#she dragged her feet every step of the way but he would not let up.
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kim dokja had to drag han sooyoung kicking and screaming into the found family
#he refused to give up on her.#he's her first true friend i genuinely have no doubts about it#especially in that ride or die way that they developed#who else has ever stood up and fought and just /cared/ about han sooyoung like that before kim dokja?#she dragged her feet every step of the way but he would not let up.#he loves her so fucking much.#and god.... look at her in the epilogue!!!! confront that han sooyoung with the first few scenes we get of her#character of all time#orv#orv spoilers#han sooyoung#kim dokja#rs: because you are also there
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birds of a feather // cl16
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
word count: 30k (i know i've got issues)
warnings: google translate french and swearing
includes: friends to lovers, childhood bestfriends, soulmate au if you squint, heavy pining, and angst
summary: follows charles and the reader through childhood all the way to present day. based off of 'birds of a feather' by billie eilish.
masterlist
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five and eight
It's a hot summer day in Monaco the first time Charles meets you.
The evening sun cascaded through the windows, golden rays bouncing off the walls as the smell of his Mother's baking wafted through the house. Charles' legs soon carried him into the kitchen and to his delight he found her oven-mitt clad hand pulling out a tray from the oven. His eyes widen when he sees what it is, it's one of his favorite sweet treats; cookies. His Mother spots him as she turns to set them on the counter. "Bonjour chéri!"
Charles doesn't answer, he's too focused on the cookies. He knows she won't let him have one, it's too close to dinner time, but he could probably sneak one when she had her back turned. So when she goes to put something back in the fridge he knows this is his chance, but he's not fast enough. His little hand barely hovers over one of the cookies before his Mother is gently smacking it away.
"No Charles! They are for the Y/L/N's." She hands him a stack of plates, motioning towards the table. "Now go set the table, s'il te plaĂźt." Charles whines about it not being fair before stomping towards the table.
All day the only topic of conversation in the Leclerc household was about how an old family friend was to be moving back to Monaco today. Charles and Arthur had no idea who the man their Father spoke so highly about was, but Lorenzo mentioned something about him being their "uncle", but not really their uncle. Something that at only eight years old, confused Charles.
Even during dinner it seems like his Father mentions their "uncle" somehow during every conversation. Between the constant talk of this mystery man and the cookies sitting feet away from him Charles thinks tonight's dinner is the longest dinner of his life. He can see them sitting there, the cookies taunting him the whole time he tries to eat the unpleasant brussel sprouts on his plate. He hears his Father mention their "uncle" again and his attention is brought back to the conversation. "Papa. Is he really our uncle?" Charles asks as he shoves around the food on his plate with his fork.
"Ah, no. I mean he practically is, but not by blood. He is a very old friend of mine. We grew up together, but he moved to America around nine years ago." He pauses for a moment, eyes flickering between Charles and Arthur. "I hate that Arthur and you don't know him, but he's back now, so hopefully you boys will see him as an uncle like Lorenzo does. Plus, their house is just down the street, so I'm sure we will be spending lots of time with each other."
All Charles can do is nod at him, he isn't sure that he can call this random man "uncle", but for his Father he will try to like him as much as he clearly does.
Dinner is over shortly after their conversation, with a little help from his Father's impatience to go see his old friend. And before Charles can try and sneak a cookie again they are out the door, the cookies held securely in his Mother's hands, heading to their "uncles" house.
Charles realizes his Father wasn't lying when he said their house was just down the street, in fact it's only a block away. He's surprised his Father wasn't dragging them here earlier today with how close it is.
His Father knocks on the door and after a moment a man answers."HervĂ©!âÂ
"Y/D/N!"
The two men embrace each other, big smiles plastered on both of their faces. "If it was up to me we would have been over as soon as you guys arrived earlier today, but Pascale insisted we give you guys a little time to settle in."
"Oh nonsense. You're fine." The man steps aside, motioning for everyone to come in. "Come on in. Don't mind the million boxes scattered around."
"It's a beautiful home." Pascale states as she glances around.
"Merci."
The man's eyes wander to Charles and his brothers. His arms extend towards Lorenzo and the two of them hug, the man tousling Lorenzo's hair as they pull away. "Dieu te regarde! You're practically a man!"
Lorenzo can only laugh at the man, whose attention is now on the two youngest Leclerc boys. He crouches down so he's at eye level with them. "Bonjour. I don't think we have met yet. I'm Y/D/N, a very old friend of your Papa's." His hand reaches out for Charles to shake. "You must be Charles."
Charles gently takes Y/D/N's hand and shakes it, something he's seen his Father do hundreds of times. "I am. How did you know?"
A smirk plays at Y/D/N's lips. "When your Papa and I speak, he loves to talk about his boys. Even the ones I didn't get the pleasure of meeting until now." His attention now moved to the youngest Leclerc. "Like you little Arthur." Little giggles came from Arthur as the man pinched his cheek.
"Are we going to get to meet the other members of your family Y/D/N?" Pascale asks.
"Patience still isn't your strong suit, is it Pascale?" The man teases as he leads them towards the kitchen.
As they enter the kitchen they find a woman with an American accent putting away dishes into the cabinets. From what Charles can gather from the conversation the adults are having is that their "uncle" met his wife while on business in America. They fell in love and he ended up moving there to be with her. They got married and had a daughter. He wanted to raise her here so they decided to move back to Monaco.
"Guess you should all meet the reason we moved huh? Y/N! Ma chérie come here!" Y/D/N yells.
And here you came, barreling into the kitchen, not knowing that there were five strangers standing there until it was too late. Cheeks turning pink as you hid behind your Mom's legs. "This shy little thing is our daughter, Y/N."
Pascale's face lit up at the sight of you. "Oh tu n'es pas une poupĂ©e? She's beautiful you two!" She glances over at your parents then back to you. "You look to be around the age of my two youngest boys, no?" She squats down so the two of you are eye level as you peak around your Mom's legs. "How old are you?" As you lifted your hand, little fingers all stood up straight indicating that you were five, Pascale smiled.Â
"Oh, that's the same age as my Arthur." She points towards the smallest boy, who's dirty blonde hair almost covered his eyes. She then points to the slightly taller boy in the middle, his soft blue eyes watching his Mom intently. "That is Charles, he's a little older than Arthur and you. He's eight." Then she finally points to the obviously very older son. "And that is Lorenzo, he's a lot older. It makes me feel old to say this but he's eighteen!"
Your shyness somehow slowly got chipped away by Pascale and you were now standing beside your Mom, not behind her. "Go on baby. Say hi to them." You Mom encouraged as she brushed your hair out of your face.
Even if you had braved coming out from behind your Mom's legs, the idea of talking to these strangers still scared you. You looked over to your Dad who stared back at you, a smile on his face and a slight nod in your direction told you everything was going to be okay.
"Hi." You said meekly.
The two younger boys gave you a small wave in return.
The adults had started to converse, leaving the kids to stand there awkwardly. Not knowing each other well to be the one to initiate conversation or play.
Your Mom had noticed the quietness between you and the boys, and your constant presence by her legs. "Why don't you kids go play out back? The house luckily came with a playset that is begging to be played on." She pulled open the sliding door, motioning for the kids to go outside.
Arthur was the first to run outside, he was practically already at the door when he heard the word playset. His little legs were already running up the slide by the time Charles and you had exited the house.
You watched your feet drag across the grass as you swung back and forth on the swing. Your Dad's voice playing in your head as you heard Charles and Arthur's laughter echo through the hot summer air.
"I know this is a big change for you mon amour. But I promise, we wouldn't have made this big move if your Maman and I didn't think it wouldn't have been a good idea. It may take some time for you to adjust, but knowing you, in a couple weeks you'll probably be more of a Monégasque than me!"
"I'm only half though. How could I be more than you Papa?" Tiny giggles escaping you as you gave your Father a questioning look.
"Anything is possible chérie! Plus you remember me talking about your uncle Hervé? Well, he has two boys that are around the same age as you. And I'm positive you three will become the bestest of friends like we were at that age in no time. When your Uncle Hervé and I were younger people would always say "Wherever there is a Y/L/N there is a Leclerc" and I'm sure it will live on through you three."
As you watched the two Leclerc boys chase each other through the yard, you knew your Dad would want you to get up and go join them. He seemed so excited at the idea of you and the boys being friends and you didn't want to disappoint him, but at only five years old, your shyness overruled the majority of your decisions.
Charles, even though he was playing with his brother, had noticed how you hadn't left the swing since coming outside. He tried to put himself in your shoes, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to move halfway across the world.
What it would be like to leave everything you've ever known behind and move to a country that is nothing like the one you'd spent your whole life in so far. Even if your Father was from here and technically Monaco is as much of your home as America ever was, he knows that at least right now, this place means nothing to you.
So, being the empath that he is, Charles decides that it's his mission to make you feel at home. To make you realize that Monaco has been your home all along. That if he was you right now, all he would want is for someone to befriend him, make him feel less alone. His first step; asking you to play.
His skinny frame soon occupies the empty swing next to you, hands gripping the chains as he barely moves back and forth. His feet mimicked yours, dirt and grass staining his white sneakers.
"Hi." Charles watched as your head perked up at his voice. Your doe eyes timidly looking over at him like you weren't sure if he was speaking to you.
"Hi."
"Do you wanna play with Arthur and me?" Charles hopes you don't run back inside after hearing his question, but when your face lights up, head nodding enthusiastically, his worries dissipate. You were just so glad that he had come over and asked you, because you would have sat there on that swing all evening if he hadn't.
In a matter of minutes your shyness and worries about upsetting your Father were replaced with bouts of laughter as Arthur and you ran from Charles. Gleeful screams and giggles filled the evening air as the three of you played and for the first time since getting told you were moving you felt carefree.
The loud laughter and yelling had gotten the attention of the adults and as they watched their children play through the sliding glass door they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.
"That didn't take long did it?" Your Mom felt a relief wash over her. At only five years old she knew this move was going to be hard on you, and she wished they could have just stayed in America. But who was she to deprive you of experiencing the life that was quite literally half of you. Deprive her husband of seeing his little girl experience the same things he did as a child.
And as she watched the way the three kids played together she knew it was the right decision. For you to come out of your shell so quickly meant that maybe things weren't going to be so bad here after all.
"Of course it didn't." Your Dad stood behind your Mom, his hand on her shoulder as he watched his little girl laugh and run around. "Because wherever there is a Y/L/N-"
"there is a Leclerc." Hervé finished, an equally big smile on his face.
The painting of orange and pink hues that filled the evening sky told everyone that the sun was making her farewell for the day. Though, that didn't stop you and the boys from still playing and eventually as the colorful painting turned to a star filled sky you all were called inside.
Rosy cheeks and sweaty foreheads adorned all three of your faces as you clambered into the kitchen. "Looks like you kids had fun." Pascale had grabbed the cookies off the counter, but as she opened the lid to offer the kids one, she had a better idea. "How about some ice cream?" Charles' eyes lit up at the mention of ice cream. He loved cookies, but his one true love was ice cream. "I think the place down the road is still open."
And with an unspoken agreement, they are all out the door and headed towards the ice cream shop. Charles and you walk side by side with Arthur trailing behind the two of you. His complaints about being left out falling on deaf ears as Charles tells you about how good the ice cream place is.
The walk isn't a long one and before you realize it, you've arrived. The sickeningly sweet smell hits you as soon as you walk through the door, and your short legs carry you towards the counter, not paying mind to any sort of line that was already formed. Your face was practically pressed against the glass as you looked at all the flavors to choose from. But even with flavors like triple chocolate or strawberry or peanut butter cup. You always go with your tried and true; vanilla.
Charles and Arthur had joined you, faces as equally as close to the glass as yours.
"You think Maman will let me try them all?" Arthur asks, mouth practically watering at the sight in front of him.
"I don't know about that." You recognize your Dad's voice behind you. "You guys tell me what you want and then go wait at the table outside with Lorenzo." The three of you reluctantly turn away from the ice cream and when Arthur tells your Dad he wants mint, Charles and you share a disgusted look. "Ok mint for Arthur, what about you two?"
"Vanilla!" Comes out of both Charles and your mouth. Big smiles spread across your faces as you realize you both said the same thing.
"No way that's my favorite flavor!" Charles exclaims.
"Mine too!"
By the time your Dad comes outside with the ice cream Charles and you had established that; vanilla was the best flavor of ice cream ever, blue was your favorite color, red was his, you both loved dogs, and that he wanted to be a Formula 1 driver when he grew up. You didn't really know what that was, you think you had heard your Dad talking about it or watching it before, but the way Charles talked about it, it seemed like it was something big.
After many brain freezes and Arthur trying to make Charles and you try his mint ice cream, the night was coming to an end. The walk back home was filled with talks of things that you guys had to do this summer, according to Charles, and about how tonight would not be the last trip to the ice cream shop.
As you arrived at your house the grownups said their farewells and goodnights, while you gave everyone a simple wave goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow!" Charles yelled as you entered the front door, and all you could do was yell back.
"Ok!"
And Charles wasn't lying, you did see him the next day, and the day after that. In fact, any free day that you or the youngest Leclerc boys had were spent in each other's company that summer. By the time school started back up the three of you were inseparable.Â
The idea of starting at a new school in a different country while knowing no one scared you, so you were glad to have Arthur with you in class and just knowing Charles was in the building made you feel more at ease. Any worries you had about moving to Monaco had dissipated and Charles had just somehow knew that he had accomplished his mission of making you feel at home. It may have taken him all summer, but you were practically family at this point to him.
So when he heard from Arthur about a couple boys in your class not being the friendliest towards you, something about you being an annoying American, he knew he had to defend you.
Charles fortunately had caught them in the act one day. Your cheeks slightly damp and eyes red told Charles it wasn't just them saying you were annoying. You wouldn't tell him what they said to you, but that didn't stop him from telling the boys off. It didn't take much for them to run off, heck Charles could have just stared at them and they probably would have darted, him somewhat forgetting they were probably only five or six, but still there was no reason for them to be mean to you.
Charles wiped away your tears before pulling you in for a hug. "They shouldn't bother you anymore, but if they ever do come tell me. You know you've always got me and Arthur and if it gets bad enough I guess we could tell Lorenzo." The mention of the oldest Leclerc boy made you giggle and Charles was so happy to see a smile on your face again. "You've always got me Y/N, we've got each other. I promise." He held out his pinky finger towards you and you hooked yours around his, officially sealing the promise
And from that moment on, you two always did have each other.
 ten and thirteen
Five years had passed since you first met Charles, and in those five years your bond only grew stronger. Not only with each other, but with each other's families too. To Pascale you were the daughter she always wanted and your Dad treated the Leclerc boys like his sons. It was like you guys filled in the missing pieces in each other's families.
Multiple scrapbooks were filled over the years with memories that would last a lifetime. Pictures of the joint family vacations that were taken every year, first and last day of school pictures, birthdays, and major milestones all filled the pages.
Looking back now your Mom could have kicked herself for ever second guessing the decision to move. Clearly this was where you guys were supposed to be, where you were supposed to be. Everything just felt right. It felt like home.
A new thing that had become a part of your life in the past five years was karting. No, you didn't drive them, but Charles and Arthur did. So, that meant it was now a part of you. Multiple weekends were spent going to watch them race, the smell of exhaust and the sound of the engines were ingrained into your brain, but you had grown fond of it.
Although, in the last couple years Charles had started to take karting very seriously. You knew his dream was to be an F1 driver, and you knew (from him teaching you everything about it one day) how much dedication it took from a young age to get to the top. So, over the last year, when almost every weekend he was busy, you tried not to take it to heart.
Unfortunately for Arthur, this year his family had decided to focus solely on Charles' career for the time being, as karting was expensive, and having two boys doing it was just not something they could swing. But with Charles busy and Arthur now free it was almost like the boys had flip flopped positions in your life.
Between the two youngest Leclerc boys it was always very obvious that you gravitated more towards Charles, the two of you having a bond that many didn't understand, especially considering your age gap.
Three years isn't crazy per say, but at the age you two are right now it's a little different. Charles is thirteen, officially a teenager, while you're still only ten. Two very different stages in kids' lives, and sometimes recently it seemed like Charles was moving on, or growing up, and you worried that he wouldn't want to spend time with you anymore. Because really what thirteen year old wants to willingly hang out with a ten year old? You know you wouldn't want to hang out with a seven year old.Â
But the slight gap that Charles was currently leaving in your life, Arthur had no problem filling it in.
During the school year you spent basically all your time with Arthur, being in the same grade and him not dedicating all his time to karting at the moment was a big contributing factor. You still saw Charles, but nearly as much as you used to. He had moved up to secondary school a year or so ago and unfortunately Arthur and you were still in your last year of primary school. So your time to see Charles was limited to his rare free weekends and sometimes after school.Â
You had thought come summer time you would be able to see him more and were banking on your annual family vacation, but you were wrong. In fact, you barely even saw Arthur this summer. They were so busy with Charles karting it was like they didn't even live in their home. And when they were home your family was busy doing something.
The annual family vacation had to be canceled and you had basically gone the whole summer without seeing them. That was until today, two weeks before school started, when you came downstairs to see Charles and Arthur sitting on your couch talking to your Dad, who was sitting in a chair opposite of them.
"Ah, there she is." Your Dad had spotted you from the doorway. "They've come to steal you."
Rounding the side of the couch you were now stood in front of the two boys. Arthur was the first to jump up from the couch, his arms squeezing you into him, the two of you slightly swaying back and forth as giggles escaped past your lips. "Tu m'as manqué aussi Arthur."
As Arthur finally let you go your eyes fell on the middle Leclerc boy, who was still sat on the couch. "Charlie." The nickname you had given him that first summer had still stuck around five years later. It fell off your tongue with ease, basically second nature for you at this point. He never minded when you called him that, in fact sometimes he preferred it, but god forbid anyone else call him that.
You could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, dimples peaking out as he tried to resist it more. As he stood up from the couch he finally let it free, the corners of his eyes crinkled and dimples on full display as he wrapped his arms around you. You noticed you guys weren't almost the same height anymore, your head hit at about his shoulder now. Had he gotten taller since the last time you saw him? There was no way he had grown that much in almost two months, but yet the proof was standing right infront of you.
"Tu m'as manqué." Charles stated as he pulled away from the hug.
"I figured you'd have your kart seat stuck to you when I saw you again."
"Well when that seat becomes an F1 seat, I know who will be the last person I invite to a race."
You wedged yourself between the two brothers on the couch as you rolled your eyes at Charles. "Yeah I won't need an invite because I'll have a permanent paddock pass." You weren't even sure if such a thing as a permanent paddock pass existed, but when Charles makes it into Formula 1, you had better have one.
"No doubt about it." Charles states, which gets him a smile from you in return.
"So what was Papa talking about? You guys are stealing me?"
"We've got something fun planned." Charles had a small smile on his face as he made eye contact with you. And as you stared back at him you noticed something else that had changed in the past two months, his hair. It was shaggy and almost covered his eyes if he didn't have it pushed to the side. You were surprised Pascale hadn't made him cut it yet, or that she hadn't snuck into his room at night and at least trimmed the hair around his face. It was just another sign of how long it had been since you'd seen each other.
You glanced over at your Dad, unsure of what "fun" they had planned, but he was no help. "What is it?"
"It's a surprise." Charles had stood up from the couch, eyes staring back down at you. "Well come on. We don't have all day."
"Be careful! Je t'aime!" Your Dad hollered as the three of you walked out the door.
"Je t'aime aussi!" You hollered back.
The warm sun beat down on you as you walked the familiar streets of Monaco, following the two boys in front of you. Your insistent pleas of wanting to know where you were going were ignored. And it didn't take long for you to just start guessing random places, which were all met with groaned no's from the boys.
Thankfully you guys had arrived at your destination because you were running out of places to name, but the place you were standing in front of was not where you had expected to end up. Though truly you should have known better.
"Did you guys really just bring me here to watch you two drive go-karts?" Of course they brought you to the track. It wasn't like you didn't like watching them race or even just screw around on the karts, but as of recently it was the one thing that was keeping Charles away from you. It just would have been nice to do something that didn't involve karting.
"We aren't the ones who are going to be driving them." Arthur's devious little smile on his face tells you everything you need to know.
"I don't think that's safe, and don't we need an adult with us?" So perhaps you were slightly scared at the idea of driving â no you were actually more worried than scared. You didn't want to seem like an idiot because you didn't know what to do or wreck and make a fool of yourself. That little shy five year old girl was slowly creeping back in as Arthur and Charles practically dragged you inside.
"The adult is already here." Charles points at Lorenzo who's filling out paperwork at the front counter. "I think it's time for you to learn, no?" Your eyes focus on Lorenzo, praying as an adult he has enough sense to not let this happen. But it was no use, he had already handed the worker the paperwork and was walking towards you with a bunch of gear in his hands.
"No chickening out this time petite soeur. Today is the day." Lorenzo stated.
Before you can even protest anymore Lorenzo is handing you all this stuff to put on, arms overflowing as you stare at him wide-eyed. "Do I really need all of this for" you glance over at the track then back at Charles "an indoor track?"
"Safety first Y/N. Plus you need to have the full karting experience." His dimples on display as he gives you a reassuring smile, that somehow works wonders on you, because you're putting on all the gear without him even asking. "Oh wait you're gonna need this." He slides a hair tie off his wrist and hands it over to you. His action put a smile on your face as you quickly tied your hair back.
It was something Charles had done for a couple years now, always having a hair tie on him. You were always pushing your hair out of your face or complaining about it being hot and of course you never had a hair tie with you. So, he just started wearing one on his wrist, so when you eventually needed one, he was there to provide.
With your gear on you guys walked over towards one of the karts and you made sure to listen intently as Charles explained how to work everything.
You slipped the helmet on and sat down in the kart, praying that you could remember what Charles had told you. "You've got this. Just remember what I said and we will be right here if you need us. Iâll be right here. I promise." Charles holds out his pinky finger, the familiar gesture between the two of you meant much more than just a simple promise. And as you hook your finger around his, you know it's going to be okay. "Please be careful. I think your Papa will have my head if you come back with even just a scratch." Lorenzo says as he double checks that you're strapped in well enough.
"I'll be fine."
You gave Charles one last final glance, who stood there giving you a thumbs up, before pressing your foot down on the accelerator. At first you were going so slow, scared that if you went too fast you were gonna wreck. But as you completed a couple laps you started to feel more comfortable and the cheers from the boys helped you out too.
"Floor it!" Arthur yells as you pass by on another lap.
You were really starting to have fun, so you listened to Arthur and pressed the pedal all the way down on the next straightaway. You felt like you were flying, but what you didn't know was that they had put you in the slowest kart, so you really weren't going as fast as you thought you were.
After a couple more laps Charles stood by the starting line, waving the checkered flag, a cheesy grin on his face as you passed by him. As the kart came to a stop you understood why they loved karting so much, it wasn't just fun, it was exhilarating, addicting, you already wanted to go again.
The boys surrounded the kart as you undid the straps and climbed out. As you took off the helmet you couldn't wipe the grin off your face. "Looks like you might have some competition Charles." Lorenzo teases.
Charles ignored his big brother's teasing and shifted his focus back to you. He had felt bad about not seeing you all summer and in all honesty not that much over this past year. But things in his life were changing, karting was becoming a much bigger deal, and he was winning, like a lot. He knew things were only going to go up from here. And as much as he loved racing, and god did he love it, he breathed it he dreamt it, racing was in his blood. There just weren't many times anymore where he felt like a thirteen year old, like a kid. It sometimes felt like he was missing out on things.
But Charles knew that when he came home from a busy weekend or practically a whole summer filled with racing, that things would always be the same at home. His Mom would always make spaghetti on Tuesday nights, you had to jiggle the handle on the gate to the backyard to get it to open, if you went into the ice cream shop on a Thursday night when the owner wasn't there you'd get extra ice cream, the lady across the street will yell at your for playing in the street, and you will always be a couple houses down.Â
He knew that when he was around you that he could feel like a kid again. Sure, he had made plenty of friends through racing, but it seemed like all their conversations always somehow revolved or ended up referring to racing. Which wasn't a bad thing, because of course Charles loved racing. But sometimes he just wanted to talk about video games or other sports, or just something random. And he could do that with you.
Now granted, for someone who wanted to have a little break from racing before school started, you'd think he wouldn't be back at a track the first chance he got. But Charles had wanted to teach you how to kart for years, but each time he had mentioned it you chickened out. So he had finally gotten the nerve, with a little help from Lorenzo and Arthur, to just force you to learn.
He knew you'd do a good job, he never had a doubt. It was just your worries that prevented you from learning earlier. He knew you had grown to love the sport, from tagging along to some of his races, or how you can't wait for the Monaco grand prix every year, not to mention how glued you are to the TV when his free weekends and the F1 schedule line up. So, somehow in his own weird way, Charles knew you'd be a natural.
"You did do a good job, I'm proud of you." Charles flashes you a smile as you guys exit the track.
"Merci Charlie." You quickly shed all the gear and handed it back to Lorenzo. "I don't know why you guys didn't teach me earlier. That was so much fun. I see why you guys love it so much."
"Don't act like we haven't tried for years to get you to learn." Charles teases. "We basically just had to force you today."
Memories of all the past failed attempts at teaching you how to kart flooded your mind. The one time you hid in the bathroom claiming to be throwing up, the time you 'tripped' on your way into the building and said you sprained your ankle, or the many times you just flat out refused. So maybe them forcing you was for the better, because you wouldn't have taken the initiative on your own to learn.
"Whatever. At least I finally learned."
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
The walk back to your house was filled with Charles filling you in on his exciting karting filled summer. From the new friends he had made to the races he had won, he didn't spare any detail. And you just walked beside him, listening to his every word, grateful to just have him back around. Arthur would pipe in occasionally to contradict something Charles had said, fulfilling his little brother duties. And as the three of you traveled through the principality, the summer sun high in the sky, you wished every day could be like this.
The fragrant jasmine shrubs that lined the sidewalk told you guys that you were close to home. "You guys wanna stay for dinner? It's Friday which means Mom's making something pasta related."
Charles would never turn down a Friday night dinner at your house and so he had no trouble in accepting your invitation. Arthur declined, stating that he was going to hang out with some of his other friends, and Lorenzo had split from you guys at the track. Which meant it was just Charles and you, which was fine with you.
The smell of your Mom's famous red sauce, that she swore had to cook for at least half the day, filled your nostrils as you walked through the door. "Mom! Papa! Iâm home!"
"In the kitchen!" You heard your Mom shout.
You found your Mom furiously stirring something on the stove as Charles and you sat at the island counter directly in front of her. She tore her attention away from her cooking just long enough to notice Charles was with you. "Well look who's back! I hope you're staying for dinner?" A big smile accompanied her words as she spoke to Charles.
"Of course, you know I love Friday pasta nights."
"Well it's still gonna be a little bit until everything is ready, so if you kids are hungry grab a little snack or something." Her attention was already back to the bubbling pot in front of her before she had finished speaking.
Charles' stomach had been growling the whole walk home, and now sitting here smelling your Mom's cooking had it growling even more. So, he took up her offer and grabbed two tangerines from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Without even thinking about it, he peeled the first one and handed it over to you.
"You're spoiling her by peeling that for her Charles." Your Dad stated as he walked into the kitchen.
Charles shrugged at your Dad's comment as he continued to peel his own tangerine. "I don't mind it. I know she doesn't like to peel them and it's really not a big deal to me. So I guess as long as I'm around she won't have to."
You never gave a second thought about Charles peeling your fruit for you. He's done it ever since you expressed your dislike for peeling them years ago. To you it wasn't you being spoiled, it was just your best friend doing something nice for you. You gave Charles a smile as you popped another piece of the tangerine in your mouth. "Merci Charles." As you looked back towards your parents, you caught them staring at each other, eyebrows slightly raised, and smiles on their faces. "What?" You questioned.
"Oh nothing sweetie." Your Mom answered, attention turning back to the food. She knew you'd figure it out eventually.
The topic of conversation during dinner was all about karting. Your parents wanted to know all about Charles' wins and if anything exciting had happened during any of his races. Charles truly was like a son to them, granted all three of the Leclerc boys were, but you knew Charles was their favorite. They sat there listening intently as he told them everything and your Dad gave him nothing but praises back.
"You're gonna do great things Charles. I just know it."
And finally when Charles changed the conversation to how he finally taught you how to kart, your Dad though first worried at the idea of you getting hurt, was ecstatic to hear that you were quite good and that you enjoyed it. Your Mom didn't like the idea at all, the sour look on her face told you everything. "I can barely handle watching Charles, let alone my baby."
"I was the only one on the track, Mom. Plus it was just for fun, you don't have to worry about me doing the real thing. I really was not as good as Charles says I was." You tried to reassure her, but she still didn't seem pleased.
"Maybe it will help to know that we put her in the slowest kart." Charles chimed in.
Your head whipped to the right of you, where Charles was sat. "You put me in the slowest one?! You really thought Iâd be that bad?"
"It was your first time! You were nervous as is, let alone putting you in a fast one."
A scoff came from you. "I feel cheated out of a real experience."
"Well, the slowest is fine with me. In fact, how do we find one slower than the slowest?" Your Mom inquired, nothing shy of a serious look on her face.
As dinner came to an end Charles and you helped clean up and then ventured out back. The sun had just set, allowing for dusk to settle in, the remnants of the sunset still lingering in the sky. The two of you found yourselves on familiar territory, the swings. The metal chains had slightly rusted over the years, but still held strong as the two of you swayed back and forth on them.
Silence fell between the two of you as you tried to figure out how to talk to Charles about the thing that had been subconsciously bothering you for a while.Â
Him forgetting about you.Â
He had his head down, staring at his feet as he slowly swung back and forth on the swing. "Charles?" He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, blue eyes slightly covered by his shaggy hair.
"Yeah?"
Your hands gripped the chains tighter as you stilled your movements, feet planted firmly in the worn patch of grass. "I need you to make me a promise."
He had copied your actions, even going as far as turning slightly to face you as he spoke. "For what?"
"I need you to promise that you won't forget about me. That when you make it into F1 and become super famous that you won't think I'm some loser. Or even when you move up to F3, just please promise me you won't forget about me."
Charles frowned at your words, never in a million years would he forget about you, or think you were a loser. He didn't want to get into F1 to become famous, yeah it was a perk of the job, but he wanted a seat in F1 because he loved racing, and it meant that he was one of the best in the world.
He held out his pinky finger towards you. "Do you remember what I said to you when those boys were teasing you during your first year here?" You shook your head, the memory replaying in your mind. "That youâve always got me and Iâve always got you. So that means I don't think I could ever forget about you Y/N, whether I make it into F1 or not. And If I do, I'm gonna need my number one supporter there by my side aren't I? So I promise I wonât forget you."
A big smile spread across your face at his words and as you hooked your pinky finger around his, you knew the promise was true.
But what you didn't know was that sometimes promises are broken.
thirteen and sixteen
Thirteen is a very weird year for you.Â
Itâs not puberty or the ever revolving drama that comes with being thirteen that is making it a weird year. Itâs the embarrassingly painful crush youâve got on Charles.Â
Itâs a cliche really, having a crush on the cute older boy youâve grown up with.Â
And one might ask why is it embarrassing? For starters, you canât be around him for more than five minutes without turning into a blushing mess. He stares at you for longer than a second? Game over. He smiles at you? Done for. He laughs at something you said? Youâre dead.Â
He doesnât know heâs turning your thirteen year old brain into mush just by simply existing and itâs embarrassing to even think about him knowing that.Â
On the other hand, itâs painful. Youâre thirteen and heâs sixteen, once again at very different stages in life. And you know that he doesnât like you back, that he only sees you as a little sister, but it still hurts. It hurts because youâre thirteen and you think that youâre mature for your age and you honestly think why wouldnât he like you back. Itâs something almost every young girl goes through, and unfortunately itâs happening to you with someone you are very close with.Â
Yes, you had always thought he was cute, but that's because he was. That fluffy brown hair, long thick eyelashes that adorned his pretty eyes, his dimples, the little crinkles by his eyes when he smiled. Okayâ so maybe that's how you would describe him now, but still, he was a cute kid also, there was no denying that.Â
 But if you really had to figure out when you realized you had a crush on Charles it had to have been this past Christmas.  Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
The holidays in Monaco were somewhat different than the few years you remembered back in America. You had stopped celebrating Thanksgiving after your Momâs failed attempt at trying to make a Thanksgiving dinner your first year here. It wasnât that your Mom was a bad cook, it was that it was somewhat hard to find everything needed for a Thanksgiving dinner in Monaco. And as hard as your Mom tried to make it work, it just wasnât the same without that damn Ocean Spray cranberry sauce.Â
So to make up for not celebrating Thanksgiving your family truly went all out for Christmas. The couple Christmases that you could remember back in America were nothing shy of magical, but ever since moving to Monaco, your family took Christmas very seriously. There was no denying that part of your household was American, because every year your house looked like it came straight out of a cult classic Christmas movie. Like Kevin McCallister or Clark Griswold had taken up residence in Monaco for the holidays.Â
It wasnât just the outside that was decorated, the inside was just as festive and of course the tree was the main focal point. It was a busy tree, your Mom never liked an aesthetically pleasing tree, it was sentimental or nothing to her. Ornaments that were passed down on her side of the family, ones you had made in school, and some you had gotten after moving all had a home on the tree.Â
And as if decorating wasnât enough for your family, your traditions were even more of a big deal. The most important one to you though was making cookies on Christmas Eve. Mainly because Arthur and Charles had been doing it with you since your first Christmas in Monaco.Â
Christmas music played on the record player in the living room, the sound traveling into the kitchen as your Mom and you made sure you had everything ready to bake. You were in your own little world, picking out your favorite cookie cutters and humming along to Wham!âs Last Christmas when you heard your Mom speak up. âYouâre just in time Charles.âÂ
Your eyes moved away from the pile of cookie cutters up to the garland decorated doorway where Charles was standing. A smile slowly crept its way onto your face as the two of you made eye contact. He looked cozy, the sweater he had on was slightly oversized and his hair had a messy fluffy look to it.Â
You watched as he talked to your Mom, she was surely talking to him about racing, and he would always gladly answer her questions, as she was nothing shy of a second Mom to him. The longer you stared at him, you could feel your heartbeat quickening. And a feeling was arising in you that you had only ever experienced with a boy in your class a year or so ago. Though, the feeling didnât last long, you had caught him picking his nose, and with that went away any feelings you had towards him.Â
You didnât even want to think about the word that was happening right now, the idea of it only making your heart race even faster. You tore your eyes away from Charles and noticed that the youngest Leclerc brother was missing, so you blamed your rapid heart beat and surely pink cheeks on that.
You cleared your throat and tried to gather yourself before speaking. âWhereâs Arthur?âÂ
Charles' attention was torn away from your Mom over to you. He pursed his lips, he didnât know how to say nicely that Arthur said that baking Christmas cookies was for little kids, and he wasnât a little kid anymore. He let out a sigh before speaking. âHeâs not coming, he said heâs too old to be baking cookies.â
âBut its-âÂ
âI know. I told him that itâs tradition and that you would be upset, but he wasnât budging. So youâre stuck with just me.âÂ
It annoyed you that Arthur had bailed on you. There was no such thing as being too old to bake cookies, he was just being a jerk. And as far as you were concerned, heâs not allowed any of the cookies when your families have Christmas together tomorrow evening.Â
On the bright side you get to have some one on one time with Charles, so maybe it was a blessing in disguiseâ Arthur bailing on you. You picked up the recipe card from the counter, waving it around in the air. âWell letâs get to work then.âÂ
Charles is at your side in an instant, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater as he waits for further instruction.Â
âDo you think you kids can handle doing it by yourselves this year? Iâve got some last minute gifts that need to be wrapped.â Your Mom inquired, hopeful that you wouldnât burn the house down on Christmas Eve.Â
You didnât even look up at her, eyes focused on the recipe in front of you, this was clearly something you took seriously. âYes Mom.âÂ
Without a word she was gone, leaving Charles and you to your own devices.Â
You can feel Charles peering over your shoulder. Heâs practically right up against your side and you can feel the soft material of his sweater on your arm. All you can smell is his cologne, something he had started to use within the last year or two, thankfully moving on from the Axe body spray phase. And youâre trying not to make this seem like a big deal, because itâs truly not, but something has shifted in your thirteen year old brain. The same brain being scrambled by him right now, and you think youâve read the damn recipe card at least ten times now.Â
âDid you forget that the recipe is in American measuring terms?â Charles asks. The recipe was your Grandmaâs and your Mom had never been bothered to convert it to the metric system.Â
âNope, just double checking everything.â You force a smile as you set down the recipe card and grab a mixing bowl. You added all the ingredients and made Charles do all the labor, which meant he had to mix it and then roll out the dough.Â
You dug through the pile of cookie cutters looking for Charles favorite one. âHerree it isss.â You spoke in a sing songy voice as you held up the cookie cutter to Charles. His favorite in question? A penguin with a Santa hat on. Without fail, every Christmas, for the past eight years. Charles made an excessive amount of Santa hat penguin cookies.Â
A grin spread across his face as you placed it in his hand. âWouldnât be Christmas without this guy.â He wasted no time in pressing the cutter down into the dough and before you guys knew it the first batch was done and in the oven.Â
As you started on the next batch Charles kept a close eye on the baking cookies. The two of you allowed for Michael Buble to fill silence in the air and the mouthwatering smell of the cookies soon filled your nostrils. âYou know you still call her Mom?â
Your eyebrows furrowed at Charles' random statement. âHuh?âÂ
He walked away from the oven and back to his original spot next to you. âYou still call your Maman Mom.âÂ
âYes?â You werenât really sure where he was going with this, it was nothing new to either of you.Â
âI just figured by now you would have made the switch. You speak French with everyone else.âÂ
You shrugged your shoulders at him, you had never really considered it, the idea felt weird even just thinking about it now. âIâve always spoken English with my Mom and French with Papa. It would feel weird to switch stuff around now.â You stirred in the flour as you continued the conversation. âYou know I could give you some English lessons if youâd like. I think that might have been what you were hinting at.â You teased.Â
Charles' eyes widened at your words. âAre you saying my English is not good? I think I speak English very good!âÂ
âWell.â You didnât skip a beat.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âYou think you speak English very w-âÂ
In an instant there is flour all over the upper part of your body, your movements stilled as youâre processing what Charles had just done. Youâre mad at first, actually seething because your hair looked so good today and now itâs covered in flour. And you canât see Charles because you havenât moved an inch since he threw the flour at you, but he went from having a shit eating grin on his face to a oh shit expression. Your quietness has him worried that youâre actually really pissed at him, but when he hears his nickname come past your lips he knows you're not that mad at him.Â
âCharlie. You better run.âÂ
He isnât sure heâs heard you right, but when he sees you pick up the whole bag of flour his sock clad feet are sliding on the floor as he runs around the other side of the kitchen island. You're playing cat and mouse around the island for quite some time. The beeping from the oven time ignored multiple times as giggles from both of you filled the room.Â
As Charles rounds the corner again his foot catches on one of the barstool legs and you know youâve finally got him. He doesnât fall, but he slips just enough to allow you to fully catch up to him. And you may or may not have thrown the whole bag of flour at him, but him being covered head to toe in flour says it was the whole bag. You definitely got him 10x worse than he did you and from that gleam in his eye you know what heâs going to do, but you canât get away fast enough and his arms are around you in an instant. He shakes his head trying to get as much of the flour off of him and onto you and by you trying to free yourself from his grip heâs transferred a good amount from his clothes onto yours. âCharles! Let me go!â Your pleas are pitiful, laughter dripping off every word.Â
âOh my god!âÂ
Both of your eyes widen, bodies frozen at the sound of your Momâs less than pleased voice. The two of you sheepishly stood there as your Mom looks like sheâs about ready to cry and cuss you out at the same time. âI canât leave you two alone for an hour?!â Her eyes shift to behind the two of you, panic written across her face. Sheâs practically running towards the oven and thatâs when you realize the burning smell. And when she not so softly sets the cookie sheet onto the counter you know sheâs really not happy. The cookies were burnt to a crisp, the poor Santa hat penguin never stood a chance. âIâm sorry Y/M/N. It was my fault, I started it.â Charles rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.Â
âI donât care who started it because youâre both cleaning up this mess.â A deep sigh came from you Mom as she really took in just how big of a mess the two of you had made, her head shaking in disapproval as she left the two of you to clean up.Â
When you knew she was out of earshot you couldnât but let out a little giggle, it was like in school when you werenât supposed to be laughing, but everything is just so funny, and Charles follows your actions seconds later. The two of you fools, covered in flour, cookies burnt, and in trouble as you stood there laughing.Â
That night you couldnât sleep, tossing and turning in your bed, your brain would not shut off. And it wasnât because you were excited for Christmas morning, you only wished that was the reason. You couldnât get how good it felt to have Charles arms wrapped around you out of your mind, or how that stupid sweater made him look even more attractive than he already was.Â
As you stared up at the ceiling, you knew you were screwed. You had a big fat crush on Charles and it was going to ruin your life. You knew he only saw you as a little sister and that made everything so much more worse to you. Why did you have to develop feelings for him of all people?Â
Christmas morning came and went and before you knew it evening had arrived, meaning the Leclercâs would be arriving soon. You were in charge of setting the table, a task you didnât mind, considering being in the kitchen with your Mom on any holiday was like asking to get yelled at. As you folded the last napkin neatly and placed it in its rightful spot you heard commotion coming from the front door, undoubtedly the Leclercâs arriving. You spotted Pascale struggling to juggle all the presents and you hurried towards her, quick to offer a hand. âMerci chĂ©ri.â A grateful smile painted across her face.
The pile of presents grows as you place them under the tree and youâd think your family hadnât already opened some this morning. Everyone settles into their usual spots in the living room, but your usual spot by Charles is left empty, as youâve scurried into the kitchen. Youâd rather face the unwarranted wrath from your Mom than be unable to compose yourself around Charles. But you donât get to hide in the kitchen for very long because sheâs practically done with everything, so you help her bring in all the food to the table, and admire your table setting skills as you do so.Â
Dinner is pretty uneventful and luckily your Dad has Charles preoccupied with racing talk for most of the time. But you canât help but catch his eye from across the table every once in a while and every time you do your heart skips a beat. By the time presents start getting passed around you had successfully avoided Charles for most of the day, but that is ruined when he plops down next to you on the floor, shoulders brushing as he gets situated.Â
âAre you mad at me for yesterday?â Charles' voice is low, like he didnât want anyone to hear, but he could have talked at full volume, no one would have heard him over how loud your Dads were being.Â
You cocked an eyebrow at him. âWhy would I be mad at you?âÂ
âYouâve been avoiding me all day.âÂ
Your fingers toyed with the lifted corner of wrapping paper on the present in front of you, your brain trying to figure out what to say. Yes, you had been avoiding him, but it wasnât because you were mad. It was actually the opposite, but you couldnât tell him that. âIâm not mad at you. Just didnât want there to be another flour fiasco today. You thought she was mad yesterday, now imagine that while sheâs in her holiday cooking zone.â You give him a reassuring smile, hoping that heâs bought what youâve told him. But he doesnât get the chance to respond as your Momâs voice fills the room.Â
âOk does everyone have all their presents? Our Santa this year was less than enthusiastic about handing out the presents.â Your Mom shoots Arthur a look as he sits down on the floor across from Charles and you.Â
âThere is nothing left under the tree. I promise.â Arthur states.Â
âAlright then everyone get after it!âÂ
Piles of wrapping paper fill the empty spots on the floor in no time and excited gasps fill the room as everyone unwraps their gifts. Youâre always so grateful for everything the Leclercâs get you for Christmas, they treat you like one of their own, and sometimes you feel they spoil you a little too much.Â
With each present that you unwrapped that wasnât from Charles, you start to get a little worried. You guys exchanged presents every year and if he didnât get you something this year, you think you might die. So when you come to your last present and it says itâs from his parents, you try to hide your disappointment, especially because itâs an amazing gift. You hop up from your spot on the floor and make sure to go thank them personally, hugs and all. And youâre pretty sure you hear them say something about how youâre their daughter too and how you deserve it, but your brain is still thinking about how Charles didnât get you anything.Â
When you go back to your spot a little perfectly wrapped box with a bow on it is sitting there. You know you werenât sitting on that, so it had to be placed there after you got up. You think itâs one of Charles that he forgot about, but when you bend over to pick it up you see Charles sloppy handwriting on it. A smile spreads across your face as you look over at Charles who has an equally big one on his. You quickly sit down, eager to know whatâs inside.Â
âDid you think I didnât get you anything?â Charles questions, a smirk toying at his lips.Â
âMaybe.â Yes.Â
âI would never.â He bumps his shoulder into yours, motioning for you to open it. âWell, go on. What are you waiting for?âÂ
You donât want to seem like you're absolutely ripping into the present, but it probably looks like you are. Itâs a tiny box, like one used for jewelry, and you really arenât expecting Charles to have gotten you jewelry. But when you open the box, nestled in the velvet cushion, is a ring. You glance over at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then back to the ring. Itâs just a simple sterling silver ring and somewhat on the smaller side. To be honest Charles could have gotten you a bag of candy and you would have been happy to have just gotten something from him, let alone a ring.Â
But when you pick the ring up from the box you see exactly why itâs smaller, and it makes your heart swell. On the inside of the ring you see the words pinky promise engraved into it and as you look over at Charles, heâs holding out his pinky finger, a matching ring adorning it. Your cheeks are hurting from how hard you're smiling, but you donât care. Itâs the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten you and as you slide it onto your pinky finger you feel yourself smiling even more, if thatâs possible. Your arms are around Charles instantly, pulling him in towards you, thank youâs tumbling out of your mouth as he giggles in response.Â
âIâm glad you like it.â He pauses, trying to figure out the right words to say. âThings are changing. Iâm moving up from karting and hopefully into Formula 3 within the next year. Itâs just a reminder that weâve always got each other, even if Iâm gone racing or youâre off doing something, we can look at the rings and know weâve got a piece of each other with us, always.âÂ
You canât stop smiling at him, and that crush youâve got has tripled in size in a few short hours. Your teenage brain over exaggerates everything and you basically think this means youâre gonna be together forever, even though you arenât even together.Â
While youâre in make believe land, your parents are observing the two of you. Whispers and knowing glances are exchanged, between them and your Moms canât help but think itâs cute how close the two of you are. While your Dad in particular, no matter how he feels about Charles, thinks no boy is good enough for his little girl, let alone some sixteen year old boy.Â
Perhaps you may be a little dramatic when you say that this Christmas was the best one youâd had so far, but honestly it was the truth. Sure you realized you had a huge crush on Charles that will probably end in tears, but you also got the most thoughtful gift ever, that you will cherish forever. So yeah, this was a good Christmas, crush aside.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
And so you lived with admiring Charles from afar for months. Enjoying what time you got together and just holding out hope that maybe one day he wouldnât see you as his little sister. But life had a funny way of hitting you in the face with reality, especially at thirteen.Â
When Charles shows up to a joint family dinner one night with a girl around his arm you feel like all the air has escaped your lungs. And when he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend you plaster on a smile even though you feel like someone has pulled your heart out of your chest and ran it over multiple times.
Itâs the longest dinner of your life and while everyone gushes over his girlfriend, asking her all about her life and interests, you poke your food around with your fork. Itâs not like you have an appetite anyways, getting your heart broken will do that to you. And it sucks even more because sheâs so nice, like insanely nice, you couldnât even hate her if you wanted to. Not to mention how pretty she was, she was everything, and you were some pimple faced, awkward bodied thirteen year old.Â
You fidget with the ring on your finger and your heart races at the idea of Charles not wearing his anymore, your eyes glance over at him and when you spot the ring still on his finger it calms you a little. But that still means nothing, just that he clearly still sees you as a little sister. What you donât see is how your Mom has been watching you the whole night. Youâve never told her about your feelings towards Charles, but sheâs your Mom, she just knows things. And she knows you're hurting right now, so when she changes the topic of conversation at the table youâre eternally grateful.Â
Itâs an early night for you that night, not bothering to join everyone for a game of UNO, claiming that you arenât feeling well. When really you couldnât wait to go upstairs and just cry it out. What did you do to deserve something like this? It hurt so bad, but you knew there was nothing you could do about it. And as you laid in bed that night all you could think about was how are you going to live without him liking you back?
sixteen and nineteen
Newsflash you do live without Charles liking you back. In fact your crush goes away by the end of that year, no thanks to the new boy in your grade, who eventually ends up being your boyfriend. But it was safe to say you were over Charles, at least you think you are.Â
Charles, on the other hand, stayed with the girl who made you go crazy at age thirteen for over a year, but they broke up over text. And to your disappointment, Charles never told you the reason why. Ever since then itâs been somewhat of a revolving door of girls in Charles' life. Okay â maybe not a revolving door, but at least three different girls in the past two years. None of them lasted for more than a couple months though, and it was getting to the point where no one in either of your families got to know the girls.
Everyone knew that they would be gone sooner than later. After his last âbreakupâ a couple months ago, he hadnât brought around a new one, he claimed that he needed to focus on racing, that F1 seat was almost in his grasp and that was all that mattered to him right now, but you knew there was something else going on.Â
While Charles was having issues in the relationship department, you were actually flourishing. You had met your now boyfriend Lucas, when he was the new kid your eighth grade year. You thought he was cute from the moment he walked into your History class the first day back from winter break. And when the seat next to you was the only open desk you tried to hide your excitement as he sat down, but when he smiled at you first, it was hard to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks. He was the first to speak, asking if you had a pencil. But his accent made your ears perk up â he was Spanish. The big brown doe eyes and dark hair fit him, now that you realized he was Spanish.Â
âDo all Spaniards come unprepared on their first day?â You teased as you handed him a pencil. It was his turn to be the one blushing as he stifled a smile.Â
âNo, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.âÂ
So he was a flirt â noted.Â
The two of you became good friends rather quickly, but per your parents rules, you couldnât date until you were fifteen. So, you played the long game and prayed that no one else peaked his interest. Luckily for you, he was so infatuated with you that he was willing to wait, and on your fifteenth birthday you went on your first date. He was nothing shy of a gentleman, even going as far as asking your parents permission to take you out, something your Dad was very fond of. And as your parents watched their little girl walk out the door hand in hand with a boy, they couldnât help but feel a little sad.Â
âOur little girl is growing up.âÂ
Your Mom wrapped a comforting arm around your Dad. âI know. Iâm glad though, I figured she would waste her teenage years waiting on Charles.âÂ
A questioning look washed across your Dadâs face. âWhat?âÂ
âOh honey. Donât act like youâve been blind these past ten years. Theyâve always been drawn to each other, her more than him. She was absolutely heartbroken when he brought his first girlfriend to dinner that one time.âÂ
âGuess I do remember being less than thrilled at Charles getting her that ring for Christmas that one year.â Your Dad huffed.Â
âHmm,â she rests her head on his shoulder, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen as they still stand there, staring at the door. âYou know Pascale has always said that Y/N would end up with Charles.âÂ
Your Dad scoffs at your Momâs words. âAnd what do you think of that?âÂ
âI think only time will tell.âÂ
While your parents were discussing your love life back at home, you were having a grand time on your date. The pizza place Lucas had taken you to was cute, a fitting place for two fifteen year olds to be on a first date. Thankfully it wasnât awkward or tense, and you had to thank the two of you for being friends for a year before your date for that. It was just like the two of you hanging out.Â
On the walk back to your house your hands never separate, even when they start to become sweaty. And when he pulls you closer to him, so you're basically hugging his arm, you realize you could get used to this.The way his brown eyes look like pools of honey when the sun hits them just right as he looks down at you, the feeling of his thumb gently rubbing circles on your hand, and the way your name rolls of his tongue when he talks to you, especially with that accent of his. All of it has that all too familiar warm fuzzy feeling appearing in your stomach.Â
When he stops in front of the ice cream shop near your house he doesnât even have to ask you if you want any, youâre already dragging him towards the entrance. The little bell on the door rings as the two of you walk inside and the all too familiar sugary sweet smell hits your nostrils.Â
âAh! ChĂ©rie!âÂ
The owner Mr. Martin â a short older man, probably in his sixties, with what you would call haystacks for eyebrows was beaming at you from behind the counter. He had grown fond of you and the Leclerc boys over the years, claiming that he loved seeing the three of you grow up, as he never had any grandchildren of his own. Though, when his eyes shifted to the right and saw Lucas standing next to you his smile fell briefly, if you hadnât been staring at him you wouldnât have caught it.Â
âWho is this handsome young man?â He asks as the two of you walk towards him..Â
You introduce Lucas to Mr. Martin and itâs at that moment that you realize that this is the first time youâve brought him here. Something that didnât seem possible to you because you were here so often that you had to have brought Lucas here at least once, but you canât recall a time.Â
Only when a vanilla cone is in front of your face are you brought out of your thoughts. Of course Mr. Martin didnât need to ask you what you wanted, itâs been the same thing every time for the past ten years. Lucas had already sat down at one of the little tables, chocolate cone in hand, while he waited for you.Â
âI was surprised to see you with a boy other than Charles.â Mr. Martin states as he wipes down the counter. âHe must be special because I donât think Iâve ever seen you in here with anyone other than your family or Charles.âÂ
His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Yes, this was your first time you had brought Lucas here, but you know youâve brought other friends here. There was no way in your ten years here that you hadnât, but once again your mind was drawing a blank. As you glance back over at Lucas a knot forms in your stomach, it suddenly feels wrong to have brought him here. Like in some way you were tainting this place with his presence. Ruining whatever special hold this place has on your relationship with your familyâ with Charles.Â
You completely ignore Mr. Martinâs statements and just give him a smile and thanks before making up an excuse as to why Lucas and you need to leave. He doesnât take much convincing when you claim to want to see the sunset. His hand is back in yours as you hear the bell ring once more as the two of you leave. And itâs like as soon as you guys are back on the sidewalk walking towards your house, the gut wrenching feeling is gone. The only evidence of it is left in the ice cream and by the time youâre standing on your front porch step itâs all gone.Â
Lucas has a lopsided grin on his face, one youâve grown to love, as the two of you stand facing each other. âYou know we are missing the sunset you wanted to see.â His fingers lightly toy with yours, before finally intertwining them again.
âMmh. Itâs okay.â You were getting lost in those big brown eyes of his, the sunset the last thing on your mind.Â
âIâd rather stare at you anyways, youâre much prettier.âÂ
His words make you practically putty in his hands and before you know it youâre having your first kiss. Itâs sweet, metaphorically and literally, the taste of ice cream still on both of your lips. His hand cups your cheek and you have to wonder if heâs done this before. But when he pulls away he only has you craving more, so you lean up and steal on more from him. Giggles escaping past your lips as you see the light blush on his cheeks, you were sure yours were bright red. âGuess this is where I ask you to be my girlfriend huh? Not like Iâve been obsessed with you since my first day of school, been waiting all year or anything.âÂ
You raise an eyebrow at him with a smirk on your face. âAre you going to properly ask me?âÂ
By the end of the night when youâre laying in bed, you had officially gone on your first date, had your first kiss, and obtained a boyfriend all in a matter of hours that day. You were a giddy mess, excitement coursed through your veins, and you couldnât help but repeatedly feel your lips, the feeling of Lucasâ still fresh in your mind the whole night. You couldnât wait to feel them on yours again. And when he texts you that he wants to hang out tomorrow you think your heart just might leap out of your chest.Â
Being with Lucas was like living on cloud nine, you truly couldnât ask for a better boyfriend. As the year progressed you really wondered how you had snagged someone like himâ tall, dark, and handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and he made you feel like it too, until he didnât.
Thatâs the funny thing about first loves, you really think nothing could ever come between you, that itâs going to last forever. But the only thing that lasts forever is the damage they leave when theyâre gone.Â
You arenât really sure what switched in Lucas, but after a year of being together he turned into someone who was never happy with what you did, always picking fights over stupid little things. And you know you should have left him already, but you love him, and you think you guys can make it work. Youâre only sixteen and your Mom tells you relationships shouldnât be like this at this age, shouldnât be mentally draining, but unfortunately this one is.Â
All your arguments as of lately had been about Charles. Lucas, though denying it every time you brought it up, had become jealous of him. You werenât even sure where the jealousy had come from, you barely saw Charles like you used to. He was in F2 on the cusp of getting that F1 seat and you were busy with school and spending time with Lucas. You had even gone as far as rejecting invites to hang out with your other friends to spend time with Lucas, something now you regret very deeply.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
Itâs a chilly Friday night in February when everything comes crashing down. The argument started over Charles texting you asking if you wanted to hang out. You were already with Lucas, but you hadnât seen Charles in a couple weeks and you knew once the season started seeing him would be even more scarce. So, you make the big mistake of asking Lucas if he wanted to hang out with Charles.Â
âWhy would I want to hang out with him?â His back was turned to you, but you already knew from his tone that this was going to turn into an argument.Â
âWell I havenât seen him in awhile and he texted me asking to hang out, I thought we all could hang out.â You thought maybe by including Lucas in the plans that it would make the situation better. Wrong.Â
He turns to face you, walking towards your bed where youâre currently sat. âDid he mention me in the text?âÂ
âWell no but-âÂ
âExactly,â Lucas scoffs at you, his expression sour as he looms over you. âHe doesnât want me to come. I would get in his way.âÂ
You roll your eyes at his dramatics, Charles was not the guy Lucas made him out to be. âDonât know what you mean by you getting in his way.âÂ
âOh donât act cute about it Y/N.â Hearing your name roll off his tongue no longer sounded like music to your ears, it now more resembled nails on a chalkboard, like each time he spoke your name it was venom coming out his mouth. âBet if I gave him the chance heâd try to get in your pants at the first opportunity.âÂ
Your eyes widened, cheeks getting hot at his accusations. âWhat kind of girl do you think I am Lucas?âÂ
âAll Iâm saying is your friendship with him isnât normal, and it makes a guy wonder.âÂ
You were up off of your bed now, the two of you standing in the middle of your room. âThis is getting old. Iâve told you, you have nothing to be jealous of.â You had started to twist the ring on your pinky finger, a nervous habit you had developed over the past couple years.Â
âThat is why your friendship isnât normal.â Lucas grabs your hand, his fingers twisting at the ring trying to pull it off your finger. âWhat kind of girl wears a ring another guy got her while in a relationship? Huh? Even worse that youâve got matching ones.â
Yanking your hand free from his grasp you can feel your blood starting to boil, and youâre thankful your parents arenât home tonight because you can tell this is going to get ugly. âWe fucking grew up together! Heâs like a brother Lucas!â You were the first one to yell and you had unfortunately opened the floodgates because now Lucas is yelling.
âWho hasnât heard that before?! Heâs like a brother. Give me a fucking break. Youâre telling me youâve never had feelings for him? Not once in your life?â Â
The accusations and ideas he was throwing around tonight were beyond ridiculous.Â
âIâm not thirteen anymore Lucas. You know I only love you.â And you donât realize what youâve basically admitted until it leaves your mouth and you hear Lucas let out a dry laugh.Â
âAh. There it is. I think that last part may have been a lie, because you still wouldnât be wearing that ring if you didnât still feel something for him.âÂ
You shake your head at him, why couldnât he get what you were saying though his thick skull. âI only have platonic love for Charles. Itâs nothing like what you and I have.âÂ
He clicks his tongue, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. âProve it.â You furrow your eyebrows at him, confused as to how you are supposed to prove that you love only him. âTake the ring off and give it back to Charles.âÂ
You tuck your hands behind your back, afraid heâll try and rip it off your finger again. âNo. Itâs just a ring Lucas. Youâre giving it more power than it has.âÂ
âIf itâs just a ring then take it off.â You shake your head no at him. âTake it off Y/N.â You shake your head no again and he stalks towards you, causing you to back up until the backs of your knees hit your bed. âTake off the fucking ring!â Heâs yelling and you can feel the tears starting to pool in your eyes. Heâs never gotten this crazy before and you can tell that this is the end of the two of you.Â
âLucas just go.â You're trying to hold back your tears, but when he tries to reach around to grab your hand you let out a sob. âLucas, leave! Now!âÂ
He backs up, and for the first time that night you get a good look at his eyes. They are no longer the pools of honey you once found yourself getting lost in, their dark, like a black void, and he almost looks unrecognizable as he stands there. âYou never truly loved me did you?.âÂ
His words cut through you, because you really did love him, and you thought he loved you. But someone who loves you would never treat you like he has you. âI loved you more than youâll ever know, but clearly youâve got some shit mixed up in your head to think that I didnât.âÂ
âBut you are always going to love Charles more Y/N. You can tell yourself itâs only platonic love, but we both know itâs not.âÂ
You wipe away your tears as you sit back down on the side of your bed, this was getting old. âI canât do this anymore. Truly. Iâve tried to tell you how much you mean to me, but Charles is a part of my life and if you canât deal with that,â You take a deep breath, scared for what's about to come out of your mouth. âThen maybe we should break up.âÂ
And for the first time that night Lucas doesnât respond and youâre actually surprised that he doesnât put up a fight. âAlright then I guess we are done.â When he doesnât immediately leave and decides to squat down in front of you, you're confused. Especially when he wipes away your tears as his hand cups your cheek. âI never wanted us to end up like this, but I canât share your heart with someone else.âÂ
He should be screaming and instigating more arguing, not being gentle and loving. More tears fall down your cheeks as he presses a final kiss on your forehead before walking out your bedroom door. You can hear your parents greet him downstairs, what great timing for them to arrive home, and when the front door slams youâre surprised your Dad isnât going after him.Â
Youâre immediately calling Charles and you donât even have to speak, your sniffles and ragged breathing lets him know that you need him. As you hang up the phone you hear a gentle knock on your door and you see your Mom peek her head in, her heart breaking when she sees the state youâre in. âOh my sweet girl.âÂ
âItâs over Mom.â You choke out between sobs.Â
She does the only thing that she knows you need right now and just holds you, lets you get it all out as she runs her fingers through your hair.Â
But seconds later youâre both greeted with an out of breath Charles standing in the middle of your room. Your tears subside for a moment, as you see him doubled over trying to catch his breath.
âAlright, Iâm gonna leave you two be.â Your Mom gives you a reassuring kiss on the head before exiting your bedroom.Â
Charles takes her spot next to you on your bed, his arm immediately pulling you into him. âDid you run here?â You ask as you rest your head on his shoulder.Â
âDid you expect anything less when you called me crying?â Heâs deadly serious when he says it, and you donât know it, but heâd drop everything to come to your aid, no matter if you asked or not. You donât answer him, but when you wrap your arms around his waist and basically tuck yourself into his side, he knows you appreciate him being here. âAm I wrong for thinking this has something to do with Lucas?âÂ
The tears start to fall again as the fight replays in your head. âWe broke up.â Your words barely above a whisper, but Charles has no trouble hearing them, even over your sniffles.Â
âNever liked that asshole anyways.âÂ
You rolled your eyes at Charles' statement, lightly laughing because he was totally lying. âDonât lie, you liked him, hell everyone liked him.âÂ
âEver thought I am just a very good actor? He made you happy, so I just pretended to like him, for your sake.âÂ
âWish you would have made your dislike of him known, maybe I wouldnât be a hot mess on a Friday night right now.â A sigh escapes past your lips, the feeling of Charles gently rubbing circles on your side had started to soothe you. And you wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his embrace.Â
Charles doesnât mean to pry, he knows youâll tell him when you're ready, but heâs curious as to why the two of you had broken up, as far as he was concerned the two of you seemed happier than ever. But he wasnât going to lie and say he wasnât happy about the two of you breaking up, for reasons unknown to him yet.Â
âYou gonna tell me what happened?âÂ
Your grip on him tightens and he thinks if he let you, youâd be under his skin if it was possible. âHe was jealous of you.âÂ
Charles feels his heartbeat quicken and heâs not sure why, but he does know he wants to hear the whole story. âAnd?âÂ
You know youâre going to start crying again, but it's Charles, you can tell him anything. So you take a deep breath and spill the beans. âIt started a couple months ago. Heâd pick fights over stupid stuff at first and then it turned into stuff concerning you. I tried to just let it go and make sure he knew he was my number one priority. But tonightâs fight was the worst one yet and I just couldnât handle it anymore. He was basically insulating that I loved you more than him and I tried to tell him it was only platonic love that I had for you, but he wasnât convinced.âÂ
Thereâs a strange feeling that blooms in Charles' chest as your words hit his ears and it clouds his mind because heâs never had a feeling like this when heâs been around you. Itâs foreign and it scares the shit out of him.
You hold back some information from Charles, mainly because you were still processing how you really feel about him. Trying to sort through what Lucas had planted into your brain and what might have already been there, left over from thirteen year old you. But your ring clad finger searches for his and when you feel the cool contrast of his ring, you wrap your pinky fingers together. âDo you think our friendship is normal Charlie?âÂ
He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused as to what you meant. âWhereâs this coming from?âÂ
Your eyes never break away from your intertwined fingers, matching rings staring back at you. âLucas said our friendship isnât normal and basically the fact that we have matching rings isnât normal either.âÂ
Now Charles' gaze is also on your rings and for a moment he thinks maybe it isnât normal, but then he realizes this is your guys normal. So fuck what anyone else or Lucas thought about his friendship with you. âThink he might have been just pulling shit out of his ass at that point. Jealous that he doesnât have anyone in his life like we do each other.âÂ
Charles' words do make you feel a little better, because you know no matter what youâll always have each other and tonight is proof of that, but that doesnât stop your still broken heart from showing.
âStill kind of made me feel like shit though, like he made it seem like I didnât love him at all, when I clearly did. I mean god Charles he was my first date, first kiss, first everything. Even with how badly he had treated me these last couple months, weâre always gonna have that connection. How am I supposed to find someone like that again? Fuck. I mean he literally has a part of me that Iâll never get back.âÂ
And Charles can feel his heart tightening at your words, because youâre truly the most amazing girl he knows, and to know that Lucas treated you badly when all you deserve is the best awakens something in him.Â
âI wish you could see how you look to me, how amazing you are. Yes, you have those connections with Lucas, but believe me when I say you arenât going to have a problem finding someone else.âÂ
A small smile finds its way onto your face as you hear Charles speak. âYouâre just saying that to make me feel better.âÂ
âI wouldnât say anything that wasnât true. Youâre funny, kind, the best listener, and youâre so beautiful. Truly Y/N, anyone would be lucky to have you. And Lucas is clearly stupid for letting you go.âÂ
The blush on your cheeks probably looked like a bad sunburn with how much you were blushing and as you made eye contact with Charles you suddenly felt like that thirteen year old girl again. His blue eyes burning into yours and when he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear you canât help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach. And for a brief moment Charles had pushed your thoughts about Lucas to the back of your mind.Â
He pulls you into a hug and if there is one place you feel the safest in the world, itâs in Charles arms. And when he whispers into your ear that everything is gonna be fine, you know itâs going to be, as long as youâve got Charles in your life.Â
seventeen and twentyÂ
He had done it.Â
Charles had finally gotten into Formula 1. The thing he had only dreamt of since childhood had finally come true. The long weekends away from home, the training, the tiredness, the stress, it was all worth it in the end. That seat was finally his and you couldnât have been more proud. He had been in talks with a couple of the teams for a while and he always kept you updated on the possibilities, some weeks it sounded like he would sign with one team, and then the next another. The whole situation was beyond stressful to you, so you could only imagine how Charles felt about it all.Â
The day you found out that he signed with Suaber was one youâll never forget.
Charles had tried to plan some elaborate thing to announce the big news to you, but that meant he would have to keep it a secret from you for at least a day or two. Something he found to be rather difficult once he got home, because the only thing he wanted to do was tell you.Â
It didnât matter to him that it was almost midnight by the time he had gotten home from the airport, he was going to tell you tonight no matter what. He pulled his phone out of his pocketâ thumbs moving rapidly as he texted you.Â
After dozing off multiple times in the last half hour you had decided to call it quits on your binge session of The Office for the night. You had switched the TV to something random to actually fall asleep to and it didnât take long for you to be on the cusp of actual sleep untilâÂ
DING
A groan escaped past your lips and you contemplated ignoring it, but when the second alert went off you snatched your phone off the nightstand. It felt like you were staring directly into the sun as your eyes struggled to read the text notification.Â
Charlie: come out backÂ
Your eyes glanced at the time â 12:15. What the hell could he possibly want this late? But you begrudgingly got out of bed, slipping on some shoes and a sweatshirt before quietly going downstairs.Â
The light on the back patio illuminated the backyard just enough for you to see Charles sitting on the swings waiting for you. And If you were even thinking about sneaking up on Charles that would have been impossible with the sliding door to the backyard. The thing screeched like nails on a chalkboard even with you opening it just enough to slide through it. His gaze now locked onto you as you scurried off the porch and towards the swings.Â
The smile that he greeted you with was one beyond measure. He was clearly happy about something and you could tell just by the crinkles around his eyes and those dimples that right now looked to be deeper than canyons.Â
âWhatâs got you so happy, Leclerc?âÂ
Your eyes focused on Charles' frame as he swayed back and forth slowly on the swing. He was clearly too big for it â his legs were bent awkwardly and his swing creaked everytime he moved. You could feel the sides of the swing digging into your hips and you realized you probably looked as ridiculous as him.Â
âJust happy to see you. Missed you.â His smile still ever prominent.Â
You scoffed at his words, he had just seen you a couple days ago. âYeah right. You wouldnât have texted me at midnight if there wasnât something going on. In fact, how did you know I was up or even home? Itâs a Friday night you know.âÂ
âBecause I know you Y/N. Your Friday nights are usually spent at home watching some show until you canât stay up any longer.âÂ
A grimace finds its way onto your face, what an amazing life you live. âOkay when you say it outloud it makes me sound like a loser.âÂ
His eyes had softened as the two of you made eye contact. âNothing wrong with how you spend your Friday nights.âÂ
You wanted to get off the topic of your nonexistent social life and onto the pressing matter at hand tonight â what had Charles so giddy? âSo are you gonna tell me what is actually going on or what?âÂ
He took a deep breath, he couldnât believe he was finally getting to say these words out loud. âIâve got a Formula 1 seat next year.âÂ
A blank expression is all that is staring back at Charles and heâs worried that youâre somehow mad or upset, but thatâs far from the truth. You arenât sure if youâve heard him right, because you think you heard him say heâs going to be racing in Formula 1 next year, but your brain has seemed to have short circuitedâ your heart beating a mile a minute.Â
Youâre able to get out, âSorry â what?!â and when you hear those words come from him once again youâre practically leaping out of the swing and into his arms. The fact that itâs nighttime and people are sleeping is the last thing on your mind as you're shouting excited nonsense at him.Â
His laughter filled your ears as he stood up from the swing with you still wrapped up in his arms. You just couldnât believe it, something he had worked so hard for, dreamt about since childhood, had finally come true. If anyone was deserving of it â it was him.Â
âPutain de merde Charles! When did you sign and with who?â You asked once you had finally peeled yourself away from him and were able to form a coherent sentence.Â
âSauber â I just signed yesterday. I know itâs not Ferrari like we had hoped-âÂ
Your jaw dropped and you lightly smacked his arm. âFerrari will always be there, I promise. And maybe after they see how good you do this upcoming season theyâll regret not signing you. But what Iâm really wondering is why you told me you were going to do testing for one of the teams instead of telling me you were going to sign with them!âÂ
He put his hands up in defense, but the cheesy grin on his face still remained. âI wanted to surprise you! But then as soon as I signed that contract all I wanted to do was tell you. I literally just got home from the airport when I texted you!âÂ
The fact that Charles wanted you to be the first person he told had you melting and the butterflies in your stomach had you thinking about those unresolved feelings you had towards him. But you pushed it aside because tonight was not the night for that to be lingering in your mind.Â
You reached down to his hand and linked your pinky fingers together. The gesture no longer just meant for a promise, but also one of comfort and reassurance. âI do hope you know though how immensely proud I am of you. How proud your Papa would be of you. I knew from that first time you ever mentioned something about becoming a F1 driver when we were kids that you would accomplish it and now look at you.âÂ
Charles' eyes soften at your words and when he looks into your eyes he feels that funny foreign feeling. The one that blooms in his chest and travels down to his stomach, the same feeling from last year when he held you after Lucas broke your heart. The feeling he chooses to ignore as he pulls you back into his arms, hugging you tightly, like someone might take you from him. He knows his life wouldnât be the same without you and that he owes some of this success to youâ for constantly believing in him even when he didnât, for dreaming with him, and for being the light on even his darkest days.Â
âAnd I hope you know that I wouldnât have made it without you. Youâve been my biggest supporter since we were kids, always believing in me, pushing me, coming to support me when you could, and I canât imagine you not being at my first race.âÂ
âOh do you not remember what I said when we were younger? Think I said Iâd have a permanent paddock pass, so you bet your ass Iâm gonna be there.âÂ
A small laugh escapes past his lips and his dimples are back out in full force for what seems like the millionth time tonight. âTruly Y/N. Merci, I couldnât have done it without you. Je t'aime.âÂ
âJe t'aime aussi Charlie.âÂ
His pinky finger finds yours once again and when he curls his finger around yours a wave of deja vu washes over you. And thatâs when you remembered the last time the two were out here together. You were still kids, but you had made him promise not to forget you once he got into Formula 1.Â
Now here the two of you stood, high on the exciting news of him achieving that goal. You canât help that pit that starts to form in your stomach as you think of what you feared at age ten coming true. You try to hide it, not wanting to dampen the mood, and you know all you can do is pray that he keeps his promise.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
That following March you make the trip to Australia with the Leclercâs and your family and itâs everything you could have ever dreamed of. Sure you had attended the Monaco Grand Prix every year, and some of Charles F2 races, but you had never been really in the thick of it like this. Maybe it was because it was Charles' first ever F1 race, but the feeling in the air was indescribable. The roar of the engines, the cheers from the crowd, it was something you could get used to experiencing.Â
Itâs surreal to see him in the car, see him flying around the circuit like itâs nothing, because all you can imagine is eight year old Charles saying he wants to be an F1 driver when he grows up in that car. He ends up placing P13 and for his first ever F1 race you couldn't have been more proud. And you arenât afraid to admit that you shed a few tears, honestly you think everyone shed a few tears seeing him finally accomplish that lifetime dream of his.Â
When you see him after the race heâs beaming like heâd won the thing and you could only imagine what he will be like when he actually wins his first race. You can practically feel the adrenaline radiating off of him when he wraps you up in his embrace.Â
âYou did so good Charles. You did it, you made it.â Your words slightly mumbled against his shoulder, but he hears you just fine.Â
âIâm glad you were able to come. Wouldnât have been as special if you didnât.â You donât think heâs wiped that smile off his face ever since he got out of the car and it only intensified as he spoke to you.Â
âWouldnât have missed it for the world.â And itâs true because thereâs no other place youâd want to be right now.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
The next time you see him is for the Monaco Grand Prix and heâs nearly shitting himself the whole week before. You would have thought this was his first ever time in a F1 car with how nervous he was. He knows these streets like the back of his hand, knows this circuit like the back of his hand, but he still spends an unnecessary amount of time on the sim, trying to perfect every little thing.Â
With what little amount of time you see him between practice sessions and qualifying before the actual race you try and reassure him, let him know that heâs still an amazing person and driver no matter the outcome on Sunday. And it seems to have worked because by Sunday his spirits seem to be much higher and heâs got a good feeling about the race, hoping to score some points, and maybe win his home race.Â
But when his brakes fail and he ends up crashing into the back of another car resulting in a DNF youâre heartbroken, but you know heâs even more upset. You know heâs going to be so hard on himself and overanalyze the whole situation, but that doesnât mean you arenât going to try and make things a little better.Â
When you find him heâs pacing back and forth in what little space he has in his drivers room. Helmet still strapped onto his head and his race suit still done up. You spot one of his gloves on the physio table and the other on the ground â evidence that he had thrown them. Heâs so in his head that he doesnât even see you standing in the doorway as he paces.Â
âCharlie.â Your voice is soft and you hope by using his nickname that it may calm him a little.Â
His movements stop when he hears your voice and when he finally sees you standing there in the doorway all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and die. What an embarrassment to have his first DNF at his first home race. Itâs like the gods wanted to punish him for reasons unbestowed to him.Â
Your reflection stares back at you through his visor as you approach him, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your hands find their home on them. You finally work up the courage to flip up his visor so you can actually look at him and when you see red puffy eyes staring back at you your heart breaks a little more.Â
âLetâs get this helmet off, yeah?âÂ
With a small nod given from him as permission you reach your hands up to undo the strap. Youâre trying to be delicate with your actions, but when it comes to taking off his helmet there really isnât a way to be nice about it. And Charles knows because heâs got his hands over yours, aiding you in taking it off.Â
You couldnât help but stare at him as he practically tore off his balaclava and threw it haphazardly somewhere in the room. As silly as it seemed, the indentions that it left behind on his face somehow made him more attractive. Combine that with his hair being a tousled mess and his skin glistening from the sweat (and tears) and post race Charles may be your favorite Charles. You watched even more intently as he unzipped his race suit, letting the upper half fall at his hips, exposing the tight fireproofs that you loved more than you should.Â
Those unresolved feelings that youâve tried to shove deep down for years had seemed to be crawling their way back up recently. But for today you pushed them back down because you were here to comfort Charles, not ogle at him, no matter how good he looked at the moment.Â
He sat down on his physio table with a defeated sigh, hand running through his already messy hair. âIâve let everyone down â the team, my family, myself, you. Maybe if I wouldnât have braked too hard at turn seven or didnât push as hard in the tunnel-âÂ
You moved to stand in between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders. He was on the edge of spiraling and you knew if you didnât take him back from that ledge heâd be in his head about it for weeks.Â
âCharles. There was nothing that you could have done differently, it was an issue with the car. Which means it had nothing to do with you as a person, as a driver, or your talent.â Your hand subconsciously searches for his, and like itâs muscle memory your pinkies link seconds later. âI promise.âÂ
âA âonce in a generation driverâ would have avoided crashing.âÂ
Ugh. The phrases that the media used to describe Charles were â yes very flattering, but they came at a price. He took them personally and the idea of being anything less than what they claimed him to be took a serious mental toll on him.Â
âYou had no brakes Charles. What were you supposed to do? Bust your feet through the floor and Fred Flintstone it?â You could see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at your comment and you knew he was backing away from the edge. His hands find their way around your waist and heâs pulling you into him, your head finding a home on his shoulder.Â
âIâm still immensely proud of you. Hell, you could finish dead last in every race and Iâd still be your number one fan.â This time there is an actual smile that washes across Charles face, but you donât get to see it, your head is still resting on his shoulder. â And I know itâs easier said than done, but please try not to be so hard on yourself, especially when it comes to things out of your control.âÂ
âWhat would I do without you?â Itâs a serious question that Charles asks himself often. Youâve been each other's rocks for twelve years now. Through the amazing times and the horrible times. No one knows either of you like you do each other.Â
Youâve pulled away from his embrace now, your eyes staring back at his. âHmmm. I donât know. Youâd probably be absolutely miserable without me.âÂ
And when you finally see that pretty smile of his, dimples and all, you know youâve accomplished your mission.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
Although after Monacoâ things changed.Â
The first thing and probably the most inevitable was Charles moving out. Honestly, you were surprised he hadnât done it sooner, but in between the Monaco GP and Canadian GP he moved into his own place. Which in theory wasnât a big deal, but that meant he wasnât just right down the street from you anymore. He had gotten an apartment further into the city, which in Monaco thatâs not that far, but you knew it would make a difference.Â
The days of popping into his house and expecting him to be there were long gone. The whole thing really shouldnât have been such a big deal to you, but you couldnât help but think that him moving out was only going to aid in your worries of him forgetting about you to come true.Â
After Monaco your communication with Charles started to slowly lessen.Texts that once were answered in minutes now went hours without an answer or sometimes no response at all. You blamed it on his busy schedule, trying not to think too much about it. But much to your dismay, your worries do come true.Â
Itâs inevitable to you that you are drifting apart when you realize itâs been three months since youâve seen him, almost a month since youâve talked to him. And when you see him make it official with some girl you hadnât even heard mention of after the British GP you feel like itâs just another nail in the coffin.Â
You donât even make the effort to reach out anymore, in fact you make sure not to after seeing that heâs got a new girlfriend. Youâd just be wasting your time and energy. And it may seem like you're giving up on keeping Charles in your life, but really what else could you do? It truly hurts like hell to see the person you care about the most not seem to care about you, but you canât force someone to talk to you or see you.Â
Heâs living his dream, traveling the world, partying, surrounded by stunning women. Youâre still in school, still only seventeen, and not sure what you want your life to look like. It was inevitable really, for the two of you to drift apart, but that little part of you that ten year old you still holds on to, hopes that Charles remembers that promise he made and eventually comes to his senses. Because you know and you know he knows that you two are always going to have that special bond, the ring on your finger a constant reminder of it. And you wonder if he still wears his, but you donât hold on to much hope that he does.Â
Even though Charles and you arenât exactly the closest at the moment you do want to try and attend another race before you start your final year of school and are forced to give that all of your attention. So when Arthur texts you asking if you want to go to Monza with Pascale and him you donât pass up the opportunity.
Arthur filled you in on stuff regarding Charles during the flight, not that you asked, but he knew the two of you hadnât really been talking. And you donât mean to ask about his girlfriend, but you do, and you can see Arthur tip-toeing around his words. âSheâs⊠nice. Iâve only met her once so I really couldnât tell you much. You havenât met her yet though, right?âÂ
You shook your head at him. âI havenât even seen Charles since the home race. So no, I havenât had the pleasure of meeting her.âÂ
âMerde. I didnât think it had been that long.âÂ
What Arthur doesnât tell you is that Charles doesnât know their Mom and him are coming, not to mention you. You only figure it out when Arthur says something about making sure Charles doesnât know to the Sauber team member who gives him three VIP passes. Arthur claims you guys are here to surprise Charles, give him a little pick me up after his last two races were DNFâs.Â
The idea of seeing Charles again after so long already had your stomach in knots, but now knowing he doesnât even know youâre coming makes it even worse. You were under the impression that he knew you were tagging along with Arthur. And everyone knows Charles is horrible at hiding his emotions, what if he sees you and canât hide the fact that he doesnât want you here? A million possibilities ran through your brain as Arthur dragged you towards the Sauber garage, while Pascale went to hospitality.Â
Qualifying had just started and you were thankful for the extra time to mentally prepare yourself to see Charles again. With the way you were acting you would have thought you hadnât seen him in years, but truthfully these three months had felt like years.Â
The roar of engines were slightly muffled as you put on a headset, eyes focused on the monitor in front of you. Even with your nerves through the roof, it felt good to be back at a race. The atmosphere was intoxicating, you loved the hustle and bustle of it all, the adrenaline you got from just being here was crazy.Â
You were so engrossed in watching Charles that you didnât even notice someone come up behind Arthur and you until you felt him tap your shoulder. When you turn around the person standing there is the last person you expected to be seeing. Â
Leahâ Charles' girlfriend. Â
Her lips are moving, but you arenât hearing a word, and thatâs when you realize youâve still got your headset on. You quickly pull them down around your neck just in time to hear her say. âYou must be Y/N?â You're shocked she knows who you are and from the look on your face she knows exactly what youâre thinking. âCharles has mentioned you before. Itâs nice to finally meet you!âÂ
Itâs sad to say that you had a hard time believing that Charles talked about you to her, but you put on a fake smile and accepted her invitation for a hug. âItâs nice to meet you too!â While Arthur and her spoke you tried to get a good read on her, but it was hard to tell if she was naturally this friendly or if it was all just an act.Â
Time slipped away as the three of you chatted and you hadnât realized Q1 was over and that Charles hadnât made it into Q2 until you saw Leahâs eyes widened at something behind you. That something turned out to be someone and that someone turned out to be Charles. Leahâs practically hanging off of him while sheâs trying to take a million photos and videos. And thatâs when you know why Arthur tiptoed around his words about her earlier. Yes she was âniceâ, but she was clearly using Charles for her own benefit.Â
Charles on the other hand was oblivious to Leah shoving her phone in his face. His vision had zeroed in on you from the moment he entered the garage, even with your back turned to him he could spot you in a crowd of hundreds. When you finally turned around he felt like his feet had been cemented to the ground. His body felt hot, like a fever was running through his veins, and it wasnât from being in the car moments ago.Â
Arthur wasnât supposed to be here and you werenât eitherâ especially talking to his girlfriend. It throws him for a loop and he canât seem to get his brain and mouth to work together to even greet you, so he stands there while Leah makes sure everyone knows sheâs dating a Formula 1 driver.Â
The tight lipped smile you throw his direction doesnât help how heâs feeling. You should be beaming at him, in his personal space (preferably in his arms), laughing at something dumb he said, anything other than how you were right now. And he knows it's no fault but his own, but it still hurts to see you stand there and act like you donât like him, like you havenât known each other for twelve years.
Charles could blame his absence in your life on his career, but that wasnât the whole truth.Â
He had seen your texts and truthfully sometimes he was so busy that he would forget to text you back. But those times when he could give you his full attention over text or the occasional facetime were times he never took for granted. He loved hearing your laughter, seeing your smile, or even just having you send him a text about your day. But with those things he loved so dearly came that funny feeling in his chest.Â
The same feeling that he first felt last year when Lucas broke up with you, the night he told you he made it into F1, at his home race, and sprinkled in occasionally at other times. He had realized what it was not too long after the Monaco GP and at first he denied it, he thought there was no way it was possible. But then when that feeling would happen just from getting a text from you he knew he was fucked. He wasnât even going to say the word out loud, not even think it, afraid of what might come if he even allowed the universe the satisfaction of him accepting what he was feeling. You were supposed to be his best friend and not someone he had feelings for.Â
So what did he do to combat this insane revelation he had found out about himself?Â
Distance himself.Â
If he wasnât in contact with you or seeing you, then surely this silly little thing, that he once again would not acknowledge by its government name, would go away. Plus his ever so busy career was the perfect excuse for him to use in case his Mother or you questioned him.Â
And at first it wasnât hard at all, he had gradually weaned himself off from facetiming you and then texting. And it wasnât that bad because he had racing and training and media duties and partiesâ all the stuff that his life involved now to distract him. But then your texts became less and less and then on one off week he realized just how badly he missed having your stupid contact photo pop up on his phone and how he may have fucked everything up.Â
But then he met Leah through another driverâs girlfriend and he had her to distract him even more. He knew what kind of person she was from the get go, but he was basically using her too, so if she wanted to make her whole instagram about him then so be it as long as his brain was free of that thing that must not be named about you. And Leah worked for awhile, she was relatively nice and it helped that she was pretty, but she wasnât you.Â
There was no real connection between them and sometimes Charles would rather watch paint dry than have a conversation with her. And most of the time he just let her sit there and talk while he scrolled on his phone, trying not to act like his heart didnât skip a beat when a post of yours would pop up on Instagram.Â
He wanted to contact you so badly, but what was he supposed to say? Hey, I've been so busy that I haven't even picked up my phone to text you hi.Â
He knew he had caused some damage to your relationship when his Mom asked why he wasnât coming home to see you anymore and that you werenât yourself. He feels like shit about it, the idea of him making you upset is practically nightmare fuel for Charles and he doesnât know why he thought distancing himself would make things better, they had just made things worse. Made him miss you even more without even realizing it.Â
Clearly Charles had never heard the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder because if he had then maybe he wouldnât have been stood there like a fool in the Sauber garage right now. Heart racing faster than the car he just got out of at the sight of you standing here in front of him for the first time in three months.Â
What the hell was happening to him? What was this sudden effect you had on him? Had it always been there and he hadnât realized it until now? He couldnât think straight â it was clearly not a good idea to have tried to ignore these realizations (feelings) he had about you. A bad idea to not see you for months because now that you are here everything is rushing back up to the surface 10x worse than before.Â
âLong time no see stranger.â Your voice brings him back to reality, but your closer proximity has him searching for an out. His head glancing in every direction for someoneâ his race engineer, one of the mechanics, Leah, anybody to distract him from you.Â
When his search comes up short he resorts to making his stomach hurt even more by talking to you.Â
âYeah. How have you been?â God. Did he not even know how to talk to you anymore? Small talk with someone you know better than yourself had to be a torture method used by government agencies.Â
âIâve been good.â Lie, but he didnât need to know that. âI see youâve been living it up since I saw you last.âÂ
You were expecting a little awkwardness between the two of you, but the way Charles was acting was insane, it was like it was your first time meeting or something. He couldnât maintain eye contact to save his life and honestly looked like heâd rather be someplace else at the moment. Your fear of him not wanting you here was clearly not a silly worry, it was reality.Â
âUm yeah. Always busy doing something recently.âÂ
Youâve been fidgeting with the ring on your pinky finger the whole time and your movements catch Charles' gaze. His eyes immediately locking in on the silver ring still shining on your finger. Heâs surprised after the way heâs treated you these past couple months that you still have it on, but yet here you stood in front of him with it on, a sign to Charles that he did not deserve you one bit.Â
When he sees you realize that heâs staring at your ring and then sees your eyes shift to his naked finger his heart rate quickens once again. His stomach feels like it's about ready to drop out of his ass at the sight of hurt on your face thatâs then quickly replaced by a blank stare. He canât get his words out fast enough, heâs chewing on his words, mouth drier than the Sahara desert.Â
âI-um-Itâs in my-âÂ
âItâs fine Charles, really. Weâre not little kids anymore. I shouldnât be holding on to silly childhood promises.â It wasnât fine, it was far from fine. Youâre blinking back tears, your words referencing everything but the ring. But itâs a combination of everything thatâs got you upset. The two of you drifting apart, the broken childhood promises, wanting to hate him right now but still being so proud to see him out there doing what he loves, and that damn ring.Â
You felt stupid for still having it on, for thinking that he would still have his on. You needed to start being more realistic, but you were still only seventeen. An age that held so much fun and whimsy, you should be out having fun with your friends, not getting upset over a guy who clearly didnât feel the same about you. The two of you were always going to be at two different times in your lives, it was never going to work out, but fuck there is always going to be apart of you that still holds onto him. Heâs got his fingers dug so deep into you that you think you'll be old and gray and still wonder what could have been.Â
Each word you spoke felt like a stab to Charles' heart. He wanted to tell you that he still wears his ring. That itâs sitting on its designated spot in his driver's room. But once again he canât get his words out fast enough, his brain still hung up on your words for some reason. Heâs hoping you would realize that the reason he doesnât have it on was because he had just been in qualifying, but when he sees you slide your ring off and toss it in your bag those stabs to the heart intensify. He feels like heâs losing everything right in front of him, but he canât seem to get his mind and body to work together to stop it.Â
He feels an arm wrap around his and he knows it's Leah. Where was she moments ago when he was looking for an out? Maybe this situation could have been avoided and Charles wouldnât feel like he had just lost the one person in his life who truly cared about him.Â
âGood luck tomorrow Charles.âÂ
You donât feel like sticking around any longer, especially if you have to look at Charles and Leah. You let Arthur know you're gonna go find Pascale, but you donât leave without taking one last glance at Charles.Â
Itâs a long evening with Arthurâs prying questions about what's going on between his brother and you. All you can do is shrug your shoulders because really you donât actually know what happened yourself, you assumed you drifted apart, but was there something else that happened that you didnât know about?Â
The next day you decide to watch the race from Sauberâs hospitality with Pascale, hoping to get away from Arthurâs never ending questions and Leahâs presence in general. Pascale luckily hadnât pressed you on the Charles matter, but sheâs practically your second Mother and she knows too that thereâs something going on between Charles and you, sheâs known from the beginning.
Charles ended up placing eleventh, which is miles better than his last two races, which were DNFs. Though you donât even bother to go to the garage with Pascale, opting to stay in hospitality until itâs time to leave. It may have been petty of you, but you really werenât in the mood to see Charles again and from his behavior yesterday he clearly doesnât care that you're not there.Â
But that was far from the truth. In fact Charles was praying that you would show up in the garage this morning, but when Arthur shows up solo he canât hide the frown that forms on his face. The praying then moves onto seeing you post race, but that is quickly diminished when his Mother shows up without you in tow either.Â
Your words from yesterday hung heavy in Charles' mind all last night. I shouldnât be holding onto silly childhood promises bothered him more than it should have. And he wracked his brain trying to figure out what you could have been referencing. It wasnât until he was almost asleep that he remembered a certain promise that the two of you made at ten and thirteen. Sleep was the last thing on his mind as he laid there wide awake staring at the ceiling recalling the memory in his mind.
He was such a fucking asshole. Heâd done the one thing you promised him not to do. Granted he never really forgot about you, you were still clearly on his mind these past three months, but to you it really did seem like he had forgotten about you. Like he had gone off and became this famous race car driver that couldnât be bothered to text his childhood best friend.
God he had fucked up, like truly fucked up, and all he wanted to do was explain himself (without revealing you know what), apologize, and try and get back to the way things used to be. That though, was proving to be easier said than done when you wouldnât even come around. And by the time heâs done with his post race duties youâre back at the hotel ready to head back home. Charles doesnât think heâll ever get the chance to redeem himself and you're left wondering why you even agreed to come in the first place.Â
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
A week later you're at home sitting on your bed, face shoved into a math textbook trying to figure out some formula when your phone rings. Charles' contact photo pops up on your phone and you contemplate not answering it. You havenât had any contact with him since Monza so you wonder why heâs decided to call you of all things on a random Monday. But against your better judgment you press answer and put it on speaker before tossing it back down on your bed.Â
âBonjour?âÂ
Thereâs muffled sounds in the background, but Charles hasnât spoken a word, and you wonder if he accidentally butt dialed you.Â
âY/N.â His voice finally echos through the speaker and you hate the way your heart flutters at the sound of your name rolling off his tongue.Â
Charles had been working himself up to call you for hours, his finger hovering over your contact too many times to count. He thinks he may have blacked out a little when he finally pressed his thumb down on the screen and then heard your sweet voice, hence his delayed response. Today was his last chance to tell you the big news he'd hoped to tell you last week in Monza, but that clearly didnât work out.Â
The big news in question? Him finally signing with Ferrari.Â
The team that he had dreamt of driving for once he got into F1 had finally given him a chance. It was not only his dream, but his Fatherâs dream for Charles too. Many weekends with his Father spent at race tracks had all led up to him getting that initial seat this year and then finally getting that Ferrari seat for next year, he only wished his Father could be here to witness it. Charles couldnât have been more happy to finally accomplish that dream not only for himself, but also his Father.Â
The other person who knew about how badly he wanted to be sporting that Ferrari red and supported him in finally reaching that goal was you. And to Charles it didnât matter if you guys perhaps werenât exactly on the best of terms right now, he wanted you to be the first person he told, just like last year when he got into F1. He sure as hell didnât want you to find out from the press release, so here he was telling you over the phone.Â
âOui?â
âIâve done it. Iâm driving for Ferrari next year.â It feels good to say it outloud, especially to you because you know just how much it means to him.Â
Thereâs silence from your end for some time and Charles checks to make sure you hadnât hung up on him, but the call time is still going. Heâs about ready to say your name when he hears sniffles echo through the speaker.
âAre you crying?â Heâs worried heâs somehow done something once again to make you upset.Â
You are in fact crying, as much as you hate it. Itâs a mixture of happy and sad tears that you're desperately trying to wipe away like he can see you. Happy tears for him finally signing with Ferrari, a goal that you knew he would accomplish with no issue. Sad tears because you wished he was here telling you in person, wished that things were like they used to be, wished that you never developed feelings for him, and wished that whatever that situation was in Monza last week had never happened.Â
âIâm just really happy for you Charlie.â His heart skipped a beat hearing you call him Charlie, it had been too long since youâd graced him with that nickname for his liking. âI told you Ferrari would see what they had missed out on and come running.âÂ
A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled that night on the swings when he told you about him getting into F1. âI wanted you to be the first person to know.â You canât ignore the butterflies that form in your stomach at the thought of him thinking about you, wanting you to be the first to know, but youâre still crying, your emotions all over the place.Â
When silence fills the line and he still hears your sniffles, he knows itâs not just happy tears youâre crying. It was time to face the elephant over the phone.Â
âListen I know things have been weird between us these past couple months and,â He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. âI know itâs my fault. I broke that promise I made you and I hate myself for it everyday.â The idea of him distancing himself from you was the dumbest idea heâs ever had. He wasnât better off without you, he was better with you. His feelings towards you aside, heâd rather die than not have you in his life.Â
âI got so caught up in this new lifestyle and I lost myself for a while.â Maybe he shouldnât be lying to you, but he wasnât about ready to admit you know what. Heâd already fucked up enough, he didnât need to go spilling his guts and fuck everything up even more.
âAnd then in Monza I was shocked to see you there and I felt like an ass for forgetting about you and I was trying to figure out what to say, but you were clearly upset and it was honestly just a mess.â He took a deep breath before continuing. âBasically what Iâm trying to say is that Iâm sorry for being a dick and that I really miss you.âÂ
His thumb toyed with the ring on his finger as he waited for your response and he remembered you still didnât know he still wore his. âI also still wear my ring. I just hadnât gotten the chance to put it back on after qualifying last week.â His gaze never broke from the ring as he spoke. âI donât like that you think I would ever stop wearing it. Gonna wear it till the grave Y/N.âÂ
His last sentence was mumbled, but you heard him loud and clear. Your gaze shifted towards your dresser where the silver ring had sat for the past week. Perhaps you had jumped the gun with your actions last week, you knew he had to take off his jewelry when he got into the car, but in the moment your emotions were telling you otherwise. âYou made me feel like shit Charles. Itâs a horrible feeling to see someone exiting your life in real time and knowing you really canât do anything about it.âÂ
âI know and Iâm so sorry.â He runs his hand through his hair in frustration, and he thinks heâs done it so many times that he might have a bald spot by morning.Â
You feel like youâre forgiving him too easily, but youâve missed him so much. And to hear him finally admit that he fucked up and say that he missed you too has you unfortunately very easily swayed. Heâs been in your life for so long itâs felt like a piece of you was missing these past couple months without having contact with him. So, you forgive him, because you love him.
âI want things to go back to normal, like before.â Youâre standing in front of your dresser now, ring rolling between your fingers.Â
âThey will.â He glanced back down at his ring. âI promise.âÂ
âYou promise?â You asked as you slid the ring back on your finger, a missing part of now you back in its rightful place.Â
âI promise.âÂ
twenty two and twenty five
Over the past four years Charles and you had matured significantly.Â
You had graduated and landed a job that you loved at home in Monaco. It required you to travel a lot, which you loved, but also came with amazing off time and flexible hours. A perk you were beyond grateful for because that meant you could attend the majority of Charles races. You had also gotten your own place, a cute little apartment, and was truly embracing adulthood.Â
When it came to the love department thoughâ Charles was still there.
Over the four years you had your share of talking stages and two boyfriends who both only lasted a couple months. Your hectic work schedule didnât help matters, but neither did your feelings towards Charles that youâve been harboring for the past eight years. You really would have thought youâd have gotten over those, figured it was a thing of adolescents, but your twenties came and the feelings never went. It wasnât as bad as when you were younger, you learned to handle yourself better and your job keeping you busy helped that. The two of you were at a good place in your relationship and you came to terms that unless you were a big girl and confessed your feelings to him, then you were just going to have to live with him at arms distance.Â
Like you when it came to romantic relationshipsâ you were still Charles number one, as much as he tried to make it work with other girls, they just werenât you. He had thought multiple times over the years that he was going to tell you how he felt, but you were either talking to someone or had a boyfriend, the timing never right. So he learned, like you, to live with his feelings towards you. A thing that was necessary if he didnât want a repeat of what happened when he tried to distance himself from you.
So here the two of you wereâ adults who were completely oblivious to how either of you felt about each other for years, hopelessly pining over each other.Â
Charles' career on the other hand was more of a success story than his love life. In the past four years he had accomplished his Maiden win in Belgium during his first year with Ferrari and then his second the next week in Italy. Then went on to win three more races during this year's season.Â
A season with three wins may sound like a great accomplishment, but the thing was that he should have had more than three. To say that Charles' fourth season with Ferrari was stressful was an understatement for the ages. He had never been more happy for winter break to arrive than he was this year. He had started the season out on a high by winning the first race of the season, but life somehow had a way of humbling him.Â
Horrible strategy calls from the team, bad pit stops, and car troubles had cost Charles his chance at the championship. It seemed like for every high he hadâ five lows followed. So needless to say when he saw the checkered flag at Abu Dhabi he was somewhat relieved that the season was over and perhaps making the podium may have lifted his spirits a little too.Â
But that relief was short lived, because in true Charles fashion, he canât get out of his head about the what ifs from the season. He had wanted to just let it go, leave it behind him and look forward to this time off and the new season ahead. But all his brain wanted to think about was maybe if we would have gone with softs instead of hards or pitted one lap earlier or managed his tires better then maybe he would have been still coming down from the high of winning the championship right now instead of sulking about.Â
Heâd been a little distant since break started and you knew he was probably in his head about everything. So when a text pops up on your phone from him late one evening telling you to meet him at the harbor you donât even think twice about telling him youâll be there in ten. If you had to guess what he had planned, youâd bet all your money on taking his yacht out to look at the stars. It was something the two of you had done for a couple years now, but it was usually over summer break, not the week before Christmas. But for Charles you would do anything, even brave going out on the water, at night, during the winter.Â
When Charles seeâs you walk up to his slip on the dock wearing what looks to be the coziest outfit and holding his favorite blanket from your apartment he thinks his heart is about ready to explode. âYouâre lucky I love you Charles. Itâs gonna be so cold out on the water.âÂ
I love you. The words echo in his mind as he helps you into the boat. Itâs nothing new for you two to say it to each other, and heâs under the impression youâre saying it platonically, but god does it sound so heavenly to hear those three little words come out of your mouth and be directed towards him.Â
âIâm the luckiest man alive.â Heâs referring to you and that glimmer in his eye would tell anyone that he was, but you donât see it, youâre too busy getting situated in your designated spot next to the captain's seat.Â
Once heâs got the boat a good enough distance out into the water he deploys the anchor and you make your way out to the loungers on the deck. You push two of them together, making a big enough space for both you and Charles to relax.Â
Youâre already cozied up with the blanket by the time he makes his way over to you, but he doesnât even have to ask, youâre already pulling back the blanket for him to slide under.Â
He lets out a sigh once he gets comfortable beside you. âI needed this.âÂ
A hum in agreement comes from you as you scoot a little closer to Charles, a gust of cold wind blowing through the air.Â
âThereâs the big dipper.â Charles points his finger up to the sky, your eyes following where heâs pointing to. The two of you take turns pointing out what you think are constellations, but are undoubtedly random stars in made up shapes, but it doesnât matter to either of you.Â
The gentle lull of the waves crashing against the boat fills the silence that falls between the two of you once youâve run out of things to point out. And youâve somehow ended up cuddled into Charles' side, his arm wrapped around you, and your head on his chest. You couldnât help it, heâs always been a walking furnace, and when the opportunity presents itself to be in his arms you were gonna take it.Â
It was something that was happening more and more with you two recentlyâ pushing the envelope per say on what your friendship entailed. Cuddling, staying the night at each other's apartments, hands lingering a little too long after a hug were all normal things for friends to doâ right? Friends who somehow while doing these things couldnât tell that the other person felt the same as they did.Â
Love may be blind, but in Charles and yourâs case, you were blind to love.Â
You donât know how long youâve been out here, but you think you could spend eternity out here with him. The feeling of comfort, safety, and the feeling of home that he brings you when heâs around is something you donât think you can ever live without again. Heâs your person and you hope you're his, no matter what the future for the two of you entails.Â
The feeling of his fingers ghosting across your arm and down towards your hand tells you heâs searching for one thing and when his pinky finger links with yours you know heâs got something on his pretty little mind.Â
âYou wanna talk about it?â You whisper, your head still resting on his solid chest.
He doesnât respond for a while and you think he perhaps didnât hear you, but then he speaks and it sounds like blasphemy coming out of his mouth.Â
âWhat if I quit?âÂ
Your body freezes at his words and youâre hoping heâs not meaning what you think, but when you lift your head to see nothing close to a joking manner on his face you know this is about to get serious.Â
âIâd think youâd be miserable. You love racing, you were born to do it, itâs in your blood Charles. All the hard work youâve put in from a literal child to nowââ You shake your head, not even wanting to think about him quitting racing. âDonât be stupid and throw it all away. Youâre just only getting started.âÂ
A deep sigh comes from him, his eyes fixated on your now intertwined hands as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. âIâm not going to, but there were so many times this past season that I thought about it. I know thatâs crazy to say after I won three times, but god the lows of racing truly are lows. Iâd have a good weekend and then have literally a weekend from hell the next race week. Itâs just a lotâ mentally. Trying to live up to everyoneâs expectations, the teams, the fans, the media, and my own is like a mental prison sometimes.âÂ
You had sat up at this point, and almost like a small child Charles had clung to you, his head in your lap as you gently ran your fingers through hair. You knew he had a rough season, but you didnât think it had taken this much of a toll on him.Â
âAnd youâre right. I love racing and Iâd be miserable without it, but sometimes Iâm miserable with it.âÂ
The frown that had formed on your face moments ago had deepened at his confession. âI didnât know the season had affected you this much Charles. Wish you would have talked to me sooner about it.âÂ
âSorry.â He mumbles.Â
âYou have nothing to be sorry for Charlie, youâre allowed to feel how you feel. And I know you probably get sick of hearing me say it, but Iâm still so immensely proud of you. Like Iâve said before, you could finish dead last in every race and Iâd still be proud. I know this season was a rough one at times, but you won three times and were on the podium eleven times. Thatâs still something to be proud of. So for every time you're miserable because of racing, think about me telling you repeatedly how proud I am of you and maybe youâll just be miserable because of me instead.âÂ
You see the corners of his mouth move up and you know youâve gotten a little smile out of him. âThatâs funny that you think me hearing you say that youâre proud of me would make me miserable. It actually has the opposite effect, so your plan may work, but it would result in me being happier instead of more miserable, which is what I think we want to accomplish right?âÂ
âYes, I love happy Charlie, but I still love miserable Charlie too.âÂ
Heâs sat up, the two of you sitting face to face now, and you arenât sure if it's the cool breeze or him staring at you that makes a shiver run up your spine. âThatâs good to know.âÂ
Heâs still staring at you and even with only the moon as your source of light, those pretty blue eyes of his are as bright as ever, and staring into your soul. And for a split second you think heâs leaning in and you think this might be the moment heâs gonna kiss you, the moment youâve been waiting for since you were thirteen. But youâre completely wrong, heâs only reaching for the blanket as he leans back onto the lounger once more.Â
âMerci Y/N, truly. For always being here for me, especially for tonight. It was nice to finally get that off my chest. Je tâaime.âÂ
You claim your spot back next to Charles and you donât even second guess yourself when you lay your head back on his chest. âJe tâaime aussi Charlie.âÂ
Charles, while he canât complain about having you in his arms and your head on his chest. He can kick himself for that moment mere seconds ago. He was finally going to do it, it was the perfect time, but he chickened out and reached for the blanket instead of using that hand to cup your cheek. He could drive a race car at 230 mph, but couldnât work up the courage to kiss the girl he was in love with. Maybe heâd find the courage sometime in the next four years. But for now he could live with having you cuddled up against him and knowing that even if it may be platonic, you love him too.Â
twenty three and twenty sixÂ
The Monaco Grand Prix.Â
An world renowned event. A pinnacle for motorsports. People from all around the world come to the tiny principality every year to watch twenty of the world's best drivers race around the streets of Monaco.Â
As a child you watched the grandstands go up every year and you dreamed of getting to watch Charles race those very same streets that you took to school. The two of you as kids watching from the crowd, not knowing that some of those drivers Charles would drive alongside one day, even being teammates with some of them. Charles could only hope that one day that would be him on that top step, hearing his own national anthem play at his home race. Â
That one day had yet to happen after six seasons in F1. After three DNFâs, horrible strategy, and two lost pole positionsâ Charles really didnât think winning his home race was ever going to happen. He had started to believe the âMonaco curseâ more and more year after year.Â
You on the other hand didnât believe that the curse existed. You did believe that the idea of one had made Charles be more in his head when the race came around every year, and in a sense perhaps making him not perform the best at times. But no, you didnât believe in the Monaco curse.
Every year you had hoped he would win and sadly when he didnât you were there to pick up the pieces. You knew his time would come and granted you didnât think it would take this long. But the universe works in mysterious ways, thereâs a reason for everything, and you knew there was a reason Charles hadnât won yet.Â
And as this year's grand prix rolled around you hoped that this time the universe was ready to give him what he deserved.Â
You did have a good feeling about the race this year, or at least a better feeling than prior years. It was mainly because Charles had been soâ carefree these past couple days. Heâs usually already thinking about Monaco at the race the week before and the nerves have set in come media day, but this year heâs different.Â
Heâs excited of course, to be at home for the week and to see everyone for more than a couple days, but during the days leading up to media day he doesnât show you any sign of nervousness or doubt. And you canât help but think that this year is the year, he seems to finally be in the right headspace to win this thing.Â
Charles and you had spent basically every free moment the two of you had together this week. It was nice, the two of you together again like old times. You had gotten the week off from work, a perk from your job, and it wasnât like Charles had to travel to another country. So, the two of you took full advantage of the week. Dinner with both families together, hanging out with friends, and just enjoying each other's company filled your Monday through Wednesday.Â
But come Wednesday evening you found yourself at Charles apartment after a long day on the water with all your mutual friends. Youâre absolutely beat and ready to be back at your place when Charles asks you to come back to his, and you want to say no, but the way he looks in golden hour could be used as a hypnotization technique, so you say yes.Â
He claims heâs got something to show you, but the whole car ride and trek into his apartment he wonât budge on telling you what it is. It isnât until he sits down at his piano with a blush creeping up his neck that you know what heâs got to show you.Â
âHave you been working on new music?â You ask with a hopeful smile on your face.Â
His fingers ghosted over the keys and his pinky lightly tapped oneâ the sound filling the room. âFor a while now and I think itâs finally ready.â The blush had made its way onto his cheeks and heâs fidgeting with his bracelets as he makes eye contact with you. âSo, I think itâs only right that the person that itâs for should get to hear it first.âÂ
Your eyes widened in surprise and now youâve both got crimson painted cheeks. âYou wrote a song for me?!âÂ
âYeah.â He states sheepishly.Â
Youâve always loved hearing Charles play the piano. There were many late nights spent where you sat in his apartment and just listened to him mess around on the piano. Those nights were shamelessly some of your favorite moments with Charles, it was like the world didnât exist and it was just you two and the piano. So to know that he thought and even cared enough about you to write you something had your heart about ready to leap out of your chest.Â
âWell, let's hear it then.â You sat down on your usual spot on the couch and eagerly waited for the music to hit your ears.Â
He hesitates at first, his fingers slightly slipping on the keys, but once he gets himself sorted the sound that comes from that piano nearly brings tears to your eyes. Itâs beautiful and heartfelt and you canât believe he wrote something like this while he was thinking of you. Itâs tugging at those feelings youâve still got for him after ten years and you try not to get your hopes up that this means he feels the same as you.Â
When the song is over his head immediately turns to you for reassurance, but all he sees is your body barreling towards him. Youâve got your arms around him before he can even process whatâs happening, but from your excited words of nonsense he knows you loved it.Â
âOh mon dieu!â Is the first coherent thing youâre able to get out.Â
âI take it you liked it?âÂ
âLiked it? I loved it Charlie! It was beautiful and the fact that it was for me made me love it even more. Truly what did I ever do to deserve someone like you in my life? Merci a million times.âÂ
âIâm glad you loved it. Iâve been working on it for months, wanted to get it perfect in time to show you now.âÂ
Youâre both beaming at each other and to anyone from the outside looking in, the two of you looked so in love it was crazy. Crazy that the both of you have been harboring feelings for each other for years and years and neither of you have made the first move.Â
âWill you play me some more?â You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes and of course he canât say no to you, puppy dog eyes or not. You give him one last hug as a thank you before you sit back down on the couch and let the melodic sounds soothe you. In fact it soothes you so much that combined with the tiredness from being on the boat all day you end up eventually falling asleep.Â
You donât even realize youâve fallen asleep until you feel Charles gently shaking you awake telling you that is time for bed. Itâs not uncommon for the two of you to spend the night at one anotherâs places. Youâve spent many nights in Charles' guest bedroom after drunken nights out or sometimes just for fun. Youâre clinging to him, still basically asleep, as he helps you walk towards what you think is the guest bedroom, but itâs his.Â
Charles was only going to grab your pajamas that you had left here last time, they were just in the laundry basket on his dresser and it would just take a second. But you followed him into his room still thinking it was the guest room and Charles doesnât even know youâve come in behind him until he turns around to see you crawling into his bed.
That all too familiar feeling starts to bloom in his chest as he sees you curled up and comfortable in his bed. Heâd want nothing more than to climb in next to you and hold you all night, but he knows the guest room is his room tonight. Charles doesnât even make it two steps before you call out his name. When he turns around heâs not expecting to see you lying there staring at him with those sleepy eyes, comforter pulled back as you pat the empty spot next to you. He knows he shouldnât, this is different than cuddling on the couch or sharing beds as kids, it feels different at least. But against his better judgment he climbs in next to you and like heâs your missing puzzle piece you instantly slide into Charles arms.Â
Itâs like home, being in each otherâs embrace.Â
The next morning when you wake up in Charles' room it takes you a minute to remember everything, but the blush that creeps onto your face at the memory of you and Charles cuddling in his bed is embarrassingly bad. And you thank god Charles isnât next to you right now to see it.Â
You do wonder where heâs gone though. Heâs not in the living room or kitchen, and itâs still too early for him to have left for media day, but then you hear complaining coming from the bathroom.Â
âMaman! No, that's going to be too short!âÂ
As you peek around the door frame you find Pascale cutting Charles' hair, a tradition the two of them have had every year before the Monaco GP.Â
âCharles last time I checked youâre not a hair stylist, let your Maman do her job.â You teased as you finally entered the bathroom and you see him roll his eyes at you in the mirror.
Pascale lights up at the sight of you and leans over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. âMon amour, youâre here early.â The look on her face tells you she knows you spent the night, but itâs not like itâs something new or anything happened. Hell even if she didnât know she could definitely tell you had just rolled out of bed.Â
âI spent the night. Fell asleep after we were out on the boat all day.â You shrugged your shoulders, it truly was no big deal (you sleeping in his bed and cuddling with him aside).Â
She doesnât say anything, but she does nothing to hide the smile on her face and sly looks she gives you and Charles the whole time sheâs cutting his hair. Sheâs been waiting for the prophecy to fulfill itself forever and that prophecy just so happens to be Charles and you ending up together. Call it Motherâs intuition, but sheâs known you two were made for eachother since you were kids. If you didnât end up together soon she was going to have to do her own plotting to get you two to fess up about your feelings.
Pascale can see how you two look at each other, how Charlesâ eyes light up when you enter the room. How youâve always been his soft spot since you were little kids. The way you speak about Charles like heâd hung the stars and the moon in the sky. She knew you fell first and Charles a couple years later. All these little things sheâs noticed and stored away for that eventual wedding day.Â
You can see Charles staring at you through the mirror and itâs making you squirm, his eyes burning into you. âYou gonna get rid of that facial hair too?â You try to get him to focus on anything other than you at the moment.Â
His mouth opens in fake shock and Pascale curses him for moving. âIâm actually thinking of growing a full beard.âÂ
âOh please donât.â
âââ§âââââââ§ââât.âÂ
Charles and you donât speak about you spending the night in his bed or in his arms. In fact you donât see him again until qualifying on Saturday where he puts it on pole. Youâre ecstatic and you can tell he is too even though heâs trying to remain calm and collected while he does his press duties. Heâs gotten pole two times before in Monaco, he knows pole doesnât mean you win, but he canât help but think itâs a good sign.Â
That night you find yourself back at Charles' apartment by his request once again. Which was a surprise, you figured heâd want to be alone the night before the big race. But itâs quite the opposite, he wanted your company, he canât get how good it felt to have you in his arms in his bed the other night and he selfishly hopes it happens again tonight.Â
âFeeling good about tomorrow?â You asked as the two of you sat down for an amazing pre race dinner of pizza. His trainer may not like it, but you two thought it was a good idea. He needed all the positive energy he could get and if that meant pizza for dinner, then so be it.Â
âYeah. The car has been consistent the past two days and Iâve got pole.â He paused for a moment and you can tell he wants to say something, but he stuffs his mouth with pizza instead. You donât press the matter anymore, figuring he didnât want to talk about it anymore, didnât want to possibly jinx anything. Itâs a relatively quiet dinner the rest of the time, he asks about how your job is going and you two shamelessly gossip for a moment about two old friends who recently broke up.Â
Itâs not until youâre putting the leftover pizza into the fridge that he brings up tomorrow again.Â
âIt feels right this time.â Heâs leaning against the counter, eyes trained on you as you turn back around to face him. âI mean tomorrowâ it feels right. I think itâs gonna happen.âÂ
A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you move to lean against the counter next to him. âI think so too. Youâve been different too, more relaxed this week. Think it might be the universe telling us itâs finally gonna happen?âÂ
A deep sigh comes from Charles. âMon dieu I hope so.âÂ
You glance over at the time on the microwaveâ 11:00 p.m. Shit. You didnât think it was that late already.Â
âItâs getting late Charles. You should be in bed and I should be heading home. Itâs a big day tomorrow.â You go to give him a hug goodbye, but heâs just staring at you, and it throws you for a loop. âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
He swallows hard, his adamâs apple bobbing in his throat. Was he sure he wanted to ask you this? Would it make things weird? It never has before when heâs asked you, but this time felt different. Fuck his palms were drenched in sweat and he could feel his heart beat racing.Â
âUmâ well you could just spend the night if you wanted toâÂ
You try not to act like you werenât silently hoping the whole night that heâd ask you to stay. You had figured he wouldnât want you to again after you basically invaded his bed the other night, so hearing him tell you to stay made you a little giddy.Â
âTraffic is a nightmare this time of yearâŠâ You act like you're weighing your options while you fully know youâre going to say yes. âProbably take me twice as long to get home, even at this time of night.â You fake ponder some more, really putting on a show. âYeah I guess Iâll spend the night.âÂ
He tries to hide the smile on his face when he hears you finally accept his offer and as much as he would like to stay up and talk some more, he really did need to be getting to bed. âWell, I probably should be in bed by now. So Iâll see you in the morning, yeah?âÂ
âYeah. I should go to bed too.âÂ
So you follow him down the hall towards the bedrooms. When he reaches his room he opens the door, but lingers in the doorway. You being a couple paces behind him, figured he was just waiting to tell you goodnight. But when you reach the guest room, which is across from his room, he doesnât say anything to you. Your hand lingers above the door knob and something inside of you tells you not to open itâ to turn around instead.Â
Youâre met with his piercing blue eyes staring at you as you turn around. His gaze sometimes could be so intense, but this time you matched him. There was an obvious tension in the air, but neither of you were brave enough to be the one to break it. Then suddenly you see Charles nod his head towards his room before finally going past the doorway. Heâd left the door open behind him and you knew that was just another unspoken invitation. And like a moth to a flame you followed behind him, not even second guessing your actions. You hadnât even opened the guest bedroom door, you were a goner as soon as he asked you to spend the night.Â
For the second time in a week the two of you shared the same bed, not sexually, but it definitely wasnât friendly or at least how normal friends would share a bed. But tonight heâs in your arms, your fingers lightly combing through his hair as he rests his head on your stomach. He falls asleep rather quickly, his light snores filling the room, but sleep evades you that night. Your heads a mess, you canât help but think that Charles has to feel the same way as you, thereâs just no way that he doesnât.Â
What man is this intimate with someone in a non sexual way and doesnât have the slightest bit of feelings for them? But then your heart breaks at the idea of him just stringing you along and you know youâve got to set up some boundaries to protect yourself. Unfortunately you were never going to be the one to admit how you felt first, so unless he spills his guts, then this was the last time youâd share a bed with Charles like this.Â
The next morning heâs already gone and at the track by the time you wake up and when you grab your phone from the nightstand you see heâd sent you a text.Â
Charlie: i left early this morning and you just looked too peaceful to wake up before i left. so iâll see you before lights out.Â
A sigh escaped past your lips as you tossed your phone on the bed, today was going to be a long day.Â
You made the journey back to your apartment to get ready and then fought the traffic again to get down to the circuit. The hustle and bustle distracts your brain from continuing your spiral session from last night, something you were grateful for. You were here to cheer on and support Charles, not go into a frenzy once again about whether or not he likes you.Â
A good amount of your time is spent in Ferrariâs hospitality chatting with everyone and discussing potential outcomes for the race. You donât end up seeing Charles until the time between the drivers parade and race time. Heâs in his drivers room when you find him and heâs literally the calmest youâve ever seen him before a race.Â
His face lights up when he sees you and heâs immediately pulling you in for a hug. âDidnât think you were gonna come for a second. Weâve usually seen each other by now.âÂ
âYou know I wouldnât miss it for the world. Just got caught up talking to everyone and you know how our Moms get in a large group. I had to wrangle them in before they invited everyone over for dinner tonight.âÂ
âWell I donât plan on being home for dinner tonight. Iâm going to be out celebrating.â Heâs got a cheeky grin on his face as speaks.Â
You laughed lightly at his new found confidence. âOh someone is sure of themself.âÂ
He only laughs along with you, as the two of you sit down on his physio table.
The two of you chat some more about random things, like if heâs planning on going to Jimmyâz or someplace else tonight. You donât even realize how long youâve been talking until he gets a knock on his door letting him know itâs twenty minutes till lights out. Before you leave you stand in front of him, holding out your ring clad pinky finger and like a natural reflex Charles wraps his around yours, pulling them close to his chest.Â
âYouâre gonna do great and when you take that top step on the podium Iâm gonna be there front and center cheering you on.âÂ
âYou better be.â Heâs serious, he doesnât want to win this thing if you aren't right there alongside him.
âI promise Charlie.âÂ
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
You think you might pass out or throw up when the lights go out and the race finally begins. It then turns into thinking youâre going to do both when thereâs a red flag not even halfway through the first lap. Your mind automatically goes straight to Charles and your stomach churns at the idea of him being hurt, screw the win, all that mattered to you was that he was okay. Thankfully heâs not involved in the crash, but the red flag lasts for what seems forever. And eventually you have to endure the start of the race again.Â
Youâre a nervous wreck the whole race, but you think with how hard Pascale has been gripping your hand that she might be more nervous than you. Itâs the longest 78 laps of your life and youâre praying he can maintain the lead, put a big enough gap between Oscar that he can just ride this race out. Lap by lap heâs holding steady but that just makes you more nervous. The knot in your stomach grows more and more as that lap number gets closer to 78.Â
Heâs driven so well the whole time you couldnât have been more proud. Youâd been holding back tears since lap 68, but when you hear him over the radio on lap 75 say that heâs just going to bring it home you canât help but let a couple tears fall. And by now you know the win is his. Heâs got almost a nine second lead and as long as he keeps his head clear he was going to be the first one to see the checkered flag.Â
The feeling of seeing Charles cross the finish line and knowing he had won was indescribable. The whole Ferrari unit was going crazy, already rushing down to be there when Charles got out of the car. Youâre cheering as tears run down your face, your Mom and Pascale hugging you, the two of them also in tears. Itâs surreal, him finally winning, you can only imagine what heâs feeling like right now. You waste no time in heading over to get the best spot to watch the podium ceremony. Youâre front and center, the metal barrier pressed up against your abdomen as more people fill the crowd behind you.Â
The feeling you got seeing him come out, take that top step, and proudly hold that trophy was something you wished you could feel forever. To see him wrapped up in the Monaco flag as the anthem played, the visible weight taken off of his shoulders. You were so unbelievably proud of him and so utterly in love with him. The tears just wouldnât stop coming as you watched him shine up there. The universe had finally decided that this was his time, he was destined to win this race today.Â
Charles feels on top of the world as he looks down at everyone in the crowd, he canât believe heâd finally won his home race. Heâd immediately spotted you as soon as he took that top step and he could see how happy you are for him, tears streaming down your face paired with that beaming smile. His heart has never felt as full as it does right now. And as he stands there hearing his national anthem play at his home race he knows that today was meant to be. The universe put him here, put you here, for a reason. Heâs tired of pretending like his life wouldnât be better without you being his. The two of you havenât broken eye contact for awhile, both of you grinning like fools, and he decides that now is the time.Â
âJe suis amoureux de vousâ He mouths to you.Â
It takes you a moment to realize what he was saying, but when you do you think youâre dreaming. Thereâs no way he just admitted to being in love with you right here, during his podium celebration. You pinch yourself just for good measure before mouthing it back to him. And if it was even possible his smile gets even bigger.Â
Youâre the first person he wants to see after the celebratory champagne pop. He canât wait a second longer to tell you how he actually feels out loud. He doesnât care that heâs drenched in champagne or that thereâs hundreds of people around. Heâs waited too long to let a moment like this go by. Heâs pushing his way through the crowd to find you, heâs basically getting manhandled, but he doesnât care, youâre his priority. And when he finally finds you itâs like a scene straight out of a movie.Â
His adrenaline is pumping and he doesnât even think about what heâs doing, heâs just running straight towards you, his heart fluttering when you smile at the sight of him. His hands cup your face and in an instant his lips are on yours. It takes you by surprise, but once your brain finally processes whatâs happening, you grab him by his race suit, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne and sweat, his lips soft, and his facial hair tickles your face. Kissing Charles is everything you could have ever dreamed of and more, youâd never thought the day would come.Â
When you finally pull back it feels like the world is spinning and Charles laughs at you being drunk off one kiss from him. His hands cup your face once more causing you to focus on him. âIâm in love with you. Have been for years, but Iâve just been too scared to say anything, but winning today let me know the universe was on my side. And I couldnât pass up the opportunity once again to tell you how I feel.â Your eyes widen at hearing him say heâs been in love with you for years. âDonât act so surprised. I made it painfully obvious sometimes.â His dimples peaking out as he smiles at you.Â
âIâve been in love with you since I was thirteen Charlie.âÂ
Now itâs his turn to look surprised. âWhy didnât you say anything?âÂ
âWas too scared that you didnât feel the same.âÂ
âI could never not love you Y/N. Itâs always been you, youâre my person. I wish I would have told you sooner so I could have been doing this more often.â He pulls you in for another kiss and you think if he didnât have his arms around you your legs would have given out.Â
Never in a million years did you think that Charles would be confessing his love to you after heâd just won his home race. If thirteen year old you could see you right now sheâd probably die. You canât believe the man you love with every fiber of your being loves you back. The universe definitely wanted today to be a win not only for Charles, but for you.Â
He grabs your hand and presses your ring clad pinky finger to his lips. âMon coeur.â Then he presses another kiss to your lips. âJe tâaime.â
âJe tâaime aussi.âÂ
thirty three and thirty six
The summer sun had started to make her farewell to the principality of Monaco, pink and orange hues swirled in the sky. A little boy and girl play on a weathered playset, their giggles echoing through the open air. The sound of a screeching sliding door tells them that their Maman is coming to get them before they even hear her holler their names. âCome say goodbye to grand-mĂšre and grand-pĂšre!âÂ
Their tiny bodies run towards the house and are soon met with lots of hugs and kisses from their grandparents, who they see very often, but it wouldnât seem like it by the way they were acting.Â
âOk, who wants ice cream?â Their Papa asks after all the goodbyes are said and they are out the door.Â
âMe!â Is said in unison from the two children.Â
The little girl has her Papa wrapped around her finger, he just thinks the world of her as they walk hand in hand down the street, while the little boy is definitely a Mamanâs boy.Â
âYou know your Maman and I used to come to this place all the time when we were younger.âÂ
âWe know Papa, youâve told us a hundred times, and we come here all the time.â The little girl sasses her Papa.
âI know but I just like to reminisce.â The man gives his wife a wink and she knows heâs about ready to go down memory lane.
The journey to the ice cream shop is filled with stories about their younger years and luckily for the children the ice cream shop isnât that far away.Â
That all too familiar sweet smell soon fills the parents senses and it brings them back to when they were around their childrenâs age. That same bell on the door dings as they enter and that same old man who should have retired a decade ago is still working behind the counter.Â
âAh the Leclercs! My favorite family. You know Iâm gonna have to start making extra vanilla ice cream just to accommodate you guys.âÂ
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the tale of how simon got himself a gf without stepping a foot outside of base.
anyone can tell you that alcohol reduces the ability to use logic. to see reason. it lowers inhibitions and blurs the boundary lines you've drawn in the sand.
but indulging in drink tonight is justified. you're in need of reprieve after this shit week: broke up with your boyfriend, deadlines at work appearing out of thin air, a flat tire on your morning commute. you even stepped on the end of your cat's tail.
miserable. (she's okay, just giving you the cold shoulder. you'll buy her some tasty snacks tomorrow.)
but for tonight, you're wallowing in your own misery. some uninteresting show is playing on the television, you're cradled by the cushions of your couch, a fluffy sherpa throw over your socked feet.
if only there was a way to melt this week's accumulated stress away even further.
cue the drunk texting your ex cliché.
anyone can tell you that it's detrimental to moving on. it's akin to reopening a wound that's already begun to heal. a step back when you should only be moving forward. your friends would drag you by your hair for being so dumb.
but there's an incessant throb in between your legs that's only getting stronger with every glass of wine you toss back. you're wound tight, violin strings stretched to the brink. a couple of bow strokes away from snapping.
you'll deal with the consequences tomorrow, along with your hangover.
typing in his (deleted in a fit of heartbroken rage) number with fumbling fingers and send a picture of you with the hem of your sleeping shirt between your teeth, the swell of your bare breasts on full display with a cheeky little missing you <3
he responds in minutes even though it's 2:30am.
send a vid and show me how much you miss me.
it makes your pussy clench around nothing, already slick, drooling, begging to be filled. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you bring up the camera.
when simon first gets the text, he's on edge, gripping his phone hard enough to crack. no one should have this number except for price, johnny and kyle. he's made sure of it-- had laswell pull strings to give him a secure line. no scam likely's, no cold calls, nothing.
but then some silly little bird dials his number by mistake and the sweet cherry on top is that you've sent a nude. breasts on full display-- soft looking, hard peaked. it makes his mouth water, his gums itch. he'd love to sink his teeth into them, into you, hard enough to bruise. mark. claim.
but that's for later, once he finds you.
he texts back and what you send him in response fattens his cock. a small hand tucked beneath the waistband of your flimsy knickers, gusset dampened with warm arousal. you lick your bottom lip, leaving it glossy with spit. your chest heaves with the sharp gasps of breath you're drawing.
but there's a problem. he can barely see what you're doing. he doesn't have x-ray vision, your knickers are in the way. while he can understand the allure, he himself doesn't have the patience for it. either you let him see your bare cunt or don't waste his time.
he wasn't expecting you to agree this fast. maybe a bit of push back, a little snapping of teeth until you relent but no. you're an obedient thing. submissive. just how he likes 'em. (if he wants to break someone in, that's what johnny's for.)
soft, inviting thighs spread wide, a couple of fingers curling inside your glistening cunt. (duly noticing how your 2 fingers are the size of 1 of his.) your moans spill from your lips unreservedly when you roll your pearl in tight, precise little circles. he spits on his hand, heavy length resting in his calloused palm and tugs himself at the pace you've set: jerky, quick, messy.
you come with a whimper, eyes shut and pliant body coiled tight. a frothy, sticky cream coats your fingers, dripping down to your arse, pooling on your couch.
you miss me too? sent 3:27 am
(he decides to keep you. simon can't remember the last time he's had a climax that spine stiffening in a while.)
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley smut
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can i request something with alexia x reader based off one if the videos post win. the one where olga tried scoring on alexia but instead of missing reader makes it and then copies alexias celebration
goalscorer II a.putellas
you weren't sure whose hand would break first, yours or albas, with the way you both had a death grip on one another as the extra time slowly ticked down to zero and it felt as though the entire stadium held its breath.
then finally, the whistle.
for a brief moment it was like time stood still as the players raced onto the pitch, your body on fire as every hair stood on end and the ground beneath your feet vibrated with the thunderous roar of a stadium full of culers.
then arms were thrown around your neck as alexia's family all screamed happily and exchanged hugs, your own parents sat in the row behind forever supportive of your fiancé since the moment you'd taken her home to meet them.
you blinked and suddenly snapped back into reality, the screams deafening in your ear as you were drowned in affection from the elated putellas-segura family surrounding you.
your heart swelled with pride as you finally caught alexia's eye, a beaming grin flashed your way and both her hands waving before she was called over for the trophy and medal ceremony.
eventually you were all ushered down toward the front of the barrier, eli and alba going first as they engulfed your fiance in bear hugs, both women with tears streaming down their faces as alexia rolled her eyes playfully and squeezed them tighter.
with a nudge in the back from her uncle and a wink you were next, two strong hands helping you over the barrier as your feet touched the pitch and your eyes remained locked with the blonde grinning down at you.
time once more seemed to stop and suddenly it was just the two of you, your congratulations and how proud you were murmured over and over in her ear as finally your arms wrapped around one another and you'd never felt safer than being within them.
you let out a laugh as you were held tighter and lifted momentarily up into their air, spun around for a moment as alexia's forehead pressed against yours, lips just grazing your cheek both of you well aware that despite the intimacy of your embrace it was anything but a private moment.
"taking your captain title to a new level mi amor." you teased, tugging at the barcelona flag draped around her shoulders like a makeshift cape, reeling in the very slight blush which coated her cheeks at your words which you knew if you called her out on she would dismiss as flush from running around.
"captain catalunya, hero of barcelona." you grinned, kissing her cheek and stepping away for a moment to allow some of her childhood friends to rush in and express their own congratulations, dragged away by alba to speak with your own parents and eli.
"no i did not!" you denied with bright red cheeks as your father embellished a story of how the first time you'd watched one of alexia's games with them at home you'd almost thrown the remote through the screen when your girlfriend at the time was fouled.
"stop laughing! you'll just encourage him." you shoved alba who only threw her head back as you playfully shot your grinning father a glare, relaxing as familiar arms looped around your waist and a chin settled on your shoulder.
"hola amor." the soft raspy murmur as a subtle kiss was placed on your jaw and you melted backwards into your lovers touch as praise for her showered down from those around you.
"hermana! we were just talking about the time that-" alba started as you kicked at her causing the girl to gasp and shove you, alexia's hand shooting out to swat her sisters away and a warning look set in her features as alba rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, turning around to converse elsewhere.
"aye go speak to marĂa's parents, mami take him away por favor he has had too much sun!" you groaned catching the teasing look on your fathers face and nodding behind them where your second parents milled around happily, your childhood best friend nowhere in sight.
though it wasn't long before she made an appearance, bursting out of the tunnel yelling at the top of her lungs, brandishing her little barcelona flag that had acted like an emotional support throughout her injury.
you'd tried scheming with ingrid to get rid of it after mapi started to sleep with it in the bed and then almost took your eye out waving it around like a mad woman as you sat beside her at a game, alexia almost snapping it herself after seeing the deep purple bruise under your right eye where your best friend had accidentally poked you with it.
but watching the childlike joy twinkle brightly in her eyes as she raced around like an overgrown toddler, chased by lucy's neice and nephew you couldn't help but smile and shake your head.
"maybe she will retire the flag now we are four for four this season and she will be back on the pitch soon." alexia chuckled, still hugging you tightly as you grinned, leaning your head back to catch her eye as she winked.
"at least it has been a distraction from her making us say thank you every time we go out with her and ingrid." you rolled your eyes, turning in her hold to face your girlfriend who hummed.
it had indeed been mapi who introduced the two of you after a game years ago, a friendship blossoming between you and alexia long before a relationship. but despite that the tattooed defender relished in the ego boost felt from telling anyone with ears that it was all thanks to her that you two were together.
"can you imagine her speech at the wedding?" you sighed with a shake of your head, alexia letting go of you to fiddle about with the flag tied around her, picking at the knot.
"i remember the day they first met, because it was all thanks to me that we are even gathered here today! chica's...you are so welcome." alexia mocked making you laugh as she pulled the flag off.
"maybe i can get her so drunk she will pass out before the speeches?" you suggested, your fiancé instead draping the flag around you and tying it loosely over your shoulders.
"a perfect plan cari." the blonde winked, squeezing your shoulders. "who is captain catalunya now?" the footballer teased, tugging at your new cape and glancing over your head where her name was called for more photos.
"go amor, i'll find you later." you promised, squeezing her hands as she nodded and pulled you into another tight hug, lips grazing the side of your head as you softly rubbed her back and begrudgingly let go, her figure retreating into the swarm of people on the pitch.
you were mid conversation with some of the other girls families, stood beside alba and twisting around your engagement ring on your finger when she struck.
"campeones! campeones! campeones!" you hurtled forward nearly barreling over jana's parents as a body launched themselves onto you, legs wrapping around your torso as panos hurried to steady you.
"gracias! lo siento." you thanked the goalkeeper before profusely apologising to jana's parents as the young midfielder was busy doubled over laughing, your cheeks bright red at the disruption.
"mierda!" the brunette swore as you wrenched her legs off, causing her to drop promptly onto the ground with a wince, jana falling to the floor laughing even harder as alba joined in and mapi glared up at you with a huff.
"algunos bienvenidos. is that a way to greet your best friend!" the girl pouted as you rolled your eyes and pulled her back to her feet. "marĂa!" you groaned as once more she launched onto you, this time in another forceful koala hug but from the front.
"campeones de europa!" the girl threw her head back and screamed, a smile unable to stay off your face as you held her thighs and she grabbed your cheeks, kissing your forehead over and over with a repeated loud mwah noise.
"vale vale!" you laughed, dropping her again though this time she remained on her feet, the two of you hugging normally as you told her how proud you were. "i did not even play idiota!" the older girl shoved your head as the two of you pulled away.
"no, but your contributions to the team morale and being their biggest supporter even not on the pitch mean just as much. you know that, sĂ?" you promised, tone softening as did the defenders face. "gracias mi chica." the girl smiled, kissing your cheek and waving her flag around which she snatched up off the ground.
"if you poke her eye with that flag again leĂłn we are going to have a problem." you smiled as your fiance slotted herself in behind you again, a warning look at the tattooed footballer in front of you making mapi roll her eyes.
"tan dramĂĄtica her eye healed fine! and she almost broke my flag." the girl cradled the piece of cloth and plastic tenderly in her arms, stroking it like you might a newborn making you roll your eyes.
"oh i am so sorry my poor face nearly broke your stupid flag marĂa." you shook your head feeling alexia chuckle as her body vibrated against your back. "gracias, now was that so hard?" mapi smiled as you lunged for her and she raced off.
"idiota." you rolled your eyes allowing alexia to lead you away back toward where your families were milling about.
"mi amor." you looked up from speaking with your mother, raising an eyebrow to your fiance who held up a tiny football in her hands with a suggestive grin.
"really?" you chuckled, but sighing in acceptance when her grin didn't drop, gesturing for her to give you the ball as she rolled it to you and backed into goal.
"vamos bebé, score a goal! if you can." the blonde teased in challenge. "what do i get when i score putellas?" you questioned crossing your arms, foot resting on top of the small childrens football.
"if you score, anything you want preciosa." alexia grinned cockily as you rolled your eyes and backed up a few steps. "remember to kick the ball and not the air amor!" your fiance continued to tease.
"vamos captain barça, maybe we will get you a job as the water girl for the team!" you turned to shoot your best friend a murderous glare as her face paled and she scurried off to find ingrid no doubt, her much better other half.
spurred on by the lack of faith from your loved ones, even your own father joining in with alexia's teasings, you took one more step back and lurched forward.
you made sure to do exactly as you'd watched your fiance do a million times in your backyard, driving your foot forward and following through, the ball zooming forward at a pace alexia clearly didn't anticipate as it shot past her.
you let out a cheer and pumped your fist in the air, racing around in a circle and grabbing the bottom of your alexia's jersey intending to tug it off exactly the way the blonde had an hour prior after her own goal.
"ale!" you laughed as a strong arm wrapped around your waist and another swatted your hand away. "mi amor you are ruining my celebration." you tutted with a shake of her head and a sigh.
"my celebration, and you are keeping that shirt on!" your fiance warned as you rolled your eyes and she teasingly flicked your ear. "oh wait-" you pushed away from her as she looked on curiously.
you cleared your throat and took a dramatic bow, a few onlookers clapping and cheering making you grin and alexia now the one to roll her eyes. "mm hilarious princesa."
"i thought so. now cariño...what was that about anything i wanted?"
#woso#woso community#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso blurbs
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"Please- please-" you raggedly breathe, knees scraping against the hard floor as Satoru dragged you by your wrist, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You had no idea why he had gotten so angry. You have been nothing but good. You're forced to stand up next, hard grip on your hair sure to give you migraines. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't understand-"
This is the first time Satoru has been so silent, it terrifies you, the very marrow of your bones. He is big, tall, looming and so unwavering when he wants to be. Your hurt and panic breaks into a sniffle, lips parted to utter what he'd call a pathetic excuse of an apology. "What did I say, when I said I would be okay with you going out?" He raised a brow, and your pupils wavered in the bone-chilling coldness of his tone. Harsh blue eyes and pursed lips ready to attack his little prey. "Yo- You- you-" Fuck, you're stuttering. Just like you always do when you're scared and panicked. "Yo- You- you-⊠what. Did. I. Say?" Satoru hums, after mocking your tone.
You sniffled, "s-said to me to not go out apart from the estate premises."
"Do I need to make sure you listen to me in a different way?" For Satoru, it's simple. You have tried to run so many times that his patience has worn out, the constant fear of you going away is making him the monster he is now. The outside world is filled with curses, and bad things. You, are a non-sorcerer and you should know better. Besides, after today's incident. He is ready to do anything.
"Why the hell were you outside then?" He yelled, Satoru⊠doesn't really yell. The problem is, a special grade spirit was sighted near the store you decided to go see for yourself. While that's something rare, it's increasing his anxiousness a tenfold. What if you had been there, you had been a bag of fucking bones! "I just- wan' wan' wan'ed you know- I just-"
"Speak to me properly or I will break you in ways you can't take. Wouldn't let you walk for days." That causes you to cry out, why is he overreacting so much! Christ! He already has you here, rotting, against your will. You sobbed, heart racing and breaths shallowing.
Satoru was⊠tolerable⊠you wouldn't call yourself the unluckiest person in the world until today. He had abducted you, but he was never⊠this.
"Canât talk to her or she will have a FUCKING panic attack." His jaw grits, holding you by the neck and pinning you against the wall. Your hands instinctively hold his wrist, but they're meek, sweaty with fear, and powerless. "If I see you step out again, I will kill everyone you hold near since you love watching me helplessly try to make you compliant, without hurting you, no?" Without hurting you⊠yeah right.
You nodded, "W- Won't step out." It's getting harder for you to speak with every second, eyes losing focus and fight or flight kicking in. Satoru's harsh expressions are blurring out, you were passing out.
And you do, fall limp against him. His feet impatiently tapping the floor once he sees you collapse. Another reminder of how you could die in an instant and leave him like Suguru did. A soft sigh escapes him once the throbbing headache kicks in. The high adrenaline calming down and kicking in with brutal headache. He lets you fall on the floor, ignoring the slight bruise in your head at the impact. You should know better. At least this is keeping you from not fucking dying.
He walks away to get the medication for his head, looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't⊠look like himself. He leans in, watching the colour of his eyes greying. Something's wrong. That's when it kicks in.
Yandere Satoru was influenced by the same special grade curse he had killed. Why else were his thoughts so messy? You had escaped so many times but he always thought you'd just⊠understand one day.
A cold blood rushes through his spine once his cloudy thoughts clear up, and the idea of you passed out on the cold flooring floods him. Satoru has never been more quick to pick you up, cradling you close. Some part of him is happy, you wouldn't run away anymore. Another part of him is unsure if it's him truly thinking it, or if it's the curse's energy tampering with his own. A small part of him wants to die for putting you through this. Satoru Gojo needed to figure this out.
And then⊠he needed to build his relationship with you from scratch once he finds out what you did go out to buy. There were ingredients of his favourite Kikufuku. You were trying to make him⊠Kikufuku.
The small part of him that wanted to die isn't so small anymore. Months, if not weeks, it will take months to get you to love him like this againâŠ
#ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere jjk angst#jjk angst#gojo angst#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst
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đĄđđđ«đđŹđđ«đąđ§đ đŹ đđąđđ đąđ§ đđđđđđđ [gojo satoru]
synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love thatâs TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).
Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.
Twelve years. Youâve loved him through twelve springs. Itâs bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. Thatâs just life, isnât it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.
You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoruâs probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.
âY/N-chan~!â He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student loungeâs vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. Itâs common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clanâs illustrious little starlet.
Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.
And you donât know if you find that comforting or saddening.
Comforting that he wouldnât find out about your feelings from someone else, though youâre still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason heâs been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever heâs around you is heâs actually already aware of your feelings towards him and heâs only deflecting it.
âWeâll go ahead, Y/N,â Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. âCome see me if you have any injuries!â
âBut if itâs a broken heart, she probably canât fix it,â Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: âGo talk to her.â before turning to follow his girlfriend.
A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:
Should I tell her?
Should I tell him?
What would she say?
Would he leave?
If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.
But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant heâd never risk losing you.
And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.
Whatever fine means.
âWanna go to the arcade?â Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.
You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.
âThat depends, you gonna let me win?â
âNever.â
âY/N! There you are.â
You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.
But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.
âYou feeling okay?â Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. âItâs okay to be nervous, you know.â
You flash her a reassuring smile. âYeah, I know. JustâŠdeep in thought.â
âYeah.â
Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.
Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.
âHe loves you,â Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.
ââŠI know.â
You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.
What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?
âDo you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?â
You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.
âThereâs no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you arenât exactly my type.â
Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Techâs science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of whatâs happening â the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!
âYou think Iâm pretty? ;) I knew it.â
Shoko looks at you funnily, youâre practically red as a tomato with how youâre fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. âHeâs just soâŠsoâŠ!â
âYou really should work on finishing your sentences now~â
You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug thatâs hovering over your ear that you really shouldnât be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.
âYouâre awfully generous today, Satoru,â you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.
Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?
In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.
âI only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,â Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. âPretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but thatâs the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.â
Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. Youâre not even surprised at this point that heâll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more â do anything more â than what was necessary as your friend.
Keyword: friend.
He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you donât blame him. Youâre not angry at him that heâs only willing to stay in shallow water with you, itâs justâŠ
âHey, I have to go, Yagaâs calling me.â Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.
But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you donât know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.
Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.
And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.
The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if heâs seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.
Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you donât break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoruâs life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. Youâve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fateâs edge together.
He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.
This was it.
âŠ
âŠ
âŠ
âŠ
The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.
Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?
Or is itâŠthe two of you never knew at all how the other felt?
No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.
Should I tell her?
Should I tell him?
What would she say?
Would he leave?
The answer is clear now. He wouldnât have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted â the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.
And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: âI love you.â
A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.
This was twelve years too late. But itâs better than never.
âI knew it.â
#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo satoru#gojo x reader angst#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you angst#jjk x you#jjk angst#jjk x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x you angst#jjk x you angst#gojo satoru x reader angst#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo angst#gojo satoru x y/n angst#gojo satoru x you angst#gojo satoru angst#gojo headcanons#gojo satoru headcanons#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo#jjk x y/n#jjk drabbles#jjk x reader#jjk imagines
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002. CARNATIONS
Touya wasn't fitting in very well.
There were a lot of things you noticed about him during his first week. He didn't talk much - he'd sit in silence a lot more than he should. It was bad. He was spending too much time with his own thoughts - and you were becoming afraid that he would end up swimming too far into his own mind where drowning would only be inevitable.
He didn't eat much either. Only when he absolutely needed to - and he'd take a few bites before stubbornly pushing his plate away. It was hard trying to get him to talk to you too, because he simply refused to cooperate.
There was this faraway look in his eyes. Like he couldn't believe what his life had come to. He had so many plans - so many things to do. They were all hopeless now. He had an entirely new checklist- and he couldn't even be bothered to pick it up. Was it bad that he had no will to live?
Touya didn't understand why his father wanted him alive. He hadn't seen him since the war, only hearing his name whispered amongst the doctors when they thought he was asleep. Touya truly didn't see the purpose of his family fighting so much for him - he was falling apart. Both mentally and physically, straining the doctors for no reason when he should just die. He'd done terrible things, and in his mind, he deserved death.
"He won't listen to anyone besides you."
You blow out a breath of air with a nervous chuckle, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you look up at your supervisor. She looked mad. Her brow was ticked upwards, a wrinkly finger holding up a sheet of paper that had 'Todoroki' scribbled at the top. His latest speech evaluation report.
"He can talk just fine with the insults he was spitting at the other doctors. That man has a foul mouth, and an even fouler mood. No doctor that comes even within five feet of him is spared his horrible remarks and glares. But in all of your reports, you never once mentioned him saying anything exceptionally rude. He's... quiet around you."
Your brows pinch together as your gaze stays on the report in your hands
Touya was confusing you.
"And I understand you have other patients, but they've all progressed nicely with their treatments. Todoroki - well, he is a special case."
You were being asked to accept the job of having Touya as your sole patient. You knew his condition was bad - but you didn't think it was this bad. The other doctors had all come to the same conclusion, that he was in desperate need of a single support system. Someone who could help him every step of the way - and they had made a unanimous vote for you to be that person.
You accepted. You thought you'd have to think more about the proposal, but...
"Touya, do you like board games?"
For the first time this entire evening, his eyes lift from the tiled floor he'd been glaring at as he turns to you with a look of disinterest. You try not to let him see the way you're fighting back a smile when he finally speaks for the first time this afternoon
"I haven't played one since I was a kid. I don't even remember how they work."
"That's ok - I can teach you!"
He looks out the window, gently rolling his shoulders as the muscles under his hospital gown shift from the movement
"Why? Just sounds like a waste of time to me." He says, his voice gruff as you gently drag your chair closer to his bed
"Well, some of these games involve some brain work. Don't you think it'd be a nice challenge to try and work them out? We can even-"
"No."
You pause when he interrupts you, folding your hands in your lap as you patiently wait for him to continue. Your smile falters when he starts staring again, his eyes opening a little more to watch you as he remains silent and still - not elaborating any further.
"Ok-"
"Call Endeavor."
You pause, trying not to show your surprise as you quickly close your parted lips when you meet his gaze.
Nothing. His eyes were devoid of even a speck of emotion as he stared at you. If it hadn't been for him moving to run a tired hand through his white locks, you would've thought he was dead. That is just how dull his eyes looked.
"Well... let's talk about this first, okay? Why would you like to call him, Touya?" You ask softly, moving to grab his hand like you'd do to comfort any other patient before your fingers awkwardly hover over his hand
Touya did not like to be touched.
He narrows his eyes at you with an annoyed sigh before he looks away again, clearing his throat before speaking
"I need to do something."
You frown, taking a quick glance at the emergency phone across the room. There were a few contacts Touya would be allowed to call - one of them was, unfortunately, Endeavor's.
"Are you sure you'd like to call your father-"
"Don't fucking call him that."
You freeze, a chill running down your spine that feels like being dowsed in ice water when he snaps at you. His eyes burn to life, the hatred in them so strong that you can't even bring yourself to look at him as you realize you'd crossed some sort of an invisible line.
"I- okay, I'm sorry. Do you not like it when I address him as that?"
His silence was all the answer you needed.
Maybe it was your guilt that had you hesitantly reaching for the phone. You power it on - and you can see the poorly hidden surprise on his face when he quirks an eyebrow, surprised you were fulfilling his request.
He almost feels bad for what he's about to do. Almost.
"I'll hold the phone up to your ear, Touya. Let me know if I'm too close, ok?" You ask gently, and he nods his head with a grunt. He's not staring anymore - he's actually avoiding your eyes. Maybe you should've taken that as a sign that something was wrong, but you were too busy trying to understand what was going through his mind that made him want to call his father so out of the blue.
You pray silently that Endeavor won't answer - but the phone is barely on the third ring before it cackles to life
"Touya? Touya this is your number calling me - Touya are you there?"
The air is tense with your anticipation - could this mean progress? Barely two weeks in seemed a little early, but you sent Touya an encouraging smile anyways.
That was the last thing he needed to give him the courage to open his mouth
"Fuck you Endeavor! Burn in hell you flaming piece of shit!"
Your yelp doesn't surprise Touya at all as you hastily end the call, fumbling with the phone as he kneels over and grasps the railings of his bed - before he laughs.
It hurts so much to smile, but he does it anyway - his laughter is a hoarse wheeze as his chest shakes. You power the phone off with trembling hands before whipping towards him
"Touya- y-you tricked me!" You sputter, clutching the phone to your chest as he struggles to breathe. He whacks his chest, as if he's trying help the oxygen reach his lungs - and your eyes widen in panic
He lets out a deep exhale, turning to you with a barely noticeable smirk when he sees the dread in your eyes
"That was too easy. You shouldn't be so nice to me, Doc."
"Well... this could be considered progress, sir! He's, uhm - open to communication?"
Endeavor is not amused. He drills you for another fifteen minutes - demanding to know every little thing about Touya's recovery process, and each minute you shrink further and further into your seat.
Who knew Touya would be the one to come to your rescue?
The undeniable beep that comes from your pocket immediately rips away your attention from Endeavor
Beep beep beep beep-
"What is that?" He nearly growls as you fumble with the small device in your hands, desperatly trying to turn it off as your feet move towards the double-doors quickly
"Touya's emergency button, he's calling me - I'm so sorry but we need to continue this conversation another time! " You yell over your shoulder before he can even get another word out, racing to the elevators as you come to a stumbling stop in front of them - you press the third floor button four times before the beeping starts up again.
Your mind immediately thinks the worst, and you're practically flying to the stairs as you run by two families and nearly knock a fellow doctor off his feet in your race towards Touya's room
Touya jumps when his room door slams open, his brows furrowing as he discreetly tries to see what made you run into his room in such a haste.
There were a few strands of hair that had fallen from your updo - you're panting as you take in Touya - sitting just fine on his bed as he stares at you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes when he sees you before he slowly turns away.
He peers down to the device in his hands as he points it at the TV - clicking the small red button on it over and over again.
"A-Are you-"
"It won't turn off."
He waves the remote at the TV again, grumbling all sorts of profanities under his breath as he stubbornly tries to will the screen to shut off - the news played softly through the speakers as you slowly nod your head
"We use this remote for that."
He eyes the device in your hands before holding up the one in his hand
"Then what the hell is this for?"
"Emergencies. You press it when you need me and it is urgent - I check in periodically anyways, so you only use this remote when you really need me to come right away. You pressed it a lot of times before, so I had to run here. I thought something was wrong." You sigh, rubbing your temple as he turns over the device in his hand with a thoughtful hum. You gather the fallen strands in your palm and work on quietly fixing your hair.
"Why are you so nice to me?"
You pause from where you were tying your hair - lowering your hands into your lap as you tilt your head at him in confusion. Touya's glad he interrupted you while you were tying your hair - because now it falls over your shoulders in soft waves. He thinks you look... nice like this. He wonders if this will be the only time you'll let your hair flow freely in front of him.
The bluntess of his question was what made your hands drop. His words hang in the air as you try to formulate a response, but he cuts you off before you can get a word out.
"The other bastards treat me the way I deserve to be treated. How come you're actually trying? What's in it for you?"
He seems annoyed. But then you see the sincerity in his eyes - and you realize he genuinely didn't think he deserved any form of kindness. You want to hug him - but you also would like your limbs to stay in tact, so instead - you lean forward with a soft smile.
"You see, I like to think of people as flowers."
He stays silent, waiting for you to continue.
"Some grow in open fields with the sun shining over them all the time. Some grow through the cracks in concrete - and some die from drowning in too much rain or being dried out from the heat."
Something in his eyes softens at your words
"All flowers are beautiful you know - the ones people say are too far gone can still be preserved. I really like pressing flowers, you know, in glass. It reminds me that their beauty is an everlasting type of thing."
You pretend not to notice the sheen in his eyes when he stares at you. It's quiet. The curtains move from the gentle breeze that enters through the open window, and it catches wisps of your open hair in it as you smile.
Touya had thought he'd seen it all. The ugliness of the world, the terrible parts no one should venture into. How many times had he lied when he'd say "I've seen it all." ?
He realizes how wrong he was when he understands he forgot to look through the cracks in the dark walls he'd been surrounded by for so long - the splits and breaks in the surface where hope seeped through. There was still so much he wanted to see.
Flowers. Who knew something so little could mean so much?
CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.
@dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse
@starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo @bbluefllame
âŹïž i love u all for the support đ„șđ©· thank you. i am seriously so greatful :(
please let me know if you would like your username to be removed or added!! i got a little excited with the taglist sowwy đ
#ă»â„ beena writesă»#dabi#dabi x reader#touya#touya x reader#touya x you#dabi x you#dabi x y/n#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha#bnha dabi#mha dabi#mha touya#todoroki#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki#todoroki touya#dabi todoroki#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha fluff#bnha touya#toya todoroki#todoroki toya x reader#todoroki touya x reader#carnations âŠ
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maybe mean!rafe x crybaby!reader? he gets mad at her for not sitting down on the couch with him and he yells at her, dragging her by her wrist and forcing her to sit with him⊠only if youâre okay with it(Iâve never requested anything before)
warnings; mean!rafe, dom/sub undertones, brat taming, crybaby!reader, barry is a shit stirrer but we love him for it <3
a/n; thanks for the request, angel! hope you enjoyđ„° (side note; may or may not be thinking abt being rafe & barryâs shared gfđ theyâre just too hot together jfc)
You get agitated in a sort of frenzied way that has always driven Rafe insane; you start to twitch, tapping heel clad feet and cracking knuckles until the sound of it has his jaw ticking in vexation.
You're rocking back and forth on your heels, red solo cup clutched between clammy palms; you can see Rafe in your peripheral vision, never letting him too far out of your line of sight in fear of being left to fend for yourself at one of these parties packed with drug-addled teenagers.
The smell of cheap, stale beer and sweat pervades your senses and you cringe, the blaring music paired with the way Rafe is staring you down- cerulean eyes piercing straight through you- forcing your brain into overdrive.
"Would you quit it and come sit down already?" Rafe snaps, thick digits outstretched as an offering for you to take; your lip spills into a pout, tightness pulling at every inch of your skin as the tension pools and gathers between your crumpled brows.
"I don't wanna," you whine, dragging out every syllable plaintively until he's standing, storming towards you with a thunderous expression carved into his features that you're not often on the receiving end of.
"I told you to fucking sit down! What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Can't even do as you're told, can you?"
You feel the tears tickling at your waterline the second he raises his voice, your gaze snapping up to him as the first wave spills over your wide eyes.
"For God's sake, kid. Come sit down," he grouses. His tone softens when your expression crumples and he hooks a thick bicep around your neck, drawing you into the warm expanse of his chest. You're pulled along in short, shuffling steps until your bum hits the leather couch and Rafe's bruising grip digs into your calves to splay them haphazardly across his lap.
"You're mean," you sniff, backs of your fingers smearing across your teary eyes until they're caked in black. He pinches your thigh before delivering a firm swat to the afflicted area, his arms a vice around your squirming body as you try to free yourself.
âI told you to sit down and be fuckinâ quiet. Take a nap or something, cranky pants.â He rolls his eyes, fingers spreading across your jaw to settle your head in the hollow of his shoulder.
You grumble something indecipherable before he feels you go slack on top of him, lashes fluttering as you fight the fog of fatigue that invades every inch of your skull. He smears a kiss along the curve of your forehead.
âYâalright, Princess?â Barry queries, only amused by Rafeâs sudden glaring of daggers at the shorter man. âCountry club beinâ mean, huh?â
âSheâs fine,â Rafe snips as you stir and start to whine once again. âJust beinâ a brat. Needs a rest âs all.â
âRafe.â
âI swear to fuckinâ God, kid. You be quiet or I will spank you raw in front of all these people.â
You sigh and curl up and into his embrace, exhaustion settling heavy in your bones once he cages you into his chest with a firm squeeze.
âGood girl.â
#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron drabble#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe x reader#rafe x fem!reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe fic#rafe imagine#rafe obx#mean!rafe#writer#writers on tumblr#writing#writing for fun#rafe cameron#obx x reader#obx x you#obx x y/n#outer banks fic
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Honey love, dark eyes
Summary: Halloween night arrives at the Hoffman barbecue, and you find yourself masking feelings again. Word count: 8.5k A/N: Oh, i'm not over... - thank you for your comments, they're so fun lol you all make me laugh !! <3 Hope you enjoy this part.
October 31st. You let your feet drag across the cool bathroom tile, feeling every step. There was something comforting in that small heaviness, your body still lulled by the weight of lunch, and your mind restless, carrying the remnants of memories you'd been revisiting all afternoon. You turned on the shower, waiting a moment before stepping in, the heat closing around you like a second skin. As your fingers combed through your hair, scrubbing it softly, your thoughts slipped forward, out of your control, toward the evening ahead, as inevitable as the pull of gravity.
Last year felt impossibly far away. Sarah had wanted to be a vampire. Youâd found her a set of plastic fangs, which she wore with a grin that pushed her cheeks high up on her face. Her cape was metallic, shiny as foil, falling past her shoulders, and she looked so delighted, bouncing on her feet in front of the mirror. You'd managed to take more photos than you ever needed, laughing at her exaggerated grimaces and capturing her tiny poses. Joel had been there, too, playing along, wide-eyed with pretend fear, leaning away from her âfangsâ in a way that made her giggle. Every single picture was still on your hard driveâphotos from a time you could hardly believe was only a year ago.
This Halloween was different. Sarah had decided on her costume weeks backâan astronaut. Youâd spent the better part of September helping her piece it together, and she was beyond excited. Sheâd be with her friends tonight at a âscaryâ sleepover, which sheâd told you about, bright-eyed and practically bouncing with anticipation. It was strange that she wasnât here. It felt like there was a piece of Halloween missing, but she hadnât felt it that way at all. To her, this was the most exciting plan in the world. Youâd felt it too, in her voice, like a little pinch in your chest.
This would be the first Halloween in years youâd spend without her, alone at the Hoffmans' barbecue. And without Sarah, Joel wouldn't come either. His attendance at these neighborhood gatherings had always been more about you than the event itself, which youâd always appreciated without needing to say it out loud. You could picture him, standing with a beer, blending into the background, jokingly complaining about the crowds. Heâd said he didnât care for the noise, the small talk, and the endless kids weaving through adults like they were on a secret mission. But youâd noticed the way heâd watch Sarah, his face softened as he looked on, his attention lingering in that way that showed he didnât mind being here, really, because it was with you and her. And the two of youâJoel and youâcould talk about anything. He made everything feel like a continuation of one long conversation, like youâd just pick up right where youâd left off, glancing at each other and knowing what the other meant without even saying it.
You could also picture Clara, whoâd come over to him every year, her voice lilting as she placed her hand lightly on his arm, her laugh soft and maybe a bit forced. She had that amused smile, that slight lean toward him whenever she spoke, and you couldnât resist teasing him about it later. Heâd always looked so puzzled whenever you brought it up, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were hinting at. Sheâd been living in the neighborhood for years, a few houses down, in that bright yellow house, and you knew sheâd nursed a quiet crush on him for a while. And Joel, for his part, never seemed to notice.
The thought made you smile, picturing him in that moment, eyes narrowed, brows creased, looking at you as if to say, âWhy would she be interested?â But as soon as you felt the smile, the weight of reality caught up. Joel was no longer in your life in the same way. He wasnât âyourâ Joel anymore, the friend youâd poke fun at and swap knowing glances with. He wouldnât be coming to the barbecue this year. With Sarah gone and things fractured between the two of you, heâd have no reason to come.Â
Maybe this would be the year heâd finally spend Halloween as heâd always said he wanted toïżœïżœïżœin the quiet of his house, watching a horror movie, the occasional interruption of trick-or-treaters breaking the silence as he handed out candy. The picture of him there, his small, self-contained world entirely separate from you, felt like an ache that had been growing for a long time, quiet and steady.
You missed him. And it made you furious to feel it, like he had somehow taken something from you by hurting you, even though you knew, rationally, that wasnât true. Still, the feeling stuck, simmering somewhere in the background. You hated that you missed him at all.
*
Your steps matched Travisâs as you left the house, his voice filling the space around you, his hands carving shapes in the air with his animated gestures. The crisp October air wrapped around you, a lingering autumn sun casting a warm, golden wash over everythingâthe leaves curling on the trees, the lawn stretching out beside you. You hugged your flannel a little closer, fingers brushing over the thick fabric. It was just the right layerâa deep green fleece, oversized, over a worn black T-shirt. You were warm, content, happy even, if only you could hold on to that feeling.
Beside you, Travis was recounting a work spat, his colleagueâs tone and insults reimagined in Travisâs flurry of hands. You caught the edges of his words, murmuring a few responses that seemed to satisfy him. By the time you reached the Hoffmansâ house, you were both following the gentle glow of orange lights strung across the yard, stepping into a scene that felt dreamlike, suspended in that late afternoon haze. There was a large oak tree strung with little yellow lights, glowing faintly in the dying sunlight, the whole place set up in the same meticulous, festive way the Hoffmans always did.Â
Every corner had been turned into Halloween, with cobwebs woven over bushes and pumpkins large and small lining tables, some carved and flickering with candles, others untouched, casting shadows across the tablecloths. Guests mingled at scattered tables, warm drinks in hand, their voices and laughter filling the air with a kind of warmth you hadnât known youâd needed. The grill added a woodsy scent, smoky and rich, mixed with spices that made your stomach hum with anticipation. A few feet away, kids dressed as witches and monsters zoomed around, their laughter spilling into the light breeze, punctuating the chatter of the adults.
It was the kind of evening that felt ripe for sinking into, letting go of all the worries that had weighed on you lately. You wanted to let yourself simply be here.
Travis glanced at you then, his gaze softening in that way he had, his question as warm as his smile. âIâm heading for foodâwant anything?â he asked, eyes moving from you to the spread at the far end of the yard.
You pushed yourself up from the table, your hands planted firmly as if grounding yourself.
âIâll come with youâthis is the best part, right?â
The food was better than ever. Tender, perfectly cooked meat, salads piled high, and a sense of community humming through every bite. You found your spot at the table again, balancing your glass of beer on the edge, the faint strains of music drifting from the outdoor speakers blending into the buzz of voices around you. And then, like some personal invitation to memory, you heard the familiar intro; Eyes Without a Face, by Billy Idol, that unmistakable beat curling around you.
Your shoulders started to sway, almost without permission, and then there he was againâJoel. Just like that, back in your mind, as clear as if he were standing beside you. You could picture itâtwo years ago, slightly tipsy, singing that song in his living room, his hand on your waist, both of you spinning each other slowly to the rhythm, his head tilted back in a deep laugh, voice just slightly off-beat, and you trying and failing to contain your own laughter.
âYou okay?â Travisâs voice pulled you back, concern lacing his tone as he looked at you. Your gaze had been locked on some invisible point on the table, your head leaning slightly, reliving a memory that suddenly felt all too close.
âOhâyeah. Itâs nothing. I just love this song.â
He smiled, nodding knowingly. âItâs a classic,â he said, his fingers tapping along with the beat.
You looked up and there, just beyond Travis, the Hoffmansâ glass door slid open. You stopped breathing for a second. Joel stepped out, looking like heâd walked out of some old photograph, hair a bit damp, dark jeans and a gray and black flannel layered over a plain white T-shirt, a pair of black converse grounding him to this moment. He moved toward one of the tables, brushing his chin absentmindedly, his lips moving in time with the music, glancing around as if he were taking it all in for the first time.
And then his gaze found yours.
You held your breath, as if that could somehow make you invisible, as if that would erase this moment. But his eyes stayed on you, unreadable, a half smile on his face or maybe just a neutral expressionâsome mix of familiar and distant, like he was watching you from a place you could never fully reach. You swallowed, shifting your focus back to Travis, who had his eyes on his phone now, idly typing something while he continued to eat.
âI shouldâve dressed up tonight,â you said, your voice intentionally light, trying to shake the weight that had fallen over you. âI donât know what Iâd be, but still. It would be fun to pretend for a night.â
Travis chuckled, leaning in closer, but you could still see Joel over his shoulder, that steady gaze, watching from his own table.
âI know a party tomorrow nightâmy friendâs hosting, if you want to go with me. We can pick out costumes tomorrow morning, make a day of it.â
You smiled, surprised at how genuinely it formed, pushing your hands together in excitement.
âReally? Iâd love that! I havenât dressed up in years.â
Travisâs face lit up. âThen itâs a date. Weâll figure out the costumes in the morning. Anything you want.â
For a moment, you let yourself lean into that feeling, that lightness in his offer, something to look forward to. Your gaze wandered to Helena and her little daughter by the pool, her laughter carried to you on the breeze, her face illuminated in the soft glow of fairy lights. You patted Travisâs hand and stood up, gesturing for him to follow. He caught on, falling into step behind you as you made your way to greet them.Â
But as you moved, you couldnât shake the feeling of Joelâs eyes on you, lingering there in the space between.
It had been more than a month since you'd last seen Helena. She had traveled back to her home country after her fatherâs death, sorting through family matters, settling things that couldnât be left undone. Now, with her daughter Iris perched on her lap, she looked better, lighter even. There was a calmness in her eyes that hadnât been there before, her fingers tracing gentle circles over Irisâs shoulder as the little girl, dressed as a bumblebee, poked unenthusiastically at a slice of pumpkin bread. You sat next to her.
âHey,â Helena said, catching sight of you with a warm smile that seemed to melt away everything around youâeven the awareness of Joel, somewhere behind you, his gaze like a whisper you couldnât quite shake. âItâs so good to see you. How are you?â
âIâm⊠fine,â you answered, hesitating as your eyes drifted to Iris, who looked up at you with a shy, dimpled smile. âWhen did you get back?â
âA few days ago. I was actually planning to stop by tomorrow,â Helena replied, brightening as she added, âI thought we could have dinner, get the girls together, and our guys.â She gave a little chuckle, nudging Iris lightly. âPaul would probably love having Joel around too. The poor guy spent the entire trip surrounded by womenâmy sisters are wonderful, but you know how it is. It was just him and my dad with all of us, and nowâŠâ
Helena had three sisters, each one of them stunning, with the same striking green eyes and dark hair that she had. When youâd met them last Christmas, it was as though youâd stepped into some enchanted fairytaleâthey moved with an effortless grace, magnetic and ethereal.
Helenaâs eyes twinkled as she turned toward Travis. âYou should come too, Travis,â she said, a mischievous glint in her expression. She shot you a knowing wink, which Travis, ever polite, caught with a smile.
âSounds great,â he replied with an easy grin, though you felt a twinge of discomfort at the mention of âour guys,â the thought of Joel slipping into your mind unbidden. Trying to brush it aside, you nodded and shifted the conversation.
âIs Paul not coming tonight?â you asked, hoping to keep things light.
âNo,â she sighed. âHeâs been swamped at work, trying to catch up after our trip. But I really canât complain. He was so great, staying home with me all this time, so I told him tonight he should just take his time.âÂ
Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.
âHelena, itâs so good to see you!â Brenda, always the life of these gatherings, came over with her usual warmth, her gaze lighting up as she reached out for Iris.Â
Brendaâs costume was a striking homageâher spiky orange hair and dark lipstick made her look both bold and playful. She wore a white shirt stamped with slogans in block print, a chunky pearl necklace framing her smile. As she was sitting in front of Helena, she caught your eye and grinned.
âI'm Vivienne Westwood!â she announced proudly, preening a little under your gaze.
âYou look amazing,â you said, meaning it. âAnd the food is, as always, incredible. You outdo yourself every year.â
Brenda gave your hand a squeeze in response, her gaze softening, but just as she was about to respond, her attention shifted beyond you, a pleased expression lighting up her face. âOh! Joel, come over here!â
Your body tensed at the sound of his name, feeling as though the space behind you had just closed in. He was there, his footsteps echoing toward you until he was nearly at your back. You wanted to stand up, to avoid the moment entirely, but it would have only made things worseâtoo obvious, too awkward. Brenda couldnât have known. Joel had always been a fixture in your life; it wasnât strange to see him here, even if, for some reason, it felt like he was moving in a world that was no longer entirely yours.
You glanced up, catching sight of Joel as he leaned down to kiss Brendaâs cheek while she patted the seat next to her. His smile was casual, easy, as he greeted the others with a nod, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you and Travis than felt necessary. He looked completely at ease, unbothered by the tension knotting up inside you, sitting comfortably in front of you.
Brendaâs hand rested on his arm as she looked up at him with a fond smile. âWhereâs your Sarah? I havenât seen her all night.â
âSheâs at a friendâs sleepover,â Joel replied, a hint of concern threading through his words, though he tried to disguise it with a smile. âSo Iâm here on her behalf, I suppose.â
âSheâs growing up so fast,â Brenda said, her tone nostalgic as she gave him a soft smack on the arm.
Joel shook his head slowly, a bittersweet smile flitting across his face before his gaze moved to Iris. âTell me about it. I remember when she was this littleâŠâ
Helenaâs hand drifted over her daughterâs hair as she smiled back at him.
âIt all flies by, doesnât it?â she said, her voice soft. âWe really have to hold on to these moments.â She turned toward Travis, and he nodded, a gentle look in his eyes as he watched Iris.Â
âHow old is Sarah now, Joel?â Travis asked, and you noticed a subtle shift in Joelâs expression, a kind of hesitance before he replied.
âTwelve,â he said, his voice quieter, his gaze falling briefly before meeting Travisâs, smile dissapearing.
âTwelve?â Brendaâs tone was incredulous. âI still remember the day you moved in, Joel! She was so little then, a perfect little angel! And youâhow old were you then?â
âTwenty-seven,â Joel answered with a wry smile, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.
âYou were just a kid yourself,â Brenda replied, shaking her head. âAlways working, always rushing somewhere. And always putting your baby first.â
Joelâs smile softened, his eyes meeting Brendaâs with a warm gratitude.
âI couldnât have managed without you,â he said simply, as though she understood all the years of support and help she had given him.
Helena glanced over with a thoughtful look. âDidnât you just have a birthday, Joel?â she asked, her voice casual, but the question landing with a weight that made your heart leap.Â
âThat's right,â he murmured, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with his fingers against the edge of the table. âSeptember twenty-sixth.â
âHey, happy belated birthday then,â Helena said brightly, her smile lighting up the words. âDid you have a nice time?â
Joel looked at you briefly, and something flickered there, like he was turning over a memory he hadnât expected to find. He shifted his gaze back to his hands. âIt was good. Full of⊠surprises, I guess. Pretty sure Sarah told you all about it, huh?â He shot a glance at Brenda, as if grateful for a way out of the conversation.
âOh, I heard all about it from Sarah,â Brenda said, grinning, her gaze settling on you with a warmth that made you blush. âYouâre a lucky guy, Joel, to have two sweet girls looking out for you like that.â She patted his arm. âIâll make up a little bag of candy to take home to her, all right? I know she loves the caramel ones.â
You smiled, trying to ignore the prickle of Joelâs gaze on you. And then a feeling dragged you back to years before, to when his Sarah was just three. You could pictured her as a toddler with wide eyes and a toothy, mischievous grin. Joel had shown you those old photos once, and you remembered how adorable she looked, her tiny hand clutching a toy tightly. Sarah had his smileâthat same easy warmth, with eyes that crinkled and all but disappeared whenever she laughed. That gesture was even present in Tommy, now that you thought about it. Maybe it was purely a Millers thing, but itâ
You realized Brenda was talking to you and straightened up, feeling your cheeks warm.
âSorry, what?â, you asked.
Brenda chuckled, looking at you with a soft smile. âI was just asking, how old was Sarah when you first met her?â
âShe was eight,â Joel answered before you could, glancing at you with a faint smirk.
"Yeah, eight," you echoed the number, ignoring the way his gaze moved over you, lingering with a warmth that felt almost invasive.
At that moment, Helena called Brendaâs attention back to a conversation about Christmas and Irisâs upcoming birthday, but Joelâs eyes stayed on you, searching your face like he was looking for something only you might understand. You tried to keep your own expression neutral, feeling Travisâs hand come to rest on your knee under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch helped you to breathe a little easier, though Joel didnât miss the gesture. His gaze hardened as he glanced down, the line of his jaw tightening slightly.
Clearing his throat, he leaned forward, finally addressing Travis. âSo, howâs business going, Travis? I heard something about real estate taking a hit. Times are rough, arenât they?â
Travis, completely unfazed, nodded, his hand still on your knee. âIt is. At least for now things are still good, but of course, I can speak for myself.â
Joel gave a slow, mocking nod, feigning an interest he didnât feel. âWell, you seem quite competent. I have no doubt you sure are handy with business. Is your dad still running the company?â
Travis smiled, oblivious to the subtext that hung in Joelâs question. âYep, still going strong, but I think heâs planning to retire soon. My old man is tired, I think.â
Joel raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of understanding. âMakes sense. Iâm sure youâll do fine. You seem like the kind whoâs got a knack for that⊠you know, the charm. Every successful businessman needs a little bamboozling spark, donât they? And I... I think you fit the role.âÂ
âJoel,â you warned quietly, hoping to temper the tension you could feel growing at the table. But Joel merely looked back at you with a faint, defiant smile, ignoring the caution in your eyes.
Travis, patient as ever, simply shrugged. âI appreciate your good faith, Joel. It means a lot coming from you, I know what a hard worker you are.â
The kindness in his tone, the sincerity in his eyesâit made your heart soften. You turned to look at him with a warm smile on your face, how was he immune to the sharp words of the man in front of him? And Joel had a special talent for formulating painful and provocative sentences, but apparently Travis was not the easy guy to gnaw on. And you were grateful for that.Â
He turned to you, his eyes warm as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. âIâm going to get us some drinks. Need anything, beautiful?â
You shook your head, managing a small smile. âIâm good, thanks.â
As he rose and walked away, he gave your shoulder one last affectionate squeeze. You noticed Joel watching Travisâs every move, his expression darkening, and once Travis was out of earshot, Joelâs gaze returned to you. He didnât bother to hide his irritation, his eyes narrowing in an almost accusatory way as they moved over your face, searching.
âJoel, really,â you whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. âYou donât have to treat him like that. Heâs never done a thing to you.â
A smirk flickered across his lips, and he leaned closer, eyes dancing with a kind of challenge. âTreat him like what?â
You shook your head, pulling back to put some distance between you, but Joelâs gaze followed, steady, like he was waiting for you to react, hoping for it even.
Murmuring an apology to Brenda and Helena, you stood, slipping away to the table by the big oak tree where your empty plate and half-full glass still sat. You picked it up, taking a long drink, grateful for the quiet moment, even as you felt his eyes on you from across the garden.
Travis appeared in front of you, a warm smile on his face as he handed over a small plate with a chocolate cupcake, topped with a dollop of cream shaped into a ghost and dusted with coconut. The sweet smell hit you right away, and you leaned in, inhaling the scent, your mouth already watering. You took a bite, savoring the rich chocolateâit tasted like all of Brenda Hoffmanâs best baking, delicious and indulgent.
âMaybe after the barbecue, we could head back to my place for a while,â Travis said, his expression slightly tentative, as if he wasnât entirely sure of your response.
âThat sounds perfect,â you replied with a small smile, trying not to feel self-conscious. As you savored another bite, you glanced toward the pool where Joel was still deep in conversation with Brenda, Helena, and Iris. A moment later, you noticed Clara, all golden hair and easy confidence, sliding into the seat youâd left vacant. She placed two plates on the table, one for herself and one for Joel, who glanced up as she settled in, looking pleased.
Travis followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a knowing look.
âHe hates me, doesnât he?â he said, sounding almost amused, though his eyes held a faint hint of confusion. âI think I might understand why, i mean, i think i know why butâŠâ
You blinked, feeling that all-too-familiar twinge of guilt.
âNo, he doesnât hate you,â you said, brushing off the thought. âHeâs just acting⊠well, like a jerk.â
Travis nodded slowly, digesting your words, but then his eyes softened with curiosity.
âYou donât have to answer this if you donât want to, but⊠what happened with you two? Werenât you best friends? I remember you two were always together, but latelyâŠâ
You sighed, feeling the tension build as you searched for a way to answer. Travis didnât need the full story, not yet.
âLike I just told you, he's acting like a jerk,â you said, and it didn't take long to sense that Travis wasn't satisfied with your answer.âHonestly, we just⊠had an argument a few weeks ago,â you said, carefully choosing each word. âItâs been weird between us since then, I guess.â
Travis seemed to sense that you didnât want to go deeper, and thankfully he let the topic slide, moving the conversation in a new direction as he began to tell you about the last book heâd read.
âI just finished The Red and the Black, actually,â he said, his gaze turning thoughtful as he picked up his fork, poking at his plate absently. âI didnât like Madame de RĂȘnal. I thought her choices were a bit⊠unconvincing.â
You laughed, covering your mouth as you swallowed the last bite of cupcake. âWell, we're talking about revolutionary and passionate times, you know. I mean, Stendhal had his characters reflecting all that intensity. Have you read Goetheâs Werther?â
Travis smirked, shaking his head. âAh, yes, the Werther book. The one with the famous suicide, right?â
You grinned, raising an eyebrow. âThatâs the one. The famous suicide and the iconic outfit. I know it gets heavy, but Iâve always liked it.â
He chuckled, nodding as if to humor you.
âMy sister made me read it as a teenager, actually. I thought Werther was too⊠sentimental for my taste.â
You tried not to smile too widely, picturing a young, disinterested Travis, brow furrowed over Goetheâs verses.
âI get it. I was probably more sympathetic to Werther than I shouldâve been. Iâve always been a bit of a romantic myself, so maybe it made sense to me. Though Iâll admit, he does get insufferable.â
âDefinitely insufferable,â Travis said, still amused. âIâve always been more into horror anyway.â
The comment made you smileâTravis had a whole shelf at home stacked with DVDs and old VHS tapes of classics like Nightmare on Elm Street, Cujo, and The Birds. Youâd teased him about it, of course, but there was something oddly endearing about it too.
As the conversation flowed, a faint twinge made itself known in your stomach, and you shifted in your seat, trying to ignore it. Youâd had a glass of beer and two tall glasses of water before coming over, so the feeling wasnât exactly a surprise.
âIâll be right back,â you murmured, excusing yourself as you rose from your spot.
In doing so, you glanced over Travisâs shoulder, only to catch sight of Joel and Clara by the pool. Brenda had moved elsewhere, leaving Clara at Joelâs side, closer than casual. She was leaning into him, her hand resting against his shoulder, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, her laugh light and flirtatious. Joel didnât seem uncomfortable with her proximity. In fact, he was smiling back at her, his gaze locked on hers in a way that made your heart sink just a little.Â
You looked away, feeling a strange pang that you couldnât quite justify. Had he been ignoring Clara before simply because you were there, next to him? But now, alone with her⊠he didnât seem to be ignoring her at all.
As you headed toward the house, you forced yourself to shake off the thought. You slipped through the door and let out a sigh of relief, the cool interior air calming your nerves. Walking quietly down the hallway, you reached the bathroom and knocked gently to check if it was free. It was unoccupied, so you slipped inside and closed the door behind you. You paused by the mirror, glancing at your own reflection, almost surprised by the tension in your eyes.
What was Joel doing, looking at Clara like that? Wasnât he still with Sienna? And what would she think if she saw him now, flirting? It was hard not to wonder if Sienna was like Clara, someone completely different from you.Â
Clara was a flash of brilliance, a woman who looked like sheâd walked off a magazine cover, golden curls that fell like soft waves of sunlight, her skin bronzed from Texas summers, her green eyes glinting with a brightness that made her seem almost elemental, like an extension of the sun. Her voice was soft, delicate; every word felt chosen, measured. She was flirtatious, always laughing, always seemingly content with the way things were. You could almost imagine that Clara might be Joelâs typeâa vibrant, sunlit presence. It would make sense; he was her opposite in every way. When you thought of Joel, you thought of nighttime, the murmur of crickets outside a darkened window, strong coffee and smoky whiskey, a deep, hidden undercurrent.Â
And you? You werenât sure what you were. You werenât quite the night, nor the day. Maybe you were something in between, or maybe you were just⊠undetermined. You wanted to think you had some affinity with the moon, but even that seemed too defined.
You sighed, breaking your gaze from your reflection as you felt an urgency to finish up. A moment later, you were washing your hands, the warm water and lavender soap grounding you a bit as your mind drifted again, wandering along with the suds down the drain. You dried your hands with a soft cotton towel, inhaling the fresh, clean scent.
But when you opened the door, you froze in place. Joel was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked behind him. He had been staring at the floor, but as soon as he heard you, his gaze flicked up. There was an intensity in his expression that made you pause, waiting for him to say something, to step aside, to let you pass. But he didnât move.
When he finally spoke, his voice cut through the small space like a slow crack.
âAre you with him now?â
âWith who, Travis?â you said, sounding more dismissive than youâd intended.
He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
âWho else? Or is there another I donât know about?â
You took a few steps closer, folding your arms, letting your expression go cold and tight, the same way it always seemed to be now, whenever you looked at him.
âI really donât think thatâs any of your business, Joel.â You lifted your chin. âI mean, last time I checked, you havenât been all that open about your life either. So why would I tell you anything about mine now?â
Joelâs smirk twisted into something sharper. âDidnât stop you from telling Tommy, did it?â
You shrugged. âWell, youâre not Tommy.â
Joel scoffed, crossing his arms, clearly entertained. âTelling Tommy is practically the same as telling me.â
You lifted an eyebrow, unfazed. âIf it makes you feel better, go ahead and believe that.â
But his amusement faded, and he looked at you with something almost searching, like he was trying to find a trace of the way you used to be with himâkind, understanding, open in a way that had made him comfortable. You saw the shift in his face, in the way his eyes flicked between yours, like he was looking for some doorway back to that version of you. But she wasnât here. Or maybe she was, just not for him anymore.
Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper, as he asked, âDid you sleep with him?â
The question hit you, and you stayed silent, unsure if an answer would expose the bitter knot you felt at your center. You hadnât slept with Travis, not yet anyway. But Joel didnât know that, and you found a petty thrill in letting him wonder, letting him believe what he wantedâthat other hands, other lips had erased him from your memory, replaced every touch. That he had no longer been the last man to touch you. It was pathetic, you knew it, but the curiosity to see his reaction was stronger than anything else. So you decided not to answer, to let the silence lie for you.
So you simply met his gaze, letting silence serve as an answer, your lips lifting in a faint, cryptic smile. And then you saw the moment he believed it: his jaw tightened, his breath went shallow, and his eyes seemed to darken, hardening.
âLike I said, none of your business,â you finally said, feeling something small and satisfied flare inside.
Joel chuckled, but it was a grim sound. He looked down briefly, and when he looked back up, there was an almost cruel gleam in his eye.
âDid he know where to touch you?â
You scoffed, turning the question back on him. âDo you really want to know?â
The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You knew Joel well enough to know he would go there if he could. But you couldnât let him gain the upper hand, not here. If anything, you needed to keep him off-balance, keep him uncomfortable.
âOh, Iâm all ears,â he replied, his smile gone now, leaving only a hard, steady gaze that felt like it was drilling into you.
You felt your cheeks flush, but you held his gaze, determined.
âHe was the best Iâve ever had,â you said, letting each word hang in the air, daring him to question it. You tilted your head, feigning a fond, private recollection. âGentle, but rough when I wanted him to be. And you want to know the best part?â
Joelâs throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment, his expression softened. The dark look in his eyes deepened, his smile long gone.
âAfterwards, when I woke up,â you went on, drawing out each word, âTravis was still there.â
Joelâs head dipped, his eyes dropping to the ground, and you took a brief, selfish moment to take in the sight of him, almost broken in front of you. But something twisted in your chest; the satisfaction felt hollow, quickly replaced by a pang of something closer to pity, almost regret. You had an impulse to reach out, to tell him you hadnât meant it, that Travis wasnât even in the picture, that he hadnât been the best or the first or anything. But you couldnât allow that.Â
You had to remind yourself why youâd stopped letting Joel inâhow heâd left you out in the cold, how heâd made your feelings seem like nothing, as if they didnât matter enough to consider. You had to remind yourself of Sienna, this woman who felt like a ghost, hovering between you and Joel, even though youâd never even met her. And if he was really with someone else, what was he doing here, pushing and prying, acting like he had the right to know these things about you? Why was he acting like he cared if youâd moved on, or if you were with someone else, when he was so openly flirting with Clara just a few minutes ago in Brendaâs backyard? Had he become a complete asshole, or had he always been like that and you were just now realizing it?
As the memory of it all flooded back, the tenderness you'd felt earlier drained away, replaced by a familiar, suffocating anger. It surged up from somewhere deep inside you, visceral and sharp, and before you could stop yourself, your body moved instinctivelyâstepping back, away from himâuntil your back hit the cold wall by the bathroom door. The impact was jarring, but it felt like a small, needed separation.Â
Joel didnât speak right away. He stood still, his eyes shifting downward, slowly, moving over your body, before meeting your face again. His expression was unreadable, like a mask he didnât quite know how to remove. It irritated you, this silence, this uncertainty that hung between you two like an unwelcome guest.
Finally, you broke the tension, pushing yourself off the wall and stepping back, away from him. But just as you tried to distance yourself, his voice vibrated through the air, low and deliberate, cutting into your thoughts.
âThatâs mine,â he said.
âWhat?â you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for somethingâanythingâto explain this new, impossible tension.Â
Joel didnât move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.
âThe flannel,â he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. âItâs mine.â
You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But heâd never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.
When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.
âWhat happened?â His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you werenât sure why. âDid you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?â
You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldnât quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.
âDoesnât your little boyfriend mind you wearing another manâs clothes?â he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. âOr does he already know this isnât the only thing of mine thatâs wrapped around you?â
A shiver ran through you, a mixture of anger and something elseâsomething hotter, something less easy to define. You didnât want to feel it, but it was there, and it was impossible to ignore.
No. This wasnât about that. This was about himâhow dare he?
In a sudden movement, your hands moved to the buttons of the flannel, fumbling with them in a rush, eager to take it off, to rid yourself of him. But as you tugged the fabric down over your shoulders, you felt Joelâs hand close around your left wrist, his palm warm against your skin, halting you, slowing you down. The touch was too familiar, too intimate, and it sent a jolt of something you couldnât quite identify straight to your stomach.
âNo,â he said, his voice suddenly low and commanding, like he was trying to anchor you, like he was trying to hold you in place. âItâs yours. Donât take it off.â
You snorted, a dry, incredulous sound, and with an almost violent motion, you yanked your hand away from his, finishing the job of removing the flannel with a sharp tug.Â
Joelâs jaw tightened, his eyes darkening further, and for a moment, you could see the effort it took him to stay still. His eyes lingered on you, tracing your every move, as you held the soft fabric against his chest. You could feel the air shift, feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, and your heart beat a little faster.Â
You looked up at him, the anger suddenly spilling out of you. âNo. Youâre right. Itâs yours. I should have given it back to you a long time ago.â
His hand moved up to his chest, over yours, taking the fabric from you with a slow, deliberate motion.
âPut it back on,â he said, his voice softer now, like he was trying to smooth over something that had frayed. "It's cold outside."
You wanted to fight it, to say something sharp, but your irritation bubbled up before you could stop it.
âGood thing I live across the block, then,â you blurted, the words coming out thicker with frustration as you pulled your hand free from under his, feeling the heat of his fingers linger on your skin.
Joel's patience was running thin. His hand shot out again, grabbing the flannel in a fist and pulling it closer to you, the fabric stretching between your bodies.
âStop being so stubborn and put it back on,â he said, his tone more demanding, more urgent. His voice had a sharpness to it now, almost like a warning.
Something inside you snapped. You shoved his hand back hard, with as much force as you could muster, pushing him awayânot enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. His body didnât move, though. It stayed solid, unyielding, the broadness of his shoulders making you feel small, like you were being swallowed by his presence.
Frustration bubbled inside you, gnawing at your chest as you turned sharply on your heels, determined to leave. Your steps were quick, purposeful, as you made your way toward the hallway exit, the air heavy with everything left unsaid between you and Joel. But then, a firm grip wrapped around your wrist, dragging you back to him. You pivoted on instinct, meeting his gaze with eyes darkened by anger, sharp and focused.
For a moment, your mind flashed with the impulse to tear his hand off your wrist, to wrench it away and walk out of this whole mess. But you let it go. Instead, you locked eyes with him, your breath catching as your irritation turned into something more potentâexasperation.
âEnough, Joel,â you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. âI'm tired of fighting with you.â The words spilled out before you could stop them, and inside, you couldnât help but wonder how it had come to thisâhow two people who once fit so easily together had ended up here, so broken and scattered.Â
âThen letâs not fight,â he said, his voice softer now, almost like he was pleading. There was a quiet desperation in his words, a slight hitch, as if he was offering a fragile truce. âWe canââ
âIâm afraid thatâs impossible,â you interrupted, your words sharp and cold, the bitterness clinging to every syllable. âI canât stand you anymore.â As soon as they left your lips, you realized how hard and cruel they sounded, but you didnât care. You were exhausted. Tired of the games, tired of the back-and-forth. The anger inside you surged again, hotter than before, as his fingers tightened around your wrist, forcing you to feel the weight of it. Desperation.
âDonât look for me,â you continued, the words raw and unrelenting. âDonât talk to me anymore. Donât look at me. I donât want anything to do with you. Iâve had enough of all of this. If I could go back in time, Iâd change everything, Iâd avoid all of this shit.â The heat in your chest built as tears threatened, burning behind your eyes. âBut I canât. I canât do anything about it, and neither can you, so leave me the fuck alone for once. Avoid me if you can and Iâll avoid you. Pretend I donât fucking exist. I don't know. Just stop it, Joel.â
The impact of your words hit him like a physical blow. You saw the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his mouth twisted, his face contorting in a wince. Something inside you sank, and for a moment, regret pierced you. But then, the anger pushed the guilt aside. He hadnât been considerate of you before, had he? And that thought, that realization, let the remorse slip away.
His grip loosened just slightly, but he didnât release you. Instead, his fingers trailed down to your palm, stroking it gently with his fingertips, his breath shallow and measured, like he was holding himself back from saying something more.Â
For a moment, you both stood still, suspended in that space, him looking at you, and you trying not to look at himâwaiting, anticipating what would come next. What was the right thing to do now? You should walk away. Right now. Now.Â
But then his voice, quiet and soft, cut through the air.
âYou donât need me anymore?â
âNo,â you said, the word escaping before you could stop it. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, and the second it left you, you could feel it: the squeeze in your chest, the twisting of your heart. It wasnât true, not really. But you wanted it to be. You wanted it to be true more than anything.
Joelâs eyes flickered, just for a second, like they were searching for something in your face that wasnât there. His expression faltered, his hand falling away from yours, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if the weight of your words had crushed him.Â
âI know thatâs not true, baby,â he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldnât name, but it was too much. You couldnât bear to see it.
You shook your head, refusing to let the crack in your own resolve show.
âMaybe not, yet,â you said, your voice colder now, harder. âBut Iâll do whatever it takes to make it true.â
With that, you turned away before you could second-guess yourself, before you could see his reaction and let the guilt undo you. You didnât want to stay. Not now. If you stayed a moment longer, you knew you would apologize, youâd cave, youâd let him back in. But you couldnât. You couldnât keep doing this.Â
You walked quickly back to your seat, each step carrying you farther away from him, from the tension that had become unbearable. You barely noticed Travisâs worried look when you sat down next to him.
âAre you all right?â he asked, his voice laced with concern. âYou were gone a while.â
You nodded, forcing a weak, half-smile. But inside, it felt like everything was crumbling. Your bones felt brittle, as if they might snap with the weight of it all. Your body had turned to lead, your muscles drained of all strength. Your eyes, heavy with unshed tears, were a reflection of the ache in your chest.Â
You just wanted to go home, crawl into your bed, and never come out. The lump in your throat grew larger with every second, and the cold air stung your neck, making you shiver.
âWhat happened to your shirt?â Travis asked, noticing the way your body had become tense and cold.
You didnât answer, relieved when he stood and came to stand beside you. You watched as he shrugged off his jacket, his movements gentle, as he draped it over your shoulders and helped you tuck your arms into it.Â
Once you were warm, Travis slipped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him, his soft kiss to the top of your head offering a fleeting moment of comfort. You couldnât help but lean into him, resting your head on his collarbone, inhaling the familiar scent of his perfume. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the comfort of being held, the peace of someone who wasnât trying to tear you apart.
But then you heard itâthe sliding door opening. And you knew.Â
When you opened your eyes, you saw him. Joel. Walking out of the house, his pace slow, deliberate, as he clutched the flannel shirt in his left hand. His eyes were cast downward, but when he looked up, they locked on you. His expression shifted, something unreadable in the way he looked at you, and your stomach dropped.Â
He walked toward his table, his fist clenching the fabric so tightly that his knuckles went white, his gaze never leaving you. You couldnât look away either. It was like a magnetic pull.Â
At his table, Carla was waiting, her eyes fixed on him like a hawk circling prey. You felt an involuntary surge of disgust. You wanted to stand up, to march over there and shake her, to tell her to leave, to stop, that she was being pathetic. But then, the sharp, bitter truth hit you: Carla wasnât the problem. You were. She reminded you of yourselfâthe way youâd clung to Joel, the way youâd let him define you.Â
Joel spoke, his voice angry and loud enough for you to hear from where you sat.Â
âIâm going home,â he said, his eyes cutting through Carla as he raised his head to her height. Then he pulled back, holding out his hand. âY'wanna come with me?â
And there it wasâthe knot in your chest tightened. Carla nodded, flushed with a victorious smile, and took his hand. The same hand that had held yours just minutes before.Â
You closed your eyes, sinking further into Travisâs embrace, the ache in your chest spreading, overwhelming.Â
You couldnât leave now. Not with him walking out, not with her next to him. What would you do? Cross paths with them on the way out? Watch them walk away together? The thought was unbearable.
âCan we go to your place for a while?â Your voice was small, almost breaking as you whispered into Travisâs chest.Â
âSure thing, honey,â he murmured, the warmth of his body offering a small, fleeting comfort against the storm of emotions inside you.
-
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#joel miller needs to STOP#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#tlou fic#tlou hbo#tlou joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel tlou#joel miller x reader#the last of us fanfiction#capuccinodoll#joel x you#joel x y/n
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ULTRAMINE ~ CHAPTER 3
kenji sato x reader
summary: you learn all about the kaiju baby and the developments it has made, while spending time with kenji sato
pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader
warnings: none:), lots of fluff, reader and kenji being emi's parents
masterlist !
next morning, you were perched on a chair beside professor sato, yawning in fatigue.
kenji and professor sato made you stay the night at the mansion, providing you with a guest room.
you were up and early in the morning, eager to learn more about the kaiju baby at your disposal.
"come on. we have to stand up and measure you," professor sato spoke in a soothing voice.
"and analyze your entire genetic make up," mina added, hovering beside you.
but the baby kaiju still seemed doubtful of him, her beady curious eyes darting to you every so often.
"you guys are up already?" kenji stepped towards you, stopping at your side.
you spared a glance his way, giving him a sleepy wordless wave of greeting. you weren't one to get all cheerful and all in the morning. your brain had to flush out the exhaustion and drowsiness.
"kenji smiled back at you, offering you a cup of coffee, "thought you could use some,"
"oh, bless you. i can't thank you enough," you accepted it, sighing in bliss after taking your first sip.
kenji seemed pleased with your reaction, resting his elbows on the edge of your chair and standing behind you, his biceps bulging, "so, what are you doing?"
"we need to examine her so we can plan a training regimen to protect emi from protectors," professor sato said playfully at the kaiju baby.
kenji blinked, "emi? uh wait," he paused, "did you name her after mom?"
"i think she would approve,"
emi was still trilling in worry.
"okay emi," professor sato held up bunny in the hair, "now stand up nice and tall,"
emi got to her feet, slowly straightening up to her full height.
"my god," kenji deadpanned, "my dad's a kaiju whisperer,"
"good girl," i appreciated. emi's attention turned to you, letting out a happy squeal at your approval as her eyes brightened in excitement.
"ah well. looks like she's starting to like you," kenji stated.
"mina, please prepare to insert the microtracking device," professor sato instructed and the ai floated over, injecting as emi held out her hand.
"mina, treat please," professor sato took the donut when the ai handed it to him and held it out to the kaiju baby, "and before we eat, we say itadakiamsu,"
emi took the donut and munched on it, but few seconds later, her stomach let out a grumbling noise, and she looked like she was about to puke.
"professor sato, dr. y/n," mina addressed you both, "i believe that emi is experiencing a bit of nausea from the medicine.
you felt your chair being pulled backward and noticed it was kenji's doing.
"this never ends well," he stated as a matter of fact, "might wanna protect your coffee,"
i placed a hand over my cup, leaning back wearily as i let kenji drag me back.
"uh, dad, step away please," kenji waved at his father to get back when the professor didn't move,"
"oh she's fine," he brushed it off, "itdaki!-" the professor was knocked off his feet as he went flying backward, emi's puke hurling him to the wall at the far end, "-masu," he groaned, sliding to the floor.
kenji pursed his lips in amusement while you covered your mouth with your cup of coffee, letting out a laugh when emi trilled in joy.
you were jotting down everything kenji told you about emi's growth and development in these past few days, when emi leaped out of his hands and ran all around the room.
"get back here," kenji panted, "right now, missy!" he was in ultraman form, struggling to grab hold of emi, but the baby kaiju kept dodging him, running between his legs
emi squealed in delight, finding the entire situation entertaining.
you had put on your war suit to aid kenji; you couldn't grow in size like kenji but you had strange inhuman superstrength, much like kenji's alien genes.
you dodged a table emi had kicked your way, catching it and setting it down.
"here, baby. uh, c'mere," you had distracted her with a fish, handing it as a peace offering and got her to settle down.
emi sat on her butt in front of you, accepting the snack.
"that's my girl," you appreciated, caressing her leg as you leaned back on her.
after putting her to sleep, you headed to your guest room and took a long hot shower, easing your tired muscles.
you stepped out in nothing but a towel as wet strands of hair fell, framing your face.
you halted when you saw kenji sitting on the edge of your bed, wearing on his sweat as he had a towel slung on his shoulder.
"k-kenji," you stammered, placing a hand against the towel wrapped around your body, "w-what're you doing here?"
kenji's eyes widened at the sight of you, jaw going slack. he pursed his lips, taking a moment to reply, "it's been like thirty minutes and dad's hogging the water supply in my bathroom,"
his gaze followed a drop of water that dripped down your throat, following the dip of your collarbone and eventually into your cleavage, which was more prominent now because of your hand pressed against it.
kenji snapped his eyes away, feeling blood rush to his face, "s-so, um, i just wanted to use your shower. if you don't mind,"
"of course," you nodded, "go on. it's your house after all,"
"and it's your privacy after all," kenji stepped towards you, "i can't step all over it, can i?" he came to a stop in front of you, his gaze so sharp that they could burn the fluffy towel covering you.
you watched him in silence, contemplating his next move. he reached a hand forward and tucked a wet piece of strand behind your ear.
your skin tingled, goosebumps rising in your skin.
he brushed the back of his hand down your cheek, noticing the effect he had on you.
without another word, kenji stepped into the bathroom, grinning to himself, leaving you all bothered and flustered.
you were fixing your warbird suit in kenji's basement, having it haning in front of you.
seated on the table while your suit was held out in front of you.
emi who was watching her favourite rhymes about kaiju, ditched it and headed towards you, mesmerized by your suit.
you hadn't noticed her yet, too focused in the task in front of you.
it wasn't until she nudged your shoulder with her nail that you turned to her, "oh hi, emi baby," you greeted her kindly.
something about your voice captivated the kaiju baby and she stared at you in curiosity.
"uh, mina," you called the ai, it floated towards you, "why do i feel like emi's giving me heart eyes?"
"she is in a kind of way," mina spoke, "i suppose she can sense the feminine energy in you. naturally, her instincts would point her to the nearest-"
"-female," you completed, turning towards emi completely, "fascinating. didn't know her instincts were that sharp," you held out a hand for her and closed your eyes in uncertainty.
but emi surprised you by snuggling her giant beak into her palm, letting your hand slide over her big cheeks.
you snapped your head back to her, laughing in astonishment, "that's cute,"
emi let out a squeal, motioning her hands to you about something and you nodded, pretending to listen and just happy to be there.
that night, kenji came home to find you asleep on the floor with emi. the kaiju baby placed a hand over your body protectively (but it wouldn't touch you to not crush you under the weight of it).
mina had pulled up the baseball stadium stimulation and right now, you were in the middle of it with kenji and emi.
emi wanted to show you her batting skills that she learned from kenji, and you were more than intrigued to see a kaiju swing a baseball bat.
you stood beside kenji as he tossed the ball to an awaiting emi, "okay, girl. here comes the ball," he tossed it.
emi swung the bat with the right precision, sending the ball flying ahead.
"woaah!! that was amazing!" you dragged out the word, causing her to squeal out in contentment from her.
"yeah baby!" kenji pumped his fists into the air, "now, y/n, your turn,"
"what!" you defended, "hell no,"
"oh c'mon," he grinned, "emi would like to see you play too,"
"i can', and i won't, kenji sato," you stated firmly, crossing your arms.
"emi wants her mama to play too. isn't that right, emi?" kenji asked out loud.
emi trilled in reply, handing you a baseball bat to hold in an attempt to encourage you.
you stared down at it, "i don't know how to hold it,"
"i'll show you," kenji stood behind you, placing his hands over yours as he showed you how to swing the bat, his body covering yours.
you could feel his body heat radiate in waves, slowly engulfing you, "kenji..."
"yes, sweetheart?"
"w-what're you doing?"
his mouth pressed to your ears, grinning, "teaching you the basics,"
you nearly shivered, a tingle passing down your spine.
emi tossed the ball at you and you swung the bat with as much force as you could (with kenji's help too, of course). the ball went searing through the air and out of you.
"whooo!!" kenji appeared in front of you, jumping on his toes in excitement, "yeah!! that was great, y/n,"
his fingers caught yours, "now c'mon, we gotta run the bases," he pulled you after him, running down the path.
you ran after him, your hair blowing back and letting little laughs escape your lips. kenji chuckled at you over his shoulder.
emi chased after you and kenji, hands stretched in front of her as her face was pulled in a giggle while mina floated along cheering.
you and kenji jumped into the spot after finishing your laps, and emi followed your actions, hopping up and down with you both, sending sand flying in all directions.
everynight, professor sato would read the legendary ultraman stories to you, kenji, and emi, re-enacting them with hand motions.
you would lean back on emi's leg, while the baby kaiju rested its hand nail on your palm for you to hold.
kenji would glance and his heart would skip a beat at the sight every time.
step by step, you and the professor trained emi to defend herself using holographs; from drones, missiles, or from another kaiju.
emi made satisfactory progress as time went on, and you jotted it down, discussing the results with the professor.
while kenji was having a bad streak at his baseball matches, he was slowly climbing his way up, able to keep up with everything due to the help he got from you and his father.
the critics were finally favouring his side and showering him with praises and honors.
you, emi, and professor sato would sit together and watch kenji's matches together, cheering and hollering like fools.
the night the giants made it into the playoffs, kenji came home with a wide smile and you all celebrated his accomplishment.
kenji embraced you, lifting you off your feet for a moment before placing you back down.
you all were fast asleep in the basement, emi snuggled against you when your watch beeped once.
groggily, you peeked at it, sitting bolt right up from the incoming call.
"agent," the captain of kdf spoke into the phone when you answered it.
"yes sir," you nodded, conversing with him as he asked the needed questions.
you spared a glance at the others over your shoulder to make sure that they weren't eavesdropping, "nothing to worry sir, i have it all under control,"
TAGLIST !
@earth-to-mee @sassy-cat-in-town @breaddippedinorangejuice @nuhteyam @gameboigyu @byunpum @jennypenny-19 @doublebunv @moonjellyfishie @m00nd0v3 @despacito-uwu16 @reivelmin @seyoran @warlike-morning @crimson-mage-02 @b3e-sat0 @miffysoo @t4naiis @lovingyeet @imsimping4life @mmeerraa @btszn @jusmango-shak @yobriisstuff @goldenpoison @fruchtgeschmack @iateurdad16 @bandolls
#ken sato#ultraman#emi ultraman#ken sato x reader#kenji sato x reader#kenji sato#ultraman rising#ultraman rising x reader#accioscarheadhthings
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Permanent Markâș : FORLORN
Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~âĄ
Pairing: Gojo x reader
Permanent Mark Masterlist
Genre: Angst
tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide
word count: 2.6k
a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.
He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.
Iâll make things right. I shouldnât be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. Iâll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That Iâm coming home with her. That Iâll never leave again.Â
Weâre gonna make it.Â
Weâre gonna make it.Â
Weâre gonna make it.Â
âShe didnât make it.âÂ
Satoruâs steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoruâs wristwatch is still the loudest.Â
It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like sheâd been awake all night when theyâd only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it.Â
Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.
The doctorâs words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didnât even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling âYou fucking bastard,â He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, âY/N, let me see my Y/N.â It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.
He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you.Â
The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.
He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that theyâre seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing youâd remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.
And Satoru⊠the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.
The last thing youâll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love.Â
Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that itâs true unless he sees you. But even if he doesâŠhis brain and his heart wouldnât allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.
âY/N.â He called out one last time before closing his eyes.Â
â---------------------------------
Earlier
You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.
Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.
You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:
You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone elseâs home.Â
Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didnât work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short momentâa split second evenâyour flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash.Â
And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesnât feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldnât move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.
You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb.Â
If you are, this is going to be your second death today.Â
â---------------------------------
âJust let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,â Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.
His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents werenât as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind fatherâs eyes, he couldnât find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your fatherâs last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:
âI hope your guilt doesnât consume you as completely as my daughterâs love for you did to her.â
Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you werenât the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasnât the only one he broke. It wasnât just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn futureâs lamentation too.Â
Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. âCome to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.â Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.
The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.
Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. Sheâs a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. Sheâs a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of Iâm sorryâs.
Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.
She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldnât have mattered how long but he never did. âIâm sorry.â He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. âWill you be fine?â She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that heâd change his mind.
âNo, but itâs alright.â He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. âWhatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.â She knows that heâs not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.
How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her?Â
She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someoneâs heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.
The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.
Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldnât talk to Satoru. Sheâd find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then sheâd leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, itâd be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesnât allow for much time for rest.
Just like how it doesnât allow enough time for mourning.Â
âYou need to start continuing your life. Youâre just insulting Y/N being like that now.â She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldnât answer his phone. Itâs almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him.Â
âDo you know where Suguru is?â He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. Itâll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. âDo not try to talk to him.â Thatâs the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.
Suguru didnât want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctorâs words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadnât provoked it, you wouldnât have left and driven drunk. Heâd sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?
The last time heâs been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didnât see it as much, his mind wouldnât think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldnât remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking youâre just somewhere far away, working at your motherâs company.
âYou donât get to feel sad. You donât get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.â He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. âYou donât get to feel sad after what youâve done, Satoru.â Suguru fears that even after years, heâd still feel resentment for his friend.
âIf you werenât planning on treating her well, you shouldâve just let me love her instead, Satoru.â He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. âIf you werenât planning on keeping her, you shouldâve just left her alone.â He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.
The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.
He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldnât find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.
He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. âLive well, Satoru. Y/N wouldnât want you like this,â He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out.Â
Itâs so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.
Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. âIt shall pass,â The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, âYouâll feel better with time.â It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesnât understand that what he needs canât be found in this world.
He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasnât a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you.Â
His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. Itâs no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold.Â
He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the tableâsome had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacketâs pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.
These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time heâd visit, heâd take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. Itâs his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.
Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. Itâd be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago.Â
It is during these times when he remembers how youâd spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, heâd dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.
As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you.Â
Permanent Mark Masterlist
#angst#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo angst#gojo x you#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen angst#jjk#jjk x reader#commission#kai.commis
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bad feeling
See my full list of works here!
Summary: Loki's entrance into the Avengers Compound depends on your approval
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 4.3k
Warning/s: minor character that's teeming with douchebag energy and doesn't age check before sliding into the DMs; language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); my rusty af writing (it's been months and honestly this might be cringe but if it is don't tell me i'm sensitive--) [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: metahuman Reader in denial; instalove trope alert (i didn't think i'd ever be writing that but here we are)
"Brother, this is truly unnecessary," Loki groaned, fighting every urge to drag his feet as his brother led him down the halls of the Avengers Compound, avoiding the mix of curious and alarmed stares from the Midgardians donning near-identical jumpsuits. "Rogers' begrudging approval of your truly asinine idea was enough, you need not lead introductions. I am quite sure that Stark and the rest of your comrades have not forgotten who I am."
Thor simply rolled his eyes in response. "Of course they have not forgotten, Brother, but we have had quite the number of newcomers, and I will run not the risk of them reacting with hostility if they cross paths with you. So I shall conduct a simple extemporized introductory session with them so they mayâŠacclimate to your presence in the Compound. And not think it a clandestine invasion and trigger a security lockdown."
As if right on cue, two faces, one familiar and the other quite new to the god of mischief approached, the sounds of their jovial exchange coming to a deadening halt. The smiles on their faces quickly morphed into furrowed brows and battle stances. "Thor, why have you brought him here?" the woman with auburn hair questioned, a red energy that he recognized as Chaos Magic forming in her hands while her companion, Romanoff, looked ready to strike.
"Please, stand down, my friends." The blond god held his hands up in front of them. "He means no harm, I promise you. I've brought him here so that perhaps he could join--"
"Not a fucking chance, Barbie," Romanoff seethed. "I still remember the mind job he did--Wanda what are you doing? Why are you actually listening--"
"Because some time ago I did what you call a 'mind job' on the rest of you," she answered the former Russian spy simply, standing down and waving her magic away. "And now here I get to stand, calling you all my friends. Because you forgave me for my misdeeds. Gave me a second chance. I think we should all extend the same kindness now."
"I commend the way you think, Maximoff," Rogers' voice echoed across the common area, bystanders not so subtly beginning to crowd the area surrounding them, only parting to let the super soldier through and take his stance in the middle of the group. "Much as I'm not the biggest fan of Mister Leather and Metal 'you will all kneel before me', Wanda's right." He took a step back and addressed the room. "Everyone, Loki will be joining us for the foreseeable future. I expect you all to make an effort to help him adjust to his new life here on Earth. Or at least not get in his way. Now, back to work. All of you."
The curious agents all scattered about, returning to their tasks prior to the Asgardian brothers arriving.
"Thank you, Steven," Thor spoke up once the bystanders made themselves scarce. "You will not regret--"
"Not so fast, Odinson." Rogers threw his hand up, stopping his brother's words short. "I want him to meet Y/L/N first. If she says he won't give us any grief, then he can stay. She says no? You'll have to find another place to park your brother."
"Hey--!" Loki fought back the urge to throw a dagger in the soldier's direction. "I am not some meager property that needs to be set down--"
"If you would rather Strange lock you back in an eternal fall, that can be arranged," he shot back, the muscles in his jaw twitching in a telltale sign that he was fighting back a smug grin. He motioned toward the interrogation area, showing the way. "Meet Y/L/N, and we'll go from there."
Thor led the way further into the Compound and past the common area, the temperature dropping significantly and impelling the god to cast an enchantment that would raise his core temperature so as to not trigger his Jotun form to emerge. "Apologies, Brother," he spoke as they made their way down the hall. "There have been suspicions that an intern for one of SHIELD's departments has been a HYDRA operative attempting to pilfer data to fuel some form of invasion. This individual is in one of the interrogation rooms now awaiting Y/N's arrival, and the temperature was her idea. Put the young man in a sense of high discomfort to lower his guards."
"Have him focus on making his body cope with the temperature rather than his mind on deflecting her queries," he surmised, nodding his head as they stepped into the viewing area, laying eyes on the clearly novice employee in that same jumpsuit the others wore outside. His breathing was jittery and labored, rubbing his hands furiously to generate even some form of heat. It wouldn't be difficult to break through his defenses. "She's a clever one, that mortal. Though I could save you all the interrogation and read the lad's mind--"
"No no," Thor waved him off, motioning for him to look into the room once more. "I want you to see her at work. It's rather fascinating watching her work, and the machination of her mind is ratherâŠperplexing."
"Should we be contacting one Doctor Foster to inform her of hisâŠfascination of yours, Brother?" he gibed, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and finding himself a touch more curious when Thor simply laughed off the question.
"My heart is Jane's and Jane's alone, Brother. You know this," he answered, giving his brother a pointed look. Guilt sat heavily on his heart, knowing full well the words that the god of thunder chose to omit. Considering that I destroyed the Bifrost just to protect her from you.
It would take time before amends were made for making that particular threat, no matter how empty it truly was.
Before Loki could say anything, the door on the other side of the two-way mirror opened, a hard-faced Agent Romanoff entering the room and taking the seat opposite the suspected traitor. She made a point to shrug off her jacket and bare her arms, the action making the young man's face twist in derision, undoubtedly because it challenged his quite fragile ego even more.
"I have nothing to say to you," he said, the shaking tone of his voice betraying him. "Why aren't you cold? You all did something to me, didn't you? Made your freaky witch friend cast some curse on me?"
Romanoff leaned back against her chair, her smirk growing as his scowl deepened. "Where I was from, this is what summer felt like," she shot back casually, keeping her tone even despite the bold-faced lie. "And I don't need you to say anything." She jutted her chin in the direction of the door, a proud look on her face as you walked in to the room. "I just need her to look at you."
"Mister ParkâŠ" you droned, taking your time to cross the distance from the door to the cold metal desk. "I'm Agent Y/L/N, I'll be your interrogator."
You leaned in to the edge of the table, gripping the corners. Your body stiffened for a few seconds as you took a sharp breath, adjusting to the frigid cold. There was a distant, calculating, enigmatic smile on your face as your eyes roamed his features. Almost as if you were picking away at the fragments of his protective shell, exposing the answers he refused to give with just that one look.
It was a sight that was all too familiar to him. Something his mother would use on suspected traitors to the Realm back in Asgard. Perhaps that was what you were doing, after all. Or perhaps it was a well-crafted facade. Something that Romanoff or another former spy within SHIELD's ranks had taught you to unnerve its recipient.
"Like I told Agent Hot Stuff over there, I have nothing to say to any of you," he sneered.
"And like Agent Romanoff told you, we don't need you to say anything. All you have to doâŠis sit there." You squinted your eyes at him, sighing deeply as you said the words that apparently cemented the suspected traitor's fate. "I've got a bad feeling about you." You leaned in close, invading his personal space and making him even more visibly uneasy, not even bothering to mask how his body was shaking. "Nice contacts."
In a heartbeat, Agent Romanoff leaned across the desk and grasped the bottom of the apparently confirmed traitor's face, the man they called Park now wincing and groaning in even more discomfort as she inspected his eyes. "Implants?" she asked you.
"Seems buddy boy here's really committed to the cause," you remarked, mocking their organization's salute. "Helium Hydrogen or some shit."
Park slammed his fists down on the table, neither woman even flinching at the outburst. As if you both saw it coming. "It's Heil Hydra, you stupid bitch!" he screamed, fighting against Romanoff's hold and trying to stand up from his seat to charge at you.
You, however, simply responded with a self-satisfied grin as you called out toward the other side of the door, "And there's our verbal confirmation! Lock 'im up." And just to goad the traitorous intern on further, you ruffled his hair and looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Thank you for your cooperation."
Right as you said the words, Rogers burst into the room along with two other agents, flanking him and restricting his movement so he couldn't charge at anyone in the room. "Put him in the holding cells until transport gets here," he instructed the agents, who simply nodded and walked the traitor out of the room.
You and Romanoff turned off the lights and walked out arm in arm. Loki caught a smidgen of your conversation about meeting the significant other of another new Avenger. Something about "earning your stamp of approval".
"What did I tell you, Brother?" Thor prompted, nudging his arm.
"Fascinating," he mumbled, unable to wipe the image of that enigmatic smile of yours from his mind. Wondering what you looked like when you were genuinely beaming at something. Or someone. "It seems she's somewhat telepathically inclined."
"That is what many of us have been trying to tell her, but she refuses to listen. Insists that she is simply better inclined at reading others from her years of dreadfully flawed relationships of 'every kind'," he explained, leading him down the same hallway that you and Romanoff had disappeared to moments ago. "Repeatedly tells us that her most effective and only teacher has been, in her words, her life's revolving door of shitty people."
"And Rogers wishes for me to meet this Y/N so that she may what? Approve of my being here? He defers to her when it comes to newcomers in your merry band of his realm's mightiest heroes?" He tried to mask his curiosity with his signature smarm, trying to seem disinterested in what seemed like an initiation rite.
But in truth he was all the more looking forward to being face to face with you.
"She has not yet been incorrect in the years that I have known her. And you have nothing to fret about, Brother. You will make a fine addition to this team," the blond said proudly, both of them finally arriving to the considerably warmer common area. Loki finally lifted his enchantment, no longer concerned of his Jotun form emerging as his brother raised his hand and called out in your direction, "Y/N! I have returned from Asgard and there is someone I wish for you to meet--"
"In a minute, Barbie. Carter's bringing in her latest beau. Something about her wanting me to have a read on him before she gets too invested," you answered him, throwing your hand up in their direction. You threw a cursory glance their way, barely registering the raven-haired god, before returning your gaze to the door where another unfamiliar face walked in, arm in arm with a man whose entire aura screamed 'philanderer'.
"Y/N, I'd like you to meet Nathan. Nathan, sweetie, this is my friend--"
"Wow you're stunning," the man said, raising his hand in front of him, seemingly to shake yours. But the positioning seemedâŠoff. As if he were to turn your hand and kiss the back of it the second you even brought yours a fraction of an inch upward.
One look into this Nathan's thoughts all but confirmed it. Along with all the other deplorable indiscretions he had stacked against him.
If the god's suspicions were right and you truly were telepathically inclined, you would see those indiscretions, too. With the right guidance, you could explore the true scope of your abilities. Perhaps even advance them.
Your unmoving stance brought along a disquiet to your friend's features, her smile fading into a grim line as her eyes drooped and her posture slumped. She'd seen this reaction from you before, and she seemed to already brace herself for your next words.
"I've got a bad feeling about you," you said in an ominous tone, standing at your full height before tilting your head slightly. From where he stood, Loki could see the man grow visibly anxious, his pulse quickening and beating furiously against his neck.
"What--Why what'd you see?" your friend croaked out, fighting back sobs.
You chose to instead address the deplorable excuse of a man. "You checked out no less than three women since you walked through the front door, and at least twice you wondered if any of them would be down for a threesome. You have a secret social media account that you use to sext other women and send them your dick pics, ohh and by the wayâŠthat pump that you're using? Doesn't do shit."
The god had never seen someone's complexion visibly pale until now, Nathan losing all color in his face as if he'd been drained of blood. "You--You d-don't know what you're talking about, you fucking freak!" He looked to Carter, his eyes rife with panic. "Babe, your weird friend here's just pulling this all out of her ass, she's lying--"
His paltry laughable excuses were cut off with a chorus of hissing sounds and "ooh"s and "yikes" from your team, as if his words were so offensive they physically stung. Stark spoke up, clapping his hand down on the man's shoulder. "Now see here, Rudolph the horny reindeer, you've made at least five mistakes since you stepped through that door. But calling Y/N here a liar? Yeah, that dug your grave, dick for brains."
"Well then she's wrong!" he whined, grabbing for his lover's hands and holding on with a death grip. "Baby, you know me, I'm your pookie bear. I would never hurt you--"
"Oof goddamn now I wish I was lying," you quipped, a mixture of surprise and disgust coloring your features. "You couldn't waterboard that nickname out of me. Maybe try going for something that doesn't sound like a name a toddler would give a stuffed animal for the next one? You probably have her all lined up, right? Somewhere in all those DMs and FaceApp'd shrimpy photoshoots?" You took a step closer, not seeming to care about how his free hand was clenched so tightly into a fist that it began to shake. "By the way, I hope you age checked those girls. I'll give you two pieces of free advice. First? Age of consent in New York is seventeen. Second? Don't treat it like a damn target."
Your friend Carter finally jerked her hand out of his and struck him across the face, the sound reverberating through the common area. Stark raised his brows and nodded at her in approval, making a remark about how he wished he had some popcorn.
"It's over," she told him. "I don't ever want to hear from you again." Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she said the words and motioned toward the same door they walked through just minutes before.
"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted, acting like a misbehaving toddler and stomping his foot. "Why would you even believe this freaky little bitch over your own boyfriend, I thought we had some--"
"Because we trust her, cradle robber. And to this day she's never been wrong about a damn thing," Stark sniped, walking over and putting himself between you and the increasingly belligerent Nathan. He placed a tablet in Carter's hands. "I took the liberty of getting into his second account and sending screenshots of his messages toâŠwell, just about everyone in his contacts list. But I figured you ought to see it and scroll through the messages first hand, Sharon."
At this moment, Loki caught another glimpse into the philandering man's mind, seeing a vision of him intending to attack you and strangle you with his bare hands. And just as the god suspected, you had glimpsed the same thought running through his mind, side stepping out of the way just before Nathan could get a hold of you. He watched with more than mild amusement as Thor stepped forward next and grabbed the whining man by the back of his shirt and lifting him into the air.
"Any mortal capable of even the tiniest amount of coherent thought would know better than to attack my friends," the blond said in a low, authoritative tone that eerily reminded Loki of their father. He promptly walked Nathan to the same door that he and Carter had walked through; Loki could see that his brother was physically fighting the urge to give the impudent puny mortal a swift kick to his rear as he gave him a nudge out of the premises.
"Thank you, Barbie," you spoke, an equally amused look on your face after witnessing the whole ordeal. "Always knew it was a good idea to have an Asgardian bouncer guard dog around."
Once Thor had made his way back to you and the rest of the team, you and he grasped each other's forearms. A show of respect that the blond oaf usually only had reserved for his closest comrades, the Warriors Four. Only recently had he even done that with Loki, and while the god of mischief would never admit it aloud, the gesture had him fighting back that traitorous prickling in the backs of his eyes.
"Speaking of having Asgardians in the Compound, there is someone I wish for you to meet, Lady Y/N," he spoke, motioning toward his brother. You tilted your head, a smile so starkly different from the one you had in the interrogation room brightening your features the moment your eyes met Loki's. "This is my brother, and he could be quite an invaluable asset to the team."
"With your go ahead, Agent Y/L/N," Rogers spoke from his seat, intently watching the scene play out before him. Once again agents had begun to crowd around them, completely halting their movements to bear witness. "Like Stark said, we trust you."
You barely gave a response, the only indicator that you'd even heard Rogers' words being a slight jut of your chin in his direction. Loki took your considerably smaller outstretched hand in his, taking every bit of his strength to stay upright as the visions bombarded his mind. The smallest gasp slipped from your lips. You took a moment to compose yourself before you spoke, addressing the team.
"All clear, he can stay," you announced, a boisterous whoop coming from Thor the second you gave your judgment. Neither of you made a move to let go of the other's hand.
"Okay not to take a page out of your book here, jellybean, butâŠ" Stark spoke, breaking you two out of your own little bubble. He pointed his finger back and forth between you and the raven-haired god. "I've got a bad feeling about the two of you."
Stop smiling, you literal idiot, you chided yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment. There was no logical reason to even be thinking of the new member of the team now that you weren't around him, and yet you couldn't get the jet black-haired Asgardian dressed in dark emerald leather out of your mind.
The bar must have been in hell if all it took to get you to actually smile was the fact that the second you two met eyes, no alarm bells went off the way that they did for that newbie traitorâŠor Sharon's now ex boyfriend. The only hunch that you got looking at him was that he was definitely there to watch the interrogation and trying to figure out how you clocked the iris implants on Park.
"Maybe if he figures it out, he could clue me in on it, too, because I don't have the foggiest fucking idea where that came from," you muttered into the emptiness. And then like clockwork, you found yourself thinking about his blinding brilliant smile again.
And the way his hand completely dwarfed yours.
And how even in those few moments in the common room, being around him for some reason blanketed you in this feeling as if, for the first time in a long time, you didn't have to be as careful anymore. Like you no longer had to constantly be looking over your shoulder because someone might actually have your back and--
"Now you're just being ridiculous, Y/N," you grumbled at yourself, staring down your reflection. "How many times have you had your heart shattered from trusting too easily? Feeling safe around him is exactly why you shouldn't feel safe, why is it that for all the people that trust your instincts, you can't seem to listen to them yourself? And have I lost my freaking mind I am talking to my own--"
Knock knock knock
The sound came from your front door, snapping you out of your rant. "Who in the fuck?"
A lump formed in your throat when you opened the door, looking up at the exact stormy blue eyes that refused to leave your mind since you met him a little over an hour ago. The ones that made a question form in your mind that you couldn't bring yourself to voice out.
Why do I have a good feeling about you?
"LokiâŠ" you said his name slowly, trying your best to ignore how bizarrely right it felt to say it. As if you were meant to. As if you were going to say it -- scream it, even -- for years to come.
"Good evening, Y/N." What you couldn't ignore was how the sound of your name from his lips made your knees want to buckle. "I wish to speak to you about something that I saw when I touched your hand earlier. A vision. Of the future."
The lump in your throat suddenly got bigger. "Ohh God am I gonna die? Soon? Because if I am I don't want spoilers, not even hints, what's gonna happen is gonna--"
"I saw us," he cut you off, reaching for your hands and rubbing circles on the inside of your wrists. "Years of stolen glances and missed opportunities and unsaid words. And it was only at the brink of losing you forever that I finally would find the courage to tell you of my affections."
There were no words, all you could do was blink at him as you tried to process his words. Looking desperately for the telltale signs that there was a disconnect between what he was saying and what his actual intentions were for coming to you like this. The disconnect that was present with most men that you were face to face with.
And yet your intuition, that hadn't failed you for as long as you could remember, was practically squealing with glee that you could feel safe around the god.
"Why are you telling me this?" you asked him. You were surprised you could even form words. Or that you somehow managed to bite your tongue from letting slip a more abrasive question.
He stepped closer to you, a soft smile on his face as he gently framed your face with his hands. "I don't wish to spend the next years pining away and foolishly waiting for the timing to be just right. I had glimpsed our future, and it wasâŠ" His smile widened into a brilliant grin, his thumbs tracing along your cheekbones. "It was resplendent. Having even the most fleeting glimpse that what we would have, it had me awash withâŠpeace. The kind that I had longed for for centuries."
Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips to your forehead, your heart pounding away furiously in your chest. You knew a little too well the feeling that he was describing. That feeling of peace. Of a calm quietude that put you at ease even if the world would have been crashing down around you.
That feeling like you were home.
"Now as for your unspoken question," he whispered, breath warming your skin. "Of what am I doing hereâŠI wish to change that future. Or rather, hasten it along. If that is what you want as well, of course."
He pressed his forehead to yours, loosely wrapping his arms around you. All you could do was nod, secretly grateful that he was holding you upright because the violent fluttering in your stomach was making it hard to stand.
That feeling spread throughout your entire body like wildfire when he briefly brushed his lips against yours; you could feel how much restraint he was exerting to pull away. To test the waters. To wait for you to tell him it was alright.
And you let out the words that were fighting to break free since you first saw him earlier today. "I have a good feeling about you."
A/N: *peeks out from behind the laptop* ohai thereâŠlong time no see đ Imma say it again because it bears repeating: I'm rusty as all fuck and I might be for a while, but I'm trying to get back into writing since I haven't really done much ever since starting the new job. But things are finally beginning to settle down and normalize, so I'm trying to somehow find a groove again.
I'm gonna be so real w/ y'all, the next stuff on my queue is RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' and with how rusty my prose feels, I'm so scared to touch them đ
Also this is another story that was inspired by a TikTok pov trend. The one where people lip sync and act along to the song that goes "Oompa Loompa doopadeedoo I've got a bad feeling about you", as if it wasn't cringe enough đ„Žđ«Ą
'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist
#loki x reader#loki x female reader#loki fluff#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson fluff#loki laufeyson fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu fanfic#muddyorbs writes
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đđ'đ đđđ đđđ đđ, đđđđ'đ đđ đđđđđ đđđđđ !
a/n: i finally reached impel down arc so here's me coping with ace's inevitable death read on ao3
đšđźđŁđ€đ„đšđđš â stripped and locked up in impel down with your boyfriend doesn't sound too bad, not after the mind-blowing ways he helps you pass your time there
đđđŁđ§đ â fluff, angst, comfort, smut smut pure filthy smut âââââââââââââââ tw reader is a strategist on wb's crew, humiliation by stripping and parading by jail wardens, cat-calling by creepy prisoners, overall really uncomfortable till you get to ace, implied mentions of assault, public sex, exhibitionism, bondage by cuffs, nipple play, dry humping, oral both f and m!receiving, face sitting, begging kink, praise kink, cockwarming at the end
đšđ©đđ§đ§đđŁđ â ace x f!reader ft. cameo by crocodile
You shuddered from the cold wind as it rose goosebumps on the bare skin of your body.
It had been over an hour since you had been stripped of your clothing, plunged into boiling hot water to get 'baptized,' and hauled all the way here with nothing but a towel covering your naked frame. Slowly, as if to punish you through humiliation, you had been dragged by your hair downstairs, level by level, passing each and every cell filled with prisoners who gawked and wolf-whistled at your thighs and collarbones. They had hurled along each step, making a racquet and screaming for the warden to let you in their cell for 'just one night'. And for a moment, you seemed to think that was exactly what the jailers would do, before they yanked your hair up in another direction, and you heaved a sigh of relief despite the pain. It couldn't have been more horrifying.
Throughout your journey down to Level 6, you had passed many 'hells', as they called it. To think that an organization called themselves the harbingers of peace and unity, only to enforce such horrific scenes, and the even more terrifying formations such as the Buster Call, it was no wonder there was an army working day and night to bring down the World Government.
The stone of the final level had felt cold under your bare feet. Your head had been aching for a while now, and your body was trembling entirely. If it hadn't been for the ruthless jailer holding you up, you were sure your legs would have given in already.
"Move along!" The warden had screamed, and you had bitten a harsh remark before complying.
Here, too, the men of the lockers had screamed in delight at the sight of you, eyes widening out of their sockets and hands attempting to reach out to you from behind the bars. You had nervously hiked the towel that covered your breasts and crotch higher up, locking an arm to the side to stop it from falling over.
The head jailer, Domino, had opened a rather secluded cell. It was hidden well away from the rest, with just one cell in front of it. A man already sat inside it, his head hung low in defeat. She had pushed you inside it with all her might. You had fallen to the ground, the towel coming off your body slightly but still enough to hide the main parts. She had locked your hands apart, uncomfortably close to the other man.
Just as they had been about to lock you away for good with the man, the Warden, Magellan stopped and looked at you.
"To think that you still haven't learnt your lesson after escaping death from the World Government all this time," he snarled at you, and you glared right back at him. "Let us hope you rethink your decisions as you rot away here before your execution."
"I'm not gonna be executed."
"We will see about that. Oh, and," he walked back into the cell and tore the towel away from your body, "this won't matter in a few weeks."
You scrambled to hide yourself as the jailers left, everyone other than the Warden laughing uncontrollably. You could feel countless eyes on you from other cells. People craned their necks to get a better look at your body in spite of the dim lighting of the prison. You tried to move desperately to save some dignity, but the clanking of the chains around your wrists echoed in the room, and the vicious comments only grew louder. You seemed to be the only woman on this level, and the prisoners thus took this as a chance to memorize every curve of your body.
"That's enough," a familiar voice declared from beside you, and the jeering immediately stopped.
Your eyes focused on the man beside you. His messy black hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat from the suffocating heat of the prison. His face looked hardened and tense. Every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring, as if he was ready to burst out in flames at any moment, despite the heavy shackles chaining him down.
Aceâs chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths, the fury in his eyes growing hotter, sharper, as if silently promising death to all those who had had the nerve to comment on your fragile form, as well as to those who were the cause of it.
"Ace," you said softly, more so to yourself than you did to him. After all, how could he know the countless nights you had spent with the crew, awaiting his return as he sought revenge on Blackbeard? How could he know the sickness that overtook you when you found out of his imprisonment and ultimate execution? How could he know the relief you felt right now, just by the innocent sight of his face?
"Why are you here?" he said quietly, not looking up at you at all.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm a prisoner," you tried to inch closer towards him, but the chains that bound you did not budge.
"If the strategist I fell in love with did not foresee possible capture and execution, then she must be an impersonator."
You swallowed hard. You knew better than anyone that he wasn't angry with you â he was angry with himself. Angry that, despite all the warnings, all the plans, things had gone so wrong. And now, here you both were: stripped of everything, thrown into a nightmare where escape seemed impossible.
Yet now, in this hellish prison, with the cold iron chains cutting into your wrists, all of that seemed to fade into the background. The mere sight of him, alive and breathing was enough to satisfy all the anxiety you had had for the past few weeks.
"You're right," you bowed your head down. "I knew this would happen."
"Then whyâ"
"I missed you."
A deafening silence hung around the air before his eyes snapped back to you angrily. His entire body tensed, the chains around his wrists rattling as he shifted.
"You missed me?" His voice was low, and the fury in it was unmistakable. "You knew the risks, you knew what they would do to you, and you came here anyway? Why? Because you missed me?"
"You don't get it, do you?" you said softly, eyes meeting his. "I would rather be here with you, in this place, than out there without you."
"You're being stupid right now," Ace growled. His fists clenched in the chains, the metal creaking as if they were just a breath away from snapping under the pressure. "Do you know what you've done? You could've escaped all this â you didn't have to come here. Not for me. I'm not worth theâ"
"I love you," you interrupted. The fire in his gaze flickered briefly.
"You know I love you too, butâ" His voice softened. He wasn't good with words, never had been, and now, in this moment, he seemed to be fighting against them to keep you safe, even as you both sat in chains.
"If you're dying, I'll die with you," you whispered without hesitation.
Ace's breath hitched. He was angry, yes â but now more than ever, at himself. He couldn't protect you from this. He couldn't protect you from the world that had dragged you both down here.
"You shouldn't have to die with me," Ace muttered.
"But I want to."
"You said you were not gonna get executed," he reminded you, to which you shrugged.
"That was a lie. Of course, given the blocked exit points and the tight security against Whitebeard, there's no way we could escape from here without external help. Even if we do, assuming we got a few allies, what with Blackbeard becoming a Warlord, the chances of survival are 6%, which is not a lot, really."
"Wow. All of that flew right over my head," Ace smiled, one leg hiking over your hip to inch you closer. "Why didn't they dress you in prison clothes?"
"I threw a spear coated with sea stone at Magellan."
"Oh, is that why he was huffing around? That's my girl." Ace struggled to kiss your forehead, so you brought your face closer to his to help him. "I'm assuming they didn't try anything."
You shook your head, and his smile grew. "You look cold, baby."
"You know the drill," you giggled, crawling as close to his body as the cuffs allowed you to be, snuggling into his warmth. The goosebumps that coated your bare skin disappeared one by one. Ace let your hair back with his mouth before leaning down to kiss a cold nipple.
You gasped.
"Don't worry. Look," you looked in the direction he hinted at and watched most, if not all of the prisoners, drop down fainting.
"Conqueror's Haki?"
He winked in return before going back to the other nipple to lick it. Your body shook wildly. Ace's thighs stiffened around yours to lock your position on his lap, and you humped along his clothed cock, getting wetter by the second. Your tits bounced up and down with each movement, and he couldn't help but bury his face in them, sucking hickeys all over the area to make you wear his claim.
It didn't help that his body heat was beginning to rub onto you too, deepening the pit in your stomach. Clasping your thighs together, you nuzzled your face into his neck to lick your way up it. Ace laughed at the attempt, because although both his hands were currently chained to either side of his head, he was still very much in control of the situation.
"This is just like every day in our ship, princess," he groaned. "Tied up like this as I fuck my way into you, isn't that right, pretty?"
You mewled in response, the heat from the friction generating in between the rubbing of both of your crotches growing unbearable now. It was like music to his ears. Ace smirked and started to move his hips in a circular motion steadily.
"Is this enough for you, or should I lend my mouth to you too, princess?"
Your eyes widened and you nodded vigorously, stopping the humping movements before standing up and bucking your hips towards his face. You looked down into his eyes, but they focused on only one thing: the absolutely beautiful cunt in front of them.
The wetness dripped onto his face charmingly, and you swear you could've come just by that sight alone. He moved his head forward before sticking out a tongue and rubbing it softly in one stroke along your slit. You whined, legs giving in, but he held you up by putting his face under your cunt.
You felt your feet being lifted off the ground, and Ace was right under you, drinking in your juices so as to not let even a single drop go to waste. You moaned his name loudly, loud enough that you were scared the jailers might return, or a demon guard might catch the two of you, or maybe even the unconscious prisoners might wake up. But right now, all that mattered to you was Ace, and the mouth he was putting to such good use by sucking your clit like it was his last meal.
Your hips shook violently, and it took all of Ace's will power not to drop you down harshly onto his dick right then and there.
"Didn't know you grew so sensitive without me," he teased, the vibrations of his voice further aiding into your release.
"Shut up," you cried, and he grinned against your cunt.
"Roger that, baby."
At those words, you came as hard as you could. It had been so long since you had felt this good. All those countless nights you had spent putting on Ace's cologne onto his pillows and fingering yourself were nothing compared to the bliss you felt right now, his warm and wet saliva sticking out of your cunt and mixing in with your release.
You got off his face, trembling. You still hadn't gotten completely over the mind-blowing orgasm he had just delivered to you. You watched him lick his lips clean before he tried bending down to lick your cunt clean as well. You giggled, bucking your hips up to allow the access, giving him a loud moan in return.
"My turn," you said, bending down to nuzzle your face on his shorts. It seemed as if the jailers had decided to let your chains a bit looser than Ace's to aid you in covering yourself. If only they knew the way you were putting that blessing to use now.
"Yes, please, baby," he groaned, voice hoarse from eating you out for the first time in months.
You pulled his shorts down with your teeth, batting your eyelashes at him as his big cock sprung free from its shackles. It had been a while since you had taken his whole length in your mouth or cunt, but he seemed bigger than ever now that you were caged together.
"So big, so pretty," you muttered, peppering kisses over his balls and watching him crumble underneath the touches. "I wonder what happens if I do this?" You gave one kitten-like lick along the tip of his cock, and his eyes snapped shut and he bucked his hips up roughly.
"Fuck, ah."
"Crude language," you pouted, and his cock twitched at the sounds you were making. "May I please suck your cock?"
"Please," he choked out a moan, and you smiled victoriously, engulfing his long dick into your warm mouth in one, practised motion. Your cheeks were completely filled, yet you forced them to move up and down to please your needy boyfriend.
"Ahâ fuck, so good baby, you're doing as well as always," he mumbled, looking up to the ceiling with tears in his eyes at the growing pleasure.
He was such a reckless mess for you, and you loved every bit of it. Smiling lightly, you bobbed your head up and down his dick to lubricate it with your saliva and make your movement easier. Unfortunately, you couldn't use your hands, but that made the determination in you to help him climax without a handjob even brighter.
"More, more, more! It's so goodâ ahâ I can't imagine what I've been missing out on all these months," Ace groaned loudly, and it took one last effort from you to deep-throat him, making him spasm wildly around, tears reaching down his shirtless body and eyes burning from pure ecstasy.
"I'm gonnaâ"
You hummed along his dick, which seemed to be the final thing he needed to let go. With one final jerk of his hips, he came down your throat. So much. It was so much, too much for you. And yet, you swallowed everything down to the last drop. You didn't know how the food in Impel Down tasted, but by God it could never surpass the taste of his cum.
The two of you lay in the cell for some time after that, neither of you moving an inch. Although Ace still had limited movements he could choose from, you had longer chains and were thus able to move around much freely. So when your lips finally stopped shaking, you got up from your position to look around at the other prisoners.
"How long are they gonna be knocked out?"
"I don't know," Ace said, spreading his legs to invite you over to sit on his cock. "The Haki effects have obviously worn out now, I have no idea why they're still unconscious. Perhaps just lazy."
"Or maybe sleepy, like you always are," you giggled, hovering his cock, ready to slowly take him in inch by inch.
"That's not nice," he chuckled darkly before snapping his legs up to pull you down onto his cock harshly. You almost screamed, muffling the loud sound of protest against his neck, biting a hickey into it as revenge. He whimpered in response but continued to move his hips up and down nevertheless.
"You won't believe how much I've missed this," he murmured in your ear. "You riding me, looking oh-so-pretty with your boobs bouncing at the impact."
"You're so fucking dirty, honey," you tried acting as if the constant rutting of his cock into your cunt didn't affect you in anyway, but this position made him feel even bigger than your mouth had adjusted to some time ago, and now you felt as if you were gonna be torn up right from the pussy.
For quite some time, the only sounds heard on the entire floor were of Ace's balls slapping against your bare cunt, your squeals whenever his dick hit just the right spot, and his pants whenever he heard the melody that escaped your lips. The smell of sex lingered around the area, and you wondered what would happen if it reached any of the jailers who were in charge of this level, but it was hard to think too much with Ace whispering about all the fantasies he had had about you during his various trips before he got captured, about how every dream you appeared in used to leave him with a hard cock, and how he used to jerk off to the thought of your delicious cunt that awaited him once he reached back home.
You wanted to tell him all you felt too: about how it was getting so hard and suffocating being in the same ship as others without him, how your own fingers could never satisfy you the way his slender ones and coarse tongue did, and how the heat pooling in your cunt grew warmer and warmer till you couldn't take it anymore and at times burst into tears from the faux-pleasure humping yourself dry on his pillows would bring to you.
But you couldn't get a word out. Not with how his dick was rutting into you at a quicker pace now. Not with how balls-deep he was getting inside you now. Not with how you could feel his high approaching rapidly, and how he was getting more-than-ready to get his load into you after fucking you senseless in this dirty, dirty prison ward.
"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'mâ" you chanted more to yourself than you did to him, and he shushed you.
"Hush, baby, me too," he groaned loudly, itching to touch you with his fingers even though he knew he couldn't. "At the count of three, yea?"
"Yes!" You cried back in response, your own hips moving at the speed of light. Ace counted backwards, and you both released heavily, liquids intermixing and spilling onto the floor. Yet the two of you paid no heed, continuing to move against each other like nothing happened. You bounced against him, ignoring the sploch! noises the sound of your cums together made, the stickiness encouraging you to get off your high using the man in front of you as your fucktoy.
Soon, the two of you had calmed down. You were still sitting on his cock, helping him keep it nice and warm. You lay your head onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily. It had seemed like a dream come true for you. Not only had you managed to reunite with Ace, but it was real, you really were there in his arms at that very moment, catching your breath after the wreck you had made on his cock.
From the cell in front of you came a chuckle. Your eyes snapped opened, and Ace lifted his head to glare at the source of the sound. Surely, no one had enough guts to announce their presence and interrupt your intimate moment.
Your eyes landed on a tall figure standing in the shadows of the cell across from yours. His skin was tanned and weathered. His slicked-back black hair gleamed under the dim light, along with a large golden hook in place of his left hand. His eyes were fixed on you both. He looked both amused and disdained. A cigar was perched lazily between his lips. He didnât seem fazed by the prison, by the chains, or by the two of you tangled together on the cold floor. In fact, he seemed entertained by it all.
"Well, well," Crocodile purred sarcastically. "Looks like I've got front-row seats to quite the show." His smirk widened. "Didn't realize Impel Down had become so... lively."
#ace#ace x reader#ace x you#ace x y/n#portgas d ace#portgas ace x reader#portgas ace x you#portgas d ace x reader#portgas d ace x y/n#portgas d ace x you#ace smut#portgas d ace smut#portgas ace x y/n#portgas ace smut#onepiece#one piece smut#op#op x reader#op x y/n#op x you#op smut#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece x y/n#one piece imagine#one piece#smut#filthy smut#impel down
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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
Chapter seventeen âïž What am I supposed to do? If thereâs no you.
Warnings: slight angst, mentions of unrequited love, mean!robin, slight jealousy, this chapter is mostly written from Robin's pov and there are only a few moments of Steve's and Blondie's pov
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: Robin uncovers Steve's secrets and more... but he doesn't get the reactions from her that he expected.
Word count: 6k+
Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with some new ideas for the story and uh, buckle up and enjoy it... hehehe also thanks for helping me, my love
Series Masterlist âïž Previous Chapter âïž Next Chapter
âĄ
Steveâs smile seems permanent nowadays, never falling, always lingering, even when Keith is scolding him about something he had done wrong or hadnât done at all.Â
His skin is glowing and his eyes are full of happy emotions, he seems giddy, always excited about something.Â
Until now, Robin was sure that she had seen him happy before â when he saw her again after she went on a two weeks trip with her mom, when his favorite movie came out and he dragged her to the theater, when he found the perfect brown coat that he had been looking for at every store for weeks.Â
And yes, he was happy in these moments, but this, the happiness that is stuck on his face now, is something else, something different, something deep.
And whatever it is that is making him happy, should make her feel the same way, because he is her best friend, and all that she wants for him is exactly this â happiness. But how can she feel any positive emotions, when he is keeping secrets from her? When he isnât letting her be part of this? When he is cutting her out?Â
Robin was always sure that they would never keep secrets from each other, but itâs happening, itâs happening again for her, being pushed aside, being left out, losing a best friend â because this is what it is, right? She is losing him, he is beginning to cut her out of his life, not telling her things he wouldâve normally not shut up about, because he talks about everything with her, at least he used to.Â
This is how it always begins, this is always the first step of losing a friend. She is no stranger to it.Â
But it hurts, it hurts worse than it ever did before.Â
Because this is Steve, someone she considers a soulmate.Â
Someone she thought would never do this to her.Â
âWhatâs with the grumpy face?â Steve asks, pulling her out of her depressing thoughts.Â
Robin raises her eyebrows, looking away from the passing trees, she sinks deeper into the passenger seat and turns her head to look at him, shrugging.Â
âIs everything okay?â Steve asks as he glances at her with a look of concern.Â
No.Â
She should say no and confront him but she doesnât know how without making things awkward, without pressuring him to talk, without risking losing him sooner than later.Â
âYeah,â she mumbles and reaches for the backpack between her feet, busying herself with it as she rummages through the tiny pockets to find her chapstick.Â
âAre you sure?â
She canât help but roll her eyes at the skeptic tone in his voice, she keeps her head low, gaze locking onto the chapstick she has been looking for, she picks it out and leans back again.Â
âYeah, just tired,â she murmurs.Â
Steve keeps glancing back and forth between her and the road, holding the steering wheel tightly as he shoots her a teasing smirk, lowering the volume of the song playing.Â
âLong night with Vickie?âÂ
Her lips twitch and despite the annoyance bubbling inside of her, her cheeks heat up, growing darker until sheâs blushing red. She applies her chapstick, welcoming the peach taste on her lips. She can feel his eyes on her, and it only makes her blush deeper as she hides her face from him.Â
It confirms his question and it makes him chuckle.Â
âIâm glad youâre having fun, Robin.â
âShut up,â she murmurs under her breath, unable to fight the redness off her cheeks. She closes the chapstick again, putting the cap back into place, she leans down to put it back in her backpack when it falls from her hands and rolls under the seat, making her groan and curse in annoyance.Â
âAlways turning into a klutz when youâre nervous,â Steve comments, causing her to glare at him.Â
âIâm not nervous.â
Steve chuckles, narrowing his eyes at her, âyes you are, I mention Vickie and youâre turning into a blushing, nervous little girl with a first crush even though she is literally your girlfriend.âÂ
âThat is so not true!â She gapes at him, despite it being true.Â
He shakes his head in amusement, âyes it is, in case you forgot, youâre my best friend, I know you like the back of my hand and right now, youâre nervous!âÂ
Maybe his words should put her mind at ease, maybe they should be enough to show her that she is not losing him, after all, but itâs not that easy, is it?Â
She only rolls her eyes in response and looks away, turning back to the window and looking out at the downtown streets now. She feels relieved to see the Family Video sign, looking forward to jumping out of his car and throwing herself into work so she can stop thinking about her depressing thoughts and giving into the fears of losing him.Â
Maybe she is just overthinking, the way she always does.Â
The moment Steve stops the car, Robin gets out and slams the door, opening the one to the backseat so she can look for her chapstick. She leans down and squints her eyes, patting the car mats before she stretches her arm out under the seat, trying to find it.Â
Steve walks around the car and stops in front of her, his eyes flash with amusement as he takes in the sight of his best friend, her eyebrows squished together, tongue poking out between her lips, her body angled uncomfortably as she searches for her newest chapstick.Â
âI swear to god is there a portal all my chapsticks vanish to?â She grumbles.
Steve snorts at her words, âyeah, Iâm sure they all pile up in the upside down somewhere.âÂ
âI wouldnât be surprised! Every time I buy a new chapstick it just fucking disappears!âÂ
âThatâs because you leave them everywhere,â Steve chuckles, placing his hands on his hips as he keeps watching instead of helping. His grin grows when she throws the middle finger at him.Â
The look of concentration on Robinâs face, transforms into something else, confusion and curiosity, her brows shoot up instead, her lips parting as she reaches for not only her chapstick but also something else, something soft, something lacy. She pulls it out from under the seat, hooking it around her pointer finger, she holds it up in front of her face, examining it before revealing it to Steve.Â
A lacy thong.Â
One that clearly belongs to a girl.Â
One that surely wasnât there a few weeks back when she helped him clean his car.Â
So her suspicions werenât right, after all â she wouldâve been surprised if they were.Â
Steve has been so secretive about whoever it is that he is seeing, she knows that they donât belong to any of the girls he was hooking up with at the beginning of this year, and she doesnât even need to see his face to confirm something she already knows.Â
But if it isnât one of them and if it isnât a guy after all, who is he seeing?Â
Is it someone he is ashamed of?Â
Is that the reason why he is being so secretive, why he keeps sneaking around behind her back and not telling her the truth about something he wouldnât have shut up about if it were anyone else?Â
âRobin?âÂ
Steveâs voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she slowly turns around to face him, with the thong in one hand and her chapstick in the other.Â
His hands fall off his hips, his hazel eyes grow wide, his lips part and his cheeks grow a cherry red when he sees the flimsy material hanging off her finger.Â
For a moment, she forgets about his secrets and how much it hurts her that he is hiding from her. The look on his face is so comical, she canât even help but let the giggles tumble from her lips as she raises back to full height, standing right in front of him as she laughs in his face.Â
His cheeks grow redder and redder, making her laugh harder.Â
âI-I uhââ Steve stutters, unable to come up with words to say.Â
âI-I uh,â Robin mocks him through her giggles, âwhose are these?â She asks as she lets them dangle in front of his face, stretching her arm out.Â
Steve rolls his eyes at her, his blush continuing to grow beneath her gaze. His shoulders slump and his mind panics as he tries to think of what to say.Â
What can he say?Â
That these belong to Heidi or Linda or whoever else it was that he had boring sex with before you?Â
Steve canât even bring himself to lie, not even to save himself and you.Â
He canât mention another girl, just uttering these words would make him feel awful. He canât do it. He just canât.Â
âHm?â Robin tilts her head, wiggling her brows at him.
As he stands in front of her and he looks into her curious eyes that are layered with something more, he canât help but wonder what would happen if he just told her. He wants to talk about it, he wants to talk about you, he wants to talk about his feelings that he could only keep to himself so far.Â
But what would Robin think knowing how horrible he was to you? How horrible you have both been to each other?Â
She would try to talk some sense into him and make him stop this thing between you and he isnât ready to let this go, he will never be.Â
So he turns around and leaves her question unanswered, knowing that she wonât stop until she gets the truth out of him and it makes him nervous but what can he do?Â
He doesnât see the way her shoulders slump, the way her eyes cross with defeat, the way she sighs and looks down.Â
âCome on, we got more important things to do then talk about thongs, Robin.âÂ
âRight,â she murmurs as her teasing smile slowly falls, she throws the black lace back into the car and slams the door before she follows him into the store, staring at his back as she walks behind him.Â
Steve greets Keith a little kinder than usual, he walks with his back straight and his head held high, he whistles as he makes his way into the office to clock in and she stays quiet, watching closely, observing him and the fresh hickeys on his neck, the ones that havenât been there yesterday afternoon when he dropped her off at Vickieâs. Itâs always the same exact spot, sometimes his neck is littered in them but there is always that one special spot that never misses the mark on his skin, that little spot behind his ear.Â
Thatâs how she knows that itâs only one girl that he is seeing and she is also the reason why he is turning down all the others that have been shooting their sickly sweet smiles at him. Something he wouldnât have done a few months back.Â
âAre you bringing Vickie tonight?â Steve asks as he throws on his vest, âto game night, I mean?âÂ
Robin furrows her brows, looking over her shoulder at him, âgame night? I figured weâd never do that again after what happened with you and uh⊠Blondie,â she chuckles nervously.Â
Something in his eyes shifts, something in his demeanor changes for a moment. Sadness, anger and regret crosses his features and she sees it all so clearly but she isnât surprised, she didnât mean to strike a nerve but she knows she did.Â
He felt awful after the words he threw at you, that night.Â
And knowing him, he still feels the same even when you get along now.Â
But there is something else in his eyes, something she canât figure out yet.Â
Steve breaks eye contact and he scratches the back of his neck as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground.Â
âI uh, yeah that will never happen again.âÂ
She doesnât quite understand the meaning his words hold.Â
And at that time, she also doesnât know yet, that only a few hours later, she will finally get closer to the answers she has been seeking, that her eyes will be more open to what is happening right in front of her nose.Â
Because that night, she notices something she hasnât paid much attention to before but a feeling inside of her, tells her that she should have done that a long time ago.Â
And maybe, maybe she is just seeing things that arenât there, that her eyes betray her and want to give her something just so she can put her mind to rest but even after rubbing her eyes, even after squinting and trying to see with a clear mind, the sight in front of her is still there and very much real.
The noises from the living room, the chatter of her friends and the giggles of her girlfriend as Dustin tells her a story, fade into distance as she steps closer and closer to the kitchen where Steve had disappeared to, moments after you have left the living room to get another drink.Â
Youâre standing by the window, face to face and way too close for two people who couldnât even be near each other, a few months ago. A smile is resting on your face, matching his own.Â
Steve leans closer to you, whispering words that Robin canât make out from this distance and it annoys her to no end because she wants to know what he said to you, what exactly made you giggle in a way she never heard you do.Â
This is strange, this is so very strange â it shouldnât be, and maybe she wouldnât even think anything of it had you not been fighting all the time not too long ago, because after all, you two could be just friends who are gossiping about something, the hushed whispers and the amused giggles indicate it at least.Â
But you arenât friends, are you?Â
You are still just Steve and Blondie, forced to be around each other because of your mutual friends, forced to get along to keep the peace.Â
But maybe things are changing, maybe you are actually getting along now and not because of her or Eddie or even the teens, maybe you are just becoming friends, actual friends.
This is the only explanation to what she is seeing.Â
Anything else would just be⊠unbelievable.Â
And still, she decides to keep a closer eye on Steve and you.Â
Her suspicions and thoughts she deemed as âcrazyâ become less and less crazy as time passes and she continues to pay attention to you both, how you talk to each other, how you act around each other, how you look at each other, how Steve behaves when he is around you.Â
Itâs so obvious and itâs so right in front of everyoneâs faces and still, she doubts that her suspicions hold any meaning, too insane are the thoughts in her head.Â
But then the signs start showing â from the pink scrunchie in his car, to the cherry chapstick on his nightstand and the second toothbrush in his bathroom, from the perfume that always lingers on his clothes to the cologne on yours, from the moments you are both not around to the lies he speaks into the phone when she asks why he didnât come to movie night at Eddieâs place.Â
And as she grows more aware of his weird behavior and yours, she also notices that there is someone else who is acting differently â Eddie.Â
She notices the way he looks at you and Steve, the way the latter is getting warning glances and glares, the way you are getting soft ones filled with pity and it confirms it all to her.Â
You are Steveâs mystery girl.Â
Eddie knows, why canât she know?Â
Does Steve feel embarrassed about you and your shared history of hatred?Â
Questions keep piling up in her brain and instead of confronting her best friend about it all, she keeps it all to herself, hoping that she wonât have to confront him at all, hoping for him to tell her about it all when he feels comfortable to, hoping that nothing changed between them, that she is still his best friend, that he will still talk to her.Â
But her wishes donât come true, Steve doesnât make the first move, he continues on with the secrets and the lies, he doesnât notice the implies that she makes when she asks him what he is doing on evenings he isnât with her and the group, or the way she subtly begins to mention you.Â
She doesnât even need the confirmation anymore as days continue to pass, she figures it out on her own, she knows for sure now, her suspicions are no longer⊠suspicions. And yet, a certain moment, a certain sight that plays right in front of her, still shocks her.Â
In Hopperâs backyard is where you all find yourselves on a warm Saturday evening, the chatter is loud and the laughter echoes through the garden. The smell of freshly cut grass lingers in the air, as does the smell of sizzling meat from the grill.Â
Eddie brought Wayne with him, the older man chuckling at his nephew as he watches him stuffing his face with burgers, continuously complimenting Hopperâs âcookingâ skills to which the latter laughs.Â
Robin snorts at Eddie, she canât tell whether heâs high or just really hungry but the faded look in his eyes gives him away, she blames Argyle for that.Â
âYou should try his waffles!â El grins at Eddie, âHop makes the best ones!âÂ
âYou mean the waffles he pops in the toaster?â Jonathan snorts beside her, making his stepdad chuckle.Â
âI mean, he puts a lot of stuff on them, itâs really good! Reeses pieces, sprinkles, heavy creamââ
âEw,â Mike scrunches his nose, shaking his head at his girlfriend, âthatâs too much.âÂ
âSays the boy who puts maple syrup on his scrambled eggs,â Nancy laughs at her brother.Â
âOf course he does, Mike has the worst taste,â Dustin snickers before he takes a bite of his steak. âHe also loves raisin cookies!âÂ
âWhatâs wrong with raisin cookies?â Hopper asks mid chew, furrowing his brows at the teenage boy.Â
âDo not insult his raisin cookies,â Joyce points with a fork at Dustin, an amused smile appearing on her face.Â
âOh,â Dustin frowns at the former chief, âyou donât have taste either, damn.âÂ
While everyone watches the interaction between Dustin and Hopper, amused by the teenage boy and his harmless insults as his conversation with the older man continues. Robin nearly misses the whispers between you and Steve, the smile on your face as you say something to him that she canât read on your lips.Â
You sit next to each other, very closely so.Â
Itâs the same seats you sat in when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement here, only this time, neither of you seems tense, youâre both relaxed, your features are soft, your smiles are real, your arms are touching and you arenât avoiding each other the way you once did.Â
The pink scrunchie is in your hair, your lips are rosy red, from the cherry chapstick no doubt. Your eyes are glinting with happiness and it seems like a rare sight to Robin â she has seen you smile before, sure, but she had never seen you happy.Â
While she paid extremely close attention to her best friend, she didnât really look closely at you, maybe she should have before.Â
She watches the way you push your plate away, leaving a few bites that you canât seem to finish, you reach for your drink and lean back in your seat, placing your hand on your stomach.Â
Robin chews on her veggies, tilting her head as she tries to not make her staring too obvious but itâs difficult to look away from the both of you, especially when Steve does something that makes her eyes widen and her brows furrow in confusion.Â
If there is something that Steve always hated, then it was eating leftovers from someone else, he wouldnât even share a drink or bite into something someone else had bitten into before and yet here he is eating the food you didnât finish, eating the steak from your plate and you donât even seem fazed by it, itâs almost as though itâs the most normal thing for you both, like this isnât weird.Â
And she isnât the only one who is staring in surprise, Eddie is looking at Steve with his big brown eyes.Â
Neither of you seem to notice and everyone else is too busy watching Dustin bicker with Hopper to notice her and Eddieâs wide eyes or the very couply behavior from you both.Â
One look under the table after accidentally dropping her napkin to the ground gives her the final confirmation when her eyes fall on Steveâs hand on your thigh and yours covering his own, your fingers playing with his.Â
Oh. Oh.Â
Maybe this should make her feel more surprised than it does, but really, the sight of Steve eating food from your plate nearly knocked her off her chair.Â
She is confused, so very confused and lost.Â
And more questions than ever before start running through her mind, nearly giving her a whiplash because itâs just too many at once and she doesnât know how to deal with them, how to keep them to herself, they are starting to boil over and it prompts her to make a decision.Â
Sheâs had enough of his lies and his secrets.Â
She never kept anything from him, he never kept anything from her until this, until you. The sight of you suddenly fills her with anger, something she hadnât felt before, especially not when it came to you.Â
You are the reason why her best friend is slipping through her fingers, why isnât spending time with her the way he did before, why he isnât talking to her.Â
And despite the growing rage youâre firing up inside of her, she canât look away from you, watching how you whisper into his ear, watching the way you laugh with Eddie and Wayne, the way you help Joyce clean up and chat with Nancy, the way you hug El and Will goodbye and Max too before she hops on the back of Lucasâs bike and leaves with him and Dustin.Â
She almost wants to scoff when you get in the backseat of Steveâs car instead of the passenger seat that clearly belongs to you now, you leave your scrunchies here and your lipgloss apparently too as she looks down into the cupholder, rolling her eyes at the tiny bottle.Â
The sound of your laughter makes her eyes roll more intensely. Eddie jumps in beside you, neither of you are aware of the scowl on her face.Â
Steve notices though, but he doesnât bring it up, not wanting to make her uncomfortable by asking any questions she might not want to answer in front of you and Eddie. She wonât even look at him, her eyes are glued on her rings as her fingers tap against her jean clad thighs, her jaw is clenched and he can practically feel the tension in her shoulders.Â
And it doesnât go away, not even when he turns her favorite music on, not when he tries to crack a joke, nothing seems to lift her mood these days, and it worries him.Â
When he stops the car in your driveway, Eddie is the first to get out, clapping his hand on Steveâs shoulder and mumbling a goodbye to him and Robin. You follow suit, smiling at them both before your sneakers hit the cobblestones and you get out as well, about to shut the door when Robinâs voice stops you.Â
âHey, Blondie.âÂ
The tone in her voice is a mocking one, she only uses Steveâs nickname to tease you with it, but this sounds like something else.Â
You poke your head back into the car, eyeing Steveâs side profile before you train your eyes on his best friend, who is now looking back at you with a look in her eyes that is sending chills down your spine.Â
âHmm?â
âAre you spending the night at Steveâs tonight?âÂ
Your heart stops beating and your breathing stutters in your throat, your eyes grow wide just like Steveâs do. The chills that her looks just caused, running down your whole body and filling you with shock.Â
She raises her eyebrows at you, giving you a mocking smile.Â
Eddie stands behind you, frozen just like you are.Â
Steve holds the steering wheel tightly, staring at his best friend with a pounding heart â he knew she would figure it out, that it would only be a matter of time after what she had found in his car.Â
A sigh falls from his lips and he begins to curse at himself inwardly, feeling guilt rushing through him for lying to her, for putting you into this position, he can see the fear in your eyes and he doesnât quite know what it means, but it makes him want to protect you from the anger in Robinâs features.Â
âRobsââ
âIf you are, Iâm sorry but I need to talk to my best friend tonight⊠if we are still considered that,â she snaps at you, catching you off guard once again when she turns around after cursing you with a glare.Â
Steve furrows his brows at her, pursing his lips as he shakes his head a little.Â
âSweets,â Eddie mumbles behind you, clasping a gentle hand around your elbow, âcome on.âÂ
You blink, nodding to yourself as you gulp down the nervousness.Â
Steve looks back at you before you can leave and close the door, you see the way his eyes soften when they meet your own, the way his lips twitch and he tilts his head at you, mouthing a few simple words at you, ones that are enough to give you a sense of comfort after this.Â
âItâs gonna be okay.â
Itâs not just a few words, itâs a promise.Â
And for some reason, you find it easy to believe, despite the nervousness in your stomach.Â
Before you can say anything to him, before you can mouth something back to him, Eddie pulls you away from the car and shuts the door after Robin tells Steve to drive.Â
Your best friend puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, eying your worried expression as you watch the burgundy car leave your driveway, speeding down the road and getting lost in the distance.Â
A heavy sigh falls from your lips and you bring your hand up towards your face, biting your thumbnail in anxiousness. You turn around to face Eddie, seeing his face so clear despite the darkening night sky.Â
He nods at you, âitâs gonna be alright, Robin is just mad, I was mad too, sweetheart⊠remember that.â
âYeah butââ
âNo buts,â he shakes his head at you, âI donâtâ I donât know where you two are going with this but, I didnât make you stop, she wonât either.âÂ
Eddie doesnât know why he is even encouraging this, knowing very well how badly this could end for you, but the need to comfort you feels so much stronger than thinking logically.Â
âYeah,â you whisper.Â
He is right, you know he is.Â
You were anxious about losing him before, thinking that Steve might want to stop seeing you after Eddie found out â but he didnât want to stop, he might not want to stop now either, maybe things will just go back to normal after this night, you wonât let a moment like this crush the hope that has been spreading inside of you in the past weeks.Â
You are the only one for Steve, right now, he told you so.Â
And there has to be a reason for it.Â
The hope in you, isnât for nothing⊠right?Â
You wonât let Robin take that away from you.Â
Eddieâs brown eyes soften even further, he wraps his arm around you and starts leading you to your house, ânow come on, weâll get that ice cream pint from your freezer and watch some movies until we crash out on your couch.âÂ
You smile at him, feeling grateful to have him here with you.Â
âI gotta thank Buckley for ruining your date night with Harrington, I missed our slumber parties.âÂ
You chuckle, despite the uneasiness in your stomach.Â
âI missed them too, Eds.â
-
The tension in the car is so much stronger, so much bigger than it was before because now he knows why Robin was acting so weird, why she always seemed so annoyed and hurt, and he understands it, he really does, but he had his reasons to keep this all a secret from her, yet it does nothing to mend the guilt that spreads through his body.Â
He lied to her and the upcoming conversation at his house already fills him with so much nervousness that it makes him grip the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.Â
Is this the moment where he will lose his best friend? He wonders.Â
You didnât lose Eddie, even though he seemed hurt about your secrets too, you talked it out and everything went back to normal â you didnât lose Eddie and you didnât stop seeing him.Â
But Robinâs reaction already seems so much worse than Eddieâs, she seems much angrier, much more hurt and the way she looked at you, even made him cower in his seat.Â
Was that jealousy on her face before?Â
Does she think that you took her spot in his life?Â
He parks the car and wastes no second to get out, taking a deep breath of the fresh air he is surrounded by now. He wants to stay here for a moment but Robin has other things in mind. She angrily makes her way up to his front door, marching up the stairs and waiting for him to follow and unlock the door â with a sigh, he complies.Â
His hands shake a little as he looks for the house key on his chain, he brushes past her and keeps his gaze down, licking his lips and clearing his throat as he prepares for whatever she is about to hit him with.Â
He wanted her to know, he really did, he had been dying to talk to someone about it but he couldnât risk losing this, losing⊠you.Â
He steps into his home but doesnât know which way to go, which way to turn to as the gnawing feeling in his chest begins to eat at him.
Steve throws the keys on the counter and turns on the light, flinching a little when she slams the door, he runs his fingers through his hair and turns around to face her.Â
He is met by her glare, an unimpressed expression resting on her features as she stands by the door, with her arms crossed over her chest.Â
âDo you want something to drinkââ
âWhy didnât you tell me?â She interrupts him, showing a sliver of hurt when those words fall from her lips.Â
Steve opens his mouth to speak, but she doesnât let him.Â
âI thought I was your best friend,â Robin mumbles with a hurt tone in her voice.Â
The tension in his shoulders grows as the need to prove to her that she is still what she always was to him turns him desperate.Â
âYou are! You are my best friend, Robin!âÂ
Robin snorts and rolls her eyes at him, âmhm sure, doesnât seem like it anymore, best friends donât keep secrets from each other, Dingus!âÂ
How can he tell her that this is exactly what keeps you both together?Â
That the secrets are the only thing making you his?Â
Robinâs blue eyes are filled with nothing but rage and as she stares at the man she loves like a brother, she canât help but scoff.Â
âI canât believe Blondieâs pussy is more important than our friendship.âÂ
Anger flashes in Steveâs eyes, the mocking tone in her voice makes him frown.Â
âWhat the hell is your problem?â Steve asks in disbelief, not knowing this side of her, this snappy and rude behavior is something new to him.Â
Her blue eyes widen and she laughs at him, letting her arms fall to her sides, âmy problem is that you were both complete assholes to each other, in front of everyone! And suddenly you start dropping friends â your best friend to be with a girl that you hated! Should I count down all the horrible things you have said about her?â She yells, throwing her arms up. âOr better yet letâs talk about all the horrible things she said to you.âÂ
âDonât.â Steve warns her, not wanting to be reminded of his past mistakes. He doesnât even care about the words you once threw at him, none of them came even close to the hurtful things he said to your face and behind your back, to Tommy and Carol, to Nancy and the teens, to Robin â he canât forgive himself for it.
Robin buries her hands in her hair, looking at him wide eyed as she laughs again, though not in amusement.Â
He understands her hurt, he understands her disapproval of the lies and the secrets but he doesnât understand her anger towards you. He thought she liked you, he thought you both were getting along.Â
âHow long has this been going on for?âÂ
Steve closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he places his hands on his hips.Â
He doesnât need to think about it, he knows exactly how many days and weeks have passed since you started seeing each other.Â
âA little over two months.âÂ
Robin nods with widened eyes, a breathy chuckle falling from her lips before she starts shaking her head, âwow.âÂ
âEddie found out by himself, just like you did⊠we werenât going toââ
âTell anyone? Why not?â She asks, growing suspicious of the shakiness in his voice and the panicked look on his face.Â
âBecause, Robin, it's just⊠sex!â He says in frustration, like those words are meant to convince her but she can tell that he is struggling and it raises different types of questions in her head. âAt least thatâs what it was supposed to beâŠâ
He had meaningless relationships and flings before, he felt conflicted about girls and sex a few times but she never saw him like this, so panicked and anxious, so defensive about a girl he once couldnât stand.Â
So she lets the questions tumble from her mouth, pushing him into giving her the answers that she wants and she watches his reactions closely, the way his brows pinch together as his patience starts to wear thin, as the desperation and the frustration clings to his features and his cheeks grow red.Â
She can tell that he is trying to keep something to himself but that he is beginning to struggle, itâs going to burst out of him soon enough.Â
âWhatâs your problem with her anyways?â Steve snaps at her, shaking his head in confusion. âI thought you liked her!âÂ
Yeah, Robin did like you but something about you makes her blood boil now. Those Friday nights Steve never missed to spend with her, slowly stopped. Those small little out of nowhere car rides to the stores in town, or little escapades to the city never happened again. She might have become friends with everyone else in the group⊠but no one understood her like Steve had.Â
And now she knows the reason for her loss⊠had been you. A person who does not deserve Steve, not even as a friend, not after the past you two had.
âWhy are you so defensive about her? I mean are we talking about the same person? Sheâs had called you so many fucking things in the past, and â being her friend? I might have accepted, now just fucking her!? With what purpose!?â
âThereâs no purpose when it comes to that, Robin. Itâs just sex and you are over fucking exaggerating!â Steveâs face was getting redder, darker, and his chest was working faster as it took in quicker breaths.
âOver exaggerating!? Well, I am sorry for voicing out the fact you and I have not been hanging out like we always have! All for a girl you hated and she hated you back! And letâs not mention that she is in the same fucking friend group Steve!â She yells at him, taking him aback slightly, âWhatâs going to happen when you break things off!?â
And he can only blink a few times, gulp, look at her and try to process her words. He slowly shakes his head, making Robinâs tilt to the side in confusion.Â
âI am not planning on breaking things off, Robs.â And his answer only angers Robin, because she knows he is a few words away from saying what she thought he was feeling. That he likes you. That he got hooked. Stupidly so.
âOh, so I guess the sex with her is fucking phenomenal then! Didnât think Blondie had it in herââ
And Steve explodes.Â
âI want her, Robin!â He yells as the truth begins to leave the sacred place inside of him and he can finally speak them into existence. âFor fucks sake, after Nancy I never thought I would feel anything of the sort again, and she makes it feel right! All of it! I donât want her to leave, to leave this, to leave me! I donât know what you want me to fucking tell you! What else do you expect from me!? To tell you that Iâm in love with her!?â
His voice echoes through the hallway and then, silence.Â
Nothing but utter silence follows.Â
Two pairs of shocked eyes staring into each other.Â
His heavy breathing stops and his heart does too for a moment.Â
Steve knew it, he knew he was falling for you, that he fell for you and despite it, he wasnât aware just how bad it had gotten him already, that it was more than feelings, more than a crush, itâs love.
Realization begins to dawn on him and he breaks eye contact and looks away from Robinâs stunned face and focuses his eyes on nothing in particular as he looks at the ground.Â
âHoly shit, SteveâŠâ Robin mumbles as her angry eyes soften and sadness and pity takes over, only for him.Â
She expected everything but this.Â
From the moment she figured it out, she knew that there was more than sex, but she didnât think that there was this. That his feelings run so deep, that love of all emotions is involved.
âI-Iâm⊠in love with her,â Steve murmurs not to her but to himself.Â
Robin canât tell what he is feeling, knowing that he has only figured it out himself.Â
But she knows what she is feeling.Â
Out of all the nice girls he could have, it just had to be you.Â
A girl incapable of love.Â
A girl who will only be another on his list to break his heart, to make him suffer and leave him in tears.Â
She wonât let that happen, she wonât let him get his heart broken again, especially not by you.Â
But how will she do that?Â
Thereâs shock on his face but happiness in his eyes, his lips twitch and curl into a smile as he lets himself fall into emotions he thought heâd never feel again.Â
He is hopeless, as he looks back up at her and she sees the gone look in his eyes, she knows he is hopeless and done for.Â
âFuck⊠Iâm in love with her.âÂ
âĄ
tagging friends and mutuals
@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fic#stranger things angst
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âĄA Sky Full of StarsâĄ
⥠Pairing: idol!dad!hongjoong x fem!mom!reader
⥠Genre: the fluffiest of fluff
⥠Summary: Just some sweet moments you share with Hongjoong when you and your daughter surprise him after their Coachella set.
⥠Word Count: 1.4k
⥠Warnings: If there's any warning it's that your kid has a name. I know some people don't like that. She's named after an artist Joong likes who I think has a pretty name so that's all babes.
⥠A/N: I set out to make this super fluffy summer road/beach trip fic with Joong but I sat down to write and this is what came out instead so I present to you some post-concert fluff and I hope it gives you all the sweet feelings it gave me writing it.
This canât be real.
Itâs all Hongjoong keeps repeating in his head as he steps off of the Sahara stage at Coachella. His ears are ringing, his heartâs beating out of his chest, his throatâs on fire, and heâd walk right back on that stage to keep going if he could.
It seems like only yesterday his group was fighting to debut; now theyâre here, performing on a stage some artists can only dream of stepping foot on. The joy on his memberâs faces. The sound of their fans screaming for them. Itâs a special kind of magic he wishes he could bottle up and keep somewhere safe to treasure forever.
âCaptain!â Wooyoung cheers, throwing an arm around him, âWe did good?â Hongjoong looks around to see his members staring at him, his approval all that matters in the sea of praise thrown at them by staff. Hongjoong nods, wiping his face with a towel, âWe did good!â Smiles perk up their exhausted faces as they drag themselves down the steps leading to the backstage area.
Stepping onto the grass, Hongjoong stares up at the infinity pool of stars that is the California sky. Just when he feels himself begin to float away, a faint tugging at his pants keeps his feet on the ground. Itâs so faint that he almost questions if he felt it at all until Yeosang lays a hand on his shoulder letting him know, âYou have company.âÂ
Hongjoongâs eyes dance their way down his leg to find a smaller nearly identical set of eyes staring up at him. All heâd done not to cry is for nothing when he sees the chubby glitter speckled cheeks of his little 2 year old smiling at the sight of him. âOliviaâŠâ he gasps, scooping her into his arms, âWhat are you doing here?â
The other members gather around like moths to a flame. Of any fan theyâve ever had their niece will always be their favorite. Mingi squats down to eye level with her, pinching her cheek, âHi, Oli. Uncleâs here.â âOh look at theseâ San coos, playing with the two ponytails sat atop her tiny head, âSo cute.â
Hongjoong holds her close to his heart, shaking the tears from his eyes. âDaddy cry?â she asks, touching his cheek. Hongjoong smiles, choosing to dodge the question rather than lie, âUm, whereâs your moââ âHere!â you say, hugging him from behind. You had every intention of announcing yourself to begin with but the happiness on his face seeing Oli was too adorable to interrupt.
That same happiness plays on repeat when he feels your arms around his waist. You werenât supposed to be here. Your flight had been delayed twice and the baby was beginning to get fussy. Hongjoong had insisted you just stay home and watch the livestream. Just knowing you were watching would be enough for him but thatâd never be enough for you. If you had to grow wings to fly yourself here youâd have done it to be by his side.
Not satisfied with simply knowing youâre there, Hongjoong reaches his free arm back to pull you around to his side. Time slows when he looks at you this wayâlike youâre one of the most precious things on this Earth. Youâre one of two really, the otherâs bouncing in his other arm with her fingers scrunched around his collar.
âHey youâ you beam, wiping a few rogue tears from his face. Hongjoong kisses you, soft lips pressed to yours in what has to be the sweetest, saltiest kiss youâve ever shared. You donât care how sweaty he is, only that youâre together. âHey youâ he smiles, his eyes narrowing slightly, âWhy didnât you tell me you were coming?â You shrug, playing it cute so he doesnât kill you, âI wanted it to be a surprise.â Give him a heads up so he has ample time to play it tough? Never.
âAhem,â Seonghwa interrupts, âDoes that mean you were watching and sawâŠeverything?â The guys look at each other, suddenly mortified at their onstage antics. âOh, for sure. We saw everything. Sheâs gonna be an alcoholic nowâ you tease just to watch their heartâs sink. Hongjoong shakes his head at them, âShame on you. For the record, my cup was water.âÂ
Jongho throws Hongjoong some vicious side eye, âWater, right. Oli, your daddyâs a liar.â âDaddy liarâ Oli repeats with a giggle. You dip your head down to hide your own laughter as the guys hit an equally amused Jongho with their towels. Seonghwa casually swipes the baby away from Hongjoong to teach her how to throw a few hits. Hongjoong chases them down as if heâll never see her again, âBe careful!â
âJoong, sheâs fine!â you shout after him, âAs long as Hwa has herâŠoh, noâŠMingi unhand my child!âÂ
âGoodnight stars and goodnight airâ Hongjoong reads, flipping the final page of a childrenâs book, âGoodnight noises everywhere.â He closes the book and Oli cheers, flipping it over for him to read again. Propped up in his lap as he longues in a barely comfortable hotel chair, itâs clear her miniature lids are growing heavy.
âHoney, itâs late. No more Goodnight Moon. Bedtime, okay?â His voice is stern, he means business, but so does she. Oli flips the book open, her hand rubbing the first page. Her bottom lip pokes out and he knows he canât say no to her. âFine but one more time and then bed.â
You emerge from the shower in time to hear the story start back up again. âIn the great green roomâŠâ Hongjoong starts in his bedtime story voice. You move quietly around the room, listening to the story for whatâs the 1000th time for you too. As you do, you steal glimpses of them holding hands, turning the pages of the book together. Hongjoong pauses to let Oli read or poke around the pages marveling at the illustrations.
âIs bunny?â she asks, pointing to a figure sitting in a rocking chair. âThat is a bunnyâ he cheers softly, poking his two front teeth out to mimic a rabbit. Oli copies himâitâs sorta her thing these daysâmaking you laugh so hard you snort. âAre you laughing at me?â Hongjoong jokes, his mouth still in perfect bunny formation. It only makes you laugh harder. Your two little bunnies, twins in every way they can be. Especially in their silliness.
You approach the them, planting a kiss on both of their foreheads, âYou guys are adorable.â Hongjoong leans his head back, allowing it to rest in the palm of your hand. âYou are too. So adorableâ he yawns, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. A blink and you miss it moment of silence passes before he speaks again.
âDid I do okay, today?â he asks, his tone more serious now, âI donât want toâŠI canât let everyone down.â âGod, no. You were amazing. Look at meâ you demand, cradling the sides of his face to keep his anxious gaze from drifting. âYou. Were. Amazingâ you repeat, âYour fans are so proud of you and your members they love you. And that little bunny down there, she loves you.â
Hongjoong looks at Oli whoâs fallen fast asleep against his chest, her hand still in his. âWe both love you and you fucking killed it. If anyone says any different Iâll kick their assâ you promise and you mean it. âWhatâd I ever do to deserve you two?â he asks, kissing your inner wrists. You lean in close to him, your lips hovering just above his, âExist. Thatâs all you ever have to do, you know?â
Your lips part to meet his and he welcomes them, sipping down feelings there are no words for and pouring the same into you. âI love youâ he whispers and you smile. âI love you too.â Easing the book from between them with mom-like precision, you throw a pillow on the floor and take a seat by Hongjoongâs feet. You open the book and begin to read, not to Oli but to him.
Finally relaxing into the chair, he strokes your hair and listens to the sweet sound of your voice. He balances Oli on his lap, his delicate little gem who treats him like the sun rises and sets in his eyes. Heâd long ago sworn that he didnât think heâd ever have everything. What a frighteningly beautiful realization it is that he finally does.
#ateez x reader#ateez x you#hongjoong x reader#hongjoong x you#ateez fluff#hongjoong fluff#ateez au#ateez x female reader#hongjoong x fem!reader
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Knowing me, Knowing You
~Knowing me, Knowing You by ABBA~ Author's Note: requeted, sorta. it got angsty some how? Summary: Luke goes to his daughter's youth hockey game Warnings: none Word Count: 1,733 Luke Hughes x fm!reader
Luke has always felt guilty for missing his daughterâs hockey games. Zoey was seven and had games almost every weekend. But all of her games overlapped with his. She would FaceTime him before and after the games. She would be red hot and dripping in sweat, her curly hair sprawled all over her features.Â
She was a center like her Uncle Jack and was the top scorer on her team. There was not an ounce of surprise with that fact as she was a Hughes after all. Y/N always made an effort to record as many videos as possible, so Luke was able to be involved as much as he can. He still felt guilty for not being able to go.Â
Except today. It was the mini championship for her league that she was apart of and Luke had the week off for All-Star break. This year none of the Hughes boys were a part of the All-Star tournament which meant all three of them would be there to support Zoey.Â
Zoey and Y/N were both already at the rink, while Luke was trying to drag his brothers out of the house. âThe game starts in an hour, with traffic weâll barely make it on time for the first period!â he shouted as he took a hold of his keys. Quinn groaned out as he walked out of the guest bedroom.Â
âWell itâs not my fault that Jackaboy needs to take forty minutes on his hair!â Quinn ran his hand across his chin. Jack huffed as he stood up from the couch.
âYou couldâve used Lukeâs bathroom!â Jack expressed as all three of the boys walked towards the door to leave the house.Â
The drive to the rink took forty minutes and Luke was freaking out the entire time. He parked the car and instantly hopped out. Quinn and Jack were trailing behind him. Luke promised Zoey that he would be there, and warmups were nearly finished. Zoey had to of thought Luke wasnât coming.Â
The three boys walked towards the table, it was a seven dollar entrance fee. Luke pulled up his venmo and venmoed them the twenty-one dollars that was needed to enter. The teenage girl working the table flushed bright red at the sight of the three of them. She nervously added the wristbands to their wrists.Â
They all took fast steps towards the entrance to the rink. Luke step foot onto the bleachers to see his wife and his parents sitting together a few feet away, âOver here,â he mumbled towards his brothers before he guided his way through the crowded bleacher seats. He sat down beside Y/N, excited rubbing his hands together as stared towards the ice searching for the forty-three on the ice.Â
âSheâs been looking for you,â Y/N mumbled, sadly. He clenched his jaw as he glanced towards his brothers who were sitting beside their dad away from him.
âThey took forever to get ready to leave the house, Iâm sorry,â he whispered as he leaned towards her, kissing her temple as he ran his hand up and down her back. âHow was she before the game?â he asked looking at each of the tiny girls on the ice. His eyes landed on the forty-three skating towards the net, shooting and hitting the glass. Luke watched as her head tilted back as she smacked her stick against the ice.
âSheâs having a rough morning,â she crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her little girl look towards the group on the bleachers again. She waved as she saw her dad. Luke smiled widely as he returned the wave. âSheâs a little disappointed that you werenât the one dropping her off,â Y/N let out as she turned her head to the side to meet Lukeâs gaze.Â
Luke took in a sharp breath as he bit his bottom lip. âWhat do you want me to say, Y/N?â
âNothing, itâs fine, Luke,â
âIs it?â he asked as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. She scanned his frustrated features. She clenched his jaw.
âLetâs not do this here,â she mumbled as she shifted her gaze towards the ice. The girls were all skating off the ice to allow the zamboni to clean the ice.Â
âSeriously, Iâm here now,â he muttered defensively.Â
Y/N huffed, âIâm gonna get a hot chocolate,â she stood up and walked the other direction. Luke watched her walk away clenching his jaw. He took a deep breath as he tilted his head back.Â
âEverything okay there?â Ellen asked leaning towards Luke. He shifted his gaze towards his mom. He shrugged. He shook his head as he stared towards the zamboni. âWhat did you do?â she asked. Luke rolled his eyes.
âIâm missing out on a lot,â he said keeping his gaze towards the ice.Â
âWhat do you mean?â Ellen asked.
âThis is the first game of Zoeyâs Iâve seen this year. It seemed like every game she had this year landed on a roadtrip,â Luke explained as he ran his fingers through his hair. âY/N does her best at recording the games but itâs not the same,âÂ
âWhat does Zoey think?â Ellen asked. Luke shook his head as he shifted his gaze towards his mom.
âShe puts on a tough face but I know my girl,â he took a deep breath, âI know sheâs sad that Iâm not here that often.â
Ellen pouted as she wrapped her arm around his back. âSheâs a tough kid, Lukey, she understands. She looks up to you and your career.â
âI donât think my wife understands,â he mumbled just as he shifted his gaze to see Y/N walking back towards them. She was carrying three hot chocolates. Luke quickly stood up and met her halfway, taking two from her hands.Â
âThank you,â she smiled politely. Luke kept one as he handed his mom the other. Y/N sat down at the same time as Luke. He rested his hand onto her thigh as he looked towards her. She took a deep breath as she met his eye, âThat was unfair of me, Iâm sorry. I know youâre trying,â He swallowed hard as he leaned towards her, kissing her cheek.
âIâm sorry too. I know I can do more to help, I donât want you to feel like youâre doing this alone,â he said as he scanned her features. She took a shaky breath as she nodded.Â
It took another ten minutes before the girls reappeared on the ice. Most of the girls were only seven, but the energy in the small ice rink was electric. It was the leagueâs championship game afterall. She excitedly tapped her hand against Lukeâs leg as Zoey skated to take the center draw.Â
The game in itself was slow as their little legs could only get them so far. But Luke didnât take his eyes off the little forty-three for a single second for her first minute on the ice. He watched her skate the puck back into the zone. Her head up, not eyeing the puck like she used to. Y/N reached for Lukeâs hand and he excitedly interlocked their fingers.Â
She shot the puck on the goal and it trickled into the net slowly. It was the fourth shot on net the girls had done. Luke threw his hand in the air as he cheered. He watched her skate away from the net and bow, exactly like he does after he scores. His mouth fell open as he laughed.Â
âThatâs a new one!â Y/N let out as she hugged Luke.
âAtta-girl Hughesy!â their head coach shouted as she took a seat on the bench. Luke smiled to himself, remembering the days when that was his nickname.Â
âLuke,â Quinn hollered after him. Luke shifted his gaze towards his eldest brother, âSheâs gonna be a PWHL star with that wrister,â he smiled widely.
âShe wants to play for Ottawa,â he let out with a smirk, âShe likes the color red.â The entire row of the Hughes family started laughing.Â
It took another few minutes before Zoey was back on the ice, the game was now tied. It didnât take long before the puck was back on her stick, âCome on, baby girl,â Luke let out as he straightened his frame to get a better look. Her teammate was wide open beside the net and she tried to pass the puck. She made the pass and her teammate scored.Â
âLetâs go!â Luke cheered. âWhat a pass, Zo,â he let out as he looked towards Y/N. She smiled widely as she met his gaze. He took a shaky breath as the realization of what heâs been missing hit him.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Y/N asked quickly as she reached her hand over, running her fingers through the ends of his hair.
âI swear we just put her in skates and now-â he trailed off. She pouted as she watched him blink back the sudden emotions.
âI know, my love,â she let out, leaning her head against his shoulder as she shifted her gaze back to the ice. Luke followed in pursuit to see Zoey have the puck all alone in the the offensive zone.
âShoot it, Hughesy!â her head coach yelled, she listened and shot the puck on the net and scored again. She threw her arms in the air as she watched the puck go in.Â
âThatâs my girl!â Luke let out as he clapped his hands excitedly.
The game ended with a 4-3 win for her tiny team. After the game, still in their gear the girls met them in the lobby of the ice rink. Zoey took the cage off of her head as she stumbled towards Luke. Luke smiled widely as he knealed down, letting her jump into his arms.
Her curly hair was messy as her hair was falling out of the braid Y/N done. âYou did so good, Zo,â he let out as he lifted her up in the air, a gigle fell from her lips.
âDid you see me bow?â she asked with a wide smile. He barked out a laugh.
âIt was awesome!â he let out as he wiped the stray hairs away from her forehead.Â
âJust like you,â she mumbled. Luke pouted as he nodded, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder.
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