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cheesiedomino · 2 months

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Second chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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spidergutz-writes · 7 months

Note

ANOTHER REQUEST..

Hc’s about jealous Michael? Preferably Peepaw but you can write for Og if you want. Im a whore for his jealousy.

frfr giggling and twirling my hair rn, your speaking directly to my brain bestie 😩🤌

I’m doing this one first cause it’s gonna be just a tad quicker for me to do ;w;

WARNINGS: THERE IS A BRIEF MENTION OF NSFW STUFF SO IM SORRY (I’m too much of a slut for that fictional man istg) not proofread, we die like real men here. Michael being hot asf.

HC’S of jealous peepaw Michael Myers!

Firstly, peepaw micheal doesn’t get overly jealous too quickly, but if a cashier does get a little too friendly, or some random person looks at you with anything other than casual respect? You might have to keep an eye on the news for missing people. 👀

*insert intense glaring and heavy breathing here*

definitely glares at whoever’s being too friendly with you. Depending on if y’all are in a crowded area, he might peak out to give the person a hello. With his knife. Preferably in their chest

if he can get the chance to properly go outside with you without the fear of revealing who he is, he is ALWAYS keeping a hand on you in one way or another. Like, his hand on the back of your neck, shoulder, bicep, and even your waist sometimes. He’s not the biggest fan of PDA but he won’t hesitate to let others know what’s his.

when y’all get to the safety of your home, he’s a lot more touchy than usual. Resting his forehead on the crown of your head, wrapping his arms around you and huffing.

once you get past his initial violent stage of his jealousy he really does get needy for your attention. I mean, you basically deprived him earlier, how can he possibly live if you won’t sit on his lap and let him hug you for the next hour??? How cruel 😤

HES fr such a drama queen though 🙄🤚🤚🤚

will NEVER verbally express his jealousy, for one, he just does speak that much all together, and two. He’s. He’s kinda petty ngl.

like fr. He’s just gonna be like 🧍‍♂️while your just like “Michael?? Are you mad at me???” and he’s sTILL JUST STANDING THERE. expects you to know EXACTLY why he’s jealous.

oh wow, all this nice and sfw stuff about how jealous he gets WELL LETS NOT FORGET THAT MAN WOULD POUND YOU INTO OBLIVION

you thought I wouldn’t make an excuse to talk about fucking Michael Myers? Well you’re wrong. Because we all know when that man gets jealous, he gets possessive . And what better way to show everyone your his?? none other than leaving so many marks on you someone would think you were attacked by a swarm of raccoons.

if you’d let him, he would 10000000% lightly (I cannot stress how lightly he would do this) carve his name in either your arm, or chest.

hickeys? Yes. Bite marks? You fucking bet. Bruises from his hard ass grip? Obviously!!!!!

ehem. Uhm. Now that I’m no longer feral, he would definitely need some small form of reassurance. Cuddling, hand holding, just general quality time together will work. HUFUFUUFUFUFUFU I NEED TO BE CONTAINED I WANTED TO MAKE THIS ALL SMUT BUT I MUST REFRAIN!!!! MY BRAIN IS ROTTEN! 😭😭😭 As always, please, please, PLEAAASSEE give me constructive criticism! I can’t grow as a writer to suit others (and my own) needs if I can’t write up to standards. my requests are open, as well as my asks, so feel free to drop by!!! [pls omfg send my more requests I’ll literally kiss you istg]

#Spider writes #michael myers #michael myers x reader #micheal myers #peepaw myers #slashers x reader #slashers #halloween

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thinlyq · 7 months

Text

Ana Quotes

You decide once and for all that you aren’t going to eat. There are no further decisions.

The secret of success is the consistency to pursue.

Don’t do anything today that you’ll regret tomorrow.

The hungrier you are, the more fat you burn.

I’m not starving myself, I’m perfecting my emptiness.

Thin is forever.

The only freedom left is the freedom to starve.

Pain is only as real as you allow it to be.

Nothing can’t be fixed with hunger and weight loss.

You cannot taste perfection. You feel it.

Hunger won’t betray you like eating will.

Do not give up what you want most for what you want at the moment.

You have to do stuff that average people don’t understand because those are the only good things.

Every time you say “No thank you” to food, you say “Yes please” to thin.

Thin is beautiful. Even thinner is perfection.

I’m a teenage drama queen. I’ll throw up my guts for self esteem.

Denying yourself food is not true deprivation; never being thin is.

I want my collar bones and hips to be as strong as my mind.

The difference between Want and Need is Self Control.

Fat lasts longer than flavour.

A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.

It’s not a diet, its a lifestyle.

Don’t just dream about the change; make the change and be the change. No one will do it for you.

Those skinny girls you envy… When you see them in the cafe, at the mall, at a party, are they eating? No. So, what makes you think you should?

You know what that means? When our tummy is hungry and you don’t give it food, it begins to eat away at your stored fats. Eat away tummy, eat away…

The greasy fry, it does not lie, the truth is written on your thigh.

Food is temptation, once you overcome temptation, you can do anything.

I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control. I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul.

It’s always better to fade into nothingness than to have a cheeseburger clog your artery.

If I eat anything, I'll eat everything, so I eat nothing.

I'm not yet a winner. I could be thinner. So I must go throw up dinner.

A flat stomach is nice, but a concave one is perfect.

A woman can never be too blonde, too rich, or too thin!

Those bones don't mean I'm skinny, they mean there's more to lose

Ask me to show you perfect and I will show you a thin person

Blessed are the starving, for they shall teach us not to want.

What the scale says is the most important thing.

Being thin and not eating are signs of true willpower and success.

Like a plant, surely the body can be trained to exist on nothing - to take it's nourishment from the air.

If you have weight to lose, lose it. It wouldn't be there if you weren't supposed to lose it.

Every time I have the opportunity to eat, I have the strength to refuse.

An ordinary girl, an ordinary waist - but ordinary's just not good enough today.

Know that the pain will pass... when it passes... you will be stronger, happier, and more aware.

Everything I want to be, I am, only buried under a layer of fat.

Ana, my friend, my companion.

My scale is never happy, neither am I.

Eat to live, don't live to eat.

Good girls don't swallow.

Just say no and keep your mouth closed.

Thou shall not eat fattening foods without punishing oneself afterwards.

If you wish to grow thinner, diminish your dinner, And take to light claret instead of pale ale; Look down with an utter contempt on butter, And never touch bread till it’s toasted - or stale.

I strive for perfection, I drive myself on that. My dream may be far off, but each kilo that falls off, I am one step closer than before. Knowing I am getting closer, gives me energy to keep going. So I do not give up.

An imperfect body reflects an imperfect person.

Food is a hinderance to your progress.

Don't eat anything today that you'll regret tomorrow.

I can get thinner. I can cut it all off. I can wear low slung Levi's and crop tops and long straight dresses like willowy models, and I will grasp with the breathlessness of being airborn. I can fly and be free. I never realized how easyit was.

I, the hunger artist, rarely disappoint my audience.

Happy or sad, rich or poor, it's better being thin.

If you aren't thin, you aren't attractive.

Being thin is more important that being healthy.

I believe this is the true definition of the word calories and should be written in every dictionary.

Calories are tiny creatures that live in your closet and sew your clothes a little bit tighter every night.

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pinkandgoldensoul · 4 months

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CL#16 || Mine First || tape b

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: ̗̀➛ tape b of the 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝑒𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹 series If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader x pierre gasly!bestfriend genre: childhood exes (?) to lovers, (fake) love triangle, fluff, a bit of angst tw: swearing, tiny suggestive scrumble word count: 10.2k plot: going back to Monaco, you meet him again. Both being Pierre's friends, you're often trapped in the same room: it's inevitable for the past to resurface, through glances, dances, pages filled of ink.

Your walk inside the paddock was followed by gusts of wind throwing strands of hair in every direction, preys of the unpredictable, forcing you to move them out of your face repeatedly. The forecast couldn’t have been clearer: 90% chances of rain. A storm was approaching the track, and so were you.

Looking around, you stared attentively at the frenetic movement pulsating in every corner: mechanics, engineers, journalists and cameras ready to capture any detail, VIPs begging for selfies with bewildered eyes and staring at the screens in awe and confusion. It was all so foreign to you. Despite growing up in Monaco, you had always shied away from the spotlight and tried to live a simple life, therefore moving out in your youth to an unknown town in South France, near the coast, but far enough from the contradiction of luxury. Still, Pierre being a dear old friend of yours, after pleading insistence, you had given up to his invitation to a Grand Prix. You had first agreed to be hosted at his home race, Paul Ricard, then obliged to choose another circuit since the track had disappeared from the 2023 calendar: and so there you were, crossing the streets you had walked countless times, the ones you had run away from.

«Do you think it’s going to rain hard?» «How do you expect me to know?» You snorted, arms crossed. Pierre simply shrugged, zipping up his suit. «I don’t know, you’ve lived here enough to recognize Monaco’s clouds.» he half-joked. «Maybe you’re the Monegasque Mazepin.» «Who’s that?» you asked, frowning. «No one, forget it. I just thought you, standing there doing nothing, had more time than I do to check the forecast.» «Uhm, if you want, I can take a look.» you offered, searching for your phone. Pierre quickly made it over to you, crossing the garage, and put his hands on your shoulders with a smile. «Y/n, I’m just messing around. Why are you taking everything so seriously? You always get my jokes, what’s up with you today?» «Uhm… maybe… It’s Monaco’s clouds.» Pierre couldn’t help but grin bigger and shake his head, leaving you standing on your own while he got near his helmet to clean it. «If you’re worried about tonight’s dinner, there’s no need to.» You sighed. To your annoyance, Pierre had stricken home yet another time. He was too good at reading you like an open book, your expressions and reactions too plain for him to interpret after years of sincere friendship. «I just don’t understand why you want to introduce me to this one friend… It’s a bit intimidating, like, the three of us…» «Oh, but we won’t be completely alone!» Pierre said, amending his partial explanation. «We’ll be hanging out in group, it’s going to be fun! I just wanted to introduce you to my best mate, that’s all.» «Fine, but… why can’t I even know his name? Why are you acting like I’m going to be surprised about who he is?» «Because I think you will.» «You’re such a drama queen.» He laughed at your arms-crossed and roll-eye as he finished cleaning the helmet, placing back on a counter. «Of course I am.»

To Pierre’s amusement, you hadn’t followed free practices with a lot of attention, which is a euphemism to say that you basically didn’t watch the screens installed for the guests inside the garage at all: instead, you had nestled in a small empty spot right next to his engineer and you had silently followed Pierre’s action and data, without really understanding much, more so as the second sessions had been red flagged before being half-way through it.

Pierre was dying of laughter onto the small, leathered couch of the club you had chosen for the beginning of the night, waiting for all his friends to show up, as he listened to your unforgettably miserable experience in the Alpine box. «So you didn’t see any other driver?» he asked, still chuckling. «No, I mean… I was also getting a bit car sick, with all those walls left and right. You drive way too fast, you guys are crazy…» Loud as a freight train crashing the rails with its speed, a group of youngsters entered the club with a thunderous burst of laughter, which made you flinch in your seat. «Oh, here they are!» Pierre immediately flailed around and whistled in order to be heard by les gars, who soon walked towards your table. Without you noticing, he stood up and waited them to hug and give friendly back pats. Composed in your awkward silence, you felt even more uneasy as one of the newcomers stopped and looked down at you sitting, staring with an uncomfortable persistence, a smile fading from his lips. «Who are you?» he asked, curiosity and perplexity mixed in his tone. Reciprocating with the same depth his stare, you realized you had just fallen inside a dangerous and unexpected sand trap, wishing the dark-lit room would suddenly turn the lights on so that you could make out his features clearer, or completely drown them out together with the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. «Finally I can introduce you both!» Pierre clapped his hands, breaking the moment and inviting you to get up. «Y/n, this is my best friend: Charles.» «Charles…» you muttered under your breath, trying to make sense of it. «Yes, Charles Leclerc.» he repeated in confirmation, smiling, shaking and holding your cold and still hand. «And this is y/n, one of my dearest friends.» «Nice to meet you.» The flickering sparkle in his eyes, the dimples making their painful appearance and his sweet, fond smile struck you all at once, the freight train now hitting you as you simply stood by the platform of time, uncapable of anything but playing reruns of distant and long forgotten memories in the back of your mind. He let go of your hand and you slowly slipped down in your seat, heart beating uncontrollably. But everyone was just too absorbed into the conversation to notice, too playful and happy to be in joined company. Drinking from your glass full of insecurities, your gaze was always searching for his, carefully studying his heavenly face, then immediately straying away, consumed by indecision and inner turmoil.

You all got up a couple of hours after to have a nice walk through the harbor; the cool breeze sweeping the dump asphalt made your skin shiver, and you felt forced to bring your hands upon your forearms to soothe the coldness. Pierre had noticed for a while the way you hadn’t engaged in the conversations a lot, had seen you full of thoughts back in the club and, of course, immediately read your body language; in a few strides, he was next to you, placing his jacket onto your shoulders, matching your steps. «Thank you.» you smiled. You both slowly walked alongside, letting silence fill the gaps, until the Frenchman couldn’t bear it anymore, as he gazed at the stars. «I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself that much tonight… I thought you would get along just fine, since you’re all friends of mine.» «They’re nice, in fact!» you tried to reply. Pierre gave you a knowing look. «Y/n, there’s no need to cover it up, I’ve got two eyes to see you have been running away from everyone tonight… Especially from Charles.» «What?» You stood still, watching him stop as you did. Had he noticed? Did he… know? «Are you… are you, like, jealous of him?» Pierre asked, reticent. «What?! N-no, of course not, why would I-» «Sorry, I was just wondering why you gave him strange looks all night, that’s it.» «No, it’s just… I think I’ve seen him somewhere else, before.» you swallowed hard, hoping he’d buy into your lie. Pierre first looked at you, then started laughing contagiously, to the point you had to giggle as well with a frown. «Why are you laughing?» you asked. «Are you kidding me? Of course you’ve seen him before!» «And… where?» you hesitated, now even scarier than earlier. «On track, y/n! He races for Ferrari, putain!» His laugh didn’t complement your heart drop. «You didn’t watch any race for real, uh? I thought you were joking. Now, that hurts!» The attempt at matching his laugh was almost miserable; the clench grinding your poor heart felt unbearable, feelings gushing and bleeding out beneath your skin.

Nothing had prepared you to see him once again face to face, nor you had anticipated talking to him, spending time together. For sure, no one had warned you about the way he would’ve changed so much growing up. A childish mischief still lingered in his expression, but you could clearly see he had matured, his perfectly crafted jawline and his beard giving it away; his athletic body resembled nothing of the young, agile and slim figure you remembered. You recalled witnessing Pierre’s transformation. Looking at them now, they didn’t seem like guys in their mid-twenties and, compared to them, you felt like a child, whereas they had already achieved a lifestyle you would never even dream of. Despite the obvious differences in the physique, something about Charles’ demeanor had unexpectedly softened: you were so accustomed to his impulsive, black-or-white younger self that you almost couldn’t recognize him under the charming and elegant masquerade. It can’t be him, you thought.

An awkward tension made every gesture clumsy, intrinsically wrong: throughout the weekend, anytime you’d cross each other’s way, you both moved cautiously around each other, studying the new person you had in front, as if you were trying to read a book you once knew by heart, word by word, now translated into an unknown language. And even though you struggled recognizing the Charles you used to know, he could clearly tell it was the same old you beneath the embarrassment: he always found you lightheartedly making jokes and having fun, smiling kindly, or thinking deep in silence. When you were with Pierre. Because as soon as Charles entered your vision, he would see you stiffening, stuttering, fighting insecurities in every sentence and gesture. And as much as he felt discomfort in making you all flustered, a thorn of pride stung his heart. He still had an effect on you. He wouldn’t makeyou laugh uncontrollably as Pierre did, but he was still able to stir some deep feelings inside of you, and it fueled him like gasoline on fire, for some reason. # Charles genuinely thought seeing you in Monaco was a karmic debt’s payment, enduring the comfort and the palpable chemistry between you and his best friend: apart from the small talk he had tried to initiate with you, Charles had kept away from you, purposely avoiding your presence. Undeniably, you still had an effect on him too.

When he entered the paddock on Wednesday, welcomed by the Spanish heat, crossing the lane with the hospitalities already brimming of life, he definitely didn’t expect to see you again, let alone to find you sat on a white wicker couch next to Pierre. Right as he witnessed the scene, the Frenchman swiftly placing your bare legs on his lap, his fingers drawing circles upon your skin, both spread out and chilling, enjoying the nice weather, Charles couldn’t help himself from chewing his inner cheek and pacing quickly towards Ferrari’s hospitality. What made him even more furious was knowing that Pierre was well aware of the cameras pointing towards you and taking pictures with no disturb, implicitly giving them permission, being so physical with you in public. Pierre wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing. And Charles didn’t like it. Because you seemed so innocent, always caring, smiley, kind and considerate of others, hanging off Pierre’s lips; and Charles hated, oh, he hated it as much as immediately spotting the flash of fear and tension crossing your irises as soon as he tried to approach you. Charles would’ve gladly done without hovering around you, or stop caring about you and Pierre’s affair, but he simply couldn’t: after seeing you amidst the crowd, he was drawn to you, by far the quickest in reaching you swiftly dodging everybody else, ready to find stupid excuses to chat with you and get your attention away from Pierre at least for a couple of minutes. The painful truth was that Charles desperately wanted to catch up with you, spend an entire night just the two of you and be your listener, hearing your enchanting voice narrate the life you had led so far and staring into your mesmerizing eyes full of dreams. He wanted to amend for the past. He felt guilty for what he had said, yet he acknowledged he wouldn’t know any better back at the time.

Instead, he was attending yet another night out with Pierre and mutual friends, throwing deadly glances over your dancing silhouettes, painfully reminded of what it could’ve been. Charles had so many apologetic words stuck in his throat, but an overwhelming wave of unlabeled feelings impeded him to talk the matter out with you. Only a question, the same one, all over again. Why Pierre? He unfortunately knew why you two had broken up, he couldn’t blame you in any way: but Charles couldn’t accept being discarded in place of Pierre. He loved him like a brother, he was one of his best buddies, and exactly because he knew him that well and had met you before, he was sure you two, as a couple, could never work out. Or, at least, that’s what he believed. There was also another annoyance cutting Charles’ skin: the fact that Pierre hadn’t been honest while introducing you. A friend? Sharing jackets and hoodies, letting each other be touchy and clingy, always hanging out together? Yeah, of course. Charles was having none of it. His drink tasted bitter, with you two in his vision; he couldn’t bear it any longer. So he simply decided to get the work done by himself.

Pierre had been talking and cracking jokes non-stop since the beginning of the night, getting his mouth dry quite rapidly; right as he left you dancing by yourself to grab another drink, Charles took the chance and crossed the dance floor fueled by liquid bravery, stopping right behind you, placing his hands on your waist carefully, so that you’d acknowledge his presence too late to run away from him. «Having fun with Pierre? Hasn’t he run out of words yet?» Charles teased you. «When he’s drunk, he gets quite talkative.» you explained. «And so do you.» At your raised brow, Charles took a sip of his drink with a smirk. «Just checking up on someone who seemed to be getting bored.» he leaned in a bit closer upon your shoulder. «Oh, and when did you start being concerned about me?» When I realized I was still in love with you, he thought. Charles wetted his lips. «Y/n, I’d really like to talk about everything that happened between us, if you just gave me the chance to-» «Charles, I suffered enough, trust me.» «And I’m suffering because of it now.» «Not my business. It’s your time to get over it.» «If you got over it, then why do you keep avoiding me like you’re still affected?» Charles knew he had hit home once he saw your eyes dart towards his, defenseless, uncapable of putting up shields of indifference. «Woah, Charles, stop bothering my girl!» Pierre loudly approached the two of you, drunkenly placing his arm around you, which Charles clearly interpreted as a “private property” sign. You were his girl, after all. Of course you wouldn’t give him a chance. Everything was already settled, nothing else left to be discussed. Still, if there was something Charles couldn’t do, it was losing without trying with all his might to grab the win. «Can I borrow her? Just wanted to dance with her.» Pierre chuckled and nodded. «Bien sur, go ahead!» You hated being treated like a parcel without thoughts and feelings, as if you not being willing to dance with Charles wasn’t even an option; indeed, you definitely didn’t refuse his gentle hand guiding you towards a quieter space on the dance floor, and didn’t sway the times Charles would place his face near yours, leaning against your ear, almost about to whisper something but never giving you the satisfaction to drop a single word.

There was no way you could deny the effect he still had on you, after all those years spent apart from each other: any moment your eyes flicked to glance at him, his bright eyes were still glistening with youthful innocence, his dimples still dazed you, his enigmatic smile still made you question his and your own feelings. For a moment, standing that close to him without sharing useless words, you imagined Charles had stayed. In fact, that you had stayed. With a little effort, you could almost imagine you two had never broken up: you were dancing, comfortably enjoying his hands on your waist, placing yours around his neck lightweight, scared of lengthening physical touch. He stared down at you with a pleased and peaceful gaze, so sweet it could almost stich up all the scars he had left over your heart, splitting them apart and filling them with love before sealing them forever. But he had made a choice back then, clear-cut. Formula One was his only lover, no room for others. No room for you. The music died around your ears. But it still pumped quick inside your heart. «Are you good?» Charles’ voice caught your attention, as his hands firmly kept you up and yours had fallen back onto his shoulders for support. You simply tripped, you said to yourself; something normal which would happen while dancing drunk, a usual slip of thoughts diving back into the hurt of the past. «Yeah, all good.» you breathed out, looking behind your back. Pierre’s silhouette had completely disappeared from the radar, leaving your clenching stomach lonely in the search of a ride home. «Where’s Pierre?» you slurred. «I don’t know…» Charles’ green eyes scanned the room and trailed off yours, joining them in the search. «Can you bring me back to the hotel?» Charles opened his eyes wide at those words. «What?» Maybe he hadn’t heard right. Maybe it was the voice of someone dancing next to him. «I’m tired, can you give me a ride?» The tip of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips got you stuck on his mouth, a lost soft look into your eyes that Charles had to avoid watching, before his drunk system would act bypassing rationality. «Of course.»

«Where are the keys?» Charles waited for your lazy hands to rummage inside your purse, quickly taking the shining, jingling metal out of your fingers. Right as the door cracked open, you aimed towards the king-sized bed, taking your heels off and slowly picking up the sheets in order to slip underneath them. «Don’t you want to change into something comfier?» he asked, dumbfounded. You whined in response, head already resting onto the pearl white pillow. «Y/n?» «Mmh?» «Do you want to sleep with your jeans on?» he almost chuckled. «Jeez, Cha’, I’m tired…» He walked next to the bed, kneeling down in front of you. «Yeah, I know, you said that quite a few times already.» With your eyes shut, you couldn’t see Charles’ enchanted stare; yet, you could feel the warmth of it even through the closed eyelids. «There’s a pair of shorts inside the wardrobe.» you mumbled. Pretty easy to spot, since it was the only piece of furniture Charles felt comfortable enough to name “wardrobe”, he slid the door of wood and sifted through. «They’re not hung… Are they inside a drawer?» «No, they’re on top of the first drawer. Under the hung clothes.» Following your instructions, Charles found the shorts, but pulling them out something fell down to the floor. «What was that?» you asked at the thud. «N-nothing, there you go with your shorts.» he quickly reached over. «Okay, don’t peek.» «Yep!» Charles turned back towards the wardrobe, gulping both at the guilt of dropping something off and at the shuffling denim behind him. He closed his eyes, covered in shame. Then, tugged by curiosity, he looked down before his shoes. A diary, spread open. Charles picked it up, a picture immediately threatening to escape the pages, but his fingers were fast enough to catch it. It was you and him, awkwardly posing for your mom, both wearing matching bracelets. «Cha’, the bed is cold.» «Uh?» he held his breath, caught by surprise. «Can you like… rub me from above the duvet?» Your drunken request didn’t sound weird to his equally drunken mind. He hopped onto the bed, with the back leaning onto the headrest, his right hand brushing you back and forth to soothe the cold, while he held the diary and the picture with the left. «Thank you, Cha’…» He couldn’t restrain himself from smiling, engraving in his mind the tender and natural rolling off of the nickname you had chosen. It was the same sweet tone you would use with him back then, when you still held hands, when your cheeks were tinted rose in his presence, when the only bracelet he would wear were the ones you made yourself. With love.

The shop windows were brimming with lights and Christmasy decorations: the whole city was lit alive by the thrilled atmosphere, and everyone seemed to be strolling by the pavement, making it difficult to catch up with your mother’s steps. «Come on, y/n, we’ll be late!» Winter holidays had started, and you couldn’t help but staring mesmerized at the streets, couples walking hand in hand, the grey sea roaring in the distance. Christmas was only a few days away and your mom had booked an appointment to the hairdresser to adjust your hair a little bit before the new year; you knew, though, that she had insisted also because she enjoyed Pascale’s company and gossiping quite a lot, especially since his son was only a year older than you and had the same middle school teachers you had.

«Ah, y/n, I wish I had a daughter like you. My sons are three devils.» Your mother chuckled at Pascale’s defeated comment, sitting on a couch behind you, holding a magazine. «But they’re talented, at least.» You pouted at your mom’s words, frowning. «Especially Charles. By the way, how is he doing?» your mother added. Pascale sighed, blow-drying your hair. «Very good… But I’m worried he’ll never finish school.» «But he’s in third grade now, how can’t he not?» you asked, with lively eyes. «Middle school isn’t the problem, y/n. I’m afraid he’ll never graduate from high school. I mean, he’s clearly on a league of his own, but… there are no certainties he’ll make it to Formula One, and in case things might not go as planned I don’t want him to struggle finding a job due to a lack of diploma.» «I don’t think you need to worry, Pascale. If Charles can’t succeed, then nobody else will!» Pascale sadly smiled at your mother’s answer, brushing your hair. Still staring at yourself inside the mirror, you caught eye of something quickly storming into the saloon from the backdoor. «Mom, can I go out now?» You had never met him, but it was immediately clear to you that the boy tugging at his mother’s apron was Charles. A lock of hair partly covered his eyes and you were amazed at how large and luminous they were, full of hopes and dreams. «Did you finish your homework?» she asked, still patiently brushing your hair. Hesitating, you saw his eyes trailing off towards Pascale’s movements, pointing towards your hair and ultimately fixed his green pearls onto you. Charles’ lips parted to let out an inaudible gasp, caught by surprise by your gracious and lightful beauty: your hair, perfectly combed, seemed like a crown of silk upon your face, and your blushing cheeks hit an unknow spot of his young, tender, unexperienced heart. «So?» Pascale prompted. «No, I haven’t finished yet.» Charles felt stupid, but he couldn’t stop staring at you, nor could you. He was so scared you would never see each other again he was trying to extend the moment as long as he possibly could. «But I’ll finish them.» he added. Pascale, surprised at the answer, never heard beforehand, watched him pacing fast out the backdoor and reemerging with the notebook in his hand, sitting on the couch nearest to you. Unbeknownst to both of you, your moms had exchanged a knowing look through the mirror; but how could you notice, when all your attention was undividedly offered to each other? He took furtive peeks, as you darted him side-eyed glances, enchanted with his haphazard pose. Needless to say, Charles didn’t get much homework done… But he studied, oh boy, he did: he studied all your features, your behavior, your shy answers to your mother, your graceful red dress as you stood up in order to leave the saloon.

«M-merry Christmas!» he hastily blurted out, before you exited the door. Melting like a candle under a flame, Charles’ chest tightened at your small smile. «Merry Christmas.»

First it was doing homework together, then it was hanging out to eat some ice-cream as a treat, then it was strolling by the sea, and then riding the bike chuckling and giggling, until it was walking to the school gate hand in hand and wearing the matching bracelets you’d gifted him – not making it on purpose – for Valentine’s Day. It had happened so fast you couldn’t give a name to it: you spent all the free time you had in his company – whenever he wasn’t down karting tracks training – and you let yourself be swamped by Charles’ explosiveness, dragging you alongside him down all Monaco, willing to show you anything beautiful he had seen in his life, making memories together.

You had seen other classmates of yours having boyfriends, but they all seemed too morbidly physical to you. Charles would only grab your hand occasionally or give shy and awkward hugs, and that was more than enough for you, more than you would ask him to do: you didn’t feel the need for more; everything was as perfect as he could be. Some of your classmates also mocked you for being his girlfriend, since everybody noticed he often skipped lessons and wasn’t known as an easy character. In fact, Charles, at times, especially at school, treated you a bit coldly, annoyed by all the guys watching him and judging the both of you spending the breaks together. It had never been a problem to you, though, because you had soon realized his heart was full of love and care for you.

«Did they do anything to you?» he asked you, accompanying you back home after school, referring to your classmates. «No, they just talked crap as always.» you shrugged. «Did they touch you?» he asked once again, grabbing your hand a little tighter. «Uh?» «I saw they patted your shoulder, in front of the gate, when you were coming out. Did they do anything before that?» «No, they didn’t.» Charles’ frown was still on display, and you could tell he had been upset by the scene. It was normal, after all: he had witnessed his girlfriend being bullied, liked none of it and wished he would’ve got the chance to intervene. But somehow, seeing him deep in thought and keeping you closer to him made you realize for the first time he genuinely cared about you, more than two good friends, and as your chest filled with an unexplainable excitement, you slowly leaned your head against his shoulder. You waited for him to sway and withdraw from the touch, but he didn’t. You walked back home, fingers intertwined, moving slow steps, both wishing the path was endless.

«Are you done?» «Almost.» Charles huffed in impatience, as your fingers knotted the thread tighter. «Done! Give me your wrist.» you said. After attentively securing the bracelet, Charles took the other one you had already completed. «Give me yours.» You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tied the matching bracelet to your wrist. «I like it a lot. Thank you, y/n.» His few words of appreciation warmed your heart, which fluttered and flipped in joy. You had thought it through for weeks, months; you had shyly confided with your mother, who tried to push you in being a little braver; still, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit your love to Charles. Because it was love. As you stared at each other in silence, your heart was about to explode, but he seemed to be unfazed by your flushed cheeks and nervous giggles. “Charles really likes you, y/n. You don’t have to doubt it.”, Pascale had told you. So, without thinking, prompted by the reassurances you had gathered from external feedback, you quickly leaned towards him and gave him the fastest peck on the lips. Pulling back, you kept your eyes shut, too scared to face his reaction; completely still, terrified, heart flinging out of your chest, you were caught by surprise feeling Charles’ lips back onto yours. It wasn’t as rushed as yours; he probably wasn’t as scared as you were. Under the careful touch of his hand upon your arm, you felt all your tension melt like snow under the sun, giving in to the moment, happy you had broken the ice so that you could both enjoy this second kiss without hesitation. As his face moved away, you saw him opening his mouth in order to say something. «I… I love you, y/n.» he gulped. «And thanks for the gift, they’re so well-made.» The way he had immediately changed topic didn’t help making his first words going unnoticed; Charles couldn’t put his heart on the line that openly, after all. But it seemed like you had only heard those three words, getting stuck at them, flinging yourself towards to hug him. «I love you too, Cha’!»

Charles looked over at you, peacefully drifted away, sleeping your hangover off. He had never told you, but you had been his first love too. Charles didn’t stop tenderly rubbing you from above the sheet, shamelessly enamored with that delicate, indirect touch. Caught once again by the diary, he frowned at a wrinkled page.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, you knew bad news were coming. You had never seen him as silent, as closed off and distant before: instead of immediately reaching out to your hand, walking alongside, he had fastened his steps, marching ahead of you, without sparing you a glance. He stopped on the promenade quite abruptly, forcing you to halt to avoid tripping over him. He stared at the raging sea, tinted of green and grey waves, foaming onto the harbor. «Where do you want to go?» you asked, trying to be as quiet as possible. «It doesn’t matter.» His voice was categorical. «We can’t be together.» He didn’t glance over to you nor blinked, as he threw you on the abyss of the sea, in the freezing coldness of his heart. «What?» you said, above a whisper. «I need to win the karting championship, so I must exclusively focus on training. Spending time with you will make me waste time.» A waste of time. That’s what you were to him. «But… We can still see each other, once you’re done with training! There’s no need to-» «I want to be a Formula One driver, y/n. I can’t have distractions.» «I’m not a distraction, Cha’! We… We love each other!» you pleaded. He finally turned around and threw a pity and almost annoyed look at you. «My only love is racing.» Too young and vulnerable to know how to hide the hurt of rejection, weeping like a baby you bumped past him, running back home, completely distraught. Charles’ words had cut you open like a knife, and what made it worse was that he had given no warning sign: those months together had flown by like a fever dream, sweet and carefree, even when he was telling you about his races and training. It made no sense, to you. He had given you up without thinking twice, whenever the choice was presented to him: racing had been and would always be his answer. Your feelings, whatever you two had shared meant nothing to him. Slamming the door of your bedroom, you looked down at your wrist: with a violent grab, you tore your matching bracelet apart, sobbing loudly, desperate at the thought he would soon throw the one you had made for him too.

Charles’ chest clenched. He had forgotten about the words he had used with you back at the time, but he hadn’t been able to rub off his memory the tears you shed before him. He was sure to be making the right choice, despite not knowing the cost of blindly pursuing his dream without taking others into consideration. He heard you heaving peaceful under his hand, still placed upon the duvet, and he felt a deep regret assaulting him: how could he ask you to stay near him, to bear his presence after what he had done to you? But most importantly: why did he have to lose you only to discover, years later, that if he had kept you by his side, you would’ve been the most supporting and understanding person, given the honey-laced words Pierre always had rolling off his tongue whenever he talked about your presence during race weekends?

Charles sighed and flipped the pages over and got stuck onto another entry, enchanted by a matured handwriting.

Pierre has always been a friend. Every time he would invite you down karting tracks, he would do anything to make you laugh with his stupid jokes, telling you about all the places he had been able to see throughout his first racing weekends around France, dreaming together of his future and reassuring you he would bring you along with him once he would reach F1. No matter how convincing he could sound, his talks always managed to trigger a deep fear in you: you thought you would soon lose him as well, the only real friend you had made since moving out. But Pierre didn’t reject you as Charles had done. Instead of excluding you, he tried to involve you in his world made of races and revving engines, sharing every bit of energy and passion with you. So you grew up together, as close as time and space allowed. The ease and comfort you felt around him and that developed over time was a novelty, more so as you got to know each other since you were fourteen; if you really had to carefully think your relationship through, being there for each other during teenage ha certainly cemented your connection. Because Pierre has always been a good friend; but there had been times, occasions, small moments in which raveled feelings coursed beneath the seemingly smooth surface.

It was no mystery Pierre enjoyed partying, more so if he could drag you with him down the hell of heat, sweat, shots and loud blasting music pumping his blood stronger than ever. That night, though, he had overdone it a bit. Embarrassingly enough, for the first time in his nineteen-years-old existence, he was locked in a bathroom, hands on his stomach, nausea all over his head. And, most importantly, you all over his thoughts. He had downed drinks all night with the intent of celebrating his F1 debut, but completely forgetting about your intoxicating presence, your breathtaking smiles, the little temptations that had begun tormenting him subtly after you had both abandoned innocence and had inevitably grown older. Pierre had completely underestimated the power you had on him, and losing control with drinking loosened his nerves: throughout the night, his hands had unexpectedly lingered on your waist longer, betraying the intentions of removing them in a painstaking delay; his glance had flickered down to your lips too many times, despite him checking in with himself and correct it; the crowded club being accomplice, he had danced way closer to you than he should’ve had, closer than friends would do, and he had mischievously invited you to throw your arms behind his neck. Pierre had never felt so next to completely letting go of any restraint and kissing you then and there, freeing years of pent-up desires. And at that exact moment, nausea had hit him, throwing water upon his fire: he had excused himself to you with incoherent mumbles and ran, scattered, in search of the first restroom he could see. Of course, he should’ve imagined you would follow him and enter the bathroom with him, locking the door behind you.

«Do you… do you need help?» you asked, moving an unsure step towards him. Pierre’s thoughts were running wild: he closed his eyes, fighting the sickness and avoiding engraving in his memory your sweet, worried eyes. «No, I just need to calm down, I think.» You got closer to him after seeing him frustratedly passing a hand through his hair, and affectionately cupped his cheek, pained to see his skin pale under the yellowish light of the bathroom. «Do you want me to bring you some water? I’ll come back in a second.» But Pierre, who was melting into your palm pressed against his face, enjoying the touch with eyes still shut, opened them wide with a frown the second the contact was lost: he grabbed your wrist, which was willing to flee from him, and brought it close so that your fingers would linger back upon his cheek, not ready at all to let you go now that he had you so tantalizingly near. «Please, stay here.» he breathed out. The swift hand pulling your waist closer to him almost went unnoticed, since dizziness was beginning to get you as well; however, not a single hint thrown at you that night, and not even the ones he had left in the last three years or so, had ever led you to believe Pierre yearned for something more. After all, he was a highly popular guy, always hanging out with different girls every night, never trying to hide it from you, in fact. Chicks came and went, but you always stayed. And you also stayed as Pierre spitted a strained and husky putain before rapidly closing the gap between you and trapping your parted lips in a kiss. He didn’t leave much room for you to think nor react: Pierre’s tongue had already met yours in a sloppy and fast-paced dance, and your hand, previously brushing the lightest veil of his beard, had already made his way up to his hair, tugging at it, before you could realize what was happening. Pierre’s stare was completely drowned in dark lust and he couldn’t think straight anymore, taken over by the fog of alcohol and your addictive presence. He kept your lips glued to yours, too scared your words would break what Pierre reckoned to be a fantasy, too good to be true; still, even when he was quickly interrupting the kiss to catch breaths or change side and tilt his head the other way round, no protests were raised. Thirsty and urged by drought, he drank his fill from your lips with such an avidity he would take away any resistance hovering in your mind: Pierre’s desire to see your face under the poorly lit restroom won against the feral need of tasting you, failing to take into consideration how the trail of glistening saliva connecting your swollen lips would turn him on even more, combined with your drunk, dazed eyes and your flushed cheeks. His hands couldn’t stop roaming all over your back, gripping your neck to keep you close, then finally finding rest onto your hips. It didn’t take long before they became daring: still placed upon your waist, they slowly slid up, meeting the cotton of your top and slightly rolling it up-

Charles closed the diary with an abrupt thud. Breathing heavily, eyes filled with rage and fear, he stared straight into the void. He had no intention to keep reading that entry. He wouldn’t read other two pages of you and Pierre’s first hookup. First of how many? He had introduced you as one of his dearest friends… But Charles knew Pierre better than anybody else, and it was a fact he had never befriend that deeply any girl. Unless she was his girlfriend. The idea Charles had had you before and lost you, then found you again and now lost you once more, and to his best friend, stirred unknown feelings inside of him he’d rather bury deep.

A buzz broke his trail of thoughts. Caught by surprise, Charles realized you had dropped your phone onto the bed before slipping under the covers and it had sat near his thigh all along without him noticing. Until it started buzzing, of course. Unconsciously, he took the phone in his hand and saw the notifications pop-ups coming from Pierre. “where aare youuu? I can’t find you And Charles is gone as well ? Please text me back” Charles rested his head again the wall, just above the headrest, and sighed. He should answer Pierre’s texts in order for him not to panic about you two disappearing without warning… or ignore him and pretend he had never read anything? In that moment, Charles realized he had overstepped plenty of the boundaries of your privacy, reading through both your diary and your phone. So… why not going all the way in and earn full damnation? Once he was asked to put a passcode, he stared at the number pad waiting for his drunk brain gears to move; digiting his attempt, he hoped you still kept the same passcode you had back in middle school. It’ll never work, he thought. But to Charles’ amazement, it did. Pressing his lips together mentally mocking your laziness and lack of clever choices (overlooking the fact that he was the only one to possibly know your code from middle school times), he quickly tapped the notification and got ready to type an answer. “I brought her back to the hotel and we’ve just fucked, so that’s why she didn’t answer back :) " No, Charles, for freak’s sake. No resentment. No jealousy. No throwing it back in his face. He’s your best mate, after all. “Charles brought me back to the hotel cause I didn’t feel good We wanted to warn you but couldn’t find you” Quite satisfied, Charles reckoned that would be something you’d say. He didn’t even bother checking for Pierre’s replay, definitely willing to miss out on him being love-sickly worried about you, eye rolling at the mere thought. You were still there sleeping quietly, unaware of the emotional mess you had stirred in Charles’ poor heart. He glanced over at you for the last time, then slowly got up, put the diary back in the wardrobe and sneaked out, closing the door as delicate and silent as he could, not to wake the love he had put to sleep.

Charles sat to the small table, his lower calf resting on his other knee, the pointer finger brushing against his lower lip, in wait. He had been asked by the waiter to order a couple of times already, but Charles, as politely as his upset heart could allow him to, had dismissed him and sent him away. Pierre’s lean silhouette casually strolled towards him with that usual, smug smirk adorning his face with an aura that Charles, for the first time after years of hanging out together, behind his Ray Bans, found terribly unsufferable. He tried to study his best friend in search of whatever detail could’ve ever caught you trapped into his arms, and how the man now taking a seat right in front of him could’ve lied to him straight to the face keeping his new relationship away from him.

«So… I’m all ears.» Pierre stated, smiling. «Alright.» Charles didn’t move, watching his every movement. «Can I ask you something first?» the Frenchman interrupted him as he was about to speak up. «Sure.» Charles sighed, tilting his head in a slow, controlled back and forth motion. «You didn’t tell me anything about y/n since you met her. What do you think of her?» The Monegasque couldn’t restrain a snort, looking away and removing his glasses only to fidget them close, before enigmatically staring at Pierre. It wouldn’t take as long as Charles had predicted to get to the main point of the conversation. «Why does my opinion on her matter so much to you?» «Because you’re my best bro?» Pierre nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. He can’t be lying straight to my face so openly, Charles thought. «You know, you could’ve told me right away you wanted me to meet your new girlfriend. You didn’t have to put all this shit up and call her “one of my dearest friends”.»

Charles, still glancing at him, expected to savor Pierre’s astonished reaction, ready to catch him red-handed: so it was only natural for him to be left confused as the Frenchman frankly laughed, hand on his belly. «Mate, I don’t know how you made it up, but this is the most stupid crap I’ve heard in a while.» «Well, the way you two look at each other and are so comfortable with touching and being close gives it off. You aren’t subtle at all.» Pierre frowned, squinting his eyes to read into Charles’ expression. «Well, that’s a pity, because there’s nothing between me and her. And if you really want to know, she also rejected me long time ago.» «If she rejected you, something must’ve happened.» he stated, raising a brow. «We just made out once. I was celebrating for my F1 debut, I drank way too much and I kissed her. But she refused me quite badly.» he smiled at the thought. «What?» Charles stared at him conflicted, not knowing whether to trust Pierre’s version of the story. «She almost pushed me against the wall. I don’t even think she remembers, we were both completely hangover next day and we never talked about it anymore… Because there was no need to.» Charles would’ve liked to say that, in fact, you clearly remembered it, since he had found it in your diary; but knowing that he had skipped the pages which probably contained the rejection made him feel somewhat relieved. Yet, the undeniable closeness he had witnessed with his own eyes still put him in guard. «Still, you’re always PDA… and you also called her your girl.» «Did I? When?» «Literally last time we went out.» «Oh, I don’t remember. Too drunk to know.» Pierre smiled again. «But at this point, I guess there’s something you really would like to tell me about her.» Charles frowned, waiting for him to speak up again. «You act sus the entire night I introduced you both and dodge every conversation I try to have about her, but you still search for her any hour of the day just to give me second-hand embarrassment with you two’s awkward tension…» Pierre smirked to himself, shaking his head in the smallest movements and scrolling through his phone. «Then you use y/n’s phone to send me a drunk text she questions me about, stating it certainly isn’t hers, which kind of hints at the fact you stayed over to her room until…» he paused, then snorted loudly, «3 a.m. Wow.» Pierre put his phone on the table, screen facing downward. «Lastly, you invite me here, act all classy and cold with your Ray Bans, ready to confront me and make me confess my undying love for y/n with this pissed off face,» he pointed at his friend’s expression, «‘cause you’re jealous as fuck and you’re the one in love with her, uh? Good move, Charles. You’re the one who’s not being subtle at all, here.»

The waiter jumped right in at the worst possible moment, but this time Charles thanked his presence and let him interrupt the conversation: he felt spent, let down, somehow sorry for acting childishly. But, most of all, for being put in front of the harsh true: he still loved you. «Do you know all the story already?» Charles asked him, looking down, dejected. «Which story?» Pierre stared at him bamboozled, as Charles did in return. «But- you said I’m in love with her, so you know, right?» «Know what? What are you talking about?» Charles gulped. «That me and y/n have been together.» Charles saw Pierre’s eyes flick wide open, then him covering his mouth, in disbelief; once again staring back at him, completely sucked in by the news, willing to get at the bottom of it. «When she lived in Monaco…» «Yep.»

A short pause was offered by the drinks opportunely served, just in time for processing the information. «Now I understand why she acts weird when you’re around.» the Frenchman hummed, taking a sip. «Why did you breakup though?» «Guess I was too young to be in a serious relationship while also competing in karting.» Pierre glanced at his best friend, almost uncapable of recognizing him: he’d rarely seen him heartbroken and let down as he was, brushing his fingertip against the edge of his glass. «You should’ve invited y/n here instead of me.» Charles sadly smiled. «To say what?» «Exactly what you told me. You should’ve shown her you’re jealous of me and her, so that she knew you still love her. She should’ve seen you care for her as you probably did back then.» «So that she could rip my heart in two saying she doesn’t feel the same anymore?» «So that she could realize she never dated anybody else after you because she still feels something for you.» Charles bore his helpless eyes into Pierre’s, hope and surprise dancing in his irises. «C’mon, Charles, she even rejected me. Nobody has ever turned me down!» «Oh, please, I know that already.» Charles waited a couple of seconds to let the playful comment set before speaking up again. «Anyway, I tried to talk to her. But of course, she doesn’t want to listen, rightfully, and I can’t force her to.» Pierre loudly put down on the table his glass, spitting out a “tsk” of disapproval and disgust. «Where’s the Charles I know? The one who fights his battles until the end without giving up?»

In love, Charles had never had many problems. After you, that is. Loving came easy to him, as much as being loved: Pierre was popular due to his damned-cool boy reputation, but Charles wasn’t less of a dream for girls. He’d see the astonished stares, cheeks burning bright for him only, the small gasps and whispers shared between friends, the trembling voices and shaking fingers handing him the phone, a picture, a felted tip. A power he never used, let alone overused, to his own advantage. Still, he wished he would work with you. He always searched for any positive sign or reaction to his presence, but he never had the chance to spot them clearly. Every time some fans would hand him a bracelet, an instant stab of sorrow and regret seeped through his heart, overlaying memories of your delicate, small hands offering your handmade sign of love. Pierre was right. He couldn’t let you slip away, once again. «You must hurry up, though.» Pierre stood up, one hand stuffed in his jeans’ pocket. «Why?» «She leaves tomorrow. She… she goes back home.» he trailed off his stare. «What?! Why didn’t you tell me?» Charles abruptly stood up to face him, screeching his chair on the floor. «’Cause I didn’t know you cared?» Charles ran a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. «Oh, fuck me…» Pierre took his phone out of the pocket and sent a text, under the desperate stare of his best friend. «Okay, she’s in her room now. Go to her.» «W-where?» «She’s staying at my same hotel, room 214. But you know that already from last night.» Charles gaped, uncapable of letting words out. Pierre smiled, patting his shoulder. «You’re welcome. But get to work, okay?»

You knew since the beginning that Pierre’s newly gifted sweatshirts wouldn’t fit your suitcase, so you had warned him not to shower you with merch as he always did: in vain, of course. Hence, you were completely bent over the suitcase, desperately trying to squeeze it with your body weight, in order to close the zip. Huffing and grumbling, about to break the zip due to the excessive might, you halted every movement as a confident knocking on your door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone; so typical of Pierre to forget stuff in your room and casually pass by… But his knocks would be usually followed by a string of embarrassing pet names, forcing you to open the door immediately. It was unusual for silence to drop right after the knocks.

You got closer to the door, only to jump back hearing insistent thuds against it. Okay, this is more like Pierre. You didn’t wonder further and simply got ready to welcome the sight of your best friend. Apart from the fact that the guy swiftly sneaking inside your room wasn’t him. «W-what are you doing?!» First rage, then fluster hit you: but Charles’ stormy eyes made you weak and helplessly condescending to anything he’d come by to say, as they had always done. «Why are you here?» you asked, your tone softened. Wetted his lips, irises scattered around, purposely avoiding yours, then a firm, determined yet resigned stare. «I read your diary.» «W-wha-» «When I brought you back here from the party, you were drunk. I made it drop by mistake and… and it was right open. I read it. And I also used your phone to answer Pierre’s texts, but you already know this.»

You couldn’t even get mad. As much as you tried to gather fury within you, something about him being vulnerable and fragile before you, frankly confessing the wrongdoings, seemingly heartbroken, couldn’t stir up blame on him. The only thing which made your ears ring and blurred your eyes was black fear. «What… what did you read?» Charles swallowed hard; you followed the movement with your eyes, you almost heard it loud and clear. «Everything.» With a single word, your pride tore apart. You could feel the void it left right beneath your sternum, and you could perceive the prickling tears stinging your eyes. Charles’ brows trembled in sorrow as he watched shame flash through your body, enhancing the shaking of your fingers, the twitching of your lips. «Why did you come here to embarrass me?» Not bearing being that far away from you while simultaneously being the reason you were crying, Charles closed the gap with a step, cupping your cheek with unknown tenderness. «Can you forgive me?» he whispered. You deeply wished he didn’t sound that fragile and loving; you couldn’t bear the pity look he was giving you, not after the brutal ways he had used with you in the past. He was being unnecessarily unfair. Because he probably knew, as you did deep down, that there was no way on earth you could avoid forgiving him.

Charles waited for your answer with his heart on the line, ready to crash in the abyss of despair or hopefully swim in relief, his fingers brushing the dust of time off your precious self, like a rediscovered chest of memories. He shouldn’t have never let you go. «You’re so stupid…» you shook your head and drop it low. «Charles, reading a diary isn’t as bad as-» «No, y/n, that’s not what I meant.» You raised your head up at his words. «Can you forgive me for… leaving you?» Beyond your inner walls, water fell and crashed the dam with its violent flow. He let you hide your face in the crook of his neck, hugging you closer, placing a kiss on your hair, tightening the embrace as your sobs tightened his chest. «Would you trust my love?» he spoke again. A loud sigh erupted from your lips. «I hate you so much…» Charles affectionately leaned his cheek upon your head, rubbing your back in hope to soothe your cries. «I was so naïve and stupid, y/n. I’m so sorry.» he whispered. «You don’t even know how much pain you put me through… I fucking left my hometown, Charles! I moved out…» «I know.» Charles acknowledged, resigned. «No, you don’t! You don’t…» «I never forgave myself for this. You know that?» His honesty showed through the hoarse tone of his voice, which obliged you to look at him, fast enough to see the veils of tears adorning his mesmerizing green, now saddened, eyes. «When my mom told me you had moved out, I thought it couldn’t be real. I waited for you out of school, to bring you back home as we always did, but you were never there.»

You cried harder against his skin, devastated by his shaking voice, and you encircled his neck with your arms to nestle closer. «I kept wearing your bracelet, I couldn’t take it off. It was the only thing I still had of you.» Charles trailed off his gaze and strayed away from the fixed spot he had been staring at, willing to interrupt the unraveling of his raw, way too powerful feelings; then he gently pushed you away the bit he needed to look inside your eyes. «Even if you don’t believe me, I won’t be able to forgive myself until you do. And I might not be able to forgive myself anyway,» he wiped off one of your tears with his thumb, «but I couldn’t add another regret, letting you go without telling you that I still love you.»

Charles felt a weight lifting off his shoulder, relaxing his tensed muscles all at once: he had said the words he had kept stuck in his heart for way too long. He let the hug loosen and moved backwards, now ready to see you leave. «But… if you’re in love with Pierre… I mean, I won’t interfere with you guys. You’re free to love whoever and I honestly can’t blame you, after all I’ve done.» You sadly smiled at his antics, diverging gaze as soon as he had broken the embrace and distancing from you. He had just told you he loved you, but had thrown another topic onto the table so that it would go unnoticed, so that he wouldn’t be hurt in case you didn’t reciprocate. He hadn’t changed, not even a bit. Under the cool and elegant demeanor, you could still see the shy, impulsive and passionate boy you had fallen in love with. «Cha’… You know I can’t choose who to love, right?» Charles’ eyes widened as soon as he saw you stepping towards him, closing the gap once again, lacing your hands around his neck while he held your waist in disbelief, scared you would fade away leaving him with splinters of a dream. «And the proof is that… I can’t help loving you.» «I’d like to say that I’m sorry for you, but…» You both inched over each other’s head, hearts twisting with the renewed novelty of what love felt like. «But there’s no need to be.» you breathed on his lips. The tension pent up through your muscles released all at once, right as you both fell caught inside a kiss: the lock which had sealed you heart for years cracked open at Charles’ key, unleashing the old, affectionate and immature feelings so that you could dress them with the newer and shinier clothes of reconciliation.

Charles couldn’t help a soft moan of frustration while deepening the kiss, his hands failing to keep you as close as he needed, touch-starved. You let him take control, overwhelmed by bliss to the point you simply gave in and relied completely on him; as he worshipped every corner of your beauty, your heart overflowed of unexperienced joy and love. You weren’t in a rush for taking the flight anymore: time was a senseless number uncapable of measuring the moment. Charles delicately laid you on the newly made bed, leaving a trail of feather-like kisses on your collarbones and down to your stomach, lips brushing against your summer dress and eyes desperately sticking onto yours all along. «Tell me you want this as much as I do.» His eyelids shut and his hopeful, breathless voice invited your fingers to pass through his hair, pulling his lips back above yours. «I promise I do.» Scared of opening his eyes and discovering he was having a feverish, heart-rending yet delightful dream, Charles helplessly smiled after resting his forehead upon yours. «Let me love you, then.»

I'm dead sure it's full of mistaked but I'm too tired and happy to be posting that I don't care! Thanks for bearing through everything! And thanks a ton to who leaves notes of feedback, they're so precious and dear to me! ♥ ✧ ˚ · . Wish you a wonderful day . · ˚✧

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#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #golden post

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saetoru · 2 years

Note

mammon is a sucker for being the little spoon or just burying his face in your stomach while you're working or sitting on your phone 🥺

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍.

mammon thinks it’s unfair—you’ve got two hands, and one of them isn’t even busy. you should be playing with his hair, you should be gently scratching his scalp as he lays over you, but you’re not.

and he thinks it’s entirely unacceptable.

“why are you pouting,�� you raise a brow, staring down at his curled lips and smooshed cheek against your sternum. he huffs, glaring up at you as though you should already know.

“not poutin’,” he mutters, “those eyes o’ yours clearly don’t work.”

he is pouting—you know he knows that, but you don’t think mammon is a fraction of himself if not stubborn. by now, he’s got crinkled brows, distress clear on his face as you stare down at him, so you—finally—set your phone down to turn your attention to him.

“okay, drama queen,” you chuckle, smoothing back a few strands of hair from his forehead. the effects are instant. his eyes close and his lips are almost a smile—and you have your answer, fighting back a snort as you shake your head in amusement. “if you wanted attention, you could’ve just asked. you’re shameless enough, anyway.”

“take that back, how dare ya,” mammon looks up at you in disbelief, pout tugging his lips deeper as he grumbles, “didn’t come in here to be ignored, ya know. i shouldn’t have to ask.”

you giggle, gently cup his cheeks and squeeze them together, planting small kisses to his forehead as his face heats up in your grasp.

“there,” you hum, “that should do it. anything else you need?”

“h-hey, i didn’t need those kisses,” he huffs, shooting you what’s his (poor) attempt of a smug grin, “ya just couldn’t keep off me. i don’t blame ya, i am pretty great.”

“well, if that’s all, then i’ll go back to—”

“okay,” he whines, cutting you off and wrapping his arms tighter around you to keep you from grabbing your phone again, head burying into your neck to hide the blush that’s quickly creeping up his face to the tip of his ears. “ya know what i want,” he mumbles.

“maybe, but i want to hear you say it,” you tease, laughing as you card yourself fingers through his hair. he sighs in content at the feeling, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck as he feels his eyelids grow heavy.

“course ya do,” he grins, “too shy to admit ya want my cuddles, huh? ‘s okay, i’ll let ya cuddle me.” you roll your eyes, and it’s as close to a confession as you’ll get, so you take it even if it’s not exactly what you had in mind.

you turn your head, pressing a delicate kiss to the side of his head, rubbing his back with slow, gentle circles while his body presses heavier against you as he drifts off. and mammon fits a little too perfectly against your body, molds a little too easily, tangling your limbs until you don’t quite know where one ends and the other begins—and you think if this is what he wants, being encased in your arms for just a little while, you don’t ever want him to pull away.

“you’re shameless, you know that?” you snort, and he grins into the crook of your neck as you pull the covers over his body.

“ya haven’t reminded me how in love with me you are,” he pokes your side, chuckling when you twitch a little at the feeling before swatting his hand away.

“that’s because i’m not,” you hiss, but he knows there’s fondness in your voice, and in the way your arm wraps loosely around his waist, and in the way your fingers tangle in his white strands—and he thinks he could keep you here like this for centuries if he could.

maybe longer if time permits.

“c’mon, admit it,” he yawns, and just as he slips into a slumber, he hears a soft i love you against the side of his head. he falls asleep with a small grin on his face—but not without mumbling a barely audible, “love ya too.”

SWEET BABY BOY I WILL HOLD YOU FOR AS LONG AS YOU NEED SOBSOBSOB

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#mammon x reader #mammon x you #mammon x mc #mammon fluff #mammon headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x mc #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons

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amazingmaeve · 1 year

Text

FINDING COMFORT

queen maeve x fem!reader

summary — after maeve was ruthlessly outed by homelander vought had the bright idea to make one of the first sapphic superhero couple. that’s where you come in, and since you’ve been out vought has used you for profit so it’s not much of a surprise, what surprises you is the feelings that grow between you and maeve.

warnings — smut, oral (r receiving ), scissoring, some, bits of angst, fluff, and vought and Homelander just being really annoying

word count — 6,240 words

authors note — im so excited for this I’ve been wanting to write for her since I first started watching and finally I got to its. anyways I hope you enjoy this and happy reading. gif credits. also got some inspiration from @venus-haze fic kick it out so if you hadn’t read that please of because it’s amazing!

queen maeve masterlist | the boys masterlist

“Are you fucking crazy,” Maeve snapped as she stood in front of Ashley with her arms across her chest. Her face hardened as soon as Ashley said those stupid words. Maeve could feel the blood inside her start to boil and she had to refuse to punch her in the face.

“I’m sorry this is just what The Seven needs their first lesbian-,” Ashley began to say.

“Bisexual,” Maeve interrupted with a glare in her eyes.

“Bisexual superhero in The Seven and in a relationship with another woman. The world will love this, it will bring a whole new meaning to girl power,” Ashley ranted as her face was filled with excitement.

“I’m sorry I’ve done this shit already with Homelander why would I want to do this again,” Maeve questioned as the word ‘Homelander’ came out her mouth, er stomach was burning with vile and chest filled of vitriol towards the man who thinks he’s the best thing to ever be conceived.

“This will be different, this girl isn’t like Homelander, she’s actually not murderous and she won’t cause as much drama as him,” Ashley defended the idea she came up with.

Maeve sighed as she stood in Ashley's office, she didn’t know what to do, she hasn’t been with a girl since Elena, and yeah she’s had lots of sex with guys but girls are different. She had such a strong bond with Elena and she didn’t know if she could do it over again with this girl Ashley was talking about.

Not to mention that Homelander is a jealous prick even though Maeve and him aren’t together, he’ll cause her life a living hell and this girl as well. Maeve didn’t know if she could bring this random superhero into this already heated up drama.

“You know what Homelander is like,” Maeve muttered knowing that he could be listening at any moment and barge through the door. “You know what he might do to this girl and you want to bring her into this,” She questions.

“Trust me he won’t do anything,” Ashley reassured Maeve. “And plus I think this girl can handle her own,” She says.

“Who is the girl anyway,” Maeve asked, as she was piqued with curiosity. There weren’t many openly gay superheroes and she doesn’t have enough willpower to recognize all of them or she just wasn’t interested.

“Oh it’s The Traveler,” Ashley whispered and Maeve nodded. She’s heard of you, of course, you were one of the few lesbian superpowers. She knows that you can travel between time and make portals to travel place to place.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Maeve's head snapped towards the direction and Ashley said, “Come in,” and you came through the door.

You walked through the door and Maeve couldn’t deny that you were a beautiful woman. You were dressed in your superhero costume, a black skirt and a black leotard for a top and leather jacket to cover it. There were purple gems glittering all over your outfit and the end of the outfit was topped with some black boots.

“Can you hurry up Ashley I don’t have all fucking day,” You snap as come to walk next to Maeve without even giving her a glance.

“I know you probably heard that Queen Maeve here is now part of the LGBTQ+ community and we wanted to make something good out of it,” Ashley told you and you rolled your eyes.

You had great sympathy for Maeve as she was outed on public’s television at the hands of Homelander and if you were in her position you would have never worked with a man as vile as he is. But you understood that getting out of the Seven and getting out of Homelanders sight is a hard thing to do.

Plus she wasn’t hard on the eyes.

“You mean you want to capitalize on her sexuality,” You say, letting your arms fall to your sides. It wasn’t surprising since it was what they do to you all the time. Having you do commercials for Vought as one of the lesbian superheroes. It was especially hard during pride month where they used you for monetary gain, having you speak at conventions and on talk shows about how you were so proud of your sexuailtiy and you were but you hated how they took advantage of you. But hey at least they pay you graciously.

Maeve looked at you covering her surprised face with her usual hard shell. You were right, they were just going to use her and bleed her dry until she was just a shell of her old self, as if she wasn’t already.

“You know that’s what I mean,” Ashley defended herself and you let out a huff when she said those words.

“Do we even have a choice,” Maeve questioned and you nodded alongside her. You were curious if you could even say no to Vought.

“Yes of course you do,” Ashley says.

“I guess I‘ll do it,” You muttered looking at the ground at your boot-covered feet.

“Maeve,” Ashley questioned, her tone dropped to a more serious tone.

“Whatever,” Maeve responded in her bitter tone and you understood it all too well. You were just like her when you came out and Vought used you, and plus she was a part of the Seven, she’d be more valuable and by proxy more profitable.

“Then it’s settled we’ll have the both of you post something to your social media about how you two were in a secret relationship and decided to be out as a couple in the public,” Ashely says, her eyes back on the iPad she had and her tone more happier.

Maeve rolled her eyes at the ‘decided to be out as a couple in the public’. Homelander outed her on fucking live television there was option as coming out but she swallowed her words as she always did with Vought. She didn’t like it but it was something she was used to and something she was starting to hate more and more.

You on the other hand were looking at her with sympathy, being outed sucks and you knew this. When you were younger your friends decided to out you as lesbian so you understood to an extent. She was outed on live television where most people watched and now everyone knew.

Letting out a sigh you look at the ceiling getting ready for the shit storm Vought was about to do and how they were going to get money out of it.

It’s been a few weeks since the ‘relationship’ between you and Maeve went public and least to say people loved it. Not the conservatives and the bigots who thought that the LGBTQ commiunity is infecting the youth. But you and Maeve were the number one trending Supe ship.

After the social media post went up the two of you went on talk shows and talked about how you were excited to finally be out and proud.

Obviously not meaning any of the words either of you said. It was just Vought scripts that were as lifeless as a corpse. Nor you or Maeve didn’t believe any of the shit Vought told you to say because you two weren’t in love. At least not yet.

The two of you got along well and you could tell that Maeve was closed off to you and you weren’t mad, you were closed off as well. But when you two did speak it was only for a few moments and it tended to be more awkward than anything, but you had a mutual respect for each other and that was all that you needed.

Maeve on the other hand didn’t want to get you hurt, you seemed like a nice person and you didn’t deserve the wrath that Homelander held, her on the other she felt like she deserved. You didn’t. So if she kept her distance with you unless the two of you were expected to show up somewhere or public dates the two of you go on.

To be completely honest Maeve was starting to like you, you were cute, you made jokes that made her stifle a laugh and that was more of a reason to distance herself. She couldn't get you involved her fucked up mess. She didn’t know if you liked her but you liked her enough to make small talk and to seek her out and ask her about her day. Even if you didn't, she needed to do what was right.

She couldn’t do that to you even though she was finding herself more and more into it, the more she found out the more she was interested. The more she was in this ‘relationship’ was way more comforting than the one she had with Homelander and deep down she was loving every second she had with you. But she would get a happy ending with you or with anyone.

The two of you enter an elevator after a long day of work, going out and stopping criminals and least to say the both of you were tired.

“God this day was really tiring,” You mutter leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“You can say that twice,” Maeve muttered, crossing her arms across her chest looking down at the elevator floor.

“Is it getting any better,” You blurted out the question that you've been wanting to ask her but didn’t want to be too intrusive.

“Is what getting any better,” Maeve questions even though she knew what you were talking about.

“Believe it or not I know how you feel with the whole outing situation but I can’t imagine what you’re going through, especially since Homelander did that to you. But all I know is after I was outed it took me a while to get comfortable in my own skin,” You say and Maeve does her best not to react to his name being brought up. She sure as hell knows that he’s probably listening so she’s going to have to be herself.

“Things are….. better,” Maeve says with uncertainty in her tone and you gave her a look of pity knowing that she was lying.

She had her walls built up higher than you can ever imagine and you wanted to help her break those walls down, so that she could look at herself and see what you see. A beautiful strong woman. You felt your heart start to race as it usually did when you were alone with her.

“Hey,” You say, approaching her and putting your hand on her upper arm and she tenses as you do so but she’s not willing to admit that your touch caused some sparks to go up her spine. “Just so you know if you need anything from me, or just to talk I’m always here for you, just because Vought is making us do this doesn’t mean I don’t care and talking about it really does help. So just remember that, any time of the day you need something, don't be afraid to knock on my door,” You say with a soft tone that almost made her melt, that almost made her just say screw it and kiss you but she held back.

“Thanks, right back at you,” Maeve says and you give her a soft smile before removing your hand.

“I’m gonna need to take something before I go and see Ashely because she is getting on my fucking nerves,” You say to break the tension.

“Trust me you’re gonna need a lot more of anything you have,” Maeve snorts and you let out a small giggle.

“I know and I’m hoping that she’s either too tired to talk too much or just is gone at her home because I can’t wait to go home and finally get some rest,” You say, resting your head against the hard wall.

“Or maybe she’s just getting fucked and even then she might be even grouchier,” Maeve blurts out.

“Maybe, just maybe she finds the love of her life and decides to just quit but hey dreamers can dream,” You shrug your shoulders with a slight eye roll.

“Cheers to that,” Maeve gives you a nod.

The elevator finally reaches level 99 and the two of you walk out and prepare to go your separate ways, no matter how much the two of you want to stay and talk the night away.

“See you tomorrow,” You give her a wave before heading to Ashley's office, getting ready for everything she has to say to you.

“Bye,” Maeve gives you an awkward wave as you turn around and she curses herself and shakes her head.

God she was so awkward with this, with someone she actually liked, not guys she brought up her to just fuck and to get her mind off everything. You were different and she was using all of herself to not just say screw it and try it with you. Because he would always be there and taunting her.

“See you two are getting along,” Homelander says walking up to stand next to Maeve.

Speak of the fucking devil.

“What do you want,” Maeve questioned, her hands turning into fists beside her. She did not want to deal with him right now, she didn’t want to deal with his condescending tone and him just bothering her when she didn’t want it.

“What I can’t see if my teammate is doing well in her relationship,” Homelander says feigning hurt and Maeve rolled her eyes at that. He didn’t feel hurt, he was just upset that he didn’t have her anymore.

“Why the fuck do you care, you and I both know that you’re not hurt by that, you were the who practically had it happen,” Maeve commented, telling the truth. If he didn’t out her, she wouldn’t be in this relationship with you, hell she might not even know who the fuck you are.

“That is true but is it so hard to believe that I hope you two are happy, that you guys happen to be just like the two of us. Starting out fake and ending up in a real relationship,” Homelander says putting his hands behind his back and Maeve had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t tell him how much she fucking despised him.

“Just leave her the fuck alone please,” Maeve says her tone with an underlining of fear. Fear for you.

“Why would you think I want to hurt her? If anything I might thank her for making you happy, and who knows we all might be friends in the end if things work out right,” Homelander calmly says and Maeve could hear the subtle threat. Even if he wasn’t outright threatening you, she knew something would happen to you if she didn’t do something to protect you. Staying away was out of the question. She needed to make sure you were okay.

“Plus, you seem really comfortable with her, especially with that talk you guys just had,” Homelander says with a grin. Maeve could swear she felt her heart stop but she kept a straight face. “Hopefully she knows what she's in for when she signed up for this, literally,” He chuckles.

“Whatever, can you please just leave me alone,” Maeve snapped and Homelander gave her a shocked and surprised look.

“You know you might want to keep your eye on her, I mean who knows what could happen to her, especially at night,” Homelander says with a cryptic tone as his shoulders tense before he leaves.

Once Maeve made it to her penthouse she finally let out a breath of air that she’s been holding. She knew that he wouldn’t out right kill you right now, so she had some time to get a game plan. She had to protect you. No matter what it took.

Taking a swig of her whiskey she took a seat on her couch as her shoulders slouched with tiredness and stress. Besides everything she couldn’t wait to see you, no matter when.

It’s been a few days since that day in the elevator, but you don’t know what’s changed in Maeve. She’s been more into talking to you and you can’t say you’re upset. She’s been more of a comfort, and you loved that.

But she’s been flirting with you at least more outwardly.

You can’t lie when you say that you've been loving it. Ever since this relationship started a few weeks ago you’ve been trying to talk to her and now she’s actually talking to you. Whatever changed in her you loved it.

She’s also been very sad whenever you have to leave, whether it was to go to work somewhere else or go home. She always looked a bit upset and you didn’t know why, it couldn’t be she’d miss your presence. At least you didn’t think so.

But you've always reassured her that you’d be back whether it's the next day or a few hours from then. She seemed to like the reassurance you gave her and you’ve been using that so she doesn’t get so sad, upset, or hurt when you leave. It sometimes left you up at night wondering if she was just lonely or she acutely did like you.

On the other side of the fence Maeve has been keeping her eye on you after Homelander not so subtly threatened you. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy flirting with you. Even though it’s been a while since she has flirted, you seemed to enjoy whatever line she threw your way based on the shy smile you’d give her, or the tiny laugh.

Even though she enjoyed flirting, she’s been getting more and more clingy due to Homelanders eye now being on you. Asking you if you were going to be okay, or when you’re going to be back and you’ve always reassured her that you would be back and you were fine.

It helped but it didn’t help the thought that you may be dead the next day and when you walked in the room with your signature smile she felt herself relax. What usually helped her get through the night is alcohol but she hated drinking that shit even though it helped her clear her head.

On this particular night, Maeve sat down on her couch trying to just watch tv but her thoughts kept coming back to you. If you were okay and if you were, what were you doing? It was only 11 at night so you wouldn’t be doing much and she hasn’t had any alcohol today. So nothing stopped her when she stripped herself out of her costume and into some jeans and a flannel t-shirt.

Looking in the mirror she cringed a little, it’s been a while since she’s been in casual clothes.

Putting her hair into a ponytail and then she shook it out trying to figure out what to do with it. She decided to just leave it down and put some sunglasses on to make sure no one recognized it was her, people were probably already asleep or in their homes so hopefully they didn’t recognize her.

Walking out of the Vought tower she looked around to make sure no one knew her or even worse, if Homelander was following her. He’s been in and out of it recently so she hoped he set his eyes on something else.

She walked in the direction of the Vought owned apartment building where you lived. You told her where you lived, if she needed to see you or if she just wanted to talk.

In this particular moment she just needed some comfort, whether it be talking or just being in the same room as you. Anything would do, if she were there, she would be able to make sure to keep you safe. At least try.

Standing in front of the door she raised her hesitantly and stopped trying to control her racing heart, but she took a deep breath as she knocked on the door and took a step back waiting for you to answer it and took her sunglasses off as well.

No going back now.

At first she was worried that you weren’t there, or worse that you were just dead because you weren’t answering the door but she felt her shoulders drop as soon as she heard you walking to the door.

Once you opened you were surprised to see Maeve standing there, especially in casual clothes since you’ve never seen her in anything else. But you saw her give you an awkward smile and you licked your lips before deciding to say something.

“Maeve what’s wrong,” You question, clearing your throat moving out of the way so she could come into the apartment. Luckily you were still awake because you were about to go to sleep, she probably knew due to you wearing sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to come over since you always said I could if I needed to,” Maeve awkwardly rambled as she entered the room and you closed the door behind her.

“Don’t worry I wasn’t asleep yet, I was about to but you got here just in time,” You reassured her standing in front of her.

“I just needed to talk to you, or to just be here next to you,” She says while shaking her head as she feels her body finally relax. You were safe.

“Oh well, I’m glad you did, I did say you were welcome here anytime,” You give her a cheeky smile making your way into the kitchen. “Want some water, or any other beverage,” You questioned.

“Water is okay,” Maeve answers, scratching the back of her head as she makes her way to sit on your couch. Your apartment was very homey, nothing like the lifelessness of her penthouse back at the tower. This place made her feel safe, like she could just live here with you.

“Okay here you go,” You say, giving her the glass of water before sitting down on the couch next to her leaning against the cushion and facing your body so that you were looking at her. “Since you are here, do you want to talk about whatever is bothering you or do you want to just watch tv, that’d be fine as well,” You question not wanting to feel too pushy.

“Let’s just talk,” Maeve softly replies before turning her body to look at you as well. It was pretty dark but not dark enough to see that Maeve looked really happy and that made you feel good.

“What do you suggest,” You ask, contorting your body so that one leg was under you.

“Uh what do you do besides being a superhero that works with Vought, or is this your full time job like me,” She asks.

“Well I do like to volunteer on my own time, without any cameras to talk to kids in children's hospitals, I just feel like Vought would just use that to monetize it so I just kept it to my spare time,” You answer looking down at your lap.

“Wow, so you're just a real superhero,” Maeve says, looking at you with adoration. She always wanted to be a hero and when she started, she felt like it, she really wanted to help people but Vought ruined it like they always do and soon she was just another person they could get money from.

“Well so are you, I mean you’re Queen Maeve for fucking sake, you make a difference even if you weren’t out in the front line,” You chuckle.

“I don’t think I do,” Maeve answers with a tiny cringe. She wishes that she was everything you said about her but she wasn’t and that just made her heart almost stop.

“Come on, you’re an inspiration to little girls all around the world and now you’re probably helping a lot of kids come to terms with their sexuality and trust me I wish I had someone like you to look up to when I was growing up,” You say, your tone full of happiness.

“I don’t see it,” Maeve laughs, taking a swig of her water.

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” You muse looking at her with such warmth that would make her feel like the only person in the world. You put your hand on her arm giving a smile caress.

“Vought just fucking sucks,” Maeve remarked and you give her small nod.

“That is true, I mean I’m only doing it for the money now,” You say with contempt. “It’s just another greedy corporation that doesn’t care about anything they say it does.”

“It just feels like I’m projecting this persona and no one knows the real me, with all the fucking scripts and talk show interviews, its just fucking tiring,” Maeve sighs, resting one of her hands on your knee just taking in the comfort you’re offering her. “It’s just one thing after another they want you to do and it’s never enough.”

“That’s true nothing will ever be enough for fucking greedy companies like Vought, but you knows what helps me,” You say leaning in a bit.

“What,” Maeve questions, using her thumb to rub figure eights on your knee as she unconsciously starts to move it a little higher.

“Knowing that someone out there, no matter who they are, and they need inspiration and we can give them that, even if it’s just to stand up to their fucking boss or kick a guy in his balls if he can’t take fucking no for an answer. People who just look up to us and know that we make that difference, I know it sounds kind of stupid but it really does help me sleep better at night,” You say knowing the stories your fans have told you, about how much you helped them.

Meanwhile Maeves had started to give your leg some goosebumps. You were already a bit hot and bothered due to her just being her and now she was teasing you.

“That makes sense, I just wish I could look through those lenses,” Maeve lets out a tiny giggle.

“I hoped that helped you though, because I totally see where you’re coming from,” You say with a bit of worry.

“Don’t worry you totally helped me, you just being here and listening to me helped me,” Maeve reassured you, giving her hand a squeeze on your thigh, she moved a bit closer to you as you felt your heart start to race a bit. “Can I uh try something,” She asked with a laugh.

“Of course, anything,” You say with a swallow.

Maeve leaned in closer til she pressed her lips to yours and you put your hand on her cheek and moved your lips along hers. It’s been a while since you’ve even liked someone so kissing someone felt like eons ago.

But it felt good kissing her and her hand lightly caressing your thigh as she kissed you hard and slipped her tongue in your mouth after you lost the battle of dominance. You moaned into her mouth as she started to trail kisses down your neck and started to suck a bruise on your clavicle.

You moaned as you felt yourself get wetter and wetter by the second and the only sound you could hear in the apartment was her heavy breathing and your moans.

“Where’s your room,” Maeve muttered the question as she started to trail kisses up your neck and right below your ear and started to make another hickey right there.

“Uh,” You began to say but moaned when she found your sweet spot on your neck. “It’s straight down the hall,” You say as you clear your throat.

Maeve then surprised you with your strength (which you shouldn’t be really surprised) and picked you up so your legs were wrapped around her waist as the two of you kept kissing as she made her way to your room. Her hand was on your ass and started to gently squeeze, making you moan into her mouth again.

She finally got your door open and walked to your bed and gently put you on the bed but not leaving you alone for a while as she made her way on top of you and started to kiss you again.

Your hands found their way into her long red hair as she ran her hands up and down your thighs which made you sigh into her mouth as her tongue started to explore what felt like every inch of your mouth. You started to grind up into her hips trying to get some friction you most desperately needed even though you were still in the confines of your shorts.

Making her way down your neck she started to pepper kisses along your chest and got frustrated when your shirt got in the way. She moved her hands to the hem of your shirt and you leaned up a little so she could pull it off you. She gave your chest a look of adoration before she started to trail kisses and started to leave hickeys along your chest.

You were letting out little whines and whimpers due to the fact that you felt like your pussy was getting more and more wet each time she kissed your body.

Her mouth finally made its way to your nipple and wrapped her plump lips around the tiny bud that was already hard due to it being a bit chilly. You moaned and arched your back a bit when she began to suck your nipple and you started to grind harder and harder against her own hips.

Moving away Maeve unbuttoned her own shirt and threw it to the side to where your shirt laid. You didn’t even have a little time to stare at her chest before she started to kiss down your stomach and around your belly button and started to toy with the strings of your shorts.

“Please,” You moaned as her hands moved down to your upper thighs and squeezed a bit harder but it definitely didn’t hurt you.

“Please what,” Maeve said with a cheeky tone that almost made you explode into pieces.

“Just touch me please,” You begged, jutting your hips up trying to get more friction on your pussy as you felt yourself get more and more wet if that was even possible.

Her hands made their way to your hips and pressed them down to the bed so you couldn’t move your hips and you let out a whine at that. You felt like you were about to burst into pieces.

“Just relax and have some patience sweetheart,” Maeve said with a sultry tone that made you whimper.

You nodded and decided to relax against the pillow which made Maeve give you a little smile. She moved back to your lower stomach and returned to kissing your body and you closed your eyes and let out tiny moans whenever she decided to give you a little nip.

Once she decided she was done with teasing you which felt like an eternity, she pulled down the shorts and let out a little laugh when she saw that you weren’t wearing any panties. While you moaned as the cool air came into contact with your wet pussy.

“God you are so fucking hot,” Maeve cursed as she moved down little and started to tease your inner thighs and decided to resume her kissing as she slowly made her way up.

You moaned as she sucked another hickey right above your aching clit that was throbbing. Her hands were still on your hips so that you could grind your hips up and that level of strength she held made your insides heat up. She chuckled against your skin as she felt you try to but she didn’t let up.

Once she did decide to take mercy upon you and press a gentle kiss to your kiss, you let out a tiny moan due to the sensitivity. She dragged her tongue along your wet folds, that made you moan and squeeze the blanket that you were laying on and your hand turned into fist.

Her tongue started doing wonders as she ran it up and down your folds multiple times and went up to your clit and your hips stuttered a bit when she wrapped her lips around your clit and started to softly suck on the soft nub.

“Maeve,” You moaned louder this time, that your neighbors might hear you.

Meanwhile Maeve had her thoughts clear of Homelander once you started moaning and she already adored the way she could make you melt with a couple kisses and touches.

Due to her teasing you, you could already feel your organsm rising and you would feel a bit embarrassed but Maeve seemed to know and started to suck harder and her mouth left your clit once which made you whine a bit but was quickly reassured when she ran her tongue up your folds and sucked your clit harder this time. She ran her tongue all around the little nub that she could feel throbbing.

“Maeve, I’m about too-,” You say your voice a little high pitched.

Maeve gave your hips a squeeze and nodded her head in reassurance without removing her lips from the tender muscle. So you just let your body do your thing and you let out strings of moans and yelps as Maeve started to suck faster and harder and with another single suck you let out a loud moan as you came all over her tongue.

Even though you felt like you blacked out, you could feel Maeve dip her tongue into your folds, deciding to clean up your release and moaning at the taste of you. You winced at the overstimulation and put your hand on her arm tugging her back up and luckily she did.

You could taste yourself on her mouth as she started to kiss you again and your hands started to move to her hips wanting to return the favor.

“Come on, take your pants off and let me help you,” You mutter against her lips, which makes her moan into your mouth. She nodded against your lips.

Once she got her pants and panties off and she returned to kissing you, your hands made their way to her hips again and started to move around to her thighs. But deciding that she still wanted to be in control she moved her hands to yours and put them to the sides and gave them a squeeze which made you moan into her mouth.

“I just want to help you like you helped me,” You whimper against her lips.

“I know but just trust me with this,” Maeve muttered moving her lips from yours.

The next thing you knew you felt her grinding her pussy on top of yours and her clit dragging across yours. You moaned but that was quieted once she decided to stick her tongue down your throat again.

You weren’t complaining.

Her grinding didn’t stop or show any hesitance as she felt her own release start to rise. Her clit throbbed against yours as she felt the knot in her stomach start to tighten even more. And due to the fact that she’s been wet ever since she kissed you it didn’t even take one more thrust before she came against your pussy with a strained moan of your name.

You smiled against her lips and kissed her neck and shoulder as she came down from her own release.

Once she felt legs stop shaking Maeve pulled the blankets over both of your nude bodies and wrapped her arms around and rested her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Feel better,” You quested drawing random things on the arm that was wrapped around your waist. You felt her chuckle against your neck and pepper a few kisses below your ear.

“Feel amazing,” Maeve whispered in your ear which made you let out an airy giggle.

“Well I’m glad I could help,” You laugh as you put your hand on top of hers.

“You definitely did more than help,” Maeve says as her eyes look over your nude form. Even though she couldn’t see much she saw something that made her let out a giggle.

“What are you laughing at,” You smile, twisting your body a bit so you could get a better look at her. But you had to admit a smile looked amazing on her.

“I just wanted to apologize,” Maeve says between little laughs.

“For what and you don’t seem sorry for whatever it is,” You laugh along with her.

“I just wanted to say sorry for the bruises,” Maeve sheepishly says and you look down to your hips and you could feel yourself already get more wet by looking at them.

“No need to say sorry, It’s kinda hot,” You say with a smirk.

“You dirty dog,” Maeve laughs, resting her head on the pillow.

“Says you,” You laugh and for what feels like ages you finally feel happy.

#queen maeve x reader #queen maeve x you #queen maeve x oc #queen maeve #queen maeve smut #queen maeve headcannon #queen maeve gif #queen maeve oneshot #queen maeve gifs #the boys x reader #the boys x oc #the boys x y/n #the boys x you #the boys smut #the boys headcanons #the boys imagine #the boys oneshot #the boys

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doublel27 · 1 year

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Honestly a little surprised that you are "not mad" that Carlos didn't tell TK this huge secret in all the time they've been together. Especially after the way he acted about TK and his sponsor. Yeah the set-up for this storyline was non-existant and that's bad writing, but also, Carlos's complete lack of remorse and TK's complete lack of a reaction to the news makes me feel like I'm watching pod people. Is TK gunning for sainthood? Even if the set-up was there the way they handled the reveal just makes no sense.

Look, this is a man who spent four-six months of a break up lying to his parents about the break up and the fact that they weren’t living together anymore in a time period that included major holidays AND TK’s birthday.

He hates confrontation (I have a whole meta on it) and his anxiety is like for real bad (therapy Carlos my love please)

This is not new or news.

I’m going to detour (but bring it back around): this morning I was catching up on the Drama Queen’s podcast and they were discussing a storyline in which a half a married couple admits he’s lied by omission and his wife was physically injured due to this lie. And Sophia Bush (my angel, my love) brought up how as a person with severe anxiety (like me and Carlos and the queen herself) learns from a very young age to not bring their anxiety and worries to other people but to feel that they have to have a solution to the problem before they let others in.

The need to have an solution ready before he loops anyone else in is a VERY common behavior in Carlos. We see it from season one through season three. This is an area of growth for him.

Do I believe Carlos should have told TK long ago: yes.

Is this a flaw in Carlos’s character: absolutely

Does TK have every right to be pissed and hurt: most certainly.

But it’s Carlos turn to do the growing. We’ve gotten three seasons of TK’s character development arc start with a failed proposal in the series premiere and end with a successful proposal in the season three finale. TK’s ability not to immediately internalize this as Carlos thinking he was too fragile to handle this news and recognizing that Carlos has been drowning in his anxiety and guilt and shame over this and THAT is why he didn’t say anything, is outstanding and amazing and WHY Tarlos works. They take turns being the messy one.

So no, I’m not mad with Carlos. I don’t think not telling TK with the depth of guilt and shame and Carlos’s history of conflict avoidance is out of character. I do not blame others for being mad at Carlos and TK definitely has every right to surface his mad about this later after processing and when Carlos isn’t on an anxiety spiral.

I said it last season and I will say it again this season: we are watching two men with two different manifesting mental health issues navigate a relationship. They’re both doing their best but they will still hurt each other in the process of doing their best. Sometimes their best isn’t enough.

That’s marriage, kids, especially when you throw in depression, anxiety, substance abuse, internalized homophobia, and stressful jobs.

#carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #carlos reyes meta #911 lone star spoilers #911 lone star #911 ls meta #911 ls s4 #doublel27 talks #anon reply #anon ask

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Note

ok hmmmm maybe a spencer x bau!reader who is really behind on her work and needs encouragement to finish it bc she is really burnt out and needs support?

totally not based on anything in my life right now

-🐝

A/N: this is just reader being a drama queen, okay bye ✌️

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Urgh!” you groaned loudly as your body crumbled against the pile of files still on your desk.

Peaking over the partition wall between your tables, Spencer asked, “um, are you okay there?” a bit stunned by your sudden outburst.

“No!” you shrieked dramatically, “I am terrible, a failure! I might as well just march up to Hotch’s office right this second and quit because I’m never getting to the end of this pile.”

“You’re not a failure,” he scrunched up his face, a light smile blooming as he picked up on the lightheartedness in your overly exaggerated reaction, “and you will reach the end, you always do.”

“Oh no, not this time,” your spine straightened back up, “every time I finish off one, the stack just seemingly grows, like it’s never-ending.”

“It’s not growing. You started out with 15 and now there are 8,” barely needing to glance at the stack in order to know the exact number, “trust me, it’s shrinking whether you can see it or not.”

Letting your head roll back, you stared miserably up at the ceiling, “I’m gonna die here. Turn into a fucking halloween decoration.”

“Okay, you do know that it takes anywhere from 3 weeks to several years for a body to decompose enough that you would just look like a full-on skeleton, right?”

“Who was it again that joined you at the morgue on the last case? Oh right, it was me! Of course, I know that, you dingus,” you joked, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So, you just expect us to let you sit there and rot away?”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m contributing much,” you groaned, drawing his attention back to the untouched mountain in front of you.

“Hey,” he dropped the jesting ping pong, “you do just as much here as the rest of us. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the BAU would look like without you.”

His kind words hitting you like a splash of water to the face, you blinked back at him in astonishment, “wow, Reid. That was not funny at all.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t trying to be,” he said sincerely, looking back at you just long enough for a shiver to tickle down your spine.

#lea’s writing #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid request

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thosehallowedhalls · 4 months

Text

The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm (1/2)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne/MC (Emma Rose)

Summary: Trystan is haunted by regrets. But when he's granted a wish to undo the worst of them, he finds that the price might be more than he's willing to pay.

@choicesjanuary2024 @lilyoffandoms Day 10, "Change"

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

When the first flurries of snow fall and Christmas lights begin to go up, Trystan always battles a certain melancholy. Growing up, the holiday season was a time of year when royal responsibilities were somehow more overwhelming. His mother always breathed down his neck a little extra hard, which made the extra number of public appearances, guests, and boring so-called ‘parties’ more unbearable.

Then, during the one holiday he spent with Juliana, things shifted. Juli loved Christmas. Her enthusiasm and joy were so contagious that Trystan found himself genuinely enjoying it for the first time. She talked about the annual Christmas ball they would hold when they were king and queen, and she swore it would be an enjoyable one - unlike his parents' usual tedious affair.

He has wrestled with bittersweet memories ever since.

But this year is different. This year, he has Emma. She makes everything better, and he finds himself looking forward to the season for the first time in years. She always makes sure to attend the Rockefeller Center tree lighting in honor of her dad. He’s looking forward to going with her this year. He’s looking forward to a lot of things.

He can’t completely banish the regrets, though. This year, Sebastyan has joined Juli in his personal hall of ghosts. He no longer blames himself for their deaths, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever fully get over the guilt of not seeing that they needed protection.

He hasn’t told Emma this, but he imagines she knows. She has her own regrets, after all. Her own ghosts.

“Trystan, are you going to help or are you just going to fool around?” Exasperated, Emma tries to wrestle the Christmas lights out of his hands.

He pretends to think about it. Then he wraps them around her. “Option B.”

She blows the hair out of her face. “Seriously?”

He plugs in the lights and grins when she starts to sparkle. “Oh yeah. They look much better on you than they would on the tree.”

“You know, when you asked me to help you put up some Christmas decorations, I assumed that we’d be decorating the tree.”

“But you’re so much more interesting than a tree.”

“Then why, exactly, did we bother going to that horrifyingly packed tree farm yesterday?” She shudders. “Seriously, when a New Yorker tells you that a place is bound to be too busy, listen to her.”

“But the people were the best part! When those two elderly gentlemen almost came to fisticuffs over the tallest fir? The angst. The drama.”

“The extra half an hour that breaking them up added to our day.”

He waves this aside. “You’re determined to see only the negative. Besides,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Didn’t I make it up to you when we got back to my apartment?”

Her lips twitch. “We could’ve had another two hours for you to make it up to me if we’d had a tree delivered.”

Trystan gives her a pitying look. “What would your father say about having a Christmas tree delivered?”

“… He would say only philistines do such a thing. How could you possibly know that?”

“Easy. A man who takes his daughter to see the tree lighting every year is a man who takes Christmas seriously.” He wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her still glittering form close. “I intend to carry the torch.”

She gives him a suspicious look. “Am I being managed? Did you ask me to decorate with you to make sure I have fun this Christmas?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m simply lazy and unwilling to decorate an entire tree by myself.”

“Did you even have a Christmas tree these last eight years?”

“Naturally. The biggest tree of them all. A veritable tree farm in my living room.”

She kisses his jaw. “Not that I want you to make managing me a habit, but… thanks.” With a sigh, she pulls back. “It’s getting late. I have to go.”

“Stay,” he murmurs, his lips against hers.

“I can’t.” She nuzzles his neck, her tone making it clear she wishes she could. “Tommy has a date with Sofia. I promised to tend bar tonight.”

“Responsibility isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he says forlornly.

“Welcome to adulthood.” With a last kiss, she walks out.

He drops down on the couch, intending to watch a movie, but finds himself musing on Emma’s words.

Did you even have a Christmas tree these last eight years?

He tried once, the second Christmas after Juliana’s death. But it felt like a mockery. An accusation. Christmas was always Juliana’s thing, so what right did he have to enjoy it? Why should he have a good time after failing to save her?

As usual over the last several weeks, thoughts of Juliana turn to thoughts of Sebastyan. Bas always did enjoy Christmas more than him. Did Juli’s death also ruin the holiday for him? He could ask Mags or Lydea, but he isn't sure he wants to know.

He wishes he had not drunk so much the night of Mags’ debut. That he hadn’t fallen asleep almost as soon as he and Juli fell into bed. That he had been a better brother to Bas. That he’d been able to save them both.

Perhaps, if she had lived, Bas’ life would have been different. He never saw the charm and warmth that Marguerite talks about, but they apparently existed once. Maybe he would have moved on with his life without the specter of Juliana to haunt him. Fallen in love with someone else. Been happy.

Maybe.

Regrets coursing through his veins, useless wishes clamoring in his heart, Trystan dozes off.

The scent is the first thing that stands out to him. It’s easy enough to recognize – after all, it was filling his nostrils only yesterday. Firs and spruces, hot cocoa and candy. The Christmas tree farm where he spent a chaotic yet marvelous afternoon with Emma.

What in the world is he doing here?

“Hello?”

“Oh, hello.” The man who sold them his fir yesterday smiles. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

“You were… what?”

“Lots of visitors this time of year,” the man, his name tag reads Jacob, says.

“Well, yes. I would assume that late November is a busy time for Christmas tree farms.”

“Indeed.” Jacob nods sagely. “And an even busier time for regrets.”

Well aware that he sounds like a broken record, Trystan blinks. “What?”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why everyone is here.”

“About that. You sure work late. Or early, depending on your perspective.”

Jacob waves this off. “2 AM is the perfect time for regrets. No other time of day invites them quite as enticingly.”

Trystan shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me."

"You have regrets, don’t you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Ordinarily, you deal with them well. But every once in a while, they suffocate you.” His gaze sharpens. “Tell me, Trystan, if you could have a second chance, if you could undo a regret… what would it be?”

He's given up on trying to understand what's happening. The oddity of the question doesn't register anymore. It only brings back to the surface the wish that's been playing on his mind in a painful loop. “I would save Juli and Bas.”

The alarm goes off too early, as it invariably does. He stirs when he feels lips on his cheek, fingers trailing down his chest.

“Mm. ‘S nice.”

The responding giggle is melodious, beautiful, and very familiar. It sounds an awful lot like… like…

“Good morning, my love.”

His eyes snap open. Awareness slams into him like a freight train. “Juli?”

“For your sake, you had better not have anyone else waking you like this,” she teases. “Happy Christmas Eve. Now get out of bed and let’s get to work.”

“Juli? He asks again, dumbfounded and wondering when in the world he started lucid dreaming. Because this… surely it is only a dream?

Concern softens her features. “Darling, are you all right? Do you want me to fetch the doctor?”

He struggles into a sitting position, feeling the silk against his skin and realizing that… oh. This isn’t a dream. But then…

I would save Juli and Bas.

Oh my god.

“Juliana?”

“That is my name, yes.” Her tone is light, but she only looks more concerned. “Wait here, I’ll have Elias call the doctor.”

“No, wait.” His hand shoots out, taking hold of her wrist. “How are you here? How am I here?”

“Where else would we be? The Christmas Ball can’t very well happen without us.”

The Christmas Ball?

He looks at her, truly looks at her. She’s as beautiful as always, but there’s a new maturity to her face. This Juliana has lived longer than twenty-two years. “What year is it?”

Her eyebrows disappear under her hair. “Oh no. Please tell me you aren’t hungover. We have a million things to do today.”

Trystan tries to smile. “Humor me?”

“2023, of course. Same as the last 356, and the next eight, days.”

She’s thirty now.

She’s alive.

He throws his arms around her in a hug so sudden that Juliana squeaks in surprise. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She curls into him, bringing on a deluge of emotion and memories that nearly topple him where he stands. She still wears the same perfume. “Likewise, husband of mine.”

Husband? But…

She presses her lips to his, tenderly stroking his cheek. For a moment, Trystan holds motionless. Part of him feels twenty-two again, kissing the woman he loves when love is a new and dazzling experience that he never expected to have. But deep inside, a voice blares a warning.

Wrong.

He pulls back. Juliana considers it a tacit suggestion.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. We need to get to work. There are a hundred details to finalize and even more to double check. I’m happy that we’re to finally be the hosts of this ball, but I don’t think I truly realized how much work it was going to be.”

If they’re hosting the Christmas Ball, then that means he’s… and they’re…

Fear trails cold fingers down his spine, and he finishes untangling himself in a burst of panic.

Where is Emma?

“Well? Are you ready to get started?”

His royal training kicks in, allowing him to keep his turmoil in check. “Right, yes. Remind me what’s on the agenda for today?”

She rattles off an intimidatingly long list, complete with receiving the guests who would be arriving for the week. “Bas and Em will be here any minute now. Play nice.”

It’s unexpected that Sebastyan and Emika would arrive anywhere together, but the warning is fair – or it would be, if he weren't so relieved that his brother is alive. Presumably, he thinks with a pang of shame, this Trystan still despises his little brother. “I’ll do my best.”

“I mean it, Trystan. You know she doesn’t like you, and the last thing we need is you antagonizing one of our guests.”

He stops. “She?”

“Oh, please get it together. Emma already didn’t like you before. Now that she and Bas are together, she’s unlikely to see you in a more positive light. You know how in love they are.”

Everything inside of him goes cold.

It can’t be.

“Of course. What is Emma’s last name again?”

She gives him a look. “Trystan, darling, Rose is hardly a difficult name to remember. What is the matter with you today?”

“It’s n-nothing. Give me a moment.”

He locks himself in the bathroom before she can reply.

He can’t breathe.

Emma doesn’t like, let alone love him. She’s in love with someone else. With his brother. The words keep replaying in his mind, equally unbelievable each time. It’s like someone completely changed the rules of the game and threw away the handbook.

He doesn't know how to live in a world where Emma doesn’t love him.

All this time, when he was wishing he could have saved Juliana, he never stopped to consider that if he had, he and Emma wouldn’t be together. Much less that Emma might be with Bas.

What the hell does he do now?

The thought emerges fully formed. I want to go back. But can he truly wish for a world where Juliana and Sebastyan are dead, simply because the woman he loves is in love with someone else? Is he truly that selfish?

Trystan emerges back into the suite with a forced smile. “You go ahead, I’ll get dressed and meet you in a moment.”

His heart is hammering in his chest when he heads to the front entrance, fully dressed and looking as regal as he’s capable of looking. Juliana is hugging Bas, and right next to him is… He sucks in a breath, drinking in the sight of Emma, holding back the desire to rush to her side and take her in his arms. Then she looks up and sees him standing at the top of the staircase.

Her smile fades.

His heart trembles. Even when they first met, before he wormed his way into her good graces, Emma never looked at him with such patent dislike.

Juli and Bas break apart, and she moves to hug her. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been too long.”

“I know. I’ve been busy. For that matter, so have you.”

Juliana waves this off. “Never too busy for a friend. I thought you’d be coming over sooner. Didn’t you arrive a few days ago? Oh, what am I saying. Bas wasn’t going to let you out of his apartment after spending all that time apart.”

Sebastyan wraps a possessive arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I didn’t get to see her in over two months. I wasn’t ready to share her.”

Juliana laughs, then glances over her shoulder. “Trystan! What are you doing up there? Come greet our guests.”

Somehow, his feet carry him to the foot of the stairs. “Hello, Bas. Emma. It’s good to see you both.”

“Trystan.” Sebastyan’s stiff tone says that he doesn’t like him any more than he did in the original timeline. But Trystan can tell he’s making an effort, probably for Juliana’s sake. “We appreciate the welcome.”

“No need. This is your home, too.” It’s probably Sebastyan’s home more than it’s ever been Trystan’s, but that’s neither here nor there. His eyes slide over to Emma’s.

She lifts her chin a fraction. “Your Majesty.”

It’s all wrong. Emma has called him Your Majesty before, but the tone was always affectionate and teasing. This… this sounds like she’s talking to his mother. Polite. Formal. Cold.

“Please, Trystan is fine.” He holds out a hand, and after a brief hesitation, she takes it. He resists the impulse to pull her to him, but he can’t help savoring the feel of her skin.

Emma’s hand tenses in his, and he realizes that he’s been holding on to it. He lets her go quickly. “Well, you should be shown where you're staying.”

Juliana gives him an odd look. “They already know where they're staying. In the same room where Bas lived for twenty years, and where they stay every time they come over.”

He would be more confused by that twenty years remark if the singular room hadn’t sucker punched him. His gaze falls on their entwined hands. “Of course. My apologies, I’m afraid I’m running on little sleep today.”

All three of them look like they don't quite believe him. But Emma… Emma looks the way she always does when a new mystery fires up her mind. He can practically hear the cogs of her mind turning.

Then she shrugs and turns to Sebastyan. "We should unpack."

Juliana smiles. "Certainly. Don't forget that we're having a small family dinner this evening."

"We'll be there," Sebastyan says, before wrapping an arm around Emma's waist. They both head upstairs.

Trystan's gaze follows them. Sorrow swells up in his chest.

What the hell has he done?

#trystan x mc #trystan x emma #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #detective rose #emma rose #sebastyan thorne #juliana georgescu #the 2 am christmas tree farm #angst #all the angst #chapter 2 coming tomorrow

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