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#AND i woke up at 9:30 on a day off
campbyler · 8 months
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highkey obsessed with these boys being such unreliable narrators. not only their perceptions of the world at present but their general unwillingness to divulge too much about the past, even in their own heads. and then each lore drop feels so irreverent and it’s just amazing how even something as objective as the facts of their history can be so infused with characterization. i love them both so so much and you guys are just gifting us such beautiful stuff chapter after chapter.
take care of yourselves and here’s to more restful nights ahead <3
filed under comments that made me run around in circles like a crazed rabid dog. thank you SO much. it's been such a joy to write unreliable narration and sprinkle in these little tidbits of their history and we're glad to see it having the effect we wanted it to <3
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mars-ipan · 2 months
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you guys have no idea the amt of self control i have exhibited this morning
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altruistic-meme · 5 months
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WHY DO I KEEP FORGETTING TO START WRITING EARLIER KSFHKSHF
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rosicheeks · 1 year
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*hops back in bed*
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sunweek · 2 years
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okay hi gonna be pissed off for a bit here 😁👍🧍‍♀️
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remyfire · 27 days
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Did you know that when you get sleep, your brain has a higher possible chance of working the way you want it to
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f1version · 5 months
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26 BIRTHDAY KISSES ★ CL16
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pairing: charles leclerc x gf!reader ( she/her )
summary: 26th birthday, 26 pictures of you and Charles kissing. A kiss for each year.
notes: i’m back from my birthday trip!! i wrote this birthday special in like 30 minutes and it’s still charles’ birthday in a couple of places so… i’m not exactly late! enjoy <3
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26 KISSES: A GALLERY
By your beautiful girlfriend, in collaboration with a lot of people but mainly Joris and ourselves.
1. DRUNK DANCING: A month after we got together, we were at Arthur’s 18th birthday. We got drunk, singing and dancing to the worst playlist in existence (Lorenzo’s) and, somehow, Arthur got to capture this moment I barely even remember.
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Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2018
2. AUGUST 2019: Summer break, so sweet so loving. You made me promise that if you jumped off first, I would jump too. It took me fifteen minutes to follow after you. Also your kisses were incredibly salty.
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2019
3. THE MONZA INCIDENT: I had red lipstick the night you won in Monza, you told me it looked pretty, I asked you to kiss me, you did. Fast forward 8 minutes it was all smudged over your lips, you were 10 minutes late to the post-race conference, and Sylvia almost banned me that night. (I’m still kind of banned from your driver’s room)
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Taken by Charles Leclerc, 2019
4. UNDER THE COVERS: 2020, what a crazy year. This one was taken the day we decided to finish moving in together. You were so excited, wanted everything to be perfect. Today I can say it is.
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Taken by Me, 2020
5. WORDS: We were spending Christmas by ourselves, we face-timed our families, had dinner and watched movies. You gifted me three beautiful words I, of course, said back… and we also got a puppy!
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Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2020
6. OCEAN BREZEE: Just a small escapade to take a breath. You were so cuddly that day, Joris was so done with you (he still took the pic though)
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021
7. CUTE OR HOT: I just wanted a cute morning selfie but, because of you, we ended up in a…promising mood. It was intense that’s all I have to say!
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Taken by Me, 2021
8. KISS KISS KISS: 24th birthday, 24 kisses. This kind of became a tradition, let me know if you still want them this year!
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Taken by Me, 2021
9. DRUNK AF: How did we got so drunk? Ask Pierre, he was the one hosting. Either way we got another amazing photo of us drunk-kissing!!!
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Taken by Pierre Gasly, 2021
10. UNDER THE SEA: I’m just going to say that you and your ‘photo ideas 📸’ folder are attached by the hip. I personally love this one (even if it took half an hour to take)
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2021
11. NEW YORK: Thought you could scape this one? Never! Arthur and I didn’t spend a week listening to your complaining for nothing, babe. You must admit that this kiss was magical, everything was so pretty that day. And then it started snowing!
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Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2021
12. EXPOSED: Remember how our amazing soft launch got ruined by our trip to Ibiza? Well, here it is, the image we couldn’t stop laughing at when it came out, we really thought we were sneaky.
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Taken by unknown, 2022
13. HARD LAUNCH: A week later we were kissing on live TV. It’s one of my favorite memories, I couldn’t stop smiling.
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Taken by F1 TV, 2022
14. BACK KISSES: Just a picture of the morning after I learned that you can convince anyone, even the CEO of Ferrari, to allow you to leave sponsor events early. I really don’t know if you knew those kisses were there, but I woke up to this, took a picture and then left you with them until we took a shower.
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Taken by Me, 2022
15. SPONSORED BY AIRMAX: That time your team forgot to book us a flight and you had to ask Lando to ask Daniel to ask Max if we could go back to Monaco with them. I’ve never seen Max talk so much, Daniel laugh so loud or Lando taking so many pictures. He even asked to take one of us, here it is:
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Taken by Lando Norris, 2022
16. SIXTEEN: I bet you thought this one would have something to do with racing. Number 16. Sorry to disappoint but it’s our beautiful puppy…Sixteen! I’m not gonna lie, I still hate you for persuading me into that name. Anyways if you kiss the dog you kiss the mom!!
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Taken by Me, 2022
17. 25 KISSES: Again, tell me if you want those 26 kisses this year. Look at us last year!
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Taken by Me, 2022
18. NEW YEAR, SAME LOVE: Sometimes the world feels unreal when I’m with you, this was one of those days. I felt in another reality, the world slowed down, it was just you and me. I remember thinking “I fell in love with the right person” and then you kissed me.
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2022
19. BLACK SUIT: Remember when your fans thanked me for your “new” outfits? They repeated it was the girlfriend effect, you couldn’t stop talking about how stylish you are with or without me!
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Taken by Me, 2023
20. PHOTOSHOOT: You got Joris to take these shots just because you wanted a new wallpaper. I thought it was silly, until one day all of them were hanging around our home. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Charlie.
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023
21. FIVE STAR CHEFS: Not much to say, just sorry for being so distracting and thank you for the amazing (stolen from Ferrari) dinner babe!
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Taken by Charles’ phone timer, 2023
22. RED LIGHTS: This year’s addition to our drunk-kissing collection. I remember you drowning shots with Carlos and Pierre, asking me to dance with you, absolutely failing at that, and then kissing me. After that there’s blurry ferrari red, giggles and a hot bath.
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Taken by Andrea Ferrari, 2023
23. LAZY IN BED: Wonderful lazy days by the ocean, that’s how we spent the summer break. That morning in particular you didn’t want to get up, basically gluing me to bed. We got up at 1pm.
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Taken by Me, 2023
24. JUST ONE QUESTION: Can I drive the purosangue now? Please please please
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Taken by Me, 2023
20. LOVER: This day I woke up thinking about those dreams we talk about all the time, you even remembered me a couple of them throughout the day. Charlie, I do want to do this for the rest of our lives, never forget it <3
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Taken by Arthur Leclerc, 2023
26. TWENTY-SIX: We are just 26 but I hope our story keeps on writing itself. I love you, these have been the happiest 6 years of my life. Happy birthday bébé ❤️
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Taken by Joris Trouche, 2023
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video game lover
request: no i thought of this while i was yapping and thinking about gamer!matt
warnings: matt being… come se dice neglectful reader being slightly whiny baby coded
summary: you just want matt’s attention while he streams.
also: italics is chat
also^2: BAHAHAHA TROLLING WITH THAT NAME
also^3: starlandia👹
also^4: tagging @gamermattsgf cause i’m ballsy and yeah idol fr anyway
fit check:
matt
reader (with a snuggie)
gamer!matt sturniolo x reader
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you sat on you and matt’s shared bed as you waited for him to come home.
“matt..?” you called, wanting him to hold you.
“‘m comin’ baby” he said, walking into the room.
“hi.” you whispered, pulling your blanket farther around yourself.
“hi,” he mumbled back, kissing your forehead and going over to his desk and sitting down.
you huffed as you realized that matt probably wasn’t going to cuddle with you right now.
“what’re you doing matt?” you asked, perking up a little bit.
“‘m gonna stream for a little bit.” he said, turning to smile at you.
he smiled when he saw your snuggie covered form.
“you look so cute baby,” he hummed, slipping on his headphones and turning back to his computer.
you sighed as you stared at the back of matt’s head.
you’re had a horrible day and all you wanted was for matt to hold you.
your day started on the wrong foot when you woke up to an empty house.
a note on the counter told you that your boyfriend and his brothers were out with their youtuber friends.
you would’ve been out with them if you didn’t have to go work a shift at the bookstore.
after a long shift that included angry customers, angry bosses, and a growing need to put your hands over your ears, you made your way home.
when you got home at 8 pm, the house came up empty yet again.
then you realized it was tuesday which meant the boys would be out filming.
so at 9:30 when you curled up under your snuggie and a pile of blankets with your switch, you just needed a good cuddle from your boyfriend.
the sound of matt talking to the chat on stream snapped you out of your daydream.
“yeah.. y/n’s back there! she’s playing on her switch,” he said to the camera, turning to face you.
“whatcha playin back there princess?” he asked, not noticing the quiver of your bottom lip.
“animal crossing.” you hummed, looking back down at your pink switch.
“you heard it folks,” he said, turning back around to the stream.
after about an hour and a half of streaming, matt got a message in the chat that finally brought attention to you.
“matt is y/n ok? it looks like she’s about to cry?”
matt whipped his head around to find that you had abandoned your sitting position to lay on your tummy instead.
your switch had been abandoned, animal crossing music playing quietly from it.
your head was buried in your arms as you let out silent tears.
matt reached his hand around and wordlessly ended the stream.
“princess…?” he asked, taking off his headphones and coming over to the bed.
you didn’t speak as matt sat down beside you.
“baby.. talk to me…” he said, rubbing up and down your back.
“i-“ you said, taking in a ragged breath.
“i had a horrible day and i wanted to tell you about it when you got home then you got home and immediately started streaming… you barely gave me a hello matt.” you rushed out, not wanting to have matt be the umpteenth person to get mad at you today.
“oh angel.. ‘m sorry.” he hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“here…. sit up.” he said, pulling you into his lap.
“how i treated you was in no way kind.. i should’ve seen how down you were but instead i decided to be selfish, now if you’ll let me i’d love to hold you angel.” he said, pressing a kiss to your head.
you nodded as matt smiled, “good, let me go turn off the lights and you get comfy.”
you got under the covers and grabbed your switch as matt turned off the lights and got into the bed beside you.
“wanna tell me about your day?” he asked, rubbing circles into the skin of your hip.
you shook your head no, “but ‘ll tell you about my animal crossing village.”
“ok let’s hear it then baby.” he smiled, leaning his head on top of yours.
“well this is my village it’s called starlandia…” you started, aimlessly yapping about your game as matt stared at you with nothing but love in his eyes.
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munson-blurbs · 5 months
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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Summary: A trip to the thrift store becomes overwhelming for Harris, and you and Eddie have to work as a team. But the real test of your relationship's strength is the crisis that unfolds days later.
Warnings: financial insecurity, school lock-in, missing child, police presence, mention of kidnapping, mention of drug addiction, blood (no gore)
WC: 8.5k
Chapter 19/20
Divider credit to @saradika
Eddie has already been awake for two hours when the phone rings. One part of parenthood that he hadn’t anticipated is that children do not understand the concept of weekends. Harris had flung himself out of his racecar bed promptly at 6:30 in the morning, crawling under Eddie’s sheets and poking his nose until he woke up.
“Har, go back to sleep,” Eddie had grumbled, the last word extended in a whine. One cheek was smushed against his pillow, muffling his complaint. “It’s Saturday; you don’t have school.”
In response, Harris pursed his lips into a perfect pout and used his thumb to peel Eddie’s eyelid open, getting as close to his face as possible. His morning breath was tinged with the scent of chocolate; Eddie groggily made a mental note to better supervise his nighttime teeth brushing routine. 
“‘M hungry.”
That’s how Eddie finds himself pouring his third cup of coffee while his son keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen, watching Doug stutter and stammer in front of Patti. Eddie smiles, a blush creeping into his cheeks when he realizes that that’s probably what he looks like around you.
“‘Lo?” He cradles the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, wincing as he clumsily clinks the carafe into place. There isn’t enough coffee left to slosh over the side, a small miracle in and of itself, although he’ll have to brew some more if the caffeine doesn’t kick in soon.
“Hey, baby.” Your voice is sleepy yet sweet, smoothing all the creases of the morning. “Did I wake you up?”
Eddie laughs and takes a sip from his favorite mug, the one that proudly declares #1 Dad. It’s stained and chipped, but he’ll never throw it out. Wayne had bought it for him on his very first Father’s Day; ironically, Eddie had bought him a #1 Grandpa mug that year, probably from the same kiosk at the mall.
“Not even close,” he says, tongue flicking to the corner of his lip to catch the drip of coffee that’s pooled in the crevice. “Someone was up bright and early this morning.” His gaze flits over to the bowl of Cheerios snug between Harris’s criss-crossed legs, mostly uneaten despite his earlier protests that would make an outsider believe he was starving. “How was your sleep?” he asks, swinging back to your conversation.
You switch the phone from one ear to the other. “It was good. Would’ve been better if you were next to me, though,” you add, twirling the cord around your forefinger. If you could, you would capture the safety of his embrace and bottle it, releasing a bit each time you craved his gentle touch. “I might’ve even let you be the little spoon.”
He balks at this with a playful scoff, nearly spilling his coffee with the sudden movement. “Yeah, right,” he chuckles, licking the side of the mug before the bitter liquid can slide off and hit the ground. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Admittedly, his skepticism is rooted in truth; whenever you do get the chance to cuddle in bed, he’s always the one wrapping his arm around your waist, often taking the opportunity to snake a hand up your shirt and let the pads of his fingers brush over your breasts. It isn’t always a display of sexuality or desire–though you can’t say you mind that–but a connection, a way of ensuring that you stay close. 
“Just a few more weeks until we get to find out for ourselves,” you tease, though he needs no reminding. Only sixteen days remain until you officially move in together, and he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s counting down. “Speaking of which,” you continue, glancing at the clock, “I was wondering if you and Harris wanted to do some furniture shopping for his new room.” You knew that he would be keeping his racecar bed; it’s unlikely he’ll part with it until he’s outgrown it completely. “Y’know, a new dresser or nightstand or something.”
There’s an extended pause on Eddie’s side of the line. You think the call dropped and are about to hang up and redial when you hear him say,  “I, um…I don’t get paid until next week…” He nervously scratches the countertop with one fingernail. 
“Oh.” You grapple with a response, trying to strike a balance of empathy without condescension. “Well, I was going to surprise you, but I sold some of Grandma’s old—”
“No way,” Eddie interjects, firmly but not harshly. “I’m not having you spend your money on me. We can just wait until payday.”
“I want to buy this for Harris. I…I probably should have cleared out Grandma’s room months ago, but I couldn’t. I mean, I could, but it felt wrong because I had nothing to put in its place.” You don’t care that you’re babbling on, forging ahead with your impromptu monologue. “It would’ve been too empty, but with you and Harris here, it won’t be empty anymore.”
Eddie tucks his thumbnail between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he prods, not wanting to sound ungrateful. 
“Positive.” You’re much more assured in your reply. “If she knew Harris before she got sick, she would’ve spoiled the hell out of him, anyway.” The moment she saw him happily digging into the Oreos, she would have ensured that the cupboard remained stocked with Double Stuf. “In a way, s’like she gets to spoil him now.”
You can sense Eddie’s resistance tempering with an audible exhale. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure,” he muses, buying time to process the influx of emotions flooding his body. There’s the obvious gratitude that you’re so eager to take care of his son, but it’s cut with the insecurity of him not being able to do so. If you’re going to buy Harris furniture, it should be because you want to, not because he can’t. What if you hold this against him? What if, in the future, there’s an argument and you fire back with a retort about his shortcomings as a father?
Except…you have never done that. Ever. Not that night in the emergency room, or when you’d found out about the CPS report filed that evening. Not even when Eddie had made it his personal mission to tear you down, pulling insults from the depths and hurling them at you with reckless abandon. 
You hadn’t brought up the way he’d helplessly panicked when confronted with the possibility of Harris’s learning disability, or how he’d let anxiety overtake him when he officially received a classification. With everything the two of you had endured, you’d never once echoed his anxieties about his parenting abilities; it was quite the opposite. With you by his side, he feels as though he can take on whatever challenge life chucks at him. 
“Eds? Is everything okay?” Your tone is thick with concern; Eddie realizes that you probably think you’ve upset him. “We don’t have to go—we can do something else, or—”
“Sweet girl,” he says in one exhale, both to reassure you and to remind himself that you’re his, and he’s yours. Love surges through the phone lines when he speaks. “We can pick you up in an hour, if that works? I should be able to wrangle Harris by then.”
“Y’sure?” And, Christ, how his heart sinks when you shrink inward, reflexively making yourself smaller when you’re worried that you’ve offended someone.
Eddie doesn’t answer you directly, instead, calls out his son’s name. “Hey, Harris?” He frowns when Harris completely ignores him in favor of watching the cartoon. Using his free hand, he cups his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, amplifying his voice. “Harris Wayne Munson!”
The sudden sound jolts him out of his TV-induced stupor. “Huh?” 
“Go get dressed and brush your teeth; we’re gonna go shopping with Ms. Sweetheart!” Eddie grins as Harris turns to him with a wide smile of his own. “C’mon, let’s go!” 
Harris jumps up without further hesitation, inadvertently tossing his bowl from the makeshift table of his legs. Milk splatters, instantly soaking into the carpet, and the Cheerios topple out and land in a soggy pile. “Nooo, my bref-ist!” His big eyes well up with tears. “Daddy, you made me drop my bref-ist!”
“You, uh, wanna deal with that?” You can’t hide your amusement at the usual Munson chaos. 
“Probably should, huh?” Eddie jokes back, stretching the phone cord as far as he can and reaching for the paper towel roll. “I love you, babe. See you in a bit.”
“I love you, Eds,” you tell him. “And Harris, too, of course.”
Some more static and shuffling; then, an energetic voice greets you. “Hi Ms. Sweetheart! Daddy made me drop my bref-ist,” the little boy reports. 
“I’m sorry to hear that, Har.” You’ve perfected the art of mustering up sympathy for children’s not-soearth-shattering issues, a skill that every preschool teacher must possess. “Why don’t you help him clean up? That way, I can see you even faster.”
Harris pauses, mulling over his options. “Yeah, okay! Gotta go! Bye!”
You hear the clunk of him struggling to replace the phone on the hook, followed by Eddie saying, “Let me say good-bye before you hang—” click. 
Pulling your own receiver from your ear, you stare at it with mild amusement. Never a dull moment with my boys. 
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Your boys drive up to your building just over an hour later. You stand up from the bench outside the entrance and smooth down your shorts where they’ve creased. 
“Hey, Sweetheart.” Eddie lets the pet name roll off of his tongue. He wants to kiss you as you slide into the passenger seat, but he withholds his affection for Harris’s sake. It seems silly, considering you’ll all be living together, but he doesn’t know how his son will react to the romance aspect of it. Will he be happy? Excited? Disgusted by any display of affection?
You give his hand a subtle squeeze, turning around to greet Harris. “Ready to shop till we drop?”
“Till we drop?” Harris wrinkles his nose, glancing between you and his dad. “Why would we drop?”
“It’s just an expression,” you explain, catching a glimpse of the smile tugging at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. “Just means that we’re going to shop until we’re too tired to shop anymore.”
“I never get tired,” Harris declares, sticking his legs straight out so his flexed feet push up against the back of the driver’s seat, nudging Eddie slightly forward. “Grampa Wayne calls me an ‘Energizer Bunny.’” He bounces up and down in his booster seat to prove his point.
Eddie reaches his right arm around, keeping his left firmly gripping the wheel, as he moves Harris’s feet from where they’re planted into his lower back. “So, Har,” he starts, easing his weight onto the brake as he approaches a red light, “we’re gonna look for a new dresser for you, and maybe a nightstand.” He takes a deep breath as he delivers the news: “That means we’re not making any pit stops for toys. Got it?”
You want to interject, to let Eddie know that you don’t mind splurging on a small treat for Harris, but you bite it back. Whether or not you have the spare funds is irrelevant: this is the boundary he’s set for his son, and you have to respect it, regardless of your desire to spoil him.
Harris, however, does not accept the announcement as readily. “Not even, like, a little one?” he presses, holding his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Even if I’m really, really good?” He gives a hopeful smile, eyes blinking expectantly.
Eddie looks at you, serving as your cue to provide your input. You nod your approval, trying to hide your delight in being asked to make a parenting decision, regardless of how menial it may seem. He peers up through the rearview mirror at his son’s waiting face. “If you’re really, really good,” he acquiesces, features pinching into a grimace when Harris’s exuberant squeal echoes through the sedan. “You have to use your inside voice and stay next to us the whole time. Deal?”
“Deal,” Harris confirms. “Deal, Ms. Sweetheart?”
“Deal.” Laughter bubbles up inside you and you let it spill out uninhibited. You know that telling a child he can get a toy is an easy part of parenthood, but you silently swear to never take for granted being included in that choice. Harris joins you, though he’s not quite sure why he’s laughing, but your joy is contagious. 
You lean your head against the car window, listening to the buzz of the radio filling the silence. Harris hums along, more on-key than the average five-year-old, which you can safely attribute to him having a musician for a dad.
“I’m not getting a new bed, right?” Harris says with sudden urgency. “Because I wanna keep my racecar bed.”
“Mhm,” you affirm, smiling when Harris relaxes back against the headrest. “Your racecar bed will be in your new room, don’t you worry.”
“Okay.” That response satisfies him until he thinks up another question. “An’ you’re bringing your bed, Daddy?”
Eddie chuckles as he pulls into the Goodwill parking lot. He picks a spot close to the store, right next to a green Ford with a faded “Clinton ‘96” bumper sticker. “Um, no. I’m not bringing my bed.” 
“So are you getting a new bed?” His eyes dart from side to side as he assesses the size of the car. “Where’s it gonna fit?”
“I’m, uh, not buying a new bed, either.” Eddie kills the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt, swiveling to face Harris, who is more confused than ever. “Ms. Sweetheart and I are going to share her bed.”
Harris kicks his feet, processing this new information. “But you didn’t get married yet,” he points out, “so how can you share a bed?”
You rest your palm on Eddie’s forearm in quiet reassurance. “Some people share a bed before they get married,” you explain simply, knowing that less is often more when talking to young children.
“When are you gonna get married?” he asks, more curious than meddling. “Because it’s taking forever. My friends’ mommies and daddies are already married.”
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge the fact that Harris essentially referred to you as his mommy; instead, he slowly exhales. “I’d like to marry Ms. Sweetheart someday, and I think she’d like to marry me, too.” He looks over at you with a sheepish grin, and you give his hand an agreeing squeeze. “But, for now, we’re just going to try out living together. How does that sound?”
“I guess that’s okay.” Harris isn’t completely thrilled with his dad’s response, but he relents anyway.
“While, we’re, uh, on the subject,” Eddie continues, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he carefully considers his words. He chews on the inside of his lower lip. Is he really doing this? Is he opening his son up to this relationship? “You know that Ms. Sweetheart and I love each other very much, right?”
“Mhm.”
“Sometimes,” Eddie continues with only some trepidation, “sometimes, when grown-ups love each other a lot, they hold hands o-or kiss. Would that be weird for you? If Ms. Sweetheart and I held hands, or kissed?”
You avert your gaze, partly from bashfulness but mostly so Harris doesn’t feel any pressure from either of you. 
The little boy looks at the car’s ceiling, centering his focus on the overhead lighting. Finally, with utmost certainty, he declares, “just no tongue-kissing.”
You snort out a laugh while Eddie goes bright red and sputters, “where did you learn about that?”
“Young and Restless,” Harris reports nonchalantly. 
Eddie rubs his eyes, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his lids until his vision blurs. “Remind me to tell Wayne to stop letting him watch the soaps,” he grumbles to you, turning back to his son. “Yeah, no tongue-kissing.”
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You easily lace your fingers with Eddie’s as you walk through the front doors of the Goodwill. Harris starts making a beeline for the toys, but Eddie uses his free hand to pivot him in the direction of the furniture department. Harris huffs but complies, trudging alongside you. 
There’s a bright blue nightstand on display that immediately catches his eye. “Look!” he points, smiling so wide that all of his baby teeth are on display, “can I get it? Please?”
Eddie smiles warily, flipping over the white tag hanging from one silver drawer handle. He breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees the price is within the range of what he’d like to spend; rather, what he’d be comfortable asking you to spend. 
“Looks like we’ve got a winner,” he says, posture straightening with the announcement. He runs his fingertips over the surface, checking for any chipping paint or splintering wood, but the finish appears to be intact. “I’ll go tell someone to set it aside for us.”
He sets off in search of an employee, leaving you alone with Harris. You swallow the nervousness building in your throat. You spend nearly every day taking care of children, but you’re suddenly inundated with the memory of losing him at the flea market. Those few minutes when you couldn’t locate him were some of the scariest of your life. 
And yet, it hadn’t prevented Eddie from giving you another chance.
“Are you excited to move in with me, Har?” you ask, reaching out to ruffle his curls.
He nods, then looks straight up at you so that you’re staring at his nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart?” The position of his neck changes his voice’s pitch so it’s froggy. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Can you marry my daddy?” His eyes shine with potential. “And then you can be my mommy for real?”
You crouch down to his height, heart melting at his request. “Harris, I love your daddy very, very much. And I love you very, very much, too.” You poke his nose gently, and he giggles. “Being married is a big responsibility—”
“‘Sponsibility?”
“Mhm. Responsibility. It means a really important job.” You slide your heart pendant across the chain on your neck anxiously. “And your daddy and I want to make sure that we’re ready for that kind of responsibility before we do anything, okay?”
Harris nods, but you can tell from his crinkled nose and furrowed brows that he doesn’t fully understand. You can’t blame him; it’s an abstract concept, one that even you often have trouble comprehending. “But I can tell you one thing: whenever your daddy wants to propose, I’ll say ‘yes.’” You smile at the thought of Eddie asking you to be his wife. 
“Is that where he gets down on one knee and asks ‘Will you marry me?’” You’re about to respond when he adds, “and then someone runs in and yells about being their long-lost ‘dentical twin?”
Yeah, no more soap operas for Harris. 
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Finding a dresser proves to be a much more difficult task than picking out the nightstand. Everything that Harris likes is out of budget, and everything within budget is too worn down or small. There’s one that’s in good condition and isn’t too pricey, but it’s covered in hand-painted unicorns. 
“That’s for girls!” Harris groans, stomping his feet. The last word is stretched in a whine. “I can’t have girl stuff!”
“We can paint over it. Whatever color you want,” you quickly jump in, trying to avoid a meltdown, but your efforts are fruitless. Fat tears stream down his cheeks; he’s already determined that the dresser is tainted. 
“No! No, no, no!” he howls, throwing himself on the floor. He smacks down on his tailbone, fanning his tantrum’s flames. He quiets for a moment, too shocked to cry, but then he’s screaming louder than before. 
It’s as though he’s lost control of his body, arms and legs knocking into the lower shelves without care. You can’t block him in time before he knocks over a lamp—a Nickelodeon-themed one that would have been perfect in his new room, ironically—and it shatters on the ground. Ceramic splinters, scattering across the linoleum like roaches in the light. 
People start to stare, some with sympathetic looks, and some glare angrily at the child daring to interrupt their shopping. Eddie’s face blazes, vision swimming as he wracks his brain for a solution. 
You’re faster, slapping a few bills into Eddie’s palm and jolting him from his thoughts. He watches you scoop Harris off of the floor, trying to avoid his flailing limbs. 
“Go get the nightstand and pay for the lamp,” you tell him, straightforward and precise. “I’ll get him to the car and calm him down. Keys?”
Eddie blinks, the information swirling around him but not quite penetrating the surface. It’s when you hoist Harris onto one hip and balance his weight in one hand, using the other to make a ‘gimme’ motion that it registers. 
“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Eddie fumbles for the car keys and tosses them to you, the two of you working in tandem. A well-oiled machine. You nod gratefully, wincing as Harris’s foot makes contact with your thigh. “I’ll be right out.”
You’re able to bring him to the car, struggling to unlock it and hold on to Harris. After a few failed attempts, you manage to open the passenger door and sit him on the seat. 
“Harris, hey, Harris?” you start, keeping your voice soft and even while trying to pull his attention. His sobs are slowing down but he’s definitely breathing too rapidly for your comfort. “Hey, bud. You’re okay, all right?” You extend your hand and he tentatively places his own palm on top of it. “You wanna give my hand a squeeze?”
He does it, the motion grounding him enough that he can focus on your body in front of him. You don’t want to touch him, knowing that his senses are already overstimulated from the tantrum. Instead, you relax as his squeezing grows stronger and his breaths gradually even out. 
“There ya go, Har. Just like that.” You smile warmly. “That was a really big feeling, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” His voice shakes and hiccups. He swipes at the tears on his cheeks, smudging them into his skin. 
You reach into the center console and grab a tissue, wiping the mucus from his nose and lips. “Good as new.” With no trashcan nearby, you shove the used Kleenex into your pants pocket. “Can you tell me what made you so mad in there?”
“D-Don’t want girl…girl st-stuff,” he stutters through ragged breaths. 
There’s a time and place to discuss the optics of categorizing interests into ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ but you know better than to have that conversation now. “Oof, that’s why you were angry! That’s a lot to handle.” You gingerly tuck a curl behind his ear. “But, Harris, did you see what happened when you started hitting and kicking?” He shakes his head. “Well, you knocked over a lamp and it broke. You could have gotten hurt, or someone else could have gotten hurt.” 
Harris’s face falls as you speak, absorbing what you’re explaining. “I-I didn’t mean to,” he sniffles. “‘M sorry.”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” you sigh, “sometimes, when we have big feelings like getting angry, we do things we shouldn’t without even realizing.” You pause for a moment, biting your lip as you consider your words. “Do you want to hear what helps me when I have really big feelings and I can’t scream and cry?”
“Mhm.” He nods again, little tongue peeking out to swipe up the tears above his mouth. 
“I take a deep breath and close my eyes,” you start, demonstrating both actions. Inhale for three, exhale for three, and repeat. “And then I picture myself being in my favorite place in the world.” You smile at him, blinking back the sadness that comes with memories of holidays at Grandma’s. “Wanna try it together?”
Harris responds by closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. “Good job, Har,” you softly praise him. “Now breathe out; make sure you’re thinking of your favorite place, okay?”
“Thinkin’ about the zoo,” he whispers, voice raspy from shrieking for so long. “Daddy taked me there and we saw so much animals.”
“Zoos are a lot of fun,” you agree with a laugh. “I’ve never been to the one in Hawkins. Maybe we can go over the summer?”
“Yeah! I wanna show you the flamingos!” His grin stretches across his cheeks “Do you like flamingos?”
Like most people, you don’t have a strong opinion on flamingos, but you respond with an enthusiastic, “I love them!”
“Love who?” Eddie’s voice breaks into the conversation. He’s rolling out the nightstand in a cart, keeping one hand on top of it to hold it steady. “Me?”
You laugh, opening up the back door so he can wedge the furniture next to Harris’s booster seat. “Yes, Eddie. I love you very much, don’t worry,” you tease, seizing the opportunity to inconspicuously check him out. His biceps flex as he maneuvers the nightstand, and you have to tear your gaze from his denim-clad ass when he stands up and triumphantly wipes his hands on his pants. 
“C’mere.” He pulls you in, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout and planting a smacking kiss on you. 
While you giggle, Harris is not as amused. He claps his hands over his eyes and groans. 
“No tongue-kissing!”
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You’re wrapping up storytime, your students fidgeting with their shoelaces—some fidgeting with their friend’s shoelaces—eager to move onto the corresponding art activity Will has planned. 
“Okay, we’re going to use our walking—” Your announcement is cut short by Principal Sinclair’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. Her tone is typically warm and excited, but the way she speaks so sternly sends chills through your entire body. 
“This is a lock-in. All staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified. I repeat, all staff and students must remain in their classrooms until notified.”
You breathe out, though you’re still concerned about the cause of the lock-in. It’s usually some kind of medical issue that requires emergency services to have unblocked access through the halls. You hope that whatever it is isn’t life-threatening. 
Will locks the door wordlessly, and you repeat your directions to the class. The kids walk to their seats, asking non-stop about what a lock-in means. 
“We just have to stay in the classroom,” you find yourself repeating, losing patience with each iteration. You’re thankful for small miracles; your class has already gone out for recess, which means you don’t have to break that news to them. 
Will is helping the kids glue multicolored strands of crepe paper in the shape of a rainbow, complete with cotton ball clouds. You’re unclogging a bottle of Elmer’s when the classroom phone rings, startling you. You place the glue bottle on the table, promising Joshua that you’ll be right back, and answer it. 
“Hello?”
“We need you to come to the office immediately,” the secretary’s clipped voice informs you. “Bring your personal items. We’ll send someone to assist Will.”
Stupidly, you nod before remembering she can’t see you. “Y-Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” You hang up, tell Will the plan, and bolt out the door. 
What the hell is going on? Why are they having me break the lock-in to go to the office? You hike your purse higher up your shoulder, trying to ignore the dread pooling in your stomach and creeping up your throat. 
Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong. 
Your feet can’t carry you fast enough. You nearly stop breathing when you see Eddie pacing in the lobby, Marion and Paula standing off to the side and speaking with Chief Hopper. The two teachers wear matching worried expressions. 
As soon as Eddie spots you, he’s charging over. “Oh, thank God,” he murmurs, throwing his arms around you and hugging you tight. You can feel the tears falling from his eyes, wetting the crook of your neck. His hands squeeze against your back and your shoulder blades as his body is wracked with sobs. 
You weave your fingers through his hair, holding him as close as you can. You’re desperate to know what’s going on, but you doubt he could explain if he tried. Instead, you continue comforting him while Principal Sinclair walks over. 
Her strides are long and purposeful, and she meets your own terrified gaze with her own. “Harris went missing during recess,” she says quietly, “and Mr. Munson let us know that you might be an asset in locating him.”
Harris went missing. Bile inches up your esophagus and you swallow it, wincing at its burn. “Why would he—” You stop mid-sentence; his motive is not important right now. All of your focus needs to be on finding him. 
Chief Hopper approaches you and Eddie, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder with two fingers. Eddie looks up, wipes his face with the heel of his palm, and clears his throat, but a fresh batch of tears threatens to spill over anyway. 
“We’ve just collected statements from his teachers,” Hopper reports, looking down at his notepad. “They said that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that Harris was just playing with his friends one moment and then gone the next.”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, something had to have happened.” Harris had wandered off plenty of times, like at the flea market. The difference was that he was easily found. “If you haven’t found him, then he’s either hiding, or someone…” The thought is too painful to finish. 
Hopper looks over at the principal. “You’re certain that the playground is secure?” He asks her, not accusing, but waiting for confirmation. 
“Yes, absolutely secure,” she affirms, nodding her head. “The gate can only be opened from the inside, so no one can access it off of the street.”
You know this, of course, but it doesn't bring you closer to finding Harris. 
“We’ve taped off the playground,” Hopper continues, “and we’ve got a search squad going now. Considering that Harris has been diagnosed with a disability, we’re beginning this investigation right away.”
“Mr. Munson,” a second officer chimes in, “is there anyone who would be inclined to take your son? Perhaps a non-custodial parent or an estranged relative?”
Eddie’s blood runs cold. “His mom, um, isn’t in the picture. Never has been.”
Hopper cocks one brow. “Never?” he asks disbelievingly. “How soon after he was born did she relinquish her rights?”
“She, um,” Eddie swallows, rubbing his nose in embarrassment, “she never did. Never relinquished her rights, I mean. She just kinda split.”
“So there was no formal agreement that she could no longer be involved in Harris’s life?”
“N-No,” he stammers, shame seeping from every pore. He’d always meant to start the legal proceedings, but that takes time and money…and maybe a small part of him had always hoped she’d come around and do the right thing. 
He looks over at you now, the way you’ve stepped into a mothering role like a puzzle piece. Like any parent, you’d made some mistakes, but you’re also the most compassionate person Eddie has ever known. 
He thinks of the times he’d tried to make his ex get clean, to want to get clean, and to be there for Harris. The weight of disappointment caused his chest to ache every time she’d mumble, “I’m gonna, but not right now” or “I don’t need help.”
Perhaps it’s unfair to compare the two of you; after all, you hadn’t struggled with addiction. But Eddie can’t help himself. You’d loved Harris before you’d even loved him, he realizes. And he’d never had to ask you to. 
“Do you have any contact information for her?” Hopper taps his pen against his notepad. “Nine out of ten times in these situations, the child is with someone they know.”
What about the ‘one’ time? What happens then? Heat pulses in Eddie’s cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn’t need Hopper to answer the question; he already knows what that means. 
“It’s from five years ago, so I don’t know if it’s still accurate.” He stumbles over his words, thinking about the last time he’d called her; it was the invitation to Harris’s birthday. “I don’t know it by heart, but I have it in my address book at home.”
Hopper gives a brusque nod to his colleague and to your boss. “We’ll give you a lift. And, uh, it’ll be good to set up your place as a home base.”
“Yeah, yeah, right,” Eddie mumbles, simply going through the motions without processing them. He’s on autopilot, a robotic version of himself. If he was able to fully absorb his surroundings, he would note the irony of him sitting in the back of the cop car because they’re helping him instead of escorting him to the county jail. 
You don’t let go of his hand the entire ride there, your thumb rubbing the soft hairs on his knuckles. “We’re gonna find him,” you whisper reassuringly, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 
But Eddie is too embroiled in his own thoughts, imagining every possible tragedy that could have befallen his son. As soon as Hopper pulls up to the apartment complex, Eddie is flying up the stairs, two at a time, unlocking the door as fast as he can. You run in behind him, watching as he flings loose papers and pens from a kitchen drawer. He’s kicked over the boxes he’s already packed; clothes and some of Harris’s toys are scattered across the floor like a poorly-designed booby-trap. 
He holds up the tattered black book, flipping through it until he lands on the right page. “Here. Right here.” He frantically points to an entry at the top, fingertip jabbing into it over and over. 
Hopper takes the book from him, careful not to rip the already weathered materials. He dials the digits and frowns when he’s greeted by the automated we’re sorry, this number is no longer in service, far too chipper for the circumstances. He tries once more in case he dialed incorrectly, but he gets the same message. 
“Disconnected,” he says gruffly, hanging the receiver with a clank. “Is there anyone else?”
Eddie can only shake his head somberly. If Wayne got Harris from school early, he would have told him. He wasn’t even sure how much of Harris’s maternal family knew of his existence, let alone his location. If someone took his son, it was more than likely a complete stranger. 
Hopper’s walkie crackles with static; you and Eddie stiffen with anticipation. “Hey, Chief?” comes from the garbled voice on the other end. 
“I’m here.”
“We’ve got a kid here at the school who says he spoke with Harris Munson right before he went missing today.”
Eddie stands up, walking closer to Hopper. Part of you expects him to grab the walkie and try talking straight to the other officer, but he doesn’t. 
Hopper presses the small black button and speaks. “Copy. Does he know where we might locate him?”
There’s a deafening silence for a few moments; no more than ten seconds pass, but it feels like a lifetime. Finally, there’s some information: “No known location; just says that Harris told him he was having ‘big feelings’ and needed to go to his favorite place.’”
“The zoo,” you murmur aloud, drawing confused looks from both men in the room. “When he got upset on Saturday—at Goodwill—I taught him to do some deep breathing and picture being in his favorite place, and he told me it was the zoo. But I…” you swallow, furrowing your brows, “I told him to picture it, not actually go there.”
“Zoo’s too far for him to walk, and no bus driver is going to let a kid that young ride by himself,” the chief points out. 
You nod, biting your lower lip. “He might not be at the zoo, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to get there.”
Hopper thanks the other officer and turns to you and Eddie. My guys are deploying the search party as we speak.” He takes a deep breath and makes direct eye contact with you and Eddie. “We’ll do everything we can to bring your son back safely.”
Eddie buries his head in his hands, collapsing back against the living room wall and sliding down to the floor. 
You look over at the police chief. “Can we help? Join the search…or something?” Anything besides sitting around and waiting for answers. 
“Absolutely. We’ll keep an officer stationed here in case Harris comes home.” 
You nudge your foot against Eddie’s. “C’mon, babe.” You try to keep strength behind your words, to be what Eddie needs right now, but it gets harder with each passing second. “We’re gonna go look for him.” He looks up and notices that you’ve extended your hand, and he takes it, pulling himself up. 
He doesn’t say a word, but he follows you and Hopper out the door. He’s gnawing on his lips so violently that some skin peels off between his teeth; flecks of blood dotting his usually perfect mouth. 
“We’ve got some time before sunset, so that’s on our side,” Hopper says as he drives back the way he came. “We’ll start in the woods near the school, and we’ll move from there.” He peers back at the two of you through the rearview mirror with a determined gaze.
“My uncle,” Eddie says suddenly, no certain expression on his face. He’s practically catatonic when he talks. “I want Wayne to wait at the apartment. I need to tell him…” If Harris does return home first and sees police officers surrounding the place, he might get scared and run off again.
Hopper scratches at his beard. “We’ll let him know, all right? Don’t worry about that.” He radios the instructions to a colleague, who confirms them and signs off, before pulling into a grassy area and killing the engine. “Let’s go. If Harris is going to come out for anyone, it’ll be you two.” He slams his door and then helps you and Eddie out of the backseat. 
Before you can even begin, you hear a group of people shouting Eddie’s name. You look over to see Jeff, Jess, and Robin waving and walking towards you. 
“We came as soon as we heard,” Robin says, giving you and Eddie a hug. “We’re gonna help you, and we’re not leaving until we find him.”
Jeff offers a tight smile, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “We’re here for you man,” he promises, sincerity in its purest form. “Viv is gonna stop by later and I’ll take care of Ettie.”
It’s a kind gesture, but Eddie’s stomach sours at the thought of still searching later. He needs to know that his son is safe now. 
Harris’s name is echoed over and over, bouncing off of trees and shaking the leaves as you and your friends call out for him. 
“Harris!” you cry out, throat raw from your constant shouting. “Harris, it’s Ms. Sweetheart!”
“Harris!” Eddie’s voice is even louder than yours; the power behind it is palpable. “Harris, it’s Daddy! Please come out! You’re not in trouble!” he adds, cognizant of the little boy’s fear of making people mad. 
Every squirrel that darts across the forest floor has you whipping your head around, heart leaping at the prospect of Harris emerging from where he’s hiding. 
He has to be hiding; your mind won’t let you imagine what could happen if the wrong person saw him walking by himself, determined to get to the zoo…
“Harris, Aunt Robin and I will buy you any toy you want!” Jess yells. “And all the ice cream you can eat!”
The five of you take turns making promises to nobody; they’re secrets shared with the wind. Each unanswered call leaves you feeling more defeated, especially with the sun hanging lower in the sky. It will be dark soon, leaving Harris even more vulnerable than he already is.
Will joins the group a few moments later, bringing granola bars, water, and flashlights. You can only stomach about a quarter of your snack, having completely lost your appetite. Eddie doesn’t even bother to eat, fueled by adrenaline rather than food.
“Principal Sinclair is also looking,” Will tells you and Eddie. “She’s with Lucas and Erica over at Merrill Wright’s farm. It’s closer than the zoo, but he’s got some animals, so they wanted to check there.” He pauses, casting his eyes down for a second before looking at Eddie. “Everyone’s helping out with this. They all want to find Harris.”
Tears well up along Eddie’s lash line; he blinks them away to keep his vision clear. “Thanks, man.” He coughs to clear his throat, emotions forcing their way through. “That means a lot.” For a moment, he sees Will as he was when they first met: an overwhelmed little freshman, unsure of his place in high school, let alone in the world.
What if Harris never gets the chance to find himself? What if he doesn’t get to grow up and learn new things, make his own mistakes, figure out who he is?
You put an arm around Eddie, unknowingly pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. “Can you try to drink some water? Please?” You know better than to nag him about eating right now, but the last thing he needs is to get dehydrated.
He cracks open the bottle and takes a few sips, not realizing how thirsty he was until the liquid covers his tongue. He downs it all without taking a breath, the plastic crinkling as he siphons out every last drop of water.
“Take mine,” you tell him, offering it with the best smile you can possibly muster, but he shakes his head.
“You need it, too.” He’s not wrong, but you have no issue letting him drink from your bottle if he’s still thirsty.
You take a sip and pass it to him. “We’ll share.”
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Another hour passes, the pink and orange hues becoming deeper purples and reds as the sky darkens with night. Some people start to call it quits, returning home to their own children, breathing secret sighs of relief that they have children to return home to. Your group remains intact; no one is even considering leaving until they physically cannot move any longer.
With just overworked flashlight bulbs illuminating your path, you continue trudging through the woods. Hopper’s shift was over hours ago, but he’s steadfast in his pursuit to find Harris.
Eddie’s exhausted physically and emotionally, feeling like every part of him has been drained and can never be replenished. His son is missing; he might have been kidnapped, and he doesn’t know if or when he’ll see him again. All he wants is to hold him again, to hear his little laugh as he tells a cheesy joke he learned at school, to watch him sound out new words or draw a picture or just fall asleep in his own bed.
Hopper’s walkie crackles; he clutches it tight and holds it so he can hear it clearly.
“Chief, we may have a sighting.”
A light flickers behind Eddie’s eyes; he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help himself. He listens intently as the other officer relays the information.
“Doris Driscoll just went outside to let her cats in for the night, and when they didn’t go inside, she went looking. Found them behind a bush, eating crackers out of a little boy’s hands. He told her his name is Harris. Matches the descriptions the father provided.”
Eddie grabs your hand, gripping it with whatever strength he has left. You feel a surge course through your veins as Hopper motions for you to follow him to his car. He turns on his siren and guns it down the road, swerving in and out of traffic to get to the old woman’s house as fast as he can.
Please, please let him be here, you silently pray, subconsciously screwing your eyes shut and holding your breath. The only thing worse than not knowing where he is might just be a false alarm that he’s been found. 
Hopper slams on the brakes behind an ambulance parked in front of the Driscoll residence, their open doors allowing the fluorescent lights to stream through. Eddie watches, wide-eyed, as an EMT wheels a stretcher over to it. 
A stretcher carrying Harris. 
“Harris!” Eddie cries in simultaneous relief, exuberance, and fear. He instinctively reaches for a door handle, quickly remembering that he’s in a cop car and had to wait for Hopper to let him out from the outside. 
You’re already crying; everything you’d been holding back to maintain a solid resolve for Eddie is crumbling as soon as you’d seen his son. You scramble out of the car, right behind him, and run to where the emergency technicians are treating Harris. 
He’s awake and alert, and he spots the two of you right away. “Daddy! Ms. Sweetheart!” He tries sitting up, but a technician gently guides him to lay down again. “No, that’s my daddy and my almost-mommy!” he protests. “I gotta see them!”
You and Eddie reach him at the same time. He’s covered in dirt; it’s smudge along his cheeks, his arms, and his legs. He’s even managed to get some on the tip of his nose. Some blood is smeared on his right knee where he’s seemed to have scraped it, and the EMTs spray some antiseptic on it and apply a bandage before he can even feel the sting.
“Oh, thank God.” The words rush out of Eddie’s mouth, and he puts his palms on his son’s cheeks and presses kisses all over his face. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He turns to the technicians, worry pinching his brows together. “He’s okay, right? There’s nothing wrong?” He pushes some of Harris’s damp curls from his forehead. There aren’t any visible bumps or bruises on his face, which eases a bit of his nerves.
One technician nods. “Right now, it seems like he’s just got some minor lacerations, but we’ll run the gamut of tests to rule out more severe injuries.” She looks over at the police chief, who stands a few yards behind you. “We’ll take it from here.”
Hopper gives a small, sad smile; it’s then that you remember that his own child had passed away nearly twenty years ago. She was only a little older than Harris is now. 
Eddie follows your gaze with red-rimmed eyes, the realization setting in for him, too. “Thanks, Chief,” he says, just loud enough so Hopper can hear him. Hopper nods, placing his hat atop his head before walking away.
The EMTs check for any broken or sprained bones, shine lights into Harris’s pupils, and ask him a few simple questions to assess for a concussion. “We’ll have to take him to the hospital, just to be sure,” they say to you and Eddie, “but barring any extenuating circumstances, you should be able to bring him back home tonight.”
“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie breathes, crouching down a bit so he’s eye-level with his son. “Har, can you tell us why you ran away from school? You’re not in trouble; I promise.”
Harris looks down at the blanket draped across his lap. “I had really big feelings, and I tried thinking about the zoo like you told me,” he glances at you, “but then the feelings didn’t go away, so I decided to go there.”
You take his small hand in yours. “What were the big feelings?” you ask gently, free of judgment and filled with concern.
He thinks for a second, then states matter-of-factly, “Mad and sad.”
“Mad and sad?”
“Mhm,” he mumbles, wiping at his nose with his free hand. “‘Cause of Ms. Marion and Ms. Paula.”
You freeze, trying to regain your composure before Harris can pick up on your uncertainty. “What happened with your teachers, Har?”
“They were saying mean things about you and Daddy, and it made me mad and sad.”
At the sound of his title, Eddie speaks up. “Mean things about us?”
“Yeah, like, that Ms. Sweetheart is probably teaching you how to read, too,” Harris explains, “and I said that they’re lying, that you’re really smart and read to me all the time. And that Ms. Sweetheart isn’t your teacher; she’s my almost-mommy.”
Eddie clenches his fists, veins prominent as his body goes stiff. His anger isn’t at the insult, but at the way they could speak so brazenly about a child’s family, disregarding the hurt it causes. He doesn’t care what those women think of him, but he’s furious that they upset Harris.
“They keeped laughing and telled me to go play,” Harris continues, getting choked up at the memory. “I tried to do my breathing and my favorite place remembering with Charlie, but it didn’t work. And I got lost going to the zoo–the real zoo, not the one in my imagination–so I hided with the cats until the nice lady found me.”
You and Eddie share heartbroken looks, pushing aside your respective emotions as you tend to the little boy laying in front of you. “Get some rest, Har Bear,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head. “You had a long day.”
He falls asleep after a few minutes, constantly checking to make sure that the two of you are still by his side. As soon as his breathing steadies and his eyes remain closed, Eddie turns to you, exhausted and running on fumes. Wet brown doe eyes pleadingly gaze at you, lids heavy with sleep. You wrap your arms around him, unable to get close enough. He moves slowly, every action a delayed reaction, but he gradually embraces you, too.
“Stay. Please.” The words are muffled by the way his mouth is mashed into your scalp, but you hear them perfectly fine. “And if we get to go home tonight, come back with us. I need you both close to me.”
“Of course.” Your own lips press against his perspiration-soaked shirt collar. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You pull back ever-so-slightly, brushing tears from his cheeks. “He’s safe. He’s safe, and he’s here, and we get to keep spoiling and loving him.”
Eddie absorbs this as best as he can, mind still spinning as the adrenaline crash hits. There’s so much he wants to say, but for right now, he just carves out space in his body for yours. Your light whisper keeps him grounded, pulling hi away from the spiraling that usually overtakes him in times of crisis.
“I’ve got you.”
--
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jjklvr9 · 2 months
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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮
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⇢ " 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘥 "
18+ minors dni !!
pairing: heeseung x older fem!reader (by a year)
genre: smut, slight romance
warnings: slight praising, mentions of blood, fingering, cursing, unprotected sex, do let me know if i missed anything!
wc: 5.3k
a/n: my first ever heeseung fic !! i have not been writing in a very long time so i'm kinda rusty and i'm trying a little different style of writing ;_; but! i still hope you all enjoy it <3
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You often wondered if there was more out there for you. Something that would make your mind and nerves twist in excitement, something that’d make you yearn for more. Something that would never make you think twice about, something that wouldn’t obscure your thoughts with uncertainty and ‘what ifs’. 
A deep sigh escapes your lips as you shake your head, aiming to clear your mind. It's time to focus on getting that pending work done so you can relish in the relief of passing in bed. It was a Friday night after all. 
It’s been a year since you graduated from university and the momentary happiness of completing a goal you’ve set flushed away when you began your first new job. The pay wasn’t too bad and it was the only way you’ve been guided to headstart on a career. Head start your life more so. You were beyond glee when you read the acceptance email, calling around your family members and best friends to tell them the good news. Yay! You’re finally earning money and doing something. The excitement didn’t last long, for the first two weeks on the job already took a heavy toll on you. The countless meetings, paperwork, overtime. Not to mention the commute home on the bus was dreadful after a late night. It became a routine you despised, slowly killing you from the insides and sometimes it showed on your face. 
Your life beyond the confines of work bore a striking resemblance. The majority of your friends were entangled in their own busy lives and careers, leaving little room for regular meetups. Furthermore, your family resided inconveniently in an entirely different city, making it impractical for you to freely come and go as you pleased. Not that you’d have the energy to do so anyway. On most of your days off, you found yourself indoors, indulging in the solace of leisurely idleness. There was nothing better than being able to sleep without the expectation of an alarm blaring to wake you up too early in the morning for your liking. 
But it was also getting dull. You couldn’t deny that life was pretty dull. You were grateful most times, having the security of a job and home was everything that was enough. Though occasionally, you longed for more. More to feel what life and this world could present. Even for the tiniest second, you desired to feel something different. 
9:30 pm. Finally, you turn your laptop off for the night and raise your arms to stretch the extremely tautened muscles straining your shoulders. You’ve been working non-stop since your lunch break ended, dinner didn’t even occur to you till small growls churned in your stomach. Packing up your things, you decided to head down to the convenience store in the building before leaving to catch your bus ride home. Maybe some onigiri or a bento box would suffice. 
Treading into the well-lit store, the cashier welcomes you with a smile along with the rush of the cold draft from the air conditioner hitting your skin at once. That woke you up a bit, forgetting how cold it would be in actuality outside of this building. It was winter after all. Your eyes survey through the food section, set on that last tuna mayo-flavoured rice ball before extending your hand to pick it off the shelves; when another hand seemed to beat you to it. This interaction caused you to jolt a little on your feet, waking you up fully now as your eyes dilated slightly at the man standing beside you. His hand was still next to yours by the shelves, only his successfully holding onto the onigiri. 
“Oh, sorry. Did you want this?” he asks softly, or rather he seemed, apologetic with his eyes staring back into yours. “It’s fine...I’ll just..” you trail on, glancing back at the array of rice balls before aimlessly picking another. “take this one.” The man blinks instantly in surprise, you can tell, but what about you weren’t sure. “Y/n?” with your name slipping out of his voice, your eyes widened once again and this time you were surprised. What? 
“You are..?” Not wanting to confirm straight off the bat just in case it was a stalker danger situation or something, you crease your eyebrows in question. “It’s me, Heeseung. From the basketball team.” Heeseung…Heeseung? Oh. Right. Heeseung. Once his facial features registered in your fatigued brain, recollections of university life played in your mind like a movie trailer. Were you truly this depleted that you didn't recognize this earlier? Unbelievable.
You knew him briefly through your group of friends who were also part of the basketball team, glimpsing him in the socials and games you attended, merely ever acknowledging each other with “heys” and greeting smiles. Heeseung was a year younger than you but it was hard to tell with his domineering height and build. Despite his rapport with your closest friends, you two never seemed to escalate the acquaintanceship. Yet, there was always a subtle exchange of prolonged glances between you two. You often notice his gaze and you'd find yourself looking back at him. His captivating charm and attractive features were no secret to anyone, and you were well aware of the magnetic allure he possessed around people. Well, those glances held no deeper meaning; they were just moments, fleeting and devoid of any significance, or so you believed. 
“Ah…Heeseung. I didn’t realise it was you with your hair all black now. Sorry, my brain is kind of fried..” you convey with a slight smile, mixed with comfort and apology. It had only been a full year and a half since you last saw him, at one of the parties the basketball team threw before a big game. It was apparent he changed; grew a few more inches and his shoulders looked larger too. Black strands covered some of his eyes now, which differed the most drastically from the blonde he used to have. He looked really good even sporting in just a hoodie and sweatpants, you couldn’t refute that. Heeseung lets out a chuckle, taking the onigiri from your hand and strides his way to the cashier without another word. “Oh?” was all you could say, flickering your eyes in surprise as you followed him. “You don’t have to! I should be the one buying.” He chuckles once again; never realised his voice sounded temperate either. As he thanks the cashier and hands you the plastic bag filled with the tuna-flavoured rice ball you wanted initially and an extra orange juice, a smile curves up his lips. You thanked him quietly and showed a smile back, both of you now walking out of the store into the cold air of the night. 
The darkness encompassed your surroundings, yet the glow of the streetlights and moon shine compensated for the lack of clear sight. “Hey, you didn’t have to..you know. But thank you again Heeseung. I should pay you back though..” The man looks at you with the same smile still plastered on his face, his hand pushing back his hair slightly. “Instead of paying me back, why don’t we grab a bite sometime?” Did he just ask me out? No, he’s just being friendly. 
You weren’t certain if you were more exhausted than you thought, but you sensed a slight leap in your heart. You weren't exactly unnerved by the inquiry, but it certainly deviated from the norm for you, especially now that you're fully engrossed in the corporate grind. Work accumulated on too much of your life and mind, as well as on people around you that nobody ever had any time to do such things. Sure, you’ve been asked out for lunch and coffee, sometimes even dinner with a colleague but this felt different. 
“Oh, yeah, okay.” you weren’t sure on how to react, nodding your head along with your words. You were shy. Heeseung chortles once again, noting this obvious expression from you. “Tomorrow sound good? Here, give me your number.” He says, passing you his phone. Was he always this straightforward? He did seem the type to be but encountering it first-hand was heating your ears and cheeks. You hope he doesn’t realise this, assuming it was from the cold. Nodding slowly in agreement with his suggestion, you take the phone from his hand and fill in your contact information. For some reason, your phone number seemed scrambled up in your head, causing you to doubt if you're even keying in the right digits. Saving it and handing the phone back to him, you retained your eyes on his. The sound of the bus huffing to a stop nearby broke your gaze, realising it was your ride home for the night. “Okay well I um, I have to catch that.” you tried not to sound awkward, pointing at the bus a few steps away as you took some in that direction slowly. “Ah, alright, I’ll text you!” Heeseung graced you with yet another warm smile, this time radiating even more brightness than before. He watches as you get on the bus and settle on a seat in the back, waving slightly when your eyes look out the window to him. You wave back as the bus drives off, his silhouette gently fading away into the obscurity of the night. It had been quite a memorable evening for you, as the sight of an old familiar face reignited something within you, much like the gradual lustre of a dried-out candle; and indeed, the flames do begin to flicker and glow anew.
As sunlight sifts through the curtains and gently tickles your face, its warmth prompts a soft, contented whirr to escape your lips as you continue to slumber peacefully. If that wasn’t enough to wake you, the buzzing sound of your phone sure did. It was a quiet Saturday morning, or rather, afternoon, considering the clock struck 12 pm. At this hour, the stillness persisted, and you were expecting a respite from incoming messages. Everybody was either too occupied catching up on their sleep and lives, but you’d forgotten there was a new number soon to be added to your contacts. Seizing it from the side table, you open one eye to take a peek at the notification illustrated on the screen before opening both in surprise. Perhaps even excitement, reading the words out loud in your head.
“Good morning Y/N :) Heeseung here.”
A bashful smile began to play on the corners of your lips, and your cheeks blushed once more at the mere thought of the text. The fact that he probably just woken up too to text you ‘Good morning’ at this hour; the fact texting you was the first thing he did when he woke up. You swiftly replied, not forgetting to replicate the smiley face he added to his good morning text. Within a few minutes, your phone buzzed again, leaving you no space to bask in the joy of having received that initial message. 
“I hope you rested well :) What are your plans for the day?” 
There's that smiley face again. Why did he have to message you like that? Such simple words yet they made your smile grow bigger. You turned your body to the other side, back facing the window now with your legs wrapped around the bolster. It felt like reliving high-school days being a young girl in love, smiling and giggling as you read the exchanged messages between you and your crush. You weren't entirely certain if your feelings for this boy amounted to a crush just yet, but there was an undeniable sense of something growing within you.
Heeseung was sweet, and he was really funny. It’s around 5 pm now, having been texting each other the whole day with a dinner plan for the night, you found yourself giggling once again as you read the joke he made this time. All you managed to do today was eat lunch and take a shower, with half the other time spent typing your fingers away on your phone. Over the course of a few hours, the bond between you two clicked instantly and deepened, ease and comfort settling enough for Heeseung to have flirted a little bit here and there. You did appreciate his gestures, noting his flirtatious manner, which leaned more towards showering you with compliments and engaging in innocent teasing. Glancing at the time once more, you figured it was time to get ready for the dinner he had planned for the both of you. 
Gazing at your reflection one final time in the mirror, a smile graces your lips as you adjust your flared-sleeve top and skirt to perfection. The sound of your phone ringing caught you off guard, stumbling a little as you hurriedly put on your jacket and picked it up. “Hey, I’m outside.” Heeseung sounded like he was smiling over the phone, the hint of excitement couldn’t be missed from his tone. An involuntary smile finds its way to your lips, peeking through the window to see him standing outside with his back resting against his car; dressed handsomely in a pair of loose black pants, matching it with a black collared shirt and jacket. God, even in simple clothing or dressed up, Heeseung always looked good. Despite hours of conversation, a flutter of nervousness still lingered within you. Heart beating louder and quicker with every step closer you took to him, the sight of his glinting eyes seemed to relax you. 
Breathe. It’s just Heeseung. 
“You’re so pretty.” He blurts out as you become clearer in his line of sight; and with the subtle reddening of his cheeks, you discern that he hadn't intended to express it so candidly. He blinks slowly as if he was coming back from a daze, clearing his throat. “Come on, let's go.” the boy says, opening the car door with one hand and the other leading you to get in.   What a gentleman. 
“Y-you look really good too.” Did you just stutter? Pursing your lips in embarrassment, you tried to save face by giving a small smile. Cute, he thought and as usual he chuckled in response. The ride to the restaurant turned out to be less awkward than anticipated, and as the night unfolded, you discovered yourself becoming more and more comfortable in his company, easing into the evening with each passing moment. Engaging in conversation, you delve into the recounting of shared experiences in university and reminisce about mutual friends, weaving a tapestry of memories and connections. Diving deeper, you navigate through a multitude of topics, slipping past the surface to explore more facets of each other's lives. Amidst soft laughter that punctuates the conversation, you discover that there's an inexhaustible well of things to talk about with each other. 
 In that fleeting time, everything felt perfect and your heart did the leap once more. Whenever there was a minute of silence between the two of you, Heeseung would look up to you with a smile, reaching his hand out across the table to hold onto yours. You found yourself pondering whether he might be experiencing the same nervousness as you, despite his outwardly composed and confident demeanor. Yet, every now and then, you caught a slight flush creeping up to the tips of his ears, offering a glimpse into his inner thoughts.
Nothing could’ve beat the night you had, if you had to compare it with all the others you spent rotting alone at home in your bed. With everything running smoothly, what could go wrong? It felt like you two grew closer not just emotionally but physically as well, being cosy enough to hold hands as you walk out of the restaurant together now. 
“Oh shit, I think I left my phone on the table.” Heeseung says, patting down his jacket and pant pockets a few times, apologising to you as he hurriedly walks back in. You giggle a little at his clumsiness, standing at the side of the restaurant waiting for him to come back. It was getting later in the night now, the cold air tingling down your skin making goosebumps rise. No amount of clothing or jackets was enough for the temperature that drops at night. 
Bits of the evening kept replaying in your head and you couldn’t help but smile a little to yourself. It was yet to end until Heeseung sent you home but you were already reminiscing the time you shared. He surprised you in a way; with how effortless it was to talk to him, to share with him the things you’ve always had in mind. He made you feel accommodated and heard; like he really wanted to know you. Like he really wanted you to know him. There undoubtedly was a paradoxical sense that you and he had an enduring connection as if your souls had been intertwined for eternity. What took you so long to finally talk to him? It made you excited, knowing there would potentially be more of him in your life after this. 
“You alone?” a slurred-out voice pulls you out of your thoughts, surprising you, even more, was the tall man standing in front of you now. He didn’t look too old, nor did he look too young, but he did look wasted. You were seemingly scared and decided not to pay any mind to the stranger, hoping he’d just walk away and stop bothering you; but to no luck, the man remained there. Pestering and being persistent in having a conversation, he started to annoy you. Annoy more than how scared you felt before. Annoyed about what's taking Heeseung so goddamn long to come back. Before you could muster the words to dismiss the man, he unexpectedly takes hold of your wrist, as if intending to lead you away. “Come, let's go get some drinks!” 
“Let her go.” Tone harsh and low, Heeseung was evidently angry at the stranger bothering you. He made sure to be delicate, grabbing your waist to pull you off from the man’s grip and fall back close to his chest. “Who the fuck are you?” The stranger retaliates, puffing up his chest as if he were trying to scare Heeseung off. It would take more than just a little show to get him to back down from guarding you, not even a mere attempt at a punch in the face could. Heeseung scoffs in spite, unfazed at the hit; his own fist curling up to show the man how it was actually done. You gasp softly, being pushed to the sidelines as Heeseung lands his hard knuckles on the man’s face. It clearly did the damage he meant to, seeing how the man was now wincing and scurrying off in pain and curses. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as the dispute came to an abrupt end. “Heeseung, are you okay? Y-you’re bleeding!” A small red hue illuminates from the corner of his lips, quickly being licked off by his swift tongue. Though the bleeding continued to slowly seep through. “I’m fine if you’re fine. Let’s get you home.” 
You weren’t going to lie, besides the worry you felt for Heeseung getting into a physical altercation, the sight of him all strong and protective like that kind of made your insides turn. In a good way. Never mind that he was younger, the fact he was protective towards you and even took out a hit for you; ten folds attractive in your eyes. The whole ride home remained shrouded in silence, with a subtle tension lingering in the air. His hand held yours firmly as he drove, a silent reassurance amidst the quiet unease. Caressing your hand with his thumb, indicating he was worried for your well-being and this soothed you immensely. Pulling up to your driveway, Heeseung turns to face you, hand still firmly clasped with yours. 
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” He starts, hanging his head down low as if he was ashamed to meet your eyes.
You give his hand a little tug, signalling him to ease up. “It’s okay. You’re the one who got hurt though..” unconsciously (or not, you weren’t even sure yourself anymore) your lips form a small pout, eyes wide focused on Heeseung’s face with slight glances at his bleeding lips. He notices this, and instead of wiping them off, Heeseung slowly leans his face closer to yours till your noses brush against each other and he pauses there. His breath wandered around the air near you, the warmth emanating from his body exuding into your skin and creating a calming closeness. His scent was undeniably pleasing and so close, the black strands of his hair softly poking on your own cheeks. Electrifying, both heartbeats getting louder and louder you could almost feel it claw its way out. You held your breath at that moment, fearful that any wrong move might cause the enchantment to disperse. You’ve never felt like this before, and you’d do whatever it takes to keep feeling it. 
Your thighs seemed to rub against each other, warmth burgeoning in your stomach and extending downward. In one brisk second, Heeseung plants his lips onto yours and immediately you reciprocate. It felt tender and pacifying, radiating sincerity and solace.
You could feel the speck of passion pouring into your heart, flowers blooming as the garden grows. It grows, wilder with a pinch of fire now, as Heeseung pushes for more with how deep and harsher his lips felt. Your sanity erupts into a chaotic symphony, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. His hands had seemed to find themselves on your bare thighs, gripping them like his life depended on it. Fingers tracing up your skin till it reaches the hem of your skirt, you feel it daringly push the fabric away and climb higher. With the soft touch of his finger on your now-soaked underwear, a soft moan escapes your lips. Your hands encircled his neck, drawing him nearer, the desire for more amplifying with each lingering touch of his piers. Heeseung pushes his tongue in at the brief parting of your lips, licking your cavern wet and continues to weave both of your tongues together, sucking on them ever so roughly.
 Breaking the kiss, now messy and sloppy with saliva running down your jaw, you somehow felt your lips still parched. As if it were insufficient, leaving an unquenched longing for his flavour. Tracing your tongue on the edges of his crimson-covered lips, you sniffle a moan at the taste of him. Despite the tempting urge to nibble more onto them, you resisted, mindful of not wanting to inflict any more hurt upon him than he had already endured.
Inclining into him again, his finger resting on your underwear has started to make its movements; nice and slow. He rubs them in a circular motion; wanting to tease you a little bit more. You moan in between kisses, your own hands now gripping onto his shirt to tug and pull him closer, bodies pressing against each other. With that eagerness coming from you, Heeseung holds your underwear to the side with his thumb, pushing two fingers into your folds without breaking the kiss. You gasped at this, unconsciously biting onto his lower lip a little bit too hard than you intended. It created a little bloody mess, but nothing you couldn’t fix. 
You tenderly murmur a soft apology, delicately licking away every trace of red left on his lips, seeking to soothe any discomfort. 
“You’re such a good girl, cleaning up after your mess. My good girl.” the man coos under his breath, fingers pushing themselves further into you, accelerating the pace as the seconds go by. My good girl. There's that heart leap again. A fleeting moment of uncertainty crosses your mind as you ponder whether he expressed those words in the heat of the moment
or if he meant it, but the way he handled you and kissed you earlier seemed to pivot the pendulum towards it being honest. At least, that's what you wanted to believe. 
The muffled sounds escaping you grow more pronounced, escalating in intensity with the hold on his shirt tightening within the grasp of your fingers shortly before they sneak downwards to the growing mound in his pants; gently but firmly grasping its contours. This prompted a hiss from him, his lips pressing even deeper into the yours than before. 
You've never encountered such an exhilarating feeling like this, as Heeseung's firm fingers gradually heighten the vigour of euphoria seeping up your senses. "Ah, more..more." 
The man smirks in response to your desperate plea, forcefully pushing his fingers deeper before withdrawing them completely. Dismayed at his retraction, your eyes fluttered as you leaned back from him, gasping for the breath you had momentarily lost. 
"More what? What is it that you want, baby?" 
With a raised eyebrow, he questions, attempting to suppress a grin that you catch in his expression. Ignoring the blush taking shape on the apples of your cheeks, you briefly scrutinise him; his shirt bore a charming dishevelment, his tousled hair adding a touch of allure, making him exceptionally more attractive in sight. The burgeoning bulge beneath your clammy palm subtly twitches, drawing your focus to its presence; making it known to you of his equal excitement at what you're about to say. 
"I want you to fuck me, Heeseung. Please." 
A groan escapes his lips in response to your words. Without uttering another sound, he withdraws from you and begins lowering his pants and boxers down to his thighs; springing out his ever-so-eager cock free. Damn, what a sight. Heeseung clearly overpacked on your anticipations in this department. 
How much more pleasure could he bring you now, considering the sensations his fingers alone prompted? Your insides ignite further at this view, body flushing with heat and throat drying at the mere thought of how he would taste and feel inside of you. 
"Like what you see?" With his grin no longer concealed, the man wastes no time in pushing his seat back to create space, pulling you up to straddle his lap, facing him. A loud grunt breaks free past his lips at the pressure, sending a thrill of giddiness through you. Each time his subtle noises reached your ears, it professed that you were doing something right, eliciting a sense of satisfaction for the pleasure you were giving him. "It's not even in yet." you giggle softly, pulling your own underwear down to your thighs. "Someone's impatient." Though he started with the tip of his erection gently brushing against your clitoris, he swiftly proceeded to thrust himself inside your entrance.
"Fuck." 
Both of you utter the same word, yet in two distinct tones – yours emerging as a whine of pleasure, and his as a gratifying groan. The folds of your clit envelope him completely, with every quickening thrust he pushes in constricting yourself around his cock. 
The strands of his hair, once framing his face, now clung damply to his forehead, hooded eyes barely peering through them yet intensely staring into your orbs. Countless thoughts inundated your mind under the weight of his intimate gaze, leaving you unable to focus on any single one. In this moment, concentration eluded you entirely; even the disbelief that Heeseung was pounding you out in his car right now. This is crazy. I'm crazy. 
"Damn, you feel so fucking amazing." his hands wander underneath the back of your skirt, grabbing the flesh of your ass ever so roughly as it bounces up and down his stripped thighs. “Oh fuck me-faster please..!” you squirmed in painful ecstasy as the wetness of your gushing clit slides his erection in and out of your tightness with ease. Heeseung accelerates his pace even further, seemingly preempting your unspoken demands. With your hands wrapped around his neck, you pull his chest closer to brush the tip of your hardened nipples beneath your top, and that causes you to moan out his name. The heated boy buries his face in the crook of your neck now, leaving soft brushes of his tongue against your skin and sinks his teeth into them rough enough to leave distinct marks. 
"You taste so fucking good too. You're just perfect." You hear his raspy voice mutter under his breath, face still grazing on the skin of your neck as if he was savouring your scent. Feeling the tip of his cock pushing itself exactly into your right spot, you whine out his name repeatedly. The back of your body arches, your toes curling at how hot the air stands; all sorts of emotions strike you at once as your sight goes blurry, mind growing hazier by the second. 
"Mmhm..faster Heeseung. Your cock feels so good in me.” this time, you moan even louder, indicating that you were on the brink of reaching the climax of your high very soon. Heeseung took notice of this, quickening his thrusts as he was about to reach the same destination. 
"Cum with me, baby. Together." 
Hoarse, low groans escaped from his lips with each accelerated movement; the cry of pleasure lamented out both your breaths the moment he blew in one final deepened jab at your spot. A surge of warm fluid cascaded through you, blending seamlessly with your own essence, propelled by the sheer bliss you've just shared. The air was filled with the sounds of heavy, hurried breaths, your lungs working overtime. Your eyes remained fixed on Heeseung's face as you endeavoured to recover composure and catch your breath. Finally, a sense of clarity returned to you as your thoughts regained focus. Did that really just happen? Everything seemed surreal, as if plucked from a dream.
Somehow it appeared like he could read your mind when he laughed at your countenance, his hands now accommodating on your waist to pull himself out of you slowly. As you lean in, finding comfort by resting your head on his chest, the rhythmic thumping of his heart surrounds your ear. The sound was loud and hastened, almost palpably carrying the nervous anticipation in its rapid beat, reminiscent of your very first kiss together. Well, you've done so much more than that now. Freeing his hands from your waist, Heeseung tenderly cradles you with one arm while the other softly strokes your head, radiating care and affection in his touch. He showers your forehead with soft pecks, each one a tender expression of adoration, accompanied by whispered sweet confessions that linger in the air.
"You're really beautiful, I've always thought that." 
 You both stay like that for a while, reluctant to disrupt the intimacy you shared. However, the reality of your semi-nude state in the confines of a car eventually nudged you both to acknowledge that the moment couldn't last forever. Not right there. The unexpected series of events that unfolded tonight, stemming from your fateful meeting just the day before, had taken a turn you hadn't even considered viable with him. In retrospect, those exchanged glances at the parties and games back then seemed to carry a newfound meaning now. Life wasn't so dull anymore.
Gently disentangling yourself from his embrace, you meet his eyes once again before placing a tender kiss on his cheek. "Let's go inside." you chuckle, sliding off his lap and back to the passenger seat while fixing your clothes. In sync with your decision, Heeseung follows suit, concurring with the idea of heading back inside your house; as the rest of the night evolved with an abundance of conversation and lots and lots and lots of cuddles. 
454 notes · View notes
undercovercameron · 9 months
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summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.
notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3
tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader
word count: 2542
The whole day had been perfect. 
You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck. 
The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much. 
Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you. 
The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you. 
It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms. 
“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”
You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight. 
“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)
“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig. 
“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty. 
“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”
“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.
“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”
You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist. 
“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean. 
You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer. 
“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser. 
“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever. 
“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face. 
“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him. 
“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make. 
“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders. 
“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”
“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man. 
“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down. 
This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes. 
Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps. 
“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes. 
“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it. 
“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.  
“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close. 
“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side. 
He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way. 
“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish. 
He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately. 
His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it. 
“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it. 
His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again. 
“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”
You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit. 
“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt. 
“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be. 
“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree. 
You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no. 
Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth. 
“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”
“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins. 
This time you can and do roll your eyes. 
“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”
Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly. 
“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild. 
“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”
“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick. 
He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist. 
You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly. 
It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.
His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken. 
Exactly what you’d imagined. 
“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips. 
His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips. 
You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride. 
It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work. 
You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work. 
“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours. 
You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek. 
The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time. 
“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark. 
He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you. 
You know you’ll have bruises there. 
You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.
Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting. 
At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much. 
Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood. 
“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body. 
His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling. 
“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath. 
He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god. 
The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there. 
He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill. 
“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat. 
“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat. 
Yeah, drive-up it is.
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awfcspencer · 3 months
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Hangover || alessia russo x reader
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alessia russo x reader
prompt: Alessia helps you after a night out.
warnings: fluff!
a/n: Happy new year!! Slightly on the shorter side but I wanted to get something up before my work shift. Enjoy!
You knew immediately when you woke up that you indeed had too much to drink last night for New Years, the pounding headache made you painfully aware. You had gone out to the bars to celebrate with Alessia and some of the Arsenal girls to ring in the new year and have a few drinks. Few turned into several for you unfortunately. The light coming in through the window was much too bright and it genuinely sounded like Alessia was simply just banging pans together downstairs to mock you. Your head ached and for some reason your knee hurt a bit too but you weren’t really sure why. Much of last night was a blur. The clock read 9:30, it was already too early for your day to begin.
Luckily, there were tablets and water on your bedside table along with a sweet note that said, ‘Come downstairs when you are up!’ You quickly turn over to take them and suddenly a wave of nausea hits you like a truck, today was going to be a long day. When you finally came to be able to get out of bed, your limbs were sore and your head was still spinning. Your wearing night clothes and it seems like your skin care had been done but you don’t recall doing either.
Making your way downstairs was a challenge, taking each step one by one, legs wobbling a bit. The last thing you need on a day like this is to fall down the stairs. The loud crashes in the kitchen get louder, making you wince slightly. Your eyes feel heavy and are adjusting difficulty to the bright lights.
“Less baby, what are you doing?” you whisper out, voice a little raspy from karaoke last night. You don’t know who convinced you to do karaoke, usually being quite reserved, but after the first song, no one was stealing the mic from you.
“Well look who is alive.” she chuckles out, continuing whatever she was trying to accomplish, incredibly loudly you might add. It looks like she is making breakfast but Alessia was not the designated chef in the relationship, and you both knew this.
Sitting on the kitchen counter, you ask, “How much did I have to drink last night?” pinching the bridge of your nose as you asked, hoping this was all a big funny dream and you hadn’t woke up with the worst hangover ever.
“Babe I think you drank the whole bar out. At one point you were talking to the bartender more than me.” she laughs out. Moving towards you, she places her body between your legs, kissing your temple softly. You relax into her, closing your eyes to try to relieve the tension you felt from your head. You stay like that for a few minutes, not wanting Alessia to leave.
Unfortunately, a sudden wave of burning pancakes makes its way to your nose and you look over and they are indeed on fire.
“Less the pancakes!” you yell out and motion Alessia towards the stove. She quickly runs over and turns the stove off, huffing about.
“Sorry baby, I was trying to make you breakfast this morning because I knew you were going to be hungover this morning.” she cries out.
“Love it’s okay, we can order in yeah? Maybe from the small cafe down the street that we have been meaning to try?” you say to hopefully cheer her up.
A sudden smile is on her face as she looks up their menu and begins to place an order online, asking what you want as you try and decipher what is not going to upset your already sensitive stomach. Because of the long break, Alessia did not have training this week, so that meant you could stay in and just be in the presence of your sweet girlfriend. The food arrived and you sat down to enjoy and get to the bottom of all of the embarrassing things you probably did last night.
“So what occurred last night? I remember getting to the bar, but mostly everything after that is dark.” you sheepishly say out. You usually weren’t a big drinker, but it was New Years Eve and you wanted to celebrate, was that a crime?
“Well it started off by a round of shots, and then Leah convinced you to do karaoke, bribing you with yet another shot, and then at some point I lost count of how many drinks you had had. Half way through the night I tried to suggest maybe we should go home and you kept telling me you had a girlfriend.” she smiles as she recalls the night. She grabs her phone and shows you the videos and photos she took last night. Ones of you and her, ones of you and Leah, and then one that made you laugh as the blood rushed to your cheeks.
“Is that me passed out in the uber home?” you asked, hoping that the photo was someone else, but deep down you knew that it was you.
“That is exactly what that is. It took everything for me to convince you to go home from the bar. I also hate to be the one to tell you this, but you also were asleep before even midnight. I had to change your clothes and do your skin care plus brush you teeth” she says as she recalls the previous night. “You did keep telling me that I was the prettiest girl you had ever seen though.”
“Well at least I did one thing right last night.” you joked out. The pain in your head had subsided a little and with food in your stomach you felt less nauseous, but you were still sore. “Why is my knee sore though Less?”
An immediate laughing jolt takes over Alessia and she tries to get out the words in-between giggles. “When we got home and walked through the door, there was a football in the living room and you ‘tried to be like your striker girlfriend’ and kicked the ball but missed so terribly and fell onto your knee” she laughed out.
“Great just great” you added, glad she was finding this humorous as you for one were embarrassed and ashamedly sore.
“It’s okay baby, it was really cute.” she stated, “Really funny too” she remarked, more giggles taking over her. Hearing her laugh, you would take the painstaking embarrassing moment and soreness everyday if it meant you got to hear that laugh every day.
You and Alessia spent the rest of the day lounging around. You were in no state to do much of anything else and Alessia knew that. You both had caught up on the tv series you were watching together and even made dinner together. When the day was over and you were cuddled up with Alessia in bed, you told her, “I am never drinking again” both laughing together before falling asleep.
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homestylehughes · 8 days
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i wanna taste
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pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader
summary: after one sight of y/n, jack has to get a taste.
warnings: smut 18+. oral- fem receiving, dirty talk, cussing, use of pet names. fluff, soft jack.
wc: 1.8k
au: hi loves! im on a writing streak (thank you spring break). im back with some jack smut woooohooooo, i realllllyyyy enjoyed writing this, i hope you guys enjoy. like and reblog if you enjoy<3.
happy reading <3
Rain softly hits the window, the soft light from the lamp in the corner of the living room illuminates the room with a soft glow. 
I've been awake for a few hours, my body waking me up at 5 am, turning over to see that Jack was sound asleep beside me, I decided to get out of bed and start my day.
Settling on the couch with a cup of coffee in my hands along with my book, this is where I've been for the last 3 hours. The book captivated me so much I didn't even check the time until I had finished it. 
The clock read 8:15, I was genuinely surprised Jack wasn't awake yet. His crazy hockey schedule kept him awake and up at odd hours, his body probably needed all of the sleep it could get. 
Getting up to get another cup of coffee, and the second book of the series I’m reading, I settle back into the couch and enter an alternate universe. 
I'm so into my book, that I don't even realize Jack creeping up behind me, wrapping his arms around my neck, nessling his face in my neck, feeling  his warm breath fan my neck. 
“Good morning pretty girl” I hear him say, as his face is still muffled in my neck. 
“Good morning” I say back as I crane my neck up to meet his face, getting a good look at his face for the first time today. 
Taking in his sleepy doe like state, hair a mess, eyes full of sleep, leaving evidence that he just woke up. Sweatpants riding scarily low on his hips, his chest bare, allowing me to rake my eyes over it. 
“Done checking me out pretty girl” he smiles down on me, catching me in the act. “Maybe, i'm not sure yet” i muttered back, my face heating with a slight embarrassment. “How'd you sleep?” I ask him, still looking up at him. “Good, really good. Would have been better if I woke up with you beside me” he says, looking down at me. 
“Sorry baby, I randomly woke up at like 5am. I didn't want to wake you up "I say feeling bad, for leaving him in the bed alone. 
“It's okay, you can make up for it now” he says as he begins to lean down, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. The angle makes it a little hard for me to fully kiss him, but I deal with it and push my body up further to meet his kiss. 
Our lips moved in sync for a few more seconds before Jack pulls away, resting his arms on the arm rest behind me, giving me a few seconds to catch my breath. 
“That's a better good morning greeting” Jack says as he's smiling, making his way to the other end of the couch, picking up the blanket that covers my feet and slides under it as he sits down. 
The simple movement probably means nothing to him, but it does to me, seeing him so at peace, and calm makes my heart warm. I'm quickly pulled out of my daydream when I hear Jack's voice.
“Has it been raining all morning?” he asks as he's looking out the window, the rain still hitting the window. 
“Yeah it's been raining since i've been out here” i say “it's very peaceful” he replies back softly. Turning his body back to face mine, “what time is it?” he asks, snuggling himself deeper into the blanket like a child, “9:30” i reply back. 
“Dang i slept in” Jack says with an airy laugh. I laugh softly in response, as I go to pick up my coffee mug to take a drink, to only find that its empty. 
“I'm going to go get more coffee, do you want a cup?” I asked him, raising my back from the couch to get up. 
“Yes please that sounds amazing, thank you pretty girl” he says, moving himself back to a sitting position on the couch. 
“Okay baby, I'll be back” I say as I fling the blanket off my body, not seeing Jack's widened eyes as I turn my back to him as I make my way to the kitchen. 
Making both of our cups of coffee I make my way back to the living room, I feel Jack's eyes on me instantly. 
“Here you go baby” I say, holding the hot cup out to him, “can you place it on the table for me?” he rasps out, as I go to place the mug on the table in front of us, I hear Jack speak again “set yours down too”. I look up at him confusingly as I set both cups down on the table. 
“Are you okay Jack?” I ask him, my eyes locked on his face. “Yeah i'm fine, can you come here please” 
I make my way closer to him, standing in front of the couch where he lays, Jack deciding that isn't close enough for him. He puts his hands on my hips pulling me into his lap. His hands moving to rest on my bare thigh. 
“What are you wearing?” he asks me, looking down at my body, i see nothing wrong with what i'm wearing. “Clothes?” i reply back timidly, still confused on why he's acting like this.
“Your not wearing pants” he says, tracing his hands under my shirt, circling his hands on my practically bare hips, causing my breath to hitch slightly. 
“You're walking around the house in a tiny thong, and a shirt that doesn't even cover your ass completely, and you expect me not to do anything” bringing his face to mine, close enough that I can feel his breath fanning on my face. I swallow before saying “what are you going to do about it?”
Before I know it, Jack smashes his lips to mine. The kiss is hot and wet, his tongue quickly entering my mouth fighting and winning for dominance. My hands in his hair pulling him closer to me, wishing that there wasn’t a blanket separating us. 
I began to rock my hips into his to gain some type of friction, I can feel the dampness between my thighs beginning to grow. 
I pull my lips from his and begin to trail them down his neck, kissing and sucking little love bites in my wake, softly biting his ear as I make my way down. I hear Jack's breathing beginning to pick up, moaning lowly in my ear. 
Just as I'm about to trail my way back to his lips, he pushes me off of him. My back is now hitting the couch. I look up at him breathless, waiting for his next move. 
“I have to taste you pretty girl, I've been dying to do it all morning” Jack says, eyes locked with mine as he pushes the blanket of his body. Making his way between my legs spreading them apart as he rests in between them now. 
Tracing his hands up my bare thighs, his hands sliding under the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down slowly, while keeping his eye contact with me. Once my underwear are completely off me, he throws them somewhere behind him.
Jack begins to kiss up my thighs, alternating between each of my legs. My chest is rising quickly now, I need him to do something soon, the tension is starting to kill me. 
“Pretty pussy is so wet for me” he sighs as he slides his middle finger between my folds before pulling it back out, his finger glistening in front of him before sliding it into his mouth. 
Moaning at the taste, his eyes are on mine. This action alone causes me to moan down at him, shifting my hips closer to his face. 
“Tastes so sweet, pretty girl” he says as he guides his face back down to my pussy. “ I think I wanna have a taste now, is that alright with you, pretty girl?” his eyes searching mine for an answer. “Yes jack, please” I breathlessly say to him. 
Not even a second later, jack is diving into my pussy, his tongue finding my clit instantly. My hands fly into his hair grabbing something to hold on to while jack fucks me with his tongue. 
My moans are beginning to fill up the room, along with the sounds of jack slurping up my pussy, like a man who hasn't had a drink of water in days. 
Taking me by surprise Jack pushes 2 fingers into me, continuing to lap up my clit with his tongue. “Jack fuck” I moan out, pulling his hair even tighter between my fingers, the action causing jack to groan into me, sending chills up my body.
I began to push my hips to meet his tongue and fingers, beginning to feel the coil in my stomach heating up. 
Jack senses that i'm almost there, he thrusts his fingers into me, but curves them just enough so that he hits my g-spot. 
Causing my eyes to roll in the back of my head my body arching off the couch, my hips pushing themselves further into his grasp. 
“Right there fuck jack, please dont stop” I groan out. I reach under my shirt grabbing my right nipple between my hands squeezing it in between my fingers, as my other hand starts needing my left boob. 
“Fuck pretty girl, you look so hot from up there” my breath labors at the sound of jacks rough voice “does it feel good pretty girl?” “fuck, you feel so tight against my fingers, taking me so fucking good like a good girl” he says as he brings his thumb to my clit, rubbing and pinching it hard and fast. 
Incoherent things are falling from my lips at this point, the only thing I'm focused on is jack and the dam in my body that's about to break. 
Before I know it I'm cumming, hard and fast. My orgasm gives me no warning as it begins to wash over my body, hitting me like a tidal wave. 
My moans and “don’t stops” fill the living room, my grip on Jack's hair never loosening. Finally coming down from my high, I try to catch my breath, I open my eyes that make their way down to Jack who's looking at me with wide eyes, and a parted swollen mouth catching his breath. 
Making his way up to me, so that he's now directly on top of me, pushing himself up by his arms. “That was the hottest thing ive ever fucking seen.'' Jack says before capturing his lips with mine. 
Pulling back to look into his eyes, before something catches my attention. The cups of coffee on the table. “I think our coffee is cold,” I say, trying to hold back my laugh.
“I dont give a fuck about that coffee anymore” jack says as he laughs back at me, bringing his lips back to mine mumbling “how about we finish this in the bedroom?” before picking me up and dragging me to our bedroom. The coffee being long forgotten about. 
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lyzsaphrodite · 1 month
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༊*·˚ Home is Where the Heart is ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
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Dior Goodjohn x fem!reader
synopsis: You and Dior are long distanced and she decides to surprise you by coming to visit you for your birthday.
warnings: fluff, fluff, and fluff
a/n: this is not my best writing ever i just wanted to get this out while i work on the Summer fic
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You and Dior have been in a long-distance relationship for about a year and a half now. You met on the set of Percy Jackson and instantly clicked; she ended up asking you out two months into filming. After season one wrapped, she went back home to LA, and you returned to your hometown. You haven't seen each other in person since filming wrapped six months ago, because you're still in school. You guys text multiple times a day and FaceTime at least once a day, but it's still hard for both of you. Especially for you since your love language is physical touch, and you just like to have physical connections with people. Your birthday was coming up, so Dior thought it would be an amazing idea if she came and surprised you. She planned it all out with your family; she would fly in on your actual birthday and stay for a month.
Today was finally your birthday. You woke up to look at your phone and found a bunch of birthday wishes from friends, family, and even fans. But none from the person that mattered most to you. You didn't think she would ever forget your birthday. Maybe she just wasn't awake yet, even though it was currently noon, which means it was 9 in LA, and she's always up before 9. But you just decided not to worry about it. You still had the whole day. You were really bummed that she wouldn't be able to come for your birthday, but you understand that she's busy with her music and everything. You got out of bed, took a shower, and got ready for the day. You and your best friend decided to go shopping for your birthday. You visited all your favorite stores, getting all of your birthday freebies. By the time you and your best friend headed home, it was around 4 o’clock, and you've yet to get a message from Dior, which made you visibly disappointed. Your best friend kept seeing you checking your messages every few minutes and finally decided to say something.
“I’m sure she didn't forget; you know her, she's always busy with something.”
“Yeah, I'm pretty sure everyone but her has wished me a happy birthday though. Like even at the mall, those fans who came up to us to say happy birthday, I didn't even know them. And I thought she would be one of the first to say it.”
You finally arrived home and went straight upstairs to put your bags down and take off your shoes. You were home for around 30 minutes when you finally heard the doorbell ring.
“Y/N, someone's here for you,” your mom yelled. You had no clue who it could be; you weren't expecting anyone.
“Coming!” you yelled back to your mom. You hurried down the stairs to the front door, and standing there was Dior with her bags and a gift. She looks just as beautiful as she always does.
“Hey, baby,” she said, smiling.
You had absolutely no idea how to react; you were definitely not expecting this at all. You ran to her and jumped to hug her. As she held and hugged you, you started to tear up.
“I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't able to come.”
“I wanted to surprise you, sweet girl.”
“How long are you staying?”
“For a month.”
“Oh my gosh, no way!”
“Way!”
“OMG, and Mom, you knew about this?”
Your mom just smiled and nodded.
“Yep, and so did your best friend.”
“OMG!! I cannot believe this; I thought you forgot my birthday!”
“I could never forget your birthday, mamas.”
You and Dior share a passionate kiss, the weight of her surprise visit lifting a heavy burden off your shoulders. In that moment, all the worries and doubts melted away, replaced by the warmth of her presence. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The month that followed was a whirlwind of joy and reconnection. Every day felt like a treasure, filled with laughter, adventures, and stolen moments of affection. Whether it was exploring your hometown together, cooking meals side by side, or simply cuddling on the couch watching movies, every second was cherished. On the day of her departure, you stood at the airport, hand in hand, hearts heavy with the weight of impending separation.
"I wish we lived closer," you managed to say, your voice breaking slightly as you fought back tears, the airport's din muffling your words.
Dior's eyes softened, mirroring the sorrow in your own as she squeezed your hand gently. "I know, darling. It's hard saying goodbye every time," she murmured, her voice tinged with empathy.
You leaned into her embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence amidst the impersonal hustle of the airport. "I hate it when you leave," you stated simply, your voice carrying a mix of longing and frustration, the airport's commotion providing a stark backdrop to your heartfelt confession.
Dior's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of separation. "I feel it too, love. It never gets any easier," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you buried your face in her shoulder, the weight of longing settling heavily in your chest. "I just wish we could be together more often," you confessed, your voice barely audible above the noise of the crowd.
Dior's fingers brushed through your hair soothingly, her touch a silent reassurance. "Me too, sweetheart. But no matter the distance, you'll always have my heart," she vowed, her words a promise of enduring love.
And as you stood together in the midst of the bustling airport terminal, surrounded by the chaos of departure, you found solace in the simple act of being together, knowing that no matter where life may take you, your love would always be a constant, guiding light in the darkness.
this is unusually short because I didn't know how to end it
taglist: @asvterias
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hey-kae · 1 year
Text
A kiss, a Cake, a Flight, and a Heart Attack
Or four mornings where Charles wakes you up.
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Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader
Request: read here
Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight nudity, google translate italian (once), mentions of burns and fire, charles needing to stay away from the kitchen.
a/n: one thing about me is i will have charles mess up in the kitchen… But i actually had fun writing this and i hope you’ll like it! It’s a long one cause i added a bit to the request so buckle up (thank u @stcrgazings for helping me with this one) & Big, big apology to the person who sent the request cause it was sent in october🙃
A kiss and i’m all yours for the day:
He’d been awake for hours now, moving from room to room, doing random things, fidgeting around the apartment, struggling to find something to occupy himself with.
He had this habit that occasionally classified as a bad one. By six in the morning, he’d be up and running no matter what, even on his days off like it was the case today.
Sometimes, he would go to bed at night with the decision made that he was gonna sleep in the next day, only for his biological clock to ring it’s alarm right as the sun begins to rise, his body too used to waking up early.
The situation was no different this time. He woke up at a quarter to six, refused to get out of bed for over half an hour, hoping and praying he’d go back to sleep until he lost hope and stumbled out of the bedroom with stomping feet, and now he was awake all alone, sat on the balcony with a cup of fresh juice on the table by his side, gazing at an elderly neighbor in the apartment accros from him as the man sat watching TV, drinking coffee and chatting with someone that was out of Charles’ field of vision.
The sunlight was still a soft glow, slowly illuminating the streets, casting Monaco under its golden, calm spell, and in the midst of this scene was Charles, looking so serene, but oh so bored with his legs propped up on another chair as he waited for the clock to tick a bit more, anticipating the moment when you’d finally stretch your arms above your head and groan in bed, signaling that you were awake, not happily but awake all the same.
He waited over an hour like that. He scrolled on his phone, listened to music, read a few pages of a book he had bought a few days ago, made himself breakfast and ate it… It seemed like he did so much, like a lot of time had passed but when his finger met the screen of his phone in a gentle tap and his eyes read the numbers on the screen, he let out a loud groan at how early it still was. It wasn’t even seven yet and so he sat patiently until that patience wore thin after a few moments.
Hoping it was now a decent hour to wake you up, he tapped his phone screen again to check the time, only to be disappointed once more by the numbers reading just a few minutes past 7.
“Putain.” Fuck. He mumbled to himself and threw his head back.
It was a day off, and what he loved about his days at home was that he got to spend them with you, but he couldn’t help that he was an early riser and you just about despised the morning, and so he waited.
Around eight, his patience had run out and his boredom levels had skyrocketed.
Usually, you woke up around 9:30 and so, he sat there for five more minutes, his mind getting decently creative with the gaslighting methods it was pulling on itself to reach the conviction that it was close enough to nine thirty.
It wasn’t, it really wasn’t but Charles got up nonetheless, leaving his cup and book right where they were as he headed straight to the bedroom as not to give himself any time to rationalize this.
His hand reached for the cold knob, he opened the door and peaked his head inside to sneak a look at his soundly asleep girlfriend.
You looks so peaceful and relaxed, asleep on your stomach, the fluffy covers blurring the outline of your body, leaving him to admire what was visible: you hiding your face in his pillow, hugging it close to you simultaneously.
An advantage of him waking up before you every day was that he got to witness this, the fact that you found comfort in his scent lingering on his side of the bed and on his pillowcase. Sometimes the sight gave him a weird sense of melancholy, especially on days where he was in a rush, with nowhere near enough time to appreciate this. Sometimes, i tugged at his heart since it left him picturing you asleep, all alone while he was across the world from where he was supposed to be, right by your side.
Today, it made him smile widely as his heartbeat picked up its pace.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him again then started taking cautious steps to the bed where he got back in under the sheets with you and slowly pried the pillow out of your grip, replacing it with himself.
He pulled you into his chest, grinning widely when he felt your arms subconsciously wrap around his waist and your head snuggle into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, his shirtless state making this so much better for him.
Mindlessly, his hand reached for your hair, his fingers brushing through it carefully while he leaned his face forward and placed a quick kiss onto the top of your head, making you snuggle further into his chest.
With a lingering smile, he spoke in a low voice, “Bonjour, chérie.”
Instantly, that made you groan, because even in your barely conscience state, you knew that little sentence was Charles’ morning shenanigans kicking off.
“Uh-uh.” You grumbled, hiding your face completely against his shoulder, hoping he would take the hint, and when he went silent and still for a few minutes, you really thought he did. You fell back into deep slumber while holding him, falsely assuming he was gonna leave you to be.
However, this was Charles, insistant as ever. His silence was in fact just him plotting.
“Baby, come on. Lève-toi.” Get up. His voice was soft and hushed as his hand slipped down your body, under the sheets and right under your oversized shirt -his shirt that you were sleeping in, his fingertips delicately meeting the soft skin to lightly trace patterns up and down your back, eliciting goosebumps on your skin, the feather feel of his touch making you arch into him instinctively.
Your complaint was half-hearted, spoke into his neck in the form of a groan of his name, the vibrations of it sending a shiver down his spine.
“Oui?” He whispered, feigning clueless about the fact that this was a complaint.
“Fuck off.” You mumbled back, making his lips twist up in a smile that slowly progressed into a slight chuckle that you too felt against your chest while Charles allowed his head to rest against the headboard.
“Tu veux pas te réveiller?” You don’t wanna wake up? He asked, already knowing the answer to that.
“Too early for baguettes.” You whined again, rolling off his body, back onto the mattress, covering your head with the pillow to tune your annoying boyfriend out.
Meanwhile, Charles was trying to figure out who even mentioned baguettes, because he sure didn’t.
“Baguettes?” He frowned.
“Ugh…” you sighed, “English, Charles. Too early for french.”
Just as your muffled voice met his ears, his laughter took ahold of him, shaking his body and the bed along with it.
The plan to keep your eyes shut under all circumstances, the only guarantee to another meeting with sleep, was failing. You gave up and peeked at him, tossing the pillow onto his head, “I hate you, Leclerc.”
Charles, with a quick reaction, grabbed the pillow and held it to his chest while your hands rubbed at your face, moving up to angrily toss back your hair that had covered your face.
You propped your body up on your elbows and rubbed your eyes again, pouting as you did so, leaving Charles, who still had a soft smile lighting up his features as he watched you with soft eyes, to take in the adorable sight of your messy hair and pouty lips.
“That’s okay, amour. You’ll go back to loving me in an hour.” He smiled, in his head the scenes of the many forced early mornings replaying.
“No, ‘cause i’m going back to sleep.” You remarked, frustration bubbling in your chest at his insistence.
Forcefully, you yanked onto the sheets, forming them into a cocoon covering you up to your head.
“But, baby… I’m home with you all day today.” Charles sounded disappointed now, but you were too sleepy and not awake enough yet to argue with him on the subject.
However, in your head, you were wondering why the fuck did a day off need to start as early as school does? It was truly beyond you, the answer to that question.
“Alright, then…” you heard him rustle off the bed, sighing as he did, “I did tell Andrea i don’t wanna train today so i can stay here with you,” he explained as he started opening and closing closets and drawers, “if you’re too sleepy to spend time with me - which is totally fine by the way, i’ll just give him a call and tell him to meet me at the gym or something.”
You blinked your eyes open at the statement, the disappointment tainting his tone and the fact that he so desperately wanted a full day with just you just now sinking in. You wanted to spend time alone with him as well. It would be so utterly disappointing if you woke up later to realize you had wasted this opportunity.
By the sounds of it, Charles was already dressed since you heard zippers being pulled up and clothes being tossed around.
Blinking your eyes repeatedly, you sighed and prepared to interrupt his plan, but before you could, you heard him unlock his phone, probably preparing to call Andrea.
Hurriedly, you pulled the duvet off your head and mumbled, “Charles, wait…”
However, there he was, stood in the middle of the room, grinning like an idiot, still shirtless and in his sleep shorts.
His trick had worked perfectly and now you were awake and he had absolutely no plans whatsoever to meet up with Andrea and as you glared at him with a piercing gaze, he broke out in a laugh and practically jumped on top of you, the covers still covering you cushioning his weight as his arms wrapped around you.
“Good morning.” He smiled widely while looking down at you.
“That was low, Leclerc.” You pushed at his shoulder, frowning deeply.
With one eyebrow raised, he replied, “I can still call Andrea.”
“You know what? Maybe you should. You are a pain in the ass at this point, Charles.”
His arms snuck around your waist to firmly hold your body to his as he flipped the two of you over so you were comfortably laying on his chest.
“Now you’re just hurting my feelings.” He playfully said, watching as your head found it resting place on his shoulder, “I though you would like that i’m all your for the day.”
The annoyance on your side was beginning to waver, a small smile now replacing the frown on your face as you spoke against his skin, “You’re all mine every day.”
“Of course i’m always yours, baby.“ His heart was beating faster as he spoke and admired your slowly relaxing features, “I just mean i’m home with you today.” Charles kissed your forehead.
“Um, i do love that, bébé.” You reassured, your hand trailing up to his cheek, you fingers running along his jawline, feeling the stubble that had grown, “It’s just your morning chronicles that i hate.”
“Just think of it as more time together, all alone in our apartment.” He replied, leaning into your touch, “Now, give me my good morning kiss.”
That, you would never refuse so, your lips met his in a sweet kiss throughout which, you felt his hands on the smile of your back, hugging you to him as your lips moved briefly against his before you relaxed back on his chest, accepting your fate that your day was gonna start now.
“What time is it?” You asked out of curiosity, yawning at the end of the sentence and lifting yourself a bit, getting ready to get out of bed.
Instead of an answer, Charles just gave you a tight-lipped, wide smile and pulled you back down, telling you he loves you right against your ear.
“What’s important is that we’re gonna spend so much time together, n’est ce pas?” …right? The cheesy smile he was displaying showed you one thing. It was still early as fuck.
✩★✩
A cake and a weird smell:
The previous night had been amazing. The party was loud and chaotic but absolutely perfect. The music was picked right to your taste, the drinks were all your favorites and all the people you loved were all gathered under one roof, all having fun with seemingly no other cares in the world.
And Charles… he was - and is - the best boyfriend on so many different scales. His insistence on making every day special went above any beyond on special occasions, especially on your birthday. He had organized everything to utmost perfection, planning every detail of your birthday party himself, down to the type of confetti used and the font on the “Happy Birthday” banner hanging elegantly on the entrance of the club he had chosen for the occasion.
In fact, he had planned everything down to his own appearance for the night, picking out your favorite clothes of his, styling his hair how you liked it - just the right proportion of messy and put together, using your favorite perfume of his and putting on the ring you loved so much.
Last night’s surprises were perfect and the way he took care of your every need once the two of you were finally alone, in the dimly lit environment of your bedroom, was even more than that.
Even falling asleep in his arms was perfect, but now, at past ten in the morning, he was awake and out of bed and you were back to hugging his pillow to make up for his absence.
Charles had woken up later than usual today due to how late he stayed up last night, but as soon as he was awake, he put on some sweatpants and headed right for the kitchen, pulling an apron over his bare chest before starting to dig through the cabinets, pulling out all the ingredients and utensils he needed until he was left with a pile of stuff on the counter. His eyes were still scanning the things he prepared as he grabbed his phone and rung up his mom for help.
“Maman, j’ai besoin que tu me donne la recette la plus facile que tu sais pour faire un gâteau.” Mom, i need you to give me the easiest cake recipe you know. He rushed over the phone and when his mom started telling him what to do, he put her on speaker and started following the directions silently, only interrupting the flow with small remarks such as “Attend, y a des coquilles d’œufs dans le bol.” Wait, there’s eggshells in the bowl.
Charles, for once, was more than meticulous with absolutely everything. He had triple checked the amount and the label of each ingredient he added before mixing with extra caution to make sure he wouldn’t be making a mess. By the end of the preparations, he was so sure this cake would turn out just like his mother’s, delicious and homey, made with so much love and that alone left him beaming as, in his mind, he imagined your reaction to him waking you up to something he made you himself.
Once he poured the batter into the cake mold and put it in the oven, he said goodbye to his mother and went to check on you.
Like always, he was grinning like an idiot as soon as his eyes met the sight of the one he loves so dearly. He stilled in his spot and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he silently watched you sleep, your bare back and your messy hair being the only two clear parts of you that were showing. Still, that was enough to leave him with thoughts of his love for you and for the simple thought that you were his girl, that he was the one you loved.
Charles, in opposite to all other mornings, was being extra cautious not to wake you up just yet. That would ruin his plan, what would subsequently put him in a bad mood since he’s been planning this for weeks, the only thought in his head while doing so being the smile you’d give him when he woke you up with another surprise, this time one that’s just yours and his to see and remember. Days ago, he snuck out while you were busy and bought you the gift he would be giving you today.
Sighing contently, he closed the bedroom door again and headed for the living room where he sat down for a total of about 10 minutes since he was unable to stop checking on the cake, anxiously waiting to decorate it with the candles he had secretly bought and hid in the highest cupboard, the only one you couldn’t reach. However, he eventually got carried away when he had to take a call related to the mechanics of this season’s car. The issue was that the car was doing everything but functioning according to calculations and so the call went on for longer than he was expecting and he was getting worked up over the conversation, what bugged him even more because he was supposed to be in a good mood today.
“Mi dispiace, devo andare. Forse ne parleremo di nuovo domani?” I’m sorry, i have to go. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow maybe? He ended the conversation and rushed to the oven, already cursing since the smell invading the kitchen wasn’t quite right.
With oven mitts ready, he opened the door and a whiff of smoke burst out.
It was bad.
His eyes narrowed to protect themselves from the heat and smoke as he grabbed the cake pan and brought it out onto the nearby counter.
Immediately, his shoulders dropped and his heart sank at the sight.
The cake looked burnt to a crisp, dark as coal. It looked so bad, he had to bite his lip and look away so he wouldn’t break out in a stream of cuss words.
What was he supposed to do now? He wanted this special moment with you so badly, it was making him feel helpless that he wouldn’t get to surprise you like he had been planning.
He angrily turned off the oven and closed its door back up.
His mind was racing and he was indescribably angry now as he paced back and forth, wishing he had some sort of a back up plan, but he didn’t because he really thought this was foolproof, and it would’ve been if it wasn’t for that damn call.
Charles felt hopeless now. This was supposed to be your own little private celebration of your birthday after a very public party yesterday, something to remember years down the line when you’re all grown, most probably married, after you’ve had kids that would steal most of your privacy, leaving you to reminisce on moments of recklessness and affection that you shared unbothered during your dating days, these current days. This morning was supposed to be special.
“Bordel de merde.” Fucking shit. He cursed, tossing away the mitts still in his fist before storming out of the kitchen onto the balcony, trying to escape the awful burning smell filling the apartment.
The road below was busy and loud. Thankful for the distraction, Charles watched while still trying to figure something out, his eyes following a pedestrian running along the sidewalk until a store down the street caught his attention, making an idea spark in his head.
Within a minute, he was dressed and out of the apartment, practically hurling down the sidewalk until he burst through the door of the shop, a patisserie.
“S’il vous plaît, dites moi que vous avez un gâteau que je peux acheter immédiatement.” Please, tell me you have a cake i can buy immediately. He blurted with no greeting, taking the two workers who instantly recognized him by surprise. They stood there dumbfounded and staring at him like he was a ghost until one of them snapped out of it and went up to help him.
Luckily, there was a few plain white cake that they make for last-minute orders, so they wrote on it what Charles had asked them to and just like that, he was hurrying back home with relief, the smile having returned to his face.
He wanted for this to seem more laid back so he changed back into his sweatpants, deciding that there was no need for a shirt, then he opened just about every window in the house to let out the awful smell and he cleaned up the kitchen before taking a look around to made sure everything was spotless. Once he was satisfied, he got the cake out of the box, reached for the hidden candles and meticulously placed on in it, grabbed the small bag that had your final gift from it’s hiding place and he made his way to the bed.
He rested the objects in his hands on the nightstand and he climbed in next to you, burying his face in your neck, sealing a quick kiss against the soft skin there.
“Bébé…” he started softly, his hand moving your hair away and massaging your shoulders as he moved around to kiss your cheek, his soft trail of cautious kissed trailing towards your exposed back.
Even in your sleep, a shiver ran down your spine when his lip met the spot between your shoulders and without even knowing it, your head tilted to the side to give him more room to kiss your neck.
Charles knew you like he knew the back of his own hand. You absolutely melted the second he would start kissing your jawline and you neck. It was by far your favorite place to be kissed and he always acknowledged that, always payed extra attention to the supple skin under all circumstances. No matter the situation, he loved your reactions to his soft kisses.
Like always, he awaited the response and watched your body respond to him with a small lazy smile on his face. His hands moved down your sides, down to your waist until he was able to pull you to him while you groaned at him, taking the covers with you before accepting your fate and snuggling up against him.
You leg hiked up until it was resting on his waist, locking him in beside you for the moment as you reveled in the feeling on his fingers tracing down your spine and his breath fanning on your forehead.
He know you wouldn’t complain about the time he was waking you up at today, but he also knew it wouldn’t be any easier to wake you up. Your hatred for waking up was a staple of your personality and so, over the time, he came to the conclusion that the slower and the softer he woke you up, the better your mood would be, so he planned to let you take your time today.
Your thumb moving on his waist where your arm was resting was enough of a sign to him that it would be minutes before you would flutter your eyes open and blink up at him lovingly like always.
His arm remained around your body while he folded the other under his head, giving himself just enough leverage to be able to quietly gaze at you.
He had an amazing ability to catch the hints you throw and to pick up your cues with perfect accuracy, enough accuracy to know his cue when it came, so for now, he just littered kisses anywhere he could reach, the top of your head and cheeks mostly, making you smile as you slowly took awareness of the room, the surrounding sounds and the texture of Charles’ sweatpants against your bare legs.
Judging by the smile slipping your sleep, today might actually be one of the rare good mornings that you actually enjoy and Charles was ecstatic. All he wanted was for you to be happy and comfortable. That was the case for every second of his being, for every day of his life since he first laid eyes on you, so one can only imagine the amount of joy he wished for you on the morning after your birthday. He felt something foreign to him every time he spent a special occasion by your side, something bigger than him and beyond his understanding, like he would literally offer you his world and all of the stars just as soon as he finds a way to wrap them up into a present decorated just as beautifully as you were.
There was a breeze traveling through the apartment, tickling your skin in its passing, giving you goosebumps that got you pulling the covers up to fully cover your body, frowning and pouting as you did so, successfully pulling Charles’ heart into a spontaneous dance that oftentimes took him by utter surprise. Loving you was so special, so rejuvenating that Charles knew he would never get used to it; it would always feel new and fulfilling.
He couldn’t resist it. He leaned over, kissed your lips lightly and pulled away smiling, the thoughts in his head still intoxicating him, but he was surprisingly met with an objection in the form of your arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him back in for another kiss with your eyes still shut.
His hand rested on the side of your neck as he kissed you, this thumb moving so delicately along the skin while you scooted closer and closer to him, never giving up a chance to be in his arms. For a minute, thoughts of cakes and gifts got lost between your lips and his and the way they moved in synchrony against each other, as if all along, they were meant to find each other in the deepest and darkest depths of life, like you and Charles were always meant to find each other, and so he kissed you.
He kissed you with everything in him, with every ounce of love he’s ever felt in his life, all while under the charming casted spell of your hand on the side of his neck, comforting every bad thought that had ever troubled him.
He didn’t have it in him to pull away, so he kissed you until you broke away and looked up at him with sleepy, but shining and glimmering eyes, ones so full of love, it made him blush ever so shyly as a wide smile creeped up on his face, lighting up his features and prompting him to wrap you in a tight hug while you giggled against his chest, a smile on your face – a rare sighting at such a time.
That’s when he snapped out of it, right as you whispered a hoarse but soft “Bonjour” to him.
His body was still shielding the sight of the cake and gift away from you and for that he was thankful. He didn’t want the surprise getting spoilt.
He straightened up just as you lifted yourself off him, still using the fluffy duvet to cover yourself up as you stretched your arms in front of you, you eyes tight-shut as you yawned one last time and turned sideways to face him.
Charles was quick and opportunistic. Within those few seconds, he had grabbed the cake and held it up in front of you. He was just lighting the last candle as you turned to face him, your brows instantly raising as a big smile appeared on your face.
“You did not.” You sighed, the feeling in your chest indescribable.
“Tu mérites le monde. Ça, c’est rien.” You deserve the world. This, it’s nothing. He grinned, bringing the cake closer to you, but you couldn’t even shift your gaze away from him at that moment.
Your eyes locked with his happy ones, the color of them seeming way lighter as he looked at you for a second too long, making you chuckle and look down as your cheeks heated up. He couldn’t help it though. The way you looked at him always captivated him, the thought that someone could love him that much, as much as your looks were telling him that you do, giving him an urge to drop everything and run away with you.
“Come on, bébé. Make a wish.”
You looked back up at him and shut your lids, the one wish you could think of after such an amazing birthday being plainly obvious. You repeated it three times in your heart, hoping and praying that it would come true before you blew the candles and opened your eyes to the sight of Charles swiping his finger across the lettering – “Joyeux Anniversaire, mon cœur” Happy birthday, my heart – gathering whipping cream before leaning closer and putting it on your nose, making you laugh while he took in just how happy you seemed, just how happy he was and just how adorable you looked.
He wanted to keep this memory. Years down the road, this sight of you would be one of the things he’d want to show your kids.
“Peux-je prendre une photo?” Can i take a picture? He made sure to ask, his eyes sparkling as he smiled.
Laughing, you replied, “Mon cœur, je suis nue.” My heart, i am naked.
You looked down at the covers pulled up to right under your neck.
“I’ll make sure there’s nothing showing. Plus, it’s only for me to see.”
You thought for a mere second then you nodded and gestured for him to hand you the cake. You posed for him, pulling a silly face at first that efficiently showed you your favorite sight in the world, Charles’ dimples as he smiled from behind his phone.
He inspected the photos a few minutes later while you hugged him with a fluttering heart just before he gave you the gift he had prepared then made sure to feed you enough cake for three birthdays.
However, as soon as you were out of the bedroom, a burning smell invaded your senses, making you question Charles about it, prompting him to tell you the story of his burnt cake with embarrassment tinging his tone.
“Aw, baby.” You hooked your arms around his neck and pulled him in, planting a kiss onto his blushed cheek, “I still appreciate that, Charles. You are adorable and you’ve done more than enough for me these two days, bébé.” You reassured, inching you lips closer to his until they met in a passionate, feverish kiss.
It was safe to say that was one of the few mornings you actually loved, if it counts as a morning.
✩★✩
A flight and a bit of a fight:
Just because the location and the bedroom were different didn’t mean the morning dynamics between you and Charles changed, except this time, he had no choice but to wake you up in a hurry, fully knowing he’d have to face a grumpy girlfriend for the first hour of the day.
For the first time in a while, you had taken the decision to accompany Charles to a Grand Prix, packing up and taking off with him mid-week, both of you beaming at the thought of extra time together.
Make no mistake, it had all went amazing but then Monday morning came around and you had to catch the flight back home, at 6:30 in the morning, meaning you’d have to be at the airport even earlier than than.
It was a personalized hell for both you and Charles, you for obvious reasons and him because he’d be on the receiving end of the complaints. There was no way this was gonna end with anything but a fight, but it was the only flight to Nice airport with an opening and you had no other option than to board it.
Charles, tired from the weekend and in need of sleep as well, wasn’t too happy about the timing either, but he pulled himself through it. He got up while it was still dark outside and got everything ready, even preparing the suitcases and carry ons to go, leaving you asleep for as much time as he could, but the clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to get going and he had to wake you up at that point.
He headed to the kitchenette in the suite beforehand, preparing your coffee for you in your travel cup, hoping that would help his case a bit and when he had no other choice but to go disturb your sleep, he grabbed the cup and very quietly entered the bedroom, drew the blinds and neared the bed, putting the travel mug on the nightstand and crouching down by your side.
“Baby…” He started, hating this already, “You have to wake up.”
No response.
He sighed. “Listen, mon coeur, we can’t do this today.” He brushed back your hair and kissed your cheek, “The flight won’t wait for us.”
No response as well.
“Oh, c’mon. You knew i had to wake you up early today.” He shook you by the shoulder, just enough that you stirred.
He thought that was a good sign, a really good one but then you grabbed the duvet and covered your head with it and he groaned in such annoyance.
He didn’t have the energy for this, not today. He was just as exhausted. He also needed a lot more sleep and his burning eyes were a constant reminder of that.
“Baby,” he practically shouted, “get up. Get up.” Charles repeated, then said your name so many times and he still got nothing.
He called for you again, leaning down above your sleeping figure now, “You have ten minutes to wake up. We can’t be late.” He tried to keep his voice gentle but he was struggling. He was in such a bad mood, it was astounding. He also wasn’t a fan of the time of the flight but what was he supposed to do?
Charles just kept trying and retrying to get you up until his patience had started wearing thin.
He grabbed the blanket and pulled it away from you, grabbed your hand and started tugging on it gently, cooing your name like that’s gonna help.
“Baby, please.” He was practically whining now, shoulders slouched as he struggled to maintain his composure.
“Fuck off.” Charles heard you mumble into the pillow. Usually that would be a sign of progress but today he took it personally for some reason.
“Great. Perfect even. I’ll just leave you here.” He let go off your hand and covered you back up before crossing the room and leaving it, heading into the main chamber of the suite.
“Je vais me perdre la tête dans cinq minutes.” I’m gonna lose it in five minutes. He was mumbling to himself as he paced back and forth, aware he couldn’t just leave you here. He wouldn’t do that, he loved you too much to be that cruel with you, so he found himself huffing and stumbling back into the room, preparing himself for another round of frustration, the time passing making his anxiety rise as it did.
Much to his surprise though, he walked in and was greeted with the sight of you sat in bed with a blank expression on your face, but hey! Your eyes were opened at least!
“Bonjour, bébé.” He said, his tone still tinged with the annoyance he had been feeling. He still attempted a smile nonetheless, but he was slightly scared of your expression.
“Fuck off, Leclerc.” You replied, gesturing for him to get out.
“Oh, ne fais pas ça!” Oh, don’t do this! He groaned and came closer, “Tu savais qu’on doit se lever tôt aujourd’hui, pour qu’on prenne le vol.” You knew that we’d have to wake up early today, to catch the flight. Charles attempted to remind you, now kneeling one knee on the mattress.
“Get out, i don’t wanna fight. And stop it with the baguettes again.” You curtly replied, not giving a single flying damn about logical reasoning for the time being.
“Baby, don’t be like this.” Charles pleaded.
“Charles, please. You act like you’re still getting to know me. Get out so i can get ready. Us talking means us fighting right now.” You stormed off the bed, “I’m up now, you can fuck off for a few minutes.”
The sentence ended with you disappearing into the adjoined bathroom, aggressively locking it behind you, leaving Charles to roll his eyes all alone by the bed while you repeatedly splashed cold water on your face. Yeah, Charles might be right, but it was too early for you to comprehend it all the same.
All the final preparations for the flight home were done in utter and tense silence, from getting dressed to organizing the carry ons and how you were gonna fit everything into them, dividing all the remaining possessions you had between your backpack and Charles. The communication in that concern was done through death glares and tossing things at each other from across the room.
“On a tout. Allons y.” We have everything. Let’s go. Charles said half an hour later, signaling you should get going now.
Coffee then flashed in your mind, the thought of going without it being torture. You can still make one in your travel mug before leaving, you figured so you left Charles tapping his foot on the floor by the door and disappeared back into the suite to get your caffeine dosage ready. Only then, you realized you had no idea where your travel mug was and you had no recollection of putting it away. Charles must’ve done that.
You sighed in frustration and called his name. Seconds later, he was by your side.
“My travel cup…” you mumbled, your voice still hoarse.
Smiling slightly, Charles stopped your search through the hotel cupboards, “Viens.” Follow me. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the entrance where the table by the door had your cup, your phone and your headphones.
“I made you your coffee, ‘cause i knew you were gonna be in a bad mood.”
With a snap of a finger, you started feeling guilty about how rude to him you were being when he was being this thoughtful. After all, he was just making sure you wouldn’t miss the only flight home available.
“C’mon.” He handed you your things and took care of the backpacks and suitcases himself before he opened the door and gestured for you to walk out in front of him.
You gulped as you took in his soft expression, the smile on his face being your enemy for once because it made you feel astronomically bad.
“Merci.” You murmured, cheeks heating up as you walked past him, giving the quickest and shiest of kisses on the cheek, making him grin and shake his head.
On the plane later, when he pulled your legs onto his lap, his thumb caressing your ankle as he assured you that you can go back to sleep, you slipped out the apology you felt like you owed him.
“I’m sorry…about earlier.” You said, looking down at your lap.
“T’inquiète pas.” Don’t worry. Charles reassured with a loving smile that slowly evolved into a chuckle, “I know you by now, i don’t take your morning insults seriously anymore. Ma princesse déteste les matins, je l’ai compris. T’en fais pas.” My princess hates mornings, i got it. Don’t worry. He said as a joke, one that was true to both your knowledges. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you blushed further.
“Je t’aime.” I love you. You mumbled to him in reassurance and reaffirmation before you gave him a brief kiss on the lips.
“I know, don’t worry. I love you too.” He pulled you to him, his arms around you as he hugged you back to sleep.
✰★✰
A heart attack and you’ll be the death of me:
Charles was so sure he had it covered.
As he tiptoed around the room in the faint dawn light, he was so sure he could go about his morning without disturbing you.
He woke up early as usual, at 5:30 sharp.
Strike one was his alarm waking you up, what earned him a quick death glare from you while you were mostly asleep, just peaking out from under the covers to give him that murderous morning look of yours while he fumbled around to get to his phone and silence it.
He smiled at you then; more like grimaced actually, then he slid out of bed and went straight into the bathroom, where he took a quick cold shower because “he’s a psychopath like that” as you described him. He just found it energizing on mornings where he had no motivation but a ton of things and trainings to accomplish throughout the day.
Dripping in water, he patted back into the room barefoot with a towel wrapped around his waist, whistling a tune stuck in his head, then stopping himself from doing that once his eyes met the sight of your sleeping figure, only for the messy symphony to resume mindlessly in a minute.
Part of your bedroom floor was hardwood while the remaining parts were porcelain, incredibly shiny porcelain that was a true hazard when wet, or when the person walking on it had bare feet and was leaving a trail of water behind him, but Charles never learned that. Charles himself was in fact the hazard at that point.
He continued the trajectory towards the wardrobe and drawers that had his clothes, in other words, the slippery part of the room, barefoot and leaving a trail of water to mark his trajectory, and the minute his foot met the shiny flooring, he was struggling to steady himself. In his own vocabulary, he had no grip. Softs in the pouring rain type of catastrophe.
Strike two was him using the duvet covering you for leverage.
His foot inevitably slipped and glided along the shiny flooring and down went Charles, grabbing onto the duvet covering you as if it was a solid that would sustain his weight while he collapsed, yanking it off the bed as he did.
He landed on the floor with a thud and widened eyes and the sheets fell on top of him.
Sleep wasn’t your main concern then, not when you bolted awake to find your boyfriend, in all his might, on the floor whining in pain.
Your heart skipped a beat as worry took over you, effectively waking you up within seconds.
“Fuck, are you okay? What happened?” You jumped up to him, crouching down by his side, your hand grabbing his as you attempted to help him up. Instead, he was dragging you down with him until he utilized his own strength to help you lift him off the floor. You tried hard no ignore the way he was still fumbling to keep himself covered as you helped him up, you tried really hard because if you didn’t you’d end up laughing and feeling bad later.
“Are you okay?” You asked worriedly as you sat him on the bed, visually inspecting his body for any bruises or injuries while your heart beat out of control.
“I’m okay.” He answered, rubbing over his back and wincing then adjusting his towel as if he just realized that he severely lacked of clothing.
“You’re sure?” You asked again and he nodded.
“How many times have a told you not to walk barefoot over here after showers, Charles?! You fucking scared me, you idiot.” The anger set in as the worry faded.
Time and time again, he almost slipped because of this, only this time he made actual contact with the floor instead of grabbing onto a dresser or something nearby. Time and time again, you’ve told him to watch out but here he was, frolicking around the bedroom with this wet feet with no cares in the world, not even for his safety.
“Okay, maman.” He got up and kissed you with a bit of an eye-roll, “You go back to sleep and i’ll get going in a bit.” He grinned.
“I will go back to sleep. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”
Smiling at the care peaking through your anger, he reassured you again.
“I’m sure, don’t worry.”
You took a once-over at him, scanning every part of him to make sure all was actually well, your breathing just starting to go back to normal as you did so, but worry still riddling your thoughts.
It wasn’t easy to wake up to the person you love collapsed on the floor. He scared you – for him- beyond words.
“Baby, i’m okay. I swear.” He chuckled and pulled you for a quick hug, interrupting your examination.
“Okay…” you yawned and made you way back to the bed, “If you feel anything wrong during the day, tell me so I can go with you to the doctor.” You mumbled to him just as you pulled the duvet back onto the bed, covering yourself up completely with it.
“I don’t think I will need that, but okay, mon coeur..”
You hummed back at him and he went back to getting dressed, wearing socks – Ferrari socks, and slippers this time.
His usual gym attire is what he went with, pulling on some shorts and a Puma shirt and trainers. He grabbed everything he needed out of the room so he wouldn’t have to disturb you again – phone, headphones, car keys, gym bag… - and he headed out into the kitchen to prepare himself a quick breakfast.
Charles stood in front of the fully stocked fridge, his hand on his waist as he scanned his options, a slight pain in his lower back distracting him.
The scene of the fall started playing in his mind and he couldn’t help laughing as he imagined how he must’ve looked like, loosing control over his steps and tumbling down the way he did.
Shaking his head with a smile on his face, he grabbed eggs out of the fridge, olive oil from the counter, salt and pepper from the drawer and a pan from the lower cabinet before he started the stove to make himself some scrambled eggs.
He couldn’t recall the first time he made eggs alone. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where he learned how to make them since he had no recollection of anyone giving him a rundown on how it’s done, so how did he know how to scramble eggs?
What if he didn’t know and he just never messed up badly enough before? That is what he convinced himself of.
He never thought of the amount of oil he should use while making this. He never noticed how much time he let the oil heat up, nor how much it took for the eggs to cook. He never measured how much salt and pepper he seasoned them with.
Charles frowned as he watched the oil pour into the pan. How did that come naturally to him? Why did it come naturally if he was never taught how to do this?
The fall must’ve had some effect on him, he thought. There was no other explanation for these thoughts in his opinion.
With a quick shake of his head to come back to reality, he pushed those thoughts aside and figured he’d better focus on the task on hand.
He followed the stream of oil pouring out of the bottle in his hand and looked down to find the pan half full of oil.
Now, he wasn’t precise about the amount but he know for sure that this was way too much.
“Merde.” Shit. He sighed, his hands already working the stopper off the bottle of oil so he can pour the excess back in. He wasn’t thinking of the fact that this was probably gonna end up in a slippery mess. It did.
The stopper slipped out if his grip and flew across the kitchen. Half the unwanted oil ended up on the counter, dripping down onto the cabinets and onto the floor as he stood and watched, dumbfounded and annoyed.
“Tu me blague ou quoi?” Are you kidding me? He groaned in frustration, stomping over to the table in the corner to grab tissues to attempt cleaning this mess.
Charles distributed paper towels over the oil and left them to soak up the liquid while he went back to preparing breakfast, figuring he’ll just clean afterwards when he washes whatever dishes he ends up using. They’re not gonna run away, now are they?
He clicked the stove to life and watched the blue flames hide beneath the seriously well oiled pan.
Soon enough, the oil was making sizzling sounds and he started contemplating whether he should add the eggs now, not understanding why this felt so complicated today. Nonetheless, he grabbed the eggs and starting shifting his attention between them and the bubbling oil.
He scratched his head in contemplation as his eyes remained fixed on the stove, his arm supporting his slouching posture against the counter right by him, right where his mess resided. It seemed like he was waiting for some cue to tell him when he should do what, and so he went back to contemplating if he even knew how to do this.
It seemed like he took to much time to consider this and before he knew it, right before his widening, panicking eyes, a catastrophe ensued.
He didn’t know what to do and for a second all the years of reaction time training were all down the drain.
Charles stood still with wide frightened eyes that served as an artist’s palette on which the blue-green and the alarming orange started mixing. Alarms bells were ringing in his mind but he still stood motionless.
Charles watched as a huge flame erupted from the oil in the pan, casting a vibrant orange glow all over the kitchen, its warmth so close to his face making him quickly step back. He was repeatedly cursing under his breath as he tried figuring out what he was supposed to do. Every curse word in every language he knew took a turn and got used again and again and again until he started fumbling around the kitchen for a solution, just hoping and praying he wasn’t gonna burn the apartment down on a lovely Tuesday morning.
Luckily, Charles was just far enough to be unharmed but as the fire erupted, crackles escaped it and landed all over the kitchen, marking random objects with its signature.
In his panicked state, Charles didn’t have any recollection of oil-soaked paper towels that would be a huge fire hazard, especially when an open flame was raging mere inches away from them. He was too busy trying to get to the small emergency fire extinguisher he knew he had somewhere in the kitchen.
His hand was still trailing along the counter as he searched with fear through the lower cabinets and drawers for the red bottle. He kept searching as the fire spread on and as the tissues started burning as well and before he knew it, his hand on the edge of the countertop was feeling exceptionally warm.
He looked up quickly, but he wasn’t quick enough. The flames were spreading all over the marbly surface, dangerous close to him, right by his arms.
Quickly, he pulled back his hand but it was a second too late. He had burnt his hand and forearm and without him knowing it, a scream of pain left him mouth.
In the bedroom, you were still soundly asleep, not aware of the catastrophe your boyfriend was causing just in the room near where you were, unaware that he was at risk and that the whole apartment was at risk.
Under a thick layer of blankets, you were asleep like a baby, until you heard an alarmed scream and the clatter of metal, but the sound that made your heart drop wasn’t that. It was the distinct sound of a fire, a crackling that was faint but alarming enough that it was all you heard as you stumbled out of bed and out of the room, tripping over your feet, the few seconds it would take you to reach the origin of the sounds feeling like a damn eternity.
“Charles!” You called, a smell of smoke meeting your nose just as your eyes caught glimpse of how golden the light in the kitchen was, an orange light of a fire.
Your eyes widened and you mindlessly ran up to the door, slightly scared of what you might see once the space was in your line of sight.
You were just hoping and praying Charles was okay. Everything else could be managed.
“Charles”, you called for him again before you took a deep breath and ran into the kitchen. It felt like you blood was draining when you eyes caught sight of your boyfriend hunched down in front of the lower cabinets, the fire maybe a meter away from his hair as he nervously dug through the shelves, waving his left arm furiously through the air.
“Charles, what happened?” You ran up to him, pulling him farther from the flames.
His eyes, panicked as you’ve ever seen them, were still searching throughout the kitchen for a glimpse of red.
“Where’s the fire thing?” He practically shouted, asking about the extinguisher as he went on with his search.
With no further words spoken and both your hearts beating a million times per minute, you immediately went back to resolving things. Luckily, you knew the fire extinguisher was in the cabinet by the kitchen balcony door so you grabbed it and got to work, ending the fire just as the the oil-streaked cupboard door was starting to catch sparks.
Charles was panting and feeling lightheaded, the pain from the burn starting to make itself known, so as soon as he saw you had it covered, he allowed himself to fall onto the floor, dropping his back against the wall as he attempted to catch his breath.
Once you were sure the flame was put out for good, you dropped everything and allowed yourself to take a deep breath before the worry replaced the adrenaline high. You rushed to Charles’ side, hoping he hadn’t hurt himself.
He looked up at you as you crouched down in front of his, worried sick, the look in his face being one of pure fear.
“You’re okay?” You asked, exhilarated.
“I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. I don’t know how-“ he gasped for air, “-it happened.”
“Mon coeur, arrête. Show me your hand, I think you burnt it.”
Shakily, he lifted his arm into your line of sight and you had to wince at the sight.
“Oh, baby.” You started getting up, “I doesn’t look to good, Charles. I think you should get it checked out. Does it hurts?”
“Starting to…” he sounded out of breath.
“C’mon. Je t’amène à l’hôpital. You can get it treated in the ER.” I’ll take you to the hospital.
You knew he was in pain because he didn’t object like usual. He just nodded.
Fifteen minutes later, Charles was sat waiting for his turn, which they assured would be soon, and you were sat next to him, trying to distract him from whatever pain he might be feeling.
“Tu peux appeler maman? Dis lui de venir ici?” Can you call mon? Tell here to come here? He said after going silent for a few seconds, wincing as he did so.
You looked at him, wishing you could ease his pain immediately, “Oui, ne t’inquiètes pas.” Yes, don’t worry. You gave him a small smile that he tried weakly to return, “Et Andrea? Tu peux lui dire ce qui s’est passé? He’s probably waiting for me still.” And Andrea? Can you tell him what happened?
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
You got up and made the calls, struggling to find a way to tell Pascale and Andrea what happened without scaring them to death, and you managed, all while keeping an eye on your boyfriend, watching him take deep breaths. Just as you put your phone away, he got called into the ER and before he went in, he gestured for you to come along, using his good hand to do do, waiting until you joined his side and intertwined your fingers with his to follow the nurse.
Around noon, after Charles had been given painkillers and had gotten his arm and hand wrapped in gauze, you sat with him in your bedroom, the door to the kitchen closed to hide the mess neither of you wanted to acknowledge just yet.
A movie was playing on the screen of your laptop sat on top of your legs while Charles rested his head on your shoulder.
Neither of you were speaking or saying anything, the chaos from earlier being enough noise for a good while.
“Sorry I woke you up so early.” Charles whispered to you.
“Charles, shut up. Imagine me caring about sleep in this situation.” You softly kissed his forehead, “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” You practically whispered, genuinely overwhelmed by the thought.
He sighed heavily and snuggled his face into your neck, “Je sais vraiment pas qu’est-ce qui s’est passé.” I really don’t know what happened.
“We all have bad days, this one was just extra bad. I’m just glad you’re safe.” You tried reassuring, moving around so you were hugging him, keeping his injured limb in mind.
Charles, feeling down and upset, stayed silent and snuggled up to you, “My superwoman…” He softly and innocently kissed your jaw, “Tu nous a sauvé, toi. Je n’avais aucune idée c’était où l’extincteur.” You saved us. I had no idea where the extinguisher was.
You smiled softly and trailed your hand through his hair, “I was so scared for you, mon coeur. You gave me a heart attack today- twice.” You chuckled, threading your fingers gently through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead and giving him a small kiss there, “You’ll most definitely be the death of me, Leclerc.”
Charles giggled just a bit before mumbling a small “Désolé” sorry against your skin and falling into comfortable silence.
“Two weeks without racing though…” You thought out loud a minute later and felt him let out a whine of annoyance against your neck, the sound slowly turning into the softest of laughs ever, his chest shaking against yours.
Obviously, this situation wasn’t pleasant and this morning would for sure be a bad memory, but he was okay and that was all you could ask for after such a scare.
a/n: manifesting and praying that last situation never happens to him
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breeloveschris · 2 months
Text
You’ll Never Understand pt 8
Pt 7 Pt 9
Pairings: Chris sturniolo x Y/n
Summery: Y/n always been best friends with the triplets.. until one random day in sophomore year Chris despised Y/n, and till this day Y/n still don’t know why. Nick and Matt will never understand why Y/n has never stopped being sweet and caring to Chris as if nothing ever happened.
Warnings: cussing, alcohol, drinking
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Y/n woke up with a headache due to crying all night. She was up for 10 minutes just laying in bed staring at the wall with no thoughts in her head. She jumped when she heard her phone ringing. She sighed and turned over making sure she read the contact name before answering it. “Hey! I was just calling to make sure you’re awake and still down to go to the party today!” Nick said excitedly. “I’m awake and still coming” she said in a soft monotone voice.
“You okay?” Nick asked sincerely. “Huh? Oh no I’m great, I’m just tired” she said with a yawn. “Did you just wake up? It’s 6 in the afternoon” he said with a sigh. “Fuck, is it really? I didn’t even look at the time” Y/n said with a groan. “It is” Nick said with a laugh but continued, “you’re good tho, the party don’t start till 10” making Y/n sigh in relief. “I thought I wasn’t gonna make it for a second” she said with a small laugh. “Hey.. uh do you know if Chris is bringing anyone” Y/n asked quietly.
“No he’s not, but that reminds me. What the fuck was my brother doing at your house” Nick said with a confused tone. “He wanted to talk to me about some stupid shit. You know how he is” Y/n said with a laugh. “Nah facts, bros been acting mad sus lately. Like girl he came home with hickeys on his neck, he’s never done that. And he’s been 10 times more rude to you” Nick said with a sigh making Y/n’s heart drop. “That’s tuff. But honestly I’m done trying to be nice to him, he’s pushed it way too far.” She said with a sigh. “Does this mean y’all are gonna start arguing a fuck ton?” Nick asked with concern.
“No, I’m just not gonna talk to him” she said while shrugging. “Are you ready to get drunk” nick asked in an excited yell. “Hell yea, I’m not gonna get drunk this time but I’ll get tipsy because if I’m meeting the love of my life Colby Brock then I don’t need to be drunk” Y/n said with a laugh. “Girl-, what if he has a girlfriend or some shit” Nick asked with a laugh. “Then I’ll find someone else” Y/n fake sniffled. Nick just laughs before saying “well I’m gonna let you go get ready because for some reason you take hours” he said with a quiet laugh. “Okay I’ll talk to you later” she said before they both hung up.
Y/n turned on her tv putting on her early 2000’s club music playlist before getting out of bed and going to her closet to pick out an outfit. Choosing a small black dress with some boots she pulls them out and laid them on her bed walking over to her vanity doing her makeup. She took about an hour doing her makeup because she kept messing up her eyeliner and every time she’d mess up she would take off all of her makeup and start over. She decided to put on her dress before she did her hair so she wouldn’t mess up her hair.
She went with just curling her hair which took about 30 minutes. She sighed finally being ready. She looked in the mirror and she was feeling her self. She felt so pretty. “This will show Chris” she said to no body but herself with a smirk. She was looking at her makeup when she realized she never covered the now light hickeys. She sighed running a finger over them. She covered them which only took 10 minutes due to getting the coloring right. She opened her drawer and grabbed a pair of socks putting them on. She grabbed her shoes walking in to the living room putting them beside the couch where she sat down and started going through notifications.
Chris 😓
I know you’re still probably mad at me but I can’t wait to see you tonight :)
She sighed while clearing her notifications. Right after, she got a new notification.
Nickelodeon 🍰🍒
Hey! Just letting you know that we are on our way. I hope you’re ready for some beer pong
Y/n 😛🍑
Okay bet, I’m already ready and waiting. I’ll play one or two rounds of it 🤷🏼‍♀️
She smiled at her phone while she continued to text nick. She’s so excited, at first she was nervous because Chris will be there and it’s gonna be hard to ignore him but she’s gotta learn that she doesn’t need that disrespect even if it’s just an act. She gets a text from Nick saying that they have arrived. She puts on her shoes and makes her way down her apartment. She makes it out and looks for their car before seeing that it’s just in the same parking spot it’s always at.
She walks up to the car. She can see Chris in the front seat looking her up and down with a smirk on his face but she doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there. She opens the door to the back seeing Madi. She lets out a scream before yelling “Madi!” And pulling her into a hug making everyone laugh. “Okay Y/n/n, get in the car” Matt said with a laugh. “Well hey to you mr pushy” she said with a giggle while getting in the car. She can feel Chris looking at her from the front seat but her focus is on Madi and Nick. “Y’all look so good what the fuck” Y/n said with a smirk. “Thanks, took me about 15 minutes” Nick said with a smirk. “Well ain’t you lucky” Madi said with a laugh.
“You look good Y/n” Chris said looking at her with a soft smile. She just sends him a short “thanks” before turning and talking to Madi. Matt noticed this and smirked. “Yeah, Y/n you look gorgeous” Madi said in a short yell making Y/n giggle and cover her face saying thank you in her hands over and over again. Nick and Madi laughed at her reaction. Chris just clenched his jaw while shaking his head with an annoyed smirk. They were in the car for about 30 minutes before arriving at the party.
They all walk up to the door with Nick, Madi, and Y/n in the back while Matt and Chris were in the front. “Are you excited to meet Sam and Colby?” Y/n whispered to Madi who giggled and nodded her head fast making the three of them laugh. Sam and Colby were at the door welcoming people in. They stopped and talked to them for a little bit mainly the boys talking because the girls were nervous around them.
“I don’t think we’ve met you ladies” Colby said pointing to Y/n and Madi, “no you’re right, we havent met y’all yet” Sam said agreeing. Y/n smiled and waved before saying “I’m Y/n and this is Madi” while reaching her hand out to shake Colby’s hand. Colby looked down at her hand and shook his head pulling her into a hug making her blush and let out a little laugh.
The boys start laughing as they see her blush when she pulls away. The boys minus Chris, he had his jaw clenched. She got pulled into another hug by Sam while Madi was hugging Colby. When Y/n and Sam pulled away Madi hugged sam. “We love your videos!” Y/n said with a huge smile making them smile. “So we’ve heard” Colby said with a smirk making Y/n whip her head to Nick with wide eyes making everyone laugh. “Well we’ve got more people to welcome in but please enjoy the party!” Sam said lifting his drink up making them all cheer.
Matt and Chris went in their own direction, while Nick, Madi, and Y/n went straight to the drinks grabbing some white claws. “We need to go dance” Madi yelled over the music making Nick and Y/n smirk and they all grabbed hands and walked over to the dance floor. The song ‘Just a dream’ by nelly was blasting through the speakers. They were dancing and singing to each other when Y/n felt a pair of eyes on her. She looked around looking for the set of eyes. She meets eyes with Chris who had hooded eyes and a pissed look on his face.
When he catches her meeting his gaze he brings up his drink to his mouth and takes a giant sip before turning and going to get more alcohol. The song changed right after and the song ‘Thrift Shop’ started playing making all three of them jump up and down screaming the lyrics to eachother. 5 songs later and much more dancing Y/n ran out of her white claw making her sigh. “I’m gonna go get another drink!” She yelled to them over the music in return she got 2 head nods, so she made her way over to the drinks to grab a drink when someone came up to her and tapped her shoulder.
Ah hell, now who tf is it 🤨
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