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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 9 months ago

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Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 7 ]

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Alright, buckle up loves! This one is a rollercoaster…. I’m pretty sure there’s smut (yay, we have returned to my roots). Also, thanks for all the feedback on the story. It gave me insight into a few things and what tropes to leave out of my next series (which is coming soon).

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT SMUT ] + [ ANGST ] + [ CHILDBIRTH…description?… I mean not really that much… ] + [ MENTIONS OF CANNIBALISM ]

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Within the hour of Alastors shadows leaving, Roise and Angelique came rushing into your home.

Their coats were thrown to the floor at the door, and both women bound up the steps, calling you and Alastors' names in evident concern.

"Al! Y/n?!" Rosie shouted as she rounded the staircase plateau, reaching the room first, and his mother followed swiftly.

"Al! Baby, what happened?' Angelique came right to his side as he lifted his head from looking down at your sweat and blood-covered face.

Rosie gasped, seeing the state you were in, the blood pooling on the sheets, your body's weak tremors worrying both women and Alastor’s disheveled demeanor, only adding to the heart-wrenching scene.

Angelique placed a hand on your forehead, feeling for a temperature, as Alastor croaked out a phrase she had never heard him utter: "Help her ma…please…."

". She's burning up," Angelique muttered in slight shock, sparing her son a solemn glance as she caressed your cheek soothingly.

He clearly was withholding his panic, reverting back to the mild-mannered nervous ticks he had as a boy to cope with stress.

His eyes twitched rapidly, watering a bit as she conversed with Rosie on the best ways to go about helping you and the babies.

"They're gonna be okay, baby. Hey, look at me, stay strong, you hear me? Keep your head on straight. They need you more than ever…" his mother reassured him with an encouraging smile, tilting his chin up as an added gesture.

"Now is not the time to be weak like your father…"

Alastor paled at her words, unconsciously steadying his mentality to avoid breaking down any longer, "I'm nothing like that pompous and demented drunk-"

"Then go clean yourself up. Straighten out that mess in the basement. And let us do what needs to be done to save Y/n and your children…"

Angelique made no effort to put her instructions gently, already rushing about the room to ready herself for the task ahead.

Rosie merely stared at him expectantly, already tending to your wounded head after wiping the visible scum from your face with a warm wet washcloth.

"Go, Al. We will take care of this."

He froze for a moment, hesitant to leave you in such a state, gazing down at your distressed form one last time before deciding to trust them with your fate.

"I'm counting on you both," he mumbled wearily, planting a sorrowful kiss on your head while peeling off the bed's edge.

"Everything going to be alright, sweetheart. I promise.."

You sobbed lowly at his words, too weak to speak and even less apt to stop him from leaving your side.

The last sight you had of Alastor that night was him lingering at your bedroom door with a somber smile that conveyed the sadness in his eyes, and then he was gone.

A memory you couldn't recall as hours of labor set in. You spent what little strength was left in your body to birth a son and a daughter.

Your screams could practically be heard throughout the whole Garden District.

Alastors' shadows shook violently upon hearing each one, but he restrained himself from racing into the room.

Instead, he busied himself as his mother instructed: cleaning the basement, locking it up before pocketing the key for better safekeeping, and resigning himself to his studies.

Hours of listening to your muffled cries mixing with the crackling of his radio filled the atmosphere with unease.

His shadows swirled in anticipation near the bedroom door, not daring to peek in until your voice was drowned out by the soft cries of two newborns.

Alastor had been on his third cigarette and fourth whiskey by then, in the middle of drowning his stress with vices he'd sworn never to take up, but they seemed appealing for the longest night of his life.

He was rather thankful when a spectator spawned beside his chair, whispering good news in his ear and clearly elated to relay it.

They've arrived—a healthy boy and girl, and she is stable as well. A job well done, monsieur…

A tender smile crept onto his lips at the information, shrill cries of life carrying through the house proving his spectator's observation true." I shouldn't keep my children waiting then," Alastor mused half-heartedly while standing upright.

His glass of whiskey was half full on his desk, his cigarette snuffed out on an ashtray next to it, and his radio left on a low volume of static as he left the room.

———— ————— —————

"Oh, Al, come look! They're just the sweetest little lambs you'll ever see!"

Rosie ushered him in the room with a genuine grin on her face, strands of her blonde hair in disarray, her dress sleeves rolled up, and a bit of sweat on her neck from the work she'd just finished.

He chuckled at her enthusiasm, assuming she was exaggerating to lift his spirits.

"Is that so?"

Rosie nodded excitedly, gliding back over to the bed where you lay, and his mother sat facing you.

"Come on. Come look at em'…" the blonde whispered while peering into Angelique's arms.

Alastor hesitated, somewhat afraid to come face to face with his offspring, but then he heard them babble quietly.

A gentle, enlightening sound he never imagined liking, but it drew him like a magnet.

The tired smile you gave him as he neared the bed helped quite a lot.

You were alive, in need of rest, but still breathing.

His mind calmed as your eyes met for a split second, a fleeting exchange of gratefulness, but it broke as two tiny giggles filled the room.

Alastor averted his attention towards them, leaving you to watch as he took them in.

Angelique shifted slightly, adjusting her expert hold on the swaddled newborns who fixated on their looming father as he stepped closer.

"Oh my…hello there, little ones. What a pleasure it is to meet you…"

Alastor fawned over them, kneeling to get a better look, and to his delight, they both smiled at his approach.

The sudden change in expression swayed him, and he had a genuine grin on his face as he took their features in.

"What wonderful gifts you are," he muttered in amazement.

His mother chuckled, amused by her son's reaction to his children, but relieved he'd composed himself again.

"Would you like to hold them, Al?" she voiced the offer gently, watching his sharp eyes soften behind the around-framed spectacle.

"I'd love to ….." he mumbled wistfully, never taking his eyes off the newborn twins.

Rosie squealed quietly in excitement as Angelique nodded, carefully handing the boy over to Alastor first.

He gently took him in his arms, admiring their similarities, "My eyes, hair, and nose. You've stolen them all…"

He paused, stuck on what to call then, but you whispered both names through a tired smile:

"Adonis Naveen Hartifelt & Antoinette Marie Hartofelt… just as we decided, yes?"

Alastor held your gaze momentarily, sensing something was off but disregarding the underlying tension to enjoy the quaint moment.

"Yes, ma chere. Very suitable names…"

You flashed a somber smile, watching as he walked about the room with Adonis before switching to hold Antoinette.

He clearly favored your daughter a bit more, smiling the longest with her near his chest and only puttering her down when she began to fuss—which took quite a while.

Angelique took her from Alastor's grasp, letting him admire her again before he left the room with Rosie and leaving you to feed them with his mother's help.

His absence left you to wonder…

It baffled you how he could be picture-perfect at times like this.

The very image of a good and gracious man.

Nothing like the monster you imagined could systematically tear apart a body the way you witnessed in the basement.

Nothing like a man who'd lie to his wife.

Nothing like the man who'd caused you so much pain in what was supposed to be your happiest time together.

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As the days rolled on, winter winds ravaged New Orleans through the holidays, but the frivolous change of season seemed a distant notion outside of the Hartifelt house.

You were first confined to bed rest by Angelique, then by a doctor's official recommendation the next day, and with their orders came directions.

No overexcerting yourself.

No stress.

A fulfilled and healthy diet couldn't be avoided.

And at least six hours of sleep per day.

The last two stipulations were hard to follow because they felt impossible, and you couldn't bring yourself to relax until Alastor made an effort to explain himself…

To explain the body in the basement and why he'd ever see the need to butcher someone in such a gruesome way.

You'd long figured out what he'd been using it for, piecing together what you witnessed with what had been conspiring in your home for months…

The mutilations on the body were precise, as if he had been harvesting certain parts, but you didn't recall seeing any limbs or organs lying around the basement.

There was no rotting flesh smell either, nothing to indicate he was keeping them as personal trophies, but the victim had clearly not been his first from the looks of their wounds.

You'd never seen him dispose of anything, never heard any clamoring noises from the basement when he was down there, and couldn't recall seeing blood on his hands besides the one time you visited his mother.

All your guesses and observations led you to one conclusion: a notion that made your stomach churn, but the only plausible answer to the question of what Alastor had been doing with…or instead using the body for.

Meat.

He had to be harvesting it.

Feeding body parts to himself and me as if it were regular livestock.

It made sense now why he'd neglected to buy meat on grocery store runs and insisted his hunts would bear better fruit than packaged goods, and the more you thought about the connection, the stupider you felt.

All this time, he'd been feeding you…feeding your children human flesh?

How could be so blind to it, so caught up in his charm, and fail to notice what he'd do behind your back.

You threw up every time the thought crossed your mind…

The season's cold chill mirrored the steady rage building in you as days turned into weeks.

Reaching its height by the time Christmas Eve rolled around.

Rosie and Angelique had decided to stay and help you and the twins until your health became stable again.

One woman was always at your side to help, allowing you to nurse Adonis and Antoinette in peace when needed.

In the first few days of your recovery, you didn't remember much of anything, falling in and out of sleep rapidly, but when you could stay awake for most of the day, you refused to have either child out of your sight for more than a second.

Alastor had tried once after their birth to hold them again in your presence, but you forbade Rosie from letting him in the room.

The evident hurt in his eyes when you viciously glared at him that day tore your heart to pieces, but you just couldn't bear to see him pretend everything was bright and dandy.

Like there wasn't a rotting body in the basement…

Angelique tried to soothe you both in one way or another, convincing Alastor to give you space and time, suggesting that he focus on his radio show rather than holing up in his study or going on impractical 'hunts' to cope with your anger towards him.

He took her advice well, putting on a mask for weeks on end as he carried on being New Orleans's most prominent radio star, and though the frequency of his hunts slowed, the few he did venture on were extremely bloody.

You weren't as easily swayed by her attempts to heal the rift between you and Alastor.

Barely eating or sleeping for quite a while, afraid to close your eyes and replay the bloody memory he'd caused, and overtly protective of the twins as a result.

However, eating and neglecting rest didn't last only a short time.

Both factors affected your productivity as a new mother and healing stage.

You eventually took Amgelique's advice, eating your meals in total, resting more, and enjoying your children's presence.

They were quite the duo.

They were generally quiet babies but incredibly active when not asleep.

You took pride in nursing them, fleeting Rosie holding one while you fed the other, both of you cooing at their gentle mannerisms.

Your mood improved drastically by Christmas Eve, the strength to walk around the house without helpfully given back to you, and the pain in your head significantly lessened.

Jovial as ever, you took slow and sure steps to leave the stuffy room, bathe and dress yourself, and be drawn out by the smell of delicious food being made downstairs.

You could hear Rosie playing with the twins, her soft laughter wafting through the house as two other voices lingered under it.

You nearly turned back to the room, recognizing Alastors voice, grimacing as he laughed at something his mother had said, but after a few calming self-reflective breaths, you continued down the winding staircase.

Rosie was the first to spot you, dressed in a simple red and green evening gown, ready to celebrate the night.

You almost envied her vitality, opting for a simple white and red dress and a large red bow to hold your hair up in an elegant pin style.

She gasped softly as you descended the last few steps, halting her hand that tenderly swayed your children's bassinet.

"You're up! Oh, how wonderful…you look lovely, my dear!"

She rushed to hug you, careful not to squeeze you too tight, as a small giggle left you:

"I'm still finding my bearings, but thanks to you and Angelique, I feel much better."

Rosie took hold of your hands in both silk-gloved ones, leading you into the warmly lit parlor.

She left you to admire how beautifully decorated it was as she sat you down next to her on the sofa.

A pine tree was tucked in the corner, standing massively next to the front bay windows, decorated with fairy lights and traditional ornaments.

Garlands were hung in the same fashion, and other festive adornments covered your home's interior as far as you could see, and your heart fluttered a bit at the sight.

You usually took on decorating for the holidays. Alastor would help, of course, but you enjoyed doing it more than he did.

You expected nothing to be set out since you'd been unwell for so long…

"How'd you manage all this, Rosie?" You glanced around in awe one last time, focusing on the babbling newborns comfortably loaded in their business before you.

They reached for your hand as it lazily slid into the bassinet, warm little palms encircling your fingers, bringing comfort to you.

Rosie watched the loving exchange like a proud sister before answering your question.

"We did nothing, dear. This was all Alastors doing…"

You stiffened, glancing at her in disbelief, "All of this? By himself?"

She nodded slowly, reaching for her glass of white wine sitting on a side table.

"Mhm. I'm sure he knew how important the holiday season is to you…"

It was true.

Alastor did know how much you cared about this time of year.

It reminded you of your mother; your few memories of her were from this season, fond quips of true joy you tried to preserve by upholding her enthusiasm for all that Christmas brings.

"A cherishable, loving, pure spirit ready to start a new. Many forget that the only gift that truly matters to another person is one of understanding. Remember that, my love…never let it go.."

Her words rang in your head as your heart twisted, flashes of your memories with Alastor plaguing you.

"How is he?" you asked tentatively, not looking away from the twins as Rosie sighed, "Not well. He wants to speak to you, dear. See the children for more than a second, too. Won't you give him a chance?.."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, her expression softening as you blinked back tears.

"Rosie…I…I want to, but if he spills another lie from his mouth, I'm afraid I might lose myself to rage…"

A beat of silence hung in the air, a single tear running down your cheek as the thought of facing Alastor made you dizzy with anxiety.

"I'm grateful for your help, for his love, but you've all left me in the dark, and now that I've grown wise to it all, I can't help but wanna hate him…"

"Y/n…we- he was just trying to protect you…"

You stifled a sob, crying quietly as you nodded, "I know… Rosie. I know god damn well what Al was trying to do, but if he'd told me from the beginning, I wouldn't drive myself mad in the first place. All that talk of being devoted to me, and he turns around and lies."

You scowled at the carpeted floor, swiftly wiping your face clean before standing from thorofare with a newfound determination:

"I won't stand for it any longer, er, and thinking about it sours my mood. If you'll excuse me, I need a stiff drink…"

—————- ——————- ——————

Angelique paused in her task as you slipped into the kitchen, not saying a word to her son.

You passed her with a small smile directed only at her and her.

She returned it, picking up a stack of dishes to place on the dining room table before silently gliding out of the room.

You frowned at the loss of her company, aware she'd left hoping that you and Alastor would talk earnestly, but you had no intention of even looking his way.

Your husband felt you whisk past him to the wine cabinet, halting his focus on the pot of gumbo he was preparing to turn your way.

"Y/n," he uttered your name, a low call that made your head spin and your chest tight.

You refused to respond, pouring yourself a moderate glass of wine before taking a long sip, and as the bittersweet alcohol dissipated on your tongue, you turned to leave the area.

Alastor tried again to gain your attention, his face stoic as he reached for you.

With a bit of force, he successfully pulled you into his side. You scowled, instinctively tugging your waist from his iron grasp, but he didn't relent his hold—not once.

"Leave me be," you spat quietly, grip hardening on your wine glass and your bright eyes darkening with unbridled rage as his hazel eyes softened on you.

"I will when you let me explain myself…"

Both of his hands found your waist, shifting your reluctant body to press up against his.

You stiffened at the familiar contact, missing his embrace momentarily and slightly distracted by the warmth he emitted.

Weeks without physical touch from him felt tortuous, and you intended to endure it for a while longer, but feeling him so close if only for a moment- made your resolve less than weak.

Alastor pressed his weight against the counter, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

A crisp, sweet smell he missed dearly.

It was one of the many traits about you that calmed him, kept him tethered to sanity, and going weeks without breathing you in affected him nearly the same as the lack of his touch did to you.

You twisted and squirmed in his hold, growing angrier by the second as he held you still, "Alastor Hartifelt, let me go this instant-!"

You grit your teeth, hand poised to fling the wine in your glass onto him as a well-deserved deterrent, but he's quick to hold it still.

He tugs the glass from your hand, disregarding the slight spill it causes, and you gasp softly from the use of sudden strength in a simple motion.

Alastor sets the crystal glass down, taking another deep breath before speaking to you in a tone you could only describe as hollow.

"You've seen it, haven't you, darling? What takes up my time in the basement, yes? I know it must terrify you, dear. I know, but you must realize I never meant…to hurt you. Believe me when I say I kept my deeds hidden to protect you…"

Not an ounce of regret was in his words; you hadn't expected any.

Alastor was never the type to act upon something he'd despise later.

You knew him well enough to see an act of utter violence like this made sense to him in some way.

It was never the thought of him being dangerous, the thought of him being murderous, or prone to aggression that had angered you.

He hid it like you hadn't stood by his side through the worst times.

The secret he kept wasn't horrific for its brutality but disgraceful in its relevance to your love for him.

"Protect me?.." you grimaced, looking into his eyes with burning rage, "What about trusting me. To hell with why you kill. It's a matter of you hiding such a secret from me in the first place. I am your wife, your equal, and yet you lied to me as if I were a mere child! A pet you could put in a cage and show off but never bond with…"

The anger slowly left your tone, gaze softening on his amber eyes, "I understand you don't care much for the term 'love' but whatever we have can’t exist without us fully trusting in one another. That is why I am angry with you. That is why I've distanced myself, Alastor. Nothing more. Nothing less."

You lowered your head, feeling a tad dramatic but glad to have said what was on your mind.

Alastor pursed his lips in deep thought for a moment, but soon, his deep laughter resonated around the room.

Your head snapped up at the sound, one brow lifted in pure confusion as he chuckled heartily, "And what's so funny now?" You tutted in frustration, prepared to drench him in wine again, but you thought better of it as his laughter died.

"It's just that…" he paused, staring into your curious eyes as they took in his lazy smile, "I seem to have forgotten why I fell for you in the first place, sweetheart."

Alastor's grin grew as your expression hardened, "What does that have to do with this conversation-"you began to become livid again until his large hands cupped your rounded cheeks gently.

You froze as the gentle contact warmed your skin, focus paper thin as he leaned in close enough for your noses to touch, "My darling doe, you have never betrayed me once. In all our time together, your faith in me has never wavered. I've killed for you more times than I can count, but that could never amount to the love you hold for me. Even after discovering my darkest sin, you look upon me gracefully… my wife, my angel, you are truly curious to a man."

His sentiments muddled your thoughts, every sweet word true, holding an edge of obsession.

Your heart fluttered hearing them, the sharpness in his eyes reinforcing their weight.

You gulped gently as he brushed his lips over your parted ones, teasing a kiss you weren't ready to give.

"I must've been mistaken when I belittled my love for you in the sense of devotion…."

His eyes drifted half closed as you hummed in delight, feeling his heavy breaths fan your mouth.

Whiskey and twinge of sweetness rolled off his tongue, an inviting mixture you didn't dare to forget, "Then correct yourself," you muttered in response in hopes of reliving your craving for him.

Alastor struggled to surpass his smirk as you raised your hands to rest over his, gingerly pressing your nails into his skin and shivering at the familiar roughness it had.

"How do you suggest I do that, dear. I've caused you quite a lot of trouble, and there's only so much a man can do."

His teasing stirred heat in your core, a sensation you hadn't felt in weeks and thoroughly missed.

"First, you'll swear to never…never lie to me again. No matter the circumstances."

He hummed lowly, eyeing the low-hanging ruffle sleeves of your dress as they inched downward the more you pressed into him.

"You have my word, ma chere."

The response was automatic on his part, driven by the soft whine you let out as one of his hands shifted to knead your hip.

The gesture brought your lower half closer to his, leaving no space between you, but as distracting as it was, you continued on with your demands.

"You won't ever feed me or our children human meat again…without my explicit permission."

Alastor frowned for a moment but agreed nonetheless, "Alright."

You nodded, inhaling sharply shortly after as his hand gently tugged your dress skirt.

It would be right to swat him away and restrict his touch from you a bit longer, but the instant his fingertips brushed the skin of your thigh, you couldn't help but blush and bit back a whine.

"A-and you'll never put yourself, this family, our life together…in harm's way. Promise me, you'll continue to be discreet Alastor…"

The urge to moan gripped you entirely as his touch burned your bare skin, only silenced by the immediate kiss he allowed you before muttering sincerely, "You have my word, darling…"

You shuddered at his oath, knowing he meant every word, pouring his intent to keep it through the exchange of heated kisses that ensued after.

You held onto him tight, trying to remain as quiet as possible as his tongue found yours, forcing it to obey his lead and his hands roaming your body for the same sign of submission.

You gave in effortlessly, head tilting back as he marked your neck, gently pricking your skin with his teeth, gliding his tongue over the most minor bruises he left.

A wave of shivers captured you, disorienting and intensifying with Alastor's every move.

Your hands gripped his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for him to inevitably lift you onto his waist, but the action never occurred.

The sound of Rosie's quick footsteps approaching and her distinct singing song calling of your names made you both separate.

Alastor yanked your dress down quickly, clearing his throat with a cheeky grin while you hid your face in his chest out of slight embarrassment as the blonde glided into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hartifelt wants to know if the gumbo is ready, Al. How's it coming along, hm?" She chirped cheerfully, pretending not to notice your bright red, blushing face hidden in his embrace.

"Oh, it's just about done, my dear. Just had to give it another taste test, right chere?"

You stared up at him in awe as he brought a hand to your left cheek, gliding his thumb over your heated skin, lovingly and intently staring back at you.

"Isn't that right, chere," Alastor asked once more, enjoying the nervousness in your gaze as you nodded in jaded agreement, "That's right, Rosie.." you muttered dreamily, too focused on your husband to catch her knowing smirk before she hummed in understanding while sashaying back into the parlor.

"Mrs. Hartifelt, Al says it's coming along well!" Rosie shouts in delight as she leaves you both alone, accentuating the phrase's double meaning to the older lady tending to her new grandchildren in the warmly lit parlor room.

Both women's smirks grew wildly, hearing you giggle amid Alastor's flirtatious teasing moments later.

"Seems it is," Angelique mumbled assuredly as Rosie sat beside her, admiring the tiny humans smiling in their sleep.

Christmas Eve wouldn't be so dim after all…

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Whew…..you all okay after this? No? Too bad it gets better then way worse… A real Shakespearean tragedy/romance. IM TAKING MY ASS TO BED NOW GOOD NIGHT 😴

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette @gasiacos @marvelgirl123 @dinosaur-crime-scene

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Did you fall more in love with him seeing this? I certainly did…Credit to creator ❤️

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hartfelt #human alastor #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor smut #alastor fluff #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc

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blackypanther9 · 10 months ago

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Only once, never again – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

“Papa, please ?��, you asked again.

“No, Cher. You are too young.”, Alastor denied you again.

“Papa, I am sixteen ! I should at least try !”, you tried to convince him.

“You are too young to try now, Cher. What if something happens to you ? I would never forgive myself.”

“Pa, you are my Father and the all feared Bayou Killer. As soon as I am hurt, you kill the one responsible. I am not a damsel in distress either ! You taught me how to defend myself and I am not that easily traumatized. I live with and was raised by you ! Alastor Hazbin, most famous Radio Host, the man that never stops smiling, the man that accomplished the impossible, the man who proudly adopted and raised a child with well manners and the very shadow in the night that kills scum that deserve it ! I’m a tough cookie, I won’t crumble THAT fast !”, you persisted.

He stared at you, uncertainty in his eyes and his smile so very strained, close to a concerned frown. You both stayed seated in the living room, listening to the new record that Alastor bought.

What were you arguing about ? You wanted to try out dating someone and Alastor, your Father, absolutely HATED the very idea.

“Just once, Pa. Pretty please. Let me try out dating someone at least this once. I wish to know what it feels like.”, you pleaded with him again.

Your Father took a deep breath and stood up.

“I fear I have to retire to bed now, mon ange (My Angel). Sleep well, Dear.”, he said and gave you a kiss on the forehead, then left.

You had a crestfallen look on your face. Alastor wasn’t blind, he saw it too. He needed time to think about this. Don’t get him wrong, the Radio Host KNEW this would happen one day or another, but he was never ready for the day it would happen. He was very concerned for your safety. Men...were swines. You...were an absolute angel. It just didn’t fit, in his opinion. His sweet loving daughter and an abusive swine at your side, leashing you and using you for whatever he wanted...no...Alastor hated that bare thought.

He could feel himself getting sick at the pure imagination, that you would get a man and he would instantly collar and leash you. Like his Father did with his Mother.

He laid there, in bed, wide awake, for three hours that night. As you retired for the night he could hear you sobbing and whimpering and his heart felt oh so shattered, just hearing you crying. He knew he was the cause of your sadness. He just wanted to protect you, but he understood you as well.

You were a Teenager and you wanted to feel a different kind of love. You wanted to explore a new area and usually Alastor was supportive of your adventurous side. But...this was about men and men could NEVER be trusted. His Father and the men he killed, were the perfect example ! They hurt and abused their wives and sometimes even their own children, they raped women and left them to die or with a Bastard child, they yell at their wives, degrade them whenever they saw fit, emotionally scarred them and traumatized their own Family !

He didn’t want the same thing happening to you. You were his beloved daughter and he could never forgive himself, if something happened to you. This was a difficult decision for him.

You wanted to at least try and court someone for once, while he was very much against the thought alone. What course of action should he take ? What would be the safest, best idea ? Continue to deny you and break your heart, or let you try and possibly end up hurt and...most possibly cold hearted ? Alastor heard of it. Some men were so brutal, that the woman they dated ended up with a cold heart and never courted again.

What was he supposed to do ? Give in, or continue to hurt your feelings ?

-Time skip-

You woke up and were not in the mood to get out of bed. You were sad and hurt that your Father refused to let you try and find out what else love would feel like. You were just curious. Only one try, but even to that he said no and then he just left you and retired for the night.

That one hurt the most.

The door opened and the smell of cooked breakfast entered your room.

“Y/n, Sweetheart~! I made you your beloved pancakes~!”, your Father sang out with a big smile.

You didn’t react and didn’t move, which made your Father’s smile dim slightly. He ripped open the curtains and opened your window for fresh air. The birds were chirping and the breeze was a pleasant welcome in your room, you loved the wind and air outside, it made you feel free. Alastor knew that.

Then your Father sat down next to your curled up form and ran his fingers through your hair, gently. He sighed. He knew you were awake, but in a foul mood from yesterday evening still.

“Listen Cher...I thought long and hard about your idea from yesterday, while I was in bed. I understand why you want this so bad, but please understand me too, Darling. I can’t always be there for you. I just want to keep you safe for as long as possible.”, he carefully started.

You continued to listen, already knowing this, but not saying anything.

“If you have someone, you want to court and explore a new territory with...then you have my permission for now...”

Your head snapped up and you stared at him in shock, he held his finger up, telling you to be silent, he wasn’t finished.

“BUT ! If that filthy speck of dirt dares to lay a hand on you, I will not hesitate to kill him and you will NEVER court anyone again ! Understood ?”

You nodded quickly, happy tears in your eyes. You sat up and quickly wrapped your arms around your Father, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you so much, Papa ! You have no idea what this means to me !”, you sobbed out happily.

He hugged you back tightly, not saying a word. But...he felt bile rise up in his throat.

‘I can’t believe I said yes to this...’

-Later that day-

You went out and told your Father that you will meet up with the man that you decided to court and see if there will be anything happening. Alastor let you go with a lot of hesitation. Heck, he even made you go through all the methods how to hurt a man again, just to see if you remember everything !

You told him where you will be, when you will be back and then left.

But the Radio Host couldn’t help worrying. He dressed up in formal clothes, but they wouldn’t be too much of a loss to get rid of, shall he get messy. Grabbed his hunting knife, hid it in his coat and then he was off, shadow trailing you.

The man he saw you meet up with, didn’t seem very suiting for you. He always stayed far enough away, but was still close enough to see you both. You were taking a walk in the park first, talking and joking with each other, then you went out to eat at a restaurant, which the boy paid for and then you started to laugh and talk some more.

Alastor wasn’t sure how to feel. You seemed happy... But that boy...didn’t seem very safe. Maybe..Alastor was just overreacting...but he didn’t like him.

As it was time to go home for you, the both of you parted ways. You left a kiss on his cheek and then you walked away from one another. He offered to bring you home, but for the sake of your Father’s safety and your new friend’s, you said no.

As you returned home, you saw your Father pacing the living room. As soon as you closed the front door, he snapped his head to you and looked at you, face full with worry.

“How...did it go, mon petit (My little one) ?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“It went good, I guess ? But it...we didn’t feel a spark, Pa. Like what all these romance books say when you find the right one you want to be with ? That didn’t happen.”

He looked relieved, yet confused.

“And what does that mean now, for the two of you ?”

You smiled at your Father happily.

“We decided that we will stay friends and agreed to meet next week again ! Oh, Papa, you would love this boy ! He has no issue with mixed and dark skinned people either ! He finds them rather interesting ! He is so kind too ! You and him would become great friends !”

“Would we now ?”

“Yes, yes, you would ! Kenny is such a kind soul !”

Alastor made a humming sound.

“I suppose we can meet him next time here, then. If you want.”

You nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I would LOVE to ! He offered to get me home too, but I didn’t want to cause you a panic attack with him coming here already, so I declined. I hope you aren’t too mad about that.”

“Not at all, Cher !”

With that you talked with him about everything you and your new friend did and talked about. The next time Alastor met Kenny and he was pleasantly surprised that you were right. He and Kenny became quite good pals.

A/N: I hope this wasn’t trash. TvT I thought about this scene a lot, yet it seemed better in my head than on paper... Q-Q

Masterlist HERE !

#fanfiction #fem!reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #Human!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Human!Reader #Alive!Reader #Father!Alastor x Child!Reader #Father!Alastor #Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader #Only once never again – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

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nrc-asteryn-crew · 1 month ago

Note

A notification flashes across phone screens everywhere throughout NRC. The radio podcast, NRTea has gone live once more!

"Hello, hello, dearest listeners! And welcome to another episode of NRTea, the hottest tea party on sages island! I'm your host, Chamomile-"

"and I am Earl Grey"

"And oh boy do we have a story for you today! Take it away, Earl!"

"...alright.

As of late, there have been brambles spiralling up and encasing parts of the Ramshackle dorm. The brambles themselves seem generally harmless, as do the roses that fall from them, but if you prick yourself on the thorns, it would be quite an unpleasant sensation, so I'd suggest exercising some extra caution when visiting for now."

"Yup, yup! If you've got a friend or two living in the dorm out there, go check on em and make sure they're doing okay!"

"I know I myself must check in on my dearest companions soon..."

"Well that's it for now! We've been your hosts, Chamomile-"

"And Earl Grey,"

"And this has been NRTea. Stay thirsty, dear listeners!"

The stream continues on for a bit before cutting off, though.

"Hey... James?"

"Yes?"

"Y'know how Yuna has been locking up lately and stuff? Says she's been super sick recently."

"Mhm... It's quite concerning, if I am being honest. I haven't seen her for a while..."

"...I wonder if Yuna is alright. I hope she doesn't get hurt with all those brambles."

"...Me too, Lewis. Me too."

(✨YUNA OVERBLOT STUFF YAHOO!!!

-✨mod, @night-raven-miscellany. Technically James and Lewis, too, but I haven't been adding them fhdjfj)

Kiyuu stared down at her phone with a frown as the podcast ended. She didn't say anything, prompting Aros to speak up from behind her.

"...Lucky you haven't been over there for a while, isn't it?"

He spoke, giving Kiyuu a faint smile, leaning in just a little closer while dabbing a makeup brush into the eyeshadow pallette in his hand, before applying it, making slightly quicker movements than previously, already being able to tell what Kiyuu was thinking.

They both knew the signs by now from even just a glance. With the context the podcast had accidentlly given... Something bad was about to happen. That much they could tell.

His expression morphed back into a frown as he watched how Kiyuu's face seemed to go through a cycle of conflicting emotions, confirming what he'd thought.

"...Yuuto's close by, though. And he definitely won't hesitate to head straight for Ramshackle once he suspects something's happening..."

There was more silence, only disturbed by the quiet sounds of rummaging through makeup and supplies from Aros. They'd been in the middle of testing out some makeup samples Aros had been sent for a promotion when they'd decided to tune into NRTea's podcast in the background.

"...Would you like me to quickly finish applying your makeup before we go?"

Aros offered, picking up an eyelash curler, and tilting Kiyuu's head up gently with his pointer finger.

"But-"

"Ah- Let me finish now. If you're worried about time, I'll change up our plan, do something quick, yet effective, instead. Don't stress out more than you need to. It won't do you any good."

"Mmh... Okay then. I'd- really like that. Thank you..."

Kiyuu conceeded softly, a silent exchange of gratitude from Kiyuu between them, Aros nodding in response, expression neutral as he continued.

"...Heh. I bet he's real excited right now. I worry a lot for him when he does this sort of thing, y'know. Just doing whatever he wants with no consideration to anyone else's feelings..."

Kiyuu mumbled, an underlying bitterness that she never quite felt wholeheartedly in her voice.

"That's just how he is. The only thing for us to do now is help them both out, hm?"

"Ah- right..! Yuna, I heard their name was, I think... I hope they're alright..."

"As do I."

Aro's commented as he stood, reaching instinctively for his hand mirror, handing it to Kiyuu as he hastily, yet still neatly, tidied up his supplies.

"Satisfactory?"

He asked, turning his head around to gauge Kiyuu's opinion.

"Yeah! More than, for sure."

Kiyuu agreed, handing back the mirror. She felt a little better now, the familiar feeling of her makeup calming her nerves ever so slightly.

After a few short moments she stood, hastily reaching to fix up her hair into a more practical fashion.

"Okay! Okay. Let's go! We shouldn't waste anymore time."

She announced, projecting bounds more confidence than she actually felt.

"Yes, let's. Perhaps we'll even arrive before anything too disastrous occurs on either party's end..."

Aros responded. Though somehow, they both doubted that much of a miricle would happen for them today...

#{ - ooc //#WAAAA I SQUEALED WHEN I SAW THIS IN MY INBOX WHEN I WOKE UPPPP #then i proceeded to get so busy i completely forgot to reply.....#SO NOW IM HERE AT 1AM WOOHHH #i think i accidentally got way too invested in setting the scene between kiyuu and aros... ahaha....#the context for yuuto is that he was js out with Xen (his crow) in the outskirts around ramshackle when this all happens #so he's either like THERE ALREADY or like literally about to be #bcuz the thing abt yuuto is that he will literally run TOWARDS DANGER no matter the circumstances #feel free 2 do whatever sparks ur creativity n jazz w this info ;3 #eufhajfj anyway thats all i nearly fell asleep so many times while writing that BUT ITS ALL WORTH ITTTT #IM SO EXCITED I SWEAR ILL BE MORE ON TOP OF THIS TMRW😭🙏#hopefully aaaaaaaaaaaaa-#aue's asteryn #asteryn kiyuu #asteryn aros #asteryn yuuto #twst oc #twst ocs #twst oc rp #oc rp #twst yuu oc #twst #twst yuusona #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

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coffeewithcocoa · 11 months ago

Text

Drunk Confessions—Part 2 Final

Part 1

Human Alastor x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff//Suggestive Language//Romantic Relationship//FEMALES DNI

—————————————————————

His smile faltered as the words were running through his head. I love you. Did you actually, or was it just a hoax? Could it possibly be that you were drunk, maybes. Only you would know until you spill it to him. Alastor had his eyes stuck to you. Breathing was shallow as his mind couldn’t leave the topic until you told the truth.

A friend from childhood

There’s no way that you could possibly love someone like him. The thoughts that were racing in him head made him want to cry. Want him to drop his smile, his gentleman act so he can cry. ‘Why do I feel like this?!’

He doesn’t want to reject him because as much as it’s wrong, he has feeling for him too. Shoved deep into his mouth, down his throat and out his ass, but there still feelings. Feelings that he didn’t know how to act upon because he’s not used to it. Alastor’s smile rose up again before he admitted to laughter.

It’s a joke.

He was a radio host and he knows jokes when he sees one. Yet if this was a joke then..he still couldn’t tell. ‘Why are emotions so hard?!’ He told himself as he tried to control his laughter. Alastor began to shake at the thought before someone barged into the booze cellar.

Alastor’s eyes went up to the person who had walked in very rudely. Then again, this isn’t the exact place that one should be in. “Well if it isn’t the fucking radio bitch.” Husk smiled at Alastor. He heard in in some of the convo between the two of you, until you passed out of course.

“He..” Alastor tried to talk but words weren’t forming correctly. “I know, I heard it. Now get the fuck out.” Husk grumbled as he shooed Alastor. Husk went down and picked up your limp figure, the smell of booze reeked on you.

“Here, take ‘em.” He put you in Alastor’s arms. Walking off to go back to whatever he was doing before getting distracted with listening in. Alastor looked around for a place he can set you while the place died down. Finding a nice seating area, Alastor, gently, placed you in the booth so you were comfortable until you awoke from the influenced state.

Alastor ordered a few drinks here and there as he waited for Mimzy and Husk to be done so they all could walk together. A water waiting for you until you woke up. Your sleeping figure still on the comforted bench. The place had died down some more, only five people being there to help clean up the mess.

A yawn left your mouth as your eyes drifted to the water in front of you then to Alastor, who was looking somewhere else. A slight pang in your head as you could barely remember anything you did that night or in the cellar.

With a slight movement to grab the water, Alastor’s eyes shot towards you. Seeing that you were now awake he moved closer to you. Not wanting to bring up and of the events of what happened not to long ago. “Are you alright Cher?” His eyes soft along with his voice.

You nodded slowly and rubbed your eyes, grabbing the water that still had the ice cubs in it. Taking a long drink Alastor asked. “Do you remember anything that happened?” He looked away as almost he was embarrassed from the subject.

You couldn’t tell he was sweating. He was hiding it to well. “Surprisingly..I do.” You placed the glass down with a small ‘clink.’ Alastor tried to hold in a choke, swallowing it and asking another question. “Was it true, dear?”

This time you looked away. “Yes.” You mumbled out. “I’ve been holding in those feeling for a while. I don’t exactly know what came over me but when I was under the influence I lost my own fight and ended up telling you.” You sighed, “I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable.”

The room went silent. It was as if no one was there but you and Alastor. The air was thick as no one said a word. That’s when Alastor spoke. “Its quite alright dear. If I’m being honest with myself..I feel the same way.” He slowly looked over to you, you doing the same and both locking eyes with each other.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and chuckled. “Really?” He took his glasses off and cleaned them. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t mean it love.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled again, not realizing what he called you until he kissed your forehead.

A small yawn left your throat as he pulled away. “Tired Cher.” You hummed. “Let us go then.” He started getting up from the booth you were sat at. Once he stood up he held out his hand for you to take. Grabbing it thankfully you stood up and started heading out.

Mimzy stopped you guys on the way out and thanked you for stopping by for a while. “I hope ya’ll get some nice rest.” She said sweetly. “We will. Thank you for the splendid time tonight!” Alastor chuckled out. “Alright well bye now!”

It was a silent night once you left the speakeasy. Crickets chirping while the sound of your shoes walking along the sidewalk. You looked to your right to look at Alastor. Not believing that your little drunk confession worked. Even if you guys didn’t start dating, you were just happy you shared your feeling with him. Drunk or not.

Alastor thought it would just be easier if he took you back to his lovely cabin in the woods. The one where he was born and raised in until he was able to own it himself. It was quite a beautiful one too. A lovely exterior and interior, made all from wood.

When Alastor opened the door he gently set you down on the couch, moving back tot he door so he could close it. Not wanting to get any unwanted visitors.

He went back to you. Helping you get settled in for the night. “I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight dear.” He asked as he helped you take your coat off. “Mm..I did Al. I did.” You hummed out tiredly.

After another second your coat came off easily. Alastor went to hand it up o the coat rack, when he came back you pressed a small kiss into his lips. It was loving and with a hint of passion to. When you separated you placed your head on his chest.

“I love you. You don’t have to say anything back. I just wanted to let you know.” You wrapped your arms around his neck in a loving manner as he just stood there like a lost puppy. He was so confused on what to do next that he just let a small chuckle out and completely gave up life.

The rest of the night was a blur. He woke up with you in the couch. Your head on his shoulder and a blanket on your side. Alastor’s back hurt a bit when standing but that’s natural for sleeping in the couch, especially in that position.

He got up to go to the kitchen. The sun was barely over the horizon which meant it was able to make some breakfast. Especially with a night like last night. Upon leaving the living room he looked over his shoulder. His usual, wide grin, turned into a small, genuine smirk.

“I love you too, m/n.” He muttered out, ‘More than you know..’ He whispered to himself, finally going into the kitchen.

—————————————————————

SORRY THAT THE END IS RUSHED!! I just wanted to get a part 2 out. Now I don’t know if this is going to be the finish but I want to take a break from this mini series and work on some requests that I’ve gotten not to long ago. Again, sorry this is rushed. I just want to work on requests though.

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #x male reader #character x you #male reader #gay reader #alastor x male reader #alastor x you #human alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor

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concretejunglefm · 4 days ago

Text

Poltergists: Chapter 18.

You're my best friend, now I've no one to tell how I lost my best friend.

Summary: It's been a year since your best friend Noah went missing, two years since you moved into the house you abandoned after he went missing from it during the night. This is a recount of events leading up to and what happened after the night he went missing and all of the strange events that occurred during your time living in that house.

Chapters: Masterlist

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader, Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader, possibly more BO members.

CW: Missing person, elements of supernatural horror, mentions of blood and possibly violence, unreliable narrator. will update as it goes on. Heavy mentions of themes surrounding death and grief.

WC: 3.3k.

AN: This series will be told throughout a variety of flashbacks and present day, all which will be marked.

Divider: Silent-stories.

(NOAH'S POV)

It's the day of Bub’s funeral.

The five of us stand at her graveside, clad in all black, as we bid her final farewell. It’s an overwhelming struggle to resist the temptation to throw myself down into the abyss she’s plunged into, desperately pleading for this not to be my reality.

It’s quiet as five of us squeeze into the car for the journey back. Jolly volunteers to drive, while I sit in the passenger seat and Folio is stuck in the back between Nicholas and Matt. I can barely look at either of them, especially not today. We decided to take Bub’s old car for one last ride. I don’t know why we made that decision, considering it barely ran half the time and I was constantly coming out to rescue her from being stranded. Nevertheless, she refused to give it up, and perhaps there’s something poetic about its final drive being to send her off.

When Jolly turns on the ignition, it takes a moment for the car to roar to life. As soon as it does, the radio starts blaring.

For a brief moment, we all freeze, our eyes fixed on the dashboard as her favorite song erupts from the speakers. It’s a song we’ve heard countless times while riding in her car, whether we’ve reluctantly listened or joined her in her own rendition of car karaoke. We’ve all heard it, and it instantly brings us all to a hushed silence. It’s as if she’s right there in the car with us, sharing this moment.

I hear a quiet, yet melancholic chuckle emanating from Jolly. I sense that he shares my thoughts, and as the rest of the car relaxes with that realization, I become inexplicably angry. Despite the awkward position, I manage to lift my leg enough to bring my foot over and strike it against the dashboard.

I’m angry. I’m angry at Bubs. I’m angry at Matt for that drunken kiss she mentioned but not him. I’m angry at Nicholas for everything he did. I don’t care if he was convinced she had hurt me or if an invisible entity manipulated him into doubting me. Regardless, he always promised to look out for her if anything happened.

I’m mostly angry at myself for not realizing that things were only going to worsen. I watched her deteriorate into a mere shell of her former self and fed her false hope that we could overcome this together.

We didn't.

I’m so angry that I keep slamming my foot against the dashboard until I hear a crack, which finally stops the song.

No one dares to utter a single word.

For the first time, my eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror, and I catch a fleeting glimpse of Matt, then Nicholas. Before I can even think about it, seeing his face is enough to make me reconsider my decision to be in this car.

“I’ll walk,” I declare, swiftly opening the car door and exiting before anyone can object.

It’s a gloomy day, and that feels unfair, especially since all she ever deserved was sunshine, especially on this day, her day.

“Noah, wait!”

I don’t look up when I hear Nick’s voice, but I let out a deep, throaty growl as I come to a stop. “What?” I spit, almost feeling guilty.

Out of everyone, I never tire of Nick. Our friendship is one of the few that has survived everything we’ve ever faced, but now I can’t help but wonder if we can survive this.

“I’ll walk with you.”

I don’t say no, but I also don’t say yes. I simply keep walking while Nicholas catches up until he’s beside me.

For a while, there’s just silence between us until Nicholas finally breaks it.

“I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”

I come to a halt, unsure if I’ve heard him correctly. Bubs is dead, and now he wants to pretend that there aren’t any real consequences for everything that’s transpired.

“Didn’t mean for what to happen exactly?” I spit, turning to face him.

“Bubs, I thought…”

There’s genuine sorrow and a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but I turn away from looking at him because I want to hold onto the anger I feel for him—the anger that reminds me of how he let her down.

“Don’t act like you weren’t to blame in this either.”

His words draw me back towards him, and I fix him with a stern glare. “How could I be blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“But when you were, you were aware there was something wrong with her, and you resorted to your usual attempts to fix it alone. So blame me all you want, but you're responsible too.”

There’s some truth to his words because I can feel the guilt gnawing at me. It always sits heavy on my chest, tasting like bile as it rises up my throat. It’s always there, and I knew at the time that listening to her, isolating myself, things were only getting worse.

“I only did what I did because she said that she was to blame for what happened to you.”

“So, you believed that convincing her she was losing her mind was a sound strategy?” I retort, as the first drops of rain begin to fall as the gray clouds part. “And where in your plan did you decide that sleeping with her would be a wise move?”

“I never said any of it was a good plan. I just thought if I could get her to confess...” Nicholas tries to explain, but I shake my head and continue walking.

I wouldn’t have even cared about the idea of Bubs and Nicholas. Knowing that he was looking out for her would have been all I wanted, except he was quick to tell me that had been far from his intention.

“Noah!” Nicholas calls out to me, but I simply ignore him. I tighten my jacket and pull my arms around myself as I duck my head against the rain, walking back home. Alone.

4 DAYS ON.

I’ve been scared to enter her room ever since I returned. Nicholas has attempted to reach out to me, offering his place as a gesture of peace, but I continue to ignore him. Jolly has also been offering the same, but I refuse to leave this place, not yet, and I don’t believe they understand my reasons or the need to be here.

Bubs’ room appears unchanged, except for the ominous presence of dried blood splattered across the walls and a substantial stain on the floor from blood seeping into the carpet.

My blood.

Even just looking at it, I’m still at a loss about how I managed to survive.

When I glance towards the closet door, a brief chill runs down my spine. It’s not just the cold air, but the memory of something lurking there, a presence that I can’t quite place. The house feels eerily quiet now, less sinister than before.

I want to confront it, but I’m at a loss for where to begin. So, I take a step back, close the door, and lock away the unpleasant memories, in a way, also locking away Bubs. If I can somehow preserve her memory within that space, perhaps I can keep her with me for a little longer.

27 DAYS ON.

“You look terrible.”

Looking up, I’m met with the sight of Detective Douche, and I can’t help but roll my eyes in response. It’s no wonder Bubs was on the verge of losing it dealing with this guy.

“Well, thanks. I’m going through a tough time right now.”

I didn’t invite him to, yet he still takes a seat in the one across from me, that I sit at in the local coffee shop.

“I was contemplating suggesting that you confide in someone about…” his voice trails off, and I understand his reference: Bub’s death, my year of disappearance, and the fateful night that everything happened.

I merely shake my head, my index finger tracing the edge of my coffee mug. “As far as I recall, there wasn’t a support group for supernatural occurrences that lead you into an alternate universe with a fake version of your girlfriend.”

Kit chuckles, but I don’t. “I meant a grief counselor. It might be helpful.” From his pocket, he pulls out a card and pushes it across the table. I don’t reach for it, but my eyes quickly scan the name and practice. “She’s the one we’re assigned whenever a case is particularly…” he trails off, pausing for a moment before clearing his throat.

My eyes briefly flicker up to meet his, and I notice the bags beneath his eyes don’t seem as heavy as mine. However, he does appear to be restless.

“Do you regret it?” I finally break the silence that had fallen between us.

Does he regret not believing Bubs, not getting to her, and not helping her?

Kit sighs, and I notice the way his shoulders sag, almost as if he’s on the verge of defeat. This case has aged him and weighed heavily on his shoulders, it appears. “I wish I had arrived sooner that night,” he confesses. The only night I can assume he’s referring to is the night I returned, the night I technically lost Bubs.

I remain silent, my gaze fixing back down onto my coffee as the memory of her lingers, still unbearably fresh.

“I thought you’d like this.” I don’t bother to look at him when he speaks. Instead, my eyes wander across the table to a picture he pushes in front of me. It’s the one Bubs took of me inside the house not long after we moved there. Beneath it is another picture, one of her that I took after, before she wrestled the camera away from me, though her face is more obscured by the light than anything else.

The worst part about losing her is having no real physical memory of her to hold onto.

“Thanks,” I mumble, my fingers tracing the overexposed photo of Bubs. The thought of her absence tightens my chest, a constant reminder that each day I wake up, I’ll never see her again.

“They would only be sitting in an evidence lockup, anyway. That didn’t feel right.”

I finally lift my gaze to him once more, and I’m tempted to ask what happened to everything related to my case. However, a nagging feeling tells me that it’s better to leave it unknown.

I didn’t particularly like Kit, but he made it abundantly clear at her funeral that he had done everything in his power to ensure the case was closed.

“If anyone asks, you needed to take a break out of town. You had no idea how serious things had become.” “And Bubs?” “A tragic accident.”

Somehow, calling it made that my stomach churn. Her death was indeed tragic, but it was certainly not an accident.

Finally, Kit rises from the seat, excusing himself. As he passes me, he gently places a hand on my shoulder, offering a brief moment of comfort and reassurance. “Take a look into that counselor and perhaps consider seeing your doctor about some sleeping pills. You look like you’ve slept less than me.”

That’s all Kit leaves me with before he slips away. I reach for the card he left, my thumb hovering over the number, contemplating it.

35 DAYS ON.

I haven't left the house and I've barely slept at night. I can't sleep in this house, but I miss her too much to want to leave. I know she's not here, not really, but I feel like if I leave then I'm abandoning her.

50 DAYS ON.

It took me nearly two months to finally call the number on the card Detective Douche gave me. Partly due to my stubborn resistance to accepting help, especially from him, and my reluctance to confide in anyone about the events that had transpired.

The office is small and cozy. I had no preconceived notions about what I would find there—maybe inspirational quotes on the walls, stock photos of happy families or animals to lighten the mood, or someone who would pester me into talking.

Instead, I'm greeted by a woman in her sixties, glasses perched on the end of her nose, radiating a warm and friendly presence.

“Whenever you’re ready, Noah,” she say's gently.

Her kindness makes me feel guilty for further closing myself off, as if I'm wasting her time by being here.

“What do I even talk about?” I ask.

“Whatever you want. You’re here for a reason. Was it someone close to you who you lost?”

For a moment, my eyes dart down as I fiddle with the cuffs of my hoodie. “Yeah…” I whisper before clearing my throat. “She was my—“ at that moment, the word “girlfriend” sits on the tip of my tongue, and it pains me to realize that I never got to call her that, introduce her as such, while she was still alive. “My-my girlfriend.”

“That must be incredibly difficult,” she say's empathetically.

I nod, remaining silent.

It takes almost the entire session before I finally speak up again.

“She never liked yellow carnations. She always said they reminded her of a funeral. Ironically, that was the flower her family chose for her.”

I remembered seeing the display when we arrived at the funeral. It outshone the one that my friends and I had worked tirelessly to create—a beautiful arrangement of lilies, daisies, tulips, baby breaths, and every type of flower she had always cherished.

It almost felt as if her family didn’t truly know her, not like we did, not like I did.

When the clock chimes at the end of the session, I go to leave before she calls me back. “Same time next week?”

55 DAYS ON.

I can’t bear looking at these same dull walls anymore.

Every aspect of this house was intended to be different, a reflection of our personalities and a haven for Bubs and me. However, it’s stuck in the same beige shade as when we first moved in, devoid of any real character beyond my room.

It pains me to realize that we never completed the project we had planned to start together, but I’m unable to bring myself to make any changes, and risk losing the remnants of her that still linger in this house.

Instead, I’m trapped in a state of nostalgia, haunted by memories of her and seeing her ghostly presence in the shadows.

69 DAYS ON.

It’s time for another session. I missed last week’s, but there’s hardly any difference in what I have to say.

“How are you feeling this week, Noah?” she asks, her eyes kind and genuine.

All I can manage is a monotonous response, “Okay.”

It’s like trying to extract blood from a stone, but she’s patient, or perhaps she’s simply delighted about the cheque that comes with my session.

73 DAYS ON.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it started happening, but the black stain in the kitchen appears to have shrunk.

My first time noticing it was due to Bubs, who pointed it out. Every passing day, it seemed to grow larger. Initially, I thought it might be mold, but considering Bubs’ deteriorating condition and the spread of the stain, I can’t help but suspect there to have been a correlation between the two.

Now, when I look at it, I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign of something positive or negative. Bubs has left, and now the stain is receding. Everything about this house, which held parts of her and tormented her, is slowly disappearing, stripping her further away from me.

I’m filled with fear that I’ll be left with nothing of her.

94 DAYS ON.

I haven’t been sleeping—not at night, not during the day, not at all.

The situation has worsened since Bubs passed away, but the pills I’ve been prescribed are ones I refuse to take. Taking them means forgetting about her, and when I wake up groggy and confused, I forget everything and relive the crushing wave of grief all over again.

Lying to the grief counselor has become second nature at this point, and I think she knows it.

“How have you been sleeping? Did the pills help?” she asks.

“Fine. I think they are,” I reply, trying to sound convincing.

She gives me a skeptical look and scribbles something down in her notepad, clearly noting down my dishonesty. The heavy, dark bags under my eyes give me away.

“You mentioned your best friend, Nicholas, the last time you were here. Have you spoken to him?” she asks.

“No,” I answer.

During our last session, I had mentioned missing him and how, without Bub’s, I had now lost two best friends. I couldn’t go into details about the circumstances that had driven a wedge between us, but I was vague enough for her to catch the mentions of betrayal and him harming Bubs—even if it had been unintentional.

“Maybe you should try reaching out to him,” she suggests.

“I’ll think about it.”

141 DAYS ON.

I can’t recall the last time I went a day without talking to Nicholas, let alone this many. Even though the thought of him brings a twinge of hurt, there’s always a lingering sense of regret and a yearning to reach out.

Right now, everything about him is conveyed to me through information from the other guys. Hanging out with Jolly, Folio, or even Matt helps fill the void left by missing him and Bubs, but nothing truly replaces him.

It’s Folio who invites him over after we all made plans to finally decorate the house.

“I thought he could help,” he says. Despite being the youngest of us, he manages acts more rationally than any of us.

I look at Nicholas standing at the threshold of Bub’s bedroom. The last time we were here, I had just burst out of some magical closet portal into some unknown situation involving him, Bubs, and Detective Douche.

“Okay,” I say, nodding and offering him a wallpaper scraper to remove the blood-splattered wallpaper from the walls of Bub’s room. In a way, it was an olive branch and the first genuine acknowledgment we’d made to each other in months. I hadn’t even bothered going to the shop the entire time we hadn’t been speaking. More accurately, when I hadn’t been speaking to him.

“How have you been?” he asks, and there’s a sarcastic remark waiting to escape my lips, but when I look down at him, my chest tightens because the truth is, I’ve missed my best friend.

“Not good,” I confess, forcing a laugh.

“Yeah, me neither,” he replies, and there’s no competition in his words. He’s not trying to outdo me or fight with me over some goal related to guilt or grief. I can see it in his face; he’s doing about as well as I am. Usually, we’d lean on each other, but these circumstances are too different for that.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “For everything that happened with Bubs. I should have… I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

I take a moment to consider his words because the last time we had a conversation about everything, it spiraled into an argument that led us to this point.

“You were only doing what you thought was right,” I say, deep down knowing that to be true. For a brief moment, I see a glimmer of hope for our friendship.

180 DAYS ON.

“How are you doing today, Noah?” It’s become a routine. I sit, and she asks me the same question, never with any judgment in her tone. Instead, she always maintains a gentle and welcoming demeanor. It’s comforting.

Things feel different. Not entirely better, but I don’t feel the same overwhelming sense of dread that I’ve been carrying for the past few months. The waves of grief come less frequently, or at least they don’t leave me feeling completely incapable of doing anything.

That’s what I want to tell her.

Instead, I say, “Better.”

Tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero

#bad omens fanfiction #poltergeists fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfic #concretejunglefm fics #Spotify

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pkg4mumtown · 13 days ago

Text

Special Weapons and Tactics (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Male!Reader

Rating: Teen (for now)

Summary: You and Hotch meet up for your coffee date…

Content Warnings: Male!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, canon-typical violence, mostly fluff

A/N: Welcome back!! I hope you’re all enjoying so far! A quick note that I’m a dumbass and put Hotch in a sweater in July in the fic, then did the art, then wondered who in their right mind would be in a sweater in July…then realized I put him in the sweater in the art and uh—well it’s inconsistent and I’m sorry LOL. I’m embedding the Spotify playlist I made for the fic, but due to the lack of dividers for you all to know what chapters I placed them in, I’ll let you know here. Feel free to listen to the whole playlist if you want, just know I’m still making continuous changes to it.

Chapter 3: Let Me Down Easy, The Heart is a Muscle, Want You So Bad

Also available on AO3 - I do use a workskin on AO3 for text messaging, so I uploaded screenshots of the texts here. I know this isn’t what iOS looked like in 2010 but I didnt feel like learning a new workskin lol.

tags: @l-a-u-r-aaa

July 2010

I was fifteen minutes early.

Fifteen.

And too embarrassed about it to text him that I arrived just in case he was running late. His response yesterday to me asking if we were still on for today was an enthusiastic—well what I assume was enthusiastic for Hotch—text reading, “See you then.”

I caught myself gripping my steering wheel so tightly that the material creaked under my hands. I forced myself to settle for some rhythmic tapping with my thumbs to pass the time, turning up the radio to drown out my thoughts. I checked the time to see only five minutes had passed and sighed, watching the cars passing me and parking and wondering which one was Hotch.

Oh, thank the stars.

I got out of my car and headed for the entrance, nervously wiping my damp hands on my pants. The line wasn’t terribly long, so I waited near the front door for Hotch, occupying my mind with figuring out what to drink. The door chimed behind me, Hotch’s slim frame casting a tall shadow in front of him.

“Hey,” came his soothing voice as I felt his hand on my mid-back.

Don’t be weird, don’t be weird.

I turned to face him, seeing him endearingly dressed in dad-clothes. His dark polo and well-worn jeans were a nice reprieve from the suits I’d seen him in so far. His hair was soft-looking but in order and he looked surprisingly rested for eight in the morning. I couldn’t say the same for myself as I had been driving myself crazy all-night thinking about this…date.

“Hey,” I smiled, not sure what to do with myself, so I let my hand briefly rest on his upper arm, where the end of the sleeve met his skin. “Costco?” I joked, feeling the soft material between my fingers. It was actually quite nice and breathable, I was surprised.

“You just ruined your chances of me paying,” he glared playfully, sliding his hand from my back to my waist and jabbing my side with his finger.

My eyes lingered on the way the polo clung to his shoulders as he walked past me, looking over his shoulder expectantly. He reached the counter without me and swept his arm inviting me to stand next to him.

Oh, right.

He laughed softly as I shuffled over and stood next to him. Too far away at first, so I took a step closer. Well, now I was too close.

“What do you usually get?” He bent down at the waist and examined the wide selection, ignoring the internal battle I was having regarding proximity.

“H-honestly, I get something different every time,” I hummed. “I might go for one of these,” I answered, tapping on the glass while pursing my lips.

My head popped up as I heard my name being called from behind the counter, “Oh, hey, Sam! How’ve you been!?” I greeted the woman behind the display case.

“Great! No Ben?”

“No, not today, but I brought a friend,” I nodded toward Hotch.

“Aaron,” he introduced himself with a wave and a gentle smile toward the cheery, older woman.

“Nice to meet you! Let me know if you boys need anything.”

“Ben?” He murmured.

“My nephew. He’s practically a regular when they visit,” I gave him a look over my shoulder, “I don’t make a habit of inviting strange men here, you know.”

A subtle eye roll passed over his features as he shook his head.

I grabbed his wrist, laughing and doing my best to convince him despite laughter in his eyes, “I’m serious!”

After ordering with Sam, we found a table that we non-verbally agreed upon before sitting and waiting for our orders. It was quiet for a moment, the only sounds were made by the baristas and patrons around us, as I gathered the brainpower and courage to both say something and say something not idiotic.

“So, anything fun planned for the rest of the weekend?” I finally spoke up, fidgeting the tip of my finger over a dent in the table.

“This,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly. Looking at other patrons before glancing at me to of the corner of his eyes with a playful smirk.

“Smooth.”

A wide smile finally graced his face, “Haley—my ex-wife—took Jack to visit her parents, so mostly relaxing unless we get a case. We’re on call this weekend.” He blew out a breath, “But, I’ve been thinking about doing the FBI triathlon next year so I should start training for that. Mm, Jack’s soccer season started; Dave—er, Rossi—has been helping me coach the kids. The field field they play at is undergoing renovations this week, so they postponed the games and practices.”

“As if you don’t have enough on your hands. Soccer parents can be crazy; I don’t envy you,” I chuckled, tapping on the table when I remembered his mentioning of the triathlon. “The triathlon! I run it every year, I’ll train with you!”

“Yea? You run?” Hotch leaned forward, intrigued at the revelation.

“As often as I can. These knees don’t snap, crackle, or pop for no reason,” I laughed. “I ran a lot in the Navy.”

“Navy?” He hummed, holding up a finger and flicking his wrist down to point at me as he guessed, “Corpsman?”

“Guilty. Then I got assigned ‘greenside’ to Fleet Marine Force and had to run some more. I was very lean ten years ago,” I sighed sadly at my long-lost cardio.

“You still look good,” he murmured, eyes flicking down so fast I almost missed it.

“Ooh, tell me more,” I leaned my chin on my hand, my elbow propped up on the table fluttering my eyelashes at him jokingly.

“I don’t think you’ll be giving Derek a run for his money, but…”

“Oh, no one can compete with that man. He is fine,” I stressed.

“He—yea, I can’t argue with that,” Hotch shook his head guiltily with a huffed laugh.

“Fun fact: I had the biggest crush on him at the academy,” I admitted.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Sam said as she came around with our drinks and chosen pastries.

“You’re an angel,” I smiled gratefully, which she returned with a squeeze of my shoulder before getting back to work.

I turned my attention back toward Hotch, who took a sip of his scalding coffee, “You know, I’m not a profiler or anything but I think that coffee says a lot about you,” I nodded toward his cup.

“Besides the fact that it has your name instead of mine?” He squinted.

“Force of habit for her. I don’t blame her, I’m pretty memorable,” I raised my eyebrows and dipped my head to take a bite.

“No comment,” he dodged with a small smile and picked up a fork. “So, enlighten me.”

“Mm, black coffee is your exterior that you show everyone. Harsh, hard to swallow, but effective and efficient. The sugar is the touch of sweetness hidden underneath that I see when you talk about your family and your team…” I shrugged.

“Not bad. A little too astrological for me,” he smiled, looking at me through his lashes while taking a piece of cinnamon roll from his fork. “Hard to swallow?”

“Mm, mm, no sir. Don’t you dare,” I laughed, feeling heat rising in my cheeks.

Hotch’s eyes crinkled with laughter at my embarrassment. But, honestly? I could have faced embarrassment forever just to keep that look on his face.

“I—um,” I started and stopped, not wanting to ruin the good atmosphere we had. Hotch patiently waited for me to continue. “Assuming I’m reading this correctly. I—have you ever been out with a…” I paused and glanced around out of habit, “…man?”

“No,” he answered and paused, carefully thinking over his words before speaking, “but I’ve known I was attracted to men for a while. I don’t know if Haley did, she never brought it up if she did,” he was quiet for a moment.

I could tell he wanted to say more, so I reached out and placed my hand comfortingly on his. I placed it hesitantly at first, then upon seeing that he was okay with it, let the full weight of my hand rest there.

“I loved her a lot—I still do—I mean, we were together for over twenty years. But, I wasn’t—I wasn’t a good husband, or father for that matter. The divorce was about four years ago, but since then I’ve stepped it up. I’ve delegated to Morgan and Rossi more so I can be there for Jack, but she made it clear that she wouldn’t want to get back together,” he paused, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t blame her, she deserves better. I think that if I did date again, it would have to be with someone who understands my job, my responsibilities, my…drive for doing this job and can be okay with everything that entails.”

When Hotch finally made eye contact with me his eyes were a little misty, but he held it together. I genuinely felt bad for bringing up the question even if it I hadn't asked directly about his family, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no it was probably good for me to admit,” he turned his palm up so he could reassure me with a swipe of his thumb over my fingertips. “I—um—to answer your actual question, no I haven’t been with a man in any way, but I’d say I’m still attracted to women, too.” He squinted, not really having ever given it much thought growing up, “How did you figure it out?”

“Oh, well I knew I found guys attractive when I was like twelve, but my mom’s ex-boyfriend was a super macho—well, he was a dick—and constantly hounded me about girls. So, I made out with Patty Serrano in the 8th grade and realized how much I hated that. Stuck with boys from then on,” I cringed, shifting back to Hotch’s dilemma. “You sound pretty bisexual, though, but don’t stress or feel like you have to label it or anything,” I waved my hands a little erratically. “And just so you know...if you feel like you aren’t into it, I won’t be offended. I swear.”

Hotch shook his head at my story, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” He punctuated this with a squeeze of my hand and a wide smile.

We continued chatting and Sam came by at some point to refill Hotch’s cup with a wink, making him blush at the attention. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him so relaxed and at ease, so when his phone chimed, seeing him deflate as he saw the caller ID was like a punch to the gut.

“Damn,” he murmured. I nodded as he looked at me for permission to answer the phone.

I nodded, waving my hand eagerly for him to just answer it.

He mouthed the word ‘sorry’ at me and answered. His agent façade immediately rose up, a frown adorning his face and deep lines forming on his forehead, “Hotchner. Okay. How long? How many? Okay, I’ll gather the team. Bye.”

Hotch let out a heavy sigh, an apology written all over his face. It was probably a look ingrained into his routine by now, having to be apologetic constantly for missing life events and family bonding. The lines that creased on his face with that expression made me want to smooth them out, tell him it was okay, and to go do good.

So, I did.

“Don’t look at me like that, go,” I laughed, running my thumb over the deepened crease of his cheek from frowning, where some of the glaze had stuck to his skin. “Believe me I—,” my own phone chimed. I read the text, seeing a message from my chief. “—I get it. I gotta run, too.”

We both practically stuffed our faces in a rush to leave and took the drinks with us. With a grateful wave to Sam for her hospitality, we exited the bakery and made our way back to our cars.

“Is it bad?” I asked as we neared my car first.

“Three girls, one missing, two dead,” he sighed. “Indiana.”

“Castrated male in Maryland. Probably gangs.” I responded, shaking my head as we walked side by side.

I felt Hotch grab my hand and tug me to a stop. He took the time to look me in the eyes despite the foot traffic and noisy street that had finally woken up, “Thank you for today. Really. I had a great time.”

“Me, too. You know how to reach me,” I squeezed his fingers, admiring the way the late morning sun reflected off his eyes, making them glow amber.

He leaned forward toward my face, and I had to resist the urge to gulp as my brain went into overdrive thinking he was leaning in for a kiss. I relaxed, however, as he bypassed my face and pressed his cheek to the side of my head. His hand came up to rest on the side of my waist as he spoke, “Be careful.”

I swore I felt the ghost of his lips pressing against my temple and it made me shiver despite the rising temperature outside, “Y-you, too.”

Chapter 4 - Coming Soon

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #Fic: Special Weapons and Tactics #male!reader

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silvervioletvalentine · 2 years ago

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❣️Only love could hurt like this❣️

Pairing: max verstappenXCherrie. Word count:14k

Warnings:angst.cherries fathers death.serious miscommunication. But happy ending:))

Cherrie tried to walk away from the meeting room as fast as she possibly could without making it obvious that she was trying to run away from him, although she was sure that the unpleasant look on her face and the way that she had completely blanked him the whole time during the meeting, might have possibly gave herself away.

Hearing her assistant and close friend, Amy, whisper underneath her breath 'keep calm. Don't react please.' To her almost pleadingly as she got stopped by one of the team members before she could chase after her and make sure that Cherrie didn't cause a fight literally minutes after signing her contract.

Unfortunately for Amy, it meant that she was unable to stop Max from barging out of the room with a look of thunder on his face, quickly pacing after Cherrie , clearly ready to pick an argument with the bane of his existence.

He had spent the majority of the meeting glaring at her like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle her for even being there .

All the time she had just avoided his eyes and mainly kept quiet , humming along and nodding whenever someone spoke to her. Refusing to even look at max, even when he had stared her down the whole time with a scowl on his face.

She knew better than to fight him in front of her new team principal and team. She wasn't that stupid.

No. Instead she waited until they were far enough from everybody else, alone in a random corridor bedore abruptly stopping in her stride and spinning around on her heel to face him with a equally as pissed off glare .

"You should take a fucking picture max! Am I that irresistible that you just can't look away from me?!" She snapped at him sarcastically, crossing her arms across her chest confrontationally .

Broadening her shoulders and straightening her back as much as she could to look more intimidating, but by the twitching of his lips as he eyed her defensive posture, she could tell it didn't do much in the way of scaring him off.

It didn't help that she literally had to look up at him, max glaring down his nose at her judgmentally while she tried to remind herself to take some deep calming breaths.

That she could not attack him. That was wrong... really wrong but..

Max scoffed at her hatefully "you're such a fucking hypocrite! What happened to your unfading loyalty to ferrari? Or should we add liar along to your list of traits now too?" He spat at her, utterly furious by the way his life had just been completely turned upside down so quickly .

He had known that there had been rumours of Cherrie transferring to A different time seeing as her contract with Ferrari was up, but with the way that she had spent years driving for her fathers team, determine to win with the reds just like her dad did, max had genuinely been convinced that she would have taken the extended contract that Ferrari had practically begged her to sign.

She had been their number one driver after all and they couldn't really afford to lose her. Even with their shitty failure and terrible strategies, she had been bringing points to them.

Usually when she refused to listen to her team radio and instead did whatever she felt was right on the track instead . That was how she usually won, by ignoring them and doing her own strategy instead . Just like her legendary father had too.

Cherrie felt anger rush through her like hot lava, glaring back at him hatefully .

"Things change Max! This wasn't a decision that I just took over night. I'm just doing what's best for myself. You should understand that!" She threw back at him . Abruptly turning back around to continue getting as far away from him as possible .

Fighting back a loud groan of misery when she heard his hurried steps to catch up with her, his shoulder brushing hers as he scowled down at her , not finished with their argument yet.

Cherrie was convinced that no matter what she did or what she said, max would never leave her alone. He always had an opinion on what she did, always had to tell her it too. As though it was just impossible for him to just leave her the fuck alone instead .

She had expected this reaction from him of course, she wasn't naive. She knew that he wasn't going to be happy when he found out that she had signed a contract to become redbull's new driver. It was mostly likely a living nightmare for him.

Because it was no secret to anybody that the two of them didn't get along in the slightest. It had started from a very earlier age during karting, it had been a nasty rivalry in the making for the both of them.

It had started simply because Cherrie was dominating him in every race , with her fathers knowledge and winning practically in her blood, she was destined to become a racing champion.

She wouldn't stop until she did. It was expected of her , she had the whole legacy of her father waiting for her and there was no way in hell that she was going to step aside for anybody , definitely not max.

The two of them had spent years fighting for the title, going up in ranks and nearly matching points the whole time . Until Cherrie had finally did it, she won f2 and immediately she was signed onto Ferrari as a rookie when she was eighteen , becoming the first ever rookie to win world championship with them too.

She had been on top of the world and max didn't like it, the pressure from his father to be the best and become the champion falling heavy on his shoulders with each race that she won and had over him.

Then he had finally started to get close to beating her when redbull had given him a better car.

He was faster , he was determined and he wasn't going to let Cherrie beat him again. He just couldn’t.

Unfortunately while he was so determined to win, so locked in his own head that it was almost like he wasn't racing against any other drivers , he didn't care about them, he just wanted to beat Cherrie .

Which had led to him making some unforgivable mistakes and errors of judgment on his part, ones that he would never admit out loud that he regretted.

So lost in his own cloud of winning, so stubborn and determine not to let Cherrie beat him again, so sick of seeing the look of disgust and disappointment on his fathers face when she passed him over the finish line again and again, even with her shitty car.

Knowing that he had the power behind him to win , he had a better engine and a better team. Yet for some reason , Cherrie just seemed to pass him Each time like it was as easy as breathing to.

He had gotten frustrated and angry, more so at himself and the pressure that was being put on him to become the greatest. To beat her. That he had let the anger and resentment cloud his judgment and his morals.

The day that max had sent her spinning off the track , refusing to let her pass him on a sharp corner of the Spanish Grand Prix , had done nothing but make their animosity and hatred of each other get worse .

The look on her face when she finally pulled herself out of her car at the same time he did, the two of them glaring at each other with nothing but hatred in their eyes. Was the day that any hopes of the two ever being friendly went to absolute shit.

The battle had then become between the two of them instead .

They went wheel to wheel , both of them refusing to let the other one pass them which resulted in them crashing more than a couple of times. Because max would rather that they both lose than let her win him again.

So sick of hearing the ridicule and disbelief that was aimed at him when she stood first on the podium with a proud smirk on her face , a sea of red below her chanting her second name proudly .

The two had clashed so badly that their team had taken to making sure that the both of them were separated from each other as much as possible, only it was a pretty difficult thing to achieve when they both had to go to the cooling room together and then they both got podium .

That was also the first time that the world got to witness the bitterness between the two of them and how bad it really was.

It was also the first time that Cherrie had punched him on live tv. And It was also the first time that they got to hear max call her a conceited , narasstic , evil bitch to her face too.

Safe to say that they had both been given a hefty fine and forced to take anger mamnegmnt classes with a therapist for a couple of weeks.

It hadn't done much for their fury towards each other. Cause the a couple of weeks after that alteration , they had been caught screaming at each-other in the paddock again. Both of them refusing to admit which one was wrong after colliding again on the tracks.

It had gotten to the point where seeing the two top drivers verbally assaulting each other was just another day for everyone around them. Their teams having given up on trying to keep them separated and telling them to behave.

Instead they just sighed and muttered at them not to take it to a blood bath instead.

So yes. The two were not friends .

So the news of her being his new teammate , the same woman that did nothing but get underneath his skin and make him so fucking angry that he couldn't think straight, was now the woman that he was going to race side by side with, in the same fuckimg car, as a team?!

Yes, he was a little pissed.

He couldn't believe his luck at all. She had spent years beating him but the one thing that max always held onto to make himself feel better was the fact that he had the better car. Had the better team around him now.

And now she had to take that from him too?

"You have spent years trash talking redbull and now you're joining us?! Why not Mercedes?! I know they wanted you too!" It was true. In fact, every team wanted her, she was one of the best. Besides him of course.

So why did she have to chose redbull? Was she trying to ruin his life even more than she already did?!

Cherrie rolled her eyes, pulling a destained face at him. "No. I spent years trash talking you. Not your car! And I don't have to explain myself to you. I did what I had to do. End of!" She snapped at him before shoving past him, making sure she pettily bashed her shoulder against his arm roughly as she did so.

Max wasn't having it.

Scoffing loudly as he paced beside her , easily catching up as she stomped over to the nearest exit door possible.

"This is unbelievable." He stated more to himself disbelievingly . Wondering if he was really that evil in his past life to deserve this.

She lived rent free in his fucking mind when she was on a completely different team. How the hell was he supposed to cope as her teammate?

Feeling both anger and uneasiness fill his chest, knowing that only one of them would come out on top. They both couldn't be redbull's number one .

And statistically it was shown that out of the two of them, Cherrie was the winning one between them.

He blamed the fact that her father was literally a legend in formula one.

The man has been a sixth time world champion , dominating the sport like it was as easy as breathing to him. And the only reason why he still wasn't champion of the world was because life had cruelly took him away during a accident on the track .

But before he had died he had spent years teaching his little daughter , his only child, every single thing he knew making sure that she would grow up and continue to proudly bare his legacy and make their name stay legendary.

Her future had been destined . She had known what she was going to be since the moment she could walk and talk and be out into that kart .

And what did max have? A father that never believed in him. A father that had never told him that he could be world champion. One that only ever wanted anything to do with him when he was winning.

If he didn't bring home a tital or a win, then in his fathers eyes, he didn't deserve to even speak to him, he was a disappointment.

It only furthered to fuel his misguided anger towards Cherrie.

She had everything. She always had. She always came first and had everything that he ever wanted.

It wasn't fair.

Then he thought of her last teammate who was no doubt utterly heartbroken at her move and scoffed even louder.

Scrunching up his face bitterly "and I bet your human backpack is crying his heart out somewhere over the news. I doubt he's taking this well." Max sniped , taking a jab at their constant closeness to one another.

Another thing that he just couldn't stand. While max had to do this alone, barely making any friends and without anyone by his side to celebrate his wins.

Cherrie had everyone on her side. Because everybody loved her. She was the daughter of a racing legend , she was adored by all.

Every driver loved her. Max couldn't go a day without hearing someone gush about her and he had unfollowed her teammate on all socials the minute he started posting pictures of the two of them doing everything together . Holidays . Cooking videos. Cute little selfies in a hot tub together .

He decided then that he hated him too. It just wasn't fair at all.

How could he have been stuck with the shortest straw like this?

Cherrie looked over at him blankly , confusion taking away the need to kill him for a moment as she blurted out a "huh?" Wondering what the hell he was talking about.

Human backpack? What the fuck?

Max just smirked at her coldly , shaking his head as though he thought she was playing stupid.

There was no way that she didn't know who he was referring too. In fact, max was surprised that he wasn't right there beside her glued to her side while they argued too.

"I'm just saying . Charles can't be very happy with you leaving him on his own. Who is he going to cling to now?" He muttered bitterly , looking away from her striking eyes for a moment when her glare became too much for him to hold his gaze with.

Cherrie immediately shoved at his shoulder at his insult towards Charles , face darkening .

"Don't fucking talk about him like that. He has nothing to do with this." She spat at him.

Protective of the Ferrari driver that she had been lucky enough to grow close to over the years. They had become best friends and Cherrie had become incredibly protective over him.

And honestly one of the only reasons to why she had stayed clinging onto ferrari for so long was because she didn't want to leave him on his own to deal with all the shit that came along with their team.

He wasn't as mentally strong as she was. He was a people pleaser and didn't like to upset people, which meant he often let people upset him instead , not saying a word about his own feelings , not wanting to cause a scene.

That was where Cherrie had come in and where the two of them had become a good team. Because Cherrie wasn't afraid of opening her mouth and putting people in their rightful place . She didn't care who she had to upset .

If someone fucked her over then she made sure that her wrath was known. And over the years she had made sure that the team knew that if they fucked over Charles too, she would have their heads on a fucking flag pole, waving it at any other asshole who dared to piss her off again.

So yes, she was worried about Charles being on his own to defend himself now.

And she felt guilty about her sudden move to the 'dark side' but she had to be selfish for once . She wasn't going to keep winning if she stayed with Ferrari and she wasn't going to let her father down.

If he was looking down at her , she wanted to make him proud. And she knew that he would want her to do the right thing and Cherrie knew that this was it.

Ferrari had left her no other choice but to leave.

"And anyways, he's been very supportive . Because he's a good guy who wants whats best for me." She added on defensively . Not liking the way max was looking at her at her like she was a liar.

He couldn't have rolled his eyes any harder if he tried . Shaking his head in disbelief "yeah fucking right. Who's going to have your little boyfriends back now? I'm fact, I'm surprised that he's not begging for a contract with redbull too. Seeing as he never fucking leaves your side!" He exclaimed looking over at her judgmentally .

Because he was certain that the two of them were not 'just friends'. They were too close and too familiar with each other.

Max had seen the way that Charles lit up just at the sight of her . Hell, they even spent Christmas with his family! He had seen the cozy pictures of the two of them in matching pjs in front of a Christmas tree, hugging each other's side with matching smiles on their faces.

It was ridiculous. And every time that max saw the two of them giggling together, seemingly in their own little bubble where no one else existed, he wanted to be sick.

Because once again. It wasn't fair at all!

Cherrie wanted to strangle him.

Taking in a deep breath to calm the urge to go absolutely mental at him.

Instead she strided out into the parking lot and tried not to imagine hitting him with her car.

"He's not my boyfriend." Was all she muttered , absolutely done with his shit as she dug her car keys out of her pocket . Looking around the spaces as she tried to remember where she had parked her car.

Max got his own out of his pocket two, not even thinking about it as he gave her a little shove on her back to get her to walk in the direction of where her Ferrari was parked. Right next to his.

"You'd think you'd have better memory dipshit. And there is one thing that you and your boyfriend have in common ... you can't park for shit!" He insulted her, glancing pointedly at her car that was parked sideways over the white line, taking up two spots instead of one.

Cherrie looked at her parking and tongued her cheek , unable to disagree with him. Despite how much she wanted too.

He was right . Parking was not her strong suit, which was ironic considering her job.

Instead she just muttered a moody "shut up." And got into her car.

There was a long moment where they both just looked at eachother as she turned on her engine , bedore she slid some sunglasses over her eyes and looked away.

Max cleared his throat bedore forcing his eyes away from her, feeling uncomfortable as he opened the door to his car quickly and quickly got in.

Rolling Down his window so she could hear him , pushing away the strange feeling they came over him, instead he took on a bored tone .

And told her "don't forget the conference on Friday. We're not Ferrari. So don't show up late otherwise you'll make us all look bad." He condescendingly snided. Referring to her inability to arrive on time to any meeting ever.

Immediately all her distain for him came rushing back as she scoffed angrily at him.

Reviving her engine loudly "I will not be late asshole!" Was all she spat before quickly reversing out of her spot carelessly , almost crashing into a trash can bedore she sped out of there , her wheels screeching .

Leaving max to shake his head with a small chuckle to himself as he carefully put out his car , reversing perfectly .

"Can’t park and can't reverse either. Surprised she can actually drive a car." He muttered to himself in amusement bedore driving away.

Hoping that his new teammate and himself didn't kill eachother before the season ended.

Cherrie showed up late to the press conference. Because of course she did.

She sheepishly walked into the room, the cameras clicking as she avoided Max's smug expression , not looking at any of them as she slid carefully into her seat beside him.

Nodding at the press reluctantly , putting her bottle of water on the table. Smiling a little to herself as she glanced down at the vinyl picture of her and Charles on it that a fan had given her .

Had she brought it with her to spite max a little after his comments about Charles and her being too close?

Maybe.

Did she care? No.

Had she been warned not to provoke or start any shit up with max for her own entertainment? Also Yes.

Was she going to listen?

Absolutely not.

"Sorry I'm late . I didn't want to come." She spoke into the small microphone stand in front of her, grinning at them to let them know that she was just joking.

A little bit.

Her media manager, in charge of making sure she didn't do or saying anything wrong to the press that could get her into trouble , face palmed . Already knowing that Cherrie was not about to do as she was told at all.

Max eyed her water bottle with a grimace , crossing his arms over his chest and silently shaking his head to himself . Deciding to be the better behaved one out of the two.

To prove they he was the more mature one out of them, he smiled over at her deliberately knowing that it would piss her off.

"Nice to see you finally arrive. You look good in blue." He slyly said as he eyed her blue redbull shirt that she was wearing . Before looking at her head and realising that she was missing something.

He picked up his own hat that had number 1 written across it. From him winning world champion last year . Only by a single point between the two of them, something that max liked to smugly remind her of.

He reached over and placed his redbull champions cap ontop of her head, winding her up.

"Can't forget the hat. We'll have to get a runners up one for you." He smirked . Ignoring his own team sharing exasperated looks between each other .

"Not even a minute in and they're already starting." Amy sighed to Max's assistant, not surprised at all.

Cherrie picked the hat off her head and threw it at him , hard. Watching it bounce off his head and onto the floor with a little satisfaction.

But not enough.

Max only laughed and picked his hat back up, placing it back on his head smugly .

"Fuck off you twat!" She snapped at him before she could stop herself. Using the new swear word that lando had taught her over the summer .

She liked it. She thought that it was a name that she could call max regularly now.

Then she heard the clicking of cameras and both amused and shocked muttering of the press in front of them, swiftly reminding her of where she was.

Slowly turning her head to look at them. Clearing her throat a little guiltily , she leaned back into her chair and smiled as innocently as possible.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" She directed her question over to the man with the microphone who had been trying to ask her a question before max distracted her.

The man looked between the two of them warily. Everyone seeing the way that max was smirking over at her , clearly amused with how easy it was to wind her up. While Cherrie was trying to ignore him all together.

If I don't look at him, then he isn't there. Cherrie told herself over and over again.

"I was saying... that it has come as a big surprise to everyone when redbull announced you as their new driver . With people expecting you to extend your contract with Ferrari. It's said that they even offered you twice as much for you to stay on with them and that you turned it down. Is that true?" He asked her , camera's filming her steadily .

Cherrie fiddled with her water bottle , slowly nodding her head yes.

She knew that she was going to be getting a lot of backlash for her sudden move from the team that her father had won his last championship with. She knew that people expected her to stay with them out of loyalty and legacy.

But she just couldn't do it anymore. So people would just have to get used to it.

She didn't care what anyone thought of her move , she was doing what was right for her in the long run.

You had to be selfish If you wanted to win. Loyalty to a team that was rapidly falling apart wouldn't get her the championship.

"They did. And I said no. No amount of money could make me want to continue to drive a car that is no longer suited to me ." She confirmed to them simply , glancing over at her press officer to see her nodding her head at her , telling her that she had said the right thing.

The man looked surprised "your father spent ten years with Ferrari. And won all of his world championships with them too. Do you not want to follow in his footsteps? Some would say that Ferrari was literally in your blood. Your destiny-"

Cherrie cut him off before he could say anything more about her father and her destiny in the same sentence.

"My destiny is to win." She corrected him shortly , lacing her fingers together and reminding herself to be calm. "And I can't win in a car that isn't fast enough and isn't powerful enough for me to pass the finish line with. The Ferrari just wasn't what I needed anymore." She told them honestly, not feeling a need to lie.

It was a secret to no one that she hadn't been very happy with her car for a long time. She had told her team so and told the press too on multiple occasions that it wasn't up to her standard anymore .

It had literally been falling apart on the track and Cherrie simply couldn't take it anymore.

Because while her father had won in a Ferrari , they seemed to forget that he also died in one too.

She didn't want to repeat history that way. And when she had to drag herself out of her car when her engine had caught fire last year without warning, she had made her decision there and then.

She wanted to be like her dad, but she didn't want to go out like him either.

Max was silently nodding along to what she was saying , understanding where she was coming from.

He hated to admit it but she was right.

The reporter was frowning "the team principal did say that they were working on improving the Ferrari and making sure that there wasn't a repeat of last years failures . Was that not enough reassurance to convince you to stay?" He followed up with , everyone silent as they waited for her answer.

Cherrie just looked at him blankly , shaking her head.

"No it wasn't. I told them before last year that they either got their shit together and fixed the car and gave me something good to drive ... or i wasn't driving it at all. I gave them the data, I gave them my advice and my options. I told them what to do and they couldn't do it." She bluntly answered, done sugarcoating how much shit she had to deal with while driving for the red team.

She wasn't going to beat around the bush anymore , Ferrari had done this to themselves. She was done.

She took a sip of her water and swallowed before continuing . "- and ya know, it doesn't matter how good of a driver you are. If you've been given a shit

Box that it literally falling apart and you have a team that are giving you soft tires instead of hard and giving you strategy's that make no sense.." she sighed in annoyance "well, you can't win at all."

Max smiled a little , looking over at her in slight amusement .

"So you tried to blackmail them into giving you a better car?" He mused .

Cherrie just nodded her head , barely glancing at him.

"Yeah. And it didn't work so.." she just shrugged , nothing more to say.

The reporter nodded and moved on, looking over to max instead .

"And how about you max? How are you feeling about having Cherrie as your new teammate this year? It's no secret that there's a bit of rocky history between you two..." he voiced the obvious .

Looking between the two of them curiously , wondering how a partnership between the two rivals could possibly work.

Max took a moment to think about his answer , knowing that telling him that 'this was the worse thing to ever happen to him' wouldn't help the tension at all.

He decided to be strategic about his reply , clearing his throat and sitting straighter in his seat again, keeping a calm facade .

"There is. We have always fought against each other on the track ..." he agreed bedore adding "but she is also a good driver and a former champion.." he couldn't help the little dig at his dethroning of her title .

Cherrie subtly rolling her eyes at him.

"But maybe we will be able to work together to keep others away. And bringing another win home to redbull. We are rivals second but a team first now. And I'm sure that we can remain professional and do what's best for the team." He simply answered. Doubting his own words even as he said them.

Cherrie nodded along in agreement .

"Yeah.. it's not me that you have to worry about."

She couldn't help but mutter, side eyeing him.

Max frowned at her "I'm not the problem either. Who-"

The man quickly butted in before they could start bickering about who the one with the issues was.

"And do you think that you two can put your differences aside and become reliable teammates? Do you trust max to have your back Cherrie?"

She just pursed her lips and picked up her water bottle with her and Charles on it, then she casually reached her arm out and knocked his redbull water bottle off the table.

Placing hers in its place instead.

All the while smiling innocently "if he looks out for me then I will do the same. If he doesn't give me the support then he will not receive it from me either." She told them simply, looking over at max pointedly , meaning it too.

She didn't want to have a teammate that was an enemy. But she wasn't going to trust him without any evidence of him wanting the same thing.

"Time will just have to tell I suppose.." was all she ended with when max didn't say anything else in return.

Merely clenching his jaw and glaring down at the picture of her and Charles on her bottle in front of him.

Reaching down to pick up his own bottle that only had his name written across it. Nothing personal at all.

It wasn't fair. Was all he could keep thinking.

Looking away from the picture of the the former teammates and best friends , swallowing the sudden ball he felt rising in his throat.

When was he going to get someone to support him like that?

Why couldn't he have what she had? What more did he have to do to prove himself?

The next two months we're spent with nothing but tension and avoidance . The two teammates not eager to get along as their history threatened to tear them apart before they even began.

Cherrie struggled to let max pass her when he was clearly able to push more than she was, and max just couldn't let her pass him without a fight either.

Both of the drivers ignoring their team radios instructions to let the other through, instead taking it upon themselves to see which one of them would pass the waving flag first.

Wheel to wheel and risking all their hard work for Petty rivalry , bickering between each other on the podium and refusing to give in and start again.

Things were tense and max was struggling to contain his overwhelming emotions as he crossed the line, pursing his lips beneath his helmet as he swallowed thickly .

She had won. Again.

Easily overtaking him on the last lap, he had fought and fought to take back his place and was unable to do so no matter how much he tried.

Pulling up in front of the p2 sign, he switched off his engine and just sat there for a moment. Silently watching as Cherrie pulled herself up out of the car and jumped into the arms of their celebrating team, all of them so happy and proud of her as she brought them more points again.

She had won every single race so far. Max always just half a second behind her. Just like when they were kids.

He wanted to scream.

Instead he blinked back the tears in his eyes , already knowing that his dad would have left the moment that Cherrie overtook him and it became clear who was going to win, again.

He was on his own.

He took in a deep breath and lifted the wheel, pulling himself out of the car and onto the ground.

Being immediately patted on the back by their team, he merely nodded his head absentmindedly , still watching Cherrie as she jumped up and down in excitement , laughing happily at yet another win.

He felt some of his anger fade as he watched her look around the crowd, clearly overwhelmed with the way the fans were all screaming her name. Even the Ferrari fans were clapping, proud of her.

He pulled off his gloves and looked away, ready to walk off to the go to the cooling room alone.

Only for his eyes to widened in shock as she looked over to him, waving her hand for her him to wait up as she jogged over to him while pulling off her helmet , max doing the same cautiously.

Wondering if they were about to have another argument about the way they had fought it out on the track yet again.

Only to be surprised and frozen in shock as he watched her lips tilt up and smile at him happily.

"That was a good race! That overtake you did on Hamilton was just -" she made a chefs kiss with her fingers . Too filled with adrenaline to see how he shocked he was at her suddenly talking to him.

Usually she just ignored him and ran over to Charles to celebrate. But not this time.

Max felt pressure in his chest, clearly his throat and looking away from her for a moment.

Flushing a little at the amazed look on her face as she rambled on about his manoeuvre , his shock only growing when she casually walked alongside him to the cooling room.

"Er thank you." He muttered not knowing what else to say to her sudden compliment. Wondering if he was dreaming.

He wiped his face down with a towel and took a sip of his drink, looking at the screens that replayed the moments between them in the track.

Watching a replay of the way she had gone wide at the corner and smoothly passed him without even coming close to him, he sighed and had to give it to her.

"You raced good.that was a smart move that you did out there. I didn't even notice you behind me , I just blinked and you passed me." He mumbled a little quietly . Not used to talking to her like this.

He was so used to them arguing and insulting eachother that he wasn't sure how to be normal around her.

It made him feel uneasy and he felt his stomach flip as she looked over at him with another easy smile, patting him on the back happily as she reached over him to grab the first place cap from the table and putting it on top of her sweaty head proudly.

"I know right?" She laughed a little, still out of breath as she tried to calm down.

Seeing their team motion for them to get to the podium , shaking hands with Lewis on the way who came third place behind max.

Max just nodded at him respectfully , jogging over to catch up with Cherrie so that they were side by side , he looked down at her quietly. Still not knowing how to take her sudden niceness towards him.

His words were hesitant as he muttered "are you- are you going to the party after this? We got 2 for 2 so I'm sure it'll be quite a big one ." He wasn't even sure why he was mentioning it to her.

He was reminded quickly of why he didn't usually even bother asking her if she was coming along as she shook her head with a smile, her eyes no longer looking at him , instead she was searching the crowd below them for someone else.

Max watched her whole face light up as she spotted Charles waving up at her with a proud smile on his face despite not getting podium himself, feeling his mood crash down again.

"I always celebrate with Charles . We're gonna get some dinner and then hang out with the rest of our friends at the hotel . Do you-" she was about to turn back to him and ask him if he wanted to come along but she was cut off before she could even try.

Max scoffed and moved away from her quickly , not looking at her as he shook his head .

"Typical. Putting your little boyfriend over your team. You're still Ferrari." He snapped at her bitterly , his anger overtaking him before he could even notice the way she had been about to invite him along with a hopeful smile.

Her face dropped, any niceness Quickly dissipating as she glared at him , shoving away the sting she felt at his reaction. Suddenly glad that she hadn't gotten the chance to invite him along If this was his reaction .

"Forget it max. I was just trying to be nice." She mutteeed , looking away from him with a upset frown.

Max felt the pressure in his chest almost crush him, unable to look at her anymore. Convinced that he would never get his chance.

"Well don't be. I don't need you to pretend to be nice to me. I'm not your friend. So fuck off." He snapped at her, walking away bedore he could see the hurt that crossed her face and the way she pursed her lips to stop them from trembling.

Fine. She thought to herself meeting Charles concerned eyes and plastering a fake smile onto her face. Giving him a thumbs up to assure him that she was okay.

Fuck him. She thought angrily . He didn't deserve her kindness anyways .

Unable to believe that for a moment she had actually wanted to be his friend .

When the Monaco race rolled around, there was a somber yet determined mood taking over Cherrie as she solemnly walked the track that had taken her fathers life so many years ago.

Everyone else knew to leave her alone to her silent grief, everybody but Charles who knew just what she was feeling as they both slowly came to a stop at the sharp corner , both glancing over to the gate that had fresh flowers tied to it. It was covered in them and covered in sweet messages that the fans had left too.

She sighed softly , leaning her head against Charles arm as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Both of them quiet as he rested his head against the sides of hers , reflecting. His hand rubbing soothing circles over her back , waiting for her to speak patiently . Knowing that she would when she was ready.

Finally she spoke up, voice hardly above a whisper , familiar pain filling her voice .

"I miss him." She simply admitted , kneeling down to the gate and picking up one of the pictures that had been left beside some flowers.

Feeling herself choke up as she stared tearfully down at the picture of her father and herself at only eight years old, him holding her on his shoulders on the podium with the biggest of smiles on their faces.

The last race that he ever won.

She remembered the day she lost him like it was yesterday . Remembered the way her father had confidently told her that he was going to win their home race without any problems , taking her over to his car and letting her sit inside of it as he knelt down beside her proudly.

She had been eight years old and the light of her fathers life . His future .

He had gently stroked her hair away from her eyes and told her proudly .

"You're going to win this race too someday. In fact, you're going to win them all. Just like me." He had said it so matter of factly.

Believing in her so strongly that even being so young then, she believed his words too.

"I'm gonna be like you daddy. Do you think that we can win together? Then we can both be on the podium!" She had exclaimed excitedly , beaming up at him. Thrilled at the mere thought of being able to race alongside her own father someday.

He had always told her that he wouldn't retire until he was forced too. He was still in the prime of his life with no future of stopping.

Her dad had smiled fondly at her, lifting her out of the car and holding her in his arms.

He had kissed her still chubby cheeks and promised her.

"I'm going to be right there beside you. Every step of the way. Cause I love you . No matter what you do and what you achieve. You're always going to be my star okay?" He had said it with so much love and conviction , smiling down at her with care.

Cherrie had been passed over to his assistant as the crew surrounded him, watching him with wide eyes so full of amazement and awe as he pulled on his helmet and pulled himself inside the Ferrari .

He had gave her a thumbs up , clutching the wheel in his steady hands. Taking a deep breath and looking at her one last time .

"I love you daddy! You're going to win!" She had giggled at him unknowingly , waving her hands excitedly as she watched the car be pushed out the garage and over to the line.

Then she had been lead back with the crew and been seated on a chair in front of all the screens that showed the race happening, headphones put over her ears so she could hear everything. So fascinated by everything that surrounded her.

Then she had watched , at just eight years old as her fathers teammate tried to overtake him at the sharp corner where it was only big enough for one car to come through.

Their wheels had made contact and she had watched with tears in her eyes as her fathers car flew into the air , spinning and spinning bedore crashing into the barrier , immediately crushed into pieces as everything fell ontop of the remains of the Ferrari.

There had been shocked and horrified silence as she had listened to her fathers engineer repeatedly asked him if he was okay over the radio. Everyone watching with tears in there eyes as the minutes passed by and he didn't get out .

Her father didn't answer the radio , there was nothing but static silence as she had started to cry hysterically as she watched the medics pull out her fathers unmoving body, shaking their heads sorrowfully as they placed him on a stretcher and covered him with a sheet.

She never saw her father again.

He didn't win the race.

He didn't make it out of Monaco Alive.

He was gone. Just like that.

For years she has lived with his words of belief in her head, encouraging her to make him proud. To carry on her fathers legacy.

"I'm going to win this race. I'm going to win for him just like he told me I could." She breathed out to Charles determinedly . This meaning so much to her .

She had to win. For him.

Charles smiled at her softly , squeezing her close as he gently kissed the side of her head proudly .

"And you will. You can do anything you want to do Cherrie. I believe in you." He told her with a heartfelt smile, meaning every word.

Both of them unaware of the cameras filming them and her teammate watching them on the large screen with his chest tightening as he watched Cherrie wrapped her arms around cherries and kiss his cheeks, smiling up at him with softness written across her face as they whispered to each other .

To him it looked like a lovers embrace . Like two people that were so in love that they couldn't help but show the world .

He felt sick. He felt angry. He felt so frustrated that he turned away from the screen with a scowl, fingers tightening into fists as he stormed away to get ready for the race .

All sense of rationality leaving him as he saw red. All he could picture in his mind was Cherrie and Charles embracing each other , smiling at each other like they were each other's whole world.

He felt bitter determination fill him, anger fuelling his steps. He was going to win this race and prove her wrong.

He didn't care. He didn't need her as his teammate. He could win all on his own.

Her winning steak was over.

Cherrie could feel her heart racing as she flew down the straight , sparks flying from her wheels as the laps seemed to pass her by. Minutes feeling like mere seconds as she clutched onto her wheel tightly, blocking out every single distraction possible as she focused on keeping her place.

She was neck to with max, Lewis and charles not too far behind her as they all fought to pass each other, Cherrie managing to keep her corners tight as she clung to the back of her teammate in front of her.

Hearing her team come over her radio as the laps narrowed down quickly , only a few more left to go.

She felt adrenaline fill her as she heard their strategist speak, a certain pride filling his voice , everyone knowing that this was her moment to win.

This was her home race. This was the moment that she could make her father proud.

Everybody was holding their breaths and praying as they watched her close the gap between herself and max quickly , easily gaining on him.

"We've told max to let you past . He can defend and keep the Mercedes from your back. You can push- just two more laps-" he told her bedore pausing .

Cherrie heard multiple voices of her team, sounding confused and angry as they muttered between themselves . Sounding unhappy .

"What's going on? I can push! I am faster! I can do it!" She breathed out bedore inhaling sharply and only managing to avoid a Collasion between herself and max as he suddenly went wide, blocking her from getting through.

She felt anger light her up, panic also filling her too as her front wheel grew closer and closer to his.

"What is he doing?! I can win! I need to -" she gasped , heart pounding in her chest as she rapidly flickered her eyes between Max's car and the sharp corner that was quickly approaching them at the end of the track.

The same corner where her father had lost his life.

She felt her heart sink to her stomach as her engineer came over the radio, sounding both angry and upset as he informed her of what was happening.

"He's refusing to let you past Cherrie . He's ignoring team orders. I'm so sorry but you need to pull back to avoid-" he apologetic voice only enraged her further.

"No!no! No!" She shouted upset . Shaking her head and ignoring him telling her to pull back

"This is -" she choked in her words , both panic and rage filling her.

"I have to win this! My dad-" she couldn't even finish her pleading . Too upset to think straight .

She needed to win this race. She was so close - she just had to get passed max. She could do this without him.

If he wasn't going to let her past then she would make him.

She couldn't lose this race. She couldn't-

So with nothing but anger and grief filling her , she Ignored her frantic team over her radio and pressed full throttle as they came around the corner .

"Please max!" She shouted over the radio knowing that he couldn’t hear her. Expecting him to pull aside and let her pass.

He knew how much this meant to her. He knew what had happened here in monaco. He knew!

She could only watch in what felt like slow motion as max jolted his steering wheel . But instead of pulling away from her, he took the inside of the corner , giving her no time to pull away as their front wheels collided , sparks flying in the air.

Then she was flying.

Her car spinning off the track and turning around and around , clutching her fists to her chest as she gasped and cried out , her body rattling around from the sheer force as her car crashed into the exact gate that her father had crashed into all those years ago.

She saw the flower of memorials raining down onto of her car , petals falling all around her as the car finally came to a horrifying stop.

Then there was stillness .

She felt absolutely nothing but numbness as she glanced down at the picture that she had taped beside her wheel . The same picture that had been left with the flowers of her and her father , the last photo she had of them together on the podium.

She had taped it there for good luck.

As she looked at her fathers smiling face looking back at her, she swallowed.

Hearing the frantic calls of her team over the radio begging her to be okay.

The race hosts gasping in disbelief as they bellowed

"This is unbelievable! Serious de ja vu as Cherrie has been forced off the track by her own teammate! Crashing into the corner in the exact same spot where her fathers tragic accident took place! This hurts to watch- I hope she's okay!"

She inhaled deeply as she cut off her engine. Blankly looking at the photo of her dad one last time before looking away.

Exhaling shakily as she finally responded to their desperate calls.

"Are you okay Cherrie?! Please tell us that you're okay! Medics are on the way!"

She glanced over to the other crashed redbull that had spun off to the opposite side of the track, watching as max pulled himself out quickly.

His helmet covered head quickly turning in her direction , she swallowed , tears clouding her vision.

"I lost." Was all she could breath out in misery as the realisation that she was out of the one race that she needed to win.

She couldn't make her father proud.

She had lost.

Because of max.

There was a loud sigh of relief "that doesn't matter right now Cherrie. We are so happy that you're okay! Can you get out of the car?" He rushed out worriedly, everybody getting horrific flashbacks to her father dying in that very same spot.

Cherrie didn't answer.

Instead she just exhaled shakily, not even looking up as a shadow came over her.

Max heavy breathing heard as he knelt beside her car hurriedly , desperation filling his voice as he felt panic take over him.

"Are you okay?!" He rushed out in panic . Overcome with guilt as it finally crashed down on him what he had just done .

Swallowing down the lump in his throat as he looked at all the broken up flowers that surrounded her, before his eyes settled on the picture of her and her father taped beside her wheel.

Remorse making him feel sick to his stomach as he reached out his hands for her to grab so that he could pull her out.

"Cherrie please-"

She slapped his hands away violently and pulled herself out without his help. Unable to even look at him as anger finally took its rightful place.

"Don't fucking touch me." She spat at him.

Shoving at his shoulders roughly sending him a few steps back as he quickly lifted up his visor so he could see her, his own eyes pooling with tears as he saw the heartbreak in her eyes as she looked over to her crashed car.

"I'm so sorry. I am so fucking sorry! I wasn't thinking and I just - I-" he stammered to explain his stupid actions.

Not knowing how to admit that he had been so fucking upset and angry at never coming first. At never having anyone by his side.

That jealously had overcome him as soon as he saw her and Charles cosied up to each other on the track together when he had been just about to head out to find her and make sure that she was okay.

Wanting to be the one to comfort her. Wanting to be there for her . Wanting to apologise for the way he had been behaving because he was bitter and jealous and she had everything he wanted including herself .

But his anger had gotten the best of him and he was forced to face the consequences of his careless actions again.

Only this time it was worse, he didn't think that she would forgive him for this.

He didn't think that he could forgive himself either.

"I just wanted to make him proud." Was all she muttered , chewing on the inside of her cheek as she wrapped her arms around herself . Feeling like she was heading into a state of shock.

Max exhaled shakily , taking another step towards her and feeling his own heart crack as she took another away from him. Still not looking at him.

"You have - this isn't your fault. I shouldn't have - I didn't mean to! God Cherrie! I am so fucking sorry! You have to believe me-!" He was babbling away barely making any sense as he started to cry, the guilt nearly killing him.

Cherrie just shook her head and finally glanced his way, and the way she looked at him made him freeze in his spot as medics rushed over to them.

There was nothing but hatred in her eyes as she told him calmly , voice void of any emotion.

"I hate you." Before she was pulled away by the medics .

Leaving him to stand there with his heart at his feet, sobbing into his helmet as it all came crashing down around him.

She meant it. He felt it.

And he loved her.

Yet he had let his own insecurities and anger ruin it again.

She hated him.

But he hated himself more then.

Cherrie didn't look at him for a month straight .

She Didn't speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary.

Max had tried almost everyday to apologise to her , to speak to her to try and fix everything. The guilt making him unable to sleep at night, flashes of their crash replaying in his mind.

Everybody hated him for it. He knew they did.

He had almost killed her. He had crashed into her the same way her father had lost his life by his own teammate so long ago.

He couldn't forgive himself. He didn't want to.

He just wanted her to look at him again. Even if it was just to shout at him, to scream at him- to hit him and hurt him.

To do anything . As long as she looked at him again he didn't care what she did to him.

He finally got his chance to speak to her on his own birthday .

He was spending it alone, declining the persistent texts from his friends and from the team to go out and have some fun with them.

He told them that he had a headache . That he wasn't in the mood but to have a drink on him.

Then he shut off his phone and curled up in his bed , blankly staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room as he felt the numbness sink deep in his chest.

He was alone and it was all his fault .

Then as the sky's darkened and he finally managed to pull himself up in the bed , he heard rapid knocking at his door. It didn't stop even when he shouted at them to go away.

Then he froze as he heard her annoyed voice echo loudly through the door.

"Open the fucking door max before I kick it down!" She threatened him impatiently , balancing two bags between her arms with a huff.

Max hurried over to the door and quickly swung it open, looking down at her with wide eyes, shocked at the sight of her .

"Cherrie?" He gasped . Looking at her in amazement , wondering if he was dreaming .

She just rolled her eyes at him and pushed past him into the room. Huffing at him unhappily.

"What are you doing?" She demanded to know as she glanced around at his pity party. Seeing multiple empty plates and empty cans of red bull stacked up on the bedside tables.

His room was a mess. She took a glance back at his tried eyes and down turned lips . Dark circles underneath his upset eyes as he kept his gaze down to his sock clad feet as though he was too scared to even look at her.

She felt her own heart sink.

She had a lot of time to think about what had happened and what had been happening between them for a long time now.

Having sat down and talked to Charles about how she and max have always been pitted against each other their whole careers , the rivalry having been practically spoon fed to them the minute they arrived on track.

She had seen the way that max would silently walk away whenever she won a race, while she would have a team of people and friends gathering her in their arms to celebrate her win.

Max went home alone.

It was as though unless he won, his own father didn't want anything to do with him. And Cherrie had noticed the way that max tried so hard to prove his worth to him, the way he looked up to him and only wanted to make him proud.

Just like she did with her own father. Only her dad had believed in her and had been supportive , had been kind and gentle with his encouragement.

He had told her that if she wanted to be champion of the world , then she would be. As simple as that.

Max's dad had never told him such a thing and she only realised now with a sour taste in her mouth that perhaps his anger towards her over these years , was more so anger towards himself for not achieving what he thought he should . And anger at his dad for never being there unless he won.

She felt guilty as she thought back to all those times over the years when she had seen max looking over at her celebrating . The way he seemed to watch every thing she did with wonder , clearly wanting to do the same as she did.

Because despite his 'hatred' of her, she had seen the way that he had looked at her with pride when she won her first ever championship , with tears in her eyes as she pointed her finger to the sky, she had caught Max's eyes in the crowd below her and he had smiled.

She wished that she would have spoken to him then. Wished that she wouldn't have let her own pettiness and stubbornness stop them from being friends.

He was hurting. She could see that now.

Perhaps it was never just as simple as on track rivalry.

Because if max truly hated her and wanted her gone, then why did he look so heartbroken? Why did he look so desperate and afraid when he had rushed over to her crashed car after spinning her off the track?

Max fiddled with his fingers nervously , slowly walking over to his bed and taking a seat at the end of the mattress.

"What do you mean?" He murmured. Still shocked that she was there, in his room, willingly speaking to him.

Glancing up to see her stood in front of him with a frown, worry written across her face as she carefully placed the bags in her hands down onto the floor instead .

"It's your birthday." She stated the obvious "why aren't you celebrating?"

Max looked at her like she was insane , scoffing. "I'm not really in the mood to have fun Cherrie. I almost killed you a few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten?" He snapped at her without meaning to, so overcome with guilt and anger at himself that he could barely think straight .

Cherrie didn't react other than a small raising of her brow , making him look away from her when she just continued to look at him , unimpressed with him snapping at her.

"I haven't forgotten." She finally said after a long, tense silence . Before letting out a long sigh and kneeling down in front of him on the soft carpet .

Max looked at her with wide eyes "what are you doing?!" He exclaimed.

Warily eyeing her kneeling between his legs and wondering if he had accidentally taken some drug instead of his vitamins before she arrived.

She just rolled her eyes at him and pulled one of the bags over to her.

"It's your birthday." She repeated casually "and I got you a present." She then proceeded to pull out a familiar helmet for him to see.

Max frowned, looking between the colourful helmet that she had worn when she had crashed. When he had made her crash and almost killed her, and back down to her in disbelief .

His stomach dropping in unease "is this a joke? Cause it's not funny Cherrie. I know that I fucked up, I don't need a painful reminder of how much-"

Cherrie didn't let him finish his upset rant. Instead she just placed the helmet in his lap and nodded down to it calmly .

"Look inside it." She simply instructed him, watching his face carefully .

He gave her one last look before carefully holding her helmet , his fingers tracing over the pretty design that hardly had a dent despite the awful impact it had taken.

Then he turned the helmet over and lifted the visor, his fingers freezing as he read the words that were written messily inside of it. Swallowing audibly as he read the small words of her handwriting over and over again.

Believe in yourself like I believe in you. It read.

He exhaled shakily and glanced up at her unsurely , his lips parting yet not knowing what to say.

Cherrie just smiled a little and told him "it's what my dad always told me when I was younger . To believe in myself like he believed in me. How can you reach for the stars if there's no one to help you there? Success is nothing but a empty room if there's no one there to share it with." Her voice was quiet and reflective.

Having spent the last few weeks really thinking about how wrong she had been. How differently she wished that she had acted .

Max just looked at her silently , his heart racing in his chest as he watched her face soften towards him.

She had never looked at him like that before. No matter how many times he had wished for her to, he had only ever seen her smile at Charles like that.

He cleared his throat "why- why are you giving me this? What-" what does it mean? Went unsaid.

Luckily Cherrie understood and simply shrugged her shoulders , sighing .

"Well that helmet saved my life . And those words did too. I thought that it's only right for you to have it. And maybe - maybe it can help you to? I don't know - it's stupid-" it was her time to be unsure as she nervously glanced away from him.

Not knowing how to say that she was sorry. For everything .

Simply saying it didn't seem like enough .

Max quickly shook his head "no! No! It's not stupid- it's really - it's really thoughtful actually . I-" he inhaled shakily , clutching onto the helmet tightly with trembling fingers .

"I wish that I had words like that to carry around with me. Maybe I would have been less of an asshole." He muttered still angry with himself for all that he had done.

Cherrie reached up and grabbed one of his hands in her own making him glance back down at her in shock, his eyes widening as she gently squeezed the palm of his hand .

Smiling up at him sheepishly "well, I know it's not- it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me but-" she laughed a little nervously "maybe they can be your words too?"

Max felt like he couldn't breath. His eyes locked down to her hand in his with building hope.

"What do you mean? I almost killed you cherrie! I was so stupid and-"

She shook her head at him gently "I forgive you max. I know that it wasn't on purpose and I know that you regret it. I should have let you apologise because honestly-" she inhaled deeply , gathering her own courage.

"I'm sorry too." She told him honestly .

He frowned at her, confused . "What? What are you sorry for? You have every right to hate me after everything I've done!" His voice rose incredulously, his flickering between her own desperately, heart pounding in his chest.

Cherrie just squeezed his hand again, swallowing thickly as she saw the guilt and self hatred written across his face .

"No. I don't hate you max." She told him firmly needing him to know how she really felt.

"And I'm sorry for never giving you a chance. You- I think I may have taken things wrongly. Ya know like that time when we were sixteen and you came over to me and said 'you take the corners like a devil'" she recalled that particular memory with a wince.

Max also grimacing as he remembered how he had gathered all of his courage just to go over to her after another race between them, having wanted to be her friend.

Only it had all gone to absolute shit when he blurted out that she was a devil instead.

"I meant that as a compliment. That you were really fast and fearless on the corners.." he mumbled , embarrassed by how he just couldn't hold his tongue around her.

He had been accidentally insulting her since day one , when really all he wanted to do was tell her how amazing he thought she was.

How much he wanted to be like her , learn from her...

Instead he had become her enemy Instead. Talk about putting his foot in his mouth...

Cherrie groaned in misery , letting go of his hand so that she could cover her face in embarrassment at how hot headed she had always been.

This was her fault too. If she had just given him a chance ...

"God! I just thought you were saying that I drove dangerously or something! I'm sorry! I just- we were also put against each other and everyone always expected us to be rivals and.. it's always between just us.." she trailed off , feeling terrible for what could have been.

So influenced by others and the need for success that she had forgotten to listen to herself and what she knew best.

Max laughed a little , carefully setting aside the helmet on the bed. He planned to put it in his front room with the other two helmets he had of hers.

He told her so with a small , sheepish grin. "You know that I still have two of your helmets. I'm gonna put this one right in the middle of them."

Cherrie paused , eyeing him in confusion . "Two of them?" She couldn't remember ever giving him two.

Max nodded his head, chuckling as he scratched the side of his neck nervously.

"Yeah. The first one was when we swapped helmets when we were eighteen... well, we were forced to. You practically threw it at me." He reminded her in amusement . It was a pink helmet with flowers all over it and her name written across it in big letters.

Cherrie went pink like the helmet was. Grimacing guilty as the memory came back to her.

It was a rare race where he had beaten her and she hadn't been very happy at all. He had handed her his helmet with a smile, telling her congratulations and that it was a good race.

Cherrie had thought he was mocking her.

So she had told him to fuck off and then proceeded to practically throw her helmet at him before childishly stomping off to sulk.

She groaned again "oh god. Max I'm so sorry-"

He just waved off her guilt with a laugh, the pressure slowly lifting from his chest piece by piece as he looked down at her.

Feeling his heart lighten at the guilty little smile on her pretty face , her eyes pleading for him to forgive her for being such a hot headed woman. Unable to believe that perhaps everything had just been a series of misunderstandings between them all along .

"No, no. It's okay." He laughed "honestly maybe I should be saying sorry to you because I also.." he hesitated to admit it, his cheeks flushing red .

Cherrie eyed him warily "oh god what did you do?" The amused tone of her voice made him admit it.

"I stole your helmet in silverstone. I saw Charles give you his and we had both been on the podium together and I wanted to be the one to swap helmets with you but-" he rushed out covering his bright red face with his hands. Muffling his words.

Cherrie gasped out a laugh. Leaning forward on her knees and placed her hands on his thighs as she pushed herself up, slapping at his arm in amusement .

"Max! I can't believe it was you! I was so confused when I turned around and my helmet was gone! Oh my god!" She couldn't stop giggling at him.

Max slowly uncovered his face and gazed down at her pretty smile , her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed at him. Feeling his heart flutter at the way he had done that, he had made her laugh. Nobody else. Him.

He chuckled "you're not mad?" His breathed out in relief . Still Scanning her still smiling face in awe.

She was so beautiful that he found it hard to breathe. He always had done. She made him do and say stupid things. It was ridiculous the way he couldn't just behave normally around her . To nervous to think straight . She made him into a giant mess. Cherrie just shook her head at him, sighing loudly as she looked down at his flustered face softly.

"No max I'm not mad. I just wish you would have talked to me . All this time I've wasted being angry at you and -" she struggled to even explain what she was feeling . Upset with herself for always thinking the worse of him.

He gently took ahold of her arms and made her look at him again, smiling softly at her.

"There was times I deserved it though. I did deliberately wind you up and push you to snap back at me ." He admitted quietly , gently stroking the soft skin of her arms .

She frowned "why though? Why pick at me like that when you know how easy I snap back?" She asked him curiously .

Max pursed his lips , avoiding her eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in defeat. He couldn't keep lying to himself or to Cherrie any longer.

If he had been honest right from the start then maybe none of this drama would have ever taken place . Maybe things would have been easier. Maybe he wouldn't have had to do this alone.

"Because that was the only way I could get your attention. It's was stupid and childish. I just wanted you to see me because-" he looked at her , ashamed.

"Because I've always seen you. I have- you've always been somebody that I've looked up to and wanted to be like. You've always achieved everything first , always beat me and I was jealous." He admitted to her quietly .

"I wanted to be your friend when we were kids . But I could never say the right thing. I didn't know how to get you to like me." He muttered, his hands sliding down her arms to grab at her hands instead , fiddling with her fingers anxiously.

Cherrie just interlaced their fingers and listened to him quietly . Her face open and soft .

He inhaled deeply and continued on while he still had the courage to look her in her eyes and tell her the truth.

"And then we grew older and I still wanted to be you but I wanted to be with you even more so. But then you became so close with Charles and I got even more jealous because that was all I wanted. I don't even know how .. or when it happened." He sighed quietly . His eyes filling with tears again.

He shook his head at himself , sniffling. "I just - one day I looked at you and all I saw was who I wanted to be. And I saw you smile at Charles and i just wanted you to look at me like that- I wanted you to see me-" his voice broke before he could even finish.

Cherrie leaned forward and took him in her arms, cradling his head into her neck as she tangled her hand into his hair, her other hand stroking circles into his back as he started to cry. Clutching onto her tightly , she felt her eyes own pool with tears as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight, like he was afraid to let go in case she ran away.

"Shhh max. It's okay. It's okay- I did see you . I have always seen you!" She rushed to tell him , pulling back enough so that she could take ahold of his cheeks on her hands, caressing his face gently.

His eyes searching her desperately, clutching onto her waist with his hands .

"I have always thought of you max. You drove me crazy! And every time I walked into a room the first person I looked for has always been you. Even when we were fighting- even when we were at each other's throat- I always looked for you-"

He cried in relief , heart feeling like it was trying to beat right out of his chest. Overwhelmed with his feelings that he had tried for so long to push away.

"Oh my god. You feel it too?" He breathed out in disbelief .

Letting out a breathless laugh, letting go of her waist and clutching at her beautiful face instead , his thumbs quickly wiping away the tears that pooled between her lashes .

Both of them smiling in disbelief , in relief and joy.

She let out a shocked laugh "I do! I just- I thought you hated me and -"

Max's eyes were wild , shaking his head rapidly in denial.

"No. No! Never hated you! Never!" He pushed her hair behind her ears , grinning at her in awe.

Then he breathed out and whispered "I love you. I'm in love with you. I love you so fucking much-"

Cherrie couldn't believe it. Laughing breathlessly, she just shook her head in disbelief at how stupid the both of them had been.

All this time ...Then she surged forward and kissed him like she should have been kissing him all this time.

No more wasting time. She promised herself silently as she felt him moan against her mouth in relief , his hands clutching at her like he was afraid to let go.

The kiss was messy and frantic . Teeth clashing and tongues exploring each other's mouths as she pushed him onto his back on the bed, her helmet right beside them proudly .

“I love you max. Fuck.." she breathed out giggling as she pulled away enough to kiss all over his face, beaming down at him in disbelief .

Similar emotions written across his face as he gaped up at her , heart pounding in his chest. She looked at the words written on the helmet and smiled , shaking her head.

"And I'm so proud of you. Every win- I'm gonna be there. Because I love you and I believe in you. Because we're- we're teammates now remember? We have each other's back. I'm never gonna not be there for you again okay?" She promised him seriously , kissing him again.

Max choked on a cry, laughing and crying at the same time as he clutched her body to him . Looking up at her like she was his god.

That was all he had ever wanted to hear . It was all he had ever dreamed of.

She loved him. And she was proud of him. Finally , somebody was proud of him.

Max's smile took over his whole face , their teeth knocking together as they both giggled into the kiss . Happiness filling their hearts, their heads and their lungs as they both gasped for breath.

"And I'm gonna be there for you too Cherrie. Because I love you and I'm gonna continue loving you for as long as you let me. You're my girl." He told her , overcome with love.

Cherrie just smiled and kissed him again.

"you're gonna be loving me a long time then. Because I want you forever." She whispered against his lips.

Max just sighed contently, pulling away to gaze into her eyes and seeing his future there.

"I'm gonna love you in every life. I'm gonna be your best friend and your lover too ." He promised her.

He was going to make sure that they never made the same mistakes again. All those years arguing. All the miscommunication and jealously ... he was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

She was going to win the race but he was going to win her trust , and her heart.

'Believe in yourself like I believe in you'

Her father always had been right .

He was never going to doubt himself again. He had her love and that was more than enough for him.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #max verstappen oneshot #formula one imagine

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hannahssimblr · 10 months ago

Text

That evening after I drive home the house is a battlefield. As soon as I let myself into the hallway the sounds of some escalating conflict are sweeping through from the kitchen, but it doesn’t surprise me. It’s been this way for months. I just toss my car keys onto the table and head upstairs.

“Think about the way you make me live!” My mother shrieks as I shuffle through my desk drawer to retrieve my iPod and the noise cancelling headphones I use for my laptop. My dad says something in response, his rumbling tones infuriatingly calm, unfazed. He always speaks to her with such a patronising air of reasonableness, so honestly it’s no wonder she’s going insane.

“Ivy?” I knock on her bedroom door, “I’m back. Can I come in?”

Her voice is quiet within, “Yeah.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The noise from downstairs is louder I come inside, but Ivy’s room is right above the kitchen. I know she has been listening. She is perched on her bed kneading a corner of her blanket in her little hands, body tense and static like a startled cat.

Mom raises her voice even further in shocked outrage, “What are you saying? Do you regret our children?”

“I just bought a cool new album,” I say, “do you want to hear it?”

“What’s it called?”

“Contra. You remember Vampire Weekend, right?”

“Um...”

“You liked their last album.”

“Did I?”

“Here,” I climb to my knees in front of her and plop the headphones onto her head. They’re big on her and want to slip down towards her jaw until i carefully adjust them while she watches me with interest. Everything I do is interesting to Ivy, even my thumb circling the dial on my iPod as I navigate to the first song on the album. I grin into her face, “can you hear me?”

She nods, so I crank it up, “how about now?”

She gasps, “It’s so loud! I can’t hear you!”

“Good,” and I sit right by her, on the floor by her bed while she lays back and tries to hum along to songs she's never heard before. She does it in mom's car every time the radio comes on, which is apparently irritating, but I don't think so. She's a musical kid who is just trying to work something out in her head.

As I listen to her weird little melodies I doodle with a ballpoint pen I found in the pocket of my jacket. I've flipped to the back page of one of her school copy books, and I know she doesn’t mind, she can bring them into school and tell her classmates that she did them if she likes.

Every now and again pieces of the argument are clear enough to understand, mostly mom’s side. “You do nothing around here, what are you talking about?” She screams, “You just sit in your office all night and-” some muffled aggression. Then at one point she brings up Fergal from work, which is a poor choice, because it really sets dad off. I know this because I finally hear a shocked “how dare you!” from him, which seems fair, actually.

Fergal from work is her boyfriend. Or was, maybe, I don’t ask. All I know is that Fergal from work exists and that my mother was having an affair with him for, like, two years or something. I googled him when I first started hearing his name thrown around like daggers through the rooms of this house, and he’s pretty much how you might imagine a Fergal. He’s older, weedier and less good looking than my father, with hair so fine and light that his eyebrows are hardly visible and a hairline like the tide has gone out on it, but his smile is sort of kind. His LinkedIn picture has him smiling broadly and the lines on his face and around his eyes suggest that he’s spent a good chunk of his life doing just that. Smiling. Aside from likely being nice, he’s probably ten times more interesting than Christopher too, which has to be the real selling point. I bet that listens to her when she talks to him and makes her laugh, if she’s still capable of that, so I can’t really be angry with her about Fergal. I might have done the same thing as she did if I ever felt so trapped.

I must be listening too obviously because Ivy slips the headphones off. “What are they saying?”

“Stupid shit, Ives, it’s not interesting.”

She pauses and says in a very small voice, “Do you think they’ll get a divorce?”

I turn to her, “They might. But I don’t think it’d be such a bad idea. Do you?”

She shrugs.

“At least if they divorced they’d stop fighting.” At least eventually.

“They fight a lot,” she whispers, “I hate it.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What will happen to us? What if neither of them wants us?”

This surprises a laugh right out of me, “It's not like they'll have a choice. Did you think we’d get thrown into an orphanage or something?”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those Jacqueline Wilson books about the kids from broken homes. Next time we go to the library we’ll get you something a bit less sad and tragic, do you think?”

She shrugs, but I'll get her into Goosebumps yet. I am determined.

“You want to know what I think?”

A nod.

“I think them being divorced would actually be fine, because at least they wouldn’t be doing this all the time,” I tilt my head toward the floor, shaking with the reverberation of the slamming patio door, “And also we probably wouldn’t have to be around dad half as often.”

Ivy looks conflicted, “Well I don’t not want a dad.”

I almost tell her that Christopher isn’t that interested in his role as her father and the way that he interacts, or more accurately fails to interact with her, is not normal, even if it’s what she’s used to, and that I bet Fergal would be a better dad, but I figure it’s probably not the wisest to mention any of that.

“He’ll still always be your dad, just like how mom will always be your mom and I’ll always be your brother, you know? No matter what happens or how things change. You're made from him, you know? That doesn't just go away.”

“I don’t want change.”

“Everything changes, all of the time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Things move on whether you like it or not, and you have to accept it.”

Her eyes fill with tears, “I don’t want you to move away either.”

“No, c’mon,” I scramble onto her bed and pull her into my chest, “I know, but I can’t stay here forever, I’m an adult now, I’m going to have to go, but it’s not right away…”

“Yes, but soon.”

I hesitate, “Oh, Ivy, it’s, like-”

“And then it’ll be just me, and everything will be different,” as tears overflow I understand that it’s not just about this, it’s about everything, all of the chaos and the disruption that I cannot fix. I just shush her and rock her side to side. It’s hard for her, but I refuse to lie to her about what might happen.

“I need to move away, I feel like I don’t have another option.”

“But why?”

“I- I think you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe. It's just very important to me.”

“I won’t see you anymore.”

“Yes you will, maybe not as much, but you’ll get used to it really quickly. And imagine if I went to college somewhere really exciting, you could come and see me and we could do all kinds of fun stuff, yeah? Like if I’m in Paris, imagine, I could take you to Disneyland.”

She sniffles, “Paris?”

“Yeah, you loved Paris a couple of years ago, right?”

She nods and rubs her eyes, “Could we try and go up the Eiffel Tower again?”

“Duh, and you’d be old enough not to be so scared.”

“Maybe-” a thick swallow “maybe even your new house would have a balcony and we could see it from there.”

“Oh, for sure, and we’d get pastries from the bakery downstairs in the mornings, they'd just so happen to be best ones ever, and there’d be a man playing the accordion outside- no, everywhere, like, no matter where we go, he’s there with his swirly little French Guy moustache...”

She giggles, “Is he following us around?”

“Oh, yeah, a total stalker, actually. Maybe we’d have to call the French police on him.”

We both laugh as she dries her face with her sleeves. Coming up with all the very French things we would do in Paris, every detail down to the layout of my beautiful Haussmann style apartment overlooking the Seine is nice.

I'm not stupid, of course, I know perfectly well that the reality of a move to Paris would involve me and Michelle stuffed into a Chambre de Bonne tiny enough to touch both walls at the same time, tripping over half baked art projects and every possession we own, our pent up frustration causing us to have screaming matches that would wake up the whole arrondissement, but it’s nice to be an idealist for a minute or two.

“Where else could you live?” she asks me once we’ve exhausted all of the parisian stereotypes and run out of hypotheticals.

“Hmm, how about Amsterdam?”

“Oh! Anne Frank lived there, we read the book at school last year.”

I tell her that yes, if I lived there I’d take her to see the house with that stairway hidden behind the bookcase, and then we would... cycle around the place and annoy everyone because she’s so unsteady on her bike. I make up a story about how she keeps swerving out of her lane and getting in everybody's way, eventually causing a giant bike pile up along the canal like some sort of rat king of Dutch cyclists.

“Where else!”

“Um, Berlin...” and I purse my lips and try to think of things to do in Berlin that are appropriate for a nine year old, but for some reason all I can think of is a surly line of leather clad druggies in front of a techno club. “They like going to nightclubs, I guess…”

“I can go to a nightclub.”

“Yeah, as if! You’d hate it, it’s just loud music and everyone bumping into you. Hey, you know there’s one nightclub in Berlin that’s so exclusive that they only let the coolest people in Europe inside? You have to wait in line for hours and if they think you’re even a little bit uncool then they send you home.”

Her eyes get wide, “Really? Hm. I think I could get in.”

The idea of Ivy being let into Berghain makes me guffaw, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Yeah I’m cool enough!”

“No you aren’t.”

“I am,” she leaps up and pretends to strangle me while I hold her at arm's length, “there’s no such thing as a cool nine year old.”

“There’s no such thing as a cool eighteen year old either.”

“Uh! There is, you're looking at one. I would get into that club, no doubt.”

“No you wouldn’t, they wouldn’t even let you in the line.”

“Nah, they’d beg me to come in because I’d make it cooler.”

“They’d see you coming and pretend to be closed.”

As we laugh and make stupid, childish jokes at one another I’m aware of an acceptance I feel with her that I don’t around other people. I’m never really so blatantly stupid and goofy in public, but Ivy, who has become my favourite person in the world, no matter what I do or say it’s funny, and she never thinks I’m weird, at least not in a bad way. I can fully let my guard down. Even though the fighting has stopped I don't really want to leave, but the moon has risen now, and the grasshoppers are chirping. Ivy has to sleep.

I gather up my headphones and iPod and get up, despite her protests and attempts to come up with more funny things we might do as we galivant through fictional Europe.

“You're stalling,” I say, “you know well you have to go to sleep now.”

“No, no! Just one more thing!”

“Nope! Sorry! And don’t forget to brush your teeth, or I’ll tell dad.”

She pulls her ugliest face. She knows I’d never, but it’s funny, like telling a christian kid that Satan is watching.

I shut the door very gently. It's not particularly late, maybe ten, but the house is morgue quiet, almost eerie, like the aftermath of a hurricane.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #IVY #:(#tw: divorce #ch: Ivy #ch: Fergal

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jackhues · 2 years ago

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bad reaction pt. 2 - mat barzal (au #1)

part one has been dubbed the 'bad reaction mat fic', so here's part two loll, also there's two ways i want this to go, so they're going to be aus of each other. here's the first one!

gif not mine!

mat was having an off-week.

that's what the whispers around him said. he was having a bad few days, and wasn't playing up to his usual standards.

nothing was wrong. it was just an off-time for him.

but mat knew it was deeper than that.

the moment you told him you were pregnant, his brain had shut off. the two of you had a silent, but mutual agreement, of having no kids. at least not until you had your lives figured out — whether you were going to spend it together or what.

when he heard you two were having a baby, he got mad. mad at you because out of all the girlfriends and flings he'd had, you were the last one he expected to baby-trap him.

but when he came home, late that night and for some reason completely sober, you were already gone.

the clothes from the dresser, the hair ties you left lying around despite mat's complaints, the jacket that had been sprawled on the back of mat's chair for a month now — every trace of you was gone.

and that's when he realized you weren't baby-trapping him.

that the pregnancy wasn't something you'd wanted, but something that had just happened.

that's when he realized he'd let you go.

"oh fuck," he muttered, rummaging through the drawers before finding his phone. in a rush, he'd left it at home.

he dialed your number, holding his breath and it reached voicemail. he tried again and again, even requesting your location, but it was radio silence on your end.

he dialed your younger brother, sighing in relief when he picked up the phone. his relief was short-lived as your younger brother didn't sound happy with him.

"the hell do you want?" he growled. "stop calling y/n, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"look, i fucked up, okay?" mat admitted. "i know that. i messed up, and i — i just want to explain to her. please. if she — if she wants nothing to do with me afterwards... i get it. i just want to talk to her. please."

maybe it was the desperation in his voice, but your younger brother sighed. "she's at my house. you have five minutes to speak with her, or until she kicks you out."

mat thanked him, running out the door and to your younger brother's apartment. when he finally reached, he knocked, leg bouncing as he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, to see you.

"she's in the room," your younger brother said, opening the door. "you have five minutes, and don't you dare make her cry."

mat gulped, rushing to the room. the door was open, and you were sitting against the bed, watching the princess diaries on the projector.

he winced. if you were watching the movie on the projector — it was bad.

"y/n?" he called out, voice cracking slightly.

your eyes widened as they met his, a part of you not believing your brother when he was mat wanted to talk to you.

"can i — can i explain myself?" he asked quietly.

you paused the movie, motioning for him to come in. "you can sit there."

he sat on the chair, trying to convey how guilty he was.

"i'm so sorry," he told you. "i — i was scared because this — what we have — it was realest thing i'd had in a long time. and i was scared that you were going to baby-trap me, and i'd fallen for it. i shouldn't have reacted they way i did. i should've listened to you and talked to you, and helped you through this. i want to be there for you. i'm here for you now. as long as you let me."

you were silent, digesting his words.

a part of you wanted to be mad at him, but you understood where his fear came from. he was a professional athlete, of course that would be one of his first thoughts.

you'd had over a week to come to terms with the pregnancy, while mat had barely had a day. you didn't blame him for his reaction, no matter how much you'd hated it.

"come here," you patted the bed next to you, allowing mat to sit. "i don't blame you for your reaction. honestly, i should've spoken with you earlier, and we could've talked it out together. but that's what we're doing now. we're communicating, and we're okay."

hearing that sentence come out of your mouth, mat tried not to cry.

he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. whether you kept the baby or not, he was going to be there for you from now on.

he swore it.

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @hischierhaze, @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 , @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @youunravelme

#naqia writes!#mathew barzal #mathew barzal x oc #mathew barzal blurb #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagines #mathew barzal blurbs #mathew barzal one shot #mathew barzal oneshots #mathew barzal oneshot #mat barzal x oc #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal #ny islanders #isles x reader #isles imagines #new york isles

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jinlias · 2 years ago

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a/n: how could i post a month of blurbs and no angst? sike u thought bitch.

you can tell the exact moment she breaks. you’ve been trying to tell her you’ve noticed it all, but you always missed her.

“hey, wheres mina?” the last group arrives at the dorm, but instead of four, it’s only sana, jihyo and momo.

“practicing” momo responds absentmindedly, her mind completely on the cold noodles they picked up on the way.

“again?” jihyo shares your concern, both your eyes speaking for themselves. she almost stops eating to come with you, but you reassure her it’s better you go alone.

if this wasn’t your partner’s breaking point, it was yours.

you couldn’t believe you were, but in your head, silently, you were weighing out whether this or her anxiety break had been worse.

from a while back, you noticed mina had been spending way too much time practicing than normal, dancing, singing, all of the above. for some reason, her diet was much stricter than yours or the others and her scheduled was way more packed all of the sudden.

come to think of it, you never heard her say no anymore.

“mina, elle wants you for their july-“ “yes”

“after the shoot, do you think you can take a couple of picture at the grand opening-“ “sure”

“do you have any free time slots tomorrow” “i’ll make the time”

but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it either. and trust, the sex was there and so were the loving kisses and whispers, it’s just, her eyes, mina isn’t there anymore.

“okay. i hear you” jihyo rubbed your back up and down as she listened the first time. you felt so bad you had woken her up in the middle of the night to complain, but more than your leader she was your best friend, if anything she could possibly get through mina. “not me, i can try, but there’s no way she’ll hear me out before you”

“she’s killing herself” jihyo wipes your tears and takes a deep breath to hold some of her own.

“i know it’s hard to think about but y/n- i need you to break her-” the entire time the words came from her mouth, she can see the denial in your eyes and how the pout on your lips deepened.

that was then, now, you’re angry.

“oh, this again. awesome, i’m kind of rusty myself” you drop your gym bag on the floor and begin to tie your hair as you get in position.

you can’t lie and say you willingly got out of bed at almost ten at night to practice. you willingly got out of bed this late because of her. one more night feeling the bed deepen with her body at some much late hour than you tried going to sleep was going to drive you off a cliff.

“y/n? what are you doing here baby?” your eyes press shut and you turn your head to the side when she pauses the music, arms crossed as a tactic to not let her in this time.

“what are you doing here mina?” you never did what jihyo asked, it hurt you to hurt her, but now you had to, because you love her, and you want her to love herself again too.

“i’m.. rehearsing” she replies as if it were obvious.

“i can see that, but why? do you know what time it is?”

“no?”

“it’s late, if we don’t go home we’re going to have trouble waking up tomorrow” her chest stings at all the ‘we’s, and you can see her now usual facade start to lessen. she’s heard you before, she just never listened.

“go home. i’ll be there soon” she tries to shake all the red blaring sirens telling her she’s tired, that you’re right and that she should go home with you, try to sleep more than four hours tonight.

“i’m not going anywhere without you mina” your hands fall at your sides and you begin to walk towards her, stopping only a couple of steps apart. “you can’t tell me you don’t know what you’re doing”

“i’m just practicing babe, i’ll be there soon. i promise”

“you’ve broken a lot of promises lately, you know that right?” you watch her swallow, turn around to fidget with something at the radio station instead of looking at you. “if you know exactly what i’m talking about, why tip toe?”

“i don’t know y/n” her voice raises higher than the usual whisper, and you don’t know whether to be upset at her or put yourself in her shoes. “it’s working. i’ll be home soon”

“what’s working?”

“i said-“

“yeah, you said you’ll be home soon. but you’ve told me that the last three nights and it wasn’t true. what’s working?”

“y/n- i-“

“mina, this is not working. nothing is working. im worried about you all the time and you’re not even letting me in. either we go home and talk about proper help or i’ll be joining you.”

“baby. it doesn’t work like that” she’s scared, you can see that much now, she’s finally allowing herself to feel rather than bottle it up and swallow it down with her usual work ethic.

“all these late practices, the crazy diets. cramped schedule? count me in, i’ll do it all if that’s what it takes for you to stop” she looks like she’s been caught, biting her lips and looking down in shame. and you let yourself calm down, soften even as you walk towards her, closer until you’re asking for her hands. “i’m worried mina. let me help you”

“you don’t understand” a single tear falls on your hands, now clasped together with hers as she stares at them.

“then tell me. i’ll listen. if you’re scared, i’m here. mina. i love you, i’m done letting you go through this alone” you squeeze her hands, hoping for some sort of emotion, thankfully she squeezes yours back.

“i don’t want the girls to know” she sniffles, watching you nod and swallow a lump in your throat, hoping no tears came out, because you’ve cried enough. you needed to be there like mina had been for you when you needed, loving you through all your hardships.

#twice x y/n #twice x reader #twice imagine #twice blurb #twice imagines #tw disordered eating #mina x reader #mina blurb #mina fluff #twice angst #angst #jinlias 1 year party!#jinlias 1st year!#mnj

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where-dreamers-go · 6 months ago

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"Summer Dreams And Warm Emotions" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Welcome to Part 6 for the soulmate au series for 60s Robin! Just in time for the middle of summer. This goes through the pair’s summer vacation while Reader is staying at the beach outside of Gotham City. These two have a lot on their minds while away from school and each other. They’re teenagers, so I wonder what’s on their mind? Or who?

Honestly, I’ve had notes ready, but started writing after I got back into reading books for fun.

Warnings: Some angst. Reader has social anxiety? Fluff. Use of (Y/N). Using the older name of: starfish instead of sea star.(If I left it in there.) Food selection made.

Word Count: 10,127 words)

<- Previous

~~~

Salty air of an early afternoon breeze welcomed you through an open window, cleansing the bedroom you were to share with your good friend Charlotte.

What a start of summer vacation! No dark cloud in the sky nor unsavory sights in the house.

I’d prefer my bed, but this isn’t bad at all.

A long way from Gotham City, you were given clarity and space from others’ loud opinions. Even if those with the loudest preferences traveled with you; the change in scenery preoccupied their thoughts.

Two months of sand, fun, sleep, an no street lights shining in at night, you thought happily as you unpacked your plush Sir Hopps. You had debated with yourself whether or not to bring your small blue and trusted companion along for the trip. There remained a sliver of guilt at considering leaving without him.

Your plush was dear to you. Why stop bringing Sir Hopps along when you had always done so?

The strange duality of change and sameness followed you from Gotham City. An air of familiarity with a scheduled vacation carried spots of reminders of what you left behind. Who you left in the city, with scarcely a well-worded farewell, to ponder on growing relations.

It’s like nothing happened, but . . . I know who’s emotions I feel every day now.

The thoughts, knowledge of your soulmate, made you smile unabashedly. You truly happy to know him. Grateful even. Dick Grayson was a friend you held dear to your heart; a hidden gem you were surprised to find.

Parting from him still played in your mind since you left his tight embrace.

It’s almost like a strange dream. You thought, watching the palm leafs sway outside. Hopefully I won’t have to remind myself it’s real. From school days to beach days.

Stretching your limbs relieved some discomfort from the car ride. Long hours of listening to the radio and conversing excessively was finally behind you. A summer of whatever you pleased lay ahead; restricted to the beach of course. You were a teenager not a bird.

From down the hall, you heard Charlotte’s mother announce gleefully how she was to walk down the beach, eager to see it.

Pushing your luggage to the end of the bed, you quickly changed into sandals. You were not yet ready for a swim, but you definitely wanted to see how the area may have changed.

“You coming?” Charlotte appeared at the door, all ready changed into her swimwear.

“Yeah.” You snatched a hat and left Sir Hopps to test out the bed.

Outdoors, a warm summer day surrounded you. A mixture of various tree species decorated the area around the beach house. Tall grass gave way to well-worn paths; an easy marker to find a popular location.

Happily thrilled to not be at work, Charlotte’s mother led the way over a short wooden bridge. A functional decoration your guardian had made fun of in the past for its lack of grandeur.

Thankfully, for the bridge’s sake, your guardian had volunteered to sort food into the kitchen. Likely an excuse to do it themselves or make a call to reassure someone of all of your arrival. Perhaps all of the above.

Ahead of you, Charlotte gasped, “People are surfing.”

Softly shuffling through the sand, you gazed into the distance and beheld more blue water in sight than people.

“Do you see them?” Charlotte asked and hurried closer to the shoreline.

Uh, you thought as a splash caught your attention.

“Were they far left of the rocks?” You asked, unsure.

“They were right there.” She urged, stopping before she reached the wet sand.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time to watch surfers, volleyball players, and the like. We have all summer.” Her mother pointed out with a calm air.

Charlotte does not get the majority of her personality from her mom. You smiled at the thought.

She kicked at the sand and resumed her inspection as someone paddled through the water.

Well, you thought, at least the surfer is okay. Your sandals made prints atop of the sand as you headed to the right. The tide doesn’t look high right now.

Not far from sight of your friend, you ventured to the tide pools. A decent sized area with dark rocky surfaces trapping water and hopefully home to some sea creatures. A curious and always surprising spot to visit.

Cautious near slippery rocks and unseen animals, you got a closer look. An enclosed, wondrous little world was there to greet you. Tiny fish dodge any would-be dangers and a starfish clung to the side of a rock. Natural beauty free to see.

A light breeze returned to tickle your skin with fresh air.

You smiled again. You could almost laugh with the emotions overtaking your being. All positive with feeling more free to discover, go your own pace, touch the world, make any expression, and feel alive. The vacation had it all laid out before you. Any day of the week.

A slight flip of warm emotion, familiar, made itself known in your chest.

Lifting your gaze up, you smiled towards the horizon.

I wish Dick could see this place, you thought, hoping he knew you were happy. He could even meet Charlotte. That’d be entertaining.

Your thoughts veered back to when you parted ways for the summer break. All mixed emotions and words; you kind of wished you had told Dick more.

Told him, what? You sighed.

Some emotions were nameless and descriptions proved difficult in your mind. Being young meant your future held many learning opportunities. Perhaps experiencing more would aid you in recognizing feelings.

No matter how new and complex your emotions, you knew your soulmate was on your side.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back inside the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat on the end corner of his bed. Calm, thoughtful, and slightly restless. He couldn’t concentrate in the living room or even Bruce’s private study.

Routines remained upheld even when the young ward would rather talk to you than memorize another Latin verb.

Dick Grayson’s mind was busy. No book or old toy plane in his room could gain his attention. An unfinished puzzle sat atop of a wooden board in a corner of his bedroom, a firm reminder of who he was missing those early summer days.

The familiar warmth of your voice that made him smile, how your hand fit comfortably with his own when you needed each other, your stories that grabbed his full attention, and hugs he never wanted to end were all cherished memories while you were away on a beach vacation. Without school days, it became difficult to think of anything else with his free time besides Robin duties and a soulmate’s bond.

Too bad that storm showed up, Dick thought. I don’t know what else we would’ve talked about, but it still would’ve been nice. He glanced down at your essay beside him on his bed. I wonder if they’d be nervous if I read their essay—while they were here.

Dick smiled at the mental image of you sitting in his room while eagerly awaiting his review of your end of year paper.

Exhaling quietly, he leaned back on his hands.

No homework or studying. We didn’t get much of that. He thought back to the day you two went out for milkshakes and how he drove you both back to the manor. We had to ask Bruce what we could do. Shaking his head with a smile, he remembered his first outing with you. I don’t think I’d ever had so much fun at a baseball game. Gosh, we barely knew each other then. His face warmed at the thought. At least it’s not all work. We can even have fun in a library!

Again, Dick pictured you in his room. All curious to his belongings and keepsakes. Questions on the tip of your tongue and a thin sweater the prettiest shade of ocean blue.

But his soulmate was not there. Not even a phone call to hear your voice. No number to memorize and a call to tell you that he hoped you were having fun.

Imagining you having a bright grin at some beach, somewhere, could almost mask how much he truly missed being with you.

It didn’t always work, especially for a teenager with growing feelings for his soulmate.

What a predicament.

A sliver of cold covered his fingertips.

Being alone made Dick Grayson greatly aware of himself. His breathing and even the feel of his socks were more noticeable. It was quiet, no distractions except for his own mind. His own excited curiosity of what his soulmate could be doing and what could be.

Dick no longer had a nameless shape of a person in mind, he knew you.

They could be doing anything right now, he thought while pulling at the corner of your essay papers. Maybe not anything like singing in front of a crowd or causing trouble.

He sighed.

I could be doing something besides sitting here.

Of course there was the obvious: to read your paper.

The youth had been looking forward to reading your paper since you offered. It had sat in his bedroom for days. Yet he wondered if he should wait, to keep it for a later time; like a surprise treat from you.

He couldn’t talk to you or see you during the summer. Your essay was the closest thing to hearing from you. Waiting to read it on a day he particularly missed you could prove to be helpful in the long run.

That all left Dick with two questions:

What was he going to do the rest of the afternoon?

And, how was he going to react when he saw you after summer break?

Heck, Dick thought with a slight twist in his stomach and heat to his cheeks. I hope I don’t kiss them in front of Aunt Harriet.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dawn had long since casted its blue-pink dewey glow over the horizon and trees. The earth’s temperature rising and creatures starting their day.

Without a need to rush, you sat down at the dining table with your breakfast.

“Dolphins!” Exclaimed your guardian from the front windows.

“Where?” Charlotte’s voice traveled from one of the bathrooms.

“They’re jumping!”

You chuckled into your breakfast as the excited chatter went throughout the beach house.

Again, you had no reason to run around. You had slept in well passed mid morning and did not regret a minute. You needed sleep.

To start a day relatively slow was almost abnormal for you, a teenager with school and social responsibilities.

It’s definitely a vacation, you thought with a smirk. And no social event for miles. You sat back and stretched your legs. Miles and miles away.

No anxiety with that any time soon.

If there was one time of year both you and your guardian looked forward to it was leaving the city to enjoy a mostly quiet beach. Sure, Gotham City had a beach, but it was incredibly popular by locals and tourists alike. Vacation meant relaxing. Relaxing to its fullest meant time away from the everyday rush.

No work. No projects. Not a morning full of traffic.

“(Y/N),” your guardian walked into the room, wiping their sunglasses with a cloth. “Did you want to see the dolphins?”

“Not right now.”

“They’ll swim away.”

“It’s okay. They might make a surprise return later.” You smiled playfully. “Never know.”

“Never know,” they repeated. “Any plans today? You remembered to bring a book?”

“I did. Uh… I think I’m going to look for different animals today. Maybe even a stingray when the tide goes out later.”

“All right, but don’t get too close.”

You shook your head immediately.

No way am I touching wildlife!

Knowing you understood, your guardian grabbed their beach bag from a chair and said, “I’m going to join Lauren. If you’re the last one out, can you grab the key?”

“Will do.”

“Remember to put on the sun lotion.”

“I will.”

“And please lock the door.” They added as they neared the front door.

“Okay.” You answered. “Where’d you leave the key?”

✧ ✧ ✧

A beautiful summer morning in the Wayne Manor. Most of the occupants were sitting around the coffee table, each reading, enjoying their time.

Only Dick Grayson read from an original work by someone he knew. Handwritten with purpose and knowledge of how the papers were to be held by his hands. A copy made specifically for him.

Seven sheets of paper, handwriting on both sides, held his curiosity. Edgar Allan Poe: Dark Masterpieces, a descriptive essay written by you. A short journey of three of Poe’s works and how each made you feel.

An interesting read for someone who could sense and feel your emotions. Having words help decipher your feelings was a definite bonus.

Is the poem not suppose to be creepy? Dick wondered as he read on to another page; your descriptions of The Raven making the youth question what he thought of the famous poem.

Each paragraph drew him in. Your words annotated the poems’ stories of grief, love, and reality. The works of Evening Star and A Dream Within A Dream were new to Dick, yet the familiarity of your words helped form images with understandings wrapped within your detailed emotions written so clearly.

Learning more of you in each sentence surprised Dick.

I sure didn’t think an essay would let me know how (Y/N) thinks. What they think about these topics anyway. Dick swallowed and shifted in his seat.

The initial expectation of reading your essay was to see Poe’s work through a different lens. Your writing in front of him gave him much more and Dick wasn’t sure he had been properly prepared. Between the talks of struggling with grief, love for something warm, and how people perceive reality—Dick knew he had to sit for a good while to think everything over.

I guess everyone has some sort of painful memories and thinks deep on what life means, Dick thought with a dip of cold in his chest, even (Y/N).

Surely, there was nothing to be worried about. It was all about life, the uncomfortable parts.

The Evening Star still confuses me though. Sure it’s warmer than the moon…but… Am I missing a metaphor or something?

Running his fingers along the margins, a soft glow of warmth bloomed high in his chest. Your words on the poem made Dick wonder with a glimmer of hope. For your words were a reaction to the poem as well as a glimpse into your heart: To love someone more than another, happily and in full acknowledgment, with their bright light of being must be a great shameless joy, familiar or otherwise. Perhaps that is what people seek and imagine with thoughts of their soulmate.

The mention of soulmate—your mention—had him tucking into the couch to cover his smile and whatever happy expression he wore. No logical reason had Dick react in such a way. No other words made him feel happier amidst the essay.

What complex emotions to have for an excitable youth. What a smile to have while thinking of one of his favorite people. His soulmate was quite a person indeed.

✧ ✧ ✧

Air rushed passed your ears and soft sand kicked up behind you. Ahead lay a partially full parking lot.

“Hurry!” Charlotte panted from about three paces behind you.

“We can make it!” You pushed yourself to run faster across hot sand.

“I can’t see it!”

“Come on.”

Reaching the edge of the beach, you vaulted yourself over a short concrete wall. A burning texture rubbed onto your bare hand.

“Whoa.” Your feet hit the heated pavement of the parking lot and motivation to move struck you. You took off towards the exit by the street in the distance where a familiar jingle rang out.

Late afternoon sun evaporated most of the standing water from the long thunderstorm that had washed the area for hours. Each step felt hotter than the last. Yet you two pushed onward.

There was a mission in place.

“I can still hear it.” Charlotte said from the other side of a truck as you two progressed. Waves of blonde hair billowed behind her.

Thank goodness, you thought, focusing on your breathing. Coins shook within the small zipper bag in your grasp.

Your feet struck the sidewalk and the path lead you closer to victory. Only half a block to go.

A familiar jingle of a song grew louder. Sunlight reflected off of its source, speakers set atop of a white ice cream truck. The brilliantly mobile store of limited frozen delights.

Sides pinching and feet burning, Charlotte and yourself made it to the end of a relatively short line for frozen sweet treats.

Less than fifteen people in total within a line at a beach was not bad at all. Unless the truck had a low supply of your favorites.

“What…was that?” Charlotte huffed, “Three blocks?”

“Felt like,” you coughed, “a little more.”

But we made it. Ha ha!

You were proud of you both. That truck could had taken off if no one eager was around. If you two had merely walked you would surely had missed the opportunity. Neither of you would had heard the song if you two weren’t outside looking at the effect the thunderstorm had on the beach.

The hard part was over and treats were hidden only about ten feet away.

Beside you, Charlotte smiled, “Are you going to tell Dick?”

Frowning with every ounce of bewilderment, you asked simply, “What?”

“About what we did.”

“Running to catch the ice cream truck?”

“No. How you leapt over the wall.” She clarified. “Didn’t you say he’s an expert in rope climbing at his school?”

“I didn’t say ‘expert’.”

“Sure.”

Her playful words held back a fraction of her underlying thoughts; how you spoke of your soulmate so graciously and complimentary.

“But he might be impressed by our athletic prowl-ness.” She nudged your arm with her right one. “He can hear how exciting you can be. You’re not all studying and books.”

You shook your head without a quick response. It never was easy to have one when a conversation came unexpectedly.

The two of you took two steps forward.

“I’m serious.” She stated more softly. “Show him how fun you can be. He knows how smart you are. From what you’ve told me Dick is one heck of an observant guy. Emotions are one thing, I know, but…”

You two shuffled closer to the truck.

“But maybe you can help him see there’s more out there than fancy dinners and school.”

You chuckled. Oh, he knows, you thought.

“And I don’t mean secretly meeting at the library.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed. “No running between shelves?”

“Not one. He’s your soulmate. Go out.”

Smile disappearing, you turned to your friend. You were met by an air of stubbornness.

“Out as friends.” You said clearly.

Charlotte gave you a hard look. “Fine.” She conceded. “We should get to meet him before you two catch feelings anyway. It’s our duty.”

“Our duty?” You repeated.

“As your friends, we hold the right, duty, and obligation to meet and give judgement to your soulmate. It’s required.”

“It’s in the friend contract?” Your smile slowly reappeared, egged on by your friend’s deep, genuine care.

“Always has been. Right after sharing fries.”

Smiles and laughter passed between you both up until you reached the open service window of the ice cream truck.

Finally.

Purchasing two treats each came easily for everyone involved. The two adults back in the beach house would surely be pleased with their surprise favorites.

After thanking the vendor, Charlotte and yourself started the walk back to the beach house.

One Fudge Stix for her and one Strawberry Shortcake for you. A sweet refresh to get you both through more walking.

Balancing a pouch of change and an Italian Ice in one hand and your treat in the other, you glanced up to the sky. Grey clouds dispersing to reveal more of the grey-blue sky.

Earlier in the day, the sky was bright as you all had gone swimming between looking for dolphins, stingray, and fish. It wasn’t until later that all of you ran indoors before a large thunderstorm reached the shoreline and drenched the area. You had spent those hours reading on the cool floor indoors.

The tile will feel real good now, you thought. I think I’ve had enough physical exercise today.

Laughing internally, you remembered a phone call you had with Dick weeks ago about running. True to your word, you ran after dessert. Perhaps not cookies in an oven, but ice cream that could had been driven away had given you a lot of motivation to move quickly.

“Sorry I bought the last Fudge Stix,” Charlotte said before taking another bite.

“It’s fine.” You managed to reply with your senses fully absorbing strawberry. “They didn’t have any cones either.”

It’s getting later, so, we’re lucky there were any left, you thought. Still bright out though. Oh! And the storm could have brought a bunch of shells and shark teeth. You passed through the emptying parking lot and considered the time. I could still look tomorrow. But I better focus on this ice cream.

You didn’t want it to drip and waste the wonderful taste. With that in mind, you still had to deliver the frozen surprises before it melted completely. An Italian Ice and an Ice Pop ready for the others.

✧ ✧ ✧

In Gotham City, among the moving traffic and popular buildings, Dick Grayson sat in the back of the car with both Bruce Wayne and his Aunt Harriet.

Conversation had settled and with the ever loyal Alfred behind the steering wheel, Dick looked out the window. The quiet and steady hum of the vehicle pushed the youth’s thoughts to be louder.

I should ask (Y/N) if they’d like to stay for dinner, Dick thought and pictured you at a table. Aunt Harriet wouldn’t say no to that. But what would we eat? I don’t know what (Y/N)’s favorite meal is. They like desserts. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.

Streetlights casted a faint glow even as the sun continued setting. Light reflected off the city’s many windows.

Gosh, there’s still so much we don’t know about each other. Like, is there a class they don’t like? Where’s the furthest they’ve traveled? Is there an event they wouldn’t mind going to?

Sitting quietly, Dick considered the car’s current destination. Dinner, not a special occasion or celebration.

That could be an option, he thought, all of us out to dinner. One day.

The youth’s stomach growled.

At least he didn’t have to wait until that one day to eat.

✧ ✧ ✧

A light breeze came in from the beach, an added ingredient to relaxation with the slow sway of the couch swing.

You could fall asleep that way. Still digesting dinner, relaxing beside Charlotte, and enjoying the view. After another day of fun, it was nice. What vacation should feel like.

The horizon spill further into blues as the golden hues disappeared. Each sunset later than the last. Days grew longer as night shortened in the summer. Vacation, like most days, seemed to speed by more every year. So finding space to sit and absorb the moment as it happened was precious. Even more so when you were able to share it with a friend.

Charlotte was someone you had known prior to becoming a teenager. Ever since you two had sat next to one another in a science class, you had been as close as Chip and Dale.

Students who struggle to read a teacher’s handwriting stick together. That was the shared motto for a couple of years.

As of late, the motto was: sleep is gold.

And goodness was it ever! Maybe even better than gold. Sleep was definitely needed and, to you, preferable.

I feel like I can do much more during the day now, you thought. Almost forgot what it felt like to not be busy and tired. Thank goodness for breaks. Thank goodness for a bed!

You smiled to yourself.

Still using her leg to softly move the couch swing, Charlotte inquired in a hushed voice, “How did you know for certain—absolutely—that Dick Grayson was your soulmate? Minus anyone telling you?” Her gaze was fixed on the sunset.

“Umm. Beside a gut feeling…I guess it was between reactions that couldn’t be coincidence and kind of just knowing.”

“Just knowing?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Like how you know you like something or know you’re in the right place. It’s weird, I guess, but not any weirder than feeling someone else’s emotions.”

“Would it be strange if someone only felt their own emotions?”

“I don’t think so. Some people—”

“Elliot.”

“—can’t tell what most emotions are anyway.” You turned to look at your friend. “Did he say something?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Not to me. Lucy said he was borrowing one of her psychology books.”

A reactive frown formed on your face.

“I know,” she replied. “Not mathematics or architecture? Who knows, maybe you and Dick Grayson got him thinking.”

“Maybe.”

Both of you silently considered the possibility of your mutual friend’s new interest.

It would be neat if Elliot did research soulmates in any capacity, you thought. We could all learn something new.

✧ ✧ ✧

A summer night in the quiet, stately Wayne Manor and all was peaceful.

The Batcave remained dark and the manor’s lights were off. Everything was still.

Young Dick Grayson laid in his bed, awake and thinking of anything but sleep. Preoccupied by events that did and did not happen.

Earlier in the night before his drink of warm milk, as his aunt encouraged, and dental routine, the household had been stargazing. Bruce’s telescope had much use.

Out there, he found himself really wishing you were with him. Between listening to Bruce and gazing at the celestial bodies, Dick imagined what you’d say and do. He pictured you staying warm by his side. Just being happy. Two of you together and studying the night sky.

Dick Grayson smiled and rolled to his side. What a day, he thought. His mind was occupied by curious thoughts once more. From what the night could had looked like to next call on the Batphone to what his soulmate could be doing.

(Y/N) is probably asleep all ready. He tucked his hands underneath his pillow. The soulmate bond within him felt calm from your side.

It was odd for Dick to fully comprehend the situation alongside his feelings. He knew where you were and that you were fine. Yet, unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t hear from you. Not too unlike when you were punished unfairly for not attending a lunch. Even so, it would be the longest without hearing from you by far.

But they’re more than okay. They’re happy and haven’t been nervous at all. Not that I’ve noticed.

His smile grew picturing you at a beach house your guardian described to his Aunt Harriet. Perhaps you had also looked up into the starry night. Maybe you thought of him while taking a walk along the sand. Perhaps late at night you wondered if he read your essay or if he traveled to Gotham’s beach.

Does (Y/N) think of me often?

Inside, Dick felt sparks of delight in his chest.

Dick’s imagination surged on.

A warm, blue sky afternoon set the scene.

Dick, dressed in his swim trunks and shirt, crept across the white beach towards you. Your attention held by flying seagulls.

“Enjoying the view?” Dick asked with a growing smirk.

You pivoted on the sand with wide eyes and a beaming grin.

Like magnets, you two were instantly embracing and holding on for the longest time.

“You’re here!” You exclaimed, pulling away slightly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Then with a small laugh, he asked, “Are you all right?”

The two of you shared a joyous laugh.

Your eyes quickly downcast as you without a doubt sensed his many feelings for you.

Would you be able to decipher them all?

Images slowed and Dick’s imagination ran off the sleepier he became.

Contently, you held his right hand.

Your lips pressed against his cheek. You kissed his other cheek.

Once more you kissed his face and whispered his name.

Fading images dispersed completely as Dick fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

✧ ✧ ✧

Morning in the Wayne Manor brought warm sunlight into the rooms of the stately home. Birds chirped outdoors and the appearance of the sky hinted at a beautiful summer day.

Dick Grayson surely saw it as one.

The youthful ward had a bounce in his step since hopping out of bed. His mood was not unusual and therefore not questioned.

Hopefully not, Dick thought from his seat in Bruce’s private study. His mind replayed his dream again as he flipped pages in his Latin binder.

The familiar and partially restricted study of the millionaire Bruce Wayne should had been empty. A person who should not know the location of the Batcave should not be near its entrance.

You and Dick had been in there at night instead of keeping Aunt Harriet company.

Trying to keep quiet was difficult when books and papers were everywhere. He didn’t know why. Searching through the mess, Dick tried finding your essay to show you he still had it, that he read it.

It wasn’t until you walked passed him, did he realize you two shouldn’t be in there without Bruce.

Well, he could be.

Forgetting his first intentions, Dick grabbed your hand and held on tightly. He tried to pull you closer.

You were not to be there. Too close to the bust on the desk.

The thought of you in there, close to his secret, was alarming. He was thankful that part was a dream.

The dream version of you was much too interested in the bust for Dick’s liking.

Dick tried steering you away.

Until you turned and your open palm rested on his chest. His anxiousness forgotten. He found himself running his free hand up and down your arm slowly.

Dick sighed into the open binder.

The dream had ended before he could press his lips to your cheek.

I’m surprised I haven’t dreamed of them much before, Dick thought.

“Dick?” Bruce Wayne’s voice broke through his ward’s inner most thoughts.

“What is it, Bruce?”

“I had asked you a question about the current Latin verbs you have been studying.” Bruce eyed him thoughtfully.

��Oh. I’m sorry, Bruce. I was…remembering something.”

“Perhaps you’re distracted by romantic thoughts.”

Dick didn’t reply. Blue eyes downcast to his notes as his cheeks warmed.

Beep Beep

A call on the Batphone!

I have to really focus today, he thought as he rushed to Bruce’s side. I can’t let Bruce down.

✧ ✧ ✧

Summer vacation at the beach continued on. Hot days and warm night for you.

Cool air of the bathroom was something to hang on to before heading into the morning light.

Changing into your swim attire, you had a short time to yourself and a sense of peace while everyone had their own schedule. No work or school. Time for your thoughts to wander

Even miles away and days a part, you too had a dream featuring your soulmate.

Your first?

In complete privacy, you smiled.

The dream had been short, but delightfully cute.

You had been sitting on the ottoman in the Wayne Manor and looking through an encyclopedia when Dick sat behind you. Resting his chin on your right shoulder, he asked if you’d wanted to go somewhere.

After pondering over the sweetness of the dream, you couldn’t remember where he said.

But that doesn’t really matter. It was a dream. I don’t need to go anywhere, you thought. But it was cute. Peaceful. Better than those school nightmares.

Better indeed.

After sorting your belongings in your side of the room and leaving Sir Hopps to guard the room, you headed out to the water with Charlotte.

“OH. It’s always so cold,” Charlotte exclaimed as she stepped ankle-deep into the water.

“Better than it being hot. Just go and we’ll get used to it.” You shuffled further into the small waves faster.

“We did that yesterday and you fell in.”

“I was fine.” You turned your head to look at her only a moment before rushing passed the breaking waves.

“Good! I might still look into being First Aid certified.”

“Good.” You were far enough out to float comfortably. “Then Willa won’t think it’s strange for me to carry around bandages.”

“It’s a little strange,” she said as she soon joined you, “but only because we’ve needed them. That’s why I didn’t pack any.”

You laughed.

She’s never packed bandages!

“Watch out,” Charlotte started with a smirk, “I’ll tell Grayson about your bag of bandages.”

You laughed harder.

“And when I see him, I’ll tell him how you love The Monkees.”

“Oh, no,” you giggled, unafraid.

Floating about in the undulating water, your laughter settled as Charlotte started humming a theme song.

Between listening to the sound of the waves, your friends’s humming, and the breeze, you were being lulled into relaxation. Nothing too loud to disturb you.

The world around you appeared calm.

Waves carried you and your hidden worries away.

You closed your eyes, fingers skimming the water. Smooth. It reminded you of how dream you had fixed your soulmate’s hair after he approached you with such gentleness.

“Now, I have to ask…,” Charlotte treaded water closer to you. “What’s Dick Grayson like as a soulmate?”

“A person?” You looked over at her and caught her playful expression. “He’s a good friend. I’ve told you that before.”

“I saw that little smile. You thinking about him?”

“I think of other things.” You defended.

“Except about thirty seconds ago.”

You flicked water at her.

“That’s true, but that wasn’t your thinking-of-cute-animals smile.”

“… That raises questions.” You blinked at her. “But…um… What was I even going to ask?”

Looking around, your gaze surveyed the beach line.

Goodness, what’s it with her questions? Dick’s personality, soulmates, and repeating questions—

“Why is it that you want me to admit feelings for him?”

Charlotte no doubt knew which him.

“Because you’ve been getting defensive lately.”

“It’s like you’re asking the same questions. You, Lucy, Nathaniel… You’ll meet Dick eventually, yah know.”

Quiet settled between you both. Two pairs of eyes staring at the other.

This really is about if I have a crush on Dick or not, you thought sourly. Exhaling slowly, you swam a little closer to shore and glanced at the puffy clouds. I don’t think I’m ready to fully answer that question.

✧ ✧ ✧

One beautiful Wednesday morning in Gotham City, curious shoppers roamed a hat salon.

Harriet Cooper stood thoughtfully as an employee displayed a new decorative hat.

“Oh, I just don’t know.” Aunt Harriet said as she checked herself wearing the hat in a small mirror.

“I believe the blue one had suited you better,” said Bruce kindly.

Aunt Harriet considered it silently.

All the while the employee excused themselves to fetch the other hat again.

The hats are all so different, thought Dick. I don’t see how she can pick one.

Standing quietly and patiently, Dick Grayson viewed the salon as decently busy.

Suddenly, a teenager no older than him walked up to him with a smile.

“Hi,” said the teenage boy with light brown hair and a bright shirt. “Dick Grayson, right?”

“I am.”

Who is he? Dick thought as he held out his hand.

“I’m Nathaniel. (Y/N)’s friend.”

Surprise and delight came from hearing a familiar name.

Holy coincidence.

“Hi. How are you?”

The two shook hands enthusiastically.

“Fine.” Nathaniel answered. “It’s good to put a face to the name in person. (Y/N) has spoken highly of you.”

“Oh.” Dick smiled. “Likewise. (Y/N) has said how you want to be a movie director.”

He laughed, “Or critic, whichever gets me closer to watching more movies and how they’re made.”

Dick found his soulmate’s friend easy to talk to. He definitely didn’t expect to cross paths with one of your friends by chance.

A hand touched his shoulder. Bruce Wayne.

“Aunt Harriet, Bruce,” said Dick, “this is Nathaniel. One of (Y/N)’s friends from school.”

“It is so good to meet you.” Aunt Harriet smiled sweetly and genuinely.

“Likewise ma’am.”

Stepping forward, Bruce shook hands briefly with your friend and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Nathaniel. May I ask which movies you’re interested in?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded. “Mainly documentaries, mysteries, and historical fiction. Anything that has the audience thinking during the film and after.” Nathaniel glanced over to another part of the store for a second then said to Dick, “You’re welcome to join our group to the movies. We usually go watch something before the start of school. Catch up and all.”

“That’d be fun. Thank you.” Dick grinned.

“We’ll both have to tell (Y/N) I invited you.”

“Right.”

He looked to the side again and gestured with a hand. “I’m picking out a hat for my mom. Her birthday’s soon and I have to hide it.” Nathaniel chuckled. “It was nice meeting each of you.”

“You too.”

With a nod, your friend walked back to another smiling employee.

“What a sweet young man,” Aunt Harriet stated.

Before anyone could reply, the well-dressed employee took their chance to step in with a blue hat from earlier.

The movies. Dick thought with growing excitement. Would all of their friends be there? And—GOSH—I didn’t expect to meet (Y/N)’s friends soon. Well…one of them right now. He rubbed his hands together. (Y/N) and I really should talk about it. They are (Y/N)’s friends after all.

A swirling feeling in his gut continued as he considered a future meeting with your friends.

✧ ✧ ✧

“There’s sand here too.” Charlotte pointed to the edge of the hallway.

“Didn’t we just sweep?” You asked, tip-toeing around the small sandy path and entering the bedroom.

“Yes, but you’ve seen my shoes. It’ll be weeks before I get all the sand out of them to—I swear he didn’t have that book before.”

Huh?

You glanced over to see Charlotte pointing at Sir Hopps. Your small blue plush bunny had the Prince Caspian book beside him.

Smiling and heading to your luggage, you decided not to reply.

Charlotte gathered a set of fresh clothes and headed out to the bathroom down the hall.

I can do it now, you thought.

Slipping out a bright, loose leaf paper as quietly as you could, you settled yourself on the floor between the wall and your bed. Time to yourself. A quiet secluded spot to attempt working through developing thoughts and feelings.

You twirled a pen between your fingers.

Being more around Charlotte and talking a little about your soulmate made you wonder a few things. All right, a lot of things were on your mind and thankfully writing them out helped you at least keep track of where your thoughts were headed.

Crush or no crush, he’s my friend. Just a little different. You thought as you scribbled down a question.

What made Dick Grayson different than your other friends?

An important question to revisit.

Sure, you could sense each other’s emotions, but you knew your friends well enough to know how they felt most times. Observation and all. Maybe it was his large capacity for empathy.

He cares so much! Even for those he would never know. And helpful. You thought briefly of his secret life. Kind of almost unbelievable at this point. It’s a lot to comprehend and I don’t think he’ll ever bring it up.

It was probably for the best.

All of that in his heart and weight on Dick’s shoulders. You admired that about him. He acted out of selfless compassion.

He’s always working on improving. At this point, I really don’t think he goes to spend time with his own friends at school. You couldn’t help but to frown a bit at that. Robin duties?

Exhaling, you focused on your emotions. Nothing too out there. Thinking of your soulmate as also being Robin the Boy Wonder felt like a fictional story. That’s as comfortable as you could get with the fact.

None of my other friends have drastically different activities in school versus at home. Not that I know of.

You elected not to write down any secrets that were not our own. Just in case.

Even with your private writings, you would not risk it. Not him, you could not handle ruining a part of Dick’s life. You would never dare to even leave a mark.

People need him. And Dick always puts others first. Heck, he helped me before we officially met! You thought, leaning back against the bed. We know each other now. Mostly study habits and little things like after school activities.

But you wanted to know more. There was nothing odd about wanting to share more interests with Dick. Nothing strange about hugging your soulmate more than friends you’ve had for years.

Being soulmates is…like being connected more. A quick glance out the window and the trees looked to be swaying slowly. Another calm summer day. Just a couple of weeks left of vacation.

Once you were back home in Gotham City, you weren’t sure what you and Dick would be up to later in the year. A new school year and holiday seasons were on their way.

“Oh,” you said quietly. Pen and paper set aside.

Would we be together during certain holidays? Or are we not close enough for that? I’m not sure how this works. My guardian might like it. Charlotte and Willa have come over during winter break once. We exchange gifts—OH!

Snatching up the pen, you wrote quickly: When is Dick Grayson’s birthday?

I don’t think I’ve missed it. I hope I didn’t. Aunt Harriet would’ve said something. What would I even get him? You were mentally drawing a blank. I have time. Hopefully. I guess I’ll have to ask. If I can hold his hand in public, I can ask him when his birthday is. No big deal.

Despite your thoughts, your stomach still fluttered.

A small worry about finding a perfect birthday gift couldn’t be all bad. You wanted to get him something he’d like; of course. Something that’d make him happy. To smile.

For Dick to smile like when you slid into Aunt Harriet’s car. To see him grin as that time you made a silly face. Or even the joy he had shared while you told a story side by side at a baseball game.

Your mind flickered back to the car ride back home when his knuckles went from red to white and his eyebrows knitted together.

You swallowed as a heaviness settled over your heart.

He really didn’t want me to go yet, did he?

Memories of resting your head against his and trying to keep emotions in check for both your sakes could almost be felt. Reliving it tightened your throat.

I guess I mean a lot to him.

It was hardly a guess. Caring and respecting the other was mutual. To holding hands tightly to holding discreetly, there was something left unsaid. A warmth you were growing familiar with.

Dick acted upon it more.

You weren’t sure how to react or view your surprise to Dick’s kiss on your cheek and his sweet smile. It was different. New from him.

How it was specifically different and why?

You had no idea where to start. But the heat that rose to your neck and fluttering in your chest hinted at something still developing under each smile. Would you write that down too?

✧ ✧ ✧

Back in the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat in the living room with a binder of Latin on his lap.

Sights on paper and mind busying itself with internal images, Dick might as well set his studying aside for the day. He had been brushing up on a few words. Honest, he was.

Until one word switched his train of thoughts and he was able to remember more of another dream he had of his soulmate.

A less frantic dream. One where he was attempting to take you to his room, to show you, but Dick had trouble finding the right door. Confusing as it was, he mainly held your hand to make sure you were still there. Dick didn’t want to lose you, even in the manor. Throughout it all, dream-you kept reassuring him everything was fine.

A light comforting warmth settled in his chest. To his annoyance, the fumbling feeling of embarrassment joined in.

I must think of (Y/N) so much that I’m dreaming about them. Dick figured that was far better than any bad dream about large clams, forgetting homework, or being trapped.

Fingers clenching and relaxing alternately, Dick didn’t bother looking at his notes anymore.

“Is everything all right, Dick?” Bruce asked as he set down a textbook.

The youth sighed, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s… I was thinking about (Y/N)—I was studying, I promise,” he reassured Bruce. “This sounds ridiculous, but I was thinking of how I think of (Y/N). Well, how often. Some times it feels like a lot.”

“It’s normal to think of others, but you have to be mindful not to let your romantic imagination distract you.”

Dick nodded solemnly.

“You’re soulmates and you each have responsibilities.”

“I know, but we don’t have any examples of people like us together.” Dick spoke more passionately. “No one to look to. Heck, I never thought much of it when I was a little kid. Now… Well some times I barely notice their emotions and other times…”

“It’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah and I think when we’re together it’s easier to feel or it’s more noticeable. I dunno.” He shook his head and leaned further into the couch. “What are soulmates supposed to do?”

“Be authentic to yourselves.”

“But why do we feel each other’s emotions? Is there a reason? We can help each other, in our own ways.” Dick exhaled and lightly hit the armrest. “But I’ve worried about them too with nothing I can do.”

Bruce was quiet for a moment, contemplating.

Dick Grayson didn’t know what else to say. Too many questions repeating in his mind. A sharp contrast to the silence of the room.

“(Y/N) and yourself have an opportunity to learn what many of us can only theorize or hope to experience. The two of you will be future examples for soulmates who find one another.”

Mixed emotions in the youth settled as an understanding was accepted.

Blue eyes looked to Bruce.

“I still wish there was a book about soulmates.”

Bruce chuckled, “There are, but I’m afraid they won’t answer your specific questions.”

“Darn it.”

Bruce rose an eyebrow and added, “You could write a book yourself.”

And write what?

✧ ✧ ✧

Waves were perfect and picturesque. Rolling onto the shore in a soothing rhythm.

The ideal sounds to listen to as opposed to Charlotte and her older cousin talking to some boys with surfboards.

You weren’t quite in the mood to socialize a great deal with strangers. Added the your friend’s eagerness seemed almost forced. So, instead, you took to walking the shoreline barefoot.

Smiling, you watched as the water slowly moved in to tickle your feet. In another second or two, the sand beneath you softened.

I could easily sink into the sand, you thought. Like a little crab. Minus the claws.

You glanced further up the beach to where your guardian and Charlotte’s mom Lauren sat under an umbrella. No doubt they were still switching stations on the portable radio. The pair had been having just as much fun as you and Charlotte.

Thankfully it was that sort of vacation and not a stressful schedule filled one. At least it wasn’t boring either.

Dick would’ve loved seeing all the birds yesterday. Probably would’ve debated whether or not one was a flamingo… Charlotte thought it might’ve been a crane.

Laughter caught your attention. A sudden mixture voiced by the small group that included your friend down the beach. They all seemed friendly together.

A faint coolness filled your stomach and limbs.

Should you had joined them? You weren’t about to ask your guardian that.

Dick would talk with them.

You sighed.

Oh, well, you thought and continued your walk. I don’t want to intrude on their surfing anyway. The waves are —

A large jolt of surprise hit you like a wall. You barely got a breath in before waves of panic and worry also flooded through your soulmate bond.

Your own spiky anxiety surfaced.

Looking around you quickly, you shuffled across the sand away from the water. You needed to be alone. Out of direct sight from others.

There was a soft thump as you sat upon dry sand. Distanced enough from others, you were a little more free to focus on your breathing than worry about keeping a neutral expression.

You could keep calm for your soulmate. You knew that. It had been done before.

Images in your mind filled with red, green, and yellow of a familiar suit.

You can do this, you thought, but not solely for yourself.

On the beach, unbothered by anyone, you sat for some time thinking of happier thoughts.

Sitting side by side with a smiling Dick Grayson, close and secure. Both of you holding hands while birds flew by.

He’ll be okay. You told yourself repetitively. He’ll be okay.

✧ ✧ ✧

Late evening, back and safe in the Batcave, the caped crusaders exited the Batmobile. Both were relieved to have escaped and foiled Egghead’s plans.

Stretching his arms, Robin announced tiredly, “Boy, did I work up an appetite.”

“I’m sure Aunt Harriet will have a nutritious meal ready.”

“Mmm.”

Robin had no idea which dinner was to be shared up in the manor, but he knew without a doubt he’d clear his plate. Or bowl, depending on the meal.

After sorting everything in the Batcave, lights off and put away, the duo went up the Batpoles.

A long day of crime fighting left Dick Grayson in need of rest too. Not just food was on his mind.

All right, the teenager was thinking of his soulmate again.

Could you blame the excitable youth?

It wasn’t as if he was the only one.

“Gracious me,” said Aunt Harriet at the dining table, “today must have been the warmest yet. I could hardly stay in the garden to tend to the flowers.”

“Yeah. The sun was hot enough to fry an egg.” Dick announced over a plate. “Or the hair off my head.”

“What?”

His aunt’s perplexed expression made Dick realize his slight slip in words.

“Oh. Well we could all imagine the great temperatures at a desert in Arizona or the beaches in Florida.” Bruce Wayne changed the direction of the conversation.

“Oh. A trip to the beach would have been so refreshing today. Too bad you boys had to attend that meeting.”

“Our responsibilities do come first.”

“Well,” she tilted her head in thought with a soft smile, “I am glad that (Y/N) at least gets to enjoy the sun properly. Oh, but imagine the sunsets they’ve seen on the beach. The sound of the waves.”

Does (Y/N) watch sunsets? Dick wondered to himself.

“I’m sure (Y/N) has many opportunities,” Bruce said before looking to his young ward. “It’s nearly the end of July.”

The youth’s eyes widened and he exclaimed, “Holy time clock. (Y/N) could be back next week.”

“Or earlier.”

For Dick Grayson, both excited and eager, counting down the days until your return started then at dinner. The mere mention of the end of your beach vacation gave him hope for a summer together. Even a short one.

Summer holiday from school appeared long on a calendar, but days went by fast enough. Some times in a blur of other events.

Days without hearing from you and seeing you gave an eerie sense that Dick made everything up in his mind. Everything was as it had been.

But he knew that wasn’t the case; you were real. You were his friend and Dick cared about you deeply. He had protected you from Penguin’s goons before he knew your name! He had held your hand to reassure you everything would be fine on numerous occasions. Dick had helped sneak you out of a library. Overwhelmed, he had kissed your cheek. And he missed you.

Dick wanted to hear you laugh again and sit so close to you that he would surely be scolded by his aunt.

They could be back in Gotham any day. Dick thought joyfully and ate the rest of his dinner in gusto.

✧ ✧ ✧

I forgot how loud my family can be, you thought as you walked down to the beach.

Later into the morning, Charlotte and yourself found yourselves listening to all sorts of gossip from your two cousins. The pair had managed to drive out to the beach to stay the night.

The beach house was more crowded and filled with laughter than ever. Hugs had been shared most of the morning.

You hadn’t seen your two cousins in months; around the last birthday of an older relation.

A day of relatives roaming the rented home. You and Charlotte were thankful her older cousin had gone days prior for the sake of sleeping arrangements.

“I couldn’t sleep hearing those trees move at night,” exclaimed your tallest cousin in blue. “Doesn’t it sound like an animal?”

“We’re sleeping,” replied Charlotte. “How should we know?”

Smiling, the four of you crossed the wooden bridge in no time.

“The beach is much quieter than a big city like Gotham, I’m sure.” Said your second cousin, wearing one of the biggest hats you had ever seen.

“It’s different noises.” You shrugged.

Pulling briefly on their blue shirt, your cousin looked over their shoulder.

No adult guardians in sight.

Your shoulders tensed, knowing general conversations were off the table.

“All right,” they said grinning. “We’ve been dying to ask for weeks. Did you really find your soulmate!”

Two sets of eyes tried boring into your soul with their intensity. Waiting for your answer wasn’t something they could handle for long.

“Yeah.” You answered as simply as possible. Letting a small smile form wasn’t the end of the world.

“And you just ran into each other?”

“Not literally…”

“But you knew somehow?” Asked your cousin who adjusted their hat.

“It was kind of weird, but yeah.”

“Wow, (Y/N) has a millionaire as a soulmate. What are the odds?”

You frowned.

Meanwhile, Charlotte bursted out laughing. Her hand holding onto your shoulder for balance.

Dick…a millionaire? Well some information didn’t travel to everyone.

“Someone said he was.”

“He’s a ward to the millionaire Bruce Wayne,” you clarified.

“Your guardian must love that.”

You held in a reply.

Abruptly ending her laughter, Charlotte replied firmly, “At least (Y/N) won’t be completely bored when going to the higher social events in Gotham City. They have their soulmate now too.”

Yeah, you agreed silently.

Over the sandy beach, the four of you stood in an odd circle. Grouped together, but not on the same page.

The tallest of your cousins squinted at you and asked, “You’re not left alone with him, are you?”

“What? No…” You glanced between your family, attempting to get a read on their emotions.

Why would they ask that? You wondered, Dick’s my friend.

“That’s good.” They nodded, satisfied.

“But… Why did you ask that? We’re not dropped off in the woods alone or anything.”

“You’re both teenagers.”

“So? We’re friends not complete strangers.”

“Still.”

If you were confused before, you were bewildered and lost right then.

“He’s nice and a caring person,” you insisted.

Your cousins regarded each other silently.

Teenagers. Alone? Are they serious right now?

Heat radiated from your jaw and chest as it quickly expanded over your fists.

Voice seconds from cracking, you declared, “He’s not a bad person and just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“We didn’t say that.” The cousin holding their hat said immediately.

Charlotte stepped forward, alarmingly calm. “He’s a millionaire’s ward who spends most of his time learning random things like Latin and world geography. (Y/N) and Dick put school before anything else. They’re the perfect study partners. Someone would have to kick them and give an hour lecture before those two would even consider going for a drive alone.”

Again, your cousins exchanged looks.

You felt no closer to knowing what was going on in their brains. Yet you were grateful for Charlotte’s help.

Your increasing heart beat didn’t help your train of thought.

“Wait. You’re not secretly dating him? Your soulmate.”

“No.” You gestured widely and asked sharply, “Why is that the first thing people go to? There are other things. Like…just living more comfortably with someone who actually knows how you feel. Someone to be honest with, without pressure of trying to figure out if you unintentionally made someone mad or if they had a bad day.” Chest heaving, your words stopped.

“Sorry.”

And just like that the conversation was dropped.

You were relieved it was over. Questions and assumptions could go so far before they hit a nerve.

A walk around the beach soon ended as well. The group of teenagers headed back indoors to take a break from sunlight and awkward chatter.

Door partially shut, you sat beside Sir Hopps on the edge of the bed. From there you could hear the others singing along to an Elvis movie.

You weren’t in the mood. Earlier you would had been, but not after the short interrogation from your cousins. A sour turn on the day.

Again, you had turned to writing. Your notes formatted into a letter for Dick Grayson full of details you wanted to tell him. Even with the letters addressed to your soulmate, you were the only one who knew of the letters’ existence. For that, you were satisfied. This one would join the others hidden in your bedroom back home.

Writing letters helped sort some thoughts. Your cousins’ choice of words among them. It annoyingly repeated in your mind.

You figured there were an amount of people, you didn’t know how many, who thought soulmates were immediately romantic.

How fast did people want to go? You shouldn’t force anything. You frowned while glancing at the wall. Is that why people really talked about me and Dick more? Because we’re young? Because teenagers are known for sports, school, loud music, and late night dates?

If you were home, you would had resulted in screaming into your pillow as a last resort to get out the day’s frustrations.

Okay. Breathe, you thought. Uncomfortable heat had already returned to your hands. It’s just odd. That’s all. People are just being weird for thinking two people who know nothing of one another should run off to an empty room and kiss. This isn’t a movie!

You blinked and twirled the pen around.

What movies have they been watching? You weren’t quite sure you actually wanted to know.

Squeals came form the living room. Happy movie watchers.

Mind trained on calming yourself, you thought, a soulmate is a stranger when first meeting and only then an acquaintance after that. A trusted acquaintance hopefully for most. Emotions give everything away. Unless someone can’t tell the difference between them all, I guess.

Logical words for a rightly emotional teenager. Much was already on your shoulders.

Being a teenager came with many changes, challenges, and lessons. Navigating what people thought about you and your soulmate added questions to your still developing mind. Doubts was something you didn’t want.

Some times it was too much. People’s opinions and unsolicited advice were striking even if they were spoken evenly.

Must it always be what others think? You wondered as you folded the paper into your luggage. They’re not me and they don’t know Dick. Some don’t know their soulmate. You glanced over to Sir Hopps, quiet and reserved. Why do they speak the loudest about us and how we should be? Always other people…

You placed your hand over your heart. A steady rhythm felt under your open palm.

What does being soulmates mean to me?

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

Part 7 -> "

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