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maple-the-awesome · 6 months

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Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun ��

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It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do.

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes.

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

#x reader #reader insert #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #lu twilight x reader

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 2 months

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“let me love you!” “i’ll never hurt you.” “you’re easy to love.”

from the prompt list with Billy please 💗

(in my head this time it's reader that needs to be told this because she is insecure, i see a lot of hurt/comfort fics about billy being comforted and while i absolutely love those, i feel like the idea of reader being the one that needs to be taken care of not is not explored enough in the Billy fandom 🤍)

am I projecting ? - yes absolutely

Thank you for this request! Literally loved writing this! I hope you like how it turned out :) I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if it isn't please let me know

Is this billy? no. Do I care? no. I love writing billy as a fluffy man and if you don't like that, that's okay <3

This week has been rough, honestly things have been rough for a while now but this week has been the worst of the worst.

All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay swallowed by the blankets. You didn't want to deal with anything or anyone anymore for a hot minute. And as you drive home you can feel the waves of emotions finally starting to wash over, you when you pull into your driveway your vision starts to blur. You slowly trudge up to your front door and immediately start to undress before crawling into your bed, ready to sleep the day away.

You fell asleep without even noticing. You slept through the seven phone calls Billy left you, you slept through Billy unlocking your door with the spare key you gave him, and you slept through him calling for you as he wanders into your home.

"Babe??? I'm starting to actually worry here!" He yells out before reaching your bedroom. He is about to yell your name again but he freezes seeing you buried under all of your blankets. "Fuck babe..." He kicks off his boots and crawls next to you in bed.

"Baby...come on wake up for me sweetheart" he whispers to you as he moves your hair out of your face gently. You slowly open your eyes and smile once you're greeted by the sight of his bright blue eyes. "Hi baby" you greet him sleepily and snuggle into his chest slightly.

Normally this would melt his heart, however, this time his heart fills with worry. To anyone else, they may have missed how your eyes seemed dull, or they would've shrugged it off as you being tired but he knows better than that, he knows you better then he knows himself.

"Want to fill me in here? What happened today?" Asking this question broke down your walls again and tears started filling your eyes before you could stop it. "I--well it was um..." You clear your throat trying to stop the feeling of it closing in on itself.

"Do you think I'm hard to love?" once those words were out in the atmosphere you squeezed your eyes tightly in hopes that if Billy did hear you that you closing your eyes tight enough would make you disappear. Billy did hear you though, he heard you loud and clear and that broke his heart in two.

"You're easy to love." He says matter of factly, leaving no room to argue. "Let me love you, Let me prove that what you said is so wrong." His brows furrow as anger started to flow through his veins. Who said this to them? Who put those thoughts into their beautiful mind? How long have they been thinking this? As these questions started to flow through his mind more anger started to flow through his veins.

You shake your head not wanting to think about this anymore. "I'm just so tired. I'm tired of feeling hurt, of getting hurt, of being let down. It's been such a shitty week. Been such a long, exhausting week." You ramble on before Billy makes you stop. "I'll never hurt you." Billy says in nearly a whimper. The thought of hurting you in any way destroys his soul and if he ever did hurt you he truly believes he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"I'd never hurt you. Anyone that has hurt you are the worst, most stupidest group of people to ever live let alone breath. I don't know if you know this, if you realize this, but I...god I really love you and that isn't easy for me. If I ever hurt you I'm done for."

Your eyes filled with tears for a whole different reason. You've never seen Billy so vulnerable, you've never felt so loved before either. From how you were laying on his chest you leaned up and kissed his chin softly. "I love you too Billy, more than you'll ever know" He smiled softly and kissed your head as you rest your head on his chest one more time before falling back to sleep. As you sleep Billy starts to play with your hair and continues to whisper how much he loves you.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy x reader #billy fluff #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fluff

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raelle-writing · 4 months

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Was it even Jin's video that got posted???

I've been staring and trying to make sense of the angles in Keng's office for the past hour so I decided to do a write up and see if I can make sense of it... something is WEIRD.

WARNING: this post contains screenshots of SA, all those will be below the cut:

So when we as the audience are shown the shots of Keng and Non, we're shown two different angles. The first one, when Jin first opens the door, is of Keng and Non's legs. The second is of their heads/faces.

In earlier episodes we're shown a bit more of the layout of Keng's office, shown here:

But the angles just... don't make sense? When you analyze them. Like for example, here's what we see in episode 6 when Non comes to see Keng. The angle shown is of Non leaning decently far into the room, and then still only being able to see Keng above the barrier

When the video is uploaded to social media, we see this as the thumbnail, which appears to be shot at a low angle BETWEEN the two barriers. But that angle doesn't make sense when shot from the door.

You can see it in this shot of Jin recording, it looks like the extruding corner is in the way of whatever he's shooting.

Not to mention, in the shot of Non showing up to that office, the book shelf is pretty obtrusive of the view of what's happening. It seems like, in order for the shot of their heads to be what's shown in the thumbnail, the person would've had to be further into the room

Add on to that, the couch itself is way too small for someone to be able to see around the barrier one way AND the other way. So basically it was impossible for someone at Jin's angle to see BOTH the legs around one end of the barrier AND the heads around the other.

With the corners, the bookshelf, and the angle in mind, it seems to me that the only angle it makes sense for Jin to have seen and recorded without going further into the room is that of the legs, not their faces...

Especially since he records low, but the thumbnail picture is basically the same height as the couch... which to me, looks lower than where Jin is holding the camera

Conclusion: ????

Honestly I'm not sure. Maybe this was just BOC getting clever with their angles and shooting and they didn't think people would dissect the layout of the room this hard. I AM sure that Jin could only reasonably see the legs or the faces and not both.

And as I said above, the angle of the door and bookshelf and barriers lead me to believe that Jin could've only really seen their legs But then that brings up the question of how did Jin even know it was Non? He's angry enough that it seems like he did... unless he's angry in a completely different direction and is mad that a teacher is taking advantage of a student, but that doesn't seem to fit either, since the anger on his face seems personal...

Plus I want to bring this back. Top saw Keng and Non together and texted Tee that he knew where Non got the money. They could've guessed or spied on them to guess what Keng asked for in exchange. And who has the money to set up a hidden camera JUST to screw over Non? Por. I'm not saying that's definitely what happened, but Por HATES Non and wanted to get rid of him. I don't doubt Por/Top/Tee would hesitate to release that tape of Non if they got the opportunity...

I'm definitely grasping at straws, but something about this whole situation doesn't feel right. Jin isn't shown to post the video himself, in fast there's discrepancies from what's shown on his computer screen vs what's shown of the person uploading the video.

Changing a computer from light mode to dark mode is incredibly easy so I don't know why they would've left a mistake like that instead of fixing it in post-production. Plus it looks to me like Jin is looking at the already-posted video and crying over it, not that he's posting it himself (first screenshot is from the BTS for this episode btw).

I've been on the "Jin didn't post the video" train the entire time for a couple of reasons:

Jin isn't shown to click the button, only sit at his laptop, cry, and then eventually spill alcohol on it and short it out. If the writers wanted us to hate Jin then they would've just shown him posting it so that we could deal with the fact that he's a shit person. They didn't do that, so I don't think that Jin posted the video.

Because in episode 4, Flukes yells at Tee that he knows what they did, and he names both the broken camera AND the released video... but Jin wasn't present in this scene. Why yell it at Tee if Jin is the one who both took the video and posted it?

But with the question of all the angles shown and the doorway and bookshelf it makes me wonder... was the video even Jin's?

#This is probably just BOC assuming people won't analyze all these angles this closely tbh #it was likely Jin's video and he just didn't upload it #but I still wonder why show Top finding out about Keng and Non if not?#And why Top suddenly being nice to him? And saying he had a plan?#I think those mean girls are at fault for this #they hate Non and want to destroy him after Non got them arrested #idk just some thoughts #DFF meta #dead friend forever #dff the series #dff #Jin DFF #Non DFF #Keng DFF

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hey-kae · 2 years

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Hi! I absolutely love your works✨✨ and I would like to ask you for an OS angst 😢 where Charles and reader end the relationship because of hate and comments on social media. I don't know whether to end with a happy or sad ending, that's your choice 🥰.

Hate and Love

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: the chaos that was japan, slight implication about Charles thinking of Jules’ accident, panic attack, talk of weight and body image, needs more proofreading.

a/n: i don’t think i’m that good with the whole hate trope as i struggle to write it without feeling like it’s turning out cringey, what explains how long this took me to write and i’m still not satisfied with it. But it’s yours to judge now ig…

When you've been swinging a hammer repeatedly over a frail sheet of glass, it's it going to shatter it. There is no way around that fact.

When you keep throwing insults at a human being, you're going to break them.

Whether these things are your intentions or not doesn't change the outcome.

Rarely do we ever see any exceptions for clear and particular reasons. Everything has a reaction or consequence that is to some degree, inescapable.

The crack in the glass made itself loud and clear on the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix.

Excited about having some time off that would allow you to support Charles on the double header of Singapore and Japan and getting to see such beautiful and unique places, you had decided to accompany him on his two week trip, not wanting to waste any opportunity to spend highly valuable time with him.

The Singapore Grand Prix went okay and by the end of the weekend, the bags were packed and you headed to the airport with Charles.

On the lengthy flight, Charles fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, and it honestly didn't matter how long the two of you had been dating, long enough that you had a sparkling ring sitting on your finger, the sight of that and the feel of his soft brown hair tickling your neck and cheek quickly caused your heart to race. If anything, that was just another proof of how much this man meant to you, how much you devotedly loved him.

Wanting to secure the memory in your head and into existence, you fished your phone out of your bag without moving much so you wouldn't disturb him, and you quickly snapped a selfie that showed half your face, mainly focusing at the much cherished sight of your asleep fiance.

The picture was adorable. Charles looked so cozy and at peace.

You were smiling at your phone screen, debating whether or not you should share such a harmless picture with the world.

There lies the conflict.

If any of your social media accounts had been somewhat "normal", you would've posted it without any second thoughts like you'd done with previous boyfriends you had. Sharing occasional pictures of your relationship for your friends and family to see was something that should've felt natural, and it did feel like that in the past.

Then, Charles came along.

He was somewhat of a celebrity.

You knew that since the very first time you hung out with him. If anything, that was the only thing about him that made you reluctant about getting into a relationship with him. People's huge interest in him would inevitably transfer to his partner.

As you had expected, dating Charles reformed your understanding of social media. It was no longer a source of entertainment but a business place, a space for profit and advertising and never in your life have you wanted that to be the way you used social platforms.

Suddenly, everyone was so interested in your everyday life to the point where there was accounts literally dedicated to finding out where you bought each outfit from and while it was funny for a while, you were quick to realize that the whole influencer lifestyle was in no way your cup of tea.

It didn't help that anytime you shared anything that had merely any connection to Charles, your DMs flooded with message requests and your notifications got crowded with replies and comments. One night, out of sheer boredom while Charles snored beside you in bed, you went through some messages. From that point on, there was no return route, and it sure didn't help that the engagement shone a brighter light on your relationship and how serious it was, causing the hate to double.

While some of the messages were overwhelmingly sweet, some were also overwhelmingly cruel and inconsiderate.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't let these things affect you nor the beautiful and genuine connection you had with Charles, that you wouldn't even check the messages and comments again in the first place.

But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

It turned into a repeated pattern, a compulsion you couldn't get rid of.

Therefore, you continued staring at the picture, you thumb hovering over the share button until Charles startled you.

"Tout va bien, bébé?" Everything's okay, baby?

You locked your phone and let it fall onto your lap before assuring him that everything was okay.

"Oui, cheri. Tout est bien." Yes, darling. Everything is okay. You smiled, wrapping one arm around him and allowing your head to rest on his, your eyes closing as you attempted to push out all the negative things and remarks, redirecting your focus onto the man by your side.

That position didn't hit the minute mark since Charles moved so he was sat a bit more upright and pulled you close to him so your head rested on his chest, his arm around your back while he looked down at you through half opened eyes.

"Tu sais bien que tu peux me dire n'importe quoi, n'est ce pas?" You know that you can tell me anything, right? He reassured, sensing that something about the way you were behaving was not quite right.

"Oui, je sais cela. I promise you, there's nothing worth mentioning." Yeah, i know that... You replied and tilted your head up to press a quick kiss onto his cheek.

With that, he let the subject go, ignoring the instinctive feeling in his chest telling him to make sure that everything was alright but he had no concrete proof that anything was going wrong so he forced himself to push the suspicions to the back of him mind.

That was supposed to be the end of that issue. You promised yourself to actually act normally and not allow stupid comments and remarks to taint your relationship with Charles.

It said a lot that you were engaged to Charles. You literally wanted to marry him, you saw your future with him and at this point, you couldn't really imagine a life without him by your side so you found it unreasonable and just plain idiotic to allow strangers who lived cities and countries away to interfere between him and you.

However, as the weekend processed and pictures of you with Charles popped up on the internet, that last thought seemed to be morphing. All you wanted was an escape, a break from the judgmental critics and the suspicious fans overanalyzing every move and post you made. With every passing hour, you were reminded why you rarely ever showed your relationship with Charles publicly and openly.

People knew you existed and they knew that you and Charles were engaged but when they aren't reminded of that, they tend to ease up a little bit on you. Therefore, it goes without saying that the opposite had been happening during those two weeks.

After qualifying, having watched the session from the pit box since Charles asked you to, you posted a quick shot of him as he was being photographed with Max and Carlos. You hadn't thought the post through, just supporting for your fiancé and wanting to share that openly. But as you laid sleepless in bed, the jet lag getting to you after Charles passed out of exhaustion, you realized that was a mistake.

Your DMs were flooded with messages, some positive and some negative but it seemed like you couldn't bring yourself to focus on the love you were getting, not when the opposing words were so cruel, hitting quite close to home.

People were going on and on about how you were like Charles' shadow. To them, it looked like you wouldn't let him breathe, that you followed him everywhere and limited his freedom.

Apparently, you were insecure about the relationship and you were essentially following him across the planet not to support him, but to supervise his actions, as if you would've agreed to marry a man you didn't trust.

Not only were they speculating about the relationship, the comments about your body were downright disturbing under some of the photos captured when you were spotted around the paddock. There were pictures of you eating and the comments under them were disgusting. Even the compliments were worded so crudely that it made your skin crawl as you read through them.

But what hurt the most is people saying you weren't enough, that you weren't worthy of dating someone like Charles, that you were forcing him to commit, that you were using him for fame when in reality, you hated every bit of unnecessary attention you got through dating him.

Everyone was preaching about the way he could do so much better, posting pictures of his exes and comparing your looks to theirs.

Looking through these messages and comments was overwhelming, even suffocating to a certain extent but for some reason, you couldn't put the phone down.

Does she have to always be there?!

Is it just me or is she gaining weight?

I wish Charles would wake up and see why she's really dating him

It's giving... attention seeker

ngl his ex was prettier and they were a cuter couple

The remarks went on and on and you lost yourself in the masses of words that night, forgetting where you were, forgetting that Charles was asleep right beside you, forgetting how much he loves you and how he always went out of his way to remind you of that. Your thoughts were hypnotized by strangers online and you couldn't think of anything else other than what you were reading, not even the words that made you cry when Charles had said them to you the night he went from being your boyfriend to being your fiancé.

You didn't even realize you were crying but the hot tears dropped onto your pajama pants when you sat up in a hurry, gasping for air.

You couldn't breathe properly, your lungs felt like they were collapsing, your hands were freezing and shaking out of control until the words on the screen of your phone and the pictures of Charles hugging you after qualifying turned into a streaky blur of colors that you couldn't even comprehend.

You needed a quick escape, some fresh air but you felt stranded, in a unfamiliar country where you had no idea about where you could go.

Suddenly, you were too aware of the sheets covering your body and even that felt too heavy to be bearable.

With wobbling legs, you pushed off the covers and stumbled onto your feet, even in this state making sure that Charles was still covered.

Nothing felt alright.

You felt like you were loosing it and instead of considering waking Charles up, you thanked god he was in deep slumber.

Tunnel vision took over, making the room darker and smaller than it already was. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. You could hear the rush of blood in your ears. Your body was tingling like if was going numb. Your throat felt dry and tight. Your tears were streaming out of control. You were was having chills all over as you broke out in a cold sweat. The loud noise from the street by the hotel felt so distant but somehow, the sound of Charles breathing was deafeningly loud.

You felt like you were loosing control.

With absolutely no clue of how you made it out of the bedroom, you burst through the balcony door, longing for a fresh breeze, the chilly night air feeling like it was waking up every nerve in your body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you kept mumbling as you allowed yourself to fall into the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you finally broke into sobs instead of the panicked, silent cries.

You were never confident growing up, always the calm sister, the shy cousin but really, you were insecure. For years, you worked on yourself until you finally got yourself to participate in social settings, to meet new people. Hell, it took years until you stopped reaching for a pillow to put in your lap every time you sat down, until you could walk in public without crossing your arms in front of you, until you found it in yourself to wear anything you wanted, until you could laugh without covering your mouth.

Therefore, it was undeniable that when you were met with such remarks, every past wound was reopened, and to be fair, the energy it took for you to build yourself into a confident woman was one you didn't have at the moment. You couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole again. Once in your life was already too much.

You looked out onto the bright city lights, one striking thought now torturing your mind.

Charles.

Charles in your life meant curious eyes and endless criticism. There is no way around that unless he hid you from the world for evermore, and you weren't naïve enough to believe that would be possible, not if you wanted to marry him proudly and have your own little family with him.

That's when your heart broke and the sobs got ten times worse while your opposite hand wrapped around the diamond ring on your finger.

The man asleep a few feet away from you was everything you'd ever wished for.

He was the prince charming that you dreamt of finding back when you were a toddler watching princess movies, beaming over happy endings and escaping on a white horse. Charles was the one who satisfied that little girl's dreams during adult days that felt endless and hopeless and so painfully dull.

Middle school you who described the man she'd marry years down the road in excessive details in her diary would be in disbelief to see Charles exceeding all the impossibly high expectations she set, even after she ditched them when she was forced to face the real world.

He was perfect and you loved him beyond words, more than you ever thought was possible and you were just so ready to have it that way until forever and a day, until you grew old with his hand in yours.

Countless times, you imagined your wedding, the days after it, the look on Charles' face. You imagined having kids with him, watching him become a father and being the amazing dad you knew for sure he would be, holding the children you'd have and teaching them how to do anything and everything, maybe even how to race. Every detail that you were so sure would become true at some point had passed through your mind so many times, sending your kids to school, watching them grow up with the love of your life right by your side for it all, sharing every moment, milestone and event with Charles, happy or sad.

You wanted everything with him, the good and the bad.

But then, the image of the teenager you once were, stood timidly in front of the mirror, hating what she saw took over. You remembered when you didn't have the confidence to even present a project in school, when every little critic tore you apart and broke you to pieces.

The future was pushed right out of your mind as you let the past take over, dread washing over you like frozen water as you realized just how easily this situation you were in could drive you back to your old ways.

As the memory of crying your nights away and fearing the days came resurfaced, the face of younger you, so hopeful and full of life flashed in your mind and that was when you realized you couldn't fail her, no matter how flawless your relationship with Charles was, it was still breaking you.

As you came to the realization, the cries became too loud and even from your spot on the balcony, you were afraid to wake Charles up. You clasped your hand over your mouth, muffling the sobs and gasps, your eyes screwing shut as you struggled to catch your breath, the tears falling out of your eyes heavy and uncontrollable.

You couldn't afford waking him up right now, facing his gentle looks and caring words but No matter how quiet you attempted to be, it didn't work.

"Cherie," Charles' worried toned startled you, making you fumble to wipe away the tears, "what is happening?" He asked, crouching down in front of you immediately.

His hair was ruffled and messy. He was barefoot and was messily but warmly dressed for bed. His eyes were hazy with sleep and barely opened while his hands grabbed yours to pull them away from your face.

He was a bit too caring and it made everything hurt so much more.

Through your burning eyes and clouded vision, you glanced up at him adoringly while your heart shattered into a million tiny shards.

"I love you so much, Charlie." You sobbed, reaching over and hugging him as tight as you could.

Instantly, his hands were rubbing up and down your back, trying so desperately to comfort you, but he had no clue what was going on and he was too sleepy not to be confused.

"I love you so much as well." He kissed the top of your head, "mais tu veux me dire qu'est-ce qui se passe, mon amour?" but you wanna tell me what’s happening? He asked with the softest voice, taking advantage of the way your arms were wrapped around his neck to slip his hands under you and carry you back inside to the comfortable bed where he could hold you properly.

Once he had you wrapped in a cozy hug on the mattress, he got you to look at him and his heart plummeted at the sight of your swollen eyes.

"Oh, baby." He cooed, wiping the last of your tears off your cheeks with his thumbs, "What happened?"

You felt like you could crumble under his worried looks, immensely dreading tomorrow as your eyes looked with his.

"I don't know." You attempted to push out a chuckle but Charles knew you too much.

He got you to lay your head on his chest and began brushing his fingers through your hair, thinking about what could be the reason you were crying that hard.

"Honnêtement? Je n'te crois pas. You were crying so hard, bébé..." Honestly? I don’t believe you. You were crying so hard, baby…

The heavy concern lacing his still hoarse voice was too much and you could've lied to him, came up with an excuse for the breakdown you had but you couldn't do that, not to someone you loved so much.

"I just - i don't know, cheri. Je n'veux pas en parler maintenant." I don’t want to talk about it right now. You felt Charles nod. He knew he couldn't force you to talk about something you didn't want to discuss but he wasn't gonna be at ease, not knowing why you were so upset, not able to help you through it.

"D'accord..." Okay. he said, closing his tired eyes, "Demain après la course donc?" Tomorrow after the race then?

"Ouais. Demain." Your heart ached at that. Yeah, tomorrow.

With that last promise to discuss the issue tomorrow, Charles allowed himself to relax for now, hugging you close but making sure he wouldn't be falling asleep before you.

Meanwhile your mind raced with thoughts of your plans. You couldn't help but fear that Charles would think you don't love him anymore after he would find out what you did.

"Charles..." you waited for him to look at you, "Tu sais bien que je ne mens jamais quand je te dis que je t'aimerais jusqu'à mon dernier souffle, n'est-ce pas? Promets-moi de ne jamais oublier cela” You know that i will love you until my last breath, right? Promise me to never forget that.

"Alright, baby... I don't like the sound of that. Why are you saying it like this?" He lifted his head off the pillow to look at you, his hand stilling in your hair as he tried understanding what you meant by that, especially when you were crying minutes ago, when your body was still shaking against his.

"Please tell me what's going on." He asked again, the worry and dread in his chest increasing with every word you said.

"There's really nothing going on. I just want to remind you of how much i love you." You said with a sniffle, your eyes clouding again with tears that were threatening to spill again.

"I really don't believe you, not when i'm not understanding anything at all." He sat up a bit, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he had now.

"Charles, please. On a dit qu'on en parlera plus tard et tu dois vraiment dormir car il est deja très tard et tu dois te réveiller tôt demain matin. S'il te plait, laisse ça tomber au moment." We said we’ll talk about it later and you really need to sleep because it’s already so late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Please, let it go right now.

Sighing, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, clearly not happy about this situation and making that clear to you by turning the other way and pulling the sheets right up to his neck.

You couldn't help but bite the inside of your cheek at that, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Charlie, please don't be upset. Je t'aime." I love you. You rolled onto your side, facing his back, hiding your face against it and hugging his waist as the tears started falling again.

“Bonne nuit.” Good night. He mumbled as a reply but you never let go of him, no matter how many minutes had passed.

You listened to the sound you were most grateful for, the soft thud of his heartbeat, letting it cut you deeper and harder because you were so hell bent on the fact that you deserved this pain, and once you thought he had went back to sleep, you allowed the quiet sobs and sniffles out, holding on tighter to the man you loved so deeply.

But Charles was everything but asleep. He felt your arms tighten around his waist, felt your hands clutching onto him for dear life. He heard you crying and laid there for a while, going over the past day in his head a hundred different times, desperately trying to understand what had unworldly upset you and crushed you this bad until his heart started feeling heavy with every sob that met his ears and at that point, he no longer felt like insisting on finding out what had happened. He just wanted to comfort you.

He sighed heavily and turned to face you, immediately bringing you to hide in his chest and between his sheltering arms, his hand on the back of your head securing you into this position that he knew you found so comforting.

The gesture only made you cry harder, this time the sounds muffled by having Charles so close.

"Shh, bébé." He kissed the top of your head while his heart felt like it was being torn apart, "I've got you, mon amour. Calm down."

That night you fell asleep for one singular reason and that way your eyes burning beyond comprehension, forcing you into slumber. Once your tensed body relaxed in Charles hold, he realized that you just exhausted yourself into sleep and that fact alone brought him so close to crying himself. However, he wasn't an idiot. He was well aware he shouldn't be staying up any longer, that he couldn't risk not being able to drive at a 100% in the conditions expected for the race, so he allowed his eyes to fall shut while making sure he had you held as close as possible.

When you woke up next morning, you were alone in bed and as soon as you checked your phone for the Japanese time, you realized why. The race was starting in less than two hours and you were still asleep.

With a worrying scowl on your face, you got up and headed for the bathroom, still trying to make sense of why Charles hadn't woken you up earlier. In the mirror over the sink, there was an unpleasant reminder of yesterday night: swollen under-eyes as your reflection's most prominent feature and even you couldn't help but to stare as you brushed your teeth.

Once done with that, you went back into the bedroom and found a note taped onto the closet door.

I didn't have the heart to wake you up cause you looked so tired but there is a key to a rental by your purse if you still want to go to the race. (I texted you a picture of which car it is.)

Je t'aime fort.

Without a second thought, you pulled on a pair of loose jeans, a cozy sweatshirt that belonged to charles and some shoes, grabbed an additional jacket, your purse and pass along with the keys Charles left you, applied some makeup to hide your swollen eyes and headed for the track, knowing that you weren't selfish enough to not even show your face at such an emotionally charged race for Charles.

It was pouring as you drove to the circuit so you put on your jacket, pulled the hood on and made a run for Charles' garage, hoping you'll catch him before he has to line up on the grid and you did but just barely.

As soon as he saw you coming up to him, his face brightened and he smiled. However, his eyes scanned over you as if to make sure you were alright.

"Good luck!" You attempted an enthusiastic tone after he had greeted you with a quick peck.

"Thank you. Tout vas mieux aujourd'hui?" Is everything going better today?

You nodded and dodged any further questions until he was luckily called over to the car and just like that, he was out of the garage, waving at you as he slipped into the cockpit and moved out into the pit lane.

You slacked in a chair then, feeling so guilty for even having the thought of leaving him, so guilty for putting yourself first. All you could think of was how you never in your life bothered prioritizing yourself and why did you have to start doing that now? When it came down to Charles and your relationship with him? But then another voice that seemed to come from a totally different side of your brain would remind you that it was either losing Charles or losing yourself again and forcing yourself into endless years of repairs and reconstruction.

Needless to say, by the start of the formation lap, your felt like you were loosing your mind as one thought contradicted the other, the scary conditions of the track adding another element to go crazy over with worry and before you knew it, chaos ensued and the race was red flagged when Carlos crashed and the recovery vehicle was employed while the cars were still on track and if you knew anything, it was that it would be disturbing for Charles to see that, especially when it was one of his friends, Pierre who was in the most danger.

You stayed in your chair as the cars made their way back in and watched Charles talking to the pit wall crew across from the garage where you were. He looked so visibly shaken up and you couldn't look at him and his tense posture for longer than that without backing out on your plan.

You turned away, grabbed your phone and booked a plane ticket home so there was no way out of this. However, that only increased the guilt you were feeling as Charles finished talking to Laurent and made his way to you, instantly giving you a kiss before reaching for his red Ferrari coat and shrugging it on to warm himself up.

If he didn't look visibly upset and worried and if you didn't feel like you were betraying him, you would've been obsessing over how adorable he looked with his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he took a seat by your side.

Suddenly, for the first time in years, you were fumbling for words around Charles but you saw him in staring into the distance before he heavily sighed and dropped his head back.

Everything was so close to collapsing, both on your side and his. Maybe you could rethink your decision.

"Bébé..." you turned sideways in your chair and faced him, "are you okay?" You asked and grabbed his hand in both yours.

"Yes, don't worry. Are you feeling better today?"

Only Charles would be more concerned about you when just minutes ago, his life and the life of multiple of his friends were literally on the line.

"Charles..."

"Please, they're already going to make me talk about everything in the media pen and i really don't want to do it twice." He rubbed his eyes angrily as he spoke, moving his hand between yours to intertwine your fingers.

Maybe you shouldn't leave. Not today at least.

You nodded and sat by his side in silence, watching your hands in your lap, his fingers toying with the ring on yours in a way you would've presumed absentminded but Charles found it incredibly comforting.

Eventually, after texting with the other drivers for a long time, all of them furious about the truck incident, he moved his chair closer and rested his head on your shoulder, allowing the two of you to chat quietly about almost anything that didn't involve racing: the food from the restaurant you went to in Tokyo, the old couple you saw yesterday when you went for a walk in the early morning, the wallpaper on your phone, paddock gossip... Anything to distract him for the current situation and the catastrophe that was this Grand Prix since you had a relatively clear idea of what he would be thinking at the moment.

"Cute hoodie, by the way." He smiled half-heartedly.

"It's cold and i don't have anything warm enough with me." You were quick to defend.

"I didn't say i mind it. Au contraire, je l'adore quand tu t'habille de mes vêtements." On the contrary, i adore it when you wear my clothes.

You couldn't even believe you were still considering leaving just a few minutes ago. How could you ever let go of this?

"Okay, okay. Don't get all cheesy now." You blushed, holding onto his hand tighter while you attempted to get a clear view of him.

He let out a small chuckle and brought your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss onto your knuckles.

"Merci." He smiled, "I know what you're doing and I'm so grateful."

You struggled to reply because of course he'd figure this out, so you settled for something simple, "Je t'aime, Charlie." You said and kissed his forehead mindlessly.

And it was like the universe hated you because right that instant, a big camera was directed right at you and Charles, capturing the moment at the perfect time and probably showing it on live TV.

It would be an understatement to say you immediately feared the outcome because you knew that a lot of people would find some ulterior motive other than comforting your stressed fiancé behind the gesture.

You still tried hard to act unfazed like Charles was but you remained highly uncomfortable until the lens moved in the other direction, filming the pit wall.

Somehow, through the seemingly endless red flag, you managed to forget that ever happened until Charles fixed up his suit and retrieved his helmet ages later, returning to his car as they announced the resumption of the session in ten minutes.

"Good luck once again." You smiled at him and watched him head out, back into the car and onto the track.

When Charles disappeared out of sight, you grabbed your phone and found endless notifications on the screen, reminding you of being filmed.

You couldn't help the heavy dread in your chest as you unlocked the device and clicked on the twitter icon.

You knew you couldn't allow yourself to have a breakdown in the middle of the garage with so many people who were well aware who you were surrounding you but you couldn't resist clicking on the notifications tab, gulping as you started reading through them.

It was the usual: the comments like "oh my god, they're adorable" and "at least she's there to comfort him" versus the opposing ones like "she's doing anything to appear on the stream", as if a kiss on the forehead was such an eccentric things to go.

Line after line, you read them and allowed them to build up in your mind until your breathing became irregular like yesterday.

You made a run for it.

You grabbed your things in a hurry, still trying not to attract unnecessary attention and hurried to the car.

You couldn't do this. You wouldn't survive staying in the spotlight that came with dating one of the most famous f1 drivers currently. You wouldn't make it out alive if you stayed with Charles and even though you felt so selfish as you turned the car on, you kept telling yourself that if there was any reasonable time to be selfish, it was now.

The drive back to the hotel passed in a teary, breathless haze as your mind carried your body on autopilot.

Before you could even register that you arrived to the room, you were packing up your bag and frantically searching the room for any pen and paper until you found one with the name of the hotel plastered all over it.

You only realized you were crying when the tear splattered onto the paper, distorting the ink as you shakily wrote.

Charlie, je suis infiniment désolée mais je ne peux plus faire ça. Ce mode de vie est quelque chose dont je ne pourrai jamais supporter.

Prends toujours soin de toi-même. I am so sorry.

Charlie, I'm very sorry but I can't do that anymore. This way of life is something I will never be able to bear.

Always take care of yourself. I am so sorry.

It felt like you were ripping away a part of you when your fingers wrapped around the engagement ring and you began sliding it off. It was physically painful to let go of everything so quickly but it felt like there was no escaping this.

Your eyes forcefully shut and sobs shook your body once the ring was in the palm of your hand instead of on your finger. You looked down at it, the diamond glistening brighter through your blurry, teary gaze. With your breath caught in your throat, you let it fall onto the paper on the nightstand then you were struggling to inhale at all, but you managed to call a taxi and rush down to the lobby with your suitcase and a heavy heart that was burdening you, avoiding at all costs allowing your mind to imagine how Charles would react to your unexplained and unexpected absence, let alone the break up in form of a paper with tear-streaked ink scarring it.

You just flew to your home country, not even to the apartment you shared with Charles in Monaco, leaving everything behind.

—

Such a short race shouldn't have felt so long but it seemed never ending as the gap to P1 grew with every lap, the tyres working completely against all the effort Charles was putting in.

Before he even knew it, the Redbull behind him was threateningly close and he was cussing out the whole world. He defended his position with everything he got, the only thing on his mind is finishing the race and falling into the comfort of his fiancée's arms but with all the stress that weighed down on his shoulders, the pressure of such defense caused him to exit the track and he knew he'd have to face complications because of that.

Getting dropped from P2 to P3 by a 5 seconds penalty felt like being dropped from P1 to P20, especially after all the effort he put in on track to keep the position but he took it without complaints and walked into the cool down room, already feeling like he was ready to collapse in bed.

He felt heavy and exhausted. He just wished he could skip the podium celebration and the interviews and just go find you but he knew that was impossible so he straightened up and put the brave, undefeated face back on.

On podium, his eyes scanned the crowd many times, trying so desperately to find the face that brought him comfort but to no avail. His shoulders slacked a bit lower as he realized you weren't watching the celebration and he was already making excuses for you as the national anthems played.

Eventually, he was handed a trophy and even though it was rather small, lifting it above his head took so much effort. He was so done with everything and just wanted to escape to you and hug you so tight. No one was ever able to cheer him up like you did and he was so grateful for that, for you and for the fact that he would be calling you his wife someday.

Forcing himself to stay aware of where he was for a few more minutes, he popped the bottle of champagne open and sprayed Max, congratulated him on the championship and eagerly got the hell out.

He rejoined his team, immediately asking about you but no where had a single idea where you were. Then, he was dragged out into the media pen where he rushed through all the questions, eventually resuming the search for you as soon as he was free to go. He checked both Ferrari garages, the team hospitality and finally his motorhome but you were nowhere to be found.

He started worrying, the state you were in yesterday adding to the situation.

He changed out of the suit, put on a jacket, grabbed his things and got going, his phone ringing against his ear as he attempted calling you while he was searching for Pierre to quickly check up on him before leaving. The phone kept ringing until he was met with beeping followed by your voicemail.

"Where are you, chérie? You're worrying me." He said and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he caught sight of his french friend.

—

Half an hour later, Charles was in the elevator in the hotel, going up to the floor the two of you were staying at, his heart beating fast with pure worry since he already called you many times on his way back and not once did you pick up.

He dragged himself through the hallway and unlocked the door in a hurry, immediately calling your name once he stepped into the suite.

Once, twice, three times... Nothing. Not a single sound in the room.

He walked further inside, expecting to see you overtaken by sleep on the bed but it was neatly made and the room looked clean and spotless.

That's when he panicked.

The room looked too clean.

The vanity facing the bed had absolutely nothing on it. Just this morning, it had your bag, your makeup remover, your jewelry box and a bottle of your perfume. It was completely clear now, and it could've been that you just put these things away but your suitcase had also been sitting on the floor next to it along with the spare pair of shoes you brought with you and those were gone too. Even your phone's charger was gone from the outlet above your nightstand.

The words you had said to him yesterday resurfaced in his mind, the fact that you were asking him to promise you he'd never forget you love him now seemingly bone-chilling.

What was going on? He kept asking himself because there was no way what he was assuming would be true.

He turned on his heels and began searching the other part of the suite, from the kitchenette to the small balcony to the bathroom, even checking behind the frosted glass of the shower.

Nothing. You weren't there and nor were your things.

"Non. Non, ça peut pas être." No. No, it can't be. He started mumbling to himself as he rushed around the rooms, retrieving his phone and calling you in a hurry now, as if that would make you pick up.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça. Qu'est-ce qui se passe? Où est tu? S'il te plais, répond au téléphone." You can't do that to me. What’s going on? Where are you? Please answer the phone. He said into your voicemail and tossed his phone onto the couch, heading back to the bedroom.

Maybe he was misinterpreting this. Maybe you just put your suitcase in the closet provided. Maybe you put your things in drawers. Maybe you left the race because you were tired.

So many maybes and what ifs clouded his thoughts as he pulled the closet opened, only to be deceived but the dull and blank wooden shelves.

"Putain." Fuck. He cursed and moved onto the drawers, not even closing the closet doors.

One after one, he yanked them open and every single drawer was empty, even the ones of the nightstand on the side where you'd been sleeping, leaving him with only the one on his side of the bed.

He rolled on the mattress in a hurry but froze in his sitting position as his eyes met a sight he never wanted to see, a sight he never thought he'd see.

It felt like he forgot how to breathe, like his heart was irregularly beating, skipping beats left and right as his eyes widened so much, they started burning.

"Non..." he shocked, gulping as he tried to make sense and of everything, "Why? What the fuck? Why?" He bolted to his feet, pacing by the bed with his hand against his mouth in pure shock. His mind was a mess of thoughts and feelings and words but most importantly questions.

He thought things between the two of you were as perfect as they could get so why was he staring at your ring sitting abandoned on the nightstand? He couldn't make sense of it. He kept asking himself why.

His heart shattered because it finally made sense how you were speaking to him yesterday night. You had planned this and still went to the race, sat by his side and comforted him when all he could think of was the potential tragedy that was the first few laps.

Nothing made sense. If you love him as much as you said yesterday, why did you leave him? Why did you bother with the grand prix? Why did you wear his sweatshirt?

Charles eventually froze in his spot but he could see a paper under the shiny band and he wanted to grab it. However, it felt like his arms had went limp and he suddenly couldn't move, his eyes still scarily widened, still trying so hard to wrap his head around what has happened today.

He was just so eager to come back to you after such a stressful race, after it became official that he lost the championship. He needed you right now that if felt like the world was closing in on him, but he came back to this, to a breakup through a paper, not even face to face.

Cursing again, he grabbed the paper and the ring and read the streaked ink scribbled clearly in a hurry.

A hundred times, he read and reread the words, until his tears joined the marks of yours on the paper, and not once did they sink in.

You gave up on the relationship that easily? He couldn't bear the mere thought of you leaving him and now he had to face that as his reality? Without any clear explanation or a proper end and all because of the lifestyle that came with dating him? How were you planning to marry him if that was the case?

He fell back onto the mattress, his hands over his face as he tried so hard not to break after such a bad day but the tears defied him and streamed down the sides of his face in a rush.

It felt like a mockery that when he received the penalty, he thought the weekend had no way of getting worse. He had the comfort of knowing he had you by his side and with the endless support you always provided, he knew he could overcome anything but now he feels powerless, broken and defeated and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

He just needed one of your hugs right now. He just needed for this to be a nightmare.

Just a few hours ago, he was twisting the ring around your finger and now it sat painfully cold in its loneliness in the palm of his hand.

He felt like tossing it out if the window but his heart couldn't take anymore hits today so he clutched it tighter and gave up on trying to push his emotions aside. He let them rule over him.

He loved you too much to be able to pull himself through this and come out unscathed.

This felt like the end of everything. He lost everything in a day and he didn't have to energy to face that just yet.

He laid alone on that bed, staring at the ceiling blankly, waiting for the shock to subside and for heartbreak to set in and when it did, every last breath was knocked right out of his body and he was left curled around a pillow, holding it so tight and crying into it, occasionally trying to call you again and again but not once did you answer and it enraged him.

He tossed the phone off the bed onto the floor with a frustrated scream that felt like it was cutting through his lungs.

Following that, he allowed himself to completely fall apart as it sank in that you really left him.

Charles felt utterly defeated and hopeless.

—

To say you were no longer used to waking up in your childhood home would be a major understatement, especially since you could barely open your swollen, burning eyes in the morning to see the room clearly, leaving you panicked because you weren't at the place you call home and very far from the person that felt like it.

However, the familiarity of the place was as welcoming as ever, definitely something you needed at the moment.

When you showed up home yesterday, everyone was worried but as they watched you drag the suitcase in with bare hands, the object tying you to Charles missing from your finger, they caught up quick enough not to ask any questions.

They let you sleep it off in your old bedroom but really, you were crying most of the time, questioning if you made the right decision.

Charles called you so many times and left so many voicemails but you were determined to stay off your phone, so you let it's battery drain until it powered off at night and you decided not to charge it as not to risk it.

Your heart ached all night long since the only thing you could think of was Charles returning to the vacant hotel room and discovering that you left without him, and as your woke up this morning and found yourself reaching for him in your half conscious state, what had remained whole from you completely shattered because he obviously wasn't there and you had made that choice for the both of you and he probably was clueless why you did it.

The smell of him was still engulfing you though, making you realize hours too late that you had taken off dressed in his sweatshirt still and you couldn't really tell if the fact that you were still wearing it was good or bad. You really couldn't bring yourself to care.

Once the morning light became too strong, you forced yourself to get out of the bed. However, on the first attempt, you only managed to sit up enough to scan the room. Your head was throbbing and your throat was sore and dry and you could barely see anything through your blurry vision.

You rubbed your eyes furiously and got up. Outside your door, you could hear your family moving about in the house and talking, the clatter of plates and utensils implying that they were probably having breakfast.

You felt guilty that you barely great them yesterday but you still couldn't bring yourself to go out and talk to anyone so grabbed some of your old towels from a drawer, your shower products from your suitcase and headed for the bathroom.

You avoided your reflection at all costs. You didn't want to face any of yesterday's various aftermaths. Instead, you stepped under the hot stream, immediately felt your shoulders drop as your head fall back, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles.

Then, the tears made a comeback and you welcome them with open arms, letting them stay as you washed your hair and body until you turned the shower off and padded back to your room.

Pulling open your closet, you were met with the memories of the last time you had stocked it. You and Charles and his family spent last Christmas with your parents. The two of you had been newly engaged and everyone was still gushing over that.

As the memories of that trip resurfaced, your eyes met the sight of a certain pile of clothes that didn't belong to you. That's when you remembered that Charles had felt a few items of clothing here, a change for hot weather and one for cold days, because he was so damn sure he'd come back to your childhood home at some point and so were you.

With your lips pursed, you betrayed your heart and grabbed his sweater instead of your own clothes and put it on along with some shorts.

Tensely, you fell back onto the messy bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling lost and withdrawn. You had nothing to do, nowhere to be , nothing to distract you and the only thing you could think off was Charles.

You just wanted to know if he was alright, if he finished the race safely at least, but you didn't want to face the fact that you hurt him without giving him any explanation, that you walked out on him during one of the heaviest races of the season. You didn't want to consider the possibility that he now understood why you kept reminding him that you love him and that he might find it confusing now since common logic was that you don't leave someone you love.

As the thoughts ate away at your heart, you impulsively jumped up and grabbed your phone to charge it. You had to make sure he crossed the finish line safely at least and you wouldn't have to give in and contact him for you to know that.

The few minutes that it takes for the phone to power on felt like ages and when it finally did, over 50 missed calls from Charles flooded in along with so many texts and voicemails.

That meant that he was well, health wise at least. However, the last missed call was hours ago.

Your finger hovered over the voicemail icon and you were so tempted to just click it, desperate to hear his voice since you weren't used to starting your day without talking to him.

You gave in.

The first one started by him just asking where you were and judging by the noise around him, it was clear that he was still at the paddock.

But as one recording ended and another played, his tone progressively changed and several of his words broke your heart.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça..." You can’t do this to me… is what you heard in the second voicemail and the last one in which he didn't sound like he was crying. After that, it was just heartache.

"Tu peux me dire pourquoi, au moins? Je ne comprends rien." Can you tell me why, at least? I don’t understand anything.

"Where did you go? Tu m'inquiète au point de la folie." I’m going crazy from the worry.

"Fuck. Fuck, just..." you heard a sniffle, "... please, je te supplie, come back. Please."

These sentences amidst rambling and incoherent french stuck with you, making you wish you never charged your phone again or that you never left, but even after hearing that, nothing could've prepared you for the last recording.

"I'm kind of loosing hope now that you will answer," he sighed, "i just needed you here today, and always, but today more than usual. The race was shit but somehow i don't give a fuck. Why?" There was a laugh of irony and a pause before he continued, "Because the person i wanted to marry just left me. Really, bébé? Quand même une petite explication à ce qui s'est passé! Un adieu! Même ça, je ne le mérite plus?" At least a little explanation for what happened! A goodbye! Even that, I don't deserve it anymore? He was crying and now, so were you.

"It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why et maintenant, je sais plus how to live without you à mes côtés. Pourquoi t'as fais ça? How am i supposed to continue believing que tu m'aime? Tu m'as détruit complètement, chérie. J'ai tout perdu today."

It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why and now, I don't know how to live without you by my side. Why did you do that? How am I supposed to continue believing that you love me? You destroyed me completely, darling. I lost everything today.

Heavy breathing took over for a few seconds and you could tell he had been trying not to make it too obvious that he was crying.

Your hand clasped over your mouth to muffle the sobs as you waited for Charles to continue, "Je voulais t’épouser. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break mais il me semble que tu n'veux plus rien a faire avec moi et je n'ai aucune idée pourquoi. The lifestyle isn't something new et si tu était autant gêné depuis le début, you shouldn't have said yes when i proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me de l'espoir that i will get to call you my wife un jour, que je pourras passer le reste de ma vie avec toi, have our own children et notre propre famille à nous. Putain, tu n'aura jamais dû me laisser tomber si amoureux de toi if you knew you would leave at some point."

I wanted to marry you. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break but it seems to me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore and I have no idea why. The lifestyle isn't something new and if you were so annoyed from it from the beginning, you shouldn't have said yes when I proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me hope that I will get to call you my wife one day, that I would get to spend the rest of my life with you, have our own children and our own family. Fuck, you should never have let me fall so in love with you if you knew you would leave at some point.

There was a long break after that and you could hear the sniffles and the rustling of sheets. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking in these silent seconds.

"Je dois me taire, non? By the way, Max was announced champion, si t'en soucies même plus. I have to shut up, right? By the way, Max was announced champion, if you even care anymore. And... I love you still, a lot." He gasped the words out between sharp inhales and it made you want to go back to him just to hug him tight.

"Je sais plus si te veux que je t'aime ou non but that will never change the fact that i would die for you, même si tu pense that i don't even deserve a face to face break up. Je t'aime, even if i don't understand shit."

I don't know if you want me to love you or not but that will never change the fact that I would die for you, even if you think that I don't even deserve a face to face break up. I love you, even if I don't understand shit.

You locked your phone and tossed it aside, grabbing a pillow and holding it against your face, trying to muffle the crying.

You could've told him the reason this was happening but, knowing Charles, he would blame himself for everything. This, this was bad but he didn't have to feel guilty in this scenario. You were withholding all the guilt and you'd be happy bearing it forever if that meant Charles wouldn't be tinged by it.

No matter how bad this was, he would manage to get over it, even if after a while but you knew him and you knew he wouldn't cope well with knowing that he was the reason you fell back into the depths of your past insecurities.

A knock on your door interrupted your crying. You tossed the pillow away and wiped your eyes rapidly with the sweater's sleeves before saying "Come in."

You knew you couldn't avoid your family anymore. They were probably really concerned.

Your older brother peeked his head through the door with a cautious smile on his face.

"Hi." He started, taking just one step into the room and closing the door after him.

"Hey." You tried smiling back but teared up again at the attempt.

"Look, i'm not gonna be nosey." He said before he took a seat on the edge of the bed, "I just need to know if i need to kick some ass or anything. I don't really care that he's Leclerc in this case." He tried to joke.

"Please, if there’s any need to kick his ass i would've done it myself. I don't need any men to do it for me."

Your brother smiled at that, having expected that response.

"However, the only guilty person here is me." You continued and quickly wiped away the tear that escaped.

"Why?" He frowned.

"I left while he was mid-race." You clarified, your teeth abusing your inner cheek between words, "I just don't know how to live the lifestyle he has, you know?"

Your brother looked confused, "Yeah, i'm not buying that, the thing about life with him. You've been together for years, only now you realized his lifestyle? You live together, you're practically married so even when you do actually get legally married, there will barely be any difference." He started analyzing. "Something is off. What's the real reason you left?"

You caved in so fast but you didn't really have any energy in you to resist it.

"I've been getting so much hate, especially when I'm with him at races. I couldn't deal with it anymore."

Your brother, like everyone who knew you and Charles, wasn't a stranger to that. He nodded and appeared to be in deep thought about this.

"Did you try talking to him about it? Charles loves you so much, we can all see it, and i know he would be very understanding and helpful in this situation."

In your mind, the thought of opening up to Charles about this wasn't even present. After all, he also gets a lot of hate too. However, the criticism he received was mostly about his skills as a driver, in other words, nothing he couldn't control and improve. On the other hand, people hated you for you, for simply existing as Charles' partner.

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, but it is. Look, i understand it's difficult to read that shit but it's not right that you left him out of the blue, like you have no respect for what you have, or had, with him."

That angered you so fast, you quickly got off the bed to face your brother.

"Of course i have respect for him and our relationship!I'm- I was engaged to him, for fuck's sake!" The little correction you had to make pained you as it made this situation much realer.

"I'm sorry, but if my partner walked out on me like that, i wouldn't be okay with it. If you want to break up with him for such a vague reason, at least do it to his face. That guy loves you more than i've seen anybody love anyone before and i know you're my sister, but if you treat him like that, after such a difficult race as well, you don't deserve him."

Ever since you heard that last voicemail, there's been a part you've avoided thinking of.

Getting married in winter break, literally in a few months. Instead of that, you left him the ring and took off.

You knew he wanted to marry you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have proposed but the fact that he wanted to do it so soon was unexpected to you. It should've been the happiest surprise, instead it was tugging on your heartstrings.

"He wanted to get married after the season ended, in his winter break." You spoke in a whisper.

Before you could receive a reply, your mother's voice could be heard as she called for your brother.

"Look," he started as he got up, "just call him." He shot an accusatory finger at you, "He had a shit race yesterday and i think you'd be able to find some solutions to this together. " He kept talking until he was out the door.

"Wait!" You called for him, "What position did he end up in?"

"Defended P2 with inters turned into basically slicks but ended up P3 after a five second penalty for cutting a chicane in the last lap. I gotta go."

Needless to say, you couldn't bring yourself to actually call him but you did spend hours staring at his contact name, the little ring emoji you added to it a while back torturing you now. Eventually, you joined your mother in the living room, allowing her to distract you until your brother reappear, asking if you talked to Charles, to which you shook your head then watched him leave the house.

Hours later, you retreated back to your room, laying on your bed and scrolling through twitter again. The notifications had lessened compared to yesterday but there were still there, the hate still being a constant and an arguably increasing reoccurrence. Surprisingly though, it wasn't what you focused on nor what you cried about.

You had been letting the clip of you kissing Charles' forehead during the red flag replay for so long, you'd lost count of how many times it had repeated. All you could focus on was how comforting Charles seemed to find your presence.

Over the years, everyone kept telling you how you were the only person who was able to comfort Charles as more than just some temporary fix. When you were to one to receive him with open arms after an angering or disappointing moment, Charles would calm down within minutes. Even his mother had said that and even Mattia had noticed it, but you never saw it.

However, now that you were stood on the outside, looking into the relationship, you saw it clear as day. In such a stressful and traumatic place and moment, he looked content in a way and it caused you to break down crying, especially as you thought of him bearing the disappointment alone yesterday, only to face something worse when he found out you left.

Eventually, you fell asleep with the video playing.

The next morning, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house and woke you up. You expected your mother to get it but it rang again and again until you groaned and headed to check who it was while rubbing your eyes with the sleeves of Charles' shirt that you were still wearing.

You checked your reflection on the hallway mirror. Sure, the swollen eyes were still prominent but you hadn't been expecting them to subside any time soon so you sucked it up and padded to the door, swinging it open while tugging the shirt down to cover some skin as you just realized how short the shorts were.

Then, you froze.

All sorts of emotions ran through your body. First, shock because, how and why? Second was some weird sort of relief. Third, and most dominantly, guilt.

Guilt was eating you alive as you stared at the man whose heart you broke. You couldn't bring yourself to move nor to look away but you couldn't really look for any longer.

"Um..." you started fumbling for something to say, rubbing at the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Can i come in?" He asked and even though the sentence was short, it was still enough to show how hoarse his voice sounded.

You nodded and moved aside. Charles immediately made his way inside.

"How- um, why did- You know what i mean." You struggled while closing the door shut.

"You were getting hate and instead of telling me, you left?" He sounded angry and you wanted to strangle your brother for obviously contacting Charles.

"Charles, please... I can't-"

"You can't? Let's say you desperately want go break up with me, why didn't you do it properly? And really? Suzuka out of all places?" He asked, his hands gestures emphasizing his point.

He was right and there was no way to escape that so you fell back into the couch behind you, tugging on your sleeves and picking at the cotton.

Before you knew it, Charles was sat by your side.

"I wasn't really thinking. Everything i read was hitting so close to home and it was giving me some sort of panic attack and i - i'm sorry for leaving like that." Your eyes prickled with tears again.

"The night before, i asked you so many times what was wrong. You had me worried sick when i found you crying. You could've told me - fuck, you should've told me." He sprung back to his feet, rubbing at his face in frustration.

"I didn't want you to know." You spoke quietly.

"Why? I thought we trusted each other with everything! And it's literally something that i caused so deserved to know..." His voice rose.

"See? This is exactly why. You will blame yourself for it. You can't control what some asshole type out on their phones, even if they're your fans. There's nothing you can do to stop it and i can't handle it and revert to being an insecure person so i did us both a favor and left!" You shouted back.

Charles was gaping at you.

"You're giving up that easily on years of us and all the fucking future we've planned? Tout à cause de quelques connards qui se cachent à l'abri de leurs petits écrans?" All because of some assholes hiding in the shelter of their small screens? He was huffing in irony, "If some assholes you don't even know are able to make you insecure, then, je suis désolé bébé, but you've never been confident enough then." Knowing it was a touchy subject, Charles regained his composure and regulated his tone.

"Oh, really? You're telling me how i feel, Charles? You know me better than i know myself? Oh, wow! What a fucking catch i let go of!"

"That's not-" he attempted a reply.

"Shut up."

"Chérie, please."

"Shut up!"

He took his seat back next to you and tried to grab your hand but you snatched it away so fast, making him nod in defeat.

"Okay." He murmured and slacked against the back of the couch, his leg bouncing and shaking the whole sofa with it.

A deafening silence took over for long, painful minutes during which you reverted back to crying while Charles stared blank up at the ceiling.

"What about all the things you say to me after bad races?" He sniffled beside you, making you realize he was crying as well, "All that shit about how we can get through everything together? How we can always be each other's comfort and safety? That there's nothing on this world we can't overcome as long as we keep in mind that's it's us against the problem, not against each other? Why doesn't it apply when it's you that needs me? Why's it only me that shares the issues and problems i'm facing so we can solve them together?" He ranted, not stopping for a breath while he lost control over the tears, "I want to help you through this."

"Arrête, s'il te plaît." Stop, please. You cried harder, got up and started pacing around the room, sobbing into the sleeves, hearing Charles crying too.

You've always been used to solving your problems on your own and while over the years, you learned to share the burden of some issues with Charles, you still couldn't bring yourself to openly talk about things like this, not because you didn't trust him enough to help you, but because you've never been comfortable sharing so much.

You kept walking back and forth, hands covering your bloodshot eyes until you collided against who you knew was Charles.

His arms wrapped around you, even when you tried resisting his touch, pushing against his chest, wanting to get away before you caved in and he knew you enough to know that. Eventually, you broke down in his hold and he let you cry it all out.

"Talk to me, please." He cooed in your ear, dragging you to sit with him on the couch.

You tried not to but it got suffocating and so, the questions rushed out.

"You would tell me if i was annoying you during race weekends, right? If i was limiting your freedom."

With every word, and as he realized the cruel remarks you'd been reading, Charles' heart broke more and more.

"What? I want you by side everyday of my life, chérie!" Subconsciously, and maybe even somewhat protectively, his arms tightened around you.

"They're right, in a way... You could get sick of me faster if i went with you everywhere, and if i kept gaining weight-"

"Baby..." he interrupted, "I don't see a single reason for me to get sick of you. You have a fun and amazing personality, you are so beautiful and you understand me like no one ever has. Every day i'm away from you, i can't wait to go back home because life feels - i don't know the word for it - but it feels full and complete with you. And the weight thing, fuck whoever said that. I wish you would love yourself and your body like i do. You're beautiful in every state."

You cried even harder into his shirt, the words he was saying making you realize it was a huge mistake, allowing anyone to mess with your relationship with him, but him easing your worries wouldn't stop the hate and the both of you knew it.

"I love you, Charlie."

"I love you too."

You sat still in that position for a while and that left you thinking of the way things online would never change, dreading that in fact.

"I know what you're thinking. Oui, on pourra jamais les stopper, j'en sais cela très bien." Yes, we can never stop them, I know that very well. Charles spoke up and you gulped at that, "But you could use it for your entertainment. Listen here, all those things they say, it's out of jealousy. You're at a grand prix and they're saying you never leave me alone? They're jealous you get to go for free and that you're dating a driver. Fuck with their minds, post confusing locations, or rub it in their faces that you're there and they're not. I guess what I'm trying to say is have the upper hand because someone who hates on other people online will always be below them. Let them be the insecure ones and keep in mind, everything that is point out negatively is something that they envy so much that they noticed it." He was speaking and moving his hands up and down your back comfortingly.

"And if a certain comment gets to you, come to me and tell me about it and i will prove it wrong in hundreds of different ways. I don't know of you've seen it bébé, mais tu as tes propre fans même and they are way more than the haters. If anything, that just proves my point that you're just so lovable." …but you even have your own fans…

Charles smiled and tilted your head up so he caught a glimpse of your face.

"Just, please, give us another shot and be completely honest with me. Even if you hide those kinds of things from me again - if you decide you want to stay with me - i will now know to look online when things feel off, so i just want your honesty."

You smiled and nodded, agreeing to everything but slightly confusing Charles.

"Yes to what part exactly?"

"Tout. Je veux tout avec toi. Et je vais toujours être honnête avec toi. Everything. I want everything with you. And I will always be honest with you. But first, i owe you a big apology. What i did was cowardly, the way i ran away. I'm sorry i hurt you, Charles." You kissed his neck, "I'm sorry i confused you and left without even saying goodbye." The kissed moved further up his jaw, "And i'm so sorry that i wasn't there after that shitshow, especially since i knew how stressed the first two laps made you. I feel like an asshole." You sealed the words with a kiss to his lips.

"It's okay, bébé. I understand it now." He pressed your lips together again.

"Doesn't excuse how insensitive i was. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, the race finished safely."

You nodded, "That's good." Then, you sat up a bit to see him better, "And as for the championship, your are still my champion and you will be the world's one day. You've got it in you and everyone sees it." Assuringly, you traced your hand softly along his cheek while he stared at you lovingly.

"I'm so lucky that i found you, tu sais?" you know? He pulled you back onto his chest, "Je t'adore." I adore you.

"Je t'adore également, crois moi." I adore you just as much, believe me.

You heard him sigh and relax in relief but he wasn't still for long. Within seconds, you felt him reach for his pant's pocket, digging through it weirdly in this position.

"Give me your hand." Charles instructed and you complied.

"Me donnerais-tu l'honneur de t'épouser, mon amour?" Would you give me the honour to marry you, my love? He asked, holding out the ring.

"Bien sûr." Of course. You chuckled, "L'honneur est vraiment complètement le mien." The honour is completely mine.

The both of you watched your hand as Charles slipped the ring back on your finger where it belongs with a big grin on his face.

Now, everything felt right again and you realized that you'd be able to conquer the world and its critics with this man by your side.

a/n: idk how to feel about the note as a picture so be sure to let me know if it’s s cringey as i find it. Thank you for reading!💕

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 oneshots #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot

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harrowharkwife · 28 days

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for the character meme: dulcie or cam or pal or a character of ur choosing!!! hehe

!!!!! ty lem!! im gonna do my girl dulcie...

favorite thing about them: honestly just the way she's written- it never fails to make me emotional that she *is* explicitly written as being brave and strong, but tamsyn neatly sidesteps the "inspiration porn" ableist stereotype of writing a character as being brave/strong *because* they are sick. dulcie isn't brave or strong because of her illness. her strength and bravery are explicitly positioned, IMO, as being in response to surviving *ableism* and other people's condescension towards her and mistreatment of her, rather than surviving her illness itself, if that makes sense. her health is just a fact of her life, it's not moralized. which i really, really appreciate. it's a small shift, but it's very meaningful to me.

ALSO deeply special to me: her intentional and careful commitment to boundaries re: The Palamedes Of It All. a refreshing change of pace, as far as these books go vgjtjxdjt

least favorite thing about them: i mean. houser. :/

favorite line: three way tie between "truly, wonderful news for my haters," "i am sick of roses and horny for revenge," and "oops, there i go again, never doing what i'm told"

brOTP: gideon!!!!! i think it's a crying shame they've never met. i think they'd get along tremendously. the whole cytherea gideon thing was Horrid and Awful in so many ways, but it always Extra stings (in an adding-insult-to-injury sort of way) when i think about what it would have been like if gideon had REALLY met dulcinea, and not cyth. dulcie would've been a great friend for her, i think. they'd have been so good at making each other laugh

OTP: honestly these days it's cam? @ palamedes ily but get outta here gayboy it's yuri time now. plus i just love chewing on the concept of cam + comphet, and cam + subconscious internalized misogyny, and cam + gender, and cam + her relationships and interactions with other women. i think there's lots to explore there. camdulcie has a certain "when i was eight i didn't realize i had a crush on the new girl in my grade so i just wrote her a note that said 'get out of my school'" energy about it, To Me

nOTP: idk if i really have one for her, specifically? idk. ianthe or something, fuck it.

random headcanon: stoner. on all levels except physical she is taking fuckall huge bong rips. on the physical level though her lungs suck so i think she'd be a tincture girlie. she's got chronic pain she deserves it. am i projecting? you tell me

unpopular opinion: idk if this is an unpopular opinion exactly, but i always see people referring to thee rejected proposal as being something born primarily out of love/out of romantic intent? and i don't know if that's necessarily how i see it. it was CERTAINLY, and obviously, a factor. but at least from my interpretation of pal's monologue to cytherea at the end there, i get the sense that he had already accepted her boundaries in that regard, because he says he "understood that he was a child." and we also get camilla saying that his motivations in proposing were primarily a means-to-an-end way of getting her off the seventh and letting her die with dignity. iirc her exact words were like "so she could spend what time she had left with people who cared about her." like, don't get me wrong, i think pal is lying to himself if he says that being in love with dulcie wasn't PART of the motivation there. but i find it a lot more interesting in a worldbuilding and social commentary way to interpret the circumstances there as him offering, essentially, to be a hospice doctor at age 19, and marriage being the 'easiest' way to get her off the seventh/planet medical malpractice. there's an imperial misogyny ownership-through-marriage throughline there that's nauseating, as well as the implications re: disability and agency and autonomy, and i think that's all very interesting to explore. i think this view is supported in part by the paldulcie interaction in TUG, where she alludes to the idea that she was cognizant about the impact that bearing witness to death and loss up-close and personal like that changes a person, and that she didn't want to do that to pal and cam, especially given their age. i think it informa dulcie's character and grants her additional narrative agency to look at things from that angle, of her "no" being in reference to *both* the age gap AND her intentional choice to continue suffering on the seventh, rather than put two kids through being hospice caregivers and/or widowers at nineteen– no matter how many times and how sincerely they kept offering, no matter that she would've absolutely had a more peaceful and comfortable end-of-life HAD she accepted his proposal and gone to the sixth to die. i think it says a lot about her as a person, that choice. there's a quiet and meaningful responsibility to her as a person that i find fascinating. and her character is just sooooo firmly rooted in and informed by disability politics, on every level, and i feel like people don't engage with that aspect of her characterization enough!

song i associate with them: ooooh SO many, i have a whole playlist. but i think the biggest ones are

-the drama by kesha ("friday night, get too high, keep checking my pulse, am i dead yet?" / "in the next life i wanna come back, as a housecat as a housecat! i'd sleep and play in the sun, i'd be a fuckin' cute son of a gun!")

-avant gardener by courtney barnett (the whole song really, but especially the lines "the paramedic thinks i'm clever cause i play guitar, i think she's clever cause she stops people dyin'," and "i take a hit off an asthma puffer, i do it wrong, i was never good at smokin' bongs." i just think she'd love this song.)

-honorable mentions include stoned at the nail salon by lorde, life according to raechel by madison cunningham, rose-colored boy by paramore (@ palamedes, lmfao), picture me better by weyes blood, extraordinary machine by fiona apple, rubberband girl by kate bush, last words of a shooting star by mitski.

favorite picture of them: oh man well it obviously has to be my icon... art made for me by the lovely @franzias-cave !!!! based on the concept of "the woman is dying, please do her the decency of allowing her to look the part in fanart." my girl... she's a malign fairy, she's a hot-eyed wraith <3

ty lem this was so fun! i love my gworl :')

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dr3amofagame · 7 months

Note

I think Dream in prison was always going to go poorly because it would require Sam to be as infallible as Pandora's Vault itself, and he's not. He has way too much personal stake in what Dream is doing, and in trying to force himself to be an emotionless machine that abides only the protocol he became a hypocritical wreck that only indulged his vindictive emotions and spiraled out of control trying to keep the situation steady. That's not even addressing how keeping someone in the prison would never be ethical because it's a psychological torture box designed by the psychological torture guy

I mean, I can see the argument that it would've been hard to like. Not make Pandora's Vault unethical, considering the size of the server and the fact that he was the only prisoner etc leading to a situation where yeah, he would've been left alone for long stretches of time no matter what, solitary was kinda inevitable, etc. Like I can see an argument for that. But on principle I feel like the influence that protocol had on the prison arc and on c!Sam specifically tends to be heavily overstated...because a significant portion of the prison arc, honestly, is making the point that the protocol was entirely based on what c!Sam determined.

Like, sure, the prison was always going to suck. c!Dream was never going to come out from it entirely unscathed. But there's a huge fucking difference between what he was prepared for (isolation + shitty food for an unspecified amount of time) and what situation he ended up in (his life at the mercy of two people that showed absolutely no damn qualms about literally torturing him). I think it's very fair to say that yeah, c!Sam was far from an unbiased party, and he was very much emotionally affected to his detriment during the prison arc. But...ultimately? I feel like we really don't see c!Sam struggling to maintain protocol over the course of months only to slowly break down. I don't think we see him "snap" and "lose control." necessarily, in the way that people often act is the case. (The strongest argument, in my opinion, in favor of c!Sam being greatly affected by some stressor that then has him turn to extreme cruelty has little to nothing to do with the prison itself and more to do with his brief stint with the Egg, but with so little attention drawn to that as a cause in the story of the prison itself, I feel like this mostly remains in the realm of speculation.)

Like, if we look at the facts, c!Sam's behavior day one was already weirding people out. Day one and c!Dream is already throwing himself in lava and c!Sam does not seem to give a damn. Of course, both of their behaviors had a myriad of reasons behind them, but it's important to note that there's like literally never been a single moment in the prison arc where c!Sam hasn't been, like, off.

We never see any of c!Ranboo's actual prison visits, but we know these happened very very early in c!Dream's imprisonment and that they were terminated quite early as well, once c!Sam discovered c!Ranboo writing in ender in the prison contracts. However, considering how the inside of the prison was the same between his dream and the real world, it is reasonable to say that c!Sam's behavior in the dream could've also been taken from reality, and "he knows what happens [when he disobeys]" is a hell of a statement to make.

c!Bad's prison visit is when things seem to be seriously off. Even if you consider c!Dream's behavior in this stream as entirely an act, c!Sam is noticeably tense after the prison visit and very demanding about what c!Dream said once c!Bad leaves the cell. c!Dream commenting on food being withheld is consistent with what we know happened in the prison arc later on. c!Sam says that c!Dream has been tossing himself in lava for attention. Several comments are made about "behaving" and "behavior," c!Sam is looking into the installation of an automatic feeder, and visitation is facing restrictions.

Pretty crucially, we see that c!Sam is very comfortable with making changes to the prison. Major changes to the prison, even. Installing an automatic feeder isn't exactly an easy process? And it obviously wasn't outlined in any kind of preexisting protocol. But c!Sam is perfectly willing to change this, just as he's perfectly willing to make all kinds of rules on visitation and limiting visitation because of c!Dream's behavior, etc, (which can reasonably be inferred as not being preexisting rules because that would mean that c!Dream, who allegedly helped with the creation of all of these rules, would be intentionally sabotaging his chances of visitation...when he very evidently wanted people to visit? like sorry but that doesn't make any sense) because he's the Warden and therefore the sole authority of Pandora's Vault and allowed to do literally anything he damn well pleases.

Further, sure, c!Dream might be acting in all the prison visits. Sure, he might be acting In General during this time, etc. But despite disobedience (disobedience with the explicit expressed purpose of trying to get c!Sam to spend more time with him...?) I would hardly characterize almost anything he does during these early days as being anything for c!Sam to be reasonably vindictive over. Even if you consider hopping into the lava (something c!Sam could've solved literally as easily as just raising the netherite barrier), tossing the clock into the lava (also preventable if c!Dream can't access the fucking lava????), and a couple alleged escape attempts (the only one that we know of being him trying to use the lectern to create a nether portal, something hardly easy to do and an attempt that c!Sam very evidently put down quite easily)--like. I can understand him being angry because of what c!Dream had done in the past, and obviously being angry because of c!Dream telling him about exile, but c!Dream early on in the prison arc hardly behaves badly. (Not that bad behavior would justify abuse, but you know.)

By the time of c!Sapnap's prison visit, c!Dream isn't the only one acting weird. c!Sam is strange in ways that are never fully explained and uh heavily imply shady shit??? He's not abiding by protocol when he suddenly interrupts the process of helping a visitor out of the prison by forcing c!Sapnap to respawn in order to check on c!Dream for Some Reason. He's once again very persistent about the question of whether or not c!Dream "said anything" and then reacts strangely when c!Sapnap was able to get him to say a word. He's replaced like a quarter of the obsidian in the cell with crying obsidian, which again, is an instance of c!Sam making BIG changes to the prison without protocol or anything dictating his actions. At most you can maybe make the argument that he's being moved by the spirit of the protocol, that being security should be prioritized over everything (hence potatoes instead of steak, hence no courtyard, hence--in this case--crying obsidian to make the escape attempt ineffective) but it's clearly nothing that they explicitly wrote down.

Also, around this time (I forget the exact date) he explicitly bans c!Ranboo from visiting. Also something we can reasonably assume isn't something that was included in any protocol that c!Dream wrote considering his uh, vested interests in continuing to have an informant.

c!Tommy's visit and that ensuing debacle, of course, is one of the first times we see c!Sam clearly, explicitly acting AGAINST the protocol that was established. The protocol outlines that c!Tommy should have stayed in there for at most a week, and c!Sam explicitly denies him from leaving when the time comes??? Even if you argue that he's doing it "for security", he's doing it in a manner that is going directly against the letter of the law of the protocol that he created with c!Dream. This is a clear demonstration that c!Sam sees himself, and acts as if he is above the law of Pandora's Vault, because, of course, he is the law. He is the Sole Authority. He is the Warden, and he answers to no one but himself. c!Tommy's death obviously ensues in quite the emotional fallout for him, and wanting revenge on c!Dream for this matter motivates his actions later on in the arc...but it's important to consider that mistreatment beyond the scope of what c!Dream expected long preceded this point. c!Sam, immediately after c!Tommy dies, describes himself as thinking that c!Dream's will was too broken to do anything like that. Describes himself as having punished c!Dream in every manner that he could think of. He doesn't go in to feed c!Dream for WEEKS after c!Tommy's death, directly leading to c!Tommy himself being isolated and starved post-revival. He bans visitation. All of these matters hardly seem like matters that c!Dream would have included in the prison protocol that he created when he was planning to be put in that prison, where he specifically had a vested interest in keeping himself (and the book) safe + having, like, FOOD + being able to have visitors in a safe manner + NOT being abused?

And even if we dismiss all of this as c!Sam acting in the best interests of security because c!Dream told him that the security of the prison is more important than anything else (which, even though we know that c!Dream did have this perspective to some degree, still doesn't eliminate c!Sam's responsibility as the one carrying out the existing protocol and making all of these Big Decisions and Big Changes etc to the prison) -- the decision to let c!Quackity into the prison stomps on all of that. That decision completely goes against not only the letter of the damn law that they established together, but the spirit of what the prison was ever meant to be in the first place. He compromises the security of the prisoner and the prison on the DAILY by letting in someone in full gear! With items! And plays a game with chance with c!Dream's life (and the revive book) every damn day. He hardly had enough of a system in place to keep c!Quackity from taking c!Dream's life, and he was certainly unable to stop c!Quackity from landing what would've been a killing blow on c!Techno before he got tp-ed out, like. He completely fucks over EVERYTHING that Pandora's Vault was meant to be, and that was...entirely his decision. Sure, c!Quackity manipulated him, true, but he was not beholden by any protocol or any element of his duty when he made this choice.

This isn't to say that c!Sam wasn't very much emotionally affected and making clouded judgements--he was! Especially if you factor in the stress of other events such as the Egg, etc. But I hesitate to ascribe any element of c!Sam's...c!Samness in the prison arc as him "cracking under the pressure," so to speak. The implications of mistreatment just start too early and are too calculated for me to say that he was simply reacting badly to stressors. I think he was absolutely trying his best to keep the situation "steady," in a sense, but keeping it steady never meant simply being an emotionless guardian to an impenetrable prison who couldn't cope as everything began piling up--keeping things steady, as early as that first month, meant breaking c!Dream into something docile. That was intentional. That was something he was making an active effort to do. Nor do I think that the claim that c!Sam was simply abiding by protocol holds any water, as I outline above: c!Sam has always acted above the protocol established in the prison to the point where even from the first time we see him acting as Warden during that first damn questionaire a specific point is made that he is the ultimate authority on the grounds of the Vault and his word is law. He acted within protocol when convenient to him and trampled over it when convenient to him, and I feel that people can overemphasize the role that protocol played in the decisions he made the same way that he himself did when he was shifting the blame of his own abusive actions onto c!Dream when he had the power, and always had the power, to amend the protocol established in any way he damn well pleased.

Of course, this isn't to say that the protocol was good. It, uh, wasn't--and plenty of people have criticized c!Dream for them even though the prison, as it ended up being used for his plans, was never anything more than a place for him to put himself because of the danger that the rest of the server presented, a base for him to hide in after the prison arc because of its security measures, and a "just-in-case" measure for them to hold their enemies if need be (which he never actually does, even when given golden opportunities to do so: inconsolable differences and the finale come to mind. Even if we're talking about his saw trap in the finale, the plan was to kill one and let the other go free (????????) while also giving them the exact items that could've easily been the keys to their escapes. after c!Tommy and c!Tubbo kill him. but I digress). But c!Sam goes so damn far beyond the protocol established by the "psychological torture guy" that he literally wasn't even beholden to when he was the Warden of the Vault on account of said guy being his prisoner. I don't really see any arguments about c!Sam's behavior having to do with him being too fallible of a man for the job he was given--he does exactly what he wants to do, how he wants to do it, using the job that gives him the power to do so. It's just that "what he wants to do" is not exactly what c!Dream had in mind when he and c!Sam were coming up with the plans for the prison and the protocol that they worked together to create because what he wants to do is, apparently, own a guy and keep him in his hell box. You know?

(i hope this didn't read too aggressively!)

#my asks !!#c!sam critical #long post #apologies on the essay i just have very strong opinions on the use of protocol to justify what c!Sam does #if c!Sam gave a single damn about protocol we would've seen him actually abide by protocol #and meanwhile this guy won't even use the literal built in security measure of the netherite barrier #to solve the problem of c!dream's 'misbehavior' early in the prison arc #when it literally could've solved ALL OF THEM #(jumping into the lava. throwing the clocks into the lava. trying to use the lava to start a fire to start a nether portal)#but then goes BEYOND protocol to install a goddamn glass wall later on just. because #like ??????????#at the end of the day c!sam's actions aren't in line with what pandora's vault was supposed to be mostly just bc he had a different vision #for the prison and the prisoner #and he's c!sam so he's able to justify any amount of human rights abuses in order to do what he thinks is 'right'#including of course killing and murdering his own romantic partner

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Text

ON YOUR OWN PT. 2

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Request for @d4n1elll4

SUMMARY: Follow up from part 1. Fem! Reader x Minho. Reader x Platonic! Gladers. Movie based fic.

I have a whole ass movie to cover here- so some scenes that aren't important to your character get brushed over. Sorry, this is long enough as is and I have another part to write.

You've escaped the Maze, and with your words of wisdom from Thomas, it's time to survive the Scorch. Which is harder than it looks. But what happens when you over estimate your abilities when no one else is around? At least, you think there isn't.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, awkward teenagers, more dumbass dog, some sexual tension if you squint a bit, Minho has lightning scars, WICKED being WCKD because movie.

Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.

After Thomas' advice, you went and raided the lab and went back to the Middle to get as many supplies as you could- which took an entire day in itself.

But still, that might not have been enough.

Somehow, the Scorch is even more confusing than the Maze. You have no idea where you are or what direction you're actually meant to head in. It would've been nice for Thomas to give you some directions, but it seemed like the boy was on a tight schedule.

It's been a couple of days, and your makeshift piece of wood with some rope attached that you're pulling over your shoulder, is a lot heavier with a lazy German Shepherd on it. Your arm aches and you're running out of water.

This is less than ideal.

Not to mention they call it the Scorch for a reason. The days are unbearably hot and the nights send chills through your body. But you can't stop, especially since you don't have a clue where you're going.

That doesn't mean you're coping well, though. You're exhausted, deciding to pick moving over sleep. You're dehydrated, sleep-deprived, your body hurts and has forgotten how to regulate its own temperature. You feel like you're dying.

And honestly, you might just be.

The blazing sun beats down on you the same way it destroyed half of the planet, and you're starting to regret leaving the Maze.

You're sweating, but feel cold and your head is pounding. You push through as your vision starts to be clouded by dark spots. Though, when your knees go weak and you hit the floor, your options are looking slim. In a desperate attempt, you roll onto your back, grasping for your water bottle, your hearing cuts out as no water comes from the bottle.

Your hand hits the floor as your eyes roll back.

You're one for the vultures now.

Well, not quite.

"Uh, guys?" Frypan says as the group bickers in the background. They'd just lost Winston, and Thomas is being salty about Teresa getting her memories back but not telling him about it whilst Newt and Minho fight over a water bottle. Aris hasn't said anything for the last two hours and doesn't intend on changing that anytime soon. They're definitely not your best shot, but it's all you've got. Not that you're conscious to argue.

"Guys!" He snaps, making the group behind him look at him. "Are you shanks seein' this or am I having a marriage?"

"Do you mean mirage?" Newt chuckles, making his way over to his friend, patting his shoulder as he expects to look out and find absolutely nothing from the top of their sand dune. "Holy shuck," he mumbles, his expression dropping.

"What?" Minho asks as he approaches, Thomas and Aris not far behind him, with Teresa being the last to join.

"Is that... a dog?" Teresa asks.

In the distance, your useless dog has decided to actually do something to help you- aimlessly run around the Scorch to try and find help.

Quest spotted them from a mile away and is making a beeline towards them, barking his little head off.

As the dog gets closer, it stops at the bottom of the mound of sand, and Teresa's face drops. "Holy shit. Quest?"

The boys snap to look at her.

"Quest?" Minho raises his eyebrow. "The shuck is Quest?"

"He is! That's- That's Quest! He's (Y/N)'s dog!" Without giving anymore explanation, she stumbles through the sand, nearly falling over as she rushes to the dog.

"Who the hell is (Y/N)?" Newt asks, just in general. Frypan shrugs, deciding to follow the girl with Thomas hot on his heels and Aris blindly following anyone who moves. Newt goes to join in, but he hesitates when he sees Minho's face.

It's an expression he can't quite put his finger on. It's like that one time someone pointed out that the Grievers were also probably made by the people who were feeding you- like a small piece of the puzzle just fell into place.

"Mate, you good?"

"Hm?" Minho snaps back to reality. "Yeah, I'm good- let's find out why there's a shuckin' mutt in the middle of the damn desert."

Minho starts walking towards Quest but it takes Newt a second to follow.

Something just happened in the Runner's head. And Newt's almost scared to find out what.

In truth, your name sent chills down Minho's spine and a rush of adrenaline through his body. He doesn't understand why- but it was that strange feeling when someone mentions the name of someone you have a crush on when you're not expecting it.

But he'll deal with that later.

"We have to find (Y/N)!" Teresa demands. "She'd never leave Quest on his own!"

"Who the everliving shuck is (Y/N)?" Minho asks as he strides over, looking at Thomas who simply gives him a shrug.

Teresa sighs. "She was one of us- from a Maze. Thomas lied about her dying and basically turned her Maze off- she has to be out here."

"What?" About three boys say at the same time.

Quest barks, not letting her explain further. He spins around, taking a playful stance before starting to run off in the opposite direction.

"C'mon!" Teresa shouts.

"Teresa-!" Thomas lets out a loud and frustrated groan. "We don't have time for this."

The boys feel like they're aimlessly wondering around the Scorch for about twenty minutes as they let this random dog take them on a wild goose chase. But when Teresa suddenly stops, gasping, they realise this might be more serious than they originally thought.

"No," Teresa mumbles, "No! (Y/N)! She runs down another dune, falling to her knees next to your unconscious body.

"What the shuck?" Newt mumbles.

To his surprise, Minho is actually the first to follow her (probably because he hates her guts). It's obvious that Minho is used to the solid concrete of the Maze as he fumbles over himself, the loose texture of the sand making him unbalanced.

Staring at your unconscious body, a strange wave of familiarity smacks him in the face. He knows you. At least, it feels like he does. But he has absolutely no recollection of you whatsoever.

"Minho," Teresa snaps, forcing him out of his trance, "water!" The boy fumbles, passing the ravenette a bottle as she opens your mouth, pouring some in and sitting you up more so you don't choke. She checks your pulse and your breathing. "She's alive." She confirms as the other boys join.

"We need to wait until she wakes up-"

"We need to move, Teresa," Thomas says, "we can't risk everything over this."

"Thomas is right," Newt groans. "We have to move- we can't afford to stay here."

"We can't just leave her," Teresa argues, "you saved her before, Thomas, even if you don't remember it- it was for a reason."

"She's right," Minho agrees, making everyone look at him. In all honesty, his curiosity is driving him more than anything, but the thought of leaving you makes his chest hurt and his fists ball. "We need all the help we can get- and if Teresa knows her, then we all probably did at some point. Besides, if we're gonna pretend to be good guys- this seems like a good place to start."

"Yeah, can't argue with that," Frypan sides with the Runner and then looks at Aris, who simply nods in agreement. Relief crosses both of Teresa's and Minho's faces as they've won the vote.

So, the Gladers set up camp as night starts to fall, with Teresa keeping an eye on you; Quest never leaving your side.

They also steal your food. Compensation, I guess.

You stir awake, your head pounding as you rise up. Quest immediately barks, getting everyone's attention before he starts licking your face.

"Quest, chill, bro," you mumble, trying to push the dog away.

"You're awake," Teresa says, snapping your attention to her. You blink. "You gave us a real scare."

You're lying on the sand, using someone's bag as a pillow as you're surrounded by people. Not only have you seen most of these people in your dreams, but you literally saw Thomas and Teresa on video.

What the actual fuck?

People. There's people. There are actual living people here and talking to you.

Maybe you should pass out more often.

"W-what?" You stutter out, straining to sit up.

"Take it easy," the girl soothes you, "you were out cold for quite a while."

"I-I don't understand," tears start to prick your eyes, "is this real? Am I dreaming?"

"Klunky shuckin' dream if you are," Minho says, gaining the courage to speak to you as he comes to your other side. "Here." He holds a water bottle out to you.

It's him.

Him.

He's here.

You look between him and the bottle. He's even more attractive in person and this weird crush you'd developed for someone you don't even remember speaking to puts you in an interesting situation.

You takes the drink, briefly brushing fingers for a second and it sends a spark down Minho's spine. Okay, what's happening to him here?

"Thanks," he pulls his lips into a thin line in response.

"Your dog brought us to you," Teresa explains. "Do you remember us? At all?"

You blink, considering your words very carefully so you don't sound insane. You open your mouth, but as your eyes flicker to movement, only one word leaves your mouth.

"You," Thomas is stood with his arms crossed, his eyebrows twitching. "Y-you stopped the Maze- you're the reason I escaped."

"Yeah, so I keep being told," he sighs. You tilt your head as you sit up straight.

"You don't remember?"

He shakes his head. "None of us do. Teresa got her memories back, but we didn't."

"What? Why don't you..?" Your voice trails off. "Were you guys from more Mazes?"

Minho almost feels weirdly jealous at the attention Thomas is getting from you. This makes no sense. So, he butts in.

"Me, Thomas, Teresa, Frypan and Newt were all from the same Maze," he explains each person giving you an awkward wave in turn, "and Aris is from a different one."

You look at him, your eyes becoming hollow before they come to your dog. "You guys were together?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

It's like your heart breaks in that moment. These people had each other? Why didn't you have someone? Why were you abandoned?

Minho looks at Newt for advice, who simply shrugs. Great help, thanks, Newt.

He crouches next to you. "You okay?"

You can't even look at him. "They put you guys together? Like you were a group?"

"Yeah," his eyebrows furrow, confusion taking over his expression, "there was like fifty boys in our Maze."

You turn to look at him again. "What?"

"What? What- I don't get it," he pinches his brow, "What's going on here?"

"You guys were together? And all I had was my dog?" Quest seems to sense your unease, resting his head on your crossed legs.

Minho's expression softens, he looks between Thomas and Teresa for help.

"You were on your own?" Thomas asks.

You nod. "Yeah, just me and my dumbass dog." You scoff.

As much as you tried to ignore it and pretend it didn't faze you, and that animals are better anyway, being on your own for so long killed some small part of you. And these guys didn't have to go through that?

There's a long pause. "Wait, hold on, you survived the Maze all on your own?" You look at Minho, who is staring at you like you're the closest thing he's going to get to meeting a God.

"Not like I had much choice," you give him a small smile, and he stands up, mumbling something to himself.

They start to fill you in on what happened with WCKD and that they're currently on the run, and you tell them what Thomas' past self told you.

It's obvious you've not been socially conditioned as you feel very awkward. Though, you and Aris get along pretty well since neither of you came from the Glade.

You sit in front of the fire, Quest sitting next to you as you hold your hands in front of you. You flinch slightly when Minho joins you, clearly yet to adapt to the boy's presence.

"Sorry," he mumbles, awkwardly putting his hands out to show he's no harm but not really sure how to go about that properly. He doesn't day anything else, seemingly just enjoying the warmth as you sit with your knees to your chest.

You have no idea what the appropriate way to act here is.

Do you start a conversation? Is it inappropriate to look at him? What's the right amount of eye contact? How to person good?

"I can't believe they put you in a Maze on your own," thankfully, Minho beats you to it. "You realise how insane that is, right?"

"Not really," you chuckle, "I've never known any different."

"Well, there was like fifty of us, and we're the only people that actually got out alive- and Winston, so..." He trails off, struggling to process it.

Minho spent years of his life protecting and helping the Gladers escape- but he had help. If it weren't for Thomas, Alby, Teresa, Newt, and maybe even Gally to some extent, Minho doubts he would've survived that long.

"Like I said, what choice did I have?"

"Bet it was lonely."

You pause, deciding to play it off instead since you really don't know him- even if it feels that way.

"Nah," you scoff, "I had Quest," you refer to the sleeping dog next to you. "Dumb mutt."

"That dumb mutt saved your ass today."

"Yeah, I know," you sigh. "One hell of a coincidence you guys just happened to be in the Scorch at the same time as me."

"Yeah, well, there's been a lot of coincidences recently- I mean, Thomas was only in the Glade for like three days," he laughs, "I only met the shank like a week ago."

"What? What's a shank?" You look at him, resting your head on your knees, and something about the way you look at him makes his stomach flip.

"It's uh, well-" he clears his throat, composing himself, "I don't really know. It's just like an insult, I guess."

"So, you guess have your own slang? That's kinda fun."

"Yeah, Alby would shout at us if we actually swore- he was like an old man."

"Alby?"

Minho goes quiet for a second. "Yeah, he- he was my boss, I guess. First Greenie in the Glade and he basically ran the joint. He sacrificed himself to save us."

You guess that's the benefit of being on your own- no grief. You can't attend the funerals of people you were never introduced to.

"He sounds like a good man."

Minho smiles softly. "Yeah, he was. Lost a lotta good people."

"I'm sorry you went through that," his eyes flicker to you, and you're surprised when he playfully nudges you.

"You, too."

The group decides to sleep, you included. The fire is put out and you all lie in the sand. Quest curls up next to you, and you've not fully recovered from your exhausted body, so sleep comes easy enough.

Though, Minho's wide awake. He sits on the ground, his eyes fixated on you.

"Alright," Newt groans, "what's goin' on in your shuckin' head?"

"What?" Minho looks to the blond, who's now resting on his elbows as he's lay down.

"You're actin' weird, dude- you like the new girl or some klunk?"

Minho drops his head, scoffing. "Shit, I was joking," Newt snorts when his friend doesn't respond.

"I mean, she is cute," Minho grins, turning into a chuckle when Newt's eyebrows raise.

"She looks like a corpse."

"Yeah, 'cause she nearly was one." Minho defends you before sighing. "But, no- I mean, I don't know. It's weird, she feels... familiar, almost. Like I used to know her." He hesitates. "Like we used to be close."

Newt processes this for a second. It's rare for Minho to be so unsure of himself. "Well, Teresa knows her, so I don't think that'd be that far-fetched."

"Yeah, I guess," the Runner mumbles.

"Get some sleep, shank- I ain't dealing with your grumpy ass in the morning," Newt tells him and Minho rolls his eyes, but reluctantly lies down.

None of you actually get much sleep thanks to Thomas.

"Guys! Guys!" He scrambles, shoving anyone close enough to get attacked.

"Ugh, what?" Someone responds.

"Get up! Get up! Frypan! Aris! Get up. I see something! You see that?" Thomas points off into the distance, lights flickering as the faint outline of a city skyline is just about visibly through the thick grey of dawn. You all scramble to your feet. "It's lights."

"We made it," Minho lets out a sigh of relief, which is cut short when the crackling of thunder turns you all around.

Deep grey clouds loom nearby, the darkness only broken up by blinking flashing of lightning.

"Let's go. We gotta go," Thomas says. "Come on!"

Panic sets in relatively quickly as everyone stumbles to get their bags and belongings. Not fully recovered from the previous day, you stumble, dropping some stuff from your (poor) luggage attempt.

"Shit," you hiss, dipping to grab some bags of food and water bottles.

Quest barks, and Minho turns to find you on your hands and knees, desperately trying to collect your belongings.

He grabs your arm, pulling you up. "Leave it! We'll find supplies in the city, we gotta go!"

He gives you very little choice but to go with him. He yanks you towards him, pushing you forward as you start to break into a sprint, merging with the rest of the group.

Booking it through the Scorch, you come across a parking lot with what looks to be an old factory building attached. You'll be able to escape the storm there.

That's until there's a blinding light to your left and Minho is thrown several feet, landing on the concrete with a thud.

A few of you are knocked down, you and Thomas included as ringing shatters through your skull. You groan, looking around. Thomas seems conscious, but the other boy is out cold.

You're on your feet in seconds as a strange feeling of almost heart break and pure panic takes over.

"Minho!" You shout, desperately trying to pull him up. "Help him!" You yell despite not being able to hear your own voice after being briefly deafened.

Thomas is the first to help you, and for a brief second you lock eyes. You don't know why you're crying- but you are. Tears pour down your face as your vision is blurred, but with the help of Thomas, and now Newt and Aris, you're able to get him up.

Frypan found a door into the building and is shouting you all to follow, but you're having some kind of emotional breakdown and Quest is getting in the way of your feet.

You've... never cried before?

Even back in the Maze, you never shed a tear. You just kind of got mad and hit things, and then got over it and went on with your day. Maybe it was because you never had to deal with the emotional attachments of other people, but all it took was Minho getting hurt for your tough act to crack.

Plowing into the dark room and slamming to the door behind you, Thomas tells you to put Minho down before turning on a tourch.

"Minho!" Thomas shakes his friend. The room is briefly filled with people exclusively saying his name.

"Move," you push Thomas out of the way, pressing your fingers to the unconscious boys throat, trying to find a pulse. Leaning in to check his breathing, you're startled when he suddenly groans.

Lifting his head, he makes eye contact with you and visible relief washes over him.

Oh, God, you're close. He lean back again, giving him room to breathe as he tries to process what the hell just happened?

"What happened?" He grumbles.

"You got struck by lightning." Newt says, bluntly after a pause.

"Oh."

The boys chuckle amongst themselves and you shake your head.

For some reason, you playfully punch Minho in the arm as he gets him. "You nearly gave me a fuckin' heart attack."

It's a simple gesture, really, but it's unusual for someone you've just met- but it's almost natural, like you've known him your whole life. I guess in a way, it does feel like that for you.

"Sorry," he mumbles, chuckling as he's fully on his feet. "Thanks, guys." He grins at his friends, who give a mix of rolling eyes and friendly pats.

"Hey," Teresa gets the group's attention, clearly not as concerned about Minho's well-being as the others, "what's that smell?"

She turns her light on and is nearly immediately attacked by a Crank. She jumps back, screaming, but the Crank hits the floor, restrained by chains, in its desperate attempt to get to her.

"Behind you!" Teresa yells and you're suddenly yanked back again. Minho pulls you behind him as Quest stands in front of him, seemingly protecting him, too.

Pure chaos ensues as the group screams and shouts, and between the blur of lights and being stuck in the middle of the huddle, you can't really make out what's going on.

"I see you've met our guard dogs," an unfamiliar voice says as yellow light bleeds into the room. Peaking from behind Minho, you watch a short-haired girl make her way through the crowd of chained up Cranks.

"Stay back!" Minho shouts, his arm coming out in front of you as you stand on your tip-toes, unintentially pressing your front into his back.

Minho is still a dumb hormonal teenage boy, so that's definitely grounds for his brain to go fuzzy- but he can't afford to get distracted here.

"You guys look like shit," the girl says, almost jokingly. "Come on. Follow me. Unless you wanna stay here with them."

You all exchange concerned glances, but no one moves as the girl walks off.

"For fuck's sake," you mumble, pushing through the boys. "We can't stay here- c'mon."

Your independence comes out as you take the lead, Thomas jogging to catch up to you but careful to avoid being shredded by what used to be people. Your options are slim, and you know who you'd rather deal with- they just decided to follow.

The girl leads you in the factory, which looks like it's been turned into a refugee camp.

"Come on, keep up." She instructs. "Jorge wants to meet you."

Leading you up some stairs, Thomas finally speaks. "Who's Jorge?" He pushes in front of you, Teresa by his side. So you fall back, walking between Minho and Newt, with Frypan next to Newt.

"You'll see. No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time- you've just got him curious." She pauses, looking over her shoulder to look Thomas up and down. "Me, too."

You look at Minho, who smirks slightly as he looks back at you before both of you look at Newt, who is wearing a similar expression- especially when Teresa's face drops. The three of you have to try not to laugh. This could be funny, and apparently Thomas is a chick magnet.

I mean, look at him; you can't really blame them. (Don't tell Minho).

But the amusement is short-lived when Newt looks behind him and there's a group of men, looking like they want to eat you all alive. Minho grabs your wrist, pulling you in front of him just a little bit as Quest keeps close to your side.

"Anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?" Newt asks, noticing the way Minho's keeping you close and the way you all just interacted sending alarm bells off in his head. Maybe Minho wasn't tripping before- you do feel familiar.

"Let's just hear him out," Thomas looks back at you guys, "see what he has to say."

Going up another set of industrial stairs, you entire a large office room with a giant dome window that is covered in rust.

"Jorge," the girl gets the attention of a man fiddling with a radio, "They're here." She sits on an old sofa and appears bored whilst Jorge mutters to himself.

He turns around, hands on his hips and sighing. "Do you ever get the feeling the whole world's against you?"

You all exchange glances before he continues.

"Three questions: where did you come from? Where are you going? How can I profit?" No one says anything as you realise Newt was probably right. "Don't all answer at once."

"We're headed for the mountains," Thomas offers an answer, "looking for the Right Arm."

The men behind you snicker and even Jorge scoffs, taking a sip from his drink.

"Looking for ghosts, you mean. Question number two; where did you come from?"

"That's our business," Minho spits out as you stand by his side.

Jorge shrugs, and it's probably a signal because you're all immediately restrained.

Thomas is screaming for them to get off of him as the girl grabs a device, forcing his head down and scanning the back of his neck. "Shut up, you big baby."

The machine beeps. "What is that?" Thomas manages to shove her away, his breathing laboured.

The girl looks at the device and then at Jorge, who puts his glasses on. "You were right," she says.

"Right about what?" You snap, your hands being held behind your back by a guy twice your size as another one pins Quest's head to the floor. "What's she talking about?"

You get out of the man's grip, but that's because they all seem to let you all go- even Quest, who you're quick to grab and force to your side.

You have the urge to protect these guys, and you've survived the Maze on your own- so you don't see these guys as a real threat.

"I'm sorry, hermano," Jorge scoffs, "looks like you're tagged- you came from WCKD. Which means you're very valuable."

And that is how you ended up hanging from a ceiling, your dog in a cage made of chicken wire on the side, and a looming pit of darkness beneath you.

"Good plan, Thomas," Minho's sarcasm echos through the room, "just hear what the man has to say. Really working out for us."

"Shut up, Minho," Thomas groans as you chuckle. "Maybe a can reach the rope."

You watch in some form of second-hand embarrassment as Thomas fails to fold on himself and looks like a poor excuse for a gymnast before giving up.

"Enjoying the view?" Jorge approaches.

"The hell do you want?" Thomas is clearly done with his shit and you can't blame him.

"That is the question," he scoffs. "My men wants to sell you back to WCKD. Life has taught them to think small. I'm not like that. Something tells me that you're not either."

"Is it the blood rushing to my head, or is this shank not making any sense?"

"Minho," you warn him, "Shut up, man."

"Tell me what you know about the Right Arm," Jorge continues like you guys never spoke.

"I thought you said they were ghosts," Newt butts in, earning a glare.

"I happen to believe in ghosts. Especially when I hear them chattering on the airwaves." He moves over to a lever, resting his hand on it. "You tell me what you know, and maybe we can make a deal."

"We- we don't know much," Thomas starts, but he gets little chance to continue when you all drop several feet. "Okay! Okay! Alright! They're hiding in the mountains. And they attacked WCKD. They got out a buncha kids. That's it, that's all we know!"

The man goes to speak, only to be cut off when someone else appears.

"Yo, Jorge, what's going on?"

"Me and my new friends were just getting acquainted- we're done now."

"Hey, wait- you're not gonna help us?" Thomas sounds desperate.

"Don't worry, hermano, we'll get you back to where you belong." He walks away, shouting "hang tight" over his shoulder.

And you're left hanging.

Quite literally.

So, you kind of make a plan- shove Teresa as hard as you collectively can so she can reach the side. Which mainly consists of Minho struggling and you being bumped into.

Though eventually, you manage.

It's a small victory that doesn't last long when you hear a voice over a loud speaker, accompanied by a helicopter. The group seems to recognise this and goes into panic mode.

Through trail and error, you all manage to get pulled to the sides, and this guy monologues in the background. You also get your dog free.

"Okay, let's go! Let's go!" Thomas' favourite phrase as you go to escape, only to be blocked by the guy from before. "We're not tryna cause any trouble, okay? We just gotta get outta here."

"Is that so? Janson, I got 'em for ya, I'll being them down- don't shoot us. Come on, let's go."

You're standing next to Thomas as the man holds a rifle in front of him. You have an idea, and it's dumb but as you look at Thomas, you realise these guys have probably survived on dumb ideas.

"I said, let's go."

You grab the barrel of the gun, a bullet flying out and narrowly missing you as you get into a wresting match. Slamming your head into his nose, there's a cracking noise as he falls backwards.

He gets to his feet relatively quickly, gun still in hand, aiming to kill.

And a gunshot goes off.

But not from him.

He falls to the floor with a thud, the girl from before standing behind him, holding a pistol. All of you stare at her.

"Okay, come on. Come on! Let's go!"

You, once again, take the lead, following the girl through the factory. "Sorry," you mumble, I didn't catch your name."

"Brenda," she says, simply. "You?"

"(Y/N)."

"It's nice to meet you, (Y/N)- you've got fire, kid, I like it."

"Thanks?"

"Your dog's also cute."

"Oh, thanks."

She leads you to Jorge, who has a lot of bags and quickly ushers you all through the building. Shoving a window open, he reveals a zip line.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Frypan mumbles and you have to agree with him.

Jorge gives some words about getting you to the Right Arm but you're too busy worrying about getting Quest on a zip line.

"Follow me!" He shouts, whizzing off to another building.

"Okay, come on!" Brenda shouts, yanking another piece of rope.

"Wait, what about-?"

"I got him," Minho threads his legs though the loop, and then leans down to pick up the dog with a surprising amount of ease. Quest isn't exactly small. He hooks him under one arm and uses the other to hold on as Brenda pushes him forward.

Aris goes next, then you follow.

"Holy shit!" You shout as you cling on for dear life, not having time for the same safety precautions that Minho did with the loop trick.

"I got you!" Minho shouts as you draw closer. "I got you!"

You practically collide into his open arms as he steadies you, letting go of the rope, you throw your arms around him. Squealing slightly and stumbling, you both somehow manage to end up on your feet.

"You okay?" He asks as you pull away, his hands coming to your shoulders.

You swallow. "Yeah, yeah I'm okay- I'm okay."

He nods. "Okay." Your eyes lock for a second, and all you want to do is throw your arms back around him and let him comfort you about this stressful situation.

Quest barks, jumping up on you and distracting you from the boy. Though, you glance at Minho again. "Thank you." You're clearly referring to the dog, who you might actually die without.

"Don't worry about it."

Teresa's screams bring back to reality for a second time. Both you and Minho go to grab her.

"You okay?" You let her grab at you but she doesn't say anything, immediately turning around.

"No," she mumbles.

"What's wrong?" Newt asks, stepping forward after witnessing whatever just happened with you and his best friend.

"Brenda ran off and Thomas went after her-"

"What?" Jorge steps forward. "Shit."

"Uh, guys," Frypan leans out of a different window, pointing down as WCKD's guards swarm the building.

"Shit," Jorge says again before collecting himself. "Okay, we need to go."

"What?" Newt steps in. "We can't just leave them!"

"We have no choice, hermano- Brenda knows her way out."

"We can't leave Thomas," Teresa steps in front of the man, blocking him from moving.

"Brenda will keep him safe, we can't stay here or-"

He's cut off by the sound of a massive explosion. You shield your face as chunks of debris fly through the open window. The building is turned into rubble and flames, smoking billowing into the night sky.

"What did you do?" Teresa shouts, snapping her attention back to Jorge. "What did you do?!"

"They'll be fine- we'll find them in the city. We need to go- now!"

Jorge rushes off, giving you all very little choice but to follow him.

Making your way through the building, the WCKD personnel are too busy dealing with the burning building to even notice you slipping away.

I mean, they still think you're dead so that's probably a good thing.

You keep running for what feels like miles until you end up in the city. It's almost deserted, towering abandoned buildings trap you in and faint chattering beyond what you can see. It's unnerving, but you stay close.

"We have to find Marcus- he's an old friend that used to have connections to the Right Arm. Brenda will be looking for him as well. We find him, we find your friend."

"Wait, Marcus?" You jog to catch up with Jorge. "Thomas told me to find him."

"Thomas told you that? So, he didn't tell me everything."

"No, WCKD took his memories- he told me in a recording, he doesn't remember anything about it."

Jorge stops, raising his eyebrow as he looks at you, before he hums. "Okay, hermano, we'll set up came for the night. There's no point trying to find Marcus now."

You all reluctantly agree, picking a spot under the damaged bridge, you take a breather.

You sit with Quest, leaning against the wall behind you. You tried talking to Teresa, but you didn't get anywhere with that. She's been acting weird, but you can assume that's because Thomas is currently missing with some random girl.

Minho walks over to you, standing in front of you. "How you feeling? You've been quiet."

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" You scoff. "You got knocked out by pure electricity like three hours ago."

"Eh, bit achey, but I'll live." He stretches and you rolls your eyes, but your eyes lock on his exposed mid-drift. Not because it's hot (well, it is but that's not it) but because of the spider web like lines stretching across his lower stomach.

"Uh, Minho?" You blink as he drops his arms again.

"Yeah?"

"Lift your shirt up."

He freezes, blinking at you. It doesn't help that the other boys are within earshot. "What?"

"Just..." You stand up, "just lift your shirt up- I think I'm tripping."

He furrows his brows, but does as he's told.

Exposing his abs, he reveals his chiselled form, but also the pinkish, exposed vein patterns that curl from around his back and come around the edges of his front, some cutting completely across his skin. Which is what you noticed.

"What the shuck?" He mumbles. In a fumble, he dumps his jacket off and yanks his shirt over his head.

He turns around, exposing the larger and more feathered patterns that stretch across his back.

"Holy shit," mindlessly, you move towards him, touching his back and making him jump. "Dude- you've got lightning scars."

Traving your finger down his spine, goosebumps cover his body and his arm hair pricks up.

"I- you, I- what?" He clears his throat. "Lightning scars?" He turns to face you, looking down as he examines his own arms. "Shit."

He looks over at his friends, who are yet to move. Frypan, Newt and Teresa seem more interested in how this pans out than their friend being permanently scarred. Jorge and Aris don't want to be involved.

"They look kinda cool," he looks back up at you, starting to feel flustered under your admiring gaze as you stare at his body.

"I, uh- thanks?" You snort, sitting back down.

Minho puts his shirt back on, but doesn't bother with the jacket. He flops next to you, groaning.

"Well, shuck it- guess that's something I have to deal with now."

"As long as they don't hurt, they're not really a problem though, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

You settle into a comfortable silence, the other's start to go to sleep, but neither of you really make an attempt to. It's smart for someone to stay awake anyway, and you'd rather not do it on your own.

"Okay," Minho clears his throat after a while, finally gaining some courage after thinking about it for so long, "this is gonna sound weird, okay?"

You furrow your brows, but nod. "Okay."

"Okay, so, I uh, I think... I know you." You blankly look at him. "Yeah, I know, I don't get it, but you feel... familiar. I just, I feel like I know you, like we're close, in some way." His head falls into his hands. "The shuck am I even saying?"

"I used to have dreams about you." You state pretty bluntly. "Well, memories, I guess." If you're going to be honest, this might as well be the time. Especially since Minho is being open with you.

"What? What do you mean?"

"We were... friends? I guess. I don't really know. But I'd have these dreams about you, and the others and we'd be in this lab. All of it was pretty mundane and nothing really of note- you were just in pretty much all of them. Half of the time we were just chilling, or playing some game or talking about something." You shrug. "I guess my memory wipe didn't work as well as other people's."

"That's..."

"Weird, right?"

"Yeah," he scoffs, "I didn't even have any memory-dream-things. It's just a feeling. I can't explain it."

Another round of silence settles, and you laugh to yourself, making him give you a puzzled look. "I think I used to have a crush on you."

He blinks at you.

Why the fuck did you say that? Oh, yes, very subtle- like you totally don't still have a weird crush on him.

A grin spreads across his face.

"You had a crush on me?" You face starts to burn.

"Well, I uh, I think so- I mean I could feel things in those dreams- wait, no, not feel things that sounds weird. I just mean I could feel my last self's feelings, so I could feel my own feelings, I guess. That makes no sense, I uh- I'm not weird, I promise."

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. "That's cute."

"Shut up," you playfully shove him.

"Nah, it is." He smiles at you. "So, you still got a thing for me or...?" You shove him again, harder this time.

"Dude, shut up."

"I'm only asking."

"Why do you wanna know?"

"'Cause I do."

You hesitate, feeling your face grow redder. You shrug. "I uh, I don't know- I mean, you're hot, dude. But I don't even know who I am, yanno?"

"Yeah, I get you," he pauses, "so you think I'm hot?"

"Bro," he snorts again.

"Look, I don't think it really matters if we know who we are- but if we know how we feel, then that's as close as I think we're ever gonna get. I mean, we've got this far, right?"

He stares off into the city, internally dealing with these feelings himself.

You shift slightly, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek. Minho freezes before turning to look at you. "What was that for?"

"You're right. And thank you, for looking out for me I guess. It's nice not having to be on my own and fend for myself for a change."

A soft smile creeps across his face. "So, you do still have a thing for me, then?"

"Shut up," it comes out as more a mutter than anything else as his hand comes up to your face.

"I'll take that as a yes," his nose brushes against yours. You lean forward, kissing him. It's a sweet kiss and it doesn't last very long.

You pull away, resting your head on his shoulder. For the first time ever, you feel actually kind of content.

"Oi, lovebirds, wake up," Jorge kicks you awake.

You didn't even realise that you'd fallen asleep, but you're both sat upright against the wall, your head still on Minho's shoulder, his head resting on top of yours and Quest sprawled across your outstretched legs.

You groan, your movement stirring Minho awake too.

"We gotta move, hermano, get up." You and Minho exchange glares before you make Quest move, getting up and offering Minho a hand.

You're on the move fairly quickly. You walk with Teresa and Aris, chuckling to yourself as you listen to Frypan and Newt tease Minho about you.

Eventually, you reach a building. It looks like a party that was in full swing about an hour ago, but now half the people are passed out and the other half are slurring their words and looking very lost.

All of you creep into the room, and you spot Brenda, who is trying to wake up an unconscious Thomas.

"Uh, Jorge?" He looks at you, and you vaguely point in the general direction.

Brenda and Jorge reunite and he instructs Brenda to take you all upstairs, Minho, Newt and Frypan having to carry Thomas.

And Jorge said he had to deal with something and would meet you up there.

You, however, did not expect him to return with a beaten up bloodied stranger that he tied to a chair.

Who is Marcus, apparently.

You leave Jorge to deal with that and join Minho and Newt as they watch Teresa caress Thomas' face.

They exchange glances. "How romantic," Minho whispers, sending Newt into a fit of repressed giggles. You elbow him. "What?" He grins at you.

"Don't be dick."

"What? It is romantic." You give him a deadpan expression. "You don't want me to gently stroke your face?"

"Try it and I will bite you."

"Please don't."

"Hey, hey, you're okay," Teresa says, bringing your attention back to Thomas as he rises up, groaning. "Hi," she smiles, "we have to stop meeting like this."

And suddenly you understand why they were making fun of her.

Minho walks over, leaning over Teresa. "Welcome back, you ugly shank."

Thomas gets up, processing the scene in front of him as he joins you and Newt. "Looks like you've been having fun," the blond boy says.

You walk over to Minho, taking no interest in the violence and honestly being pleased you don't have to deal with this on your own- like the original plan when you escaped.

Minho casually puts his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Apparently, he has no problem with PDA. "You really think this guy knows where the Right Arm is?" He asks you and you shrug.

"It's not like we have any other option, really."

He hums in response. "I guess."

You all cringe as you watch Jorge give Marcus a piece of his mind, resulting in him kicking the man in the chest, sending him flying and stealing his car keys.

So, you ended up in some random man's career driving into the mountains. You, Minho and Frypan got into a massive fight about riding shot gun, so much so that you missed Newt taking the seat before any of you got the chance.

So, obviously you then got into an argument about who got to sit next to the window.

Minho won.

And you ended up sitting between him and Aris, with Thomas, Teresa and Brenda in the very back. Which seemed very awkward and you felt bad for Frypan- who also ended up there.

Quest decided to sit on Minho so he could stick his head out of the window. Minho regretted his decision pretty quick after that.

You were thriving, however.

The drive is surprisingly peaceful, and it gives you the opportunity to talk to Aris more.

Though, when the car slows down due to a pile of vehicles in the road, none of you really have to say anything when you get out. Silently walking through the graveyard of transport, it becomes apparent that driving anywhere past this point is unlikely.

Then the gun shots start.

You dive behind a car with Minho and Newt as the group lets out numerous shouts along the lines of "get down" and "take cover".

"Does anyone know where those bloody shots came from?" Newt shouts once it's confirmed you're all okay.

"You okay?" Minho asks you, his voice low as he pets Quest. You nod in response as he take your hand into his.

Another round of gunfire.

"Everybody! Get set to run back to the truck! And cover your ears!" Jorge shouts, making the three of you look at each other. Well, that can't be good.

Two girls appear, forcing Thomas to drop whatever weapon he has and making you all get to your feet, shouting demands at you.

That's until they recognise Aris. You lean the girls are called Harriet and Sonya, and they have a nice reunion that leaves you all confused.

It's been a weird few days.

"Uh.. what's happening?" Minho asks for you all.

"We were in the Maze together," Aris explains.

Harriet whistles before shouting. "We're clear, guys! Come on out!"

People start to appear at the mountain tops, and before you know it, you're following these two girls through the mountains.

You get into another set of cars as they take you to the Right Arm base, which is a pretty big camp.

Harriet and Sonya give you all a run down of what's going on here- which is when you meet Vince.

He seems skeptical at first, which gets ten times worse when Brenda collapses and he threatens to shoot her. Though, a lady comes through revealing that Thomas actually released the location of all WCKD locations to the Right Arm.

So, she takes Thomas and Brenda away to give her a Flare buffer.

You stick with the boys, since you don't know anyone else, and end up chilling with them on a hill. Teresa vanishes and Aris goes to catch up with Harriet and Sonya.

"So," Frypan clears his throat as you sit on the ground, playing with Quest as he tries to get a stick you've found, "are you two like... together?"

Both you and Minho pause, looking at each other. And then, in sync, you both shrug, which then causes a wave of laughter.

"Do you wanna be together? We didn't exactly have that conversation," he asks you.

"Sure," you says simply.

"Cool," he turns to Frypan and grins, "I've got a shuckin' girlfriend."

Newt snorts. "We've been out of the Glade for a couple of days and you've bagged a girl?"

"What can I say? I'm just smooth."

"You're full of shit, Minho," you say, making the boys laugh.

"What? I am smooth."

"You almost had a panic attack when I touched your back."

The Gladers lose it. They're literally crying laughing as Minho desperately tries to defend himself.

The conversation progresses naturally, and it's moments like these that you wish you could've had in the Maze. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad then.

After a bit, Thomas finds you.

"I wish Alby could've seen all this," Newt says, having a sentimental moment.

"And Winston," Frypan adds.

"And Chuck." Thomas says as he looks down at a small wooden figure.

"He'd be proud of you, yanno, Tommy," Newt gives his friend a reassuring smile.

Frypan shouts Aris, who waves back, making you smile. "I kinda like that kid."

"Yeah," Minho says sarcastically, "still don't trust him though." You playfully shove him before he throws an arm over your shoulder, making Thomas and Newt smirk at each other.

It isn't every day they get to see Minho actually happy.

Thomas goes off to find Teresa, leaving you all to your own company once again as darkness starts to fall.

That's when it goes wrong.

You watch as Quest's ear perk up, making you look into the sky as you hear the buzzing of helicopters.

"Uh, guys," you stand up, the boys doing the same as one of them flies towards camp.

"(Y/N)! Get down!" Minho dives into you as a missile strikes the camp, sending fire and debris everywhere.

You scramble back to your feet. Watching the suffering and chaos unfolding, your legs move beneath you- these people need help.

"(Y/N)- shit!" Minho and the others follow you, running down the hill and joining Vince as he shoots from a machine gun.

You send Quest away, you trained him in the Maze to hide if needed- and if you don't get out of this, he could probably survive for months on the food left.

He passes Minho a gun, who is actually surprisingly capable of using it. Harriet also gives you a weapon, and you start shooting, too.

"Nice shot, babe."

"We are not going to be one of those couples that calls each other babe."

"Noted."

"Look out!" Newt shouts before a granade goes off, electricity completely paralysing you.

You're rounded up in the centre like cattle, forced on your knees in a line as a guard scans people's necks.

"A5, A6, A7," he scans your neck, pausing. "Uh, Sir?"

"What?" The silver haired man, who you're assuming is Janson, responds.

"This just says... X?"

Janson looks at the guard before his gaze falls to you.

"Well, (Y/N), aren't you meant to be dead?"

"Bet you'd like that, eh?" He grimaces.

The guard confirms that they'd rounded up pretty much everyone, and then Janson asks the question. "Where's Thomas?"

"Right here."

Thomas approaches with his arms up, and is swiftly punched in the stomach and forced to join the rest of you.

"Why didn't you run?" Minho asks him as you sit between the boys.

"I'm tired of running."

You watch as a Berg flies over head, its bright lights blinding you as it comes to land. The doors open, revealing a group of guards and Ava Paige.

She stops to talk to Janson, and then they start forcing people onto the Berg.

She comes to talk to Thomas, and then Teresa joins her side.

"What the hell?" Frypan says. "Teresa?"

"Wait, what's going on?" Newt asks.

"She's with them," Thomas explains bluntly, his voice full of pain as Minho looks at you.

You swallow. The boys would've never found you if Teresa hadn't have gone out of her way to save you.

"Since when?" Minho asks.

"Oh," Janson butts in, "Teresa's always had an evolved appreciation of the greater good. Since we restored her memories, it was only a matter of time."

"I'm sorry," she says, "I has no choice. This is the only way- we have to find a cure."

"She's right. This is all just a means to an end. You used to understand that, Thomas. No matter what you think of me, I am not a monster; I'm a doctor I swore an oath to find a cure. No matter the cost. I just need more time."

"More blood," the woman from before says from behind you.

"Hello, Mary," Ava greets her, "I hoped we'd meet again. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"I'm sorry about a lot of things, too- but not this. At least my conscience is clear."

"So is mine."

A gunshot rings out as a bullet flies into Mary, leaving Vince screaming and grasping at her. Ava commands that people move as Janson puts his gun away.

Then Thomas elbows a guard in the face and pulls out a bomb.

Everyone goes into panic mode, with Teresa begging him to stop. "Thomas, please stop. I made a deal with them, they promised we'd be safe. All of us."

"And I'm supposed to trust you now?"

"It's true- it was her only condition." Ava interjects. She continues to try and convince him, with Janson even joining in.

But you'd rather die here than go with them. Moving towards the boy, the others follow.

"We're with you, Thomas," Newt says.

"Do it, Thomas," Minho says as he slips his fingers between yours.

"We're ready," Frypan agrees and Thomas looks at you.

You nod.

"We're not going back there, it's the only way."

Ava screams Thomas' name as he goes to press the trigger, only the be stopped by a loud beeping noise.

A truck slams into the side of one of the helicopters, sending debris flying as you all dive to the floor.

In the truck, Quest is with Jorge. So, two treats for Quest for getting help again, I guess.

A guard goes to attack Thomas and he lets off the explosive, diving to safety before getting knocked by Janson.

Who is promptly shot down by Brenda.

You all scramble, Minho finding a gun as you retreat to safety. Hiding behind a box, Minho stands guard.

And then he's shot. The shock of the Launcher leaves him defenseless.

"Minho!" You scream, both you and Thomas trying to get to the boy as he's dragged away, whilst the Gladers try and hold you back and keep you safe.

You're dragged backwards, watching them as they take Minho with them and the doors of the Berg closing, with him inside.

Gone.

The real damage is shown when morning comes.

The camp is destroyed and Vince makes plans to move you all to the Safe Haven.

You sit with Quest, listening in.

"I'm not going with you," you state.

"What?" Vince asks you.

"I'm going to find Minho- I've dealt with worse shit on my own. I'm going after him."

"She's right," Thomas nods at you. "I made a promise to Minho that I wouldn't leave him behind, I'm going after him, too."

The others try and talk you down, but it doesn't work, Jorge saying it's like suicide.

But Thomas has he mind made up, and so do you.

You're going to get him, even if it's on your own.

Bro omg this took so long. Ik the pacing is probably completely wack, but there were scenes that writing them fully out would take up even more space and my tumblr is already bugging out over this.

Part three should be out at some point soon, but we shall see if I stick to that.

I hope you kind of enjoyed lmao :)

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #tmr imagines #minho tmr x reader #minho maze runner #the maze runner

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just-a-fragment · 1 year

Text

I feel like we don't praise SS enough for how they handled YSA's character.

Sure her role kinda falls off in the later chapters but her character arcs are *chefs kiss*

She was initially introduced as a potential love interest like in most action/fantasy novels but then she was just a friend, a co-worker that turned into a friend and their dynamics as a co-worker is something unique to both of them, and for a while it's what kept both of them sane and in that moment they knew each other the best. And honestly the whole library scene could've been a perfect set up for sangah getting a tragic ending, ik it was probably always meant to be that kdj got such a "tragic ending" (only talking abt the inital ending cuz i believe he comes back in the epilogue but anyways) due to the amount of foreshadowing the novel has, but like in another novel both of them couldve met a tragic demise or sangah honestly could've sacrificed herself for him if it was written by any other author where orv has a romance as a subgenre.

But because SS wrote ORV the way they did, she doesn't get a tragic ending, her tragedies weren't just for the sake of being tragic that most writers usually give to characters that were introduced as "a nice person". Her tragedies were more due to how her potential is constantly hindered, her tragedies isn't just for the sake of tragedy but because the system itself is inherently gruesome.

It was never about how she had to toughen up or admonish all her morals, it was never about her, her femininity, her talents. It was about how she was constantly undermined by the people around her and how it's incredibly harder to maintain that sense of self under a cruel system. But she did anyways because SS wrote her with such nuance. They easily could've gone the typical nice girl to girlboss route and it would've been fine with how they write female characters. But subversing a subversion makes her so much moreee complex. I love her

#orv #orv spoilers #yoo sangah #singnshong #SS the goats #ysa meta

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total-drama-brainrot · 3 months

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out of the three (four? if you wanna include ridonculous race) noah appeared in, which one do you think noah could have won if he cared about the competition

hot take; none of them.

he did care about the competition (at least somewhat) in the first season and it was objectively his worst. in island, he was too blinded by his own hubris to consider the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, isolating himself in a socially driven competition. he was standoffish and rude, which would've been fine if he hadn't outright directed negative attention to himself with his comments AND refusal to participate in the dodgeball challenge, and he offered little in terms of both teamwork and team utility anyway. so being voted out early was a given, and a much needed wake-up call for him.

he didn't compete in season 2, but if he did i doubt he'd make it to the finale. i'd like to say he'd make it pretty far into action- both because action has a lot more technology and media references, which noah could play to his advantage as both an established nerd and a canonical hacker (though these aspects of him are mostly delegated to his biographies/interviews outsode of the show itself), and because we know he does learn from his mistakes in season 1 so he'd try to be a better teammate (like he does in season 3). but i truly and honestly don't think he'd stand a chance against powerhouses like courtney and duncan, or have even a smidge of beth and owen's in-competiton social game/likability, so he'd eventually be voted out.

and in season 3, as much as i disagree with the amazons winning the challenge, getting rid of noah there and then was the right play from a narrative standpoint. because, at the end of the day, he's a filler character. he doesn't have any engaging plotlines of his own to warrant keeping him around, and his only real use from a writing standpoint is to make snide comments and witty one-liners; when the remaining cast all have at least one subplot going for them, and you need to 'thin the herd', you get rid of the deadweight characters first.

by world tour, i believe he's only competing for the sake of it, and he doesn't really care about winning or losing; if anything i'd say he only went along with the celebrity manhunt bus chase because he was supposed to stay with chris/the total drama crew, and since he was fired from being chris' assistant he didn't have anything better to do (he's always been a passive character, so going along with the crowd for curiosities sake is very much something he would do).

but if he did care?

i think he'd make it to early merge. a noah who cares about the competition would try to take down alejandro for the sake of his own survivability (after all, how long is it going to be until team victory is gone and alejandro turns on his own teammates as his next targets?) thus making himself plot relevant enough to keep around- maybe even allying himself with heather to do so. but alejandro, whilst not as smart as noah, is far more savvy and capable than him, and their 'rivalry' would end in noah being voted out.

or maybe he'd embrace his villain-coding (watch island again and tell me he isn't villain-coded. he does a "mwu-ha-ha" laugh and says "excellent." he's so campy bond antagonist coded in island) and ally himself with alejandro to garuntee his survivability, helping him weed out the competition as a right-hand man. eventually, alejandro would discard noah- either because noah would refuse to help him eliminate owen, or because they'd make their way far enough into the competition that noah becomes less of an ally and more of a threat and have him eliminated accordingly. because noah might be the villain, but alejandro's the archvillain.

that, and i think the finalists of each season are already the best picks from their rosters. i wouldn't change any of them to give one sarcastic twink the chance of winning.

(i haven't seen ridonculous race but i'm fairly certain caring about the competition is part of his character arc in it? he comes in guns blasing and then gets sidetracked by being smitten with emma, at least that's my understanding of it. so nothing would change there.)

#listen i love noah but he doesn't deserve a win #this loser only takes Ls sorry i don't make the rules (yes i do)#total drama #td noah #ophe's hot takes #character analysis #replies #typed this on my phone so sorry for any grammar/spelling errors 😥

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katemagic · 4 months

Text

thinking about cherry magic th ep 7 and how I'm SO glad the story went this way, even though I admittedly found the karanachi plot of this episode immensely stressful to watch alsd;kfj;aksdlf like it was so so perfect and fitting for them and their arc

cause like... sure they could've gone on a beautiful perfect sweet date where nothing went wrong and it was just a nice cute classic BL episode 7 plot and the character development/relationship development happened later on, and there would've been nothing wrong with that!! but that wouldn't have been very true to their characters- it makes SO much sense that they'd both worry about it a lot and that karan would deal with that by overcompensating and achi would deal with that by not expressing his feelings of discomfort- and it also just would've been such a less meaningful episode overall

like obviously the major theme of the episode as echoed in the other plots as well is getting to know someone organically- not using mindreading or anything else, just communicating openly and honestly in order to better understand who someone is and what they like and don't like. and obviously that's what karan realizes he should've done all along, and I LOVE that we have that moment where he explains WHY he did what he did- he wanted to impress him!! he was nervous!!- which of course makes sense, but the fact that we get this lovely character growth moment for him where he realizes that he should've like... asked achi if he liked it!!! can ask next time to make the next date something much more achi's speed!!! now has so much more information about who achi is as a person after this series of missteps!! is just my favorite thing

and ofc achi has the same moment of like "wow yeah this would've gone better if I had communicted my feelings to you" al;djfa;ldsj and like... I have a lot of feelings about how achi is able to break through his fears of hurting karan's feelings in order to communicate his thoughts and feelings directly cause it is truly just so good for the health of their relationship long term but ALSO is so extremely good for achi himself to have done. achi is someone we emphatically know struggles with self-worth issues AND has idolized karan for a long time- it would make sense that his go-to move would be to devalue his own feelings of discomfort and not want to confront karan about this. but the fact that he IS able to acknowledge his own discomfort and not write it off and also communicate it to karan feels like such massive growth imo, and a sign of him feeling more secure in himself and slowly removing karan from the pedestal he put him on

and it's just also the sweetest thing in the world to me that achi is like "I don't want anything special being with you and talking like this is special enough" like that's perfect :(((( the communication and getting to know each other better and how to care for each other better is what makes the date special!!!

...though god even when talking about the insane date itself, not even the post-date clarity connection conversation, despite everything, achi still says that every minute they were together was special. that whole insane date. that's so lovely. he's so in love.

like I genuinely feel like they will both remember this as such a wonderful first date (that the necklace will immortalize forever al;sdjkfaklsdf) because despite all the missteps and stressful components they were spending time together and learning more about each other and that's the most lovely thing for both of them :')

#cherry magic th meta #cherry magic th #karanachi #this show!!!

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dokoni-mo · 1 year

Text

Crave: Part Five || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: saving face can be hard.

mild NSFW

word count: 5419

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20 william is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, willy is obsessive, possessive too, and a little creepy, and a hypocrite, and narcissistic lol, and a little bit of a yandere, or at least becoming one, mentions of divorce, dysfunctional parent-child relationships, secret relationships, swearing, gaslighting, manipulation tactics, dom/sub undertones if you squint, willy is VERY egotistical, allusions to corruption kink, sir kink, sensual touching, dirty fantasies, praise, Michael is in this, breif violence, heated arguing

minors dni// please read warnings!!

part one // part two // part three // part four

a/n: willy is so fun to write he is horrible but it is FUN,, taglist open! Enjoy! (disclaimer: i do not condone this type of relationship irl, this is just my take on being with Willy)

~~~

Aside from the moments that he was close to you, William never felt like he was able to be alone with his own thoughts. Unless, he was in his basement workshop, surrounded by his own creations where that brat Michael couldn't bother him.

That's honestly why he spent so much time down there, when he wasn't on-the-clock at his diner. If Michael didn't catch him in another screaming-match, William was almost always tinkering away in his little sanctuary from the outside world. He had built everything in that cellar himself. Every robot, every trinket, and even the entire basement itself from the ground up. When he first moved into this house, he knew his family would annoy him. He wasn't fond of having that bitch nag him all the time while three snot-nosed brats ran around his feet. He knew he needed a place to escape to, to cool down before things escalated.

It was a place to collect his thoughts in a healthy manner. And now, it had a different purpose. It was a place where he could think of you.

Michael was annoying as shit. He had been all his life, but he was especially annoying that afternoon. He had told his father that he'd be back home Monday morning, not Monday evening. That threw off all of William's plans; made him miss out on valuable time with his precious bunny. With you. All because of Michael and his inability to have any sort of cognitive thought.

If William had known that his son would be home late, he would've had you stay for a while longer. Convince you to skip your classes and spend them in his arms. But, no. As soon as the sun shone through his windows that morning, William had to get you out of bed and out the door with one last kiss goodbye out of fear that his idiot son would catch the two of you. And oh how it hurt him. The ache in his chest still hadn't gone away from earlier. He could still feel your touch on his shoulders and arms, and the way your waist and hips felt on his hands. It hurt so fucking much watching you go, knowing it'd be five whole days before he got to see his bunny again. When he kissed you goodbye, he knew he lingered a bit longer than he should've; held you for longer, too. You had caught it. Teased him for it with a smile so adorably.

Oh, bunny. Your smile. That's what kept William going. That's what kept him willing to keep these charades of good father, good businessman going. Was to make sure you had a happy life. That he could give you all your little heart desired. Money. A nice house. A nice car. Clothes. Gifts. Him.

It was more bearable now that you were his, yes. But it was still painfully boring without you by his side. There to kiss him and cuddle up close to him, looking at him with those big, gorgeous eyes. Tell him all sorts of gossip and stories around your campus. Listen to his own while he held you tight, stroking your hair and feeling your warm little body close to him.

God. He fucking missed you. It hadn't even been twelve hours since you were last there in his arms, and his body and heart already ached for your presence again. He yearned for your touch; to feel your soft, smooth skin against his. He wanted your lips against his own. He wanted to hear you laugh at his jokes. He wanted to feel your hair between his fingers. He wanted to squeeze those delectable thighs. Kiss your neck and leave his mark on you. Hear your little moans and how you cried out his name so pretty...

William sighed as he reached the bottom of the staircase to the cellar, greeted with the familiar expanse of his workshop. He took the papers that he carried down there and plopped them on a corner of his workbench, not caring to do any more work at the moment. The older man pulled up his chair and sat, running his fingers through his grey-and-brown hair.

Why. Why was fate so cruel? He only wanted his bunny with him. Was that too much to bloody ask for? Fuck he missed you so much. It was gonna be hell waiting until the weekend again.

He needed to take his mind off of it. Sitting around and moping was just gonna make it worse. He knew you wouldn't want him to be miserable. You loved him. He knew that if you could, you'd be here in the basement with him, sitting on his lap and giving him kisses. Telling him it was all gonna be okay while your plush thighs and butt were pressed against him.

William felt one of his hands detangle from his hair, sliding down on top of his clothed crotch.

His sweet bunny. His adorable (Y/N). He loved you so so much. Your kisses felt so good on his skin; so warm and soft. Just like you were. You were so perfect for him, bunny. You always knew exactly what he needed. Sitting on his lap so pretty for him. Don't his hands feel so good on your waist? So big and strong, a feeling only his hands give you, yeah? His hands are the only ones allowed to touch you, bunny. Did you understand that? You were his, and only he was allowed to play with you like this. Come on now, don't be shy. Lay back on William's workbench for him. Silly little one, don't be afraid to knock things off. Sir will allow it to happen. He wants you now, those silly little tools can fall all they like. That's it, there you go. Good bunny. So perfect for sir. Let's get those clothes off you now, yeah? They're just in the way of what he wants. He'll do it for you, bunny. Strip you down just for him. Just relax and be good. Ah fuck. His precious (Y/N). He misses you so fucking much, little one. Be a good bunny and-

William's fantasy was interrupted by the sound of the basement door flying open from the top of the stairs, making him jump from the sudden noise. The brit adjusted himself in his pants and smoothed back his hair as he looked over his shoulder with a glare, seeing who the rude intruder was.

William felt his brow furrow even deeper

Fucking hell. Michael. Of fucking course.

That boy just didn't know when to quit, didn't he? Stupid fucking idiot. Mike was not going to win that damn argument. He's such a fucking hypocrite. Accusing William of starting shit, and then goes off and starts shit himself.

His son was just like that bitch of an ex-wife he had. No wonder he fucking hated his son just as much as he did her. Perhaps even more.

"What do you want? I'm working-" William tried to say to scare his son off, but was rudely interrupted. As Michael stomped down to the bottom of the stairs with a sneer, the young man threw some sort of cloth at his father's face. William tried to block it away, but wound up catching the offending garment instead.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Michael shouted at William, louder than the brit ever heard before. William was a bit taken aback by the sudden hostility, swiveling on his chair to face his son more directly with a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know wha-"

"DONT fucking play dumb with me, you DEMENTED fuck!" Michael yelled again, the young man's freckled cheeks beet-red, "What the fuck did you do to them?!"

William's look of confusion grew as he looked at his son. William genuinely didn't know what made him so angry. Looking down to the cloth in his hands, however, the pieces suddenly fell into place.

Michael found your jacket. He found it. And William thought he did a good job of hiding it too. The brit knew he probably shouldn't have kept it. It was yours, after all. And judging by the amount of wear-and-tear the jacket had, you were rather fond of it. Maybe it was wrong to take it.

Maybe.

But William found it hard to care if it was wrong or not. He loved you bunny. He loved you so so dearly. Without you, William wasn't himself. He had to pretend when you weren't with him. He didn't feel normal without you in his arms. When you left that morning, he knew he would miss you so much. He'd miss feeling whole, and having you close with him. And you loved him, right? You wanted him to feel good just like how he made you feel good, right? Of course you would. You wouldn't mind.

He just had to keep something of you close to him. Something that reminded him of you, that could act as his fix of you until you were in his arms again. He needed to take your jacket. How could he not? It would be perfect. It smelled exactly like you. It was about the size of your torso, too. It wouldn't give the real thing justice, but holding it at night might be some sort of reprieve for the older man. It could keep his bed warm when you couldn't. It was just a little reminder to him that you were his now. Your jacket was a way to prove it when you weren't around, along with those hickeys he gave you the other day.

And is that so bad? Wanting something to remind him of you? When he gave you something of your own to have?

He didn't think so. And he knew you wouldn't mind, either. You were a good bunny for him. You knew how he thought and operated. Just like he knew how you thought and operated. The two of you were soulmates.

So surely you'd forgive him for keeping a little memento of you.

But, of course, Michael had to ruin it all. William thought the dryer would be the perfect place to keep your jacket so that it didn't lose your smell. And now it was out. It was losing everything William was trying to preserve. And Mike was throwing it around like it was nothing. Like it was just a jacket. Like it wasn't yours.

William couldn't help but let a small glare slip through his calm, collected façade.

How dare Michael. How dare he treat your belongings like this. This wasn't just any old piece of clothing, it was yours. It was something William's bunny left him. It was his jacket now. Not Michaels. That fucking idiot. That piece of shit. William hated him. He hated him more than ever. He should've fucking left this goddamned family when he had the chance.

The brit needed to keep is cool as best he could. Not just for his sake, but for yours too. If the secret of his relationship with you got out this early, it would be much more difficult to manage.

For you, bunny. He'd keep his cool for you.

"What is this?" William asked, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible. This only appeared to make his son even angrier.

"You know exactly what the fuck that is!!" Michael shouted, "What the hell did you do?"

"Michael, I don't-"

"(Y/N)!" Michael exclaimed as he cut his father off, "Why the fuck do you have their jacket?! What the hell did you do to them?!"

God, how can one boy be so annoying? Could he just move out already? All he ever was these days was a headache. He was an obstacle. He was the reason why William couldn't have his sweet bunny in his arms right now.

Idiot.

"Please, Michael," William said calmly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in his fingers, "You're being ridiculous. (Y/N) comes over all the time."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" Michael spat back, pointing his finger at his father, "You did something to them! I know you fucking did!"

William couldn't help but raise his voice just a hair, "Just because you found (Y/N)'s jacket doesn't mean-"

"It was with your fucking clothes, dad! Why else would it be there?!"

Worthless.

"I don't know, I probably just saw it in the house and threw it in the wash."

Michael laughed, "Oh, bullshit! Don't think I don't remember all those fucking times you asked about (Y/N). All the times you didn't let me fucking sleep until I told you about them! Where you practically made me write fucking essays about every little detail of their life?!"

William rubbed his temples next.

Pathetic.

"I just wanted to know more about your friends-"

"How about the time you picked me up from class, huh? Even when I drove my damn self?! We were in the parking lot for an hour and a damned half while you talked to them!"

Waste of space.

"Michael-"

"Or how about the time you told me to invite them over, hm? And then when you did it again the next day? Then the next? Then the next?! And you kept asking for a fucking month straight?! Does that fucking ring a bell?!"

Shut up.

"I just-"

"I don't know what kind of fucking game you're playing here, old man, but you need to leave both me and (Y/N) the hell alone!"

William felt his jaw tighten.

Shut up.

"I've never-"

"All my entire goddamned life, all you've ever done is fuck shit up! And I've fucking had it! I finally have one normal friendship with someone who gets me, and all you wanna do is fuck it up!"

Shut up.

"I'm not trying to-"

"Whatever goddamned game you're playing here needs to fucking stop right GODDAMN now you sick piece of shit! You already fucked up my life, and I won't let you fuck up (Y/N)'s!"

The heat was starting to creep down William's neck.

SHUT UP.

"Mike-"

"Because guess fucking what?! (Y/N) is my friend! Not yours! (Y/N) isn't yours to-"

William's body moved on auto-pilot as he sprung up from his chair, the cheer force sending it rolling across the basement on its wheels. Pure, red-hot rage filling William's veins, he quickly marched over to his eldest son and grabbed him by his collar, a look of fear flashing over his freckled face as his father nearly slammed him back against the wall. The brit leaned in close with a glare, looking right into his son's eyes as he snarled through his teeth.

That little fucker. How dare he. Who is he to decide what belonged to William and what didn't. You were his. His. Not Michael's.

His.

"Listen here you little shit," William rasped, "I am fucking tired of you and this fucking attitude you've got, and all this bullshit you're making up. You do not come down here and start shit like this when you don't pay any goddamned bills, over these fucking fantasies you got in that thick skull of yours. When all I've done is try and be kind to you. I am your father, goddamn it! And you will respect that, you ungrateful brat."

Michal struggled in William's hold, giving the older man a glare right back, trying to put on a brave face, "Maybe if you were fucking honest I could respect you more, you narcissistic fuck."

"I am being fucking honest! Do I need to take a bloody polygraph for you?! Would that be sufficient for you, hm? Would it?!"

Michael continued to struggle in William's grip, but William was far stronger than Michael was. It was pointless.

Just like Michael.

"Answer me!" William spat at his son, pushing him further against the wall.

Michael gripped onto William's scarred wrist, trying to pull him off, his glare deepening as he looked into his grey eyes.

"(Y/N) doesn't like liars. Or demented twats like you!" Michael spat back, "How do you think they'd react if they saw you now?"

William's grip on his son's collar tightened at his words, the brit's back teeth gnawing together in his fury. Michael couldn't even fathom the level of which William knew you. He knew your soul. Your heart. Your mind. Your body. All of you. Michael was somehow your friend, but he didn't even know you. Oh, no. Not like William did. The older man knew everything about you. You were his sweet bunny. You were his soulmate. Michael was none of that. He was so beneath you, he couldn't even begin to understand such a wonderful, beautiful creature like you. Not even if he had spent every living, breathing moment of his pitiful life basking in the glory that was your presence. Michael would never understand.

No. Not at all. Not like William could.

William was your man. Your other half. Your mind and his was one in the same, and you were his.

He knew if you were here right now, you'd understand. You'd understand his rage. His anger towards his son. Because that was just who you were. You loved William. You loved him for him, the real him. Even the ugliest parts of him, that he had to keep hidden for so long, until he found you.

And who was Michael to challenge that?

No one. No one at all.

Michael was just fucking with William. Like he always was. Playing these little games to try and make the brit's life a living hell.

Two can play those fucking games, Michael.

Without warning, William let go of Michael's collar, sending the young man falling to the ground as he coughed and sputtered. The older man didn't even realize that he'd been gripping on to him so tightly, nor that he had even lifted him off the ground so high. Whatever. It didn't matter. He didn't care.

His brow stull furrowed, William marched back over to his workbench and picked up the phone that laid on its surface. The long chord dragging behind him, he marched over to the hunched-over Michael on the ground, holding out the phone and its receiver out to the young man with a stern expression.

"Here." William said flatly as Michael looked him up and down.

"What?" Mike asked, making William roll his eyes out of annoyance. God, how can someone be so fucking stupid? Especially someone he unfortunately shared DNA with.

"If you're so bloody sure of your little theory," William explained, slowly so that the idiot hopefully understood, "Why don't you ask (Y/N) yourself, hm? Or do you want to admit you made all this shit up now?"

Michael furrowed his brow, "It's 11 at night, they're gonna be-"

"I didn't fucking ask what the fucking time is!" William shouted, "Do I need to spell it out for you?! Are you that idiotic?! Call. (Y/N). And. Ask. Or go upstairs and leave me the hell alone, selfish brat."

Michael's gaze flickered from the phone, up to William, to the phone again, and then back up to his father. After what seemed like an eternity, Michael shifted his weight to lean against the wall as he sat on the floor, picking up the phone. William tossed the receiver down by his feet over to Mike, making the young man flinch with the sudden crash. As Mike rotated the phone's digits to your number, William walked back over to his chair, pulling it up closer to his son and sitting down in it backwards.

As he heard the phone ring, and William continued eye contact with his son, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You and him had talked about keeping your relationship a secret. You understood why the two of you had to, and you did promise him that you could keep a secret. But Mike was your only friend. You trusted him. You were a good bunny too. You'd never just straight up lie, wouldn't you?

But that was the thing. You were a good bunny. You'd listen to William and what he told you to do. What he said, went. No matter what.

This was your ultimate test, bunny.

You'd better not disappoint him. He'd hate to have to punish you so early on, and clean up the mess your honest lips got the two of you in to. He'd do it, of course. So he got to keep you. But he'd rather keep things how they are right now. Where he had time to plan things out, and judge things carefully and slowly.

Be good now, little one.

Be good.

William kept on his stern expression as the phone continued to ring, maintaining eye-contact with Mike in the heavy silence between them as they waited. Mike originally had his ear to the phone, but decided to point it out into the room so that both he and his father could hear.

The tension was thick. But your little voice cut through it all.

"Hello?"

William could feel his shoulders relax slightly at the sound of your voice. He couldn't help but think back to his little phone call with you, when he first invited you over a few days prior. The happiest day of his life. God damn it. He missed you so much.

Michael and William sat in silence for a moment. Mike was seemingly nervous to say anything, wetting his lips and taking a few silent deep breaths to steady his voice.

"H-Hey, (Y/N)." Michael said to you, clearly trying to sound as normal as possible.

Pathetic.

"Oh, hey Michael!" you responded, "What's up? Is everything okay? You normally don't call this late."

William and his son locked eyes again, another brief pause hanging in the air. The brit shifted in his seat.

Come on, bunny. Be good. Be good.

Michael bit the inside of his cheek before responding, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..."

Michael trailed off in his own thoughts, and William rolled his eyes again, gesturing for Michael to keep going.

"Jusssst, what?" You asked.

"It's just... I-I was just wondering if you had came to my place over the weekend? I found some of your things, and..."

William felt the grip on the back of the chair tighten, his mouth going dry. Fucking hell. He thought he might just shit a brick.

Silence hung over the room as you paused.

The brit could feel the sweat starting to form on the back of his scarred neck.

Please, bunny. Please be good for William. He loves you so much. Please be the good bunny he knows you are.

For him.

"Um, no?" you eventually said, "You never invited me over, Mike."

His lips parting, William breathed out a silent sigh of relief, feeling cool, crisp waves of euphoria washing over him. Oh, bunny. Oh his sweet precious bunny. So good for him. So so perfect. You did so well for William. You did exactly what he told you to. You took your orders so well, little one. William loved you so so so very much. You were so good. So precious. So smart and kind and beautiful. This is why you were his bunny. You understood your role, and understood what William was all about. What he was to you. He loved you so much. His precious darling. His soulmate.

His.

Leaning forward a tad in his seat, William had to fight back the smirk that threatened to dawn his handsome features as he looked at his son's shocked, defeated expression.

William could hardly contain himself. He won. He fucking won against that ungrateful piece of shit. Finally humbled that stupid idiot and his fucking superiority complex.

Oh, bunny. You were so perfect.

William just had to reward you now, didn't he? The next time he saw you. How could he not? After you were so well behaved for him? Hell, with the amount of excitement pumping through his body, William doubted he could wait until next weekend.

He missed you. He wanted you. Needed you.

His body yearned for yours even more now. Not just his body, but his soul and heart too. Precious little one. You were made for him, you were. How did he even function before without you in his life? He wished that you were here right now. He wished he could pull you close right here and kiss those sweet lips of yours, showing to his son that you were his now. Not Michaels. HIS.

Perfect bunny. His sweet, precious treasure. His sun and stars. William should give you an extra special reward next time he sees you now, shouldn't he? He's missed you so so much. And you were so very good for him, weren't you? Maybe William will buy you a special outfit to fit the occasion. Or perhaps you'd like something more classy? A nice date? Something new and expensive for you to show off? Or do you just want him? Think about it, bunny. Whatever it is, sir is perfectly happy to give it to you.

Thoughts of you swirling around inside his head over and over again, William watched as Michael opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish as he struggled with what to say. The shock of your little fib was still in his grey, widened eyes. The brit had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"Michael?" You asked, "Are you still there?"

The young man had to swallow before he responded, "Y-Yeah, (Y/N)... I'm still here."

"Are you sure everything's okay? Did something happen?"

"No, (Y/N)... It's all fine. I just... I got mixed up. I'll see you in class tomorrow, okay?"

"Alright, if you say so. See you tomorrow, Mike. Goodnight."

"Night."

Silence filling the room again, Michael slowly slipped the phone back on the receiver, hanging it up. William continued to look at his son as he stared ahead with a shocked, defeated, and bewildered look on his freckled face. It was hard for him to keep from grinning like a damn fool. Michael finally got just a taste of what he deserved. How dare he come in here like that? Tossing around your jacket like it was nothing? Screaming his ugly head off at his own father? Throwing around insults? Over nothing? Over something he couldn't even begin to understand?

It was pathetic. But William couldn't even pity his son, no. All he felt towards him was disgust. Disgust and disappointment. And he was sure to make that known to the young man. As he got up from his seat, William gathered a few thing from off his workbench and pushed his chair back in. Straightening his tie and slicking back the few loose strands of his hair, William didn't even bother to pick the phone back up and put it on the workbench. He stepped over his son to go up the stairs without a spare glance.

"Goodnight, Michael." He said to the young man on the floor.

It was only when he closed the basement door behind him did William allow himself to smile.

~~~

Defeat.

It was an old friend to the eldest Afton son. Throughout his entire life, the young man never seemed to win anything. Never in any sports, never anything against his siblings, and certainly never anything in academics. Michael was more-so smart with his heart rather than his brain. Could never find his foot-hold in books and papers and essays.

He took after his mother when it came to Michael's heart. He knew this. Even though he was cursed with resembling his father, he took pride in his nature.

He tried to be kind to everyone. Give everyone an equal opportunity, and even playing field. Perhaps because he was never given one of his own.

Michael hated his father. He hated that man more than anything anyone's ever hated before. Whenever Michael would think he finally got a win over that evil bastard, the boy was brought back to his knees.

Quiet. Complacent. Fading into the background.

That's all that Michael's father wanted him to be. From very early on, Michael recognized it. But, of course, Michael was smart. He knew that if he simply became like what his father wanted him to be, that would be the old man's real victory. How many times had that psycho told him he was an accident now? Michael had lost track. But it was plenty to get the point across

Michael wasn't wanted. Michael wasn't needed. And William was more than happy to make that known every. Single. Day.

That's how Michael met his old friend defeat. As much as he knew defeat, no matter how many times it came to visit him, he couldn't help but feel the sting. The feeling of knowing that he got so close, only for everything to fall apart in the end. Like when you spend hours on a sandcastle, only for it to be washed away by the sea.

Michael was the sand. And his father was the sea.

Sitting on that cold, unforgiving floor, Michael couldn't move. All he could do was stare ahead into nothingness, his only company his defeat, and the quiet whirr of the water-heater in the background.

How. That was all that Michael wondered. How did it all go wrong? Michael's instincts never failed him like that. When he suspected something was astray, he knew that something was. He knew his father was up to something. He could see it, hear it in the way the old man spoke, and saw it again in that fucking smirk of his. But Michael's father did many things. Many things that Michael didn't like, considered to be cruel. But this...

Michael found his gaze slipping to your jacket, which had long since fallen to the ground.

You were Michael's best friend. Hell, in some ways, his only friend. Was that all that drew his father to you? Because you were easy to access? And that by doing shit to you, it would get a reaction out of Michael? Maybe.

But, then again... no.

No, it had to be more than that. Mike's father wasn't like that. At least, not like that in the sense that he'd go to such lengths if it was only for the purposes of tormenting the young man. He could do that in other ways, and other ways that were safer. Ways in which didn't involve others, that William could use to easily cover his tracks. Getting another person involved was risky. People talk. People suck at keeping secrets. People aren't easy to hide.

There had to be more to it. There had to be.

But, Michael was at an impasse.

You weren't a liar. You hated liars. You never ever lied maliciously. Even if it wasn't what Michael wanted to hear, you always told him the truth. That's what made you a good friend. So why? If you really hadn't come over that weekend for William to do shit to you, why would you lie about it?

Michael felt his lips part.

Unless you were told to lie. Unless...

You were in on it too.

Oh, god. No. No. What the fuck did his father do to you? What kind of sick game was this? William was trying to turn you against Mike, little by little. Step one was to make it to that you didn't believe Michael was ever telling the truth. This was step one. That whole phone call was step one. What did he do to you, (Y/N)? What kinds of things did William tell you?

None of them were true. Whatever they were, they were lies. Michael was sure of it.

But Michael knew the game all too well. And he knew that it was one he would never win.

Not unless he had an ally. That knew the game just as well as he did.

His father was not gonna take you away from Mike. No matter what.

Picking up the phone that sat next to him again, Michael held it up to his ear as he turned the dial, punching in a few numbers. He stared ahead again as he waited for it to finish ringing, his eyes fixed on your jacket.

Defeat said its goodbyes as Michael heard the other person pick up.

"Mum? I think I need a favor..."

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 @the-official-memester @randomwriteralan @mrsrogerwaters @laylaaftonshit @cherry-slushee @insert-memical-username @mrssafton @horrorking2000 @artist-anon08 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jamiethenerdymonster @kimyona-san @purplewolfcoffee

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!

#william afton x you #william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton #dave miller x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut

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