#i've been meaning to read the boy is bad news for ages but wanted to do so in one sitting

[forhyune]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・11.1k

𝐩𝐚𝐢��𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x afab!stylist!reader (inspired by this)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia, pussydrunk!hyunjin. minors and ageless blogs that interact with this post will be blocked.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭'𝐝.)・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・dimple by bts・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh ♡ @like-a-diamondinthesky ♡ @fire-08 ♡ @starsandrqindrops ♡ @txtxlz ♡ @laylasbunbunny ♡ @strayghibli ♡ @nuronhe ♡

𝐚/𝐧・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, love.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of saliva suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace is rather frenetic.

"I missed you so much" you pout.

"Missed how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

"I missed you too" he whispers out, getting tired.

He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who will totally notice the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[muffinlance]

Wait, what’s going on with Embers???? That fic has been on my read later list since 2021, what’s happened with it???

Brief overview, then I'm likely never touching this topic again, because this is not a Drama Blog:

Context: Embers is a super old AtLA fic that was written during the early fandom days, read widely at the time, and was the origin of the widely-used fanon name of "Wani" for Zuko's ship (kind of by default that it was one of the first popular fics to give his ship a name, I think?), even though most fic writers don't seem to realize it's from there anymore.

"What's Going On": I used to include a link in all my stories to it, because I believe in crediting other writers for borrowed elements, and I was using "Wani" in all my fics. But BOY did I not want to be sending readers that way anymore, so I've adopted a new name for Zuko's ship, and removed all Embers links.

None of the criticisms about Embers itself are new; I'm assuming they date back to when the fic was being written, because this isn't an "it aged badly" thing, this is an "actually yeah this gets worse the longer you think about it and I shouldn't have ignored my bad feelings just because some of the worldbuilding was interesting" thing.

An Incomplete List of Why I Made the Change:

I don't actually like the story that much anymore, and don't want to rec it

I tried to re-read it recently to see if some things were as bad as I remembered and it turns out they were So Much Worse Oh Yikes. More specifically, the treatment of Katara and Aang and their respective cultures has... rather a lot going on. One example: The Fire Nation and Air Nomads are both given multiple backstory elements in an attempt to make the average Fire Nation soldier's participation in the genocide/war in large part the fault of the Avatar and the Air Nomads themselves, and also fully justified from the Fire Nation perspective. And I do mean fully. One of its core tenants is "People from the Fire Nation (and only people from the Fire Nation) who don't follow orders Literally Die, therefore murdering pacifists and babies and continuing the war (and their regularly scheduled war crimes) is the only thing it is physically possible for them to do". I cannot emphasize enough how literal that is.

Also the name "Wani" means "Alligator" and is... objectively a pretty lame name for Zuko's ship? Where's the personality, where's the deeper meaning, where's the resonance with Zuko's themes? @tuktukpodfics initially thought I was calling the ship "Wanyi", and that's what I've switched to, because it is Objectively So Much Better. In their words: “Wànyī (萬一): Literally ‘one in ten thousand,’ ‘perchance.’ Used grammatically in Chinese to mean ‘what if’ or ‘just in case.’ I think a ship called ‘The Perchance’ is perfect for a boy clinging to false hope.”

TL:DR; I don't rec Embers anymore, because I don't actually like the story anymore, and there are things about it that get worse the more I think on them. I've removed links to it and renamed Zuko's ship to "Wanyi" ("The Perchance") because our boy deserves a ship name that reflects his character arc.

[sunburstsoldier]

Some modern codywan fics that I just love

I have an EXTREMELY LONG fanfic recs document and I've been meaning to make a bunch of posts for ages so here's the first one!! non-explicit Modern AU Codywans in no particular order:

HOT2GO by Saerus2665 for dontbelasagnax | 32k | Mature |

Nurse Ben & firefighter Cody. Ben is a disaster in this and i love it. also bonus Bant is there!

“Hey,” Ben calls from the back. He holds up the forms, “You missed one.” Cody latches another one of the cabinets closed then turns to him. He doesn’t seem surprised to see him. “My bad,” he says simply. He comes to the back of the wagon and takes a seat, legs hanging over the side. He glances up as Ben hands over the forms and pen. “You’d think running down signatures would be a little below your list of duties” he says, in that annoyingly pointed way of his. That’s fine. Ben’s decided he’s done walking on eggshells around him. “You’d think a Fire Captain would be better at remembering to fill out forms he’s done a hundred times,” he returns, just as pointed. Cody smiles at him, a sharp glint in his eye. Or: Nurse Ben and the bad bitch firefighter he pulls by being a complete disaster

Turn it on to a new kind of bright by rolo_rulu, Saerus2665 |41k |

Cody is a hot surfer & Ben is a biologist and also a banana stand dude. Absolutely hysterically funny.

Someone rolls him over onto his back. “Hnnngh…” Ben blinks his eyes open. There’s a man looking down at him, haloed in the bright light of the sun. He has dark eyes, and handsome features, including an interesting scar on the right side of his face. A stray dark curl hangs down in the middle of his forehead. He’s beautiful, with the sunlight behind him. Ethereal. “Are—are you an angel?” Ben finds himself saying. He doesn't know if it's the heat or his poor instinctive attempt at flirting that makes him say it. The man squints at him, brow furrowing, clearly caught off guard. “Uh—are you a banana?” The mention of it brings him back into the reality of the situation: he’s trapped in a banana suit, 10 feet from the banana stand, with the object of his recent fantasies—because yes, this is indeed Hot-Surfer-Cody— looking down at him.

Charmed On The Wayside by TapeMonkey21 | 39k Teen+ |

Lawyer Cody, farmer Obi-Wan, aka Hallmark AU! So good I read it twice in two days, it is EXACTLY like the hallmark movie I never knew I wanted.

Cody Fett's perfect big-city life falls apart when his boyfriend breaks up with him, leaving him heartbroken. A visit to the small Vermont town where his brother Rex lives has him crossing paths repeatedly with Ben, the strange, charming, handsome, flannel-wearing owner of the local cider mill and orchard. Can Cody find love again amidst the fall leaves? Or, the fall Codywan Hallmark Movie we all deserve. Written for the Codywan Comfort flash event.

*The truth that once was spoken by Jimmytiberius | 40k | Mature  | Les Mis Theater AU.

Now with several sequel mini fics, a gorgeous love letter to theater and to our favorite boys. Really cool then-and-now structure.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is a well-known actor in London's West End who's just signed a contract to make his long-awaited Broadway debut as Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. There's just one small wrinkle. Broadway star Cody Fett will be playing Inspector Javert. Obi-Wan hasn't seen Cody since the summer he was nineteen, when they were in summer stock together... also in a production of Les Miserables. Their relationship ended badly. What will happen when they see each other again for the first time in nineteen years? Will they ever find a way to tell each other the truth about what happened at the end of that summer?

sourdough: flour, water, and starting over by Shortcuts_make_long_delays |19k | Teen+ | BAKERY AU. This one is very sweet!!

Did Cody need to be up at 3:50am? No, not technically. But he had graciously offered to take Fox’s Sunday morning shifts at their Uncle’s bakery. Donning Fox's red apron as part of a decade long joke, he works at the bakery as he attempts to figure out what he wants from life. The first time Obi-wan shows up to dinner at Anakin's after moving back to Coruscant, he arrives twenty minutes late with the bag of rolls in hand, and unable to stop thinking about the baker in the red apron. Fox, he's pretty sure the name tag said.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings | 33k | Teen + |

Cody is an EMT; Obi-Wan's house keeps catching fire. Absolutely hysterical setting, I love the way they raise the twins communally in this fic so much.

Obi-Wan meets Cody for the first time when his niece and nephew almost light his house on fire.  (Obi-Wan Kenobi and Cody Fett find their way into love slowly but steadily. There's broken bones, too much sooty turnout gear, late hours spent at EMT class, three kids, ten brothers and two adopted siblings, two weddings, and all number of laughs and inside jokes along the way. It's worth it, in the end. Family's always worth it.)

It's Raining, Dear by cafffine |10k | Modern AU 

This one feels like you're just catching pieces of their lives together and i love it. Leia loves rocks. Obi-Wan has anxiety. I love it.

Cody and Obi-Wan fall in love. They live together, Rex calls when he can, Anakin is just out of reach until he isn't, Luke and Leia grow up too fast, Ahsoka lives far away, the back deck needs to be fixed, life happens and it happens and it happens.

More to come !! enjoy!!

[funkycloewn]

I've once again come from the dead to post lmaooo

After having avoided the pilot for so long in fear of getting sucked into the world and fandom, I finally watched Lackadaisy! (My fears were right btw as it has a grip on me rn) I love it and subsequently read the comic so I knew everything and wouldn't get spoilered.

Anyway, a little time after I came across the amazing interactive fic called the Under The Devil's Moon made by @libras-interactives

I enjoyed a lot (and can't wait for the next chapter/update) and couldn't help but make ocs due to this fic being a sort of self insert thing

These characters shown are only two out the five I made :]

It's sorta rambly but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! (Especially you, Iibra 🥺)

Name: Margaret Quinn

Nickname: Daisy

Date of Birth: October 26, 1889 (31 Years Old)

Personality:

(Mostly the usual callgirl personality with some stuff added into the mix)

Years of being in the industry, has shaped this feline to be calm, gentle and soft spoken. She knows what her customers want and acts accordingly so. Though, she doesn't particularly show it — that would be bad for her image as a callgirl — she is quick to give a person a label, to categorize them. She doesn't mean to be judgy but this mindset has helped her out countless of times, so she continues on; getting to know that someone is the only way for her to lift off the verdict she holds. With the ones she loves, Margaret is very caring towards. Making sure they're well fed with both food and love is one of her top priorities. (Though, recently that has been a difficult task to maintain) This, unfortunately, can make her pushy and stubborn even when she means well.

Romantic Relationship:

Out of all the characters to choose from I chose our friendly local bartender, Viktor Vasko. At one time I was thinking of either Zib or Sable but after reading about how he would treat Chester, I was sold. I can't for that romance to unfold! :D (rhyming unintended)

Other:

• She was born and lived most of her life in the outskirts of New Orleans

• Her mother succumbed to a yellow fever outbreak, leaving her and a few other kids orphaned.

• This led to her forming a group with said children and the four of them residing in an abandoned shack.

• Margaret knows how to fix things at least temporarily because of this (e.g. pipes and infrastructure).

• (This one is a little violent so warning for that :'D) Both her front paws are missing their claws. This is due to a farmer who got sick of her constantly stealing his chickens.

• The pearl necklace she has, was given to her by Flynn. She doesn’t like anyone to know that and avoids the question when asked who she got it from.

• She likes fidgeting with the pearls. The way they softly clack when moved and the feeling of them soothes her.

• Due to her motherly nature, she will "adopt" (translation: care and look after) anyone under the age of 25 with who she is somewhat close to, especially when they are boys

• She sees Jack and Marius as older sons of hers

• Rocky could (will) be a contender for the spot of a fourth son

• She always carries a box containing a sewing kit, buttons and patches

• This has come in handy plentiful of times for Jack, mostly. On rare occasions Marius is in need of them, though I would think he's picky on what she uses; they have to match.

• Though, she says she doesn't know who Chester's father is, she knows. She just doesn't like to acknowledge it.

Voice Claim: Tiana from Princess and the Frog

Name: Chester Quinn

Date of Birth: January 6, 1917 (3 Years Old)

Personality:

This little troublemaker, has a great fondness for being one with the earth. By that I mean, he loves digging. Chester likes creating craters at playgrounds or parks, all the while letting himself be covered in freshly dug up soil. Almost all of his clothes have a grass stain and Larochka fears that he might have stained his chubby little hands for eternity. Speaking of fashion, he hates wearing shoes. A tantrum is bound to occur if you simply try to make him wear a pair. Even if you somehow achieve the impossible, he will just claw them off and chuck them. However despite all that, he's well meaning and can be gentle at times. He enjoys snuggling with him Mama or Larochka. Chester is very social and when out he's always looking for a way to make people smile.

Other:

• If he likes you, he'll make you a 'special mud pie' (a mud pie sprinkled with hand picked flowers; the more flowers, the more he likes you)

• He's handsy, mostly because he's an affectionate boy but also due to the fact he has poor eye sight.

• While he's chubby right now he grows to look more like his father, even somewhat in the face department.

• Fortunately for everyone and the tom himself, he grows out of his habit to refuse any kind of footwear. Don't tease older Chester about his phase, though, because he will get embarrassed and he will look like he just ate a sour lemon.

Voice Claim: Greg from Over the Garden Wall

Cleaned up and with his eye color when he gains his melanin

Wonder who the dad is lmaoo

Lastly a size comparison (not sure if it's accurate tho lol)

[rebouks]

It's been a while since I read your story and sadly I come here today as a hater: I'm afraid you're not cooking with this romance storyline with Robin. Seeing him kiss Aster was the weirdest thing because he's the most asexual character I've seen in a while. You joked how people didn't believe Robin would get a smooch but it's still not believable, at least not to me. Sorry, but I'm not eating what you're serving. I hope you don't take this badly. But if you do, you have the right to kill me.

There's also something that gave me pause: the reveal that Penny cheated on Levi once and will likely do it again, and probably with Jacob since she has a crush on him.

I just can't see Jacob entertaining Penny. First, Jacob would never accept Levi's sloppy seconds. And second, I think Jacob has an arrogant side that would clash with Penny's attitude of thinking highly of herself. "I'm too good for you" is what I see coming from him regarding her. He's a womaniser but he has taste, and Penny is rotten to the bone like Victoria. And because they're teenagers, Jacob ridiculing Penny as an indirect jab towards Levi would be so realistically petty. There's nothing quite like hitting your enemies from all angles. I'm sure Bruno taught him that. And with Levi being such a doormat, it seems it'll take somebody else to put that girl in her place and knock her down a few pegs.

And Penny's reaction to being rejected for the first time would be a sight. It's what she deserves.

And speaking of Bruno, he must come back! Ivan and Francesca are cute I guess but Brivan is still the 5-star dish and I like the spice Bruno brings to your story. Imagine if Francesca's crazy ex turns out to be an actual problem and Ivan had the bright idea of hitting up Bruno when he realised he couldn't handle the guy? "We split because I wanted to return to this life and you didn't, but now you come here asking the mafia to get involved in your life again so we can help you sort out a guy...? You've lost your mind. You and your woman just need to go to the police like everyone else with an abusive partner. Now get out." but then think twice when he meets the guy in question when he contacts Bruno's family to buy an illegal firearm from them, babbling how he's going to "fix" his ex's new boyfriend and get her and his son back. Initially, he'd be hurt Ivan only sought him for the sake of his new girlfriend, but Bruno will be damned if anything happened to the man who owns his heart and their little daughter. And we know he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty, huh? :3c

Hmmmm maybe you're not wrong to refuse what I'm serving! Maybe it was made in a shitty diner by a jaded cook who didn't wash their hands and thought rat droppings were sprinkles?? FFFFFFF.. no but I get it, Robin and Levi's plan kinda sucked from the get go and him kissing Aster like that was pretty uncharacteristic.. but alas he is a teenage boy with bad decision making skills and false bravado from his little gift, so here we are.

I will say that he's definitely not asexual tho and if I have, I didn't mean to give off that vibe for him.. believe me, most of these teens, including Robin, are thinking and (sometimes) acting on thoughts right now, wink wonk (hell, I know I was at that age) but it's not something I particularly feel like being too graphic about since they're still teens y'know? I've mostly just implied or alluded to such things when necessary, so my bad if that's not coming off too well, but rather that than be too crass.

I may have joked about Penny cheating on Levi with Jacob, and she definitely would if given the chance, but I think you're right that Jacob wouldn't be interested in her, she's far too high maintenance for him and he'd totally be against the idea of touching Levi's seconds like.. no thx! 🫣 I would love to see her try and get shot down for sure tho, that'd be hilarious!! Someone needs to take her down a peg or two one day! Part of me hopes it IS Levi who does so, but we'll have to see.

Hmmm hmmm hm.. Bruno! As much as I still love Brivan I don't think there's even a slight chance Ivan would ever go to him for help, especially since he went back to that life, even if he thought it'd help. He's so against everything it stands for.. it almost took his life, Oscar's in a roundabout way, Cookie's?! and it DID suck Bruno back in, he's waaay too stubborn and proud as well like, Bruno fucking left him for THAT? Are you kidding??? Fuck crawling back to him for ANYTHING, nope. he'd never! Now, that's not to say Bruno wouldn't jump in without Ivan's permission but (and I'll let you off for this cos we don't know Lee too well) he's way too much of a coward to take matters into his own hands like that. He's just not dealing with losing Frankie/Sawyer in a very healthy way, hence the bullshit spewing from his mouth. He's probably asleep on the job or some shit atm, not buying firearms from Kaden n' co. in Oasis Springs, however exciting that may be.

All that being said, I hope you still like the direction I go with all these threads, because they ARE all going somewhere. We're just dealing with people who don't always make the best decisions at the end of the day and that's what makes this stuff interesting to me! We don't always have to like the path or the choices these guys make but hopefully they all learn something along the way! Or not, I guess? That's also fun sometimes lmao 🤸‍♀️

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

When Remus took out a pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips, Sirius was surprised.

Actually he felt something jumping inside his chest.

"You smoke?"

Remus was caught up by the question. Like a little kid being caught doing something wrong.

"Yeah sorry" Remus answered, the cigarette still on his mouth. But immediately took it out "I won't do it if it bothers you"

Sirius was fascinated. He remembered Rosie as an adorable kid still. It had been Sirius the bad influence. Well, Rosie had a brilliant mind for pranking. But she was innocent overall. With her soft curls on a ponytail and wearing her father's sweaters and trousers underneath her school skirt because she found it uncomfortable. Rosie talking nerdily about the book she was currently reading.

Remus still had the same aura. Although Remus being a boy wasn't the only thing that surprised Sirius.

He had changed with the years. In a good way, though.

"I don't mind" Sirius replied "I mean I smoke as well sometimes... My Uncle Alphard taught me last summer"

It was true. He smoked to impress Alphard and his friend George. Although when he got back to Hogwarts, James disapproved. And nobody had cigarettes around that pretentious school, so he stopped.

Remus was smiling at him amused. Sirius liked the way he was impressed.

"Want one?" he asked offering him the pack.

Sirius smirked before taking one. He hadn't had a cigarette in ages. He just hoped he didn't cough like the first time.

Remus had a lighter as well. Of course. So he lit up Sirius’s before doing it to his.

Sirius remembered he had been this fascinated only for one person, George. So handsome, easy going. With that vibe of a bad boy. Sirius had bought a leather jacket after meeting him.

He was feeling the same admiration for Remus.

Sirius observed Remus smoking in silence thinking who was this boy and also excited to meet this new version of him.

"What?" Remus asked after a while. He was smiling "I know that smoking is bad, I've been told"

Sirius looked away "Oh yeah, I know" he shrugged and continued smoking. Luckily he didn't cough and pretended to be an expert at it "I'm just surprised"

"Why?"

"What happened to my sweet Moony, eh?"

Remus's cheeks went pink. It was adorable. Sirius realized that Remus's vibe perhaps was different. But he was the same sweet kid Sirius used to know.

"Moony.... I haven't heard that in a while"

It had been the nickname Sirius had given his friend. All because of Hope's Moon wishes. Captain Moonshine from their pirate games. Silly precious things they used to do as kids.

"It probably sounds stupid now"

But they were teenagers now.

"I like it" Remus was quick to reply "I liked it before and I like it now. It's our thing, isn't it?"

Sirius liked to have things together again. He smiled.

"Should I call you Starman?" Remus teased.

Well, that sounded stupid. Not adorable like Moony.

"My friends call me Padfoot now"

"Padfoot?"

Sirius grinned "It's a long story" bloody James and his idea of nicknames.

Remus giggled "Okay, Padfoot"

Sirius liked the way it sounded from Remus's mouth.

"I guess we have a lot of things to catch up, eh?"

Sirius figured. Between learning to smoke, growing up, adquiring new nicknames and becoming teens, it was a lot. Probably missed first times: drinking, smoking, first dates and kisses (Sirius was most curious about that). Five years had passed without each other. Sirius wondered how did he managed without Remus. His Moony.

"Yeah, Moons" he grinned "We have a lot to catch up"

And Sirius hoped he didn't have to be apart from Remus ever again.

[sprunkimortality]

What do every Sprunki think of Gray?

Oren: "He's chill, bro. He's got good taste in music." Raddy: "Eh. He keeps out of my space and I keep out of his." Clukr: "According to my observations, Gray is a rather stoic individual. His lack of physical expression betrays his ability to feel emotions, and he can be quite hard to read at times. I can only make guesses as to how he feels based on context clues." Fun Bot: "Oh, Gray! He requests interesting songs from his favorite bands! It's always a new experience when he comes up to ask me to play something!" Vineria: "We're at similar wavelengths. Our auras blend well."

Brud: "Gray? Me like Gray! Gray is friend!" Garnold: "Gotta say, the kid's got interesting artistic interpretations of robotics. I didn't even know what divine machinery was until I heard him go through a whole rant about it! He's a cool one, I'll tell you that." OWAKCX: "G- Gray…oh, well, he- …h-he doesn't really…um…w- we don't…talk that much, you know? Hoohoo-! S- So, I, I- I don't know much about him, eh…e-except the fact that h- he wears the same shirt every day, hoho…" Sky: "Gray is so cool! He's got edgy makeup, edgy clothes, edgy music, everything's edgy! I want to be cool like him!"

Mr. Sun: "Ah, our very own Neutral Sprunki! There's a charm to his poker face that only he can pull off!" Durple: "Ahaha! You speak of my deadpanned companion? I've known him since we were Sprunklings! We were both losers without friends or anyone to chitter with at lunch, you see. Except I, in my ever-present radiance, was spared by the hells of torment he had to go through during those highschool years! That's not to say I condone it, no no no. I am HIGHLY against treating our very own emo boy with such exclusionism!" Mr. Tree: "I have been with him for every rest he takes every day in the afternoon. He brings peace to this bright and colorful town." Simon: "Well gee, Gray's one of my greatest friends! He's responsible and he always knows what to do in even the scariest situations! Don't tell him this, but…he's like a big brother to me! Yeah, we're the same age and unrelated but I don't care! He's big bro Gray to me!" Tunner: "Th' lad's in his own lil' world sometimes. He's a good kid. Never gets into any sorta trouble. Don't got a clue about the things he rambles on about sometimes, but I ain't gon' stop 'im whenever he does that. It's his passion."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He may not look like it, but he knows how to have fun in his own way! He visits me a lot! Though, he usually doesn't use my search engine or anything, like everyone else would. He just likes to come by and have conversations with me. It's nice!" Wenda: "So, like, big backstory dump, but…I actually hated Gray's guts. I dunno why. I was an evil kid! Like, so evil. I shoved him in the hallway and called him dumb and fat and whatever. Real talk, I was so mean to him. So like, him forigivng me was like, SUPER surprising. Like, what do you mean you forgive me?? Sure I regretted it and I apologized to his face but I didn't think he'd actually be, like, cool with me now! Anywayy. We're buddies now. We hang out and all that, soooo yeah. Happy ending! I hope." Pinki: "Gray is such a sweetheart! He helps me out at the bakery sometimes, even though he doesn't like having to deal with cooking oil…I really appreciate it whenever he comes by to help!" Jevin: "Within that anti-expression he wears, Gray is a Sprunki with passions to share."

Black: "He's not too bad, I suppose." Saves: "Sorry, who is…? Ah, yes! The horned one with the dirty shirt…ah, I remember now. Gray…he's so kind and generous. He is the same one who visits me every weekend, isn't he? Yes…he helps around the house. We tell stories to each other. He's precious." Ciqu: "He abides. I have no strong opinion of him." Sprinkles: "Heehee! Gray is fun! He takes care of me and Sky sometimes! He's like a big brother, but he doesn't have any little siblings…which is a bit sad, because he's fun as a brother!" Calvin: "Gray is super cool. And also fun to play pranks on! He doesn't get mad, so it's a little funny!" (edit 12/8/24: X FORGOT CIQU...XM SO SORRY MR POLICEMAN....)

[pucksalotguys]

Chapter 2

First off, thank you for those of you who liked chapter 1 and gave me feedback ! If you haven’t already you can read chapter 1 HERE. Now back with chapter 2 and here you’ll be able to see more of Cecelia and more of Jacqueline and Sidney and the why their dynamic is the way it is…. Stay tuned and enjoy ❤️

(Please remember to like, reblog, add tags, comment and leave me some asks to let me know what you think (anon is on for a reason so don’t be shy, I promise I’m nice 🫶)

WC: 3.4K

“So now that I’m not stuck with you in an elevator and we’re in a much more comfortable situation, why don’t you fill me in on what this whole thing is gonna be like” Cecelia chuckled “I consider myself a easy going person so I’m hoping no one thinks bad of me” Sidney gave her a grin “You don’t have a reason to be nervous at all, the guys are great. We got a real good group of people” “I took it upon myself to gather everyone’s information in preparation for the season event we have planned. A little family skate at the arena just a bit before the first preseason game, something light but fun for everyone to get together again and for the new members and their families to get to know everyone and stuff” “You’re really on it” he said surprised “So like I asked before, what brought you to this job ?”

“Well don’t take this the wrong way but it just fit what I needed for right now” she explained “I majored in communications and minored in business. I want to be a writer but those jobs are rather seldom so I use my degrees in other ways. It’s how I got here, I can organize, email and make schedules while still using my other skills. I don’t plan to be here long but I do plan on giving it my all so don’t worry about me messing up”

Not many people impressed him but there was something about Cecelia that was just already so special. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but there was just something about her that already made him feel comfortable

“You say you're a writer does that also mean you enjoy reading ?” he asked Cecilia looked up at him and nodded excitedly “I love to read ! It's my favorite thing to do and something that I've always loved ever since I was a little girl. It's what made me want to become a writer. I read so many books as a little girl and in my teenage years that I just knew in my heart it's what I wanted to do” She admitted with the blush as she realized she was a bit overly excited “I apologize…..it's just that I have a lot of passion for what I love” Sidney couldn't help but smile at her “That's a very respectful and good thing to have in life, it's how I feel about my career as well. I know I'm entering the stage where I'm almost done and perhaps people don't think that I'm in my prime anymore but believe me when I say that having passion for your career is truly what makes you love what you do”

“Don't say that about yourself” she said softly “Age has nothing to do with one's career, if you still have passion and perseverance then that's all that matters”

“So in your opinion would you say that age doesn't matter ?” Sidney asked “That's exactly what I'm saying” Cecilia nodded “Speaking from my own experience and how I'm 27 and I'm essentially working an office job for a hockey team that has nothing to do with my degree I would say that perhaps later in life is when I’ll get to do what I truly love. You're just incredibly lucky that you've always been able to do what you love” she explained “And you've done such monumental things with this career that you shouldn't feel like it's nothing simply because you're getting older”

No one had ever been able to convey what he wanted to say and here was a woman he met a mere few hours ago making sense of those things. His mind had been rocked, as he took himself out of his distracted state he felt his phone buzz and looked down, a picture of Jacqueline and the boys appearing bringing him back to the realization that what he was currently doing maybe wasn’t exactly right “I got to take this” he hastily got up and stepped outside “Hey Jac,is everything okay ?” “Hey babe” she said softly “I just wanted to call you rather than text you to let you know that I just miss you and I'm really sorry about last night. I haven't been able to go on with my day without thinking about how we went to sleep mad at each other when we promised that would never happen”

He sighed “I really appreciate you calling to tell me that, you know I love you more than anything. Listen I'll be home in a bit, why don't we have a nice night in with the kids tonight ?”

“That sounds great and I also want to let you know that I had a talk with Roman and I apologized to him because he deserved that from me. I don't ever want him feeling like he's different than his brother, I was able to give him some one-on-one time just he and I,  it was really nice” she admitted “That's amazing of you honey” he smiled “You're an amazing mother and I know perhaps things aren't exactly as we pictured them but I know that we’ll be okay and that our boys will be okay” “I'll see you in a bit then” Jacqueline smiled

He hung up and walked back inside apologizing as he took a seat “That was my wife, sorry I had to answer”

“That's no problem” Cecilia shook her head “You have children, you mentioned that back in the elevator”

“Two boys, twins actually” he showed her a picture “Before you ask, yes I have a son with a physical disability. The one with braces on his legs is my son Roman, he has a condition named Spina-Bifida. His spine has some issues and it affects his walking. The one next to him is Aaron, he’s just a handful but that’s mostly because he gets frustrated”

Cecelia grinned “They look just like you, they have your exact face. They’re adorable”

Sidney nodded, waiting for her to give him the typical pity speech about how Roman was so special and how he and Jacqueline were so strong and blessed for having a child like him

“You can say it” he broke their silence “I know you’re thinking it”

“Thinking what ?” she asked 

“Cecelia you don’t have to act like you don’t see it, I’m aware I have a child with a disability and it’s very apparent” 

Cecelia nodded “You do and what does that have to do with anything ? He’s still a perfectly healthy child, I’m sure life’s not all sunshine and rainbows but he seems very happy”

“He is very happy” Sidney whispered “He’s a great kid

“My mom is a pediatric surgeon” she opens up “Growing up I watched her treat kids with all sorts of different things. A child having some braces on his legs and using a walking device isn’t shocking or sad to me”

“It is to my wife” he admitted quietly “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this” “Is it sad to her or is she just struggling with everything ?” Cecelia asked back “Because given how she called you, I feel like she’s maybe having a hard time” “Yeah….yeah you’re right” Sidney nodded “I’m sorry for just dropping that on you out of nowhere” She shook her head “There’s no need to apologize to me, I’m glad we could talk. Sometimes life is just hard and it helps to talk to someone about things. I know it helps me” “You haven’t told me much about yourself” he grins at her “I know you’re from New York and that’s about it”

Listening to her speak was slowly becoming one of his favorite things. He soon found out she was one of 3 siblings, the middle child. She had one older brother and a younger brother and they both still resided in New York. Her father was an accountant in the city for some investors and her mother was a pediatric surgeon at one of the children's hospitals. She had left New York when she was 18 when she graduated because she had been accepted into UCLA. She was interesting, she was so full of life and optimism. The complete opposite of what he was.

“Oh man I’ve just been rambling on and on” Cecelia chuckled and shook her head “As you can tell I’m quite the talker, something I need to work on” “I like hearing you talk” Sidney replied “You’re interesting and honestly not a lot of people can hold my attention like you do….you’re quite the woman Cece” “Thank you” she smiled “Seeing as it’s now almost 5 and this cafe is about to close, I should get going but remember you have my number in case you need anything and of course I’ll be seeing you around” He nodded and got up and looked her over while she was gathering her things, there was just something about her that he couldn’t quite shake off. Something that made his heart flutter, a feeling he didn’t even get from Jacqueline anymore “See you” Cecelia went and hugged him and quickly backed up “Oh my god I am so sorry” “You're a hugger, that’s fine” he chuckled “No need to say sorry, I’ll see you Cece. Keep an eye on that cut” “See you Sidney” Cecelia waved as she walked out Soon after she left he walked out and got into his car letting out a deep breath as he drove back to his home. One where he hoped things would be back to normal *****************

“Daddy look what I make” Roman showed Sidney “You like it ?” “Wow that’s a super cool drawing” he smiled “Oh man my favorite color, red” “Aaron and I do it together with Mrs.Molly” he nodded

Sidney couldn’t help but look confused, Mrs.Molly was an older woman who had been their nanny when the kids were younger. They had let her go when Jacqueline had been insistent that she could handle them on her own at home. That itself was a huge fight that had almost brought them to the brink of divorce “Where is mommy ?” he asked “I walked in and you two were here in the living room coloring” “I’m here…” Jacqueline called from the stairway as she came down Sidney turned his head and gave her a grin, like he had assumed she was up to something and he knew exactly what it was. She was wearing a dress he used to love on her back when they were first dating way back in the day, a short but appropriate floral sundress and her hair was down straight rather than up in her usual messy bun. She wanted something and she was trying to do everything to get it “You look….” “This remind you of all those dates we used to have before we got married” she smiled as she kissed his cheek “You used to take me out every week night when you were in the city” “You look very pretty” Sidney kissed her “Dinner ready ?” “All set” she nodded as she held his hand and walked with him “Your favorite actually, steak and some asparagus with a baked potato” “Went all out” he chuckled “Boys, what do you say ?” “Mommy no cook” Aaron giggled “Mrs. Molly do it” Sidney scoffed “Well, Jacqueline ? Anything to say ?” She cleared her throat and took a seat “Well….I wanted us to have dinner first but I guess now is the time “I decided to hire Ms.Molly back because…..I wanna go back to running art classes in a studio” He said nothing as he ate his food, there was now way he’d make a big deal in front of the boys especially “We’ll talk after dinner, you can tell Mrs. Molly I said thank you for dinner, it’s delicious” Dinner went on rather well, he made sure his attention was for the boys mostly. He loved hearing about their days and what they did. They were the reason he woke up every morning ready to go, they were his everything. Soon after they had finished eating he went and settled with them in the living room to watch a movie and just as they were entertained he took it upon himself to start the much dreaded conversation 

“Jacqueline, when we had kids we both spoke about how we wanted to make sure we were bringing them into this world so we could both be present parents. You told me yourself you only wanted a nanny for night duty for the first year and how you wanted to be a stay at home mom. I asked you a million times if you were sure, that I’d do anything in my power to make sure you were okay. Why the change now ?” he asked “Well” she began “The season’s starting soon and just….I get bored” she admitted “It’s just all about the boys all the time. When it’s not Roman’s appointments it’s Aaron’s skating lessons, there’s nothing for me ever. It’s just being a chauffeur 24/7 and hanging out with the other girls on the team and I just want a piece of me back. I bought a studio to host art lessons” Sidney widened his eyes as he looked at her “You what ?” “I bought a studio” she repeated “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but this is my choice. I used my money from my inheritance, all on my own. I’m going to be paying Mrs. Molly to watch the boys Monday through Friday from 10-6, this is my choice” “So I don’t get a say in this ? You think because you used your inheritance money that I don’t get a say in something that involves our children ?” he said back “You’re gonna be gone most of the time anyways” she pointed out “Training camp is next week and you’ll be gone for the whole month then soon the season starts and you’ll be on the road 4 times a week. I’ll be at all home games with the kids, I’ll be at everything I need to be at. Nothing's gonna change, nothing” “You did this without consulting me at all, you did this without thinking about the kids at all ? Do you realize they need us, that they need one of us to be there with them ? They start school already next year”

“Of course I've thought about it !” Jacqueline snapped “How dare you imply that I don't care about my children !” “You sure as hell don't show it” he said back “You're going to let an elderly nanny come back and raise our kids because you wanna chase your little hobby that brought you nowhere ?” “How dare you !” she yelled at him “Don't you dare raise your voice at me when our children are in this home” Sidney said sternly 

“Well because this is also my home right now I'm going to ask you to leave” Jacqueline crossed her arms “I can’t see you right now” He shook his head in disbelief “The only reason I'm going to leave is because I know if I stay and fight this that things will end up worse than they already are, but I will tell you this” he looked in her eyes “You making this decision is putting a nail in the coffin” With that statement he went and packed a bag and quickly said goodbye to the boys, lying to him that he had to fly somewhere and that he would be back in a few days. He got in his car and drove in a rage to the one place that he was glad he always kept to himself; his apartment in the city.

Shortly after he had moved out of Mario's home he had decided to get himself an apartment rather than buying a home right away. He settled for a rather upscale apartment right in the heart of the city, when he found his dream home he kept it. For some years it had served as a getaway for him and Jacqueline and now it served as his own getaway away from her.

 He parked his car and handed his keys to the valet as he strolled into the lobby and checked in with the concierge and made his way up in the elevator. To him his apartment was perfect, sure maybe it lacked a few touches and maybe it seemed cold but in time of stress it was just what he needed.

Just as he was about to settle comfortably and turn on the TV he could hear loud music next door. As far as he knew he didn't have any neighbors at all, it was a big reason as to why he liked this apartment. Typically those who lived there were doctors or lawyers or even other athletes who simply needed to stay close to the city when they needed to be there. 

A few years back he would have called the concierge and had hotel security check what was going on, back when he was still a bigger name and couldn't even get through restaurants without being hounded for pictures and autographs. But in this current day he stood up and got out and knocked on the door himself

“Oh god it's the music isn't it ? I am so sor-....Sidney” she asked confused “What are you doing here ?”

He felt like he was in a dream ,there was none other than Cecilia standing in front of him as she covered herself with her robe the best she could but even that couldn’t save her from his wandering eyes “You live here ?” he asked “Yeah” she chuckled “I do, clearly as you see me in my sleep attire now the question is, do you live here or are you stalking me ?” “I own the apartment next door, it was my first solo place and I kept it. I come here when….when I need space” he nodded “Well, nice to meet you not so often neighbor" she chuckled I’ll turn my music down, I’m really sorry”

Sidney shook his head “All good”

“Bad night ?” she asked suddenly

“Pretty shitty” he nodded

“Wanna come in ? We can talk if you wan to” she said softy

“Yeah…I’d love to talk” he nodded as he stepped inside and watched her close the door "I love your vinyls" he walked over and observed, widening his eyes when he saw one he used to listen to with his dad "Whoa you have an original Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti from 1975, how the hell you'd get this ?"

“I know a guy" Cecelia shrugged with a smirk "Pretty bad ass huh ? I also have all of The Beach Boys original ones, I love music and collecting vinyl . It's my favorite thing"

Sidney looked in awe as he held up one of his favorites "I know this is weird of me but do you think I could play this ?" he held up Pet Sounds "I love this one" "Go for it" she grinned "While you get that set up, can I get you some water ?" "Water is fine" he responded as he put the record on and turned the volume up "This is the coolest record player ever, there's a place downtown that has one just like this. I can't believe you just have a Wrensilva M1 in your living room, I've always wanted one" Cecelia laughed as she handed him his water "I do have a pretty cool set up"

Sidney took a second as he listened to the record start and sighed "This a fun distraction, I appreciate this" "You looked down" she admits "You didn't look like that earlier" "It's my wife....we had a fight and well she asked me to leave so here I am" he nodded "At least I got a place though" he gave her small grin

"And a friend" Cecelia said softly "Yeah" Sidney nodded "A friend"

One that was making him feel things he shouldn't.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 3

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 821

Masterlist

It’s been three days, and you still haven't texted me.

I have to admit, (Y/n), it's not your best quality. This thing you do where you just disappear for days on end. I have no way to reach you, no way to find you. I have no idea what you're up to at all. You could be doing anything, with anyone. Anything could be done to you.

And I'm beginning to believe you may have changed your mind.

Then, sweet relief: you text me.

YOU: ok, you were right

YOU: not creepy

YOU: just disgusting.

I don't answer right away. I want to, but you've made me wait for three days, and I don't want to make you think I've spent that time glued to my phone. Besides, I'm working. It’s unusually busy at Mooney’s today, for a Thursday.

After work, I pick up a sandwich at a Deli I like. It's not much in the way of dinner, but it'll have to do. I'm not in the mood to wait around for someone to cook for me. I want to get home as soon as possible, to start a conversation with you.

Paco is sitting on the steps outside my apartment, though, when I get there. Inside his home I hear slamming and shouting. Paco's got his nose hidden behind a book like it will keep the world out.

“You liking that?” I ask him, doing my best not to flinch at a particularly loud clash.

“It's good,” Paco answers.

It's Moby Dick, a book I gave him. Paco's an advanced reader, for his age. I love when kids are interested in books.

We talk for a little bit, and it becomes clear to me that nobody has bothered to make Paco any dinner. I give him my sandwich. I'll just go without tonight. Somebody needs to make sure this kid eats, and his parents - or rather, his mother and the scumbag she allows around her son - sure aren't doing it.

You would want me to give him food.

Finally, I go inside. I want to take a shower. I want to eat something.

I want to talk to you.

I flop down on my couch and take out my phone.

ME: That bad, huh?

YOU: oh no. i loved it

An immediate answer. This is good. You've been waiting for me to respond.

And of course, I already knew you loved the book. You gave it five stars on Goodreads last night. The only way I can even vaguely guess at what you're doing is through your meticulous tracking of your reading habits.

ME: Good to know.

You spend a moment typing, but then you stop. You don't know what to say, and I understand why. We're strangers. I don't really know what to say to you, either. But I want us to keep talking.

ME: So, since you're in the market for a new book, can I expect to see you again soon?

YOU: definitely.

YOU: gonna need to come by and get something new to read

YOU: any recommendations?

ME: That depends. What's your favorite book?

You don't answer right away. Maybe you're thinking. Or maybe you're making dinner right now, or eating it.

YOU: idk. i have several

ME: Favorite books, then

YOU: well american gods is my all time top tier number one book

I take it that means ‘favorite’.

YOU: but there's also the invisible life of addie larue, the secret history, the raven boys, anything stephen king…

YOU: and yes i know most of these are for teenagers. sue me

I haven't read any of these books, except a couple of Stephen King books. I'll have to remedy that. Someone's favorite book says a lot about them, and I want to know everything there is to know about you.

ME: …So, favorite genre?

YOU: probably mystery

Mystery. I can see that. You’d like a mystery; something to solve. You don’t want life to be too easy, you’ve already proven that by moving all the way to America from The Netherlands. I want to ask you about that, to figure out what made you decide on such a big change, but I don’t want to ask too much too fast. If you don’t want easy, I can’t seem too interested.

ME: Okay… Mystery. Little by Edward Carey.

YOU: what’s it about?

You don’t read back covers. You don’t want to know too much.

ME: Madame Tussaud

YOU: like from the museum?

YOU: colour me intrigued

ME: I’ll keep it aside for you.

YOU: tx!

You don’t text again after that, and I decide not to, either. Instead I try to look you up on Instagram again, but you’re still on private. You don’t want me to see too much of you.

You’re kind of mysterious, yourself, I’m beginning to realise.

How do I get close to you if you won’t let me near?

[lovedreamer11]

A little about the “difficult” green childhood

I'm tired of reading posts that say that Aegon and Aemond became terrible people because they had "rough childhoods." What kind of nonsense is this?

Yes, Viserys did not love his sons very much, but he was not a monster. He did not insult or beat his sons. These boys are part of the ruling dynasty, they lived in luxury and comfort, had a good education, they got everything they wanted (except for the title of heir), they were forgiven almost everything, they had a mother next to them who loved them. How many boys in Westeros have this?

Aegon has nothing to complain about at all. The boy was a spoiled hedonist who got everything he wanted. His wife was his sister, the Targaryen princess and dragon rider, whom he knew well and he did not have to leave his home (Daemon, who at the age of sixteen was forced to leave the home in which he grew up and live with a strange woman, was not so lucky). And even if Aegon was not satisfied with Helaena as a wife, then since he was born a man, the prince could afford promiscuity with any woman he wanted. And it doesn't seem like anyone at court would be bothered by this. Re-read the book. All of Aegon's problems began from the moment he usurped his sister's throne.

The only thing Aemond could complain about was the loss of his eye. After all, even if Viserys had made Aegon his heir, Aemond would still not be very high in the line of succession, since Aegon had two sons by the age of twenty, and in the future there could be even more. As for losing an eye, yes, it's bad. But still, many things happen in life. I mean, in real life, injuries happen during children's games or fights.

At the same time, Rhaenyra lost her mother when she was a child, and after some time she was replaced by an embittered and full of hatred and envy woman, because of which she had to leave the house in which she grew up, and after her own father forbade her to leave Dragonstone, to protect the “beloved” daughter and wife from new conflicts.

I've written before about what I think of Viserys as a father and my opinion hasn't changed. Viserys's love brought Rhaenyra more harm than good. Viserys was a terrible father to all of his children, but at least his children from his second marriage had a mother. No matter how much I hated Alicent, she was there for her children and loved them in her own way. Rhaenyra has been alone since she was a child.

Rhaenyra was also forced to marry against her will to a man who would never love her as a woman. And when she allowed herself a relationship with someone else, she was certainly condemned and humiliated.

Every time I see posts about the "difficult childhood" of Alicent's children, I want to laugh. Rhaenyra grew up without a mother, her stepmother was an evil witch, and her father was a useless idiot. But of course, according to the greens, Rhaenyra was born evil in the flesh and her suffering does not matter and she deserves it.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Y/n and Harry's Daughter has a Pregnancy Scare🫄

AN: i've been getting alot of inspiration from different fics i've been reading on wattpad and this is one of them. i normally don't write in third person but with this fic i decided it was necessary. i hope you enjoy. make sure to let me know what you thought after reading it.

This story contains: mentions of teen pregnancy, talks about having sex, loving parents, mentions of abortions, slight angst, tons of comfort

{ dadrry - husband!harry - softrry - just think young dilf looking harry era - daughters name is Marsie (MAR-C) }

word count- 2,105

After realizing her period is late, Marsie thinks back to when she forgot to take her birth control pill and freaks out with the thought she might be pregnant. In turn, she goes to her parents to seek their comfort and take a pregnancy test that her mum gives her.

Marsie was very close with her parents. Y/n and Harry had her at the young age of sixteen and now with her being eighteen and her parents being in their mid thirties, she felt like she could go to them about anything because they were young enough to understand her issues.

Like when she had her first kiss at twelve years old, Marsie went home and shared the exciting news with her parents. Instead of scolding her for being that close to a boy, Harry and Y/n gave her a high five, congratulating her, but then did proceed to have the sex talk with her.

Which wasn't that bad since she lived in a sex positive household. Meaning sex was freely talked about but always in a positive light. As in when two people loved and cared about each other sex will happen and that's okay. As long as you're being safe and both are consenting to do it.

Marsie wasn't naive. She knew she was the result of teen pregnancy. But hell, she was only twelve at this point and it was just a simple kiss. She wasn't even thinking about having sex at that age. But when Marsie got to be sixteen herself and had her a serious boyfriend, without even asking if they were having sex, Y/n along with Harry helped her get on birth control. Just to be safe.

She was very thankful she had parents that helped her take something to prevent pregnancy without even asking. Sure, when it got to that point she would have asked them herself if she could take birth control, but she's glad they thought ahead of her to avoid any awkward conversations that may have led to.

Luckily even on birth control, Marsie didn't start having sex until she was seventeen. She was just waiting for when she felt ready and at seventeen she felt ready enough to give herself up to her boyfriend. A year goes by with her and her boyfriend having sex with everything going fine. That is until a week after turning eighteen she had her first pregnancy scare.

Here's how that went:

Marsie made sure she took her birth control at the same time every day. It was routine for her at this point. But one morning after having quite a big hangover, she completely let it slip her mind to take the little round pill and mid day after eating a hearty breakfast, she and her boyfriend decided to have sex. They were at his parents guest house so they had tons of privacy and wanted to have fun.

A week goes by like normal until she realizes her period is late. Laying in her bed at the home she still shared with her parents, she contemplated on what to do. Marsie was too scared to tell her boyfriend at the moment and she was also scared to tell her parents she could be pregnant. Yes she was an adult but eighteen is still young. She wasn't ready for kids quite yet.

Not knowing what else to do, Marsie slips out of bed and pads down the hallway to her parents room. She first knocks on their bedroom door, knowing her parents do still have sex and doesn't want to be scarred for life. When she gets a, "come in." from her dad, she enters the room and shuts the door behind herself.

Marsie slowly walks over to her parents bed where they were just having morning cuddles and hesitantly sits down at the foot of the bed. Y/n sits up to look at her daughter and asks worriedly, "What is it, my baby? Somethin' wrong?"

Breathing deeply, Marsie studders, "Um, kinda. And... please, please don't be mad at me. It was dumb on my part and I should have been more careful."

Now Harry is sat up in bed as to give his full attention to his daughter. "Marsie love, you know you can tell us anythin'." Harry tells, "We won't be mad or upset. We love you and support you 100%."

Knowing it's now or never, she looks at her parents one last time before her eyes divert down to the wrinkled duvet and spits outs, "I think I'm pregnant. Well I don't know for sure but I..... um, my period is late and there was this one day last week where me and (boyfriends name) was hungover and I must have forgot to take my birth control that morning. Then you know, stuff happened later in the day and well, I'm scared. I'm not ready to be a mum."

At this point Marsie was full on crying. Saying it all out loud was nearly too much for her. "Oh sweety," her mother cooed, crawling down the bed to be at arms reach of her first born baby, "it's okay. It's gonna be okay. We'll get through this together." Y/n wraps her arms around Marsie in a comforting hug because she knows what it feels like to not have the support of your parents when you're young and pregnant, or could be pregnant.

Harry gets out of bed too and walks over to Marsie, sitting at the foot of the bed beside her. While she stays hugging her mum, he runs his hand up and down her back to add to her comfort. "Shh, love. Just like mum said, it's gonna be okay and we'll get through this. You have options and you know that."

Slowly backing away from the embrace, Y/n explains gently, adding on to what her husband said, "Yeah Marsie, you have options. But first, you don't know for sure if you are pregnant. In a minute I'll give you a test and you can take it in our bathroom, okay. Then, depending on the results, you're either not pregnant or, if you are, me and dad will go over the options you have. If you want an abortion, we are fine with that. It's your body, your choice. If you decide to keep it, we are more than happy to be grandparents, even if we aren't even forty yet."

Y/n and Harry both giggle to lighten the mood. A small, brave smile comes onto Marsie's face for the first time this morning and she speaks to both her parents at the same time, "Thank you both for being the most supportive parents I could ever wish for. Thank you so, so much. And I love you both. But now I'm ready to find out the results. The not knowing is killing me."

Y/n and Harry lean in at the same time to give Marsie one last hug before she takes the pregnancy test. When the hug is over, Y/n stands from the bed and requests her daughter to follow her into her's and Harry's bathroom. She crouches down to rummage under the sink until she finds a box of pregnancy test.

Marsie tries to erase the fact that her mom keeps pregnancy tests in her bathroom still. Are her parents...... not using protection? The thought alone makes her feel sick to her already queasy stomach. Are they trying for another baby? Her youngest sibling is nearly six. She thought her parents were done having kids.

Taking one out of the box, Y/n stands up and hands the test over. "Marsie love, do you know how to use......"

"Yes, mum. I got it from here. Thank you, though." Marsie gets slightly defensive but isn't meaning to really. She's just a nervous reck.

"Okay, okay, sweetie. I'll be back in the room with your dad. Let us know if you need anything and remember, no matter the results, we'll get through this." Y/n says before walking back in the bedroom to give her daughter some privacy. While Marsie begins to use the toilet and pee on the stick, her mum goes over to the bed where Harry is looking rather nervous himself.

"Harry babe," Y/n coos gently, sitting down beside him, "what's wrong?"

Taking a deep breath, he explains, "S'just, I don't want her to go through what we went through. I know she's a bit older but not by much. And fuck, what if (boyfriends name) decides he doesn't want to be in the picture anymore if Marsie is pregnant and decides to keep it? Then what? She'll have our help of course but she's eighteen. We can't raise her child for her. She needs a partner to help. And.......and if she decides on the abortion route then, obviously we'll support that but my baby is gonna be so scared. She's already terrified. And...."

Y/n cuts her husband off by responding, "H, you've gotta calm down. If not for me, for your daughter who's currently taking a pregnancy test. She doesn't need to see our worry. It'll make her worry even more. And we don't know if she's pregnant. My period is late all the time and I'm not pregnant. I think it just runs in our family to have irregular cycles. She'll be okay and so will we. We have to be okay. The Styles family doesn't let anything get in their way."

Harry turns his head and smiles, dipping his face to nuzzle into his wifes warm neck. "Thank you," he whispers gently, "we will get through this. I love you and thank you for being the best mumma to my babies. Even if our oldest baby isn't actually a baby any more. And if Marsie is pregnant and decides to keep it, I just know you'll be the best grandma too. Just know it."

Right as he finishes speaking, the bathroom door slowly opens with Marsie standing there with her hands behind her back, now waiting on the three minute wait for the results. "Can one of you look when the timer is up? I'm so nervous I think I'm gonna be sick." Marsie asks as she walks back over to the end of the bed where her parents remained seated.

Y/n quickly stands up to allow her daughter to sit beside Harry. "I can look for you. No big deal." Yes she was scared of the results for Marsie but what's done is done.

The timer Marsie left on her phone goes off and her mum slowly enters the bathroom to turn it off and flip over the pregnancy test. The bathroom door being open so the two sitting on the bed gets a straight view. Right before Y/n turns the test over, Marise cuddles into her dad's side, him wrapping his arm around her to pull her in and comfort her.

"Ready?" her mum questions. She just hums her agreement, too afraid to open her mouth with the nausea rolling through her. Y/n flips over the pregnancy test and lets out a sigh of relief when the little screen reads NOT PREGNANT. "Oh thank God."

"What? What is it?" Marsie begs to know.

Walking back into the bedroom with the test in her hand, her mum turns it around for the both of them to see it says she's not pregnant. Happy tears spring to Marsie's eyes. Harry lets out a heavy sigh from relief as well. It's not that he doesn't want to be a grandpa but he'd rather be a grandpa when his child is ready. Not from an unwanted pregnancy.

"See," Harry begins, "told you everything was gonna be okay."

"I know. Just, I promise to be more careful next time. It was my fault and I never want to experience another pregnancy scare again." she tells them.

Hugging his daughter closer if that's even possible, Harry responds, "It's okay, love. You're eighteen. Not a baby anymore. And as much as me and your mum would like to keep you all small and innocent, we know you've grown up and that's okay. And grown ups have sex. It's normal and healthy. Well healthy if its with someone you care about. Just know no matter if this happens again or not, we'll be right here to comfort you and support you. We love you very much."

Y/n decides to finish this intimate moment with saying, "Yes, we love you so much, no matter how old you get. Now, how about you go lay back down and your dad can start us some breakfast and I'll bring it up to your room when it's done. That way your brother and sisters can't aggravate you."

And with that, Marsie makes her way back to her bedroom where she does just that.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[asteiioss]

Hello all!! This post is dedicated to my newly started fanfic that I have been preparing for the past several months. It can be found on Wattpad on my profile, but you can just click here .

Down below, I will add one random chapter of the fic, just so you can read a little bit of it. But, of course, I would appreciate it if you could go and support my full work :).

Pairing: Spencer x fem!oc

Warnings: mentions of crime, crime scenes, fluff, a little bit of swearing here and there. no use of y/n, the oc has her own name!

Content: The bau is called in for another case. Spencer and OC have feelings for each other but don't want to accept it, even if it's horrifically obvious. After the unsettling case, Spencer tries to calm OC and help her relax her mind.

Word Count: 3.6k

PLEASE KNOW THAT I NAMED THE OC SINCE HER NAME IS USED IN THE FANFIC. Harper White :)

"Holy shit, what did you do?" my mouth fell open at the sight of him. Not him. His hair. Or... well... the lack of it.

"What do you mean?" Spencer looked confused as he sat at his desk.

"Where are the curls? Where did they go?" Garcia came rushing in after my loud gasp.

"Did you join a boy band?" Hotch walked by, his eyes stuck to the obviousness in the room.

"No, what the hell is wrong with you, I got a haircut!" Now he just asked bluntly.

"You look like a twelve-year-old." I leaned onto my desk that was opposite of him, making direct eye contact with him.

"Is it that bad?" he brushed his hair with his fingers. His hands.

"No, Spence!" I felt bad now. "Jokes aside, I actually think you look... cute." I smiled slightly, trying to compliment him. "I think we were all just very used to your curls. I even sometimes imagined you with tied up hair, maybe a bun?" I looked over at Emily.

"Holy shit, do you know how many girls you could pull with that look?" she said excitedly.

"Not that pretty boy would want anyone aside our princess here." Derek came into the office holding his coffee and giving me the look I knew all too well.

"Fuck you." I spat at him with a grin, watching him as he passed by and sitting down at his desk.

"You know you love me." he teased as he sat down behind me.

"Hey, guys, we got a new one." JJ called and like on queue, we all got up and made our way to the conference room.

"Harp, did you really mean it?" Spencer stopped me.

He stopped me by taking my hand. I turned around to face him, and he had this genuine look on his face.

"Spence, we were just joking. You look really good. I like this new boyish look." I said and drove my hand through his now short hair, still the front pieces were. "Change can be good sometimes."

Now, I don't know what came over me, but, without hesitation, I lowered my hand down to the tip of his tie and pulled him by it to get him down to my height and just placed a small peck on his cheek. I think he was surprised as I was because we just looked at each other. I smiled and quickly turned on my heel and continued walking to the conference room, even though I could hardly feel my legs.

We entered, he came in after me and we sat down around the table, waiting for the briefing. I opened the case file that was presented in front of me and looked at the young woman. She couldn't have been much younger than me. In my few years that I've worked here, I often find female victims to be my age. The "mid to late 20s" is a phrase I get shivery from. Brunettes, pretty, young, successful...

"I saw that." Emily's quiet voice snapped me back inti the room.

"Sorry, what?" I looked up from the papers.

"That little stunt just now. I saw that." she smirked, and it hit me what she was talking about.

"Oh, God. Emily!" I tried to brush it off. "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"What's a big deal?" Rossi came in and passed the two of us, taking his seat next to Emily.

"I just witnessed the first ever White x Reid cheek kiss." she made that lovey dovey sound she always does. I rolled my eyes, but Rossi got into character as he looked at Emily, almost excited.

"You're kidding?" he waited before Emily shook her head 'no'. "About time. I was getting sick of those random weird hugs they exchanged."

"I get you, I had the urge to push them together the other day." Derek jumped in.

"I don't want to hear it from you, shit-face." I pointed my finger at him.

They all laughed, but Spencer just smiled to himself. His cheeks took up the bright pink color. For years now, everyone is telling us that it's obvious we like each other, but we just say that it's not true. But it's deadly obvious. We just don't want to admit it. Nor to each other but maybe not to our selves either. The friendship we have is great. Who would want to ruin something like that? Why risk losing someone like Spencer over a stupid crush.

It's just a crush.

"Okay, so we got a woman in her min 20s, in Boise, Idaho. Reported missing. It looks like it's a pattern between these two other missing victims with the same M.O." JJ clicked her remote and showed us the pictures of two other women. "All three kidnaps are almost exactly two months apart. As much as we gathered, the women were reported missing only three days after they were abducted."

"So wait, this guy keeps them for almost three days? What does he do with them?" I asked.

"That's what we are hoping to find out after going to the scenes." Hotch said.

"It looks like they had their lives pretty straight up. All of them in relationships, secure jobs..." Derek flipped through the files as he talked.

"Normal suburban streets, gives the UnSub privacy." Rossi added.

"The victims are quite different, their appearances are. Different hair color, different body shape..." Spencer continued.

"No signs of struggle or forced entry in either of these cases." I pointed out.

"Women like this don't just vanish." Rossi spoke up again.

"Exactly, which is why Garcia did her digging magic and found out about their lives." JJ said and pointed to our tech girl.

"There isn't much to say but that it was obvious how the UnSub was doing it. Their online lives are extremely open and public. Online-life-sharing shit, sorry for the expression, but they were everywhere. Facebook, Twitter, you name it." she said as she pulled up a post from the last victim with the date three days prior to the abduction. "This was the last post from our numero uno, and it matches very much with the other posts on our other victims' wall. Going on a vacation, going on a business trip, but looking at the time stamps, they were posted a day before they went missing."

"The UnSub posted them?" Hotch realized.

"This is like a guide of 'how to know where I'm at if you want to find me' for serial killers. Social networking sites are a goddamn goldmine for this kind of information." I said, almost looking sadly at their posts. It was like a call-up for these kind of people.

"I agree. Especially these women, they posted everything, from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates." Spencer confirmed my thought.

"If the UnSub hacked into their accounts to post these, he probably knows around computers. He could be really smart." Emily said.

"He's also patient. Two months between each of these, then again he gets three days to do what he wants with them." Rossi looked back at the files.

"Which means that these women could already be dead. We need to find out what he does in those three days and get this son of a bitch before he can continue his work." Hotch stopped to look at us. "Wheels up in thirty."

***

I tried to reach up to the small space for my bag above my seat in the jet but struggled to get the bag inside. It didn't help that I was short, but the bag was very overpacked, and it almost fell on my head. I closed my eyes, expecting a thud on my head, but instead, I felt the relief of its weight on my hands. I looked up to see two hands holding the bag and Spencer standing next to me.

"You need help?" he asked, looking down at me.

"No?" I tried to save the little pride I had left.

"You sure about that?" he smirked, still looking down at me.

Still holding my hands up, head down, him holding my bag, I couldn't say 'yes'. "No?" the words came out almost like a squeal.

He giggled, and finally pushed the bag up into the small space and closed it. "What did you put in there? I only have a small bag for these kind of things."

"That's because you are a man, Spence. I, on the other hand, am a young woman who needs many things for a undefined period of time away from home." I dusted off my jacked, not that it was dusty, but I needed to look down because I could feel my cheeks burning up.

I didn't realize till now how close he was.

He smelt like coffee.

"Uh, listen about the thing this morning I didn't-" I started hoping this conversation could end quickly. But I guess he had other plans.

"Why did you do that?" he asked and looked down at me again.

I didn't have a choice but look back up at him. His hazel eyes were almost wide open, but he had a scent of mystery in them. Why did he want to know? "What do you mean?"

His gaze was going up and down from my eyes, then from one to the other. What was he looking at?

"Why did you do it?" he almost repeated his question.

I couldn't stop looking at him. I wanted to. I could feel shivers going down my spine.

Was he getting closer?

"I-uh... I don't know..." I almost whispered.

He was getting closer.

"I think you do." he whispered back, his hands in his pockets, but he was slowly, almost insensibly inching his head downwards to me.

I tried to back up, because I couldn't handle him being so close. But when I tried to back up, my knees met with the chairs and I fell down on them, him following me. A small yelp escaped my lips before I crashed with the cushions beneath me. After a second , I realized his hands were on the sides of my head and he was inches away from me. I stared blankly into his face, but his eyes were traveling again up and down my face. I guess my eyes copied his pattern and I realized what he was looking.

He was looking at my lips.

"I'm sorry I-" he started, finally. The silence was choking me.

"No, I-" I stuttered. "It's okay..."

"Here, let me help you." he said and pushed himself up. Holding the table with one hand, he reached with the other to pull me up. I guess he underestimated how light I was when he pulled me, making me fly up and bumping into his chest.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I-" I quickly apologized.

"No, this is on me and-" he stopped.

I looked up at him only to see him staring at something on my face. "What?"

"You, uh-" he stuttered. "Your lipstick got smudged a little."

Crap. "Oh, here?" I brushed on the tip of my lips.

"No, it's still there, just here." he tried pointing at his face, mirroring where the smudge was.

I wiped again. "Better?"

He made a frowning face. "No, it's- " he sighed, "You know what, let me just-"

Cue 'Careless whisper'.

He raised up his hand only to cup my chin with his long fingers. They were warm. His touch was warm. He swiped on the bottom line of my lips. My lower lip moved with his swipe and all I could do was feel the sensation of his touch. He looked back up at me, but even after he got rid of the smudge on my lips, he didn't move his hand. I don't think I wanted him to..

"Hey, sorry we're late, I forgot where I put my deodorant." Emily's voice made us both abruptly step back. The, now, lack of his touch left a weird cold on my face.

"I already told you, it's no big deal." Derek added as he came in with his bag behind her.

"Maybe for you, but we ladies need that. It's a necessity." JJ came in next.

"I got those natural scents. No need for those chemical ones." Derek laughed and placed his bag next to mine in the compartment above our seats.

"Ew..." I muttered after letting him take the window seat. "I'm not sure I want to sit next to you anymore."

"I'll spray perfume on him, so he smells like flowers." JJ joked, and the three of us laughed while Derek frowned.

"Hey, how did you get you bag up there?" he turned to me and asked, pointing above his head.

"I helped her, she was struggling with it since it was pretty heavy." Spencer said as he sat next to Emily opposite from us.

"That's it, pretty boy. You gotta be a gentleman." he mouthed those last words while swinging in his seat.

"You can really be a lot sometimes." Emily gave him a deathly glare, to which he only laughed more.

I, too, laughed. Rossi and Hotch came in and gave us the files to look over again while we fly. The plane soon took off. Looking down at the now familiar pictures, I wondered about their families and what waited for us when we arrive. I looked at Spencer through my eyebrows, only to catch him looking back at me. He quickly looked back down at his file, a small smile curving on his lips. I smiled to myself.

"How can someone be interested in this?" Rossi asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"Their social network walls. Who has the need to share these things with the world, just look at this. 'Having sushi for dinner. Yum.' 'My boss is making me stay in the office late again. Grr.'

We all laughed as he read those status updates. It was funny how people nowadays had the need to put their life out there.

"I think that's just it. The hope that someone out there cares about the things we do, that we do matter." Derek said after he stopped laughing.

"So our UnSub is finding these women on their online profiles. Can't we use that to find him?" Emily asked.

"The lead detective already tried going through their followers lists, they all check out." JJ answered her.

"Social networks can be extremely insecure. Recently, Facebook tried to update their privacy settings and in doing so made every profile viewable." Spencer said and pressed his lips together.

"Do you have a Facebook profile?" JJ asked me.

"God, no. I run away from social media." I replied. "But even if I did, my first status update would be 'Enjoying Rossi's special spaghetti dish. Yum.' " We all laughed again.

"This does tell us how he finds them, but not how he gets into their houses." Hotch said, bringing us back to the brutal reality of this situation.

"Maybe a key copy?" Rossi asked.

"Maybe, but look, the last victim had a home security installed. The code was entered at 1:56am, not only that, but he somehow went past her dog too." Spencer read from the files. "A German Shepard went missing the night that she did."

"This guy had to be in and out of the house before..." Derek said. "He builds up a rose so he gets in, gets familiar with the house and knows he can safely come back and kidnap them."

"What about unknown people you feel safe letting inside your home?" Rossi continued his thought. "Home repair guys, someone who volunteered to walk your dog?"

"The detective looked into that too, no one came close to being a killer." JJ added to our brainstorm.

"We need to go over everything ourselves. Morgan, Prentiss, start with the last abduction sight. The rest of you go over the women's lives, see if you can find anything. Start with family and friends on their social networking sites. If this is how the UnSub is finding them, maybe they are connected without even realizing it." Hotch gave the orders, we were only left to nod.

***

It was a twisted case. We lost another woman in the process. The bastard kept them in a freezer. A fucking freezer. Just because they had this specific face symmetry. Even after years working in this department, I still find myself questioning how can people be so wicked and evil. The worst part is the way we find them. We might not be like them but we sure as hell know to think like them. Does that make us that much different?

I stared at the endless sky outside my window. It was almost night-time, so watching the sun go down was majestic. The colorful clouds flew around, the sun slowly hid behind them. On the other hand, Derek was snoring on the small sofa in the back of the jet. Rossi and Hotch were reading something on the other part, JJ and Emily were sleeping in their chairs next to me. Spencer was sitting across from me reading one of his books, quickly shifting through the pages.

My mind was still foggy. I tried to clear my mind and think about anything else other than the twisted ways the human mind could work sometimes. I stood up, trying to reach for my bag up in the compartment above my seats. I tried to stretch up to it, but it was too high up.

I fucking hate being short.

"Do you need help?" Spencer asked quietly.

"If you don't mind. I just wanted to take out my headphones, I forgot to take them out earlier." I explained.

"No, it's no problem. Here-" he said and got up from his seat. He opened the small space and pulled out my bag. I took it from him and took my mp3 player and headphones before giving the bag back to him to put it back up. He closed the small space and sat back down in his seat. "You okay?" he asked while picking up his book.

"Yeah, why?" I looked at him, a bit weirded out by his question while I connected the headphones to the player and tried to find one of the songs that I use to calm down."

"It's just, most of the time that you listen to music on out flight back home is after a pretty traumatic case. Not just that but emotionally exhausting. Also, when the victims are similar to you, their age, their lives, they are almost identical to the life you have, and the worst part is that those groups of women are the most targeted. When you don't want to think, you play music. You try to zone out with it." he explained. "So, I guess that's why I'm asking if you're okay. I think you're not."

I looked at him, almost frozen. He said everything. What else was there to say? Sometimes, I hated that he could read me with such ease. I put the player and headphones beside me and lean on the table that separated us. "You're right. I'm not okay." I sigh and brush my face with my hands. They were cold. I support my head with my hands, fingers intertwined with each other. "What he said to Emily. It's still bugging me. You will never understand what I see when I look at them. But my followers do." I recited his words. "It was their faces, but why? What was so special about them?"

Spencer thought about my words. "Well, it could be multiple things. A reflection of himself, someone in his life, someone he wished to have or to be."

"But why? What if my face was similar to theirs? Would I be next?"

"Your face isn't like theirs."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No-no, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that your symmetry of your face isn't like the victims face. I didn't mean to say your face wasn't nice, I think your face is beautiful. Not beautiful, pretty, just- uh, good-looking is what I'm trying to say." he stuttered.

I smiled at his clumsy words. He's cheeks again started turning into a shade of pink. "I think your face is good-looking, too."

I took the player back into my hands to find a song that now I was determined to listen. It was in my head and I needed to listen to it. "What are you gonna listen to?" he asked.

"I have this song in my head, I think I'll start with it and then just go with shuffle. The playlist is good so I don't mind what comes after." I said, not looking up from the small screen.

"Really? What's the song?"

" '74-'75' "

"I don't think I heard it."

"Do you want to listen to it with me?" I asked, finally able to find the song and looking back up at him.

"You sure? I don't want to mess with your time listening to music that calms you."

"Of course, I'm sure. Come here." I patted the seat next to me.

He smiled and got up to sit next to me. I gave him one of the headphones. "Right." and I put in the left one. I started the song and looked up at him. The opening course was a guitar solo, which I always loved in songs. He smiled back at me, bobbing his head slightly in the rhythm. After that approvement, I relaxed my head on the cushion on the back of my seat, trying to relax. Maybe even sleep.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Do you have other social medias where you publish Cobra Kai content ?

Hi!!! I do have some other accounts, like my AO3! My two main fanfics I have going right now are Awakening, a werewolf!Demetri AU set in Barcelona during the Sekai Taikai, and You Never Called It What It Was, a YasMoon backstory fic set before and during Season 1. There's also the binary boyfriends gay little road trip to find Miguel after S4 AU series, which I DO have lots more chapters planned for, but it's currently on pause until I finish some of my other fics. Hopefully I'll dive right back into this one after the show ends, since there will no longer be new canon material tO GIVE ME MORE IDEAS THAN I HAVE TIME TO WRITE, GOD DAMN IT >______< (I wanna try writing Samguel too at some point, but I'm worried I'd be bad at it ;_____; And I love them very much, so I want to do them justice!!! Here's to someday, though, lol.)

I also have some playlists on my spotify!!! Right now I've got: Elimetri, Elimetri except it's all TSwift (she fits them exceptionally well, don't judge!), YasMoon, general Yasmine playlist, Samguel, and the homoerotic road trip fic!

As far as other socials go...welp. Funny story: I DID make an instagram to post moodboards a while back, and someone uh. Reported it??? I'm like 95% sure some homophobic assholes took issue with the fact that I ship Elimetri and YasMoon and I do it pretty loudly and unapologetically. I think I commented on some Demetri & Eli and/or Yasmine & Moon posts saying that I loved the ship, and yeah, um...I guess The Straights™️start screeching and clutching their pearls over people ever interpreting same-gender friendships having romantic undertones. Or something. I can't even remember exactly what I said, but it wasn't anything stronger than like "I ship this so much" or what have you. But I guess that alone is an atrocity in some people's ass-backwards brains :/ This day in age, queer hate is making enough of a resurgence that I shouldn't even be surprised it's alive and thriving outside tumblr. Anyways, I ended up just taking the L and letting insta ban my account because I'm ngl, it's pretty rancid there and not worth the trouble. All this to say I would advise staying off the CK instagram fandom if you primarily like queer ships. It's fucking chock full of h*wkm**n and yas/metri shippers, and as a queer and a woman I do not trust or feel safe around that at all :/ (Like yeah, please tell me more about how cool it is when women lose their agency and personality to revolve their life around boyfriends who view them as coolness prizes and don't care about them as people at all??? How does this brand of blatant misogyny still exist in 20fucking25??? Anyways) There's just generally a lot of homophobia and misogyny that I think would make trying to participate in the fandom there really depressing. I've heard TikTok is pretty rampant with homophobes too, tbh, So I'm not planning on getting on there, either. I feel like it's just hard to seek out the people I'd actually vibe with among a sea of toxic waste XD And, y'know. All the content made by people who have no issue with my gender being portrayed as braindead props to make men look better ^^; (If any of my followers are already on CK Instagram/TikTok, don't worry--this does not apply to you!!! If you're reading this, it means you're one of the gay little posse I actually respect and you are some of the few on those sites who DON'T suck XD)

Random aside, but I've been lowkey craving to make some video edits/music videos of my ships, so I might get back on youtube one of these days. Unfortunately, I don't have the means right now D: I used to have Sony Vegas, but then my computer broke it when I was forced to upgrade to windows 10 ;_____; I think there's a way to fix it somehow, but it's...super complicated??? Eventually I'll crack down and do it, probably, when the yen is eating me from the inside out. But for now, I'm too lazy XD

[konaanaria13]

Alcohol is Toxic as well

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of swearing cuz that's my fav thing to do.... ahm idk just like oh google translated French, Its a big one and I've been working on it for a while so I don't remember!

word count: around 8K

so its enemies to Lovers but also their toxic friends who are friends but just always fight and kind of are very nasty to each other yep yep yep!

nice.... (also rly bad grammar I think, nobody proof reads this)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It was as if we we're just meant to like each other.

Both of our Families we're high in status so it was just natural that we had to spend a lot of time in the presence of rich people.

Wearing the right clothes and The right smiles, It was rather a surprise for my Mother when she heard the absolute disliking I took in The Leclerc boys.

Arthur and Charles the most since Arthur was just always repeating what Charles was doing and oh gods Charles was so irritating.

Enzo wasn't. But since I already Disliked two I went for the three while talking.

Sooner or Later My mother made me wear the Ferrari colours and stand in the paddock and having to watch the races so everybody knew that we we're connected of sorts.

She wanted me to marry rich and in High status so she could be happy.

Me and Charles we're different, he liked car's and I like Quiet study sessions so we simply didn't get along very well, but we had to spend a lot of time together as my mother and his mother we're basically best friends even though they we're two completely different people.

But it wasn't as if we didn't talk, we talked a lot, me and Charles the most since we we're about the same age and it was easy to talk with him, to sneak out at a gathering and get drunk on a rooftop talking about our lives as if we weren't screaming the dumbest insult at each other five seconds earlier.

It was an understandment that even though we didn't like each other we we're in the same boat both holding our heads high and smiling when the camera was in our face.

But Charles family was supportive, I loved his mother almost more than mine, but i couldn't since she wasn't my real mother.

My parents always needed me to be the perfect Daughter, I was the middle child before me came the Golden Boy who went on as a doctor and below me came the baby Boy who sailed the world and did whatever he wanted with our parents money but never got scolded for it.

I stayed. not that I wanted my parents we're cruel... or rather strict, They words stung almost harder than they're open palm even though my mother hasn't dared to lay her hands on me. at every gathering I liked having the Leclerc family there, for Charles mother to pull me into a hug, for all three of the boys to kiss both of my cheeks with a smile and for Charles to notice my exhaustion.

"You look wonderful" Charles handed me another glass of champagne.

We we're on a yacht in Monaco, a weekend before the race. The Stroll Family had organised some of the upper class people to attend it and My mother couldn't miss the opportunity to show of her new earing's, she looked beautiful as always.

"Thank you" I took a sip and we watched as Arthur and Lance talked.

The boy was talented and attractive. Just maybe I could try...

"Do you like him?" I ask Charles and he raises an eyebrow.

"As a driver I mean? Lance? He seems nice-"

"Very nice. He's naïve" Charles agrees and I roll my eyes as Charles takes out a whisk of Alcohol and pours some into my empty glass of champagne.

"How's University?" Charles asked.

"Fucking boring. I've been stuck on like five paragraphs and I have to attend this stupid Party rather than go to an actual one on my Saturday evening" I complain and he laughs.

"It does surprise me that you chose law" he says and I frown

"Why's that?" I ask annoyed.

"You just never seemed the type-" Charles started and I rolled my eyes again

"Cause I'm a woman?" This time he rolls his eyes

"No! Oh my god you always have to do this!"

"Maybe if you weren't a sexist dick-"

"I was ten! And I was simply surprised that you wanted to go karting! It wasn't about you being female!" He whispered so he didn't have to scream.

"Well I beat you anyways-" The race of luck I liked to call it.

"You could never beat me now so"

"Yes but the last time we raced I did so be quiet" The pure luck i had in that race was unbelievable.

"I am a literal formula one driver and you have karted twice how could you beat me now?"

"I don't have to beat you again. I already did so it doesn't matter" Charles looked like he was gonna explode.

"Your such a cunt" Charles whispered under his breath and I chuckle.

"Says the raging asshole" I mutter and suddenly I feel a harsh slap on the back of my head.

"Ow!" Charles had already turned to slap the person back just as I did but we both turned away as it was Enzo.

"Y/n your mother told me to tell you that if she see's you roll your eyes again she will kick you out of the house and Charles Mamon said that if she see's you insulting her again she will also throw you out of the house-" Enzo had that strict look on his face but me and Charles glanced at each other

"I don't live with her anymore-"

"Me neither"

"Both of you. Be nice and fucking smile."

"Yes." I whisper and Enzo leaves.

"You wanna ditch?" It was maybe thirty seconds after Enzo told us to be nice.

"Yeah. You got you car?" We slowly made our way to the stairway only to be greeted by Arthur and Lance.

"Hey- oh Lance its nice to meet you I'm y/n I'm sure Leclerc has mentioned me?" Charles pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Yes... nothing nice I believe" I glare at Charles.

"Snitch" Charles mumbles

"We'll he's simply always embarrassed because i am a better driver." I laugh it off and Charles roll's his eyes.

"So not true do not believe that-"

"I have a video? Dm me on Instagram and I'll send it to you? Maybe we can talk more on there as well?" I flirt my way in a circle so that now the two boys were in our spots and we we're at the staircase.

"Oh- yeah sure?" Lance smiled like a puppy.

"No. Your not getting her socials. Arthur take him away." Charles put his hand on my waist and pulled me away and off the boat.

"Hey! I was getting myself a date?" I push his hand off.

"Your not dating another driver on the grid!" He objects and I push him away.

"And why not?" I walk on the pond until I reached the side walk going into the harbour.

"Because your mother won't allow it- come on I'll drive you home? Or anywhere come on?" I pushed him away.

"Leclerc fuck off, I'm calling a Taxi it's fine" I hated when he did that. Interfered in a perfectly fine build up.

"Stop being a bitch and come with me" he grabbed my wrist

"Oh I'm being the bitch?! You always fucking do this and I'm so not putting up with it"

"Y/n I will literally drag you come on"

"Don't you dare" We've been in this situation before, if he pissed me off he would always make me go with him anyway and either walk me home or drive me home or drive me to his place it was all the same.

"Are you coming?"

"No go away." I try to take my wrist away but he pulls me closer and there it is again. When he is close and for a second I forget all the insults and stupid remarks he makes, all the pranks and games he's played on me. All of the rumours he made up and all of the harsh slaps i got because of him. In a second where he is so near its almost frightening me.

"Please y/n? I'll drive you home and you can sulk and cry about how much your parents hate you there." But it only lasted a second.

"You fucking asshole" I slapped him

"Let me go or I'll scream" I've slapped Charles plenty of times and every time he looked like he wanted to straight up punch me back but he never did.

"I will literally choke you to death" I couldn't help but laugh.

"I really didn't think of you as the kinky type Leclerc" I chuckle and Charles rolls his eyes.

"Come on" He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to his car.

It was funny how i never got interested in formula one over the years or racing of any sorts, even though I had to attend a good amount of the races.

"My mother is calling" Charles informed me about ten minutes into the drive.

"Yes Mamon" I looked in the backseat to see the duffle bag of Clothes

"Charles where are you two? Y/n moth is about to explode in anger, reporters came and you two are nowhere to be found" I chuckled while i got some boxers and one of Charles shirts out of the bag.

"Yeah Y/n got sick so we had to leave? I told Arthur to tell you" Charles raised his eyes brow at me as I put the shirt on and took the dress off beneath it.

"What its uncomfortable?" Charles looked way embarrassed as his eyes glued to the road.

"Noh Chére, Arthur ne nous a pas dit" and there was the French again.

"mère j'emmène Y/n dans mon appartement elle va bien" I heard his Mother frown

"S'il te plaît?"

"Fine, I'll tell her mother something"

"Mercy"

"Mercy Pascale!" I shout into the phone and Charles chuckles as he puts the phone away.

"What did you tell her?" I ask and Charles shrugs.

"Your coming to my apartment because your sick we can get drunk and watch a movie?"

"Do you maybe have....?" Weed brownies, It was Pierre's recipe and the first time I had them I wanted to merry Pierre.

"I can't I have a race next weekend" The stupid FIA and their stupid drug test...

"Yes but do you have?" Maybe it was mean but it wasn't my fault that Charles became a driver

"I do and yes you can have some" I smiled at him tossing the rest of my clothes in the back.

"Thanks gods its night or people will think we fucked" Charles says after it got dark.

"Hah?" I look up from my phone putting my legs up.

"Your dressed in my old shirt and my boxers what would you think?"

"That their comfortable" I remark and he smiles.

"Can you put your seatbelt on?" He asks after another beat of comfortable silence

"Are you worried about me?" I can't help but smile.

"No we're about to pass The police." I roll my eyes putting the seatbelt on.

As we get to his apartment my mother calls me.

"Are you absolute mental?!" Charles leaves me alone in the car.

"You cannot just leave! I will talk to you Father!"

"Mom Just- I was sick and I'm at Charles I'm sorry I should've told you? " I tried to avoid arguing with her.

"I'm still here so I won't talk about this now but your going to the race next weekend and I won't tell you father about your stupidity"

"Yes yes. Mom Leclerc is waiting I've got to go ill talk tomorrow" Charles was waiting he opened the door for me and helped me out giving me his coat so I wasn't completely naked in the street.

"Thanks." I mutter And he lets me hold onto his arm noticing my unstable state.

"How much did you drink?" He asks and I shrug.

"I had like three shots before I got on the yacht" I mutter.

"Why didn't you tell me I would've drove slower I don't want you throwing up on me."

"I'm not gonna throw up on two shots of vodka Leclerc" He opens the door for me and I enter his apartment.

"Never say never" Charles mutters with a laugh.

"I'm just annoyed at my mother" I explain and jump up on the counter while Charles gets me a glass of water as well as a shot.

"You're being nice today?" I take the shot

"Had a rough week" He says and I smile.

"What movie do you wanna watch?"

"Something scary so we can laugh" I ask and Charles takes another shot to survive the night.

"Alright you chose I'll get you your brownies" I jump down and find myself into the couch where I put Anabella on.

The next morning was torture. Not only did this bitch let me sleep on the couch and not bother to put me into the guest bedroom he also left with no breakfast in the fridge.

I cleaned the kitchen from last night's drinking session and took a shower until a friend picked me up with a fresh change of clothes.

The Monaco Grand Prix was the most grandiose GP and Everybody wanted to be the one holding the trophy at the end of the dat.

I arrived at the Paddock at Saturday walking in all black and wearing my sunglasses so people got the hint that I wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Yo! Y/n" Pierre kissed my cheek and I wrap my hands around his neck.

"Hey" I take my Sunglasses off.

"You don't look good.

"I was up late studying. I had an essay to write till today and I forgot about it."

"Come I'll walk you" The alpine boy hocked his arm with mine and walked with me to the Ferrari paddock.

"Leclerc hasn't returned any of my calls since last weekend do you know if he's alright?" I ask and Pierre shrugs.

"Has been running around a lot doesn't really have time to breath" Pierre says and I nod.

"Do you think he will win?" I ask and Pierre sighs

"I mean Ferrari started pretty bad but I think if he gets a good pole position then yes. I believe, also your here" He gives me a gentle smile and i raise an eyebrow

"I'm here?"

"Yeah don't you read headlines? Your like his lucky charm" I stop walking and stare at him puzzled.

"Like he performs better if he knows your watching, He would never admit it but it show's, every time you attend the race he relaxes of sorts because he knows your gonna support him no matter what." Unconditional Love. Pascale told me that one's...

"Its easy for you two to love each other, you don't expect anything"

"So he never has to worry about performing bad which leads to him performing good" Pierre talked as if he didn't just made me realize things.

"Oh." Oh

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you that he will kill me" Pierre laughs it off and I look up to see us standing in front of the Ferrari paddock.

"Don't worry, our little secret as always." He smile's and I bite my lip as I wat for Pierre to leave so I can walk into the Paddock but he stay's which must only mean one thing.

I turn around Charles smiling down at me.

"Hey" he kissed my cheeks and I greet him.

"Hey, how are you? Why haven't you picked up your phone?" I scold him and he rolls his eyes.

"I was busy calm down-"

"I am calm Charles but you can't just ignore me-"

"Hey Pierre" He ignores me greeting Pierre.

"Oh fuck you" I walk away from Charles into the Paddock And putting my sunglasses back on.

Charles got P1. It was rather surprising. The car wasn't that fast but Charles knew how to push its limits.

"Rather surprising" I set in the Paddock as Charles assistant comments on the subject with a down right look.

"Why? Charles is an excellent driver no one should expect less of him" I snap rather angrily and she nods embarrassed.

"I just meant-" Charles enters the Paddock getting out of the car.

"You did good" he walked over to me taking the bottle of water beside me.

"Best I could" He didn't look at me.

"Are you alright?" I reach out but he almost flinches.

"Yes I'm just stressed that's all love, don't worry" He makes sure to look me in the eyes now so that I know he isn't lying.

"Alright, yeah I'll see you tonight? After media?" I ask and he nods.

"Come by? we can have a drink?" He proposes and I nod.

"I'll meet you there" He let's me touch him, A brief second where his fingers brush mine.

In the evening I waited in the lounge for Charles, then i waited in my room, until I went to his knocking on his door.

"Yes I'm coming!" He sounded stressed and when he opened the door he stared at me.

"Shit- fuck I'm so sorry I completely forgot" He was in his boxer's and his shirt was unbuttoned, it wasn't like I haven't seen him naked, we ended up skinny dipping with Pierre and his friends a few year's back but it was always a pleasure.

But gods, he looked like a mess, his face was slightly red and his eyes we're as if he had cried and his lip's trembled when he talked.

"Jesus Leclerc- you look horrible what's gotten into you?" His hair was wet from a shower and i stepped inside reaching to touch his face.

"I just don't think-" he swallowed running his hand through his hair.

"I don't think I can lose this race, I don't think I can" He was having a panic attack. I pushed the door close and took my shoes off.

"Come on" the first time I saw Charles have a Panic attack was after he lost a karting event, I didn't know why it was so important to him since I rarely listened to them talk about the importance of races but I noticed his jittering fingers so I followed him into the cabin an. I tried to get him to breath, Enzo came thankfully and got him to calm down so I left them. Maybe it sounded cruel but I wasn't going to do him good back then since we we're so immature and I might even say I would have used it against him.

"Hey come on you wanna take a bath?"

He likes cold bath's

I tried to remember what I did the last time when I was alone with him like this but it was all gone.

"No I just need to breath" He looked up to the ceiling his eyes we're read, his skin felt hot and his breathing was uneven always taking one faster than he ended the last one.

" come on you need to breath" I lead him to the balcony where we we're met with the chill air and he set down, his hand's came up to his chest and his fingers trembled as he swallowed a sob after the other.

"Oh fuck- I'm so fucking done Jesus y/n I can't do this anymore" He cried out and I rubber my hands over his knees.

"Come on try to breath you fine" I waited until he leaned into my touch to take his hands where i made sure to give him a rhythm, I took his hands up when i wanted him to breath in and pushed them back down when He should exhale.

"Your doing great" I nodded at him and he nodded back.

After fifteen minutes he was calm and quiet.

I got up and got him water with some gin.

"You need a hug?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"Ew y/n" he was fine. I breathed through.

"I should've called Enzo" I mutter as he drinks the water.

"No. Your good." I don't think he was able to complete his sentences that night.

"I'm sorry. I'm really stressed." Short words. He was looking into the night sky trying to find the stars but the lights around us we're to bright.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask and he find my eyes.

"Yes. Please." He adds and I smile standing up.

"Come on" he took my hand and I lead him to bed where he fell in comfortably.

I looked for his clothes from where i took one of his shirts and changed into them before laying down beside him.

"I am still angry at you" I whisper and he raises an eyebrow

"You couldn't have bothered to put me in the guest bedroom could you?" I ask and I see his faint smile.

"Room's are for people. Not for dogs." I gasp and slap his arm and I can't help but smile when he laughs.

"Gosh I wish I could help you" I whisper and I notice how harsh my words we're.

He didn't seem to mind.

"You are helping me" He says and I smile.

"I hate you with a burning passion" I tell him and he nods.

"Good. At least one thing that doesn't change" He says and I laugh.

"Yeah" He fell asleep first, It was late when I set up and brought my knees to my chest sucking in a shaky breath with a following sob.

It was Hurting me, of course he was an asshole, he did terrible things and made me cry uncountable times.

But I would never wish to have to sit there again, his shaky hands in mine, it was so fucking scary. I felt as if his heart was going to stop any second, His skin felt so cold, His eyes we're losing their pretty colour into a red teary Breath taking pain.

"Fuck" I let my nails dig into my skin.

"Be quiet" He turned around and I scoff returning to reality.

"Fuck off"

"Shut it" He frowned taking the blanket

"Wanker" I fell asleep.

The first time I was interested in a formula one race was in 2020 Baku race where Daniel and Max where on edge, I found myself in a bit of a crush for the Dutch Driver so I paid attention.

The second time was the morning after I had to hold his shaky hands in mine trying to be as steady as possible for him.

The entire race my skin was so itchy, so I scratched it off staining my fingernails.

My mother hated it when i did that but I didn't even notice till the end of the race.

Charles stayed in P1 for 80% of the race, at the start he lost it to Max but quickly got it back when max ran into a wall because his rear end hit the wall.

The second time he lost it was because of a pit stop fail and I swear I was ready to punch the crew member myself.

"Just push a bit" I muttered and he did, he caught up pretty fast as he thankfully changed to soft tires.

When he won My heart skipped a beat, I heard his scream over the radio, It was so full of beauty I needed to breath.

I took the headphones off and waited.

"Y/n Charles asked if you could put the headphones on?" One thing I hated more than Charles was Phone calls (which i got used to) or even worse radio calls (which really wasn't necessary for survival)

"Tell him he can come find me, I'm not talking to him over a radio." I wasn't that desperate was I?

"Yes ma'am" His engineer told the message to Charles and then Looked at me blankly.

"I'm not telling her that" The engineer said into the radio and I smile.

"Did he call me a raging cunt?" I ask and The engineer looks at me in shock

"Yes." He laughs.

"Tell him he can drive into a wall for all I care" I leave the paddock soon after not wanting to be on Charles last person list.

He called me when I got back to my apartment.

"Where are you?" He was clearly in a rush.

"At my apartment?" I asked as if I didn't ditch him.

"Come to the party?" He asked and I laughed.

"I'm not really in the mood-"

"Y/n i just won the most important race in my career put your favourite dress on and get the fuck to the Party or I'm gonna drag you here" His voice was filled with laughter, even though he wanted to sound convincing or demanding he was so over joyed that it was simply impossible for him to be angry.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, no, you go have fun I'll join you in an hour" He hummed and I Heard the voices around him pulling him away.

"Promise you'll come?"

"Yes. I'll be there don't worry"

"I'll come to your apartment if you don't"

"I'm already on the way" I lie before hanging up and phone down.

I chose a red dress for Charles victory and made sure to wear the Necklace his Mother gave to me on his account on my birthday since he was 'occupied'.

I called an Taxi and took a shot so I wasn't completely sober when I got there.

It was rather cold, the party was on a massive yacht and It was almost overflowing.

I made my way up the steps carefully looking for Anybody I knew.

People seemed to know me and some came over to say hi but my brain was completely shut down.

"Y/n!" It was Pierre, Lovely Pierre who had a girl in his lap and called me over handing me his drink.

"Why did you leave early? Charles was worried! Where is he? Charles!"

"Pierre the night just started how much did you drink? " I laugh and Pierre took his drink back rolling his eyes at me.

"Are you really the right person to mother me? Miss let's see who can chug the most beer? When she was 17?" I laugh.

"Exactly I was 17 how old are you right now? 12?" Pierre scoffed and I looked around spotting Charles.

He wore a black suit and a white shirt underneath the first three buttons undone and he was talking to Max.

He looked pretty, his cheeks we're flushed red and he had a glass of cranberry vodka in his hands which was even more attractive now that i think about it.

"Pierre calm down on the drinking I'm going over to Charles yeah?" He gave me a thumbs up and I smile at the girl apologetic before making my way over to the bar.

"Hey Max" I ignore Charles leaning in front of him.

"Hey Y/n" He noticed my intention thankfully and decided on Ignoring Charles as well.

Charles put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer to him and Max laughed at me as I rolled my eyes at him leaning back comfortably.

"Clingy much?" I ask and he gives me the glass of vodka.

"Its an open bar for you" He tell me and I smile.

"Why be as clingy as you want then" I take the glass.

"Somebody know the real value" Max mutters and I raise an eyebrow in question.

"Free alcohol" He explains and I laugh.

"Congratulations on p2 btw" Max scoff's.

"Thank you but no thank you"

"What? P2 is amazing! It just proves that next time you will so better" I slap his arm as he roll's his eyes.

"You know for all the things you two say behind each other's backs you do make a good couple" Max leaves us and I scoff's pushing Charles away and turning to him.

"Red for me?" He asks ignoring Max's comment.

"No for Carlos I wouldn't wear shit for you." I drink my drink.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I chose that necklace for your 20th?" Charles picked the small red heart shaped gemstone.

"It was from your mother."

"No! I chose it and I wanted to give it to you myself but I had a race you cunt" he dropped it, my skin missing his touch.

"Liar! Your mother didn't tell me you had a race and we all knew you didn't chose it you we're off somewhere while I had to spend five hours in a thight dress smiling for pictures. " I scoffed at him and he stared at me.

"It was a Sunday. I had a race in Spa Belgium. My mother didn't tell you because she didn't want to worry your Mother who always made a big fuss about it and would've want you to join me. But it was your birthday and you hate to attend the races" He explained and I swallowed.

"I got you that necklace a month even before your birthday. I got it In France, me and Pierre we're driving around all afternoon because I knew you wanted That exact one. It was the one you asked your Father to buy you that summer" Charles just talked and explained while i stared at him, how could such an insufferable annoying little shit be such a sweetheart all of the sudden rather has always been and how was I only noticing it now? Charles kept defending himself for another 5 minutes calling me a raging cunt five times as well.

"Thank you" I interrupt him at some point.

"It's one of my favourite necklaces. Thank you" It became my favourite in that moment.

"and I don't hate attending your races"

After another two drinks Lando and Carlos came over and started to talk to Charles about the race.

"Lando you wanna dance?" I asked the brit and he Looked at Charles for an answer.

Charles wasn't listening so he just shrugged and offered me his hand.

"Why not" He let me walk behind him until we got on the dance floor where he put his hands on my waist and guided me to the music.

"Did you and Charles fight?" He asked over the music leaning down so i would hear him.

"I mean we always fight" I shrug letting my hands fall around his neck.

"Yes but like why did you want to dance with me and not with him?" He asked and i raise an eyebrow.

"Maybe Because i don't like Charles?" I laugh and Lando scoffs.

"To be honest The first time i saw you two i thought you we're dating" I laugh at his stetment.

"But then you trippee him and walked over him so I was like nah... But it did take Carlos to tell me that you weren't dating so i would belive it.

"Oh?" I laugh at him and He smiled.

"Well We're really not- so yeah I'm single like a Pringel" I joke and he laugh's again.

The first time I met Lando Charles had told him that I was a huge McLaren hater which obviously wasn't true but Lando believed him and would straight up ignore me for a month.

Carlos confronted him for me and then he laughed at the both of us for a week before clearing it all up.

"Come on let's get another drink before i start sobering up again" Lando took my hand and got us back to the bar where I ordered two beer's on Charles account.

"I can pay its fine" Lando tried but i Scoffed.

"Charles is paying don't worry" I hand him the bottle and he smiles.

The night went away quick and soon the people started to leave, Lando had pulled me into his lap as we set in a couch cirlce where the other drivers had started to gather around aswell.

"To be honest I though I was gonna spin out in the fifth lap but i somehow stayed in control" Lance had started talking to Lando and I watched as the two drivers exchanged infos about they're car's.

"Y/n whats your favorite car?"

"Oh I'm not really intrested in car's" I sip on my drink and they laugh.

"Its a Ferrari" Charles set down beside me and I waved a Pierre who took the seat beside Charles.

"Hm?" I Raise my eyebrow.

"Your favorite car is a Ferrari." He says and I smile.

"Is it now?" I ask and he nods taking my hand.

"Yes so you can get down from the McLaren now." He yanked at my wrist and I almost fell off Lando but Lando made sure to Hold me not paying attention to Charles.

"Ow fuck you" i take my hand away from him as he smiles.

"Y/n i swear if you fuck one of the Drivers im calling your mother" Charles says and I scoff.

"You wouldn't dare! And im not fucking anybody anyways... just having fun" I turn away from him but he doesn't let me.

"I'm being sirius. Nobody on the grid."

"How about I fuck you engineer and check if he will be able to focus on you again while I'm in that fucking garage?" I push his buttons.

"Y/n I'm not joking-"

"Stay out of my love life Leclerc. It doesn't concern you." I spat and Charles stared at me for a while, My head kept spinning and gods his lips looked angelic.

"Don't be like that" he asked and I swallowed harshly.

"You were the one who just tried to push me off a man's lap"

"I didn't push you off your over reacting"

"Maybe because i've been drinking for five hours straight to a party you made me come to?" Charles noted my comment and nodded then turning away.

"Well good point, still you try to much Xavi and I'm actually gonna punch you" Charles Grabbed his beer bottle and I scoff.

"Xavi and I have already fucked-"

"No!" Charles and his nöh's we're rather interesting.

"Yës!" I mocked him and he yanks my hand again.

"Say your joking!" He pull's me off Lando's lap and I stand up so that Lando let's go off my hip.

"Make me" I laugh and jump over some peoples feet as Charles launges up to catch me.

"Y/n i swear to god! Say your joking" I run through some people and out on the open where Charles catches me pushing me against the rails. His hand's lock me in place and I push mine on his arms trying to push him off

"What if I'm not?" I ask and he groan's his hand falling on my waist.

"I'm gonna push you off this boat" Charles said and I smile.

"Push me" I dare him and suddenly his hand's come up beneath my thighs picking me up and I shriek putting my arms around his neck and wrapping my legs around his waist as he set's me down on the railing.

"Okay, okay fine I'm kidding! Don't let go" I eased when he didn't push me further and simply let me sit on the rail and look down on him.

Charles breathed through and let his head fall in my lap for a bit.

"Your a torture"

"The best you can get" I lift his head he smiles.

"I don't get us" he says and I nod.

"Yeah you we're about to kill me and now your simping for me again, chose a side will you?" I laugh and he groans again.

"You wanna go home?"

"Can I sleep in an actual bed rather than Your old couch?" I ask and he scoffs

"That's a brand new couch" he protests and I frown.

"Alright get me down" His hand's came up on my thighs again and he put's me down and guides me back to the bar so he can pay his hand resting on my lower back.

"Alright we're off" Charles Kissed Pierre on the cheeks and I hugged Lando kissing his cheeks.

"Bye" I hit Pierre on the back off his head and ducked behind Charles when he hit me back.

"Fuck you" He muttered and Charles guided me down the yacht.

"The cab should be here any minute"

"Ugh" I took my phone out and leaned against his chest with my back.

"What are you doing?" He put his head on my shoulder.

"Following Lando On Instagram" I mumble as I go to DM him

"Why?"

"Maybe we can go out sometimes" I muse and he snatches my phone putting it in his pocket.

"No" I roll my eyes.

"Jesus I'm just being friendly Leclerc, give me my phone"

"No your fine, come on get in the cab" I stumble along the pavement until I Reach the car where He opens the door for me and lets me inside.

I take my Highheels off and he takes them holding them for me. I watch him.

His eyes as he thinks, his lip's as he tries to form words, his hand's (gods his hands) the way his fingers lingered on my shoulder and the way He breathed slower.

He helped me out of the car as i tip toed up the stairs to his apartment so I wouldn't get my feet dirty which he picked up on so he grabbed my by the waist and i shrieked again as he carried me up the stairs in a second.

"Jesus Leclerc you got to stop doing that! How do you have this much strength anyways?" He set's me down on the cold apartment floor after he opened the door for me and I walk into his Bathroom washing my face off and breathing through.

I take off the necklace and my rings leaving them on the small plate where all of his Rings we're placed.

Charles was sitting on his bed scrolling on his phone as I got into the room looking through his closet to get my favourite shirt.

"Can you help me with the dress please?" I ask and he got up unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter covering my chest as I pulled his T-shirt over my head and turning around to face him.

"Are you tired?" He asked and I nod with a smile.

"Yes very" I look at the clock at his desk which said 05:00 AM.

"Are you still drunk?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Are you alright?" I ask and he smiles.

"I don't think I've ever been happier." He tells me and I smile.

"I don't understand us" He tells me again.

"I know. I don't either. Not since we started to... I don't know become friends." I nod and throw my head back in despair.

"But let's not tonight, let's just be happy tonight and fight about it tomorrow?" He asks and I nod.

"I'm gonna go wash up you can go to sleep already?" He breaks us back into life and I push myself over to the bed falling down.

I don't know if I fell asleep or not but I felt him beside me after some time. I didn't want to open my eyes when I felt his finger's push my hair behind my ear, I didn't want to open them when he pulled me closer by the waist and I didn't want to open them when his lip's touched my forehead whispering a good night.

We didn't talk for a month after that. I went back to studying and he went back to racing, I got out of my mothers way when ever she tried to get me to something he was attending, we had both come to a realization that we did like each other, that we didn't hate each other and I noticed how people had started to ease around me when they knew Charles as if he had stopped Saying all those things about me so Initially I stopped as well, Just skipping over him when he came up in a conversation trying to get myself away from thinking about him.

"Come on we're going out" it was about 11 P.M. and I was sitting in the Library going over some material trying to memorize several text's.

"Hm?" It was a friend of mine Ashley who already took my coat and helped me up.

"You've been stuck here for five hours we're gonna go change and then go drink.

"I really have to finish this" I tell her but she already pulled me away.

We went to a shady club somewhere at the end of Monaco and she made me take about ten shot's one after the other before taking me to play bear pong.

"Y/n I'm off with- what's your name? Julio you have fun!" it was about two when Ashley left, I kept on drinking feeling myself in the moment and dancing with random guys I found at the bar.

It was four when i ended up outside walking along the street trying to think of somebody to call.

"Pick up" I pled Having Charles number pulled up while The phone started to ring.

"Oui? c'est quoi ce bordel? qui est-ce?" Charles picked up his deep voice made me blush immediately.

"Hey where are you?" I ask and I hear him shuffling.

"What? Y/n its 4 A.M? I'm at my apartment? where are you?" I heard him shuffle some more and yawn.

"So your in Monaco?" I ask and I hear him frown.

"Yes? Its summer break? Are you drunk? Where are you?"

"Not drunk! Just a bit tipsy" I balance myself on the pavement falling down.

"are you alright? where are you?"

"Fuck, I'm I don't know where" I look around.

"Are you alright? what happened?" I heard him stand up and go through his closet.

"Just fell down. Uhm I'm sorry I just wanted to.. I don't know we just haven't talked and My mother has been pushing but I just didn't want to see you" I explain and I hear his house door close.

"Send me your location I'll be there in a second" He orders and I sigh Trying to do as he says.

"Y/n can you hear me? your location?" Charles asked again after a while and I swallow a sob. I send him my location looking at his message which was sent a fucking month ago.

"Yeah, yeah, You don't have to come I'm alright I'm just sorry... I kind of messed us up" I tell him and hear him scoff.

"We're fine, your fine, I'm fine, I'll be there in a second just wait" I nod and hear how he gets in his car. I get up and start walking again.

"Y/n?" He asks and I wipe away my tears.

"Just breath alright?" He asks and I Breath through nodding.

"I'm sorry" I whisper and hang up looking around while i wait for him.

Gosh how I love his car. The black Pista pulled up on me and He got out putting his coat around me in a second.

"Jesus you look fucked-"

"Fuck you" I scoff as I wipe away my tears again trying not to cry as I lean into him.

"Hey, hey come on your fine" He pulled me into a hug and I nod against his chest and he Helps me into the car opening the door for me.

"Come on you wanna go to your apartment?" I shake my head.

"I wanna go to yours?" I ask and he smiles.

"As you wish Chérie"

We drove in silence and I took my High heels off.

"Thank you for getting me" I whisper after a while.

"Always" He smiled and I lean my head against the window watching him drive.

"I think you we're right" I tell him and he raises his eyebrow.

"I do like Ferrari the most.... at least if your driving" I add and Charles smiles.

"Thank you I believe myself to be a quiet good Driver" I stare at his hand's.

"can I hold your hand?" I ask and he frowns but holding me his hand anyways.

"Why? Don't bite me please" I laugh leaning into his direction as he let's me hold his hand, i don't hold it but rather examine it letting my fingers run over them, they we're solid and his skin was hard in some places.

"What are you doing?" He asks after a beat of silence.

"I don't know, trying to figure out why I'm attracted to somebody's hand's" I state and when i look at him I see how flushed his face has gotten.

"Alright stay for a second" he stopped the car and I look outside seeing that we have arrived. He opened the door for me and helped me out taking my high heels and I go up the stairs faster than he so he doesn't attempt to carry me up again.

"Let me" He opened the house door for me and I walk into his apartment falling onto the couch.

"Don't do that, go to the bathroom and wash up yeah?" He tapped my leg and i rolled off the couch doing as he told me.

I washed my legs in the shower for a second and cleaned my face off before finding myself to his bedroom where he got me a hangover drink and some water.

"Do you just have those laying around?" I point to the hangover drink which he hand's me.

"I do actually yes" I drink the shot of whatever the fuck is in those things and Cringe handing the empty bottle back to Charles who was smiling at me.

"Thank you" i mutter and see that he already laid out the shirt I liked.

"Can you help me with the dress?" I ask and he does unzipping it for me.

"Thank you" I mutter again and cover my chest as I slip into his shirt.

"Are you alright?" He asks as I sit down on the bed.

"No... I'm so fucking Tired" I laugh and he hands me the water bottle.

"Me too" he informs me and I press my lips together.

"I shouldn't have called you" I tell him and he scoff's taking my hand and pulling me into him so I flop down on his chest in exhaustion.

"I'd rather have you call me than anybody else" he tells me as I curl up into his side, he holds my waist and I feel how his breath steadies.

"Thank you Charles"

"I love it when you say my name" He tells me and I Smile turning around so I'm facing him, I lift my finger and push his hair out of his face so I can touch him.

"I think we're kind of unhealthy" I tell him and he laughs hugging me a bit more giving me enough room so I can bury my face into his neck and breath in his scent.

-K<3

[cutielights]

Hi there! I hope all is well! I've recently gotten into ROTTMNT, and I've been reading your hcs and such lately, and they've been such a big comfort to me! So thanks for that!

Then, I was wondering if I could make a very specific request. I was wondering if I could get all the rise boys (if not, just Raph) with an s/o they've known for a long time. But s/o wants to come out as non-binary and go by a different name. But just when they're about to do it, they get all anxious and worried they're going to cause the boys to get annoyed. Since they've known s/o for so long, and s/o suddenly wants to go by something else.

I don't know if it actually makes sense typing it out, but if you're able to write it, I'd really appreciate it! Thank you!

You are in luck as I have been through this personally! Just Raph bc, he doesn’t have many on his own. Trying to get in the habit of scheduling and leaving the queue alone so I can space out posts more frequently

Tw: Being paranoid about rejection ( I guess ), Fear of breaking up, Speak of a “Dead Name” (D/N)

Raph X NB reader (name change addition)

You were so concerned about how he’d take it

What if he broke up with you?

What if he didn’t like the new name?

What if he told you it wasn’t real or if he didn’t accept you?

Would he even know what it is? How much would you have to explain?

You guys have been together for ages, and known each other for longer, what if he doesn’t like using it?

What if your faking it?

All this worrying began to make you feel sick

Oh there he is.

“Heya (D/N)!”

“Can we- talk?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean we’re talkin’ right now ain’t we?”

You sat him down and, you guys talked about it

Raph was asking a lot of questions, just out of curiosity and wanting to understand

“So it’s, ___ now?”

“Yeah.”

“___… I like it! Good choice!”

He adjusted to it pretty quickly

Not really instantly, but fast enough!

Accidentally calls you d/n a few times but feels really bad about it afterwards

Defending you from family members who don’t use your new name

Hidden city pride?

Hidden city pride!

All in all, 10/10 very good job being a boyfriend Raph! Keep up the good work buddy