#WHY is this 1000 words long IM SO SORRY
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Soft touches
Theodore Nott x gn! reader
Fluff, less than 1000 words
English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!!
It was friday evening. You were heading to the library as usual. At this time, there weren't many students, so you could peacefully read. Stepping into a big dark room with many shelves filled with old books and candles flying everywhere, you smelled a familiar scent. God, how you loved this place.
As you sat at your usual seat in the back of the library and opened your book, you heard footsteps getting closer to you. You looked up and saw Theodore Nott.
You didn't talk much to him, but you were crushing on him for ages but wouldn't admit it, even to your best friend or even yourself. He was more like the quiet type of person. He didn't speak much, and you always wondered why he was friends with Draco and Mattheo. They were the complete opposite, loud, outgoing, mean, and always partying. Theo is kindhearted, he may seem scary and imitating, but that's far from the truth.
"Hi, is this seat taken?" He said, pointing to the seat beside you.
The library is almost empty, why would he want to sit here?
"Not at all, go ahead." You said slightly smiling at him.
He sat down and took out a sketchbook from his bag. You didn't know he liked to draw. You tried to subtly look at his drawings as he flipped the pages.
The sketchbook was filled with beautiful landscapes, animals, and portraits of people you've never seen before but also of his friends, even some teachers. They were mostly drawn with pencils, but some of them, especially landscapes, were painted. They were absolutely beautiful. You've been so caught up in admiring his work that you didn't see that he noticed this.
"Well.. I know it might sound weird, but could you pose for me? I mean, it's totally fine if not, but you look so pretty right now, and I'd love to capture this.. gosh, that sounded creepy, I'm sorry." He said.
It really caught you off guard but didn't fail to make you blush slightly.
"Don't be sorry. Thank you, and yeah, I could do that. Should I move?" You said hoping he wouldn't notice how nervous you are.
"Not really, just do this..." he said, taking your hand in his and moving it to your face. His cold finger tips brushing against your cheek.
His hand was so soft. His gorgeous eyes were looking straight into yours. How could you be so madly in love with him?
You didn't move a muscle as he started drawing you. His blue eyes scanning every inch of you. The only thing you could hear was the rain outside. You were as focused on him as he was on you. His dark curls falling onto his forehead, his pale skin that reminded you of the moon, his sleepy bright eyes, his soft pink lips, his long, skinny fingers. All this made you fall for him, he was breathtaking.
He finally finished and showed you the drawing.
"Here it is. It's not perfect but I hope you'll like it" he said handing it to you.
It was marvelous, he drew you exactly how you look like, added every little detail.
"You can keep it, sorry I have to go, I promised Draco I'll help him with his assignment." Right after he spoke, he rushed out of the library. You didn't even have time to thank him.
Sighing you stood up, but the piece of paper fell. You picked it up and saw text on the back.
"Would you like to go to hogsmeade on a date with me? I think im falling for you more every day."
You also think you're falling for him more everyday, if that's even possible.
Masterlist
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott#theodore nott#slytherin boys x reader#fanfic#harry potter#hogwarts au#hogwarts#theo nott x you#theo nott x reader#theo nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin#slytherin x reader#lorenzo zurzolo#harry potter imagine#hp fandom#hp fanfcition#harry potter fanfic
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Why does the galaxy forget about the Jedi in 19 years I don’t care how good of a manipulator Palpatine is he is not good enough to manipulate people into thinking the Jedi who literally fought just 19 years ago were just myths, like for example in the real word everyone remembers 9/11 and the Iraq war, how can everyone forget about the Jedi in just 19 years? Also how can everyone forget about the sith in 1000 years? There are people in Star Wars who are that old and they have a much more advanced galaxy than we do im sorry but it just makes no sense to me, also I love the Jedi they are the good guys of Star Wars plain and simple.
To be fair, when it comes to 9/11 and the Iraq war, most people only remember those things because it's practically ingrained into the US school system to teach those things, even when it's probably not age-appropriate---like, I was watching videos of people jumping out of the twin towers in elementary school.
In contrast, Palpatine destroyed and desecrated basically everything about the Jedi he could get his hands on.
Given that Force-sensitives were being hunted down and murdered and Palpatine was dead set on erasing the Jedi from the galaxy, it wouldn't surprise me if people were scared of talking about the Jedi or if there was actually a penalty for talking about the Jedi. And, with that fear going around, I doubt that parents would ever tell their children anything about the Jedi---so there was a whole generation that probably grew up with little to no information on the Jedi.
As for the Sith, I think it's important to remember that there's a lot of things from the 1900's that we don't remember today---and that's only 100 years! If we go back all the way to 1000 years ago, we don't remember a whole lot of what was going on back then, and a lot of what we do know is speculation.
More advanced or not, 1000 years is a long time to remember just one subset of one group that's already really small, especially one that was "extinct."
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when you're missing me...
10 songs, from you to him.
summary: charles goes track by track as he deals with the sadness of losing you.
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader (affectionately nicknamed dove)
word count: 14k (i'm so sorry)
warnings: not proofread, poorly translated french -- translation in small font next to french text, cussing, charles being whiney and kind of pathetic sorry, mentions of alcohol, alludes to sexual themes, descriptions of anxiety and poor mental health. probably inaccurate descriptions of the car and its functions. absolutely no interaction between charles and reader until around the 5th/6th song so fair warning.
note: here is my first ever f1 fic and of course, it had to be about charles. i have been working on this for about a month now and i am finally done. this is super long, i nearly split it but it didn't feel right. im also a 1000% sure this makes no sense but im posting it anyways. i hope you like it and if not thats okay too! tagging @stressfc and @sidcrosbyspuck bc they've listened to me try to muscle through the end of this. feedback is always appreciated.
Dinner was quiet, just the soft hum of classical instrumental playing in the background with the compliments of silverware clanging against porcelain plates. Charles stares at the pasta sitting idly on his plate, his fork twirling the noodles but never lifting it to his mouth. The girl across from him seems to dwindle on and on about her work, something about a new projects and exciting opportunities. He couldn’t seem to listen tonight, there was something eerie in the air tonight and it made him feel uneasy. She doesn’t take notice though, too busy enjoying his presence and the fine dining restaurant Charles is treating her to.
She wasn’t a gold digger by any means, and she was satisfied with the more simpler things life had to offer. It was one of Charles’ favorite things about her, and that’s why when he had the chance he’d treat her to a little bit of luxury that he can afford. She was sweet, bubbly, with a little bite when it comes to things she’s passionate about. Her eyes were warm and bright with life, and on most nights it was enough to set fire in his heart. But tonight, it simply wasn’t the case.
Dinner was over as quickly as it started, Charles chucking the quick end to the night to being tired and having a long day ahead of him. She was understanding as usual, and it dug a pit in his heart. She bid him goodnight, a quick kiss to his lips, and he watches as she walks away. Charles waited until she was in her building before he driving back to his apartment, the car ride silent. He slows to a stop at a red and idly scrolls through his Spotify account to find a playlist to fill the space. And then he scrolls past one he hadn’t listened to in months. He taps the one titled ‘when you’re missing me’ quick to press shuffle as the light flicks green. His foot is steady on the gas, as the first out of ten songs play.
Nothing - Bruno Major
Bruno’s soft voice plays over the car speaker, the first verse taking him back to nights spent on the couch with a glass of red wine, a good movie, and his favorite person. He remembers the soft voices, chaste kisses, and gentle fingers tousling his brown hair. He hums along, merging right and off the busy roads to take the side streets. Taking the long way home seemed like the best option for tonight, the twists and turns reminding him of being on the track— his safest place in the world.
But there’s nothing, like doing nothing, with you. The lyric makes his heart plummet into his stomach before trying to climb up his throat. There’s a sense of nostalgia that washes over him as the song plays on, remembering the feeling of listening to it as he passes the time miles and miles away from you. He smiles at your thoughtfulness, how you carefully picked ten simple songs to fill the time you both spent apart. Ten songs, nearly forty minutes to keep him afloat for maybe days at a time. Forty minutes to make missing you a little less painful.
Or in this case, a little more.
The first time he heard this song, it was played live in concert and you found a video circulating online of the performance. You gushed on and on about how cute the lyrics were, the sentiment behind the song, and the evident tears glossing over your eyes when you listened to it the first time. You were both just friends at the time, and he could remember the butterflies fluttering in his stomach as you pined for affections that the artist described in his song, his thought taking him to possibilities of him being able to fulfill those needs. But of course, he simply wiped the lone tear that rolled down your cheek and smiled.
“It’s okay, mon cherie.”
The first time he ever kissed you was to the very same song, a month later. He was just a little tipsy off of his celebratory P1 champagne, footsteps stumbling from the motorhome into your car as you readied to drive him home. He was all smiles, dimples deep and eyes bright despite being slightly hooded with alcohol.
“Ah, mon amour, it was the best race I think I’ve ever driven. Did you see?”
“I did. I saw the whole thing bug.”
Charles smiles at the memory of the affectionate nickname, rubbing his index finger against his bottom lip as he remembers the excitement he felt bursting through his skin when he had leaned over the middle counsel to kiss you. He remember your soft, plump lips, surprised but quick to mold into his. It was short, fiery, blurring the lines of friendship the two of you desperately tried to define. The song came up on shuffle, following one Charles’ hazy mind at the time could not seem to place.
… nothing like doing nothing with you…
Together — Us the Duo
Charles didn’t like too many English songs, and when he did they were ones that play on the radio every thirty minutes. This song, he found deep in her liked songs. One Saturday morning, free from distractions, no responsibilities on either end of the relationship except to be in each other’s company. He likes to think you put this song in the playlist because of the day he found it and played it.
He can hear you singing softly, feel the ghost of your fingers caressing his cheek as the song goes no matter what you’re going through, I’ll be right next to you. Goosebumps rise on his skin at the memory of your touch and the lump in his throat grows larger. This is when he should change the song, change the playlist, switch over to some house music playlist Lando shared with him months ago that he has yet to listen to. But he couldn’t. He eases up on the gas, making another right turn to drive down another straight.
“You are doing just fine, just take it one turn at a time baby.”
Charles hung on to every word that you ever said, but these words especially. It was words that he held near to him, at the forefront of his mind whether he was on the track staring down the rear of a Red Bull, or just simply trying to get through a tough mental day. One turn at a time, your version of “just keep swimming.” It was a take from an old movie, and one of your favorite books, but personal to the both of you.
This song was long forgotten in the last three months. He wishes that he remembered it for all the terrible days he spent up in his own head, without you to bring him down. Maybe, for just 3 minutes and 36 seconds, he could pretend that you were singing it to him. He could hear your sweet voice singing ‘if you ever need a hand to hold, reach out and I’ll grab yours.’
The skin of his right hand burned at the memory of yours, and his heart nearly sunk into his stomach. He hated this. He hated being alone, hated that you aren’t in the seat next to him. But most of all, he hated that seeing you was not an option at the end of this playlist.
Hesitate — Jonas Brothers
The first concert you both ever attended together was a Jonas Brothers concert in Las Vegas. It wasn’t intentional, you fully planned on bringing your best friend with you but her flight was delayed. And although it was between back to back race weekends, Charles didn’t have many obligations before the next one and you were fairly great at convincing him to join you. Of course he knew who the Jonas Brothers are, and of course he knew at least two of their songs. But if he were being completely honest with himself and the universe listening, he only went because you asked him.
On any normal weekend before back to back races, Charles would be scribbling in his little blue notebook and reading through his self-critical notes from the last several months of the season. He would jot down his ideas and feelings about the previous race, and his hopes and ambitions for the one yet to come. And it was Las Vegas. Notorious for the gambling and glamorous night life. A glamour he could afford for the both of you. And yet, that Thursday night he found himself in the furthest section to the left, the three brothers only about three inches tall from his view, with you screaming every lyric back with such enthusiasm. He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world.
The night slowed down considerably, Joe’s (your favorite, at least that’s what you yelled to him about fifty times leading up to this very moment) voice booming over the speaker and filling the arena. Your hand was quick to find his own, fingers slotting between his own as you laid your head on his shoulder. You would never know, but he spent the entirety of the song looking down at you. He savored every second your lips moved to the song, the twinkle in your eyes as you stared down at the three piece.
I thank the ocean for giving me you, you saved me once and now I’ll save you too. Charles always thanked the sea and the waves for washing him to shore, right at your mercy. He’d never tell you, but the song brought tears to his eyes. He would never, ever, admit that he shed a tear listening to that very song and the thought of you. It seemed premature to admit to you just several months in that he might be falling in love with you. That maybe, just maybe, you were it for him.
He pressed a soft kiss on your head, “Je suis en train de tomber amoureux de toi. Et vous ne le savez même pas. Pas encore.” I’m falling in love with you. And you don’t even know it. Not yet.
His whisper was drowned out in a sea of screams as the song comes to a close, and he knows you didn’t hear him. His heart screams at the memory of your glossy eyes as you looked up at him and moved up to the tip of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Sometimes he wishes that he would’ve just said it to you, screamed it for all of fifteen-something thousand people to hear and witness. Fuck the idea, the social constructs of timing and whether it was appropriate. He shouldn’t have hesitated to tell you how much his heart swells when you’re near him, how he desires nothing more to keep you close to him for the rest of his days.
Maybe if he opened his god damn mouth then he couldn’t lived in your affections for longer than he got.
Charles couldn’t bear to waste gas much longer, so he made a final left turn and back to his apartment complex. He pulls his car into the numbered slot, and takes quick steps to his empty home. Charles tries to ignore the dull feeling of his home, the mess he had yet to clean since returning from the last race, and instead dives into replying to texts he had missed since he decided to take an extra twenty minutes to get home.
Pierre’s name lights up the screen as Charles rolls into bed.
I can come up with beer if you need it. I saw you drive in a circle before getting home. Maybe you need beer.
Charles curses softly, forgetting that his best friend has his location and is more often than not keeping tabs on his habits. He rolls his eyes, replying to Pierre that he can in fact make his way up as long as he has a six pack in hand. The Monegasque does his best to tidy up, tossing laundry in its place and putting dishes in the dish washer. By the time Pierre’s soft knocks are heard, Charles is just about satisfied with the way his home looks. He unlocks the door without opening it, but the Frenchman has no problem letting himself in, greeting his friend cheerfully as he shuts the door behind him.
“I was thinking of inviting Carlos, or maybe Max over with me too. But I figured my company was enough, no?”
Charles lets out a chuckle, sitting at the table and nodding for Pierre to do the same. “Sure, mate.”
Pierre grins, handing Charles a bottle before sitting across from him. “Knew it.” He pops the bottle open, taking a quick drink before looking at his best friend. “So what now? Why the extra twenty minutes out on the road?”
“You know, it’s really creepy that you keep tabs on my location like that.”
“I just care. And stop deflecting. What’s wrong?”
Charles nibbles his lip, spinning the amber bottle on the table to watch the liquid slosh against the light. He debated if he should bring up his thoughts of you for the n-th time. Pierre must be tired of it, Charles thinks to himself. He looks up, his friend’s baby blues waiting patiently for him to speak up. He sighs softly, popping open his bottle and holding it up to his lips.
“Things don’t feel right with Hannah.” That’s how Charles chooses to start the conversation. It isn’t a lie, but it also isn’t the reason for his extra 20 minutes.
“The American girl?” Pierre asks, leaning back into his chair.
Charles nods, “Yeah. I dunno man… I like her I do but”—
“But she’s not your Dove.”
There it is. Charles didn’t have to say it. His heart seems to crack at the use of your. You weren’t his, no longer his little Dove.
Pierre watches as his best friend nods, finally taking a drink from his beer. There is a blanket of comfortable silence that falls between the two racers. This isn’t unfamiliar territory for Pierre. He is very much aware of the torment in Charles’ head since the break up. He was there for all the drunk nights and silent tears. Pierre has never seen his best friend so torn up over a girl, and truth be told he was worried when Charles jumped into a new connection with the American girl.
“I don’t know anymore mate… this fucking sucks.” Charles rests his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes. “This isn’t normal, to constantly compare her to… to you know. That isn’t fair to Hannah, or really anyone for that matter.”
“No… but it takes time to move past that.” Pierre responds. “It still hurts now, it hasn’t been that long since the two of you parted ways.”
“Three months mate.”
“Yeah, out of a fourteen month relationship.”
Charles shakes his head, taking another drink. “Still seems too long.”
“Well… do you really want to stop feeling this way?”
Charles looks at his best friend incredulously, “What the fuck kind of question is that?!”
“Well Charles, you seem to be the only one holding onto this relationship between the two of you. You just have this… this grip on something that’s over even though it’ll probably never come back to you.”
Pierre’s nonchalant tone catches him off guard, and even more so that the man in front of him still manages to drink his beer without cowering under his angry gaze. The Frenchman’s word feels like a match is lit in his chest. Charles suddenly couldn’t breathe.
“Switching up your opinions?”
Pierre raises his brow. “What? No. I still think it’s normal to be strung up on a relationship three months out. But at the same time, Charles you don’t make an actual effort to move forward. I mean even Hannah isn’t much of a move in the right direction considering that they even look similar. Being in a relationship just to be in one, right after one you actually valued isn’t actually a great tactic to moving on. And you’re still listening to her playlist”
“How do you know that?”
“Okay I didn’t check on purpose, don’t look at me like that. I just happened to be making a new race playlist and saw your activity.”
Charles groans softly, cheeks turning pink. He was a little embarrassed and made a mental note to change his Spotify settings. “Fuck.”
“Listen, I’m not going to knock you for how you choose to heal and move on. I’m your best friend, and I’m here for you. But I’m just saying… your way isn’t a very good way.”
—
Race weekends are his favorite. There isn’t anywhere he would rather be than on a race track in any given city in the world. The smell of rubber against the hot asphalt was always something that made him feel most at home. If there was something Charles knew for sure in the world, it’s that he was meant to be behind the wheel of an F1 car racing speeds up to 200 miles per hour. The adrenaline pumps through him simply at the thought of it.
Silverstone is a track he’s fairly comfortable with and has yet to win. But for the first time, Charles didn’t crave to win. Of course, standing on the tallest podium would be a plus, but truth be told he just wanted to get behind the wheel. The two week break was more than enough, much more than he needed. He just couldn’t wait to just sit in the car, uninterrupted for two hours with nothing but the road in front of him and his team in his ears. Charles was more than ready to hop in the car right now, if it weren’t for media appearances and fan obligations.
Carlos isn’t blind, and he knows his teammate quite well. When the camera shuts off after their hour of filming another C-squared episode, Carlos can’t help but to point out the unusual jitters emitting from Charles. “You good?”
Charles looks up at his teammate. “Huh? Yeah, why?”
“You just seem ready to leave, more than usual.”
“Just ready to get in the car, mate.” Charles hopes his voice is convincing. Hopes that the fake excitement he placed in his eye is enough to stop Carlos’s inquiries. He was worried that the Spaniard would ask about you, and truly Charles can’t handle another conversation about you and how he’s handling life without you.
“Aren’t you always?” Carlos rolls his eyes playfully, patting Charles’ back. “See you later. Gonna go workout.”
The two split ways and Charles heads back to his hotel room. The rest of Charles’ day is scheduled to be fairly quiet. There were no other social obligations left for the day, just an hour of uninterrupted rest before an event with sponsors that his PR team emphasized the importance of only ten times in one meeting. But for the next hour, Charles retreats to his room with his little blue notebook and sits at the tiny desk. He begins to jot down notes from the track walk, taking notes of turns that might be of concern to him, and what kind of tires he is likely to start with. He flips between his strategy notes and his idea list, seeing if there are tweaks he can make that he can bring up for discussion before free practice the next day.
Charles writes until his hand begins to ache. All of twenty minutes fly by before he has to drop the pen between the pages to try and shake the pain away. In the same instance, his phone lights up with texts from his friends who were trying to meet him before their schedules get too busy. He swipes through a few, not bothering to reply and instead opting to lay in bed to relax a little bit. He pops in his AirPods without question, scrolling through his song library in search of a song he could fall asleep to. His bottom lip moves between his teeth as he ponders over your playlist, and finds his finger swiping through his library til he spots that playlist.
Charles triple checks that he changed his listening activity to private before playing the next song.
If I Could Fly — One Direction
This is by far the cheesiest song that you put on the playlist. But those were your words, not his. He remembers you told him how you even hesitated to add it in but ultimately decided that it was the only song that made sense to you and your reasoning.
Charles thinks back to Silverstone a year ago. He was in a room much similar to the one he is sat in, but you were there. Granted, you were on a screen on his little iPhone but you were there. It was rather frustrating to be a driver for a struggling team like Ferrari was at the time. He had you propped up against the lamp, the warm light illuminating his dull features. You watched him attentively, laying on your hands as you wait for him to speak up. You both knew that the race didn’t go as he had hoped, and there weren’t many things that you could say to him that he hasn’t heard from everyone that day. So you sit in silence, waiting for him to say just about anything so that you could pick up on him.
“Just not the result I wanted.” Charles finally mumbled. He hears you hum, sitting up and pulling your phone closer to your face about to begin your “boost morale” speech, but he cuts you off. “Wish you were here, Dove.”
You smile, a tinge of sadness in your eyes. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. You know if I could, I would.”
He nods. “I know. I don’t want to talk about today anymore. I want to talk about your day, I want to talk about you.”
So you indulged. You told him about your day, of all the people you had come across at your job and how you looked forward to your next day off. He hung on to every single word that slipped past your lips. He let you ramble on and on, all the way til he made it to bed and snuggled with you, still on the phone in the same state.
“Are you feeling better, Bub?” You asked, yawning softly as you snuggled deeper into the covers.
“Yes. Much better. And I see you in two days, so I’ll be even better then.” He smiled, and you smile even wider.
He could never forget your smile, even if he tried to scrub it out physically. He groans softly, turning on his back and letting the voices soak into the back of his mind, drowning every memory of you.
Right now I’m completely defenseless. Tears spring up and sting his soft green eyes as the song continues to play. He hasn’t cried in a while, at least not while thinking of you. He’s cried in anger, in frustration, but never in sadness and loneliness like he feels right now. He didn’t think a One Direction song would bring him to tears, but yet here he is curled up on the white duvet as tears roll down his pale skin. Fuck he hates this so much. And fuck did he feel pathetic.
“Baise-moi.” Fuck me. He sits up, rubbing the heel of his hand against his cheeks to wipe the wet away.
He sniffles, swiping through his phone to reply to a few texts that sprung up on his phone. He replies to Pierre, the nosy fucker, and Carlos who lets him know that they will meet in the lobby before leaving to the event. Charles makes a silly mistake to scroll even further, past the blue dots of unread texts all the way down to your name. Well, your affectionate nickname. It’s one coined by Daniel ironically, and the only one that followed you around the paddock. Even Mattia referred to you as dove. Your dove, as Mattia would say to Charles.
The last text you ever sent to him was I’m sorry. He didn’t have the guts to reply, to say that it was okay because truly, he was not. He scrolls up, past all the pining in blue and curt responses in grey. He scrolls past the hearts and the smiling emojis all the way until he finds the long paragraph with your explanation for the song.
There isn’t a day when you’re off in some country while I’m stuck at home, wishing that I could just fly over to you. And I didn’t want to add a One Direction song, it almost feels silly. But it makes sense. And I hope you feel the same way otherwise I’m just some psycho on the other side of this. I know these last couple of races haven’t been what you wanted them to be, and I know that you are frustrated more than anything else. But please know that me and thousands still believe in you. If I could fly all those thousands of miles to see you, then I would. But I will see you in two days time. Then I will make up for all the shit times. See you soon bub, very very soon. Bonne nuit, fais de beaux rêves chérie. Good night, sweet dreams honey
Charles nibbles on his bottom lip, finally pressing skip on the repetitive chorus. He couldn’t take it anymore
At My Worst — Pink Sweat$ (ft. Kehlani)
Charles forces himself off the bed and into the bathroom. His hair is disheveled, the skin around his eyes purple and puffy. He truly has never looked worse. He does his regular skin care, and then attempts to get ahold of his messy hair with some pomade Pierre swears by. It doesn’t work.
As Charles slips on the black blazer over his shoulders, he nearly wants to throw up. He’d do anything to get out of this dinner, pay anything to just sit in solitude. But alas, his phone vibrates and Carlos is already waiting in the lobby for him. Charles pops his AirPods in, clicking play on the next song on the playlist. It’s more upbeat than the last couple of songs, and if it weren’t for the mere fact it was on a playlist you made for him, he would be bopping along.
“Finally mate,” Carlos greets, standing from the lounge chair he was sitting in. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”
Charles smiles at the few fans who were waiting, leaning into some photos and politely turning away autographs due to lack fo time. His teammate doesn’t make any conversation, which Charles is thankful for. He knew it was a bit rude to keep his earphones in but he just needs this. And he thinks that Carlos knows.
When you first showed him this song, you were in the driver’s seat and singing to him. You wanted to show him your favorite spot to get away, a little bite of paradise that you had never shown anyone. He thinks back to your hair whipping in the wind, sunglasses framing your face nicely as you grinned over at him. The memory of kisses at red lights and giggles along the way burn his lips. He has to rub them again, to remind himself that it was no longer real.
Can you see what I'm not saying from my eyes?. All I know is love, for you it's real. You pulled your sunglasses to the edge of your nose, shooting him a wink. He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. He never ever wanted to stop kissing you. Never.
“Here.”
Charles nods and pulls his AirPods out, placing them back in the case and tossing them into the glove box of the loaned Ferrari. The event goes as every event goes, with forced conversations as Charles tries to wow sponsors about the potential Ferrari has yet to tap with their help. He does his best, but after the fourth conversation he’s spent and wishes that he ended up bringing his AirPods down. But Mattia would have his neck, so he settles for the only beer he is allowed for the night. He watches as Carlos speaks to another aged man, a wide smile on his lips as he shakes the man’s hand and walks away. The Spaniard raises is brows with an exasperated expression.
“Eso fue demasiado.” That was too much. Carlos mumbles, plopping next to Charles. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired. Didn’t get to nap.” Carlos clicks his tongue and Charles chuckles.
“What song were you listening to in the car?” The man leans back into the chair, drinking his water.
“Ah… just an old one a friend showed me a while ago.”
“Who? Dove?”
Charles is quick to shake his head, “Pfft, no.”
The look on his friend’s face shows that he is unconvinced, but he chooses not to comment. “Have you spoken to her?”
“No. Of course not.”
Carlos nods, “Just asking. She still talks to Lando every now and again. Saw them on FaceTime in-.”
“Carlos, please.” Charles chokes on air, shaking his head and effectively shutting his teammate up. “Sorry… I just can’t.”
There is a pang of jealousy that runs through Charles’ blood. Why wouldn’t you talk to Lando? He was one of your closest friends, long before the two of you were anything. He tries to coax himself off a cliff of insecurity he built himself in the short span of time. Nothing works, and if he didn’t know any better he would think that Carlos could see the smoke fuming from his ears.
“Sorry. Listen, if it means anything at all… she’s not seeing anyone.”
Charles nods, not sparing another word on the matter. The night dwindles to a close in a bout twenty minutes time, and Carlos drives the both of them home. One AirPod returns to his ear, the song from earlier picking up from where it left off.
And for you, girl, I swear I'd do the worst. He would. He would do anything for you. If you called him right this second and asked him to fly to you, he would. Hell or high water he’d find a way. His phone vibrates, and he looks down in hope. But it dies as quickly as it comes, Hannah’s name illuminating his screen in the form of a FaceTime call. He leaves it to ring, looking out the window and patiently waiting for the song to resume.
-
Silverstone was an absolute shit show. From the red flag to the shit strategy that costed him a podium, he was not doing well. He did his best to keep up with appearances, answered questions with the list of generic answers he had memorized in the back of his head from years of media training. But he knew, there was no hiding the disappointment in his features. You always said his eyes gave him away.
Charles barely kept it together through the team photo, his hand gripping the energy drink in his hand as he bites down in the back of his mouth to smile at the camera. He has never left the track faster in his life. The ride back to the hotel was accompanied by dull British radio and his phone going off with calls and texts from people checking up on him. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to discuss the day further. When he finally rolls into his bed, his fingers move ahead of his mind, and he calls a name before even reading it.
It rings once. twice. thrice. It rings until your voicemail plays. Sweet, soft melodic voice reminding him of the beep. He wished you picked up, even if it was to say never to call you again. But he settled for the recording before speaking.
“Hi… sorry. I just needed to talk to someone but you must be busy. Or…. tu ne veux pas me parler. You don't want to talk to me. That’s fine.” Charles pauses, wondering if this was worth it. But he sighs and continues anyways, “Today wasn’t a good day. Je suis vraiment bouleversé en ce moment. I’m really upset right now. You always knew what to say, so I thought I’d call. Sorry. I lo— Bye.”
Charles hangs up before he can make himself an even bigger fool of himself. He shakes his head, dropping his phone next to him on the bed. A groan rumbles from his throat, frustration growing within him. He fucking hated his situation. He hated not winning, of slipping through the cracks, of feeling alone while being surrounded by people who want to help him. He hated that in his mind, you the only thing that could cure the sick feeling in his stomach.
He flies back to Monaco the same night, opting out of a celebratory trip for Carlos. He apologized, promising his teammate a treat of sorts when they see each other again. Hannah was so kind to pick him up, even if he insisted he could’ve just taken a cab. Nonsense, she said on the phone. She was so excited to see him, and Charles felt bad for ignoring her for the last couple of days. Charles held her hand, kissed her sweetly, invited her up, buried himself in her in all attempts to forget about the weekend behind him, to forget that he had made a fool of himself. He wanted to forget that he tried to call you. But as he lays in his bed, watching her chest rise and fall with every breath, he finds himself wishing you had answered. He wished that you were there instead.
Charles finally gets around to answering some texts, opting to go sit in his living room since the jet lag refused to let him sleep. He sent many ‘thank yous’ to friends and family, curt responses to fool one into thinking that he was fine. He types and types until his eyes are raw and there wasn’t a single text left unread. By the time Charles put’s his phone down, it’s nearly three in the morning. His mind is a jumble of thoughts, of the hopes of the future and troubles of the past. He grabs his little blue journal on the table and begins to write furiously. He writes every hazy thought, laying the words out on the page before him until his hand burns and eyes are blurred with tears. His breathing turns heavy, heart racing, the anger finally getting the best of him. He has to drop the pen on the table. Every part of his body is burning with exhaustion, but his mind continues to race and effectively keep him awake.
Life moves in waves, and Charles feels as though his dip is deeper than most times he can recall in his brief 24 year stint on earth. There were many lows, but he always knew that he’d find a way up and out of it. But now, with his career, wounded ego, and more so his injured heart, it seems that the riptide continues to drag him under. It’s began to get harder and harder to breath in life, and he was worried that it would continue to feel that way. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to swim up, and that scared him.
“Charles?”
The Monegasque jumps in his seat, turning to see Hannah watching him from the door frame of his room.
“Y’scared me.” He mumbles, standing up and walking over to her and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “Go to back to bed Han, I’ll be there in a second.”
Her hand rests on his chest whilst his rest comfortably on her hip. He squeezes gently, smiling tiredly at her. Her large brown eyes dart left and right, searching his face for a clue as to what he might be feeling but found nothing. She couldn’t read him, not matter how hard she tried. “Why don’t you talk to me?”
Charles tilts his head, “Comment cela?” What do you mean?
“There’s something going on in your head, like a storm. And I try to read you, and to understand, but I feel like every time I try you move further from me.”
Charles’ hand drops from her as he takes a step back, “There isn’t anything to talk about Hannah.”
“I think that there is. Why won’t you-“
“Ça suffit! That’s enough! Leave it. Please.”
The man doesn’t notice the way she jumped when he raised his voice, or the sadness brewing in her eyes as they gloss over in tears. He simply walks away to his kitchen, leaving her standing in the doorway, confused and hurt. He can’t feel bad, he can’t feel anything other than exhaustion. Charles pours himself a glass of water, gulping it down before smacking it back on the counter. Any harder and the glass would’ve broken. Hannah walks into the kitchen, and he fights the urge to groan.
“Do you not want me here? Because I can leave Charles. I’ll go and let you sulk here. By yourself.”
He doesn’t answer, just sinks his head into his hands and shutting his eyes. His calloused fingers grip the ends of his hair, tugging in attempts to pull him out of the tiredness he is feeling.
“Charles-“
“Hannah. Please, please, please.” The worlds come out in mumbles. Soft, but very grim. “Not now.”
“I don’t know what else I can do for you Charles.” Her voice is soft, but it was missing something. “How can I help you? Help me understand. Help me help you Charles.”
Guilt eats him up at the sound of her voice, the willingness, the want to be there with him even when he is unmistakably pushing her away. Tears spring to his eyes, seeping through his closed lids and onto the heel of his hands. Fuck, he thinks. He knows his answer, he knows the words he wants to say. It sits in the back of his throat, burning and bubbling past his lips. Charles forces himself to look up from his hands, the light in the kitchen burning his eyes. Hannah’s are soft, worried at the sight of Charles’ red and sad eyes as he looks up at her.
“You can’t.” His voice comes out broken, and she doesn’t fully register what he means. “You can’t help me Hannah. I can’t even help myself.”
She doesn’t respond, just looks at him with sad eyes. Her hand comes up to push his brown locks off his forehead before cupping his cheek. Hannah just presses a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering longer than he’d anticipated. There is a bit of a weight in the silence between them, and it allows the guilt in the Monegasque to fester even more. He coughs out a sob, shaking his head and pulling away from the soft embrace, one he knows he does not deserve.
“I’ll go.” Hannah says softly, “I’ll leave you. And when you’re ready-“
“Hannah, no,” Charles shakes his head, “You don’t get it it. You can’t help me, because I don’t want you to. You aren’t who I need, who I want.”
The girl stood before him, his harsh words causing her jaw to fall slack and tears to gloss over her eyes. There were a string of regrets and hateful words that fall from her lips, accusations of time wasted and the promise of never being able to forgive him. He watched her as she gathered herself and sauntered out of his life. With the slam of the door, Charles released a breath and groaned as he plops onto his couch. And finally, exhaustion takes its toll and pulls him into a deep slumber.
—
His family boat had finally gotten out of the shop during his little break, and he decides to take it out onto the water. He spent many summer as a child, out in the deep blue. He enjoyed the peace, the feeling of being far away from such a busy world. His father taught him how to drive the boat, and where the best places to dock was. Charles didn’t drive out too far, just enough for his city to be covered by his thumb if he held it out. He strips himself of the blue button up and sits out on the deck. He is quick to open Spotify, playing the next song on the playlist on the boat speaker.
Keep Driving — Harry Styles
Charles lays back, the sun hitting his pale skin and warming him up. He tries to enjoy the sound of the waves against the side of the boat and the poppy beat of the song playing. He tries to enjoy the world around him for what it is, enjoy his solitude for what it is. But even in the peace he’s found himself in, his mind races. He thinks about Monaco and Canada, even the race just a week before. The universe hasn’t been too kind with him, both on and off the track.
Harry Styles is a world renowned artist, and he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like a lot of his songs. His most recent album was his— and your— favorite. The poppy beat playing over the speaker brings a smile to his lips, the memory of drive out of to the port and this very song playing in his car. He remembers the way the wind whips through your hair, your hand moving up and down in the quick moving air. His sunglasses adorned your face, as did his Monza hoodie. From head to toe, you were dripping in him.
You turned to face him, a smile on your lips as you leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw. Maple syrup, coffee. Pancakes for two. He would never forger the way your lips felt against him as you peppered kisses up his jaw. Hash brown, egg yolk. I will always love you.
You moved onto your knees, turning in your seat to look at him. As the song sped up, so did you. You sung along with Harry, your voice all the more appealing to him. It was easy to tune the man out and listen to you. He pulled up to his space, putting his car in park and allowing you to finish out the song. A smile curves onto his lips at the memory of you popping off your seatbelt, leaning over the middle console to get closer to him. He couldn’t help himself in that moment, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to kiss you feverishly. Choke her, with a sea view.
Goosebumps prickle his skin, and his shorts begin to tighten at the thought of the cramped backseat and your warmth.
He sits on the bow of Monza, blue notebook in hand as he flips through the pages he had crammed with his thoughts. He stops at one dated two months ago, a letter addressed to you.
Dove,
One month without you seems too long. I miss you, but I know you’re doing well and that is the only thing keeping me away. Not having you here with me, at my home race no less, feels wrong. It feels empty. Everything feels empty without you.
One month of being without you has been my personal torture, and I can’t seem to get anything right anymore. I wish that I could call, to just hear your voice and sound advice. But that would be selfish of me, would it not. So instead I write. I write letters to you, ones you will never read. It’s the only thing that makes sense to do.
I’m sorry I was no longer good for you, and I’m sorry that it took you walking away from me to realize that I needed to do more. Your happiness, though away from me, is the only thing I find comfort in throughout this fucked up situation I find myself. At least you’re happy. Even if I’m not.
I love you.
Charles
His handwriting was slanted, sloppy, the words quickly strung out on the page. It was one he wrote two minutes before qualifying, where he earned pole position. He’d imagine you would be happy for him, that if you were there you would greet him with kisses and a tight hug. You would say how proud you are of him, shower him in kind words. He flips the page, the letter he wrote after the race.
Dove. It hurts more than it should. Come home, I need you.
Hollywood Forever — Finneas
The music slowed down considerably, the soft notes of the piano vibrating through the speaker. D major, then G major, in sequence until Finneas’ voice serenades him softly. Bury me in Hollywood, forever… underneath the starry sky. Charles maneuvers his way from the bow of the yacht to the wheel, turning the engine on and turning back around to cruise home. The sun has moved down considerably, nearly kissing the ocean. The sky turns from blue to pink before his eyes, the lights of Monaco flickering on. Home has never looked more beautiful. For the briefest of moments he is able to relish in his city and appreciate. With the accompaniment of the soft music, he felt like he was falling in love all over again.
Monaco was always his city, but never yours. Maybe that was the disconnect. He always expressed his desire to live in Monaco at the end of his career, to raise his family on the same streets he did. And in all the times he shared those dreams with you, you’d smile and nod, never really saying much. He assumed then that it was because you simply agreed, but maybe you didn’t.
I don't ever wanna find out how it ends…
This song played at your best friend’s wedding. The couple having their first dance, and in turn invited couples to join them as the song changes. He offered you his hand, which you gracefully took and allowed him to lead you to the dance floor. And though it was crowded with people in love, to him it was just the two of you. His hands rested comfortably on your hips while your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. There were no words, just longing looks that read with so much love and hope. Hope for the future you both dreamed of. Love for one another, one you both believed would never end. Ignorance truly was bliss.
Missed you harder than I thought I'd get to, we just never had the time. Maybe it was his inconsistent schedule, the fluctuation of time spent together and apart no longer suited your needs. This season had shown Charles his ability to reach new heights, it made reaching for the stars a little less scary. For a moment in time, he had everything in his grasp. And then one by one, they all seemed to trickle through his fingers like sand. Perhaps, he was just no longer enough for you.
And I don't wanna change the station, because you're the only one I like at 2AM. You would always be enough for him, Charles thought. Even miles away, apart from him, happier without him, it was enough for him. He can live in satisfaction that at least you got it right.
He ties off his boat onto the pier, pausing the song so that he can continue listening on his drive home. A bag of his belongings slung over his shoulder, and his phone in one hand as he mindlessly taps your name to call you again. Just as it was in Silverstone, your sweet voicemail rings through the speaker.
“Hi. Drove out to our spot today, and was thinking about everything. Thinking about you. I’m sorry I called you last week, it was kind of selfish… well really selfish actually. I’m sorry. I hope you’re well… I hope you’re happy. I really do. I lo—“ He hesitates, throat closing up as the words try to roll off his tongue as effortlessly as it once did. Tears prickle his eyes but he shakes his head. “I won’t call you again. I’m sorry.”
He ends the call and stuffs his phone in his pocket.
—
Charles seems to fuck up everything in his path. He can’t hold onto a piece of good very long. The World Drivers Championship was beyond him now, and summer break now marked the halfway point of the season. He was meant to take a break, forget about spinning out and questionable strategy. But he can only spend so many days under the scorching Monaco sun, or nights out at clubs with his friends. His mind was not on break mode, and no matter how much he drank, slept, or swam, he was still thinking of work.
“Charles honey, get off your phone.” His mom scolds, patting his head as she passes him.
He lets his phone slide from his fingers, dropping onto his lap. Charles smiles over at his mom, standing from his seat and walking over to the kitchen. He attempts to steal a bite of food, but his mother slaps his hand away and he giggles.
“‘M hungry.”
“I know. But we need to wait for your brothers.” She mumbles, “Go eat a banana or something.” She waves him off and he chuckles. Charles settles on the stool by the kitchen island, taking his mom’s advice and grabbing a banana.
Staying with mom has always been Charles’ great escape. No matter what happens to him, how far he is, Pascale will always be waiting for him with open arms. Whenever life wasn’t treating him so kindly, she was always ready with a remedy. She loved her sons more than anything, and they are her life line as she is to them. Charles watches as his mom effortlessly maneuvers her way through the kitchen. There is a faint smell of garlic in the air, and it makes the boy’s mouth water.
“It’s really good that you came to visit, mon doux garçon. My sweet boy. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too Mama.” He affirms, taking a bite of his fruit.
“Missed your cooking as well.”
She laughs, “Of course you did.”
There a few moments of silence as she finishes what she is doing in the pan, and then sticking a dish in the oven. Then she finally turns, the beige towel in her hands as she dries off her hands. “What’s on your mind?”
Charles smiles knowingly, looking down at his fingers as he shrugs. “What isn’t?”
“Ay, mon doux.” She shakes her head, “You don’t have to carry the weight all by yourself, you know?”
He looks up at his mom, “Yeah… but sometimes I feel like I have to.”
She nods. Pascale knows her son all too well, how gentle hearted he is and his need to carry the burden if it means making life easier for those around him. She loves her son, and it nearly breaks her to see how defeated he is. But she also knows that he is more than his results, more than the trials and tribulations he is going through in life.
“You are strong Charles, thick skin, like your Papa. He’d be proud.” She says softly, walking around the counter to press a kiss to the back of his head, “But he would also remind you that it’s okay to not be so strong sometimes. That it is okay to show that you are vulnerable, not okay.”
She gives his shoulder one last squeeze before leaving him to his thoughts. He sighs, pulling his phone out and scrolling through multiple notifications until his eyes land on your name. You posted on instagram, and he is quick to open the app and see. It is a photo of you, sitting by the water, skin glistening in the sun. And your smile, oh your beautiful smile. It made his heart beat a little quicker. But then he really looks at the photo, the background. The blue water, and the fact that you weren’t sitting on sand, but on a pier. He knew exactly where you are.
You’re in Monaco.
He feels his heart come up his throat. You were in Monaco, his city. He felt psychotic, fighting the urge to jump in his car and look for you. He wanted to drive around, pretend to accidentally bump into you and it would be a fairytale reconciliation. But then he hears his brother’s voice, announcing his arrival, and he is grounded. He promised in a silly voicemail you probably never listened to that he would leave you alone. And he will. He’ll do the right thing and leave you alone.
Charles was quiet for most of dinner, Arthur talking the most throughout the entire meal. So much so that Lorenzo begged him to shut up. Pascale observes the middle child, who sits to her right, idly pushing a piece of pasta around on his plate.
“Mon doux,” His mom whispers, “please eat.”
“Désolé maman.” Sorry mom. He nods and continues to eat.
“Oh, I saw Dove today. She says hi to everyone.” Arthur’s voice is so nonchalant, Charles nearly misses your nickname. His eyes grow wide at the realization and he looks up from his plate to his little brother. Arthur doesn’t spare him a glance, just munching along on his dinner.
Lorenzo kicks the youngest Leclerc under the table, and it is then when Arthur realizes his mistake. “Sorry. Yeah uh… sorry.”
“Is she well?” Charles asks, ignoring the awkward air between them.
“Yeah, I think. We didn’t get to talk much, since we were just passing by.” Arthur answers. “Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. Good that she’s good.”
And that was that. Dinner is quiet for the rest of the evening, and isn’t long until the boys are quietly cleaning up the mess while their mother gets ready for bed. Charles and Arthur wash the dishes, while Lorenzo takes out the trash. The brothers are quiet in their chore, Arthur washing and rinsing as Charles wipes down and puts them away.
“Is she happy?” Charles asks softly, breaking the silence.
Arthur pauses, confused for a brief moment before realizing what he meant by his question. “Maybe you should ask her.”
Charles shakes his head, “I can’t. I could try, but I can’t. And I shouldn’t.”
Arthur nods. “I never understood what went wrong between the two of you Charles. Everything was so good, no?”
“I thought so… but I guess I was wrong.” Charles dries his hands as he places the last of the dishes away.
The day you broke up was not a memory Charles liked to look back on. It was a memory he kept stored away in the furthest corner of his mind. But he knew no matter how much he tried to bury it, there was no erasing the fact it happened. He’d never forget the look in your eyes, the tears on your cheeks as you watched him pace before you. You apologized and apologized, but for what?
“Why do you think this can’t work out anymore, dove?”
“Charles, I already said why. We’re not in the same place in life. You’re moving a thousand miles a minute, moving so fast uphill and I’m not able to keep up. I can’t keep being your arm candy, the smiling supportive girlfriend while I’m literally drowning in my misery.”
“Chérie, please.”
“Charles, I’ve made up my mind. I need this. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
He can remember the rage seething beneath his skin. He didn’t understand why you wanted to push him away, why you felt so miserable. He didn’t get it then. He still doesn’t understand. Maybe he should’ve fought harder, but you were already so defeated he didn’t think it was the right thing to do then.
“Do you not love me anymore?”
“Will saying I don’t make it easier for you to let me go?”
Your words sent a shiver up his spine.
Arthur leans against the counter, looking at his older brother who is deep in thought. “She said she’s moving back to Monaco… she found a job in the city.” Charles looks up, and he feels a spark of hope light up in the pit of his stomach. You were here to stay. “She didn’t say where, or what… but you know… you never know.”
With that, Arthur pushes himself up and pats his brother on the back, retreating to his room to go to sleep and effectively leaving Charles to ponder over you.
Maybe in time, the Monegasque thought to himself, the universe will let our paths cross once more.
—
The last three days of the summer break, Charles spent getting back into his normal routines. Not that Andrea would let him stray from it, but he was granted a couple of cheat days so that he could really enjoy his break. And of course, with the break coming to a close, it wouldn’t be complete if the other nineteen drivers attempted one last hoorah before returning to the track and vying for a win. But of course, twenty men trying to plan to come together required a miracle. And that was something none of them had. At the end of it, the only ones able to attend the “last hoorah” was Charles, Lando, Max, Pierre, and surprisingly George. The rest of the grid was either still in the middle of traveling back, or staying one more day in their little piece of paradise.
The club was packed for a Wednesday. By the time the boys had pulled up to check in, the general admissions line was a mile long, and the music was already starting to blend into the immense chatter. Charles is thankful that Max had secured a table for the group, and that they didn’t have to wait long. They were sat in the far back, just two tables to the left of the DJ booth. Bottle service was quick, and in no time Charles had a glass of Black Label whiskey between his hands. The music is typical house music, the DJ another one of Lando’s friends.
From where he is sitting, he can see the entire dance floor, and the second bar which happens to be right by his table. There is a huge crowd of people who had occupied the space in front of the DJ, multitudes of people rubbing backs to fronts and wandering hands. He was almost jealous, wishing that he could stomach the idea of being one of those people. But you couldn’t pump the man with enough alcohol to get him there. He was far too comfortable being a wallflower, quietly observing those around him as he sips on his drink.
“I bought us a round!”
Max grins as the lady brings a tray of shot glasses, each of them filled to the brim with a clear liquid. One would assume it’s vodka, but knowing Max it was likely—
“Tequila!"
Charles grimaces, but he isn’t easily defeated. And one cheesy toast later, he is throwing the foul tasting liquid down his throat. French curse words are muttered beneath his breath as he attempts to shake away the taste. Charles opts to pass on the next two rounds, to which Pierre calls him out for.
“Party pooper!”
Charles smirks, sipping his whiskey as he watches his normally composed friends turn into giggly drunks. He looks around the club, eyes scanning the crowd until a sparkly blue dress catches his eyes. He does a double take, but the shiny thing disappears into the crowd. His heart picks up, and he swears he knows who it was. But then his friends are yelling at him and he has to turn away. The time flies by, and soon he is calling every single girlfriend to pick up their respective drive until it is just him and Pierre. He throws his best friend into the back seat of his car with a bottle of water, a plastic bag, and threats if the Frenchman threw up anywhere in his car. As he strolls to the driver side, the sparkle of blue catches his eye and his head snaps in that direction.
The girl is slumped on the bench, head in her hands as her elbows rest on her thighs. Charles notices the way the girl’s body sways ever so slightly. She was far too drunk to be sitting alone, waiting for God only know who. He walks up to her, and the closer he gets the more familiar she becomes. It isn’t until the girl finally looks up with puffy eyes and mascara stained cheeks does he realize who it is.
“Dove?”
Your face contorts into one of sadness, mumbling ‘oh nos’ over and over as you try to hide behind your hands.
“Dove, what’s wrong?” He reaches out to you, but you flinch.
“No please.”
Charles’ heart stings, but he listens to you. “Who are you here with?” You shrug and he can’t help but let disappointment take over his features. “Dove, who?”
“Don’t say it like that, like you’re mad at me.” You slur.
Charles sighs, “I’m not mad. Just worried.”
You nod, but still don’t answer. Instead, he watches as you turn into a shaking mess of sobs. He doesn’t know if he should hold you, or if there was anything he could say. Suddenly, he was unsure of what to do when it came to you. So he stood there, heart aching as you cry before him.
“Dove—“
“Charles, please.”
His mouth clamps shut for a moment before he opens again, “Do you want me to take you home?”
You look up at him, eyes red and puffy, but wide in shock. “You don’t have too.”
“Yeah, but I want to.” You don’t answer, so he extends his hand, “C’mon. I’ll take you home.”
You nod, reaching out and using his hand to pull yourself up from the bench. Your hold leaves as quickly as it comes, and Charles wishes that your hand stayed in his for a moment longer. He watches as you stumble to his Ferrari, yanking the passenger door and falling into the seat. He inhales deeply, attempting to subdue his nerves before climbing into the drivers seat. Charles thanks the heavens Pierre is snoring softly in the back, and not mumbling any nonsense like he normally would.
“Where do you stay?”
The drive to you apartment is only 5 minutes further up the road from Charles’ place, and it nearly made him choke. The car ride is silent, only Pierre’s soft snores and mumbles filling the space. When he pulls up to the front, he looks over at you. Your eyes are cast downwards at your fingers, thumbs twiddling in your lap.
“Will you come back and spend the night?”
Charles chokes. He finally fucking chokes. “Dove, I don’t think…”
“I’m not that drunk Charles. Please?”
This was it, this was his chance. But as he stared at you and your sad eyes, the moment felt wrong. “I’ll walk you up. Okay?”
Your shoulders drop, and you’re quick to shake your head. “No. It’s fine, I can do it myself. Thanks for the ride.”
The boy is frozen in his seat for a second as you hastily climb out. It takes you slamming the door shut before he scrambles out after you. “Dove!”
“Goodnight Charles!” You yell, not turning back. You can hear Charles’ shoes smacking on the concrete as he jogs up to you. He grabs your arm, skin burning at the contact, pulling you so that are facing him.
“Text me in the morning, then I’ll know you mean it.”
Your lips fall agape, an argument ready to bubble past your lips. But instead you nod, too tired to argue. So you nod harder, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Do you still want me to walk you up?”
“No. No I’m okay. Thank you again.”
Charles stands on the stoop, waiting until you make it past the front doors of your building. It isn’t until he sees you walk into the elevator through the glass doors does he finally retreat to his car and cruise back to his apartment.
Off My Face — Justin Bieber
Charles finally rolls into bed at nearly three in the morning. His body is exhausted, and it doesn’t take too long for him to fall asleep. But that wasn’t before he turned on his music, specifically your playlist, to lull him to sleep.
His dreams are influenced by the Justin Bieber song, the boy not completely unconscious as the songs plays. The images his mind displays are of you, playing real memories that you shared together. It’s like a movie, he can hear the echos of your laugh and butchered French. He sees flashes of your smile, feels the ghost of your touch.
Your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and I'm just in it. Even sober I'm not thinkin' straight.
He turns over in his bed, staring at the empty space that you used to occupy. The pillowcase lays unwrinkled, the sheets pressed and untouched. His fingers graze over the material, imagining for a second that you are laying next to him. He can see the way your chest rises and falls, head turned towards the moon while your fingers grasp onto his. Charles nearly caves at the idea of driving back to you, knocking on every door until you answer. And I don't know how you do it, but I'm forever ruined by you.
Sleep finally wins, taking him to a place where all he sees is you. You consume his every thought, every imagination, that night. For the first time, Charles sleeps with a little bit of hope. There are some things dreams can’t truly emulate, and that’s the feeling of your warmth. The sun forces him out of the dirty dream, and he groans softly. His head was swirling, trying to piece together the bits and pieces of you from his dreams.
He grabs his phone, bitterly disappointed.
8:36 am, and not one text from you.
—
Paris in the Rain — Lauv
Charles finds himself sitting at his favorite coffee shop in Monaco, in the furthest booth in the back of cafe. He sips on his coffee, scrolling through his computer as he tries to answer emails and prepare himself for the second half of the season. He slips his headphones on, mindlessly pressing play and allowing the song to play.
It was the next song on the playlist, and the angry part of him wants to change it. You never texted him. It’s been thirty-six hours since he dropped you home, and it’s been radio silence. He was frustrated, ultimately let down by your lack of communication. He almost wishes that he had taken you up on your offer, almost wishes he had chosen to be selfish.
The only thing stopping him from changing the song is the fact that it’s the one song attached to the perfect memory. Paris in the rain is his favorite memory with you.
It was one of the first trips you had taken together outside of race weekends. Charles wanted the trip to be perfect, but the weather had different plans. He planned a whole day, only for the overcast and rain to ruin it completely.
“I’m so sorry Dove, this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Charles mumbled, kissing your temple.
You were more than understanding, and somehow you manage to convince him to go out in the middle of the night, when the streets were quiet and the city half asleep. You were clad in a blue dress, Charles’ linen button top matching you. You both sit on the picnic blanket, eating all the snacks you bought in the hotel gift shop. Then it’s one drop, then another, then another until the drizzle grows heavier and heavier. 'Cause anywhere with you feels right.
He can never erase the memory of your laughter as he chases you around the park, clothes drenched from the rain. He hears you squeals as he picks you up and throwing you over his shoulder, and your complaints that he wasn’t playing fair. It truly was a scene from a book, like a writer describing the perfect moment in which two character will fully admit they are in love with each other. But neither of you had to say anything. Words couldn’t justify the way your hearts wanted to thump out of your chests as you stare into each other’s eyes.
Don't know how I ever did it all without you.
Charles answers the last of his emails, finally shutting his computer and transferring his attention to his phone. He scrolls through Instagram, sipping idly on his coffee. He double taps nearly every photo on his feed until someone slides into the seat front of him. He looks up from his phone, eyes wide as he meets your gaze.
“Knew you’d be here.” You say softly.
Charles takes one more sip before setting his cup down, “Yeah, guess you did.”
The air between the both of you is thick, tense, awkward. Neither of you speak, instead sitting uncomfortably while you wait for the other to say just about anything.
“I know I didn’t text and I—“
“Dove, it’s fine.”
“Charles, shut up and let me talk.” Your eyes grow wide, brows furrowed in an attempt to look stern. The Monegasque nods, leaning back in his seat and waiting for you to speak. “I’m sorry. Moving back has been a lot, adjusting has been a lot… seeing you has been a lot. I was getting used to the idea of my independence and then you try to call me and leave voicemails…”
“I’m sorry.” Charles’ voice is genuine. All the anger that was inside of him dissipates as he looks up at you. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Don’t say sorry. It was nice to hear from you… and I’m sorry about everything going on.”
The boy smiles, nodding. “Yeah. Me too.”
There it is again, that awkward air settling between the two of you. Three, nearly four, months of time apart doesn’t make the conversation flow as easily as either of you wished. There used to be a million things that Charles wanted to tell you, the pages in his little blue notebook proving it. But it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel fair to pour out his heartache from the last four months onto your lap.
So instead Charles scrambles for his book, flipping through the pages and carefully tearing out two pages. He folds them nicely and sliding them over to you.
“I… I have to go. But I thought that maybe you should read it. I wrote it to you when I got back home from Silverstone.” Charles gathers his things, mindlessly leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You look good, Dove. It makes me happy.”
You watch as the man walks away from you, shoulders high and steps calm. The paper sits beneath your fingers, holding whatever tormented Charles the night he wrote it. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you were expecting when you came to the cafe. You half expected Charles to be here, that things would roll out on the table as easily as it did in your head and that maybe you could both come to some sort of agreement on your relationship.
Yes, it’s been done. Long over, time separating the two of you. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss him in the time spent apart. Even if you knew that what you decided what was right for the both of you, it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. Four months ago, you were in no headspace to be with Charles. You could no longer be what he needed, or wanted, even if he claimed that you would always be enough. How could you be, when you weren’t even enough for yourself? You remember the anxiety induced thoughts, nightmare of Charles’ resentful stare as you plummeted further and further into your hole of poor mental health.
Solitude was what you needed, being your own individual person away from Charles is what you needed. And although you live with the pain of breaking his and your own heart, it wasn’t a decision you regret making.
You carefully slide the paper into your purse, standing and walking out of the coffee shop. Monaco was gloomier than most days, the grey clouds threatening to pour rain on the beautiful city. Tiny droplets tap on your windshield, pit pat, reminding you fondly of Paris in the rain, some months ago.
—
The moment summer break ended, Charles was back to traveling city to city, sitting in his bright red car to race in loops. Laps and laps, the days blurring into the next, but not without thinking of you. You never texted him about the pieces of his journal that he handed off, but you did wish him luck every now and again. You were both in this weird limbo, unsure of where the line is, and just how close either of you can get to crossing it.
Charles was worried you had thrown the note away, or maybe it was lost. There were no talks about it, not questions, and it makes him queasy. Desperation grows inside of him, festering with the stress and anxiety that had been brewing in the pit of his gut. Andrea looks at him, the way his leg bounces as he fiddles with the sleeve of his fireproofs.
“You’re gonna do fine mate, don’t worry so much. Just practice.”
The Monegasque looks up at his friend, smiling curtly before grabbing his baclava from the seat next to him. “Right. Just practice.”
He goes through the motions, hopping into his car, testing his gears, patiently waiting until he is allowed to drive on the track. There is constant back and forth between him and the pit wall, Charles making several comments about the feel, and the engineers reporting data back. They comment his poor speed in the first two sectors, pushing him to speed up in the last one. Charles does his best, but is still nine hundredths of second slower than Max. He goes again, desperately trying to push the car to its limit. But it doesn’t perform how he had hoped. He didn’t perform how he had hoped.
Charles groans, a bit of aggression in his movements as he takes apart his gear so that he can climb out. No one tries to speak to him as he rushes straight to the screen, ready to read and listen to the data gathered from the first free practice. But that only did so much, Charles finishing P3 in the second practice, two places behind his teammate.
Sunflower — Rex Orange County
When Charles returns to the hotel, your playlist was already playing on shuffle. The music had become his white noise, comforting but no longer something he noticed so much. He really did miss you now, and he finally gives in to the urge to text you. He asks if he could call you before he gets ready for bed. But even once he’s in his boxers, pulling the covers back, there is no response. Charles decides to call you anyways, but the ringing stops almost immediately.
You declined his call.
His heart speeds up, attempting to go through every form of social media to see if you were okay. He looked for any signs of life, even texting you to ask if you’re alright. A moment of relief comes in the form of the grey bubble popping up, the three dots showing that you were typing. But your text makes his throat run dry.
Read your note.
That was it. No reaction, no explanation. Just three words and then silence. Charles tries to call you again, but you are quick to decline. He tries two more times, and each time you deny speaking to him. He texts you, asking what’s wrong. But there is no response.
I want to know/ where I can go / when you're not around. Panic ensues. Charles is sweating as he throws the covers off his body and clambers into sweats and a shirt that were already sprawled out on the couch. He attempts to call Lando, see if you had told him anything. But the phone rings til the call fails. He calls you again, and you decline.
Dove, answer please.
Talk to me.
Say something.
Anything.
No response. The boy rummages through his notebook, ensuring that he handed you the right pages. He did. He racks his brain, scouring through his brain as he tries to remember every single word he wrote on that page. He still can’t fathom what could’ve made you mad. Charles spends the night on his bedroom floor, back pressed against his bedside as he waits for his phone to ring with your name. Tryna keep my mind at bay, Sunflower still grows at night.
He thinks of the song playing, tracing the first memory he has of the song. It was a while ago, when you had just started coming to more races in the red garage. It wasn’t a particularly strong weekend for Charles, everyday growing more and more frustrating as he feels his failures in the red car adding up. He was on his way up to you after the debriefing, completely tired and defeated after a terrible 3rd practice and average qualifying. It was late, way beyond a reasonable bedtime, so he was surprised to see you still awake. You were half read for bed, rubbing your face clean of make up and dirt with just a Ferrari hoodie and leggings on. He remembers the song bumping in the background through your phone, they way you bounced from hip to hip as you hum along.
You didn’t register his sullen face, or maybe you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. You saunter over to him pressing a soft kiss on his lips without stopping your dance. You know you need to get yourself to sleep and dream a dream of you and I, you sing, lifting his arm and twirling in front of him. He found it hard to fight the smile forming on his face, the hard weekend suddenly the least of his worries.
There's no need to keep an open eye, I promise I'm the one for you just let me hold you in these arms tonight. You wrapped his arms around your torso, forcing his body to move with yours. You watched as his brows relaxed, and a shy smile curves on his lips as he leans in to kiss you one more time.
His phone chimes, your name lighting up the screen.
We’ll talk when you get back. Get some sleep.
Good luck tomorrow.
—
More of You — MAGIC!
Charles sits at the top of the Sedici, fingers moving up and down the silver wheel as he waits for you to arrive. His heart is in his stomach, but the feeling was no longer foreign to him. He looks at at the coast, the way the golden sun slowly sinks to kiss the ocean.
“Hey.”
He turns to face you, standing up with a smile. “Hi Dove.” He gestures to the seat across from him, and you take it.
“It’s nice… different from the Monza for sure. Do you still have her?”
Charles swivels in his chair, pointing the smaller boat next to him, “Yep.”
You nod, smiling fondly. You shared many moments with him on that little thing, private moments that you keep secure in your heart. There is a brief moment of silence, certainly not a terrible one, but the both of you have seen better moments. You look at Charles, really look at him this time. You count the moles on his face, the lines beneath his eyes. They were still as bright as they were in your dreams.
There was no way to start, so you pull out the cream pieces of lined paper. You flip it open, and the crinkle of the paper causes Charles to look in your direction. “My dearest Dove…”
I stare you, sometimes at night, wishing I could just press rewind… ’cause I just want more. Charles watches you, the way your bottom lips is caught between your teeth as you stare at the words from in front of you. Your face is stoic, eyes darting from left to right as you read the words in your head.
“It is two in the morning. My body is tired, sore, but my mind doesn’t want to stop moving…” Your voice is sweet, contrasting the sad words of the boy from that early July morning. “I wish- I wish that you were here.”
You finally look up at him, and that’s when Charles sees the tears glossing over your eyes. He reaches out, your fingers quickly finding it’s place in the palms of his hands. He squeezes softly, encouraging you to continue.
You look up from the paper, folding it shut as you exhale. “You still listened to the playlist?”
He nods, “Yeah. It helped some… but it’s not the same.”
You smile sadly, looking back down at the paper to continue. “Every song is hand picked, a piece of us and our story. It is an endless cycle of love, of pining, of wishing that we were right next to each other. Do you still listen to these songs, do you still think of me when you do?”
“Do you?” Charles asks.
You hum, nodding. “Always.”
Charles can’t help but smile, nodding softly and encouraging you to continue reading the letter.
“I always find myself wishing that you were here with me, here to celebrate every win, but also to forget about the failures. I’m always wishing that I had more of you.” Drops of tears spill onto your cheek, and Charles releases your hand to cup your face. The pad of his thumb swipes it away.
What is this hold you got on me? Stronger force than gravity…
“But you were right. This time apart was necessary. It was needed, and-“
Charles’ hand drops from your face, resting on your thigh as his thumb rubs soothing circles on on your skin. “I think I needed it more than I thought I did.” He finishes
“I’m happy that the world turns in your favor, I think mine is upside down. I’m still trying to find my way, find my independence in the world, find my identity other than the predestined. I’m finding who I am beyond rubber on the track and all the podiums. And if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I was always meant to love you. Whether it’s in your presence, or from thousands of miles away, loving you has been and will always be part of my story.”
In my next life, I'll be looking for you. “In this life and the next, mon cherie.”
You fold the paper once more, slipping it into your purse. Your fingers find his, looping between them. The silence is light, comfortable, as his green eyes bore into yours. There weren’t any words either of you can say, the note saying just enough for the both of you.
The sun finally kisses the sea, the sky turning from blue to pink. The world around you dims.
“In this life and the next, Charles.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc smut#formula 1#f1#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#charles leclerc angst
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wow you guys…i hit 1000 followers sometime this week! im sorry for not noticing earlier but wow im so grateful!
i seriously didn’t expect this account to even break 100. i was just writing as a little escape from my normal life. i got into riize pretty recently after losing interest in kpop as a whole for a really long time. i was a carat and nctzen (a fan of many groups, ive been into kpop since 2014 ish) but lost interest and just kinda focused on myself for a long time. i finished school, made friends, started working, started going to school AGAIN, picked up hobbies, moved away from my hometown to pursue my passion, etc.
i kinda thought that part of my life was over but riize literally stole my heart from the moment i got into them. i havent felt this way about a group for a long time and one day it just got a little too much so i wrote about separate fics for my top two (eunseok and sungchan). and you guys liked it! and you guys wanted more! and you guys commented on it and sent me asks hyping up my writing! and you guys followed me! and reblogged my stuff! and now we are here!
seriously would’ve never thought i’d have so many receptive, sweet, and sincere interactions on the stuff i write. i was seriously expecting to speak into the void like i’ve seen happen with alot of writers for fandoms. i write screenplays and sometimes its hard to remember why i like writing so much. you guys reminded me why i want to write for the rest of my life. we fangirl and talk about it together and have built a community over shared love and words. isn’t that so wonderful? i want to repay it back with good alot of good writing ^^
if you’ve been here since third and/or bad idea, right i want to say i love you so much seriously. i remember the accounts of the first people to ever follow me and comment on my stuff. i recognize the users of people who silently support me and i love you guys too heh.
if you’ve ever sent me a request thank you for giving me inspiration! i’m a big believer that on this earth one of the few things that belong to us and us alone are our ideas. it’s something no one can take from you—so thank you for giving me something so precious and trusting me to do it justice. i hope to continue making you guys happy! and if you just followed me, welcome!! i have alot of stuff to read and i plan on releasing more!
i’m working on argue with you pt three (planning on that dropping on wednesday!) and other stuff, like requests and sacrilegious so i have alot of stuff coming! thank you for your patience and thank you again so much for following me and supporting this account. you are all so special and dear to meeeeee :3. lets continue to love riize and fangirl togetherrrrr.
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*screaming as loud as i can* HAPPY 1000, bee!!!! i can’t resist freshly baked goods so can i order one peanut butter cookie, a cookies and cream cupcake, and a chai beverage please! 💕
THANKYOU my love❤️-also shout out for picking Megumi I only have two with him so far.
Megumi Fushiguro
“I’m not going anywhere”
note: i got very much carried away.
You wake up in a cold sweat, gripping your chest as pain shoots through your body. The cursed wound from your last battle throbs relentlessly, reminding you of the danger you faced. It's been days since that fight, yet the pain hasn't subsided. You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling defeated and weak.
As you try to get out of bed, your legs give way, causing you to collapse on the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you curse your own frailty.
The door to your room creaks open, and Megumi comes inside. His dark eyes lock onto yours, and you can see the worry etched in his features. He walks over to you helping you back into bed. He’d been in and out of your room for days. You think he’d even been there more than Nobara, and she was your best friend.
“Don’t try to move. You’re still healing.” He warns, his voice sounds almost emotionless yet you hear a tiny inkling of concern creeping in.
“Why are you always here Megumi? You don’t need to pity me…I know we’re friends but I’m not some wilted flower ya know? Stop treating me like one!” You say out of frustration. You feel like a burden, and you hated Megumi of all people seeing you this way. Your voice comes out harsher than you meant and you could see the tiniest bit of sadness etch across his beautiful, yet always stoic face.
“Whatever.” Is all he says as he turns around. You think he’s about to leave, and tears well in your eyes because he’s the one person you don’t want to push away.
“Wait. Megumi, I’m sorry. Please don’t go.” You say reaching a hand out.
He lets out a small grunt. “Im not going anywhere," he says firmly, as if determined to prove something. He turns back to face you, He walks closer, and sits in the chair beside your bed.
"I know you're not a wilted flower," he says, his hand starts to reach out to you but he awkwardly tucks it away again. "I'm here because I choose to be Y/N, not out of pity or anything."
"But why?" you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Why would you choose to be here, you’ve been so good to me the past few days. I know we’re friends but…I’m nothing special.”
A small, sad smile tugs at the corners of Megumi's lips. "Because…I don’t know why. Despite what you think you’re strong. Not just against curses but against everything life seems to throw at you. You are special and you’ve always been a good friend to me, better than that actually. I guess I just want to be here for you. Return the favor. Ya know?”
"You've always been there for me, Megumi," you say softly, your voice filled with gratitude. "But I guess I just never understood why.”
Megumi’s pretty blue eyes lock with yours. A wave of what you believe to be vulnerability etched across his face. “I've been here because... I care about you more than I can put into words," he confesses. "And I didn’t want to see you hurting alone."
His confession catches you by surprise and your heart starts to pick up speed. “I-I care about you to Megumi. More than I ever thought I could care about anyone. I always have.” you admit.
Megumi's eyes widen slightly, his gaze filled with a mixture of surprise and relief. "You... you do?" he stammers.
You nod, a smile gracing your lips. "Yes, Megumi. I've cared about…well liked you… for so long. Longer than I’m willing to admit.” you chuckle, “How come you never told me?” you add.
A warmth spreads through your chest as you see a genuine smile appear on Megumi's face. It's a smile that reaches his eyes and your heart beats rapidly at the sight. What a pretty smile it was; you don’t think you’ve ever seen Megumi properly smile before.
"I guess I never thought you would feel the same way.” he says with the smallest of chuckles, “why didn’t you?” he asks.
“Same reason I guess.“ You shrug.
“Can I-Can I kiss you?” Megumi asks suddenly, his voice was shaky and you could see a hint of vulnerability mixed with nervousness in his eyes. His request catches you off guard, but kissing him has been a thought that’s plagued your mind for a long time.
A smile lights up your face, and you sit up further in bed, leaning in ever so slightly. "Yes, Megumi," you reply softly. "I would like that."
Time seems to slow down as Megumi leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a tender, hesitant kiss. One that seems to go on as the world fades away, leaving only the sweet taste of his lips and the feeling of his tongue dancing with yours.
When you part you’re both left breathless. Megumi looks up at you with those pretty blues you love so much, a small smile on his pink wet lips.
"I'm glad... I'm glad you said yes" he admits quietly, "I've been wanting to do that for so long." He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and smiles at you.
"I've wanted it too," you confess, a touch of shyness in your voice. "I just didn't know you felt the same…” you pause, sitting up further. “What do we do now?”
Megumi's hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. You give him a slight squeeze as you smile up at him. “Well you still need to rest” He says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.
“Okay. I am a little sleepy anyway.” you admit. “Promise you’ll stay?”
He leans in and kisses your forehead, then rests his head against yours. A subtle gesture to show you he’s here. “Promise. Like I said. I’m not going anywhere.”
#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#jujutsu megumi#megumi fluff#megumi angst#megumi fushiguro fluff#megumi drabbles#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen
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oh my beautiful favorite bella writer, I have come back for more tee hee. would you possibly be open to write something were reader is an interviewer who is interviewing bella, flirting ensues >:33 (also take ur time bby ur work is the best <33)
Interviews
°pairing°> bella ramsey x reader
°summary°> you finally get the chance to interview the bella ramsey (who you may or may not have a huge crush on) but when they start flirting with you, you can't help but flirt back
°requested?°> yuppp!
°cw°> some small use of y/n just thought i would mention that!
~°A/N°~
OMG IM LITERALLY GIGGLING, BLUSHING AND KICKING MY FEET RN YOU'RE TOO GOOD TO ME <33 Thank you for the request and for being so patient with me i really hope this turned out how you wanted also i used she/her pronouns for bella hope thats ok! And im also just gonna apologize cause i know absolutely nothing about flirting and sorry if this isn't that good i haven't been feeling well at all lmaoo. i also made up a network you interview under so i hope thats ok! love youu <33
You were quite a well known interviewer and had developed quite the following. You'd interviewed countless celebrities at this point in your career, some more famous than others (not that it mattered to you all that much) but most of them very sweet.
The interview game was quite competitive or atleast more competitive than most would think. It was always a race to interview the most relevant celebrities. You had never been all that phased though, you enjoyed your job and yes as much as it was important for you to stay relevant you found that it was just as important that you interviewed celebrities you liked.
So that's what you did, but there was one celebrty on your mental list that you haven't interviewed. Bella Ramsey. Bella was with no doubt the celebrty you wanted to interview most, it wasn't that she didn't want to do the interview or that she was to busy no you just hadn't actually reached out to her manager yet.
You thought it was silly honestly. This was something you had wanted to do for ages but everytime you began typing the email you'd overthink and immediately stop yourself all because of the stupid crush you had on Bella.
It wasn't that stupid of a crush, it was totally justified in your mind because i mean who didn't have a crush on her? It made you so fustrated, you wanted to interview her more than anything in the world, why couldn't you just do it?
Here you were sitting infront of your laptop staring at the email you drafted to send to Bella's manager. You must've read it 1000 times, you checked every word for spelling mistakes and made sure your sentances were structured proffenssionly but it still didn't seem right. You were arguing with yourself, half of you saying this was perfect the other saying that it felt like a stranger wrote it.
You ended up scrapping it but this time you were going to do it properly. It was short and sweet and you made sure that it actually sounded like it came from you, even though you weren't 100% happy with it, you decided to send it.
The next morning when you woke up the first thing you did was check your emails and to your surprise, you already recieved a response. Bella wanted to do the interview with you!From there you and her manager discussed the time and date and you also gave her the studios address.
...
The day had finally arrived and you were ecstatic. You were going to finally get to interview the Bella Ramsey. It truly was a dream come true. The morning dragged on far longer than you'd liked but eventually the time came for you to head to the studio.
You were talking with the camera man making sure all was set and ready to go when Bella and her manager walked in. You stood there for far to long trying process that it was actually happening before snapping back to reality and going over to greet them.
Bella was nicer then you could have ever imagined. She was kind and gentle but most importantly she seemed just as happy to be here as you which gave you a sense of comfort. After telling Bella's manager that she could sit just off camera, you two decided to get started.
You waited for the camera man's signal and then began. "Hello welcome back to Zee Network I'm y/n and today im here with Bella Ramsey." you said with a smile on your face. "Hello!" they gave a quick wave and smile to the camera.
"Thank you for joing us today Bella, may i ask what has your experience been with the media lately? With release of the last of us series, you have gotten alot more recognition what is that like?" you were fiddling with the mic in your hands, another thing that you were known for was not reading from a script which normally was fine but today it really wasn't any help.
"I would say I've had a bit of a mixed experience lately. I have received many new fans and loads of support but i have also recieved a significant amount of hate. I try not to let it affect me but every now and again i will read a comment that really cuts deep. I appreciate the recognition i have gained and sometimes we just have to take the good with the bad." she told you, she seemed torn between loooking at the camera or at you but ended up deciding to look at you.
The interview continued on for a few minutes before Bella finally spoke up, "Do i make you nervous?," she had very clearly seen you fidgeting with the mic, you looked at her extremely confused what to say next. Was Bella Ramsey flirting with you? No, you were sure that you were just jumping to crazy conclusions.
"A little bit, I've wanted to do this interview for a while i guess im just a bit nervous to mess things up," you tried laughing it off. "I've also wanted to do this interview for a while, I've seen your work and you seemed like such a cool person now i know i was right,"
She absolutely was flirting with you. Now the way you saw it was you cluld continue the interview like normal and stay 100% professional or you could flirt back. You chose the latter.
You tried to do be smooth about it (trying to avoid the camera man noticing so that you wouldn't get yelled at) but still obvious enough for Bella to notice.
When the interview was over you walked over to the concessions table to grab some water but were called over by the camera man. He scolded you lightly for your behavior this interview but said he'd let it slide one time.
After being scolded by her manager Bella made her way over to you, she said she wanted to apologize but you told her it really wasn't a big deal.
"I meant what i said though, you seem cool and i'd really like to hang out sometime," now it was her turn to be nervous. "like a date?" it was an incredibly bold move but you were willing to take your chances. " yea, like a date." she flashed you a hopeful smile and of course you said yes.
Bella then handed you a small white paper with their number and a small 'can't wait to talk to you' scribbled on with black ink before scurrying off with her manager to the car that was currently waiting for them.
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Mine Forever?
Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x F!Reader
Word Count: HELP MY STUPID SELF JUST REALIZED I NEVER PUT THE WC AND ITS BEEN 6.5 MONTHS
Started: November 2021
Finished: 5-13-22
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Request description: Where Adrien Agreste has a fiancée and they were engaged since they were kids, Y/n is the one who is cold and distant towards him but secretly cares for him. She just doesn’t know how to express her emotions. Everyone doesn’t know that Adrien was already engaged to someone else, by the time the reader accidentally discovered that Chat Noir was Adrien, they both started trusting one another. They always got each other’s backs, Y/n would help Adrien to sneak off just to save Paris. Whenever Adrien was badly hurt, from the fight, Y/n is ready to help him. They care for one another; she would always comfort him when he feels down when he has a tiring day. That’s why Y/n is the hardest to akumatize, even Gabriel tries to, but she trusts Adrien the most.
Edit: This just hit 400 notes today, 10/27/22. I posted this back in May. Honestly I'm shocked. (Dont stop liking it, it just baffles me because it's my hated child😭.)
Edit 2: It's 7/13/23. HOW DOES THIS HAVE 965 NOTES QUICKLY APPROACHING 1000😭 Honestly reading it makes me cringe but whatever floats your boat. Ill be back here for 1000.😂
Edit 3: IM BACCKKKKKKK. WE ARE AT 1,031 NOTES ON 8/2/23!!! FIRST POST OF MINE ALONE TO HIT 1000+
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Genre: Fluff, Fanfiction
Warnings: Arranged marriage(?), lil' bit of angst, brief mentions of blood/wounds, cursing(a bit)
A/N: I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry this took so long! Life just was one big punch in the gut after the other after this request came in, not including school. Also forgive me if this turns out to be garbage, I'm trying.😭
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2 years old
Your mother was taking you to the Agreste mansion today. For what, you didn’t know. However, it would change your life.
Born of a rich Paris family, it wasn’t uncommon for children to have an arranged marriage for when they got older. Your mother and Emilie Agreste have been friends since high school, and your father and Gabriel are business partners, thus at this meeting, they decided you would marry their son, Adrien, when you came of age.
9 years old
Growing up with Adrien was fun but also hard at times. He would spend a lot of time with that Chloe Bourgeois girl, and while you wanted to be like her, it was hard as you had a hard time expressing emotions. Mostly due to the fact that your parents were always busy with their work so you spent most of your time alone in the house or with Adrien. Adrien came home from the Bourgeois residence one day, you were with your mother while she was having a business meeting with Gabriel, so she sent you upstairs with him. He talked about how much fun he had with Chloe and you wanted to say how you wanted to spend more time with him, but, due to lack of emotional expression, you kept silent and gave him a sad smile. But it was worth it to see that look of joy on his face.
14 years old
Today was your first day of high school, and your mother had dropped you off at the Agreste home that morning so you and Adrien could go to school together while she went to work.
“Hello Nathalie,” you said as you entered the house. “Good morning, Miss Y/N, Adrien is in his room.” “Thank you, Nathalie,” you said as you walked past her. You knocked on Adrien’s door, and he opened it a few seconds later, slightly disheveled. You had an amused look on your face and asked, “Did I wake you up?” He responded with a mumble which you took to be a yes. “Adrien it’s 7:30.” (A/N: pretend they start school at 8am like in America lol) He opened his eyes wider, as coming to terms with your statement. “Crap.” He muttered, and quickly let you inside while going to get dressed in the bathroom. You sat at his computer, staring at the image of him and his mother, smiling fondly. You missed her, she was always so kind and inviting. When she disappeared, you comforted Adrien the best you could. Gabriel got stricter on him, making you want to smack him. Little did either of you know what would happen later that day, when Adrien got his miraculous.
15 years old (1/2)
It was Friday evening, you were sitting in his room waiting for him to get home from his Chinese lesson* when an akuma struck the city. You figured Adrien was safe since he had his bodyguard with him wherever his lesson was held. (*Pretend his Chinese lesson takes place outside of the house) After 10 minutes, the akuma was defeated. You had to use the restroom, and when you came back, there was Chat Noir standing in Adrien’s room. But he didn’t see you, and detransformed. Adrien had scratches on his face and a bruise on his arm. He turns around and sees you staring at him in disbelief. “Um- hey Y/N-“ he says awkwardly. "Adrien…how- whatever that doesn’t matter, what matters is you’re injured.” “How did you get this bruise?” “I tripped on the stairs running to transform, but the scratches came from the akuma.” "Okay let's get you patched up."
Needless to say, it was very awkward between you two that afternoon, but you swore you would always protect Adrien’s secret.
15 years old (2/2)
Hawkmoth attempted to akumatize you twice while you and Adrien were 15. Here's what happened:
1st time- Gabriel threatened to remove Adrien from school. You stood up to him but he basically kicked you out of the house so you couldn't see Adrien at home until you straightened up. Of course he was planning to akumatize you. It failed because Adrien called you asking where you were, he wanted to talk to you about a project.
2nd time- You saw Adrien and Marinette laughing and talking together. However illogical, due to the fact that you were secretly engaged to Adrien, you were worried he would fall for her and try to get his father to call off the marriage. You walk into class one day, seeing Mari and Adrien talking and then when they notice you, they immediately go quiet. You run out of the room crying, and slump against the wall somewhere. Adrien went after you, but while he was looking for you, Hawkmoth's akuma landed on your necklace Adrien made for you when you were 6. Upon seeing Adrien running toward you, you renounce the akuma. Adrien pulls you into a tight hug, and confesses that he loves you.
And that he was asking Mari for advice on planning a surprise party for you for your 16th birthday.
17 years old
While you were over at Adrien’s house studying one day, Hawkmoth released an akuma, so Adrien had to transform and leave. Unfortunately, Gabriel was planning this akuma and assigned Nathalie to check on you and Adrien every 10 minutes, to keep Adrien safe. “Y/N I need to go, Ladybug needs help.” “Then go, Adrien.” “But what about Nathalie- she’s going to come in here and find I’m gone.” “Listen I’ll turn the shower on and tell her you’re taking a shower.” It worked, Nathalie never found out, and Adrien got back in time.
18 years old
“It’s over, Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir yelled after landing in the basement.
Hawkmoth chuckled. “Oh? Is it really? There’s something I want you to see.”
Hawkmoth opens the coffin.
And there lies his mother.
You, the current holder of the horse miraculous, Ladybug, and Chat Noir all stare in complete silence.
“I’m doing this to protect her. Your mother…Adrien.”
Adrien looks up at his father, horrified. “H-how…”
“Join me, son. Use your miraculous to take the miraculouses of the Ladybug and the Horse.”
“NEVER. I’LL NEVER JOIN YOU AFTER ALL THE DESTRUCTION YOU’VE CAUSED TO PARIS, AND TO THIS FAMILY.”
The 3 of you then launch into a fierce battle against Hawkmoth for the final time.
22 years old
4 years later, you were getting dressed, putting on the white dress you knew you would one day wear. You and Adrien decided to get married, not because of Gabriel’s arrangement with your parents, but because you had been through so much together, and never wanted to leave the other’s side. Though you had once been worried about Marinette and Adrien falling for one another, you and her grew so close, close enough that she was your maid of honor at the wedding. Gabriel, however, while he was in prison, was allowed to view the wedding through a tablet. You were concerned that Adrien wouldn’t want his father present in any way, but he firmly stated that Gabriel was still his father, and he couldn’t imagine not having him present.
You reached the end of the aisle, walked down it by your father.
As you looked up at Adrien’s emerald eyes, you whispered silently to yourself,
“Mine forever.”
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Again I'm so sorry if this turned out to be garbage.
Please don't steal my work and remember to drink water and that you are loved!
@oyasumimosura thank you for sending this request in, I am so so sorry this took this long. My deepest apologies. And thank you for being my first fanfic requester.
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#adrien agreste x reader#chat noir x reader#cat noir x reader#adrien x reader#miraculous ladybug#adrien agreste#gianna writes#fanfiction#miraculous ladybug fanfiction#mlb chat noir
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long defeated sigh
okay. here it is. au #23847387834: the Mythological Beastie Rehab AU
(yeah this one is over explained i have a bunch of ideas for the story for this one sdjfh)
(BIG WARNING this is so long. it’s like 1000 words on its own. im so. so sorry
The Mytho Rehab AU: (Sun, Moon, Eclipse x reader)
In this au, all of the boys- and every animatronic from sb tho they may or may not be relevant- is a mythological creature of some kind! Eclipse is a BASILISK, massive and writing and very distrustful of humans. Sun is a HARPY, all feathers and fluff but strong and unused to humans and how easily they damage. Moon is a KELPIE, sulking and contemplative and clever, it’s impossible to tell when he’s being serious or mocking, or when he's telling the truth or fooling you with a lie.
The three end up at a Mythological Entities and Creatures Rehabilitation Center- where humans rescue mythos who have been injured or rendered unable to survive on their own, or whose homes and native habitats are becoming dangerous and unlivable, and take them to a large zoo/aquarium type facility with several different designated (massive, imagine ‘bigger on the inside’ type rooms) biomes in which they can recuperate and heal while feeling relatively ‘at home.’ In return, the humans ask that they be allowed to study and document the habits, lifestyles, and general experiences of these different, dangerous creatures- who mankind has cast in the light of being mere monsters, despite them being INTELLIGENT and CAPABLE OF REASONING.
Reader is a volunteer working at the rehab center- very new and sometimes referred to by the fellow staff as ‘freshmeat.’ (yes this is a slight foreshadowing and a bit cruel but reader thinks its just a silly nickname jsdfhk)
Eclipse is captured and brought to the center against his will- he is partly trapped and entangled in a long steel chain meant to be tethered to an anchor, and if left alone would eventually perish as the chains dug deeper and deeper and restricted him more. (He is captured before Sun and Moon are, since he threw himself between them and the approaching, seemingly threatening, humans, and attempted to ward the humans off long enough for them to escape. They DID escape, but only for a little while; maybe they LET themselves be caught in an attempt to see their brother again?) He fights fiercely against the humans, convinced they want him as some kind of trophy, but eventually falls sullen and silent, spending long periods of time simply laying half submerged, almost as though sleeping with his eyes open- but snarling and seething at anyone who comes close, choosing to stay mostly hidden in the lonely waters of his habitat.
Reader is, after being the intern-who-does-everyone-else’s-menial-tasks for a bit, assigned to Eclipse. Why? Well, he’s clearly very unhappy, which isn’t helping him to heal any faster, AND he refuses to let anyone close enough to even examine the gouges the chains are digging into him. So, your task: get him used to humans. Just hang out, attempt to feed him, just EXIST in the same space as him- sooner or later he’ll grow numb to your presence, and then they can try adding more people to the mix.
(What no one tells Reader is that they’ve tried this with four other humans so far. Three ended up in the hospital, one was forced to retire early due to the severity of their wounds.)
Slowly, Eclipse and Reader grow a bond- Reader is the first one to talk TO Eclipse instead of demanding him or instructing him to do things or treating him like a beast as low as a dog. And they bring things to show him- small things, like a MP3 player with a few of their favorite songs, a checkerboard they eventually get him to play, books and Kaleida scopes and whatever they can think of that he might be even SLIGHTLY interested in. They learn about things he likes and doesn’t like, and learns to tell when he wants to be talked to and played with and when he just wants the company. Some days he wants no one, and they respect that- respect him. Slowly, he opens up to them, even allows them to touch and pet him and sit on him and examine his wounds and scars.
Technically, Reader’s task is a total success! Unfortunately Eclipse has bonded with them and ONLY them and is very attached to them in particular. Everyone is very frustrated, so they get Reader to try and gather some information about him when they go to see him since he’s too irate and uncooperative for anyone else to do it. They do, but they always ask if he’s okay with it first.
(fun tidbit:) Sometimes he rests his enormous head in their lap and refuses to move even when they need to leave. He smacks his tail against the water when they give up and decide to stay a little longer- a happy gesture.
Later, when Sun and Moon are brought in, after some squabbling (they don’t really share a habitat with Eclipse, Sun belongs on high mountain slopes and Moon belongs in a foggy, gloomy swamp), they are put into the same habitat as Eclipse. Eclipse is overjoyed to see them and they swap their tales of whats happened since they last met- Eclipse, of course, absolutely gushes for hours about this wonderful HUMAN and how CUTE they are and so SMALL and AAA IT WOULD SO EASY TO JUST PICK THEM UP AND CARRY THEM AROUND FOREVER and they have this VOICE you just HAVE to hear it and when they’re really happy they make this LOVELY ADORABLE SOUND and they’re so nice and warm and safe, really you just HAVE to meet them, they’re so wonderful, there’s nothing like them, no human quite so incredible and kind and
(moon gets tired of it real fast. Sun is increasingly curious, and gets caught up in Eclipse’s excitement.)
Anyway eventually Sun and Moon (Sun very easily, Moon requires almost as much convincing as Eclipse and is verbally much more prickly and cold and unkind) warm up to Reader, then like absolutely fall for Reader like they PLUMMET into love with this big stupid barely-qualified-to-be-a-mythological-handler idiot. Everyone else at the center is like ,,??? Sh,, should we do something,,? I mean that one is obviously attempting the beginnings of a courtship ritual,, wait that one is too- oh my god they’re all trying to swoon them what do we do. Like this is really really good for our research but,
Anyway it’s cute but also potentially angsty thank u for ur time
#long post#Fanfic ideas#fanfic rambles#fnaf au#fnaf sun/moon x reader#fnaf sun/moon au#mytho rehab au#beastie au#basilisk eclipse#harpy sun#kelpie moon#fnaf eclipse x reader#bones of a rabbit fnaf#bones of a rabbit#bones of a rabbit au#i know. i know. i have a hoarding problem. i should really get my au addiction under control#i promise im trying#weeps#warning this is long and very rambly#fanfic synopsis#au synopsis#babbit au
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HELLO THERE!
I'm in love with your Rauru One-shots, so could I request one where Rauru tries to teach reader a dance because of the festival which is THE DAY AFTER?
(Of course they both are clumsy so here comes the cheesy stuff; both a falling on the ground and one of them ends up confessing 0w0 )
You can choose which one
THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT DAY <3
IM SOFT FOR THIS AAAAAA
Rauru x The Dance
<1000 words
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
“What do you mean ask–Sonia, he’s the king! He’s our king! We’re not close like that!” Y/N stammered out, practically vibrating from embarrassment as her friend snickered.
“Oh come on, what’s the harm in asking? What’s the worst he can really do?”
“Execute me.”
“Yes, Rauru will execute you. Really? You think so little of him?” She taunted, making Y/N balk at the accusation. “You are close like that. Just ask him. He’d be happy to help you.”
Y/N groaned as she looked down at her stilled hands. She’d been helping with the last-minute floral arrangements for the festival that she needed to dance at. Something she could never master herself.
“What if…he says no, though?” She muttered, stroking her thumb over the amaranth petals. “What if he’s disgusted by the idea?”
“I doubt that. Just trust me.”
Hours had passed as the sun set, the chime of the Temple of Time echoing throughout the Garden of Time as she made her way to the meeting place. She was dear friends with the king of Hyrule, having spent much of her time helping him with relations with the people across the land. So far, they’d secured an allyship with the Zora people and the Gorons! All the same, however, she mostly tried to keep it professional despite the king’s insistence that it was more than just working together.
“Y/N!” He perked as he looked away from his sister’s book. Mineru smiled and waved at her as he walked to her. “Preparations going well?”
“Yes, Sire. Every–” His hand went up, eyes looking to her pleadingly. She sighed. “Yes, Rauru. Everything’s set for tomorrow.”
“Incredible. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Hopefully, this banquet will go off without a hitch. A wonderful idea to use the festival as a way to ask the Zora and Goron leaders to celebrate our companionship,” He praised.
She flushed and looked away, taking a slow breath. “Just ask,” She whispered to herself.
Mineru’s ear perked at that as she looked to her hopefully, praying to Hylia above that the woman would take a leap of faith.
“There’s the uh, dance. The one you asked me to be a part of,” Y/N said slowly. “Uh…Rauru, I can’t dance.” She spat out quickly. “Help me, please!”
“Alright!” He chuckled, unaware of his sister quietly slipping away to mask her laughter. She was more than aware of what nonsense would transpire.
Y/N went red at that, staring at him in shock. She didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though and followed him to the center of the room.
“Sorry for the lack of music. I could get a construct and–”
“Please. I’d rather no one else see me make a fool of myself,” She whispered.
He blinked as he watched her staring at their feet with a face so red he could see it on her ears. He smiled at the Hylian as he waited for her to calm down. After a long while, she looked up at him, confused and humiliated.
“There you are,” He teased. “You should always look to your partner for guidance.”
Her little squeak confused and delighted him as she tried to look away nervously but kept refocusing on him…barely.
He smiled and counted the beat, beginning to lead her. She kept muttering apologies when her smaller feet managed to find his own. He hummed and smiled.
“I have an idea. Why not stand on my feet? You’re not used to dancing so it might give you a chance to learn the movements through me.”
Y/N felt her spirit leave her body at this. The suggestion alone startled her enough to stumble back. Rauru quickly moved to catch her but the sudden drop to her level made him lose his balance and he’d fallen on top of her, only able to shield her head to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt.
They both froze before Rauru smiled down at her. “Are you alright?”
Y/N gulped, watching him before muttering, “I think I’m in love with you.”
“You are?!” Rauru asked, balking. She paled and he quickly stammered, “No, no! I mean, I feel the same. I uhh…” He cleared his throat as he moved her until she was sitting. “I mean to say I wanted to confess at the festival but this is as good of a time as ever.” He looked to her. “I’d…like to court you properly, Y/N.”
At that moment, Y/N knew she’d died and passed on to the Sacred Realm or something of the sort because there was no real way this was happening. There was no way that her dear friend, the king of her people, was asking to court her.
“S-Sire–” At the disapproving groan, she corrected to, “Rauru, I mean, think about it. What you’re asking is…It doesn’t just go away. What if you end up hating me? I’m just your counselor basically.”
“Much like a wife is,” He joked, making her blush more. “I’m teasing. I’d love to have you by my side, Y/N. It’s why I’m asking this though. I want to take slow steps with you. I don’t want to ruin this because I care for you deeply.” He gently cupped her face. “May I…try?”
Y/N gulped and nodded. “I’d…like that. But could you maybe get off of me first?”
“Right! Sorry!”
#ask request#rauru totk fic#rauru totk fics#rauru x fem!reader#totk rauru#rauru totk#totk fluff#fluff
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You loved him - Piers Nivans x reader
I finished the chris campaign from re6 and felt so empty afterwards. Needed to write pure tooth-rotting fluff for my baby - I just want him to be happy 😢.
Warnings: none
Genre: Fluff :)
Word count: approx 900-1000
The rain drizzled from the light clouds in a mist during the quiet Sunday evening, the sound ringing pleasantly through the small cottage you and Piers shared; hidden away in the quiet British countryside. You both lay basking in each others presence opposite the crackling roaring fire, lazily sprawled over the large welcoming couch. His one hand placed on your side, the other on your thigh while you seated comfortably on his lap, nestling a hot cup of cocoa in your hands. Your German Shepard dog snoozed quietly on the plush rug below.
Piers nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in. "Piers stop that! I’m going to drop my drink!” Your laugh tinkled through him, music to his ears. He knew how ticklish you were, yet he couldn’t resist. He chuckled, opting to bury his face in your hair instead - sighing happily. You hummed peacefully in response, his warm body pressed against your back comforting against your skin. As you took a small sip from your drink, you thought to yourself wondering how the events in your life had changed. For years you had always been extremely worried over Piers - knowing that you could lose him at any moment had plagued your mind with anxious thoughts as long as you had known him. Your heart had broke at every scratch, every bruise that appeared on his skin every time he had returned from his missions. Remembering the tired smile he often wore to avoid worrying you always made your chest ache painfully at the thought. You loved him - you really did. His bravery, his kindness, the way he just.. adored you without fail, without hesitation. And here he was now, with you. Away from bioterrorism, away from the pain and the smell of death that lingered with every mission, that clung to every day that passed whilst he was in the BSAA. Your Piers.
“Are you even listening to me?” Piers craned his neck close to your face, looking into your eyes with a worried expression. “Hey!”
You flinched slightly, unaware you had been lost in thoughts. “Sorry! What did you say? I kinda zoned out”
He leaned back on the plush couch, slightly amused at your antics. “Yeah no kidding.” He softly smiled. “I was asking if you wanted to watch anything while we’re here”. He was already picking up the remote with slender fingers, moving to flick on the screen. Your hand quickly covered his, his relaxed expression replaced with a now confused one. “Piers I- I just” You quickly placed your now lukewarm drink on the table and spun around in his arms - now straddling his strong thighs. He caught your hands and raised them cradle his cheeks. “Everything okay?” His low voice like honey resonated in you. You could tell he was worried now, his soft blue eyes held a wash of concern as he looked up at you studying your features, searching for signs of discontentment. You nodded your head, choked with the admiration and love you had for this man - unable to form coherent sentences. You instead opted to trace his eyebrows- the cute frown he always had which tended to form his natural expression - an image you found quite charming as time went on.
“Im just so happy you’re here with me Piers, I love you so much. Im so happy I met you, you’re beautiful, gorgeous and an angel sent from heaven.” You babbled, and as you finished you grew quite bashful and avoided his eyes, instead opting to play with his favourite scarf that hung loosely around his neck. Why were you getting so embarrassed now? Why did you even say that? Despite the questions, you always knew the answer - he never failed to make you a blushing schoolgirl despite the years of dating. You can’t blame yourself - he’s perfect.
You squirmed nervously in his lap, feeling his toned thighs beneath you. Cautiously looking up when you didn’t hear a response, your shyness was replaced with concern of your own. Piers held a pained expression, he bit his bottom lip as he gazed up at you. However, his eyes held so much love for you, his cerulean eyes tender and warm. No words were needed, you understood him perfectly. You swiftly leaned down to kiss him, his lips warm, loving and full on yours. Your hands scraped the back of his neck as they looped around him, his hands resting comfortably on either side of your waist, pulling you ever closer, drawing you in. He sighed comfortably on your lips, nibbling your bottom lip playfully. You couldn’t help but smile widely, breaking the kiss.
“Stop that” He mumbled, leaning back before continuing his attack on your lip. “Stop what” You shot back, now giggling, your one hand now tracing his strong jaw while the other carded through his short sandy hair.
“You know what” He rolled his eyes playfully and nipped the sides of your waist in retaliation, drinking in your squeals and laughter. You buried your face in his neck, smiling contently. The warmth radiating from your lover and the crackle of the fire had started making your eyelids heavy, with Piers’s arms strong and protecting around you drawing you in a sweet promise of deep slumber. He rested his head in the crook of your shoulder, apparently thinking the same idea. “Y/n?”
You didn’t know if this was from your own hazy mind or reality.
“Yeah?”
“I love you”
His voice vibrated against you, warm, comforting, loving. You snuggled into him even more, placing your lips softly and tenderly on the base of his jaw, before settling against him. You loved him - you really did.
#aaagh#i just love him#piers nivans#piers nivans x reader#resident evil 6#resident evil#one shot#fluff#piers nivans fluff
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Do doctors exist simply to torment? What the fuck just happened😖
I cannot believe the fucking telephone appointment I've just had. It was setup a couple of weeks ago under "medication review" but didn't specify what medication they'd be reviewing. A simple medication review. I've done it 1000 times, usually with a pharmacist.
This time, a doctor/pharmacist/receptionist I don't know, I've never heard or seen before calls (even tho it's from the surgery number), "I'm ringing about your med review" I ask him to clarify which ones as I wasn't told. One of them is my migraine tablet(M), the other my asthma inhaler(A).
"How long have you been on M?" "You can't be on M anymore as they (are known to) impact your asthma" I explained I'd been on them for a long while and have not had any asthma problems because of them. I explained what does flare my asthma. Then he says "well if M are causing wheezing..." No I said, they don't cause wheezing, I've had no problems despite you saying they impact my asthma." He responds with, "How do you know its asthma, what if you DON'T have asthma?" is this guy taking the piss? I look at my phone to make sure I am actually speaking to the fucking surgery I'm registered with.
Like... I get inhalers every month, before covid I go to asthma clinic every year (because you have to), I had to have my tonsils removed as a child because they stopped me breathing & tonsilitis always made asthma flare. It's been there since childhood (thanks for the prenatal cigarettes mam). And all of a sudden my old ass is having to explain to what is basically a stranger on my phone, about my own asthma. This guy is sat there with my medical notes for fucks sake. I say to him "sorry are you actually questioning whether or not I have asthma something I've had my whole life?"
He goes back to his original point. "you can't have M anymore because of asthma" so I ask how to manage migraines without M. He offers another medication i can't take because they make you sleepy, and I already take meds that do that. If he'd looked...."oh they make you sleepy do they," talking to himself" well yes you would be quite zonked out so let's not do that one then"
He offers another medication used for "blood pressure." High, low? Who fucking knows? I told him about my BP problems for him to say "well let's see how you get on with it or give us a ring back" not even caring or failing to understand the frequency and severity of which I faint. Again, read my notes.
I'm waiting for a Neurology appointment I explain, as I have been having frequent seizures. "and what have they said about migraines?" IM WAITING FOR THE APPOINTMENT ASSHOLE. "oh yes, I see that here now, seizures, yes."
He goes back to asthma. I am just dying to get off the phone, I want this conversation to end. I am beyond livid. Multiple times he actually questioned diagnoses that are on his damn screen or didn't even bother to look at. He's prescribed something I didn't even hear the name of because I wanted to launch my phone, that I can "pick up" from reception. My guy, I am bed/housebound. Again, if he only read the notes.
Now I have to wait to see what this is, understand why and if what he was going on about with the M is correct. It feels weird to be suddenly told nah ya can't really be on this now, unless some rules have changed overnight and they're having to cover their tracks.
This guys behaviour and words caused all sorts of medical trauma to surface, that constant battle of not being believed, being second guessed, and this time it's about fucking asthma, you know my INABILITY to breathe. I must somehow be imagining it and not really need an inhaler eh?
The best bit, the cherry on top, the icing on the cake, the bit that lessened my anger and brought me back to the sick joke the world is playing was "we would like to see you about your asthma and inhalers but due to STAFF SICKNESS, it will have to be in the New Year."
They forget that I have chronic fatigue and chronic pain, I'm just left to deal with this shit. Most of the time, I can't because I'm unable. So fed up. I just want to be believed. Heard. Does anyone do their job properly anymore? Do any doctors exist that want to help a patient or is it just fiction for the television?
Exhausted after all this.
#chronic life#chronic pain#chronic illness#chronically ill#chronic fatigue#tw doctors#spoonie problems#chronic migraine#asthma#It ain't easy being wheezy#medical trauma#sick of it
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1 to 7 👀
take a guess before opening this (it's kind of long)
so actually when I rb'd the post I was thinking about Hoshichen tehe was it obvious (I don't actually hate it... I like it even..but I'm very particular about their dynamic) but I kind of have 3 other ships I basically feel same-y about
Specrene
FranLisk
SariaSilence
Their standard(??)/popular depictions basically have 'Webtoon CEO with yaoi hands harassing/forcing themselves on naive powerless guy' kind of vibes to me (This applies to a lot of Lapptex too I think) basically if you turn the 'bottom' into a kyaa noo stop type of girl with no agency...goodbye forever
What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?
See top but I guess more specifically
Specrene: specter is treating her like a actual pet bird to torment/tease than a fellow humanoid(?) until the end of her op rec where she finally kind of acknowledges irene as a fellow 'human' like whaa
2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?
Hoshichen but they're also like more than that to me im just going to quote my friend here and hope it suffices
uhh like. they know that they'll never get the other's full background and theyre (may be begrudgingly) fine with that (as opposed to chenswire thats like mutually 'i already know everything about you why are you still pretending otherwise' in all actions but speech)
3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?
man idk honestly lol... but i also rarely unfollow people over this kind of stuff usually I just mute words or just go hm interesting i guess (scroll past)
4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?
see top I think they're all popular/the 'default' ship (except for specrene)
5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?
see top (and below...) chen sir is cringefail but not like a hollywood damsel please....
6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?
I wouldn't say hate but I used to be really ehhh on
1) Mos/Fia because (see top) but I love fail mostima and cringe fia I'm glad GA showed how pathetic the two of them can be
2) I kept seeing Lin/Swire with (see top) dynamic and i was like goddamn you guys did it to hoshichen and now them too COME ON.. JUST BECAUSE SWIRE APOLOGISED ONCE EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS BACK TO BEING QUEEN BITCH RIGHT AFTER uhh anyway. there was this weibo post I saw when Lin was announced that like awoke something in me it was kind of like a drabble or something...?
basically something like 'lungmen quad is so nice because you have 2 police(chen & swire) and 2 underworld people(lin & hoshi <ex tho) so the dynamics is like wowww!! honestly it was kinda hard to read lol but it was basically like canon compliant imagining about after swires kidnapping when they were kids, they fractured fr fr because chen was like im going to 1000% train while lin feels awkward since swire got kidnapped by underworld guys or sth and her family and therefore she herself is part of the problem and it ended with the both of them butting heads while thinking "why wasnt it me that saved her back then?" (cause it was hoshi right lol) and i just went like MANNNNN. it's like the core of my wuxia/gufeng AU that's collecting dust in my folder sorry if that made no sense
3) hoshichen but see below first and then come back; JP fan interpretations just hit different man the biggest reason why i still eat this ship sometimes
7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?
see top but especially for HoshiChen because i don't really care for the other 3 ships lol. people depicting Hoshigummy like average yaoi mafia boss that forces themselves on the MC without an ounce of respect for either party when shes like actually perfect(to me...)
omake/bonus chart i made a while back before WWB dropped
hope nobody gets mad over my opinions though lol enjoy whatever you like even if its ooc!!! peace and love on planet terra
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tagged by the beautiful and amazing @aevallare thank you!!
1) How many works do you have on AO3?
9!
2) What’s your total AO3 word count?
63,696
3) What fandoms do you write for?
it's all bg3 right now, but I've also written for critical role and the arcana (visual novel)
4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1 - that's the kind of love ive been dreaming of (bg3, astarion/f!tav)
2- ain't it warming you (the world goin' up in flames) (critical role, jester/caleb)
3- Liebe ist Fürsorge (critical role, jester/caleb)
4- Fighting the Hurricane (critical role, jester/caleb)
5 - true colors shine in darkness and in secrecy (bg3, astarion/f!tav)
5) Do you respond to comments?
yes! i try to do the "comment when you upload the next chapter" thing but sometimes its been a while since the last chapter and i get embarrassed and just respond to everything in one big rush
6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
where i left Fighting the Hurricane probably combined with the (checks notes) 1+ year long update hiatus, i am coming back for you baby i promise. i have plans for it. i just. god. so much happened to me right as i was working on it.
7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
All of my fic ends happy (this will not always be the case, eventual AA!AU will be. well. i shan't say.) BUT, and this might just be because its my most recent finished work, i think new steps might end off on the most hopeful note.
8) Do you get hate on fics?
this has never happened to me and id love to keep it that way lmao
9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
yes :) the only real posted smut ive got rn is that's the kind of love ive been dreaming of, but i have other smut in the works
10) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Fighting the Hurricane doesn't count, really, but that's the closest we've got: its a Critical Role/Pacific Rim fusion.
11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
not that i'm aware of
12) Have you ever had a fic translated?
nope!
13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?
i have nooooot, but i am not sure that the way that i write (terrible first draft and then editing for 1000 years) is very friendly to co-writing. I'm not against the idea at all though, its just. you know. i wouldn't want to torture a friend with the everything about me. maybe someday though!!
14) What’s your all time favorite ship?
in this house we multiship, peace and love. :) though honestly i made a joke once about retiring kira as an oc after bg3 bc of everything im putting her through after becoming so enamored with kirastarion so maybe that? sorry blorbo from my brain, enjoy the conciliation prize of elf dick.
15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
stares guiltily at Fighting the Hurricane ch 2, languishing on my wip pile. listen, i still fully intend to finish that story. i was doing cool stuff in there. the only problem is that my brain exploded while i was writing ch 1, and this wasnt supposed to be more than 2k words but i am myself, and i didnt use outlines then, so my notes are a mess.
also i cannot possibly underline enough the bit where my brain exploded. this is an exaggeration only in that none of it came out of my head, but i was Not Myself for a Long Time.
16) What are your writing strengths?
i think my internal monologue bangs. this is because i agonize over it.
17) What are your writing weaknesses?
moving characters around in the space is like pulling teeth and i feel like a solid 30% of my editing is focused on that. getting someone from point a to point b elegantly and without it feeling like "astarion got up. he moved his feet. he sat down. he looked out the window" makes me feel like walking into the sea
18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I like it when it makes sense! Why does this character use another language? Does the reader need to know what they're saying? Is the POV character unfamiliar with the language? Does the reader learn anything from this? If you don't have good answers, why do it?
I find tieflings really neat, and bg3 does the typical dnd thing of "tieflings are looked down on," without, like, doing much with tiefling culture. So Ive had Kira use Infernal as a shortcut to create familiarity with other tieflings, and use it to have private conversations bc why would anyone but tieflings and people living in The Hells know that language--this solves some problems for her! And it creates others.
19) First fandom you wrote for?
Naruto...... once upon a time i wrote shikamaru/sakura fic. i was going to make a joke about that being my actual first longfic but i just checked and it literally isnt, i worked on it for a year and if you dont count the in-text authors notes (it was a different time) the whole thing is shorter than true colors chapter 4.
can you imagine me, now, updating something for a year and it being less than 11k. lol. lmao, even.
20) Favorite fic you’ve written?
eldath's mercy is my darling right now who also scares me to death. update coming soon (this week? i hope?)
i will tag @simon-says-nothing and @raccooncrimes and @septemberskye and YOUUUU reading this if you want to do it, tag me if you do!!
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Words cannot describe how much I ADORE bten. Such a marvelous piece of writing. I'm surprised I got to read this incredible fic for free???? pls pls pls tell me you're also secretly a New York bestselling author so I can go read your books pls pls pls.
I read it all in one sitting, so I may be misremembering things, but I always assumed that the reason Kenny started noticing the time traveler was that each time they died, they accumulated more and more cursed energy (from the trauma of dying over and over again). Or is that not how it works? Did the time traveler have a lot of cursed energy right at the beginning or did their cursed energy grow after each loop. The latter makes more sense to me, considering they started to only see the curses after a few iterations, but I might have misread!
Another question! Approximately how long was the time traveler stuck there? At one point, they say thousands of years but that can't be true hahaha....right? for the sake of the time traveler's mental state i sure hope not.
Final question buuuut why did gojo keep giving the time traveler his number? I think it's heavily implied that it's due to the immense cursed energy and he wants to know more about them but maybe there was also a romantic interest at first glance maybe maybe???
Im so sorry for all these questions AND how long this ask got. You are just such a talent writer!!!! thank you so much for gifting us this masterpiece!!!!
omg. thank you so much!!! unfortunately, i am not a new york times best selling writer. if i was, then my ●●●● shrine would be SO BIG. alas. a girl can dream tho.
okay so! yes! reader did keep accumulating more and more cursed energy with each subsequent loop! at the beginning they didn't have very much, but at the moment of their very first death, their cursed energy spiked up just high enough to trigger their technique. and with each death, they kept building up more and more. which is why they eventually became able to see jogo and hanami as well as why they kept waking up earlier and earlier, or rather, going further and further back in time. actually, this is. a bit of a reference to madoka magica where, madoka continues to gain more and more potential energy before she makes her transformation.
nooooo they weren't stuck in the loop for thousands of years! it was that they'd gone through thousands of loops! i know they stopped counting, but i have an exact number: 15,532 loops. not every loop lasted the same amount of time. the first few loops were probably only a few minutes at most, while the loops were reader made it to kenny were probably as long as an hour and a half or so. if we assume each loop lasted an hour that comes out to 647 days, which is a little over a year and nine months, but since there were the shorter loops, it'd be less than that. i think. math is not my strong point. but putting it in those terms, it doesn't seem like all that long, does it? not even two years… so i think that worked in their favor wrt their mental state!! 1000 years would have definitely… been too much.
also, i'm diverging a little here, but reader does mention the possibility of going back far enough to avoid being in shibuya and. like. if that had happened. then. they would still have died LMAOOO. no matter what.
as for your last question! it is most definitely due to the insane amount of cursed energy they have. i wouldn't say that he wants to know more about them per se… but he definitely has something in mind LMAO. that being said!! i wouldn't completely write off any initial attraction, because like, if i had thought it logistically possible to have a little romance, i would have done so. but it just wasn't possible with the situational constraints.
but the thought of gojo being instantly attracted to someone in like a ketchup bottle costume is infinitely hilarious to me.
and no need to apologize for all your questions!! i can honestly and truly say i've been there so i get it!! honestly, i should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity to ramble about this fic to an audience. i feel like there's always more to a fic than the actual words in the fic, like extra secret lore… what happens before and after… all sorts of stuff!! i'm really glad that you liked it enough to ask too!! and!! thank you for asking!! really!! truly!! thinking of how to answer this got me through the rest of my day job HAHAHA. i'm sorry this got so long too LMAO.
#on anon#I RAMBLED SO MUCH OMG#the 15532 is also a reference to endless eight from haruhi suzumiya#fic feedback#bten rambling
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YOUR TAKE!! ON AURAS!! HAS ME ON A CHOKE HOLD (long ask, grab some snacks you're in for a ride maybe)
aura colors is so interesting and it's so cool that it signifies stuff about themit would make sense for it to be at least somewhat familial, given mob and ritsu have similar colors and like this next thing im about to say has no real,, canon? basis but i like to think the colors also have something to do with their personality traits!
take the kageyama brothers for instance: ritsu and mob both have a considerable amount of purple but it's emphasised in mob's aura, while it's blue that's emphasised in ritsu's. purple is more associated with trust and compassion? intuition and strong character while blue is associated with intelligence and integrity and loyalty and that kind of matches up!!
teru's aura is more green and yellow, which are (im so sorry but) EYE SEARING TO ME and maybe it has something to do with his Need to stand out and be eye catching, his whole personality (in the anime at least) is bright and loud, he feared he'd be nothing without his flashiness and his powers agxhdhj
shou's is actually so interesting to me!! there's hints of pink and yellow and red and orange and it's so pretty actually :] i think those would be inseparable from boisterous and fiery, his shounen anime protagonist setup and passionate personality
serizawa!! purple and pink mostly i think, pink signifying sensitivity and kindness! he doesn't want to harm anyone, and hes flighty and nervous but so so gentle
and the subtle changes make so much sense with that taken into consideration i think! more range probably means stronger and more wide array of emotions just like you mentioned. stronger more forceful more painful oughdhhfi
also like to think that as you said, textures are based on personality but also are unique to every character. i think that would be a really cool sort of identification, just like a fingerprint maybe but more colourful and potentially destructive☆
psychic powers themselves being inherited could make sense, given i cant recall any siblings that are like one has powers the other doesn't, ritsu and shigeo have them, the telepathic twins do too. i do like to believe teru's parents and the kageyama parents are not psychics at all and honestly just. i feel like im mirroring your thoughts back to you your questions are so good!!!
shige reaching ???% before suppressing emotions though, i'd say that's because he was in danger/paralysed with fear. HE physically couldn't do anything, so all the Things he was feeling took over is my personal theory. this happens over and over when his emotions are stronger than he can do anything about
giving reigen ALL of mobs powers is such an interesting phenomenon ok yes it absolutely had to do with trust but one thing i really liked was that it wasn't 100%; it was 1000%. he's a child, he didn't want to do anything violent and be held responsible for it, and reigen gave him a way out of that. reigen said no, you dont have to shoulder this it's not your responsibility. and mob is grateful. and THAT is what goes to reigen, it's 1000% gratitude towards reigen and if left unattended i would write a 13k word essay but the fact that it wasn't just 100. it was MORE IT WAS AMPLIFIED is very important to me
tldr; your brain op it's brilliant. it's so cool that you noticed all these little subtle changes and had complex thoughts it's just. Yes
[in reference to this post]
GOD YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT REIGEN Mob thought he was DEAD and it made him give his master what he needed to stay alive because Shige can bear getting attacked without fighting back but he can't bear Shishou dying 😢 Mob and Reigen care a LOT about each other and it's overshadowed a lot of the time by other relationships
my thing with ???% is basically, why is Shige so strong. later in his life it's clear that ???% is the one who holds the vast majority of his power beCAUSE he suppresses his emotions, but why does it even exist? when they got jumped as kids, why was it already there? where did that power come from??? Shige is nuts and I need to know why.
I like your thoughts on color too-- I agree that they have something to do with personality, but I guess to me that part of their color seems slightly more situational. do one hundred percent agree that textures HAVE to be unique it's so so important to me that Teru's oily little ripples are special. psychics also have to be unmistakably identifiable by feeling. when Teru picks Mob up that one time it reminds him just a little bit of their fight. when ???% holds Ritsu in place on the bridge, the reminder of how it feels is what first gives Ritsu the idea to just let Shigeo kill him. hurting his little brother is what brought Mob back the first time, so why wouldn't a more extreme version work?
I could think about these guys for DAYS. thank you for putting them in my brain
#Shou's aura IS very pretty but I'm a little biased#[dating Shou]#blooisasleep#answers#mp100#mp100 spoilers#shigeo kageyama#arataka reigen#shou suzuki#ritsu kageyama#teruki hanazawa#mob posting 100
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i know its not quite the same scenario as navy seal, but ive highkey avoided ever talking about or publicly enjoying poly pirates content for the same kind of reason, but instead bc it involves shipping jay and chip.
like. yes, i know many people (including the jerboys) interpret them as having a more sibling-esque bond. I fully acknowledge it and I can even agree w it!* but i hate how it has been made that any other interpretation is not only wrong but also bad.
idk man like. i just hate how it feels like enjoying any dynamic of poly-pirates outside of fnc is wrong-- bc at that point, what is the point?
*i personally tend to see the two as very close, but the specifics of whether that closeness is platonic/familial or romantic depends on interpretation (whether of the individual, author, etc). they're two people who've found connection and safety in each other and also enjoy ribbing the other for jokes- what specific type of connection that is can vary for me, yknow? the type isnt the Core of their dynamic to me
(sorry the asterisk part got so long i just want to properly explain myself and dump a bit fjkdsjf)
Oh yeah, I'm 1000% with you on this. I mentioned navyseal cause that's my personal guilty pleasure that I am highkey obsessed with but had to keep it on the downlow after twitter decided it was just as bad as inc*st apparently (as someone who is very very deeply uncomfortable and revolted by that type of stuff in genuine, that shit pissed me off!!!), but this absolutely applies to Chip and Jay and polypirates as a whole. Hell, when I first started the show and didn't really have much fandom influence in my first 30 something episodes I was actually way more of a poly enjoyer
Anyways, as a whole I do sincerely think Chip and Jay work better as a platonic bond, I like this interpretation of their relationship better than romantic, but that doesn't necessarily make the ship bad or wrong you know? Literally ditto to everything you said in your asterisk I couldn't word it better myself.
Like bruh it really felt like these characters are stuck being bitchless fr LOL that whole twitter debacle made it feel like the only CORRECT ships were fnc and pistolwhip (as if fnc doesn't Also have some of the same dynamics listed in navyseal and chip/jay!! (although im certainly keeping my mouth shut further on that since people have started gunning to convince people fnc is a Bad Boring Ship, Actually, and it's better platonic (unrelated to the wlw vs mlm take that just happened there, big disclaimer (I spend too much time on twitter can u tell... there's so many shipwars there for no reason...))) anyways yeah there was just too many people trying to police these ships and instead of just being NORMAL and saying "oh X isn't my cup of tea I enjoy a familial/platonic bond between them instead" they start bending over backwards to prove that ACTUALLY it's PROBLEMATIC, SEE? And sourcing the boys' opinions on it doesn't Wholly matter to ships (unless it's in regards to boundaries, in which it Absolutely Matters) cause Bizly regularly dunks on fnc and that hasn't changed anything
This got very long winded sorry LOL I've been holding onto this irritation for a while now, it's one of the reasons why I'm trying to move away from twitter and come back to tumblr tbh. It is simply fandom culture to ship, and while I love fnc to absolute death as my main ship here, it's nice to explore some variety yk? navyseal has CRAZY potential cause of their parallels and their journey of self discovery and how much they deeply care for each other, polypirates is just a lot of fun altogether cause of all their personalities and that shared strong bond, then you have swordfish, fish² and chips, caspian/chip, marshall john/gillion, like, multishipping is FUN dude. Unless it's GENUINELY problematic or Actual Proshipping like twitter Claimed, I don't see the big idea. There is such thing as "Don't like, don't read". There is such thing as muting/blocking words and curating your own experience. You don't have to put down others because their enjoyment of something clashes with your personal interpretation of it. It's fandom bro!!!
#bheart talks#answered#shit man even typing this out i get nervous hitting post but man i KNOW im not wrong
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