#happy birthday to my little sister when this posts!!!

[starswirly]

Bad Sansuary Day 16: Fragile

Yeah bones sure are

Killer -> rahafwabas

[steviescrystals]

there is no feeling worse in the world than missing your grandma :/

[harrysfolklore]

the universe needs leclerc!sister x harry. by the universe i mean me

kiss a musician - hs

summary: harry wants to date yn leclerc. the only girl out of the four leclerc siblings. her older brother who happens to be a formula 1 driver is not happy about it folkie radio: guys you have no idea how nervous i am of posting this idk why 😭��� i really hope you like this otherwise i'll feel silly okay

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 502,255 others

ynleclerc hot girls cry on their birthday 💌

view all 9,736 comments

username1 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE LECLERC

username2 she’s the moment

scuderiaferarri Happy Birthday, Ferrari queen ❤️♥︎ by author

username3 AHH WE SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY

pierregasly Wow! I still remember when you were a little kid and you wanted to play with Charles’ kart. Happy birthday 🎉 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram when you and charles rocked justin bieber haircuts. cheers

↳ username1 HEEELP

carmenmmundt Happy birthday gorgeous gorgeous girl ✨ ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram love youuu ty 💓

pascale_leclerc Joyeux anniversaire ma petite fille ♥︎ by author

lorenzotl Stop growing up right now 🥲🥲 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 the leclercs are cry babies when it comes to her

arthur_leclerc It’s giving old lady

↳ ynleclerc stfu you’re like 5

↳ username2 LOVE THEMMM

alexandrasaintmleux My girl ❣️ ♥︎ by author

landonorris HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE 😍 getting more gorgeous by the second ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDO YOU’RE ON MAIN

↳ charles_leclerc How many times do I have to tell you to back off?

↳ username2 CHILL

lilyhme happy birthdayyy beauty, can’t wait to celebrate tonight 🕺♥︎ by author

↳ alexandrasaintmleux She has no idea of the surprise that’s coming her way

↳ ynleclerc JUST TELL ME ALREADY

charles_leclerc Happy birthday petite soeur, you might be older now but you’ll always be our baby ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 AWEEE

↳ username2 protective big bro

liked by harrystyles, ynleclerc and 2,011,268

charles_leclerc I’ll always look after you. Joyeux anniversaire ma petite soeur ❤️

tagged: ynleclerc

view all 13,944 comments

username1 AWEEE

username2 MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 ♥︎ by author

carlossainz55 Happy birthday @ynleclerc 🎉

username3 charles adores her so much i can’t do this

landonorris happy birthday (again) i hope you got my flowers @ynleclerc 😘

↳ charles_leclerc That’s it.

↳ ynleclerc HE DIDNT SEND ME ANYTHING HES JUST MESSING WITH YOU FFS 😭

↳ username1 HELP MEEEEEEEEEE

username4 what is HARRY STYLES doing in the likes

↳ username1 charles x harry lore is real

ynleclerc Love you forever 💓 ♥︎ by author

lorenzotl Before both of you became annoying teenagers

↳ ynleclerc stfu you’re like 50

liked by username1, username2 and 27,936 others

harryupdates Harry performing at a private event in Monaco tonight !

view all 1,976 comments

username1 WTF?????

username2 WHATS GOING ONNNNN

username3 GOD I MISSED HIM SO MUCH

username4 someone dig in more information bc wtffff

username5 MONACO OUT OF ALL PLACES THATS SO RANDOM

username6 YALL I HAVE INFO!! apparently this is charles leclerc’s (formula 1 ferrari driver) sister’s bday party

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username2 THIS CROSSOVER

↳ username3 imagine having a rich brother who can get harry styles to perform at your birthday party

liked by harrystyles, landonorris and 654,835 others

ynleclerc BEST PARTY EVER 😭😭 thank you to my angels @/charles_leclerc @/alexandrasaintmleux for putting this together for me, HARRY STYLES ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME ???? love you all so much 💓💓

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, landonorris, harrystyles

view all 15,937 comments

username1 OMFGGGG

username2 OH TO BE YN LECLERC

oscarpiastri Coolest party ever 🤘♥︎ by author

username3 imagine being rich and pretty and having a rich and pretty brother who hires harry styles to perform at your party

arthur_leclerc Your gift from me was a Chanel purse, where is my post?

↳ ynleclerc sorry turtur but harry styles > chanel purse

↳ arthur_leclerc Fine I agree, Harry Styles is out of this world

username4 IT GIRL FR FR

francisca.cgomes I’m still hungover ♥︎ by author, iamrebeccad, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe

↳ iamrebeccad Same

↳ ynleclerc come to my place let’s bed rot together ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ username1 i just want to be one of them 😩

username5 charles really got HARRY STYLES like antisocial harry styles who never leaves the house to perform at his little sister’s wedding. wow

username6 THIS IS FOR THE F1 x HARRY GIRLIES

alexandrasaintmleux You deserve it my gorgeous girl ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc you’re my favorite human on earth

↳ charles_leclerc I paid for the entire thing…

↳ ynleclerc did i ask?

↳ username1 LOVE THEM 😭

harrystyles Happy birthday again, YN. It was a pleasure to meet you and your brothers. Big love to the entire family x ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc

↳ username1 HARRYYYYY

↳ username2 we NEED to see that harry x charles pic

↳ charles_leclerc Thank you for the performance, mate 🙌

↳ username3 this is still surreal to me

↳ ynleclerc best birthday thanks to youuuu ❣️

↳ username1 charles or harry?

↳ yourinstagram harry ofc

lorenzotl Love you so much, little one 💓 ♥︎ by author

landonorris When your babe posts you on main 😍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDOOOO😭

↳ username2 i love their friendship and how they mess around to piss charles off

↳ ynleclerc my main bitch 😘

↳ charles_leclerc I’m logging out now

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by charles_leclerc, harrystyles and 597,367 others

ynleclerc anything interesting happening in monza this weekend?

view all 13,199 comments

username1 COOL GIRL

username2 if charles doesn’t win then we don’t care ♥︎ by author

arthur_leclerc Is that my hoodie?

↳ ynleclerc whoops

iamrebeccad You’re hanging out with me 🥰 ♥︎ by author

↳ carmenmmundt And me ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc highlight of my weekend

username3 FORZA FERRARI

↳ ynleclerc forza charles*

↳ username1 REAL

landonorris Papaya looks better on you babe 🤩

↳ username1 sometimes idk if lando is just joking or if he’s being fr

↳ ynleclerc NO

↳ charles_leclerc I’m in your walls

username4 HARRY IN THE LIKES ???

charles_leclerc Ma petite soeur always supportive ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc im here for other reasons

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 599,637 others

ynleclerc HE WON 🥺🥺 i’ve never felt prouder of being your sister, you teach me what being resilient and fighting for your dreams means. IL PREDESTINATO. THE KING OF MONZA. FIER DE TOIN TOUJOURS

view all 13,986 comments

username1 AWEEEEE

username2 THE LECLERCS MAKING ME CRY TODAY

scuderiaferrari It's in his blood ❤️

username3 the way she was crying and hugging arthur when the camera showed them THE LECLERC SIBLINGS HAVE MY HEART ♥︎ by author

alexandrasaintmleux 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ♥︎ by author

username4 BEST RACE EVER

landonorris I'll win more races for you babe 😘 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDO STOP

↳ ynleclerc you're all talk and no trousers

↳ username2 i love their friendship sm

harrystyles Congratulations @/charles_leclerc! ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc

↳ username2 hARRY STYLES???

↳ username3 THIS IS SO RANDOM WTF

↳ username4 LSJSAFH WHAT??

↳ username5 I guess he became with the leclercs after the party 😭

↳ charles_leclerc Wow thank you mate! ♥︎ by harrystyles

charles_leclerc Je t'aime petite soeur ❤️ ♥︎ by ynleclerc

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 18,037 others

harryupdates Harry having in dinner in Italy tonight !

view all 1,028 comments

username1 BABYYYY

username2 italyrry lives

username3 IS HE ON A DATE

username4 BUUUB

username5 i was there and he was with a girl 👀

↳ username1 hello spill the deets ??

↳ username2 HUH

↳ username5 the girl was really pretty and they were chatting and laughing all night long, they looked cute

↳ username3 IM PANICKING NOW

ynleclerc has added to their close friends story

replies:

carmenmmundt Omg you went on a date !! So happy for you beauty ✨

↳ ynleclerc love youuu carm

francisca.cgomes THATS MY BABYYY who’s the lucky guy?

↳ ynleclerc can’t say yet 🤫🤫

alex_albon Charles won’t like this..

↳ ynleclerc he doesn’t have to know

landonorris NOOOO YOU’RE MY BABE

landonorris WHO’S THAT????

↳ ynleclerc that’s a secret i’ll never tell

harrystyles ❤️

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 25,477 others

harryupdates Harry out and about in Monaco today !

view all 1,987 comments

username1 BABYYY

username2 HE LOOKS SO RICH???

username3 ooohhh is monaco the new italy ??

username4 THE OUTFIT IM SALIVATING

username5 dilf dilf

username6 singlerry is the best thing ever

deuxmoi has added to their stories

liked by harrystyles, alexandrasaintmleux and 601,275 others

ynleclerc happy ❤️

view all 14,837 comments

username1 OMG BABY LECLERC HAS A BOYFRIEND ??

username2 PRETTYYY

francisca.cgomes 😍😍 my baby! ♥︎ by author

username3 BRO CHARLES IS NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS

username4 WAITING FOR CHARLES’ MELTDOWN

lorenzotl Wow I didn’t know about this, I’m happy for your, soeur 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 the only sane leclerc ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

landonorris BABE?? ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 OMFG THE FLOWERS COULD BE FROM LANDO

↳ username2 LANDOYN IS REAL

leclerc_pascale ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹🥹 ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

↳ username3 HELP CHARLES IS SO ANNOYING

arthur_leclerc EXCUSE ME WHEN WAS THIS

↳ ynleclerc just flowers turtur

username5 CHARLES WAS FOUND SOBBING

username6 HARRY IN THE LIKES

charles_leclerc YN Pascale Leclerc, answer your phone right this second

↳ username1 NOT THE FULL GOVERNMENT NAME

↳ username2 PROTECTIVE BRO

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by harrystyles, landonorris and 604,827 others

ynleclerc but god i love the english ‼️‼️

view all 15,002 comments

username1 OMG

username2 AHH I FEEL LIKE SHES DATING LANDO

carmenmmundt 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

username3 HOW DID CHARLES ALLOW THIS

leclerc_pascale Belle 💕♥︎ by author

username4 HOLD ON. THATS HARRY STYLES IN THE SECOND PIC??

↳ username1 YOU’RE RIGHT THOSE ARE HIS TATTOOS

↳ username2 OH LORD

arthur_leclerc JUST SPILL

↳ username1 yn not telling her brothers anything is so 😭

username4 someone put charles on a straightjacket

username5 so yn is dating either lando norris or harry styles ?? what an icon

landonorris YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MY BABE IDC 😤

↳ username1 SO ITS NOT LANDO

↳ ynleclerc dude give it up

gemmastyles 💓♥︎ by author

↳ username1 OH

↳ username2 STYLES-LECLERC CONFIRMED

username6 CHARLES IS RADIO SILENT THIS IS SCARY

alexandrasaintmleux Prettiest girl forever 🥰 i’m happy for you ♥︎ by author

↳ username3 charles is single now

lorenzotl Petite soeur! Your happiness is mine 🙌 ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc 🥹

↳ username1 lorenzo is such a supportive big brother :(

charles_leclerc You’re not allowed to leave the house once you’re back in Monaco

↳ username1 HEEELP

↳ username2 HES SO DAMN ANNOYING

↳ username3 POOR YN

liked by username1, username2 and 21,937 others

harryupdates Harry out in London today!

view all 2,011 comments

username1 BUBBBB

username2 WHOS THAT

username3 guys guys yn leclerc had that same outfit on her last insta story

username4 THATS YN LECLERC 😭

username5 HARRYYN STYLECLERC CONFIRMED

username6 bro how did this happen…

username7 that’s why he performed at her birthday and he kept going to monaco OMG

��──────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynleclerc has added to their close friends story

replies:

francisca.cgomes 😂😂😂😂😂

alexandrasaintmleux He has his phone with him now

↳ ynleclerc i’ve muted the groupchat for my own sanity

alex_albon You’re going to give your brother a heart attack…

↳ ynleclerc that’s not on me he’s just dramatic

landonorris HARRY STYLES ????? HOW?????

↳ ynleclerc you don’t think i’m capable of pulling him?

↳ landonorris yes you are 😩

↳ landonorris you’ll always be my babe tho

harrystyles Don’t joke about that love I’ve been panicking all day

harrystyles has added to their close friends story

replies:

mitchrowland And one of them can run you over with a Ferrari, by the way

↳ harrystyles This is not helping my case

jefezoff 😂😂😂😂😂

gemmastyles You’ll survive brother (hopefully)

niallhoran YOOO you and Leclerc’s sister? How did that happen

↳ harrystyles I’ll tell you about it if i make it out alive after family dinner

ynleclerc you’re a cutie

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by harrystyles, alexandrasaintmleux and 602,838 others

ynleclerc 💋

view all 14,088 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 SHES INSANE

username3 GIRLLL ADDRESS THE RUMORS

gerogerussell63 🤣🤣🤣

alex_albon You're really going to give your brother a heart attack...

↳ ynleclerc he'll survive

↳ username1 THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

username4 THE HARRY LIKE PLEASE HES NOT SURVIVING THAT FIRST DINNER

username5 the vintage racing jacket and the shirt SHE KNOWS WHAT SHES DOING

arthur_leclerc DISGUSTING

↳ username1 HEEEELPPP

liked by username1, username2 and 48,047

gossiphub The Leclerc family was seen out to dinner in Monaco tonight, joined by Harry Styles, who's dating YN Leclerc

view all 3,099 comments

username1 OOOHHH MY GOD

username2 IT HAPPENED

username3 i can only imagine the talk charles gave to harry

username4 DID HARRY MAKE IT OUT ALIVE

username5 oh im praying for harry

username6 STYLECLERC IS ALIVE

username7 meeting her brothers 😭😭😭 i cant

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by harrystyles, arthur_leclerc and 1,022,337 others

yourinstagram dinner update: he made it out alive

view all 10,278 comments

username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUNCH

alex_albon 😂😂😂😂😂

username3 i just need to know how that dinner went

↳ ynleclerc enzo was a sweetheart as always, arthur was a fanboy the entire time and charles couldn't stop yapping about driving fast cars in order to scare harry

↳ username1 HEEEEEELPPP

pierregasly Now he needs to meet your chosen brothers

↳ ynleclerc NO

↳ francisca.cgomes Leave her alone ♥︎ by author

landonorris This is who took my babe away from me? 😩

↳ harrystyles Proudly ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 OMFGGGGGG

↳ username3 THIS IS TOO GOOD

↳ landonorris Can't even complain you're cool as hell mate

lorenzotl He's part of our family now ♥︎ by author, harrystyles

↳ charles_leclerc 😵

↳ arthur_leclerc CRY CHARLES

harrystyles First Leclerc dinner done. Now I need to survive my first Grand Prix ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 IM YELLING

↳ username2 OMFG HARRY AT A GP

↳ charles_leclerc See you in the Paddock, mAtE

↳ ynleclerc LEAVE MY BOYFRIEND ALONE

liked by harrystyles, ynleclerc and 2,011,272 others

charles_leclerc Ma petite soeur pour toujours ❤️🤷‍♂️

view all 16,043 comments

username1 AWEEE

username2 he's such a big brother

alexandrasaintmleux My 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

username3 i wish my brothers loved me

pierregasly Everyone needs to watch out for Charles when he's in big brother mode ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 tell that to harry styles

scuderiaferrari Name a more iconic duo ❤️

username4 I NEED TO KNOW HOW THEIR CONVERSATION WENT LIKE

arthur_leclerc I'll always be on your side @/harrystyles ♥︎ by ynleclerc, harrystyles

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ username2 ARTHUR IS SUCH A FAN

↳ lorenzotl Same 🙌

↳ username3 HELP CHARLES IS ON HIS OWN

↳ ynleclerc my favorite brothers 🤍🤍

↳ harrystyles Thank you, Arthur and Lorenzo. I can't wait for golf this weekend x ♥︎ by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, ynleclerc

↳ username4 OMG HE HAS PLANS WITH THE LECLERCS YALL

↳ charles_leclerc I think I just got kicked out of my own family

ynleclerc you’re annoying and want to scare my boyfriend away, but i love you ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 they’re the besttt

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[daycourtofficial]

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 14.7k | warnings: depictions of violence, gore, blood, bodily harm

Summary: your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Author’s note: happy Gingerfucker Week to all who celebrate!! My first post has to be the most anticipated gingerfucker fic ever - otherwise I’m sure yall would kill me lmao

“Eris, we’ll be fine. Feyre wouldn’t let anything happen to us. But if it would make you feel better, you may winnow us there.”

The babe in your arms slept softly, the smallest crop of red hair peeking out from his swaddled head. Atlas was so tiny, yet had grown so much in his one month of living. The last babe you remember spending prolonged time with was your younger sister, and even though a baby’s basic needs were the same, caring for a wingless babe felt different, almost unnatural.

Being a young female in Illyria meant spending many hours and nights helping the other females with their young. Atlas was likely the first babe without wings you had ever seen. It still surprised you to rub your hand across his empty back or that you didn’t have to stretch his wings multiple times a day.

Only a quick winnow trip separated you from your nephew, leading your impatience to grow with each moment Eris spent rifling through trunks. You were dying to see the toddler, having missed several months of his life due to your brother’s refusal to see you. Things were still rough between the two of you (not from your lack of trying), but they seemed to be improving. It felt right to spend a few days there - to let your family see Atlas, hold him, spend some time with the three of you. It might be foolish, but a tiny babe is enough to have at least some of the pressure off of your mate.

Your words did little to slow him as he flitted about the room, a cloud of anxiety following him as he searched for something you weren’t entirely sure existed. He moved about the room, opening trunks and moving their contents around before closing the lid in a huff. If you weren’t getting annoyed at the delay, you would be amused by his antics. 

“Er, if it’ll really make you this upset, I can wait until tomorrow when you’re able to stay with us.” The possibility that Eris was purposely stalling wasn’t lost on you. He was less than thrilled about this visit, however he was unlikely to ever stop his mate from getting what she wanted.

“No, no, you were adamant about arriving tonight so you could see Nesta on her birthday and- aha!”

From one of the seemingly thousands of chests around your room, all full of gifts from every High Lord, advisor, and courtier the two of you had ever come into contact it seemed, Eris procured a tiny yellow blanket, one end of it full of stuffing to give the illusion of the head of a duck. He raised it quite proudly as if it were a trophy, gallivanting over to the two of you as if he were a prized mare.

“What is that?”

“It’s Atlas’ favorite blanket.”

You squinted your eyes at him, clutching the babe tighter to your chest. The blanket looked brand new, unmarred by the constant stream of dribble Atlas left everywhere he went. Eris ignored you in favor of situating the blanket into the crook of your elbow, situated next to his son. “He’s three months old, he doesn’t have a favorite blanket.”

“Surely pregnancy has not completely rotted your brain. This is his favorite blanket.” He ignored the glare you sent his way, furthering your annoyance. You gripped Atlas tight in one arm, using your free hand to smack Eris’s bicep. An incredulous look overcame his pale face as he turned back to you. “You’ll wake the babe - set him down before trying to get physical with me.”

“I’ll get real nice and physical when I throttle you.” Your threat was not received as you had intended. Instead of coiling in fear and cowardice, your mate moved about, putting everything back into all of the various chests. “Then you’d be late for dinner and breaking Madja’s rules, and I never took you for a tardy rulebreaker.”

“I can throttle you without breaking Madja’s rules.”

“My love do not pretend if you were to kill me you wouldn’t be riding my cock as you did it.” You gasped, moving to press Atlas further into your chest and covering his other ear with your hand. You hissed his name, sending a barbed spike down the bond in frustration. Eris’s hands met his hips, amusement quickly turning into exasperation. “He’s asleep.”

“He can hear you!”

“He is in a deep sleep from spending nearly an hour on your tit. He’s going to be out for the next hour or two.” Eris felt your frustration through the bond, placing his hands on your shoulders, causing you to look up at him. “Come now, I’ll escort you both to Night, see that you are safely in Feyre and Rhysand’s care, then I’ll come back here until tomorrow.” 

Eris moved past you, grabbing the bags you had packed before putting them across his shoulders. He reached an arm out, taking Atlas from your hands and securing him to his chest. You reached out, already missing the warmth of your babe, a hand pressed to his back to feel his slow breathing. Eris moved his free hand up to your face, fingers soft caressed your cheek.

The world changed around the three of you, Atlas shifting slightly beneath your hand as the orange curtains you recently had hung up on the brown paneled walls were exchanged for the light blues of the foyer of the River House. Atlas didn’t stir, but the sudden change in the world made you slightly dizzy. It had been months since you had last winnowed, a fact more pronounced by the stagger in your stance.

Eris had been writing to Rhysand, requesting special permission for him to winnow directly into their home. In true Rhysand fashion, he turned it into a much bigger spectacle than it was by placing special limitations on it, telling him he’d change the wards when everyone departed at the end of the week. His letter contained an additional note at the end, stating, “I will, however, allow Atlas in through the wards permanently in case he were to be a savant and learn to winnow and his first action be to leave you.” You had sent Rhys a responding scathing letter using words Eris was not entirely certain were real. 

Feyre and Rhysand were waiting in the foyer, Feyre quickly standing off of Rhys’s lap to embrace you. Feyre always treated you differently than the others did, perhaps because she knew how awful it could feel to be as no more than an extension of Rhysand. Or perhaps because she knew what it was like to go to the ends of the earth for your mate. 

You melted in her embrace, her lilac and pear scent a bit flowery but welcome. Her hug was gentle, careful not to squeeze too hard, something the High Lady had to work at perfecting after being turned high fae. It had taken years for her to master her grip strength. That time was not missed, however, the crushed door handles were always a source of amusement.

“Eris,” Feyre smiled, reaching her hands out after untangling herself, shifting to look at the High Lord, “hand over the baby and no one gets hurt.”

You giggled, pushing Eris toward her outstretched arms. She cooed at the bundle as it was put into her arms, her fingers moving the blanket so she could see his face. She made little faces, the Cursebreaker nowhere in sight as the babe reached out for her, gently grabbing her loose hair.

“He looks just like you, Eris.”

“How unfortunate.” Rhys ignored the pointed look he received from Feyre, picking lint from his jacket as he strolled forward. You stayed silent as he wrapped his arms around your body, and you couldn’t help but melt a little in his embrace. He was an asshole, gods was he an asshole, but he was still your brother and you loved him so dearly. You could feel the tension slough off of Rhys’s shoulders in your embrace, hoping this weekend could be a step forward for all of you.

Eris leaned down, kissing Atlas on the forehead before softly rubbing his head. He gurgled in response, causing Feyre to chuckle. 

“I just want to eat his little cheeks! Nyx doesn’t have his chubby cheeks anymore, it’s a real shame.” Her hand gently smoothed over Atlas’s cheeks as she spoke, her heart breaking over realizing just how much her little boy had grown.

“He’s not on the menu tonight, Feyre.” 

“I know, but I just want to eat him! He’s truly adorable.” Feyre continued making faces, certain she could get a tiny giggle from them. She puffed her cheeks and moved her lips a bit, deflating at the indifference Atlas showed her. 

“I trust that your wards are secure enough for the two of them.” Eris cut into the discussion, having noticed the sun moving through the windows. Stacks of papers sat on his desk waiting for his eyes to peruse them in preparation for the next day’s council.

Rhys rolled his eyes, nearly scoffing at the male’s tone. “If they weren’t sufficient, would I allow my mate and son to live in them?”

“Rhysand, I am not in the business of trying to make sense of every decision you make.” Rhys opened his mouth to respond, but Feyre’s voice cut through the growing tension, extinguishing the sparks the two High Lords were sending each other. “That’s enough, thank you Eris for winnowing them here. We’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” 

His amber gaze was glued to the tiny bundle before dropping the bags he was holding. The Autumn High Lord did not want to leave his son. He was still so small and so vulnerable. He remembered all of his brothers at such a size and it never ceased to amaze him how much newborns truly depend upon their parents. He looked back up to his mate, one last confirmation needed. A slight nod was all it took before he cupped her jaw, swiftly kissing her forehead.

“I will see you all tomorrow, then.”

-

Feyre had left quickly after Eris’s departure, returning Atlas to your arms before checking on Nyx. Truthfully your sister in law looked exhausted, and you were sure she was taking any opportunity that Nyx slept to take a nap of her own. She had written to you just last week that Nyx was in a sleep regression and she and Rhys were not having a great time. You had offered to reschedule your visit, but Feyre insisted you come and outright demanded to see the babe. She had said Nyx had lost his baby smell ages ago and she was convinced smelling it on Atlas could get her through this sleep regression.

You sat in Rhys’s study, Atlas sleeping on your chest after having just fed and changed him. Before running off, Feyre had given you one of Nyx’s old onesies, the pale babe in your arms looked so out of place in the black fabric. It felt so strange to be back in Rhys’s study - it must have been at least two years since you had last been in this room. It looked exactly the same - the massive portrait of Feyre looming over the two of you. So much had changed the past few years, and yet nothing had. Rhys looked exactly the same sitting across from you. If you placed Atlas down, it would be as if you had never left.

“Watch out for Cassian.”

Rhys’s words confused you. You waited for further explanation, looking up to find Rhys’s gaze on Atlas. Deciding he likely won’t tell you, you asked, “why?”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning from the shift in weight. “He followed Feyre around for months, asking to try some of her milk.” He laughed at your grimace but continued. “Someone told him the health benefits of breastmilk and he’s more than determined to get his grubby hands on some.”

“Eris will be thrilled to hear that.”

You could hear his retort clear as a bell in your mind. “A bastard so desperate for a mother’s love he’d suck random teets to get it.” You decided it was best kept to yourself.

You ignored Rhys’s scowl at the mention of your mate. “Do you think he’s trying to convince Nesta to have a babe so he can take the milk for himself?”

“I’m absolutely sure of it. Nesta kicked him out of the house for a few days because he wouldn’t stop trying to make everything into a deal to impregnate her.” Rhys was smiling at the memory of a downtrodden Cassian slipping into the River House one night, Feyre passing him as he grumbled about her sister. You laughed softly at Cassian’s antics. 

It felt strange to be back here - in the Night Court, in the River House. As if you hadn’t left, your family continued on. Their lives continued with or without you. Your heart felt a slight twinge at the realization. You would choose Eris again and again, but you did miss the everyday antics of your family.

“Have I told you that Eris’s hounds detest Lucien? He visited a week prior and two of them worked together, one in front and one in back, to table top him into some mud- what is that face for?” Rhysand tried to recover the earlier smile, his mouth slowly forming into a grimace. It was impossible not to notice - he looked as if he smelled something terrible.

“Nothing. Just remembering something I have to do.” A lie. Your blood was heating beneath your skin. It annoyed you to no end whenever Rhys lied to you, something you hadn’t been able to shake since childhood. It made you irrationally upset, hormones raging through you.

“No, it’s because I was talking to you about Autumn, wasn’t it? Can’t you at least pretend to care about my life?”

“I do care.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to give off an air of nonchalance, but his eyes remained sharp.

You stood slowly, ensuring your feet were steady as you rose with Atlas. “I won’t sit here and listen to you lie to me, Rhys. I thought we were past this, I thought things were different now.”

“They are different.” His curt responses caused your nostrils to flare, your jaw tightening with every word.

“Because I made them different?”

“Your words, not mine.” You groaned, feeling like a little girl before him. He looked like he were dealing with a petulant child, his gaze only adding more fuel to your anger.

“You are so..” you trailed off, not knowing where to start. Pigheaded, brainless, annoying, condescending.

Rhys’s mouth turned into a snarl. “Think any harder, why don’t you?”

“Oh, you’re such an asshole!” You cradled Atlas’s head closer to your chest, placing a hand over his ears. “You’re such a dick, Rhysand. You can’t stand that I have a life away from you and this court.”

“I tolerate it.”

Your jaw dropped as his words tried to take shape in your mind. “You tolerate it? What the fuck does that mean? I’m trying to open up to you about my life, Rhys. About my home. I’m trying to fix things.”

“Fix the things you broke? Why don’t you just go back to your new home, then, if Night is so inferior you have to cross courts for cock.”

You stilled, slowly turning towards your brother, head cocked. The tension had reached its boiling point but you weren’t shying away from it. “Is that all you think of me then? Someone who gave up her title, her name for love. That I did it all for a quick fuck?”

“Don’t act as if you gave it all up for him.”

“You forced me to!”

“I have never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to.” He rose to his feet, his hands slapping on his desk accenting his words. The air went cold at his words, the insinuation lingering.

“That’s rich, Rhysand. You spout off about choices, but really it’s always ‘option A: what Rhys wants’ or ‘option B: perilous death and despair’.”

“Maybe it’s because if I don’t guide you, you make stupid decisions.” His eyes flickered to Atlas, and your blood boiled beneath your skin. You took a step forward, jaw clenched as you snapped at him. 

“Are you insinuating that Atlas was a stupid decision?”

“I’d never insinuate what I can convey with words.”

Tears stung in your eyes, one landing on the tiny head in your arms. The room was too stifling, too suffocating. You had to go anywhere but here.

“Well, if insinuations are out the window, listen to me loud and clear: fuck. you. Fuck you, Rhys. Sorry I don’t fall into line with the path you planned out for me. Sorry for making my own choices. Sorry that the Mother made plans for me and didn’t ask for your input. And I am terribly sorry for Feyre because you are an asshole!” 

You couldn’t take it anymore. You winnowed into the void. If you heard Rhysand’s voice for one second longer, you’d say something horrible. Irredeemable. Anger simmered at his words, claws desperate to come out and stoop to his level. He never understood your choices, never tried. No matter how many times he had promised to listen, Rhys had never tried to fix the walls he had put up between the two of you. 

The world shifted as you thought about your home in Autumn, the brilliant leaves of the forests, the warm spices of the kitchen, your mate’s touch. A blur of colors passed and your throat tightened as shame washed over you. Eris was right - you shouldn’t have come. You needed more time. Rhys needed more time. You clutched Atlas tighter, taking comfort that you had him, at least. 

Mind hazy, you moved through the courts, the world flashing with sunshine, the rush of an ocean, and the patter of rain until your magic unraveled, and the two of you fell from the air onto your back into a wooded area. At the impact, Atlas sniffed and then whined as he rubbed his face against your shoulder.

You took in your surroundings, opening your eyes to the bright afternoon sun peeking through the trees. Your eyes darted the area, looking for any signs of life as you laid still. Atlas moved in your arms as you maneuvered the two of you, trying to sit up to lean against a tree for better sight. Once you were certain no one else was around, you pulled Atlas away from you, unwrapping him from his swaddle to assess him for any injuries. His wailing was piercing through the woods, a sure cry to any creatures that were here.

You shushed him as you checked him, content that his worst injury was being woken from a nap. His cries were lacerations on your heart, each tiny inhale causing so much distress. It nearly cracked you in half, deep breaths a half hearted attempt at self-soothing.

The land was unfamiliar, nothing about it gave you any information about where you could be. The two of you were surrounded by trees, none any species which were familiar. The green leaves blocked out most of the sun, occasional streaks of light passing through. This didn’t feel like any of the solar courts - did you winnow past the mountain? If you had, you would have landed in Winter, or if you veered off course in Summer. Maybe you overshot and ended up in Spring?

The two of you moved about the area, your feet crunching on dry leaves as you went. You hadn’t made it very far before stumbling over a large root, some how hidden beneath your skirts. You barely caught yourself, the jerking motion causing another round of screams to come from Atlas. His little face was so red from crying. You looked back to the spot you had landed, hoping to sit back against that tree once more, but the land behind you wasn’t what it had been. In its place was a swampy scape, several inches of water that would have made your trek impossible. You clutched Atlas tighter to your chest, tucking his head beneath your neck.

You swiveled your head around, breathing labored as you realized you were somewhere you haven’t been in centuries. Where the land was nonsensical and ever changing, where horror stories began and ended. The land above the mountain where atrocities occurred in the caverns and tunnels beneath it. 

The two of you were somewhere in The Middle. A land no court wanted for themselves, the tireless mazes too much for any fae to justify living in.

A land no one wanted to be lost in.

-

Pumpkin wandered into Eris’ room, the small pup clearly lost without Atlas to follow around. Eris ignored the whimpering from the hound, the beast having grown incredibly close to his son in a short span of time. It was sweet the way the hound trailed behind him when he was carrying Atlas, shushing and singing him to sleep. Eris was especially happy to see Pumpkin and Clover standing on high alert whenever Atlas was being fed. It soothed some part of him to know even in moments he had to step away from, his family was well guarded, even if just from his brothers.

Eris reviewed his notes, annoyance simmering beneath his skin at the distance between him and his family. He’d never deny you anything, but if you had had any doubts about spending a night without him, he wouldn’t complain about your presence in Autumn for one more night.

Pumpkin whined once more, Eris’s pen dropping at the sound. His chest felt hot with anger, something he’s unsurprised by. Any visit with Rhys often left the two of you fighting, your anger flaring through his veins as you fought. Your own feelings were compounding his own, utter annoyance at the meeting that kept him away from his mate. 

Eris felt a sharp tug in his chest, nearly pulling him from his seat. Everything inside of him was pinging, his chest felt heavy with fear and uncertainty. What was happening over there? He waited a moment, trying to parse out each emotion. The anger in his chest subsided, every instinct inside of him urging him to go. He abandoned his notes, watching the brown hues of his study swirl and churn into black and blues.

-

Feyre looked about the office, confusion crossing her blue gray eyes as she didn’t find who she was looking for. “Rhys, where’s your sister?” Feyre’s voice echoed across the room as Rhysand took another sip from his glass of whiskey, slumped in his chair.

“Autumn.”

Feyre looked around, as if he were lying, covering up her hiding somewhere in the room to surprise her. “What do you mean she’s in Autumn? She was supposed to stay here for a week so we could spend time with her and Atlas.” Rhys shrugged, his eyes unable to meet Feyre’s, “she left.”

Feyre’s eyes were skeptical, certain that her mate was leaving pieces out. Things had been tense, but surely it didn’t take her mate three hours to scare off his sister?

“Did Eris take her back? Change his mind about his mate being here?”

Rhys gritted his teeth at his brother in law’s name, sinking into his chair slightly, “no.”

Feyre ticked her jaw, determination flooding her to understand her mate’s standoffishness. “Was she upset by our accommodations?”

“No.”

“Did Cassian annoy her into leaving?”

“No.” It came out as a growl, causing Feyre’s eyebrows to raise. “Just cut to the chase, Feyre. Ask what you really want to know.”

“What did you do?”

He sucked in a breath, as if the question were shocking. “Words were exchanged.”

That was all Rhys was able to get out before the doors to the room burst open, the wood hitting the walls as all of the heat was sucked out of the room, everything going cold as the High Lord of the Autumn Court stormed in, his rage palpable. Cassian trailed behind him, trying and failing to hold him back, unable to stop his path.

The redhead looked around the room before he stalked over to Rhys, grabbing the collar of his tunic before his hand connected directly with his eye, spitting out, “where is my mate?”

Rhys wrapped his hands around Eris’ wrists, trying to get him to stop. Cassian’s hands wrapped around Eris’ biceps before quickly pulling them away, his hands smoldering.

“Stay back, pigeon, if I find out you had a hand in this I’ll burn more than just your hands.”

Eris was a blazing storm inside of the house - his flames were erupting over the surface, turning the room red with heat. Dark tendrils of shadow coated the flames, attempting to extinguish them. The flames burned a bright blue in response, whirling around the tendrils, burning them up.

“Did my sister come to her senses and leave you? Ran off with one of your more capable brothers?” Rhysand’s smirk dropped as Eris hauled him from the chair, pressing his back to the wall. Eris’ long fingers dug into the lapel of Rhys’ dark coat, the fabric singing as the redhead pressed him into the wall. 

“Watch your tongue, Rhysand. It would be a remarkable mount on my wall.”

The two males snarled at each other, Rhys moving his leg out to get Eris off balance. He faltered just enough for Rhys to get momentum, swinging his fist into Eris’s face.

Feyre and Cassian were scrambling as the two continued their brawl, both High Lords successfully bruising the other.

“Where is she, Rhys? Have you locked her away in a tower, thinking I wouldn’t notice?”

Rhys pushed Eris off of him, hands moving to straighten his jacket to find his lapels singed off. 

“Perhaps you need to hone your abilities at hide and seek before Atlas is older.” Rhysand’s nonchalance caused Eris’s anger to burn brighter, certain the day was going to end with the Night Court in ashes.

“Why can’t I find my fucking mate but I can feel her desperation and fear in my chest?” Eris’s words clanged through the room, everyone stopping to take in his words. Feyre moved closer to him, her voice soft. “What do you mean, Eris?”

“I mean,” he snarled in Rhys’s direction, “something's very wrong. She has never felt like this in my chest before. Not even during labor. She’s panicking, I have never- never felt this from her before.”

Feyre turned to Rhys, her eyes wild with concern. Eris was quick to interject, his voice echoing through the room. “No, don’t do this. Don’t be communicating where I can’t hear it. This is about my mate, I deserve to hear it.”

“You don’t deserve-” Feyre’s arm on Rhys’s bicep stops him. “Rhys, where is she? Where’s Atlas?”

The High Lord of the Night Court’s chest was heaving with each breath, certain a rib or two was broken. “They went back to Autumn.”

“They haven’t arrived in Autumn.”

Rhys went pale, concern taking over his features. “They must be. They winnowed away ages ago - did she go straight to bed?”

The words fueled his rage once more, his voice on the edge of despair. “She is nowhere in Autumn.”

-

Trudging through the forest, you weren’t certain which way you were headed. You tried to feel for that bond with Eris in your chest, trying to pull it taut to receive some direction but whatever cord it created merely tugged you in over a dozen directions, the strength of each pull ebbing and flowing with your breath. You felt Eris’ concern grow as you stood, looking in all directions.

The trees were too tall for you to see the sun - it would give you some indication of which direction to head. Autumn laid in the southeast of The Middle, but navigating through its woods would still be impossible even with the sun’s guidance.

You cursed your hothead, annoyed you couldn’t just run out of Rhys’s study and go hide in your room until Eris came back. Surely you could have tried to mend things with Rhys, not just going on the defensive?

You spun in a circle, nearly tripping over more roots before deciding to just pick a direction and go. Atlas remained calm in your arms, what little power you have going to soothe him. Your breaths were slow and deliberate, trying to keep yourself calm. It was working enough to soothe Atlas and to keep a level head, and that was all that mattered.

You would need a source of water soon. It felt like you were moving on a downward slope, keeping your eyes peeled for any creeks or streams nearby. Sweat collected at the nape of your neck, sticking to the hair that covered it. It was oppressively muggy, the air feeling heavy with humidity. 

Time was hard to track in the Middle, every moment stretching endlessly as you continued to walk a path that seemed to never change. Each tree looked the same as the last, no distinguishing characteristics to help you track any sort of progress. 

Perhaps you were stuck in an endless loop, circling the same bit of land over and over until you collapsed from exhaustion.

“Running from something?”

A high pitched voice caused you to stop mid stride. A sinister tilt to the question that caused you to secure Atlas to your chest before your feet went flying without turning to look at the source.

-

Eris paced across their floor, a thin layer of fire coating his skin and clothes, a small trail of flames followed his path on the floor. 

“I would prefer if you didn’t leave scorch marks on my floor.” Rhysand’s voice was buzzing in Eris’s ears, much like the annoying pests of Summer.

“And I would prefer my mate to have a better family, preferably one who doesn’t allow her to leave unattended so soon after giving birth.”

Eris was itching to unleash his anger, desperate for some fight to break out to let out a fraction of the rage that had nestled in his gut.

“My sister’s been strong-willed since she was born, anything she gets her mind on she does.” Rhys strode closer to Eris, looking down at the new High Lord. It hadn’t even been two full years since the magic had chosen him. The newfound power that thrummed within him was an adjustment, but he had quickly taken the reins of it. Now he felt like nothing more than a vessel for the well of magic inside him, set to erupt any moment.

“And yet, she’s not foolish enough to believe she could winnow across Prythian unless she felt she had no other option.”

“What are you insinuating, Eris?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, Rhysand. I’m speaking directly. I apologize if my language is too complex for your pigeon brain to understand.” Something in Eris snapped before he pushed Rhysand up against the wall, his head thumping against the wall as flames licked around Rhys’s skin, not burning, but restricting. “My mate felt so unsafe she took our babe and her chances of going anywhere but here.” 

Every other word was enunciated with Eris shoving him into the wall, “and now you better pray to the Mother we find them both unharmed or your mate will rule this court alone.”

Rhys snarled at the threat, a rebuttal dying on his tongue as someone pulled Eris off of him, shoving him into a chair. Eris’ snarl died as he met the eyes of the eldest Archeron, the only person in this court he truly tolerated. 

“Killing Rhysand can wait. Unfortunately, he may be helpful in finding her.” Nesta’s voice was a pleasant surprise for Rhys, probably for the first and last time. He took in a deep breath, the flames gone from his neck, before he straightened his jacket, moving toward the maps Azriel and Cassian had been looking over. The two Illyrians had been having a discussion of their own while Eris and Rhys fought, both too caught up in plotting to pay mind to the High Lords. Cassian’s thick fingers trailed a path from Velaris to where they knew the Forest House was located. 

“Eris would know the second she stepped foot in Autumn, Rhys would know if she were in Night.”

Azriel stood rigid, his wings tucked in tight behind him. A formidable strategist determining the right course of action. “She could be anywhere in Day, Dawn, or Winter.”

“Or in The Middle.” Just the name gave Nesta chills, the phantom feel of the Kelpie around her. She swallowed harshly, the action feeling more restricting than it should.

“Lucien’s in Day, I could fill him and Helion in there while Azriel goes to talk to Thesan. Mor can go to Winter. Rhys, Cassian, Nesta, and Eris can look around the Middle. Elain, you stay here, take care of Nyx. If she comes back, let the twins know and they’ll contact us.” Feyre looked around, wanting to see how everyone felt about the plan. Everyone was on edge, this relief team more likely to implode on itself than succeed. 

This was a tragedy and everyone had a finger they wanted to use to pinpoint the source. 

-

Trees were a blur, hitting the ground in swift footfalls, every breath not big enough. There was no cleared path to take, the brush and bramble catching on ankles. Blood dropped from the nicks and cuts of thorns, but the urgency to run never stopped.

Atlas continued crying, soft wails coming from him as you pulled him closer to your chest, trying to quiet his pain.

There was no way to know where you were going, paths changing as you moved down them, but you continued forward, deciding it was your best option. You knew whoever found you was still following you, their breathing so loud it felt like they were right behind you.

Sudden sharp, shooting pain caused you to fall, your ankle caught on something as you fell forward. Quick thinking had you turn on your side, taking the brunt of the fall, except some thorny vines sliced through the swaddle, cutting Atlas’s arm.

Brows cinched together, the pain from your foot almost unbearable. Eyes were pinched closed, not wanting to see what had caught your foot. Whatever it was was still there - and was crushing your leg too. It took everything not to wail out in pain, matching Atlas’s cries. You breathed in through your nose, lifting up your skirt enough to see the metal bear trap that had clamped shut around your left leg, blood rushing out in spurts.

The sight caused bile to catch in your throat, quickly moving your head to the side to expel it.

Trying to sit up and assess the situation was no longer an option when the hunter appeared, her strong hands wrapping around the trap and tugging your body toward her. A scream ripped from your throat as blood gushed out of the wound, hot pain causing your vision to darken with each tug of the chain. Atlas was wailing, the protective arms of his mother insecure for the first time. His grip loosened on the duck blanket he carried, the yellow fabric turning brown with mud.

-

The Inner Circle and Eris were divided into teams, each taking on their own travels. Once everything was agreed upon, Eris was the first to winnow away, grabbing Nesta by the arm to take with him. She struggled in his grip as the world blurred around them, the smell of the unforgiving forest burning Nesta’s nose. Eris held tight against her as the familiar smell of burnt umber filled his nose, the two reappearing in his study. 

Nesta searched the room, never having set foot in the Autumn Court, much less the Forest House Eris resided in. She looked at the papers scattered across Eris’s desk, eyes quickly scanning for anything of interest. A quick, high whistle startled her, bristling in his grip before a large hound came barreling through the door. A second, longer whistle came before the beautiful, sleek hound stopped before Eris.

He wrapped his hand around the hound’s collar before winnowing the three of them once more. Nesta’s head spun as the ground slipped from beneath her feet once more, the back to back winnowing causing her to stagger once they landed in a forested outcrop.

Eris quickly let go of her, his ears and nose twitching for anything he could pick out. Satisfied the area was secure enough, he gave the command to Clover, telling her to fan out. He was certain she knew Atlas and his mate by name, but nonetheless he provided a discarded shirt to her. She took large inhales, memorizing the scent before she ran off, her nose to the ground. She weaved between trees, dodging above ground roots with practiced ease. 

Eris didn’t wait before taking off in a brisk pace after Clover, boots stomping through the muddied ground, his boot prints replacing paw prints in the soil. Nesta tried to keep up, her form trailing behind Eris as they moved through the landscape. 

The Middle was unlike anywhere else in Prythian. It was what Nesta expected faelands to be when she was a mortal girl. Roots snarled over barely forged paths, an attempt to trip up any travelers. The landscape was hazy, almost dreamlike. There was an idea of what you were looking at, but the longer you looked, the more confusing it became. Hairs stood on end, a perpetual feeling of being watched followed travelers as they moved across paths.

Paths were nonsensical - rivers flowed up the mountain, ending wherever they wished rather than venturing out to the sea. Nesta’s limited experience here before was enough to know she did not care for the creatures that lurked here.

Nesta’s eyes were sharp, looking in every direction, desperate to pinpoint and remove the feeling of being watched. Eris trudged ahead, uncaring of Nesta’s plight behind him. He made no attempt at stealth - whatever they would find out here, Eris wanted the beast to know he was on the move. A bark up ahead quickened Eris’s pace, a catch in his throat at what his furry companion may have found.

The barking continued until Eris reached a break in the trees, finding Clover sat on her haunches. Tears sprang at his eyes at Clover’s discovery, crouching down to investigate further. He knew what it was, even covered in dirt and mud. He had handled the thing just hours prior.

Nesta caught up to the pair, pressing her hand to a tree, trying to catch her breath. Eris was hunched over something while Clover whined softly next to him, sitting perfectly still. His arm reached out, pulling something from the mud. He motioned Nesta over, pulling her water skein from her before pouring some out onto the muddied thing. The clear water ran brown, the dirt clinging to the object before running off it. Eris’s fingers rubbed at the spherical shape to reveal yellow fabric. He poured more water, draining the entire skein, to find a tiny yellow blanket with the face of a duck sewn onto it. 

-

Darkness swam at the edge of your vision, everything feeling so bright as you were dragged through the dirt. Your fingers pressed hard into Atlas’s blanket, a firm grip desperate to keep him as close as possible. His cries were causing pain to swell in your breasts, your body not knowing the difference between his hunger and his concern.

Your body ached, the pain ricocheting through every crevice. You grit your teeth, not wanting to give the female any satisfaction. 

There were rumors of fae who roamed The Middle. They were an interesting subspecies of fae - their movements were said to be jerky and strange, their bodies having adapted to the constant change of their homelands.

There was no known record of how many there were or anything about them. They were urban legend during Amarantha’s reign, thought to lurk the woods to drag anyone who fled her captivity back to the Evil Queen herself.

Rumor turned into a nightmare as she grabbed you by the bear trap, your cry of pain echoing through the trees, certain the blades were going to cut through the bone. A gutteral scream left you as she pulled you up by the ankle, shoving you into what seemed to be the back of the wagon. Somehow you still managed a tight grip on Atlas, his wails blocking out all sound. The wretched creature pushed the two of you up, your ankle catching on something too dark to see as she pushed you further in. It smelled awful, the stench of urine and vomit coating your nostrils.

Her rough, barklike hand let go, the pain subsiding enough to look around. You felt woozy from the blood loss, certain you were going mad when you heard barking somewhere in the distance. There wasn’t much in the back of the wagon - a wooden floor covered in various dark, unidentifiable stains. 

Your thoughts whirled with self-deprecation, this whole situation being preventable if you had just stopped and waited.

Patience was a virtue you certainly had not acquired.

It was getting harder to stay awake, the pain overbearing. Sweat made your clothes cling to you, nearly chafing from the dryness. The last thing you thought of before drifting off was that the barking sounded like home. It sounded like warm pumpkin bread and cold nights spent by the fire.

-

The wet blanket squished between his fingers, water evaporating off the surface as he boiled with anger. The air around him seemed to silence, waiting to know what the High Lord would do next.

“Clover, find.” His command was razor sharp, the smokehound racing off, her muzzle to the ground. Eris ended many of his days with Clover, the hound loose, the need to hunt satiated as she found whatever it was she had been looking for. The thrill of not knowing what the two would find.

It was the worst hunt of his life. The uncertainty of how it would end. Most hunts saw him thirst for blood, content at culling the populations of the prey animals around Autumn.

This hunt was nothing like that.

He waited for his trusted companion to return, not wanting his own scent to interfere. Clover was the most clever dog he had bred, but he wouldn’t leave anything up to chance now.

“Nesta!” The voice shouting for the Valkyrie wasn’t too far away, his deep, loud voice not causing Eris to look away from where Clover had descended to.

Nesta wasn’t surprised Cassian had found the pair - her mate had spent the entirety of her time in the Middle tugging and pulling at the cord connecting them. She could feel his concern through it, the concern deepening each time a sound spooked her. But Nesta kept him at an arm’s length. She knew that cold rage that still lingered inside her at Feyre’s near death.  

She knew exactly how Eris felt both now and about Rhysand in general. They both were members of the ‘resignedly having Rhysand as a brother in law’ club.

Nesta responded by pulling the bond, tugging Cassian in their direction. She could hear branches breaking and curses shouted before the two Illyrians made their way through the trees. They were both covered in dirt and sweat, the dried mud nearly up to their necks. Nesta couldn’t help the small smirk that formed at seeing Rhysand’s appearance so unpolished.

“Nes-” she quickly cut Cassian off, holding a finger up to him before turning back to Eris. He stood still, lingering on the path his hound had taken away from them. Rhysand observed him too, and Nesta was certain some barb laid on his tongue. Before he could, she brought the two up to speed about the blanket in a hushed tone. As she was finishing, a high pitched bark echoed through the wood. Eris took off in a sprint, the three quickly chasing off after him. They ran several miles, barely keeping up with Eris’s pursuit.

Eris met Clover’s barking, the hound circling a wagon, keeping the owner from getting into the front. The hair on the hound’s spine was raised, her teeth bared as she snarled and snapped at the fae. The horses attached to the wagon were startled by the hound, causing their own commotion. The pauses after their whinnying should have been silent, the space between brays a reprieve. Instead it was filled with the sound of a wailing baby. 

Clover’s teeth clacked at the stocky female, sinking into the fabric of her pants and letting go before she was swatted. The hound had repeated this over and over again, not having received a command to go in for the kill. This hadn’t kept the hound from drawing blood as she nipped, her own territorial act over his master’s family. Blood was dripping from the female’s leg, thick, green liquid falling in puddles on the ground. 

The other three fae weren’t far behind Eris, quickly approaching the scene not a moment after him. Cassian moved toward the wagon while the others approached the female Clover was on the verge of mauling. 

Rhysand flicked his wrist, the reins restraining the horses disappearing, the pair running off. Their hoofbeats got quieter as the fae were surrounded on all sides. She looked between the four sets of eyes, certain the dog was her best bet. The most unlikely of allies banded together as a pack offering no escape.

Cassian climbed into the wagon, his weight shaking the cart. The bounty hunter flicked her forked tongue out, her hand reaching for something on her belt. A shadow lashed out, wrapping around her forearm, causing her to let go of her belt. She shrieked in pain as the shadow twisted her arm behind her back.

The clearing was dark, the only sound came from the bounty hunter’s mouth, cries of pain swallowed them as arm cracked and bent in every direction. The wind caught beneath the bounty hunter’s legs, forcing her to her knees.

“Cassian?” It was perhaps the only time Eris had referred to the general by name. His tone was stern, a voice he had used for centuries as a general himself. But something desperate creeped at the edge of his voice, a reality he didn’t want to consider.

The one where he was too late. That this was the wrong wagon. That his mate was somewhere else and this was a waste of time.

Cassian’s silence forced Eris to move, his feet jumping off the ground without him telling them to. He lunged forward, catching the fae offguard as he landed on her. 

Eris laid on top of the bounty hunter, her long sharp nails scratching at him. One of her arms was still behind her, but she was determined. He didn’t register the fabric she ripped through, uncaring at the scratches on his arms. 

“Cassian, are they alive?” His question was accented with the sharp thud her head made as it hit the ground. She was snarling up at him, her lifeless eyes dark as she peered up at the High Lord.

“Have enough coin for the pair?” 

Eris’ fangs grew longer, the High Lord’s second form desperate to come out. His fingers quickly changed to talons, the nails biting through the fae’s skin, causing her to cry out. She began thrashing once more, Eris’ weight pinning her down. He was snarling, practically spitting as he couldn’t contain the rage boiling inside of him. He heard shuffling behind him, Nesta or Rhysand moving to help Cassian.

“They’re breathing!” He wasn’t sure who yelled it, the sounds blurring together. It sounded like Cassian, but all his mind could make out was they were alive. Alive, alive, alive. It was enough to tide him over for now.

“Take them to the Forest House, my healers are on standby.” He didn’t know if they responded, if they even looked his way, if they tried to argue. That thrumming need inside of him to protect his mate felt satiated enough knowing Nesta or Cassian was with her, that they were en route to Autumn. He wanted to be there, wanted to hold the loves of his life as they went back home. He was desperate to know how they were, to listen to the beating of their hearts.

His gaze narrowed back on the creature beneath him, her brown skin turning red beneath him. His heart was miles away, but it would eat him alive to see a fae with such audacity not receive their comeuppance. 

“And what was the price on her head? How much was she worth to you?” His tone was ice, his question not a rhetorical one. He wanted to know how much this lowlife wanted for the two most precious things in his life. His wonderful mate, his equal in every way. Atlas, his darling boy. To consider them nothing more than traded goods made his stomach churn.

The bounty hunter couldn’t answer, her throat drying and desperate for water with every breath. The air was unbearable hot, but she managed to whisper out, “five thousand gold marks.” Once the words escaped her lips, the hard metal of coins pelted her face. She winced from the pain. Eris ignored the resounding crack in the air, metal meeting bone.

“Here, take it all.”

He poured more coins onto her, winnowing them from somewhere. He could barely think straight, every fiber of his being thrumming with revenge and anger. 

A life for a life, an eye for an eye.

But really, what is the life of a trafficker? 

Every breath was difficult, her lungs ached with heat. Fire caught around the pair, the flames staying low to the ground. Eris still sat atop her, unmoved by the flames circling their bodies, slowly making their way closer to the tree like fae.

“Take them back.” Eris’s command was directed to the group behind him, if they were still even there. He had no idea - his world had become so small. It was just him and this fae now. “Take them back to Autumn. Now.”

Her tongue dissolved to ash in her mouth, unable to speak. The High Lord grabbed more coins, shoving them into her mouth. The gold coins began losing form in her mouth, a river of melted gold pouring down her throat. It burned as it moved through her body, all of her organs alight with heat and fire.

Eris watched as her eyes dried out, as she tried to scream but was unable to. He watched as she thrashed beneath him, begging for mercy as if he were a kind and just god. Eris didn’t believe in the old gods, but if he did, he knew they would approve. He watched for several moments before her body slowly began turning to ash, carried away in the wind.

He didn’t linger long after the remnants of her floated away, not even looking back before winnowing back to Autumn, rematerializing to find the Forest House in chaos. Servants moved quickly through the halls, hurried footsteps as they carried linens and rags toward the team of healers he could hear yelling down the hallway.

“Call off your guards.” The first words to greet him were from his brother in law. It was a voice he could never get used to, the smoothness grating.

Eris’s mate and Rhysand looked strikingly similar - same violet eyes, same feline-like face. But Rhysand didn’t look right in the Forest House. He didn’t carry with him the warmth that made his mate look so at home here, as if the entire court had been made in preparation for her. 

Rhysand seemed so out of place in his sister’s home. The once close siblings’ stark differences could not be ignored.

Eris waved his hand noncommittally, the guards lowering their swords from Cassian’s and Rhysand’s necks. 

“They let me bring her in before threatening me, at least.” Cassian’s joke doesn’t land, the silence bouncing through the hall before Eris moved forward, his path straight to his bedchambers. It was a guess - the correct one - as to where they’d put you to look over you. He stormed into the room, a fierce blaze on the wind as he moved inside. You had been placed on the bed, the healers circling you tending to every inch of you. 

The bond shook with anger, that golden string practically vibrating with urgency at the mangled mess that had been your ankle. 

Nesta was standing off to the side, holding Atlas as he cried. 

“I didn’t want to leave her alone. I haven’t taken my eyes off her this whole time.”

It felt like the cord around his heart had divided into two - one path to the bed, his bloodied mate, the other to Nesta and the tiny bundle that laid in her arms.

He knew which you’d prefer for him to go to. You had an army of healers around you as you laid unconscious, but all Atlas had was Nesta.

“Give him to me.” The tone of the High Lord. Nesta slipped the small babe into Eris’s arms, “they looked him over. He has a scratch on his arm, but otherwise fine.”

The worst feeling his son had experienced up until now had been the harshness of birth. The sensory overload of the world - how loud and bright it was after being evicted from his dark and cozy home. He had not known physical pain, had never been exposed to it. Every fae held him with such tenderness, it was impossible for Eris to rectify that his son, barely a month old, knew the atrocities of fae.

“Someone will check my son every half hour, ensuring he is in good health.” None of the healers answered, but Eris had known them long enough to know they heard him. He took a breath, holding the bundle tight to his chest. Atlas’s cries slowed, softening as he felt the familiar comforts of home.

Amidst all the chaos of the room, it seemed almost like they were alone. Eris’s ears twitched, listening intently to his son’s breathing.

A commotion was heard through the door, but Eris ignored it, opting to let himself feel the comfort of his son.

Shouting could now be heard, breaking the stillness he had artificially created. 

Eris wretched open the door, searching for the source of the yelling, only to find Cassian and Rhysand fighting with the guards at the door.

His jaw tightened, his mate’s family a permanent fixture beneath his skin.

“What are you doing?” Everyone stilled at his words, the hall clearing of commotion.

“Never mind. I do not care. You have done enough. Her family,” Eris nodded towards Nesta and Cassian, “are allowed to stay. You,” he pokes a finger into Rhys’s chest, the tip singeing his shirt, making the black shirt slowly turn ashen, “are not welcome here until she says so.”

The two males continued staring each other down. Eris didn’t blink as he addressed the crowd, “if any of your thoughts align with your High Lord’s words from earlier, I suggest you leave now before I have to disgrace myself with the sight of you once more. Otherwise we have accommodations you may stay in.”

The redhead went back inside to his mate, shutting the door on Rhysand. Eris slumped back in the chair he had pulled up next to the bed, uncertain what to do with himself. Small flames erupted from the hand not holding Atlas as he flexed his fingers, trying and failing to burn off some of his anger. It was all consuming - the death of the fae responsible doing little to quench the adrenaline pumping through him. 

Eris couldn’t stop the biting words coming from him, couldn’t stop the waves of anger coming off of him as the healers worked around him. Your hand stayed still in his, his grip firm as he let loose words he didn’t truly mean.

-

“Why are you out here?”

“I want to be in there, but that Night Court healer kicked me out.” The anger had lessened the longer Eris had sat in the hallway, his mind clear of the chaos anger brings to the forefront. 

Lucien raised an eyebrow, “you take commands from old bitties now?”

“I do when they tell me to come back when I won’t set the curtains on fire.” Lucien looked down at his eldest brother. A fixture in his life, someone so tall in his memories, now looking so inconceivably small as he sat on the floor. He was the High Lord of the Autumn Court, but at this moment he was nothing more than a concerned mate. “And now I feel no better than a kicked hound.”

“You’ve never been one to let being kicked keep you down.”

“I wasn’t the one who got kicked.” Eris’s words were cracked as they came out, finally verbalizing the guilt that had been gnawing at him for hours by this point. It wasn’t very freeing, but it felt surprisingly good to share the feeling with Lucien.

“I wasn’t there-” Lucien was quick to cut him off. The love of your life in danger indirectly because of you was one few understood. “And if you were, this would never have happened.”

Eris stayed quiet, a sight so unfamiliar to Lucien. He looked to the door, surprised at Eris’s lack of desire to have the last word.

“Where is Atlas?” 

“The Archerons are watching over him. Your mate arrived just before I was removed from my own bedchambers.” Lucien was certain it wouldn’t take much to procur that story from Elain. His smile was hard to contain imagining the healers tossing him out.

“Do you trust them?”

“They are three rooms down in a windowless, winnowless room.”

“So you trust the viper?” The fact Eris allowed them to take Atlas away from him was proof enough for Eris’s feelings about the pair. He didn’t want to mention how he wasn’t even trusted alone with Atlas yet.

“I suppose I do.”

A pregnant pause settled between the two, their gazes coming together to look at the door. They sat in silence for a while, neither looking from the door, their minds stuck on the possibilities that laid behind it. Eris tugged at the bond in his chest, desperate to feel his mate on the other side of it. He kept his face neutral at the silence that followed.

“It will likely be a while before she wakes.” A hard truth even harder to verbalize.

“I did not come here for her.”

Lucien’s voice came out strained and soft, so unlike his usual confidence. It betrayed his worries - his concern for not only his friend and new sister, but for the brother next to him. Eris was cruel, playing the part Beron had wanted for so long it was difficult for him to untangle every memory for the truth behind it. 

Lucien knew Jesminda wasn’t his mate, but the grief that nearly consumed him whole was real. He hated Eris for playing the part of dutiful son, but he had played the part of rebellious son. Were the roles they played assigned or did they have some choice in them? The rebellious son returned home to the legacy the prodigal son had dismantled.

“I mean, I did come for her. I want her to be alright.” Lucien leaned against the wall before sliding down it, sitting next to Eris, facing the door his brother’s mate lay behind. 

His unsaid words hung in the air and, shocking both of them, Eris reached out a hand, desperate for some familiar touch. Lucien took it with little hesitation, squeezing softly. Gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he just sat in his brother’s company like this or the last time he had touched Eris.

Despite the circumstances, it felt easy.

The two sat in silence for a while, the air heavy and stifling with uncertainty. 

“Lucien, I..”

Eris trailed off, not sure if the language existed to convey how much fear lingered in his chest. He felt your pain bouncing inside of him like a dull ache, but he couldn’t feel you any longer. He couldn’t take a moment to linger in the part of his chest that was normally bursting with everything you. He didn’t hear any music, the silence almost deafening. Lucien squeezed his hand again, “I know.”

“No you don’t.”

Lucien shrugged, his long hair swishing with the movement. “I don’t know.” He brushed some of his hair off his shoulder, “but I know you look like shit.”

Eris didn’t need to look down at himself to know that his brother was right - he hadn’t bathed since they all went off looking for you, certain there was debris and blood all over his clothes and hair. The sweat soaked shirt clung to his chest, his skin itchy from the contact. The larger of the two made a big show of sniffing the air, crinkling his nose in disgust. “Smell like it, too. But that’s nothing new.”

Eris growled, unable to ignore his brother’s taunts. “At  least I am not a smartass.”

“Ah,” Lucien tutted, a smug look on his face, “now we both know that is a lie. Autumn’s High Lord, starting your new tenure off on mistruths. What a look.”

Lucien’s feline smirk lessened a bit as he looked at his brother with something bordering on fondness. “I will take up the hallway guard if you go bathe. Really, you want your mate to smell you like this? If she doesn’t leave after that, I will be certain you’ve poisoned her mind somehow.”

“I am certain that would be the worst of my crimes.”

“I would believe so, forcing the mother of my babe to believe she was in love with you.”

Eris hissed in response, his knees popping as he stood up. Lucien ignored his brother, his barbs continuing.

“To think the mother of my child could be in love with an old, decrepit thing like you. Witchcraft, I say.”

“You’re not going to be speaking for long if you keep this up.”

“He does look rather like me, don’t you think?” Lucien grinned, something big and wolfish. The look only a little brother could have at getting beneath his brother’s skin.

“And why is your son so pale?”

Lucien shrugged, unbothered by Eris’s irritation. “Ran out of pigment. Who am I to question the Mother?”

“Ran out of my pigment my ass,” Eris muttered, finally moving down the hall to some bathing chambers.

“Do all High Lords speak with such vulgarity or just you?” 

Eris responded by slamming the door, blocking out Lucien’s laughter. He didn’t linger long in the bath, the extra two hundred feet of distance felt like too much space between him and his family. He didn’t want to admit it, but Lucien was right - having the grime removed from his skin made him feel more capable of handling things. Fresh clothes made him feel more like himself.

His brother was still in the hallway when he returned, his head shaking slightly when he saw Eris walking in his direction. The healer must still be tending to you. He stopped at the door next to yours, turning the knob before walking in. The two older Archerons were in the room, his brother’s mate carrying Atlas in her arms. Eris’s son appeared to be in good health - so far each check proved the same, and despite the physician's groaning, he continued them. Elain seemed happy to carry Atlas around, her soft voice explaining to him the recent travels she and Lucien had gone on. 

“Tulips of every color covered the fields. I’m sure one day Lucien and I can take you to see them.” Her vivid descriptions of the continent wasted on the babe’s ears. Nesta’s gray eyes looked toward the door, watching as Eris entered. 

“Elain, the High Lord’s going to have you killed for speaking of kidnapping his son.” He couldn’t help the slight tilt to his mouth, some deep part of him appreciating Nesta’s attempt at normalcy.

“Nonsense, Nesta. If I had Elain killed, Lucien would mope about the house for the rest of his life.” His hands reached out, gently taking Atlas from Elain’s hold. “You keep him entertained for me. I owe you a great debt for it.”

The middle Archeron never knew how to respond to Eris, having only truly interacted with him a handful of times up to this point. She swallowed, thinking of all the stories Lucien had told her about his eldest brother and how language was his preferred method of battle.

“Perhaps you could entertain him with the dog toys?”

Eris tilted his head, his thumb stroking down his son’s back as he bit back a laugh. He knew any Cauldron fated mate of Lucien’s and sister to Nesta was surely somebody of interest to him, but Elain had yet to show anything Eris found to be interesting - until now.

“Did you just make a joke?”

“Yes.”

Eris nodded, wondering if he had underestimated his brother’s mate. The weight of the day had exhausted him, his bones begging for respite. Now that Atlas was in his arms once more, the tiny bundle so warm, his mind drifted to his bed where his mate currently laid. Your fate was still questionable - the healers were certain a full recovery was the most likely outcome, but when had the most likely outcome ever happened with Eris? Had he forged a life for himself only for it to be ripped away from him - the mother wanting him to know what happiness could be so he could feel its absence?

The air held a hint of awkwardness as they all stared at each other, Eris doing nothing to improve the warmth of the room. The two sisters filed out quickly, their voices directed toward Lucien as they left. The click of the door behind them was a beautiful symphony to Eris’s ears. To be alone with his son at last. It had only been twelve hours, but it was more like weeks had passed since he had seen Atlas’s small face, kissing his forehead goodbye. Nothing had felt off - no sense of anxiety overcame him, no fear for his family. Just annoyance and sadness at being away from them. 

Eris gently cradled Atlas’s head as he made his way up the mattress, propping himself up against the headboard, back cushioned by pillows. His son had been restless in his arms when he took him from Elain, his little arms and legs trying to disturb the perfectly swaddled blanket around him. 

The room had no windows and technically connected to his private chambers. When he was a boy, he had a full time nursemaid stay in here. Once he outgrew her, the space became his own private sanctuary. Many nights were spent hidden in this room, no concept of the passage of time as he poured over books, back curved in desperation to stay awake so he could finish it.

The shelves still lined the walls, but he had some of the furniture removed should his mate eventually want her own chambers. 

His muscles ached less the longer he stayed still, and he softly piled up pillows on each side of him. Atlas was stirring in his arms, tiny coos that were endearingly pathetic. He broached a long finger close to Atlas, tiny hands wrapping around it as he settled back down. If he could, he’d strip his shirt to allow his son to rest on his skin, but thought better of it. The jostling would wake him for good, and he’d be doubly upset to know he was on someone’s chest who wasn’t his mother.

The sound of deep breaths was all that could be heard in the room as Eris used his magic to put out the lit candles littering every surface. The darkness of the shadows made his eyes heavier, but he fought to stay awake, not wanting to let his guard down.

“My beautiful son.” Hushed words filled the room, the warmth of his voice almost visible in the darkness. Atlas didn’t acknowledge the words, content in his slumber and being with his father. His body felt warm in Eris’s arms, Vanserra babies always running hot. 

“I will always find you.” Outside the moon rose high in the air, the cold bringing a slight frost to Autumn. The midnight hour was one Eris made most of his best kept promises, all relating to the mate from the Night Court he found centuries ago. A tradition he unknowingly passed on to doing with his son. He was so pale, cheeks flaming pink. 

Atlas didn’t know his father was High Lord or general of Autumn’s armies for centuries. He had yet to experience the parts of himself that Eris wanted to keep hidden. Eris’s eyes closed slowly, lulled by his son’s breathing, content to know that for now, his son only knew him as a father.

-

Eris startled awake, something prodding at his arm. A groan escaped his lips, his brother’s scent filling his nose enough to rouse him from slumber. He must have slept off the adrenaline, his heart rate a more regular rhythm.

“She’s asking for you.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Eris scolded before he shot up, nearly jumping off the bed.

Lucien rolled his eyes, Eris’s annoyance growing further at the action. “You had been awake for days, Eris. You needed the rest. Don’t they say to sleep when the baby sleeps?”

Eris ignored his brother as he remembered his last moments before he fell asleep.

“Where’s Atlas?” 

“Cassian has him.” Eris shot his brother a glare.

“That’s not funny.” Lucien’s hand went up in defense. “Atlas is asleep on Cassian, and Elain and Feyre are with him if he wants any help.” 

“When did you move him?”

Lucien shrugged. “An hour ago, maybe? You didn’t want to let go of him.”

Lucien’s words were nonchalant, an air of not knowing to them. Why would Eris ever let his son out of his arms again? He had already been exposed to the horrors that lay outside his father’s arms - he wouldn’t let it happen again. He left Lucien in the room, the hallway much quieter now. So much had happened in the past few days, and yet the halls of the Forest House were unchanged. 

Eris stood outside the door, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. Heat danced at his fingertips, a small attempt at having any control over the situation. 

Big, violet eyes looked back at him as he opened the door, something settling in his soul. His mate had a plethora of pillows behind her, each one working to prop her up to be sitting. Long black hair flowed around her, lacking its usual shine. The dark hair highlighted just how pale she looked, but life was slowly returning to her face. A blanket covered her lower half - for the best, perhaps. The tight lid he was holding on his rage was sure to give if he were to see her injuries.

“Hi, Er.” Your voice cracked with trepidation. 

“How is the pain?” You looked down at your bandaged ankle, not moving it to check if the pain was still there. The wound only stopped pulsing with pain recently. Though you had been mostly unconscious, flashes of light and intense pain lingered in your memory.

He continued standing in front of the closed door, keeping his back to it. His eyes were focused on your face, watching every slight movement.

“It’s not so bad with the tonics Madja provided. She said the trap got to the bone of my ankle, so I should limit putting weight on it for a week.”

Eris nodded, the healer telling him much of the same. He had been trying to work through solutions to keeping his stubborn wife bedbound, not quite above shackling her to prevent further injury. A bassinette already sat next to their bed - maybe he could have it moved to his side so he could pick Atlas up and bring him to her. 

Eris nodded, staying uncharacteristically quiet. His feelings were dulled in your chest, muffled by a blanket of privacy neither of you used before.

“Say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued staying by the door, his tone growing slightly sharper. He was being petty and spiteful and you were having none of it.

“Tell me how you feel. You have never hidden your anger from me.”

“That is because I have never felt such anger at you.” The room was cloaked with Eris’ words, not quite stifling the roar of the fire.  “I cannot lose you. Either of you.”

His words were soft, nearly a whisper, but the crackle of the fireplace gave hint to how deep the anger ran.

“I know.”

He kept speaking, not acknowledging your words.“You are far too precious to me. Please, don’t ever risk yourself to escape Rhysand.” His words surprised you, a new wave of guilt overcoming you. Your actions had been done out of anger, winnowing when you knew well enough you shouldn’t. 

Everything could have ended so differently. And for what? To get back at your brother?

“Look at me.”

Eris had moved closer to the bed, as if his confession were a bridge that led him to you. His fingers moved slowly, gripping your chin. “There were a hundred better options, including asking the other bats to fly you home. Do not be so foolish with your life. With Atlas.”

Home. How that word had changed over the centuries. It was the cabin in Illyria, your mother and brother and sister inside, occasionally housing Cassian and Azriel. It was being four years old and scraping your knee and Rhys doing everything to dry your tears and make you laugh. It was flying with Cassian, determined to finally beat him in a race, chastisement over how knotted and wind whipped your hair had become.

And then it was Eris. Late night rendezvous turning into a permanent fixture. It was eating meals at the large, expansive table with two chairs right next to each other. Hounds lazing about the house, one practically laid out in every room in the massive dog beds you had insisted on. Warm colors making everything so vibrant.

And now it was Atlas. Two chairs soon becoming three. Two toothbrushes that would become three. A bassinet beside the bed. Teaching him everything he needed to know, his own neck unable to support the weight of his head. 

Tears clouded your eyes at wholly dependent upon you he was and how you wholly failed him today.

“I was a fool. I- I could have gotten Atlas killed or taken. I am- I will never allow my anger to cloud my judgment when it comes to Atlas.”

“Or you.” It felt like a gentle caress through your chest, so many unspoken words in those two.

“Or myself.”

The words felt like a truce, like you had both arrived to some understanding. To further prove it, you gently patted the bed next to you, eager to feel more of your mate’s warmth. He climbed on the bed, sliding in next to you. 

It was his preferred side to sleep - the left side, facing the door. It allowed him to come and go more easily without waking you, to keep himself between what laid in the world outside the confines of your marital bed.

Anger bubbled back up in your gut, remembering the bounty hunter’s wretched face, the immense delight she had found in your agony.

“Is she?” 

“Dead? Yes.”

The confirmation did little to ease the panic inside. She had been so close to hurting Atlas, so close to selling him away. It was an anger you were certain you would carry until you died.

“My only regret is I didn’t do it myself.”

“Rest assured, my mate. I took care of it.”

You leaned into his side, your head resting in the crook of his neck. He laid above the blankets, his feet crossed at the ankle. He looked so prim and proper, it delighted you a bit.

“And Atlas?” His arm wrapped around you, his hand stroking your cheek lazily.

“He is safe with Lucien as we speak.”

“I don’t think anything’s safe with Lucien.”

His grip on your head was soft but firm, keeping you close to him. His thumb started moving on its own, his body so content to be next to yours once more.

“I thought-“

“I know.” And you had known. His panic was all you had felt before being rescued. It would have been easy to drown in it if it weren’t for the instinct to protect Atlas.

“But we are okay.”

But for how long?

“There’s a note on the side table.”

Eris had to change the subject, unwilling and unwanting to face his emotions head on. Your eyes moved to find Rhysand’s delicate penmanship on the fold of the paper, the letters of your name in grand, swooping movements of the pen.

“Can I see it?”

You could feasibly reach it, but your arms felt so heavy. Your body was still so tired, movement a burden to worn out muscles. He reached over you, careful not to lay his weight on you, keeping the paper folded as he handed it to you.

“You’re not going to peek at it?”

“It is your correspondence.”

You rubbed the paper through your fingers, not certain if you were ready to know its contents. You wanted to read this alone, not have Eris coloring your feelings.

“Can you bring Atlas in here? Madja said I can hold him.”

Eris nodded, slowly untangling himself before leaving. The click of the door prompted you to open the note, some small part of you wanting this to be between siblings. Hope had bloomed at the sight of the note - a ceasefire, maybe. Or maybe it would contain the tenderness Rhysand had so adamantly kept locked away the past few years.

Eris had been adamant his relationship with Lucien was his to navigate. He wanted Lucien to feel Eris deserved his company, not coming around because Lucien likes Eris’s mate.

And so this letter was yours. Rhysand was your brother. Any tenderness or ire or passive aggression from him is yours to decide what to do with.

-

The letter sat next to you, your mind lost in thought when Eris returned with the small bundle in his arms. Your chest lightened at the sight, the tight grip of anxiety around your heart lessening with every step Eris moved forward until your son was tucked back into your arms.

“And he’s okay?”

“Yes, he’s been looked over at least a dozen times by now. His worst injury is a scrape on his arm that has already healed.” 

You gazed down at the impossibly tiny thing in your arms, taking in the features of his smooth, pale face. He was beautiful and he was yours.

“I am sure the extent of his injuries is in no small part due to your quick thinking.”

“Eris-“

“You are littered in cuts and scrapes, bruises everywhere. Do not think I can’t be both angry and proud of you at once.”

You preened a bit at the compliment, your mate’s pride in you always making your heart swell. “And if I did risk injury to myself for him?”

“Then you’d be the female the Mother mated me to, the one I had sworn myself to so long ago.”

It was quiet, two pairs of eyes looking down at the young boy between them. He was so small, so unaware of the danger that had surrounded him for several hours. To him the afternoon was different and scary in a new way: utter exhaustion had left her unable to stop her emotions from spreading and he felt his mother’s fear bubble in his belly. 

“I haven’t seen such injuries on you in so long.” Centuries ago, the blonde male had dropped off the Night Court princess in Autumn, her beautiful wings haphazardly cut off. The outpour of blood seemed endless, Eris not knowing how you still had any left. He could still smell the blood and vomit, the scent had stuck to his walls for years to come. 

“It would be the greatest disservice for Atlas to not know his mother.” Eris couldn’t say more, couldn’t verbalize the fear that was easing off his chest. It would gut him to not have anyone to share Atlas growing up with. He would go on without you for Atlas, but he wouldn’t be the same. How much pain can one bare before it consumes you whole? 

The room was silent, the small family huddled together, enjoying their reunion. Warmth radiated around the room as two sets of eyes watched Atlas smile.

-

A soft knock at the door woke you from the sleep you had dozed off into. You were alone - Eris’s scent still lingered, likely having left not even ten minutes ago. You took a deep breath, feeling around in your chest for him. All that was found at the rope that tethered you to him was a sense of calm and pride. He was definitely with Atlas, hopefully eating a meal as he cradled his son to his chest. 

“Come in.” 

The door opened, your brother’s head popping in through the door. Rhysand looked so out of place here in Autumn. His violet eyes screamed ‘wrong’ as he stood out from the background. You had the same eyes as him, but they seemed wrong here.

He kept his head low as he walked in, varying degrees of guilt and shame pouring off of him. The magic inside of you was slow to return, but Rhysand’s emotions wouldn’t be a mystery without them.

“Hello.”

“How cordial of you.”

“Well, when in Autumn.” He shifted on his feet, taking your silence for confusion. “Historically Autumn is a much more proper court than Night.”

An awkward tang filled your mouth with each word. “I am aware.” 

The two of you looked at each other, the silence in the room settling over the siblings. So far from their younger selves, so many atrocities laid between them. An observer would think they were strangers from the odd tension in the room.

Speaking was the hardest either had done.

“I am sorry.” His words were slow and deliberate, emphasizing each syllable to truly show he meant it. His shoulders hunched slightly, Cassian’s words from an earlier conversation swirling through his head.

We’d expect that kind of treatment from your father.

“When was the last time you said that to me?” Rhys was never good at apologies - every one had been followed up with “but-“. It would have been more sincere for him to apologize for his actions hurting your feelings.

“Far too long.” 

Silence. You waited, wanting more from him. You were tired of fighting with him, a constant battle for choices already made, each party wanting to be the victor. It was exhausting and with a new babe, something had to give.

“Rhys, this is my life, whether you like it or not. I can’t- I’m not playing games with you anymore. I don’t care if you like Eris or not, but you have to believe I can make my own decisions. You have to trust me.” Your earlier words seemed to finally get through to your brother, his shoulders slumping in some form of concession. “I can’t keep doing this merry go round of things seeming to be better just to blow up again.”

“I do trust you.”

“Do you?” The question flew from your mouth without thinking. “I kept this a secret for a century, Rhys, because you reacted exactly how I expected you to. You don’t - you used to trust me, let me make my own choices, but since that night you haven’t.”

You were growing wearisome from this argument, the fight draining you of what little energy was left. You pointed to the water cup on the nightstand, Rhys picking it up and giving it to you. He hovered next to you, staying at your bedside.

“I am sorry that I made you feel like I don’t trust you.” The water helped ease the slight headache that was building, and gave you something to do while you took a moment to think on Rhysand’s words.

“Do you?”

“Of course I do.” His voice broke as he spoke, a desperation lacing his words. “But how can I trust anyone else to care for you? How could I live with myself if I let you be with him only for him to hurt you?”

“He’s a good male, Rhys.”

“I want you safe. I want what’s best for you.”

“And he is. If I told you Feyre was no good for you, what would you do?” He quickly looked away, proving you right. His hand tugged at his hair, an action he hardly ever did.

“I was scared. When Eris came in and you were missing, I was scared. Cassian had to talk me down from blowing up the entirety of the Middle.”

The truth finally came from him. Every discussion, every argument, all Rhys would talk about was his anger, the betrayal. He kept his emotions so tight to his chest, they were suffocating him. You kept quiet, letting him continue.

“I was scared that it finally was happening. That another court was finally going to finish what Spring had started. I thought Eris had done this somehow, wanting us to discover his deeds. Wanting to basque in the glory of getting the upper hand over me.” He breathed in deeply through his nose, his hands shaking as he brought them to his face. Unshed tears lined his violet eyes, the depths of sadness keeping your gaze. “But it was me who led you to danger. It was me who couldn't keep you safe.”

A sob tore through him, the sound of the last wall between the two of you collapsing. You moved over on the bed, allowing space for Rhys before patting the bed. He stood before sitting on the edge of the bed, toeing off his shoes, and laying next to you. You leaned your head on his shoulder as he draped his arms around you, clinging tight. 

He clung to you as he sobbed into your shoulder, your own tears falling on top of his head. How had things become so twisted? How had your relationship crumpled this much? 

The High Lord’s embrace allowed the emotions of the day to crash into you, clutching his shirt tight in your fingers. The soft silk was such a contrast to the pain in your chest. 

Rhysand was your brother,  the only person alive who loved you before you were born. He didn’t have to know you to love you.

Rhys had always told you he loved you before you were born, something you had never grasped until Atlas. Seeing something so small and tiny and knowing you would go to the ends of the planet to help them. 

“You didn’t get to meet Atlas.”

He stayed in your arms, a less than dignified sniffle coming from him. When was the last time you had seen Rhysand cry? Those nights he would find you in Feyre’s absence when she was in Spring, letting you soothe him to sleep? Or was it when Nyx was born and Feyre nearly died? 

“Do I even deserve to at this point?”

The two of you were the sole survivors of a noble family. An entire family gone in one night. You leaned further into him, nose pressed against his bicep. He was warm, the citrusy scent coming off him made so many memories flash through your mind: learning to fly, lounging in his study as he worked, intense chess matches that left everyone mad. Centuries of baggage laid in the space between the two of you.

The second part of his scent was the soft undertone of sea salt that always reminded you of home. Your mother smelled like sea salt and caramel, a scent that always made your mouth water for sweets and feel safe. She was gone, had been for so long your memories of her were blurry from use, but so much of her lay in the male next to you.

There was no way back to her or the rest of your family, gone for centuries now, memories so replayed they were memories of memories by now. But you still thought of them often. You were thinking of your mother when you spoke once more, thinking of the excitement Rhys had to finally have a little sister.

“Yes, you do.”

Author’s note: AHHHHHHH wasn’t that great ❤️

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Gingerfucker taglist: @bookwormysblog

Thanks for reading ❣️

[theonottsbxtch]

Secret Sister Part Three | OP81

a/n: won’t you look at this couple adulting! 🤭

fc: pinterest

requests: open

twitter

ynnorris

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 78,226 others

work work work break and more work

*tap to load more comments*

yourbestfriend: women in stem

ynnorris: stem = stalking, terrorising, endangering and manipulating xx

yourbestfriend: okay sweetie

userone: that comment defo makes me feel like they’ve broken up

usertwo: day 93 of me asking for oscar to comment under her post like he usually does

userthree: is that him in the 3rd slide??

userfour: looks like lando to me

userfive; could be her coworker

usersix: i’m sure that’s oscar

landonorris: when she makes her own money and stops asking me for mine 😍

ynnorris: me when i see a new lego set out of my budget but i have a millionaire brother 😍

landonorris: no

ynnorris: you suck

userseven: oscar is a private person, wouldn’t surprise me if he stopped posting her

twitter

ynnorris

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 81,272 others

happy birthday big brother, the bestest a little sister could ask for

*tap to load more comments*

landonorris: love you pumpkin

ynnorris: love you, you melon

userone: wish my sibling relationship was like this

usertwo: day 138 of asking oscar to comment under her post like he usually does

userthree: babe wake up new lando meme dropped

yourbestfriend: happy birthday lan!

landonorris: thank you little miss glorified babysitter

yourbestfriend: i don’t get paid enough

userfour: i fear ynoscar is actually over

text message between yn and best friend

ynnorris

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 91,724 others

life lately

*tap to load more comments*

yourbestfriend: subtle

ynnorris: i ran out of ideas

userone: what is that last photo?!

usertwo: there is no way she has moved on already and is knocked up?!?!?

userthree: begging oscar to be the dad

userfour: damn i deleted insta just under a year and this happens

userfive: congrats!

landonorris: ain’t no way

ynnorris: lando get out you knew two weeks ago

landonorris

liked by ynnorris, oscarpiastri, mclarenracing and 173,279 others

summer break and family

*tap to load more comments*

ynnorris: i know no one will believe me but he bought himself that shirt

yourbestfriend: it’s fine i believe you

ynnorris: thank you

userone: still no sign of baby daddy

usertwo: i’m telling you that is oscar’s child. i can’t prove it but i know it.

userthree: delusion

usertwo: mark my words

mclarenracing: petition to bring baby niece to mtc more often

userfour: she already comes??

userfive: defo baby piastri

usersix: i can’t keep up

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, mclarenracing and 273,279 others

happy four years sweetheart 🤍🧡

*comments have been restricted*

landonorris: my invite must have got lost in the mail

yourbestfriend: mine too

zakbrownceo: mine too

mclarenracing: ours too

ynpiastri: love you more sugar 🤍🧡

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[spliffymae]

forgotten connie drabble (18+ mdni)

★　*　　°　　　　🛰 　°. 🌓　•　　.°•　　　🚀

“SURPRISE!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CONNIE!”

you moved to the side once you were inside, coming in behind the man of the hour himself. sasha had been running rampant to throw him an amazing surprise party. and you were in on it, tasked with bringing connie home from work and acting as if you know nothing about what the current day was.

which proved to be hard the second connie got into your car after putting his bag in the back seat. “ahh shit! they got mi cielita to take me out. where we going, mami?” connie was grinning ear to ear as he looked at you, dimples popping below red freckled cheeks.

he was so cute, and you were gonna hate to do this but, “what’re you on about, springer?” you scrunched your face up in confusion at him. you then quickly looked ahead to pull out the parking lot. if you looked at him for too long you were sure you’d crack.

connie rolled his eyes, not buying your ignorance. “oh stop that, y’know what i’m talking bout.” he said as he buckled himself in and then reclined the passenger seat.

with the strongest will you could muster, you kept up the confusion, looking back at him and with a quirked brow, “you got a game or sum?” you asked, knowing damn well he had nothing going on today. his birthday happened to land on the off day for ball practice AND track practice, not to mention he didn’t have class either.

now, when sasha told you to act like you forgot that his birthday was today, she failed to mention to you that it was something connie’s mother had done plenty of times in his life…not as a joke, though.

connie really cared about four women in his life: you, sasha, his little sister, and his mom. so you forgetting his day took a pin to his bubble and popped the fuck out of it. he didn’t dwell on the subject anymore, changing to now talk about your days. however, connie was feeling down on the inside. all his friends had wished him a happy birthday either via call, text, or social media post. have you not been on your phone today?

when you pulled up to his and sasha’s shared apartment, you flashed him a smile but it was not reciprocated. connie was staring ahead, zoned out in thought. so much so he doesn’t feel you turn the car off or hear you call his name.

“con” you pushed his shoulder slightly, getting him to snap out of his own head.

“hm?”

“we’re at your place. is it cool if i come up to use the bathroom?” you usually wouldn’t say anything and invite yourself into his apartment. days when you’d get him we’re days you set aside to hang with him. but today seems to be different. connie wondered if you had made plans that made you forget about his birthday.

“uh yeah, sure.” he said lowly. he reached back to grab his backpack and with that, got out the car. you could see the defeat in his walk towards the doors. he was mumbling to himself, more times trying to dissect what the hell was going on with you. because you wouldn’t just forget, right?

you got out the car and sped walk to catch up, sending sasha a quick text to let her know yall were back. you also cussed her for telling you to do this to connie, knowing how pouty he gets.

the walk to the elevator was quite, along with you two getting off at his floor and going to his apartment. however, before connie turned the key he put into the lock, he turned to you. his eyes were glossed over and cheeks dusted with a crimson red. he was chewing on his bottom lip, hazel eyes filled with worry. “did i do something, mami? you mad at me?”

and oh my god you wanted to break the act right there…but you were RIGHT THERE.

you blinked, “what do you mean, con? why would i be?” you wanted him to just open the door. once he opened the door you could drop the act, you could give him all the birthday love you were holding in since midnight.

connie let out a sigh and turned back around, giving up on the matter and turning the lock to go in. the day was no longer felt good. what good was a birthday if the one person he wanted to spend it with forgot about it?

when the door opened, connie walked inside and turned on the light and was immediately met with screams, cheers, and camera lights in his face.

which brings us here, to where he freezes and looks around at his friends from his basketball team, work, childhood, and sasha standing in the middle with a cake.

connie spent a good couple seconds taking everything in, he was slightly embarrassed to say once he believed you had forgotten he immediately forgot the day, choosing to just wallow in his room as he smoked a spliff.

you took a step forward, hands behind your back and coming up on his right. “happy birthday, connie.” you bumped him with your hip, once again snapping him out of his own head and bringing him back to the present.

the big, toothy smile he had in your car came back, now decorated with deep dimples and eyes watery with tears of appreciation.

just as he was about to say something to you, jean pulled him away, leaving you two with an unfinished conversation.

•　　.°•

you were talking to sasha in the kitchen as connie was socializing with all his guests. he hadn’t had the chance to come back to you just yet, but you weren’t worried. you didn’t plan on going anywhere.

“i told you! he’s so brain dead when it comes to you that he’ll completely forget everything. did you see how lost he looked when he saw us?” sasha was so happy that her plan had turned out well. she knew her best friend well enough to know it wasn’t going to take a lot to get his mind off his literal day of birth. not when you were the one thing that stayed on his mind and could pull his attention from anything.

you playfully rolled your eyes, “i still hated seeing how sad he looked. why didn’t you tell me i was damn near triggering him?!” you were nursing your second cup of a mimosa, slightly tipsy.

sasha giggled. she, on the other hand, had been four shots in from when you guys came in. “i forgot. but it’s all good now. oop—here he comes.” before you knew it, sasha had stepped away and now connie was in your space.

his eyes were low and bloodshot, having just come back from a hotbox with his guys in the car. “mami, you really are sum special.” he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and pulling you to be flush against him.

you smiled, “sasha made me, pa. you know i would never forget your day.” you traced his lips with your finger, your acrylic nail going along his prominent cupids bow. connie held your hand still and kissed your finger, then moved your hand so it was at the back of his head. it brought you closer into his space, his cologne taking over your senses. he loweeeed his head to touch yours, looking in your eyes.

“¿dónde está mi regalo, princesa? his hands trailed up from your waist to your back, to your elbow and then shoulder. he tucked one of your locs behind your ear, staring at you as if you held both the moon and the stars. “i been dying to unwrap it” his eyes were scanning all over your face, taunting you with his hidden meaning.

“quiero mi pastel, ma. soy hambriento.” he undid the button with ease, bringing you to gasp and instinctively grip the small curls on the back of his neck.

“later.” you said softly, giving him a sweet smile to match. but connie smirked with wickedness, red eyes gleaming of mischief. his hand trailed back down to the waistband of your baggy pants.

“c-con.” you could feel his long and slender fingers pad over your core. he pressed his index and his middle against your clit, sending a jolt up your spine. “this party’s for you.” you bit your lip when you felt him move them in a circular motion, the wetness of your pussy dampening your panties.

“it’s my birthday, right? i can do whatever i want, right?” you were gonna answer, but then he pushed your panties to the side. he had rubbed your lips to collect your slick on his fingers, and slowly began to push them inside of you. your mouth opened, but no words came out.

“oh princesa, did you forget how to talk? just like how you forgot papi’s birthday?” he tsked, shaking his head, “made me so sad. y’know” the force of his thrusts picked up, knocking you back to grip the edge of the counter behind up. “a mean joke you guys pulled on me.”

“pa…i-i can’t be quiet” you panicked, looking at connie with worrisome eyes. he knew you were a screamer, fuck it was what he loved about you. pleasure would overwhelm you quick and all your composure would go flying out the window. you got animalistic when you’d approach your peak, and connie never missed the chance to see it. but today, you were doing your best to show restraint the clench of your jaw let him know you really wanted to get it out but were resisting.

connie took his other hand to rub a thumb on your clit, turning his ears off to anything that wasn’t your faulty breaths or straggled moans. “hm…guess i forgot.”

[formulafics]

★ BEST OF BOTH WORLDS | MV1

Scenario: the sweet chaos of dating max verstappen while you’re daniel ricciardos sister - the best of both worlds, right? (requested)

Pairing: max verstappen x fem!ricciardo!reader

A/N: one of my fav duos ❤️ and MY FIRST MAX FIC ‼️ i love him. shoutout to anon for being the first person to request a silly little max fic. i had sm fun with this and i hope you have fun reading it!

ynricciardo.jpg

perth, australia

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, lando.jpg, oscarpiastri, and 232,627 others

ynricciardo.jpg home is where the heart is <3

view all 3,456 comments

danielricciardo another post without me included. day 456, it’s getting tough

⤷ ynricciardo.jpg i don’t want to mess up my feed with too many pictures of my brother

⤷ rizzciardo yn, the last time you posted daniel was on his birthday…nearly a year ago

⤷ norrisnation HELP ME

maxverstappen1 ❤️

⤷ danielricciardo ew

⤷ ynricciardo.jpg and that’s why there’s a total of 2 posts of you on this account.

f1waglover always a good day when yn posts

badgerofhoney I CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU AT THE RACE THIS WEEKEND

⤷ ricciardosiblingsgirlie ME TOO i’ve missed seeing her

maxverstappen1 and ynricciardo.jpg

liked by ynricciardo.jpg, danielricciardo, landonorris, redbullracing, and 456,734 others.

maxverstappen1 i got sunshine on a rainy day. i’m talkin about my girl.

view all 3,456 comments

ynricciardo.jpg when it’s cold outside, i got the month of may. i’m talkin bout my boy. ily ❤️

ynricciardo.jpg shoutout to @/landonorris for taking picture 1 & 3

⤷ landonorris thank you. this is why i like you more than max :)

danielricciardo get a room

⤷ ynricciardo.jpg BOOOO OVERDONE

⤷ rizzciardo LMAO i can literally hear this in yn’s voice 😭

ynricciardo.jpg

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1, alex_albon, pierregasly, and 243,456 others

ynricciardo.jpg were gathered here for the annual danny ric post from this account. happy birthday, brother - 34 going on 4! I love you and I hope you enjoy mine and max’s company as much as we enjoy yours.

view all 2,346 comments

danielricciardo a whole post dedicated to me? man, the waterworks are about to start. i love you too, thank you. ❤️

⤷ rizzciardo they can be so wholesome i love them sm

norrisnation god bless yn for that video of drunk max singing happy birthday to daniel

⤷ ynricciardo.jpg max just sent me a screenshot of your comment and said “what the fuck?” 😁

[multifandomgirl08]

A Year in Moments [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest/Tumblr

Format: Social Media

Summary: 2026 in little moments

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

danielricciardo

Liked by ynverstappen and 386,457 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & ynverstappen

danielricciardo Apparently I crashed date night. Sorry for being the third wheel guys.

ynverstappen Third wheel? What are you talking about?

maxverstappen1 danielricciardo You were flirting with my wife just as much as I was. ynverstappen He was flirting with me only when he wasn't flirting with you. danielricciardo Have you seem Max?? Why wouldn’t I flirt with him? ynverstappen True, he's something that needs to be cherished. danielricciardo I love that we're fighting over Max. How you feel about that mate? maxverstappen1 Pretty good! Please do continue... or you know save it for when you are next at the house.

View all 574 comments

fan85 Wait, does this mean that Y/N knows about Maxiel? The Verstappens and Daniel?!

fan61 I thought we all made a gentlemen’s (fangirl’s) agreement not to bring up Maxiel on IG.

fan23 Does Daniel get invited out to dinner with Max and Y/N often?

fan38 There has to be more to this story!

February 10, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe and 348,926 others

tagged: lilymhe, carmenmmundt,...

ynverstappen Things can get crazy when it's just us

sebastianvettel Please bring back my wife in one piece.

alex_albon Should I be concerned that my flat is going to be a mess when I get home?

View all 745 comments

fan18 When all the F1 WAGs have dinner together!

fan67 How do you get an invite to this dinner? Asking for a friend.

fan39 Become a WAG. How else?

fan49 Is no one going to talk about the fact that all of the WAGs are having dinner together just after Mother’s Day??

May 28, 2026

ynverstappen 📍Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

Liked by danielricciardo and 234,845 others

ynverstappen Our weekend in Spa

View all 842 comments

fan95 Nico looks just like Max

fan76 Has anyone ever met Y/N at a race?

fan45 I met her last year at Silverstone. She was super nice, even offered to take my picture with Lando who was walking with her and Nico.

fan63 I feel like Nico is just the sweetest kid.

fan56 Can confirm. Aside from Y/N, Nico just wanted to spend the day with his dad and his little brother when I saw them earlier today.

fan44 Wondering why Y/N hasn't posted any pictures of Nikita given that he was at Spa?

fan60 I don't think it's strange for Y/N not to post any pictures of Nikita given that he's only 9 months old. Y/N wasn't even sitting in the garage like she normally does on race day. It's probably too loud for his little ears.

August 2, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by yourbestfriend and 451,045 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynverstappen Best view in The Maldives

danielricciardo I taught this man how to thirst trap!

ynverstappen You did, I've never been more grateful!

View all 456 comments

fan23 I love that they've become the couple that just drops thirst traps of one another

fan74 Y/N is feeding us all of the good content

fan86 Is that baby Nikita with Max in the last photo?

August 27, 2026

ynverstappen

Liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and 238,475 others

tagged: victoriaverstappen

ynverstappen Happy Birthday to my awesome sister-in-law. Between the lunch dates, retail therapy, and picking on the man that I love. I wouldn't be able to survive family vacations without you.

📸: sophiekumpen

lilymhe The perfect sister-in-law duo

ynverstappen You know it babe

fan67 Lily is in Y/N's comments! OMG

fan23 When Y/N's photos are giving off S and B vibes

October 22, 2026

maxverstappen1 and ynverstappen

Liked by martingarrix, and 734,724 others

maxverstappen1 I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.

📸 : lilymhe

georgerussell63 The actual physical embodiment of these characters

danielricciardo You've never looked better mate

landonorris Did you dye your hair? Brave man

maxverstappen1 Not hair dye, it's like spray I think?

View all 392 comments

fan73 They already give off this energy 😍😍

fan59 Mom and Dad

fan84 She really is everything, and he worships her.

October 31, 2026

----

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery | part two

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: sorry this took a little longer than i expected! it was so fun to make though. i didn't want to say who she's actually with because i feel like it's fun for the readers to have to figure that out too! so please share any guesses you have lol i'm interested to see what people think the outcome will be. hope you enjoy and thank you sm for reading<3

part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

liked by yourbrother, maxverstappen1, and 101,225 others

yourusername happy birthday to my favorite brother, i love you and am so grateful to know i have someone in my life who looks after me like you do<3 here's my fav pics of us of course they're all racing related lol, our first love

view all 982 comments

yourbrother "my favorite brother"... As far as I know I am your only brother 😐

⤷ yourusername 🥱🥱🥱🥱 technicalities

yourbrother Thank you least favorite sister, miss those days. Have to get back out on the karting track, been too long since I've beaten you

⤷ yourusername been too long since you've been beaten, you mean?

⤷ yourbrother Yeah, yeah we'll let the track times speak for themselves

⤷ user1 ok but we have to admit the brother sister banter is kind of adorable

⤷ user2 no bc she seems so sweet 😭

user3 nah because what is max verstappen doing in this girls likes now????

⤷ user4 and the plot thickens 😯

user5 she saw everyone calling her a fake f1 fan and said take a look at this

user6 yn hater club how you guys feeling right about now

⤷ user7 🤡🤡🤡🤡

user8 honestly kind of hope she's dating one of them

⤷ user9 yall switch up so fast please 😭😭

user10 seriously..... you HAD to only post f1 related photos lmfao so totally pandering to the landoscar fans

user11 f1 school of wags next graduate

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

liked by mclaren, yourusername, and 1,891,218 others

landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!! couldn't have asked for a better race, congrats @/oscarpiastri and a huge thanks as always to @/mclaren 🧡

view all 5,871 comments

user1 I SAY THATS MY BABY AND IM SO PROUD 😭

user2 mclaren double podium... oh i used to pray for times like these

user3 oscar piastri you are insane omfg

user4 MY POOKIES LOOK AT THEM !!!!!!!!! 🫂

user5 save me landoscar SAVE ME

yourusername jumping up and down screaming and crying losing my mind

⤷ landonorris you should probably get that checked out....

⤷ user6 THATS IT, ITS YN AND LANDO IM CALLING IT

⤷ user7 nah nah nah this is so giving gf of the bestie banter

⤷ user8 agreed hopping on the oscaryn train 💪🏻

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

yourusername added to their story

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

oscarpiastri added to their story

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

liked by kellypiquet, oscarpiastri, and 789,012 others

yourusername qatar gp smiles <3 practice timeeee

📸 @/kellypiquet

view all 1,281 comments

kellypiquet so beautiful

⤷ yourusername all you

landonorris eye spy a mclaren car down there?

⤷ yourusername ? i just see a tractor

⤷ landonorris not funny. 😐

⤷ yourusername i certainly laughed

⤷ oscarpiastri same actually

⤷ user1 i dont know how much longer i can take this

⤷ user2 GUYSSSS i am telling you its so oscaryn

⤷ user3 WHAT literally look at the Proof its so landoyn 🥱

⤷ user4 i am giggling we're literally in a shipwar

user5 she's so pretty i'm sorry guys i love her 😵‍💫

⤷ user6 well yes!

user7 patiently waiting for one of the mcl boys to main feed post her then we know for sure ‼️

⤷ user8 at this rate it still won't clear anything up

lilymhe miss u beautiful

⤷ yourusername omg i miss u more ms lily

⤷ user9 she has The wag stamp of approval WE MOVE!

user10 theres four e's at the end of 'time'....... landos number is 4 i've got it guys 😃😃

⤷ user11 seek medical attention STAT

⤷ user12 bro thinks this is a taylor swift album release

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

liked by mclaren, landonorris, and 789,012 others

yourusername oscar piastri sprint race winner AND mclaren double podium, better start calling me the good luck charm

view all 1,281 comments

user1 nah bc you're onto something.....

user2 she can't be serious 😐

⤷ user3 well no shit it's just an instagram caption

user4 i cannot be the only one who finds the caption extremely weird

⤷ user5 nah i'm with you i've never liked her 🙄

⤷ user6 its just so odd like forcing yourself into the mclaren narrative completely taking away from the boys achievements writing it off as your own doing...

⤷ user7 omfg yall are so dramatic just say you're jealous they're not dating you lmfao

⤷ user8 no fr because it is not that serious it's clearly a joke like she loves them cmon now

mclaren BRB getting your paddock passes for the duration of the season

⤷ yourusername i'm giggling, i love you guys 😙

⤷ user9 see mclaren is fine with it so yall should be too

⤷ user10 now i'm going to need all the haters to sit DOWN and shut the fuck UP

oscarpiastri wait can you send me that picture

⤷ yourusername i literally did already but okay

⤷ oscarpiastri ok could do with less attitude

⤷ yourusername you have not seen real attitude piastri

⤷ oscarpiastri 😧

⤷ user11 i think this just converted me to team oscar

⤷ user12 nah this is literally landoyn confirmation

landonorris 🍀

⤷ user13 i am picking up what he's putting down

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。

part one | part three

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

taglist:

@landoscar-f1 , @urfavnoirette , @imsiriuslyreal

[written-with-clouds]

I Found Love (Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be) Epilogue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/ Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Seven years have passed since Aemond took you back to Dragonstone. Six years have passed since Rhaenyra took to the Iron Throne as the rightful queen.

Authors Note: Cross posted on AO3,

CW: Nongraphic childbirth

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Mama! Mama!” The bed shakes, bouncing you awake, though you refuse to open your eyes as sleep clings to you. “Mama! Wake up wake up wake up!” The excited squealing of your five year old daughter continues and you fight the urge to smile.

“Vis, I told you to let her sleep.” Comes the hushed voice of your husband. You hear his boots against the stone floor as he crosses over to the bed and lifts your daughter into his arms. 

“But I want to show her what I drew..” Your daughter responds, the pout on her face evident in her tone. “I know issa byka zaldrīzes (my little dragon), but you can show her when she wakes up. On her own.” Aemond explains softly. His footsteps receding as he exits the room and you drift back off sleep.

You stir awake again a while later as the bed dips behind you. This time, instead of the excited bouncing that woke you earlier, it’s a warm body pressing against your back and an arm sliding around your middle. Gentle lips kiss a pattern over your shoulder and the side of your neck, leading up to your ear. 

“Happy birthday, issa ābrazȳrys (my wife),” Aemond whispers against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. 

“Mmm” You sigh deeply, relaxing back against him. You place your arm on top of his and intertwine your fingers. “What time is it?” 

“Not quite noon, still plenty of time before the dinner tonight.” 

“Not quite noon… How did you manage to keep Visenya occupied?” 

“It wasn’t easy. But luckily her attention span isn't that great,” Aemond jokes causing you to laugh. Your laughter, it seems, is good for summoning children, as not even a minute later your daughter is jumping onto the bed.

“Mama!” She squeals cheerfully.

“Hello, my dear”

“Happy birthday mama! I made you something!” She beams, holding out a scribbled drawing. You can just kind of make out three figures; you, Aemond, and your daughter. In the background is another, larger, figure that’s really no more than a gray blob. 

“Is this Vhagar?” You ask pointing to the blob figure. Visenya nods rapidly, making your head and neck hurt just watching her. “It's beautiful, baby… thank you”

“How can she have so much energy?” Aemond asks. The two of you are watching Visenya play with her dragon in the garden. She chases after the fledgling as it hops around, ducking in and out of different bushes. 

“I don’t know, but from the feel of things, this little one will give her a run for her money.” You chuckle, rubbing your hand over the swollen bump of your stomach. The baby inside kicks, further proving your point.

Aemonds hand joins yours as he leans over to coo at the unborn child, “If you can tire your sister, you’ll be my favorite.” 

“Hush,” you smack at his shoulder lightly and he kisses first your stomach and then your lips.

You, Aemond, and Visenya walk through the doors into the dining hall. Your daughter practically sprints towards Daemon as he crouches to her level. She squeals loudly as he lifts her up and spins her around.

“Oh, my darling.” Your mother says, opening her arms wide and embracing you. She kisses your forehead, “Happy birthday..” Just as soon as she releases you, your brothers Luke and Jace are enveloping you in their own hugs, mirrored happy birthdays spilling from their lips. Rhaena, Baela, And Helaena following suit. 

You respond to everyone with a kind smile and a bashful, “Thank you.” Everyone settles around the table as the servants start to bring out the food. Plate after plate of your favorite dishes are placed around the table and you give your mother a knowing look. 

“Don’t start,” She responds, wiggling a finger at you playfully. You put your hands up in surrender and Aemond chuckles beside you. The table dissolves into several small conversations. Lord Corlys and his wife talked politics with your mother, while Daemon and Aemond had a debate over who would win in a fight between the two of them—your daughter dutifully taking her favorite grandfather’s side, much to your husband’s dismay. Jace, Luke and Rhaena were animatedly discussing something at the end of the table while you, Baela and Helaena theorized what the topic was. 

Laughter and music rang through the hall as the night went on. At some point, your daughter had crawled into Aemonds lap and was currently fighting a losing battle with sleep. 

He places a hand on your thigh to get your attention, “I’m going to put her to bed..” 

“No, let me do it..” You insist. “You had her this morning, I’ll put her to bed.” 

“Darling, she’s practically a dead weight.. you shouldn’t be carrying her.” 

“Then let’s do it together. And before you argue, just know I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” 

Aemond sighs and smiles softly, a sight reserved for you alone. He stands and waits for you. As you stand, you notice a dull pain in your abdomen but think nothing of it, those short pains weren’t abnormal at this stage in your pregnancy. Walking up the stairs, another pain shoots through you. You grip the handrail, leaning against it as you double over. Groaning loudly, you clench your eyes shut. 

You can distantly hear Aemond passing your still sleeping daughter off to a handmaiden before his muffled voice is closer, asking if you’re okay. One of his hands touches the small of your back softly but the touch does little to ease your nerves. 

You feel something run down your leg and hurriedly pull and push at the fabric of your dress. Sticking your hand under your dress, you feel for where it’s the most wet. Swiping your fingers through the liquid before removing your hand from the fabric of your dress, sighing in relief when you see that it’s a clear liquid and not the red color of blood. 

As your pain subsides and the panic in your heart calms you look at Aemond, who is still by your side. “The baby is coming.”

You labored for nearly two days. Your mother helped guide you through the birth, just as she had when Visenya was born. She grasped your clammy hand in hers while the wetnurses rushed about the room. She walked you back and forth in the chamber to help move things along, told you stories to distract you from the pain. 

Aemond paced outside the doors to your shared chamber, anxiously wringing his hands. Daemon had taken on the job of watching Visenya so that he could focus on you and your newborn. For nearly two days Aemond didn’t sleep, barely ate, and pestered the Maesters for information anytime one left the room. And then, finally, Aemond heard the shrill cry of a baby. Rhaenyra was the first to exit the room, embracing Aemond. 

She pulled back and smiled at him, “Your wife misses you. And your child wants to meet you.”

Aemond enters the room quietly. His eye immediately landing on your tired, disheveled, form. And even with your hair laying wild around you and your skin shining with sweat, he still believes you to be the most beautiful woman in the world. 

A small bundle of cloth lays against your bare chest. You coo at it, gently rubbing a hand along the back of it. Aemond sits next to you, placing an arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple. 

You smile at him, tired and content. “Aemond… meet your son, Aerys.” 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@hydrationqueensworld

@strangersunghoon

[gottaluvharry]

family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

[vivwritesfics]

oscar and i have the EXACT same birthday (down to the year lmao) and… since it’s this saturday… was WONDERING if you’d write a fic of logan getting with oscar’s twin sister lmao

- 🇺🇸 (ironic i, an american, am asking for a fic about an australian. but.)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY POOKIE (this turned out wayyy longer than i expected lol)

2022

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 103,283 others

y/npiastri happy birthday to my LITTLE brother

view all comments

username1 this is gold

oscarpiastri MINUTES

oscarpiastri WE WERE BORN MINUTES APART

y/npiastri I just so happened to be born first

logansargeant happy birthday to my favourite twins

y/npiastri thank you pookie oscarpiastri thank you MY BEST FRIEND LOGAN

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 204,458 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday stinky

view all comments

y/npiastri die

username2 lmao i love them

logansargeant we can't just have one normal birthday post, can we?

y/npiastri then we wouldn't be the pastry twins oscarpiastri *piastri twins y/npiastri guess again, genius

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 230,487 others

logansargeant happy birthday besties

view all comments

y/npiastri ty pookie

oscarpiastri this picture is awful

y/npiastri he means we love it (twin telepathy) oscarpiastri stop being nice oscarpiastri you're never nice

username3 happy birthday piastri twins

2023

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 185,832 others

y/npiastri happy birthday to Lando's teammate

view all comments

oscarpiastri you don't have my permission to post this

landonorris i knew you preferred me lol

logansargeant lmao when's the party

y/npiastri ;) oscarpiastri ...

oscarpiastri can you just call me your brother

oscarpiastri for once pls y/npiastri go away, teammate of Lando's

landonorris happy birthday to y/n's brother

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 267,482 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday twin

view all comments

y/npiastri this picture is amazing send it to me

logansargeant when was this?

oscarpiastri your 21st y/npiastri lmao you were there, lo

username4 omg she called him lo

username5 lol oscar would never let that happen liked by oscarpiastri

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 301,483 others

logansargeant birthday people

view all comments

y/npiastri terrible picture, try again

oscarpiastri thank you for not embarrassing us this year

logansargeant saving my ammo for the big 23

username6 they're literally my favourites

alex_albon happy birthday guys

2024

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 345,692 others

oscarpiastri happy birthday big pastry

view all comments

y/npiastri happy birthday lil pastry

logansargeant happy birthday pastries

y/npiastri

liked by logansargeant, and 153,485 others

y/npiastri happiest birthday girl

view all comments

oscarpiastri excuse me WHAT IS THIS

oscarpiastri PICK UP THE PHONE

oscarpiastri WHO IS THIS

logansargeant happy birthday ❤

username7 odds on its logan

username8 LY/N CONFIRMED

logansargeant

liked by y/npiastri, and 293,485 others

logansargeant my birthday girl

view all comments

username7 called it lol

oscarpiastri I THINK THE FUCK NOT

oscarpiastri BOTH OF YOU PICK UP THE PHONE

oscarpiastri worst birthday ever

y/npiastri get over it

[loveluvrs]

third time's the charm l oscar piastri x reader

request/summary – Hellooo!! Would you be able to write an oscar piastri blurb with little examples of the reader showing him off and him getting all flustered? For example, drunk in a club with her friends / to make him feel more confident / ect..? 🫶

author's notes – idk if this was what anon was thinking of but this is what i imagined 😭

I walked into the paddock, hand in hand with Oscar. I was talking about the newest episode of the series I had been binge watching. Oscar, as usual, had settled into listening to me attentively, as I yapped on relentlessly without an end in sight. 

I stopped when I bump into Max’s mum and sister. His family was like a second family to me, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to see them yet since Oscar and I started dating. 

“Oh, hi! I’ve missed you guys so much. This is Oscar, you guys already know he’s my boyfriend,” I say excitedly as he reaches his hand out to greet them. “He loves the curry I make just like you guys do. Sometimes I think he may like it even more. I mean, he always begs me to make it whenever he’s visiting home,” I ramble on excitedly. 

“Ooookay, we should get going now. Nice to meet you,” Oscar says before dragging me along with him to Mclaren garage. “What happened? I was talking,” I ask with a pout. 

He laughs as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I know, babe. You never stop talking, do you?” he says playfully, “you should remember to breathe every once in a while.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I wasn’t even talking that much! I was just introducing them to you and telling them how much I love you!” I say defensively with a confused look in my eyes. 

“Love, you were telling them I beg for your cooking, that’s embarrassing!” Oscar says with a slight laugh. It’s only now I stop and notice that he’s turned slightly red, making me giggle. Oscar gives me an unamused look before saying, “don’t laugh at me like that, you do this every time!” 

“I’m sorry,” I say with a giggle, “you know I only do it because I love you. I just want people to know how great you are, promise!” Oscar opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted when some of his team members approach him to talk to him about the upcoming race weekend. “We’re going to talk about this later,” Oscar says softly as he points a finger at me playfully. 

——

I screamed as Oscar won the sprint race in Qatar, and I immediately rushed over to him after the race, peppering him with kisses all over his face. “I’m so so proud of you, oh my god!” I say excitedly. Oscar’s face was already red from the heat, and it somehow turned even redder when he saw the cameras approach us. He whined slightly as he burrowed his face into my neck. “Baby, don’t embarrass me,” he mumbles quietly in a shy voice. 

“My boyfriend just won a sprint race in his rookie season in F1, of course I’m gonna show you off and embarrass you. Don’t expect anything less from me,” I tease as I give him one last kiss before sending him off. 

When Oscar returns to our hotel room that night, I’m already half asleep. He spends a bit of time on his phone while in my arms, trying to keep up with everyone’s messages. He stops when he sees an Instagram post from me, his embarrassed and red face that was caught on the cameras now plastered all over this post. “Did you really have to post that?” He asks me playfully.

“I absolutely did. You’re amazing, and you’re mine. Two things every person should know,” I say playfully, earning a playful eye roll from him. “But I look awful, babe!” He protests, zooming in on himself in the photo. I stifle a laugh. “Thousands of people would disagree, actually. Plus, you don’t look awful, you look happy!” I say softly. 

He gives me an unamused look. “What if I don’t want to look happy?”

I giggle. “Then you are one sick weirdo, Oscar Piastri,” I tease with a soft kiss to his lips. 

——

It’s Oscar’s birthday today, and I have been meticulously planning out every single detail for the past few weeks, including a party with some of his closest friends after qualifying session that day. Despite my protests, Zak also insisted inviting some sponsors to the event and key investors of Mclaren, to act as an opportunity for networking. I reluctantly agreed, although I knew Oscar wouldn’t like it. 

As I thought, Oscar seemed a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people there. He was whisked away to a new person every two minutes, and it was all too much for him to handle. He eventually sat down next to me outside with a loud sigh, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to invite this many people, but Zak said this and that. And you know how he is, he wouldn’t have stopped until I said yes,” I say with a frown as I clearly notice how he isn’t having the best of times at this party. Instead, he just smiles, leaning in to give me a soft kiss. He stands up again, holding his hand out towards me. “I don’t care. Just be by my side while I’m being interrogated?” He asks playfully. I giggle, and with a nod I take his hand, our fingers intertwining. 

We soon see one of my old friends that I knew from RedBull, and I introduce Oscar formally to her. As always, I begin to praise Oscar as a driver and as a person. And as always, he gets incredibly red. This time, however, I catch myself before it gets too bad, cutting myself off. When my friend walks away, Oscar has a frown on his face. 

“Why’d you stop? You usually go on for longer,” he asks softly. I shrug. “You always get embarrassed by it, so I just realized and quit while I was ahead,” I say quietly in a kind of embarrassed tone that he even noticed I cut myself off. 

Oscar shakes his head. “Oh come on, babe. Yes, I do get extremely embarrassed by it. But rambling on about me is so you, and I never want you to stop, you hear me? If I can’t praise myself then I need someone who will,” he says with a playful smile. 

“Promise? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” I say softly.

“No no no, absolutely not. You could never make me uncomfortable, ever. And you rambling on and showing me off is embarrassing, yes, but I love you for it. I promise,” he says softly. 

“Well, if you insist… then I guess I could squeeze in a few rambles here and there..” I say playfully with a giggle. 

[dumbseee]

united in grief.

f1 au/fic: in which, you’re jules bianchi’s little sister. you’re the same age as charles and grew up with him, when jules passed away your world completely fell apart, and you left monaco for paris. eight years after jules’s death you finally decide to comeback to monaco to visit your old friend.

charles leclerc x bianchi!reader.

fc: madison beer.

warnings: mention of jules bianchi, grief, angst, fluff.

note: happy eighth heavenly birthday, jules, we will always love and remember you, champion 🤍

y/n just posted a story!

caption: missed you monaco 🤍

_

you really thought about going back for a while, you missed you life in monaco so much. all your friends were here, your family was here, even after jules’s death they stayed, but you couldn’t. every step you took in the luxurious city reminded you of your brother. his presence was everywhere. you were seventeen when you lost jules, he was your whole world, you always wished you were the one in that car. you left monaco for paris because you needed a fresh start in a new city where you could walk without feeling the people’s eyes on you. but a small part of your heart wondered if leaving monaco meant that you were abandoning jules too. he was buried there after all, his soul was now forever in monaco and you were leaving to run away from him.

but your parents reassured you, and told you to fly with your own wings, to find your way, that no matter what jules would be proud of you, and would follow you because he was now your guardian angel. that reassured you a lot since your worst fear was to disappoint him. but your parents were right, jules was an angel when he was still here, and he’s still one up there. so whenever you felt bad, defeated, sad, you knew jules was around you, that gave you the strength to stand up and stay strong. you had to, for your brother. to make him proud.

that’s why you decided to attend today’s race. the monaco grand prix, your brother’s home race. he loved that circuit so much because he knew his friends and family were watching him and cheering for him. you came back without telling anyone, but of course your mother had to tell pascale, so the elderly woman immediately called you to invite you to have lunch with her and lorenzo, her oldest son. you couldn’t say no, because you missed the leclerc, but also because you knew how much you leaving hurt them. you left without saying goodbye, it was too hard for you, so once jules’s funeral was over, you packed your bag and left.

pascale and lorenzo welcomed you with open arms and big smiles, the mother apologised for charles and arthur’s absence but they were busy. charles… you were glad he wasn’t here because you didn’t know how you’d be able to look him in the eye. "you should go to the grand prix with us." lorenzo had told you, with his usual warm smile. at first you refused, but after thinking it over you realised that you owned it to charles, you left him behind when he was also mourning. of course it was harder for you since he was your brother, but jules was everything to charles. his second older brother, he was also lorenzo’s best friend. you hated yourself for being such a selfish coward. guilt was eating you alive and lorenzo noticed it. "don’t be too hard on yourself y/n, jules isn’t going to be happy." he smiled and you had to fight back your tears.

so you came with the leclerc to charles’ home race, you knew that your presence would be the only talk in town and on the internet. "oh my god, y/n!" someone yelled from behind you and you smiled when you saw ‘little arthur’ like you called him back then. he ran to you and made you spin in his arms. you laughed and brushed his hair when he finally put you down. "look at you! where is my little boy?" you asked, still laughing. he flexed his muscles and flashed you a cocky smile before pascale came to hit him in the head. "where is charles?" she asked. "getting ready in the garage, he’s really nervous, i think you should go say hi." he told you. you immediately took a step back, you were nervous as hell too, but for different reasons than charles. what if he didn’t want to see you? what if seeing you ruin his race? what if-… "he still talks about you y/n, he misses you so much you have no idea." pascale chimes in, patting your shoulder.

you were in front of charles’ driver room, you knew that he was just behind it. you could hear voices inside which had to be charles and his teammate. you closed you eyes and knocked three times before waiting. a tall and tan man opened the door for you, he smiled at you and you recognised him as carlos sainz. "isa is waiting for me, see you on track charles." he told charles. "it’s nice seeing you here, y/n." you smiled and watched him go. you took a deep breath before walking into the room. your hands were sweaty and you didn’t know where to look. "y/n?" you haven’t heard his voice in nearly a decade, so him calling your name startled you. "h-…" you couldn’t even finish that charles had closed the gap between you, pulling you in his arms. his face was buried in your neck and his arms were hugging you tightly. you were completely frozen, you didn’t expect him to be that affectionate after what you did to him. "charles, i’m so sorry for leaving." tears were now rolling down your cheeks. he broke the hug and immediately wiped your tears.

"sorry for what?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. his hands rested on your shoulders, his touch soothing you. "i’m not mad at you for leaving, y/n. i just wished i was here with you to help you through the grieving process." he smiled and you looked at the ground. he was too good to you, you didn’t deserve it. "you lost jules too, i acted like i was the only one grieving, i didn’t realise the impact my brother had on people’s lives." charles gently kissed your forehead and stroked your cheek. "let’s talk about that later, let me enjoy your presence, you don’t know how much i missed you." he hugged you once again, and this time you wrapped your arms around him, savouring the moment. "my lucky charm is back in town." you couldn’t refrain your laugh at his cheesy comment.

_

"and charles leclerc wins the monaco grand prix for the first time in his career!" the whole stadium cheered for the monegasque meanwhile you couldn’t stop crying. he won. he won in monaco. it was his goal and he did it. pascale hugged you while cheering for her son, lorenzo and arthur ran to their brother. but you stayed in your seat, looking at him jumping everywhere and celebrating with his brothers and carlos. then, when he turned around to face your direction he did something that sent shivers all over your body. he pointed at you, then at his heart, and then at the sky. this was jules’s celebration every time he’d win something and you were there to support him. he honoured jules even when he finally fulfilled his dream. "jules, you are so loved." you muttered to yourself, looking up at the bright sky.

liked by charles_leclerc, arthurleclerc, philippe_bianchi17 and 2 682 789 others.

y/n: coming back in monaco was hard, but i wanted to be here for charlie, i was scared at first because i knew that i handled my brother’s death terribly but in eight years i forgot how kind you were. i finally understood why jules loved you so much. congratulations on winning your first grand prix in monaco! i’m so proud of the man you became charles, i know that my brother is proud of you and will always look after you. je t’aime charlie ♥️

_

charles_leclerc: this one was for you, and of course jules, i’m so happy to have you back, je t’aime aussi ♥️

fan1: i can’t stop crying wtf

fan2: jules’ death affected everyone, even the people who never even met him, like me, he was such an angel

fan3: your brother is proud of you y/n! don’t be too hard on yourself!

fan4: we love you!

fan5: so happy to see you healthy!

fan6: man, this family suffered too much, i hope they’re happy now

fan7: charles and y/n relationship is so cute omg

fan8: the way he dedicated his win to the bianchi siblings 🥺