#both excited and dreading working on it tomorrow

[lesbiansanemi]

Only two more scenes of last sunrise to go :3

[eccentricwritingbaby]

surprise!

oscar piastri x reader

summary - after a few long months of not being able to see each other - y/n at university, oscar racing and training - reader is feeling the blues of long distance. until a certain surprise comes her way. 

masterlist

-

it was final exam season. final exams. instead of the calm before the storm, you would argue they were the storm before the calm. finals stressed you out beyond belief, they were always harder than what your professor claimed, always had information on them that wasn’t on the study guide, and you were constantly swamped with work. you didn’t have time for anything but studying.

but after. after. you would be out of school for the summer, finals off your mind, school off your mind, and you’d get to see your sweet, sweet boy. you and oscar had been going out for a year now, you knew the routine of both of you not being able to see each other often, or call often - your schedules so opposite it was constantly a game of phone tag. but summer was your time. you were out of school, thank god, and he usually had only a few races left - that you got to tag along to - and then it was his break. and you both could bask in each others presence before the school year and his season starts yet again. 

the good news was that you had only a year left of school, the bad news was that you had a whole year left of school. you were usually a glass half-full kind of girl, but at times when the stress wore you down, and the facetime call to your boyfriend was missed, you needed a break before you lost it. 

it was now the second time you tried to call oscar, trying to reach him on the verge of your mental breakdown as you were staring at books and your computer for the last four hours. 

“hi, baby, sorry my phone was in my room,” he answered the call with a smile on his face, “how are you doing?”

“i’m fine,” you mumble out through the phone, your boyfriend frowning at the solemn disposition read across your face, “just miss you,”

“i know baby,” he gives you a sad smile, “i miss you too,”

“what were you up to?” you ask him, taking every opportunity to hear his voice and see his face.

“i was just with lando and alex in logan’s room for a bit, we were playing this new game,” his eyes brighten a bit as he speaks, happy to see your eyes lighting up as well on the other end of the call. 

“oh really? that sounds fun, tell me about it,” you urge, not fully caring much about this video game, but also loving watching oscar speak with passion and humor - a great distraction from the mess of work you had left on your desk. 

oscar drabbles on for a few more minutes, giving you stories about how lando died in the game and almost broke the controller, logan almost falling off his chair from laughter, alex and oscar making fun of the both of them, and so on. you sit on your bed holding a large smile on your face, happy to finally be connected to your boyfriend and talking to him. 

“what else do you have tonight?” he asks you the dreaded question and you roll your eyes, breathing out a huff of air as you do so. 

“so much, i still have two essays to finish up, but it’ll just be some finishing touches,” you sigh, “thanks for reminding me,” you add on sarcastically with a laugh. oscar laughs with you, glad that you aren’t too stressed and can still joke around. 

“well that’s good,” coming down from the shared giggles, his face turns a bit more serious as he asks his next question, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

“um,” you think for a minute, a bit uneasy about his quick change in demeanor, “just studying for tomorrow, because the next day - that’s tuesday, right?” you ask him, or yourself, quickly before seeing him nod through your screen, “yeah, tuesday’s my last final and then i’ll be flying out to you on wednesday!” you end your little ramble with a cheer. 

“i’m so excited, baby,” he chuckles at your happiness, “i can’t wait to see you,” 

“me too,” you smile back at him, the unspoken words of love dangling between you two as your eyes and smiles don’t leave each other, “i wish it would come sooner, though,”

“yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat a bit, “listen, i’ve got an early flight out of here tomorrow so i’ll call you then,” he now moves to end the call, “and you’ve got some essays to finish up,”

“trying to get me off the phone, piastri?” you ask with a giggle.

“ugh yes, i hate talking to you,” he laughs out with insincerity. 

“okay,” you fake frown, “i can take a hint,”

“shut up, y/n, you know i’m joking,”

“i know,” you laugh, “call me tomorrow, i love you,”

“i love you too, baby,” you blow each other light kisses and hang up the phone. groaning and stretching, you move over to your desk and stare at all of the work you have yet to finish. 

“one more year, y/n, one more year,” you whisper to yourself to gain some momentum. wiping the tears that accidentally escaped quickly, you shake your head and pick up your pen, ready to finish off your second to last year. 

-

you woke up to books sprawled across your bed, having tried to study a bit before you fell asleep the night before. a distant ringing had you coming out of the sleepy fog, your eyes still closed and your hand slapping around the bed in order to quiet the sound. once your phone was found, your eyes squinted open and you immediately gained energy when you saw who was calling.

“hey, osc,” you’re morning voice evident, leading you to clear your throat a little.

“hi, baby,” you hear through the phone. it was odd for oscar to not call you over facetime, his constant push for ‘seeing your cute face’ was all you heard about, “i’m sorry, were you sleeping?”

“yeah, but i needed to get up anyways,” you groan, now stretching in your bed, fully waking up. 

“can’t waste a minute of studying?” he asks you, you hear voices in the background and some wind, assuming he was walking towards his destination.

“yeah,” you chuckle, “where are you? i can barely hear you over the wind,”

“oh um, about that,” he sighs, “i took a detour,” your eyebrows knit in confusion, wondering where he would have gone other than back home. 

“oh?” you ask him, now hearing a knock on your door.

“you should get that, y/n,” oscar laughs through the phone.

“what?”

“the door, baby, go get the door,” finally understanding what you had hoped he was implying, you jump out of your bed, out of your bedroom, and towards your front door, swinging it wide open to come face to face with your boyfriend. 

“oscar,” you breathe out, dropping your phone and rushing into his awaiting arms, “oh my god,” you begin to cry, holding onto him tighter. he returns the emotions, holding you and rocking you, soaking up all of what he had missed so much. 

“couldn’t last one more day without seeing you,” he whispers into your hair, now walking you both further into your apartment and shutting your door. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into his hoodie that your face was buried into, “i’m so happy,”

“me too, baby, me too,” he just sighs, breathing in your scent he had missed so much. finally pulling apart, his left hand comes up to hold the back of your neck, kissing you softly and feverishly. your antsy lips accept, your right arm coming to grab the neck of his hoodie and pull him closer, if that was even possible. 

breaking apart for air, your foreheads lean onto each other as you both bask in the feeling of being able to hold each other once again. 

“i-um,” you clear your throat a bit, “i’ve got studying to do, i’m sorry-”

“no, no,” he cuts you off, kissing you again, “baby, i know you’ve got to study, i just wanted to be with you,”

“okay,” you smile, grabbing his hand and leading him into your bedroom, he takes a look around at the books and papers spread everywhere and just laughs. 

“you are the same chaotic girl every finals season,”

“that’s the only way i know how to be,” you shrug at his joke, pulling out your desk chair and opening your computer, “i’m gonna throw my headphones on so you can watch the tv or something if you want,”

“okay, baby,” he places a kiss to the top of your head, moving to lay down on your bed and flip the tv onto his favorite show. 

he sits there for a moment, watching your pen spin in your hand, then moving to flip open a book, then moving to type on your computer, and he is in awe. you always told him you loved watching him in the garage because seeing him be intelligent and passionate was attractive as well as endearing. he finally understands what you meant. watching the person he loves be in her element was not only beyond attractive, it was inspiring. to see you push yourself and dedicate yourself was beautiful. and he knew he was the luckiest man on the planet. 

“what?” you turn and look at him, taking out one of your headphones. 

“nothing,” he smiles back at you, watching you turn around and get back to work.

-

[lvis44]

Cabin Fever - Pt. 1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Lewis being an ass, allusions to mental health struggles, 18+ MINORS DNI, not edited

Word Count: 5.6k+

Summary: He's your Sister in Laws best friend, you shouldn't even have to deal with him. Always seeming like a cocky arrogant prick, and now here he is crashing your family Christmas. Can you handle a full week of Lewis Hamilton? Or might he not actually be as bad as he seems?

Notes: Here is the beginning of my mini holiday series. A little bit of cheesy hallmark style enemies to lovers for your winter season! It will pickup quickly and I don't expect it to be too long but I'm excited to write some over dramatic cheesy angsty fluffiness! Best believe we will have it all lol

As always, I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy!

“Hey Y/N, everything is all set for when you land tomorrow! Dylan got you a rental car so you can go out whenever you want, it’s a bit of a drive from the airport but it’ll be so cozy once you get here! Oh my god I can’t wait, this whole thing is a dream come true.” Vanessa's voice cut through your voicemail loudspeaker as you applied your makeup. You were getting ready for a night out with your friends when you saw your sister in law's voicemail, you knew you couldn't ignore it, you knew she was in the middle of planning the family Christmas vacation, the one you were immensely dreading.  You decided on sending her a voice note back, not wanting to deal with the full three hour phone call that would ensue, making you late to your friends party.

“Hey V, thank you so much, and tell Dyl thank you too, I appreciate you guys figuring out the flights, let me know what I owe you guys later, I can’t wait to see you guys.” You say into your phone with forced enthusiasm, not wanting to go to the gathering in the first place. 

You grew up in New England, the winter season always took a toll on you. You didn’t like to ski or snowboard so once you were no longer a small child, the only thing that winter brought was shoveling and grey skies, both of which you hated. Once you were old enough and had enough money, you decided to move to the golden state, LA specifically, somewhere you would never see snow in your driveway again. Unfortunately your brother had remained glued to the winter life, settling down in snowy Colorado where he decided that his first family home needed to be celebrated by all. You couldn’t blame him really, it was bigger and nicer than anywhere you had ever lived. He and Vanessa were desperate for their first guests, eager to show off their beautiful new house and host both of your families at once. It seemed like a brag for Vanessa while your brother seemed to be in awe by the size of house they had moved into.

When you arrived at the club your friends were already deep, a few drinks ahead of you and in a much more playful mood than you were feeling. You were doing your best to let loose and have a good time but the nagging knowledge of your flight the next day was sitting heavy in the back of your brain. You were only half listening to one of your friends gush about some attractive man she was eyeing when you felt your phone buzz, a text from your brother Dylan to remind you of your flight as if it wasn’t the only thing you were thinking about already. You excused yourself as you headed to the bar in search of a new drink. While you were waiting a man appeared beside you, closer than you would have liked. You could smell the liquor on his breath before he even started speaking to you.

“Pretty girl having to buy her own drinks? Now this is just ridiculous.” He tried to flirt with you, his words slurring as they came out.

You forced out a polite laugh, before turning back to the bar, hoping the bartender would come soon.

“Oooh I see, she’s playing hard to get.” He said as if to someone else before he leaned closer to you. “C’mon lemme buy you a drink.”

“Doesn’t need you to, she’s got me, fuck off dude.” The voice came from behind you, immediately recognizable, Lewis. You wanted to roll your eyes, not particularly wanting to deal with him tonight but deciding he was better than the man that was currently ogling you.

“Shit, fine alright man, my bad.” The drunk man fumbled his words, seeming slightly startled and rather intimidated by Lewis. He started to stumble away, impressing you by how quickly he gave up but you couldn’t really blame him, Lewis had a certain aura about him that really told you not to mess with him.

As the drunk man left you felt Lewis take his spot next to you at the bar, not bothering to look at him, not really wanting to interact with him at all. You only knew Lewis through your sister in law Vanessa, they were family friends so he was around for important moments, holidays, birthdays, weddings etc. Those were the only times you ever interacted with him and every time you had left with a bad taste in your mouth. He seemed aloof, cocky, like he thought he was too good for the rest of humanity. He was annoyingly attractive and he knew it, you’d overheard him spitting game at more than a few women at your brother's wedding, and almost every single one of the women was falling for it. He had a way of carrying himself that just oozed arrogance, like everything about him was a level above everything and everyone else. You also had a certain distaste for the fact that every time you spoke to him he seemed to find a way to belittle you, talk down to you in a way that made you feel like a child despite being a fully grown woman. You had figured that you would be seeing him at some point this upcoming week, knowing Vanessa would have invited him for some part, but you didn’t think it would be at home in a club in LA that you first bumped into each other, never having done so before.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Colorado?” He asks, his voice already holding that familiar layer of judgement that you’ve grown to despise.

“Flights tomorrow morning.” You tell him, keeping it short, hoping the conversation doesn’t need to be much longer than necessary.

“Flight in the morning and you’re out at a club?” He quizzes you and you can hear in his voice that he’s getting ready to offer you advice you really don’t want or need.

“Just wanted to blow off a little steam before a week in paradise.” You huff, waving to the bar tender yet again, not meaning to let the last part slip so sarcastically.

“You act like we’re locking you in a dungeon and throwing away the key.” He almost chuckles before downing the rest of whatever had been in his cup.

“We?” You ask abruptly, finally turning to look at him. You had been anticipating seeing him but the way he said that made it sound like he was going to be around quite a bit more than expected. It truly pissed you off that the second you finally faced him, you were checking him out, such a pretty face with such an annoying attitude.

“I’ll be in Colorado for the week.” He said plainly with a shrug.

“At Dylan and Vanessas?” You asked in an almost panicked tone that he immediately noticed.

“Jeez, chill out, I’ve got my own place out there. Little miss perfect won’t have to worry about mean ol’ Lewis all week, I’ll just be around here and there.” His tone was teasing as he said it, making you roll your eyes, unsure of how else to respond. Before you could think of anything to say the bartender finally arrived in front of you, Lewis was ordering something before elbowing you, prompting you to tell the man what you wanted.

“You’re welcome by the way.” Lewis said, his voice smug as the bartender walked away.

Once again you found yourself rolling your eyes before forcing yourself to thank him for the drink, “Thank you, but you didn’t actually have to buy me a drink.”

“Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that if you keep rolling them that hard.” He told you, an unamused look on his face.

“You sound like my father.” You grumbled.

“Well maybe he has a point,” He shrugged, “but I wasn’t talking about the drink, was talking about your stupid drunk man. Gotta find better company.”

“I didn’t exactly invite him over here, Lewis. And I didn’t ask for you to come rescue me.” You snapped.

“Well you're V’s sister in law now and she's my little sis so I kinda had to.” He stated plainly as the bartender finally returned.

You watched as Lewis turned on his charm for the man, thanking him and giving him a generous tip, showing the side of the man that everyone else seemed to see all the time, one that he never reserved for you.

“Enjoy your drink and then go home, don’t miss your flight because you were out partying or show up hungover. Just get yourself there in one piece, that’s literally all they ask of you.” His words are directed at you again, coming out with an assumed authority that baffles you.

“I’m a grown woman Lewis, I’ll be just fine.” You bite at him, annoyed that he thinks he has the right to tell you what to do.

“I know Y/N, I know.” He says with a sigh as he grabs his drink. You watch as he steps around you, leaving back into the crowd without even a proper parting word. It once again causes you to roll your eyes before making your way back to your own friends.

“Okay, hot man at the bar, do you know him?” Your friend Lillian was leaning on you almost immediately, digging for info on Lewis that second you were within earshot.

“Uh, kinda, not really, he’s kind of an ass.” You tell her, hoping to dissuade her.

“Well with a face like that he can be an ass to me anytime he wants.” She says enthusiastically.

You just humm in response, returning your attention to your drink, not really wanting to further discuss Lewis and his annoying ways or aggravating beauty. His words about not missing your flight bounce around in the back of your head, of course you had already been aware of not being late but now it was all that was on your mind. Between his words and Dylans reminder you suddenly felt as if everyone was expecting you to flake, not actually convinced you were going to show up at all. Before you could even finish your drink you were deciding to leave, truly not in the party mood any longer. As you made your way to the door you just knew he was watching you, you could feel it and you hated that he was getting the confidence of seeing you do exactly what he told you to.

. . . 

Your morning had been hell, your flight having been delayed three times due to incoming weather. When you finally landed in Colorado you were well and truly in a cranky mood, one that only turned even further sour when the woman at the rental agency got snappy with you for being late for your pickup. You had tried to explain to her that your brother had made the reservation and that your flight was delayed but her attitude did not budge. She remained snippy with you as she grumbled about ‘finding you something to take’ before handing you the keys to a tiny sedan. When you approached it in the lot you were at your wits end, it's not that you needed something fancy or luxurious, it was the fact that the car you were looking at seemed as light as could be and evidently still had summer tires on it. There was a big winter storm brewing and you knew you still had at least a 45 minute drive to your brother's house, one that you hadn’t been looking forward to anyway. The snow was already coming down as you sat in the parking lot waiting for the car to warm up at least enough to defrost the windshield, you listened to the man on the radio talk about the incoming storm, saying it was set to be the biggest snowfall the area had seen in years and it was going to come down quick. You couldn’t help but grumble to yourself about your displeasure for the snow  as you texted your brother to let him know that you were getting on the road.

The storm thankfully decided to be merciful, only really beginning to pick up in the very last stretch of your journey, barely even causing any delay for you. When you got to your brother's house you could feel yourself letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that soon enough you would be inside a warm and cozy house with the people that you love, hopefully eating good food and having a cocktail. The moment your brother opened the front door you were met with the smell of a fireplace and something cooking for dinner, your tension slipping away just a bit more.

“Y/N! Thank god, I was getting worried when I saw the snow picking up.” Dylan said cheerfully, pulling you into the house to give you a tight hug.

“Hi Dyl, it’s definitely getting heavy out there but I think I missed the worst of it.” You can’t help but laugh slightly at how tightly your brother has embraced you.

“Come in, V’s got dinner going, Dad was just getting ready to make a round of drinks.” He rambles to you as he pulls you further in the house, reaching around to grab your suitcase off the porch.

“The Holidays can now begin, my other baby has arrived!”  Your moms voice carries loudly from the kitchen before you see her almost jogging in your direction, her arms wide ready for an embrace.

“Mom,” you laugh as she squeezes you even tighter than Dylan had, “you knew I was coming. Sorry I’m late guys, the airport was insane.”

“Sounds like you could use a drink Kiddo.” Your dad is next to pull you into a hug, not even having made it out of the foyer yet.

“I will take you up on that, I also need to change into something a little warmer, I dressed for cold LA not Colorado.” You admit as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, making you feel like a child.

“Yeah for sure, let me show you your room and then you can come say hello to everyone in the kitchen once you've changed.” Dylan says, grabbing your bag and already making his way up the stairs.

“This place is beautiful, Dylan.” You tell him earnestly as you follow him down the long hallway. It’s everything that you would imagine if someone told you they had purchased a Chateau in Colorado, deep exposed wood, high ceilings, massive windows. You were excited to see the rest of it, knowing Vanessa would be adamant about giving you a full tour. It was much too big for what they needed but you figured that didn’t matter as long as they were happy.

“Thank you, it’s really a dream come true. Never thought I would live in a place like this, much less own it.” He confesses as he swings open the door to a room at the end of the hall.

You offer your brother a warm smile before you turn to take in the room, suddenly stunned when you see the size and luxury of it. The room is expansive, massive windows on two walls and what appears to be a large balcony off the back. There is a sitting area in front of a fireplace and what appears to be a king size bed in the middle of the room. You can see another door off to the side and you can only assume it is a private bathroom.

“Dylan what the fuck? Why does it look like the master suite?” You ask him, overwhelmed, not having expected anything so grand.

He just shrugs with a smile as he steps further into the room, placing your luggage down next to the bed. “We just wanted you to be comfortable, we know this year has been hard for you and winter isn’t something you get along with, we’re just grateful you decided to come.”

“Dylan, I am not kicking you guys out of your room, oh my god.” You start to panic, immediately feeling guilty.

“No, you’re not,” He laughs at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “this is a guest suite, it's just the nicest of them.”

You let out a breath before feeling guilty again, “No what about mom and dad, or Beatrice and Tom, they should be in here, I just need a bedroom, this is too much.”

“Stop, everyones already settled, and we all agreed that you should have your own space, away from the rest of us. It only seemed fair.” His voice is sincere, not giving you any time to rebuttal before he is leaving the room and telling you to get changed.

By the time you make your way back downstairs everyone has settled in the den with drinks in their hand. You had to wander a bit at first, following the sounds of voices and laughter. The room was cozy, still sprawling but the lights were dim and the furniture was plush. You could hear the storm truly picking up outside, the trees snapping back and forth in the wind outside the window making you grateful for the fire crackling in the corner.

“Perfect, Y/N, I have a drink ready for you right here!” Vanessa called to you as you walked into the room.

“Thank you so much, this place is beautiful.” You tell her as you settle into the seat beside her, taking the drink and giving her a small hug.

“Ugh, thank you, this place is just such a dream come true, straight out of a fantasy.” She gushes immediately, promising to give you a tour once you've had some time to relax.

“Y/N, good to see you, feels like it's been a while.” Tom, Vanessa’s father, speaks up from across the room, raising his glass of whiskey in your direction. You offer him a smile, feeling a moment of guilt wash over you, knowing you had been invited to a few celebrations where your paths would have crossed but had decided against attending.

“She’s a busy woman, always nice to have her around when we get the chance.” Dylan pipes up, offering you a subtle save, knowing you probably don’t want to get too much into your personal life at the moment.

The conversation thankfully moves on, Tom choosing to change direction and grill Dylan on everything that is going on for him with his company, ever protective of Vanessa even now that they're married and in this beautiful home. Your mother on the other hand chooses to come sit next to you and Vanessa, Beatrice following her shortly thereafter. They do ask about your life in LA but Vanessa's mother is more interested in hearing if you’ve had any celebrity sightings than she is about your woes in life. Your mother wants to show off photos of art projects she’s been doing to keep herself busy. You can’t help but laugh at the two older women as you settle into the evening, nursing your drink as you share amused glances with Vanessa every once in a while. Every so often you hear the wind outside pick up, the storm casting a white haze over the large window at the end of the room. When you hear the doorbell you glance around the room, unsure of who would still be yet to arrive, especially so late and in the storm. Vanessa looks confused as well, Dylan getting up to go check the door.

“Hey man, didn’t expect to see you for another day or two.” You hear Dylan greet someone enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I caught an earlier flight out trying to avoid the storm and ended up landing smack in the middle of it. Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it back this way in the next few days so I figured I’d stop on my way out to my house.” The familiar British accent carries through the house, Vanessa's face lighting up as she darts up from her seat, ready to go greet her friend.

You feel yourself deflate slightly, having been enjoying the casual and kind air of the evening, knowing his presence would definitely cause a difference. You hear their voices approach from down the hall, Tom and Beatrice standing up, excited to see the man they have long adopted as a son. You always wondered if part of Tom was disappointed that Lewis and Vanessa hadn't ended up together, merely from the way that Tom's attention would end up solely on Lewis when he was around, almost entirely ignoring your brother. 

“Son, always a pleasure. How was your flight?” Tom asks the moment Lewis appears in the room, pulling him into a fatherly hug.

“Good to see you, sorry to pop in unannounced.” Lewis starts politely, turning on the charm toward Beatrice.

“Never worry, you’re always welcome.” She gushes, so happy to see him. It does make you laugh to yourself, it’s not her house to extend the invitation to but you’re not surprised.

He gives her a warm smile before continuing, “Yeah, flight was alright, a little choppy but nothing too bad. The airport here was a disaster though, glad I’d left my car there, the rental lot was picked through and cabs aren’t taking anyone past town.”

“Yeah, Y/N was saying the airport was crazy, I think she got the last rental car on the lot.” Dylan says, suddenly making Lewis aware of your presence, his eyes snapping to you.

“You remember Dylan's little sister,” Beatrice begins before Lewis is politely cutting her off.

“Y/N, of course,” He nods at you in what seems a kind way before the jab lands, “good job making it here.”

To everyone else it sounds like a comment about the storm but you know, you can see in his eye that he's referencing your conversation the prior night. His comment about everyone wanting you to just show up, it makes you think about Tom's comment when you first sat down, everyone knows you are the weak link. Before you can even respond, Vanessa is ushering him further into the room, annoyingly placing him where she had been sitting, directly next to you. She wanders away, headed to make Lewis a drink, completely unaware of the tension she sat next to you.

“You just get here?” Lewis asks, surprising you that he’s bothering with conversation at all.

“Few hours ago.” You say simply, turning your attention to watch the snow swirl in a mesmerizing dance.

He just nods, following your gaze to the window. 

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, Vanessa is returning with Lewis’ drink and announcing to everyone that dinner is ready. Lewis begins to protest, not wanting to intrude on a family dinner but everyone else is quick to shush him, telling him they would love for him to stay. Shortly thereafter you are all seated around a beautiful table, Lewis sitting directly across from you, a delicious looking meal placed in the center. Tom takes a moment to thank Vanessa for inviting everyone and being such a wonderful host, gushing about his daughter as he forgets to mention Dylan for even a moment. As the bowls get passed around the table you can’t help but notice that Lewis is ignoring almost everything that is placed in front of him, passing it along without a moments thought. By the time everyone is served you notice that his plate is only a salad, it makes you want to scoff, not even during his off season will he let himself indulge in something, too focused on his physique. You stay relatively quiet throughout dinner, just listening to everyone else chatter, it’s not until your mom asks Lewis what he has been up to since the season ended that you are caught off guard.

“I spent the last week in LA, needed some sun before winter.” He tells her, causing wires to connect in her brain.

“Oh! Y/N lives in LA, what a coincidence, I’m surprised you two don’t see each other more often.” The excitement in her voice makes you laugh as you quickly go to shut her down, not even registering that you had in fact seen him just the night before.

“Mom, it's a massive city-” You laugh.

“Well we actually saw each other last night.” Lewis says at the same time as you, stopping you in your tracks. He’s staring right at you as he takes a casual sip of his water before he glances around the table.

“Really?” Tom asks, leaning in like this is the news of the year.

“Oh come on, you didn’t tell them?” Lewis laughs, it’s hollow, not like the warm laugh you’ve heard directed towards other people. He knew you wouldn’t have mentioned it, he’s enjoying being the one to let everyone know you were out partying the night before family holiday.

“I mean, no I didn’t, but it’s not like it’s common.” You stutter out, weirdly flustered all the sudden.

“Yeah, ran into her out with some of her friends at a club last night, had to save her from a creepy drunk guy who didn’t want to leave her alone.” He tells the table casually, settling back into his seat.

“Well I’m glad you were there Lewis, I worry about her when I hear about her going out like that. This world is just getting too dangerous to be out flaunting yourself like that.” Your dad pipes up, making you whip your head in his direction.

“Dad, I wasn’t-” You begin to argue before getting cut off by Lewis.

“It wasn’t her fault. She was just there, shouldn’t have to hide away just because she’s a woman.” Lewis says firmly, looking at you again as if to seal his words, catching you off guard by defending you.

“Thanks.” You silently mouth in his direction. He doesn’t acknowledge it, carrying on with his story instead.

“But yeah, the guy left pretty quickly, he was harmless. I was surprised to see her though, figured she would already be here. I was glad to see you left when you did, with your flight this morning and all.” He continues.

“You were out too.” You quickly fire back at him, not enjoying the embarrassment in front of your family.

“Had a later flight than you,” He simply shrugs, a smirk forming on his face, “How was this morning, rough one?”

“My only issue this morning was the weather, thanks.” You say, a snip in your tone.

“Glad to hear it.” He says, getting comfortable in his seat as he thankfully changes topics. 

Thankfully the awkward air that had settled over dinner dissipated quickly and before you knew it Lewis was saying that he needed to get going, still needing to drive another hour to his own house. There was no hesitation before Vanessa and Beatrice were telling him to spend the night, not enjoying the idea of him travelling in the weather at night. You noticed his eyes flicker to you as he started to turn them down, part of you wondered if he was doing it because he told you he wasn’t staying with them but you doubted he was being that thoughtful. He stayed strong, adamant that he would be fine and that he really wanted to settle into his own place but that he would be back later in the week.You feel a certain relief as you see him finally manage to say his goodbyes, bundling up in his long woolen coat as he makes his way out the door. You can hear the wind when he stepped out the door and you did worry that his drive would be far from enjoyable but you didn’t feel like hanging out with him much longer. 

As you helped clear the table you noticed something on the ground, right below where Lewis had been sitting. You put down the plates in your hands with a huff, reaching down to grab what turned out to be a wallet. You internally groaned, of course he dropped his wallet, of course you found it, it would be wrong to send him on his way without it, especially in this weather. You let out a sigh, jogging to the front door, hoping he hadn’t left yet. When you pulled the front door open you were shocked, you almost couldn’t see the front steps mere feet from you.

“Holy shit.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing the nearest pair of boots by the door, haphazardly throwing them on in hopes of catching Lewis.

When you cautiously made your way down off the porch, wading through the rather deep snow that now covered the path to the driveway, you saw him clearing the snow off his car. His jacket was blowing in the wind and he had an arm up to shield his face from the blowing snow, much like you yourself did. You let out a sigh of resignation, there’s no way you could let him drive an hour in this, no matter how badly he got on your nerves. You continue to make your way toward him, snow falling into the borrowed boots making you wince.

“Lewis,” You call out to him, “what the hell are you doing?”

He turns toward you, a confused look across his features, “Cleaning off my car, what do you need?”

“I can see that,” You say as you get closer to him, rolling your eyes at his answer, “I mean why the heck are you trying to drive home in this? Just come back inside.”

“Came all the way out here to save me? I’ll be fine, you seemed pretty worried that I was staying here the other night.” He says, turning back to his car.

“Actually I came out here because you dropped your wallet.” You say plainly, not enjoying his attitude but catching his attention again.

“Shit, thanks.” He extends his hand, waiting for you to hand it over.

“No, you’re insane, just grab your bag and come back inside. You annoy the shit out of me but I don’t particularly want you dead on the side of the road.” You shake your head, stepping back from him to prove that you’re not handing his wallet over until he turns his car off and comes inside.

“Well that's nice to hear.” He says sarcastically.

“You dying right before Christmas would kind of ruin holidays for me forever, V would be distraught.” You throw at him, it being partially true.

“Fine.” He concedes through a huff, his shoulders slumping as he trudges to his car door to kill the engine.

You watch as he grabs his bag from the backseat before making his way toward you, gesturing impatiently for you to go so he can follow you back to the house.

“Besides, now I’m the hero that convinced Mr. Perfect to stay, I basically just saved your life.” You say teasingly over your shoulder as you start your way up the steps. You’re too focused on your own dig and not enough on the slippery stairs, your feet almost coming out from under you. Much to your embarrassment, Lewis is there with a steadying grip on your arm.

“Just saved my life and then tried to break my neck by falling on me.” He mutters, letting go of you once you're stable.

“Give me a break, I’m pretty sure I’m wearing Dylan's boots.” You argue, pulling away from him harshly.

The moment you are inside he is being swarmed by your family again, all so happy he has decided to stay the night, no one even paying attention to the fact that you’ve come inside with him. Dylan is quickly showing him to his room for the night, apologizing that it’s not very fancy. You decide to slip away up to your room, having gotten rather cold and wet in your time outside. The whole time you’re getting ready for bed you’re telling yourself that it’s only for the night. You won’t even notice that he’s here and he will be gone tomorrow when the storm has passed. That hope lasts very briefly until you hear a knock on your door. You naively swing the door open, assuming it's someone to come say goodnight, and there he is.

“What the hell do you want?” You groan.

He doesn’t respond, he just pushes off the doorframe pushing past you into your room as he lets out a long whistle.

“This might actually be nicer than my bedroom at home.” He says, still ignoring your question as he looks around the room.

“Yeah it’s beautiful. What do you want?” You ask again, eager for him to leave so you can climb under the blankets.

“So pushy,” He chuckles, turning back to you, “I believe you have something of mine?”

“Right.” You say flatly, moving past him to the dresser where you had thrown his wallet that had still been in your pocket.

“How much did ya take?” He asks after you hand it to him, flicking it open as if to inspect that all his cards are still there.

“Not nearly enough.” You grumble, sitting down on the end of the bed.

He just chuckles, taking another glance around your room before walking out of your room without a word, something he seems to be making a habit of. You groan when you see that he’s left your door wide open, reluctantly making your way off your bed.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow.” You mutter to yourself as you lean against the now closed door, and you can only pray it's true.

[0cta9on]

Unlikely Duet - 8

Length: 18k+ words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

(Author's Note: First of all, thanks to @msafterhours for beta reading! This chapter wouldn't have been as good without your input :] TW: Violence and mention of blood. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, it was a blast to write :> )

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

It’s weird. It’s a Monday, universally agreed to be the most hated day of the week, and yet, here I am, waking up with a smile on my face like it’s the most regular thing in the world. I had no weird dreams this time around, but that didn’t stop Minji from being the first person I thought about the second I opened my eyes. Whatever I said before about love being stupid, scratch that. I feel invincible.

After quickly getting ready, I head downstairs to see my dad cooking breakfast, an image I’m slowly getting used to. It feels comforting knowing someone cares enough about me to go through all the trouble of cooking a meal.

“Good morning, dad.”

“Good morning, Yuno. You seem happy this morning,” he smirks at me.

My face already aches, not used to smiling this much. “Yeah, just… excited for school, I guess,” I shrug.

“Mhm, sure,” he chuckles, sliding a plate of food towards me. “Eat up.” Right before I dig into my breakfast, I send a text to the group chat, asking Winter and Yujin if they want to meet up at the convenience store and walk to school together.

Winter: sure thing :)

Yujin: yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Actual food for breakfast, actual friends to walk to school with, and an actual crush I get to see at school? It’s only morning and already this day feels perfect.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

My heart thumps with anxiety while my parents sit across from me at the dining table, completely oblivious to the dread I feel in every fiber of my being. In order for me to survive at the banquet tomorrow, I need them to agree to let me bring a plus one. Specifically, I need them to let me bring Yuno, the one person they specifically told me to stay away from.

I inhale deeply, firming up my resolve as best as I can. “Um, Mother? Father?”

They both look up at me. “Yes, dear?” Mother answers.

“About the banquet tomorrow-” “Ah right, Ms. Park told me that Sunghoon is excited to see you again after so long. Isn’t that nice?”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from visibly cringing. “Right, um, I actually wanted to ask you if I could bring a friend to the banquet.”

They exchange looks at each other before turning back to me. “I don’t see why not. Who did you want to invite?”

“Um… Yuno.”

“Absolutely not!” Mother answers a bit too quickly. “We told you already that we don’t want you associating with that boy! Why don’t you bring any of your other friends, like Danielle, or even Hanni would be more acceptable than him.”

“Because, uh…” I need to think of a lie, something, anything that can convince them. “...Because he has an interest in the business,” I blurt out. Not my best work, but it’s better than nothing. Both of them furrow their brows, unconvinced, yet neither of them say a word, simply waiting for my explanation. 

“I, uh, told him about the family business and he got so, um, inspired by your story that he wants to, uh, pursue a business degree in college.”

 Their glares feel like spotlights, scrutinizing my every little move. Mother’s expression remains the same — bewildered and a little irked — but I can see the gears slowly turning in Father’s pensive gaze.

“I thought the banquet would be a good opportunity for him to make connections in the industry, y’know, just like how you want me to,” I continue. “You two always emphasize the importance of making strong connections in case I need help in the future, so why can’t I be the connection that helps Yuno?”

“Honey, we are not charity workers-”

“Wait,” Father says, turning towards her. “I think we should let him come.”

Both mine and my mother’s eyes grow wide in surprise.

“Really?” We say in unison.

“I’ve always had a firm belief in education, both in and out of the classroom. This banquet could be an opportunity for him to better himself. He clearly has no plans for the future otherwise.”

Mother opens her mouth to argue, but instead sighs and nods. “Fine, we will permit Yuno to come to the banquet.” 

I almost can’t believe the words coming out of their mouths. My plan is actually going to work. I’m so happy I could cry.

“But,” she adds, “If he causes any trouble, we forbid you from seeing him outside of school, okay?”

“Y-yes, of course, I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble! Thank yo-”

“And I don’t want you sneaking off and being alone with that boy. We’ll have Sunghoon stick with the two of you the entire time.”

My ears start to ring like a massive bomb just dropped nearby.

“...W-what!?”

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

The morning sun warms my skin as I wait for my friends by the convenience store. Birds fly above, singing their spring song like gentle plucks of a violin, sonorous yet fragile. A clear sky hangs overhead, unblemished by smog or storm clouds. It almost feels like mother nature herself wants me to have a good day.

“Good morning, Yuno!”

“YUNOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Winter and Yujin appear in the distance, walking towards me.

“Hey,” I greet them with a wave. They both stop in their tracks, eyeing me with surprise. “...What?”

“You’re smiling,” Winter states as if it’s the most insane thing she’s ever seen.

I turn my head away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Y-yeah, so what?”

“Aw, Winter, you ruined it,” Yujin teases. “He looked so happy.”

I sigh. “...Let’s just go.”

Both of them chuckle, taking their spot on either side of me like it’s where they belong. For so long, I walked the same route to school alone every morning, yet today, it feels a little different. The colors on the buildings and the street signs seem so much more vivid, the air smells like fresh grass and blooming flowers, puddles and windows glisten like diamonds as they reflect the sun’s morning light. A part of me thinks that I’m dreaming again — when did the world look this beautiful? But the way Yujin nudges my side to show me a drawing he’s working on or the way Winter clutches onto my shoulder after almost tripping on nothing lets me know that all of this is real. The world that I used to hate waking up to is now a world that I can look at with a smile. 

A real, genuine smile.

______________________________________________________________

As the three of us walk through the hallways of Evergreen, I feel the familiar stares of the other students, eyeing me like some kind of untamed beast that could jump out at them at any moment. Even with everything else changing around me, I can always count on high schoolers to be ever stagnant and predictable in their behaviors. Although, something in their eyes feels a little peculiar. Instead of just fear, there’s something else hiding behind it. Intrigue? Admiration? Maybe these rose-tinted lenses are starting to make me see things.

“P-people sure d-do stare a lot, h-huh?” Winter asks, her voice shrinking to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I guess they do.” I glance back at them, both their gazes glued to the ground, clearly not used to the unwanted attention. “Sorry, I should’ve warned you guys.”

“It’s okay, Yuno, it’s not your fault,” Yujin reassures me.

“Y-yeah, I’m sure w-we’ll get used to it,” Winter adds with a small grin. Man, what did I do to deserve these two?

The five minute warning bell rings, sending the students still left in the hallways in a hurry. I say my goodbyes to Winter and Yujin as we part ways, enduring the usual stares and hushed voices as I make my way to my seay in the back. Still, something feels odd about the way they’re looking at me today. I try to meet their eyes to get a better look, but everyone keeps looking away, pretending like they weren’t whispering about me to their friends. If this keeps going on for the rest of the day, I’m gonna be pissed.

“Yuno Lin to the principal’s office, Yuno Lin to the principal’s office. Now,” the PA system announces, giving me a wave of deja vu. I have a couple guesses for what this could be about��

______________________________________________________________

Instead of coming out the gate swinging, Mr. Geier just sits at his desk, his hands clasped in deep thought. Normally, I would be pretty indifferent to whatever he has to say, but after everything Minji said to me, I suddenly feel guilty sitting in front of him. It probably isn’t easy dealing with my shit on a weekly basis.

“So…” he starts, finally looking up at me after a few minutes of silence. “I’m sure you know why you’re in here, Yuno.”

“Yup…”

He sighs. “The McGraw’s donate a lot of money to this school. They didn’t exactly take well to receiving a call that their son was found unconscious in the bathroom with a broken nose.”

Ah shit. This is it. The consequences of my actions have finally caught up to me. Fate, you cruel bastard, making me wake up in a good mood for the first time in years, only to send me to jail before the day even starts. Goodbye dad, Yujin, Winter, and Minji. Minji…

“But…”

But…!

“...They’ve decided not to press charges.”

“What!?” I exclaim, relieved and deeply confused. 

 “We received a tip from one of the boys on the football team that Tyler had been bullying a group of freshman boys for months. They still wanted to press charges anyways, but I may have… insinuated that if they did, I would ensure Tyler could only set foot into a community college at best.”

My eyes widen, slowly connecting the dots. “Did you…?”

“No, it was not for you,” he states matter-of-factly. “It was for the sake of all the freshmen that suffered because of him.”

“R-right.” I sink back into my chair, feeling sheepish. “So… what happens now? Detention? Suspension?”

“No, I have something else in mind for you.”

Just then, the door to Mr. Geier’s office swings open, sending in a wave of lavender and rainbows into his office as the girl of my dreams walks through.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Geier?” Minji says before turning to me, a quizzical look in her eyes.

“Perfect timing, Minji,” he says, “This is Yuno Lin. Yuno, this is Minji Kim, the student council president.”

Minji shoots me a confused look, but I’m too distracted by her beauty to pay full attention. Her hair is in a ponytail today with two strands of hair framing her perfect face. The sound of my thumping heart gets louder in my ears, drowning out whatever Geier is saying. Hopefully it’s not anything important. What could be more important than Minji? God, she’s so pretty, I-

“Yuno, are you paying attention?” Mr. Geier snaps at me.

“S-sorry, what?” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Minji stifling a giggle, making my cheeks burn red.

“As I was saying, your punishment will be to help Minji with prom preparations. Whatever she asks you to do, you do it. If you cause any trouble for her, she’ll report it to me and you will face the consequences, understand?”

You mean I get to spend more time with Minji? As a punishment? “Yup, I understand,” I say, trying not to look too eager.

“Good.” He turns towards Minji. “Just make him lift the heavy stuff or something. He can be a handful, but he, uh… He means well.” How sweet, Geier. I’m blushing.

“That shouldn’t be much of a problem,” she says, smirking. “We’ve actually met bef-”

“U-uh, it’s nice to meet you for the first time ever, Ms. President!” I exclaim, shoving my hand towards her before she can utter another word. If Geier finds out that his “punishment” is more like a “blessing” for me, he’ll probably give me some other grunt work to deal with.

Minji awkwardly shakes my hand, giving me a curious expression. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you too, Yuno.” The feeling of her soft hand against mine beats out any kind of embarrassment I should be feeling right now.

“Alright, you can head back to class now, Minji,” Mr. Geier dismisses her. She gives me a small yet bewildered grin before exiting his office, leaving me alone with the principal yet again. My gaze lingers towards the door even after it closes, wishing she’ll pop back in for a few more seconds.

“So,” he begins, taking me out of my daydreams. “You got lucky. Extremely lucky. However, that doesn’t mean you can keep doing this and expecting to get out scot free just because I stick my neck out for you. There are rules here, and I understand that you may not agree with those rules, but they are there regardless, which means you must follow them just like everybody else. No more playing vigilante just because you can, you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand. I’m sorry.”

“I- you what?” He asks, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Uh, I said I understand and I’m sorry,” I reiterate sheepishly.

“Oh. Okay. Well. Good. As long as you understand.” It’s almost offensive just how shocked he is, as if I didn’t know my own actions were wrong. I might be stubborn, but I’m not stupid.

“I’m going back to class,” I state, getting up from my chair. Right before I exit his office, I turn to Geier one last time. “Uh, my dad is doing better now.”

He looks up at me, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. “Really? That’s great to hear, Yuno.” 

I give him a nod before shutting the door behind me. I’m not sure what exactly compelled me to tell him that, just a hunch that told me it was the right thing to do at the moment. Geier did ask about him last time, so it only makes sense. I guess.

As I turn the corner, I catch Minji leaning against the wall right outside of Geier’s office. Was she waiting for me?

“Oh. Hey,” I greet her with a small wave. “Hey!” She says, flashing me a smile that could bring about world peace. “What did Mr. Geier talk to you about? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“It was about the, uh… thing that happened with Tyler.”

“Ah, right. So his idea of a punishment for you is to be around me? Ouch,” she jokes. We walk through the halls together despite not sharing the same first period (or any period for that matter). A weird energy hangs in the space between us, like a balloon threatening to pop if either of us get too close. My mind tiptoes on the fence between pushing my luck or staying in a comfortable space. In the end, I throw caution to the wind and close the gap just a little.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it’s a punishment at all,” I say, thinking out loud.

“That’s very kind of you, Yuno,” she chimes, a hint of pink gracing her cheeks. Simply being around her is making my heart pound like crazy. Can she hear it? God, I hope not. How am I supposed to control myself when she’s this cute? I just want to-

“Oh!” Minji suddenly stops and points at my face. Shit, was I thinking out loud again? Is she secretly psychic and can hear all my thoughts this whole time?

“W-what?” I ask, flustered.

“You’re smiling.”

I awkwardly clear my throat, wiping the smile off my face. “Y-yeah, so what? Am I not allowed to smile?”

She giggles at me. “No, you’re allowed to smile. In fact, I think you should smile more often, I rarely ever get to see you smile.”

“W-whatever,” I mutter, trying to hide the growing blush on my face. “About the banquet tomorrow, is there a dress code or something? I, uh, don’t own a suit,” I ask, changing the subject.

Minji’s expression suddenly darkens as a dejected sigh floats from her lips. “Oh right, the banquet…” she groans.

“S-sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” she assures me. “My parents just told me this morning that if I’m gonna bring you along, the guy I’m trying to avoid has to stick around us the whole time, rendering my whole plan basically useless.”

“This guy you’re trying to avoid, is he, um….” I gulp nervously. “...your ex?”

“Ew! Oh my god, no!” Minji exclaims. “He’s the son of my parents’ business partners. He used to be a complete menace towards me when we were kids until he moved away during middle school. Oh my god, the thought of us ever dating is just…” Her entire body shivers in disgust.

I try my best to appear neutral, but inside, fireworks are going off in my head. It’s like Christmas came early this year. I have to physically fight off another smile from growing on my face.

“So, what are we gonna do now? Maybe…” I search my mind for another possible solution for her problem, but only one comes up, and frankly, it’s the best possible case for her and the worst possible case for me. I sigh in disappointment. “...maybe I just shouldn’t go.”

Her gaze shoots up at me. “What?”

“If I don’t go, then you won’t be forced to be around him the entire time,” I explain.

“But I-”

“I’ll probably stick out like a sore thumb anyways, being in a room full of a bunch of rich business people. Your parents already don’t like me, what would they all think of me being around you? Maybe it’s best if I don’t go-”

“Stop!” She suddenly exclaims, a fire burning in her irises. “I invited you because I want you to go, okay? Screw my original plan, screw everyone who judges you, and especially screw Sunghoon! You’re my friend and I want you to be there, don’t worry about all that superficial nonsense.” Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, carrying the determination of her words. No wonder people voted for her as student council president, a speech like that could move anyone to action.

After a short pause, I concede. “...Okay, I’ll go.”

A smile replaces the serious expression she had, sending my heart into another frenzy. “Thank you, Yuno. All you have to do is enjoy yourself, don’t worry about scaring him off or anything dumb like that.”

Enjoy myself. At a banquet. That I certainly don’t belong in. Sure, I can do that.

“I should probably head back to the student council room, I still have a lot of work to do,” she says. “I, um… I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll see ya later.” And just like that, Minji disappears down the halls, leaving me standing here like a fool in love. The warmth in my chest feels like it’s gonna get hotter and hotter until I explode. I desperately hope she needs my help with prom preparations later.

______________________________________________________________

The presence of a substitute would normally mean all chaos ensues, but the odd tension hanging in the air during English practically suffocates any chances of socialization. I didn’t exactly mind nor care, but the silence only made the nervous glances towards me even more obvious. Furthermore, thanks to Tyler’s “disappearance”, his friends on the other side of the room don’t even try to hide their accusatory pointing and disdainful glares. Their sentiments aren’t exactly wrong, but it’s still annoying being on the receiving end of them. Surely, they know better than to start any dumb shit right now. 

And yet, I’m unsurprisingly proven wrong as one of them, a tall boy with blonde hair (is his name Connor? Colton? I have no clue), stomps towards me with fury in his eyes.

“Hey,” he growls at me, “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Tyler, would you?”

A sigh escapes me. Welp, that’s what I get for getting my hopes up. “Is he not here today? I had no idea,” I mutter, not giving him so much as a glance.

He slams his fist into my desk, causing everyone to look back at the commotion with fearful glances, including Winter. I shake my head reassuringly at her, but unfortunately, Tyler’s friend notices this and scoffs to himself.

“Behind the gym during lunch. Don’t be late.” He glances in Winter’s direction with a smirk on his face. “Or else.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as I ball my fist up in anger, my heart pumping with anger. For the first time since he came over, I glare at him, watching his cocky facade crack in front of my eyes as he scurries back to his little group with his tail in between his legs.

Dammit. God fucking dammit. Is it so hard for me to have one good day without having to deal with anyone’s shit? I notice Winter still staring at me with a worried look, so I conjure up my best convincing smile. She nods and turns back to her book, but I’m not sure if it ends up working.

It’s clear that he wants a fight. Of course he wants a goddamn fight.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno: I won’t be at lunch. I have something I need to deal with.

I send the text to the group chat as I pace around, waiting for Tyler’s goons to show up. The area behind the school’s gym is basically a cesspool for rule breaking; half the concrete is covered in cigarette butts, glass shards, and other mysterious stains from other’s unseemly activities that I’d rather stay unaware of. It’s a wonder how none of the teachers look back here with how often students frequent this place.

Finally, the boy from English class (Kayden? Kenneth? It starts with a K sound, I know that much) appears, alongside a dozen other boys that I’ve seen hanging around Tyler. A few of them are unarmed, but most are carrying broken mop handles. One guy has a pocket knife, so that’s something at least.

“Hey fuckface!” The blonde boy yells. “You think you can mess with Tyler just because you think you’re all high and mighty? Well, newsflash pal, you’re not!”

“Yeah!” His entourage cheers him on.

This is comical. These guys attend a high school in the suburbs, and yet they’re parading around like a bunch of wannabe gangsters. Did they rehearse their lines or something? Why does he talk like a movie bully from the 1950s? It’s taking every fiber of my being not to burst out laughing right now.

“You made a big mistake pal, and we’re gonna make you regret-”

“Fuck, alright!” I groan in annoyance. “Are we doing this or not?”

I stretch my arms, loosening myself up as they timidly inch closer with their little sticks pointed towards me. This could be over in the blink of an eye if I want it to, but I promised Minji I would stop fighting, so I won’t. Not exactly sure what that means, but I’m not exactly known for planning these things out.

I’m not a fighting expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve been in enough to recognize certain patterns. Shaky eyes. Quivering breath. Their knuckles burning white as they clench their fists too hard to compensate for the fact that they have no idea what they’re doing. With each step they take, it only becomes more apparent how downright terrified they are. I almost feel bad for them. 

It’s not like I wanted this either, but I brought this upon myself of my own volition. These guys could have said no and went about their day, living their regular high school lives, but instead, they’re rallying behind some guy they’re probably not close with just for a measly ounce of street cred they get for “showing their loyalty,” effectively reducing themselves to lap dogs that get the “privilege” of calling themselves popular. I’m not doing this for street cred or privilege or any of that bullshit that they care too much about. I’m doing this because the asshole that they’re rallying behind threatened my friend.

Inevitably, one of them gets brave enough to make the first move. He swings his stick, hollering at the top of his lungs, and misses wildly as I dodge to the side. The next guy gets lucky, breaking his stick against my arm as I block the side of my head. My arm stings like hell, but I can’t focus on that for too long before the rest of them start getting confident and lunging at me. 

Even in the midst of the frenzy, as I dodge a swing aimed towards my head or suffer a kick to the stomach, all I can think about is Minji. I made a promise to her, one I have no intention of breaking. Rather than a fight between me and the dozens of Tyler’s lackeys, it feels more like a fight between me and my instincts, actively trying to suppress the years of bad habits just for Minji. A part of me feels stupid for doing it - it’s not like she’ll ever see this anyways - yet I continue to subdue my instincts, even if it means sustaining a couple brutal blows to the body.

One of the bigger guys in the group tackles me to the ground, taking the wind out of me as my back collides with the hard concrete. My ears start to ring as he lands two solid punches to my cheek. I flail my hands wildly to the side, desperate for something to grab, before landing on a pile of broken glass. Ignoring the blood rushing to my palms, I chuck the shards at his face. He yelps in pain, allowing me to push him off and get back to my feet. Before I can even blink, my head begins to spin as another punch sends me careening towards the brick wall. Warm blood leaks through my lips, staining my shirt. Two more guys stand over me before hoisting me up by my arms.

I’m fucking exhausted. My vision is blurry and the ringing in my ears grows louder by the second. Each inhale burns just a bit hotter than the last. I’m covered in blood again, but this time, it’s all my own. Every cell in my body screams at me for getting into this situation in the first place, berating me for my own stubbornness. Yet the blonde boy, Kyle or whatever the fuck his name is, stands in front of me unscathed, not even a drop of sweat on his brow. The rest of his buddies are on the ground, breathless and covered in injuries they got from tripping over each other. I cough out a weak chuckle, sending a jolt of pain through my chest.

“W-what the fuck are you laughing at?!” Even his threats are starting to get shaky.

“Just funny… You called me out here… Yet… You didn’t do shit…” I mutter. “Fucking… coward…”

The fury ignites in his eyes, the same one present when he first called me out in English. He grabs a broken mop handle off the ground and swings it overhead, aiming for my face. This is it. Started this day off with a smile, and look where I’m at now. In the back of my mind, I always knew I would go out like this. It’s a shame this had to happen after I finally found something to look forward to. With a shallow breath, my eyes flutter shut as I unwillingly accept my fate.

Suddenly, a loud siren blares through the air. The stick that was sailing towards my head mere seconds ago now clatters to the ground. Mr. Geier pops up from behind the building with a megaphone in his hand, alongside two teachers, Winter, Yujin, Danielle, and Minji.

“What the hell are you doing!? Put him down NOW!” Geier yells through the megaphone. I collapse to my knees as the two idiots drop me to the ground. A mix of emotions swirl through my head, but the sense of relief shines clearest through the storm. The fact that I’m alive almost makes everything feel more painful. 

As the teachers reprimand the other guys, Minji and the others rush over to me, their overlapping voices of worry combined with the ringing in my ears making it impossible to make out anything. I want to tell them that it’s fine, I made it out alive. In a shit ton of pain, but alive nonetheless. No words come out. My vision is starting to blur again. Minji’s face is the last thing I see before everything turns to black.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

I lean back in my chair, stretching my arms as I let out a long, exhausted sigh. It feels like no matter how much progress I make with prom, there’s still a whole mountain of things I still need to do.

Danielle walks through the door of the student council room, carrying a pile of papers with her. I nearly burst into tears just looking at the size of the stack.

“Relax,” she says reassuringly, reading my expression. “These are all taken care of.”

I slide farther into my chair, releasing a deep breath. “Oh thank god, I don’t think I can handle doing anymore paperwork.”

She grins, taking a seat next to me. “The principal approved the caterers and our ‘Red Carpet’ theme, I informed the club leaders to start working on their floats for the prom parade, and Woohyuk and Julie from the art club agreed to paint a mural in the gym. All we have left to do is pick a venue, find a DJ, and prepare decorations.”

“You say that like it’s an easy thing to do.” I sigh, resting my head on the table while Danielle merely shrugs her shoulders. A couple minutes of silence pass, both of us exhausted and overwhelmed by the ever growing pile of work. “Are Woohyuk and Julie dating?” I ask, making small talk.

“I think so. They seem to have gotten a lot closer after the school festival, and they wouldn’t stop shooting each other heart eyes when I asked them to paint the mural. It was sickening,” she jokes.

Dating in high school always felt like an enigma to me. Statistically speaking, only 20% of couples last until college, and only 10% ever get married. High schoolers are the most emotional, stubborn, immature, and hormonal people on the planet (according to my parents), why would you want to date someone like that? But it’s not like I don’t want to date… I just never had the chance to. I would be lying if I said I don’t look at couples walking arm-in-arm through the halls with some kind of envy. Wouldn’t it be nice to go through the struggles of your teen years with someone that understands you because they’re going through the exact same thing? I say that, and then I look out the potential dating pool at Evergreen, only to be reminded of why I haven’t dated anyone. I mean, there is one guy I wouldn’t mind dating…

“Why do you ask?” Danielle says, interrupting my train of thought.

“U-uh nothing, just curious.” My cheeks suddenly flare up with heat as she leans forward, scrutinizing my expression.

“Are you thinking about that boy again?

My eyes go wide as I shake my head profusely. “W-what, no! Why would I be thinking about Yuno?”

“Because I didn’t even mention a name, yet your mind automatically went to Yuno.” She raises her eyebrows in an ‘I told you so’ expression, causing me to shrink in my chair. “Are you really gonna fall for someone like that just because he saves your purse from a thief?”

“I told you I—Huh? How do you know about that?”

Danielle takes her phone out and pulls up a video from a local news account titled, “Heroic Man Stops Mall Purse Thief.” My eyes grow even wider as the video plays, showing Yuno tackling the thief who stole my purse and the… awkward hug I gave him afterwards. Apparently, someone had recorded the entire altercation and uploaded it to social media. It now has…

“Five million views?!” I exclaim. That explains all the weird looks I’ve been getting today. I faceplant into the table, my face burning with a fire of a thousand suns. So that means the entire school saw me… hugging Yuno… I mean, why do I feel so embarrassed in the first place? Hugging is a perfectly normal way to show gratitude towards someone. He got my purse back, so a hug seems pretty normal, right? It’s not like people are gonna assume we’re dating. Not that I have any problem with dating him, it’s just…

I let out a sigh. “Danielle…” I groan, my voice muffled by the table.

“Hm?” I feel her gently pat my shoulder in support. I lift my head, turning towards her.

“What do I do?”

She tilts her head at me, confused. “Do you want them to take the video down?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s… I don’t know. I’m so lost. There’s a lot going on with prom and my parents, it feels like I’m being tossed back and forth in a tornado with nothing around to hold onto for support. There’s things that I want to do that seem so… impossible given the circumstances. I wish I could freeze time just so I could have a moment to myself to think.” I slump back onto the table in defeat while Danielle continues to rub my shoulder.

Compared to the rest of the girls, Danielle is the most logical one. Hanni does everything she can to cheer me up, Haerin lends an ear and a shoulder to cry on no matter what, Hyein is always there to show me the brighter side of things, and Danielle is prepared with an easy 3-step solution to virtually any of my problems. If I’m drowning in a sea of doubt and anxiety, I know she’ll be there with a spare life vest and an intricately made wooden raft to hoist me out of the water. But not even she has the answers to everything.

Suddenly, the door to the student council room swings open.

“We need help,” a familiar voice shoots through the door. “Quickly.”

Yuno’s friends stand in the doorway panting, worry painted on their faces. Winter looks like she’s on the verge of tears while Yujin’s normally cheery disposition is hauntingly absent.

“What’s wrong?” Danielle asks.

“I-I’m not sure, b-but I think h-he’s in a fight right n-now, behind the g-gym,” Winter answers, her voice breaking.

A fight? N-no… What if he gets hurt?

I hurriedly jump to my feet, my mind racing. “Danielle, Yujin, go get Principal Geier. Winter, come with me,” I command, panic evident in my voice. The four of us promptly leave the student council room, with Danielle and Yujin diverging to the principal’s office while Winter and I walk briskly towards the gym.

“Tell me everything. What do you mean Yuno might be in a fight?” I ask her.

“D-during English, Cameron w-went up to Yuno and he looked r-really angry. I-I couldn’t hear everything th-they were saying, but it s-sounded like he told him to m-meet behind the gym during l-lunch,” she explains. I pick up the pace, adrenaline pumping through my body. With each passing step, all I can think about is one thing.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

______________________________________________________________

As we turn the corner to the back of the gym, my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach while my breath gets completely sucked from my lungs. Two boys hold up Yuno’s limp body as a third prepares to swing a stick straight towards his head. I wanna scream, I wanna run to him and make sure he’s okay, but my entire body stays frozen in place. Why does it have to be Yuno? Why couldn’t it be anyone else? I was just talking to him a few hours ago, he was fine. He was smiling. I wish I could see that smile on his face again. Please.

“M-Minji,” Danielle softly calls out my name, wiping the tears off my face with concern in her eyes. I didn’t even realize I was crying. She holds me as I uncontrollably sob into her shoulder, my heart aching with an indescribable pain. It feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside. I need him to be okay. Please.

“C’mon, let’s go,” she says, patting my arm. I look up from her shoulder, wiping away my tears, to see Yuno collapse to the floor. Mr. Geier and the other two teachers with us yell at the rest of the boys to line up against the wall using harsh language I’ve never heard him say before. The four of us get down by his side, desperate to make sure he’s okay.

“H-he’s fine, right? He’ll be okay, right? D-Dani?” Yujin asks, his voice quivering as he looks up at her for reassurance.

“Just, um, give him some room to breathe for now.”

“Y-Y-Y-Yuno…” Winter’s entire body shakes as she weeps into her hands. I should comfort her. I’m the student council president, it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone’s okay. But my own tears won’t stop flowing as I gently cup his cheek, swollen and red with cuts. You were awake earlier. Your eyes were open and you were smiling. Please wake up. Please smile again, Yuno. Please.

“Guys, we have to take him to the nurse, now!” Mr. Geier exclaims, grabbing Yuno by the arms. “Help me get his legs up!”

The three of them lift up his legs while I’m still too busy crying to help. My body is moving, following close behind them, but my mind is too muddled to properly process anything. The next few minutes are nothing but a blur of hallways and odd stares from students exiting the lunch room. I don’t care. I don’t care about what other students think of Yuno. I don’t care about what my parents think of him. I don’t care about what people at the banquet will think of him. All I care about is him and making sure that he’s okay.

Once we arrive at the nurse’s office, they gently lay his body on one of the cots. I sit down next to him, just staring at his face. His chest slowly rises and falls with breath. That’s good. He’s breathing. He’s alive. 

Mr. Geier says something to us that I can’t quite make out. All of their voices fade into the background of my mind like nothing was ever said in the first place. Mr. Geier leaves, with Winter and Yujin following soon after. Danielle sits down next to me and says something, but I’m too distracted to listen right now. She ends up leaving soon too. All I can do is sit here and wait for him to wake up. Please wake up soon. Please.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

My eyes blink open to a blotchy field of grays and blacks. I try to sit up, but a stabbing pain shoots through my entire body. Every breath feels like hell to get through. Memories of what happened moments before I passed out come back to me. I almost got my skull busted open, and then there was this loud siren. I thought I saw Minji before I passed out, but I’m not too sure. Fuck, my body hurts like hell. Where am I anyways?

As my vision begins to focus, I see the familiar fluorescent lights of the school glaring back at me. I finally sit up, doing my best to ignore the pain in my back, and look around - the nurse’s office. The school’s nurse, a skinny woman with giant glasses and violently pink scrubs, sits at her desk and types away at her computer, oblivious to my consciousness. I consider saying something to let her know I’m awake, but my throat is too dry to produce any noise.

I turn to my left and my heart stops in my chest. Minji is lying on the cot next to me, sleeping peacefully. I start to wonder if this is all just another weird dream, but as I reach out and gently brush the hair from her face, the soft skin of her cheek feels too real. Even when she’s sleeping, she’s so beautiful. But… Why is she here?

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the nurse says, rising from her desk. I quickly retract my hand from Minji’s face. “Principal Geier explained everything that happened. How are you feeling?”

I stretch my limbs, testing how much I can withstand the pain before it becomes unbearable. “Could be better, but I’m alive and breathing at least,” I say. “Uh, what is she doing here? Did she get hurt?” My voice raises slightly as I gesture to Minji’s sleeping form. If those fuckers did anything to her, I’m gonna-

“I think she’s fine. She came in with you and wouldn’t move or speak, even after Principal Geier told the rest of the kids to get back to class. She just sat there, watching over you until she fell asleep,” the nurse explains.

I sign in relief, thankful that she’s not hurt, but the nurse’s explanation only produces more questions. Why didn’t she leave? I’m sure she’s busy with a million other things, watching over me will only set her back even more. It’s not like this is the first time this kind of thing has happened to me. Something similar happened right before I met Minji. I’ll feel like shit for a few days, but I’m relatively fine. 

So why did she stay?

The nurse pats my shoulder, handing me an ice bag. “I have to go, some kid threw up in the library, just put this wherever you feel like it. Will you and your girlfriend be fine here alone?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. “She’s not m- Uh, sure, we’ll be fine.”

She exits the room, leaving me alone with Minji. The silence gives me a moment to get my thoughts straight as the ice bag partially soothes my headache. Her face is so still and peaceful, I slow down my breaths despite the pain just so I don’t wake her up. The last time I saw her face like this was when we slept in the same bed after she almost got attacked in front of the convenience store. My heart still burns with anger at the thought of Minji nearly getting hurt. I want to protect her. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, I want to be there for her in any way I can. In the short time I’ve known Minji, it feels like I’m becoming a better person, or maybe I’m just becoming more and more foolish. I don’t know. Feelings are confusing.

Minji’s eyes suddenly flutter open, and as soon as they meet mine, she jumps up, wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Y-you’re awake! Oh my god, you’re awake!” She sobs into my shoulders. I completely freeze in her arms, the surprise overtaking the pain.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, Minji. Are you okay?” I ask, awkwardly patting her back. She separates from me, tears overflowing from her eyes. With each drop that falls, I feel my heart crack into a billion pieces, this pain worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. Hesitantly, I wipe away her tears with my uninjured hand, making sure my movements are gentle.

“H-hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” She takes a moment to calm down, sinking her cheek into my palm as she controls her breathing. I don’t dare move my hand, even after most of the tears stop flowing.

“I-I was… so worried… that y-you wouldn’t… wake up…” She stutters in between sniffles. “I-I thought you w-were… th-thought you were… dea-”

“I’m okay, Minji,” I interrupt her, afraid she’ll start bawling again if she finishes her sentence. “U-um, please stop crying. I’m okay.”

She takes one more deep breath before sitting back down, regretfully moving my hand from her cheek. We sit in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. She cried after getting attacked by the convenience store, but this time seems different. This time, she wasn’t crying for her, she was crying for me.

“Wait here,” Minji mutters before getting up and walking over to the sink in the corner of the room. I watch silently as she pulls out a few things from the cupboard and fiddles with the sink for a moment before walking back over to me. She gently places a bowl of water and a hand towel next to me before taking out a juice box and poking a straw through the top.

“Here.” She brings the straw to my lips, making me flinch slightly.

“Oh. Thanks.” I take it from her, drinking it as she dips the towel into the water and gently tends to my cut up hand. My body recoils from her touch more than the pain itself. It still feels foreign to me, being cared for like this. Never in a million years did I imagine someone like Minji Kim to pop into my life. She’s way too good for me. What good would I be as her boyfriend? What good am I as her friend for that matter? I don’t want to be a nuisance in her life. I want- No, I need to be better. For her.

She finishes wrapping the gauze around my hand. “Is that okay? Not too tight?” She asks, her voice slightly hoarse from crying.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thanks.” I look at her, meeting her eyes. “You didn’t have to do this. You should’ve just left-”

“Why did you get into another fight? I thought you said you wouldn’t fight anymore.” Her tone turns stern, softly reprimanding my decisions.

“I didn’t fight,” I assure her. “If I didn’t show up, they were gonna go after Winter, but I promise, I didn’t try to hit them or anything.”

“So you just let them beat you up!?” Minji shoots me a look of disbelief, tears welling up in her eyes.

“N-no! I-I dodged and stuff, they just got a few lucky hits in!” I hastily try to explain myself, hoping she doesn’t cry again. In hindsight, it sounds even more stupid when I say it out loud. I went to the back of the gym, fully expecting there to be a crowd of people wanting to kick my ass, and the only plan I had was to… not fight? Even if I did make it out fine, did I just expect Minji not to say anything about the sudden abundance of injuries all over my body? God, I’m such a dumbass.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone!? A-a teacher!? Principal Geier!? Me!?” The look of outrage alone is enough to make me feel like a child getting scolded by their parents. My gaze falls to the ground, hiding my embarrassed blush.

“I, uh… I didn’t think of that…” I shamefully admit. She sits next to me, sighing into her hands. Seconds stretch into entire years as tense silence overtakes the room. Even my own breathing feels comparable to a car engine with how quiet everything is.

My entire body freezes as I feel Minji rest her head on my shoulder. Her silky black hair tickles my neck while the scent of her lavender perfume wafts through my nose, giving me visions of running through a clear field full of nothing but lavender stems. “Do you know why I’m mad at you?” She asks, her voice surprisingly mild.

“Uh, because I’m… stupid?”

She chuckles lightly at my half-joke. “You’re not stupid. What you did was stupid, but no, that’s not why I’m mad.”

“Because, uh… I didn’t talk to you first?”

“Bingo.” She lifts her head up to look at me. Her face is close, I can feel the warmth emanating from her soft cheeks. “I know you wanted to protect Winter, but you ended up getting hurt in the process. If you had just gone to a teacher, those boys would’ve been reprimanded without you having to get hurt.”

“They would not have been reprimanded-”

“Okay, fine, they probably wouldn’t have been seriously reprimanded without any solid evidence,” she concedes. “But that doesn’t mean you should go through these kinds of things alone. Your friends were worried sick about you. And I…” Her voice cracks like delicate porcelain. “...I was worried sick about you.”

I gulp, finally feeling the weight of my actions. For years, everything I’ve done has only affected me. I never had to second guess anything. But things are different now. I have people around me that care about my well-being, which means all of my actions have some kind of effect on them. This whole thing sprouted from me wanting to protect a friend, but in the end, they got hurt because of me.

“I’m sorry, Minji. For being stupid and not talking to you and letting myself get hurt.”

She nods, offering an appreciative grin. “Next time something like this happens, just text me first so I can at least try to talk you out of it, okay?”

How could I ever say no to a face like that? “Okay.”

Minji’s smile widens, and like a mirror, I can feel my own lips curling to reflect her joy. She’s so… amazing, unreal even—like someone plucked a princess straight from a fairy tale and placed her right in front of me. Kind, caring, courteous, beautiful, strong, intelligent, absolutely perfect in every way possible that it almost feels unfair. I might be fated for nothing more than an early grave, but for once, I want to defy fate and entertain the possibility that something good could happen to me. Maybe Minji is the good thing that happened to me, and maybe, just maybe, there is a future where me and her… y’know.

A whole minute passes before I realize that neither of us have stopped staring at each other. Something in my head clicks. I find myself leaning in, inch by inch, closer to Minji’s lips, just like I’ve done many times in my dreams - But this time, it’s real. Her breath dances against my skin, making my cells tingle in anticipation. Something in her expression shifts. Her eyes widen slightly, flickering downwards every so often, but she doesn’t pull away, even after my intentions become crystal clear. She opens her mouth as if to say something, a protest maybe, but no sound comes out except for her shivering breath. My heart pounds in my ears like a warning alarm telling me to stop. “This is a bad idea, Yuno! What are you doing!?” Yet I continue onward until the tension is palpable. So close, I can almost taste it-

The door to the nurse’s office swings open. “Oh good, you’re both awake!”

Minji and I jump to opposite sides of the cot, my face burning hotter than the sun. The nurses waltzes in with another kid sporting a gross vomit stain on his shirt, tossing any kind of sentiment I had mere moments ago out the window. My heart chugs with the force of a speeding bullet train; it’s a miracle I haven’t succumbed to a heart attack by now.

“U-um, I should, um…” Minji stutters frantically, her eyes darting everywhere but in my direction. If it’s any consolation, I feel too overwhelmed to look at anywhere except the floor. She hurries out of the nurse’s office without uttering another word.

“What’s up with her?” The nurse asks. I’m too busy freaking out to even register her question properly.

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST TRY TO DO!?

___________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Oh my god. Oh… my god. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My god. OH. MY. GOD. OMGOMGOMGOMGOGMOMGOMGOMGOMGM-

“Minj? Are you alright?”

I jump in my seat, my gaze flying wildly around me. “H-huh?”

Hanni and Haerin exchange odd glances as they take their seats on either side of me. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?” Hanni asks, her eyebrow raised in concern.

“I-I’m fine, just working on prom stuff like usual.” That’s only somewhat of a lie: after getting permission to excuse myself from the rest of the day’s classes, I came into the student council room with the intent to work on prom stuff to get my mind off of… that. However, I ended up spending the last hours of the school day staring at my blank computer screen while my mind spirals out of control. “Where’s Danielle and Hyein?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Home stuff,” Hanni answers, sliding an iced coffee towards me. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look… shaky.”

“It’s probably just stress, you know how I’ve been lately,” I awkwardly chuckle. Caffeine is probably the last thing that I need right now, yet I take a sip to keep up appearances. Haerin’s cold, analyzing glare seems to notice this.

“Mmm…” She grumbles to herself, her gaze never leaving mine as she takes a notebook from her backpack and starts to scribble in it. Haerin always had a knack for knowing things before they happen, but not even she could’ve possibly known about the nurse’s office… right?

“Ugh, all this talk about prom is making me sick,” Hanni groans. “Spending over $1000 on hair, makeup, a dress, and a limo, all for what? Three hours of some sweaty boy’s hands on my waist? I think I’ll pass.”

“You can think that, but some people wait their entire lives for this one magical night, I just want to make sure everyone has fun,” I reason.

“Pfft, you just want to slow dance with your little boyfriend, Yuno.”

The shock from her words makes me choke on my drink, devolving into a mad coughing fit. “W-what?! N-no I don’t! He’s not my- shut up!” Hanni throws her head back in laughter, clearly amused by my near death experience at her hands.

With how insanely stressful prom preparations have been, the thought of procuring a date to the event never crossed my mind. At this point in the year, most people have found potential dates to take or a close group of friends to go with, with Danielle, Hanni, and I falling into the latter. All this time, I never even thought what prom would be like for myself. I’ve seen it all the time in movies and TV shows: the main character boy asks the hot cheerleader girl to prom, they slow dance together to a popular song fitting of the time, they kiss, credits roll. A simple, predictable formula riddled with a mess of cliches, but one that many dream about for their own special night. But what did I want out of prom? Would he even- Nevermind, I can’t even think clearly about that right now.

Haerin tosses her notebook over to me. “I drew this,” she states.

I peer down at her drawing, growing more confused with each second. It seems to depict some kind of misshapen blob and a… girl? I think? They’re sitting on some kind of bench really close together. Haerin never showed any interest in the arts before this, so why would she be into drawing all of a sudden?

“Um, it’s nice? I think? What is it supposed to be?” I ask.

“It’s you kissing a shadow monster.”

My arm lurches wildly to the side, inadvertently tossing her notebook across the room. Does she know? How does she know!? She wasn’t there, right? Right!?

“That wasn’t very nice, Minj,” Hanni chides, picking the notebook off the ground. “I think it’s very unique and has a lot of character. She even got your ponytail right. Good job, Kitty Kang.” She pats Haerin’s head, bringing a pleased smile out of her, yet her eyes stay glued to me like a predator stalking its prey. I’m starting to wonder if she ever even blinks.

“Sorry, Haerin, I just feel out of it today. It’s a, uh… lovely drawing,” I sigh, resting my head onto my palm.

“Yah, you’re bumming me out, Minj. Let’s do something fun instead of all this prom garbage. Karaoke?” Hanni suggests. They both look at me expectantly, which only makes my answer even more painful.

“I would love to, especially today out of all days, but I have to prepare for a banquet tomorrow.”

“A banquet? You never told us about that. Ooh, can we come?” Hanni pleads, flashing her big eyes and pouty lips.

“I, um… It’s for my family’s business. They said I couldn’t invite anyone, sorry.” Oh god. Lying to my parents is one thing, but lying to my best friends? The people I trust more than anybody in the entire world? My own words leave a bitter taste in my mouth, more bitter than the strongest black coffee. But what am I supposed to tell them? That I invited Yu- him instead of my own closest friends? Even if his presence serves some kind of purpose, I still can’t imagine how they would react if I told them I basically chose a boy over them. No matter how I try to justify it, it still feels wrong.

“Aww,” Hanni pouts. While she’s distracted, I notice Haerin picking up her notebook and pointing at the “shadow monster” in her drawing with a scrutinizing squint. I try to ignore her, keeping a straight face, but it’s becoming more clear that she knows something’s up.

“I’ll make it up to you guys some other time,” I say, gathering my things. “Next time we go to karaoke, I’ll pay for everything, snacks, drinks, whatever, alright?”

“Woo! I won’t say no to that!” Hanni cheers, skipping out of the student council room. I get up to follow her, but a tug on my sleeve stops me. Haerin stares at me blankly, unblinking, for what feels like forever. It’s normally hard to read her, but especially now when my mind has been in a constant whirlwind for the last couple hours, all I can come to are a few thousand anxiety-ridden conclusions. She suddenly moves her hand upwards with the focused intensity of a cat, waving it around before finally landing her index finger on the middle of my forehead.

“U-um, Haerin, what are you-”

“You’re overthinking things. Go with your gut,” she states before putting her notebook back into her bag like nothing ever happened.

“What are you talking about-”

“If you’re not gonna admit it to us, at least admit it to yourself. It’s not healthy to keep things bottled up, you’re barely floating as it is.” Haerin goes up to the door, stopping to look back at me. “Are you coming with us or not?”

“O-oh, right, yeah.” I can barely process her words as I follow the two of them off campus. What does she mean by “overthinking”? I’m not overthinking, I’m thinking a perfectly healthy amount. I just have a lot on my plate, so there’s a lot I need to think about. That’s not overthinking, that’s just… thinking a lot. I need to be thinking a lot, or else I run the risk of letting a ton of people down. My parents, the entire student body, my friends. Once I get a quiet moment to myself, I’ll be fine. Right? Right?

______________________________________________________________

I kick off my shoes by the front door, ready to land face first into my bed and turn off my brain for a couple hours. Unfortunately, fate has other plans for me.

“Minji! Welcome home, dear!” My mom announces from the living room, her tone a bit too cheerful to not raise any immediate red flags. “How was school?”

I fight back an exhausted sigh. “It was fine, Mother. I’m just gonna go up to my room and-”

“Oh, well don’t go upstairs yet! The Parks are here, come say hello!”

The Parks are what!? My eyes shoot up, scanning the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Park sit on the sofa, offering me kind smiles. But if they’re here, does that mean-

“Minji! Long time no see!” My worst nightmare rounds the corner with my father in tow, laughing like they’re old buddies or something. My skin crawls as he walks towards me with his arm spread out like he’s about to hug me. I wanna run and hide, but I’m too terrified to move. In the end, all I can do is try not to vomit on his shoulder as he wraps me up in an awkward hug.

Is this real? Surely this isn’t real, right? Maybe this is all just some sick nightmare and I’m still sleeping in the nurse’s office. Please let this be just a nightmare.

“Cat got your tongue or something?” He jokes, finally releasing me from his grasp.

“Sunghoon, it’s uh… good to see you.”

Father walks up and clasps his hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Sunghoon was just telling me that he’s considering transferring over Evergreen for the rest of the school year. Isn’t that great, Minji?”

“He WHAT!?”

Everyone turns to look at me, shock and concern written all over their faces. “I-I mean what a great surprise! That’s just… so, so, sooo great to hear,” I say through bared teeth. “I have an, uh, important test tomorrow that I need to study for, so I’m just gonna go up to my room and-”

“Why don’t you bring Sunghoon with you, dear?” Mother suggests, oblivious to the fact that she’s slowly destroying my life. “It’ll give you two time to catch up without us adults getting in the way.”

I muster up the most convincing smile I can and say, “S-sure. That would be great. Just… great.”

I stomp up the stairs to my room with Sunghoon in tow, immediately collapsing onto my bed without giving him a second thought.

“Your room is nice,” he says, shutting the door behind him and effectively taking away my only way of escape. Maybe there’s some soft bushes I can land on if I jump out the window. If not, at least death seems more favorable than being stuck in here with the worst human being alive.

“Mhm,” I mutter, half-listening to whatever he has to say.

Sunghoon paces around my room, looking around at my posters and my desk before picking up Mr. Bear from my bed. “I see you’re still into teddy bears,” he chuckles to himself.

“Put that down!” I grab Mr. Bear from his grasp and glare coldly at him, causing him to back off with his hands up.

“Alright, it’s clear that there’s still some bitterness so I might as well just go ahead and address the elephant in the room: I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were kids. I was an immature little brat and I should’ve treated you better. Will you forgive me?”

That was… surprisingly mature. Did the original Sunghoon die in an accident and got replaced by a nicer clone? Does he have an illegitimate twin brother that replaced him and took his name after Mr. and Mrs. Park realized how much of a gremlin their son is? Any of those explanations seem more plausible than Sunghoon actually maturing.

“Uh… sure, I guess,” I say, still weirded about this sudden revelation. He grins at me, sitting next to me on the bed. “Um, I’m sorry for yelling. It’s been a, uh… long day.”

“No worries, I deserved it.” Jeez, this new understanding side of Sunghoon is so off putting. If he acted like old self, at least that would be predictable. This feels like walking through uncharted territory without so much as a map or even a flashlight.

“Your mother told me that you’re inviting a friend to the banquet tomorrow,” he continues. “Some guy named Yuno. What’s he like?

“He’s…” Oh god, I can’t even think properly about him right now after what happened in the nurse’s office. I still haven’t been able to process my own feelings about it. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? I can’t even remember where my mind was during that whole thing, yet I can remember everything else so vividly; his warm breath dancing against my skin, his kind eyes peering into mine with so much care behind them, his soft lips inching closer and closer-

“Minji? Are you alright?” Sunghoon nudges my shoulder, taking me out of my impromptu trip down memory lane. I sink my face into Mr. Bear’s head, hiding the growing blush on my cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, long day,” I reason. “Um… He’s nice. A little shy, but he means well.”

“Are you sure you two are friends?” He chuckles at me. “It doesn’t seem like you know him very well.”

“We, uh, haven’t been friends very long,” I explain. As weird as it is, Yuno and I have only known each other a couple of days, yet it feels like so much longer than that. Now that I think about it, we’ve run into each other everyday since we met, even on the weekend. For the past three years of attending the same high school, he’s been nothing but a body walking through the hall or the utterance of a name whenever he stirred up trouble, but now, we’re so intertwined in each other’s lives like he’s been there from the start. Without him, I probably would’ve gotten attacked by that drunk man and I never would’ve gotten over my fear of spiders. His presence has become so integral to my life, I can’t imagine him not being there in some way.

“Do you like him?” Sunghoon asks suddenly, glancing at me.

I… I don’t know. I don’t know what to think or feel about him. He is a part of my life, but I just… I don’t know. “As a friend, yeah,” I utter, unsure of the words coming out of my own mouth.

He nods, grinning to himself. “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Oh, nothing, just, uh… thinking out loud.” He gets up from my bed and walks towards the door. “I’ll let you study for your test now, I’d hate to interfere with your academics. See ya tomorrow, Minji.”

“Yeah, see ya…” He shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Instead of getting up and doing something productive to distract myself, all I can do is lie there and stare at the ceiling, wondering when everything became so complicated.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

“Yuno, are you okay? You’re blanking out again,” Winter says.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little headache.”

Honestly, I would prefer it if it was just a little headache rather than the fucking tornado that’s been running rampant through my mind. During the entire walk from the school to the convenience store, all I could do was stare at the ground and let my legs blindly follow behind Winter and Yujin. Hell, I barely even noticed we came to the convenience store until just now.

“Shouldn’t you go to the doctor? You don’t look very good,” Yujin says.

“I’ve been through worse.” Both of them still stare at me, unconvinced of my wellbeing. “I’ll feel better after I sleep it off, alright? You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

“How can we not worry about you, you got hurt b-because of me…” Winter’s voice falters as tears begin to well within her eyes.

“Ah jeez. Look, I…” My mind wanders back to what Minji said to me in the nurse’s office before I did… that: But that doesn’t mean you should go through these kinds of things alone. Your friends were worried sick about you.

“I’m sorry. To both of you. I should’ve let you two know what was going on instead of running in alone and letting myself get hurt. It won’t happen again, okay? I’m done fighting,” I say. Both of them look up at me in surprise.

“So no more Super Yuno?” Yujin asks.

“Uh yeah. No more, uh, ‘Super Yuno’.” If there’s a silver lining in any of this, it’s definitely getting rid of that ridiculous nickname.

“Hmm…” Yujin’s gaze falls to the ground in contemplation. “When superheroes in comic books get hurt, they usually have some kind of healing factor or revival ability that helps them get back up no matter how much damage they take. But you…” He looks up at me, his own eyes glossy with sorrow. “...You’re real. You don’t have any superpowers to help you. It was really scary seeing you not wake up, Yuno. I-I don’t… I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.”

“Me neither,” Winter adds.

The three of us sit in silence with nothing but the crickets and the gentle howl of the passing breeze to let us know the world is still moving. The weight of their words sink deeper into me, making me feel even more guilty for my lack of consideration. Things are different now. I can’t act like I’m still living the same life I was a couple days ago, and frankly, I don’t want to go back to that life of solitude and pain. I need to change for the better. For me. For my dad. For my friends. For Min… For her.

I clap Yujin on the back, ruffling his hair. “You guys won’t have to see me get hurt anymore, alright? I really am done fighting.”

Winter smiles at me, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Yujin chuckles.

My lips form into a grin, a feeling I’m starting to get used to. “But if anyone messes with either of you, I don’t mind coming out of retirement for a little bit.”

The sounds of their laughter float with the wind, carried wherever fate takes them. I always viewed fate as cruel and unyielding, rendering our sense of choice to nothing but dust. But every once in a while, it’ll surprise me with something new, not necessarily good or bad, just different. This, however, is good. Unequivocally good. It can be convoluted and annoying at times, but still good.

“How’s the student council president?” Winter asks, making my shoulders tense up suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she looked really worried about you. Danielle told me that she’s never seen her act like that before,” Yujin says.

My gaze drifts to the side, unable to meet their eyes. “U-uh, she’s fine. We talked. We’re, uh, cool.” I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling right now after I did all that. What am I supposed to say to her? Do I just pretend like nothing happened? That I didn’t just try to kiss her? OUT OF NOWHERE? I clutch my head as I devolve into another tumultuous storm of uncertainty and anxiety. I need to get this feeling out of me. I need to… I…

“I almost kissed her,” I blurt out. Winter and Yujin’s jaws drop in utter shock at my confession. My entire face burns with shame, but my soul feels lighter now that I finally acknowledged it.

“Uh, what do you mean almost?” Winter asks after several seconds of stunned silence.

“I-I, uh… Fuck…” I inhale deeply, steadying my breath. “We were just talking and then suddenly her face was really close and I kinda just… leaned in… uh…” The more I blabber, the warmer my entire body feels, yet going back and reliving that moment so clearly feels oddly nice in a way. Instead of it being a dream, it was real. I almost got to see what happens at the end of that dream instead of waking up in my bed.

Both of them lean in with amused smirks, completely intrigued by my stupid little accident. “Do you like her?” Winter asks.

“Y-yeah, I do. A lot.”

“Aw, look at him, he’s blushing,” Yujin teases.

I turn my head, hiding my face into my hands. “Sh-shut up…”

“I think it’s very cute that you have a crush on her. Minji seems like a really nice girl,” Winter says, amused. “Are you gonna ask her out to prom?”

“I, uh… I don’t know.”

“Why not? I think you should go for it if you really like her.”

“I don’t know how she feels about me. I mean, I know she thinks of us as friends, but more than that…” I sigh, my shoulders slumping towards the ground. “Minji has a lot going for her, and I’m just me.”

“How did she react when you almost kissed her?” Yujin asks.

“She, uh… She ran out of the room in a panic.”

Both of them turn to each other in contemplation. “Well, that could mean anything,” Winter says. “Regardless of what you think she feels, you should ask her out or else you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life. I didn’t think Karina would ever like me, but look where we’re at now.”

“Yeah, Yuno!” Yujin adds. “We’ll even help you with your promposal! I can make posters and-”

“N-no!” I interject. “No posters. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I already know what people think of me, so to put that kind of attention on her would be cruel.”

Amused smirks grow on their faces as they exchange knowing glances at each other. “That was really sweet, Yuno,” Winter says, gushing.

On second thought, maybe it’s better if I didn’t tell them all of this; God knows I won’t hear the end of it for the next week. But as I look at the sincerity in their smiles, a warm feeling stirs within me. Maybe it’s better I did.

______________________________________________________________

My hand rests on the doorknob of my home, frozen by the impending dread of having to come clean and explain the sudden influx of cuts and bruises marking my body. If he’s going to be in my life again, he’ll have to deal with the fact that I made and will continue to make really shitty mistakes. I just hope I’m able to learn from them every once in a while.

With a deep breath, I enter my home to find him sitting alone at the dining table, his leg bouncing restlessly as he stares blankly at nothing. All the lights in the house are off, save for the single one floating right above him, creating an ominous tension that blasts me from the doorway.

“Uh, hey, Dad.”

“Yuno!” I expected anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust, but instead I’m met with relief as he walks over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Your principal called me earlier, I was worried sick about you. Are you okay?

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I thought I would get tired of reiterating for the umpteenth time that I’m fine, but having people around me that care enough to worry gives me this tingling feeling in my chest. It feels… nice, actually.

“Are you getting bullied at school?” He asks worriedly.

“No, it’s nothing like that. It was just a stupid fight.” Some could argue that I’m the bully at the school, and maybe they’re right, but at least I pick on people that deserve it instead of defenseless underclassmen.

“Do you need me to take you to the hospital or something?”

“I’m fine, I’ve been through worse. Just need a little rest,” I say. He begins to speak, but stops and sighs instead.

“Alright. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?” I nod. “I trust you know how to take care of yourself by now, but I’m always gonna be here if you need me.” He walks over to the kitchen and pours himself a cup of water, but instead stares pensively at it, watching his reflection in the cup.

“Actually, I could use a ride after school tomorrow,” I say. “I was, uh, invited to a banquet.”

He looks up from the cup, his brow raised in curiosity. “Really? What for?”

“Minji - the girl you met at the mall - she invited me,” I explain.

My dad smirks, finally showing a positive emotion for the first time since I got home. “Sure thing, I can drive you.” 

“Thanks, dad.” I grin at him before heading upstairs to my room. 

The easy parts are over. I apologized to Winter and Yujin, and accidentally let my feelings for Minji slip out. I talked to my dad and he seemed to take things better than I thought he would. Now there’s just one person left I have to talk to, arguably the most important I need to talk to: Minji.

I stare at my phone, my eyes rereading our previous texts over and over again. Should I call her? What would I even say? Even texting her seems like an impossible feat at this point. After she freaked out and ran out of the nurse’s office, I’ve been struggling to think of how I should address the incident. Hell, I’ve been struggling on how I should feel about it myself. I did, technically, want it to happen, but couldn’t I have chosen a more opportune moment to do it? Y’know, like after knowing for sure what she feels about me? God, I’m a fucking idiot.

To add salt to the wound, I end up going for the coward’s way out, typing up a message that avoids the issue entirely because acting like everything is fine is surely the best course of action.

Yuno: Hi. What should I wear to the banquet? And what’s the address?

Feelings are so exhausting.

______________________________________________________________

Compared to how “eventful” yesterday was, Tuesday went by in the blink of an eye. The weird stares were still there, even more so thanks to my injuries, and Tyler’s group of friends in English class seemed to be down a couple of guys. Not my problem, less trouble for me and it’s not like I even hit any of them. Minji never responded to the text I sent last night. To make matters worse, every time I saw her in the hallway, she avoided eye contact completely and ran the opposite direction. If she told me that what I did was disgusting and to never talk to her again, I would at least understand, but to avoid me completely when I’m literally going to a banquet with her feels like cruel and unusual punishment.

I sigh, banging my head into my locker. Not the greatest decision given my condition, but I don’t give a shit anymore. I just want the girl I like to talk to me.

“Is she still avoiding you?” Winter asks from next to me.

“Yeah,” I utter sadly. “Maybe I messed up. Maybe she doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Yujin pats my shoulder in support. “Don’t worry about it, Yuno, you’ll get a chance to talk to her eventually. Didn’t you say you were going to that banquet with her tonight? You can talk to her then!”

“She hasn’t even given me the address, how am I supposed to get there?” I reason. “Maybe this is her way of telling me not to come.”

Winter and Yujin exchange worried glances while I lean against my locker, thinking about everything and nothing. Is this what it feels like to have something good ripped away from you all of a sudden? It sucks. It fucking sucks. Part of me wishes I never met Minji in the first place just so I never have to feel like this.

Just then, Minji’s tall friend walks past, offering a polite wave. What’s her name again? It starts with an H… Not Hanni… Harry… Halsey… Hyemi…

“Hyein!” I call out, rushing over to her.

“Hello, Minji’s friend!” She says. “What’s up?”

“Have you talked to Minji at all today?”

“Of course I have!” She smiles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Why?”

“Has she, um, said anything about me?” I may sound feeble and desperate, but that’s because I am. If Minji hates my guts, then I need to know, or else I’m gonna be walking around like a hopeless idiot.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think she’s said anything about you.”

“Oh…” I hang my head, completely dejected. Not only did I get any new information, but now her friends are gonna think I’m a weirdo. “Well, next time you see her, can you ask her to check her texts? She hasn’t given me a response yet.”

“Why can’t you tell her yourself? Did something happen between you two?” Hyein squints at me.

“N-no! I mean…” You tried to kiss her, you dumbass. “...maybe. I don’t know. Can you tell her that I want to talk? Please.”

“Hmm…” She studies my expression with an intense glare. “Okay, but I can’t promise anything. Whatever you did must’ve upset her a lot if she’s not talking to you all of a sudden.” I sigh, feeling my heart being ripped out of my chest. “Yeah, I figured. Thanks.” With my gaze fixed on the ground, I trudge back to my locker where Winter and Yujin are waiting. I wanna bash my head into the metal door so I can stop feeling like this, but I can’t even muster up the energy to do that. If only I didn’t catch a stupid crush on her.

A stupid, hopeless, foolish crush.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. Schoolwork. Study. Test. Prom. I feel like a robot running through a constant cycle to maintain peak productivity. I’ve accomplished so much in the day that I don’t even have time to think about anything else. With prom slowly approaching, my continuous cycle of work will eventually pay off and everyone will finally be happy.

The door to the student council room clicks open, but I don’t even flinch. Eyes are glued to the screen, typing up emails and researching venues until calluses form on my fingers.

“Uh, Minji?” I hear Danielle’s voice ask. “What are you doing in here with the lights off?”

Oh right. The lights are off. I didn’t even notice. The bluelight from my laptop has burned itself into my retinas. Even when I blink, all I see is the screen.

“Just working,” I mutter.

“Hey, girl,” Hanni says, concern laced in her tone. “We got you an iced coffee if you want it.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip, the caffeine having an immediate effect on me like adding coal to the furnace of a speeding steam train. Email sent. New tab opened up. Check notification. Look at potential venues. Don’t think. Just work.

A hand slams my laptop shut. “Hey! What are you-” I look up for the first time to see all of my friends looking down at me with worry all over their faces.

“I told you keeping things bottled up isn’t healthy,” Haerin states, her hand holding my laptop closed.

“W-what are you talking about?” I ask, annoyed. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work!?”

“Minj, look at yourself! This isn’t just stress anymore, you look like a zombie!” Hanni exclaims.

I scoff, rubbing my hands over my face. “I’m fine, I’m just working on prom like usual. Haerin, give me back my-” I reach for my laptop, but Haerin snatches it away. “Haerin, what are you doing!? I’m in the middle of something important!”

“Minji, what is going on with you?” Danielle asks in a calm yet concerned tone. “You’ve been acting weird ever since yesterday.”

I feel like my head is about to explode. What are they not understanding!? Of course I’m going to be mad, they just took away my laptop! If anything, they’re acting weird! “I told you guys, I’m fine-”

“Is this about what happened between you and Yuno?” Hyein asks from the corner of the room. My gaze shoots towards her. Her hands are trembling by her sides like leaves in a heavy storm, barely holding onto the branch they’re a part of. Tears threaten to burst from her eyes. She’s scared, terrified. Of me.

My legs give out from underneath me as my vision becomes blurry with tears. A blanket of warmth covers me as the girls hold me in their gentle embrace. I don’t deserve them. I’ve been lying and keeping secrets from them, and now I yelled at them. All for what? A boy? Have I lost sight of what really matters in my life just because I think I have feelings for someone?

It takes a while for me to come down from the overwhelming wave of emotions. By the time my tears stop, I find myself surrounded by my friends’ caring gazes. The four people I trust most in the world, but also the ones I need to apologize to.

“I-I’m sorry guys,” I begin. “I know I said I’ve been stressed, but that doesn’t excuse my outburst. You guys don’t deserve to be yelled at like that.”

Hanni tenderly brushes my hair with her fingers, letting me rest my head on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Minj, we know you didn’t mean it. We’re just really worried about you.”

“Yeah,” Danielle adds. “It’s clear that this isn’t just about prom anymore.”

“What did Yuno do to you?” Hyein asks.

“He didn’t, um…” I take a deep breath, steadying my heartbeat. “When he got into that fight yesterday, it really scared me. Seeing him pass out like that, I thought he was d… gone. It felt like I couldn’t breathe properly until I knew he was alright. All I could think about was ‘Why did this have to happen to him? It’s so unfair. He doesn’t deserve this at all’. When Yuno finally woke up, it was like… everything felt right again. I was so relieved. And then I looked into his eyes and thought ‘I never want to see you get hurt again’. And I…” My cheeks start to burn as my voice falters. The girls begin to stare at me with intrigue, waiting for me to finish my sentence.

“I-I… I almost kissed him.”

The room fills with collective gasps as each of them freeze in shock. I bury my face into Hanni’s shoulder, each passing second of silence making me feel even more embarrassed.

“W-what do you mean almost?” Danielle asks, the most disturbed out of the four of them.

“The nurse came in before we could, uh… finish,” I say, my voice muffled by Hanni’s shirt.

“OH. MY. GOD.” Hanni squeals. “Girl, tell us everything! Who initiated? What did he say to you? Did he go right or left-” Haerin clasps her hand over Hanni’s mouth, shaking her head disapprovingly. Thank god, I don’t know how much longer I could’ve taken her questions. 

“Is that why you were avoiding him all day?” Hyein asks. I sigh, nodding sadly.

“Every time I saw him, I panicked and ran away like an idiot,” I admit. “I don’t know what to think or how to feel.”

“Do you like him?”

I stare at the ground in contemplation, thinking about the past few days with Yuno. Despite what others think of him, he’s proven himself to be kind hearted and loyal, oftentimes putting his friends above his own well being. He’s saved me countless times, never once asking for any sort of recompense, and he’s shown that he’s willing to change for the better, even if it might go against his own ideas of justice. Yuno is a good guy, a great friend, and…

“Yeah,” I nod. “I think I do like him.”

“You think?” Danielle asks, unconvinced.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had a crush on anybody before.”

“Minj, that is so cute!” Hanni chimes. “You should ask him to prom!”

“Shouldn’t he ask me…?”

Haerin shakes her head. “It’s 2024, subjecting yourself to outdated ideals will only leave you disappointed. Get with the times, grandma.”

I side-eye her, grimacing at her insult. “Whatever. I don’t even know if he feels the same and I’d rather not do something drastic to ruin our friendship.”

“But you’ll never know if you don’t try,’ Hanni says. “You’re gonna regret it if you don’t tell him how you feel.”

“I know, but I can’t just rush into something like this without thinking first,” I argue. “Besides, I’m busy with a thousand things right now, I don’t even think I have time for a relationship.”

Danielle takes my hand in hers, looking me in the eye. “You should do what makes you happy, Minji. I mean, look what happened when you bottled up everything inside and put other people’s feelings above your own. Forget everyone else right now and focus on your own happiness for once.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she snaps. “I can get the other student council members to pick up the slack on prom preparations, so go out, have fun, and date a stupid boy. And if he hurts you, then you have the four of us to fall back on.” The others nod in agreement, smiling brightly at me.

“Thanks, guys.” I quickly clap my hands over my eyes in an attempt to stop another onslaught of tears. “God, I feel like I’m gonna cry again.”

“Aww, you big softie,” Hanni says. “Come here.”

The four of them pull me into a warm group hug that melts all my worries away. Honest to God, I don’t know what I would do without them. These girls are like my own little life raft, keeping me afloat even when I fall overboard. 

I take out my phone and send a text that I should have sent ages ago.

Yuno: Hi. What should I wear to the banquet? And what’s the address?

Minji: hey :) just wear something nice! the address is 0507 Ador Ln. don’t be late, there’s something i want to talk to you about.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, checking if my outfit is okay for the millionth time. “just wear something nice!” she says, yet the only nice clothes I have are some light blue jeans and the bear sweater that I bought on a whim. I’m not sure if “nice” is how I would describe this outfit, but I don’t exactly have any other alternatives.

I would be lying if I said her text didn’t make my heart feel so much lighter. It doesn’t matter how stupid I look as long as I finally get to clear things up with her. Not being able to talk to her at all for the past day has been complete hell, I wouldn’t wish the feeling on my worst enemy. Yet, a part of me feels downright terrified. What is she gonna say to me? Will we still be friends after this? I’ll have to hold onto this dreadful suspense until I see her, and probably even longer depending on how the banquet goes. Hopefully we can get over this quickly so I can finally breathe normally.

My dad knocks on the bathroom, peeking his head through the open door. “You ready to go?” He asks.

“Yeah, uh…” I pause, awkwardly looking at the ground. “Do I look okay?”

He chuckles at me, patting my shoulder. “You look great. I’m sure she’ll like it.”

I take one last look at myself in the mirror before heading out to the car, my heartbeat ringing in my ears as we head to the banquet.

Naturally, the banquet takes place on the far side of the town where all the rich people live. Grandiose buildings line the streets as opposed to the regular suburban houses I’m used to, larger and shinier than anything I’ve ever seen, their opulence almost blinding under the streetlights. Even my dad looked impressed, staring at all the different houses that we could never dream of affording. All of this only serves as a reminder that I don’t belong in this world and never will. To Minji, this is just another Tuesday for her. I sigh, the pit in my stomach growing deeper and deeper.

The banquet hall sits atop a hill overlooking the town as if it's looking down on everyone else with disgust. As we drive up to the building, the frequency of luxury cars increases, making our car look like garbage on wheels in comparison. The closer we get, the more I’m starting to regret my decision to come along. A few guests are talking outside, dressed in their finest tailored suits and elegant gowns. I look down at the bear on my sweater with shame. I didn’t want to stand out, yet I’m basically wearing a giant sign that says “look at me, I’m an idiot.”

Near the entrance, I spot Minji wearing a stunning black dress that compliments her natural beauty. Simple yet sophisticated… And I’m wearing this god damn bear sweater. Maybe it’s not too late to turn around and go back home. I’ll tell her my body started hurting all of a sudden and I can’t move and-

“Hey,” my dad says, patting my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Go have fun.”

I nod, taking one more deep breath before stepping out of the car. “A-alright. Uh, thanks for giving me a ride.”

He smiles at me. “Of course. Text me when you want to leave and I’ll come right away. Bye, Yuno.” I watch as the car disappears down the hill, leaving me completely stranded with no way of escaping. All I can do is face this head on, like I’ve always done.

With each step I take towards Minji, my heart beat rings louder and louder in my ears. The gnawing insecurity in the pit of my stomach makes it hard to breathe, yet I continue forward towards the impossibly beautiful girl that I’ve fallen completely in love with. Her black hair flows like waves curling from a waterfall, light and airy, as she exudes an air of elegance and grace. If I survived a beating from a group of guys, then I can survive this one night. For her.

“Min-”

“Hey Minji!” A loud voice calls out from behind me. The source of the voice, a tall guy wearing a sophisticated suit, walks over to her and pulls her into a hug. My blood immediately begins to boil with rage. Who the fuck is this guy!?

“You look great! How are you doing?” I hear him ask her.

“U-uh, thanks, I’m fine, um…” Minji spots me, her face lighting up instantly. “Yuno!” I do my best to hide the growing smirk as he looks back at me with bewilderment.

“H-hey. Hi,” I say to her.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she replies, smiling at me. God, I missed that smile. I missed hearing her voice. It’s only been a day, but it feels nice to finally talk to her again.

“Um, hello? Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend, Minji?” The tall guy says. He must be the one Minji was warning me about, I can already tell he gives off a pompous energy.

“Ah right. Yuno, this is Sunghoon, Sunghoon, this is my friend from school, Yuno,” Minji says.

“What’s up, man?” Sunghoon reaches his hand out towards me, which I nearly shake before realizing I still have the gauze wrapped around my hand. “Oh damn, what happened to your hand? Are you some kind of fighter or something?” He jokes. Minji gives me an apologetic look while I simply shake my head.

“Cooking accident. I’m fine,” I say, lowering my hand.

“That sucks, man, uh…” He looks down at my sweater, his lips widening into an amused smirk. “Cool sweater, man, where’d you get it? Balenciaga? Armani? Target?” he chides, laughing at his own shitty joke. I shoot a glare at him which makes him shut up pretty quickly.

“I’m just joking man, jeez,” he says. “I’m gonna head inside, Minji. I’ll get us a good table.” Sunghoon winks at her before walking off towards the building, leaving me and Minji alone finally.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry about him, Yuno,” Minji apologizes.

“It’s fine.” I gaze into her eyes for the first time since arriving, my heart skipping a beat as I got lost in the deep browns of her irises. The stars reflect off of them, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy right in front of me. “U-um, is this sweater okay? I, uh, didn’t really have any nice clothes to wear,” I blabber awkwardly.

“It’s, uh… It’s cute,” she says, her face lighting up as she looks at the bear. “Aw, he’s wearing little overalls. It’s like he’s a little farmer bear.”

I turn my head, quietly giggling to myself. How can someone look so ethereal, yet act so adorable? “Oh right, you said you wanted to talk to me about something,” I say, fixing my expression.

“Oh, um… Uh…” Her gaze nervously shifts side to side as she messes with her fingers. “Can we, uh, talk about that later? My parents are probably waiting for me inside.”

I sigh, disappointed but also understanding. “Okay, that’s fine.”

She offers an apologetic look before leading the way into the building. As we walk through the doors, my jaw hits the floor from utter shock and awe. The banquet hall is a giant room adorned with pillars of flowers and a giant golden chandelier hanging overhead, illuminating the room with a brilliant light. Fancy-looking tables are spread out throughout the room, seating even fancier-looking people, laughing and sipping from skinny glasses of champagne as they talk. The looks I get from school are a little annoying, but bearable enough - They’re all just kids trying not to get into any trouble that I’m usually a part of - but being in this room, looked down upon by these people is a different beast entirely. Instead of being viewed as some scary monster that could act up at any moment, it feels like they’re scorning at me like a rat that wandered into the wrong place. It’s like Minji’s mom times a thousand in here.

“Are you okay, Yuno?” Minji asks, lightly grabbing onto my sleeve with a worried look.

“I-I’m fine,” I assure her. Before she can say anything else, an older man walks up to her, smiling.

“Minji! How are you doing, dear?” He says.

“Hello, Mr. Park! I’m doing well, how are you?” She replies, seamlessly slipping into a more professional tone.

“I’m doing great, of course. It’s great to be doing business with your parents.” He looks towards me, his face subtly shifting into that of disdain. “Who’s your friend here, Minji?”

“This is Yuno, he’s my friend from school.”

“H-hello, sir.” I reach out to shake his hand only to be met with a confused expression as he stares down at my gauze-covered hand. Sheepishly, I retract it, my gaze falling to the ground in embarrassment.

“Right… Well, my wife is probably wondering where I am and I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting,” Mr. Park says, not even glancing at me. “Good bye, Minji.”

I sigh dejectedly as he walks off, both grateful that he’s gone and annoyed at myself for not making a better first impression. “That was… awful,” I mutter.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Minji soothes. “On the bright side, you’ll never have to talk to him again after tonight.”

“I don’t know, Minji, maybe me being here is a mistak-”

“Oh!” She takes an empty glass from one of the tables and hands it to me. “Here, hold this.”

I take it from her, giving her a quizzical look. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“Just hold up this glass with your right hand and people won’t shake your hand anymore. Problem solved, right?”

She’s trying so hard for me. What a saint. I truly don’t deserve her. “Yeah, okay,” I nod, mustering up a smile. “Thanks.”

“No proble-”

“Ay, that’s where you guys are!” Sunghoon pops out of nowhere, wrapping his arm around Minji. It’s taking every fiber of my being not to knock his lights out right now. “I was wondering where you two were.”

Minji pushes his arm off of her, side-eyeing him with contempt. “We were just talking,” she states.

“Well, I’m sure there’s a lot of people that would love to get to know Yuno. Isn’t that right, man?” Sunghoon firmly grasps my shoulder, pushing me towards a larger crowd of people culminating in the middle of the room. I could kill him if I want to (and I do want to), but with Minji here, I’m left at the mercy at whatever the hell this rich fuck plans to do. Whatever. I can survive talking to old people for a little bit.

The next hour crawls along as I’m swept through countless bouts of small talk with increasingly important people, constantly bombarded with questions that I don’t have the answer to.

“What are your plans after high school?”

“What university are you thinking of attending?”

“Have you started on your college admission papers?”

Minji and Sunghoon handled everything with ease, accustomed to the talk like they’re fluent in a second language, whereas I was barely floating by. Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Minji tried her best to help me out, but with an abundance of other people talking to her, her plate was already full as it was.

Finally, after another uncomfortable conversation with a woman that didn’t even try to hide her disapproval, I found myself on the outer rim of the conversation. Minji and Sunghoon were in the middle, keeping everyone distracted, giving me a chance to escape. I spot a door at the edge of the room leading towards the outside. I take one last look at Minji, feeling guilty for leaving her like this, before scurrying out the door.

Fresh air fills my lungs, a luxury I didn’t know I had until now. I scramble over towards the railing, letting myself breath for the first time in what feels like years. Getting another beating would be more favorable compared to the hell that I just went through inside. I don’t know how Minji does that on a regular basis, I could barely get a coherent word out the entire time.

I lean against the railing, watching the full moon float slowly above the town as I ponder whether or not me being here is a good idea. Maybe I should’ve just given Minji a lame excuse and stayed home. Like a dazzling star in the sky, it feels like all I can do is watch her from afar while I’m trapped by the gravity of my own miserable little planet, destined to fade into mediocrity as she illuminates the night sky with her light. A part of me wishes I never offered to walk her home in the rain just so I would never have to feel this pain. But I did and now I’m paying the price for it.

Isn’t it so tragic? To fall for someone that’s so close yet so far?

“There you are.”

The clacking of high heels against the concrete gets louder with each step as Minji walks up next to me. “I was worried you got lost or something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer, not quite meeting her gaze. Minji slumps against the railing next to me, watching the moon.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I invited you here for a selfish reason, and after that backfired, I thought I could salvage it, but all I did was make you uncomfortable.”

“Hey, it’s fi-”

“And I’m sorry for ignoring you all day,” she says, her gaze falling to the ground. “I should’ve just talked to you instead of running away like an idiot.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that she finally acknowledged it. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too, for, um… y’know.” Heat rises to my cheeks as I’m reminded of why we’re in this awkward spot in the first place. If I just kept my urges in check, neither of us would’ve felt like this.

“U-um, it’s okay, that’s partially my fault too anyways,” she says, chuckling nervously. Minji looks up at the moon and inhales deeply. “It’s really pretty tonight.” Something in my head shifts as she utters those words, and I’m suddenly hit with a wave of deja vu as Minji shifts from “The daughter of the founder of a highly esteemed multimillion dollar company” to “The girl who’s afraid of spiders and likes teddy bears and dreams of becoming a singer one day against her parents’ wishes”. The girl that I fell in love with.

I nod in agreement, but all my focus is on Minji, more beautiful than any celestial body could hope to be. The wind makes her long, black hair float and ebb like a stream of the finest silk, while the Milky Way traps itself in her irises, containing the beauty of an entire galaxy in just her eyes alone. She shivers as another gust of wind floats past, and I contemplate whether or not I should give her my sweater. I’m wearing a tank top underneath, so it’s not like I would be flashing her all of a sudden…

Without anymore hesitation, I take the sweater off my back and hand it to her. “U-uh, here. Y-you seem cold,” I stutter awkwardly.

“O-oh!” Her cheeks turn a bright pink as she eyes my upper body, her gaze flying back and forth. “Thanks, that’s very, um, sweet of you,” she says, wrapping the sweater over her shoulders.

“Y-yeah, no problem…”

We stand there in complete silence, simply watching the moon as the crickets and the wind play their abstract melodies. The breeze may be cold, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth I feel in my heart for Minji. I want to tell her how I feel. I wanna scream it from the top of this hill for everyone to hear. But I can’t. What good would it do, knowing that it won’t work out? I know life has been nothing but cruel to me, but having the person who fills me with nothing but joy be this close to me yet still so far away is this cruelest act it’s committed. I’m cursed to live a life of mediocrity while Minji undoubtedly skyrockets to a space among the stars, a place that I can never hope to reach.

Minji glances at me, scanning the bruises on my arm. Without a single utterance, she gently traces her finger over them, leaving a line of electricity in its wake. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“I’m fine. Like I said, I’ve been through worse,” I say.

She sighs, moving closer to inspect the injuries. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I turn to her, her face much closer than before. “Y’know, I think you’re the first person to ever say that to me.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “People don’t really talk to me in general. They’ll look at the cuts and the bruises and think that I probably deserve them. And maybe they’re right.”

“Hey,” she lightly chides. “Don’t say that, they’re not right at all.”

“I’m always sticking my neck into situations that I don’t belong in, it’s only natural for me to get hit every once in a while.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean you deserve to get hurt.” The worry in her tone begins to grow with each word.

“I’ve hurt countless people in the past, Minji. There’s literal blood on my hands. To say I don’t deserve some kind of divine punishment would be wrong.”

“O-okay, but-”

“And maybe this is it. This is my punishment.” I look in her eyes, tears slowly welling up within them. “My mother’s dead. My father became an alcoholic. I’m left to survive alone while people look at me like a monster. I constantly get into fights because I’m hard-wired to have this fucked up sense of justice that I have to act on for some reason. A-and…” And you. The greatest punishment of all is meeting you. Because I know that I’m not good enough for you and I never will be. No matter how much I like you, you’re always going to be light years away. 

“...My life has been nothing but a punishment, one after another. I deserve to-” “STOP!” Minji shouts, pushing me back a bit. “Just… stop, Yuno. You don’t deserve any of that. When I look at you, all I see is someone that’s been treated unfairly their whole life. You deserve to be happy. I-I mean, look at where you are now! You have friends that care about you, your dad is doing so much better now, and I…” She looks at me with steely determination. Her chest rises and falls with breath, as if she’s made up her mind about something.

And then she kisses me.

Her arms clumsily wrap around my head, pulling me into her lips. It’s rough and messy, yet so sweet and soft. The heat in my chest expands, hitting every cell in my body. I melt into her, placing my hands gently above her waist. All of my feelings for her are contained in my lips, transferring over in a silent exchange. Her lips are everything I’ve ever dreamed of and more.

Minji pulls away slightly to catch her breath, warm puffs of her dancing against my cheeks. We look into each other’s eyes, not a word spoken but so many things said before going back in for another, this kiss more gentle than the first. She softly cups my cheek, caressing me with her fingers. I pull her in, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible. I want nothing more than to be here in this perfect moment with her forever.

A glass shatters against the concrete, ripping us out of our blissful space. We scramble to get off of each other as Sunghoon stands there, his jaw dropped in shock.

“W-what… What the hell are you two doing?!”

[melagnes]

Heat in the Kitchen

Synopsis: After struggling to find a new apartment, you move in with Melissa. An intimate moment unfolds while cooking together when Melissa gently wipes sauce off your nose. Who knows what will happen next; after all, you were only roommates…

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

“Ughhh,” you sighed as you made your way into the breakroom for lunch. The weariness in your voice caught the attention of your colleagues, who turned their heads to look at you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Are you doing alright?” Barb asked, worry etched across her face. She set down her coffee mug, her focus entirely on you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though your tone suggested otherwise. You dropped into your usual seat with a heavy thud, next to Melissa, who was in the middle of consuming her salad. “It just sucks. My lease is up in my current apartment, and I’m scrambling to find a new place. It feels like there is nowhere to live right now. Every place I’ve looked at is either too expensive or already taken.”

Barb’s expression softened, sympathy evident in her eyes. “Oh dear, that sounds really stressful. I’m sure you’ll find somewhere soon,” she said encouragingly, though the uncertainty in her voice was palpable.

“Thanks, Barb,” you said, offering a small smile as you took a bite of your sandwich. An awkward silence settled over the room, with the other teachers unsure how to ease your concerns.

Melissa had been quiet, her fork suspended mid-air as she studied your face. You felt her eyes on you and turned to meet her gaze. “What, Mel?” you asked, curiosity piqued by her intense focus.

“Stay with me,” Melissa blurted out, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a hint of nervousness. “I’ve got a spare room you can rent. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s available, and I’d love to help you out.”

You stared at her, shock and gratitude mingling on your face. “Really? You would do that for me?”

“Yeah, hun,” Melissa said with a warm smile, her eyes softening. “That’s why I’m offering. You’ve been a great friend, and I’d hate to see you struggling.”

“Thank you so much, Mel,” you said, your voice filled with relief and excitement, even as you winced inside at her use of the word “friend” because you wished you were more.

“When can I move in?”

“How’s tomorrow sound?” she replied, her smile widening.

“Tomorrow works perfectly! This is such a huge help, you have no idea,” you exclaimed, leaning over to give her a quick, heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Mel!”

As you stood up to head back to your classroom, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before. Melissa watched you leave, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. Barb, observing the exchange, couldn’t help but notice the tender look in Melissa’s eyes. She smiled to herself, hoping that living together might finally nudge both of you to acknowledge the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface.

You walked down the hallway with a renewed energy, the dread of your housing situation lifting. Thoughts of packing and moving swirled in your mind, but underneath it all was a burgeoning hope that maybe, just maybe, this living arrangement would bring about more than just a place to stay.

The days leading up to your move were a whirlwind of activity. Packing boxes, organizing your belongings, and saying goodbye to your old apartment kept you busy and distracted from the nerves forming inside. You couldn’t help but wonder how living with Melissa would change things. Would it bring you closer together or drive a wedge between you? There was only one way to find out.

Finally, the moving day arrived. You loaded the last of your boxes into the car and took a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition. The drive to Melissa’s house felt unusually long, perhaps due to a mix of anxiety and the promise of something new. But as you pulled up to her house, a wave of calm washed over you.

With a determined breath, you knocked on the door. It swung open slowly to reveal Melissa, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Um, hey… Welcome, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of shyness.

“Thanks, Mel. I’m so grateful for you letting me stay here. Honestly,” you replied, feeling a surge of gratitude and relief.

As you stepped through the doorway, you couldn’t help but admire your new home. Melissa had a knack for creating a cozy and inviting space. “Mel, you have such a nice house,” you said, genuinely impressed.

“Thank you. I hope you settle in nicely. I’ll let you unpack your things, and I’ll make some dinner. How does that sound?” Melissa asked, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“That sounds amazing, thank you,” you replied with a smile.

You began to carry your boxes into the house, each step making the reality of your new living arrangement sink in. The house was a perfect reflection of Melissa—beautiful, warm, and welcoming. As you hefted a particularly heavy box, you caught Melissa glancing your way. Her eyes lingered for a moment, and you couldn’t help but notice her blush deepen. Your tank top was doing you justice.

After you finished unpacking, you made your way to the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma of Italian cooking filled the air. Melissa turned around, a shy smile gracing her lips as she presented a steaming dish to you.

“I made lasagna,” she said, her voice tinged with excitement as she gestured toward the table,

You both took a seat at the table, your mouth watering as you eagerly dug into the rich, savory layers. Each bite was a testament to Melissa's culinary skills, and you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for her effort and thoughtfulness.

“Mmmm, this is so good. You are seriously the best cook I know,” you complimented her between bites of the delicious meal she had prepared.

“Don’t inflate my ego, amore,” Melissa replied, her cheeks flushing for the third time that evening. The term of endearment slipped out so naturally that it made your heart skip a beat.

“You should teach me how to cook one of your dishes next time. I love to cook, I just don’t cook Italian that much,” you said, eager to share one of her passions.

“Oh, I definitely will, hun,” Melissa said, her smile widening.

As the evening drew to a close, the two of you settled into a comfortable routine. The initial nervousness began to fade, replaced by a sense of effortless companionship; living with Melissa was surprisingly easy.

Over the following weeks, your relationship with Melissa deepened. You found joy in the little things—sharing breakfast, chatting about your day, and laughing over silly jokes. Melissa’s presence was a constant source of comfort and happiness.

One evening, Melissa finally decided to teach you how to make one of her favorite Italian dishes: homemade gnocchi with tomato and basil sauce. The kitchen was filled with the fragrant aroma of fresh herbs, garlic, and simmering tomatoes, creating an inviting atmosphere that made the house feel even more like home.

“Alright, let's get started,” Melissa said as she showed you how to knead the potato dough and roll it into small, delicate pieces. She then guided you through shaping the gnocchi with a fork. “These little ridges help hold the sauce better,” she explained, deftly demonstrating the technique with her fingers.

Melissa was hypnotizing as she cooked, and you just couldn’t get enough. Her presence was soothing yet electrifying, a combination that made your heart race.

“Now, for the sauce,” Melissa said, handing you a wooden spoon and positioning you in front of the simmering pot. “It’s all about balance. We need to let the tomatoes, garlic, and basil meld together perfectly.”

You carefully added the ingredients to the pot, the vibrant colors and rich scents mixing beautifully. As you stirred, you became deeply focused, trying to get the consistency just right. So focused, in fact, that you jumped when you felt Melissa’s hands on your arm.

“You got a little somethin’ here,” Melissa muttered as she cupped your cheek.

You froze, taken aback by the sudden intimacy of the moment.

Melissa’s thumb slowly brushed the sauce from your nose, and you watched, entranced, as she brought her thumb to her lips and sucked the sauce off.

“T-Thanks, Mel,” you stuttered, feeling your heart pound in your chest. You both began to lean in closer, the space between you shrinking as an unspoken connection pulsed in the air.

Just then, the sound of pasta boiling over broke the spell. Melissa quickly moved to turn off the stove, muttering, “Damn pasta,” under her breath. You both laughed, the moment diffused but not forgotten.

The meal was a success, the gnocchi were soft and pillowy, perfectly coated in the rich, flavorful sauce. As you both sat down to eat, the atmosphere was charged with unspoken feelings. Each bite seemed to carry the weight of what had almost happened, you almost kissed Melissa, and Melissa almost kissed you.

“That was incredible, Mel,” you said, savoring the last bite. “You’re an amazing teacher.”

“Well, you make a pretty good student,” she replied, winking at you. “Maybe next time, we’ll get through a recipe without any sauce on your nose.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at her teasing. “I’d like that. Maybe you can teach me to make your tiramisu next?”

“Oh, I see you’re aiming high,” she teased, leaning back in her chair. “I suppose I can share my secret recipe. But only if you promise not to get distracted.”

“Deal,” you said, grinning, though you knew it would be impossible not to get distracted by her captivating face—her full lips that frequently curled into a playful smirk, her vibrant green eyes that seemed to see right through you, and the way her fiery red hair framed her features so perfectly.

That cooking session was not the last of Melissa’s teasing. As the weeks went by, these cooking sessions became a cherished routine. Each of Melissa’s flirtatious comments made your bond stronger, while simultaneously driving you crazy.

“Hey, chef,” she called one evening as you were chopping vegetables. “Try not to chop your fingers off. I kind of like them the way they are.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you shot back with a smile. “I’ll try to keep them intact.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes glinting with humor. “They’re quite useful, you know. Especially for stirring sauce. Or… other things.”

You choked, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at her suggestive tone. Melissa laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction, “What’s wrong Mia? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, using the affectionate Italian pet name that made your heart flutter every time you heard it.

Days turned into weeks, and the playful banter between you two only grew. The chemistry was undeniable, a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer with each passing day. You found yourselves sharing more than just meals and chores; you shared stories, dreams, and secrets. The connection between you deepened, and with it came a growing awareness of the feelings you both harbored but had yet to fully acknowledge.

One evening, you settled onto the couch to watch a movie. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV casting a cozy ambiance. As the movie played, you found your attention drifting away from the screen and towards Melissa. She was sitting close, her presence warm and comforting.

As the movie “The Parent Trap” played, you found yourself completely engrossed in the plot—totally not distracted by the redhead who looked strikingly like Melissa.

“Ha, she kind of looks like you Mel,” you chuckled as you glanced between the TV and Melissa sitting next to you.

“Huh, really?” Melissa inquired.

“Yeah, she’s sexy,” You glanced at Melissa with a smirk on your face.

Melissa rolled her eyes, “You're cute.” She playfully leaned in to kiss your cheek.

Just as her lips brushed against your skin, you turned to ask her a question. In that fleeting moment, your lips met in a soft, unexpected kiss.

Shock pulsed through you, momentarily freezing you in place. Your mind raced, trying to comprehend the suddenness of the situation. It was as if time slowed down, and all you could feel was the warmth of her lips against yours, the softness of the connection sending a jolt through your entire being.

For Melissa, there's a moment of surprise, her eyes widening slightly as she registers the unexpected contact. But then, almost instinctively, she responds in kind, her lips meeting yours in a gentle and tentative exploration.

The world seemed to fade away, the softness of her lips against yours sending a warm shiver down your spine.

Time stood still as the kiss deepened, your bodies pressed together heatedly against the couch. Your fingers tangled in her hair, while her hands grasped firmly at your waist. At that moment, all you could feel was her: the scent of vanilla filling your senses, the image of her fiery hair and green eyes etched into your mind. And for her, all there was was you: the aroma of lavender lingering in the air, the image of your raven-black hair and brown eyes imprinted in her thoughts.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, your foreheads touched, and you whispered, “Did not expect that,” you whispered breathlessly when you finally pulled back, your foreheads touching. Your heart was pounding, and you could see the same intensity reflected in Melissa’s eyes.

“Well, I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Living with you has driven me crazy,” Melissa admitted, her eyes sparkling with honesty and desire. She cupped your face with her hands, her thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “Every time we’ve cooked together, every joke, every look… I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

Hearing her words, your heart swelled with emotions that you had been trying to keep at bay. “I feel the same way, Mel. I’ve been trying to hide it, but living with you has made it impossible to ignore how much I care about you.”

Melissa’s smile was radiant, her eyes shining with happiness. “So, what do we do now?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with anticipation.

“Maybe we start by acknowledging what’s been happening between us,” you suggested, your hand finding hers and intertwining your fingers. “We’ve been more than just friends for a while now. Let’s see where this goes, without holding back.”

“I like the sound of that,” Melissa said, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with the certainty of mutual understanding and shared feelings. The kiss was tender, filled with the promise of a new beginning.

With their relationship now blossoming into something deeper, the dynamic between you and Melissa shifted. There was a newfound intimacy in your interactions, a sense of ease and comfort that only comes with true emotional connection. You found yourselves more attuned to each other's needs, and more open in sharing your thoughts and feelings.

One evening, as you were cooking together, Melissa stood behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist. “Remember what I said about your hands being useful for other things?” she murmured in your ear, her voice sending shivers down your spine.

You chuckled, turning your head to kiss her cheek. “Oh, I remember. And I’m looking forward to discovering all the other things they can do.”

Melissa laughed softly, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m glad you’re here, Bella. Every day with you feels like a gift.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Mel,” you replied, turning in her embrace to face her. “Here’s to many more days of cooking, and… whatever else we can come up with.”

You kissed her again, the taste of possibility on your lips. The future was bright, filled with the promise of love that had finally found its way into the open, ready to grow and flourish in the warmth of your shared home.

[lydiimae]

Gentle

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, panic attack, fluff hehe, Anthony being the sweet husband ik he is

A.N: Hello my loves and hello dearest anon ^-^/! This one is a bit on the shorter side (2.5k words) but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope I gave you what you wanted Nonnie. I imagine Anthony (I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE SEASON 3 MARRIED ANT AND KATE) as a protective and loving husband, who is also extremely gentle when he wants to be. Also, Infatuation pt two is in the works, for those that are eager (thank you btw <3 T-T) it should be out by next week at the latest. P.S I am planning on uploading at least twice a week hehe! Enjoy my dears! <3

Req found here <3

Marrying a Viscount was always going to be stressful, it came with responsibility. As well as a certain necessity to be perfect, at least that is the thought that nagged you. It was only a matter of time before the stress of being Anthony Bridgerton's wife caught up to you.

You had honeymooned in Edinburgh and Bath, all of the usual quiet places. He wished to make it just that, quiet and peaceful as both of you knew that would be one of the only times you would live in that blissful silence. Without worry of gossip, or rumors, or responsibilities.

Anthony also knew that you had a tendency to be anxious. Whether it be a result of how many people were present at a ball, or the rumors that tended to linger in your mind even after they slowly washed away from others. He wanted to show you the sights, and the gorgeous nature that was present in both of the cities that he had selected.

He also wished to show you the city of Bath. Take you to one of the large Roman baths, parade you around town, and wander the hills for hours on end. All lovely things that had taken your mind away from the lingering anxieties of being the new Viscountess.

It had worked marvelously, you had been the happiest he had seen you ever since you had met. You were completely in your element, especially when you were outside. It was a very loving, and freeing six months away.

Your leg jiggles as you fiddle with your gloves, looking out the window of the carriage as it rolls down the road to Aubery Hall. As soon as you had gotten back to England, your anxieties flooded back into your mind. You were already dreading what was going to happen. You and Anthony were already planning to attend a ball tomorrow, the first one of your marriage.

You hated it, you knew that people would talk, the women would glare and whisper, perhaps even confront you. You did not want to deal with it. You wished to be back in Bath, having a picnic with your husband, far away from the gossip.

You feel a hand on your knee and turn. "You have been antsy for four whole hours, my love. What is it?" He asks, moving his hand to yours and giving it a squeeze. You chew on your bottom lip and settle for resting your head on his shoulder. "I am only nervous for the ball tomorrow." You whisper.

"The ball, or the people?" He returns, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before tilting your chin up so he can look at you. You frown slightly and he gives a comforting grin. "They will talk, you know that, but none of it will matter. It is just that, talk." He murmurs before pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"But what if... you leave and then I am alone and one of them tries to-" You begin, but he cuts you off swiftly with another kiss. A longer one, but still as sweet as before. You sigh and rest your forehead against his. "You are so much more capable than you know, Y/N. You are the perfect Viscountess and the perfect Bridgerton. None of them shall ever be able to take either of those two things away from you." He whispers.

You smile as your cheeks heat up from his speech. "You are mine, mine to protect and mine to love. I take that duty very seriously." He finishes, cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch and smile. "I love you." You whisper back and he grins. "And I love you." He returns.

Tomorrow comes all too quick, and soon you are in the large closet in your master bedroom, your maids pulling on the strings of your corset to get it to your liking. Anthony, however, waits downstairs in his study already dressed up fully for the occasion.

You had promised to try and be quick, and he knows you tried to keep that promise. He also knew that you wanted to look perfect, so he did not mind being a bit late to the ball. He wished for you to be as comfortable as you could be. After about thirty minutes of waiting, he had sent his family ahead, promising to meet them there.

He would be lying if tonight was a relaxed night for him. He was a ball of nerves, but he knew how to hide them well. He was not nervous for him, no, he was nervous for you.

He knew that you were perfect, and all of the much older and married members of the ton did as well. It was the cruel debutantes he worried about. He knew that many of them would be bitter, even if they were not interested in him. It was many women's third or fourth social season, many women would take that out on any kind soul they could find, and you were the kindest.

He downs his glass of scotch and adjusts his cravat before standing up and going to the bottom of the staircase. He wanted to see you now, and he would not wait another second. Just as he is about to call out, you appear at the top of the steps, dressed in the infamous Bridgerton blues.

The gown is a gorgeous navy blue, and you have paired it with long, white, silk gloves. Your hair is pulled back in his favorite way, an elegant pin holding it up in an elaborate bun. To tie it all together, you are wearing the diamond necklace and earrings he bought you in Edinburgh. So simple, yet so incredibly beautiful. So you.

You smile at him as you walk down the stairs and he just about dies right there. "My God, you look ethereal." He whispers as he offers you his arm. You gladly take it and he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leading you to the carriage.

The driver opens the door of the carriage once the two of you arrive at Lady Danbury's grand estate. You look out at the many other women and men filing out of their carriages and feel a familiar sense of dread, causing you to gnaw on the skin on the inside of your cheek.

"Darling?" He asks after a moment and you look up, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment once you realize he has probably been holding his hand out for you for some time. "Sorry." You mumble, before taking his hand and allowing him to pull you to your feet and help you out of the carriage.

The two of you walk hand in hand into the ballroom, which is bustling with activity. However, when the Viscount and his new bride enter, all of the chattering halts. The eery silence makes you wrap your arms around one of his, the sense of dread looming over your head only getting more intense.

He notices and moves down, kissing you softly on the lips. Part of it is for show, of course, but part of it is also because he knows that it will calm your nerves down to a point where you can manage them. He just knows, always.

He pulls away. "Come on, we are going to make this boring night a good one, hm?" He murmurs. You smile gently and nod, walking deeper into the ball. You hear the whispers, the cruel words from the other women, but choose to ignore them for now.

The two of you arrive at the space on the floor where his family stands. He lets go of your arm with a kiss on your cheek and enters a conversation with Colin. You walk to Eloise, of course, and begin to speak to her about your newest literary obsession.

Anthony eventually finds himself surrounded by his friends, leaving you and Eloise to your own devices. "It is quite an interesting story, I am surprised I only found just found it." You hum as she grins. She had recommended the book Frankenstein after you had said you wished to read more of the classics. "I am surprised as well, you always struck me as a horror type of woman." She teases, bumping your shoulder. You laugh lightly as she does.

"Well, now I know that I am only to come to you for book recommendations as my husband is quite lacking in that department." You return, your eyes filled with playful affection. "Well, I could have told you that, Y/N. My brother, it seems, only likes books in the historical genre." She sighs and looks at her glass of lemonade. "I shall be right back, I am going to get more lemonade." She says and is off before you can protest.

You frown and look around for someone else to talk to, to hide behind really, as you wait. Before you can you are approached by none other than Cressida Cowper, an absolute addict to gossip. "Y/N L/N, I am surprised to see you alone. Has he grown bored of you already?" She says, tilting her head.

You wince and sigh. You knew it was coming, Cressida always had a knack for finding you when you were alone and vulnerable. Often times her insults insist on picking on your nervous demeanor, or even your kindness. The use of your maiden name, however, stung uniquely. A sign that she thought your marriage insignificant, and who knows how many others did. You can feel your breathing pick up already.

"Cressida. It is lovely to see you." You say softly, turning to face her head on. She rolls her eyes at your blatant disregard for her question. "Indeed. It is always a pleasure seeing how... dull you look. I am surprised the Viscount has not already taken a mistress, I mean, he would do well to." She sneers. "I-" You begin but she cuts you off.

"You know I am right. You are dull, Y/N. You always have been. It was a miracle you got as much attention as you did when you debuted and an even bigger miracle that you got married to Anthony. He will grow bored of you, just as everyone has." She scoffs before sauntering off to her next target.

You feel the heat of tears in your eyes and the familiar feeling of tightening in your chest. You know Cressida can be cruel, but what if she got those words from another? What if she was right? Perhaps Anthony will grow bored, perhaps he already has. The thoughts have you going into a spiral, your breathing picking up until you realize you cannot breathe anymore.

Eloise, upon noticing that Cressida had made her way over to you, rushes back. "Oh God, that woman is nothing but a jealous old spinster, Y/N." She whispers, putting her glass down and reaching out before she realizes that you are already too far gone. She takes your hand and begins to walk in search of her brother, "Hold on, Y/N. He has to be near. It will be alright." She says softly, though it does nothing to stop the state of panic you are already in.

She finds him about two minutes later, and you are already in tears. She drags you to him and spins him around. "Cressida." She whispers before leaving the two of you together. He immediately wraps his arms around you and leads you out of the ballroom to one of the balconies, whispering sweet nothings into your ear the entire way.

"Alright. Look at me, my love." He murmurs once you are outside, grabbing your hands in his and pressing them to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat. "Ready?" He whispers when your tear-filled eyes meet his and you nod.

"Alright, in..." He breathes in and you do the same, your breathing stuttering as you try your best to follow. "And out..." He whispers, exhaling with you. The two of you have gone through this many times. He had helped you when you were courting, when you were engaged, and he will help you until the end of time.

After a few moments of him guiding you, your breathing calms and you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the fabric of his cravat. "What did she say, darling?" He murmurs, rubbing your back gently.

You hesitate, and he senses your apprehension. "I will not get angry with you over words that such an insignificant woman spoke, I will not cause a scene. I promise. I only wish to know before I take you back home, hm?" He whispers, gently cupping your cheeks so he can look at you.

You wait for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. "She said that you would grow tired of me, just like everyone else. That you would take a mistress. She said I was dull." You whisper back, your grip on his shirt tightening.

His face darkens for a moment before he pulls you back into his embrace. "She knows nothing, my love. If you were dull, I would not want to spend every waking moment of my life with you. I would not have married you if you were not perfect for me in every single way." He whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"But I... I do this so often. I get so... so anxious. I am hardly a Viscounte-" You start but he cuts you off. "You are the perfect Viscountess. Y/N," He begins, pulling back a bit so he can look at you. "I do not say that lightly. I know that it has only been a short six months since we were wed, but I am more secure in my belief that you will be the perfect Viscountess. The perfect mother, the perfect head of my house. You are the perfect woman for me and for my family. Do not doubt that ever. Especially over some silly statement a foolish, sad woman made." He says, caressing your cheeks.

Your eyes burn at his speech, and your heart flutters. You lean in and press a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away. "I love you so very much, Anthony." You whisper.

He grins, and you swear you see the faintest of pinks spread over his cheeks. "And I love you, Viscountess Bridgerton." He whispers, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Let us go home. Lady Danbury will not miss our company I'm sure." He hums as he parts, making you nod in response.

That is just what the two of you do. After saying goodbye to his family, and to Lady Danbury, the two of you make your way to the carriage.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, speaking of the future, whispering love confessions in each other's ears, and loads of kisses. Who knew that a man who seems so brutish could be so gentle just for you?

[leclsrc]

more than anyone ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to enemies to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, angst

word count: 13.7k  

You moved out of Monaco at fourteen with an unrepaired friendship hanging by a thread. Ten years and a whole lifetime later, you’re forced to work with him confront it all over again.

auds here… hi hi hi!!!! HAPPY 4k to us guys!!!!! i am so insanely thankful for all of u and i will make this a longer note when i wake up tomorrow because i have so much to say but have this for now. i hope u like it,i love love love u guys forever also i changed the banner because i wanted to

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink (pretty tame smut in auds world)

You know it’s bad when your assistant-and-friend-aka-friendsistant (her vernacular) Rachel walks in with a free coffee without a quip about how dependent you are on this exact order of coffee (she’s a millennial, so caffeine and lack thereof are in her arsenal of Funny Jokes). You fear you didn’t correctly anticipate just how bad it was going to be when she stays instead of leaving to work on your schedule, combing a few fingers through her fringe and sitting herself on your couch stiffly. Maybe you’re intuitive, maybe you spend too much time with Rachel and you can spot the way she scratches at her eye, maybe both—but it’s bad.

You don’t take a sip from the Starbucks that sits idly on the coaster, opting to watch the latte sweat instead. You do stare, though, at Rachel’s stagnant posture, scrutinizing her every movement. She takes a few deep breaths and drops the bomb.

“David sent me to tell you he has good news. But there is, um. Bad news.” Dread writhes through you at the mention of your manager with bad news, and you clear your throat to compose yourself.

“What’s going on?”

She purses her lips. “He’s on his way over here. Just…” She cocks her head sharply to the glass door of your home office, expression antsy. “Sorry. Wait for him. I can’t tell you anything yet.”

You take a swig from the pity coffee. “Am I getting blacklisted?”

“God, you dumbass, no—” She makes an incredulous noise, but before she can open her mouth to elaborate, your manager walks in with an excited expression on his face, pocketing his Juul to take a seat by your table. His smile is the radiant one of a man over forty with a comical amount of Botox.

“Rachel told me you had”—you stifle the adjective—“news.”

“That I do, yes.” He hums, tracing the edge of your table. “Did you enjoy Paris Fashion Week?”

Beside the brash Frenchmen, God-awful timezone differences and consequent calls at half past three, hungover show attendances, posing for pictures until your ankles blistered, and a temporary diet of black coffee, cigarettes, and stale croissants—sure, it was fun. It was your job to attend anyway, your obligation to shake hands with important people and be photographed in designer clothing and benefit from the PR, but how often could people call work fun? 

“Sure.” You take another gulp off your coffee. “It was… fun.”

“Well, since your movie’s doing well,” David pauses and hums, “how do you feel about another few weeks of fun?” 

“Like Paris Fashion Week—weeks… this month?” You frown, eyebrows knitting together. Is this a new Vogue thing? You’re not sure how many updates they give the schedule, but you wouldn’t mind too much if you could travel again for a little bit. “So soon after spring? Did Anna want this?”

“Iiiit’s, er, Vogue’s new project. Capsule shows in Europe, coastal and summery. She wanted an exclusive guest list. She asked for you by name,” David says smugly. “Well, she called my office, granted. But to ask for you—”

“Are you fucking serious?” You stand up, and if you hadn’t had some fix of coffee you would’ve gotten dizzy. “David, tell me you’re serious.” Time seems to have suspended itself as you await his answer—which, if affirmative, would be a pretty big deal to you. 

“Yeah, I am.” He plays off a grin. “She loved your movie with Greta, and would love to send you to Europe to do PR on a few shows and pair up with some guests on a couple features. Exclusive stuff.”

You sit back down, mouth slack. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.” Your eyes dart to Rachel, who’s caught between a smile and an awkward purse of her lips. “Fuck! This is huge, David.”

“Yeah—okay, yeah, it is.” David shifts in his seat and crosses, then uncrosses, his legs, then his arms. He stutters for a second. “Good and bad news, remember?”

You blink a few times. You’d nearly totally forgotten the fact that this good news—and it is overwhelmingly good—comes with a bout of bad news, so bad apparently that it’s noteworthy enough to state alongside this massive deal. But it’s. Fine. It’s whatever. Worst case scenario, you’re going to need to fucking swim to Europe sans oxygen canister.

“So… the shows? Events, and shit?” He watches, waiting for you to signal that you follow. When you nod, he continues, averting his gaze to the face of his Patek. “They’re all in Monaco.”

Wrong.

“Monaco.” You repeat, deadpanning your delivery. It’s not out of the ordinary, the glitz and coast of the city being a perfect venue for high fashion. But Monaco is different for you, vastly different, and you tend to avoid the place to the best of your abilities. “Monaco. Are—you’re sure?”

“Mmm,” he hums in affirmation. “I know, I know you’re not exactly privy to Monaco because, bleh, childhood shit, whatever. But this—like you said, this is huge! And I don’t think we should jeopardize that.” He pulls a piece of paper from the folders tucked in his arm and waves it around.

“Well—yeah, I suppose. I’ll deal with it.”

“Yeah.” He sucks his teeth, eyes gliding over the scenery of L.A. that your window offers. “Okay, that’s it, so. Byeandhaveagoodlunch.” He slams the paper onto your desk, jostling you a little, but as he makes his exeunt, Rachel raises her arm to stop him.

“Is that it, David?” She asks, an edge to her voice.

You pick up the paper as they make hushed, stifled conversation, and find that it’s a call sheet of sorts, listing all the collaborators traveling to Monaco and what or who they’re in charge of, or paired up with, there. Models, athletes, celebrities, influencers—all making TikToks, or appearances, or brand deals, or interviews, or YouTube videos, the whole shebang.

“Yeah,” says David dismissively—nervously? “That’s it.”

You search for your name. “Okay. Um, hey.” Rachel turns to you, trying to catch your eye, which is busy scanning the sheet. “Did, um—did David mention you’re paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature? Because you are. Paired up with Charles Leclerc for a feature, I mean.”

David sucks his teeth. “Thank you very much for graciously reminding me of that, Rachel.” 

Still half-distracted and growing increasingly worried with the exchange happening in front of you, you make haste in your search—eventually, you find your name, printed in plain letters beside one you’ve wished to never read over ever again.

“Wait, my Charles?” You pause and look up, suppressing a yell as your eyes widen, and you blunder over a pathetic self-correction. “I mean—no, sorry—Charles, as in Charles Leclerc? I can’t work with him, you know this!” 

“Wh—well, Vogue apparently wanted a really good Monaco-born pair and they seriously lucked out on you two. Also,” Rachel says, adamantly defending herself, “you’re always saying you can work ‘with anyone’!” She raises two comically vigorous air quotes to further her (moot) point.

“I didn’t ev—I never say that,” you lie straight through your teeth, mouth dry. You definitely do. You can place all the exact moments. “I would’ve known if I did. Rach—David—I cannot, absolutely cannot work with Leclerc. He’s my… we…” You shut your eyes and sneak two fingers upward to massage your temple, slowly caving into defeat.

David makes an oh well face and shrugs passively. “Fine. Then it’s either Anna Wintour’s special job that will help the Academy campaign or not meeting the ex-bo—”

“—friend.” You look up to cut him off, eyes narrowed. “Ex-friend.”

“Alright, kid. Suuuure.” David leans against the back wall of your office as Rachel comes to comfort you, her eyes already sympathetic and droopy. It shouldn’t be so bad, right? She asks sweetly, nudging the latte closer to your catatonic figure. You have seen him since, anyway.

With a despondent gaze, you just remain silent, refusing to state the negative aloud, opting to stare at the latte. At your disagreeable silence, Rachel continues, tone anxious: You have seen him since. Right?

You moved out of Monaco at fourteen, right after the school year finished and your father had gotten the opportunity to transfer out. The whole thing would’ve—should’ve, even—been a sentimental affair, full of tears and dramatic caresses of your bedroom wall, whispering thank yous to the city air in French and Italian, but it wasn’t. Months prior, you’d been preparing yourself for this kind of goodbye; but when it came to it, you merely kissed your extended family goodbye and slept en route to the airport, silk sleeping mask pulled taut over your shut eyelids. The only thing you left in the city was a letter written only to Gi and Cha about how much you’d miss them, with your email address scribbled at the bottom for an added touch, in case they felt like sending you longer messages.

“Do you two at least get along?” David asks, noting how genuinely aghast you appear.

“It’s not that simple.” You tap a nail against your desk a few times. “But I think it’ll be fine. I hope, at least. We used to be… good friends? As teenagers.”

You feel like an alien hearing yourself talk about it, talk about him and the whole circumstance a decade later. Your friendship with Charles was the only thing that mattered to your adolescent self, all lemonade stands and long car rides and stealthy conversations about your futures (racing and acting, respectively). It was happiness, in what you consider to be its truest form, it was lovely and real. And it ended abruptly, no goodbyes, no nothing.

“So it’s a no.”

“I’m just saying it’s impossible for me to work with him, and in Monaco no less?!” Your eyes are wild with frustration and anxiety at the prospect of your past whipping you in the face, full-fledged. “I don’t even talk about the guy or the city, how can I spend time with him there?”

“Are you seriously going to junk this amazing fucking opportunity just because of some petty childhood fight?” David’s tone is comparable to that of a dad’s, scolding and horrified, almost. “Look. If you don’t take this, career-wise, it doesn’t mean much. You get paid a shit ton, you’ll survive—you’ll do well. But emotions-wise? Maturity-wise? Be the bigger person and do it—I mean it.”

You stare back at him because you know he’s right. “Maybe it won’t be a big, long feature?” Rachel offers as some advice, some comfort. “If you reject it, his team will know, and so will he.”

And yes, you were fourteen, and yes it was petty and unexplainable even for fourteen—but there was a catalyst to all of this, a reason why the move became easy and forgetting childhood memories became second nature. A reason why you’re selective with who you make contact with from home. A reason why Giada and Charlotte are selective with topics they choose to bring up with you.

So, fuck it, really. That’s how you end up in Monaco, booked for the next three weeks, sharing a studio and public appearances and a 24-hour shoot with the last person you’d ever want to be in a room with. Ten years later—the person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.

—

“MAMAN!” Charles’ voice was loud, loud, and so incredibly loud. You followed not far behind, legs running at full speed to try and leap onto his lanky figure and wrap an arm around his head to quiet him. It’d been futile: he ended up at the dining table facing his family with a victorious smile on his pink face. He breathed heavy, waiting for everyone to turn their attention to him.

“Charles,” you chimed in warningly, breathing even harder with the effort you had exerted to chase him from the sidewalk to here. “Don’t.”

“Guess who got the lead spot in the recital.” He slowly turned to point at to your angry face, and then bent, rifling through his already messy, grubby knapsack for something that he raised with glee: a headress that read…

“But-ter-cup.” Hervé sounded amused when he looked at your fuming expression. “You?”

“Yes, Papa! Maybe, just maybe,” he sing-songed, using the term wrong yet again, “she got the titular role!” He walked over to you and placed the headress square on your head, beaming. 

“There is no titular role in a school recital,” you seethed, burning with embarrassment. Your stellar academic record had apparently granted you incentive to be centre stage during the routine year-end recital, where years were lumped into twos or threes (in your and Charles’ cases, Years 8 and 9) and the student body would dance or sing a variety of teacher-selected music.

In your case, it was Build Me Up, Buttercup, complete with choreography you’d be practicing over the next month and a half. Charles laughed at your pouting expression, didn’t stop laughing even when you’d both sat down and twirled through forkfuls of spaghetti, didn’t stop chuckling even when Lorenzo got the turn to speak and he started talking about how Bringing Up Baby was his movie of the month.

You allowed him to laugh—even laughed yourself at some point—because all day, you’d been absently wondering how you’d break the news about your moving away to him.

—

Charles is not okay. He’d gotten off a red-eye from a short vacation stint, and now he’s back in Monaco, sleepy and a bit jetlagged, being briefed on brand deals and press junkets he has to accomplish by three p.m. today. “On the dot, sharp,” said his assistant, like the two didn’t just mean the same fucking thing. He’s patient, though, smiling through the exhaustion, through the dressing room, the tape around his waist and legs to measure clothes for this fashion… thing.

“A meeting for Ferrari, two TikToks, a vlog for your personal YouTube channel, three stories by noon… oh, and in the next few weeks, you’re going to film a Vogue-sponsored 24 Hours With… with—”

“D’accord, thank you,” he cuts in, already exhausted from the spiel alone. He’s a professional; no matter what people believed or what gossip rags liked to say about him, he maintains a well-kept reputation of being polite and kind to people he works with. Maybe it’s the jetlag, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the heat outside, but today he just wants to close his eyes and sleep for days.

But the assistant follows, clipboard and Excel sheet and all, still spouting all his media obligations lest he forget (and mark his words, he definitely will). “Sorry,” he says. He’s new, probably assigned as a part of the Vogue team, lanky and tall and nervous looking. “I’m new. I’m Greg.”

Briefly, Charles is left alone to stare at his tired reflection while the assistants reconvene and connect. There’s several of them, each assigned or already committed to a different celebrity. Charles should know more details, but there’s only so much reading of a call sheet he can do before he’s conked out on Ambien; he trusts he’ll be around people much more famous than he is, probably American or English, actors and athletes alike. He’ll figure it out.

Yeah, she’s almost ready. Is Charles here? One of the assistants says, a bright-eyed American. They need to be introduced before 11. Her voice is quiet, quick and hushed, and Charles has to focus to hear what she’s saying. Greg chips in with something he can’t decipher; in response, the American whispers, Yeah, I’ll get her to sign it for you. Bring Charles out in five.

In five, he is indeed being brought out to the lobby of this hotel; the outdoor area is decked out with models, cocktail tables, Vogue signage and a carpet for pictures. It’s even busier inside, wait staff and event coordinators conversing in angry, aggressive French—table settings, mineral water, extra forks are needed. Greg keeps a steady pace transporting Charles through the indoor throng, and at 10:59, Charles is outside, by the pool.

“Um, right, yeah. Okay, uh—wait here. Your partner—not really partner, but like, mate? Fuck, definitely not. Um, partner. She’s on her way heeere…” He checks his phone. “Okay. You caught her name, right?” Charles nods to fend him off. “Okay. So, wait here.”

There are cameras taking pictures of him when Greg departs, some microphones waved his way; in the distance he spots fans waving crazily, sporting Ferrari merch. Charles is doing what he’s told (waiting, maybe posing a bit) when an even bigger crowd appears, surrounding one person; with their arrival, ameras click even faster, and an uproar follows. Greg waves him over, pointing at the person frantically, so Charles smiles, extends a hand, and when the crowd parts—

There you are, in all your glory. Pink dress, hair clipped into a bun, a tanline on your exposed skin, lithe hand coming up to shake his. Your eyes are flat but the lack of expression doesn’t inoculate them from beauty; they remain sparkling and pretty all the same. Cameras snap the interaction, seemingly innocent, seemingly the first.

He fights, he really does, to keep his hands shaking yours. He forces himself not to hug you, press a kiss to your cheek even if that might look friendly, caress a hand across your cheekbone, brush the tendrils of hair out of your eyes. It’s a valiant effort.

A valiant effort that pays off because, as soon as you’re ushered into a room by yourselves, your smile turns into a scoff; your hands are kept to yourself, slipping a pair of sunglasses on, and; underneath them, your eyes begin to roll. “I need a drink,” you huff, not even looking at him. 

You’re on two couches opposite each other, in what he assumes to be a foyer to a hotel room that’s much bigger than the one he was in earlier. A-list fame and that. The girl he’d seen earlier scurries off, mumbling something about a martini. Greg, beside him, goes: “Do you need a drink, too?” But he shakes his head.

“Are you voluntarily working for this guy, Greg?” You refer to his assistant by name, offering a sarastic, honeyed smile. You adjust the strap of your dress and he blinks his gaze away.

“Oh, no. I mean—yeah. Kind of. I was assigned to him.”

“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to do it of your own will,” you joke, crossing your legs.

Charles laughs dryly. “Who asked?”

“So he speaks…” You ping off his retort without missing a beat, a sardonic smile playing at your lips. 

“In the two minutes we’ve been around each other, you’ve insulted me and my assistant. I’d prefer silence, your highness.”

“Aww, did my joke and asking Greg a question piss you off?” You suck your teeth. “You must be fun at parties.”

“Do you two, um. I don’t want to, like, overstep, but do you know each other?” Charles notices that Greg’s forearm is signed by you and realizes he has no allies here, with an inward grimace. “Or if you don’t, like, are you two just… not in good moods or something?”

The girl comes in then, saying here’s the martini and catering you a sweaty glass with a smile. You offer up the empty space beside you, patting the white leather for her to sit down on. Your eyes meet his again briefly, catty and a bit challenging, before you turn back to the girl. “Sit.”

Maybe Charles spends too much time with Max, because he’s starting to become more and more inclined to getting the last word in lately. “Bossing people around, eh? Fame really does change you.” He offers a smile of his own.

“She’s my assistant, Rachel,” you say sweetly, but your smile is gritty. “We need to check my schedule.”

He wants to slap himself. “Too busy to open your calendar?” Nevermind, he’s a god.

Your sarcastic smile drops. “And what’s on yours? P6 this week, P7 next, DNF after?”

Fuck. The tension is so thick at this point, it’s almost steaming hot. Both the assistants stare at you, waiting for Charles to wedge something in, but he bites himself back. Thankfully, right as the silence just begins to settle like oil on water, the door swings open and one of the coordinators steps in, noisily rattling off the week’s plans and proclaiming you’re both free for the remainder of the day before things pick back up—Schiaparelli show at noon, both of you, front row—tomorrow.

The four of you filter out of the room, and you make a quip about your autograph on Greg’s arm, which grants your assistant some face time with Charles. She turns to him, combing a hand through her hair and furrowing her thick eyebrows. “Hey, I’m Rachel, by the way.”

“Charles.”

“I know,” she says sheepishly. “Listen. I know you two have history, she—we—she’s, um, told me about it before. I don’t know the whole story, and I’m not… like, I’m not saying I do, so I respect it, whatever it is. But I hope you can find it in you to work with her properly. It’s a huge gig for you both. So—yeah, uh. Great job, and good luck.”

She smiles with a nod before exiting the room, leaving Charles alone and stirring with thoughts and memories woken from wild unrest.

—

“Alors,” Charles had said, not turning from his position in front of your vanity mirror. He’d been picking at his face, stopping only when you tsked at him not to. “What is the problem?” His eyes flicked over to you, your lying figure on the bed exhaling little puffs of frustrated air to the ceiling. “Are you missing the recital?”

“Quoi? Non.” You gnawed at your lip, accepting your defeat. You couldn’t lie for much longer, not when you’d been keeping this under wraps for two months. “Listen. Charles.” He nodded, clearly preoccupied with something. “Charles.”

“Hmm?”

“Can you ple—look at me.” Your voice hardened.

He’d noticed it then, the curt cutoff of your voice, the absent look in your eyes. He knows you even through a mirror, even in the low light of your room. “Desolé. This pimple won’t go away.”

“Charles,” you said, groaning but allowing yourself to laugh. “Listen.”

“Okay.” He turned to face you, a spot on his chin red from how long he’d been scratching at it.

You shrugged then, suddenly scared to deal with the realness of it all. You didn’t understand why you felt so torn. “It’s something to do with me,” you said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m moving.” You rubbed at your nose, the cold draft coming in through the window causing you to sniffle. “Out of Monaco.”

A beat. “What?”

You closed your fingers around your necklace, scratching absently at the divots of the pendant. One, two, three little dips in the gold locket, tiny but comforting. “Yeah. In a few months, like, after school. It’s Papa—his job. It’s a whole thing.”

“Europe?” You shook your head. America.

“What… well, what does that mean, then?” His expression didn’t waver but if anything did, it was his eyes—desperate, seeking more answers, wanting them with a guttural, belly-deep desire. You’re his best friend, so if he has to let you go in this life, he at least needs to know everything about the move. 

“We’ll keep in touch,” you reassured, kicking your leg to further your point. “You were bound to get busy with karting anyway, so it’s like. Ça revient au même.”

“It isn’t the same,” he said, his voice thin and cracking. 

“You’ll be fine.”

“You have a very misguided idea of who I am.”

“Shut up. Come off it,” you laughed, sitting up straighter. “We’ll call everyday, and I’ll meet all the famous people who’ll get me a real acting job, and I’ll come for the holidays or summer or something. Things won’t change. Not that much, at least.”

“Maybe, just maybe.” He pauses. “Will you be here for my birthday, at least?” He’d made a big deal all year of his turning sixteen on the sixteenth.

“Charles,” you sighed. 

“No, yeah. I get it.” He looked down, rubbing his thumbs together, like he’s just been hit across the face. He will tell you one day it felt infinitely more painful than that. But at the time he shook his head and looked up at you, reached his pinky to yours, a thin slip of paper around the finger that matched your interlocked one, and didn’t say anything else.

Just: “We’ll be okay.”

—

You could pin a lot of adjectives on Monaco: picturesque, without a doubt; warm, glamorous, but you’d sooner die than pin the word home over it. The city is sprawling even with the little surface area it possesses, and only few things seem familiar. Your lodging is a hotel in Monte-Carlo, a penthouse suite that requires you to travel very little. It feels like a vacation.

And you embody the role of a vacationer very well—the first five, six days of your stay in Monaco went great, mainly appearances that lasted a few hours at most and several junkets to promote Vogue and your latest film, before you were free to do whatever you wished. You’d gone the touristy route already: shopping more times than you could count, trying your immense luck at the casinos, and eating at Michelin-starred restaurants; eventually all the fun blurred into each other and you found solace in naps instead.

Your troubles are not far behind, however, and they finally come after you on Day 7. The event coordinators had informed Rachel, who in turn informed you, that the first of next week’s agenda would be a photographed tour of the Musée Océanographique de Monaco, a grand seaside building right at the edge of the water. Today is, apparently, a day for you to “fraternize with” Charles, which meant you would once again need to put a façade over your less-than-kind appearance toward him.

Those are the concluding words of David’s very firm text, encouraging (read: coercing) you to settle things with Charles into some approximation of civility. You resolve things by calling him to skip over the awkwardness that comes with texting. It takes you all of twenty minutes and twice your body weight in courage to press the green telephone button.

“B’jour,” he goes, his voice quick. French people (he will hate that you called him French, even if it was just in your head; you relish in this) always talk rapidly. After some silence, he clears his throat: “Hello?”

Butterflies—some form of them, whatever—flutter in your stomach. “It’s me.”

He drops formalities and adopts a disinterested voice. “Huh. What do you want?” The butterflies have rotted to death.

“I need to talk to you.”

“To insult me again?” He sounds a little amused even over the phone, a breath of laughter landing in your ear. “Bah, I get it. We are enemies. You have no interest in reconnecting, et cetera. C’est tout ce que tu as à dire? I gotta go.”

Your face warms at his accusatory tone. “Wow, leave it to a guy to be charming, huh?”

“Why should I be charming with you?”

“At least be polite,” you taunt, but your voice lacks its usual edge. On the other line, Charles lets his own defiant tone ebb downward.

At least be polite. It’s the least he can owe you after ten years of forgetting. It wasn’t as if you two had a mutual agreement then, in 2013 when you moved away, to stop becoming friends. For months before you moved out, he completely stopped talking to you, like he’d forgotten you two were even connected, were even friends. What little words you two shared became petty and abrasive, and suddenly Monaco lost its color. The closeness you had with him, which for so long you’d convinced yourself was once-in-a-lifetime, was ripped from you, robbed from you—by him, no less, which hurt all the more. You’d given up on finding out why at some point. You waited for him to reach out. Maybe, you told yourself, just maybe, it would take a few months, a year.

Ten years of radio silence. He owes you that: politeness.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say to nobody in particular, in an effort to segue into the topic of your choosing. “Look, we’re supposed to be friends. In… on camera, at least. It’s disastrous if we look like we, you know, hate each other. We need to be professional.”

“For the cameras,” he says back, solemn.

“Yeah.” You wind a finger through your hair. “Just… for the sake of civility.”

You hear his little hums of consideration. “D’accord,” he says after a few minutes. “Truce, then.”

“Sure.” You smile a little. “I have to go.”

—

You were halfway through your mess of clothes when your mum peeked through your door, her hair held back by a headband. “Call you yet, poppet?” 

“Non,” you said, decimating your voice to a monotonous murmur. You looked up from the dress you’d been folding and offer a half-hearted, sardonic smile. “Je t’ai dit qu’il ne le ferait pas.” You were right: he wouldn’t call. What difference did a month make, anyway? This time, though, the usual victory of being right settled into an ugly disappointment in the pit of your stomach.

You wanted so badly to be wrong. To clamber to the telephone, to your Skype, to your cellphone, any of the three, and see his name flashed across the helm or his voice in your ear. Maybe he was dialing your number now, to ask if you wanted to grab dinner after the year-end recital, or to update you on karting, or to tell you Pascale wanted lunch.

She could tell, as all mothers can, that you’d been upset. The knit in your brows that didn’t go away, the bottom lip being chewed, the tight clutch of your fingers over the already-folded dress. She sighed. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

“It’s fine.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended and you have to roll it back, recede it, to sound more relaxed, more at ease. “It’s… fine. I’m fine.” She knew better than to pry, closing the door softly to continue packing up the living room.

You heaved a dry sigh to express the nausea that came with his absence. It began a month ago, two days after you first told him about it and poked at the zit on his chin. He’d buried his head in your shoulder until tears seeped into the cotton sleeve of your shirt, and you let him. You felt guilty, after all, for keeping it a secret for so long. You would leave in September, you told him. We have time.

Two days later he walked you home as always, on the “dangerous” side of the street, lanky legs skipping to the tree in front of your house. You pointed at the beginnings of clementines on its dewy branches, smiling, inviting him in, but he remained leaning against the trunk, playing with his mop of hair that covered his forehead.

“Bah, trop dramatique,” you said, poking fun. Lorenzo had showed you both some art house films he studied in class, and with the bout of French cinema, you and Charles had grown obsessed with making fun of overdramatic stills that often included the classic leaning-against-a-surface. “Come on, Mum made bouillabasse, I smell it.”

“We need to talk,” he eked out awkwardly. “I have something important to tell you.”

You dropped your knapsack, leather scratching against the concrete of the steps to the front door as you walked over to him. “Ouais?”

“I…” His lips moved, wobbled, but nothing left, so he shut them and his eyes, like he was considering something. His breathing slowed into one rhythm you find yourself unconsciously matching, just two kids looking at each other in the dusky breeze of Monaco, the orange sun casting shadows over the clementine tree. You closed your hand over his, a tight clamp over his knobby wrist with certainty. “I…”

“Say it.”

“I want to.” His eyes were shut. Exhale. Inhale, open. “I… I’m going… going home.”

You breathed out apprehensively and relaxed. “Oh.” You blinked. “That’s it?”

“Ye—ouais. Yeah. I gotta.” Already he was climbing to the gate, waving a half-hearted goodbye. “Save some for me, oui? Bye.”

“Charles,” you warned after him, voice tinged with concern. “That’s it, promise?” Your hand flexed around air.

“Cross my heart!” The last thing he ever said with any bit of something genuine.

—

You reunite with Charles at a meeting; under the guise of your truce, he makes the barely-necessary small talk. The rest of the staff file out of the restaurant in due time, but you both stay. You ask about Lorenzo and Arthur, leaving out questions you’d rather not listen to him answer, and he tells you they’re both alright. That his mum asks about you sometimes. That makes you smile. He asks if you’re still dating the guy you’d most recently been partnered with in Us Weekly.

“God, no. We never even dated, the… um, tabloids always make shit up.” You purse your lips. “Anyway. Is Lorenzo still in film?” You ask, turning your head a little. You don’t think you’ll ever forget his affinity for cinema.

“Not professionally, but I still sit through hours-long… you know, reviews, and stuff.” He laughs when he sees you laugh, eyes half-closed and meeting the ceiling.

“He introduced me to some of my favorite movies, especially when I got into acting and I was kind of… like, I wanted some inspiration, acting-wise. But not my actual favorite movie.”

“Which is?” He segues into a more personal topic. “Is it still Bambi?”

“Oh, it was, for the longest time!” You almost squeal with excitement. “Not anymore, though. It’s been dethroned, ha ha. I think it’s… I’d say it’s maybe Casablanca now.”

“How American.”

“Shut up.” Your face warms. “It’s so romantic. When he says—when he goes, um. We’ll always have Paris. And then, God—when Ilsa goes, I said I would never leave you—and Rick goes, And you never will… isn’t it so classic? Romance movies nowadays are—I, I, I… I get scripts sent to me that are just so bad, and they’re either too idealistic or too pessimistic, or too indie or too commercial, and.” You sigh. “It’s like nobody gets love right anymore.”

“Us Weekly disagrees,” he says weakly, after a period of silence.

“Stop,” you laugh warningly. “And don’t act like you’re not being paired up with different girls, too.”

For a minute you sit with the realization that you’ve both been keeping tabs on each other all these years, even just a little bit. It’s a bit jarring, it’s a bit warm, it’s a lot confusing. You make a move to ask for the bill but Charles is quicker, opens his mouth to implore your presence.

“Come see me tonight.” He says it like he didn’t mean to, like it escaped him on a whim, a blurted out confession born out of your memories and conversation. His voice is dreamy, faraway. “Earth to…?”

“Wh—sorry. Fuck.” You clear your throat and deduce your next words. “Where?”

“I’ll text you. A club, near your hotel.”

“Yeah… yeah, sure.” You hum an affirming noise. 

—

Your name is on the list, though you’re sure it doesn’t matter whether or not it was. No ID is needed, and paps catch a bouncer being dispatched to guide you through the nightclub toward the elevated area with significantly less people. It’s low-lit, smoky, vaguely blue and purple, smelling of flows of alcohol and fresh ice. An Azealia Banks song is playing, pounding through your head.

Tabloids don’t care about nightclubs. They care if you come out drunk or with a smidge of snow under your nose, neither of which have happened to you; entering is fair game, a fun affair, especially in a district like Monte-Carlo. You don’t have any explaining to do, not even to questions like are you clubbing with your professional Vogue collaborator, Charles Leclerc?

The collaborator in question is the first to greet you, getting up and approaching you with a smile so obviously tense. The picture in front of him is like if he’d conjured up a forlorn fantasy of his to life—your hair fell loosely over black lace, a hand pinched around the hem of your dress. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“So.” He realizes he’s in charge of the socializing, and turns to properly introduce you. “Um, guys, this is my—friend—you already know”—he fusses over your name, which everyone in the world knows, anyway—“and these are my friends. Pierre, Alex, George, Lando, Daniel… you know Joris.” He points to each guy's face as he goes, eliciting a beam every time he gestures.

You wave with a polite smile before you station yourself beside the only one you know: Joris, with whom Charles shares a longtime friendship. He greets you first, with a side hug. “Long time.”

“Yeah, it’s been.” You watch him turn toward the low table, and back around with two shots, offering them to you with haste.

You thank the Lord that he makes quick, dextrous work of it, and before long you’ve downed a glass or three of some strawberry four seasons thing, socializing with the different people around the table. One of them, Lando, talks about your latest film for five whole minutes (“I rated it five stars on Letterboxd. I left a review, if you wanna see”) before he leans close and asks: “Are you his girlfriend?” His is obviously referencing Charles, and you pull back from the proximity to shake your head.

“No,” you holler to emphasize it. “We used to know each other. I grew up here.”

“Oh shit! Native!” He whoops, offering you another glass. This must be your fifth, maybe, fifth G&T or Cosmo or something or other of the night. You take it, drinking as you walk, planning to collect your bag to take with you to the bathroom—another hand takes yours, though, dragging you down the steps. Halfway through, you realize it’s Charles.

“How’s the drink?” He asks, brows straight.

“That’s all you wanted to ask?” You raise your voice above the bass. “Someone needs to teach you fucking… proper small talk.” A laugh involuntarily bubbles past your lips, eyes crinkling. 

He laughs, too, despite himself. “Non, I was—I was just asking. We should—I brought you over here to—so we could…” He realizes he’s been talking too fast without getting to the point and pauses, resetting himself with a pinched sigh. “Dance.”

Your heart pulses. Dance? You hear yourself ask. For wh…Why?

“For the sake of the truce.” His voice is light. “We should try being closer.”

“We were close once,” you say, loose. “Did you forget?”

He’s looking right at you, and you’re warm all over. “How could I?”

It feels too real. Not the words—yes the words—but the alcohol, the alcohol is what you’re referring to, and all those shots and drinks suddenly seem not as harmless as they’d seemed earlier. You scan the periphery for the WC sign and try your best not to look deranged on your way there, offering the same pretty smile to recognizing passersby. Behind you, Charles calls out; but you wave him off, heaving dryly.

The restroom is clean because the nightclub is outrageously expensive; you push yourself into the available stall that’s in your direct path and crumple above it. You heave. Heave some more. Nothing comes. The nausea rises and recedes, so you decide to wait it out.

The bathroom door hauls open, bringing with it a few seconds of noise before it swings heavily onto the frame again, sealing the sterile silence. The momentary return of the bass from the dance floor sends your head spinning all over again and you freeze, willing yourself not to wind up hurling your guts into the toilet. It’s a futile effort, though, because you’re feeling nauseated beyond your limit again, and you need water and maybe a salve or something.

“This stall is open,” somebody says, a chipper American voice that grows in volume as it nears you. A gasp follows, and then: “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

You turn, your face flushed and lips parted. “I’m so sorry. I just—I’ve been nauseous all night.”

“I have water,” she answers, reaching her arm outward, as if seeking it. “Carmen, the water!” A bottle of Evian is thrust into her hand by another girl (Carmen, you presume), and she doesn’t hesitate to bend next to you to feed it into your mouth. She stares for a second, then goes: “On the off chance I’m lucky, and you’re the famous actress, by the way, I just want to say I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Eyes wide, you lock eyes with her and pull away from the water. “Oh, God. Yeah, that’s me. I’m so sorry—this is so humiliating.”

“It’s not—it’s normal,” she assures, nodding. “We’ve all… y’know, puked into a club toilet before.” From the stall doorframe, Carmen nods. “What’d you drink?”

“Fruity stuff,” you recall, eyebrows knitting at the memory. “And shots.”

They both grimace at the same time, knowing the exact feeling, the exact taste, it seems. “Are you heartbroken or something?” Carmen asks; Lily shoots her a look that can only really mean don’t ask the world-famous actress if she’s heartbroken. But you laugh it off, shaking your head.

“No. There’s a guy, though, and he’s… we’re… it’s a lot. I think I thought alcohol would absorb all of it, but… clearly, it did not.” Your lips simmer into a straight line and you’re quiet for a few moments before remembering you’re on a dingy club floor being supported by two nice girls who are strangers. “Anyway! Sorry. I’m clearly, um, delirious.” You get up on semi-wobbly feet, swallowing the nausea as you go. 

You walk to the sink, and behind your back, the girl and Carmen share a telepathic exchange (should we ask her to elaborate? Yes! Should we really? Fuck, no.) You rinse your mouth out, washing your hands and focusing on your reflection—your tired eyes, your smudged lip gloss, your fussed-up hair. You turn after rinsing, offering a small smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” says the first girl, offering her hand and a tube of lip gloss. “I’m Lily, by the way. And just so you know—I’m so sure that guy has nothing on you.” Carmen, beside her, nods in solidarity, and your heart blooms.

Your smile grows as your hand shakes hers, accepting the lip gloss. “You’re too kind. Thank y—” 

“Lil? Baby, are you puking?” Comes a disembodied male voice from the door, ajar ever so slightly. Lily visibly cringes and walks over to the door, pulling it open further. On the other side—the detective of sorts—happens to be Alex, who you’d been introduced to a few hours ago. At the sight of you, his eyes widen with recognition. 

“We’re fine. Leave us alone,” replies Lily in a conspiratorial whisper. “Carmen and I have a new friend.” She doesn’t even need to drop your name; your face alone is enough to make people recognize who you are.

Alex, however, refuses to admit defeat. “Try harder next time.” He pumps his eyebrows. “We were introduced earlier.” He looks up and waves to demonstrate his truth; when you smile back, Lily’s jaw drops as she turns to her boyfriend again, aghast.

“What the hell? How?” A pause. “No offense. It’s like. Two levels of fame, right there.”

He makes a pinched face. “She’s Charles’… friend? I don’t—coworker? Something, something. They were both vague about it. Actually, George and I were talking about it, and we both think something is up. With them.”

“Wait—you might be right.” Her eyes are hyperfocused, and her voice drops to a whisper for a second. “Let’s talk about it at the hotel.”

You and Carmen watch their hushed exchange, and eventually Alex leaves you three alone again with a loud goodbye, which allows Lily to rejoin your conversation. “Sorry,” she says with a smile. “That was my boyfriend, Alex. I didn’t know you two were introduced! He told me you knew Charles?”

“Oh.” Your shoulders relax. “Yeah, um. We knew each other as kids, but I moved away and we kind of—we drifted apart, so. I’m here on a business trip, and he’s just welcoming me.” You try to reduce the decade-long mess into a sentence.

“So you’re friends?”

“Yeah.” You feel like vomiting all over again. 

—

The sky’s a searing blue at noon, silver clouds lining the horizon. Charles has to press a finger to the high point of his cheek to test if he’s sunburned from the heat, and the cameras catch it; he doesn’t doubt the fans will spin that into something cute later. You’re somewhere else on the property, this big, massive thing of a museum that’s crashed into by the waves.

He remembers Andrea first telling him about this whole arrangement. He and the team had deliberately left out any mention of you, like they could predict the immediate veto. He wonders if you knew, or if you, too, had been surprised when seeing him, a ghost of your past looking into your eyes. He wonders if you, too, are now in this endless emotional turmoil. Inside there’s a photoshoot ongoing, with you but also with some models in varying aquatic-related poses to convey the intent of the building; he’s done his share of pictures already, just needs to sit down with you for an interview. 

“And a B-roll of you guys, um, like, walking, like—around?” Greg’s voice invades his head again, the nervous man beside him running through a to-do list like this is boot camp.

You’d left him hanging at the club—he couldn’t blame you though. A truce hardly called for the bringing forth of memories you two are now supposed to have buried beneath you. Memories he buried first. But alcohol had loosened him, and maybe you had, too, your eyes in the vaguely bluish light and your smile.

He wishes to apologize. He makes up some excuse and finds you nursing an Evian by a faraway corner, against a screen of stingrays. Your eyes widen when you see him, in recognition. He waves and then, with a thumb, gestures to the catering outside.

You end up by the water eating one of the caterer’s churros, a recommendation he deems “very special.” (“Have you worked with these caterers before?” “No.”) It’s also his excuse to cheat on his diet and eat a churro or three—chocolate dip included, always. You rave over the taste, smile, enjoy the view. Charles realizes this looks deceivingly like a date, and at the same time realizes he would not stop to correct someone if they assumed so.

“Our truce seems to be working.” You say in-between chews, voice flat but eyes bright.

“It seems so. I owe that to my personality.”

You really laugh at that. “I didn’t know you had one. It’s very fit for someone as unapproachable as I am.”

“Who said that?”

“No, noth—nobody.” You comb a lock of hair behind your ear. “Aw, putain. I’m ruining my lipstick. Pat’s going to kill me. I look awful.” There are no reflective surfaces around you to affirm your statement, but you sound so sure of yourself.

He smiles. He enjoys the illusion, the mask that you two seem to wear, albeit involuntarily. The chocolate syrup he squeezes on your little paper box of churros. The muttered back merci when he’s finished. Your flushed face, eyes darting from the delicacy to the ocean, eyelashes fluttering, lips smiling, curving into a laugh at some random realization. Briefly he imagines what he might tell somebody if they stopped to ask if you were dating.

Some old woman, French accent and short in stature. You two are so cute. Si mignon! And she would ask how you two met. Charles would tell her the story. But that is imagination. He blinks out of it and focuses on the beauty in front of him, so very real.

“No. You are very pretty, you know.” He says then, and it’s taken him all his nerves and then some just to wrangle it out of his mouth and past his lips. Anticipatory, he watches you, waits for your response.

You comb the hair out of your face messily, licking over the cinnamon sugar on your lips; then you smile up at him, turning your head in question. “Sorry,” you laugh, and his heart’s frozen because it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “What did you say?”

The wind roars in his ears, so Charles barely hears himself when he says, stuttering, “What? Nothing, I said nothing.”

You make a face—confused, suspicious—but all your allegations quell once you bite into another churro, stepping yourself a path along the area. Having blocked off the building, production staff and models are all that populate your surroundings, big headphones and even bigger cameras, rolling around racks of monochrome and Hermés, Birkins to match Loro Pianas. It’s easy to get lost in a crowd—in a city—where everyone looks the same, and knows the other’s name. Perhaps that’s also why, even at fourteen, you were excited to leave, he thinks.

“The coast was always my favorite part about the city.”

He notices. The way your eyes have softened, become more fond than when you’re in the centre of it all, in the bustle. Here it’s busy, but less busy; the distinction, perhaps, matters. Your gaze is not one of distaste, of disdain. It’s nostalgic, homesick, yearning. He supposes he describes this gaze so well because it’s the way he catches himself looking at you over the week. 

“I wanted to…” He trails off. “I wanted to talk to you because, ah. I’m sorry. It was foolish of me to put you on the spot last night. I should’ve been more… yeah. I’m sorry. I hope you’re okay.”

You stare at the sea and nod quietly. Instead of responding, you launch a story: “I always…” You’re clearly lost in a different sphere of thought, and you have to fall quiet while finding the right words to say. “I remember, um. In Year 3, we—I came here with my mum. And I was super mad, because I got, like, three mistakes on my Maths paper?” You laugh and he does, too, but more because your storytelling is so effortlessly enthralling and funny and he needs to shut himself up.

“Anyway.” You pace around again, and he follows. “So, I’m mad, and she’s trying to cheer me up, buys me glace and everything, but no. So I go sit myself on a random bench. It must’ve been around here, I think.” You look around and point at an empty area. “There. But it’s—they must’ve ripped it out. Whatever. So yeah, I’m sitting there, and moping, and all of a sudden All You Need is Love by The Beatles comes blaring into the entire area.”

Charles’ eyebrows knit confusedly. “What, the bench area?”

“No—the whole pier, I guess? Like, it was loud, I almost jumped. And then this guy comes in holding this huge—this, um, board? Sign? Poster? And he’s got half the pier in on his whole thing, and I’m totally… it was just… yeah.” You smile. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on you since you got here and the fact that he’s even around to see it gets him all warm.

“So what happened?”

“It was a flash mob. You know those—yeah, they’re usually insufferable, but that one was a little calmer. Nobody was, you know, dancing and yelling. It was just a bunch of people cheering and all, and the guy was actually proposing to his girlfriend. It was so cute.” You sigh a little, a brief exhale of air, and it turns into a smile. “I’d love that.”

He raises his eyebrows and, despite himself, laughs. “Vraiment?” 

You turn to him, ready to defend yourself, mid-laugh. “Heeey. Everyone says they find big, romantic gestures cheesy, but I think deep down, if you trust the person enough, you’ll like it. Maybe not a proposal, though—can you imagine the pressure?” You pause. “But I don’t know. There’s something so nice about just knowing that person loves you so much they think it’s worth it to share it to everyone around you. So even if it’s cheesy, I wouldn’t mind much. You?”

“It’s cheesy for me,” he disagrees, shrugging. “But I see your point.” Truth be told, he didn’t see you as a romantic type—but all he’s ever seen you do lately is work, and even back in childhood, all you ever did was study. He likes learning these little facts, ones you wouldn’t share in interviews—likes knowing you feel comfortable enough to share with him. “Dancing is a bit overboard.”

“Oh, definitely.” You throw your head back to laugh, eyes half-shut and crinkled and reflecting the sun. Would you look the same if he was dancing to The Beatles, proclaiming all the words he hasn’t had the courage to say?

—

Next question is who your first love was—we’re rolling in three…

“First love?” You laughed a little, facing the camera to continue your Screen Test interview with W. The questions had been candid and lovely, but they were about your career, which you answered with familiar ease. First love is different—uncharted, private territory. But you’d realized all this too late, and the director called go, and you let words spill out of you like a bag popped open.

“I want to be funny and witty and say acting, but that would be a lie. Um, my first love was a childhood friend. We lived near each other, our parents were friends, and I… I really did, I liked him a lot. But these—there were so many factors at tension with each other, like me moving away in 2013—that’s, what, six years ago now? And us being young and not really knowing how to communicate. When you’re a teenager, you’re kind of just like, oh, no worries, um, that’ll sort itself out, and then you grow up and look back and realize, these things never do. But I miss him a, a, a… a lot, and I think of him always.” Your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you looked at the camera again. “We learn a lot from childhood loves.”

Cut. Lovely. Just lovely.

“Thank you, Lynn,” you said with a small smile. A pause as silence creeps up onto the room, and then, quieter: “Could we omit that? I—sorry. I could answer anything else. First kiss, or something? I’m sorry, I just. Sorry.” For the first time in five years, you realize, you’ve conjured his memory again.

—

“Okay. What else do you remember?”

“I… do you remember the recital song?”

“Of course I do! The dance is… that’s a different story.” You’d been at Charles’ hotel room earlier to go over some video shoot regulations for a 24 Hours With video you’re doing in a few days. You stayed because—that’s beyond you at this point, and you’d rather not delve into the rationality of it all. You’re content with thinking about how nice this conversation is, a trip down memory lane.

“The dance, mon dieu, the dance.” He smothers a hand over his face, smiles fondly. “You were at the center!”

“Stop. Stop,” you protest, letting laughter settle into quiet. “It’s crazy, you know? How we… like, we share a life. Not—but like, we had a whole childhood together.” 

“And nobody knows.” It’s not something you keep a secret on purpose—it’s just that neither of you feel like name-dropping the other. Some stories have surfaced, but none of you have fully commented. Somehow, that’s a good thing for you.

“Do people ask?”

“People ask, yes.” His accent is a reminder of your past—you’d once had the same thick wraparound, the loose reign over English you’ve now grown to master. Now your accent is a lot thinner, to the point where it’s barely perceptible, and if it is, your coworkers and fans call it cute, chic, use it as a jumping off point to ask where you grew up. But in this hotel room, legs folded underneath you and glass of wine in hand, you have no coworkers or fans, it feels like; no one to perceive you but Charles. Charles and his accent, nostalgic and so very his, which you wouldn’t describe as anything but home.

“What do you tell them, then?” Quickly, you add: “The truth, or…?”

“That we knew each other as kids,” he says, smiling absently. “That is the truth, no?”

You cover a smile with the rim of your wine glass, nodding. There’s no revisionist history in that statement, but it hides a lot of the truth, the nitty gritty of it. You know it, he knows it, you both know it. “What would you want me to say?” His voice is soft and thin and imploring, so different from the boisterous voice he uses in public, from the slurred voice you heard in the club. This sounds real. This sounds like a conversation you would’ve had years ago in your childhood bedroom before everything went—

“Nothing, that’s fine.” You cut your own reverie off, clearing your throat. You even laugh, to alleviate the tension, but he sees right through you so many years later. “Unless you’re privy to telling people how we didn’t talk for months before I left.”

He blinks, smothers a palm over his face again, and sighs, eyes meeting yours. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I… I’ve wanted to bring it up.”

“I’m not mad.” It’s a half-lie. “Okay, no—I am, a bit. It just—it would’ve been nice to hear it two weeks ago.”

“I know.” He doesn’t even need to say it, but him saying it sends a low thrum of reassurance in you. Charles has found, in the two weeks of being in your company, that he accomplishes a sense of self—a sense of quiet, a sense of privacy—when he’s alone with you. Perhaps it’s your natural ability to bring out the best in people, to talk and loosen tongues and make everyone around you feel safe. Or, and this is on a likely front, maybe he misses being one of those people. 

He pretends he’s back to last week after another club rendezvous left you tipsier than the first time, dropping you off at your hotel room with two hands taut at your shoulders, one pinching a keycard. You’d been muttering something under your breath, stumbling as you went—you weren’t tripping too much, really; he didn’t need to hold you, but he told himself he had to—and leaning against the doorframe of your room, staring at him blankly. When he met your eyes, you said: maybe, just maybe. Just those three words. If he tries to remember right, you’d been smiling, but he was sufficiently tipsy, too, so he could just as well be wrong.

He does remember a few things right. The eyeliner smudged across your lower eye, lipstick smacked to a point where it looked like you wore none, beads of salt by your lip, your hand wrapped around your necklace. 

The silence is anything but awkward; still, he resolves to break it. “When you were drunk last week.” He looks up. “You said—you kept saying, maybe, just maybe.”

A laugh escapes you, stilted and a bit nervous. “Oh. That was—yeah, okay.”

“What’s it mean?”

“You seriously don’t remember?” You’re laughing for real now, your hair bobbing with it, eyebrows furrowed to emphasize your confusion. “Oh, my God. Charles, it’s all you ever said in Year… what, 7? I don’t… anyway. But when we were maybe twelve, I…”

Momentarily, you’re stunned by the memories of him—you’d forgotten they were even there. You press a few fingers to your lips and clear your throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I, um—I think you heard it in a movie or read it somewhere, and for ages it was your favorite saying. Maybe, just maybe.”

“I don’t underst—”

“—You were always just saying it,” you cut in, laughing, your voices layering as you discuss the origin of his former favorite term. “No, you really—”

“I don’t—I do not ever remember say—”

“—Well,” you say,  “I remember.” He stays silent for a few seconds, the intensity of your stare and the little smile on your face and everything beating down on him. For a split second he thinks of opening his mouth and getting on his knees and telling you everything, all the apologies, all the things unsaid in the months and years you became strangers. He seriously does. The pressure is almost physical, beyond overwhelming.

“I have to go.” You swallow the lump in your throat, disentangle your legs and clamber off the couch, setting the empty glass on his coffee table. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he says, blinking. “Yeah. Take care. Should I drive you?”

“God, no.” You laugh breathily. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He closes the door after you leave, stares at it, as if that will conjure you back to him. It occurs to him, jolts him almost, that he’d almost let slip a quiet utterance of love you as you slipped out. His stomach boils. With thankfulness over not having said it, he wonders—or with regret?

—

“Best friends now, are you?” Lily, Carmen, and Rachel look up to the sound of your voice, their serious faces breaking out into smiles. If you could chart the time you spent here, there are definitely people you’ve spent the most time with—these three are at the top of the list. You hang your coat and drop your Chanel bag on the entryway seat, already picking up on the British noises of Love Island UK from the telly.

“Wait, so she’s hooking up with him?” Lily asks, confused; her train of thought is cut off by your flopping onto the bed. “Hiiii. Where’ve you been?”

Muffled by the bedspread: Charles’ place.

Silence. The television switches off and you hear the precarious preparation of three girls readying themselves for a debrief-or-sobfest of a lifetime, a noise you’ve heard and partaken in countless times over your life. You suddenly feel too watched, too spectated; you break the quiet by looking up, displaying your tear-streaked face.

“Talk to us,” Rachel encourages, her voice raspy with unuse (Love Island will keep one occupied and quiet for hours on end). Three of them are touching you in some way or other, reassuring grips on your hair or shoulders. “Did you two fight?”

And, oh Christ, fight? It’s not like you’re dating. You aren’t even halfway to that (not that you want to be, but that’s a discussion for another time). The idea of a fight with him is so terribly juvenile, so horribly reminiscent of secondary school and Monaco and being together and being friends. You can’t fight with a guy who’s not your boyfriend. You can’t fight with a guy you’re not close to, for Chrissake. You squeeze your tears out of your eyes and breathe hiccups out.

“Do you want gelato?” No, no.

“Love Island?” In a minute.

The truth is, you want both, but you really just want to sort everything out with Charles. It was no use—hating each other was futile, but pretending everything was fine in some pathetic attempt at a “truce” seemed even worse. You just want to talk everything out, even if it excavates feelings you’d once been able to suppress.

“What kind of crush doesn’t disappear after ten years?” You ask through tears. It’s almost funny, but the question comes straight from the heart. “I’ve dated guys, lived across the world, started a whole new life pretending he never—pretending we were—fuck. Pretending he didn’t exist. It was—I’m not lying, it was easy, pretending. But one glimpse—I see him one time and suddenly it feels like all of it was in vain. It’s the same crush I had before, coming back, like it’s never going to leave me alone.”

“Maybe it’s not a crush,” says Lily, slowly.

“So what is it then?” You ask, hopelessly. What is this—this revival of memories? This little feeling, this sense that no matter where he is or what he’s doing, you’ll be just as in tune when you reunite even if it takes a decade? A decade spurred by months of being given the cold shoulder? What kind of magic is that?

She doesn’t answer, because you already know.

—

“Hey Vogue—I’m here with Charles Leclerc, and we’re here to take you along with us on all our little adventures here in Monaco.” Your smile is rehearsed, the perfectly-orchestrated blend of fun and serious, and when the cameraman calls cut, it falls into a more natural resting face. It’s the one Charles turns to and observes for any signs of a grudge.

The day is busy, which is precisely why it was chosen as the film day: three shows in the morning, press junkets for your movie and Charles’ season in the afternoon, and then a gala in the evening, hosted and attended by Anna Wintour herself.

The day’s business is only trumped by its tension, which reaches its crescendo in the janitor’s closet of the fourth floor of your hotel. It’d begun with a fight over the color palette, then a fight over last conversation you shared, then a fight over him fucking up the color palette, and then kissing against the door. Ironically enough, this floor houses a fair number of honeymoon suites.

It’s ironic beause hardly anything about this is or should be romantic—it’s a temporary fix, a pause from the turmoil, his hand squeezing your thigh. He’s gentle but you feel his possessiveness, lingering longer, higher and higher up until he’s playing with the high hem of your skirt. You knot your fingers in his hair, smell the shampoo and hairspray and cologne in the wispy curls there.

He kisses your jaw, then downward, until he’s licking, nipping at your throat. Charles.

“Yeah?” His voice is rough against your pulse point.

“Make it—we gotta—quicker.” Your hands tremble, heart hammering loud and bold in your chest. His voice is sure, gravelly, quiet, and you have to focus on something—so you centre on his hands, up your thighs and slipping under the lace of your skirt, bunching the fabric up around your hips. His hands, big and calloused, fingers resting on your hipbones, on your ass.

He’s hard against your thigh, straining against his jeans. You could cry. “I want more.”

“I know, baby. I know.” The pet name, so new but so natural, sends you into a dopamine rush.

You squirm when he doesn’t let up on his touches, over every inch of your body, groping you. He wants to take his time—he hates that he can’t—and counts on the possibility of a next time. You pull him in for a spit-slick kiss, needy and whimpering, sloppy and tongues knotted. It feels good—fuck, it feels like this was all you were ever made for, his touch. 

You buck your hips into the air desperately. “We really—fuck. We don’t have time.” Cameras, a shoot, a video; reminders ring in your head like alarm bells. He nods, goes I know, and you pick up the strain in his voice as he tugs his jeans down just enough to rub his clothed cock under your entrance, hard and drooling through the fabric.

You moan softly. “Please, I can take it,” you breathe. You’ve never been this wet, this worked up, this teased. You need to feel him, be full of him; he presses you flush against the door with a hand at the small of your back to keep it from aching too much, and drops forward as he pushes into you. Your noses brush and he goes deeper, air thick and muffled with little moans and whimpers.

His mouth is against your jaw, thrusting slowly to get you used to the size of him. The angle gets you dizzy, draws a burst of wetness out and gets you clenching around him. You’re flushed and sweaty, moaning. Feels s’good. So good, Charles, so, so good. He fucks harder, the door rattling, dirty talk cooed from his lips to your ear: Yeah? Feels real good? You’re so good for me, baby, come on.

Your needy voice, needier movements, are driving him crazy, getting him to fuck you harder, licking over his lips as he watches you fall apart on his dick. Relax, he slurs. You squeeze around him and moan, wretched and raw. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so big. You’re getting his dick wetter and wetter with every thrust, shiny and drooling with cum.

Yeah? He says it so well, the best kind of reassurance. Come on, we don’t have time, baby. Let me feel you cum.

I know— you whine. I’m cumming—it feels too good—

You cum first, thighs shaky around him and lip curling into your teeth. You lean forward, mouth to his shoulder, and bite at the cotton. Fuck, he grunts, and releases then, a groan spilled into your hair. You watch, laughing breathlessly, and feel the world click into something different. 

You two will do anything, apparently, but talk this all through.

—

The gala is big and extravagant and you’re seated not with Charles this time, but with a roster of celebrities straight out of an LAX red-eye. Anna is at the table adjacent, andy you were able to talk to her about the experience, though not without leaving out bits with Charles in them.

You’re beside Florence and she’s talking about something, about a new movie she’s working on, and you chip in with jokes and laughs but your smile doesn’t really reach your eyes. You’re still caught in a web of fragile confusion. “I need to excuse myself for a moment,” you say after a while, after you’ve done nothing but smile and push broccoli puree around on your plate.

Consolation comes with isolation, at least tonight, at least right now. You find an empty balcony on the third floor, stare into the black sea. You try and try to remember what life was like three weeks ago, but it’s irrevocable now, the change that’s come since then. You tap the glass of your beer bottle against the marble banister, solid and probably expensive—a match for the rest of the hotel, you realize. It’s starkingly clean and smooth, and white, the kind of things you’d only say about a marble banister when you’re trying to avoid an adult introspection.

Behind you: “Are you okay?” 

In response, you say, “We shouldn’t have had sex.”

Charles settles himself into a spot near you, not totally beside but not too far—he, too, holds onto a bottle of beer. There are fancier drinks around, but somehow the dry taste of ale is all that brings you comfort right now. Your gears turn and, without prompt or question, you spill yourself forth.

“It was hard, when you didn’t… when we didn’t talk, and you didn’t ever tell me why, so I didn’t know anything. I keep remembering it, even now, what—ten years later, ha ha, even after… I don’t know, after the fact. We’re supposed to have moved on from shit that happened to us when we were fifteen but I’m finding it to be the hardest thing in the world. It was so… like, I had no trouble saying goodbye to anything else but you. And I’m famous now, my life is a whole thing, a—this whole party, and I’m supposed to… fuck.” You shut your eyes, and you can feel, through the thick fog of embarrassment and delirium, the tears that stain your cheeks. “It’s like. You know when you’re a teenager and you see all of it in movies and TV, this, like, moment where you’re staring at someone from across a room, and you’re smiling and talking to other people and you’re happy because you know in a few hours, you’ll be with that person anyway? At home, rearranging furniture, feeding the dog, eating leftovers? That… I always thought you’d be that person for me. Maybe because you were the only—you know—the only love I ever knew, and now, what. Four? Boyfriends and ten years later, you might expect me to feel differently—hell I expect myself to feel differently, but, unfortunately for you and me, I don’t. Sorry. I’m not—I’m not drunk, or anything.”

He stares at you, his expression soft and unreadable. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the world today, twenty-somethings, ten years later, unearthing all you left buried. “I…” he says, before pausing. “I’m sorry for leaving.”

You nod in response. 

“I always thought you would forgive me.” His face is sullen and handsome and your heart seizes. “I wanted to be your person.”

“How could I forgive you without an apology?” Your voice comes out fragile. “I leave in three days. You’ve fu—you’ve… you’ve kissed me, had sex with me, flirted with me. You’ve done everything but that.”

“I did apologize. I don’t think it was enough, but—”

“But you didn’t,” you reply, a jagged response. “You never said anything.”

“I wrote you.” His eyebrows knit. “I wrote you.” 

“You wrote me.” You repeat, deadpan. Your head spins with it. “What, a letter?”

“An e-mail. Before your first film came out—2014? A year after you… yeah.” He’s quiet and timid and nervous. “I forced Gi to tell me your address.”

“I didn’t… I wasn’t using that e-mail anymore. I haven’t in years.” You pinch your nose and let the silence settle like fine dust onto the room, an unspoken bomb that explodes over the both of you, raining regret and unsaid words. “I have to go.” You push yourself off the banister, turning already to the doors of the balcony. He stops you before you can step any further, a hand closed over your wrist, rough and warm.

“If you find the message,” he says, “will you read it?”

“I don’t plan to,” you lie. “Goodnight.”

—

From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <cmhpleclerc@gmail.com>

Date: 14 October 2014

To: You

Subject: Urgent!

hey buttercup, I asked Giada for this email address. my bday in 2 days. Will you be home for Xmas this year btw? ill show you some new places that open ed + we can bike around. mum misses u a lot too. parfois je souhaite que tu ne partes pas… not sometimes but always. i think i need to edit this a little let me try ag

From: Charles Perceval Leclerc <cmhpleclerc@gmail.com>

Date: 14 October 2014

To: You

Subject: Buttercup

j’appellerais mais je ne pense pas que tu veuilles répondre. it’s been more than a year since you moved out, in two days i’ll be celebrating my second birthday w/o you. i’ve been karting a lot, things are looking up, just like we always said they would :) just want to say i miss you a lot, and i hope you’re doing good. i would say i hate radio silence but i know it’s my fault all this happened in the first place. i’m sorry i stopped talking to you last year when you were moving away. i was being childish, but the truth is it was the only way i could handle it - by pretending we werent friends at all… i don’t want to make you pity me or anything (ne pense pas que je suis) but yeah you’re my best friend and you always will be. i’m sorry for being a knot head.

i was always scared to tell you but it’s been there since forever: i love you. i should’ve enjoyed your months here instead of leaving you in the air. i know i ignored you but it’s the 1 thing i regret. should’ve done a lot more, i know.. but i didn’t. we have a lot of promises i broke because i was being selfish. i kept the paper ring to remind me. remember that? we had a “playground wedding” when we were 5/6?

tu ne me dois rien - i just want you to give me a chance to make you happy, even if it’s just in the way we’ve always been (as friends). if you write me back i’ll try and fly there. mum is always asking me if we’ve talked yet. if not, that’s ok. i love you all the same and i will love you as you reach your dreams. this will never change. 

charles

p.s: est-ce que je te manque?

p.p.s: call me if you can and wish me a happy birthday?

—

“Rachel, I would sooner die than wait another two hours for the tarmac to clear again.” You try to up the firmness in your voice but it fails, only serving to make you sound less angry and more agitated. When all you get in response is a muffled I’m coming! you grumble and hang up the phone. Your plane was delayed all of three times, and the instant it arrives and is scheduled to take off on time, your friendsistant is nowhere to be found.

Lily and Carmen had thrown you a goodbye party the night prior, with sprinklers and music and cocktails, and promised to be on the next flight to L.A. Vogue and David had emailed you for a job done spectacularly, and to watch out for the videos and interviews’ release dates. Twitter is raving about your movie. Everything should be good, and yet, it’s not.

You check your inbox. IM COMJNG LILTIERALLY IM RUNNING THRU AJRPPRT!!!!!! You scoff again, hoping the plane doesn’t somehow take off for the fourth time, and take a seat on the VIP waiting area sofa again, shaking your now-empty chai latte. The room, sectioned off from economy and business, is fairly full.

A woman paces over to you, a bright grin on her face. “Hi. I’m a huge fan.”

“Thank you,” you smile, despite your tiredness.

“This is so embarrassing—but do you happen to have the time?”

“Sure”—you tap your phone open—“half past four.”

“Great,” she says. “Thanks, Buttercup.”

You’re opening your mouth to say you’re welcome, but it catches like cotton in your throat. You watch her depart like nothing happened, a strange feeling settling in your chest. You have barely any time to answer it, because a flight attendant is tapping you on the shoulder, addressing you by name, thankfully. She maintains a tone of professionalism all throughout her announcement that the aircraft under your name will have to evacuate the runway in ten minutes or less.

“I know, I know—I’m just, um. I’m waiting for somebody. She should be near now, though.”

“Tremendous. Merci, Buttercup.”

“Wh—” You stutter, blinking and watching her leave. “What?”

She doesn’t turn, walking to the kiosk to exchange information with her coworkers. You look around the airport, for a camera hidden somewhere maybe. Perhaps you’ve been unknowingly listed in some Impractical Jokers skit.

Rach hurry you text instead, leaning back and hoping you’re in some grandiose delusion. Your phone dings. Omw promise! It reads. Then: Look up buttercup

Your head snaps upward faster than you can register what you’ve just read, matching the opening notes of a song you’ve grown all too familiar with in your lifetime. The opening beat to Build Me Up, Buttercup flows like honey through the room’s intercom and floods it with life.

Mouth agape, you watch as the staff and guests perform the routine you’d learned at fourteen, complete with hops and turns you were too embarrassed to do even then. They’re smiling and whooping themselves and each other as they go, finishing the entire first verse before turning collectively to the entrance of the room. There, in all his glory: Charles, wearing an entirely too-small headdress that reads Buttercup, worn dusty from years of being stored away.

He’s dancing, too, closer to you. You refuse to budge for the express purpose that he dance some more, which he complies with, though not without an eyeroll and an exasperated sigh. Your heart beats with something irregular and warm. You’d told him about this before. He’d listened.

The music settles for a little and the dancers do, too, so he takes the time to raise his sign. Will you forgive me? It reads. No pressure. Except kind of. You laugh, throwing your head back at the gesture, at this entire affair that must have taken some amount of effort to prepare. As the lyric comes on, so does his sign: I need you… more than anyone, darling.

He drops the sign when you approach him, arms crossed over your torso. He removed the headdress and places it gingerly on yours. “I believe that belongs to you.”

And, hyperaware of all the eyes and yet the complete lack of cameras—you’re grateful for it—you finally, finally, finally pull him in for a kiss. You’ve kissed before, done your worst, but still means volumes to the both of you.

In-between kisses and cheers (from voices belonging to Lorenzo, Rachel, Lily—so many familiar ones), he says it again: “I’m sorry. I’ll make it all up to you.”

“You better,” you tease into his lips, smiling. “I know. I love you.” Ten years later—your person still is, and no doubt will always be, Charles Leclerc.

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 5

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: the next day you meet evan at the library, where he makes you explain your actions yesterday. then, the next day, an innocent conversation almost turns into one you're both waiting for.

word count: 2.5k

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A/N: you guys!!! the feedback on this fic has been so overwhelming, thank you so much!!! i was gonna post a request today but since this one was a little better edited and i haven't had a lot of time today, i figured i'd post this today instead and post the request tomorrow! enjoy<333

warnings: inexperienced!reader, slight enemies to lovers??? a touch of slowburn???, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

The next morning, you drag yourself out of bed. You’re really not looking forward to seeing Evan today, and it feels a little weird. You’re usually excited to see him, but you can’t push away the dread in your belly as you think about what to say to him if he asks why you were so short with him yesterday. While you do feel bad about how you treated him, your feelings about him stay the same: you don’t believe he actually likes you. You just know now that you can’t hold that against him. You can’t force him to like you back, after all.

You make your way to the fifth floor of the library, seeing that he’s already sitting at the table you both have deemed yours. You sit down without a word and start pulling your supplies out of your bag, trying to ignore the way he’s studying your movements.

As soon as you get situated, you start to open your laptop, but his hand immediately comes out to close it. He leans forward on the table in your direction, making sure part of his arm is on your laptop as he rests his chin on his fist, making sure you can’t open it and ignore his presence any further.

“Nuh uh. No assignment today. You’re gonna talk to me about what’s going on in your pretty little head.” he states, keeping his eyes soft as he looks up at you, trying not to spook you. He notices the way you’re holding your breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you gather your thoughts.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you say softly once you open your eyes, still refusing to look him in the eye. You’re afraid you’ll tell him everything if you look in those big blue eyes. He scoffs at your words, reaching a hand out to grab your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Princess, don’t do this. Yell at me if you want. Just don’t ignore me.” he begs you, keeping your chin in his grip as he moves his face just inches away from yours. You have so many thoughts whirring around in your head, but all you can get out with him so close is: “We shouldn’t be friends.”

“Why the hell not?” he asks defensively, his tone hardening at your words. He tightens his grip on your chin as you try to look away, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to snap your eyes back to his. 

“We have nothing in common. You play football, and you go to all the frat parties, and you get like, every single girl you want, probably. I don’t do any of that. I go to class, and when I’m not doing class work, I hang out with my roommate, or go to work.” you explain. You’re not exactly saying you don’t want to be friends, just that you don’t understand it, and he picks up on this.

“Why does that matter?” He’s desperate to understand where you’re coming from. He really sees nothing wrong with what you’re saying. Your differences are what attracted him to you in the first place, and how pretty you were, but that’s not the point.

“It just makes no sense!” you exclaim, looking around the library with wide eyes once you realize how loud it came out. “I don’t know why I thought we could be friends, or something. We should just finish this assignment, and be done with it.” you finish, voice much softer as you lean away from his touch, trying to open your laptop again.

“I don’t want that.” he says matter of factly, putting a hand over your laptop again, keeping it closed. You huff, looking back up at him, frowning slightly as you chew on the inside of your cheek.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.” you say with as much conviction as you can. You can feel the tears slowly forming in your eyes, and you try to will them away as you hold eye contact. You’re not even sure why you’re crying, but you can feel the way his eyes are boring into you, and it feels more intimate than any of the other times he’s looked at you.

“Why don’t I get a say in this? You think that just because we don’t have anything in common, there’s no reason for us to hang out? Well, I don’t agree. I like hanging out with you. I wanna keep hanging out with you, even when we’re done with this stupid assignment. I don’t care about any of the stuff you just said, alright? Now, please don’t shut me out.” he says angrily, jaw clenched.

He can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t understand where it’s coming from; how does this have anything to do with his conversation with Sabrina? He thought he was finally wearing you down, and it makes his chest contract in an odd way as he takes in your tense body language. 

“I just don’t understand.” you trail off, looking down as you see the anger creeping onto his face. You aren’t trying to upset him, you just aren’t sure what else to say without explaining your feelings for him.

“I don’t care. You don’t have to understand. You just have to know that you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I like seeing your pretty face everyday.” he whispers the last part, nudging your elbow softly on the table, giving you a soft smile. 

“Okay.” you mumble after a moment, feeling a smile fighting its way onto your face. You can’t help it. Everytime he calls you pretty, your heart races and you can’t help but fidget with your hands.

“Is that a smile?” he teases, ducking his head, trying to get a better look at your face, still angled down at the table. You shake your head, but a soft laugh escapes your throat, betraying you. He smirks at this, tongue trailing the inside of his cheek as his eyes glance to your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“There she is. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he tells you softly, trying to ease you back out of your shell. He’s picked up on the way you get all shy when he compliments you, and he figures this is the fastest way for you to get back to how you two were before. Your eyes dart up to his, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Let’s get to work.” you whisper, pushing his hand off your laptop and opening it. He straightens his back as he stops leaning on the table, feeling giddy as he sees you slowly letting him back in.

“Yes ma’am.” he mumbles back, opening his own laptop.

The next day, you’re standing in the hall with a girl you’ve had a few classes with, a small container open between the two of you as you offer her a cookie. You have to get rid of them somehow; you baked way more than you and your roommate could eat. After a few minutes, you both say goodbye and she goes into her class.

As soon as she walks away Evan walks up to you, quickly snatching a cookie from the container before you can put the lid back on. You smile once you realize it’s him, lowering the lid of the container as you keep the cookies between the both of  you.

He winks at you as he takes a bite, then lets out a loud moan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as the taste hits his tongue. A high pitched laugh escapes your throat at the noise, and you reach out and swat him with the container lid gently, looking around at the other people in the hall who are now staring at both of you.

“Did you make these?” he asks once he swallows, opening his eyes and looking back down at you. You nod, laughing softly. “God. How do you not have a boyfriend?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” you tease softly, face growing hot. He shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth, humming softly as he chews. You laugh again at his actions, shaking your head at his puffed out cheeks full of food. As he chews, his mind races at your words. Now he’s picturing you as a girlfriend. His girlfriend. How you’d be around him. How he’d be able to touch you whenever he wanted. It’s urging him to make a move on you sooner rather than later.

After he finishes the cookie, he looks down at you, eyes softening slightly as he speaks with a more serious tone. It’s now or never, he thinks.

“Seriously, though. Why?” You shrug, pursing your lips, nervously. You think you know why, but you really don’t want to explain to this attractive man exactly why you think so.

“I don’t know. Guys don’t really approach me much.” you tell him softly, eyes darting around the hallway as you notice that most people have filed into different classrooms.

“And have you thought that you’d have more success finding a guy who likes you if you didn’t bite the head off of every guy that approaches you, princess?” he teases, referencing the first time you met. You laugh softly, shaking your head. “My attitude has nothing to do with it.” you tell him, voice getting softer as you keep talking. The way he’s staring so intently at you has your stomach doing flips, and you can feel your mouth go dry as he speaks.

“Oh, really? You’re stubborn and feisty towards anyone giving you an ounce of attention, and yet you can’t figure out why no guys stick around long enough to appreciate you?” You purse your lips at his words, taking in the smirk stuck on his face as he teases you.

“I’m not like that around other people.” you admit sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders. His eyes widen slightly at this. He’s so used to you arguing with him that he almost can’t believe that you’re not like this with everyone. “Then why were you so defensive towards me? Why were you in attack mode when I first started talking to you?” he asks after a moment, his smirk widening as your eyes dart around nervously.

“You drive me crazy.” you whisper, as if it was that simple, eyes focused on your hands as you put the lid back on your container. It’s true, he does. He just doesn’t need to know it’s because he’s so attractive it makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” he matches your tone, taking another step closer to you. He’s pretty sure he knows why now; with your nervous expression and your fidgeting. He just wants you to say it. 

“Yes.” you whisper, swallowing as you raise your chin to look up at him

“And why is that, Princess? Why do I drive you crazy?” he continues, waiting for you to admit it.

“I don’t know.” you lie, letting out a shaky breath. You’re sure now that he knows everything. You’re really not doing a good job at hiding anything from him, but you’re so nervous and out of your element that you’re not sure what to do.

“No, I think you do. You’re just too embarrassed to admit it. Go ahead, tell me why I have you so riled up.” You can barely focus on his words as you look up at his face; you’re so overwhelmed by how close he is. You can’t help your eyes glancing down at his lips for a split second before moving back up to his eyes, mind blank as you try to slow your racing heart.

He notices your eyes trailing down to his lips quickly and his smirk grows wider. His eyes glace down to your lips as he takes a deep inhale, deciding that now is his chance. 

Just as he’s about to lower his lips to yours, someone drops their phone, a loud sound echoing through the hallway you’re in. It causes you both to snap out of the world where only you two exist. You jump slightly, then look away, blinking slowly as he clears his throat. 

Fuck, he thinks, the moment is now completely ruined. He barely has time to react before you look back up at him, your brain catching up to the events that just occurred.

“Don’t you have class right now?” you ask him softly. You can’t believe you thought he was going to kiss you. He’s probably flirty with every girl. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to turn off the charm? Your face grows hot as you think about it, waiting for him to respond.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll, uh, go,” His shoulders deflate slightly as he responds to you. Maybe he had read you wrong, maybe you didn’t want to kiss him. He doesn’t want to push you any further, so he decides it’s better for him to just go. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, smiling softly, but he can see the nervousness written on your face. He gives you a small smile back and steps away, trying to give you your space. He feels like a complete douchebag, he feels like he almost just forced himself onto you. He’s picked up on your shy demeanor over the last few weeks, and he had assumed it was because of him, but now he thinks that maybe you’re just that shy around everyone else.

He says goodbye before walking away, and you let out a shaky breath once he does, still reeling from how close he was to you.

“Morning, princess.” he says as he sits down at the table the next morning, chuckling as he notices that you’re already almost done your coffee. He knows that you get coffee in the morning on campus before coming here, and he figures today has been a rough morning, as you’ve basically chugged the whole thing already. You greet him softly, taking your eyes off your laptop and meeting his gaze. 

“I accidentally submitted my pre-edited assignment to my professor. He emailed me this morning and asked why my essay was titled ‘Why Macbeth is a Whiny Little Bitch.’” you say, your face hot with embarrassment. Evan’s eyes widen, and he can’t help the loud laugh that escapes his throat, which makes the smile you were fighting erupt on your face.

“How the hell did you do that?” he asks through his laughter, and you shake your head, pursing your lips at his reaction.

“The un-edited one and the edited one were right beside each other, I clicked the wrong one.” you say, finally letting out a small laugh at your misfortune. You’re very lucky your professor is one of the most laid back ones you’ve had, and your assignments are usually very well done.

He continues laughing, and asks why you named it that, which sends you into a small rant about the Shakespeare play. 

As you explain, it’s almost as if your almost-kiss is forgotten about, or at least, the awkward events that happened after it are. You’re talking to him without feeling weird at all, and he has that stupid smirk on his face as he flirts with you again. It feels natural, and neither of you think too much about what almost happened, lost in how good it feels to be around each other.

next chapter

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Heatwave

Hiromi Higuruma x Reader SMUT, 18+ only, MDNI ao3

The power is out in your apartment, a record heatwave has been raging for three days. You're hot, you're exhausted, you're miserable. Your husband has the perfect plan to help you sleep.

This was inspired by the other night when my power went out and I was miserable sweating in bed and wasn’t the nicest to my partner, sorry baby, I love you. Thanks for understanding. <3 enjoy y’all.

It was hot. Too fucking hot. Skin meltingly hot. Brain boiling-ly hot. The heatwave had been going on for two days already, and previously it had been a nuisance that you could escape from in the chill of your air conditioned apartment. But this evening the power went out, plunging the small two bedroom into not only darkness, but slowly rising heat that was now becoming unbearable.

It was past midnight, the window in your and Hiromi’s bedroom was open, allowing some air to circulate, but did next to nothing to mitigate the heat. You couldn’t sleep if you wanted to, you had kicked off the covers, leaving your body exposed, you had forgone pajamas and desperately craved the icy blow of your bedroom fan, sitting impotently at your bedside. Your husband, Hiromi, was asleep next to you, or you assumed he was asleep. He hadn’t been moving, he was turned on his side, facing away from you. He too, had opted to sleep naked, the heat bothering him just as much. You were so envious of him right now, all you wanted to do was sleep. You had to work in a few hours, and you knew the longer you were up sweating, the more irritable you would be tomorrow. You huffed in frustration, feeling angry tears stinging your eyes. You just wanted to sleep.

“Still awake?” Hiromi’s sleep-thickened voice erased the silence of the bedroom.

“Yes.” You hissed miserably, turning your head to face him as he rolled over to lay on his other side toward you.

The covers were bunched around his legs, one of his long legs above the comforter, one tucked underneath. He was sweating too, his tan skin glistening in the faint moonbeams that streaked through the bedroom window. He looked like he was shimmering, small droplets of sweat peppering every inch of him. You looked at his sleepy eyes, focused closely on you in the dark. His heart ached seeing your brows furrowed and your frowning lips. His large, wiry hand touched your cheek lightly, his fingertips cool against your skin. For once his poor circulation was coming in handy.

“My love…” his tone was apologetic, as though he had turned off the power himself, and imposed this misery upon you.

Hiromi’s cold fingers felt so nice against your flushed cheek, a moan slipped through your lips, coaxing a smile from him. He trailed his fingertips down your cheek bone and across your lips, the feverish heat of your body soon robbing his fingers of their chill. You once again were too hot and too sweaty, altogether too uncomfortable to sleep.

You sat up frustrated, burying your head in your hands, finishing your hair wet with sweat. Hiromi sat up scooted closer to you, he wanted desperately to hold you, cuddle you back to sleep and help you rest. But he knew touching you would only make you both hotter so he opted to rest against one of his arms and watch you closely.

“Maybe I should just get in the shower, it’ll cool me off for a little while.” You mumbled into your knees, already dreading the idea of showing in the pitch dark of your bathroom.

You had no window in the bathroom so even the moonlight couldn’t penetrate that darkness. You weren’t afraid of the dark, no one liked the dark. Especially not being naked and vulnerable in the dark. This sparked an idea in Higuruma’s mind. He slipped out of bed, standing to his full height, and sliding on his discarded boxer shorts from the previous day. He crossed around the bed and kissed your forehead.

“One second.” His voice was giddy with excitement as he padded through the dark into the kitchen.

You could hear the opening and shutting of the refrigerator, some cupboards, followed by the sound of Hiromi giggling to himself. How he could manage to be so happy while you were so miserable, you had no idea, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him. He was usually so serious, so sullen and focused all the time from overwork and his own battle with depression. Whatever he was up to was clearly bringing out the smiley and excitable man you had fallen in love with.

“Close your eyes,” his voice came from the otherside of the bedroom door, you obliged.

You felt him approach you, feeling the energy of his body closing in on yours. You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips as he stopped in front of you, you wanted to reach out and hold onto his hips in anticipation. But before you could move, you felt something against your mouth, gloriously cold, so perfectly, soothingly numbing that you gasped. Your eyes snapped open to see Higuruma kneeling before you, a bowl of ice resting next to him. He was sliding one ice cube against your bottom lip, cool water dripping down your chin as it melted.

“Oh Hiro…” you mewled out, grateful tears picking at your eyes, full and wet looking at him with so much love.

“Let me help you cool down, love. Lay back,” he leaned over you, standing again, encouraging you to lie on your back.

You let your back hit the sheets, already feeling some relief from the ice cube he slid down your neck. Goosebumps appeared in their wake, he was hypnotized by watching you change. Watching the ice melt so quickly against your burning skin, watching you release the tension that had been building since the heatwave began. Once the cube in his hand had melted completely, he splayed his icy, wet fingers on your stomach, opting to get the next cube with his mouth, using you for support to lean down. Grabbing the ice between his teeth he started lower this time, dragging it up your shin, water dripping down your calf muscle as he did. Contented moans slipped from your lips as you watched him. Your hands found his hair, expressing your gratitude with your nails against his scalp.

“Hiromi,” you cooed down to him, “ thank you, thank you.”

He was feeling pretty pleased with himself, pulling such beautiful praises from you with his little improvisation. The ice in his mouth was near melting and he sucked it in quickly, cooling his mouth, and kissed the juncture of your hip and your leg. Your hips twitched up barely at the chilled contact, but he noticed.

Higuruma wished he could say this was an entirely selfless pursuit, but the heat wasn’t the only thing keeping him awake tonight, he had roused himself near an hour ago now sporting a massive erection that hadn’t left him since. It had been too hot to fuck the last two nights and he was desperate for you. You were too, but tonight’s frustration had driven you mad before you had time to consider sex.

This time he held one cube in his mouth, and another in between his fingers. His hand held the cube to your lips, which you quickly began sucking at, suddenly noticing your dehydration. Proud of how well you could read his mind, he chuckled to himself, ice still in his mouth and leaned over you. He was kneeling between your legs, body caging you into the bed, as he dipped his head down to your collarbone, sliding the ice against the bone, and up your neck. Your satisfied sounds grew shaky, feeling a whole new form of stimuli. His fingers pushed the ice between your lips, then followed closely into the cavern of your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his middle and index fingers, sliding your tongue along where surface tension held the melted line of water.

He trailed the ice cube in his mouth down, between your breasts, marveling at how quickly your nipples erected themselves. His free hand wrapped around your right breast and he brought the ice across to circle the mound itself. You whimpered around his fingers. Hiromi smiled like a cat. He was so painfully hard, but not even his own pleasure could tempt him away from you right now. You sounded so beautiful under his touch, gasping as he added new ice, tongue slurping around his fingers, your back arching off the mattress as he circled your nipples.

“They’re melting right off of you, faster than I can replace.” He noted, catching your eye from his place between your breasts, “are you feeling cooler?”

You nodded helplessly, he looked so delicious to you like this. Mouth dripping, eyes blown out, his strong nose, his sharp features, his inky hair messy from your tugging.

He couldn’t help himself, he slithered back up to your face, kissing you desperately. Higuruma had always been an excellent kisser, but there were times like tonight where his passion was overwhelming. He kissed you like he was trying to spill all the love trapped in his chest directly into your open mouth. His tongue was like a creature of its own, exploring every texture of your mouth like he was studying you. The ice had cooled his mouth, yours too, so the kiss was creating its own hurricane. Chilled saliva mixing with hot, panting breaths.

You reached down, trying to reach the waistband of his boxers and slide them away, but his torso was so long you were coming up short. You grasped fruitlessly between your bodies, whimpering against his kisses.

“Off, baby, off, please. I need you.” You crooned against his lips, arching your chest into his own, your hands grabbing at his back.

You needed him so bad. He had already helped you so much, but he had fogged your mind completely. You weren’t sure how long you two had been playing his little ice game, but you were sure that it was enough time to have your pussy pulsating in desire. Hiromi chuckled at your pained pleas.

“You need some help, baby?” He slid his tongue against yours again so you couldn’t answer, “you need me to take care of you, is that it?”

You hated (loved) when he got cocky like this. Clearly so happy with himself for finding the solution to your ailments, you were sure that if the lights were on you could see him beaming with pride. You nodded again, hoping he wouldn’t do exactly what he did next.

“Say it.”

“Hiiiiiro…please it’s too hot…please.”

“Not until you say it.” He continued his kisses against your chin and neck, your body starting to heat itself again.

“Hiromi please, I need it so bad. I need you so bad. Please help me, Hiro.” You folded.

You rarely asked for help, in your marriage, in your personal life, at work. The phrase help me existed very rarely in your life, and you liked it that way. You were a capable woman, you didn’t like having to rely on anyone else. Even Higuruma, especially Higuruma. You loved him, and you did need him, but you hated admitting it. You hated the idea that one day the help you required from him would be too much, and he would resent you. But he loved it. He needed you to lean on him, he craved being needed by you. Times where you had fallen sick, and he had been able to wait on you hand and foot were some of his favorites. Obviously he hated when you were uncomfortable, but you so rarely asked anything of him. He wanted so badly to be there to help you. And here it was, a perfect opportunity for him to do just that, and he had. And he had heard you ask him, really ask him, for help. He nearly came untouched right then.

Hiromi quickly shed his underpants and kissed you again, deep and hard, his teeth clinking yours as he could no longer restrain himself. Your hands flew to his neck, pulling him closer to you. You hooked your legs up over his hips and released him for a moment so he could align himself at your core. His dark eyes met yours and you thought his pupils had turned to little hearts as he sheathed himself inside of you.

Everything about Hiromi Higuruma was long. His hands, his fingers, his legs, his nose, his body, and his cock was no exception. It seemed to go on forever as he penetrated you, pushing against your cervix and angling upwards to kiss the spot inside of you that sent stars into your vision. He let out a low howl, his eyes rolling back in his head, hands bruising your hips as he bottomed out.

“Fuck…” he cursed against the skin of your neck.

You whined, turning your head to the side and allowing him more access to your neck, you loved the feeling of his mouth kissing and biting you. The skin of your neck so sensitive, his teeth just barely scraping against the thin, taught skin. He pulled your thigh higher up on his hip, holding it back and allowing him to thrust deeper into you. The sounds of his balls slapping against your ass blended so perfectly with his low, throaty groans, and your choppy whimpers. His body shuddered as your walls clenched around him.

“Baby I’ll cum if you do that, stop.” His voice broke as he moved himself up into his hands, hips jerking into you uncontrollably.

“I want you to cum,” you moved your hands up his torso and chest, then up to his neck, you mewled against him once more, arching off the bed again, “cum inside me, Hiro. Please baby. You feel so good.”

He did, he filled you so completely, he always had, he knew exactly what you needed. He moved one of his hands to yours, bringing it to his mouth and kissing your fingers, regaining control over his thrusts and his breath. His other hand moved over your knee on his hip and down your thigh, bringing his thumb to your throbbing clitoris. You let out a shaky squeal, your jaw dropping in surprise.

“Then you’ll cum too.” He circled your clit perfectly, knowing your body maybe even better than you did.

Hiromi was an excellent, generous lover. He wanted to make you cum again and again before he did. In usual circumstances he would have pulled your orgasm from you with his fingers, then again with his tongue, then once more alongside him as he fucked you. But this was not a usual circumstance, his sweat dripped down his nose, your velvet walls felt so perfect around him, as though you were crafted just for him. Maybe you were? Maybe you and he were created just for one another, to please and love one another forever.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his efforts had your orgasm quickly approaching. Your hands gripped at his back and shoulders, loving the feeling of his lean muscle under your trembling fingers. The only thing leaving your lips was his name chanted over and over again. He could stop his hips from punishing your cervix more and more, his own voice croaking and moaning intelligibly.

“Baby please…I…oh fuck.” Hiromi was teetering on the edge of climax.

“I know. Me too. I love you.” You brought your hand to his face guiding it down to press your foreheads together.

His thrust became slower and more direct toward your g spot, his thumb continuing to rub your clit, your orgasm bubbling up inside of you.

“Kiss me.” Your voice was barely audible, but Hiromi connected your lips instantly.

That was the perfect, final push you both needed to climax together. He pumped twice more, deep inside of you, you could feel the stream of cum painting your insides. He could feel you fluttering around him. You kept your lips connected, panting into each other’s mouths. He stayed inside of you, making sure to keep his cum as deep as he could. The intimacy of being engulfed by you, and you being filled to the brim with him, bodies as close as two people can be, sweat and spit and cum combining together, it had you delirious.

“I love you.” You both breathed out, giggling afterwards at your moment of synchronization.

You clenched up around him once again as he pulled out.

“You tease” he shook his head before moving to lay next to you, catching his breath.

You lay side by side panting together, the endorphins flooding both of your bodies, slowly fading, and the heat returning to your bedroom. You reached over to hold his hand, turning to face him. He looked up at the ceiling, eyes closed, his hooked nose angled up, mouth open. He was playing the evening back in his mind, luxuriating in the warmth of your love and the celebration of that love that you two shared. He intertwined his fingers with yours and turned to face you, his eyes softening as soon as they locked with yours. He took in a breath to profess his love to you once more, but cutting him off the lights suddenly came back on. The whirring of your air conditioner started again, and your bedroom fan began humming. You both smiled in awe. Already feeling the change in the air of your bedroom, you sighed happily, snuggling into Hiromi’s side. He quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled the comforter over the pair of you.

“One of us has to get up and turn the lights off, you realize.” He kissed your forehead.

You groaned before peeling yourself from his side and starting to migrate to the wall switch. He pulled you back down by your arm making you bounce against the mattress.

“Oh stop, you know you’re not doing it.” He rolled his eyes and stood, his long legs needing only a few strides before he could flip the switch and darken the room again.

You were completely spoiled by him. You were so lucky to be with him, to be loved by him. He had gone so far out of his way tonight to help you feel comfortable. Hiromi slipped back into bed next to you, pulling you back into his embrace, burying his face in your neck.

“I love you, Hiromi.” You kissed his temple. “Thank you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed your cheek, you felt your eyes start to droop as cool air finally curl over your body.

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Tag request!

@buttercupbitches I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for being my first person to ask for a tag request!!

[ssentimentals]

f1 pairings as famous love tropes: george russell x lewis hamilton

fated mates (ABO!AU)

'sun and moon, all of the gods above - they made you for me'

note: event described here is a hunt - annual festival to find a mate. it takes a cruel turn here (where mates can be taken without consent), but nothing of this sort happens between george/lewis. just fyi. (+ also i'm not an abo expert, so excuse any mistakes)

george really wishes he'd taken alex's advice on cardio training in the months leading up to the hunt. all omegas were up and running at an early sunrise, while george was busy collecting plants and flowers for medical and tea purposes. in his defense, he is set to be pack's next healer and george doesn't take this role lightly (he dreamt of it since he was a little pup, staying close to his mom while she helped everyone). his knowledge of plants and different ointments definitely expanded within these months, but his speed remained the same, while all other omegas managed to get faster, which only gave them more chances of escaping unwilling matches with alphas they didn't like. which brings george to his current predicament - hunt starts tomorrow. and george? george is vastly unprepared.

'you can hide,' alex suggests, helping him chop up vegetables for the soup. 'it's not against the rules. you know this forest better than anyone.'

george nods. in reality, this is his best chance at getting through the hunt without a mating mark on his neck and that is his main goal. 'how's logan?' george asks, changing the subject and smiling at the way alex instantly gets shy. 'you two discussed everything?'

alex nods, practically radiating happiness. 'we both don't want to prolong this, so i'll just wait for him at the start. won't run, you know? hunt will start and we'll just run to each other. think it's the best.'

george wishes he had this too. wishes he had someone who'd make him excited for the hunt instead of dreading it. wishes there was someone for him out there, who'd love him, who'd understand his love for his healer work and who'd love this about him as well. someone with a gentle but firm presence, kind eyes, soothing voice. someone with broad frame, blinding smile, caring heart. someone with dark skin that's covered in tattoos, someone who is a leader-

'i heard rumors of lewis joining the hunt tomorrow,' alex drops nonchalantly.

'is he?' george asks, trying to keep his tone casual. 'interesting.'

'very,' alex stops cutting and carefully takes both of george's wrist in his hands, making taller omega stop and turn to him. 'georgie. go talk to him.'

acting dumb has never been his forte, but george still tries. 'why?'

alex sighs and there's pity swimming in his eyes, which makes george cringe. god, he doesn't want pity. 'because you're in love with him, george. and because i think that he's in love with you, too. or at the very least he likes you.'

george closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 'that's cruel, alexander.'

'no, not when it's true. i really think that he-'

'- is a good, caring leader of this pack, who is nice to everyone.' george interrupts hastily, trying to will his tears back. he can't cry now, it's his turn to feed little pups today, he doesn't have time to wallow in his misery. 'we've been through this.'

'and you never listen to me!' alex hisses out, gripping his wrists tighter. 'you're so in your head, you refuse to see what's right in front of you, what everyone else sees! why do you think everyone calls you his favorite? because it's so obvious how he differently he treats you-'

'because healers are essential to the pack,' george feels like a broken mixtape at this point, repeating the same thing ever and ever again. 'not because he likes me.'

alex opens his mouth and closes it again. he sighs, defeated. 'why are you so afraid, george?' he asks quietly, intimately. 'why are you so dead set on rejecting the mere idea of him being into you as well?'

because it will kill me if it's not true. because when he will find himself a mate, i will die, something in me will break and never be the same. because i never felt anything like this for anyone. sometimes i think that my heart beats for him and him only. george clears his throat and answers with a simple: 'because it's not true, alex.'

'but-'

'not everyone gets to have their happy ending,' george smiles at his friend bittersweet. 'i'm just happy you have one with logan.'

alex looks like he's about to argue but they both freeze up, when footsteps echo and then lewis enters the kitchen. he pauses, his gaze zeroes on the way alex is holding george's wrists - alex lets go instantly, clearing his throat. despite strong smell of the vegetables, potent scent of smoke and amber clouds the air, making everyone tense up. george turns around, blinking fast to get rid of unshed tears; the last thing he wants is for lewis to see him like this.

'i'll be right back,' alex mutters and leaves the kitchen, shuddering under lewis's cold assessing stare.

'hello, lewis.' george greets, gathering control of his voice. he turns and goes for a smile but lewis looks too serious. 'um, i'm preparing-'

'what was happening here?' lewis rarely speaks to him in this commanding tone. with george he is always gentle and soft. 'did he make you cry?'

george blinks, unsure what to say. his friendship with alex is a very well known fact, so to think that alex can make him cry is crazy. 'no, of course not. we were just..talking.'

lewis steps closer and fire smoke in his scent invades george's lungs. he always loved it, found it so fitting to their pack alpha - everything about lewis was strong and commanding, even his scent. george takes a deep breath discreetly and almost chokes on it, when lewis gingerly reaches out for his wrists. he holds them with something akin to reverency and george swallows, ignoring goosebumps that rise up at the touch. lewis carefully inspects his wrists, turns them left and right, his fingers stroke george's skin lightly. 'did he hurt you?' he asks, looking up at omega.

words are so, so hard to speak when lewis is this close. when his breath is fanning over george's chin, when heat of his body makes george's head spin. 'i, um,' george licks his lips and lewis follows that move with his eyes, his grip tightens just a fraction on his wrists. 'no, no. he didn't. alex would never hurt me.' he looks down, hearing water bowling. 'uh- you can let go now. it's my turn to cook for pups.'

lewis obediently lets go, but stays close despite george turning around to continue his task. presence of pack alpha always made george nervous, mostly because he really liked lewis since the moment he first met him. he knows lewis thinks highly of him - he praised him often enough for george to be sure in this, but he never... all those praises were about george's skill. never on his appereance or on his scent or-

'are you participating in the hunt tomorrow?' lewis asks, hovering close.

george nods, grimacing. 'can't escape it this time, i'm afraid. can't call in sick like i did two years in a row.'

'you don't want to participate?' lewis notices how george is struggling with chunking the meat and gently shooes him away, doing everything himself. 'i thought omegas are eager for the hunt.'

'the ones that have a mate are eager. i don't, so i'm not excited to be picked by some random alpha. but it's not like i'm a very desirable omega, so i guess i'm partially safe this year.'

george finishes up carrots and turns to give a sharper knife to lewis. pack alpha looks at him seriously, not smiling and george blinks on confusion. did he say something wrong to kill the nice mood?

'who said that you're not a desirable omega?'

'ugh- i did?' george shrugs. 'it's okay though, i know how i look, so it's all good.'

george is too tall for an omega. he's lanky, his limbs are too long and don't always cooperate well. his eyes are too big and his hands are too rough. he's not exactly charming and nor is he a flirt. george is just george and he's fine with that. lewis, however, looks like he's not fine with it. 'and you?' george asks, needing to get attention away from him. 'you will be participating?'

lewis nods, taking knife from george's hand. 'i'm thinking about it, yes. it's time this pack gets their pack omega.'

it stings. it hurts so much that for a second george forgets how to breathe. image of lewis with another omega, both happy and elated - it breaks his heart into tiny pieces. he puts on a smile though, because he's good like that. 'that's a big decision,' he says, not looking at alpha. 'will make someone very happy, huh?'

'i hope so.' lewis answers and his scent turns acid for a second. they work in silence for some minutes before he speaks up again: 'do you want to mate, george?'

george lets himself dream. of mornings filled with cuddles and sweet kisses. of cozy house where every guest is welcome. of being greeted with warms arms upon his arrival. of being swollen with pups made of big, pure love. he smiles, not realizing that his soft lavender scent bursts in the room. 'i do, yeah.' he speaks quietly in a wishful way.

he blinks back to present when notes of amber intensify in the air, swirling happily with his own scent. george freezes - he's always cautious with his scent and never lets it go that openly - but lewis lets his scent free too and it's...wonderful. lavender soothes the strength of amber, adds flowery notes in it and swallows up the smoke - their scents mellow each other down and mix prettily. when george turns, lewis is already watching him with the scary intensity that makes him swallow. what is-

'i'll see you tomorrow, george.' lewis says, putting knife back down. 'thank you for letting me help you.'

lewis walks away but his scent stays with george long after he's gone.

=+=

'run, george. alex will go to logan but me and lando will cover up for you. we'll be right behind you and then-'

'and then you'll go and hide,' lando interrupts charles, smiling up at george with his boyish charm. 'me and charlie will continue running to the left and we all know that's where everyone will go. it'll give you more time.'

he stares up at his friends and wants to cry from their readiness to help him out minutes before the hunt. george took few vital oils with him that should help to mask scent and shares it with boys - they also don't have alphas and will spend this hunt running away from others.

'i can't believe that lewis is here,' charles mutters, helping lando apply oil on his scent glands. 'think he's in it for you, healer.'

george sputters in surprise and only grows hotter when lando confirms: 'yeah, i think so too. he hasn't stopped looking at you.'

and that is disturbing because it's true. george can't even dismiss this as a lie, because lewis is staring at him and god, why, why? is this some kind of cruel game of rising his hopes up to crush them later? george applies last remnants of oil, itching from the heavy gaze of pack alpha. he takes a deep breath and focuses on the forest ahead of him. omegas have one hour of free run before alphas are also allowed to enter the forest and he needs to make most of it. the second fire goes off, george scrambles and runs off. instead of shifting into his wolf form like majority of omegas - him, lando and charles stay in human form, dashing into the woods. in wolf form it's impossible to disguise your scent, so all three of them chose to stay like this, knowing that all alphas will shift and their noses won't pick up on a scentless omega. faster. one hour seems a lot but knowing how dense and big forest is, it's really not much. go faster. three of them run in one direction until they reach small clearing and that's when charles and lando take left, while george chooses right.

'good luck,' he mutters to his friends before turning away and running up the hills.

george does know this forest better than anyone else. he knows every single secret cave, every single hill or small river - that's his main advantage and despite tightness in his lungs and ache in his legs, he climbs up, up, up until he reaches the river. no one really goes here because bears are frequent visitors here but george knows where to go and where to hide - he easily finds a secluded cave which can be seen only from a certain angle. it takes time to go down by a slippery trope but if he falls into the river then water will wash away oil and his scent will be in the open for anyone to detect, so he takes great care in his steps, knowing that clock is ticking. once george successfully reaches the cave, his knees buckle and he falls, sighing in relief. he's not used to running for this long, he's not used to running in general and his head is a bit dizzy as he moves further up the cave, hiding. safe. his heartbeat is so loud in his ears that george spends next twenty minutes just trying to calm down after adrenaline spike, breathing slowly. there's very tempting idea of just falling asleep right now but he tries to hold on - yes, chances of someone coming here are slim but they are not non-existent. he lets himself relax though, lulled by constant sound of water running down in the river. he thinks of lando and charles and how they are doing right now, hopes that alex and logan are out of this stupid hunt by this time, thinks of lewis. did he already catch his mate? he looked like he knew exactly who he was going for. was he in love with that person for a long time? george curls up in a ball, closing his eyes. lewis probably liked someone very handsome. someone very petite, kind and fragile. someone who is everything george isn't. someone-'

loud howl breaks the silence. it takes few seconds to understand that howl is coming from the clearing up the river and george sits up so quickly, his vision turns dark momentarily. he sniffs the air but no, his scent is not out; maybe there's another omega not far from here? george shivers - he hopes whoever it is, they are not running away from unwanted alpha. he doesn't dare to peek and almost doesn't breathe, straining his hearing for any other sounds. it's strikingly silent at first and then he hears a splash like someone jumped into the river. why-

'george!' no fucking way. 'george, are you in here? are you safe?'

lewis wouldn't be lewis if he didn't inquire about his safety. it warms george's chest and he moves closer to the light. for one crazy second he thought that lewis is here for him, but that obvisouly can't be; lewis is here to just check if he's okay, if he's not being hunted by unwanted alpha. smiling at his kindness, george peeks out - lewis is all wet from crossing the river in a wrong place and generally looks very disturbed by being out here, but when he notices george, he beams at him, waving his hand.

'george!' he calls out, rushing to his side. 'i knew you'd hide somewhere here but hell, george, don't you know there are bears here? it's dangerous!'

george blinks at him in surprise, walking fully out and meeting lewis at the other side. pack alpha is a sight to behold even when he's sopping wet; god, his omega will be so, so lucky. lewis marches forward and grabs him by his shoulders, looking over his form frantically. 'are you okay?' he asks hurriedly. once he realizes that george is indeed fine and wasn't mauled by a bear, lewis relaxes his grip on him, smiling. 'knew you'd be here. i remember how you told me about this river.'

and isn't that...weird. 'i am fine,' george assures him. he then looks around and sniffs air for a good measure but finds nothing. 'there's no other omega here, though.'

lewis tilts his head to the side, confused. 'uh, yes? probably, yeah. no one is as brave as you to go to where bears are.'

george is getting more bewildered. 'i mean, there's only me here. aren't you looking for an omega?'

lewis lets his hands fall off from george's shoulders. he frowns, searching for something on his face and even steps back. 'is that a rejection, george? am i reading this correctly?'

what on earth is going on? george stares blankly at pack alpha, unsure. he feels like he's out of depth to whatever is happening right now that he better keep his mouth shut. lewis waits with furrowed eyebrows, his scent grows acidic, displeasure very evident. when george stays silent, he sighs and speaks up: 'i came here because i knew you'd be here, and when i'm standing right in front of you as an alpha, you're telling me about another omega. if this is not a rejection then what is this, george?'

george tries to grasp the reality and fails. 'what are you saying,' he whispers, eyes wide and mouth agape. 'what are you saying, lewis, you are-' he gulps. 'please don't be cruel.'

george can tell that his scent is pouring out even through the oil due to inner distress he's feeling. lewis feels it too but he stands stoic, watching george closely. 'how am i being cruel?' he asks instead, voice calm and serious.

oh god, he has to spell it out. 'by making me think that- by phrasing your words in a way that makes me think that-'

'that what?' lewis presses.

'that it's me you're looking for.' george finally lets out, ripping his heart out. 'that it's me. your omega.' he sniffs, looking away from alpha. 'this is cruel, lewis. don't do this to me.'

george wants to cry. he wants to scream and shout and curse the gods for not giving him one thing he wants the most - lewis as his alpha. his scent sours and he wants lewis to hug him like he usually does, wants to lose himself in his warmth, but lewis doesn't move. he just stares with lips pursued. 'you know what's really cruel, george?' he asks, not hiding anger notes in his voice. 'this. you thinking that i am looking for another omega. you thinking that it can't be you when it's always been only you, george.'

george breaks. sobs wreck his body and he sways a little, landing right in strong arms of alpha. his alpha. pack alpha, lewis hamilton. it's too good to be true, too unrealistic and yet there hasn't been anything more real than lewis' lips on george's scent glands. george shivers, whining a little when alpha starts nipping on them lightly, forcing more scent to come out. alpha rumbles lowly in approval, tightening his arms around omega, smiling plesantly. 'i'll spend rest of my life making sure you see what i see in you, george,' he promises. 'and then you won't ever have doubts, you'll understand how lucky i am to have you.' lewis leans back, making eye contact with george. 'i do have you, right? george. tell me now. are you mine?'

if this is a dream then george will gladly never wake up. 'being yours is all i ever want to be,' he whispers. 'i never thought that this might be mutual.'

amber and lavender mix together in the most perfect way around them. lewis smiles, staring at george like- like george stares at him. meaning, staring at him like he is the reason sun shines every day.

'my beautiful omega,' lewis says reverently, watching george blush with a smile. 'my most talented pack healer. my perfect pack omega.'

it's a lot. george doesn't think he can take this but then lewis kisses him and oh. it's a lot but my god, he can take it. he can take it so well. 'take me,' george whispers right in alpha's mouth, grinning at a responding growl. 'alpha.'

'do not,' lewis bites back, groaning and hiding his face in george's neck. 'you know i can't.'

as a pack alpha lewis has different customs to follow and george smiles, knowing that he found a new way to tease his...partner. his alpha. fuck, it's real. he lets lewis guide him all the way, lets him hold his hand, lets him announce loudly for everyone that he found a pack omega. alex cheers to the loudest, practically screaming at top of his lungs at the news with logan standing next to him, smiling from ear to ear. when george turns to lewis, alpha is already looking back at him with the softest smile. it's always been you, lewis said. george smiles and looks up at the sky, thanking gods silently. i only ever wanted him, he thinks. lewis, who is kind and thoughtful and fair. lewis, who will fill his mornings with cuddles and sweet kisses. lewis, who build them a cozy house where every guest is welcome. lewis, who will greet him with warms arms upon his arrival. lewis, who will have him swollen with pups made of big, pure love. lewis hamilton, pack alpha, his alpha.

a/n: i love this and i also hate this, i don't know :( let me know your thoughts!! - nini

my other formula 1 works are here

my seventeen works are here

[sulumuns-dootah]

18. 10. Moaning - Belial

    ༺☆༻

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽Helltober '24☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

    ༺☆༻

There's this trend online where people walk up to their partners and moan into their ear and walk away again.

The first time you moan into Belial's ear is while he's quietly reading a book in the living room. Jiyu is already in bed, so you decide it's the best way to start your teasing. The result wasn't what you'd expected, because the demon must've been very invested in his book. You walked up to him from the back and bent down to his level. It took him a few seconds to come back to reality and to turn his head in your direction to see you smiling at him. Even with the top half of his face covered, he looked puzzled, so you just kissed his cheek and left the room just as fast as you'd entered it.

On the second occasion you found Belial in the halls of the Gehenna castle. He was just done talking to Sitri about something important, so you had to be more quiet about it as the king's right hand was still within earshot.

“Beli!” you hug him and moan prettily into his ear and then you're off again, “Gotta go, Paimon's waiting for me. Love you!”

The third time you manage to catch Belial off guard before one of those dreaded/anticipated meetings where Sitri and Amy fight for the vast majority of the time. This was a perfect distraction as your teasing seemed to work and there was a semi-visible bulge in his pants.

At first you're thinking that that's it. After the meeting's done, the excited demon will drag you to the nearest private room and fuck you senseless so you can't walk for the next week. But that's not what happens. Amy, in his anger is the one to drag you out of the room, to help him organise some sort of defensive attack just so he doesn't have to listen to Sitri anymore.

The blue balls you've accidentally given to your beloved demon make you feel slightly guilty, but are you gonna stop? Oh hell no...

Your luck sadly runs out the fourth time. This time it's you leaving a meeting with Sitri when you run into Belial. As you're about to hug him and pull your stunt again, the demon interrupts you by pushing you up against the closest wall and you know you're fucked and about to be fucked.

The heat pulsing from him is infectious and soon you can feel your own need spark up. Belial, however, ends up pulling back and hand signing to you that you better be at home once he's off from his duties. Maybe it's for the better, because just this interaction outside his door, drew Sitri's attention and if you were to continue, he'd either interrupt or try to participate – he himself is unsure of which.

Timeskip to you at home, waiting for the arrival of the pent up demon, but you're not willing to give in that easily. You're hiding behind the door to the bedroom only to slam them after him and approach Belial from behind and moan in his ear one last time.

This time the plan works out and you know for sure you're in for a long night, just from the way the demon's ripping both of your clothes off and needily plunging himself into you.

    ༺☆༻

Shhh... the prompt for tomorrow is Lap dance ^^

[princesskenny1998]

Big Mouth | Judd Birch x CheerCaptain!reader ~ Project

After class on Tuesday, your biology teacher dropped the bombshell: you and Judd Birch were partnered up for the sex education project. The moment his name was called alongside yours, you felt a strange mix of excitement and dread. You’d heard plenty about Judd – the brooding loner, always lurking in the background with his leather jacket and mysterious aura. Judging by his indifferent glance in your direction, he probably thought you were just the stereotypical cheer captain: popular, preppy, and frankly, boring.

But this wasn’t a choice you could dodge. And, if you were being honest with yourself, there was a curiosity there. Something about Judd’s dark, detached vibe intrigued you, even if he did give off the impression he couldn’t care less about... well, anything.

As you walked out of class together, you turned to him and forced a friendly smile. “So, we should probably figure out a time to get started on this project.”

Judd shrugged, barely making eye contact. “Whenever. Not really my thing.”

“Sex ed isn’t really anyone’s thing,” you shot back, a little exasperated. “But we’ve got to pass this, right?”

He snorted, like it was an inside joke only he understood. “Fine. When and where?”

You considered your options. “How about my place tomorrow after school?”

Judd didn’t look thrilled but shrugged. “Alright. See you then.”

The next afternoon, you waited in your room, trying to get over the nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your hormone monstress was thrilled – Judd Birch, in your room, working on a topic that had her cackling in delight.

When the doorbell rang, you composed yourself and headed down to let him in. Judd stood there in his usual attire: dark jeans, a band tee, and a leather jacket. He looked around your house with a mix of disinterest and mild surprise.

“Come on up,” you said, gesturing toward the stairs.

You were fully aware of the contrast between your outward appearance – all polished and put-together – and your bedroom, which was a haven of your hidden tastes. Posters of Korn, Nirvana, and other alternative bands lined the walls, and your shelves were packed with well-worn albums and a collection of eclectic books.

The moment Judd stepped into your room, you noticed his eyebrows raise ever so slightly as he took in the posters. He seemed taken aback, a glimmer of interest finally breaking through his usual indifference.

“Korn? Didn’t expect that,” he said, his gaze flicking over to you with a hint of approval.

You felt a surge of satisfaction. “People don’t expect a lot of things about me,” you replied, smiling a little too confidently.

He gave a low chuckle, almost to himself. “Guess not.”

The two of you settled down to work on the project, spreading out your textbooks and notes. But the awkwardness lingered in the air, intensified by the topic. You could practically hear your hormone monstress shrieking with delight every time you said words like intimacy or sex, while Judd’s deadpan expression only made things more uncomfortable.

At one point, you caught Judd rolling his eyes. “I think they make us do this just to torture us.”

You laughed, and to your surprise, he smiled back. “Probably. They can’t get enough of seeing us squirm.”

Finally, after about an hour of stilted conversation, awkward explanations, and several breaks where you both complained about how ridiculous the assignment was, you threw your pen down with a sigh. “This is hopeless.”

“Tell me about it,” Judd muttered, stretching and letting his eyes wander around your room again, as if looking for something to distract him.

An idea seemed to come over him. His gaze sharpened a bit, and his mouth quirked into a smirk. “You know, we could make this more interesting.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned back, eyeing you with that familiar detached but intense stare.

"Interesting and sex education? How?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual even as your stomach did a little flip.

“Definitely,” he replied, barely suppressing a grin. “How about... making out?”

Your hormone monstress practically cheered, her voice echoing in your room, "Oh, honey, YES. Take him up on that! Let’s see where this goes!"

And, well, you didn’t need much convincing.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. You had to keep up the cool-girl act, after all.

Judd raised an eyebrow, like he hadn’t expected you to actually say yes. But he quickly recovered, leaning over and brushing a hand through his dyed hair, his fingers lingering just above your shoulder as he took a breath, like he was trying to decide where to start.

And then his hand reached out, tilting your chin up slightly, his face inching closer until you could feel his breath against your skin. When his lips met yours, there was none of the gentle, hesitant build-up you might have expected from someone else. Judd kissed you with surprising intensity, his grip on your jaw firm as he pulled you in closer.

Your heart raced, your mind going hazy as you melted into the kiss, matching his intensity. The roughness, the way he didn’t hesitate – it made your pulse pound with a mix of excitement and nerves.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you on his lap, and you tangled your fingers in his hair, letting yourself get lost in the moment. You could feel the edges of a smirk on his lips as he noticed you leaning into him, and the thrill of it all only grew.

After what felt like an eternity – or maybe just a few minutes, though you’d lost all track of time – you both pulled back, breathless. Judd leaned back, looking as unruffled as ever, though there was a hint of satisfaction in his expression.

“Well,” he said, his voice low, “that definitely beats desk research.”

You laughed, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Agreed.”

There was a comfortable silence between you, though your mind was still reeling. You’d just made out with Judd Birch, the boy you’d only thought about in fleeting glances, the boy you’d never guessed would even look at you twice.

But here he was, smirking and staring at you like he’d found something more interesting than anything in that biology textbook.

Just then, your phone buzzed, snapping you out of the daze. It was a reminder for dinner with your family.

“I guess we should wrap this up,” you said reluctantly, glancing at the unfinished notes on your bed.

Judd shrugged, a smirk still playing on his lips. “Yeah, we should.”

You walked him to the door, a newfound, awkward silence hanging between you – but this time, it wasn’t the kind of awkwardness that made you cringe. It was something else entirely, something almost... exciting.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Sure,” Judd replied, and there was a gleam in his eye that made your heart race.

As he walked out of your house, your hormone monstress let out a triumphant laugh. “That’s my girl! Now we’re talking!”

And as you closed the door, you couldn’t help but grin, your mind already racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

[leviscolwill]

daydreamin'

pairing: more jude bellingham x f1 driver!reader

summary: you get interviewed by your celebrity crush after getting your first pole position, and you boyfriend can't stop teasing you for it. [wc: ~850]

contents: reader is feeling silly, fluff, awful attempt at being funny ‼️NOT proofread (i'll do it later 😪)

req: We need more driver gf x jude 🙏🙏🙏

note: this is sort of a part 2 to ballroom extravaganza but it can definitely be read as a stand alone !! i'm happy that you guys enjoyed my f1 driver!reader work, i have a few more requests for this trope that i'll write when i find the time :D

now playing: daydreamin' by ariana grande (yours truly)

"y/n don't freak out, alright ?"

the words of your race engineer in your ears were already freaking you out, you were already imagining your flying lap deleted because of track limits or a penalty.

"you're on pole! congrats y/n, you deserve it."

"no way, no way... i think this is the best day of my life." you couldn't help but scream in joy, probably destroying your engineer's ears.

"fuck, thank you so much guys... i love this team so much, i swear." you cringed at your sappy comments but you couldn't help yourself. you had a hard time adjusting during your rookie year in f1 and the first few months were quite challenging to you. but this, it was the proof you were getting there, that you couldn't give up.

getting out of your car, you ran towards your team in the parc fermé as they kept congratulating you for your great result. as your team's engineers and mechanics kept patting your back, your eyes met your boyfriend's. you hugged him strongly as if he would slip away from you if you let him go.

"i'm so proud of you my love. you're the best." he kissed the top of your helmet before walking away to get your interview done.

you watched lando get interviewed by jenson button, as he finished p3. he'd always been comfortable doing media work, something you definitely needed to improve. you dreaded this moment, jenson button was one of your favourite drivers when you were younger and you had a little celebrity crush on him back then. of course, it was no longer the case, but you were terrified of embarrassing yourself in front of him, even more so knowing cameras would be filming the moment in 4k.

lando went to congratulate you after finishing his interview while you were waiting for perez to complete his. quickly, a mic was handed to you and you walked to the interview zone.

"y/n, what a lap! congratulations on the first pole of your career, hopefully the first of many..." jenson beamed.

"thank you... i hope to get more poles if i get rewarded by a jenson button interview." you were still out of breath from your lap and the excitement you felt. your nervousness dissipated a bit when jenson laughed at your attempt at a joke.

"that was a perfect lap, you think you can keep that position tomorrow for the race ?" jenson asked you.

"of course it's gonna be hard but both lando and i have the possibility of going home with a great result, maybe a 1-2. we just need to find out the best strategy and my job is just to make sure i drive perfectly."

"that you showed you can do. once again, congratulations y/n, pole sitter here in sao paulo. let's hope i get to interview you tomorrow as a race winner this time!"

"now that's good motivation, see you tomorrow." you waved at the crowd before getting your trophy and getting the pictures done.

jude was already waiting for you with a big smile on his face. he hugged you again and peppered kisses across your face.

"my pole sitter, you were brilliant today."

"thank you, i thought i would pass out after crossing the finish line."

"we need to talk about that interview though, you really want to replace me with that old man?" he raised his eyebrow questioning you.

"he's not old! i might replace you with him if you keep being mean to my main man like that..." you took a quick glance at jude, gauging his reaction.

"maybe you should ask him to take you to the restaurant that your boyfriend got you for tonight, if he'd do a better job than me.' he said feigning offence.

"mmhh you're right, i'll ask him when i see him..." you ducked jude's smack that was aimed at the back of your head and started to run away.

"my media duties are calling sorry." you ran off before jude could make you regret your words, only turning around to stick your tongue at him like a kid.

jude walked towards mclaren's motorhome to wait for you when someone started walking side by side with him.

"how long have you two been together ?"

he looked at the origin of the voice only to find jenson button.

"um, it'll be one year in december. are you planning on stealing her from me before that?" he joked with jenson.

"i don't think i could steal her from you even if i wanted to from the way she looks at you, you two are lovely. see you tomorrow mate" he patted jude's back before going his own way.

when you joined jude at mclaren's hospitality, he had a big smile attached to his face.

"what happened to you ? are you texting your other girlfriend ?" you asked, sitting down next to him

"i'm just proud of you." he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, kissing the side of your head.

he liked the fact that his little encounter would remain a secret between him and your first crush.

[rascal-xo]

Can i request one where reader and ghost go to the zoo as a date 💞 and bonus they get to pet capybara's too 😭 i love capybara's

Bittersweet | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader |

Chapter summary: You and Simon take a day trip to the zoo

Warnings: FLUFF, Affirming!Simon, language

Word count: 792

A/N: This popped up on my twitter feed and I HAD to add it to this blog.

“I don’t think they like me, Love.” Simon chuckled, watching the penguins waddle away into the water at the sight of him.

“Their first time seeing a ghost, I bet." You smile, earning a small nudge from your fiancé, whose face is covered by a balaclava but his eyes as bright as ever. You lean on the metal railing while Simon keeps a hand around your waist.

It's bittersweet, being here with him. You're both enjoying yourselves, but there's that familiar cloud of sadness hanging over you both, knowing that today could be the last time you get to do something like this together for a while.

Simon will be deploying back to base with the 141 in just two short days. You dread the week before he has to leave, scared and full of emotion, just wishing he could stay longer or never have to leave the peacefulness of your home.

You watch the little babies follow after their mothers, while others swim under the decorative bridge happily.

“What’s got you so quiet, darling.” Simon asks, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “These little things can’t be all that interesting.” He jokes, you smile to yourself at the sound of his voice.

You take a deep breath before answering, not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment. "I worry about you, Si." you say softly, feeling Simon's gaze turn to you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead through his mask before pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. "I always come home, don’t I? I don’t want you worrying, it’s not good for you love.”

You know he's right, he always comes back, but the thought of him being in harm's way is enough to keep you up at night. The thought of having Johnny or the Captain at your front door with Simons dogtags, is a constant fear of yours.

"I know you do," you say, “Just wish you could stay.”

"I know," Simon replies, his voice soft, almost regretful. "But duty calls, and I have to answer." You nod, understanding his dedication to his work. You also know that the time apart is just as difficult for him as it is for you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through the different animal exhibits, dragging Simon to hold various exotic creatures while never once missing the opportunity to snap pictures of him on your small camera.

Pictures you’ll eventually print out to remember back on.

As you approach the capybara exhibit, you can't contain your excitement. "Simon, look! They're so cute!" You see the sign to hold one and almost run off without him. You hand him your camera and run up to the line.

Simon smiles at your excitement, making sure to snap a photo of you getting to hold one of the pups. You can feel the warmth of the animal's fur against your skin as it nuzzles into you

"I think it likes you," Simon says, chuckling as he looks at the photo he just took. You’re smiling up at Simon in the shot, with small animal in your arms. The perfect candid moment.

He was going to make sure he keeps that one in his vest, once printed out. You can't help but grin, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. This moment, captured forever in time

As you make your way back to the car, the sun starting to set on the horizon, you hold Simon's hand tightly. You don't want to let go, not wanting to face the reality that he'll be leaving soon.

You both know that tomorrow will be spent running errands and packing for his deployment. It won't be a fun day, but it's a necessary one.

As you reach the car, Simon opens the door for you before making his way around to the driver's side. You're lost in thought, when he reaches over and takes your hand in his. You turn to look at him, seeing the small smile on his face.

“Don’t go holding any capybaras without me while i’m gone, you hear?” He chuckles, lightening the mood.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lieutenant.” You say sternly, joking.

“Oh god, Love. I don’t wanna be Lieutenant yet. I’ve got two more days.” He whines, with a hearty laugh.

You take his much larger hand, now cupping it with both of yours and bring it up to your lips. “Come back to me, Simon.” You say against it, not wanting to feel anything but him.

He watches you with more emotion in his eyes than he had ever had before in his life. He would come back to you, one way or another.

[violet-embers]

My name change hearing is tomorrow and I'm both excited and stressed for it. On one hand it'll be awesome to get that done and changed, but it's going to be a lot of work getting everything else updated

It'll be worth it in the end to not dread having to show my ID anymore though

[theautisticwriter]

The Owl House characters being paired with you for a school project

Characters- Luz Noceda, Amity Blight, Willow Park, Gus Porter, Hunter, Young! Edalyn Clawthorne, Young! Raine Whispers

Show- The Owl House

Genre- romantic, crushes 

Summary- you are paired with the owl house characters for a school project

Warnings- reader gets referred to as "pretty", usage of the word "hell", usage of the acronym "wtf", that's it I think??

Word count- 1.7k+

Extra notes- these are headcannons

———————————————————

✧Luz Noceda✧-

✰ when she found out she was partnered with you for the school project she ran home and dived onto her bed

✰ screamed into her pillow like there was no tomorrow

✰legs flailing and everything

✰ part of her was dreading working with you incase she did something wrong

✰ and the other part of her was swooning at the idea of spending more time with you

✰ eda was giving the worst advice ever like holy-

✰king declared himself the 'king of wingmen' and decided to help Luz in her flustered state

✰Luz asked around the school what your favourite food was so she could have it ready for when you came round

✰hooty was banished from speaking to you

✰poor fella

✰gave you a house tour and rambled on about all the intricate details due to her nerves

✰she got that neurodivergent swag

✰could not sit still the whole time you two were studying

✰was very interested in the topic but would bounce on the bed whilst you read out loud to her

✰king kept appearing in the room to try and wingman

✰was kicked out before he could make significant damage

✰lots of blushing and awkward giggles

✰you told her she was smart and she just broke

✰was fumbling over her words so bad

✰"haha yeah- thank you, you're uh, pretty too- PRETTY SMART- pretty smart too..!" bless her soul omg

✰eda did in fact make your favourite food and it warmed your heart that Luz put in so much effort to make you feel comfortable whilst you were there

✰eda was spying on you both to make sure you were suitable enough for Luz

✰she approves

✰all in all you two barely passed bc you both either got distracted or were interrupted by the other residents of the owl house

✰definitely got closer to each other though and you both are excited for the next school project

☾Amity Blight☾-

✰she was so ready for this

✰school was her thing, and doing something school related, with you?? she was thrilled

✰planned the entire evening so you both would have time to study, complete the project, eat and engage in conversation

✰wouldn't mind doing the project at her house, but would much prefer doing it at yours

✰if you both went to her house she would grab your hand (bold move, her heart was racing) and literally run to her room to avoid contact with her family

✰could not avoid her siblings however, as they were waiting in her room for you two

✰they teased the two of you like crazy

✰amity literally tackled them out of her room and barricaded the door

✰rough start, but we perceiver

✰you two 100% passed with top marks because our girl was not letting you fail on her watch

✰got briefly distracted as she thought about maybe asking you out for future study dates

✰she tried to ninja her way down the stairs to with you to get some food and take it back up to her room but her dad caught you both

✰just nodded at you in acknowledgment and instructed that you both didn't stray from the task you'd been given from your teachers

✰ate in her room and talked for a good while

✰she had conversation starters on little flash cards

✰"so, y/n, what is your favourite subject?" listens so intently at your answer

✰gave you a kiss on the cheek as you left

✰10/10 would study with again

✰and that kiss sparked a blossoming relationship :)

✿Willow Park✿-

✰told her dads about her nervous she was about you coming round for the project

✰they were excellent hype men

✰when you entered her home it was a very welcoming atmosphere

✰she gave you a bouquet of your favourite flowers

✰"I got you some flowers, I hope you like them :)!"

✰you spoke to her dads for the first 15ish minutes

✰guided you to her room with a hand on the mid-section of your back

✰she gave you her comfiest pillow and blanket

✰put the flowers in a vase while you two studied

✰you both had a pretty good balance of working and having fun talking

✰definitely passed with at least a B+

✰once you both finished the project you laid down on her bed and you both just stared at each other as you spoke about whatever was on each others minds

✰her dads helped organise a future hangout between the two of you

✰gave you the biggest bear hug before you left, and gave you the vase and flowers

✰very wholesome experience, it went very well

☘︎Gus Porter☘︎-

✰had his fists clenched to his chest and a very wobbly straight lipped expression on his face when he found out

✰he was trying not to look flustered

✰very awkward organising process, but it was cute watching him move his hands around like an insane person as he forced words out of his mouth

✰was stood outside his front door waiting for you to arrive

✰opened the door for you and stood to the side as he gestured you in

✰a true gentlemen

✰his closet was bursting to open because he'd thrown all his human nicknacks into it beforehand so his room would look less messy

✰pulled your chair out for you at his desk

✰he's trying so hard to impress you it's so cute

✰info dumped about the subject and you were astonished at how much information he knew

✰he did a lot of research before you came over to appear smart

✰you two would get distracted a lot but always found your way back to the project

✰passed, and that's all that matters

✰checking every five minutes that you're comfortable

✰"are you sure you're comfortable? I can get you another pillow if you'd like!"

✰just an absolute sweetheart, when you left after giving him a hug goodbye he collapsed onto the floor and just melted into it

✰phoned Luz and Willow to tell them every little detail

✰squealed once or twice whilst talking about it

✰'twas a lovely experience, 10/10

乂Hunter乂-

✰had no idea what he was doing

✰look he's just getting into this whole 'school' thing, and now he has to work with you?? how will he prove himself a worthy suitor if he's in uncharted territory

✰literally barged into the owl house in full blown panic mode

✰Luz told him to just be himself, and gave some good advice about how study sessions and projects normally go

✰eda teased the hell out of him and he was RED

✰went round your house cause he's kinda homeless

✰was stood like this🧍‍♂️when you opened the door

✰forgot how to breathe a good few times

✰he was determined to impress you with his knowledge, and would literally beam whenever you slightly complimented him

✰after a while he got more comfortable and was able to have some good banter with you and ease up a bit

✰was still very aware of his movements and actions, but was able to calm the tension in his body down and speak more freely

✰you both did that cliche where you reached for the same pen and your hands collided in the middle

✰"ah-! I'm sorry, no, you take the pen, I didn't mean to invade your personal space like that or take your things." give him a hug wtf

✰his fingers felt all tingly afterwards

✰you reassured him that you didn't mind at all, and found his apology to be really sweet

✰you both passed!

✰as he left your house for the night he blurted out "we should do this again! soon!", nodded his head quite violently and then bolted

✰you guys did do it again and it was great :)

⁂Edalyn Clawthorne⁂-

✰this is the only time she actually did her work istg

✰was unbelievably nervous but did not let it show

✰when you arrived at her house she opened the door, put her elbow against the frame, put one leg in front of the other and smirked at you

✰she then lost her balance and fell but we don't talk about that

✰gave you a tour of her home, and you said hello to Lilith before going up to her room

✰was really struggling to focus but she tried so hard cause she didn't want you to fail because of her

✰if you have hair, she would end up randomly grabbing a bit of it and messing with it absentmindedly

✰or she would grab your poke you at random times and then smile at you when you looked up, denying that she ever poked you in the first place

✰a menace

✰used many pathetic pickup lines on you, with full confidence it would woo you

✰it did but that's a you problem

✰you both barely passed tbh, but she was chuffed with herself when she heard about your grade

✰asked you on a date at the end and you said yes

✰almost cried out of joy to Lilith when you left

♪Raine Whispers♪-

✰very calm and collected when they found out they were partnered with you

✰just very happy abt it

✰stares at you whilst you work out who's house you'll be going to and what time you'll get there with love in their eyes

✰very willing to just follow you around wherever you go

✰just like with willow you both find a good balance between work and fun

✰nods and smile whilst you ramble on about the project or your interests

✰plays you a little song at the end of the evening

✰they wrote it for you

✰you both passed!!

✰shows off their magic and the tips of their ears go pink if you compliment them about it

✰100% attempts to make you join the bard covern

✰you both hang out a lot more after that :)