#flinging around french all the time

[fictionadventurer]

But does your man buy an entire hawking establishment just because he saw a painting of a hawking party where one of the women kind of resembled you?

[trashytracktales]

Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶

𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me 🤍🎀

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THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.

They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.

The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.

The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.

She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.

Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.

Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.

She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.

They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.

Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.

Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.

Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”

“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”

She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.

“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”

He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.

“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.

She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”

Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.

“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.

She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”

Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”

Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”

Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”

She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.

Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.

“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”

His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”

He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.

“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”

He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”

“But—”

“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.

She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.

His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”

“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”

For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.

“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”

She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”

To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.

His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”

She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.

“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”

As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.

Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.

“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.

She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.

Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.

They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.

The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.

Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 

Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.

“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.

“Forgive you?”

“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”

She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.

He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”

She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.

“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.

“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”

“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”

“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”

He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.

His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.

“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.

She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.

“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.

His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.

Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.

“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”

She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.

He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”

She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.

“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.

Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”

Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.

Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.

She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”

His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.

She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.

His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.

“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”

“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.

And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.

The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.

Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.

Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.

A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.

He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.

Fuck people. All of them.

She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.

“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”

“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”

Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.

“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”

She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.

She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.

Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.

So predictable.

“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.

Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.

At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.

“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.

“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.

She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.

“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”

She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.

The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.

“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.

Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.

She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.

He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.

Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.

“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.

Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.

It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.

Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.

Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.

“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.

He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.

With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.

“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”

He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.

“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.

“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.

“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.

“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.

Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.

His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.

Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.

“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”

Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”

“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[beausling]

pov: you’re jensen ackles’ controversially young gf (alt!musician!reader) part ii

read part i here, read part iii here

youruser

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suicideleopard @/youruser dude send me all the pictures you got

youruser @/suicideleopard omw bd😜

pearlzier @/youruser BABY DADDY?!!?!!????!!????

youruser @/pearlzier well Yes!!

vamps4y/n @/youruser jensen will be hearing about this📞

jensenackles liked a reply to your comment

jensenackles

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jensenackles Ahhh New York….. 😎🤎

Till next time.

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youruser another day, another slay✨

jensenackles liked your comment

gibson_g1rl the brown heart emoji??? ohhh, y/n cooked here🤭

hrtsy/n was just omw to say this🤭🤭🤭

vamps4y/n i’m gonna ask the question everyone is thinking… @/youruser did y’all link up or not??🤨

youruser only got to see each other in passing yesterday, i’m in florida rn for rockville🙁

pearlzier @/youruser ohhh thats fucked up, #universe let my parents see each other

archiveofvirtue @/pearlzier mama y papa liked😸🤞

jackleswife let me sit on it

gibson_g1rl OH so you’re Gross huh!?

vamps4y/n ermm Aktually🤓☝️ it’s y/n to sit on

y/ngirlies @/vamps4y/n CRYINGG SOO REAL GIRL

youruser

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youruser nobody needs to know . . .

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y/ngirlies okay but when is the album coming out?

youruser eventually…

jasvtsc @/youruser PRAISE THE LORD🙏

yourbffsuser what a time we’ve had✨

youruser it was definitely a time !!!!!

gibson_g1rl need to know where that shirt in pic 8 is from tho

youruser olivia sade fuck baby tee🤞

archiveofvirtue HEY GUY WHY ARENT WE TALKIN AB PIC 4!!!!??

pearlzier are we thinking the same thing🤭🤭

gibson_g1rl okay so we’re all on the same wavelength rn??🤭

deanluvr like thats GOTTA be jensen’s hand ru kidding

hrtsy/n explain yourself love @/youruser

youruser @/hrtsy/n CAPTION !!!!!🙌

jensenackles

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jensenackles Just another night in Paris. Watching body parts explode on a giant screen. No biggie.

Are you guys ready for this?!?!

@/theboystv this Friday!!!

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youruser le brouillard approche…

jensenackles Stop saying ominous things in French…

youruser @/jensenackles quoi que tu dis, joli garçon😸

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vamps4y/n @/youruser there you go again flinging that name around……..

deangirlsride why is #She around every corner🫣

gibson_g1rl girl stfu😭

j2texas fr it’s like a horror movie😟

hrtsy/n @/deangirlsride @/j2texas kay why ess❤️

youruser

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youruser got to live my da vinci code dreams (nuit blanche was so funky fresh!!!)

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hrtsy/n so we’re just not gonna talk abt pic 8??!!!

youruser the food was SO scrumdilly😸

pearlzier @/youruser that is NOT what we mean😭😭

gibson_g1rl Y/N AND JENSEN IN PARIS AT THE SAME TIME LIKE ITS NOT A COINCIDENCE…….

jackleswife if it’s real i might have to kms

archiveofvirtue girl BYE you’re weird😭

jasvtsc @/archiveofvirtue @/jackleswife NO FR like IF IT IS TRUE.. why can’t you just be Happy for him????

vamps4y/n @/jasvtsc mama y papa liking iktr🤭

jacklesfan isn’t she like super young too?

y/ngirlies she’s literally pushing 30 so gtfo with all that😭😭

pearlzier @/y/ngirlies PUSHING 30 IS INSANE😭😭😭😭

y/ngirlies @/pearlzier ITS TRUE THOUGH SHE TURNS 30 IN A FEW YEARS !!!!!!!!

꩜ thank you so much !!! i hope you guys enjoyed reading this😸 all feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💟

꩜ this one is a bit more silly, a bit more drama.. things are starting to pick up a bit more🤭 (sorry, but i just love a good slow burn)

꩜ tags : @gibson-g1rl @pearlzier @jasvtsc @archiveofvirtue 🎀 lmk if you wanna be tagged and/or featured in the next part !!!!!

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

I was in a Baxter mood today so I went swimming in GB Patch's blog for all the Baxter facts:

General

His personality, at least defined by GB Patch, is that he's sheltered and out-of-touch without being elitist or self-centered. He's preppy/posh, quite sociable, and hates conflict, but likes to go against what's expected of him. He grows out of being such a rich kid trust fund baby by Step 4.

His parents are bigots. He's the unlucky one in a sea of characters with supportive parents.

He has a distant French origin.

His birthday is the day his DLC came out, meaning May 19th.

He's 5'11" (180cm) in Step 4 (this was apparently reconfirmed on the Our Life Discord as well).

His natural hair color - a dark dusty gray that he hates - is uncommon to be born with (as opposed to aged into) in the Our Life universe.

He's right-handed.

Childhood

His dream job as a child was to get into investments, having a strong portfolio with diverse assets (he does not fully know what that means at the time).

He's a late bloomer.

Baxter's crush on Qiu from Our Life 2 is at its peak when he's 12 and 13 (13 being his age in Our Life 2's Step 1), but he's moving on by 14 (when he can potentially meet the MC in Soiree).

He met Qiu at their local dance hall (as they both took lessons there, just in different forms of dance) and also met Ren/Renee (Darren in Our Life 2's Step 1) through Qiu, as the two had known each other since they were very young.

He wasn't thrown off by his crush on Qiu despite Qiu being a boy, as Qiu was popular and it seemed "unfair" to Baxter not to be able to like him. He puts more thought into it as he grows older and what it means, deciding that he'll feel however he'll feel and not worry about what's expected of him. In Soiree, the MC can notice this if they're male or non-binary, as Baxter isn't bothered by dancing with someone who isn't female.

Abilities (or Lack Thereof)

He's a weak swimmer. He can swim fine in pools but would probably struggle in the ocean.

He can sing.

He's experienced in multiple types of dance (though his favorite is the waltz).

Step 3 Baxter is a lazy, bad cook who doesn't even want to bother with cooking, but Step 4 Baxter takes an interest in trying more fancy/restaurant-style food and is able to do so.

Likes/Dislikes

He likes things being clean, but isn't always motivated enough to maintain that.

He liked video games when he was a kid, leaning towards action/adventure ones, though doesn't anymore in his late teens and beyond. He would play life-based games (such as the Sims series) with the MC if asked, however, either playing innocent like he didn't know what he was doing while messing around with the characters or being blatantly obvious about it.

He doesn't like dancing in clubs/discos. He would try it once because he enjoys trying different types of dance, but would only go regularly if he had a friend/partner who liked going to such places.

He would absolutely approve of an MC who chooses to only wear black and white.

Romantic Inclinations

Beyond his crush on Qiu (who he never confessed to), Baxter dates people, but never for long or seriously.

The reason he backs out of asking out the MC if they say that he's their first crush (unless the MC is referring to his Soiree self) is that he feels they have idealized feelings for him and he'd disappoint them. He essentially panics, not wanting to get the MC's hopes up and especially on their very first feelings of romance.

The best way to romance him is to Not Let Him Escape.

In terms of how Baxter will/won't date in the future between Step 3 and 4 if he had a fling with the MC, answers range from him not dating anyone if the player intent was that they were both genuinely in love, but would otherwise to him trying to move on with others but the flings become even more surface level than before to the point where he's simply going through the motions. He ultimately hits a breaking point (whether he dated the MC or not) and ends up improving due to the MC's return in his life and/or support from other people such as Xavier.

When it comes to what he's attracted to in another person, he likes seeing nail polish, false lashes/heavy mascara/naturally long eyelashes, and full suits (especially if they're expertly tailored).

His love language in terms of receiving is Quality Time, but in terms of giving, he will happily adapt to whatever the MC wants.

Clothing Choices

When it comes to Step 4 Baxter's personal dress code, he's always meeting/formal ready (even when not working) unless he's doing anything athletic, in which case the button-downs get a break.

- Likewise, his closet is basically all button-downs and fancy suits with a few exceptions including clothes suited for the cold.

Assorted

Him skinny-dipping didn't happen in Golden Grove, and the Now & Forever main cast are not his friends by then.

He immediately finds the MC and Cove appealing (not necessarily crushing on them) at the start of Step 3 as "beautiful beach strangers."

He'd be flattered to hear from an MC that they love his laugh/find it charming.

He says "hallelujah" because he's pretentious.

He doesn't know French, but does occasionally drop a French word he knows during Step 3 to "add to his formal flair." His Step 4 self considers it embarrassing in hindsight.

While he started dyeing his hair black at 14, he didn't start adding white into the mix until he was 18. His Step 3 hair was likely something he only had for a year, at which point he changed it up with different attempts at black and white. He switched back to plain black after graduating college, feeling like he had to be "a serious grown up."

During the wedding in Baxter's Step 4, he will have Jude send along a vegan cupcake to the MC if they're vegan.

Semi-revealed during one of his mornings with the MC in Step 4, he has a multi-step daily skincare routine.

His Future

He has no preference over who he'd prefer to be the one to propose to the other in his relationship with the MC.

He would absolutely want to plan his own wedding (whether for or with the MC, depending on whether they want to be involved). He would not want another planner included.

He would forbid his parents from attending his wedding, but invite his childhood friends. Cove, Terry, and Miranda would also go.

He doesn't have a preference when it comes to last names during a wedding. He's just in awe that he's marrying someone at all.

He might consider having facial hair at some point in his life.

When it comes to having kids, he doesn't have any particular age he'd prefer to have them and is more of a "when it feels right" kind of guy. In terms of the number of kids, none is his default but he'd prefer to have two if the MC wants them, as he finds the relationship between the MC and Liz to be lovely and was personally lonely as an only child.

🍋 (below are asks that might be considered risqué - especially going to the posts themselves on some - but I wanted to include them for the sake of having all the information in one place; know that me and my prudish nature pushed through this for the people who want it and I hope you appreciate it! >:o) 🍋

This one definitely goes without saying due to being a love interest in a game where the MC can be she/they/he even down to being intersex, but Baxter is pansexual.

Baxter isn't good at being sexually active beyond being with an MC who wants that. He tries to bond with others but either fails to have his interest reciprocated due to being too forward or backtracks if he senses that someone is actually into him. His relationships are short/inconsistent for that reason.

He would never sleep with the MC during Step 3. He's already planning on leaving and wouldn't risk souring the relationship at any point even if the MC would want it. He wants company more than he wants sex and would not want to be remembered as the guy who slept with the MC and then just left without contacting them again.

Between chests and backsides, Baxter prefers the latter.

Baxter is a top (though is flexible on the matter), is into BDSM, and "kind of" has a sir kink.

[kromato]

Hey what's up it's me with a special interest in weapons and I wanted to share my thoughts about Nikto's machete (no that's not an innuendo for once)

Had a bit of a solo-mandela effect going on because for the longest time I thought it had a modified 'billhook'-like feature on the back of it for whatever reason (but smaller than what would be considered a traditional billhook, more like a hoof pick blade).

I kind of enjoy still HCing that it does have it because a) it looks kind of cool and b) a terrifying thought to think this man whips this giant intimidating blade out, flips it deftly in his hand to the hook side, just to sink it into flesh and yank people back in when they try to run. Also it allows me to think about a scenario where, resident karambit knife enthusiast Sebastian Krueger, can teach proper blade hooking techniques to our beloved plural man. Anyway back to the knife - It's like a cross between a coup coup and a bola? But has a cool flare like a Tapanga for his newer mwiii model. Also like a vintage Senegalese french machete, which were known for their high quality (might technically be the same thing as the coup coup, just with the locale specified I think, both entrenchment machetes). That curve also kind of reminds me of parangs but it's not particularly drop-pointed.

I HC Nikto as a very brutally pragmatic but particular man, so it doesn't feel too far off to think that he went out of his way to acquire something niche like that. Some kind of custom-made machete that fits his needs just right. The length of it, as well as the curved, ergonomic grip makes me think he's gotten it to do some serious chopping, so it's also probably heavy and weighted forward to make that easier when swinging. I don't see him as a flashy fighter personally, and though maybe it was a stylistic choice for the game devs/artists, I think it's a neat feature that speaks to his character. I do think it's made of hefty steel; weight is important in chopping knives, and though steel rusts, it's sturdy compared to a lot of other metals. Not to mention - I feel like oiling and caring for his weapons, machete included, would be a ritual source of peace for his sometimes loud and chaotic mind. Grounding when he can feel the weight and texture where his nerves aren't completely damaged, smell the oil, have tangible proof that it's reality when he sees the maintained blade even after he becomes unmoored.

Now this is just me WAY reading too much into it, but it gives me a little giggle - The hole at the end of the handle is for a wrist lanyard, so you can loop a piece of paracord rope to secure it around your hand. It's an important safety feature just in case the machete goes flying out of your hand while chopping, lest it hit people in your vicinity (accidentally...?). In his 19 model, he doesn't have the paracord rope attached; Nikto says "Fuck your safety" but also huge ego of "I would never accidentally fling my knife!!"

Could also be because it gets caught on stuff if it dangles off his hip though - he's got one on his newer model where he wears the blade on his shoulder, which looks like a place where it's less likely to snag on things. Could also be because he's been increasingly featured in larger factions, so he works with more people and was asked to have one on hand maybe?? I don't know. In either case the knot in the middle of the rope makes it too small for his wrist which could also be read as a passive-aggressive "Here's the fucking safety rope it's on there ALRIGHT" and yet he's also made it nonfunctional for its intended purpose lmao Okay that's all byeeee

[claraswritings]

CARMY BERZATTO NSFW ALPHABET HEADCANONS

Warnings: erm… it’s the NSFW alphabet so… it’s basically Carmy smut 👀 fluff,

Luca one to follow soon.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Oh Carmy would be super prepared. He’d have a little aftercare drawer or box by his bed ready for you and would offer to help you and when he was done he’d go make you a drink a snack and bring it in to you. He’d be very cuddly and close after and keep kissing you softly even after. If he had to leave early he’d nudge you so he could say goodbye and cuddle you for a bit before you went back to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself? He likes his arms, he knows you like them too. Carmy is built strong despite being a little shorter than most guys and knows he can lift you and move you around with ease. On you? I think he’d love your hands, he always want to be just holding your hand whilst you’re being intimate, locking both of yours above your head or holding them in his whilst he kisses you. He’s probably touch starved, poor baby.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s open to anything and will cum wherever you like. Of course Carmy loves finishing inside you but he’s also partial to giving you a backshot. He’ll take a picture of it (with your permission) and get off to it when you’re not around.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He would be into making a dirty video, pictures 100% he’d want some artsy sexy Polaroids…Maybe Carmy would… even want you to nude model for him…so he can draw you 👀 … draw me like one of your French girls style?? Like sensual sexy and romantic and you’d both end up durned turned on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Depends. If you date pre-New York absolutely or close to zero. After New York when he’s back in Chicago, maybe a few flings or brief hook ups but not much at all. Definitely no relationships. Carmy is a fast learner though and will take instructions to please you how you like.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves having you ride him but with his big hands on your hips so he can thrust up into you. Sometimes he’ll bury his face in your neck and leave bite marks, other times he’ll want to press his forehead to yours and look in your eyes.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s mostly serious. He can joke if it’s a quickie but any more and he likes to be more sweet and romantic. Carmy just feels so lucky to have you that he wants to let you know.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it tidy and trim. On a partner, he wouldn’t be fussed so long as you’re comfortable.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s the type to take his time lying over you with his chain hanging in your face and kissing you slowly, he’s absolutely the kind to say I love you during sex if he got a little overwhelmed with how loved and safe he felt. I think he’d have a hard time being vulnerable…so when he’s in the moment and feels like he can open up hed do it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I have an idea that he’d want you both watch each other touch yourselves at some point and see who caves first. Who edges closer to the other? Who would stop to touch the other person…just a little….first..

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He LOVES to be praised and told just how good he feels. The reassurance in that moment is exactly what can send him over the edge. If you tell him he’s fucked you so good and he can cum now… well fuck if he’s not finishing there and then

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

You’ve been known to surprise him in his office which he couldn’t get enough of… you’ve also made use of the car once or twice.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think he’d get turned on knowing you want him if that makes sense. So if you’re calling him ‘my Carmen’ in public. If you got jealous of someone giving him attention too… I can imagine him being like “do you want me to show you you’re the only woman for me” BRRRR 🥵.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would not be interested in sharing you or being shared. Even if he knows you love each other, Sharing you is off the table. He’d be so jealous if another man even looked at you let alone touched you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both. He’s keen to please you and will happily spend hours between your legs but if you want to get under his desk and take him in your mouth, he’s not going to ever refuse. He’s not the most experienced guy but he makes up for it with enthusiasm.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I’d say he usually likes to take his time with you… slow at first (due to his size) but if you build up to it, he’s sometimes unable to hold back and ends up picking up the pace.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh hell yeah, especially if it’s at a busy time for the restaurant and he can’t spend as much time with you as he likes. He’s pretty open to you setting the grounding on how often but if you’re there and giving him the go ahead for a quickie, he’ll always be up for it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Within reason. I think he’d be into it with the right environment…I think he’d also maybe be a little embarrassed to bring it up to you initially but if you were open, ohh you could slowly, gradually start experimenting and soon he’d be sending you things with ‘Can’t wait to do this to you’

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Liiiiisten I know people think oh he works a lot, he’s not going to have time. We have all SEEN those biceps yes? He clearly has time to work out so he clearly has a lot of energy. Sometimes yeah he does come home wiped out and you’ll just get him off with your mouth or he’ll go down on you… but other times? You’re going for as many rounds until he’s got out any frustration or energy… as for how long he lasts?? It all depends on how much you praise him 👀 (see above Kinks)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any or use them and whilst he wouldn’t be against it, he’d much rather just fuck you himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When you first start dating, hes not the type to make a move or ask you, but after a few months of learning what each other like, my god he is the BIGGEST TEASE.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Carmy would be quiet at first, just the odd gasp or moan but you’d coax more out of him by telling him you wanted to hear him, and by the time you’re together he’s enthusiastically telling you sparing no detail how good it feels

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Once when he was at a conference, you surprised him in a coat and just underwear underneath.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is a bit above average in length but he’s absolutely without any doubt, so girthy that the first time you see him you’re actually nervous about how he’s going to fit.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He was so work focused before he met you that he’s adapted to being fine going for long periods without getting any…or at least he was until he met you. As soon as you get together, he cannot take his hands off you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Carmy would fall asleep pretty quickly if he’s working hard and he’d get to sleep even quicker with you kissing his arms and shoulders and whispering sweet things to him. You’d reassure him it’s okay if he falls asleep first.

[maybe-im-dark]

Logan headcanons

Logan hates showers. He generally has a problem with water, it reminds him too much of Weapon X. It's why he doesn't shower as often, as he should. Everytime he needs to mentally prepare himself for the process; undressing, getting cold, stepping into the shower, adjusting the temperature (Logan loves scalding hot showers and Wade always uses way too cold water for his taste) , soaping his hair and body, rinse it out, stepping out of the shower, getting cold again and drying himself

The same reason he hates swimming: Weapon X. Stryker forced him to swim on time and dive, to get used to the weight of the adamantium. It takes a great effort for him to swim, the adamantium weighs him down, so he avoids it when he can, settling for just sticking his legs in the pool

He has a complicated relationship with smells. He loves strong smells and tastes, that would make anyone else run for a breath of fresh air. His heightened senses mean he can pick up all the complexities of smell and taste, especially stinky cheese and mold. He will eat old Limburger and forgotten leftovers from the back of the fridge. His healing factor prevents him from getting food poisoning. He also loves Wade's cancer smell, the sweet rot grounds him. On the other hand there are smells that set him off. Especially hand sanitizer and strong cologne. It's what Stryker smelled like. So Wade always makes sure to buy unscented soap and shampoo, as to not trigger his husband

He knows several languages from traveling the world in the army. The most obvious ones being French, Spanish, German and Japanese. But he also knows Russian, some Ukranian and a few native American languages such as Lakota. Sometimes when he's out with Wade the two will switch between different languages to make sure nobody listens in on them

He actually has a bunch of children. As a teenager he has some flings, that resulted in pregnancies unbeknownst to him, because protection wasn't around yet. And after the X-Men were killed he hooked up with any woman who was willing and in his drunken state, he just didn't care for condoms. It was only when the TVA told him, that he knew of his children. The young ones were transfered to his and Wade's universe in the mansion, so they could learn to control their mutation and he sends money and birthday and christmas cards regularly with the promise to meet them when they're old enough. The adult ones he will have a drink with and listen to their life stories, without revealing himself, not wanting to interfere with the life they have built for themselves

He also loves head scratches. He loves when Wade or Laura run their fingers through his thick hair and massage his scalp, it calms him

[colourstreakgryffin]

hi! Please ignore this request if you don't want to do it/your request are closed.

Do you think you could do a part 2 to hells angel? Or at least like more bonding moments between the two Im in love with father alastor sm 😭🙏

It’s not closed! It’s open, wide open and yes, I’ll happily write more for Papa Alastor! I’ll happily continue the little saga of Papa Alastor and his little fawn! Kinda short but I hope that’s okay!

Alastor- Shopping Trip

“Is this one something you’d like, Princess?” Alastor asks gently, his voice both menacing because of the radio effect and soothing because of the genuine love pouring out uncontrollably, as he draws down an adorable puffy old-fashioned but colourful little dress, long sharp fingers snapped on the small silky shoulder straps slightly. A outfit just the right size for a young girl

Specifically, his little girl. Leitora, a unique deer-featured soul born from pure powerful demonic magic. The one now forming his own soul and heart, he is so glad birthing the little devil darling was successful

His precious baby daughter, a seven year old with matching little deer ears and crimson red gradient in her pretty long hair. She has been waiting a long time to be able to spend time with her father and now, Alastor has taken the whole day off from duties at the Hazbin Hotel, to spend it exploring a wild wondering sinner-filled shopping institution with his babygirl

“Yes, Père! I love it!” You immediately pipe out soft yet eccentric back, excited and hopping right in front of the Radio Demon as he quickly hooks this little clothing present onto the size-appropriate hanger it was originally left on and hands it to you without another word. He currently has a few more shopping bags over his left forearm and an another much bigger shopping bag over his right shoulder as well as your needed travel supplies in a cute old fashioned pastel schoolbag over both of his shoulders

Your father doesn’t mind carrying everything nor does he mind overspending. After all

This is a father-daughter all-day shopping trip

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. A pretty clothing store, full of women’s to men’s to children’s fashion. The fifth store you’ve gone in with Alastor since the pair of you woke up early in the morning and headed over to the biggest mall in the Pride Ring, the mall both of you stand in at this very moment. He has been needing to get you some new clothing for a while now so being able to get your opinion on the cute dresses, tights, accessorises, pyjamas and much more he picks out for you is simply perfect

Alastor has truly missed being able to spend time with you, even if it includes milking his credit card. You’re worth far more than all the wealth he’s stolen and gathered

Taking your hand with a lean down, Alastor waits patiently for you to take his offer as you quickly readjust the clothing store hanger holding up your cute little present. Moving that hanger from both hands to your wrist, you reach up and immediately grab his much bigger hand. Two to three fingers are enough to hold your whole hand, the size difference is simply precious

“Père! Père! Look! Look!” Speaking with a adorable little French accent upon pointing out and chiming excitedly in fluent French, Alastor’s crimson red eyes sharply fling away from the cute rows of female children’s clothing to the single rack of children’s hair accessorises to jewellery. The reason you pointed it out, only seconds after taking your beloved father’s hand was because you noticed something really pretty you wanted your father to see

“What is it, Princess?” Alastor lets you drag him over to the colourful rack, his own eyes wondering around with tall fluffy deer-like ears flicking a bit as if an instinctive twitch. You still have the dress your father handed to you and you reach up as a sign for Alastor to help you. Following your little cute pale fingers, the Overlord picks out a set retro pearl tassel hairpins. Something he never thought you’d like but it may fit with your red hair

He isn’t sure if he wants the metal touching your skull however, so he holds the white cardboard support holding the hairpins still, just scanning over them a bit firmly and if not protective over you

Until your voice breaks him out of his intense thought. His ears shooting up in shock as your own ears draw back slightly, not necessarily concerned but wondering why just a pair of cute accessorises would possibly make him fall so deep into a thinking trance

“Père… What’s wrong?” You’re now the one asking your father to speak to you with big sparkly eyes looking up at him, he takes a few seconds of his head shaking in slight disorientation before he finally gets back to his senses and speaks out his opinion, uncertain but yet uncertain if he wants to reject you

Alastor is not good at saying no to you, he’s good at giving out needed discipline and can be rather strict about specific things but when it comes to mundane things like a pair of mere hairpins, he doesn’t like to say no

What can be said? Alastor is the type of father to spoil his daughter absolutely rotten

“Princess… are you sure you want this one specifically?”

[randombush3]

cherry wine

jenni hermoso x reader

part one

i hate this but i'm posting it anyway LOL

also sorry if it doesn't make sense but just like don't read into it 🙂

thanks @codiemarin for part two's idea xx

i also feel like every character deserves an apology in this

p.s. not proofread soz

Jenni decides that she doesn’t mind too much. 

She is happy in Mexico, and, just like in Paris, her escape becomes a person, not a place. 

You have moved, and now you speak Spanish. She still doesn’t know where you are from. 

Your husband, however, is a lot more forthcoming. He works in oil. He owns a quarter of the club; he bought the shares without a second thought. You have no daughter but your husband wants women’s football to have a future. He isn’t a bad man, which Jenni hates. 

He is kind – filthy rich, but kind – and it makes it hard to hurt such a good person. 

Fortunately, ‘hard’ and ‘impossible’ are not synonymous. 

Motherhood brings about no thaw, but your iciness is what has always made you so enticing to Jenni. 

She memorises your address, and she is now the one who appears. The security guards open the gates for her when the time is right, and if it isn’t, they hustle her to a nearby bar and instruct her to wait. She waits obediently. She waits because you always call her back at some point. 

When you are with Jenni, cold fingertips warmed, eyes burning with desire, the tightrope she walks widens. She plants her feet with certainty, however false it may be. She looks down at the wire to avoid the world that blazes around her, and she never dares to look ahead because she knows that it is never going to be the right time to ask. 

It looks ugly, but it’s clean. 

Jenni is happy to be with you; happy here in Monterrey, just as she was happy there in Paris. 

Happy to hide and drag herself out of your bed past midnight. 

His bed. (She tries not to think about it.)

The complicating factor is the two little boys running around the mansion, chased by tired nannies who aren’t sure how to explain why their mother needs to be left alone with their favourite footballer. That’s what Jenni becomes, unluckily, because your husband is so forward-thinking that he takes the boys to see the girls. 

Although your piercing eyes can make Jenni shiver, the boys are unaffected. They run rings around everyone, but Jenni can sometimes bark out a command and get them to sit. 

Often enough, they sit an appropriate distance from your bedroom, patiently waiting for your private meeting to be over before hounding Jenni the minute she emerges. They take no notice of her tousled hair or wild eyes, and their attention flings Jenni’s tears back inside of her whenever you get a bit too harsh with her, so it’s all good. 

When her mother calls and asks why Jenni has learnt French now instead of when she played there, she tells her not to fuss. 

Jenni is removed from those who care about her, but the haze of comfort you provide blinds her to her mistakes. 

You are hers and she is yours. 

She lies in the palm of your hand and likes when your fist closes around her. She feels safe that way. 

She likes when there is blood because the blood tastes as sweet as cherry wine. Blood is proof that you are real. Your blood runs hot like tar, and she is glad to be rooted to the spot. 

Weeks go by, and Jenni’s latest medal begins to strangle her. 

You are starting to fall in love. 

It’s never happened before. 

It’s not dutiful and it’s not because you are too weak to overcome a woman’s nature; incapable of recoding the innate forces of motherhood. It’s not as taxing or exhausting, and it is certainly not the chore you thought love would be. 

Love is radiation, in a sense, and you cannot conceal it. 

Jenni is unaware that she should dress herself in lead, but suddenly everything is contaminated and, apparently, it is all her fault. 

He’s away. 

Jenni knows he is away because he said goodbye to her when he visited the team during their training session. He wished her luck for the match, he professed his faith in her to bring his club success. He is slowly losing the French accent when he speaks, he is slowly catching up to her. 

He’s away but this time she can’t shake the feeling of him in your bed. 

It’s never happened before. 

She still wants it, but her crime is flashing bright red in her mind. 

You, guilty too, flee from the lawless land you have built.

“We’re going to the Maldives for our anniversary,” you inform her, even though there is no reason for her to know. She is not this ‘we’. 

She’s actually never been included in a ‘we’. 

“And the boys?” Jenni asks with interest. She’d prefer them to tag along. It being less romantic would make her feel better. 

“The boys are staying here.” You turn around and face the window as she rises from the crumpled sheets. The blinds part enough for you to catch glimpses of laughing figures chasing each other around the poolside, shouts sounding frantically from their nanny about watching their step. “You’ll visit them while I’m away, right? They really like you.” 

“I really like them.” You smile. It reaches your eyes and Jenni sees the reflection of it in the glass. Wishing her hands could frame you, she feels encouraged to continue. “I like anything of yours. I adore you.”

Your response is as closed as a fist, but your ribs flare open and your heart is on display, thumping and thumping, and Jenni knows that she is holding the key to a rusted lock. It’s neither shiny nor new, but it is the right one this time. 

Jenni guards the key in your absence but she is going to hand it back to you. 

She does visit the boys, driving over daily, rolling her eyes when the guards remind her that you are not yet done with your holiday and punctuating her sentences curtly. They ask her about Spain. Jenni finds herself explaining lesbianism too. 

She can’t help but associate Spain with people she’d rather not think about, but the boys strike her as perfect blends of you and your husband and she is very quickly forcing those thoughts into her mind. 

She books a flight and she goes home, ensuring there is an overlap with your holiday so that you are the one who has to do the welcoming when she returns. 

“You’re not really here for work, are you?” Alexia sees right through her, amused by Jenni’s foolishness. “I have a girlfriend, Jenni.” 

“I need to forget mine,” Jenni replies quietly. 

Her attempt is futile and her desperation wanes the moment her plane lands. 

She tried. 

She can’t escape from it though; from you. 

You are still falling in love with Jenni. Distance didn’t stop it like you thought it would. 

You tried. 

Your husband grows busier and leaves more often. 

There is more time to fall in love with Jenni, and it suffocates you like some brainwashing, poisonous gas. 

You search for a cure for your illness, but there is no cure for the absence of infirmity. 

Your plan to drive her away is to echo how traumatising Paris must have been, but sleeping with Jenni furiously is infuriating. It doesn’t work! 

It doesn’t last, and, like some tired soldier, your fire is blown out and only softer, sweeter, more merciful embers remain.

There is no fight left, but you are in denial. 

The battle is lost and won, yet the victor is unclear. Is it Jenni, who is clutched closer and asked to sleep over? Is it you, with a delicious ache in your muscles and steaming blood coursing through your veins? 

“Do you love me?” 

You pale at how obvious you must have become and you don’t know how to answer. 

Jenni decides that she doesn’t mind too much. 

[quoththemaiden]

@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

[lovelytsunoda]

foreign affair // charles leclerc

summary: it wasn't supposed to happen. but they say that the south of france is the most romantic place on the planet. so falling in love with her vacation fling should have been inevitable.

pairing: charles leclerc x female reader

warnings: vacation fling, allusions to sex, way too short but it is what it is, bittersweet and filled with longing.

a one in a million chance, you know the moment that you crossed over the line. a casual glance, no one has to read between the lines

in the south of france, it was spring time, special feelings come alive, "there's romance in the air, " so they say, love could be a small café

file it under foreign affairs

the hotel sheets were more expensive than what she made in a day.

this particular resort was divided in two: private villas for the rich and honeymooning, those with money to burn, and the hotel itself, where she was staying.

but they say that france is the country of love, a figure of speech that had proven to be very, very true.

“mon amour, you’re awake.” charles said softly, a towel wrapped around his still damp body, droplets running down his toned stomach as he leaned over the bed to kiss her lips. “I was trying to let you sleep in.”

“but it’s my last day.” she frowned, nipples springing to attention underneath the thin silk sheet wrapped around her body. “I want to be out there doing things.”

three weeks of holiday almost didn’t feel like enough. the trip had been a dream, all sun and sand until she met charles leclerc at the bar. she didn’t know who he was, which perhaps helped to build his attraction to her. and he never felt the need to say any more than “I’m an athlete” when asked what he did for a living.

she fell hard and she fell fast as he offered to be her tour guide. being from monaco and having french friends, charles knew his way around all of the best restaurants, sights and beaches.

it was no surprise that after just three days, finding herself tipsy on wine, she ended up naked in his hotel room, tangled in silk sheets.

“but you will be doing things.” charles smiled, leaning over the bed and pushing his lips against hers with an almost featherlight touch, water dripping onto the sheets. “you’re doing me.”

“you’re so bad.” she giggled, fumbling to throw his towel aside, raking her fingernails down his chest. “promise me you’ll make this last day one to remember?”

“oh, mon cher, i plan on it.”

they spent the morning exchanging kisses and orgasms in charles’ bed before she finally went back to her room, legs worse for wear and a little wobbly on her feet before she changed into her swimsuit and made her way to the resorts private beach. Charles had a standing rental for a cabana, so she settled in with her book and a glass of white wine.

the only way she would want to spend her last day: relaxing by the water.

charles had promised her that he had a surprise planned for the evening to come, and he had left to prepare it shortly after she got out of his shower. despite her attempts at getting the monegasque to give her any hints, the driver was silent about his plans.

“wear that tight red dress and those strapped sandals, and meet me in the valet lot.” was all that he had said in regards to the plans.

charles leclerc, european man of mystery everybody.

bags packed and by the door, ready for her early flight, she dressed in the red dress and sandals, curling her hair and spraying herself with bath and body works. sure enough, when she walked to the valet lot, charles was already waiting next to his Ferrari.

god, she was going to miss him.

the night was young as the sun began to set, hands sticking out of the sunroof and wind blowing her hit round her face as charles drove up the coast, the south of france lit up in the half light.

��can you tell me where we’re going yet?” she giggled, eyes closed as charles lead her though a parking lot.

“hang on, hang on, amour. almost there.”

she could feel the floor moving gently underneath her feet as she let charles guide her body, listening to his calming voice when he finally told her to open her eyes.

“oh, charles.”

she was standing on the middle of a large boat, the sun setting over the water and a picnic blanket set up in the middle of the deck as the vessel rocked back and forth in the harbour, the smell of the saltwater filling her nostrils as charles lit the tall candles that were set up around the picnic.

“one last night to remember?”

she smiled, joining him on the blanket as he popped open a bottle of red wine. “one last night to remember. I’ll miss you, leclerc. thank you for making the last three weeks one for the record books.”

charles smiled sadly, still looking like a greek god even with longing etched on his features.

“to the last three weeks, and to what could have been.”

TAGS;

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @silverstonesainz @diorleclerc @daydreamingleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @lorarri @thatsdemko @oconso

[saythenametotheworld]

Closer, Faster [2] | c.vnn

Genre: catching feelings; smut Pairing: SEVENTEEN Vernon x Reader Synopsis: When you met Vernon, you were convinced he wasn't just another summer fling. But did you get it right, or did he masterfully fool you into believing he was different? Notes: 18.7k words, the song prompt for this part is Paper Hearts by The Vamps. I told a friend that this would max at 13k words. Ha ha, I lied. Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content.

[Part 1]

The weather today was perfect too, just as it had been for the past few days. The sky is a canvas of beautiful cloud formations and the warm late-morning sun felt like a gentle embrace. Flowers bloomed in abundance, providing solace and treats to the butterflies and bees fluttering around your father’s French garden. Birds perched in the trees, their melodious songs creating a serene symphony that filled the air. The intoxicating scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee permeated the garden patio, where your father’s wife had meticulously set up a delightful brunch.

“How are you this morning?” your father questioned, seated across from you on the patio table.

“Good,” you replied absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on a delicate butterfly perched gracefully on an orange-yellow poppy.

“Your mom called last night. I told her you’re flying back today,” he told you but you were too lost in your thoughts to respond.

Your father cleared his throat and called your name, but you remained distant, lost in the mesmerizing beauty around you. It was Jade’s gentle tug on your sleeve that finally brought you back to the present.

“Yeah?” you asked, blinking in confusion as you realized all eyes were on you. “What’s up?”

Your father sighed, concern etched across his face. He turned to Jade and asked, “Are you sure you’ll be able to fly back by yourselves? How about extending your stay for a few days more?”

“Oh, that would be nice, but we really have to go home. Classes will resume soon, and we need to take care of our re-enrolment and stuff,” she replied, her smile reassuring. “Don’t worry about us, though. We’ll be fine. Right, y/n?”

You managed a timid smile and nodded. “Of course.”

Your stepmother reached across the table and took your hand in hers, her touch warm and comforting. She gave you a thoughtful smile and squeezed your hand gently, murmuring something in French that you didn’t quite understand. You assumed it was a kind sentiment and returned her smile with gratitude.

On a spur-of-the-moment decision, you ended up spending the last two weeks of summer break in France. The events leading up to that decision had been overwhelming, and being in Azure Bay had made it difficult to cope with the aftermath of your intense love affair with Vernon. Jade, bless her soul, had insisted on accompanying you, unable to leave you alone in your fragile state of mind.

“I know you’re not going to hurt yourself, but you still need me there,” she had insisted at the time.

Thus, you spent the last two weeks wallowing in heartache and self-pity, but like Jade had said, at least you were doing it in a beautiful French countryside villa. You had left your phone back home, determined to disappear for a while and cut off communication with everyone, especially Vernon.

While the tranquil countryside offered a form of therapy, it didn’t completely erase the whirlwind romance you had experienced with Vernon. However, it did give you ample time to reflect, appreciate yourself, and begin to forgive yourself for what had happened. Still, it wasn’t enough to return to your old self.

“Thanks for letting us stay, Dad,” you said as you walked out of the house, feeling a mix of gratitude and lingering sadness.

“No problem, sweetheart. You know you’re welcome here anytime,” he replied warmly.

You stopped in front of the car, waiting for Jade, who was saying her final goodbyes to your stepmother. Your stepmother had always been sweet and kind to you, and you felt a pang of guilt for burdening her with your negative energy over the past two weeks.

“She’s very sweet, Dad,” you remarked, watching your stepmother wave goodbye to you with a gentle smile.

“She adores you a lot,” your father responded, his voice filled with affection as he watched his wife.

“I know,” you hummed, recognizing the love in his eyes.

You stood beside the car, the gentle hum of the French countryside enveloping you. Your father’s gaze followed your stepmother as she returned to the house, her figure bathed in the soft morning light. Turning back to you, his expression softened, a blend of nostalgia and tenderness evident in his eyes.

Growing up, you had always seen how much your parents loved each other, from the way he looked at her, to the affection in his voice when he talked about her. But out of nowhere, they just decided to get a divorce. It was a surprise for you, wondering what went wrong and why you didn’t even see any sign of it ever happening.

Taking a deep breath, you looked into his eyes, seeking the courage to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind. “Why did you and Mom get divorced?”

He sighed, leaning back and staring out at the blooming garden. For a moment, he seemed lost in his memories. “Your mother and I… we loved each other very much. But sometimes, love isn’t enough to keep two people together.”

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“We realized that we had different dreams, different paths we wanted to take in life. It wasn’t a decision we made lightly. It was hard, one of the hardest things we ever did. But we both agreed that it was better for us and for you if we separated as friends rather than staying together and becoming resentful.”

You felt a lump in your throat, understanding more now than you ever had before. “I guess I never really saw it that way,” you admitted softly.

He smiled gently, placing a hand over yours. “We wanted you to see that it’s possible to part ways without bitterness. We remained good friends because we both cared deeply about your happiness and well-being.”

A warm breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and you let out a deep breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “It makes sense now. I always wondered how you two managed to stay so civil.”

“We were committed to being good parents to you, even if we’re apart,” he explained. “Your mother and I still have a great deal of respect for each other. We’re happier now, in our own ways.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Dad.”

He squeezed your hand gently. “To be honest, it was long overdue, sweetheart. I should have told you that sooner.”

Just then, Jade approached you with her cheerful demeanor a welcome interruption. “Ready to go?” she asked, her smile bright.

You nodded, standing up and giving your father a warm hug. “I’ll miss you, Dad.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied, holding you tightly. “Come back anytime you want. And bring Jade too.”

As you and Jade got into the car, your father and stepmother waved goodbye, their figures growing smaller as you drove away from the villa. The French countryside rolled by, a picturesque backdrop to your thoughts and reflections.

Jade, sensing the contemplative mood, gave you a reassuring smile. “You okay?”

“Of course,” you smiled back.

The drive to the airport was quiet but comforting, the kind of silence that spoke of deep understanding and unspoken support. As the car rolled through the winding roads, you thought about the conversation with your father. His words had given you a different perspective on relationships and the importance of finding happiness, even if it meant making difficult decisions.

Back at the airport, the familiar hustle and bustle brought you back to the present. With Jade by your side, you navigated through check-in and security, your thoughts gradually shifting from the past to the future.

“Let’s get some coffee before we board,” Jade suggested, linking her arm with yours.

You nodded, grateful for her presence. As you sat in the airport café, sipping on your drinks, you realized how fortunate you were to have such supportive people in your life.

“Thanks for coming with me, Jade,” you said, sincerity lacing your words.

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, it’s kind of my job to be here for you.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of warmth and contentment. “You’re the best.”

The announcement for your flight echoed through the terminal, and you both gathered your belongings, ready to head back home.

Azure Bay was as beautiful as you left it, along with the bittersweet memories that you tried to forget only to fail. Your mother was overjoyed upon seeing you, uttering her love and worry into your ear as she locked you in her embrace. 

You recalled the day you left for France, how you broke down crying in her arms, asking her why your heart was hurting as much as it did at the time. You remembered her trying to console you, telling you none of it was your fault, and that you didn’t deserve the heartache Vernon gave you. She was gentle and comforting, just as she is right now.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked worriedly, reluctant to let you leave again.

“Mom, I’m your baby,” you beamed at her, despite the sadness weighing your chest down. “Of course, I’ll be alright. I take after you, remember?”

With that, she sent you and Jade off to another plane, wishing you luck and reminding you to keep in touch with her. 

As you flew back to university, your mind wandered. The French countryside had been a temporary escape, a place to lick your wounds and gather your thoughts. But now, reality was setting back in. You couldn't avoid Vernon forever, not when his presence lingered in every corner of Azure Bay and the university you both attended.

Your heartache was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. But you had decided to push it bitterly to the back of your mind, determined not to let it affect your life. You had classes to attend, friends to reconnect with, and a future to focus on.

Upon arriving at the university, you reenrolled in your classes, the administrative process feeling strangely comforting in its mundanity. It was a reminder that life goes on, no matter how much your heart might be hurting.

Meeting with your friends was both a relief and a challenge. They were understanding, knowing you well enough not to press for details about your time away or the reason behind your sudden departure.

“I'm sorry for cutting you all off,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. You looked at each of them, seeing the concern and relief in their eyes.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Jaehyun said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We get it. Sometimes you need space.”

You didn't explain anything, and they didn't ask. It was an unspoken understanding, a silent agreement to let you deal with your heartbreak in your own way. For now, it was enough to be back, surrounded by friends who cared about you and a life that, despite everything, was still full of possibilities.

As night fell, you found yourself at an upperclassman’s welcome party, surrounded by laughter, music, and the lively chatter of students. The familiar atmosphere was comforting, yet a part of you remained on edge. You had expected Vernon to be there, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment when you actually saw him.

There he was, standing across the room, his presence commanding your attention. His laughter echoed in the air, mixing with the music, and his smile lit up the room just as you remembered. The sight of him sent a rush of emotions crashing through you, overwhelming and inescapable.

The euphoria of being with him flooded back first, the memories of stolen glances, late-night conversations, and the warmth of his embrace. You remembered the way he made you feel alive, cherished, and beautiful. But then, like a tidal wave, the heartbreak followed. The pain of your abrupt separation, the sleepless nights, and the tears you shed in France all came rushing back, hitting you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

And then, in your mind, you were back in Azure Bay, reliving the day Vernon broke your heart to pieces.

The night after your picnic date on the island, you agreed to go with Vernon to his hometown. You were both excited, especially Vernon who proceeded to tell you everything about their home and the farm where it was in. He talked about his parents, kind and loving. He mentioned he had a sister too and that they were very close. He told you how he’s good with animals and farming, which was the reason he took up environmental sciences in college.

You were looking forward to this trip and you told your friends about it only after you had booked your flights there.

“Well, damn. I understand that you are in some kind of relationship now, but taking her to meet your family? Aren’t you guys moving too fast?” Mingyu joked.

Jade scoffed. “So, sneaking around to hook up is normal but meeting his parents is too fast? Quite a crooked thinking, if you ask me.”

Mingyu just rolled his eyes, mocking Jade by copying her facial expressions when she talked. 

“So, exactly how long has this been going on?” Adie asked, grinning playfully at the two of you.

You felt your cheeks flare, embarrassed to admit it. Vernon then answered for you. “Ever since we got here.”

Adie, Trina, and Jade gasped in unison. Then Jade asked, “From the very first day?”

“No! What do you take me for?” you denied indignantly. And then, leaning on Vernon’s chest, you added, “It was actually on their second day here.”

Adie and Trina started shrieking, high-fiving each other, and shaking their hands together like giddy teenagers.

“Unbelievable,” Jade sighed, shaking her head as she looked at you with genuine amazement on her face.

Eunwoo was sitting across from you on the table, his eyes narrowing at the sight of you snuggled against Vernon.

“What?” you sneered at him, tossing a crumpled tissue at him.

Eunwoo didn’t dodge. “I knew he was acting suspicious when we were at the campsite,” he said, smirking.

“Suspicious how?” Minghao asked curiously beside him, smiling like he was enjoying all the drama.

“He kept trying to talk to y/n, interrupting her while she was talking to other people. He was also glaring at Winwin all night. You’d think he’d murder the guy any minute.” To Vernon, Eunwoo said, “You were not subtle at all, man.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Vernon chimed, chuckling. “I have no excuses.”

Eventually, they stopped badgering the two of you with questions. Heading out to the beach, you held your last bonfire party with the friends they made here. Everyone wished each other all the best, and promises of coming back were declared.

The next day, your friends’ flight flew early, while you and Vernon had to wait until the afternoon for yours. You spent your waiting time in your bedroom, snuggled together, and can’t get enough of each other. It was your mom who told you it was time to leave and she also drove you to the airport.

Your heart was swelling with anticipation, excited to learn more about Vernon and meet his loved ones. On this trip, you know your connection would become stronger and the thought of knowing him better made you giddy. And so you stood in the queue of the people boarding the plane to Vernon’s state. Just as you were about to move forward, a message from Trina buzzed on your phone. It was short but it made you feel nervous.

Trina: Don’t go with Vernon. You: Why not?

Locking your screen, you glanced at Vernon, who was handing his boarding pass to the officer. After your turn, he took your hand, leading you through the gate with an excited smile.

Curious about Trina's message, you opened your phone again, but there was no reply. Sighing, you pocketed your phone and continued to board the plane.

“Watch your step,” Vernon told you as he stepped inside the aircraft.

Your phone buzzed again, so you stepped aside for a moment to let others pass through while you checked the new message. As soon as you opened Trina’s message, your heart sank to your stomach, making you feel lightheaded and dizzy. 

Trina: Vernon has a girlfriend.

You stood there for a minute, staring at the message until the letters started to blur. Only when the flight attendant prompted you did you look away from your screen.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” she asked, offering a handkerchief.

“What?” you blurted, realizing tears were streaming down your cheeks. You quickly pulled out your own handkerchief. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

“I see. Well, it’s time to go, Ma’am,” she reminded gently.

“Huh?” you asked stupidly, staring at her hands that were motioning for you to step into the aircraft.

“This flight must leave soon. Are you still coming?” she asked, concern evident in her voice despite her professional demeanor.

Realizing everyone had boarded the plane except for you, you cleared your throat and tried to make up a coherent thought. But the feelings overwhelmed you, so you just apologized and turned to go back towards the terminal.

As soon as you were back inside, your knees gave out and you crouched on the floor, sobbing with your face buried in your hands. Your phone was ringing in your hand, but you ignored it, knowing it was Vernon who was calling. It kept ringing and ringing, but you didn’t even look at it until it finally stopped.

In the corner of your eye, you notice that the plane has started to move. You stood up from the floor and approached the large glass windows, through tear-filled eyes, you watched Vernon's plane taxi down the runway and lift into the sky.

Devastated, you took a cab home where your mother worriedly asked you what was wrong. You hugged her tightly and started crying. You cried your heart out while she cradled you, telling you to let it all out and reminding you that none of it was your fault.

You were furious at Vernon, but your anger at yourself burned even hotter. How did you let his charm fool you into a relationship? It was a bitter pill to swallow. You felt sorry for your friends who cheered for you and Vernon, without knowing the truth. And you felt worse for his girlfriend who had no idea she was being cheated on.

Your heart ached with guilt. You never meant to hurt anyone, yet there you were, a major player in someone else’s heartbreak. The weight of it all sat heavily on your shoulders, suffocating.

Amidst the chaos of your emotions, you felt lost. Anger, guilt, and regret swirled inside you, threatening to overwhelm you. You were grappling with the consequences of misplaced trust and the pain of losing something you thought was sincere and genuine.

“He told me he loves me,” you sobbed into Jade’s shoulder. “He said he loved me.”

Jade rubbed your back gently, shushing you. “I know. He’s a jerk. We hate him.”

“Why would he lie about that?” you wept, your denial challenging the truth.

In the days you spent together, never once did you think Vernon would be this kind of guy. But looking back, did you ever truly know him? He let you in on his secrets, his dreams and aspirations, even his vulnerabilities. Was all of it a blatant lie?

You looked around your room, and each corner of it screamed with the memories of Vernon. Your house was filled with these screams, even the beaches, and the sidewalks. Everything in Azure Bay was a reminder of the man who wrecked you to the very core.

“I have to get out of here,” you told your mom, who agreed without a second of hesitation.

“Would you like to go to France?” she offered.

After telling your father, you and Jade flew to France where you spent more sleepless nights crying your heart out. Vernon tried reaching out to you through Jade who knew better than to heed his requests. Sometimes when Jaehyun and Jade talked on the phone, he’d say Vernon was looking for you and had been asking everyone if they could contact you.

You ignored that too and only talked to Eunwoo once when he happened to be with Jaehyun while on the phone with Jade. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell Eunwoo what happened and although he tried to coax you into sharing your burden, he ultimately understood that you would rather keep it to yourself. 

Instead of prying, he talked to you about anything and everything, keeping your mind off of things.

“Sorry. I know you’re trying to talk to your boyfriend,” you told her after spending the last two hours talking to Eunwoo.

“It’s fine. We don’t mind.”

The next few days were like that, spending your days exploring the estate and your nights wondering why things happened the way they did. The healing that you were looking for didn’t result in a complete recovery, but it was better than nothing.

Now here you are, back in the chaos of university life. Vernon looked happy in your eyes, his gummy smile making your heart melt. You had to remind yourself what a jerk he was and to steel your heart so you could completely forget him, but it was difficult when he was right there, so close but out of reach.

You tried to steady yourself, to appear unaffected, but your heart was pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as you engaged in small talk with your friends, but your eyes kept drifting back to Vernon. Each glance only intensified the ache in your heart.

Eventually, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. It was Jade, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just...it's a lot.”

She squeezed your arm reassuringly. “Should we go back now?”

“I’m alright, Jade. I can handle it. Just enjoy the party.” You gave her your best smile. "It's our first party back!"

You appreciated her support, but the truth was, you felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions. The party continued around you, but your focus remained on Vernon. He hadn't noticed you yet, or if he had, he was pretending not to. 

You knew you had to confront these feelings eventually, to find a way to move past the pain. But for now, all you could do was endure the storm raging within you, hoping that time would somehow ease the heartache.

As the night wore on, you made your way to the quieter corners of the party, needing a moment to gather your thoughts. You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

When you opened your eyes, you found Vernon standing at a distance, his gaze fixed on you. The world seemed to stop as you locked eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. But reality quickly set in, reminding you of the distance that now separated you.

You saw him clench his jaw and walk the opposite way, away from you. That’s it then. A few weeks ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Now it seemed like he couldn’t stand to be in the same space as you.

“The audacity,” you mumbled to yourself, slightly offended. 

You headed to the drinks table and helped yourself to some alcohol in hopes that it might distract you from your emotions. You poured yourself a generous amount of whiskey, downing it in one go. The warmth spread through your chest, numbing the ache momentarily.

Determined not to let Vernon ruin your night, you joined a group of friends who were dancing in the living room. The music pulsed through the floor, vibrating in your bones, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm. Your friends welcomed you with open arms, their laughter and energy infectious.

You danced with abandon, letting the music carry you away. The alcohol loosened your limbs, and soon you were moving with a carefree grace, your earlier tension forgotten. Your friends cheered you on, and you felt a rush of exhilaration as you twirled and spun, turning the whole place into a blur of lights and colors. Someone handed you another drink, and you accepted it with a grin, toasting to the night and to moving on.

Between the dancing and the drinks, you took moments to chat with friends, sharing stories and laughter. You found comfort in their presence, their support reminding you that you were not alone. Even amidst the chaos of the party, there were quiet, meaningful moments that grounded you, offering a sense of connection and belonging.

At one point, you stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. The cool night breeze brushed against your skin, and you closed your eyes, savoring the calm. The stars twinkled above, a reminder that the world was vast and you deserved better. You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

Back inside, the party continued in full swing. You rejoined your friends, laughing and dancing. The encounter with Vernon is now forgotten, and it helped that he seemed to have left the party. 

You slept in the next day, your body still heavy from partying too hard. Luckily you didn’t get drunk so there was no hangover headache for you to deal with. You stayed in your bed for a long time after waking, savoring the quiet of your apartment while you let your thoughts swim. 

A few knocks on your door shattered the tranquility of your morning, but it didn’t bother you too much. When you opened your door, Adie was standing there with a big smile.

“Food delivery!” she announced, showing you a takeout bag for a fast-food chain. 

You ushered her in and told her to make herself at home while you went to wash your face. When you get back, the food is set on the small table, waiting for you.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you told her as you sat across her. “But thanks though.”

Adie beamed. “Well, I’m on strict orders to make sure you eat breakfast— brunch.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “I guess it’s a late lunch since it’s past two o’clock now.”

Adie looked around your place. It’s slightly bigger than the on-campus dormitory, but only because it was a one-person apartment. 

“You broke our freshman pact,” she said, pouting to feigned disappointment.

When the semester started, you decided not to get an on-campus dorm. It was initially because you didn’t want to file the paperwork, but after spending one night in this apartment, you realized you liked the quiet of being alone and having the place all for yourself. That is not to say Adie was a bad roommate; she’s great. It’s just that being alone is the best course of action for you right now.

As you ate, the conversation turned to classes and the new semester.

“Have you decided on your electives yet?” Adie asked, sipping on her soda.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about taking that creative writing class. You?”

“I’m sticking with photography and maybe adding a film studies course. I’ve been really into cinematography lately.”

You nodded, taking another bite of your burger. “That sounds like fun. Maybe we can collaborate on something. I could write, and you could film.”

Adie’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea! We should totally do that.”

Just as you were finishing up your meal, there was another knock on the door. Before you could get up, Adie jumped to her feet.

“That must be Eunwoo,” she said casually, walking over to open the door.

“Eunwoo?” you repeated, surprised.

The door swung open to reveal Eunwoo, standing there with a warm smile. “Hey, you ready to go?” he asked Adie after kissing her on the lips.

“Yep, just finishing up,” she replied.

Eunwoo waved at you. “Nice crib,” he commented. “Adie and I are heading out to pick up the books required in our syllabus. Wanna come?”

“You should,” Adie agreed, glancing back at you. “So you don’t have to go alone later.”

You shook your head, still processing. “Yeah but before that… Someone explain what’s going on. Are you two…?”

Adie gave you a sheepish smile, holding on to Eunwoo’s arm. “We’re kind of seeing each other.”

You nodded, still unsure. “I can see that. But since when? Eunwoo?”

“For about two weeks now? I think. We spent quite a lot of time back in Azure Bay, so it just happened.”

“I see.”

“We couldn’t tell you earlier because you were in France and we couldn’t contact you,” Adie explained,

“No. It’s alright. You don’t have to explain everything. I’m…” you trailed off, chuckling. “Surprised, that’s all. I didn’t see it coming but I’m very happy for the two of you.”

Adie pouted cutely. “Aw, thank you!”

You felt a pang of guilt as you realized how focused you had been on your own relationship, oblivious to the developments in your friends’ lives. “I’m really happy for you guys,” you said sincerely, standing up to hug Adie. “I’m sorry I’ve been so out of the loop.”

Adie hugged you back. “It’s okay. You had a lot going on.”

Eunwoo squeezed between you so he could hug you too. “It’s okay, y/n.”

You swat his arms away. “You better act right,” you warned him. “And stop being clingy with me. You can’t do that now that you have a girlfriend.”

You saw Adie shake her head. “Honestly, I don’t mind as long as you guys don’t sleep together.”

You both grimaced and chorused a monotone, disgusted, “Ew.”

As they left, you couldn’t help but reflect on how much you had missed while being wrapped up in your own world. But now, you were determined to reconnect and be there for your friends, just as they had always been there for you.

You busied yourself with classes, throwing yourself into your studies and doing what you do best—excelling. You have always been a diligent student, but you are working extra hard this time so that you can distract yourself from the lingering feelings of heartbreak. You have to prove to yourself that a cheating jerk was not worth a second of your time nor did he deserve a spot in your mind. 

“That’s my girl!” Jade praised you after you told her about your resolution. “Men ain’t shit. Especially Vernon.”

You could only laugh, amused at her for saying something like that while in a happy, healthy relationship with Jaehyun.

“It’s good that your buildings are on opposite sides of the campus,” she added and then pointed two index fingers at you. “If he’s out of sight…”

 You scowled, but still obliged. Pointing back at her, you said, “He’s out of mind.”

It really was a lucky coincidence because you never had to worry about running into Vernon. That is until today. You slept in and were running late for a class so you briskly got ready and hurried to the elevator in your apartment building. And as the doors slid open, your heart dropped. There he was, Vernon, standing inside the elevator looking as breathtaking as you remembered him to be. You hesitated, but you couldn't afford to be late. There was only one elevator, and you didn't have time to wait for it to come back up, nor did you want to use the stairs.

Wait, why am I hesitating while he looked so relaxed and unaffected? That’s what you thought to yourself. If someone has to feel bad about this entire thing, it should be him.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the elevator. The atmosphere was tense and awkward. You stood as far apart as possible, eyes fixed on the floor numbers. He was on his phone and you stared at nothing, both of you doing anything just to avoid interacting.

What was he doing here, of all the places? Was he staying in the same apartment as you? He didn’t come here on purpose to see you, did he? It’s impossible considering how fast he left the party as soon as he saw that you were there too. The campus was vast, and the coincidence felt almost too cruel. Not to mention how surreal it was to be so physically close yet emotionally worlds apart.

The silence was deafening, each floor number lighting up slowly as the elevator descended. You could feel his presence beside you, a mix of familiar comfort and sharp pain. Every second felt like an eternity, and you silently prayed for the doors to open faster.

Finally, the elevator reached the ground floor. The doors slid open, and you stepped out quickly, not daring to look back. You rushed off to the streets and hailed a cab, heart pounding, and resolved to be more cautious in the future. 

As you walked to your class, your thoughts lingered on the brief encounter. You wondered if he felt the same awkwardness and tension. Did he think about you as often as you thought about him? The unanswered questions swirled in your mind, but you pushed them aside, reminding yourself that he was not worth your time.

“How’s my French babe?” Mingyu prompted, appearing next to you in the cafeteria while you sat there eating alone.

“Unfortunately for you, going to France did not make me French,” you retorted, shaking your head at him.

He sat next to you. “But was it fun there?”

You shrugged. “It’s not like I went there to have fun.”

He proceeded to ask more about the trip. Sitting across from him, you picked at your food, offering vague responses that didn't reveal much about your time abroad. The topics expanded from there, naturally including a few accounts of what he had been up to.

“Jaehyun and I are roommates now, did you know?” he grinned. “You should have seen Jade’s face when she found out.”

You chuckled. “Bet she'll tell Jaehyun to switch dorms?”

“No need. She already did,” he replied, making you laugh.

After laughing about it, you were both quiet for a while until you finally asked a question that had been nagging at you since this morning. “Isn't Vernon staying in one of the on-campus dorms?”

Mingyu shook his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “No, he's never stayed in the dorms. Always preferred his own space off-campus. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” you lied through gritted teeth but Mingyu was sharp.

He gasped and covered his mouth, eyes bulging out of his sockets. “No way. Don’t tell me you guys are neighbors?”

You shrugged, refusing to confirm but it was enough to answer his question. Mingyu gasped again and then started laughing. “Wow. You might actually be destined for each other.”

“Gross.”

“Gross?” Mingyu sneered mockingly. “Gross? Last month you were sneaking around with him almost every day doing who knows what. Now he’s gross?”

“Oh, shut up,” you scolded rolling your eyes as you started getting irritated. 

Your reaction brought a shift in Mingyu's demeanor, his tone turning more serious. “So, why did you ghost Vernon?” he asked bluntly, his gaze searching yours for an answer.

Your fork clattered against the plate as you let out a sigh, unsure how much to divulge. “I ghosted everyone, Mingyu,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to downplay the significance of your sudden disappearance.

Mingyu's brow furrowed. “You were supposed to meet Vernon's parents, right?”

“I know. I was looking forward to it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, now he’s mad at you.”

You scoffed indignantly. “Mad at me? How dare he be mad at me?”

“I think he might actually hate you. Just a little bit, maybe,” Mingyu added, shrugging.

“Whatever. I don’t even wanna care about it anymore.”

“He was looking for you, you know. He was asking around about you,” Mingyu continued hesitantly. “Wondering where you went, what happened… He kept asking Jaehyun about you when he found out you were with Jade.”

As he should, you thought bitterly, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. You couldn't deny the hurt Vernon had caused you with his actions, but for some reason the guilt of suddenly disappearing without a word for him gnawed at your conscience.

“It was almost pathetic, really,” he sighed, shaking his head. You could see the disappointment in his face, and the tinge of pity as he talked about his friend. “What happened between you two?”

You exhaled sharply, reluctant to share anything yet. “It was a summer fling, Mingyu, just like you and Mina at the time. That’s all. No big deal.”

He smirked. “Did you know that you always look sideways when you lie?”

He caught you, but you were not the kind to give it up easily. “Go away, Gyu.”

“Also, don’t bring Mina into this. Our situation was different because we agreed to have nothing but a harmless fling. That’s it.”

“Whatever. Just stop asking.”

“Alright, fine. I was just curious,” he replied, raising his hands in surrender. “It sucked because I was kinda rooting for you guys.”

Honestly? You too were rooting for the two of you. But not everything goes the way you want them to be. Vernon turned out to be different from the Hansol you met and got to know in Azure Bay.

“It is what it is,” you muttered, releasing a dragged-out sigh.

“But for real, though,” Mingyu tried again. “What happened?”

You sighed again, feeling defeated and heavy with emotions. You told him what happened; how your relationship began, how you eventually developed feelings for him, how he told you he loved you, and how you found out he had a girlfriend on the day you were supposed to go to his hometown.

“He was cheating on his girlfriend, with me,” you recalled bitterly, much to Mingyu’s astonishment. “I was rooting for us too. I thought we were serious or something.”

“Wait a second—”

“I was a side piece, Gyu. And someone, his girlfriend, is hurting because of me. Probably. I don’t know. I’m not sure if she already knows.”

“Y/n, wait, hold on—” Mingyu heaved a deep breath and exhaled sharply. You saw how he tried to stay serious but in the end, he couldn’t hold his laughter and started cackling.

You raised an eyebrow at him, deeply offended. Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “You think this is funny?”

“I’m sorry, no,” he replied, clearing his throat and sitting up properly. “How did you know about this girlfriend?”

“Oh, so you knew about her?” you accused, annoyed.

“No!” he denied briskly. Waving his hand and his head dismissively, he said, “Listen, Vernon doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“What?”

Mingyu sighed, shaking his head at you in disappointment and pity. “I don’t know where you got that from, but Vernon is not seeing anyone.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Dead,” he said confidently. “And one more thing you should know, he’s had his eyes on you since March.”

The revelation left you confused, your mind swirling with questions and doubts that lingered throughout the day. As you navigated the familiar hallways of the university, your thoughts kept returning to Vernon and the new information you had learned.

How could you have been so wrong? The certainty with which you had distanced yourself now seemed shaky and misguided. Had you been so blinded by your own fears and insecurities that you couldn’t see what was right in front of you? The truth about Vernon not having a girlfriend and having feelings for you since March upended everything you had come to believe.

It made you question the decisions you had made, the walls you had built, and the pain you had allowed to fester. You realized how easily a single message from Trina had dictated your actions, leading you down a path of misunderstanding and heartbreak. The bitterness you felt was now mingled with regret and a flicker of hope. Maybe there was still a chance to set things right, to talk to Vernon, and to unravel the truth from the tangled web of assumptions and emotions.

You remember what Mingyu said before you parted earlier. “Well, maybe you guys can talk it out. He's not the type to hold grudges forever.” Even if he isn’t, there is no way you can bring yourself to talk to him.

“Y/n.” You stopped walking glancing at the person who called you.

Trina rushed over to you, looking deeply concerned. “Can we talk?”

“I’m off to class. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Is it true that you went to France because of Vernon?”

“What?”

“Jade said you went there to move on from Vernon?”

“Yeah…”

Trina released your arm, her shoulder sagging in defeat as she gazed at you apologetically. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” you asked, although you already had an idea why she was apologizing. You guided her to a quieter corner so you could talk properly.

“Vernon and Kierra are not dating. Not anymore,” she confessed, sighing. “They used to date but then they broke up and I guess Kierra can’t accept that. She’s been going around telling people they are back together.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could utter.

“I had a feeling you went there because of what I told you, but I couldn’t confirm it. I’m really sorry about that. I saw it on her Instagram that day. She posted a picture of her and Vernon so I DMed her to ask how she knew him and she told me he’s her boyfriend.”

She paused, letting the information sink in. “It was too late when I found out she was lying. You were already out of reach by that time.”

The weight of her words settled heavily on your shoulders. The confusion and anger you had felt towards Vernon now seemed misplaced, replaced by a growing sense of regret. You realized how your own actions had contributed to the misunderstanding, how your quick judgment had prevented any chance of reconciliation.

“It’s alright, Trin,” you told her, although that was far from the truth.

“God, y/n. I’m really, really, sorry.”

“I know,” you chimed, smiling timidly. “You don’t have to feel bad about it. You were only looking out for me. I would’ve done the same if I was in your position.”

It’s true. You would have done the same. It wasn’t Trina’s fault. She only told you what she heard, with no way to confirm if it was a lie.

As you walked to your next class, your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. Mingyu’s words echoed in your head, and now Trina’s confession added another layer to the confusion. You had spent so much time building walls around your heart, trying to protect yourself from the pain of Vernon’s supposed betrayal, only to realize that those walls were built on a foundation of misunderstanding and misinformation.

Why hadn’t you given him a chance to explain? Why had you been so quick to assume the worst? The thought gnawed at you, making you question your own actions and the way you had handled the situation. You had been so caught up in your own pain and anger that you hadn’t considered the possibility that there might be more to the story.

The realization was humbling, and it left you feeling vulnerable and exposed. You couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if you had stayed and talked to Vernon instead of running away. Would things be different now? Would you still be together, or had too much damage been done?

As you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you knew you had to confront Vernon. You couldn’t let things remain as they were. You made up your mind. You will find Vernon and talk to him. You needed to hear his side of the story, to understand what had really happened. It was the only way to find closure and, perhaps, a way to start anew.

“So, the whole time, I was mad for nothing?”

Jade held up her hand to discourage your thoughts. “No. It wasn’t nothing. It was something. What you felt was real, and valid, okay?” she said sternly. “The issue was your oversight.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, slumping on your bed. The one mistake on your part was that you chose to cut him off instead of confronting him about it. If only you had chosen to talk to him about it, you would saved everyone all the trouble.

Initially, you were heartbroken because Vernon lied, but now you’re heartbroken because you were wrong. How will you fix things? Is it even possible to fix everything? Mingyu said Vernon most probably hated you, and now you completely understand why. In Vernon's point of view, you left him without any explanation. You ghosted him during a time when he thought everything was going well between you. So his reaction, his anger, is completely justified.

You tried to think of ways to reconnect with Vernon, hoping it would bring you back together, but if not, you would be content with just apologizing to him. He did not deserve to be treated like that.

First, you tried to catch him in the elevator. One afternoon after class, you rushed back to your apartment, keeping an eye on your watch. As you reached the elevator, you saw Vernon just stepping inside. 

Your heart raced as you quickened your pace, calling out, “Hold the door, please!”

Vernon glanced up and, for a brief moment, your eyes met. But then the doors closed, leaving you standing there, breathless and frustrated. The next few days, you found yourself hovering around the elevator, hoping for another chance encounter, but it never happened. Each time the doors opened, someone else stepped out, and your heart sank a little more. The timing was always off, and you would end up waiting by the elevator doors, feeling foolish as the minutes ticked by.

You then tried to fake several “bump into him” scenarios. You waited by the coffee shop he frequented, pretending to scroll through your phone while stealing glances at the entrance. When Vernon finally walked in, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly stood up and walked towards him pretending that you were just about to leave while rehearsing your lines in your head.

“Vernon! Hi,” you said, trying to sound casual as you approached him. He looked up, surprised.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone flat. “How's it going?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Before you could gather your thoughts, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

“S-Sure. No problem,” you blurted, chuckling awkwardly. “I was just about to leave anyway.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a fool.

Another time, you pretended to browse books in the campus library where you knew he studied. You spotted him at a table near the back, his head buried in a textbook. Summoning your courage, you walked over and sat down across from him.

“Mind if I sit here?” you asked.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Sure,” he said simply, before returning to his book.

You sat there in silence, the awkwardness thick in the air. You tried to think of something to say, but nothing felt right. And Vernon just sat there, as if your presence did not bother him at all. Not even one bit.

After a few minutes of nothing, you stood up and mumbled, “Gosh, I picked up the wrong book, I’m just gonna go find the right volume.” 

You regretted saying that, realizing that it was unnecessary and sounded a lot like an excuse, but it was too late so you just walked away, face burning with embarrassment. 

Several times, you even walked the long way around campus just to pass by his classes but you have had no luck yet. You would see him there but you couldn’t get the timing right. One time, Eunwoo caught you loitering around their building as you were about to “bump” into Vernon. He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly puzzled.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” he asked, beaming at you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Did you come here for me? You could have just texted me.”

“No. I… um. I’m waiting for a friend,” you lied, feeling your cheeks flush. You saw Vernon glance your way, your encounter with Eunwoo clearly got his attention.

“I’m your friend.”

“Another friend.”

“You have other friends in this department?” he asked, surprised. As he did, Vernon was already walking away with his friends.

“No. We just became friends recently.”

Eunwoo looked skeptical but didn’t press further. “Alright, well, good luck with that. I have to go to class. See you around,” he said, walking away. You watched him go, feeling embarrassed and frustrated with yourself.

You tried again another time. As you turned around the corner, you saw him coming out of the building, chatting with a group of friends. You took a deep breath and walked towards him, but your courage faltered as you got closer. Instead of stopping to talk, you walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t notice you.

“Y/n?” you heard him call out.

Heart racing, you turned around, forcing a smile. “Oh, hey, Vernon. Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

“Yeah…” Vernon’s brows furrowed slightly. “This is the Social Sciences building.”

“Oh, is it?” you blurted, looking up at the building. “Of, course. Bye then.”

“Right,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, see you around.”

You nodded and walked away, feeling more defeated than ever.  After several more failures, you gave up trying and accepted the fact that everything happened for a reason. Every failed attempt at reaching out felt like another stab to your already wounded heart. You realized that perhaps it was fate's way of telling you that some things were meant to remain in the past.

“It’s just like my parent’s divorce. Difficult, but necessary,” you told Jade over lunch at the campus cafeteria.

“That’s not the analogy I was expecting to hear, but okay. Point taken,” she replied. You spotted Eunwoo and Adie and waved them over to your table.

“You look terrible,” Eunwoo said as soon as they reached you. He slid next to you on the bench and squeezed your cheeks. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“Leave her alone,” Jade chided, tapping impatiently on the table. “She’s had a rough week.”

Adie asked, “Why? What happened?”

“For starters—”

You slammed your hand on the table, startling everyone. To Jade, you said with a warning, “Jade!”

“What?” she asked, blinking then realization struck her. “Oh! They don’t know?”

You simply shook your head, laughing nervously. “Be quiet.”

“What? What is it?” Eunwoo demanded, looking triggered. “What is it? Are you keeping things from me again?”

“Well, not exactly,” you replied, trying to downplay the situation. “We’re just keeping things low-key and quiet.”

“Low-key and quiet? Smells more like playing favorites,” Eunwoo complained, sulking. You girls just laughed at him and ate in peace.

You told Jade you were giving up and that you wanted to just let things unfold naturally without interfering. And so, you did your best to live normal days, do well in school, and socialize like a normal human being. You fell into a routine, waking up early, attending classes, and immersing yourself in your studies. You joined a club, participated in class discussions, and even made an effort to attend social events. You went to the gym too and grabbed coffee with friends. You smiled and laughed at their jokes, even when your mind was elsewhere.

Five days in, Vernon approached you while you were studying in the library. Your heart leaped, but he seemed nonchalant about it.  He sat there, eyes fixed on his book as he adjusted the eyeglasses sitting on his nose bridge. God, he looked so handsome.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just sitting here because there are no vacant tables. I didn’t come here for you,” he told you.

But there were vacant seats, plenty even. Still, you felt pathetic enough after your failed attempts to reconnect, so you dropped the idea of talking to him. You tried your best to ignore him, focusing on your assignment and giving yourself a mental pep talk not to glance at him.

Your assignments were far more difficult than your mental turmoil, and you had to pass this subject or risk retaking it. You immersed yourself in your work, blocking out Vernon’s presence as much as you could.

“So, you’re the type to give up easily, huh?” he prompted, pulling your attention away from your books.

“What?” you asked, bewildered.

Vernon sighed, stared at you for a minute, and then scoffed before walking away. 

“What the hell is his problem?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head in confusion.

The next day, you attended a party off-campus and got roped into a beer pong game, girls vs. boys. You kept winning the game, annihilating everyone from the boys' team, that is, until Vernon took center stage. Suddenly, you were bad at it. Your 10/10 streak went 6/10, and you ended up drinking a lot. They gave you a chance to try again, only to get a 2/10.

It wasn’t because you were bad at it. It was Vernon’s intense gaze that kept distracting you from your focus.

“Girl, I know he’s cute and all, but we can’t lose!” your friends would quietly tease you.

You tried to ignore their comments, but the tension between you and Vernon was noticeable. Each time you glanced up, you found his eyes on you, unwavering and intense. It made your heart race and your hands shake, throwing off your aim.

"Come on, Y/n, you got this!" one of your friends cheered, trying to boost your confidence.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to steady yourself. But as soon as you locked eyes with Vernon again, your resolve crumbled. You missed the shot, and the boys’ team erupted in cheers.

“Better luck next time,” Vernon said, his tone mocking as he took a sip from his cup.

You glared at him, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Don’t be so smug,” you snapped. “It’s just a game.”

“Is it?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Seems more than that to me.”

You felt your face flush with anger and embarrassment. “Whatever,” you muttered, turning away from him. The rest of the night passed in a blur, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Vernon.

You went outside for some air, hoping to clear your airways from the smell of vape, smoke, and alcohol. The night sky was clear, and a cool breeze offered some relief from the stuffy party atmosphere. You took a deep breath as you walked, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, when suddenly, you stumbled over an uneven patch of ground. Before you could hit the ground, a hand grabbed your arm, steadying you.

“Your so-called coincidences are getting better,” Vernon teased, making you back away shyly.

“That wasn’t on purpose,” you muttered, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and irritation.

He laughed softly, the sound both familiar and painful. “Sure, it wasn’t. You always seem to find trouble when I’m around.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to mask the fluttering in your chest. “Maybe you’re just bad luck.”

He smirked, leaning against the railing. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just clumsy.”

“Whatever,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Needed a break from the noise,” he replied casually. “And to make sure you don’t break your neck.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his playful tone. For a moment, it felt like old times, before everything got complicated. You bantered back and forth for a while, the conversation light but tinged with unspoken emotions.

“Are you done trying to get my attention?” 

You scoffed, feeling defensive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vernon hummed teasingly. “You know, if you want to talk, you can just text me.”

“You can’t even look me in the eye. How would I know you’d even read my text?” 

“Well, you never tried,” he retorted, making you shut up. He was right.

As the chill in the air grew, Vernon straightened up. “Alright, I’m heading back in. Text me when you get home,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Not while you’re still here, alright? Only when you’re back in your apartment.”

You looked at him, puzzled. “Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason. Just do it.”

You nodded, still confused but willing to comply. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind his request. But for now, you pushed it to the back of your mind, deciding to enjoy the rest of the night.

You woke up with a pounding headache. Groaning, you propped yourself up on your hand, blinking at the bright morning light. Jade and Trina were sprawled over your bed, while you were on a mattress on the floor. The pounding in your head is made worse by the ringing of your alarm clock.

“Crap.” You were already late and right now, you are regretting your decision to get an apartment outside campus. You quickly got ready and rushed to your class, ignoring the throbbing pain in your head.

After class, you dragged yourself to the cafeteria, desperately needing some food to settle your stomach and hopefully stop the dizziness that bothered you all morning. As you stood in line, you saw Vernon sitting with Mingyu and Jungwoo at a table across the room. The sight of him made you remember his request from the night before. You realize you didn’t get to text him, making you feel guilty.

“I’m an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“Why?” Jade asked, looking at you with curiosity.

You deadpanned at her, feeling a mix of frustration and humor. “You’re the idiot,” you retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “It was your fault we got drunk.”

Jade rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “I was just trying to help you have a good time.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Well, mission accomplished,” you said sarcastically.

As you settled into your seat where Trina was already waiting, you couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment. Jade noticed your discomfort and leaned closer. “Okay. Be honest. What is it?”

You took a deep breath and confessed, “I was supposed to text Vernon when I got home, but I was so drunk I passed out instead.”

Jade's eyes widened in surprise. “You were supposed to text him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before you could respond, Trina said, “You know, Vernon and Jaehyun helped take us back to the apartment last night.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

Jade nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah. You were so out of it, and Jaehyun insisted on making sure we got home safely. Vernon came along too. They carried you and Trina up to your room.”

You groaned inwardly, feeling the embarrassment deepen. “Great, now I’m not just an idiot but also a complete embarrassment.”

Jade and Trina giggled. And then Trina added, “No, you’re not! You were cute! All clingy and touchy.”

“No!” you whined, your face heating up so you buried it in your palms.

“Sit up,” Jade prompted. “He’s coming this way.”

You did as you were told, but didn’t dare meet Vernon’s gaze. Mingyu waved at you with a massive grin. “Looking great, ladies!” he said as they walked by.

Vernon casually placed a small paper bag on your side of the table. “Advil,” he said flatly without even stopping to linger at your table.

The gesture stirred your emotions, almost making you cry right then and there. You managed to hold back the tears, but Jade noticed your reaction immediately. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worry etched on her face.

You glanced at the paper bag and then back at Vernon’s retreating figure. “He remembered,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

Jade looked confused. “Remembered what?”

Back in Azure Bay, you once told Vernon that you don't easily get drunk, but when you do, you get a bad headache and only drink Advil for it. The fact that he had remembered such a small detail from your past made your heart ache with longing and regret.

“He remembered that I only take Advil for headaches,” you explained, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Trina’s eyes softened with understanding. “Wow. That’s... really sweet of him.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. The small, thoughtful gesture reminded you of the connection you once had with Vernon and how much you had lost because of a misunderstanding. As you held the paper bag in your hands, you felt a renewed sense of determination to make things right, even if it meant facing the awkwardness and the pain. You knew you had to try.

So what did Vernon's gesture really mean? Did it mean he still had feelings for you, or was it simply out of consideration for a friend? These thoughts occupied your mind while you waited for Adie to come out of the fitting room. You were helping her choose a dress for her date with Eunwoo. 

“Hey, what do you think of this one?” Adie's voice broke through your thoughts as she stepped out in a sleek, velvety dress, twirling slightly.

You studied her for a moment and then shook your head. “No. It’s not doing it for you figure.”

Adie understood what you meant and rushed back inside to try another dress. You will deal with Vernon later. For now, you focused on Adie, hoping to find that perfect dress that would make her date with Eunwoo special. 

“What about this one?” Adie asked, walking out in a nice green sundress.

You saw that and a big smile appeared on your lips. “That! But in yellow!”

After picking the perfect dress, you bought it and joined Adie at the salon. Since she was going there, you thought it would be nice to get your nails done too. You chatted with Adie and the nail techs that you have grown close with because you were regulars in their salon. When she pointed out Adie’s 'glow', you told her about the date.

“Eunwoo? Your best friend Eunwoo?” one of the nail techs asked. Eunwoo joined you there sometimes so they got to know him too.

“Yeah. Can you believe it?” you chimed. “I honestly never thought they would click because they’re a little too different.”

“Opposites attract, girl.”

You and Adie chuckled. “So they said.”

It was true though. It was still surprising for you because you knew them well and they are complete opposites. They rarely even interact when you hang out with everyone. And now they’re dating. A lot of things really happened in Azure Bay.

After the nail appointment, you went back to your apartment where Adie got ready for her date. You chatted the whole time, laughing about stupid things, and giggling when she shared the story of how their relationship began. It was much like your story with Vernon, minus the part where you sneaked around.

Eunwoo picked her up on time and thanked you for helping Adie. He also thanked you for being friends with her, saying you were partially responsible for setting them up.

“Just don’t ghost me when you break up,” you said playfully, trying to dispel the sentimentality in the air.

Eunwoo scowled. “Did you just jinx us?”

“No. But later, I shall collect raw materials, weird specimens, and rare herbs so that I can perform a hex ritual that will befall the two of you should you even think of cutting me off when you break up.”

Adie scoffed. “Why don’t you make me a permanent love potion while you’re at it? That way, we’ll never break up.”

“Ah-ha. I probably should,” you nodded, touching your chin.

Eunwoo snickered. “Go for it. Maybe you can use it on Vernon too.”

You chuckled nervously, feigning ignorance. “Whatever that means, I don't care.”

When they were gone, you were left alone with your thoughts. Vernon still haunted your mind. As a matter of fact, he had never left your thoughts, ever. You couldn’t help but replay moments with Vernon, wondering about his intentions. Does he still think about you, or has it all faded into the past? 

Clearly, being alone is not doing you any good. You rose to your feet, grabbed your purse, and left your apartment. You walked around the neighborhood, memorizing the area since you will be staying there for the meantime. You found restaurants, stores, and other establishments, and noted them all in your head for when you need their services.

That afternoon, as you were trekking back to your apartment complex, you saw Vernon at his usual spot in the cafe beside your apartment. He was sitting by the window, sipping his coffee with his headphones on, a beanie pulled low over his ears, and his eyes focused intently on his phone. The sight of him brought a rush of memories and emotions, making your heart ache with longing. And then you remembered that you needed to text him.

For a moment, you just stood there, watching him. He seemed so absorbed in whatever he was doing, completely unaware of your presence. You missed him so much. Gathering your courage, you pulled out your phone and sent him a message.

You: I see you.

You waited, watching as he glanced at his phone. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he looked up and met your gaze through the glass. The world seemed to stand still as the two of you locked eyes, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

After what felt like an eternity, Vernon looked down at his phone. Then he looked back at you, his expression unreadable. Your phone buzzed, signaling a notification.

Vernon: Anything you want to say to me?

You took a deep breath, your mind racing with everything you wanted to say but didn't know how to start—the moment had come to confront the emotions and misunderstandings that had kept you apart.

You bit your lips, peeking at him as you typed your reply. Hitting send, you fixed the sling of your purse in your shoulder and walked into the building. You boarded the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were closing, you saw Vernon rushing towards you. He slipped through the narrowing gap just in time, causing your heart to skip a beat. 

“Now’s not a good time?” he asked, reciting your text message. “When will a good time come then?”

You knitted your brows, glancing over his shoulder where another person was standing. Vernon realized you weren’t alone, so he cleared his throat and faced the elevator doors. The three of you stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. Vernon stood close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, but the presence of the stranger kept you both in check.

Finally, the elevator stopped, and the other passenger exited, leaving just the two of you. The doors closed again, and the confined space suddenly felt more intimate. Without a word, Vernon turned to you, his eyes full of intensity. You couldn't hold back any longer. You reached up, pulling him into a kiss. It was desperate and passionate, a release of all the emotions you'd both been holding back.

The elevator dinged again, signaling another stop. Quickly, you and Vernon broke apart, trying to compose yourselves as the doors opened. Another person stepped in, glancing curiously at the two of you. It was someone from your building, an older woman who often chatted with everyone. You’ve seen her around and you lived on the same floor.

She looked at Vernon with a knowing smile. “Looks like you finally plucked up the courage to talk to her, Vernon.”

“Sorry?” you asked, eyes flitting to Vernon.

“Oh, this silly guy. I’ve seen him loitering around your unit a few times,” she said with a chuckle. To Vernon, she said,  “You looked like a lost puppy. I always wondered what you were up to.”

Vernon's cheeks turned a shade of red, and you couldn't help but laugh softly at the image. The woman continued chatting, oblivious to the tension she had just interrupted.

Finally, the elevator reached your floor. The older woman stepped out first and then glanced back at you. “What are you waiting for?”

“Huh? Me?” you asked stupidly, pointing at yourself.

The woman flashed a teasing smile. “Ohhh. I guess you won’t be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Go on then,” she chuckled, walking away.

“No! We’re not,” you blurted before you could even think about it. Vernon chuckled beside you, pressing the open button when the doors were about to close.

You stepped out, turning back to give Vernon a quick, meaningful glance. “See you around,” you said, a smile playing on your lips.

As you walked down the hallway to your apartment, you felt exhilarated and happy, your heart still racing from the unexpected encounter. The kiss lingered on your lips, a promise of more to come. When you entered your apartment, you received a message from Vernon, which you opened excitedly, tossing your bag to a table and jumping on your bed.

Vernon: Just letting you know I’m gonna sue you for sexual harassment

Your brows furrowed, confused. Then it was followed by another text.

Vernon: You can’t just grab me like that and get away with it.

That made you giggle, bury your face in the sheets, and kick your legs in the air like a teenager talking to her crush for the first time.

You couldn’t sleep at all, thoughts of Vernon keeping you awake. Fear, excitement, worry, giddiness—all these emotions swirled around in your mind. You wondered if you were back together or if things were even going well. While you spent most of the night texting, neither of you brought up the status of your relationship, or if you would even have a proper talk about it at all. You just went with the flow, enjoying the giddy excitement and grinning from ear to ear the whole time.

The next day, you got up earlier than usual, unable to contain your excitement. You contemplated texting him in the morning but decided against it, not wanting to seem desperate or overthink the situation. But you were looking forward to how things will unfold from now on.

You hoped to catch him in the elevator but he wasn’t there. At the campus, you spotted him near the cafeteria and decided to approach him. Just as you were passing through the gate, you saw Kierra, his ex-girlfriend, approaching him. 

You stopped dead in your tracks, nervousness making your heart race. You watched them talk, and although you were too far away to hear their conversation, her pretty smiling face and his seemingly nonchalant expression made your stomach churn. Feeling a pang of jealousy and insecurity, you walked away before they could notice you.

The rest of the day, you avoided Vernon. Ignoring his messages, you focused on your classes, hoping to drown out your sad thoughts. But it was impossible to concentrate, your mind always drifting back to him and the confusing mix of emotions he stirred within you. At this point, it’s safe to say he’s an effective distraction from your studies.

After your last class, you stepped out of the classroom, only to find Vernon waiting for you. His presence startled you, and before you could slip away, he caught up with you.

“Hey, hey,” he asked, blocking your way when you tried to walk away. “What’s wrong with you today?” he questioned, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.

You looked around, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. What do you want?”

Vernon looked appalled as if he’d been asked a ridiculously stupid question. “Can we talk?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Vernon’s smile was awkward and uncertain. “Nothing and everything. You weren’t responding to my texts. What’s wrong?” he demanded softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. “Nothing’s wrong,” you lied.

He called your name—softly, lovingly, the word rolling beautifully on his tongue. “Why are you acting like this?” he pressed. “What happened? I thought we were fine.”

“Why would you kiss me?” you snapped, catching him off-guard.

Vernon chuckled lightly. “What do you mean? You kissed me.”

“Then why would you kiss me back?”

“Because you kissed me first! Come on, where are you going with this?” he asked, reaching to touch your arm but you recoiled, surprising Vernon and making him back away. “I’m sorry.”

“Just leave me alone, Vernon,” you snapped, feeling the sting of your own words. 

His expression hardened with disappointment and hurt flashing in his eyes. “Don’t we need to talk? Isn’t there anything you want to say to me at all?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

Of course, there is. There are countless things you want to say to him. You want to apologize for what happened, to explain why you left. You want to tell him how much you regret not going to the farm with him, and how wrong you were to leave him the way you did. You want to ask if you're okay now, if he wants you back, or if he can even forgive you. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him, how every day apart has felt like an eternity. Most of all, you want to confess that you are madly in love with him, so deeply that it makes your heart ache.

But you couldn’t even look him in the eye. “No. Nothing at all,” you replied, resolute.

Vernon looked at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a heavy heart.

As you watched him go, a wave of regret washed over you. You wanted to call out to him, to explain everything, but your pride held you back. The fear of getting hurt again was too strong. You wished you could turn back time, but all you could do now was live with the consequences of your actions.

You walked the opposite way, your steps getting quicker, and quicker, and quicker until you were full-on sprinting. The path towards the gate seemed to stretch for miles, making freedom seem so far from your reach. When you finally did reach it, you snatched a cab from a fellow student who was just about to get into it. And in there, you told the taxi driver to drive straight before you started sobbing in your hands.

The days following your conversation with Vernon were a blur. You couldn't stop thinking about what happened, the hurt on his face, and the lie you told so shamelessly. Facing him felt impossible. So, you did everything you could to stay out of his way.

Monday morning, you arrived late for your first class, slipping into the lecture hall undetected while the professor’s back was turned. You were late because you wanted to make sure you didn’t bump into Vernon in the elevator or somewhere around school.

At school, you altered your usual routes, taking longer paths between classes to avoid running into him. You kept your head down, focusing on your books or your phone, praying not to cross paths. Despite your efforts, there were moments when fate seemed determined to throw you together.

One afternoon, you were in the cafeteria, grabbing a quick lunch. You spotted Vernon entering with Mingyu. You immediately hid behind a pillar, hoping they hadn't seen you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you peeked around the corner, watching him laugh at something Mingyu said. The sight of his smile brought back memories of happier times, and you felt a pang of regret. Still, you remained hidden until they found a table far from where you were.

Another time, you were walking back to your apartment, lost in thought. You turned a corner and almost collided with Vernon. Your eyes met for a split second before you mumbled an apology and hurried past him. His gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his disappointment.

Late one evening, you decided to study in the library, thinking it would be a safe haven. You settled into a quiet corner, spreading out your notes and books. Just as you started to focus, you noticed Vernon sitting at a table across the room. He was engrossed in a textbook, headphones on, completely oblivious to your presence. You watched him for a moment, your heart aching with a mix of longing and guilt. You packed up your things quietly and left, not wanting to risk another awkward encounter.

In between these encounters, you threw yourself into your studies as usual, trying to drown out the turmoil inside you. You spent hours in the library, attended every class religiously, and even joined a study group to keep yourself occupied. But no matter how busy you kept yourself, thoughts of Vernon were never far away.

Your friends noticed your distraction. One evening, as you all gathered for a dinner you couldn’t get out of, Trina nudged you. “You okay, Y/n? You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Yeah, just a lot on my mind,” you replied with a forced smile.

Jade, ever perceptive, gave you a knowing look. “Is it about Vernon?”

You sighed, unable to hide the truth from them. “I just... I don’t know how to fix things.”

Trina placed a comforting hand on your arm. “Maybe you just need to give it time. And when you’re ready, talk to him.”

Her words echoed in your mind, but the fear of facing Vernon again kept you from acting on them.

One evening, as you were leaving a late class, you saw Vernon leaning against a wall, waiting for someone. You slowed your pace, hoping to avoid his notice, but he looked up and his eyes locked onto yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you quickly averted your gaze and walked past him, feeling his eyes follow you.

“What are you afraid of?” you asked yourself later that night, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. “Why can’t you just tell him how you feel?”

The truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of facing the pain you’d caused him, of admitting your mistakes, and of finding out if it was truly too late to make things right. So, you continued to avoid him, hoping that somehow, time would ease the tension and make it easier to bridge the gap between you. The ache of unresolved feelings and the weight of your avoidance lingered, leaving you to wonder how long you could keep this up.

You got invited to Trina’s birthday, along with everyone else. It was an intimate party, just close friends gathered to celebrate. Jade was there with Jaehyun. Adie and Eunwoo were present too, as well as some of Trina’s close acquaintances. You noticed Minghao’s absence and Trina was seemingly unaware of this fact. You watched how she grinned wider than usual, laughed louder than she used to, and talked a lot. Not that it was weird, but she wasn’t usually this way. She had always been calm, composed, and graceful—elegant, to put it simply. This elegance is not a farce. And right now, although the change is slight, you knew something was up.

You tugged Jade’s elbow as you watched Trina drink beer in a bottle, which she never does. “Is everything okay with Trina?”

“You noticed it too, huh?” she whispered back. “She and Minghao broke up yesterday.”

“What?” you exclaimed a little too loudly, making everyone glance your way. You covered your mouth and looked away. But you met Trina’s gaze and saw her smile faltering. At that moment, you and Trina understood each other’s cues. She then widened her smile again, as if to tell you that she was fine.

Mingyu arrived shouting, hands raised, and commanding the attention of the entire hall. Everyone cheered at his arrival, but your eyes caught Vernon towing behind him and your heart sank a little.

“The party is here!” Mingyu announced, pulling Trina into a hug before giving her the bouquet Vernon was holding for him. “Happy birthday to my favorite girl.”

“Wow. And here I thought I was your favorite,” Jade interjected jokingly.

“Nope. Your birthday already passed,” said Mingyu, waving his hand dismissively.

You ate, drank, talked, and laughed along with everyone while keeping your distance from Vernon. Both of you made a conscious effort to avoid each other, trying not to bring attention to you and risk bringing down the mood of the party. However, your relationship inevitably came up in a casual conversation, making the atmosphere awkward.

“I’m actually curious about that too,” Adie asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “What did happen between you two?”

Trina laughed heartily. “Let’s not talk about depressing things.”

“Oh, it’s not that depressing. It was just a summer fling, anyway,” Vernon said spitefully, his tone sharp enough to cut through the buzz of friendly chatter. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you felt a surge of anger within you.

You glanced at him only to find him already looking at you.

He added, “It was, right? That’s what you told everyone.” 

“Vernon,” Jade prompted, making Vernon turn to her.

He laughed incredulously. “What? You asked a question, didn’t you? I was just answering it because someone can’t seem to make up her mind on what the fuck it is that she wants.”

“Hey, man,” Mingyu interjected, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Vernon got up and left the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

You felt the weight of everyone's eyes on you. “I’m sorry, guys,” you muttered, trying to force a smile. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.” With that, you excused yourself and followed Vernon outside.

You caught up with him just as he was reaching his car. He saw you coming and quickened his pace, but you managed to slip into the passenger seat just as he was turning on his engine before he could drive away.

“What’s your problem?” you demanded, slamming the door shut.

Vernon didn’t look at you. “Get off. I don’t have anything to say to you. The same way you don't have anything to say to me.”

“That’s not true!” you protested, tugging his arm from the steering wheel. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what, y/n? Like what?” he spat, turning to face you fully. “Like I’m bitter and mad? Like I was left behind by someone I loved without so much as a word? Not a text. Not an idea, or a fucking clue to tell me what the fuck happened that made you run away and hide!”

You froze, heart racing at his angry fit. You retracted your hand from his arm, and it was as if you had forgotten how to speak.

“You want to know why I’m mad?” he continued, his eyes shiny with tears threatening to fall. “I’m mad because you left me and I don’t know why. You disappeared like you didn’t exist at all. Do you have any idea how that felt? Do you have any idea how much I tried to figure out what went wrong? How I tried to find you? And now that you’re back, you come and tell me that you have nothing to say to me? I guess I didn’t deserve any explanation, did I? I was just some temporary fix that you can discard anytime you want!”

Your heart ached at his words, but you couldn’t find the right ones to say in return. “That's not true. I'm so sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry?” he repeated, his voice cracking. He looked away and ran a hand over his face. “Why, y/n? Tell me why? If you don’t want me anymore, that’s fine. I won’t force you. Just please… please…”

He cupped your cheeks with both hands, pressed your foreheads together, and sobbed. “I loved you, y/n. And I still do. But that’s fine. I’ll get over it. Please, just tell me what I did,” he begged, sniffing as he sobbed.

You held his wrists, squeezing tightly as you let yourself cry. You wanted to tell him everything, to explain what happened. But you couldn’t because you were ashamed. You had practiced what you’re gonna say to him over and over, but now you’re just speechless.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I left because I thought... I thought you were lying to me about loving me—about everything. I found out later that I was wrong, but by then it was too late.”

Vernon parted from you, and you looked up at his confused expression.

“I thought I was side chic, Vernon,” you croaked. “Someone said you had a girlfriend back here.”

“But that’s not true,” he whispered.

“I know,” you whined, lip quivering as you stopped yourself from sobbing. “I know now. But it was too late.”

“You should have asked me first!” he groaned, frustrated. “So instead of giving me a chance to explain, you just assumed the worst and ran away?”

In your defense, you didn’t think to ask him first because your initial instinct was to shield yourself from potential hurt. You had an inkling that he’d just deny everything. You didn’t think twice about the information being false because why would Trina lie to you? You trusted Vernon too but it was easier to believe someone you’ve known for years. The thought of confronting him filled you with dread as if doing so might confirm your worst fears. Somewhere deep inside you is a persistent, gnawing fear that what you had with Vernon was nothing more than a fleeting summer romance, something you had desperately tried to avoid.

You couldn’t say all that to him because you were ashamed and because you would end up a blabbering, sobbing mess before you could even get your point across. All you could do was apologize.

“I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again,” you cried. “I know I was wrong. I’m sorry. I really am.

Vernon sighed, his anger slowly melting into something softer. He reached out and wiped your tears away. “God, I didn’t know it would hurt this much to see you cry.”

You leaned onto his touch, and Vernon moved to hug you despite the uncomfortable position. 

“I’m not dating anyone, love,” he said softly, running his fingers through your hair. “Not for a while now. Not since I saw you and fell in love with you.”

You remembered Mingyu telling you about his fat crush on you, but you didn’t mention it. You can’t speak with all the sobbing you were doing anyway. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vernon looked at you for a long moment before speaking. “I’m still mad at you,” he admitted. “Only a little bit though. It’s hard to stay mad when I care about you this much.”

That made you cry again but only because the weight in your chest was finally getting lighter. Vernon exhaled and kissed your forehead. “Alright, fine. Let’s forget it,” he said, hugging you tighter. “Just promise me you won’t cry again.”

“You made me cry.”

“I did, didn’t I? Then I’ll promise not to make you cry again.” 

You stayed there for a minute, the hug comforting but uncomfortable with the compartment between the car seats. Vernon pulled away after a while, lifting your chin to kiss you. Every nerve in your body tingled with longing and uncertainty, emotions rushing through you like a tidal wave. It's a kiss that speaks of forgiveness and understanding, a perfect way to celebrate your rekindled romance.

Your hands found each other instinctively, fingers intertwining as if to anchor yourselves in the present, afraid that this moment might slip away as quickly as it arrived. Vernon’s other hand held your head in place, kissing you at an angle that left you breathless. His fingertips brushed the back of your neck, making your breath hitch. His touch is both familiar and electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine that resonated deep within.

You moaned into the kiss, and Vernon took this chance to shove his tongue inside your mouth. While you were reeling in the bliss of being kissed by him, your hand traveled the length of his chest, stopping on his crotch and massaging the erection over his jeans. You gave it a good squeeze, making Vernon groan.

Without parting from your lips, Vernon unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and released his cock from the confines of his underwear. It stood in attention, making your eyes sparkle at the sight of it in all its glory. Vernon seemed pleased with your reaction, reaching to gently rub the back of your head.

“Don’t be shy now. We both missed you,” he lilted, giving your head a slight tug. 

You gathered your hair and ducked to kiss the tip of his cock. As Vernon took your hair out of your hands, you held his manhood and swallowed him whole. Your mouth was warm, making him grunt in satisfaction. When you started moving your head, you felt him jolt in his seat, grunting each time you sucked him. His satisfied sounds, the twitching of his body, and his low utterance of praise while caressing your head made you feral, giving him your best performance yet.

As you continued, his hand traveled down your back, long enough to reach your ass. He lifted your dress up to expose your ass, slapping it once and massaging the reddened skin. You groaned and stopped sucking for a second only to continue at a much more aggressive pace. He reached over to your cunt, twirling his fingers over your aching sex. Pushing your panties aside, he inserted a finger inside that made your walls clench in anticipation.

Annoyed, you let go of his cock and were about to sit back down but he pulled you into another kiss—torrid, urgent, feverish. When he pulled away, you were catching your breath, staring into his eyes fired with lust.

“Let’s go to my apartment,” you whispered into his mouth. “Or yours. Anywhere.”

“Sorry, love. I don’t think I can wait,” he replied. He pushed his seat back with a push of a button and then reclined it. 

You understood his intentions and acted on it instinctively. It helped that you were wearing a dress tonight. He pushed his jeans down to his knees and you immediately positioned yourself across his crotch. Before you could sit and fulfill your desires, Vernon trapped your body in his embrace, kissing and leaving hickeys on your supple neck. His breath was warm against your skin, his heartbeat echoing the erratic rhythm of your own. He reached under your dress, squeezing your thigh when his hand passed by it before pushing your underwear aside. You felt him adjusting his cock towards your pussy and when it was time, you slowly pushed yourself down.

The moan that tore out of your throat was pure bliss, even making you close your eyes as you savored the feeling of the first stretch. When you have adjusted, you start moving your hips, grinding and bouncing. Your body was on auto-pilot because there was no way you were still sane with the amount of lust overtaking your mind and entire being. 

Vernon’s hands are under your dress, squeezing your thighs so tightly that you know he is leaving bruises on them. That was supposed to hurt you, but it only fueled your desire, making you lightheaded. He would kiss your neck, your collarbone, and leave trails of hickey on your skin. His hands would massage your breasts, suckle on your nipples, and bite them hard enough not to hurt you but to further elevate your lust. 

The sound of your moaning mixed with his grunts and the soft hum of the car’s engine. When he happens to lie on his back, he would watch you with great admiration, uttering praises and telling you how beautiful you are. His half-lidded sensual gaze, firm hands, and his loving voice, not to mention his girth pushing in and out of you got feeling so good you can’t keep your mouth closed.

“Oh, my love. You’re so hot,” he rasped, his eyes focused on your face. He reached for your mouth, pressing his thumb on your tongue and you sucked it. The groan he let out made your head spiral.

You started losing strength in your arms and knees, the threat of orgasm lurking nearby. Vernon saw the way your face contorted. With your erratic breathing and unsteady pace, he knew what was about to come.

“Come on, love. Let it all out,” he said amorously, bucking his hips into you to help you out.

Your lips quivered and you bent your body towards him, unable to prop yourself up anymore. You stopped grinding your hips, so Vernon continued the work for you. Wrapping his arms around your body to keep you in place, he thrusted into you several times until you cried out in pleasure, sitting back up and arching your back as fireworks exploded in your belly and between your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” Vernon blurted, bucking his hips into you a few times more before collapsing on the seat.

You slumped on his chest, catching your breath. As you did, you listened to his heart, beating wildly inside him like he had just run a mile. Groaning, he placed his hand on your back, rubbing lazily. You could feel the euphoria that clouded your mind slowly dissipate, grounding you back to the present.

“I love you, did you know that?” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Mmhmm. I know,” you chimed, sniffing his perfume. “I love you too.”

You stayed like that for a moment, before Vernon slapped your ass, making you yelp and sit up.

“What was that for?” you pouted. He just grinned and sat up too, locking you in his arms to kiss you again, deeply, longingly, like it was his first time ever.

When he pulled away, he said, “Come on. Let’s go home. We’re not done yet and we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“What?” you questioned, shifting above him and moving to sit back on the shotgun. There, you fixed your dress in a hurry.

“Gotta make up for lost time, love,” he said before reaching to pinch your nipple that was protruding underneath your dress. You squealed, scandalized but also excited.

“Is that her? OMG, so embarrassing.”

You looked up from your book, squinting at the group of three girls standing in front of you. “I beg your pardon?” you asked, scowling at their mean expressions.

“Are you Vernon’s new girl?”

“Why do you care?” you retorted, annoyed by their attitudes so you gave them some of yours too.

The girls laughed snobbishly before one of them said, “Do you know Kierra? Yeah, she’s the girlfriend of the boy you’re sleeping around with.”

“Whatever,” you sighed, reverting your attention to your book.

“Enjoy it while it lasts. Vernon is the type to get tired quickly. Then he goes back to Kierra. We’re letting you know in case you get your hopes up. We girls gotta have each other’s backs right?”

Your head was screaming for you to murder someone, but you ignored it. Instead, you took your headphones out and wore them, hoping it would send the girls away. It worked and you watched them walk away grinning and laughing to themselves.

“What the hell was that?” you mumbled to yourself.

You tried to shake off the comments, but they lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. That evening, as you sat on the couch in your apartment with Vernon’s head on your lap, you told him about the encounter which only made him laugh.

“That’s actually hilarious.”

You grimaced while you brushed his hair. “I don’t think they were joking.”

Vernon hummed, taking your hand and kissing it. “Ignore them. They’re not worth your time and attention.”

You pulled your hand away, needing answers more than comfort. “Do you wanna know who told me you had a girlfriend?”

His interest was piqued, brows knitting together with curiosity. “Oh yeah. You haven’t told me about that yet.”

“It was Trina,” you began. “When we were leaving Azure Bay, she texted me that you had a girlfriend. She said she saw Kierra post a photo with you so she asked her how you knew each other. Kierra said you were her boyfriend.”

“Did she? Now I see why you chose that day to leave me.”

A slight guilt tugged at your heartstrings but it was easy to ignore. You shrugged and continued talking. “Apparently, she’s been going around telling people you’re together.”

“But that’s not true and you know it,” he declared, determined not to make you misunderstand things again.

“Yeah, I do,” you replied, pushing him up. “But other people don’t.”

Vernon hugged your tiny frame when he sat up. “So what should we do about it?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” you challenged, pulling away from his embrace.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit you recognized as his way of stalling. “Can’t we just ignore them?”

You felt a pang of irritation. “So, you're just going to let them talk? Let them think I'm some home wrecker or something like that?”

“Only Kierra's friends are talking anyway,” he replied, trying to sound reassuring. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Look. She’s only doing that because she knows I’m seeing someone.”

“And? You’re not gonna do anything about it?”

Vernon shrugged. “I can do something about it, but I don’t really want to trigger her or anything. She’s very unpredictable. You see, Kierra and I… our relationship was toxic but I still respect her as a woman. We were probably in love at one point in the past too. I don’t want to do anything that would humiliate her or something.”

You understood his point and you felt a sense of pride for his character. It was so mature of him to think that way and for that, you felt proud. While you honor his stand on things, hearing him talk about being in love with another girl made you a little jealous. Yes, you know it was in the past, but it still irritated you. Now you are thinking of picking a fight with him just for the sake of it.

You scooted away when he tried to hug you, pouting and staring at the floor to show him you were sulking. Vernon knew what you were doing and scooted closer. He gently lifted your chin to meet his gaze.

“Hey, now,” he whispered, his eyes sincere. “That was a long time ago. You’re the one I love now. The only one I want to be with.”

You pouted even harder. “Is it true you get tired of women easily though?” you asked pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him. “And that you run back to Kierra when you do?”

He chuckled, planting a kiss on your nose. “False. Not true at all.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the truth in his words, and felt comforted—not that you actually needed it anyway. You were just trying to be cute.

You leaned into his embrace, smiling from ear to ear. As much as you want to make him grovel each time you’re sulking for fun, you just adore him so much that he can easily woo you into submission.

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her. Maybe that will finally put her in place,” he assured you, kissing your forehead again.

But of course, even after talking to Vernon, Kierra’s shenanigans did not end there. You met her at a party one night, marking the first time you would ever interact with her. It was a lively affair, the room buzzing with chatter and laughter, but everything seemed to come to a standstill the moment she approached.

“Oh my god, not Kierra. I can’t stand her,” Trina blurted, rolling her eyes and walking away from your circle.

Brazenly, Kierra made her way towards Vernon, her eyes locked onto him. You were clinging to his arm, feeling secure in his presence, but she casually pushed you aside. Without missing a beat, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his, hip to hip.

Vernon reacted immediately, pushing her away in front of everyone. “Please, Kierra. Let’s not embarrass ourselves in public,” he said quietly.

Kierra laughed villainously, walking to Vernon again. She placed a hand on his chest, rubbing circles on his shirt. “Come on, Nonie. You know you’ll eventually come back to me. You could rail every single woman on Earth, but you’d still come crawling back to me. Like always.”

“But I didn’t do that, did I?” Vernon replied calmly, taking your hand. “I never went back to you, let alone crawl. Have some dignity, Kierra. Go home.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment, especially as the crowd around you all murmured in agreement, aware of the truth in Vernon's words. Desperate and humiliated, she lashed out, slapping Vernon hard across the face.

Something inside you snapped. Without a second thought, you grabbed a handful of her hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you started dragging her away from Vernon. The crowd gasped, watching the scene unfold. 

“Get off him,” you spat, your voice low and furious. Kierra struggled against your grip, but you held firm, your anger giving you strength. 

Some people intervened, pulling you away from her and restraining you. You released Kierra, who stumbled back, glaring at you with hatred. You stood your ground, refusing to let her intimidate you at all. When Kierra was back on her feet, she lunged at you, only to be held back by Mingyu and Eunwoo.

“Hey, hey, hey! Cut it out!” Mingyu scolded sternly.

“You're done here,” you told her, your voice steady. “Stay away from us.”

Kierra sneered, but the humiliation and defeat were clear in her eyes. She turned and stormed off, the party resuming its buzz as people whispered about the dramatic confrontation. 

Vernon wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m sure she won't bother us again.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and lingering anger. “Let’s go,” you said, ready to leave the party behind.

As you walked out with Vernon, you couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph. You tried to stifle it, but eventually gave up and started giggling. Vernon glanced at you, intrigued.

“Are you laughing?”

“No,” you denied, only to burst out laughing.

Vernon watched you with a fond look on his face, amused and smitten at the same time. His hand held yours tightly, without any intention of letting go.

“Sorry. I just can’t forget the look on her face,” you confessed, clearing your throat, but your smile remained.

Vernon hummed as you continued walking to his car. “I didn’t know you could fight.”

“I can’t, but I had to,” you retorted.

“Aw, you can’t but you would fight for me, wouldn’t you, love?”

“Shut up before I fight you too.”

Vernon chuckled heartily and then leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “You were so hot.”

You just scoffed, unimpressed. “And you’re probably feeling so full of yourself seeing two women grab each other’s hair because of you?”

He shook his head. “I’m pretty sure she didn’t get to do that to you. It wasn’t a 50/50 fight, love. More like 90/10 in your favor.”

As you settled into the car, you leaned back and sighed, the adrenaline slowly fading. Vernon's hand found yours again, and he squeezed gently.

Driving through the quiet streets, you glanced at him, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. It was a ridiculous situation, almost comical. But it still gave you great joy. You had fought for him, and he had stood by you, unwavering.

You looked out the window, the city lights blurring past, and let yourself bask in the warmth of his hand on yours. In that moment, you realized that no matter the storms, you and Vernon would always have each other. And that thought, more than anything, filled you with a serene, unshakeable joy.

The sun filtered through the library windows, casting a warm glow over the study tables. You and Vernon sat side by side, your legs touching under the table. His hand occasionally found its way to yours, squeezing gently as you both concentrated on your assignments. You glanced over at him, watching as he furrowed his brow in concentration, a small smile tugging at your lips. You scribbled a note in the margin of your textbook, then nudged him with your elbow.

“Need a break?” the note said.

Vernon looked up, a grin spreading across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” He closed his laptop and stretched his arms above his head, sighing contentedly. “How about a coffee?”

The two of you made your way to the café outside the campus, fingers intertwined. The barista greeted you with a knowing smile, already preparing your usual orders. You took a seat by the window, watching students pass by outside.

“So, how’s your project going?” Vernon asked, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

You shrugged, taking a sip of your latte. “It’s coming along. Slowly, but surely. How about yours?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s just say I’ve got a lot of late nights ahead of me.”

You reached across the table, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “You’re an intelligent young man. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Fine? Oh, I’ll be more than just fine if you let me spend those late nights in your apartment.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Your mind never leaves the gutters, does it?”

Later that week, the two of you found yourselves in the quad, sprawled out on a blanket under the shade of a large oak tree. Textbooks and notebooks were scattered around you, but neither of you seemed particularly interested in studying at the moment. Vernon was lying on his back, staring up at the sky, his head resting on your lap.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you asked softly, tracing circles on his shirt.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “But right now, I’m just happy being here with you.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Me too.”

On weekends, you explored the city together, finding hidden gems in the most unexpected places. One Saturday afternoon, you stumbled upon a quaint little bookstore tucked away in a narrow alley. It was filled with the scent of old paper and the soft hum of classical music. You wandered through the aisles, hand in hand, occasionally stopping to show each other interesting finds.

“Look at this,” Vernon said, holding up an old, leather-bound book. “It’s a first edition.”

Your eyes widened in excitement. “That’s amazing! Let’s get it.”

“But it’s a Calculus book.”

You grimaced. “Oh. Put it back then.”

Vernon chuckled, knowing your loathing for Mathematics despite being a Mechanical Engineering student.

“Let’s just get a Jane Austen,” you told him, taking said book from the shelf.

As you paid for the book, the shop owner, an elderly man with a kind smile, commented on what a lovely couple you made. You both thanked him, leaving the store with a sense of happiness and a new treasure to share.

Evenings were spent cooking together in your tiny apartment kitchen. You’d dance around each other, bumping hips and stealing kisses as you prepare your meals. Thankfully, you were a decent cook because you'd starve to death if you trusted Vernon with it.

One night, you decided to make homemade pizza. Flour dusted the countertops and the tips of your noses as you rolled out the dough, laughing and teasing each other.

“You’re getting flour everywhere!” you giggled, swiping a bit of it on Vernon’s cheek.

He grinned mischievously, dipping his finger into the tomato sauce and dotting it on the tip of your nose. “Nice. Rudolph came early this year!”

You both ended up on the floor, giggling uncontrollably, your clothes covered in flour and sauce.

“They said it will be here in 20 minutes,” you told him, referring to the pizza delivery that you ordered instead.

On quiet nights, you’d curl up on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching movies or just talking about your day. Vernon would play with your hair, his fingers gently running through the strands as you rested your head on his shoulder. Sometimes, you’d fall asleep like that, the comfort of his presence lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

One such night, as you lay there, Vernon whispered softly, “I love you.”

Your heart swelled with happiness, and you snuggled closer to him, murmuring back, “I love you too.”

When summer finally rolled around, you and Vernon returned to Azure Bay, your favorite getaway.  The familiar sights and sounds welcomed you back, a sense of nostalgia washing over both of you. The two of you spent your days soaking up the sun on the beach, swimming in the cool ocean, and exploring hidden trails.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you and Vernon settled into the hammock together. You snuggled close, his arms wrapped around you as you swayed gently. Here you are, back in Azure Bay after everything that went down. Growing up, you didn’t think the hammock by the poolside of your house could ever fit two people in it, now you’re finding it spacious enough for you and Vernon. 

“Did you know that the ocean covers 71% of the Earth’s surface?” he asked.

“Of course, I do. They taught us that in grade school.”

“Yeah? Well, I think it’s cool.”

You giggled. “It is.”

You chatted about mundane things, from your favorite movies to your plans for the future. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and sweet, tender moments. The world felt perfect, wrapped in the golden glow of the setting sun and the warmth of each other’s embrace.

“So that’s it then. You’ll graduate after the next semester and… do nothing?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. I’m taking a break. I’ve been studying my whole life. I think I can take a time off, no?”

“Of course you can.”

You shifted, looking at him. “You should get a high-paying job so I can be a stay-at-home housewife.”

Vernon laughed wholeheartedly, his chest vibrating. “I can do that. Will you be fine though? As a full-time housewife?”

You shrugged, snuggling back to him. “I don’t know. I was just kidding.”

Vernon hummed, rubbing your arm. “Don’t kid. I can’t imagine the next summers without you already so, it’s a possibility,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You looked up at him, your heart full. “You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

As the last light of the day faded, you lay there in the hammock, content and deeply in love. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore and the gentle rustle of the palm trees became the soundtrack of your perfect summer evening.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“But I love you most!”

“Nah, pretty sure I love you more than that.”

You giggled. “You always have to win, don’t you?”

“Yes. And do you have any idea how adorable you are?”

You snorted. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

"You're just madly in love with me."

Vernon lilted. "That's true too."

[fin]

[thatfandomslut]

Regina George's Sister

Cady Heron x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings: protective relationship, secret relationship

Request:

mayhaps a cady heron x reader where reader is regina’s sister and cady and reader have been secretly dating for months because neither of them want regina to find out but then regina ends up catching them kissing or something idk im bad at requests feel free to go nuts😭😭

Mean Girls requests are open.

A/N: I could not figure out how to end this, so please forgive me.

If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Regina post-Spring Fling, it was that she didn't change much. She was just kinder to Gretchen and Karen, who still loyally followed Regina along. She still instilled fear in those around her, even if she was much nicer than she had been. Once a Queen Bee regains her crown, it's hard to repossess it. This was the prime reason Cady and (Y/n) decided to keep their relationship a secret from the blonde due to how protective she was over her younger sister. The problem was, despite being together for the past three months, they were very bad at keeping their relationship a secret.

It was Janis and Damian who were the ones to usually catch them making out under the stairwell. Which is where they found Cady and (Y/n) today, too. The two were on their way to French class, and they typically met Cady there. Which is why they weren't surprised to see them locking lips, despite their usual desire to hide from Regina. It occurred to Janis and Damian that the two were starting to get comfortable with not getting caught, so they were becoming more careless.

"You know," Janis's words startled the two of them as they jumped apart from each other. The action caused Janis to smirk as Damian snickered at the two. "If you two continue to make out one of the biggest make-out corners, Regina is definitely going to find you two. Eventually, you're not going to get saved by Damian and me. So, stop being stupid, and find a less obvious make-out spot. Come on, Cady, we're going to be late."

Damian quirked his brow nosily at the two as he looked over (Y/n) before following Janis to their class. "She's kind of right," Cady said, her cheeks a bright shade of red having been caught for the fourth time by Janis and Damian that week. "We're getting careless, and if we don't want Regina to find out, we need to start doing better." She spoke with a type of seriousness in her voice that caused (Y/n) to smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Cady questioned, though due to the look (Y/n) gave, she had a hint as to what (Y/n) had running through her mind.

"Oh, nothing," (Y/n) teased before placing a gentle kiss on Cady's lips. Cady reciprocated easily, almost forgetting about just getting caught, and the fact that Janis and Damian were most likely waiting on the top of the stairs for her. "I just think you're cute when you're serious about things. You puff your cheeks out and narrow your eyes slightly, and you just look so determined. Anyways, see you after class, Brainiac. I love you."

(Y/n) kissed Cady's cheek as she exited the stairwell, leaving behind a very smiley Cady to join her very annoyed best friends. "I'm sick of these shenanigans, Cady. When are you just going to tell Regina to truth? She's gotten much nicer since you overthrew her at the Spring Fling. Well, I guess, we all overthrew her." Damian pondered on this, walking into the classroom and sitting in his usual seat beside Janis. Cady had turned her seat towards her friends, who were expecting an answer from her.

"She retook the crown, remember? She has too much pride to really learn a lesson. And, even if she is nicer, you both know how she is when it comes to (Y/n)." Cady reminded the group with a raised brow. She didn't necessarily want to talk about this. Every time they got into it, it was them trying to convince Cady to come clean, but that wasn't something (Y/n) wanted. "Besides, right now, (Y/n) also doesn't want to tell Regina, and I think it's important to make sure I don't just ignore her wants. I feel the same as her, too. I'm not ready for Regina to know."

Janis rolled her eyes as the teacher entered, disrupting their conversation. It was getting harder for her and Damian to divert the Plastics away from their usual make-out spots and to make up excuses. Janis and Damian were incredibly loyal, so they weren't just going to stop helping them, but at this point, the two of them needed to buck up and just talk to Regina.

After class, Cady met with (Y/n) for their shared free period, where they went to one of their usual spots. Janis knew where they were, and that's why she almost gave herself whiplash when she saw Regina headed in that direction. "Regina, you can't go that way. I think they're going construction or something." Janis blurted, knowing her excuse was horrible, but it was the only thing to come to mind at the time. And it was obvious that Regina didn't buy it.

"Oh, sure, Janis, they're doing construction on the hallway." Regina narrowed her eyes, wondering just how stupid Janis thought she was. She couldn't help but also feel annoyed at Janis's presence since she was trying to keep her from something. "I need something from my locker."

As Regina turned the corner, her eyes widened at Cady and (Y/n) tucked in a doorway, hidden from the view of most people. It wouldn't phase her if they weren't kissing each other to the point where both she and Janis were wondering if they could breathe. "What the fuck is going on here?" Regina crossed her arms. She hated when people didn't keep her in the loop almost as much as she hated seeing her younger sister kissing one of her friends. She felt slightly betrayed by both but was willing to hear out an explanation if it was good enough.

(Y/n) pulled away from Cady in shock before looking over to the strawberry blonde. "Regina, I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you like this…" She whispered out, looking at her shoes and rubbing her arm in disappointment. She never did well with hiding things from her sister. Cady noticed this as she placed a comforting hand on her arm. "Cady and I have been dating since the Spring Fling, we just didn't know how to tell you. Don't be mad at her, it was my decision to keep it a secret." (Y/n) explained, though the decision was mutual. She just didn't want Regina to be even more upset with Cady than she might be.

"I'm more upset that you two kept it a secret." Regina examined her sister. She always had a soft spot for (Y/n), and seeing her sister feel ashamed of herself made her feel a little bad. "I can forgive that you two kept it a secret as long as you two agree to not make out in spaces I might be in."

This was the closest to an approval that (Y/n) was going to get. Looking up with a smile, she hugged Regina happily. "Okay, deal," she said as her sister patted her back gently, narrowing her eyes at Cady briefly. The strawberry blonde looked sheepish before glancing away to avoid eye contact. Regina nodded at the fear she still instilled before releasing her sister. It was a bit weird to see them together, but it was nothing she couldn't get used to as she walked off to her locker.

"I told you two that you were going to get caught." Janis had her arms crossed with a small smirk. Saluting them gently, she turned back to return to the art studio that she was spending too much time away from.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: But I already have love in LA

A/n: 5,692 milli is the distance between calm nighttime Paris and sweltering Los Angeles, which almost makes Eilish howl like a wolf. A Paris promo in honor of the album mercilessly separates the two of you on an important date, but you find a way out.

Billie's point of view. 'Cause I like it.

"The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please call back later," is the peremptory verdict unchanged over these endless eight hours, echoing coldly from a woman's voice on the other side of the handset. Not the voice I want to hear so much, not the timbre that makes my heart flutter so incredibly, as if it were your most expensive wind-up toy. Not your voice, absolutely not. You don't get in touch for such an ungodly long time, and I just diligently shut up the feeling of anxiety devouring from within throughout the day: a dark woolly monster grins hungrily with its wide mouth, loudly clicking its massive, fanged jaw. Each click is a new, painstakingly detailed picture in my head, causing hot anxiety. What if you're really lying helplessly on the hot as hell asphalt of LA, caught under the spiked wheels that tried to slow down with a soul-shattering screech? I know how hurried you are. What if you turned into a disadvantaged area, taking a shortcut, and now your lifeless body is lying in the nearest ditch, turning paler and colder by the minute? What if you just stopped breathing in your sleep for no reason?...

I take a deep breath, and the chains behind the monster immediately tighten with the deafening clang of massive links: it leaps, wanting to grab at me with its clawed paws, to pull me into the viscous pools of panic, but it still can't reach me. With a menacing guttural growl, its fangs gleam faintly in the semi-darkness, covered in viscous saliva. It's actually easier to contain my anxiety when my head is full of thoughts about the shoot, about the phrases I have to elegantly slip into the interviewers, turning their question marks into confident dots. It's easier when you're surrounded by a horde of people: security, staff, family. But when I'm in the silence of an insanely expensive French hotel, drowning in the uncompromising gloss of the surroundings, still perfectly styled and dressed in expensive dark clothes, coming straight from the shoot, nervous and clutching my phone in my hands with hope - it all becomes so impossible.

I'm dialing twelve digits again, just a little more and I'll be able to dial your number blind. "The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please call back later." I lean back noisily on the cold silk of the sheets while that toothy, infinitely dark ball of anxiety laughs snidely. I check all the messengers, only to fling my phone away in a brief flash of anger somewhere upward, toward the ruched beige pillows: you still haven't been online in eleven hours, my messages unanswered. Fuck! It's becoming more and more like Jenga, where with each passing hour I take one wooden brick out of the structure and put it on top, making it even more rickety than before. Indeed, something has definitely happened, you couldn't just disappear from everyone's radar for no good reason, especially when today is our little celebration of a month-long relationship. There's five thousand six hundred and ninety-two miles between us, and the silence on the wire makes me want to howl. God, I'm going to go crazy...

Beep! It sounded like someone had thrown a grenade with the pin pulled right under the bed. I reacted immediately, but on the desplay is just a message from Fin in an endless string of unnecessary things. Well, better than nothing. Better than drowning in madness alone.

"Are you asleep?"

"No." How the fuck can I, bro?

"She still hasn't responded?"

"No."

The three dots bounce around again as my brother puts the right letters into words. Maybe I should call you again.

"Can you open the hotel room door right now?"

The restless gears in my head rumble to a grinding halt. Now? For what?

"For what?"

"Just open it, sis." - so unobtrusive and unexplanatory, followed by another gray block of letters: "You'll thank me later :)"

"Don't smile at me."

":)" - naturally, a smile. Damn Finn.

I dial you again and reluctantly get out of bed, shuffling my feet as if I were going to the lacquered scaffold under the shouts and whistles of the French Revolution crowd, but in fact only the thin tulle is swaying in the night wind, and the noise of rare cars, which enters the room so valiantly with the help of the open balcony. And here is the guillotine itself in the form of an oak door. I touch the gilded cold handle with the palm of my hand with pressure, and feel the massive blade whistling as it flies straight at my neck, severing my head. You're standing in front of me.

You look me in the eye and leisurely take the phone out of the pocket of your wide bard palazzo pants. Your accurate fingers finally touch the ill-fated green answer button before you bring the display to your ear. There's a slight, confused smirk on your lips, and on my end of the line there's finally the beeps and this mechanical female voice have finally died down. But it is still impossible to answer you, I can only stare at you in disbelief, as if you were a masterpiece that had escaped from the Louvre and had personally come to my doorstep.

"Bonsoir, Madame Eilish," your soft, purring timbre mightily shatters all anxiety, defeating the monster in my head. The only thing left were the massive chains of patience and self-control that held it back. You say what I've been longing to hear for these fucking eleven hours. You sound the way you've imprinted on my memory for the many hours we've spent together. - "A special gift exclusively for number one hundred and eleven."

I grab you into my hage, pulling you into the room in a flash. The door slams too loudly for midnight, but I don't care, you gasp, rustling a small package - I don't care, you babbling a hundred apologies for this frightening silence - I also don't care, girl. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care! I just leave a lot of barely visible lip gloss prints on your face, showering you with hot kisses, clinging to your lips with mutual hunger, making you almost choke, but I don't care! You don't pull away, just squeeze tighter, sliding down the wall a little. You're here right now, and the rest of it doesn't matter. And how can I take offense at you, when you have overcome five thousand six hundred and ninety-two miles...? At least not right now.

We calm down only when we reach the floor and settle down on the soft pile of the carpet. Your face now gleams beautifully in the warm light of the bedside lamp, your hair slightly ruffled either from my hands or the wind outside.

"I'm sorry." - You gulp in air with your mouth and repeat again, touching my cheek gently as if I were fragile Chinese porcelain.

"I almost lost my mind, Y/n." - I snuggle closer into your palm, finding the needed reassurance finally. - "But I'm so glad you're here now, my dumbass."

You chuckle lightly before rising to your feet in one merged motion, then gallantly offering your hand to me. My gaze first clings to the not-so-little bard stain spilling over the once flawless whiteness of your favorite shirt.

"What's this?"

"It's wine," you answer innocently as we walk to the back of the room, me holding your hand and intertwining our fingers, you holding the paper bag in front of you in your free left. - "I thought it unseemly to show up on a deep Parisian night and on our little holiday without a present. While we were choosing a variety with a nice elderly sommelier, he accidentally spilled some on me, for which he apologized for an extremely long time and stuffed a whole assortment of vegan sweets into the gift."

"Actually, it looks pretty good," I touch my hands to the damaged fabric where the wine petals had opened exactly opposite the heart. - "It looks like a flower, and it goes well with the pants."

"I told him the same thing, only in broken French!" - you laugh, sitting down on the bed. The package drops to the floor for nothing, revealing a dark bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a corkscrew, and a dark blue box of obviously not cheap candy. - "Got a cup of any kind?"

"Only if it's cup after some coffee," the porcelain taps lightly as I hand you the cup along with the saucer that was on the bedside table. Drinking coffee at night is a little professional whim.

The cork easily yields to you under the spiraled steel of the corkscrew, so the generous scarlet stream quickly fills the porcelain cup almost to the brim, cleverly masking the coffee ring, which has already managed to imprint on the white dishes. You carefully pass the cup back to me, giving me the honorable right of the first sip. You already have a chocolate candy hiding behind your cheek. Sweet tooth.

You ask me about the past day, listening with incorruptible interest, you ask about the progress of the promo, about my dreams, I listening about your flight, about our first meeting, about Paris at night. We just talk about everything that comes into our heads, while the candy slowly runs out and the scarlet column of alcohol reaches the glass bottom of the bottle, and the bottle becomes more transparent than before in the weak light.

"You look ravishing, did I mention?" - My throat burns a little with the slight spice mixed with the flavor of currants and cherries, and your careful and transfixed gaze, albeit slightly cloudy from the wine, pleasantly burns my heart. - "Although, you absolutely always have that."

And I see you blush and your lips bend into a pleasant smile. When you're drunk, you're so sweetly embarrassed every time, like the word compliments are received by you, not me. Insanely nice. Insanely beautiful.

"Merci beaucoup, L'amour de ma vie." - in sweet, purring French, because you are a total provocation today, presented so elegantly and unobtrusively that I can't think of anything else. The chiseled collarbones are not only hidden under the thin fabric of the branded shirt, but also topped with a weighty gold chain. I catch myself thinking that you remind me of exactly this wine in the porcelain of the cup, which I want to sip leisurely, enjoying it alone. To taste you on my tongue is much more desirable than that cedar-currant flavor in the cup.

The bottle is almost empty, and you will soon begin to look like this pink wine stain blooming on your shirt. You giggle, shifting your gaze in embarrassment to the rich black lacquered wood that elegantly fills the bedroom space.

"Wow, is that a piano?" - so childishly naive, just to avoid my gaze. Gently I place the cup in your palms and then touch your chin with my fingers, turning you straight toward me. - "it's beautiful."

Along with the alcohol and fever rushing through my arteries, an absurd idea popped into my head, and it was an original sin not to realize it. I lean closer, deliberately slowly, though the knot of heat has tightened quite a bit. I like getting you so hot, Y/n, you'd know.

"It's beautiful, but it's only missing your nakedness," a languid whisper in your ear and you're already burning like a match. It's gorgeous. - "Shall we fix it?"

And you nod so obediently that even an expensive room in the best hotel in France and the same expensive wine are nothing compared to this one gesture. This will be the first time for you, the first time for the two of us, and believe me, I'll do everything I can to make sure that it goes well. I won't disappoint you, because all I really want is to drown you in a sea of pleasure. Think of it as my little gift to honor our date, like this wine.

×××

You moan so sweetly, and the only thing I really want right now is to seal your voice in a bottle so that I can open it later at any opportunity when you're not around again. You rest both palms against the shiny black lacquer on the closed top of the grand piano, standing with your back to the most elegant instrument and your face to me. You're standing completely naked, just a pile of clothes under your feet, and I'm already face between your thighs, kneeling. You grip the fabric of my black cardigan with trembling fingers, and like a whimpering child, you pull it on yourself. And it's so exciting to fulfill your little whims, knowing that it's still going to be the way I want it. I throw the dark, soft cotton off of me - a "storm cloud" glistens and shimmers slightly in the light of one dim lamp before falling to the carpet with the rest of my clothes. I'm completely naked now, too. Your lustful eyes dance on the ink of my tattoos, as if not knowing where to stop.

"Do you like the view too much, my girl?" - a grin, and you look away a little in renewed embarrassment. I touch your beautiful thigh, stroking it. "Hey, I like it when you watch."

And you watch again, only now you're looking clearly into my eyes, looking into the depths of my abysses, which for you alone are ready to serve not as destruction but as an unbreakable refuge. Your gaze is so focused, as if you want to dive in headfirst into my seas.

"I just... I just like absolutely everything, and I really don't know where to stop."

"So look, you can even touch me, as much as you want and wherever you want. You're allowed, Y/n." - I rise from my knees to push the banquette back to the piano again and sit down. - "Just for you."

And you explore, touching my skin with a gentle that the most distinguished musicians of classical orchestras will envy. Your hands outline my hips, my waist. You cling to my ribs with your fingers, then you stroke my shoulders and arms. I see a spark of delight in your eyes when you feel how the muscles are easily felt under the alabaster of my skin, while you reach to the very tips of my fingers, interlacing one hand in a lock with yours. Your other hand touches my chest, alternately slightly squeezing each one, and frankly speaking, it becomes infinitely difficult to breathe evenly. The same your hand slides over the stomach, heading to the bottom with like a sharpened arrow. Oh, my Goodness...

"Does that feel good?" - you whisper, touching two fingers to my clit with light pressure, alternating with circular motions. It feels good. Crazy.

So much so that all the words suddenly disappear from my head and stick in my throat in broken syllables, unwilling to form into something intelligible. I had to make an effort not to just nod like a silly dummy, chiseling out a single: "good."

You smile, feeling a gradual confidence, as if you're finally stepping on solid ground after the weightlessness of space, having been successfully rehabilitated. And I finally realize I don't have to hold back anymore. I can pull you close to me, rewarding you with a dozen deep, hot kisses, I can marked you with a bright hickeys on your neck, I can pick you up under your hips and lay you top of the piano cover with your shoulder blades, under which steel strings are silently stretched. While you're trapped in a haze of excitement, I can trace a path with my tongue and lips from your breasts to the bottom of your belly, where everything is burning Vesuvius flame. I can, I can, I can...

"It's so romantic in Paris, isn't it? Won't even try to compare it, it's all love everywhere." - I make the first quick stroke of my tongue and then pull away, hovering over your face again. You barely keep the back of your head from banging against the wooden lid, arching your back in longing. Who says I forgot to get back at you for my nerves?

"I don't know, I guess, but I already have love in LA." - You exhale so hotly, but you endure stoically. You realize you deserve it, yes. - "And I don't need anyone else."

My own heart begs for mercy on your account with a solid thump against my sternum, and I'm back down in a flash, repeating the strokes again, playing with your folds to the accompaniment of your moans. You're delicious.

And when you thrust yourself on my fingers so obediently, waiting for the denouement, which burns you to the point of shaking, and then you spur me with my back to the lid, hovering over me with intermittent heavy breathing, but with such selfless love in your eyes; when you enter me with two fingers sharply, but so necessary and precise, easily beating out moan after moan from my lungs and ligaments, that I really realize how suitable an instrument like a piano is for you.

I realize that I also definitely already have love in LA, in the form of you.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Can You Attract Your Lover: Queer Edition

Hello beautiful people! Today marks the last Friday that I will be posting for a while. However, I’ll still be here for the remainder of the weekend. If you would like to purchase a reading, please message me privately. Today’s reading is the last post regarding Pride Month. Thank you all for supporting me financially and content-wise. It is much appreciated. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You’re not boring at all, Pile One. You are just very particular with the way that you want things. You may feel like your love life is an “abomination” right now but it’s not. You are fixed in your conviction of what love looks like for you. However, you need to open your eyes. Love will not find its way to you if you keep trying to manipulate the situation. Keep an open mind of what’s out there. Be open to flings and short-term romances. In my mind’s eye, I am seeing a butterfly open its wings, getting ready to fly. I heard the “Empire State Building”. If you have been thinking of taking a weekend trip to New York or New Orleans, then you should do so. You will meet someone there. This person has a Coca-Cola smile and piercing eyes waiting for you to arrive.

Who: This person is tall, not average tall either. They’re abnormally tall. They’re into anime/cartoons. They have distinctive features as well. They are fluent in French. This person could be into watching cooking shows/MTV. They are sensual and suave. They are intuitive, very in touch with themselves. They could wear a dangly earring. They could definitely live in New York or have an obsession with “The Big Apple”. They could have ties to the military. They are quick-moving. They like to flirt with others. They love to smoke, and they have an oral fixation.

Cards Used: The Tower, Five of Swords, Page of Wands, Judgment, The Star, Eight of Wands, Nine of Wands, Queen of Cups, Queen of Wands.

Pile Two: You need to stop being so uptight! Let loose and groove a little bit, Pile Two. You need to go out dancing with your friends. You will enjoy it there. You will meet someone there who catches your attention. They will be watching you from afar. I am seeing the Barbie movie dance scene, where everyone is having a good time until Barbie starts having an existential crisis. Your boredom is preventing you from seeing how good you really have it. You have the gift of gab so use it! It is also easy for you to manifest through the utilization of your physical body, if you know what I mean. So, if you wanna manifest using the ‘o’ method, DO IT!!! Start doing things that you would typically shy away from. Aim to step away from the crowd.

Who: This person is a little younger than you. They could be on the petite side. They have a cockiness to them that can’t be turned off. They could own a motorcycle. They have impulse issues/have ADHD/ADD. They like to do things quick and fast. They move and talk like they have somewhere to be. They could have long fingernails (stilettos, if acrylic). They could have some sort of connection to Cardi B/Left Eye. They have a dream where they’re the head of the spaceship; they want to pioneer a project. They are extra-terrestrial simply put.

Cards Used: Strength, Eight of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, The Empress, Eight of Wands, Page of Swords, Six of Wands.

Pile Three: It feels as though you are healing from a past heartbreak. Give yourself time to move past that situation, Pile Three. Sit in the discomfort. Trying to avoid it will not make the time pass by quicker. You need to lick your wounds. If anyone tries to artificially speed up your process of healing, do not hesitate to cut them off. You need to take this time of seclusion to sit with yourself and ask: “How can things be different the next time around”? Forgive yourself for allowing the mistreatment. You have a long road to go down on this journey of self-forgiveness babe. Hug yourself but also hold yourself accountable. You need to do some serious shadow work, Pile Three.

Who: They have a lot of tattoos. Their eyes are warm and dreamy. They have luscious hair. They could like the movie ‘Mean Girls’. They take a lot of pride in being your partner. They stand on business. They have a good relationship with their father. Dignity, pride, sensibility are words that come up to align them with. They have good manners. They could be kind of cold, at first but don’t judge a book by its cover. This person is drop dead gorgeous, no matter what their gender is. They have a tender heart. They like to move with a purpose. They are calculated, and value their time and money. This person is marriage material.

Cards Used: Seven of Swords, The Chariot, The High Priestess, The Devil, The Emperor, Ten of Swords, King of Cups, Knight of Swords, Knight of Cups, Two of Cups, King of Pentacles, King of Swords.

Pile Four: I can tell that you just need a break, Pile Four. You need to go and move on from whatever has been affecting you negatively (emphasis on the has been). Let bygones be bygones. Air out your grievances. You will feel much lighter. Send that text message you’ve been meaning to send. Reconcile with that person you’ve been pondering on letting back in. There’s dead weight on you. Let it go. You would benefit a lot from twerking/whining/moving your hips. Let it all out. Even if you do something you regret, so what? We’re all human. Just live your life, babe.

Who: This is someone you have a spiritual connection with. It could be karmic. This person is not naive. They know a lot about religion or spirituality. They are big on tradition. They want marriage; a traditional wedding to be exact. They could be going through a time of abstinence right now. They have a masculine flair to them. This person could have multiple ear piercings and/or an eyebrow piercing. They are intimidating, but they are fun to be around once you get to know them. This person is well-respected and adored by many. They are psychic, and proud of it. And, they take their job seriously.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun, The Empress, Knight of Wands, Page of Pentacles, The High Priestess, King of Wands, The Hierophant.

[emjayewrites]

all mine (in between the lines epilogue) • jules kounde

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: This story is finito! Thanks again for all of the love/support for my football baes series! Gif by @doinggreat

one month later.....

Senait watched the French countryside blur past their van window, still jet-lagged from her NYC trip. The visit home had been productive – boxing up most of her Bushwick apartment, moving things to her parents' house. The decision to leave New York hadn't been as hard as she'd expected. Barcelona had become her new home, complete with friends, a thriving business, and Jules.

The meeting at the Spanish embassy had been encouraging. The visa process would be complex but doable – she'd need to prove financial stability (her business was helping there), show ties to the community, and complete the necessary paperwork. Spring 2025 felt like a reasonable timeline, especially with her subletter already lined up through April.

"I still can't believe you're really moving to Spain," Zuri said, squeezing her hand. The three girls had claimed the back row of the luxury van, leaving their men to occupy the middle seats.

"Neither can I," Senait admitted. "But it feels right."

"Speaking of right," Lila wiggled her eyebrows, "let's talk about how Jules calls you chérie."

"Oh my God, stop—"

"No, no," Zuri jumped in, grinning. "We need to discuss this. The way you melt every time he speaks French."

"Like you're any better with Aurélien," Senait shot back. "Miss 'oh daddy' in two languages."

"At least the French make it extra sexy," Zuri defended.

"Excuse me," Lila protested, "try teaching an Englishman to sound sexy. Though trust me, Daddy works just fine."

"Unless you want to get fucked in this van, Li," Jude turned around, smirking, "I think you should cut it out."

Lila's face flushed as red as possible, while the others erupted in laughter.

"Look who's quiet now," Senait teased.

"Leave her alone," Zuri said, though she was still laughing. "Not her fault Jude's got her trained."

"Big Daddy Bellingham," joked Senait in a low voice that was somehow still heard by the guys.

"And you better not forget it," Jude chimed in with a wink and it made the whole van erupt into another fit of guffaws.

"I hate all of you," Lila muttered, but she was smiling.

The lodge appeared through the snow – a massive wooden structure with huge windows and multiple balconies.

"Proper winter wonderland," Jules commented as they unloaded their bags.

Even knowing Jude and Lila could only stay until Christmas Eve – family obligations in Bergen calling – the mood was festive. The couples claimed their rooms, unpacked, then reconvened in the main living area where a fire already blazed.

"To friends," Aurélien raised his glass of wine. "And to being together."

"To being together," they echoed.

______________________________________________

Senait stood on the lodge‘s porch, wrapped in one of Jules' sweaters (stolen, of course), watching snowflakes dust the fairy-light draped chalets of Megève as she thought about last therapy session before the trip, which had been particularly enlightening.

"You're not running anymore," Dr. Obazi had observed. "You're moving forward. There's a difference."

The difference was currently in the kitchen with Jude, both of them playfully judging Lila's hot chocolate methodology. Jules caught Senait's eye through the window, throwing her a wink that still made her stomach flip, even after all these months.

"Senait," Zuri's voice broke through her thoughts, appearing beside her with two steaming mugs. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That soft smile you get when you look at Jules." Zuri handed her a mug. "You know, the one you swore you'd never have?"

Senait accepted the cocoa, breathing in the sweet aroma. "Therapy's helping," she admitted. "Making me see things differently."

"Like?"

"Like maybe being scared of something good is worse than risking getting hurt." She took a sip, the warmth spreading through her chest. "And maybe Jules is worth the risk."

Zuri's smile was knowing. "Finally figured that out, huh?"

Inside, laughter erupted from the kitchen. Jude had lifted Lila away from the stove, declaring her marshmallow-to-cocoa ratio "criminally sweet." Jules was recording the whole thing, Lila protesting in between giggles, and Aurélien continuing to instigate the entire ordeal.

"They're good people," Senait said softly. "Your friends."

"Our friends now," Zuri corrected. "That's what happens when you stop fighting the good things, Sen."

Later, on the slopes, Senait felt that truth in her bones. She and Jules moved in sync on their snowboards, their bodies finding that natural rhythm they'd always had. But now it felt different – less like running away from intimacy and more like running toward it.

"Show off," she called as Jules executed a perfect jump.

His grin was wicked. "Want me to teach you?"

"Want me to end up in the emergency room?"

"I'd catch you."

The simple certainty in his voice made her heart stutter. Because he would – had been catching her, in fact, since that first night at Zuri's engagement party. She'd just been too scared to let herself fall.

_______________________________________________

The next evening, after saying their goodbyes to Jude and Lila, Senait curled up by the lodge's fireplace and watched her friends. Zuri and Aurélien shared a blanket and whispered jokes as they played a card game. Jules sat beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth but not so close as to pressure. Always giving her space to choose.

"I have another therapy session scheduled for when we get back," she said quietly.

"Good." His hand found hers under the blanket they shared. "Proud of you."

"Jules?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think I'm ready. To make this official."

He turned to look at her fully, his expression serious. "You sure?"

Senait thought about Dr. Obazi's words about moving forward versus running. About how Jules had become home without her even noticing. About how being scared of happiness was worse than being scared of pain.

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand. "I'm sure."

His smile was slow, beautiful. "About time, chérie."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

So she did, kissing him right there in front of their friends. Zuri's whoop of celebration made her laugh against Jules' lips.

"Finally!" Aurélien called out, abandoning their card game. "Does this mean we can stop pretending like we don't know you practically live together?"

Senait felt her cheeks heat, but Jules just pulled her closer. "Means whatever she wants it to mean," he said simply.

And that was it, really. The beauty of them – how Jules let her set the pace while making sure she knew he wasn't going anywhere. How he'd waited while she worked through her fears in therapy, supported her growing business, given her space to choose him properly.

The Alpine night wrapped around them like a blanket, fairy lights twinkling against fresh snow. Senait curled into Jules' side, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, and was finally at peace with everything in her life.

This was what choosing happiness felt like. What moving forward felt like.

THE END......

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING MY FOOTBALL BAES SERIES AND HERE'S A LITTLE SOMETHING FOR SENAIT & JULES......

June 2030

Senait couldn’t help but marvel at how far life had taken her, from bustling streets of New York to the enchanting city of Barcelona. When she left New York officially in 2025 to be with Jules, she had no idea how seamlessly her life would transform alongside his. Those first three beautiful years together were filled with long, sun-kissed vacations to bucket list destinations, late-night drives along the Mediterranean coast, and spontaneous adventures as a couple. Jules had showered her with love in every corner of the world, and she’d fallen for him over and over again. Then, one balmy summer evening, he’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, making the life they’d built together official.

In those years, Senait’s career blossomed into something she was truly proud of. Her lifestyle brand had taken off, focusing on manifestation journals, productivity planners, and sleek, minimalistic calendars designed to keep life inspiring and organized. It wasn’t a multimillion-dollar empire—at least, not yet—but her profits had been steadily growing, and her work was loved by an ever-expanding community of motivated women. Venturing further into her passion for design, she had opened a small floral shop in Barcelona. Designing arrangements brought her a unique kind of peace, a creative outlet that felt like love in bloom.

Jules had been thriving, too. His football career soared to new heights: winning two Champions League with FC Barcelona and even lifting both a Euros win and World Cup with the French national team. The two of them had created a life bursting with love and dreams realized, and now they were eagerly awaiting the newest chapter—becoming parents.

Today, though, they were in Tuscany, celebrating Jude and Lila's wedding. But first, they had a mission in Florence.

"Chérie, we've been to six different shops," Jules said patiently, watching his pregnant wife peer into yet another chocolate boutique window.

"It has to be the right one," Senait insisted. "The one with the gold wrapper and the hazelnut filling. Remember? We found it that time we came for your Champions League match."

Jules wrapped an arm around her expanding waist. "That was two years ago, love."

"But it was perfect." Her voice wavered dangerously. "And the baby wants it."

"The baby, huh?"

"Don't tease me when I'm emotional."

Three more shops yielded nothing but frustration. By the time they reached the wedding venue, Senait was fighting back tears.

"Hey, Jules and Senait are here," she heard Aurélien call out.

Zuri appeared immediately, taking in Senait's flushed face and teary eyes. "What happened?"

Senait sniffled, one hand resting on her five-month bump. "I wanted a chocolate bar from that shop we loved in Florence, but they're out. And it's not available anywhere else in Italy!"

"Oh honey," Zuri pulled her into a hug, careful of her bump. "Pregnancy cravings are the worst."

"It's not just cravings," Senait hiccupped. "I wanted to share it with the baby. Tell them about our first trip to Florence, how their papa scored the winning goal that night."

Zuri bit back a laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Aurélien. Pregnancy hormones were no joke. "Hey, they've got some amazing snacks in Lila's room," she said, wrapping her arm around Senait. "Go on, I promise it'll make you feel better."

Senait nodded, allowing herself to be comforted, and made her way to Lila's room, leaving Jules and Aurélien to talk. The men shared a chuckle, with Jules shaking his head in disbelief. "Pregnancy, man. Never a dull moment."

As Senait walked down the hallways, she couldn't help but remember her own wedding. Now here she was, five months pregnant, crying over chocolate.

"There's my favorite pregnant lady!" Lila appeared in a silk robe, her hair in rollers.

Senait laughed. "You're beautiful!"

"So are you. Even with those tears. What happened?"

"I don't want to go there," Senait sighed dramatically, but she was smiling now. The baby fluttered – their newest trick. She placed a hand on her bump, still amazed by how natural this felt. How right.

"Come here, you emotional mess," Lila pulled Senait onto the sofa, where an impressive spread of snacks covered the coffee table. "I had them bring up everything – sweet, salty, spicy."

"You're an angel," Senait grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry. Not the same as her Florence chocolate, but it would do. "This baby needed some chocolate."

"Speaking of babies," Lila said as she was helped into her gown, "have you two started thinking about names yet?"

Senait smiled, remembering Jules' late-night conversations with her bump. "Jules likes Feven for a girl. It means 'bright' in Tigrinya."

"And for a boy?"

"Théo. After his grandfather."

Lila nodded approvingly while the bridal stylist buttoned the back of the dress. "That's great. Some men have awful taste in names."

Just then, Zuri made her way into the room and smiled brightly at both of her friends. The baby moved again, more pronounced this time. Senait had noticed they were most active during these moments of laughter and joy, as if already wanting to be part of the fun.

"Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life," she admitted softly from the couch. "Barcelona, Jules, the baby... if you'd told me six years ago this is where I'd end up..."

"You'd have run screaming in the opposite direction?" Lila supplied.

"Probably."

"And now look at you," Zuri squeezed her hand. "Living your dream life with your dream man, growing your dream baby."

The tears threatened again. "Stop, I just fixed my makeup."

"Blame the hormones," Lila suggested cheerfully.

A knock at the door interrupted their laughter. Jules poked his head in, his expression softening when he saw Senait surrounded by snacks and friends.

"Better?" he asked.

Senait nodded, holding out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Guess what?" he murmured against her hair. "Aurélien made some calls. That chocolate shop? They're sending a box directly to Barcelona. Should be there when we get home."

Fresh tears spilled. "I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon coeur." His hand found her bump. "Both of you."

"And on that disgustingly sweet note," Lila announced, "I need to finish getting ready. I have a wedding to star in."

The bridal stylist jumped in at that moment and helped Lila with her veil.

When she was done, Senait watched as Zuri placed a gentle hand on Lila's shoulder. "You look so perfect," she whispered.

Lila smiled, her eyes glistening. "Thanks, Zu. I just can't believe this is finally happening."

Zuri smiled, her hand resting protectively over her own bump. "Believe it, girl. This is your moment."

_______________________________________________

The reception was nothing short of magical: fairy lights draped over ancient olive trees, long tables adorned with white roses and silk drapery, and soft music that danced on the breeze. Senait felt warm and content, holding little Eti, who had been passed to her while Zuri and Aurélien took on their wedding party duties.

Later, Senait swayed gently with Jules as they danced under the canopy of stars, surrounded by laughter and clinking glasses. The DJ shifted the song, and suddenly Hey There Delilah started playing. Jules grinned, his eyes bright with mischief, and the two of them began singing along jokingly with the rest of the guests, trying to outdo each other with exaggerated gestures.

After dancing until her feet hurt, Senait noticed a young man she recognized as Jude’s brother, Jobe, standing off to the side, deep in conversation with a stunning young woman somewhat familiar. She nudged Zuri, who had just returned from mingling. "Who’s that?" she asked, nodding toward the pair.

Zuri followed her gaze and let out a little laugh. "That’s Justine, you remember, Jobe’s ex from Birmingham. Lila invited her, of course."

"That's her?" Senait said, eyes alight with curiosity. "Spill the tea."

Zuri smirked. "Well, you know they broke up a few years ago, and Justine moved to the States to go to grad school and teach for a while?" Senait nodded her head vehemently and her friend continued. "So now she’s back in the UK, and Lila is playing matchmaker, hoping they rekindle things."

Senait's smile grew. "I kind of like that idea."

Before she could comment further, Jules came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist, his lips brushing against her ear. He whispered something filthy, making her cheeks flush furiously. Senait swatted his arm, laughing. "You have to wait. We’re not doing that here."

Jules sucked his teeth in mock disappointment, then turned to Zuri with a grin. "Sorry, I’m stealing my wife now."

Zuri rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "Go on, then. Just don’t keep her too long."

Jules didn’t hesitate, pulling Senait away from the lively crowd to a quieter corner of the reception. He pressed her gently against the wall, cupping her face and kissing her deeply, passion igniting between them once again. When they finally broke apart, Senait laughed, breathless.

"Ugh, I hate you," she said jokingly, her voice husky.

Jules brushed a lock of hair from her face, his gaze softening. "I love you too," he replied simply, and then he kissed her again, both of them lost in the moment, savoring every heartbeat and memory shared between them.

____________________________________________

four months later…

The Barcelona hospital room was filled with anticipation and the soft beeping of monitors. After twelve hours of labor, Senait was finally ready to push. Jules hadn't left her side once, letting her squeeze his hand through each contraction, whispering encouragement in French and English.

"You're doing amazing, chérie," he murmured, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Her mother, Askalu, stood on her other side, while her father, John, paced the waiting room. Sophie, Jules' mother, had been in and out, her limited English made up for by her expressive face and comforting presence.

When Feven Sidonie Koundé finally entered the world at 3:47 AM, her powerful cry filled the room. Jules' eyes welled up as the doctors placed their daughter on Senait's chest.

"Elle est parfaite," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Perfect like her mama."

The next few hours passed in a blur of skin-to-skin contact, first measurements, and proud grandparents meeting their granddaughter. Askalu and John couldn't stop crying as they held Feven, marveling at her tiny features.

"She looks just like you did," Askalu told Senait, gently touching Feven's full head of curly hair.

Sophie was equally emotional, her broken English mixed with rapid French as she cooed over her granddaughter. "Ma belle petite-fille," she kept saying, tears streaming down her face.

The nurse brought in Senait's first 'push present' – a large tray of sushi she'd been craving throughout her pregnancy. Her mother shook her head as Senait did an excited wiggle in the hospital bed.

"You have more presents at home," Jules said, amused by her reaction to raw fish.

"Nothing better than this," Senait declared, already reaching for a piece of salmon nigiri.

Her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Zuri. On screen, her friend appeared with baby Zulaika in her arms, two-month-old and perfect, while little Eti peeked into frame.

"She's here!" Zuri squealed. "Show me my niece!"

Jules carefully tilted the phone so Zuri could see Feven, now sleeping peacefully in her bassinet.

"Oh my god, she's gorgeous," Zuri gushed. "Our girls are going to be best friends."

"Unless it's El Clásico time," Aurélien's voice came from off-screen. "Then they're enemies."

Jules chuckled, but the sound was cut short by Feven's hungry cry. "Speaking of enemies, time for another feeding."

"Go be a mommy and daddy," Zuri smiled. "Love you all!"

Jules carefully lifted Feven, still amazed by how tiny she was, and brought her to Senait. He helped position the baby, remembering all the steps from their parenting classes.

"Support her head like that," Senait murmured. "There we go."

Watching his wife feed their daughter, Jules felt his heart might burst. He couldn't stop staring at them – his whole world in one hospital bed.

"Can we have another?" he asked suddenly, eyes locked on Senait's.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. "Give me six months and I'll think about it."

His grin widened as he leaned in to kiss her. "Je t'aime, chérie."

"I love you too," she whispered back. "All of this. Even if your daughter already has your appetite."

Jules laughed softly, careful not to disturb Feven's feeding. Their families would be staying to help – Sophie for two whole months – but right now, in this moment, it was just them. Their little family of three.

Complete. Perfect. Everything they never knew they needed until they found each other.