#im sorry about the font i made this quickly

[silverstonesainz-archive]

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

[slvt4elliew]

in a good way (1)

"i didn't know that i was capable of being happy right now...but you showed me how."

cw: angst, mentions of death/su!c!de, mentions of self-harm, marijuana usage, drinking, explicit language, slow burn (im so sorry), panic attack(??), dad joke near the end, idk what else

a/n: this isn't really my first time writing angst (not on here) buttttt im still nervy. idk how to feel. i spent a dumb amount of time on this and it still sucks!! this series is also gonna be long so i apologize. but its necessary i promise! i just feel like ppl don't write about ellie falling in love enough. all of it. i wanna see and write all that stupid lovey stuff, from the start. idk how to write so be nice (ori'llcry) also listen to this song i love it sm.

you shoot awake, beads of sweat forming on your forehead and your breath quick. in out in out in out in out. for the past month you've been plagued by nightmares, making you wake up hyperventilating nearly every night. earlier this month marked the one year since your best friend passed away.

lucy meyer, the only person who truly understood you, took her own life last year on november 3rd. there's no word in the entire dictionary to express the pain you constantly felt. you tried so hard to cope, therapy sessions after therapy sessions. nothing helped. nothing could replace the comfort of being with lucy, just knowing she existed used to bring you happiness. lonely wasn't even a good word to describe how you felt, it was so much more than that. you felt so empty without her.

you had been doing "good" before now. you made a few new friends, dina, jesse, abby, and you left your house more. but the sudden reminder of lucy's absence sent you tumbling down again. it had only been a year. how were you meant to live a whole lifetime without her? without your best friend? the dull ache you felt in your chest worsened every day without her.

your eyes stung with tears as you slowly caught your breath. you were sitting up in your, almost overwhelmingly so, cozy bed. your eyes blinked quickly and rapidly, your eyes darting across your pitch black room. you eventually shoved the suffocatingly thick duvet off your body and stood from your queen bed. you lumber over to your bathroom, flickering on the warm lights and squinting from the brightness. you slowly adjust to the nearly blinding light, rubbing your tired eyes.

what you see in the mirror looks like a whole different person. you frown, seeing the dark under eye bags and sunken face. your hair's all frizzy and messed up from the terrible sleep you were having, you flatten it with your hands. your weary eyes glance down at the picture frame that sat on the sink, picking it up to get a better look at the photo in the frame. the photo was one of you and lucy two years ago in june, it was a selfie of you both in a pool. her long and curly black hair was pulled up into a high bun on top of her head. her dark blue eyes store into yours as you examine the photo, making you let out a choked sob as a tear runs down your face.

lucy was always beautiful. she was the most beautiful person you had ever met, inside and out. she had fairly pale skin and soft features. some acne was on her chin and left, rosy cheek. she had fluffy, arched eyebrows with a slit in her left one. you remember the day she put it there. she claimed she wanted to "look more edgy" with a giggle as she lifted the razor to her eyebrow, exposing her slit wrists when her long sleeves accidentally slipped down a little.

you set the picture frame back down and wipe the tears that must've fallen from your face at some point. you didn't exactly remember when they did. you quickly piss and wash your hands before you shut off the light and walk back into your bedroom, flopping onto your warm bed. the time on your phone said 4:24 am in a bright white font. you laid on your back in your bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. you didn't fall back asleep that night.

you were so glad you had no classes today, you rarely had fridays off but you just so happened to today. you were fucking lucky too, having something as drastic as your best friend dying happen and being a busy college student wasn't for the faint of heart. currently, your closest friend at the moment, dina, was dragging you to a party with her boyfriend jesse and one of their friends, ellie, who you've never met.

"damn...i'd hit. seriously though, you look hot." she winks at you after you exit your closet, dressed in a tiny jean skirt and see-through, hot pink, long sleeved shirt. since it was fairly see-through, you could see the pink bra you paired with it underneath.

if you were being honest, you didn't want to go to this stupid fucking party. you wanted to stay home, and maybe cry a little. most of all. you wanted lucy. you needed lucy.

while you fix up your hair for the party, dina's phone buzzes. the message was from jesse, telling her that he was there and ellie was gonna meet you guys there. as you stand, dina gives you a wink and playfully smacks your ass as you roll your eyes and walk out the doorway. walking up to jesse's black jeep ranger, you slide into the back seat and dina sits in the passenger seat, dina mumbling a small "hi, babe" with a giggle. jesse smiles at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he turns his attention to you.

"yn! you hoe! i missed you, where've you been!?" jesse practically yells at you, making you flinch slightly before chuckling. you really had missed jesse.

"y'know...i have a mysterious reputation to uphold. gotta go ghost every now and then." you jokingly huff out, looking down at your lap and flattening your jean mini skirt. the words them both chuckle out a small laugh, it was comforting to hear that noise again. but you knew dina knew. she always did.

already feeling nauseous, the car pulled over and parked on the street near the house. the cool night breeze burned your exposed legs, making you shiver slightly. people were spilling out of the front door and sitting on the lawn, most people smoking with a drink in their other hand. the base boosted music could be heard from outside the house, making your head hurt already. you felt sick, you needed a drink or something.

walking past loads of drunk young adults, all three of you make it into the house, finding it fairly crowded. jesse goes off to find a place to sit while you and dina make your way to the kitchen, finding it slightly less crowded. dina poured you both shots, which you downed immediately, cringing as the liquid burned your throat. you perk up when you notice a stack of red solo cups, quickly grabbing one and pouring whatever drinks there was out into your cup, making a brown drink that hurt to swallow.

dina leaves you to find and probably make out with jesse, leaving you alone to babysit your drink. bad idea. you never could drink responsibly, finding it impossible to stop once you've started. the warm feeling that grew in your lower stomach and how your mind melted into mush was unbeatable.

"hey, you were lucy meyer's friend right?" a voice rang from in front of you, urging you to look up at the stranger. it felt like you've been here for an hour, your heels aching from the constant standing. "were". your chin quivered at the reminder of your best friend's permanent absence. you look up at the stranger, blinking away the haze in your eyes.

"uh, yeah...w-why?" you mumble out with a chuckle, tripping over your words. while drunk, everything was funny, letting you feel something good for the first time in a while.

"oh, no reason, you just looked familiar. um...sorry about what happened n' stuff.." and suddenly nothing was funny anymore. it was too crowded, too many people. you found yourself overwhelmed and suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe. constantly breathing in warm, used air, you thought you might choke.

you don't even reply before stumbling away, almost frantically trying to get to the back door. you elbow your way through the crowds of people, not bothering to apologize to the people who curse at you. you quickly slide open the glass door to try and get fresh air. you plop down on the top step of the back porch and attempt to catch your breath, completely unaware of the person who was sitting beside you, curiously eyeing you up and down.

your elbows rest on your knees, your face in your hands as you try not to cry. maybe you were overdramatic, but just hearing lucy's name made you tear up. still unaware of the girl next to you, you sniffle and huff into your hands. suddenly there was a soft tap on your shoulder, making you jump a little as you pull your face out of your hands, looking over to your left at the mystery person.

"hey, uh...you alright?" the girl asks, scratching the back of her neck. you want the world to swallow you, bury you in a hole to never be found again.

you take a moment to take in her appearance. she had auburn hair that stopped a little above her shoulders, the layers made it almost look like a mullet and it was styled in a half-up half-down bun. she had mossy green eyes, the kind you could easily get lost in. the way her right eyebrow was slightly raised made you notice the small scar through it. you immediately thought of lucy. you wonder how she got it. her face was covered in pretty freckles, clusters of them painting constellations across her face. she had a half-burnt blunt in her left hand, her elbow resting on her bent knee.

you stare at her with wide, teary eyes, mouth slightly agape and seemingly out of breath. you blink a few times before haphazardly wiping your eyes -- trying not to smudge your makeup -- and looking away, looking up at the night sky. "fine... sorry, have you been sitting there this whole time?" you ask, your eyes drifting over to her again.

"kinda, yeah.." she responds with a quiet chuckle, huffing a small laugh through her nose. her smile makes a warm feeling flutter in your stomach. even though you literally just met her, you felt sorta comfortable around her. she had some weirdly nice presence. "you look familiar, what's your name? i'm ellie."

ellie. what a pretty name for such a pretty girl... seriously, she was crazily handsome. wait. suddenly it clicked in your head. "ellie? as in ellie williams or...?" you asked hesitantly, snapping your head to look over at her. she was already looking at you, silently admiring the way the moon hit your face.

"yeah... how'd the fuck you know that?" she asks with a laugh, her eyes narrowing at you. she shifts on the step slightly, turning to face you a little more. your knees almost touch, both of you angled at each other. there's a small smirk playing on her lips, a playful glint in her jade eyes.

her smile makes you dumbly smile as you explain, "dina and jesse told me about you, they really wanted us to meet." you're not sure why you're smiling. there isn't really a reason to smile, especially not when you think about the whole reason you came out here in the first place.

"oh shit! are you y/n?" the blunt in her hand was completely forgotten about. she put it out on the spot next to her on the old wooden steps. she shifted to face you even more, her body nearly completely turned. you did the same. you nod at her, a small smile still on your lips.

you both talk. and talk. and talk. for what feels like hours. strangely enough, being around ellie made you forget about everything. all the shit that went down last year, this dumb fucking party. all of it. you felt sorta free. you didn't think about lucy, about what you two would be doing right now, if she was still here. no. none of that. you're in the present for once in your fucking life. you didn't even think about how cold it was outside, you didn't care.

ellie made you feel free. even though you only just met her. thinking about it too hard made you feel a little crazy. 'you only just met this girl, how do you already feel so good around her?' so you don't think about that either. a loud buzz buzz came from your handbag, pulling you away from the conversation you were having. you open your phone to a text from dina.

dee 🩷: wgere tf r u girl

you: outside

you: r u guys trying to leave?

dee 🩷: yss

dee 🩷: hrry my feeet hurt

you look back over to ellie, frowning. "i gotta go."

"aww, you didn't even get to hear the rest of my cool dad jokes."

"i knowww. this stinks."

"can i at least get your number... y'know, to show you all my cool dad jokes?"

you huff a laugh through your nose and wait for her to pull out her phone. you quickly put in your number as you hear your own phone buzz again. dina was so impatient. you save your contact name as "y/n :)"

"can't wait to hear 'em all!" you joke to her as you walk back into the house.

the drive home was fine. they blasted some pop music dina loved, she screamed along to the lyrics, still plastered. they quickly arrived at your house.

you walk up the carpeted stairs to your apartment room, keys jingling in your hand. as you open the door, you flicker the lights on and kick off your shoes. fuck high heels.

home. a lot of people say "home is where i'm happy." or whatever. but its kinda the opposite for you. home is where you allow yourself to feel, where you think. your mind's not mush anymore, you can think and feel again. and all you feel is hurt. that stupid ache is back. the dull feeling in your chest that just won't budge. at home you feel like you're slowly being sucked into a black hole.

you huff and toss your bag onto the table, phone in your other hand. you shuffle to your bedroom, turning off the main lights and on your bedroom lights. you strip from your uncomfortable clothes and into comfy clothes, sleep shorts and a big t-shirt. you flicker the lights back off and flop onto your big bed, letting the comforters consume you.

you sit there for a few minutes until your phone buzzes. it's a text from ellie. she texted you on your ride home so you already saved her contact.

you stupidly smile at your bright phone screen, shaking your head and turning it back off. you plug it in and set it on your bedside table. you lay back in your bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. your hand reaches up and grabs the necklace you were wearing. it was lucy's. you rub the L shaped charm between your pointer and thumb, turning to lay on your side.

that night you dreamt of green eyes and short, auburn hair.

#the last of us #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #tlou #tlou ellie #tlou dina #slvt4elliew

[robberskisses]

The boy next door pt 2

Part one

cw: matty healy x reader, mentions of drinking, smut.

note: idk how I wrote so much for just one tiny part, not proofread as I want to get these parts posted and I’m tired :,)

As your alarm clock rings, wind gushes your hair into your face, reaching to move it out of the way you start batting your eyelids, as you suddenly remember everything. You spin your head to face the other way. He isn’t there. Just the window wide open, making your room all cold and you start to feel frustrated. You knew your imagination could run wild, but this? He had to have been here last night. You know it was real, you felt it. You spring up feeling deaf with silence, taking a glance out of the window; Matty’s window was closed along with his curtains too. In this state you had no other choice but to get ready, and you did quickly.

Creeping downstairs once again, you grab to trail your bike out when you decide to quickly take a peek if Matty has left yet, you know the part where he brought you home wasn’t a dream, and he did say he felt bad about you riding to school. Surely if he had slept in your bed he would remember the offer on at least one day. Peeking through the shutters of the window you feel a sense of relief. Leaning onto his van, smoking a fag, he stood right infront of your house.

“Hey” you say stepping out of your door, in your best efforts to sound chill about what could or could not have happened. He looks up abruptly from his cig he was attempting to relight, “y/n im so sorry” he motions his hands out towards you, “leaving your window open, I had no way to close it when I climbed back through this morning, I”. So it was real. The boy next door had stayed over, told you that you were beautiful, and the worst part is you were the one to kiss him. But maybe the best part was how calm he was about it all, how he only cared about leaving the window open.

“That’s okay,I didn’t even notice”, you lie, “the temperature isn’t all too bad out here in spring” you add as you walk to the van door. He lets out a sigh of relief whilst trying to take an extra step forward to open the door for you, “I was scared about you getting cold or sick that’s all”. You hide the way your blushing by looking out of the window when he gets in. “Your words got to me” you look his way, “I’d really like to come tonight, if that’s okay with you”. “That’s cool” he responds with a smile. Something in your heart hurts a little when this was such a big thing to you, part of you hoped you weren’t just another one of his side hookups, and the moment you got to school he would just go quiet on you.

Feeling nervous as the pair of you arrive at school, you peer over at him wondering if he wants you to get out first and clear off before he gets out. “What?” He glares back at you. “Have I got something on my face” he says whilst going up to grab the font mirror, smushing his lips around to check his teeth. “No sorry, no I was just wondering if we were getting out” you interrupt his face scan. Looking your way with a sense of relief he rolls his eyes sarcastically, “ahhh are you getting used to me opening so many doors for you, wait a minute i’l be around in a sec princess”, he laughs, you do too, feeling the usual flush you do around him. Hurrying around and opening the door for you, hopping out you look around for the girls you made friends with yesterday. “Leaving me so soon?” Matty says whilst getting a pack out of his bag. “Well I can’t exactly waltz into the boys school can I?” You respond. “You wouldn’t pretend to be a boy just to spend more time with me, hmm maybe we aren’t as good of neighbours as I thought we were” he says sarcastically, patting the top of your hair lightly, “See ya later”. “Bye matty” you reply. Should I tell them everything or should I keep quiet, you think to yourself, whilst you want to tell your new friends every last detail and reminisce out loud on what had just happened last night, you are also aware of two things. Firstly, they all are obsessed with him, and you don’t want to loose your first group of friends through jealousy or coming across as a slut. You are aware of how dramatic you sound, and second, yesterday you spent the entire day rattling off how much you hated him, you are going to sound crazy.

You spot the girls sitting on the steps that enter the girls school as they sip on their morning milk. “Umm did we just see you get out of you know who’s car” Lacey says questioning you, the group of them all peer your way like knives. “I did, it was so weird he just randomly offered a lift, we basically sat in silence like the whole time though” you respond. Meagan tilts her head in confusing “Him offering a lift.. unheard of, he must be in the best mood of his life”. You laugh nervously, “he did mention he has a gig tonight though, somewhere called volume bar?” You add trying to build your story. The girls begin to bustle excitedly, “y/n you better be joining us” Lacey says, “He probably picked you up to promote it” Liliya says giggling, “We usually hear about these things weeks in advance, must be last minute”. “Haha probably” you lie, “Il definitely be there though”.

Spending the next two hours planning your outfits, you learn how obsessed the teenage girl is with the teenage boy. Being isolated in your small town from them really held you back from an entire life of addiction. They assessed boys like assignments, knowing what they liked and what they didn’t, the patterns in their behaviour, how to impress them and get their attention. The one thing that confused you though, was how little they really knew about Matty. They grew up alongside him, yet viewed him as the cold hearted, rouge boy you thought of him to be, knowing him for a day. Strange, strange, strange you thought to yourself.

As the day grew closer to an end and the girls whispered to other classmates about the gig and helped you with what you should wear, Liliya suggesting you would apparently suit curled hair more than anything, the moment the boys came into mass, silence finally calms your ears. Finding his seat you see Matty, he ever so slightly smiles your way. “Did you see that y/n, did you actually just see that” Meagan says in a panicked tone. The girls all glance your way around you. “Yea I saw he just smiled at you” You lie. She starts going on how she knows he’s always had a thing for her. Being scared Matty was using you, and embarrassed of being around you, you have no idea why you are the one hiding whatever the pair of you have going on.

“Y/n you should totally ask Matty some questions about Meagan on the ride home. “Oh my god please you’d be the bestest friend ever if you did” she exclaims, hugging you. “Don’t make it too obvious though”. You nod wandering over to Matty’s van once again. For some reason, all of the girls talk about Matty today makes you more excited than you ever have been to see him, to spend time with him.

“Hey” you say as you arrive to them loading the vehicle up with instruments. “I don’t think there’s enough space in here for another person, your gonna have to rely on a ride home from George I’m afraid” Matty tells you trying to roll a drum in. You glance at his friend George, half smiling. “Hi” he says more out of it than you’ve ever seen a person. “If it’s too much trouble I can just walk, it’s okay” you say trying to avoid an awkward fifteen minutes. He turns around proudly after successfully getting the final piece of kit in, “don’t worry he’s going the same way”. “Don’t worry il still be able to get you tonight, and open the door for you” he winks. You giggle at home whilst trying to stay cool in-front of the band you’d heard so much about, “Just please don’t make it too obvious your there to pick me up” you whisper to Matty before stepping over to George’s car. Getting in at least it isn’t just you in the car, two other boys sit in the back flicking through sheets of paper, discussing which songs they should play tonight. Music you’d never heard on is quietly coming from the radio, that seemed broken as every few beats would have a scratching noise.“So friends with Matty then” George asks while tapping the ash from the bottom of his fag out of the window. “Uhh yeah.. he’s my neighbour didn’t he mention” you reply to him. “That boys got a million things going on” George says. You don’t reply at the puzzle his answer gives you. You pray it doesn’t really mean that boy brings home a new girl every weekend, so many even his best friend can’t keep up.

Arriving at home, you rehearse the lie you’d been coming up with the whole way home one final time in your head. Your new friend Liliya has invited you over for a meal and board games with her family, as their grandparents and cousins are coming over. You could get a lift both there and back and you’d be home around 11pm. Seems innocent enough and equally as important. “No!” Your parents say in unison. “What, what do you mean no?” You say frantically, beginning to get stressed. “Now that’s just silly waltzing in on a family’s special night” your mother says, “come on you can’t say that she says her friends always come around for those meals, you don’t want me to be left out do you” you add to her stupidity. “That’s the thing, we don’t know any of them, go next time when we get a chance to meet all of these people” your father tells you demandingly. “Come o-“ you get interrupted, “now I don’t know where you’ve learned that tone from but if you think that’s getting you anywhere you aren’t so bright” your mother says sternly, almost shewing you away.

Slamming the door of your room you don’t feel as life is fair, how is it that you’ve spent the first seventeen years of your life trapped from what real girlhood is like, and boys, and music, and a chance at living for something more than religion and family. You stress at how much this means to you. An idea spawns, scanning the room for something heavy, but not glass breaking heavy you pick up a little white ping pong ball. Quickly getting ready and curling your hair, just like you had been advised to. You slip into your black mini shirt and a denim skirt you had loaned from your cousin last year when you went on vacation with them. Putting on slightly more makeup than usual you swing the window open, throwing the little ball at Matty’s, praying that he was in there. To your delight his window opens, “I was just about to go outside to wait for you” he spectates. “Matty quiet down, please” you say, he tilts his head in slight confusion. “I made up a silly little lie and they wouldn’t even let me go out for that” you tell him. “Oh.. right we” you cut him off, still whispering, “The ladders, let me sneak through please”. His face brightens like you had just invented the cure for everything. Placing the silver ladders between your rooms he grabs on tightly, “careful, please”, you begin to climb up. “Tell me your going to be careful y/n”, you look up abruptly, he’d never used that tone with you, “okay, il be careful Matty”. Carefully crawling between rooms, Matty grabs onto your waist when you are closest to him, carrying you into his room. You both do that thing again, the not so awkward stare. You notice in all of that brown, there’s a little golden yellowy colour in his eyes, so hidden you’d have to go so close to see it. “Almost give me a heart attack there” he softly laughs. “Oh so it’s okay for you to do that but not me”, you speak in the same quiet tone, burrowing one of your brows. Looking down at you still he’s quiet too, “you know that’s not what I meant”. “MATTY!” George screams. “Hurry up NOW”. “Ups I forgot I had people waiting”, Matty awkwardly pulls a face. Hurrying downstairs you pinch the bottom of your skirt making sure it stays in place. “What I thought you were his neighbour not his roommate” George says in a misty tone. Matty pushes his cap into his face, blinding him as he collapses into a wall. “Im not waiting any longer” the mousy hair one adds, going through the front door. “That’s Adam, and behind me’s Ross” Matty tells you, “I doubt they had the courtesy or social awareness to introduce themselves” Matty says shaking his head at Ross. “Hi, Hello” you say to each of them spinning your head around to the back seats. The pair of them shooting tiny waves. “How’s it fair the three of us are squeezed back here” Ross says looking at Matty. “It’s called kindness and decency Ross” he responds, “and since when did you ever posses either of those traits” Ross says while they all laugh.

Arriving at the bar, you see your friends waiting outside, you wave at them slowly pausing as you see their faces drop. You walk over with the boys trailing behind. The girls all greet them, telling Matty how excited they are to see them play. Matty tells them that they need to go get things ready, and they go inside. “Vip entrance much” Lacey says. “Right, like where was my invite to pull up with the band” Megan adds. “Live next door to one of them, I guess” you try to sound unsuspicious. As the girls get drinks, you spot the boys coming out. Meagan grabs your hand and pushes through the small crowd opposite the barfront. The four of you find yourselves up front, despite the angry murmur from the girls around you. Standing tall above you Matty’s palm wraps around the mic, despite all your self talk about how much you knew him you didn’t even think about which role he had in the band. The singer. You felt selfish and mean for not taking more interest. “Hi, I’m Matty, this is the band, we’re called drive like I do, and you better like our stuff”. Adam starts playing a low chord, and slowly everyone joins in. A few girls around you sing a few of the lyrics, the song was good but part of you was shocked they were as big to have people know their songs yet. “Slow down, yeah I want you” Matty sings softly into the mic, looking down at you with that same Matty smile on his face. “Yeah she’s doing it all the time” Matty finishes the song with George joining in loudly, everyone cheers for them. “That ones called You… or something” Matty backs up ready to play the next song.

Dancing with your friends, and admiring Matty’s music felt blissful. Drinking for the first time and being gifted a little silver cross necklace by your friend Liliya, because it would “suit you soooo well”, is what being a teenage girl is. Feeling happier than ever you and the girls cheer and clap in unison as the band wraps up, exiting the stage. After a little while the boys join you around the bar, “You drink?” Matty asks you, “Apparently now I do” you respond, “Il get you something if you like”, Matty says after asking for a vodka coke. You spot Meagan side eyeing Lacey. “That’s okay” you respond. Looking down at George’s watch as his arm is spewed across the bar counter, you spot the time. You start to get nervous as it’s getting late, and in the chances that your parents did catch you, you could at least be home for curfew. Watching Matty finish his drink you whisper in his ear, “Do you know when we are leaving, I’m getting a little nervous and I”, “Well I’m gonna call it a night” Matty announces to the group. “So soon?” Both George and Meagan say, as George turns around and pulls a face at her, as if he said it first. “Sorry lads, promised the family I’d be home early” Matty responds, George clearly not buying it speaks “and since when do you follow”, being cut off by Matty shushing his lips. You wave goodbye to your friends and Liliya gives you a hug. Matty makes you wait at the door for a second, “just need to get the van from around back, don’t go anywhere, I mean it don’t leave”. The sweet unseen side of Matty was everything to you, but the protective, sort of controlling part to him, something you’d never felt by anyone close to you, was the cherry on top. Tonight, something felt different.

#matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty healy #smut #matty healy smut

[girlreblogger]

yuta okkotsu x black reader. he’s a chef apprentice (wtv that means he has a really rigorous, work.. chef job okay?) i personally don’t eat meat so we gonna name it thicken/thick-fil-a.. anyways fluff. this isn’t the most aesthetic layout cause who cares but i put dividers cause it could be a lot to read through especially with the small font. a lil ooc cause it’s been a while since i read the manga.

chef apprentice yuta who always makes sure to text and call you at all times of day even if he can’t see you.

yuta yuta 🧎🏽‍♀️

honey idk if youre up

but im omw with some food ❤️

my love 👰🏽‍♀️

aww thanks boo🤭

how was your day?

those ppl weren’t giving you trouble again we’re they?

yuta yuta 🧎🏽‍♀️

nah baby everything’s been fine.

open the door

chef apprentice yuta who surprises you at your apartment with something less complicated than the brunch he’s been making for the past months.

you were so excited to see him since he had been at the restaurant all week but now he was finally going to have a few days off. once you hear a little knock at the door you hurriedly jumped up from the bed and put on your silk black robe since you had just got out the shower. “im off to see. my husband. i’m happy. i’m happy.” you hummed as you put on your black and pink house shoes and placed your phone on the couch before reaching for the door.

chef apprentice yuta who stands at the door with thick-fil-a and practices a speech about how sorry he is for not being able to see you for seven days.

you quickly looked through the peep hole to see your boyfriend standing there with bags of Thick-fil-A in his hand. he had on a black baseball cap to cover his slightly over grown black hair, some black sweats and a dark gray tee shirt that fit his sleeper build perfectly. you smiled happily at his cute face before flinging the door open and pulling his body inside by his arm.

chef apprentice yuta who can’t even get out his words because his oh so sweet & pretty girlfriend always greets him with a bunch of kisses after a long week of being in a stuffy kitchen.

you couldn’t help but hurriedly close the door and pounce on him with kisses, standing on your tippy toes with your arms flung around his neck. Yuta widened his arms eyes from your arms reaching up and pulling his head down towards your body so quicky. you must have really missed him. he definitely missed you though.. so much. He smirked and kissed your lips back slowly and wrapped the hand with the food around your hips and the other on your ass.

chef apprentice yuta who can’t help but feel the stress that was built up slowly ease away at the feeling of your soft plush lips moving all up against his. just seeing you, kissing you, feeling you, hearing you— was enough for him to unwind from the day.

“mm” you both shared a passionate kiss, lips moving slowly and gently while yuta sucked your bottom lip slyly and then pulling away. “Yuu im so happy you’re here!” You’re so happy, just gushing at his presence with a big smile on your face. You brought your arms around his body to place your chin on his chest. “Me too. aw look at my baby, i see you got those braids you made me picked out” Yuta cocked his head to the side while letting a finger twirl around one of the freshly done braids and staring into your eyes with a gentle glare.

chef apprentice yuta who likes teasing you for the fun of it. he’s such a sweet boyfriend but gosh could he be anything less than a tease.

Yuta bit his top lip mindlessly and gave your chin a small grab and then let go. he still kept eye contact while holding your body and just waited for you to answer. “thanks.” you smiled and pushed yourself off his body. You reached your hand behind your back to grab one of the bags of food and walked to the table.

chef apprentice yuta who loves seeing you comfortable and happy in your own element. he loves that you can be so comfortable around him and just yourself.

“ou ‘thick-fil-a!’ ” You clapped while taking out your food and pulling out a chair while Yuta followed you. He gave you a playful smack on your ass with his heavy hand before sitting next to you. “hey!” You yelped and snapped your neck at him with a stank look. “i had too” Yuta laughed as he grabbed your hips and making you sit down. “how was your day?” Yuta placed his arms on the table and watching his giddy girlfriend stuff her mouth with fries. “it was good. but i had a headache. I feel better though.” You opened one of your sauces and pulled back the lid of the hot and spicy thicken sandwich. “this is goodd~” you hummed while eating another waffle fry that had been dipped in sauce. Yuta gave you a longing look before grabbing the food from his bag. “hmm” His face was laced with worry as his mind wandering a little at the thought of your words.

chef apprentice yuta who feels bad he isn’t with his gf 24/7. but still makes it his priority to try and balance his work and relationship.

All he wanted was his girlfriend to be happy and healthy. “you look tired” he whispered while biting one of his chicken nuggets and opening a sauce. “you look more tired than i do baby.” you cooed while cupping his face and giving his cheeks a peck, then seeing him pursing his lips for another kiss which you gave him. After you let go you continued eating your thicken sandwich and fries before looking up at your boyfriend who was staring at you. “let me know next time. okay” Yuta smiled softly as he watched you chew your food. “i will.”

chef apprentice yuta who makes you promise to always keep him in the know abt even having a small headache or needing to get your nails done. he never wants his job to get in the way of providing or taking care of you.

“and before you say anything don’t apologize for doing your job yuu. you’re always taking good care of me and i’m so grateful, alright?” your hand went to grab his, taking it into yours and looking up at him. he just gave you a dorky smile and nodded because he appreciated the reassurance. he always apologized after coming from work because he wants you to always know- “you’re appreciated, just so you know. seriously you’re everything to me.” Yuta leaned towards your body and landed a sweet kiss on your forehead. he watched you grin at the little action.

“i love you”

“i love you too”

#x black reader #x black reader fluff #black reader #x black fem reader #anime x black!reader #black fanfiction #black writers #jjk x black reader #my man my man my man #yuta x black reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x black reader #my man. #black yn

[strawberrysodaslut]

𝓓𝓸𝓰𝓰𝔂 𝓓𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓘𝓷 - Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

(and GN!dog)

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[ main masterlist ]

[ eddie munson masterlist ]

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word count: 1.9k

(description in small font for formatting and convenience, actual story is in regular)

warnings: mostly fluff, some angst, mentions of upcoming death of dog, dog in palative care, not fully proof read but i tried to keep both dog and reader as gender neutral, and without descriptions, i am basing a this in real life so it might have slipped.

summary: After receiving bad news about your dog, you and Eddie decide to take them to their favourite movie at the drive ins.

authors note: Hi. It’s been a little while. This is based on something i did with my dog a few weeks ago, we took her to the eras tour movie and it’s one of the best nights i’ve had with her. i’ve i wanted to get it out within the week of that but then life happened, i had to take care of her a bit more and we sadly had to put her down the sunday before last. we’re receiving her ashes soon and i got a plush that looks like her so i felt inspired to write this again as a way to deal with my grief. i have included a lot of anecdotes about her in this, so im sorry if you’re trying to picture your dog or a past one and some events done line up. i tried my best to keep the descriptions of the dog pretty general, the only big thing i think is that they would have a tail. anyway it’s 4am and i’m crying now so i’m gonna be on my way. i hope you enjoy <3

i won’t be doing my taglist for this one, hope you can understand <3 if you would like to join the taglist for less emotional fics you can here

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"They're not gonna let us in."

"Will you sto- they're gonna let us in." He chuckled, glancing at you quickly with a smile."Stop worrying. Remember what I told you? Your only job this week is relaxation and snuggles."

You sigh, opting to look out of the window instead of responding.

Eddie notices, but he also knows you're still listening. "Which conveniently go hand in hand don't they sweetheart." He says, upping the baby talk as he stretches his arm behind the drivers seat to scratch your dogs chin, marvelling at how quickly they leaned into his touch, groaning in joy.

"See!" He said, laughing. "I'm their favorite."

It's the same thing he said when he installed the makeshift doggy car-seat Wayne had made you months ago. When Eddie first suggested taking your dog with the two of you on drives, he started drawing up the plans immediately.

"That dog is the darn cutest thing I've seen since you were in diapers." Wayne said, pointing to his nephew. "And I don't trust your cowboy driving."

Two weeks later when he picked you and your dog up for your first big drive, you were immediately taken by surprise that he put the seat on his side.

"You traitor!" You said, pointing towards the seat Eddie was now fastening your beloved dog to, away from you.

Eddie gasped in faux shock, looking at your dog with wide eyes. "Can you believe they called me that?" He said to your dog, who responded to him only with a wagging tail and a lick on the chin.

"See!" He said, clapping his hands once your dog was settled in. "I'm their favorite. So I get to be closer to them. You get a nice view, so don't complain." He said, winking at you as he swung into the drivers seat.

You had done a lot of trips since then, but this was the first one later at night. It wasn't too bad, springtime means the sun is slowly setting a bit later. You can't help but be enamoured when you turn to look at your dog, the way the sunset sits behind them makes look like a painting.

Eddie seems to have noticed, because he's reaching on the dashboard and passing you his prized film camera. "If you don't get a photo of them right now I'm never talking to you again."

You laugh, snapping a photo that you would later discover is your favorite one you've ever taken of your dog... and a few more for good measure.

"We're here!" Eddie says,  pulling into the Hawkins Drive In. He parks just outside of the concession stand. "Do you want anything."

"Popcorn and a coke please." You say, pulling out your wallet to give him money, but you know it's no use when swats it out of your hand.

Instead of mentioning it though, he turns around to the back of the seat to face your dog. "And some nuggets for you bud?"

As if they can somehow hear him, your dog yaps in response. Eddie nods, "Thought so."

"Eddie..." You start, nuggets were salty and salt is not good for your dog.

Eddie cuts you off though, "I'll ask for no salt, they'll probably like it better that way anyway. And hey, you said it didn't matter what they ate anymore."

It's not Eddie's fault, but you feel as though you've been struck. He was right, that was what you had said, but for a shining moment, you had forgotten the constant countdown ticking over your dogs head. Displaying a number you had no way of reading exactly what it said.

It doesn't take more than a second for eddie to realise what he's said. "Hey- no. I'm sorry I didn't mean to bring that up. Here, let's take them in and they can pick out something." He said, running around to your side of the door and opening it for you- ever the gentleman.

He helps you out of the car and the two of you take your dog out of the back of the van, heading into the concession bay.

Immediately you- or your dog- is greeted by a young girl running up to pay them. Her mother quickly scolding her for going up to a strangers dog. Less than a minute later, the girl carefully walks up to you, almost stubbornly.

"Can I pet your doggy?" She asks, her hand twitching as she clearly fights the urge to give your dog a big hug.

You nod your head, "You definitely can, thank you for asking." You say, looking up to the girls mother and winking at her, getting a mouthed 'thank you' in response.

And you have to say, if there is a heaven, it's going to have a tough time beating the joy your dog gets when a new person gives them cuddles. You and Eddie both swear that your dog is convinced that everywhere you go, everyone is there to see your dog specifically.

"It's the pet tax." Eddie said a few months ago when your dog barked out your front window at unsuspecting people walking by for the third time that afternoon. "The people walking past have to pay a pet tax to the top dog."

You both agree that it's better for it not to be an official tax, as your dog would not appreciate having to stop at every house with a dog so that you could pet a random dog. Absolutely not.

Eventually, the little girl's mother got her food, and told her they had to go. The girl frowned, but said bye to your dog, whispering a 'i'll save some popcorn for you.' before running off to join her mother.

In the meantime, Eddie had ordered your food, two large popcorns- of course, a coke and a pepsi- something the two of you could never agree on, and two servings of nuggets, no salt.

"You're funny." You say, opening the door for him as he tries to balance the abundance of food and drinks.

"I am- hey could you-?" He started, but you've already grabbed your drink, noticing it just about to slip from his grip and onto the dirty cement. "Yeah, thanks."

You smile at him. "We're a well oiled machine you and me." He nods in agreement, muttering something about 'you and i' incorrectly when you get back to the van. It’s hard not to chuckle.

It's barely a thirty second drive to the parking spaces for the movie, but both you and Eddie insist on strapping your dog in their seat while you park.

Unfortunately, you have to do it while your dog is giving you the saddest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen. They don't want to be in the doggy-seat, they want to be in the front with you... and the food.

The order of those aren't important.

"I know hun, but it'll just be a minute and then we'll get to cuddle okay?" You say, doing absolutely nothing to stop your dog viewing the car seat they're now in as an obstacle from the food they want.

Eddie parks the van with the back facing the screen, jumping out of the car before pulling the back doors open. You giggle when he shouts at you to wait so that he can once again open your door for you.

"Here you go m'lady!" He says in a bad british accent, pairing it with a theatrical bow.

You take his hand like how you've seen rich people do it in movies. "Why thank you sir!" You gasp, matching his dramatics instantly.

Before you can get too lost in the bit, your dog barks, reminding you that the more you chat, the longer they have to wait for food- cuddles. Cuddles, not food. Not food at all.

You climb into the back of the van, Eddie following close behind you, food in tow. "Here you go buddy, I've got the goods."

"Don't say it like that! You sound like you're giving them weed." You giggle, unclasping the safety belts from around your dog.

Eddie furrows his brows, clearly still appealing to his inner theatre kid with faux confusion, "Wait..." He says, before dramatically laying out the first blanket. "Was I not supposed to?"

You both giggle as you set up the blankets and pillows, and if you hadn't been keeping such a close eye on your dog, you might not have noticed them slowly sneaking towards where the food sits.

"Hey!" Eddie laughs, grabbing the food and moving it to where you're all going to sit among the blankets and pillows.

Once again, your dog gives an oscar winning performance, giving Eddie a look at only a starving puppy could have.

Eddie, ever the softie, gives in.

"Oh alright." He says pulling out a nugget from the box and ripping a chunk from it. "Okay, now sit." Your dog follows, tail wagging so hard it's making a clanging noise against the metal floor.

"Good, now high five." Eddie says, lifting up his right hand, your dog deciding not to leave him hanging by smacking his hand with his paw. "Good job buddy." He says, "Now other paw, can you do other paw?"

Other paw was one of the newer stills your dog learned. To be entirely honest, you have no idea how they learned it. You were just asking for high fives one day, said other paw and it worked. You gave them praise and then the next time they did it again, and then again.

You're half convinced your dog taught you other paw, not the other way around.

It's still about 50/50, if your dog thinks they've done enough, they won't respond to other paw the same they would with other commands. You guess that comes with the whole 'they trained you' theory you had.

That odd also jumps wayy down whenever you try to show off  'other paw' to someone who hasn't seen it before. Your dog loves you and enjoys your games, but they're also a pet and they love embarrassing you and proving you wrong.

Today, the odds were on your side, with your dog doing a perfect example of the 'other paw' to Eddie, who for weeks of failed attempts of showing him, thought you were lying about.

"See! I told you!" You cheered, grabbing a bigger chunk off of the nugget in Eddie's hand and giving it to your dog. "Good doggy! What a good doggy!"

Eddie laughs, "I'll be damned." He says, throwing his piece of the nugget into the air for your dog to catch, they do so, ready for more.

You both give them the rest of the nugget before settling in for the movie, you figured you'd try to spread the nuggets out, so your dog could enjoy them the whole time.

Your dog seemed to get the message, crawling inbetween you and Eddie. Or- actually, pushing the two of you apart so they could be sandwiched in the middle. Their favorite spot.

As the previews come to an end, you turn to Eddie "Thank you for doing this with me." You say, scratching your dog behind their ear.

"No thank yous necessary sweetheart, I'm glad you're both having a good time." He replies, a soft smile adorning his face.

You all relax into each other just as the beginning of your dogs favorite film; 101 Dalmatians, starts to play on the big screen.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #hurt/comfort #tw death

[starfxags]

Keegan P Russ fluff

Warning- hair pulling, size kink, minor injuries, thigh grabbing, tongue kink, vaginal sex, oral sex, degrading language, spanking/slapping

Keegan comes home after a while with cuts and bruises on his face. Still wearing his mask. you turn around and notice him. You get up from doing you nails and quickly close the arylic powder and put it back on the shelf. You run over to the font door and hug him “OH MY GOD YOUR HOME!!!!” You scream but pause when you notice his face “Holy shit, you look like you got beat up what happened??? And why are you still wearing your mask”

Keegan looks at the floor and takes a deep breath “im fine, and you know i dont like taking my mask off.”

“Sit down I need to clean you up.” You run up to him and rush him to the chair on the other side of your nail desk. You frantically clean up the mess you made while doing your nails and grab the cotton balls. Not paying attention you grab the acetone bottle and lift the lid off and wet the cotton ball. You rush to clean the cuts. You gently place the cotton ball on his face.

“Ah, fuck what is that?” He hisses. You look at the table and see the acetone open.

“Oh shit, im so sorry” you throw the cotton ball away and grab a new one. You put alcohol on it and clean his cuts. His eyes linger he stop when they get to yours. He moves your hand away from his face

“Okay, okay thats enough y/n” you cant help but stare into his beautiful blue eyes. They are so mesmerizing. He stands up and strokes your face “fuck your cute” he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. He puts you down on the bed and leans over. He lifts up his mask a little and kisses you. His split tongue hugs yours. He puts his hand under your head. He takes off your navy blue tank top and tosses it on the floor “you ready?”

“Well your not gonna hear me say no anytime soon tonight” you chuckle

“Good.” He says in his usual seductive voice. He unbuttons your jeans and pulls them off. He puts his hands under your waist and slowly moves them up. He undoes your laced black bra. As he moves his hands down your waist he pauses and puts his head on your chest “fuck” he grunts and whimpers.

“Are you okay Keegan?” You ask concerned

“Mhm, yeah” his voice is so hot, you get turned on instantly. He whimpers again and rubs his crotch into your sopping wet pussy. You feel how hard he is. You then take off your matching laced black thong. You scoot up to the edge of the bed and unzip his pants. You look up at him as you pull his pants down a bit. You start to tease him by stroking his bulge.

“You like that Keegan?” He looks down at you and puts his hand ontop of your head. He moves his hand down your face and under your chin. He lifts your head up a little more making sure you dont break eye contact with him. At this point your practically using the bed to edge yourself. He just got home about 15 minutes ago and you guys are already about to fuck.

“You cant tease me like this, you know i can loose control baby. Fuck you know exactly what to do with me. I know your not a slut your getting fucked like one tonight with the way your teasing me. But damn who taught you how to do this huh?” Keegan loves how you tease him and you love how he fucks you.

“Y’know i’ve been waiting months for you to come home. I’ve barley masterbated since you were gone. All i did was wait for you and your dick. So tonight better not be just one round. I need you inside me so bad.” You moan

“Mm, yea what did you do to yourself while i was gone? Keegan asks waiting for you to answer. He stared you down with those needy eyes. He desperately pulls out his thick veiny long cock.

“Im not telling” you said teasingly before leaning down and licking his tip while making eye contact with him. He slips his hand into your hair and shoves his hard cock into your mouth.

“You dont wanna tell me huh? Is this how it is? Because your mine so if i find out you jerked off to another man hes dead and your pussy is gonna be too.” He says jealously. “You—(grunt)-are-(grunt)-mine” he grips your hair and shoves his cock into your mouth one last time before shooting his cum down your throat. “Now swallow.” He says demandingly. You are on the right on the edge of cumming all over your red silk comforter. You swallow and open with your tongue hanging out of your mouth to show you obeyed his orders. “Good girl.” He turns you over and puts his hand along with some pressure on your upper back forcing you to create an arch. He puts his fingers in his mouth coating them in saliva before rubbing your almost dripping wet slit.

“Fuck, please-mmh Keegan” you whimper. You move your head to look at him. With a grin spread across his face he makes eye contact with you before slaping the inside of your thighs. He leans down and spits on your already wet pussy before sticking two fingers inside you. As he slamed his fingers into you as you moaned and gripped the comforter. You came after a good minute and decided to surprise him by being on top this time. You pulled him onto the bed and flipped him over before being flipped back over. “You really thought that would work huh” Keegan asked. Before you could respond he pushed you to the bed board and spread your legs open.

“What are you doing Keegan?”

“You’ll see.” He replied before crawling to you on the bed. He lifted you up and pushed you against the bed board. He put his face between your legs and stuck his tongue inside you before splitting his tongue apart and licking down your insides. Every time you moaned and twitched his grip on your thighs got tighter.

“Fuck, Keegan” you moaned before putting a milky white film over his tongue. He then pulled you back to the edge of the bed. Then he slapped your already throbbing pussy he griped your hips and shoved his dick inside of you your tight cubt wrapping around his cock. He pulls your hair back and turns your head to the side so he can look at your face.

“Can you take it all y/n?” He grunted still slamming into you

“Mhm” you whimpered

“Are you gonna—(grunt)-tell me what you did to yourself while i was gone—(grunt)-now?”

“Why should I” you asked jokingly knowing you were gonna tell him anyways. You could tell he was a little a little frustrated by the sound of his more frequent grunts He grunted still slamming himself into you. “Fuckk” you moaned loudly as you came again. He pulled out and laid down next to you “i’ll tell you tomorrow.”

#smut #keegan p russ #cod

[wooblrb]

the law of being friends with a male: chapter 11 ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

genre,, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn ?? 

pairing: junghoon x fem!reader 

warnings: a lil bit of violence

masterlist 𓇢𓆸

taglist ^-^: @dogyunslover @fordohyon

a/n:hello!! ^-^ i feel like this chapter is all over da place ... idk lmk what yall think! this was very rushed (ᵕ—ᴗ—) ALSO on chapter 10 i added a lil more at the end writing in the end so if you wann go read that real quick go ahead LOL its not that important ( ≧ᗜ≦)

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

authors pov 

“no.. because bo-eun keeps lying to me. im sure that she has been trying to go to junghoon’s house without telling me! i tried to ask him about it.. but he kept denying…” bora complained to jinsik and she made an annoyed face. 

jinsik nodded, listening to her rants. 

“ugh its so frustrating! he just kept talking about taking pictures with y/n! then he said he heard something strange and walked away right before i started fighting him. i hate when he acts like that..” she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. 

“ALSO WHY IS HE THE ONE TAKING PICTURES WITH Y/N?! I ALSO WANT TO TAKE A PICTURE WITH HER!!”she shouted with her fists up.  

“hm thats interesting..” jinsik utters, tilting his head a bit. 

“what?” 

“junghoon isn’t normally like that that.. but lately he has been playing a bunch of pranks on you..i wonder what the reason is..” he says with a thinking face. 

“…hes just gotten more annoying so i font even wanna know about that.(  •̀ - •́  )” bora grumbles.  

jinsik giggles. 

“JINSIK!!!!” jiwoon shouts as she runs full speed up to him and bora. 

“huh? jiwoon, what’s wrong? what are you running?” jinsik asks worriedly. 

“h-help! y/n and kim junghoon.. are about to fight!!” she pants out. 

“what!? where?!” 

they follow jiwoon quickly to the classroom. as they enter they see junghoon and y/n next to each other, and junghoon looks at y/n with dark eyes. 

just then, bora comes running at junghoon and tackles him to the floor. 

“ARE YOU CRAZY!?!! DON’T MESS WITH Y/N!!!” she yells at him. 

“w-what happened!? why did you tackle him?!” y/n say, startled. 

“you were about to fight weren’t you?!” jiwoon asks while hugging y/n.  

“me and junghoon!? we weren’t going to fight!” 

… 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

y/ns pov 

“ahh.. you guys were just talking?” jiwoon says, slightly embarrassed. 

i nod quickly. 

“yes! we were just talking! nothing more!’’ i reassure them with a smile. 

they look dumbfounded. 

“y/n its sorry for startling you..i was just really surprised when jiwoon told us that..” bora comes up to me and holds my hands. 

“and you! have you woken up yet? you should be more careful around y/n too!” she shouts at junghoon who gets up confused.  

‘i feel like they both of them were pretending that they didn’t see me before snd they actually saw me from the beginning..’ 

i keep wondering why doesn’t he care about what happened earlier.  

10 minutes before 

“a-about that… i really didn’t mean to eavesdrop on purpose! i was gonna go up to you but i got flustered when i saw you with someone else and hid, im sorry!!” i say quickly with my eyes shut. 

“you were going to come up to me?” he asked. 

“y-yes. here.. i bought these for you.. thank you for the pictures..” i push the bag of milk tea up to him. 

“oh.” 

“i really didn’t hear any of your conversation. seriously! i still apologize for hiding there anyway…”i apologize again. 

“you dont have to apologize, i dont mind if you heard.” he plainly says while looking inside the bag. 

“i just want to ask you why you left so suddenly. thanks for the drinks.’’ 

“huh? really then, you are not mad?” i tilt my head. 

“not at all. but im still curious about something.” 

‘’what is it…” 

‘is he going to question about what i overheard?! or could it be about the photos? maybe about bo-eun??’ 

“you told me the reason why you hid, but.. why did you run away? if you were going to meet me then you should’ve stayed to give me this.” he leans on desk that i'm leaning on.  

“oh um.. thats because of your expression.. i dont know it just surprised me..” i answer his questions, looking away.  

“my expression?” 

“yes.. when you were smiling..” i look down. 

… 

“you saw me smile?” he asks while looking at me. 

i nod and look back at him. 

“you saw me smiling…” he repeats while tapping his arm with his opposite finger.  

(｡ · v ·｡) ? 

he turns to me and leans scoots closer to me. 

“did..i look scary, y/n?” he asks softly while putting his and on the table behind me and comes a bit closer to me. 

(o/////o " ) 

‘did he just..blush a bit-‘ 

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!! DONT MESS WITH Y/N!!!” bora tackles junghoon on the floor. 

end of flash back 

‘why did that moment.. make my heart flutter? he leaned in so close.. it surprised me.’ 

i thought me and junghoon weren’t that close, but he smiled at me! he keeps acting like bora and him aren’t close, but i definatly know they are.  

‘i wonder if hes up to something… ill figure you out kim junghoon’ 

i glare at his back while he walks in front of me.  

(≖_≖)

he turns back and i immediately change my face to a smile. 

(..◜ᴗ◝..) 

“ham jinsik. come with me.” he calls out to jinsik who is walking next to me. 

they walk some where else, leaving first. 

‘ahh i feel so shy with him now.. i can’t even look at him..this is so hard.’ 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

“what did you want talk about junghoon? jinsik asks. 

“jinsik. look.” 

(pretend this is junghoon (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

(｡ · v ·｡) ? 

“how was it?” junghoon asks. 

“how was what..” jinsik replies, holding back a laugh. 

“you didn’t see?? here ill do it again.” he does the “smile” again. 

“hmm” jinsik giggles a bit. 

“does it look scary?” junghoon questions. 

“uh try again! i think if you do it again ill figure it out..”  

junghoon does the smile once again with makes jinsik laugh out loud. 

“why are you laughing.” 

“haha~ that was funny! but why did you randomly ask about your smile?” jinsik wipes his tears from laughing. 

junghoon thinks about the moment he had with wy/n earlier, and about what she said about his smile. 

“i just thought that maybe my smile was scary.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

#junghoon x reader #junghoon xikers #kpop #xikers fanfic #xikers fluff #xikers imagines #xikers reactions #xikers #xikers x reader #jinsik xikers #jinsik x reader #jinsik

[laladellakang]

OMGG i'm so honored that you will let me see the draft of you futur post if I want to and OFC i want to you're like one of my fav author/writer on tumblr so why i would not want to see one of your draft ?! Like really i'm currently so shocked 🥹🥹 i love youuuuu ( and Lala too ofc my girl ) 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

OKAY SO HERE IT IS, MAJORRR FIC SPOILER AND ITS SO SO BAD IM SO NOT PROUD OF IT. IT MAKES NOOOO SENSE (i mean it does but doesnt at the same time) but it was your birthday yesterday and i really wanted to give you a gift. please look forward to the revised and BETTER ver of this soon! 🤍

contains: angst. mentions of cheating (mainly jay)

The world is fucking different. 

Something is off, and I can sense it. Everything just feels strange.

Today, I went to campus for a lecture and ended up accidentally falling asleep in class. No big deal, right? It's not like it hasn't happened before.

The big deal was how odd everything was when I left the room.

I was supposed to be picked up by the car and taken home, but after waiting for ten minutes, there was no sign of it. 

I tried calling our driver, but the call got disconnected. I attempted to reach out to Sungho and Yunji, but their calls were disconnected too. I even tried calling every manager contact on my phone, but nothing worked. Plus it's not like I don't have any signal, it just wouldn't connect for some reason. Something about the numbers not existing.

I decided to take a taxi, hoping it wouldn't cause any trouble. But even the ride home felt odd. Seoul looked... different.

I texted the boys that I was on my way with a taxi and that I feel a bit off. I didn't get a reply or a single read, not even from Jungwon.

But it's whatever! I just wanna get home and cuddle with whoever's free.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the dorm using the combination.

My heart sank as soon as I stepped in.

Female shoes. Ones that are definitely not mine.

Nausea overcame me, and my breathing became heavy as tears welled up.

No. Della, don't. You trust them. She could be anyone. No one is cheating on you.

What if it's a sasaeng? Is someone breaking into our– no. Most, if not all, of the boys should be home. They would have done something if someone had broken in.

It can't be a relative either, as we would have informed the group beforehand.

Then who is she?

"I'm home," I managed to say in a normal voice, trying to hold back the tears.

I heard panicked shuffling and quickly wiped away stray tears before they could see me.

You're strong, Kang Della. Don't show any weakness or insecurity to whoever this person is.

And there she was, someone I had never met or seen before.

She had made herself at home, wearing loungewear and her hair styled in a messy up-do.

Her eyes were wide, mirroring my previous vulnerability, and her breathing was heavy.

And she was stunning. Her freshly-dyed blonde hair contrasted with my midnight black one. She was tall (though not as tall as me, judging by how high she reached the shoe rack), with a small face, big eyes, and plump lips.

Honestly, she reminded me of myself, but in a different font or something. I don't think she's Korean.

"Who are you, and how did you find out where we live?" she asked me fearfully. "How did you know the passcode?"

Wow.

Just wow.

I know that in situations like this (or at least what it's looking like), the blame should mainly fall on the cheater rather than the person they cheated with.

But she just referred to my home as hers. Ain't no fucking way.

"Where YOU live?" I scoffed, licking the inside of my cheek. "I'm sorry– who are you, and why are YOU here?"

That's when I noticed she was wearing my favorite Jay-shirt. It felt like my heart was being crushed, and I could feel the symptoms of a panic attack creeping up.

My sweet Jay. Earlier today, he woke me up and told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. How lucky he felt to have me. His eyes showed sincerity. Was it all a lie? How can someone so lovely be so cruel?

"I live here. Who are you, and how did you know the passcode?" she responded, a bit more sternly. What the hell?

"This is Enhypen's dorm. I live here," I said, surprised that she didn't recognize me, even though she's dating a member of my group.

Shit. That stings. Park Jongseong fucking cheated on me.

Confusion crossed her face, and she was about to say something when we were interrupted by more shuffling.

We both turned and saw an angry Heeseung.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" he said sternly, pulling her behind him to protect her.

Heeseung too? My protective Heeseung who got angry at the other members if they left me unsupervised after my injury.

Now he's protecting her instead of me?

My heart started pounding, and it became harder to breathe.

"Heeseung-oppa?" I said in a small voice, feeling incredibly betrayed.

"Who are you?! Get out of our house before we call the police!" he raised his voice at me. The boys had never spoken to me like that before, especially not in such a harsh tone.

"I live here! Lee Heeseung, what are you saying?!" my voice shook as a few tears escaped.

More commotion followed, and this time all seven members appeared. Even Jake, who I could see peeking from the side of the wall.

Is he... afraid of me?

My Jake who was scared of the girls in I-Land but became so comfortable with me that his golden retriever personality came out. Now he barely wants to see me?

"You don't live here. Who are you?" Jungwon stepped forward. My Jungwon. Enhypen's leader who is ready to protect everyone despite being maknae.

But why isn't he protecting me?

"I—" the sight of all my boyfriends turning against me and defending this girl became too much. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate, and a panic attack was on the verge of consuming me.

Shit. I haven't had a panic attack in so long and the fact that my lovers are the ones to trigger it is insane. Everything was perfect just this morning– what happened?

"Breathe. Take your time," Oh my Sunghoon. So incredibly precious. Always reassuring and giving me reminders since day one.

"Sunghoon," Heeseung scolded.

"She's going to have a panic attack! How can she explain anything?" Sunghoon reasoned. "Niki, get her some water."

"No, Niki. She should leave. Now," Sunoo said firmly. "I'm calling the police." My Sunoo, our sunshine. We've had our squabbles, but I've never been this scared of him. Now I understand what people mean when they say he has an intimidating face.

"Wait, wait. What's your name?" Riki asked. "Calm down a bit. Tell us how you got in," he approached me and gently rubbed my shoulder. I tend to forget that he's still so young since he hates when I remind him of our slight age gap. My Riki is too pure sometimes. He's doing this when I'm a stranger to them. 

Wait.

It suddenly hit me.

Shit, why didn't my brain work faster?

I'm a stranger to them. They don't know who I am.

It breaks my heart but I should at least introduce myself so that they know I'm not a threat.

I TOLD YOU THE WORLD IS FUCKING DIFFERENT.

"Jay-hyung, call the police," Riki switched languages, probably to ensure that I don't understand.

"Wait! Don't call!" my eyes widened, instinctively grabbing Riki's wrist. "I'm not a crazy fan, I swear!"

"Let go of him," everyone said in unison.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hold him. It was a reflex," I let go and took a deep breath. "My name is Kang Della. I'm a member of Enhypen."

"I'm sorry, what?" Sunoo scoffed. "We only have two female members in our team."

Two?

"What the fuck is happening with the world?" I couldn't help but chuckle humorlessly. "Have I gone insane?"

"Answer us– what do you mean you're a member of Enhypen?" Jungwon asked.

"Did I do that thing from Everything, Everywhere, All at Once?" I leaned against the wall, clutching my aching head. "Just give me a second."

I have officially gone insane.

Even if I did 'multiverse hopped' or whatever you call it, I have officially gone insane. My head fucking hurts.

"Can you please answer us?" Jake asked in a softer voice.

"My name is Kang Della. I was born on March 16, 2003. I'm from Seongbuk-gu, and in 2020, I participated in a survival show called I-Land," I looked up at their faces, hoping to see some recognition. Some looked in disbelief, while others seemed slightly annoyed.

"I made it into the final lineup of Enhypen. Seven boys, two girls. It was you seven plus me and Alice, but Alice left shortly after, so I was the only girl," my eyes welled up with tears at the thought of them not remembering me after everything we went through. "I live here. This dorm has been my home for almost three years. I was attending a class in university, and suddenly I came home to... to this."

"You expect us to–" Heeseung was about to say something when she cut him off. She moved closer to me, looking me in the eye. "Mila–"

"Do you have any proof?" she asked softly.

I maintained eye contact as I pulled out my phone. I let out a shaky breath when I looked at the screen for my Face ID.

The lock screen displayed a picture of us, my Enha.

I opened the gallery app, and a few tears escaped my eyes. I flinched slightly when Mila's hand reached out to wipe them away.

"Take your time," she assured me. Damn, she's sweet too. She seems perfect.

"Thank you," I whispered. My thumb hovered over the photo album labeled 'my forever.' I know I'm being dramatic but all I kept thinking was 'will I ever return to my world again?' "Here you go," I handed her my phone.

I watched as she scrolled through the pictures, but quickly adverted my gaze to the floor. I really wanna go home. I'm surrounded by my comfort people but they're not my comfort people.

"Guys.. These are actually you..." Mila turned around to show the seven. "And it's not even a look alike, it's definitely you. This is the company building," Jay took the phone out of her hands to have a closer look.

I saw him tap on a certain video and Shout Out started playing. That's when I couldn't take it anymore. Again.

I broke down. A full on panic attack.

"Oh my God," Mila wrapped her arms around me. "Let's get you inside. Niki, get her water."

Hearing Shout Out made me think of four things at the same time;

1. How the hell am I gonna go home and how long will it take.

2. I'm all alone in this world/universe/whatever this is.

3. I'm surrounded by people who look and are practically my soulmates, but they're not mine.

4. I guess we're not together in every universe after all. I know it's probably impossible and that the guys were just reassuring me for the sake of it, yet it still stings. This is a reality check.

#clc - ldk asks #clc - ldk spoilers

[butchhatred]

Gasters voice theory moment i guess

Okay so about entry number seventeen. I think we can all assume that thats gaster who is speaking in the entry because the gaster followers refer to gaster as w.d. gaster and the guy from entry 17 speaks in wingdings which has w d as its initials (and for other reasons as well but ill state that later)

So if it is really gaster speaking in entry 17, what can we conclude from his voice? Well, for once, from his soundbyte we can conclude that he has a pretty high voice.

Second, instead of his soundbyte being overlaid quickly into a single long speech like every other character's, you can make out individual sounds as if he speaks slowly and clearly. This is also supported by the way that his speech is also slower visually:

While were on the topic of his slow speech. Look how he stops before the word seventeen and puts the word in a different paragraph. I think he leaves gaps between his words, contributing to the slowness. (Also notice how he says "seventeen" like the word not with numbers)

Third, look at how his speech is all uppercase. This could easily mean that he speaks loudly but i think it can also mean that he's speaking clearly.

Fourth, his text is shaky, i think this could mean his voice is also shaky (which might explain the slowness)

And LASTLY i think the guy who tells you to make a vessel in the beginning of deltarune is also gaster because 1 he also speaks slowly in all uppercase and leaves words in paragraphs, and 2 the song playing under the vessel making is called in the files as "another him", and gaster's theme in the files of undertale is called "him" as well so. Gaster again

Why did i talk about this in that last paragraph?? BECAUSE he can speak both wingdings AND the determination font! (whatever its called) and considering that wingdings isnt a font people can read with ease, im pretty sure he was using wingdings in entry 17 so that others cannot understand what hes saying like hes hiding something. Or similar

Idk tldr wd gaster from undertale has a loud and clear high voice he speaks slowly and speaks multiple languages who wouldnt want a man like him its past midnight ive been awake since 6am and i made this instead of sleeping so this might not make sans sorry do with this theory whatever you want

Edit: HOW COULD I FORGET!!!!! notice how he also repeats words! "dark, darker, yet darker" and "very, very, interesting". ALSOO theres a file in undertales files called abc 123 a ogg that has multiple voices telling you not to spoil the game, i think based on gasters soundbyte that first voice may be gasters

Edit 2: he also doesnt use punctuations in entry 17, but in the create the vessel thing he does.

#txt #undertale #deltarune #theory #analysis #wd gaster #gaster #wing dings gaster #idk #utdr #utdr theory #long post #please dont let this flop

[creativebrainrot]

help i cant sort the formatting in this ask JDSGHJ the numbers are messed up

What was their first impression of each other?

Who said “I love you” first?

Who’s the better cook? gwyn and trahearne

If they get married, who proposes?

What are their favorite things to do together? rhosyn and faeryl

(@commander-winterberry)

sjdfghfdghg i hate using that font format on mobile it SUCKS im so sorry

Maelgwyn & Trahearne

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

2. What was their first impression of each other?

I like to think that Trahearne, despite being an adult with soulcrushing responsibilities, currently leading an attack on the human god of war with an elder dragon on the pact's heels, still kind of had that young love crush. Faintly in the back of his mind, since Maelgwyn was only his second fully committed relationship. For the most part, he was skeptical about The Beast's reputation. Found him to be an intimidating presence at first. And of course he was curious about Gwyn because he looked so much like the nightmare court in his colors, so much like the mordrem in his stature and yet, he's just a sylvari. Exactly like the pale tree's children.

Maelgwyn had several immediate thoughts. He'd never seen another Sylvari before so hope blazed bright in his heart that maybe, just maybe, he's not the only one. He was so afraid of being hurt again that he muted that hope very quickly. Gwyn personally thought that Trahearne seemed a little unfit for leading The Pact (because of the slight nervousness that only cropped up around Gwyn.) Overall he seemed capable. Maelgwyn thought he was cute, and genuinely wanted to get to know him. before realizing thats what TheFeelings are, proceeding to attempt to mute them, but happening to be around where He might be is totally normal n regular, this is not me wanting to talk to him prommy.

both found the other attractive and neither knew how to, or even wanted to deal with that for awhile.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Trahearne was the first to say verbatim the words "I love you." On one of the few quiet, peaceful early mornings they were able to share during The Pact's campaign against Balthazar. He still cherishes that memory.

If you count more physical gestures as a way to say "I love you," then Gwyn said it first. He took Trahearne out one night to his favorite secret oasis, a place he often snuck out to for peace of mind. He never showed anyone else that place, except for Jasmeen. That was the first time after Jasmeen left that he'd been vulnerable with someone, bared his heart to someone.

DOMESTIC LIFE

10. Who’s the better cook?

Maelgwyn! He genuinely enjoys cooking quite a lot. He tends to be the one that makes meals for the both of them. He's made a habit of bringing Trahearne packaged lunches ever since he first used it as a way to sincerely apologize after a "fight" they had. (It was more of a miscommunication fuckup on gwyn's part than a genuine fight between them. Regardless, it hurt Trahearne and Gwyn still regrets it.)

Rhosyn & Faeryl

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Rhosyn most likely. She'd probably make a big deal out of it too, planning the entire night and date that leads up to it out. Even down to the smallest details. Faeryl would think her nervousness along with all the care that went into it was so so sweet & SO cute of her.

LOVE

7. What are their favorite things to do together?

Rhosyn likes to help Faeryl with her magic practice. Letting her practice her illusions on them. Sometimes helping with enchantments via bringing a bunch of clothing & jewelry back from their adventures for her.

Faeryl likes to watch Rhosyn's sparring matches. (hehehhe) She spars with them sometimes, it helps both of them to learn how to fight better.

Something they both enjoy is relaxing walks, soaking in the nearby oasis together. Generally just Being Together.

#tyvm as always for the ask avae <3 #ocposting #thewordboxresponse #trahearne #oc: maelgwyn (he/any) #oc: rhosyn (they/she) #oc: faeryl (she/her) #gw2 ocs

[savannahsdeath]

savannaaaahh!! i LOOOVE your writing!! and i think everyone knows ellie is a totally boob girl, soo, i was wondering if you can write something about reader using a shirt that shows she wasn’t using a bra, and ellie being a total loser about it (ellie's silly and clumsy way and how she would be %&:^*{€¥)

anoooonnn !!! i LOVE you!! thank you ml and awhazjxjd you r so right im so obsessed with silly clumsy ellie . also sorry this is just short hcs but i like making hcs lately so...... also 18+!! suggestive and mentions of ellie wanting to .. you know guys

ellie who immediately notices your lack of bra. not that she looks beyond the neckline of your shirt everytime you meet but— well, she does. her mouth hangs open and her tongue uncontrollably shifts all the time, licking her lips which are magically getting dry every second and it's totally not because of your a little see-through shirt.

ellie whose eyes drift down and she really, really tries to look away everytime she catches herself doing it again. but it takes too much of self control, so she steals a glance every four seconds.

ellie who, whenever she notices that you look away, disgustingly stares at your boobs. she doesn't even try to hide it and she totally forgets that she should listen to you, out of good manners at least.

ellie who just can't pay attention to your words when she's busy imagining how you'd look while she's pounding her strap into you, and that's when you look back at her, catching her red handed. you click your tongue, waiting for her to answer your question, but her lack of response doesn't surprise you. "ellie, i'm here." you pointed at your face before straightening up your shirt, what made the outlines of your boobs only more visible.

ellie who gets so embarrased, because she realizes what she's been thinking of the entire time, and she came to a conclusion that it's not what friends think about each other. "yeah, i know. i wasn't—" she looked at a text printed on your shirt in a little, blue font, on the left corner, right above your chest. she pointed at it with her chin, knowing her fingers are too shaky to use. "i was just reading this."

ellie who stays silent when you cover the text with your hand and ask her what's it about. "dementia at such a young age?" you taunted, but quickly let it go. "c'mon ellie, i really don't mind. just don't lie to me next time." you patted her shoulder and walked past her, holding back a laugh at her nervous and stunned behavior.

ellie who mutters a "shit— 's stupid. so, so stupid" and has to take a deep breath before catching up with you.

✧˖°

#reqs open #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams headcanons #ellie headcanons #ellie hcs #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams x reader headcanons #ellie x reader headcanons #ellie williams x reader hcs #ellie x reader hcs #ellie williams drabble #wlw #lesbian #wlw post

[brucebannerlovebot]

Thank you @caraldanvars for providing me with this wonderful meme template!!

#bruce banner #bruce💜 #bruce banner appreciation #my post #laila makes memes #thor #thor odinson #im sorry about the font i made this quickly

[doodler-jpeg]

Ring Pop Proposal [BadBoyHalo]

UM UH HI HELLO ARE THOSE CANDY RINGS CALLED RING POPS OR AM I BAD AT REMEMBERING BUT I WOULD LIKE SONEONE TO PROPOSE TO ME WITH THIS ONE DAY EVEN IF ITS JUST IN A PLATONIC WAY

THIS IS JUST A CRACKFIC I GUESS SO TAKE THE FUNNY.

VALENTINE’S DAY TRANSLATES TO THE DAY OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP IN SPANISH SO HAH TAKE THAT, LONELY BITCHES. I LOVE YOU ALL PLATONICALLY >:] MWAH HAVE A KITH 

THIS REALLY FELL OUT OF WACK AT THE END. IT WAS LITERALLY JJST TO DO SOMETHING FOR VALENTINES DAY. UH, YEAH. INKNOW ITS THE TWELFTH BUT IM TOO LAZY.

⚠️CUSSING, RAGE OUTBURST⚠️

Pronouns: they/them

You hummed as you finished building your base on the SMP. Placing the last block, you grinned and walked off of the roof, placing a bucket of water down to block you from damage.

“Okay, chat. I think that’s where the house building stream ends. We’re gonna look for some netherite in the next stream. So, uh, bye!” You quickly decided to raid Bad before you began roaming around the bloodvines that were scattered about the SMP. You leaned back in your chair as you looped your playlist and headed off to your mine to look for some gold.

As your music played in the background, you didn’t notice the creeper sneaking up behind you until it was too late. You jolted back in your chair in surprise as the death message popped up . You inhaled deeply, clenching your fist tightly before you respawned and hurriedly typed a small, polite paragraph to that creeper in the game chat.

<[Y/N]> DEAR CREEPER. FUCK YOU. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU SNEAK UP ON ME IN MY MOMENT OF VULNERABIILITY AND FUCK ME RIGHT IN THE ASS. I DIDNT XONSENT NOR DID I APPROVE OF  SAIS INTERCOURSE, AS I AM MERELY NINETEEN, SO IF YOUD KINDLY GO FUCK YOURSELF WITH A FIRE ASPECT THREE SWEEPING EDGE LOOTING TWO SWORD RHAT WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.

<[Y/N]> MY FUCKING STUFF NONONONONONONONONONNONOONONONONONO WHERE DID I DIE DWHERHWWHEEWHEREHWERE OH MY FUCKING SHIIITITITITITITITITITI TITTTYIED, I WANT TO JMPN ON A CADILAC AND SLAM MY HEAD AGAINST A WINDOW WHAY DID THAT CREEPER HAVE TONCFUCK ME.

<[Y/N]> IM SO SORRY BAD, IM BERY MAD RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I HAD A FEW THINGS I NEEDED ON ME. IM SORRYL ILL SJIPP YOUA RING POP AS A PROPOSAL.

<BadBoyHalo> O_o

<BadBoyHalo> But a ring pop does sound nice OWO

<[Y/N]> WHEN IM FINALLY TWBEYTY INWOULD LIKE TO MARRY YOU LEGALLY. MAYBE SKEPPY TOO BUT RIGHT NOW ITS JUST YOU. I WANT PLATONIC KITH KITH NOW >:[ <BadBoyHalo> as long as I get the ring pop :D

<[Y/N]> ANYTHING FOR YOU YOU BEAUTIGUL MUFFIN NOW I MUST GO BEFORE MY STUFF DESPAWNS. LOVE YOU

You laughed at the interaction. It was canon that your character had a crush on Bad’s to the point of turning to the egg for guidance. What made things bad, however, was that you had to keep that front on every stream or else, you know, you’d loose your clout.

You hurried down to your mine and found where your stuff had dropped, hurriedly picking it up and putting on your armour. Turning around, you were surprised to see Bad’s character and you let out a quiet shriek.

<BadBoyHalo> when are you gonna gimme the ring pop. Rat wants one.

<[Y/N]> I LIVE IN FUCKING WASHINGTON, I FONT KNOW HIW LONGN ITLL TAKE, BUT ILL DRIVE OVER JUST TO SE EYOU 

<[Y/N]> ILL GIVE TOU AS MANY RING POPS AS YOU WANT BB :]

<[Y/N]> this is all canon btw, I’m going to give you a ring pop as a marriage gift and you’ve already accepted. There’s no taking it back.

<BadBoyHalo> .-. But

<BadBoyHalo> youre nineteen.

<[Y/N]> IM IN MY TWENTIES IN THE LORE DONT WORRY. I MAY HAVE BEEN FORCED TO BE TUBBOS PARENT BUT ILL RISK EVERYTHING TO BE A HOT PILF

<[Y/N]> PILF = PARENT ID LIKE TO FUCK

<[Y/N]> Debby Ryan smirk.

<[Y/N]> ;]

<[Y/N]> wait you never said language to me

<[Y/N]> OvO

<[Y/N]> I’m blushing irl hold on.

<[Y/N]> I’m gonna order those ring pops just for you bb. Where do you live. Dm me. Not in game though because you’re still streaming but in discord.

You stretched in your chair as you waited for a response, laughing to yourself as you went to order the ring pops. Bad dmed you and you typed in the address, typing in your credit card number before you payed.

<[Y/N]> It has been done.

<[Y/N]> good night my new husband. Be prepared to deal with tubbo’s shit. Kith kith

You didn’t get a response from Bad, so you logged out of the server and turned your PC off. You threw yourself onto your bed and wrapped yourself in blankets.

You’re canonically married to BBH now, bitch. Take that, simp. HA. You can’t refuse because you were the one that proposed >:] I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

How he didn’t language you is a secret I’ll never tell though. ;] you know you love me, baby-

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt imagine #badboyhalo #badboyhalo x reader #badboyhalo x you #badboyhalo imagine

[dracosathenaeum]

OBLIVIATE | D.M.  ABANDONED FIC OUTLINE

Hello~

I’ve had this fic for @fuckingdraco ‘s writing challenge outlined for almost a year now. Half of it is a skeleton; i have some scenes which are fully written out and others which are just first drafts and idea dumps. this is quite literally copied and pasted so good luck if you read it.

I never had the heart to completely delete it but never liked it enough to write it; so here is my 2.2k draft fo what would’ve been a series. 

If anyone decides to read it, be warned, it’s a mess. i just didnt want it to die in my notes so it’s having a life here, in my new section of my masterlist ‘fics that never saw the light of day’.

warnings: memory loss, fight scenes, gore, fighting

//

Being in a secret relationships had its ups and downs

You had to sneak around

But that just made the moments you were together so much more meaningful

You couldn’t brag about him to your friends

But the both of you were quite private people anyways, explaining your absences as studying in odd places

No one ever found out

It was just you and draco

The summer of 5th year was hard as he spent all of it in the south of France with his family

But it made coming back in 6th year so much more exciting

your fingers ached to touch him as you walked past his carriage

It was moments like this that you wish you could openly love him

But when your friends started gossiping about how Harry Potter thought he’d become a death eater, you were suddenly glad you weren’t linked to him publicly

That thought itself set a heavy weight of guilt on you

He came back in 6th year and he had changed

His kisses lost their spark

His eyes lost their light

He’d fuck you rough and hard, almost as if forgetting himself. Before making it up to you in the next instance

Slow love making that made you feel like you had just slept with an entirely different person

You followed him

You supposed you shouldn’t have

But he was skipping meals and you couldn’t exactly talk to his friends when they didn’t know you

You couldn’t confide in your friends as they wouldn’t understand

So you had no other choice

You followed him throughout the nights, and every time you would find him slipping into the room of requirement when he should’ve been slipping into bed with you

Once you had gauged what time he usually went and on what days you yourself went, 10 minutes before he was due

You watch as he fiddles around some ancient looking cupboard and you wonder why you’re jealous of a dead tree taking up dracos time

You watch as he sends things through, until finally it works for him

But its not happiness on his face nor relief

It looks like dread

He doesn’t look like he’s accomplished something, no there was no way

You watch as he takes off his tie, throwing it in the pile of robes and jumper

You watch as he rolled up the sleeves to his arms, the arms that had held you up more times than you could count

And you watch as the dark snaking lines of the dark mark are exposed on your lovers skin

His eyes whip round to see yours, instantly widening in fear

It isn’t until you try to walk towards him and he throws his hands up to stop you do you realise the shattered glass littered around you

He flicks his wand and you walk over, standing in front of him trying to figure out why

“How did you hide it from me for so long.”

“Simple charms, I was hoping you wouldn’t have to find out.”

More dialogue where he explains

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

Draco please

“I can’t, I had to take this on my skin because my father fucked up”

“If I, if I stop now, I cant save my mother”

“Draco please, we can find a way around this”

You kiss him

And it feels like you’ve both gone back to before 6th year

When times were simpler

When he loved you and you loved him and that was it

No other interruptions

“Oblivate”

PART 1

“Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Draco Malfoy, we share some classes but we haven’t spoken before.”

“Oh, im sorry, of course. I’m really tired I dont usually forget peoples names I swear. I must’ve been so tired I wandered in, I apologise.”

“It’s okay, the doors over there.” You take that as his polite cue of asking you to leave

He offers a tight smile, one you remember from first year, one you remember seeing across the hall as he’s shut down by Harry Potter

Poor guy must be going through something

“Y/n”

you turn, you dont even hesitate. You dont know what it is but you feel as if you’ve known him all your life

You change and you see a gold ring dangling from a dainty gold chain. You ask your friends if they’ve seen it before

im forgetting so much these days

But you keep it on, it brings you an odd sense of comfort

You keep it tucked beneath your blouse, bringing it to you lips on occasion when youre anxious.

//

He had forgotten about his ring, the very ring you had clasped between your thumb and finger as you worked on your essay. How was he possibly supposed to get it from you

he’s well aware he’s staring but his mind is whirling

He needs that ring

“Draco, isn’t that your ring?”

He should’ve obligated himself, that might’ve been easier

“I’m sure it just looks similar.”

“Draco, we both know that’s the Malfoy famlily crest, I wondered why you stopped wearing it.”

“Wait did she steal it?”

misplaced it

She picked it up

He had to awkwardly walk over to pick it up

“That’s my ring.” You had told him all about how your friends hated him and how you had feigned indifference the entire time

He had to act the part

Youre flustered, eyes flicking between the ring and him, fingers clasping it tighter as if not wanting to let it go

He notices and his heart clenches at the sight

Remembering the night he gave it to you

*flash back*

“I’m so sorry, I must’ve picked it up by accident here.”

“Wait, how do you even know it’s his, prove it Malfoy.”

“My vaults could buy Hogwarts, why would I be stealing gold from a nobody?”

Your cheeks flare up and your friends glare at him but see his side

You struggle to unclasp it, and of course you fucking do because his stupid fucking ass charmed it so only he could take it off

he watches as you struggle with it, turning to a friend to help before you have 6 girls pulling at the very expensive chain on your neck

“For fucks sake youre going to damage it, let me.”

Your breath hitches as his surprisingly warm fingers brush your hair out of the way, fingers working quick to unclasp the necklace, the weight of it leaving your neck and you feel surprisingly empty

“Thank you.”

You watch as he goes, your fingers scratching over your neck, feeling something bubble in your throat

This was pathetic, you were so sad over something that was never yours in the first place

You spend the remainder of the time trying to figure out how you cam to be in possession of it in the first place

//

your name is written in beautiful cursive on a letter that you cannot help but love

You turn it over to see a beautiful wax seal on it, fingers trembling as you break it

The chain is yours.

d.m.

You tilt the envelope over into your hand to feel the familiar weight of the chain in your hand, clasping it around you neck in an instant

You look in the mirror but you dont recognise yourself

Your friends are surprised when you study with them

When you go back to your dorm room at a reasonable time

And you dont have a clue where it is they think you go

But how could you possibly explain to someone what you font remember

The chain is too light around you neck, its just not the same, it feels as if it’s chocking you rather than bringing you comfort

You start digging through your trunk and draws, looking for something to act as a pendant before you finally do.

Hidden at the back of one of your draws you find a little velvet box you dont remember stashing away. But then again, you dont seem to be remembering much these days.

Its a tiny little constellation of stars, charmed to sparkle and you heart wonders why you had never worn it before. It was a simple little charm but once hooked onto the necklace, you look at yourself in the mirror and finally feel as though a little part of you has returned.

PART 2 THE CONSTELLATION IS DRACO

6th and 7th years are a blur

A blur of horror

You dont really understand how life had changed so abruptly

You dont know how you end up fighting in a war at the age of just 18 but here you are

Draco stands with Hogwarts

And then his mother calls

You’ve seen him

Of course you have

You know what he is, know what his parents are

But you also know what he has done to make Hogwarts more bearable for you under the Carrows watch

The small things, diverging attention away from you and your friends

He wasn’t evil and some part of you knew that

You watch as he takes a shuddering breath and starts to walk

You watch as no one stops him

You watch as he loses more of his soul with each step towards mr no-nose

You dont know why you do it

You run

Your friends call your names, teachers joining in

They think youre joining the other side, they think youre fucked in the head, as they had since that incident in 6th year

But no, you were just missing something

you catch up to him pretty quickly, pulling him to a stop

“Ah, another to join my cause. Welcome young lady.”

“You know me. Im missing something but whenever I’m with you, whenever im holding this stupid constellation close to my heart, I feel at ease. Why”

he stares at you incredulously, and why wouldn’t he. Youre in the middle of a battlefield, Harry Potter has just been declared dead and Voldemort is less than a meter away

But you dont feel scared

And you feel stupid for not feeling scared

“It has felt like I dont even know who I am for the past 2 years, what did you do to me?”

You know everyones watching, you can hear the gasps on both sides as they think the worst of him

“I did what was necessary.” That was the first time he had spoken more than 2 words to you since he had gotten his necklace back that day in the library

“Draco, this is no time to be flirting. Come join me, bring her with you if you want.”

He tenses as voldy rests a boney hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the other side, away from you

“If you won’t be joining us, we will use you an example of what will happen if you dont join us.”

You stare at him unfazed, fear was something you had gotten used to

Your fingers grip your wand in hand, running through all the spell harry had taught you in the da but its not enough

You are no match for voldy as he throws an unforgivable at you

You hear screams around you but all you hear is silence, as if the world had finally gone silent

//

Draco watched as the spell hit you directly in the chest. He had spent 2 years living with his actions all for it to have gone to naught in a single second

He watched as the light from his wand hits you

Before rebounding off you as if it hit a shield

There’s a flash of black and his mother is infront of him, wand out from deflecting the spell from bouncing back and hitting him

“Mother?”

“She’s important to you?”

“She gave him one of the fucking family heirlooms, either she’s important to him or he’s an idiot”

His parents were… bickering in the middle of a battle

voldy recollects himself but before he can talk neville speaks up “I have no idea what’s going on but-”

Draco drowns out the noise as he stares at you on the floor, youre covered in dust and in blood but youre alive

He hears screams as harry rolls from hatreds arms, he hears the cries from death eaters but all can see is you

“We’re switching sides now?”

“I mean he’s fairly distracted, he won’t have time to hunt us down, we owe it to our son.”

Fight scene

You remember everything

Fred Weasley teases the both of you, “we have a war to win, you can fuck later.”

He copy his lazy grin, a grin that lights you up, a grin that reminds you what’s left to fight for

You see the spell before he does

Youre in an arms reach of him but Draco cant reach you in time

You push Fred to the floor, putting yourself in the line of fire by default and draco has to watch you get hit all over again

“We need to talk about what exactly it is ive been wearing around my neck this entire time.”

“I think only my mother can answer that.”

[if you made it this far, send me an ask with the word ‘chicken’ and i’ll send you a cursed photo xx]

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #leaving this here to die #officially giving up on this fic #rip

[sukiglycerin]

starless fairy tales || keigo takami, katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: keigo takami (hawks) x reader x katsuki bakugou (gender neutral!)

* genre: it’s a sandwich: angst on the top, fluff in the middle, and angst at the end :) not fantasy DLKFSF IM SORRY

* words: 5.2k, somehow

* warnings: angsty, reader is wary of hawks at first, tokyo skytree!! so don’t read if you’re terribly afraid of heights, a reference to blood for a small metaphor, a reference to the league of villains ;P, cliffhanger ending that i’m not sure i’ll resolve

* original request from @bien-sur: hey, saw you wanted requests and I read through some of your work, really loved the Hawks one shot!! i’m a sucker for enemies who make out. i’m feeling angsty so uh maybe, if you want, a bakugo one-shot where he kind of uh cheats on the reader...? or maybe just hurts her feelings very badly? maybe the reader feels numb for a while but is comforted by Keigo, and the reader realizes they deserve better? so sorry if this is out of your comfort zone or it’s dark content(?) anyways I like your writing so i’ll read a few more of your works before going to bed :)) thank you, i appreciate u taking the time to do requests regardless of whether you do mine :)

* a/n: ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS SUPERIOR!! i was so excited to write an enemies piece with hawks. this showcases the soft, kind side of hawks so i hope you enjoy it !! thank you sooo much for being so kind in your request! this request is completely fine. i added much more plot than i’d expected, and learned sooo much about tokyo skytree. i couldn’t do infidelity because it hurts me too much and i love bakugou too much. i tried to keep the angst.,., but happy birb..,., this might become a multi-chap fic, as i do have a plot jumbled in my head because of the cliffhanger, and i’d like to develop more aspects of your request! for now, it’s up to your interpretation! biggest thing i got out of this: i now really, really want to go to tokyo skytree.

* synopsis: you had a fairy tale love with bakugou until your prince became the villain for vague reasons. in a moment of serendipity, you find a new prince, hawks, who just might take you high enough to reach the stars you’d so longed for. sometimes your dreams are only a train ride and a couple elevator trips away.

love was like a fairy tale. at least, that’s what you’d believed. love, with its ornate leather cover and soft golden embellishments. the pages would be worn but so cherished; the black ink printed in a pretty font, telling of charming words and whispered promises under the shining moonlight and twinkling stars. it was supposed to be your security, a castle hidden in the lush forest away from the horrors of the world. your castle would hold you and bakugou for an eternity, kept away in the pages of a pretty love story. 

alas, even the strongest of castles fall, and the most beautiful of forests mangle. yours just happened to be a bit quicker. contrary to the illusion bakugou had painted in your fairy tale, your castle was not of stone nor brick nor iron. it was not of anything but sand, waiting for its turn to be washed away by the sea. your castle slipped through your fingers; the once elaborate stronghold now swept into the depths of the cerulean sea. what had once been painted seashells of wondrous hues and crystals that illuminated the night were now pebbles and corroded versions of things that had once been. it had slipped through your fingers so easily without a passing thought; now here you were, in your deserted kingdom, playing the fool. 

like the sand past your fingers, love had once come easy for you and bakugou. it was always there, drifting in the air as you walked or swirling above your heads while you bickered. love was supposed to be easy, like how your hand just fit in bakugou's as if sculpted after many lives with him. love was supposed to be easy, like how bakugou aced his tests in school and nonchalantly taught you math so you wouldn't have to attend cram school. love was supposed to be easy, like how it had been for forever with bakugou. but your fairy tale was now coming to a close, velvet curtains falling and pages turning to dust. 

you wondered if there were any fairy tales on the shelves of books bakugou had. contrary to popular belief at ua, bakugou was an avid reader. it was clear by the shelves that lined the wall in his dorm and the stacks of unread books on his nightstand. you never touched them, though bakugou had said you were free to pick them up whenever you wanted. the only time you’d touched a book from his bookshelf was when he pushed a book of yosano akiko’s to you. 

the colored spines of the books on his shelf in your shared apartment all blurred like paint on a palette as you stared at them, bakugou’s voice becoming a fading afterthought.

“y/n? y/n, please…” the voice which had so held you in its tight warmth went cold and unfamiliar. a light flickered out in your castle, and so started the crumbling.

“say…” you started, your throat clogged with disbelief, “it again.”

“please, don’t make me…” his voice trailed off. you could feel his deep scarlet eyes trained on you. “i just…. i’m not in love with you anymore, y/n.” his voice cracked. “you’ve got to understand. please.”

your hand trembled in your lap, your vision shifting out of focus like a faulty camera. 

“i tried to feel something, i really did. but…. i can’t.”

“how- how long?” your voice shook.

he paused. “a month… or two, by now?” he reached out to take your hand in his, but it no longer felt right. it was as if his hand was no longer yours to hold. you tensed, moving your hand away.

a light went out in his eyes as he understood and receded his hand. a tower fell in your castle.

“okay,” you said, turning away from him. tears dripped down your face silently and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve. you stood up from the couch. “i’ll get my things,” you hollowly said, walking toward your shared room with him.

“you don’t need to,” bakugou said. the voice emitted from his throat was no longer his, but the shadow of a stranger’s. “not this fast, at least. don’t force yourself.”

“what makes you say that?” you snapped a bit too harshly. “sorry,” you added quietly.

packing your things was a numbing process. you left the photos of him and you on his nightstand, on top of his pile of unread books. you shoved it all in a backpack you had lying around; your clothes, your phone, your books. you took one last glance around the room and left. bakugou was still sitting on the couch wordlessly, not bothering to say farewell to you as you opened the door and walked out. not that you would’ve responded anyway. 

you realized you may have made a miscalculation as you stood cluelessly in the lobby of the apartment building. you had nowhere to go. you fumbled with your phone in your backpack and pulled up your contacts. you knew of no one in your contacts who’d let you stay; they were either on vacation or far away. in truth, bakugou was your closest friend since childhood. he was your map, your guide, your destination; where were you without him?

the wind brushed your cheek as you stood outside the entrance, watching cars pass. the world felt so big compared to the mere side character of you, who buildings loomed over like menacing shadows. it was a somewhat comforting moment, being an alone speck in the grand scheme of things. like this, it was for only a moment you’d forgotten why you were out here in the first place. you’d forgotten the warm feeling that once nestled itself in your heart, instead enraptured by the freeing breeze that rustled in it. 

red. then a breeze. that’s all you saw, eyes widening and stepping back. a man no older than you stood in front of you, hands in his pockets. vermillion wings protruded from somewhere on his back, arcing slightly over the man.

“heyyy….” he said lazily, shadows falling on his face. you started walking backward, hands discreetly feeling for the door behind you. “wait! i’m a pro-hero, i swear! i’m hawks, look it up!” he lifted his hands up in surrender, backing away from you. 

“who…. what do you want?” you asked cautiously, hand on the doorknob behind you. 

he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “i, uh…. got lost…. tokyo’s such a big place, y’know?”

“where are you from?” you couldn’t really discern anything of an accent on him, other than a slightly rougher tone of speaking.

“kyushu, fukuoka…” he gestured vaguely. that explained the slight accent. “i’m in tokyo for a bit of work. business trip, y’know how it goes. haven’t visited tokyo in a while, honestly. what’s a good place for a bite? a bird is starving.”

“uh… there’s a place down the street to the right…” off the top of your head, you pointed out a cafe you and bakugou had frequented. 

“it doesn’t have chicken wings, does it?” hawks asked.

“chicken…?” you looked from him to his wings. “no, sorry.”

“don’t sweat it! ‘s fine. hey, i might as well treat you for wasting your time. where’re you heading off to? i could pay for a cab, if you gotta go.”

“ah, thank you....” you said bashfully. “i’m not really in a rush anywhere.”

“really?” he looked excited, innocently so, almost like a puppy. “can i treat you to something?”

“uh… sure,” you replied, strengthening your grip on your backpack. “sure.” 

“great! off we go, m’liege!” he pointed toward the cafe and started marching. he was a sight to behold on the street, red wings standing out a mile away. you followed somewhat reluctantly, grabbing your phone to google exactly who the pro-hero “hawks” was. the name sounded vaguely familiar, but you weren’t one who knew their heroes. yeah, it was definitely him; what was your luck, meeting such a famous pro-hero on the street after being dumped by the love of your life?

he hummed a tuneless melody, turning to the cafe. he held the doorknob waiting for you, opening the door for you first. the homey cafe was decently packed for lunchtime, the quiet chatter of people filling the atmosphere. the scene reminded you of so many other times you'd gone here with bakugou; it gave you chills as you stood next to hawks. 

"hey," hawks said quietly. "you okay? you seem tense." 

you gulped and shook your head. "nah, i'm fine. just thinking about what to eat," you lied. 

he nodded, seeming to buy into the lie. stepping toward the menu, he said, "the toasted sandwiches look good."

"uh huh," you agreed absentmindedly. your attention was on the bout of people who'd turned to look at hawks, some snapping pictures on their phones. he did stand out pretty well with his wings. 

"'scuse me-!" a little girl, no more than 6 or 7, approached the hero. she had a distinctive accent; it was slightly hard to understand her. "can i 'ave a photo with ya?" her eyes got all round. "yer my big brother's favorite hero!"

 "'course, darlin'," hawks smiled. his voice somewhat mimicked hers, his dialect becoming apparent. 

once he'd taken a photo with her, more and more people started following suit, crowding him. you stood awkwardly to the side. some people didn't even know who he was, from what you could tell. you debated ordering a latte and leaving, but decided it'd be unfair to hawks. he was kind to everyone he interacted with, unlike most celebrities who just wanted fame and disregarded others.

after some time, the crowd finally dispersed, leaving you and hawks together. 

he glanced at his watch. “ah, sorry, that took a while…” he apologized. “do you have somewhere to be? i must’ve held you up…”

“nah, don’t worry about it.” you waved him off. “i, uh, actually… was just dumped by my boyfriend…” you nervously shuffled your feet. “i don’t really have a place to stay at the moment… so i’m free the entire day, i guess.” you laughed nervously.

he blinked at you, bird-like eyes wide. “you must be starving.”

you felt your face warm and you laughed - this time, a real, genuine laugh that was a missed sensation against your tongue. “yeah. yeah, i am.”

“hey, dove.” his voice suddenly got close to you, gentler. “you’re crying.”

“oh…?” you felt your cheek with the pad of your thumb. “sorry. i have tissues in my backpack, hang on…” you unzipped the front pocket and started to rummage blindly through your belongings, groping for something vaguely feeling like a packet of tissues.

“here,” he said, handing you a tissue. you turned to him gratefully, accepting the tissue and wiping your face. 

“it’s just… weird,” you said after a pause. “he’s been there all my life - my ex, i mean.” ex. such a strange name for the man you so adored; ex, crossing off the relationship you thought you’d built with him. 

hawks nodded, guiding you to a booth in the cafe. 

you continued, “sorry. you probably didn’t want to hear this today… you’re busy with your hero duties and whatnot.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, feather,” he reassured you. “he didn’t kick you out, did he?”

“oh, no,” you clarified quickly. “i… left,” you said, abashed. “i shouldn’t’ve been so sudden, but… it was an instinct thing.”

“why’d he do it so suddenly?” hawks asked. “you didn’t see it coming, right?”

“no, i didn’t… but maybe i should’ve…” you think about the part couple months with bakugou. nothing seemed different - you’d gone on dates like normal and spent time together like a couple that loved each other. his interest in you never faltered and nor did the sparkle in his eyes dull; what had happened? what had gone so wrong? 

you realize the silence that’s fallen between you and hawks. the hero was looking at the menu behind you intently. 

“ham and cheese…” he muttered to himself. “no, teriyaki… so yummy… with coffee…” he suddenly seemed aware of your eyes staring at him. “oh, what did you want to eat?”

“i’ll probably have the teriyaki,” you said. it was your go-to sandwich choice at the cafe. you reached for your backpack to retrieve your wallet, but hawks stopped you.

“let me,” he said. “i already caused you so much inconvenience.” 

“ah, okay…” you said meekly. “thank you.”

he shrugged. “what wouldja like to drink?”

“uh… orange juice,” you said. 

“alright!” he saluted you. “your wish is my command.” he got up to order, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. the cashier was particularly animated talking to him, initiating a conversation about aerodynamics with the pro-hero from what you could hear. 

he returned with the sandwiches (made at the fastest time you swore you’d seen them prepare food) and set yours in front of you. 

“let’s dig in!” hawks said, biting into his sandwich. you agreed, taking a bite of yours as well. 

“what’s your name, by the way?” he said in between bites. “i don’t think i ever asked.”

“y/n,” you said.

“pretty,” he commented. “i’m hawks.”

“i know,” you blurted. “i googled it.”

“you did?” his pupils widened. “what’d it say??”

“uhh…” you pulled out your phone, finding the tab you used to google hawks. you turned your screen to him.

he studied the screen. “not fond of that angle,” he mused to himself. “so, why’d your boyfriend dump you?” 

you were taken aback by his candor. “he… said he didn’t love me anymore,” you admitted.

“all of a sudden? out of the blue?”

you shook your head. “he said he’d tried to endure it for a while.”

“how long?”

“a month or two,” you sighed, thinking about the sight of him sitting dejectedly on the couch this morning.

“he didn’t say anything before that?” hawks gasped. “the nerve. how long have you been together?”

“four… or five years now?” you’d been dating him since your days at ua, even when most high school romances - between childhood friends, no less - were especially rocky. he was your promised forever. 

“and he gives up after two months?” hawks set his sandwich down. “wow. some boyfriend.”

“i think there was something more to it,” you said thoughtfully. “we’ve known each other for a long…”

“you still love him, don’t you?”

“i mean… yeah….” you hadn’t given it much thought; bakugou was a habit your heart couldn’t stop thinking about. it was like depriving your heart of oxygen: foreign and wrong. “i do.”

“i’m sorry, dove,” he said. 

“your sandwich will get cold,” you said in an attempt to divert the conversation topic.

“you’re right.” he picked up his sandwich and started eating again, eyes still on you. “this place has good food.”

you hummed in agreement, distracted by the cars going by outside the window. 

“where will you stay?” he asked, halfway done with his sandwich.

hawks voiced the concern plaguing your subconscious from the moment you stepped out of bakugou’s apartment building. it was definitely not the most thoroughly well-thought out plan, and you didn’t want to come back knocking on his door in the night. besides, you weren’t sure if you could stand being there again, in the presence of a liar and someone who felt so foreign to you. you wondered how much you truly didn’t know about bakugou; were there any other lies he’d blossomed behind your back? 

you knew you might be able to stay at a hotel for a couple nights, but not for long. going back to bakugou’s place… as much as you so dreaded the mere thought, you knew it might be your absolute last resort. 

“i’m not sure,” you finally replied truthfully. hawks appeared to have come to a conclusion of sorts.

“tell ya what,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “explore tokyo with me.” he took a bite of his sandwich. continuing, he said, “‘s not often the commission puts me in the big city. i’m off today, so…”

the offer was somewhat bizarre, but what did you have to lose? you agreed, under the terms you wouldn’t be out too late. as you walked out the door, you greeted the cool outside breeze with the hope this would help you put the past behind you.

walking through tokyo with a pro-hero proved harder than it sounded. for one, people kept approaching hawks; after all, he was like a walking light-up sign that said “LOOK AT ME!” with the size and color of his wings. after every time a fan asked hawks for an autograph, he sheepishly apologized to you, and offered two autographs to you. you always laughed and declined; the trip was a reward in itself, you supposed. each acquaintance made you appreciate all the responsibilities of a pro-hero. he was charming, though. he really was, so you didn’t mind.

“skytree! let’s go there!” was the first thing hawks had said walking out of the cafe. you’d been to the skytree a couple of times in your childhood, and it was a nice memory; the tall building stretching, touching the tip of the sky. your parents had told you that stardust flecked the very top of the skytree, for it was so tall. you’d never actually reached the highest floor; it felt like a distant fantasy, as you’d always get tired before reaching the top or circumstance would interfere.

it was a five minute walk to the nearest station, and it’d be another forty or so to skytree. hawks didn’t seem to mind, though, happily promenading down the street like a kid in a candy shop. he pointed excitedly to random buildings that you hadn’t given a second thought about and rambled about the facts he knew about skytree with an accent tingeing his words more than usual. he reminded you very much so of a child going on a field trip, and his giddiness only boosted yours.

“we’re here!” his eyes glistened with anticipation when you reached the station. you’d visited the station dozens of times, but looked at it with a new light when you realized how excited hawks was. “i’ll pay; i dragged you here,” he said immediately when you started to pay for tickets. 

“really, i can’t-” you started, but he cut you off.

“let me. it’s my off day! please.” he took the two tickets he paid for. “here.”

“i don’t really have a choice, do i?”

“nope!” he was already walking away, smiling back at you and waving his ticket.

“hey- wait!” you started running after him. “wrong way!”

forty minutes later, two transfers, and one circle around the station in pursuit of skytree, you stood at the entrance of the tokyo skytree. hawks’ mouth watered at the sight of the line of restaurants in the breezeway you’d passed prior, and you had to stop him from ordering the seasonal special from mcdonald’s before turning to skytree. 

“but you just ate!” you exclaimed as he stared longingly at the ice cream being advertised on a poster. 

he pouted. “but i’m hungry…”

you took his hand (which momentarily shocked him) and guided him to the entrance. it was a bit crowded, but not overtly so. hawks was looking everywhere once you’d entered; darting from here to there, sometimes carrying small souvenirs or drinks when returning to you. you were out of energy by the time you’d reached floor 340, though hawks told you there were only 29 floors total and the name was referencing the height. it certainly didn’t feel like an exaggeration, your feet dragging on the ground as you stepped out of the oddly fast elevator. 

you begged hawks to let you rest at the cafe you saw. the cafe felt like a little oasis of tranquility, uncrowded on contrary to the other floors. it was relaxing as you stared outside the window and up at the sky. it brought you to your parents words of stars and magic, though something as modern as the skytree must be strange to intermingle with magic. in the moment you were suspended; the still sky surrounding you and the ever-moving cars below. you swore you could just reach the clouds in front of you and float, so serenely in an eternal bubble of quietude to yourself. everything else was forgotten in that moment; things were the way they always were. it was always you, in the end.

after leaving the cafe, you watched people stand on glass flooring overlooking everything below. some jumped on the glass, while some frightenedly stuck a foot on the glass and jumped back. 

“quite the view, huh?” hawks mumbled with a mouth stuffed full with chocolate cake. “i usually have to fly so far to get this view.”

you nodded. “it’s amazing...” 

“so… where d’you wanna go after this?” he asked you. 

“actually…” your thoughts went back to the stories your parents told you. “can we go up to floor 455?”

he showed a hint of surprise on his face. “really? i know we bought the tickets to do it, but if you’re tired, we can just go down.”

“no…” you cleared your throat. “it’s been something i really wanted to do.”

he took this answer and smiled, grasping your hand. “let’s walk into the sky!”

the train ride back did not go as smoothly as you hoped. the adrenaline of being 450 meters in the air had worn itself out, and the pitting realization that bakugou was no longer yours dawned on you. the sapphire sky in your fairy tale story seemed so far now, stars shattering and crumbling. you reached for a piece of a star, but each piece dissolved above your head, light that would never reach you. 

“feather,” hawks said quietly. the intense look in his eyes looked like he was building up to something important. 

“yeah?” you asked. you fixated on him.

“do you want… a badtz-maru eraser?”

you stared at the spiky-haired penguin in the palm of hawks’ hand. 

“sure…?” you said. hawks happily plopped the eraser into your hand. 

“feather,” he said again in the same tone. “you should visit bakugou, you know. tonight, to make things straight with him.”

that was what he was building up to. bakugou. you hadn’t dwelled much on the thought of the man; the skytree filling most of your thoughts for the day. but it was still light out.

“i know,” you replied softly, looking down at your fingers. these were the hands that held your heart as you gave it to bakugou, the hands that bakugou held tenderly for so many days and nights. they were the same hands that held your heart now, returned by bakugou shattered and clinking to the ground. the rest of the train ride was silent.

you could now hear your thoughts echoing around the train compartment, deflecting off walls and still making their way to your heart. you wondered what words were left unsaid by bakugou, painful truths untold hidden in the recesses of his heart. you wondered if he remembered how he’d first nervously asked you on a date in high school, words rough but fingers softly fidgeting with each other. it was in may, near the end of the day. he shoved a small box of chocolates towards you, muttering something about “weird hair” making him do it. he’d aggressively stuttered his way through a confession, barely making eye contact with you. the memory brought a fluttering to your heart, but with it came a sore pain for the first time. you wondered if he felt the same or if he was just numb, like how he now felt about you. what did it feel like to fall out of love? 

you wondered if he remembered the many times he’d walked you home (only for your sake, of course, not anything else). you wondered if he remembered how fondly he looked at you then. his heart was on his sleeve during those times, the perpetual blush on his cheeks disclosing his very vulnerable feelings towards you. 

even on the most draining of days, bakugou would always be there for you. even if his eyelids were closing upon their own accord and legs were sore from a day’s work, he made it a point to be there for you. while children might’ve had their security blankets, you had bakugou. your heart dropped realizing those days of coming home to bakugou were gone.

what had happened? now, you were alone on a train that felt so cold and without the love that had so warmed your heart. why had things ended up like this? why did you numb bakugou’s feelings so? the wave was slow at first, but once it had reached the shore, your tears fell hot and unyielding as you toppled off the edge of being okay.

hawks was by your side wordlessly, a wing around you and leaning you close to him. the feathers were soft. you cried unabashedly in his embrace, sniffling as he soothed you. you tried to say thank you, but all that came out was another sob.

your feet, on instinct, took you to bakugou's apartment without any problem. it could’ve been any other day; you, coming back to the apartment after running errands. it was your hand that hesitated as it hovered an inch away from the wood of the door, the only sign that something had changed. you liked to pretend it hadn’t. you wished that when you’d open the door, you’d hear a light chatter from the tv and a familiar voice saying, “welcome home, idiot.” you wished that the air that enveloped you as soon as you opened the door was that of liveliness and comfort, of warm orange and yellow hues. you wished that the atmosphere didn’t feel so dead, dull, and musty; you wish it hadn’t drowned in shades of blue and gray. you wished you didn’t have the key to the apartment still.

you wished that bakugou would say something, anything, rather than sit on the couch with his head bowed. you wished that you didn’t miss him so much and that you had him, all at the same time. you wished you turned back as soon as you heard the knob click and pushed open the door; you wished not to see all that you had in what was once your apartment.

you wished you didn’t revel in his presence next to you on the couch. you wished you didn’t almost lean into his touch because he was your home, and you wished your eyes didn’t well up the way they had. you wished to have sat in that silence for a while then up and gone; you wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“hey, idiot,” was a cracky and raspy thing coming out of his mouth, words familiar but so foreign at the same time.

“hey,” was what you whispered back, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“where’d you go?” but it wasn’t a question, just a fragile plea devoid of hope.

“skytree,” and you felt you’d break the mood.

“did you reach the top?” his response surprised and killed you at the same time.

“yeah,” you said quietly. “i did.”

“alone?”

“i could never alone.”

“who…?”

“met a pro-hero by chance.”

“your true hero, huh?” it was a bitter tone, venom biting you.

“no,” and your heart sunk because it was the truth.

he scoffed. getting up from the couch, he said, “you forgot something.”

your eyes followed him as he disappeared into your once shared room. he returned quite fast, as if you’d left it on the dresser, carrying a decorated shoebox. you’d almost forgotten about it entirely, eyes wide as nostalgia hit you. 

it was a memory box you’d made the last year of high school. it was supposed to be for school memories, but it really just became a box of mementos of bakugou. you could barely see the contents inside, too busy trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. you thumbed through photos and polaroids of you and him, some with his friends and some with yours. oh, what you’d give to have those times back. though it was all blurred, you could feel the moments so vividly: feel the cool summer breeze and hear the sound of people conversing with each other at a festival; hear mina’s excited ramblings and bakugou’s grumbling at the supermarket; smell caramel and vanilla at a movie night, pressed against bakugou’s body warmth. you dropped the photos back into the box and picked up a scorched pencil. a pressed rose. a neatly folded sheet of notes you’d sent back and forth with bakugou during class. 

and then it was all gone, shutting the box.

“keep it.” you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, but you wouldn’t take them back. you handed him the box, staring at the floor and wiping your wet eyes. the memories were no longer yours to keep.

bakugou was silent, taking the box and leaving to his room to put it away. 

“is that all?” you tried to make your voice sound strong, impatient. like you had better places to be without him. you hoped he couldn’t tell how it was more of a beg to stay.

“yeah.” cold. emotionless.

you stood for another second, looking around. everything seemed different, as if the glass which surrounded your universe had shattered. “bye, katsuki.”

“bye.”

your footsteps were light, but each step felt weighed by metal weights. you wished he stopped you from leaving. you wished you looked back at him. you wished you weren’t crying.

you shut the door quietly, weakly, behind you. it all came out in the hallway, tears and desperate sobs. you prayed he couldn’t hear you; but you knew, even if he did, he wouldn’t care anymore. he was numbed, no longer the firework you’d known.

“hawks,” it came as a quiet plea as you felt for your phone and dialed his number. he gave it to you right before you walked into bakugou’s apartment.

“please pick up, please pick up,” you muttered, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks as quickly as they came.

“hey, birdie? are you okay?”

“hawks,” you sobbed. “hawks, no, i’m not.” 

“hey, are you still at the apartment building? i’ll be right there, chickadee, alright?”

you nodded, sniffed, then said meekly, “yeah.”

“stay on the line. talk to me, birdie.” his voice was soothing.

“hawks, it hurts, everything.” you felt as though you were pouring out your heart, spilling scarlet on the carpet. “hawks.” tears dropped onto the carpet. “hawks.” your knees almost gave in.

“what floor are you on, dove?”

“third,” you hiccupped. 

“i’m right there, feather.” you saw hawks emerge from the stairwell. his hair looked windblown. he looked relieved to see you at first, then his face fell to that of sympathy. “oh, birdie,” he said softly, running up to you. “i’m here now.’

you weren’t aware bakugou was listening to you cry on the other side of the door as you sobbed into someone else’s shoulder, not his. with dark eyes and trembling hands he couldn’t calm, he dialed a number on his phone.

“well, tomura? i did it.”

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou angst #bnha angst #hawks fluff #bnha fluff #hawks imagines #hawks scenarios #keigo takami fluff #keigo takami imagines #keigo takami scenarios #katsuki bakugou #keigo takami #luna's writing

[ot3-watch]

Episode 5: The Mile High Job

WHY IS THIS EPISODE 8

FUCK THE NETWORK I’M VERY TIRED

So we’re starting on a client testimony. Which is sad because I kind of like the context establishing scenes

Sophie being French is hilarious

I’m not saying Hardison shouldn’t be able to take off when he needs to. I am saying that MAYBE THEY SHOULD PLAN HEISTS FOR DAYS WHEN THEY ARE A MEMBER SHORT?

Also, why does Hardison not put his food on a plate before he puts it in the microwave. That spinning plate does not get washed nearly enough for that to be sanitary

OK wait did Hardison just flake out? THEN WHY DID THEY NOT POSTPONE?

THEY SHOULD HAVE PLANNED THIS MUCH BETTER

I love Parker being magic and teleporting

The security guards always seem like idiots and tbh, working where I work with the security guards being who they are, I feel like it’s all bullshit and a disservice to security guards.

I love the Doctor WHo references. TOM AND SARAH JANE BAKER YES MA’AM

But also did no one make a Doctor Who comment? Like really. I know Tom Baker is probably a common name but I really want to know what happens when they get a whovian checking their IDs

THe poor flight attendant. That sucks. Can you imagine getting a COMPLETELY fake call that your cat might be put down? I’m sorry, I can’t. Completely innocent people get screwed by them sometimes and I feel bad

Eliot remembers everyone he’s slept with I love him.

THIS POOR FLIGHT ATTENDANT? WHat happens when she comes back and everyone is side eyeing her and being bitchy?

I hate the trope of girlfriends or love interests being overly sensitive about people remembering tiny details. Especially when they aren’t actually together. Especially when it happened years ago. Especially when they hold it against them for the whole episode.

SOME PEOPLE HAVE TERRIBLE MEMORIES OK

Also, this is Nate. It’s a shock he has any brain cells left with how drunk he is 99% of the time. Get OVER yourself Sophie.

PLACE YOUR MASK OVER YOUR MOUTH AND NOSE ok Leverage predicting the future…

Parker being a terrible flight attendant is hilarious

Did I like her in this episode? I think I liked her in this episode

Eliot suffering through economy I can’t

I feel bad for the woman, but like… stop pushing? I know she’s nervous but the flight attendant is trying to do her job. I mean, it’s Parker, but in any normal situation…

Hardison pulls the same “You’re such a racist” bit every time he gets in a sticky situation, and it always works? Can you imagine if he tried to pull that on an actual racist?

Do planes have bars like that? I’ve been on plenty of planes and i’ve never seen a bar like that

Im never in first class though so whatever

OKAY GUYS THE IN-FLIGHT MOVIE IS ONE OF THE LIBRARIANS MOVIES

Which means noah wyle exists in the leverage universe.

HOW IS THAT GOING TO WORK WITH THE REBOOT THOUGH?

Unless they just… expected no one to notice? To be fair, it’s not like they focused on it

They probably just needed a movie they could use without securing rights first or running into copyright issues

But still… paradoxes

Eliot just going through a bunch of random people's bags…

HE AND PARKER MOVING AROUND EACH OTHER SO COMFORTABLY THOUGH

THIS IS SEASON ONE WHY ARE THEY SO GOOD TOGETHER ALREADY

I LOVE THEM GUYS

Parker. That’s not reassuring Parker. Parker that’s just terrifying. WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT PARKER?? pARKER?? i’M CONCERNED PARKER!

I really hate Sophie getting mad at nate for this shit. It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It just makes Sophie seem unreasonable and bitchy

OK BUT Hardison and the woman bonding IMMEDIATELY over nerdy gaming is so great

Also i like that they made the other nerd a woman is great

OK but he is not talking nearly silently enough for the ONLY other person in the room to just stop listening to him?

Could you imagine the person you were talking to randomly stops talking, looks upset, and then sticks his head in the cabinet? And starts muttering to himself?

LIKE EITHER HE CAN’T TELL REALITY FROM FANTASY OR HES A SPY

WHY ARE YOU NOT SUSPICIOUS??

He really does pull this shit off really well.

The amount of men in that conference room is oppressive and very realistic ina very sad way

Parker must be in a thief’s paradise

OKAY I REMEMBER NOW AND I DID LIKE PARKER IN THIS EPISODE

“Nobody tells me anything”

THAT’S SUCH A MOOD

Literally the job I’m working in right now is exactly like that

My job is literally to know things and help people and provide them with the information they need

AND STILL I’M ONE OF THE LAST TO FIND THINGS OUT

IT’S VERY FRUSTRATING OK

WHy can I not remember why they’re going after genegrow? Someone died I think? But i cannot remember

“The guy in 1D wants to kill you. Ginger Ale?”

Why is it that all i can think about right now is harry styles and niall horan

I mean I KNOW why but like… why

I LOVE them but why?

WHAT IS THIS OFFICE WOMAN’S NAME I LOVE HER

How does no one question Hardison showing up out of nowhere though?

Im just saying… supposedly it’s “Dave’s” birthday, and they think they should have already known about it? He just started that job on that day?

Unless he’s pretending to have been there forever but even then…

This makes no sense? I’m so confused?

Eliot beating a guy up in an airport bathroom is fantastic

But also you can’t fit one person in a airport bathroom, let alone two

THe view from the top is much smaller than the shots from the side

Parker: the guy we just took out? Eliot: -_- Parker: The guy Eliot just took out?

Sophie always seems so shocked by the inhumanity of some of these people they interact with. Nate’s like “Yeah, people are awful” and Eliot’s like “I see worse all the time” and Parker’s like “Is this meant to be weird or something?” but Sophie’s like “WHAt? Someone wants people DEAD? And might KILL US IN THE PROCESS?”

Is the art theft world just not so violent?

Even hardison doesn’t seem shocked, just upset and offended. Sophie’s always like OoO though and it gets weird?

Now both Eliot AND Nate are fitting in the bathroom? With an already unconscious guy? I’VE BEEN IN AIRPLANE BATHROOMS. THEY AREN’T BIG ENOUGH FOR THAT.

Unless i’m just fat. Which is an option.

Why do people have random wires in their luggage? Who travels with a giant bundle of wires in their luggage?

Oh look. The red head was right. There is a tailwind

OK But THE OXYGEN MASKS CAME DOWN AND NO ONE IS TRYING TO PUT ONE ON?

I know they’re panicking but still

Nate really does just throw things at hardison and then Hardison goes like WHAT I CAN’T DO THIS and then he does it.

HOW is Hardison THAT talented it’s ridiculous

WE all talk about Eliot being hyper-competent in everything when Hardison is literally right there

Not to say that eliot doesn’t deserve attention because he does and I love him

I LOVE ELIOT OKAY

I’m just saying Hardison deserves more credit

HOW DID THEY NOT HIT ANY CARS WHEN THEY WERE LANDING? THERE ARE CARS RIGHT THERE? ANd then there’s suddenly no cars in font of them when they land ? It’s all deserted?

HARDISON IS SO GOOD THOUGH

How did they set up a party for “Dave” so quickly?

WHY DOES NO ONE LOOK TO SEE WHO DAVE WAS YELLING AT?

Everyone is so done with Hardison and honestly? Fair. He might’ve saved them, but he also screwed them over earlier. It came in handy, but still.

I really could not give less of a shit about the Nate Sophie storyline in this episode. In most of season one really. It’s all shitty and annoying

FINAL THOUGHTS: 8/10. Points off for people not acting like people. Points off for the shitty Sophie/Nate stuff. Extra points for Eliot being Eliot. (There will always be extra points for Eliot being Eliot). Extra points for Hardison’s badassery. Extra points because I liked Parker in this episode. Extra points for nerd girl. You go nerd girl. Points off because I literally remember nothing about this episode except for Hardison being awesome, the office scenes, and the fact that there was a plane crash. Why were they on the plane? No idea. Can’t remember.

Sam count: 3/5

IYS count: 2/5 (Am I remembering this wrong? I felt like there were more? Then again, I’m only 5 episodes in)

#leverage #leverage ot3 #leverage rewatch #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #episode 5 #the mile high job #rewatch #ot3