions he gives you that leaves you a mess. Has he always had that impact on someone? You went back upstairs deciding to just leave it alone. Besides, he’ll never listen to you.

After few hours of thinking and worrying for Heeseung you finally were able to go to sleep. The house was silent and dark, when you heard the creak of your bedroom door. Groggily, you opened your eyes to see Heeseung stumbling into your room. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were unfocused.

"Heeseung? What are you doing here?" You asked, sitting up in bed.

Without a word, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, his head resting on your pillow, "I just... I needed to see you," He slurred, his voice thick with alcohol.

You frowned, worried about his state, "You shouldn't be here. You need to sleep it off."

Heeseung ignored your concern, his eyes half-closed, "You know, you're always so... so smart. I wish I could be like you. Those fuckers.. don’t know what their talking about," He mumbled, his words tumbling out in a disjointed stream.

Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Shocked, you froze for a moment before instinctively slapping him.

Heeseung pulled back, a hurt look in his eyes. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, getting up and stumbling out of the room.

You sat there, your heart racing, trying to process what had just happened. You didn’t know what came over you to slap him. You then touch your lips. His faint soft lips printed on yours. It then hit you, he was your first kiss.

The next morning, you woke up feeling groggy and disoriented. The events of the previous night played on a loop in your mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. As you walked down the hallway, you saw Heeseung approaching from the other end. Your heart raced, and you felt a wave of panic wash over you.

Heeseung walked past you without a second glance, as if nothing had happened. Confused and hurt, you turned to confront him, "Heeseung, about last night..."

Heeseung stopped and looked at you, his expression blank, “What about last night?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“You- don’t you remember?" you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Heeseung frowned, shaking his head, "I don't remember anything from last night. I was pretty out of it."

His words felt like a punch to the gut. You had been so affected by what happened, but to him, it was just a forgotten moment in a drunken haze. Feeling a mix of frustration and sadness, you walked away to the restroom, trying to push the memory to the back of your mind.

How could he forget that? Now you're the only one to remember the mess he had made. You did your usual in the bathroom and came out. You didn’t Heeseung anywhere and went back to your room. Maybe going on a walk would be fine to clear the head. As you finished getting dressed, you opened your door and headed downstairs.

You didn’t noticed Heeseung anywhere and put on your shoes before heading out the door. As you stepped outside, you saw him playing basketball in the driveway.

Heeseung glanced up, noticing you, "Where are you going?" he asked, pausing his game.

"For a walk," You replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He simply nodded and went back to his game, the sound of the ball bouncing echoing in the quiet morning. You continued walking, but your mind kept drifting back to the way he had kissed you. The memory was vivid, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't shake it off.

Each step you took seemed to bring back a fragment of that moment, making it harder to move on. You felt a pang of longing mixed with the hurt of knowing he didn't remember. The walk, meant to be a distraction, only made you more aware of the emotions you were trying to escape.

You came back a few minutes later, it was just a walk around the neighborhood anyways. Heeseung was still playing, not paying any mind to you. You walked past him and went inside. You decided to do your studies in the kitchen.

You went upstairs to grab your essentials before coming back down and sitting at the kitchen table, buried in a pile of homework. Heeseung soon came inside and sauntered in the kitchen. He grabbed an apple, and sat across from you. He watched you intently, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Why do you always have your head in a book? Don't you ever do anything fun?" he asked, taking a bite of the apple.

"Studying is fun for me," you replied curtly, not looking up.

Heeseung laughed, "You really are something else."

You rolled your eyes, “At least I don’t go out partying and getting drunk and coming back and doing the unthinkable.”

Heeseung stopped chewing and stared at you with an unreadable expression. It was silent for a few minutes and that’s when you were gonna apologize but he beat you to it.

“Did I bring my girlfriend over yesterday?” He whispered. You paused and looked at him. He has a girlfriend? You felt your mouth go completely dry.

Heeseung has a girlfriend. When the hell did he had a girlfriend? That’s when it finally came to you. Heeseung has a girlfriend, and he kissed you. Heeseung noticed your shocked face and waved his hand in front of your face, “Nerd? You there?” He said.

“Y-You have a girlfriend?” You questioned.

Heeseung frowned before nodding, “Haven’t told my dad though since he would freak out, but now that I’ve brung her over it’s fine.”

He thinks he brung her over last night. He really doesn’t remember anything, you thought.

“No you didn’t bring her over Heeseung, “ You didn’t know if it was even okay to say anything at this point, “I-I was talking about what you did with me-“

“Y/n sweetie were heading out can you lock the door?” You mom yells from the living room. You gasped, completely forgetting that your mom and Mr. Lee were even home.

“Coming!” You yelled back. You ignored Heeseungs look and went to your mom in the living room. She kissed your cheek before shutting the door. You locked it and headed back to the kitchen.

You noticed Heesueng looked deep in thought. You slowly walked over to him, “Heeseung-“

"Forget about last night," He said abruptly, his voice lacking its usual edge.

You blinked, taken aback, "What do you mean?"

Heeseung's eyes shifted away from yours, "Just forget it happened," he repeated, more firmly this time. Without waiting for a response, he got up from his seat and walked away, leaving you alone with a whirlwind of emotions.

You decided to shake it off and bury yourself in your homework, but his words kept coming back. Each time you tried to focus on a math problem or a history chapter, your mind wandered back to the way he said it so causally. It was impossible to concentrate, and your frustration grew with each passing minute.

As night fell, you heard the familiar sound of Heeseung's laughter outside. You looked out the window and saw him heading out with his friends, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. You didn’t even hear him leave. The sight of him leaving made your heart sink. A mix of anger and sadness welled up inside you, he really doesn’t learn.

The next morning, something felt off. You woke up and immediately went to Heeseungs room. You knocked on the door about five times before opening it, that’s when you noticed that Heeseung's bed was untouched. Panic started to creep in as you realized he hadn't come home. You tried to rationalize it, telling yourself that he might have crashed at a friend's place. But the nagging worry wouldn't go away.

As you made your way downstairs, you were greeted by Mr. Lee. His eyes were filled with concern, and you could tell he had noticed Heeseung's absence as well. "Did Heeseung mention anything to you last night? He didn’t come home last night or today." he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing. You knew you should tell him the truth, that Heeseung had gone out and hadn't come back. But something held you back. Maybe it was a sense of loyalty to Heeseung you didn’t know of, or perhaps a fear of getting him into trouble, "No, nothing happened," You lied, forcing a smile, “He probably just stayed over at a friend's place."

Heeseung's dad didn't look convinced, but he nodded, seemingly accepting your explanation. You quickly grabbed your bag and headed out the door, eager to escape the tense atmosphere.

School felt like a blur. You couldn't focus on your classes, your mind constantly drifting back to Heeseung. You scanned the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight. Each passing hour only intensified your worry.

By lunchtime, you were a bundle of nerves. You sat alone at your usual spot in the cafeteria, poking at your food without any real appetite. The absence of Heeseung was worrying you like crazy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself checking your phone repeatedly, hoping for a message or a call from him. But there was nothing. The silence was deafening, and the worry gnawed at you like a relentless beast.

You knew you had to find him, to make sure he was okay. But where to start? Heeseung was a master at keeping his whereabouts a mystery, and you had no idea where he could be. The uncertainty was suffocating, and you felt utterly helpless.

As you walked home that evening, the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders. You couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened, something that had kept Heeseung from coming home.

Heeseung finally stumbled through the front door late at night, his usual nonchalant demeanor firmly in place. You had been sitting on the couch, unable to focus on anything but the worry gnawing at your insides. The moment you saw him, relief flooded through you, but it was quickly replaced by a mix of frustration and concern.

"Heeseung, where have you been?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He shrugged, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the stairs, "Out with friends. I'm going to bed," He said casually.

Before he could take another step, Mr. Lee appeared, blocking his path. "Heeseung, we need to talk," Mr. Lee said sternly.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, "Not now, Dad. I'm tired."

But his dad wasn't having it, "No, we're talking now. You can't just come and go as you please without any explanation."

The tension in the room was palpable as the argument escalated, “And who are you to stop me?” Heeseung snapped. You gasped at the way Heeseung said that to Me. Lee.

Me. Lee let out a deep breath through his nose, “I am your father Heeseung.”

Heeseung scoffed, “You lost that status the second you told mom you wanted a divorce.”

Everything else just felt faint to you. Voices were raised, accusations were thrown, and you could see the hurt and anger in Heeseung's eyes. Finally, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

You hesitated for a moment, watching as Mr. Lee went to sit on the kitchen table. You decided to follow Heesueng. You found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Without a word, you sat down next to him and gently placed a hand on his back. Heeseung looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a comforting embrace, “It's okay, Heeseung. I'm here for you," you murmured.

Heeseung finally let the tears fall, his body shaking with silent sobs. You held him close, offering what comfort you could. Gradually, the tension began to ease, and the exhaustion of the day caught up with both of you.

Eventually, you both lay down on his bed, still holding each other. As the night wore on, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a peaceful sleep, the worries of the day fading away in the warmth of both of your presence.

The next morning, you woke up early, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. You got ready for school, the house unusually quiet. As you walked into the kitchen, you were surprised to see Mr. Lee and your mom sitting at the table, sipping coffee and chatting.

"Good morning," you greeted them, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Good morning, dear," your mom replied with a warm smile, "Heeseung's in the shower. He'll be out soon."

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. You quickly got dressed and gathered your things for school. Just as you were finishing up, Heeseung emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and a towel slung over his shoulders.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than usual.

"Hey," you replied, trying to read his expression.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "Do you want a ride to school?"

You blinked in surprise. Heeseung offering to drive you to school was unexpected, especially after the tense night before. "Uh, sure. That'd be great."

As you walked to his car, you couldn't help but notice how different he seemed. The usual edge in his demeanor was softened, and he seemed genuine. The ride to school was quiet, but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence you had feared. Instead, it felt comforting.

When you arrived at school, Heeseung turned to you, "Thanks for being there last night."

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Anytime, Heeseung. Anytime."

Students watched as you and Heeseung got out of his cars. Whispers and chatters were heard around you, but you didn’t seem to care. Heeseung walked you to your class and bid you goodbye.

You didn’t know why Heeseung decided to change like this, but at the same time you weren’t complaining.

The school day went by fast to you. You didn’t see Heeseung at lunch, but decided to ignore it. You stepped out of the school gates and saw Heeseung. He made eye contact with you. You slowly walked over to him confused.

“Are you waiting for someone?” You asked him. He nodded his head and tilted it.

“I was waiting for you.” He spoke. Your eyes widened.

“Me? Why?” You mumbled. It was more like a question to yourself than him.

“Cause I can? Come on I’m getting tired. Feels like I’ve been standing here for ages.” He said. You guilty got into the car.

The car ride was silent when you guys got back. You and Heeseung both got out of his car, shutting it with slam. As you were gonna go to the door Heeseung suddenly grabbed your wrist. Your eyebrows furrowed as you look at him.

"I need your help," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "My dad owes me an apology, and I think you can help me get it."

You were taken aback. Was that why he was being nice to you? You didn’t know what to feel.

“Is that why you were nice to me today?” You mumbled, feeling somewhat offended.

Heeseung shook his head confused, “Of course not. I was being nice because of what you did yesterday. No one has ever done that before.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, you began to think that maybe, just maybe, Heeseung was more than his bad boy facade.

“Okay, I’ll help you.” You said. Heeseung gave you a sweet smile that made your feel some type of way. Nonetheless, you gave him a smile back.

Over the next few days, Heeseung's behavior changed. He started doing small, nice things for you—making you coffee in the morning, helping you with your chores, and even engaging in conversations about your interests.

You couldn’t help but notice how when he listened to you, he had a look in his eyes that made your heart race. How he listened to every last detail you’d tell about anything. How he makes comments about little things about you that you’ve never mentioned to him or anyone else. You felt like Heeseung was actually making a change towards you.

On the other hand, you gave out advice for him to follow to make his dad apologize, like suggesting he have an honest conversation about his feelings. Surprisingly, Heeseung took your advice to heart.

Finally, the day came when Heeseung confronted his dad about everything. It didn’t come as easy though.

“Heeseung, I want you to understand the importance of this family. I know we all don’t understand you the way your mom did, but I’m willing to make an effort to show you to see the good side of life.” Mr. Lee said. You noticed Heeseung was a lot calmer than the last time. While on your end, you were praying to god nothing breaks out into fits of anger.

“I know, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how our family used to be. I miss how we we used to be.” Heeseung whispered the last part under his death.

You watched how Mr. Lee's face went from upset to sad. You felt bad that you couldn’t step in and comfort. The moment those two words fell out, Mr. Lee lips, for the first time you saw a glimmer of vulnerability in Heeseung's eyes. They hugged and departed from each other. Mr. Lee gave you a knowing nod with you smiling back.

Heeseung looked over at you and gave you a small smile. That was the first time he ever smiled at you. You gave a him a big smile back with a thumbs up. Just as you thought everything will finally get better, you soon found out how wrong you were.

Later that night, Heeseung, having achieved his goal, didn't stick around to celebrate with you. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and headed out to a party, leaving you standing alone in the house, feeling used and betrayed.

You sat on the couch, staring at the door he had just walked out of, wondering if any of the kindness he had shown you was real or just a means to an end. The realization stung, but it also made you stronger.

Instead of letting him leave like that, your only thought was to follow him. You knew where he was going after hearing a phone call with his friend about a party that was happening later today. You grabbed your moms keys and left the house. You knew the address since you also overheard when his friend was on speaker.

You had never been to a party before, and tonight, you decided to see for yourself what drew him away so often. The party was at a house a few blocks away, already throbbing with loud music and laughter. You hesitated at the doorway, but your determination pushed you inside.

The atmosphere was overwhelming, a stark contrast to your usual quiet evenings. You scanned the room for Heeseung, hoping to catch a glimpse of him amidst the chaos.

As you navigated through the crowd, you accidentally bumped into someone. You groaned and looked up. Your eyes widened when you saw it was one of Heeseung's friends, Park Sunghoon. He was tall, with a smug smile that made you instantly freeze, "Hey, aren't you that nerd that was with Heeseung that one day? What are you doing here?" he questioned.

You straightened your posture, trying to muster some confidence, "It's none of your business why I'm here," you replied, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach.

Sunghoon let out a deep chuckle before leaning on the wall. You weren’t gonna lie and say he didn’t look attractive doing that, “Right. None of my business. So did you just come here to get a quick fuck?”

You gasped at his sentence, “W-What? No! I-I was here just because I can!” You stuttered. Sunghoon smug smile never left when he suddenly leaned towards you. Both of your face close to each other.

“You know, if you ever wanna have fun, you know where I’m at. Heeseung doesn’t need to know.” Sunghoon whispered. Even though the music was booming loudly, you could still hear him from how close he was to you. His breath smelling like alcohol and somewhat of a minty smell.

Just as you were about to walk away, Heeseung suddenly appeared beside him. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of recognition. But then, his expression turned cold.

“What are you doing Sunghoon?" He coolly asked, acting like you aren’t there. Sunghoon backed away from you and gave Heeseung a pat.

“Nothing man. Just talking to this nerd. You know her right?” Sunghoon teased. He knew the answer, but to your confusion he still asked.

Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, "No idea who she is," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Feeling a mix of embarrassment and hurt, you turned on your heel and pushed your way through the crowd, desperate to escape.

Thats when the tears stung your eyes as you made your way back to the apartment. The night air was cool against your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest.

You reached your car, fumbling with the keys. You finally managed to unlock the door and slid into the driver's seat, resting your head on the steering wheel. The sound of the passenger door opening startled you. You looked up, eyes widening as Heeseung climbed in beside you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion.

Heeseung leaned back in the seat, his expression unreadable, "Why were you at the party?" He asked, ignoring your question.

You looked away, not wanting to admit the truth, "I just wanted to see what it was like," You muttered.

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You don't belong in places like that," He said firmly, "Why didn't you just stay home?"

You clenched your fists, frustration boiling over, "Because I wanted to see you," You blurted out before you could stop yourself, "I wanted to understand why you always leave. How parties can make your worries disappear! Why you always switch out on me.” You voice cracking at the end.

Heeseung's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your cheek, "You don't always need to know everything about me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, Heeseung leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. Your heart raced as you melted into the kiss, feeling the barriers between your worlds begin to crumble. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You suddenly remembered about his girlfriend and pushed him away, “Heeseung your girlfriend-“

“I don’t wanna think about her right now.” He said. You gulped hard. You knew what you did was wrong, but seeing Heeseung so calm made you relax a bit.

He then looked at you again, “Let's go home," He said softly. You slowly nodded and started the car, exiting the driveway and leaving the loud house. The car ride was silent, with Heeseung staring out the window.

You averted your gaze to him from time to time, however not saying anything. When you guys finally got back you got out the car and headed to the door. You unlocked it, letting yourself in before Heeseung came in.

Just as you were about to say something Heeseung suddenly pinned you on the door, “Heeseung what are you-“

He cut you off and kissed you harshly. You let out a gasp when he nibbled on your bottom lip. He then entered his tongue in your mouth. You squirmed feeling his hot tongue swirling with yours. It all felt too hot. You moaned when he roughly gripped your hips.

The thought of his girlfriend completely washed away when he broke the kiss with both of your salivas connecting at your lips. He didn’t waste a second, grabbing your wrist and taking you to his room. Heeseung's eyes glinted with mischief as he led you to his room, his grip firm yet oddly gentle.

It was the second time going to his room, this time with him with you. The contrast between his tough exterior and the care he took in guiding you made your heart race. As you stepped inside, you couldn't help but notice how surprisingly neat his room was.

Your eyes wandered over the shelves lined with books, some of which you recognized from your own collection. A small, framed photo of a younger Heeseung with a genuine smile caught your eye, and you felt a pang of curiosity about the story behind it. The room was filled with little details that contradicted his bad boy image – a neatly made bed, a few potted plants, and a desk organized with precision.

Heeseung caught you staring and smirked, "Surprised?" He asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. You nodded, unable to hide your amazement. "There's more to me than meets the eye," He said, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it before.

You sat on his bed with him still standing in front of you. He then leaned down and pecked your lips before going on top of you as you lay on the sheets. He started trailing kisses along your neck. You let out a quiet moan when you felt him starting to suck on your neck.

Heeseung grinned at your sensitivity and playfully bit your neck, making you squeak. You wrapped your arms instinctively around his neck. You mewled when you felt him grind on your cloth core. Everything felt too unreal to you.

“Fuck. I can practically feel your wetness.” He groaned. He took his hand and rubbed against your leg like the last time, but this time he slowly crept towards you core.

“H-Hee.” You whimpered. Hearing you already making a nickname for him made him hard. You let out a relief sigh when he finally rubbed against your heat. The pressure of pleasure floating in your body.

Heeseung bit his lip, suppressing a groan when he finally felt your wet shorts.

“Hee please.” You groaned. Heeseung smirked and stared at your facial expression. Mouth agape, eyes rolled back, hair messy, Heeseung knew he was gonna be a goner.

“What do you want princess?” He whispered. His voice husky and filled with lust. You felt yourself already creating a pool with the way he sounded.

“I-It feels weird Hee! Please do something.” You weakly stated. Something inside lit up in Heeseung hearing you say that.

A virgin is probably his most favorite thing when it comes to sex. He didn’t waste any time taking off your shorts. He let out a breath when he saw the wet patch on your underwear and lowered his body down.

Before you could ask what he was doing you suddenly felt a wet sensation on your underwear, “Oh god Heeseung!” You let out a cry and arched your back. Heeseung hummed and licked up and down on your slit. The feeling of pleasure was too much for you.

He stopped and looked up at you, “I wanna see you begging.” He breathed out. He slid off your underwear effortlessly revealing your glistening pussy. You tried covering yourself up but Heeseungs wasn’t having none of that. He pulled your legs apart roughly making you whine. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. The way his hard stare was on you.

“If I would’ve know your pussy looked this good I would’ve fucked you sooner.” He said. Your eyes went wide. Now your cheeks were definitely a crimson red. He lowered once again and didn’t give you a chance to say anything before he dipped his tongue inside.

You gripped the sheets at his sudden urgency and let out a loud moan. You didn’t know if your guys parents were home, but it was too late now. He licked your folds up and down, swirling his tongue around your bud. You gripped his locks and wrapped your leg around his head.

“Hee! Oh fuck!” You squealed. He cursed in your pussy and finally dipped his tongue in your hole. You couldn’t control any of your moans anymore. The sound of slurping and moaning bounced around his room.

You felt a weird pit in your stomach and thrashed around, “H-Hee I think I’m gonna- ah!” You moaned and jerked forward. Your orgasm coming quickly and hard. Your mouth went agape as you let out hard breaths feeling Heeseung lick everything up.

You squeezed his locks, feeling overstimulated. You tapped his head weakly, “H-Heeseung no more.” You rasped out. Heeseung finally stopped and licked his lips. Your cum on his chin, his eyes hazy and unfocused.

“How am I gonna fit?” He asked you. Your eyes widened. Shit, he really wanted to have sex with you. You started stammering random words while Heeseung stared at you. If he was gonna fuck you, you have to enjoy it too.

He cut off your rant by kissing you again. You immediately kissed him back, not feeling his fingers near your hole. You let out a scream when you felt his finger slowly enter you.

“Shh it’s okay. It’ll hurt for a quick second.” He muttered. You tried to get used to it, however the pressure was too much.

“H-Heeseung I can’t! It hurts!” You sniffled. Heeseung pampered you with kisses, trying to distract you. You looked so pretty when you cry.

“I know princess. It’ll feel good. I promise.” He reasoned. You panted hard when you suddenly felt your hole slowly getting used to it. Soon enough you were a moaning mess all over again.

“Another one. P-Please.” You dictated. Heeseung grinned and added his other finger. You let out a moan in pleasure feeling his long thick fingers stretching you out.

You felt another orgasm coming again, but Heeseung took his fingers out making you whine. He ignored you, his grin never coming off his face.

He took off his shirt revealing his body. You bit your lip seeing his toned body. You felt something poking you and looked down. There was his hard dick poking out of his pants. You whimpered when he moved it towards your pussy.

“You like what you see?” He teased. You slowly nodded, unsure what to say at that moment. He chuckled at your cuteness and kissed your temple.

You reached your hand unsure if you could touch him. He didn’t seem to mind and leaned in more. You rubbed his cloth dick slowly causing him to hiss. You felt a sudden confidence coming over you and stroked his dick faster. At this point you were practically jerking him off and he seemed to like it, or even loved it.

He pulled away suddenly making you furrow your eyebrows, “Is something wrong?” You mumbled, your brain in a haze.

“I don’t wanna cum like this.” He said. You blushed when he started unbuckling his pants and taking off his pants and boxers at the same time. Your mouth went dry seeing his dick for the first time. It was big.

Is that even gonna fit?

He groaned when he touched it and stroked it slowly. You watched him stroke his dick slowly, blushing and panting. He looked down at you, “Are you ready?”

You impatiently nodded, making him chuckle darkly. He lined his dick at your entrance before slowly pushing in. You felt the air knock out your lungs and gripped him tightly on his arms. He moaned at your tightness. Your whimpers and sniffles made him want to go right at it and fuck you hard.

“Fuck, can I move now princess?” He hissed. You shut your eyes and slowly nodded. He started at a slow pace, watching your every expression to make sure you're not hurting anywhere. Once he sees your face turning from pain to pleasure he picked up his pace faster.

The sound of hard skin slapping heard in his room. You felt dizzy with pleasure with the way he pounded in your pussy, “Oh fuck.” You whimpered.

“Feel good princess?” He asked. You frantically nodded your head. He sighed feeling you clench around him.

“M’gonna cum Heeseung.” You panted out. Heeseung hummed and buried his face in your neck, the feeling making you ticklish. You felt your orgasm coming and scratched onto his back. You bit Heeseung neck feeling your orgasm hitting you. Heeseung let out a pained moan and came after you.

You both panted unevenly and hard. Heeseung slowly pulled out and fell right next to you. You stared up at the ceiling rethinking everything. You had sex with Lee Heeseung, the schools bad boy. The one who made you feel like you were worthless.

Your thoughts were cut off when you felt a strong arm wrap around you. You looked up at Heeseung and saw him also in thought. The silence was somewhat comforting while also heavy. Heeseung nuzzled against the top of your head and sighed.

You slowly felt your eyes get heavy feeling his warmth accompanying you into slumber.

Heeseung looked down when he suddenly heard little snores coming out of you. He stared at your lips and leaned down, giving them a soft peck. Besides, it was gonna be the last time he would feel them.

You woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, feeling disoriented. As you slowly sat up, you realized you were in an unfamiliar bed. Panic surged through you until you recognized the room – Heeseung's room. The events of last night hit you like a truck, but you distinctly remembered the heated moment that had led you here.

Looking around, you noticed Heeseung was nowhere in sight. Your heart pounded as you spotted a neatly folded note on the pillow beside you. With trembling hands, you picked it up and read:

Had to head to school early. See you there. - Heeseung.

You sighed, a mix of relief and frustration washing over you. Gathering your things, you quickly got ready and made your way to school, your mind racing with thoughts of what had transpired.

As you entered the school grounds, you spotted Heeseung almost immediately. He was leaning against a locker, surrounded by his usual group of friends, exuding his typical bad boy aura. His laughter echoed down the hallway, and you felt an inexplicable pang in your chest.

But what shocked you the most was the girl under his arms, giggling as she whispered something in his ear making him smile. You stood there watching the scene unfold. Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment. His expression shifted from amusement to something unreadable as he watched you.

Suddenly, the memories of last night came flooding back – the new side he shown you yesterday, the intimate moment you guys had together.

Feeling overwhelmed, you quickly looked away and walked past him, determined to ignore him. You could feel his gaze burning into your back, but you kept your head down, focusing on getting to your locker.

Throughout the day, you couldn't shake the feeling of Heeseung's eyes on you. Every time you glanced his way, he was watching, a mix of amusement and something else in his eyes. It was as if he was silently pleading for you to acknowledge him, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him.

During lunch, you found a quiet corner in the library to gather your thoughts. The events of last night played over and over in your mind. Heeseung had been so different – so real. But now, in the harsh light of day, it was easier to retreat behind your walls and pretend it hadn't happened.

As the final bell rang, you gathered your things and headed out, hoping to avoid any further encounters. But as you stepped outside, you saw Heeseung waiting by the gate, his expression serious.

"Nerd," he called out, his voice coming out more firm than usual, "We need to talk."

You hesitated, torn between your instinct to flee and the curiosity gnawing at you. Finally, you took a deep breath and walked over to him, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

“what do you wanna talk about?” You questioned, knowing full well what he wanted to talk about. He knew you weren’t stupid.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t and that you would do it again if you could. To tell him that you feel something for him that you’ve never felt with anyone else, but reality came to you that he still has a girlfriend, and that your parents are getting married soon, "Yes," You replied, your voice trembling, "I regret it."

Heeseung's face fell, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair, "I figured," He muttered, "I agree... I just needed to know from your point of you. No hard feelings?”

You nodded your head, holding your tears in, “Agreed.”

After that conversation, you made a conscious effort to avoid him. It wasn't easy, especially when you saw him with his girlfriend, laughing and holding hands. Each time, it felt like a knife to your heart, but you kept your distance, knowing it was for the best.

Despite your efforts, you couldn't help but notice the change in Heeseung. He seemed more distant, more withdrawn. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a quiet facade that you couldn't ignore. He stopped speaking to you for once, walking right past you whenever you’d see him anywhere in the house. He wouldn’t add sarcastic comments towards your way anymore. He still went to parties and hang outs as usual, but he was a lot more aggressive than usual when he came home drunk.

Days turned into weeks, and you tried your best to avoid him. You buried yourself in your studies, hoping the memory would fade. But every time you saw Heeseung with his girlfriend, a pang of guilt and regret twisted in your chest.

Or when you would hang out with your mom and Mr. Lee it reminded you exactly why you’re there. Because they were getting married. How would they react when they would’ve found out there kids fucked each other? You didn’t wanna know.

It was like any other day with you reading in the living room. You were almost done with a chapter when you suddenly heard a knock at the door. You didn't think much of it until you heard voices—familiar voices. Curiosity got the better of you, and you opened the door revealing Heeseung's girlfriend, Karina, and his friends Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay.

"Hey, can we come in?" Jake asked, though it seemed more like a statement than a question. You nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

You heard footsteps coming downstairs and was greeted by Heeseung, “Baby!” Karina smiled and went to hug Heeseung. He hugged her back just as tightly.

“Hey baby, I didn’t know you were coming too.” Heeseung chuckled. Karina gave him a teasing smile in return.

“Well I haven’t seen you since yesterday so I decided to come over!” She chimed. Heeseung seemed to be ignoring you completely, his attention focused on his girlfriend.

You were cut off with your thoughts when Heeseungs friends all greeted you with a mix of politeness and indifference, but Sunghoon gave you a knowing smirk.

They made their way upstairs, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Heeseung didn't even glance your way, and you felt a pang of something—was it disappointment? You shook it off, returning to the living room with your book.

A little while later, there was a knock on the wall. You looked up to see Sunghoon standing there, leaning casually against the wall like he did the last time at the party.

"Hey," He said, his voice smooth and friendly, "Got a minute?"

You didn’t like where this was going. You nodded, putting down your book, “What's up?"

"There's this party later tonight," Sunghoon began, stepping closer to the couch you were sitting at. "It's gonna be pretty cool. I was wondering if you'd like to come with us."

You blinked, taken aback. A party? You remembered the last time and gulped. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

"I don't know," you said finally, "Parties aren't really my thing, especially from last time.”

Sunghoon smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Come on, it'll be fun. You might even enjoy yourself."

You bit your lip, still uncertain, "I'll think about it.”

"Fair enough," Sunghoon said, giving you a nod, "Just let me know."

He left, and you were alone with your thoughts. A party? With Heeseung and his friends? It seemed like a bad idea, but a part of you was curious. What would it be like to step out of your comfort zone again, even just for one more night?

As the hours passed, you found yourself thinking more and more about Sunghoon's invitation. Finally, you made up your mind.

You rifled through your closet, looking for something to wear. You settled on an outfit that was a little out of the ordinary for you—something that made you feel confident and a bit daring.

When you were ready, you took a deep breath and headed downstairs. it seemed as if Sunghoon was waiting for you, his eyes widening in surprise and admiration when he saw you.

"Wow," He said, a grin spreading across his face, "You look amazing."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Thanks."

He offered you his arm, and you took it, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. As you walked out the door, you didn’t notice a certain someone watching the scene unfold in front him.

You decided to drive with Sunghoon since he insisted and made your way to the party.

The night was electric with the buzz of excitement as you stepped into the party, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves. You adjusted your glasses and smoothed down your dress, feeling slightly out of place among the throngs of people. Sunghoon was by your side, his easy smile putting you at ease.

"Come on, let's dance," He said, taking your hand and leading you to the dance floor. The music was loud, the bass thumping through your body as you moved to the rhythm. Sunghoon's presence was comforting, his laughter infectious as he twirled you around.

As you danced, you couldn't help but notice Heeseung across the room. He was leaning against the wall, his arm draped around Karina’s shoulder. His eyes, however, were fixed on you and Sunghoon. There was a dark intensity in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. You tried to ignore it, focusing on the fun you were having with Sunghoon.

But the more you danced, the more you felt Heeseung's eyes on you. It was unsettling, and you found yourself glancing his way more often than you intended. Karina seemed oblivious, chatting animatedly with her friends, but Heeseung's attention never wavered.

"Hey, you okay?" Sunghoon asked, noticing your distraction.

"Yeah, I'm fine," You lied, giving him a reassuring smile. "Just a bit hot in here."

"Let's get some air," He suggested, leading you outside to the patio. The cool night air was a welcome relief, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

Sunghoon leaned against the railing, looking at you with concern, "You sure you're okay?"

You nodded, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn't stop thinking about Heeseung. The way he looked at you, the way he seemed to be watching your every move. It was driving you crazy.

Before you knew it, you found yourself leaning in and kissing Sunghoon. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, a desperate attempt to get Heeseung out of your mind. Sunghoon was surprised but didn't pull away, his lips soft and warm against yours.

But the kiss didn't have the desired effect. Instead of forgetting about Heeseung, you felt his gaze burning into you even more intensely. You pulled away from Sunghoon, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion.

"Sorry," you mumbled, not sure what else to say.

Sunghoon looked at you with a mix of surprise and concern, "It's okay. Are you sure you're alright?"

Before you could answer, you felt a strong hand grab your arm. You turned to see Heeseung, his expression dark and angry, “We need to talk," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

He didn't give you a chance to respond, pulling you away from Sunghoon and into the house. You stumbled after him, your heart pounding in your chest. He led you upstairs to a quiet room, closing the door behind him.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded, his eyes blazing with anger.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," He said, stepping closer, “You and Sunghoon."

You looked away, unable to meet his intense gaze, "It's none of your business."

Heeseung grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, "It is my business," he said, his voice low and dangerous, “You think you can just kiss him and I'll be okay with it?"

You felt a surge of defiance. "Why do you care? You have a girlfriend."

Heeseung's grip tightened, his eyes flashing with anger, “You think I care about her? The only reason I'm with her is because I can't have you."

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Anger, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite identify, "Then why didn't you ever say anything?"

Heeseung let go of your chin, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "Because I'm an idiot. All these fucking feelings I’ve been feeling pisses me off. Were too different for each other. Which is why I also thought you'd never be interested in someone like me."

You took a step back, trying to process everything, "And now?"

Heeseung looked at you, his expression softening, "Now I can't stand the thought of you with someone else."

You felt your resolve melting, the anger and confusion giving way to something else. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Fuck it. "Then show me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung didn't need any more encouragement. He closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate intensity. You melted into the kiss, all the pent-up emotions finally finding release.

You moaned into the kiss, letting his tongue entering your mouth. You didn’t know how much you missed this when he finally lay you on the bed. He didn’t waste time stripping off his clothes, still leaving you cloth. Before he could take your clothes off you stop him, “Wait a minute.”

Heeseung frowned. Did you wanted to stop already? He didn’t have time to think before you suddenly got up and kneel down. Oh shit. Heeseung stared at you in shock.

“Are you, doing what I think you’re doing?” He said, unsure if you were actually gonna do it. You nodded and bit your lip. His hard dick leaking precum. You slowly grabbed it and stroked it slow. Heeseung threw his head back feeling you squeeze around the tip and went faster.

“Shit! Wait.” He muttered. You ignored him and put the just the tip in your mouth. You hummed finally being able to taste him. Heeseung let out a drawn moan feeling your hot wet tongue.

He grabbed your head and gently pushed your head deeper down. You obliged obediently and went back and forth. You felt his dick tense slightly, letting it rest on your tongue.

“Ah hell. Why are you so good at this?” He questioned. You took his dick out your mouth and stroked it.

“Google.” You simply said. Heeseung couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. You smiled and went back to sucking his dick. He soon felt his climax coming and made you deep throat him.

You gagged a little but recomposed yourself and let him use you. You moaned when you felt his hot spurts of cum going down your throat. You made sure you swallowed every last drop before letting go with a pop.

You got back up and kissed him. He sighed into the kiss and pushed you back on the bed. He helped you take off your clothes and kissed along your chest. You whimpered when you felt him suck on one of your breast while fondling with the other.

You grabbed his hand and lead it down to your wet pussy, he rubbed it in circular motion.

“Please Heeseung put it in now. I can’t wait.” You ranted. Heeseung chuckled and slowly lined his dick at your entrance. He rubbed his dick alongside your folds making you mewl.

He finally entered inside you making you both moan in unison. He didn’t wait a second to let you get used to his size and went full speed. You moaned uncontrollably, not being able to hold back. Heeseung kissed you to make you a bit quiet.

“You’re so tight princess. Fuck, gonna breed this pussy dry.” He moaned. You nodded your head, long gone to even cooperate what he was saying. He grabbed both your legs and pushed them against you shoulders, having better access to fuck your hole.

You let out a cry when he hit your spot and arched your back. Heeseung smirked, not stopping his brutal pace on you. You felt your orgasm coming and bit your finger to stop yourself from being loud. Your orgasm came out long and drawn while Heeseung watched you unfold.

He gave out a few more thrust before cumming deep inside you. You let out pants and watched Heeseung take out his dick. He got up from the bed to the restroom and came back with a wash cloth.

He wiped the both of you off and helped you get dress. As you guys finished you finally looked at him.

“Heeseung, what are we?” You finally asked. Heeseung stared at you before giving you a small smile.

“Whatever you want us to be.” He replied. You bit your lip uncertain. He still had a girlfriend.

“Your girlfriend. What about her-“

“I broke up with her. Right when I saw you and Sunghoon leave to the balcony I knew you were the one.” He admitted. You felt your heart swell up and smiled.

“Then I want us to be together then Hee.” You whispered. Heeseung nodded and cupped your face.

“Whatever you want princess.” He said before giving you a peck. You then went back downstairs to the party and walked towards the exit. Before you left you saw Sunghoon talking to one of his friends.

You both made brief eye contact, but what surprise you was when Sunghoon gave you a smile and wink. You quickly felt yourself smiling back at him and waving bye.

You went inside Heeseungs car and buckled your seatbelt. Heeseung started the car while having his other hand on yours. You didn’t know what you guys were gonna do when you get home, but you knew you will sort things out tomorrow.

For now, you’ll enjoy this moment with his comfort surrounding you. And the love that was finally growing that you guys held out for so long.

[randomshyperson]

My Sweet Valentine - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Delayed in planning Valentine's Day, you and Wanda try to do something together. The spider routine ends up getting in the way, but that doesn't mean the date was lost.

Warnings: (+18) bottom!wanda, enchanted strap, creampie, fingering, dry humping, very fluff and domestic, established relationship, both r and w are briefly specified to be introverted. | Words: 3.206k

A/N-> I had this idea while I was rewatching Sound!Euphonium, I didn't catch the relation to it but I ended up writing this on my phone again so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes. It's always great writing Spider!Reader, I hope you enjoy it.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

To plan Valentine's Day with your girlfriend should be an easy thing. 

But for two Avengers who happen to be the most introverted antisocial people on earth - and those were Natasha's Romanoff words, not yours - the task could be really hard.

But it was you and Wanda's first Valentine's Day as a couple and you were really late on schedule.

While Natasha planned to have the most incredible and romantic trip to Greece with Maria and Tony and Pepper made reservations at some exclusive fancy Italian restaurant, you and Wanda were side to side laying on your apartment carpet. Trying to decide what you could do together by reading some flyers that were spread around the floor.

Wanda had one of the fancy restaurants in her hands when she suggested: “How about dinner?”

You gaze at the restaurant propaganda, recognizing the name and the building from your little web-swinging adventures.

“The Geller’s is nice but it will be really crowded during Valentine's. And we both hate when places are too full.” You reason, receiving an agreement sound. “Maybe we can ask for takeout?”

Wanda chuckles. “On Valentine's Day? Every place will mess up our orders, I'm sure of it. Places are normally understaffed, ordering food on holidays is like asking for them to mess up your food.”

You sigh deeply. “Yeah, you're totally right. So, maybe I can cook?”

She smiles. “We are going for food poisoning then, huh?” She teases making you chuckle with an expression of false offense. You playfully bumped your shoulder on hers but you don't move away after. The touch is warm and nice. “You cook then.”

“Yeah, but is not like we would find any free spots anywhere. We delay this way too much.” She mutters without sounding really upset. Her words were true, you both have been dancing around this date for almost three months now ever since Tony showed everyone his and Pepper's reservations. But neither of you was that anxious to be locked with another hundred couples in some loud restaurant with extra expensive and not-that-good food.

The restaurants were not the only thing discarded - Yelena and Kate's idea of a date, and band concerts were also politely declined. Mostly because neither you nor Wanda felt like facing a whole weekend of poor public hygiene and the crazy routine of musical festivals while babysitting Natasha's little sister who would definitely get really drunk with her girlfriend.

Steve was the one who suggested the most quiet and family thing, a road trip to the countryside. But since he was going with Bucky and you and Wanda didn't wish to be traumatized by their physical display of affection, their invitation was also declined.

Back on the floor of your apartment, you helped Wanda with the papers around the floor.

You were worried she would be upset about the lack of plans - even Sam with his eternal bachelor status was having a date night with some old colleague from the army. You worried that Wanda might think you're not excited to spend time with her when it is pretty much the opposite of it.

“You know, we don't really have to do anything just because everyone is doing.” You start, hands ready to catch the papers she's bringing. “We could just watch a movie.”

Wanda smiles, the papers are put in your hands but she doesn't move hers away.

“If you brought wine it would be like any other date night.”

“That's not a bad thing, right?” You retort immediately, eyes anxious towards hers. She frowns, a confused chuckle escaping her.

“No, I mean… you think that too right?”

You shrug; “I just want to spend Valentine's and any other day with you, Wands. What we are doing doesn't matter much.”

She smiles, coming closer to kiss you on the lips. But the kiss is quicker than you wished. One of her hands caresses your cheek as she speaks:

“Good to know, darling, 'cause I'll be watching you do the dishes tonight.”

You chuckle, rolling her eyes at her teasing but pouting when she escapes your attempt at a second kiss.

-&-

Valentine's Day is unfortunately a busy day for the spider.

It was true that you and Wanda didn't plan anything big but you wanted to bring her some flowers and her favorite chocolate but after fighting another dressed-up lunatic at the city hall and avoiding three different catastrophes, anything inside your backpack was definitely destroyed.

You swing back into your apartment with the mess of your gifts dripping to the floor. The wine bottle broke and soaked the chocolate and the poor flowers. Bye-bye to any college homework you forgot there.

Throwing the item at the sink, your body towards the couch was the second thing you threw. 

And against the soft pillows the day tiredness caught up at you. With the thought that you would rest your eyes for five minutes, you woke up hours later with the door locked.

Wanda's angry arrival was also an efficient clock.

“God, what is wrong with you? I've been calling you all day!” She slammed the door behind her, and the next second the day's newspaper was thrown at you. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? We have talked about this! You can't just fight some three-sized villain and vanish without a word! I thought-” But she stops herself, taking a deep breath when her voice cracks. You feel so terrible sorry. You know very well that Wanda has lost enough people for the whole ghosting thing to be too hard on her. Intentional or not. 

You get up. “Hey, I'm so sorry Wands, my phone broke and I came right here and closed my eyes for like two seconds. I'm sorry.” But Wanda shook her head, covering her eyes for a moment. She was not even that mad at you, it was clearly an accident that you forgot to call. But she has been so nervous all day worried about you that she needed a minute. Suddenly, she catches a glimpse of the wine-soaked flowers at the kitchen counter and frowns. “What is that?”

The slight indignation about the mess of an apartment you both worked hard to keep clean vanished the second she realized those were gifts.

You fixed your hair awkwardly. “Hm, I was trying to make a romantic gesture. But I forgot I'm always on some freak radar.”

Wanda's hands reached for the flowers and as gentle as her touch, her magic flowed from her fingers to take all the wine away. In no time, the petals were as beautiful and healthy as when you brought it.

“This is really not fair, darling.” She starts, moving to check the rest of the gifts. “You made it to the front page and I have every right to be mad you didn't call through the suit to let me know you're alive.” You wanted to mutter that you're still getting used to the new suit and its high-tech functions, but Wanda is turning at you again with crossed arms.

“It’s not fair, how hard you're making to stay mad at you.”

You gave her a lopsided smile. “So, you like the chocolate that much, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to contain her smile. “Why don't you go shower while I make dinner? There's grease from Rino's suit all over your face.”

You click with your tongue, swinging a little. “Let me guess, you not joining me at the shower is my punishment for not calling through the suit?”

She finally let that smile escape. “Clever girl.”

You chuckle to yourself before nodding and heading to the bathroom.

-&-

Forgotten dinner plates at the living room table when Wanda reached the chocolate box. She shared them with you during the sitcom marathon you too were doing but after finding yourself hypnotized by her laugh for the fourth time in a row, you gave up eating at all.

The last chocolate was put away when she caught you staring.

“What?” 

“What what?” You retort with a chuckle, having some pride over the soft blush of her cheeks.

“You were staring.” She says then, drifting her gaze from the TV to you with some resistance. You know her enough that it's because Wanda is terrible at hiding her own shyness under your loving glance. She always was. 

“Can you blame me?” Your teasing just makes her blush more. You just decide to make it worse. “You're simply too charming not to be looked at. So gorgeous, so pretty. I feel so lucky.”

“Stop it.” She giggles with rosy cheeks at your praise. But despite her words, she opens her arms as an invitation for you to come closer. You practically jump from your spot - a few centimeters from her since your last trip to the kitchen to grab sodas - and greet the warmth of her embrace.

Wanda hugs your body while you melt into her, the soft caress on your spine being more than enough to bring back your interrupted slumber that evening. But somehow you manage to stay wide awake, perhaps because the way you press your face into her boobs makes her giggle and playfully tug at your hair, which happens to have a completely different effect on you. 

Her body tenses up a little when your lips start sucking at her collarbone, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. You suddenly recall that it has been some time, a week maybe two since you had enough free time to be this close. 

Your lovely girlfriend probably missed you as much as you missed her.

The soft sucking turns into something more determined, then into a bite and a licking that turns Wanda into a panting mess. She grows restless under you, fingers tugging at your hair with some guidance towards your movements in her neck until finally, your mouth meets her again.

Hot open-mouthed kisses before softer ones. You kiss and she kisses you back until all of your clothes are disheveled around your bodies and she looks up at you with pleading eyes and slightly open lips. Begging for more.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” You suggest inches from her lips but she shakes her head, fingers dancing under your shirt.

“You can have me right here.” She whispers back, stealing all your coherent thoughts for a second. 

Your hands are shaking a bit with eagerness when you pull at your clothes, with Wanda's help they are off in no time. Her chest heaves when you take her top off and Wanda stares back while you can't seem to be able to look away from her tits.

“You good there?” She teases you breathlessly when your lack of action lingers. You chuckle, hands at her sides. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” You retort managing an affectionate roll of eyes from her.

“You're such a dork.” She giggles but purposely lifts her chest in your direction, making you swallow hard. When you don't take the bait immediately, she sighs. “I would love for you to more than stare, detka.”

You groan, hovering over her. “Well, your wish is my command, madam” You reply, leaning down to capture her lips. Teasing Wanda with soft bites on her lower lip every time you break the kiss before starting another turns her into a needy mess under you. She gets impatient very quickly and brings her hands to your cheeks, pulling you down with determination. Her tongue takes the lead in a heated kiss that takes all the air out of your lungs. 

Panting against her mouth while trying to match the intensity of her demand, you let your hands grope around her body towards her chest, effectively taking the lead again when you start playing with her hardened nipples and Wanda loses her ability to kiss you back.

When she whimpers into your mouth, her hips restless while your fingers pinch her cute tits, you chuckle. “Ah, is there something you want, baby?”

She struggles to speak firmly. "I need you to stop teasing and fuck me." You grunt at her answer. You would have obeyed immediately if you hadn't been able to feel Wanda shaking. She gasps as you adjust, your knee finding her middle and giving her something to grind against as you resume your actions on her breasts. She throws her head back, biting her lip hard as her hips move almost of their own accord.

It's a hot mess, her first orgasm of the night. You didn't even have to take off all her clothes. When Wanda shivers terribly, and you feel the wetness against your knee, you bite down at her tit and that makes her let out a muffled scream.

Wanda is panting and her face is very flushed when you look at her again, her expression satisfied after an intense orgasm.

You hum happily, moving your hands down as you tilt your face to kiss her on the lips. She gasps into your mouth when she feels your fingers draw a path through her ruined panties.

"You made such a mess, sweetheart." You whisper between one kiss and another, two digits pushing gently without even removing her underwear. Wanda arches toward you, squeezing your shoulders for something to hold on to. Her green eyes are completely dilated now and you love how they display a vulnerable begging. Pulling your fingers out again, you let your thumb draw circles on her covered clit and enjoy the way her thighs tremble around you. "Tell me what you want, Wanda."

She has a little difficulty responding while feeling you teasing her, but despite noticing her heartbeat against your fingertips, you don't interrupt your movements. If anything, they become even more determined. Wanda pants, hips trying to match the rhythm of your fingers.

"C-can we use the strap tonight?" She manages out of breath. "I like feeling you come inside me."

Your witch girlfriend's favorite toy is somewhere in the room, and given the busy schedule of two superheroes, it wasn't used as often as you would like. Wanda has barely suggested, and you're already nodding, panting aroused just imagining yourself stretching Wanda again.

But suddenly your fingers push the fabric out of the way, and you sink inside her without warning, ripping a moan from her throat.

"Give me one more first." You demand, watching as Wanda nods in near desperation, brow furrowed at her rapidly building orgasm. Your rhythm is brutal, and she squeezes and squeezes until you can barely push your fingers inside her. You bring your free hand to one of her thighs, forcing her open as you adjust to improve your reach. Wanda sees stars. She lets go of your shoulders to grab the cushions and ends up destroying half of them with magical expelling when she finally falls over the edge.

An impressed chuckle escapes you at the scene. You're usually the one responsible for destroying things with your spider strength - It's always nice to see Wanda lose some of the control she's fought so hard to have.

Kissing her softly, you feel her smile in some exhaustion. She needs a few seconds, so you pull out your fingers and suck them clean while green eyes watch you from below. Wanda wants to kiss you again, but you adjust to carry her on your lap, and after two orgasms in a row, she won't contradict you.

She feels the soft blankets against her back a moment later and relaxes fully into the bed as you move around the room working to find and put on the strap. It doesn't take more than two minutes, yet Wanda sighs impatiently before letting her hands roam her own body, pinching her breasts and teasing downwards. She bites her lip at the soaked state she finds herself in, tentatively collecting some of that moisture before hearing a husky laugh that makes her look up.

"You don't have to play alone, I'm right here." You let her know softly, but Wanda swallows at the sight of your naked figure and the enchanted hardness between your legs. Of all the things she learned to do, that honestly has to be her best spell. One of your hands grabs the silicone, instinctively or not, imitating the masturbation gesture that Wanda is making and she shudders to the tips of her toes, her body on fire. Her hand moves out of her panties immediately, raising it into the air in a beckoning gesture. You don't need to be told twice.

It's a breathless kiss when you reach her face again, equally eager to feel each other, there's a little war of pushing and pulling until Wanda feels completely pressed into the bed, the strap rubbing against her entrance.

You pull away when she whimpers - It's just to pull down her panties, and Wanda kicks the item away as you climb back up. Your mouth finds hers again so that when you align the strap and sink into her, you can swallow her moans.

The stretch is slow and careful, very different from the breathless way you were making out a few minutes ago. Wanda lets her nails dig into your lower back as you fight the urge to be rougher.

She gets used to the size very quickly, the creaminess of her previous orgasms making an obscene sound that makes her ears redden. You break the kiss to ask if she's ready and the only response you get is a determined throw of her hips up that registers her impatience.

In all quickies, you're always rough. Desperate to feel her, because you miss Wanda as much as she misses you, and in the rush, there's no time to prolong moments like this. But it's the first time in many months that you're relaxed, and you can thrust slowly and sensually inside Wanda, letting her feel every movement of your cock inside her warm walls as you kiss her and whisper praises in her ear.

Heat is spread under your skin, and sweat accumulates with the slow stimulation. You feel closer each time you sink inside her, and when Wanda starts whimpering in your ear, it feels like an impossible task to hold it.

"You're close?" You pant, hips starting to buckle. "I don't think… I can hold it anymore... Wands-" You choke, letting your face fall against her collarbone. The knot in your abdomen explodes without warning, and you moan deeply as you spill yourself inside Wanda, the enchanted strap vibrating inside her. It turns out that feeling you come was the push she needed, and Wanda sobs as she feels the blinding pleasure hit her, following you into climax a second later.

For a moment, all that can be heard in that room are your breathless sighs until your hoarse and satisfied chuckles emerge.

You remain inside her when you adjust so that you rest your elbows on the mattress and see her face.

"Hey, little witch."

She pushes back her sweaty hair with one hand, the other moving to rest on your neck. "Hey, spider."

Your nose brushes against hers. "I think we nailed Valentine's Day."

She giggles before pulling you for a kiss.

[morthstaar]

Please, PLEASE Tulpar crew x a very shy/introverted reader who is like crushing on the crew really hard but way too shy and embarrassed to tell them but like the crew starts to slowly catch on to them and the way they act different around them. Also I don't mean the crew as a whole I mean the separate characters 😭🙏🏽

ask and u shall receive 😈

-------------------------------------------------------

OH GOD, YOU CAN TELL?

----------------------------

Captain Curly

-oh.. curly knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that you had the biggest crush on him.

-there is no slow realization.

-not at all oblivious to it.

-everytime your eyes would seemingly uncontrollably and totally unconsciously drift to him he would try to meet your gaze with a friendly, boyish smirk.

-does that happen? HELL NAH. you are much too shy to even look the captain in the eye.

-your little heart almost beats out of your chest at any interaction. little or big.

-"Hey, just the person I needed to see. I have a little favor to ask you."

-oh god. suddenly words seem hard to pronounce and the entirety of the english language is no where to be seen.

-after a few weeks, curly would definitely find this endearing.

-i feel like since curly is so outgoing, he would be very intrigued by someone who is the complete opposite.

-curly wouldn't act much different when it comes to you, due to maintaining professionalism as his role as captain.

-he may due small acts like making a cake simply to indulge in your sweet-tooth that he somehow knew about you.

-"oh, we just had extra packets of sugar. i just thought id bake something. you like cake right?"

-cheeky motherfucker.

Intern Daisuke

-dude is so so so oblivious even though you make it perfectly clear...

-you could be making like.. making out with the guy and he'd be like,

-"yoo, we are literally besties right?"

-deadass, he prolly had no idea you liked him for weeks.

-you could be laughing extra loud at his jokes then realize ur laughing too loud, look at him while he isn't looking at you, sneak an extra sweetener packet on his bed when he isn't around,,,,

-his ass still is clueless.

-it takes either curly or swansea's help to realize that you had a massive crush on him but were just to shy to say something.

-once he realizes, he is now all over you and following you around like a lost puppy. not nonchalant at ALL.

-literally tries to pick up the polle statue to show his 'guns' but the statue moves only an inch..

-now he is hyper aware of your actions and reactions, he finds your shyness just SO CUTE WTFFF.

-compliments you to see what you would do.

-"man, have you always been this hot or is it just the sweetener talking?"

-runs away.....

-would steal sweetener packets just for you two to share :)

Nurse Anya

-i feel like she notices how different you act around her, but she just thinks its because you two are good friends.

-she never assumes anything, just her friend being friendly.

-even though you sometimes make it unintentionally obvious..

-like this one time you recommend her a book from your quarters library and her fingers lightly grazed yours reaching for it.

-oh shit. her soft hands touched yours. oh god what does a normal person do in this situation??

-"thank you for the-oh... book."

-well, they don't smile awkwardly, sweat pouring down their face and leave in a hurry with the book still in their hand.

-anya isn't stupid or completely oblivious by any means. she definitely knew from this encounter of your little crush on her.

-she is quite flattered honestly. someone so similar to her truly likes her?

-when she fully processes this information, she is very subtle with how she shows her affection back.

-during check-ups, she sometimes gives you a treat from one of her desk drawers for being a good patient.

-other times she lets you join her late at night in the lounge to just look at the pretty night time screen.

-"this makes me miss home. it's so beautiful."

-you'd look over at her and her eyes are not on the screen, far from it actually.

-her eyes are on you.

-so this is what a heart attack feels like..

Mechanic Swansea

-unpopular hot-take, swansea is actually a dilf and he often has younger men/women confess their feelings to him.

-so because of that headcanon, swansea definitely knows how you feel from the first time y'all met.

-your eyes would subconsciously peek at his open shirt revealing his chest. suspiciously, whenever he would look back, you quickly turn away shyly...

-he immediately thinks he is way to old for this shit. he just got out of a divorce and prolly never wanted to try again. especially with someone younger.

-"what is with this damn younger generation with old people.."

-he tries to avoid you even though you two are co-workers and.. work together. on the same ship.

-as weeks go by, your shyness starts to grow on this grumpy man. he... he thinks it's endearing in a sense..

-he rather likes how reserved you are, and how are aren't as loudmouthed as daisuke.

-he won't act much different to you, but according to the rest of the crew it is obvious.

-swansea leaves little sticky notes reminding you to eat or sleep because lets be honest.. you are quite neglectful, and the sticky note quotes,,

-"..the crew doesn't need you passin' out while doin' your job. so eat or i will make you."

-swansea is also much more soft-spoken with you than anyone else.

-he has never raised his voice or spoken down on you. his usual brashness and snarky remarks are now toned down (but not entirely) around you.

-"hey. i didn't say you had to leave, did i? stop puttin' words in my damn mouth and sit."

Co-captain Jimmy

-jimmy prolly doesn't even acknowledge you at first.

-you could be looking at him, thinking he doesn't know that your eyes are skimming over his face and body.

-oh but jimmy.. he does know,,, but he never shows that he does.

-he likes the attention on him. your eyes looking him over when she doesn't even know that he is soaking it up.

-im sorry but he definitely gets off to the fact that you are shy and get flustered easily.

-he loves how malleable and submissive you are due to your shyness. and he uses it to his advantage.

-he shows his affection strongly after he knows your crush.like sometimes he would purposefully follow you places and when you turn around he'd be like..

-"do you mind? you're in my way.."

-i feel like he wouldn't know how to properly express his feelings so he would be kind of unnecessarily mean and cruel.

-and after he would be mean he would be nice and extra affectionate so you would still like him.

-like you could be working on something and is critical about your work.

-"are you serious? tsk.. move, since you clearly cannot perform a basic task."

-then later he's like..

-"im glad someone on this ship is helpful, like you."

-basically, he purposefully plays with your feelings to get you to confess bc i feel like he likes when women come to him.....

[https-lvesick]

MY TOP TIER SMAU REC LIST!（ 𖹭 ）

PARK JISUNG (nct dream)

score that goal! [jisung] by @lqfiles

football player!jisung x fem!reader | genre ・ humour, football/sports au, fluff, some angst, pining and eventually mutual pining, probably slow-burn, college au, strangers to lovers | status ・ completed!

summary ・ after your college had announced that all the students were required to join a club and attend it twice a week, you were planning on either a) dropping out, or b) join the art club and pretend to be sick most of the times. that was before you discovered that park jisung is a long time member of the football team. change in plans: you LOVE football.

game on! [jisung] by @hyuckswoman

astronomy major!jisung x astronomy major!reader | genre ・ humour, crack, strangers to enemies to lovers, college au, slow burn, y/n prefers dying over admitting her feelings, jisung is lowkey mean at times.. | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ a story in which y/n finds herself meeting her roblox bestie in real life. turns out he’s not exactly everything she hoped for… who would’ve thought her nemesis park jisung would be user plumblossomer.

the bolter [jisung] by @lowkeychenle

idol!jisung x fem!reader | genre ・ SOCIAL MEDIA AU! :D suggestive, crack, funny haha stuff idk | status ・ completed!

summary ・ when you meet jisung, things are working behind the scenes, things you can't see and you don't acknowledge. can you overcome your metaphorical running in time for jisung to secure your heart?

drum me, stupid! [jisung] by @jirsungs

drummer!jisung x fem!reader | genre ・ college au, social media au (some chapters will be written though!), music band au, slight enemies to lovers, unrequited love (for a bit), whole bunch of fluff, angst, mutual pining, silly humor | status ・ completed!

summary ・ a story about a college student enjoying her life in school perfectly fine, until one of her friends drags the group along to watch their school's band perform. little did she know that day would be marked as the day her whole world turned upside down because of a particular, nonchalant, and difficult drummer boy. a drummer boy who spilled his entire drink on her brand new outfit at a party and never came back.

linger [jisung] by @beomgewz

college student!jisung x fem!reader | genre ・ strangers to friends to lovers, she fell first but he fell harder, college!au, unrequited love (at first), angsty(?), drugs, slow burn | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ despite all of your efforts, you still cannot get over your 5 year crush on the shy boy from high school. to top everything off, he has a long term girlfriend of 3 years!

HAECHAN (nct dream)

pay the price [haechan] by @lqfiles

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader | genre ・ enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

one night only [haechan] by @mrkified

college-student!haechan x fem!reader | genre ・ secret relationship, slight enemies to lovers, college au, angst, fluff, crack/humor, band au | status ・ completed!

summary ・ three years since your falling out with lee donghyuck he has suddenly transfered to your college in hopes to make it big with his friends in his band. unfortunately for you, your unresolved friendship started causing problems between you and the people around you, especially since your best friend is his ex. so — why have you found yourself in his room with a raging hangover?

she's the man [haechan] by @yutarot

gamer!haechan x fem!reader | genre ・ humour, friends to lovers, college au, gamer!haechan, gamer!yn, everyone’s a gamer actually, loosely based off the movie ‘she’s the man’, fem reader, slowburn, angst, plot heavy | status ・ completed!

summary ・ after you discover your love for gaming, you soon find out that your college won’t let you in any of their e-sports teams due to your gender. but what happens when your twin brother leaves town just before he’s about to start at a new college, where not even NCU’s e-sports captain, lee haechan knows anything about him? there’s only one problem, your brother’s crazy ex is trying to hunt you down. will they all find out your true identity? and will their views on you change if they discover who you really are?

divine timing [haechan] by @v1si0n

college student!hyuck x fem!reader | genre ・ smau (some written parts), college student! hyuck x fem! reader, ????? to lovers, fluff, probably some angst but not heavy bc i’m sensitive, humor, lowkey she fell first but he fell harder trope, hyuck is a jealous little lad. | status ・ completed!

summary ・ you confessed to your longtime crush, donghyuck, back in high school because you figured you guys would never see each other again. you begin to question your faith in the universe when you run into him on a rainy tuesday night, and you start seeing him every day after.

blooming hearts [haechan] by @jji-lee

flower shop owner!haechan x fem!reader | genre ・ humor , strangers to enemies to lovers, college au, maybe a little angst, fluff, slow burn, haechan and reader are oblivious and stubborn | status ・ completed!

summary ・ a new flower shop has opened up in front of your dorm housing and has been creating problem after problem for you. now you and shop owner, lee haechan have an ongoing feud that neither of you are willing to put to rest. as the weather cools and the flowers wither away maybe something else will begin to bloom between you two…

MARK (nct dream)

down bad! [mark] by @hyuckswoman

college student!mark x fem!reader | genre ・ slowburn?, humour, collegeau, fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers | status ・ completed!

summary ・in which a random business major finds herself joining a random music class not knowing the guy she had been fawning over attended it aswell.

got my ion you [mark] by @chenlesfavorite

tutor!mark x fem!reader | genre ・ social media au (smau), half written, friends to lovers, fluff | status ・ completed!

summary ・ you’ve failed yet another chemistry exam, high chances are you’re gonna have to retake the entire class next year and miss out on almost all school breaks due to studying and fixing your bad grades, and that is until your trusty friend suggests a tutor to you.

dream boyfriend: incoming [mark] by @wonbin-truther

college student!mark x college student!fem!reader | genre ・ smau, fake dating to ?? to lovers, slight jaemin x yn, yns cousins are assholes, mark is the ideal son in law, hes also an asshole, kys/kms jokes, mark kinda leads yn on, will add more as i go along | status ・ completed!

summary ・ it wasnt your fault mark was the first profile to appear on your instagram! and it was most definitely not your fault when you told your annoying older cousins that mark lee, the captain of your unis soccer team, was your boyfriend and somehow got him invited to the next family reunion...

when you smile [mark] by @svnnw

fake boyfriend!mark x fem!reader | genre ・ fluff, angst, slowburn, comedy, humor, fake dating, non-idol au, college au | status ・ completed!

summary ・ after barely passing your recent exam you're now desperately looking for someone to tutor you so your friends wouldn't worry about you and your grades.

cryptic crush [mark] by @jji-lee

fuckboy!mark x fem!reader | genre ・ humor, neighbors/enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, slight slow burn, fluff, mark and reader are always at it bro (fighting not fucking LMAO) | status ・ completed!

summary ・ are you looking for something deeper than just superficial romance? of course you are! sm university presents : cryptic crush the only on campus app that is 100% anonymous. sign up now and we'll randomly pair you with someone ready to chat! who knows? they might be the one...

NA JAEMIN (nct dream)

love on the court [jaemin] by @polarisjisung

basketball player!jaemin x basketball player!fem!reader | genre ・ (one sided) enemies to lovers, childhood best friends to lovers, college au, kinda forced proximity | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

CHENLE (nct dream)

night rider [chenle] by @chenlesfavorite

motorcyclist!chenle x fem!reader | genre ・ social media au (smau), written, slowburn, angsty-ish, fluff, strangers to enemies to lovers (except they're not really enemies.. they just can't stand each other) | status ・ completed!

summary ・ working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

RENJUN (nct dream)

belladonna! [renjun] by @winwintea

actor!renjun x fem!reader | genre ・ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, horror, very dark, detective au, murder mystery au, explicit(?) | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ you've been tasked with visting and inspecting the grand rose theatre, a theatre that's been plagued with mysteries over the years. all seems well, until a string of murders follows your visit. as you further investigate, you find yourself falling for huang renjun, the beautiful male lead, and your mystery murderer who leaves you love notes and clues about who they could potentially be. will you be smart enough to be a step ahead of the killer? or will you find yourself caught within their trap?

JENO (nct dream)

hot to go! [jeno] by @sungiejpg

idol!jeno x stylist!fem!reader | genre ・ idol au, fluff, humour, maybe slow burn | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ being aespa’s stylist is an easy and a lovely job, that’s what yn thought until she met Jeno by mistake. She now finds him scary.

JAEHYUN (nct 127)

roses [jaehyun] by @nneteyamss

college student!jaehyun x fem!reader | genre ・ smau, college au, second chance (?), humor | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ during your freshman year of college you had a situationship with jaehyun. despite both falling for each other, issues got in the way and jaehyun ghosted you. it's been 2 years since and he never got over you and he'd do almost anything to get you again... including writing a song to get your attention.

KARINA (aespa)

it's me before her [karina] by @uchinagai

idol!jimin x actress!fem!reader | genre ・ smau + written , wlw fluff , idol au, y/n is in huge denial, strangers(?) to lovers, idol!karina, actress!y/n, idol!y/n, tiny bit of suggestive | status ・ ongoing!

summary ・ kim y/n, #1 soloist currently, known for other than just acting like out of this world and singing like an angel, is also known in the industry as 'flirt' among female idols. a certain world wide idol, got her attention on her, but little did she know, there was another one, more desperate and in love with her before the global it girl.

notes ・ if you guys have more aespa smau that you guys like it, pls send me! i'd really love more aespa fanfics to read!

[itachiiwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚❝𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐢!❞

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

Content: 18+, smut, senpai-kouhai dynamic, fem!reader, rough sex, possessiveness, creampies, multiple orgasms, age gap (reader is 5 years older than Satoru), mutual pinning, Gojo "I have a breeding kink" Satoru.

Genre: smut, fluff

pt.2

Since Gojo canonly is into older women as well, I can't help but think of Senpai!Reader who's extremely flirty.

You're kind, pretty, considerate and confident enough that you effortlessly make him feel like a pile of mush? Sign him up.

And he's such a show off, you already being impressed with him with the virtue of him being the Gojo Satoru, the honoured one wasn't enough. He needed to show you how fantastic he was during missions, hollow purpling people left and right and ignoring in bliss the scoldings from Yaga-Sensei for some serious property damage because—hey! He can take some of it if it means you'd flash him your prettiest smile, touch his arm and tell him how good he is. The sorcerer's infinity around you goes away like a reflex.

Like now.

"Satoru, you were so good" The gentle caress on his bicep and that fucking, sultry look in your eyes and how your voice was almost a purr doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yeah? Tell me about it, what else was I good at?" The cheeky dimpled grin on his face with a characteristically gentle voice he only uses with you, different from his obnoxious tone towards others, while coaxing you to give him more compliments, his ego soaring through the milky way.

You giggle and kiss his cheek without saying a word, sending him a wink before walking away from him, leaving him wanting more. Like always. And he short circuits, a little. Just a little.

Kouhai!Satoru who spoils you rotten without a warning and brings you souvenirs from the places he visits for missions— what he claims be a habit, a habit preserved only for you; because you'd return the favour immediately by calling him over for dinner.

Much to everyone's dismay, he won't shut up about you.

There's Shoko who presses him on about the status of your relationship. "She's always all over you, did you fuck already?" To which Satoru reverts in much of mock offence.

"She's my dearest Senpai, I'm not that disrespectful~" He replies meaninglessly as if he'd leave the opportunity to, if he ever got it.

Kouhai!Satoru, who feels his breath hitch in his throat and all the blood in his body rush down to his cock the moment you send him a picture of you delicately cupping your perfect tits, "accidentally".

Kouhai!Satoru who makes you regret your little stunt to seduce him when he teleports to your house, with a cold look in his eyes and a mirthful smile on his face as he places his hands on your waist. "So, you said it wasn't for me hm..? How about I make it about me?"

Kouhai!Satoru who fucks you into the mattress till you're a blabbering mess, holding your head down into the pillow, your muffled moans encouraging him further as he ruts his hips into yours, while being so goddamn loud with his whimpers.

He groans, feeling his cock slip out of your messy, sweet cunny because of how wet it was due to his cum and your arousal after being overstimulated to the brim. He plants soft, sloppy wet kisses on the nape of your neck.

"Wanna go again Senpaiiii—" He whines with a slight vibration on your skin, prolonging the 'i', and your eyes widen. He was insatiable.

"Mh.. wait.."

He huffs a small laugh, squeezing the flesh of your ass before rooting a light spank onto it. Getting up from the bed, compromising on the fact that he was aching for more.

"It's alright, rest up..I'mma get you some water.." But you were a simple woman, his considerateness and willingness to provide you with aftercare made your cunt clench around nothing.

And you thought it was a great idea to arch your back so sluttily to him, spreading your pussylips with your fingers reached down, looking at him like a vixen from the seem of your shoulder, not exactly mindful of the consequences for your poor body. "Fuck me, Toru.."

And Satoru was not an idiot to let it slide.

He frantically slipped it back inside, ruthlessly fucking you once again.

"S'good Satoru..mh..fuck me harder.."

And was he really the strongest if he didn't oblige to what his favourite girl in the whole wide world asked of him?

"... Yeah? You want it harder? Tell me again, for who was that picture for?" He cooes against your ear lobe with a stupid smirk on his lips before it's waved off with a grunt when his skin smacks against yours. He spits on his sculpted digits, slipping them in your wet cavern, accompanying his cock, not having any mercy on your puffy, battered cunt.

"Ah—, too much 'Toru, fuck.. I'm sorry..it was for you.." He hums, placing his body on top of yours after switching in multiple positions through the night, his torso slick with sweat pressed against your own damp back. The room was a whirlwind, but neither of you gave a shit.

"What was that..? I haven't forgiven you yet Senpai.. playing with my feelings like that, shit—maybe I should get you pregnant, so that everyone knows you're mine that way.. I'm never letting you go.." his thumb dancing onto your clit as you push out his seed.

And he doesn't. He never lets you go.

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 2024. Plagiarism not authorised. Do not distribute my work to other platforms.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Relistening to Checking Out, and I’ve always liked this scene in particular, as it is one that’s very open to interpretation.

I believe, from what I’ve seen personally at least, one or the most common interpretations is that Helen’s observation is either incorrect, or intentionally misleading, and that Jon’s response actually stems from touch aversion, or a degree of it, attributed to his trauma, particularly moments where he’s been left helpless and at the whims of others. E.g. Kidnapped by the Circus, almost killed by Daisy etc. And while I think this interpretation is both interesting and plausible, I don’t think I’ve seen much for the opposite interpretation, which is that Helen’s observation is correct.

It can be difficult to talk about Jon’s humanity sometimes, as there’s a lot of nuance and layers to cover. The fact is, Jon, especially in season five, does not completely think like a human. He is simultaneously a painfully human character such with deep compassion and guilt and self-loathing, while also being a being of immense knowledge who sees and understands the world in a different light, and in a way no one else can possibly comprehend, which has to be very isolating all things considered.

As with everything in TMA, Jon makes a choice, and his choice is to end the apocalypse, to stay with Martin, and to stay as human as he possibly can. We know from Annabelle that had she have taken Martin, who is presumably acting as one of his main anchors to humanity, Jon potentially would have snapped completely, the final push over the edge as she puts it. It has to be a difficult thing for him, to try and balance his existence when he is so fundamentally changed, and when this world naturally feels right to him, and you could argue that him snapping at the mother here is simply his instinct, being what he is.

He is The Archivist, the meant-to-be Pupil of the Eye, one of the most important beings present, and so it makes sense there’s almost an instinctive detachment from the victims. He is meant to Watch them, and Watching means no physical interaction. By touching him, the mother has broken this barrier, and so, instinctually, he reacts — with anger, notably.

I’d say it’s meant to contrast how we see him acting prior to the touch, where he seems genuinely sympathetic with the mother, and he is trying to help in what little way he can. Because before she touches him, that gap between Watched and Watcher is still firm in place, and so he can handle that.

Bearing in mind, I haven’t re-listened to the rest of season five with this, so I may have missed something.

I also think both interpretations can co-exist too, and that could be just as interesting to explore. Either way, I find that, with Jon, it’s important to consider his status in the Eyepocalypse and his nature vs his choices, although, his nature vs his choices goes for the whole series I think, as choice is such a consistent theme in TMA and in the Avatars.

[svnnw]

WHEN YOU SMILE — mark smau

after barely passing your recent exam you're now desperately looking for someone to tutor you so your friends wouldn't worry about you and your grades.

or in which you find yourself making a deal with mark lee, a top students who seeks for your help. mutual benefit right?

fake boyfriend!mark x fem!reader

GENRE — fluff, angst, slowburn, comedy, humor, fake dating, non-idol au, college au

WARNINGS — a little bit of cursing, reader is kind of mean to mark, mark is REALLY nice, reader gets teased a lot, features other idols : xiaojun (nct); jaemin (nct); giselle (aespa); natty (kiof); haechan (nct); chenle (nct); ningning (aespa); minji (nwjns)

STATUS — ongoing

PLAYLIST — wildflower – billie eilish [02:14] ; sure thing – miguel [02:16] ; iris – the goo goo dolls [00:11] ; nobody gets me – sza [00:38] ; 200 – mark [01:04] ; godspeed – frank ocean [00:33] ; infrunami – steve lacy [00:32] ; intro (end of the world) – ariana grande [01:08] ; margaret – lana del rey [03:57] ; we can't be friends – ariana grande [02:27]

TAGLIST — open

A/N — soo excited for this smau especially because i've been wanting to post a mark smau for soo long!!

profile 1 || profile 2

1 ) how can you fail the easiest class

2 ) does this mean we're friends

3 ) just you wait

4 ) haechan's birthday party

5 ) officially fake dating

6 ) she's my friend

7 ) y/n is missing??

8 ) crazy fangirls

9 ) showing off while you're sleeping is crazy

10 ) does she hate me?

11 ) ILL FIGHT FOR YOU

12 ) i need advice

13 ) i guess i can forgive you..

14 ) mellowed out like crazy

15 ) YOU HAVE A SON???

16 ) bro tweets like a poet

17 ) why do i have to study even if i passed

18 ) this is a set up i just know it

19 ) 7 minutes in heaven

20 ) i bet his name starts with m and end with ark

21 ) i'd do anything to see her smile again

22 ) my angel

23 ) mark is down bad

24 ) it's not that important huh?

25 ) are you at a photoshoot

26 ) mark you're just jealous admit it

27 ) you're lowkey speaking facts..

28 ) this is what i call mandela effect

29 ) is that your secret man cave

30 ) my pretty angel

31 ) so was i ugly yesterday?

32 ) you're so easy to gaslight xiaojun..

33 ) what did i tell you?

34 ) since we're already here..

35 ) and that kids is how we kissed.

36 ) matching shirts with my new best friend

37 ) you've always been cute

38 ) crazy how you broke haechans record

39 ) so i'm that important to you?

40 ) you're a very socially awkward guy

41 ) just go and check twitter

42 ) i'm gonna rip my hair out

43 ) ARE YOU RUNNING AWAY??

44 ) WELL YOU THINK WRONG ❌

45 ) when you smile

bonus chapters :

who does he think he is?

dude yk i didnt mean it like that..

© svnnw

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me