#Thirty second official post

[hussyknee]

People seem to think this is fake because it's written in English. Apart from the racism in believing that Arab doctors and nurses aren't fluent in English (a second or official language for half of Asia), Palestinians have deliberately been addressing their audience in English on every social media, from journalists to children, because they know speaking English to Westerners immediately makes people more human in their eyes. Because language is one of the ways the imperial cultural hegemony conditions us (yes, everyone in the world) to see who qualifies as "people" and who are simply a mass of bodies who were always made to suffer and die. Gazans know this deeply, which is why they have been using English to beg and plead through social media, "We're not numbers! We're not numbers! We're people like you, we speak your language, we deserve to live!" all the while they're systematically slaughtered.

Israeli forces also encircled Al Shifa Hospital yesterday and bombed it for several hours while shooting dead anyone trying to flee including medical staff moving between buildings. Not sure whether it's still continuing because WHO lost all communications with its staff there a few hours after. The last new report said that thirty-nine babies had been removed from the incubators before the power went out. It's extremely unlikely they will survive.

Please understand that these atrocities depend on the war of attrition between governments and public attention. The momentum of public outcry is difficult to sustain through repeated stonewalling and bureaucratic intractability. When we're flooded with these reports and a sense of futility and despair replaces the anger, it allows compassion fatigue to set in and the violence to become normalized. Massacring hospitals, killing sick children and openly targeting humanitarian aid workers (Netanyahu just declared the UNRWA is in league with Hamas) will become simply more news articles that fade into the background, and open genocides will soon become part of the "lesser evil".

Take care of yourselves how you can, take distance where needed, but please never tune out and give up on the two million people for whom we are the only witness and hope. Never stop boosting and sharing the news and posts you find, never stop getting out there and joining every protest you can, however small. Anger burns out, which is why activism must depend on an immovable sense of justice and uncompromising value for human life. It's not just about Gaza, it's about the kind of evil our generation will be coerced into accepting as unchangeable and inevitable hereafter.

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[leclsrc]

it’s never over ✴︎ cl16

genre: childhood friends to friends with benefits to lovers (a mouthful), smut, humor, Fluffff!!!!, several references to 70’s music, 

word count: 12.9k  

You must have lost the plot along the way, because pretending to date your childhood best friend was not on your 2023 bingo card. (Neither was the fact that things are looking a lot more real as time passes.)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... handjob (f receiving), penetrative sex, semi public sex, praise central, size kink

auds here… hi hi hi!!! you’ve no idea how much i missed writing posting and interacting w u guys. thank u for all the love & follows i’ve gotten in my periods of mia. more things soon i promise ty for ur patience love love love u allll 🌟🤎🤠💋 this is my love letter to fic tropes. i feared if it was too long i’d lose the plot somehow so i had to condense it. i truly hope u all like it :) will try & reopen reqs sometime soon to get inspo kicking

It’s later than late. The lights are strobing purple and blue, the “let’s get you even drunker than you are” headache inducing kind. The floor is crowded, swelling with teenagers who are probably too young to get in, drunk off cheap aperol and watered-down tequila shots. You’re balancing yourself on a barstool, one hand busy wrapped around a slim glass, the other clawing your miniskirt lower because the air bites at your legs.

“Another voddy Red Bull!” You’re slurring, mind spinning almost as fast as your vision. You almost drop your empty glass in your rush to look for another one—but right as it slips clumsily out of your fingers, it’s caught. 

Charles, your cocktail’s knight in armor and yours just as well, is eighteen. His hair is  light brown and long, but not draping over his eyes like before. You know before because you’ve never not known before—Charles has been your best friend since you were five.

Snoopy, he says, voice steady and calm in your ear. His frame is still lanky but he’s tall and his grip on your shoulders is enough to quell the yelling. You pout. Get me another voddy red, you plead. Charlie, it’s my birthday. He smiles to himself, knowing your vision’s too cloudy to see him and your mind’s too bogged to remember any of this. You’d already slipped up and told two bouncers you were seventeen and not eighteen, like your poorly-Photoshopped ID suggested; Charles had to keep you in check, lest you or your friends end up kicked out of the club.

A song booms in through the speakers and your eyes widen with recognition. Charles doesn’t anticipate your reaction fast enough, affording only a stumble backwards when you attempt to leave the barstool to dance. He swears under his breath, mind recounting the five previous dance sessions that left you exhausted and out of breath earlier.

I’ll get you a vodka Red Bull if you sit down, he tells you. He enunciates because, twelve years later, you still can’t wrap your mind around his thick European accent. Sit down.

Alriiiight! You hoot, throwing two fists up in the air. Customary for many bartenders on nights as busy as this one, a free shot is thrust into your vacant hand and you cheer loudly, much to Charles’ chagrin. With whatever malice the eighteen-year-old can muster, he casts the bartender a dirty look before turning to face you again, worried. He places a hand on your shoulder and watches, half-anxious and half-endeared, you take the shot and visibly grimace at the raw taste. Fuck. It’s gin I think, you sputter. Charles presses: You okay?

More than, you holler, smiling. I am officially seventeeee— 

The bartender’s eyebrows furrow, the thirty-something businessman in the adjacent stool turns to look—so Charles has no choice but to shut you up, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours before you can seal your fate.

Your eyes widen briefly, and when Charles feels the passed seconds are sufficient, he pulls away. You stare, eyes hazy, at the pretty boy you’ve had feelings for since you turned fourteen, and lean in to kiss him again. 

—

Pascale is hosting her weekly Sunday brunch at the Leclerc residence, all French windows and wide kitchens and bowls of fruit. As always, your place is at the kitchen island picking at plates to taste test them. Bonjour, Arthur drawls when he walks in. He turns to Pascale. Mum. Then you. Snoopy.

You halt biting into your forkful of arugula and turn toward the younger Leclerc, eyebrows raised. “What’d you just call me?”

“Snoopy,” he says simply. He’s beside Pascale, one arm wrapped around her affectionately. “Or, Snoops, if you like that. Yes?”

“Who told you about that nickname?”

“Lorenzo.”

“Hasn’t been in use since your voice was cracking every sentence.”

“Tête de noeud.” Pascale swats his arm and he yelps, so you resume your arugula with satisfaction.

Charles is late for reasons he did not disclose, but everyone is used to it. The open kitchen door stretches into the front yard, where the table is set up and Lorenzo is setting the places. You know that although you usually expect a few more relatives, today’s just for the family—and you, but you’re basically family.

“How is Paris?” Arthur asks, licking hummus off a spoon opposite you. Your position is reminiscent of how you spent afternoons after school with Charles before, and the memory strikes a chord in you. Strange nostalgia, fondness.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh really?” He laughs in-between nibbles of carrot.

“I got an offer for a higher position,” you relent. Pascale calls you both, and you get up and walk toward the yard to sit down. “If you must know.”

“Oh? Let me know how that goes.” He follows you, carrot slice in hand, chewing. The conversation is cut short by the smooth noise of Charles’ decidedly un-smooth parking outside.

You’re seated at your usual spot—in-between Charles and Lorenzo, across Arthur—when the former finally walks into the yard. He looks tired, moreso than usual, bags under his eyes deep and hair a bit more disheveled.

He sits beside you. “I need to talk to you.” Then, quieter, “Private.”

You hum confusedly, eyes flitting across the three other people at the table to gauge their reactions. They’re equally aloof. “Wh—now?” He nods.

You end up talking in the kitchen. He’s sighing the whole fifteen steps there, rubbing the bridge of his nose, exhaling, inhaling. Ever observant, and of someone as close to you as he is, you pick up on the tiny actions, behaviors. Charles is wringing his hands. He’s tried to pop the same knuckle twice. He isn’t frantic—he’s scared. You lean against the counter, waiting, eyes looking him up and down to identify his exact emotions.

“Tell me,” you press. “Whatever it is, I won’t judge.”

“The—my—the iCloud of my phone has been leaked. The press found out.”

When you were eight and he was nine, you and Charles summered in Villefranche with your mum and dad. The weather then was the kind you could write love letters to and about—blue skies, salty wind, soft sand. The current was calm enough that you could ride the gentle waves without fear of going under or straying far from the shore, where your parents sunbathed blissfully.

Don’t drown, he’d warned you, ever protective. You wore pink floaties over your arms, so it was already difficult to.

You dove under with great effort, fighting against the buoyancy, and poked his bare knee, surfacing to watch his reaction. He grimaced. Slowpoke, you teased, swimming away. You wondered then what it might feel to drown. Maybe not in the blue water of Villefranche, but anywhere else.

You think it hurts to drown? You blubbered, bobbing above the wave. Charles swam in front of you and wiped water off your face gently. I hope you never find out, he said, smiling.

But this is you finding out. This is it now, the drowning. Your fingers flex over the edge of the counter and you gulp, eyes fluttering with nerves. “Shit?” It comes out like a question from how nervous you are. “Um, sorry. What are we—” But your question is cut short by Pascale’s voice, cutting through the tension like it’s wet cardboard. The agreement is silent and mutual: save this discussion for later.

—

Charles can’t wake up fast enough. There are calls, texts, voicemails from every officer on his team, which isn’t that surprising given he’s up two hours late. But the amount—the sheer amount of notifications is dizzying. Overwhelmed, he finds it in himself to pull up his search engine app and let his fingers possess themselves.

All he types is his last name, and then The Sun article is splashed onto his face like a pot of scalding coffee: “F1 DRIVER ICLOUD LEAKED, PERSONAL PHOTOS ALL OVER INTERNET.” Daily Mail is next, of course, watering down the situation to seem more dirty and scandalous: “Naughty Driver? Charles Leclerc’s iCloud Hacked, Reveals Mystery Girl.” And then of course Page Six, who doesn’t miss a beat—

Wait. He blinks and presses the back arrow to return to the previous webpage. He reads over it again, slower this time. Mystery Girl? Shit—no. No way. It’s almost (it should be) silly, the way he’s reading vigorously over the reports like he’s a fan, but he’s anxious. He scrolls, because if any tabloid is daft enough to publish the leaked photos, it’s got to be the Daily Mail.

He pauses his quick swiping when his eyes harden with recognition, and staring back at him, on his phone’s full brightness, is a picture of you on his lap at Christmas. It’s the one Lance took while attempting to guess Charles’ password, one of you wine drunk with his head buried in your neck.

It’s unmistakably him, at his own house in Monaco where the drivers had a holiday get-together. It’s unmistakably you, hair draped over your face, three gold rings on your fingers. You had just given him a Strokes vinyl, he recalls. That’s why you were hugging.

There’s another one of you playing Scrabble in his bed—he’s not in the frame, but he remembers taking it. This, he could deny. He’s not in it, and he’s pretty sure the fans don’t know his house this well. Already his brain’s doing manual damage control, dread filling his veins at the thought of reading through his team’s frantic messages.

Another message stands out, pinned on top of all the others—from his mum, reminding him about brunch. He gets ready half-focused, half-lucid. Fully worried. He worries about the PR crisis this may cause, about his iCloud security, about the reactions online. Above all, though, he worries about you. About what he should tell the press. About how “actually, we’re not dating, we just fuck constantly” might hold up for the fans.

—

You’re twelve and Charles thirteen, both of you seated across Hervé and Pascale. Behind them stand your own parents, and they all look stern. What this is, Pascale says gently, is a family meeting. Okay?

Okay. It leaves your high voices in shaky unison. You both know what you’re doing here—you snuck out of school to catch a movie earlier, the teacher naturally caught wind of the misdeed, and now you’re in a meeting for it.

Snoops, Charles whispers, trying to ease your nerves with lighthearted commentary. This is the worst.

No, you want to tell preteen Charles—this is. You’re older now, yet still subjected to similar questioning, though today it’s Pascale going solo. It’s been three days since the fated day where the press leaked the pictures of you and Charles in compromising positions, and like any boomer, she’s used Facebook to her advantage and gotten ahold of the compromising pictures, too. 

“How long?” Her voice is enunciated in hard syllables.

“Mum—”

“Answer the question.” She looks back and forth, moving into territory of intense questions. “Both of you.”

“Um.”

“Because… I’ve been…”

You notice it immediately, given your observant track record: her shoulders relax and her lips smile just slightly. You sit still, and wait for the next words out of her mouth. “…waiting for this all my life!”

You and Charles watch in mild horror as Pascale’s face goes from firm to absolutely elated. Her eyes soften and a smile spreads over her face, illuminating her with pure joy. Do you even know how many bets I made with your papa, Charles? She claps her hands together several times.

Charles opens his mouth to verbalize dissent, but she doesn’t take it—she’s already droning on and on about how long she’s waited for this to finally happen. Your eyes glide over to the doorway of the dining area, where Lorenzo and Arthur watch with smug looks on their faces. Little shits won’t help you. You don’t even try to protest, and at some point Charles gives up, too. You don’t know how it’ll come across, anyway.

Ninety minutes later, you’re in Arthur’s bedroom rifling through his desk and praying you don’t find anything too gross. He’s on his bed throwing a bouncy ball up in the air, conversing with Charles about your gameplan with their mum.

The sky outside is in limbo between afternoon and night. It’s cloudy, so the sunset is a pale yellow instead of angry orange. “Why not just tell her the truth?”

You’d also thought that was the easiest option, escape route, exit path. But that would involve breaking Pascale’s heart, and that was out of the question for you, let alone Charles, certified mommy’s boy.

“I can’t, Arthur.” Charles’ voice is steady and unwavering.

“You can.”

“No.”

“Fine. Next best thing then.”

You fiddle with a Rubik’s cube, then turn in the seat. “What?”

“Pretend you’re dating.”

“Arthur,” you say seriously. “Shut up.” But he doesn’t join you, and you realize neither does Charles. You stare blankly at both of them, unwilling to believe they’d actually bank on this as an actual plan. 

“You guys realize this kind of thing never works? Zero percent success rate.”

“It’s just paddock appearences. You’re not pretending for millions of people,” Arthur says, shrugging. He catches the ball and throws it to you—you catch it one-handed. “You’re pretending for Mum.”

“Sure. And by extension, millions of people. Are you dense, or do you think the paddock appearances will just breeze by everyone who saw the leaks?”

“Ughhh. You’re acting like it’s impossible.” Arthur holds his breath before he utters the next sentence. “Like you two aren’t fucking every other w—”

“—oh, my God!” Shocked, you get up, and so does Charles. “Wh—I’m—language, Arthur!”

Charles balks. “How did you even—”

“I didn’t. But merci mille fois for confirming my theory,” Arthur quips faux-sweetly, smiling dopily. “I mean, I was going to find out! Your pictures are so… intimate. So just pretend to date and throw Maman off your scent.”

You protest briefly, wrestling with the option, and reconvene on the bed, you cross-legged and leaning on Charles’ shoulder and Arthur in front of the both of you. He’s always had a knack for schemes—he never got caught sneaking out, which destroyed your and Charles’ record of being caught twelve times by either of your parents. It’s a bit childish, but he gets the job done.

“Do it for… let’s say a month. Tell Mum you’ve been dating a while—Christmas isn’t that long ago, and that was the least recent picture. D’accord?”

You both nod, hyperfocused. 

“During race weekends, be all over each other—shouldn’t be hard—especially in front of Mum. People might catch you doing it, but I wouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait—I mean.” You shrug. “People—tifosi—they know I’m Charles’ friend. They’re going to be all over the fact that we’re apparently dating.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll use palatable density,” Charles says, nodding.

You pause. Arthur does, too, sensing something off.

“You mean plausible deniability.” Your deadpan voice is tinged with amusement, muffled into his shoulder. 

“Right, ouais, that.” He smiles, chuckling a bit; his shoulder shakes with it and your head nearly slips off. He brings a hand to cup over your jaw and hold you steady. “Sorry.”

“S’fine.” You sigh. “I’m totally okay with this. Just worried it’s going to have unintended consequences.”

Arthur quells you with rushed explanations about how it’ll be over and you two can say something like we decided we’re better off as friends to really sell the thing. At the seven-minute mark of your and Charles’ intense interrogation, he promptly kicks you out to figure out if you’re willing to do it yourselves.

You wedge yourself into Charles’ front seat, knowing you were headed to his place anyway. You massage your temples with one hand and fiddle with the hem of your shorts with the other. Nervous. Antsy. “Did Fred say anything?”

“Got the IT team to fortify my account.” 

“You think this thing’s going to be okay from a professional standpoint?” You look up and toward him; he’s already gazing at you, eyes soft. “I’m worried. Plus, with my job offer thing in London and New Y—”

“Don’t be.” He starts the car and maneuvers out of the driveway, into the dips of Monaco streets and the familiar route back to his place. “Bitter with the sweet. The only thing you need to worry about”—he takes your hand in the centre console, laces your fingers together loosely—“is your acting skills.”

“God, you’re right.” You sigh, looking out the window. “How am I going to pretend I can stand you?” Then, for good measure, you squeeze his hand wrapped in yours.

—

You visit Monaco from uni in London over spring, and for the first time in months, your schedule aligns with Charles’—though you learn this indirectly when you visit the Leclerc home. Pascale, of course, is the one who tells you his new flat’s address before she presses a kiss to your cheek and then leaves to run errands in the city. Alone, and in a burst of excitement, you make the drive there, take the elevator upstairs and shove the door open without knocking. He’s there. Your Charles. You can tell because the music he plays is loud—The Kooks—like his ears are still fourteen and not twenty-one, like he’s still in middle school and not in Formula One.

“Save your eardrums,” you say, before beelining toward the couch and leaping onto him for a hug. He sits up to match your energy, arms wrapping around you, sitting up straighter to keep you from totally falling atop him. 

“How’s uni?”

“Shit,” you say into his hair. It smells like his shampoo and his favorite cologne. Clean, soapy. “Obviously. How’s the Ferrari?” 

“Amazing.” He smiles. “Obviously. How’d you know I was in? Mum told you?”

“Ouais. She’s running errands. Listen, can we drink tonight?” You sigh, parting from the hug and sitting across him.

Yeah, sure. His voice is concerned, thick with worry. You shake your head—it’s not that deep, you tell him. It’s just—I had a bad date before I left and it’s put me in the worst mood.

Oh? He leans back, clasping two hands behind his head as he goes.What happened? He laughs. 

You tense visibly, rolling your eyes despite yourself. “He was just weird. Nothing.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You shy, Snoops?”

Ha-ha. You roll your eyes, but your face is flushed and your gaze avoids him. You reach up to tuck the loose strands of hair by your ears behind them, face warm. You’d never talked with Charles about boys or flings before—maybe several times, but never in full detail. It was always vague umbrella statements, like Ryan is boring or Greg is such a prick, but never anything beyond that. Come to think of it, you don’t know why, either.

“You can tell me.”

“The—when we—I had to fake,” you say cuttingly. “You know.”

He purses his lips and smiles, eyebrows furrowing. I don’t, actually. Something unnamed trills through you—through your stomach and into your fingertips. Your first time talking to your best friend in real life after months of uni and racing and this is the topic? It’s, if anything, a sign of your growing up, you guess.

Charles lets up on the teasing and you end up rejecting the club in lieu of sharing a bottle of vodka, throwing it back raw and without any type of chaser (to really prove nothing at all; you don’t even know why any sane human would do this). You do a Just Dance party on his TV, even try out drunk sim racing and FIFA, but by the end you’re well exhausted and retired to the couch again.

His voice is wavy and tipsy when he speaks. “You really had to fake it?”

“Yeah.” You pout. “Can never—um, finish, I dunno.” Your inhibition’s gone, shame loosened and untied by the vodka. You shift in your position on the couch.

“Maybe because it was too casual.” His voice hardens.

“So you’re saying I should…” You swallow dryly, eyes fluttering. “Sleep with somebody I know?” You’ve dropped the implication and it floats up, hangs above.

His eyes flick over to your legs, folded on the couch. The hem of your shorts. Your fingers playing with your empty shot glass. He didn’t mean anything by that. He’s half-sure you didn’t. 

“I am just saying that a good friend would do that for you.”

“You’re a good friend,” you say, volume low. 

Five minutes later you’ve properly crashed into each other, him pinning you down against the couch, licking fire up your throat. His lips trail across your jaw. 

He dips a hand into your shorts, presses against your clothed core. He’s smiling. So wet for me. He’s got his mouth pressed messily up to your jaw, when he sinks one finger all the way in, slow and stretching; and you’re clenching around him—

Come on, he’s saying. Insisting. You’re trembling, yanking desperately at his hair as he pumps his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper. 

He slips another one in, and you feel the cold of his ring pressed against your entrance, then he’s fucking them into you and you’re leaking around them. 

Yes, yeah, Charles—you’re gasping, airy breaths tapering into whimpers that sound sinful, desperate. He knows you so well already. Presses his fingers against your sweet spot, watches your eyes flutter.

So needy, and you’re chanting his name under your breath as he quickens his pace, craving the stretch of him desperately. I know you want to cum, baby. He’s calling you baby and you’re closer, so much closer. Come on, for me, yeah? 

You melt, crashing and crumpling into him and shuddering as you release all over his fingers. He presses his forehead to yours and lets you take a beat. You feel giddy and dizzy and warm, which is weird because you don’t feel drunk at all anymore. This dizziness is something different. It’s Charles.

“Are we going to do that again?” You ask meekly, hand still in his hair.

“Only if you want. Whatever you want,” he says. He’d do anything for you. He’d do whatever you wanted.

“I do, I do want.” And Charles, the good friend he is, helps you out.

—

Imola is humid, warm, and the racetrack is absolutely teeming with people. But you’re not there—clad in linen shorts and a fresh tank top, you’re walking around the vicinity of the track, cup of gelato in hand, sunglasses over your eyes. The restaurant near you is playing music out loud. Beside you, singing along and drafting a list of wedding appetizers, is Lorenzo.

“Lamb chops?” You suggest, licking amaretto off the plastic spoon. The weather is pleasant enough that people are crowding the streets without it being too unbearably hot. Stevie Wonder flows from the speakers, permeates the entire block.

“I was thinking more seafood.”  

“Tuna? Make ‘em little tacos.”

“Good idea. Think I’ll go for those. Hey, are you sure you’re on board with fake-dating my brother?”

You turn sharply toward him, taken aback. He hadn’t brought it up in the week and a half this plan had been in the works—he’d been privy to it the entire time, too, which makes it weirder that he’s asking so suddenly.

“I meaaan…” You slow your pace, contemplative. A shy smile plays at your lips, brows knitted together. “It’s only going to be for a month. Ish. So, yeah. Are you—do you—sorry. Is it alright with you? Sorry.”

“It is not not okay.”

“So it’s…” You pause. “Okay.”

“It’s—yes, but I worry, is all. How sure are you that this won’t hurt anyone?”

“I don’t know, it’s… bitter with the sweet. And who’s getting hurt… like the fans?” You laugh a little. “They’ll live, won’t they?”

“Like you.” He pauses. “Like Charles.”

—

Pierre is running a comb through his hair, staring at himself in the mirror; his Narcissus moment is interrupted by a banana to the back of his head. Bonjour, he says, monotone and already knowing the culprit.

“We need to talk.”

“Could this possibly be about the news of your brand new ‘girlfriend’ over last week? Where is she, by the way?”

“With Lorenzo. Listen, here’s the thing. Mum thinks we’re dating, and I don’t know how to tell her we’re not—so I won’t.”

“Lie to your mum, go ahead.” Pierre crosses his arms and hums.

“Tais-toi. It’s for her own good.” 

“So you’re going to pretend to date.”

 “Ouais.” 

“Should be easy. You guys are hooking up and making out or whatever all the time.”

Charles pauses and lets the silence speak for itself. When Pierre makes a noise of confusion, he gives. We don’t kiss, he says finally. She thinks it is too intimate, and we ‘are not dating,’ so sex is the only thing we do. Sex, and if you still have leftover antsy energy, you pull on his shirt and sit up against the headboard to finish a crossword puzzle. Sometimes he helps you, but most of the time he’s just there to press lazy kisses to your hair and temple, cheekbone and jaw—never your lips.

“You don’t kiss?” Pierre’s genuinely shocked. “Putain, you’re a hero. How does that even work?”

“We just do not kiss. We fuck, but no kissing.” He shrugs. “It’s always been that way.”

“So how about her birthday?”

“She doesn’t…” Charlex exhales tightly. “Remember.”

“Charles,” you suddenly say, head appearing into the doorway. “Oh, hey. Fred said you might be here. What are you guys talking about?”

“Sprint racing,” Pierre says, an easy lie.

Charles, though, is never good at the lying bit. “International tariffs.”

—

Your only memories of your seventeenth birthday are applying lip gloss and mascara, wearing your shortest skirt and tightest top, and reciting your supposed date of birth in line like a mantra. Anything after that’s been sprayed off by the ultra-clutch strength of vodka. Which, you’ve been told, was your drink of choice.

“Headache’s better,” you moan over the phone, face squashed onto your pillow. “Mum gave me an Advil but I was so sick all morning.”

“Did you snog anyone?” Charles is always teasing.

“God, I wish.” You shut your eyes and try to remember if your drunken stupor had somehow managed to get you successful in lip-locked matters. Nothing comes up and you wipe a dry hand over your face, heaving a sigh. “I really wanted to kiss Matthew but I think he left before you and I did.”

A pause. Then Charles clears his throat. “You mean you and me and the police car that escorted us home?” He snorts.

“You’re such a prick!” You scream into your pillow, laughing. “I already thanked you for being my literal savior last night.”

He smiles to himself. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you have fun?” You flop onto your back and stare at the stick-on stars on your ceiling. You make a mental note to try and remove them.

“Bit boring because I vowed not to drink at all, but I got to dance. Bitter with the sweet, right?”

—

“Nervous?”

“I mean, fuck, yeah.” You fix the hem of your dress, speaking to Giada through the phone. “Pascale’s waiting for us on the paddock. And so are, like, a hundred photographers.” You wince. “Can you even imagine Charles and me? It’s just—I dunno—it’s weird.”

“It isn’t,” she says, laughing. “Not really. It makes sense. Plus, aren’t you on the whole arrangement?” You envision her air quotes.

“Yeah, but”—you slip your sandals on—“it’s on and off, and that’s not dating. It’s sex. Two different things.”

“Is it really, though? Considering how close you are outside of bed, aren’t y—”

“Okay, input no longer needed,” you laugh. “Bye, Gi. I’ll text you later.”

You reunite with Charles just by the paddock entrance. The throng of fans holding cutouts and posters notice you two before anyone else does, inciting a collective bout of yells around the both of you. He notices your blue silk dress first, eyes unmoving. “You look like the sky.”

“Thanks, man.” A beat, and you squint through your sunglasses. “That’s a compliment, right?”

“Sure.”

“Prick.” You peek over them and to the fans, who wave more aggressively when they notice you’re looking. Nervously, you raise a hand and wave back, and the noise heightens. “I think I’m going to be replacing you.”

“Dream on. On y va?”

You turn back to him, smiling, and you both enter at the same time. His hand wraps around your waist, dips a bit lower to rest at the small of your back as you walk—the fans clearly dig it, because everyone’s yelling in a frenzy as you depart. What are you doing, you ask through your smiling teeth.

“Did you forget we’re supposed to be dating?” He maintains an equally pleasant (totally duplicitous) façade, smiling. 

“I didn’t think,” you say, still smiling falsely, “that you’d put your hands on me five minutes into the whole agreement.”

“Smile, honey,” he teases. “I see at least five cameras at us right now.”

“It’s seven,” you beam. “Dumbass.”

“Again with the competitive streak.” memory

“I totally deserved to win last week’s game. You’re just a sore loser.”

“No you’re just a—hi, hi, hello!”

Your walk to the motorhome is interrupted by running into a friend of Charles’—someone from McLaren, one of the executives there. While Lando has been informed of your stunt, nobody else on that team has. 

They handshake and he waves at you politely. “Whole paddock’s buzzing with news of you dating,” he says, smiling. “It’s a tad crazy! I remember seeing you as Charles’ plus one back when he was in Formula Two. And now you two are dating. How did—well, if you don’t mind me asking, where’d it all happen?”

“Oh,” you say, laughing. “Yeah, Monaco.”

“Texas,” Charles says at the same time.

Alarm bells go off in your head at the totally random, unwarranted statement out of Charles’ mouth. Texas? Neither of you have even ever been at the same time. “He means”—you say, coughing and nodding—“we went on this, um. Wild West themed, um, restaurant in Monaco, and that’s where he asked me out.” You make a face that you hope conveys you get it, and it seems to work.

“Definitely not what I had in mind, but if it worked, it worked, eh?” He grins. “I guess I always knew you two would end up together. Alright, ciao!”

You’re smiling and waving after him as he leaves, and then you’re (semi) alone again, or at least within your own space on the incredibly crowded paddock. 

You turn to him, unable to hide your confusion. “Um? Texas?! What’s up with the backstories?”

“It slipped out! Sorry. But nice save.”

“You’re so f—” You try to scold him, but can’t, bursting into laughter and leaning forward to laugh into his chest. “Texas, really?”

“Sorry,” he says. You feel the vibration of his own laugh through his chest and it’s warm and nice. You peel yourself off lest you look too clingy, and resume your walk to the motorhome.

Ferrari is crowded, filled with people and strategists and guests. You’re given a bottle of water and then hounded with questions from the team who haven’t been informed of the situation at hand. David, one of the engineers close to Charles who you’d previously spoken to in one of the earlier races, asks to borrow him.

“Ciao, ciao.” They speak in one of the outdoor patio areas. “Is everything okay?”

“The car is fine. I just wanted to ask about the girl.” David punches his arm, playful. “You finally got her!”

“Oh.”

“It’s just… I remember all the times she would show up and you’d tell me about how much you liked her… I don’t know, it’s perfect for things to end up like this, no? Bravo!”

“Oh, si. I’ve just been, you know…” He looks through the glass sliding door and into the hospitality, where you’re talking to Isa and Carlos, sunglasses over your hair. Your hands are moving quickly, and you’re smiling while talking. He wonders what you’re so passionate about. When you’re caught in fits of happiness and passion, you’re extra animated. Your eyes are lively, and your lips can’t stop curling into a slight beaming smile. Now, maybe it’s France, maybe it’s crossword puzzles, slim chance it’s your job—whatever it is, he could watch you talk like this for hours. He thinks it’s beautiful, the way you transform, the way you smile, when you talk of things you absolutely love. 

“… crazy about her forever.”

—

There are banners, Italian flags, and Charles’ face on every other wall. He’s done his first hat-trick of the season (of several more, you’re hoping). You’ve foregone the usual clubbing for dinner with a smaller group of people, but only because you’ve been told the nightlife is bleak and you’d rather save that energy for the next race.

Lando picked out the restaurant—he’s “on a massive Yelp high” trying to get the best restaurants in every city they get to. He’s tried two over the weekend, and is hoping this guns for first place. The restaurant’s name is long and so very Italian, to the point where your semi-fluency fails you. The food is amazing, though, and so is the wine—a whole other level of grape-flavored bliss.

You’re in-between Joris and Charles, nursing your fourth glass while Charles downs a bottle of beer. Light conversation flows through the table, but your sleepiness only allows you to hear some of it. You’re content with the white noise.

Lando is getting a new cat, Lewis bought a new pair of shoes—oh, no, shares in the company that makes the shoes—Joris bought the shoes, Lorenzo will now buy the shoes, why isn’t anyone paying attention to Lando’s cat. It’s funny, entertaining, and the perfect nightcap to your immensely exhausting day of acting.

Wine tipsy makes you loopy and snoozy. By default, your head lolls onto Charles’ body; he immediately wraps a sweater-clad arm around your frame, leans back, pulls you closer. Doesn’t miss a beat. In fact, while doing so, he’s even able to get a dig in against Lando’s affinity for cats.

“No more wine, m’kay?” He whispers quietly, angling his head to yours. 

“Oh, but it was so good, though.” You mope, but nod in agreement. “I could seriously drink wine out of a keg here.”

“Sure did that a lot with beer.” You laugh, punching his bicep with what little space you’re given. “You sleepy?”

“Yeah. But I’m fine,” you respond, smiling. “Now shut up. I need to know what happened to Lando’s cat.”

Lewis leaves first, claiming he’s into this whole “sleeping at 9PM” thing, and Lorenzo follows to get ahead of an early flight tomorrow. It’s you, Joris, Charles, and Lando now, and you’re good as dead, eyes half-shut and fluttering, head slipping off his shoulder.

How was it? Lando asks, lowering his volume to keep from being too jarring. Day 1, fake dating? I actually read something like this in one of those, um, fanfiction stuff the fans do. Joris and Charles cast him a half-weirded out, half-amused pair of looks, but Lando defends himself. They’re actually pretty good, guys. I read one where I ended up with my rival or summat.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lando,” you croak, voice raspy with sleepiness and a day of bubbling laughter, “but Charles and I probably didn’t do your fanfiction kink justice.”

“Ignoring the emasculation.” He says, turning beet red. “What’d you do, then? Wasn’t it hard?”

“It was hard, but it’s like that.” Charles likes to substitute the phrase it is what it is to it’s like that, a result likely stemming from his trilingual childhood. “We just. Pretended. Oi, we held hands in front of the cameras.”

“Yeah, you can get a good wank in if that does it for you,” you joke. Lando hurls a cube of parmigiano at your face; it lands squarely and you flip him off, the table erupting with peals of laughter.

“In all seriousness, though—how are you two okay with this? I know I’d be second guessing my feelings every second.”

You shift, trying to hide your obvious lack of answer. It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then Charles says, “We’re both comfortable with each other, I think.”

“Yeah, comfortable enough that we can, you know, be honest.” You’re looking at Lando when you say that. You don’t know how well you could repeat the sentence if you were looking straight into Charles’ eyes.

You leave the restaurant with a generous tip, and Charles helps you pull your coat on when you’re out the door, back into the chilly night air. It’s then that all four of you catch news via text, of a club invite somewhere in the city.

“It’ll be fun, guys.” Joris and Lando stand in front of you and Charles, bumbling with excitement. “I heard Lil Tjay is going to be there.”

“It sounds very fun,” you say, smiling, “but I might pass out if I drink anything other than water, and I have zero energy. You three go ahead.”

“Wh—no, I’m not going, either.” You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “Serious! I wasn’t in the mood much, anyway. Joris, take Lando’s car and we’ll take mine.”

“Alright,” Lando whistles. “Suit yourselves, agoraphobes.”

“Joke’s on you”—Charles smiles, smug—“I don’t know what that means.”

“Not the dig you think it is, Charles,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Night, Joris, Lando. See you guys tomorrow. Use protection!”

“Should be saying that to you guys,” quips Joris with an evil grin that he closes the car door on.

The climb into the car feels like a chore in itself with how tipsy and sleepy you’ve become. Charles likes to bring his Ferrari to race weekends, but you convinced him to use a different car for this one, because you honest-to-God can’t stand the low seats anymore. 

“You want dessert?” He asks when he’s rounded the car and settled into his seat. “Gelato, a cone, biscotti…”

“No, no,” you say, voice thin. A palm covers your shutting eyes; blindly, you reach for his hand. It’s easy because he sees you searching and takes your hand to cut it short. “I’m good. So sleepy. Can I sleep at your hotel room?”

“Sure.” He starts the car, waves to the wait staff idle by the entrance, and drives off. “How was the day as my fake girlfriend? Anyone ask about me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, flickering his gaze to your figure beside him. “Wasn’t too tough, I hope.”

Imola whizzes by, trees and city, and a poorly stifled yawn escapes your lips, wine stained. You laugh sleepily. “It was a bit awkward, but bitter with the sweet, right?” He smiles, nodding, and you continue. “Yeah, few strategists, some people who knew you from Prema. I was talking to Isa and Carlos, too, earlier. Even if they know it’s fake.”

He recalls seeing you talk to them through the glass. “About?”

“You.”

—

The sun is merciless on the clay courts, and so are your shoes, shuddering against the surface in your continuing attempt to beat the opposing team. Charles cowers behind you—he’s scored less than half of your points thus far—but you’re on a mission, like your competitive self always is when you’re put in a position to be able to win.

You’re two points down now, and the noontime is becoming increasingly itchy and unforgiving; across you both, Giada and Joris call a mutual time out. “That’s not allowed!” You say, petulant.

“This is a practice session,” Charles says gently, nearing you. “Mate, none of us are actual players.”

You wipe sweat off your forehead. “Right. Désolée. I’m just—I’m in the zone.”

“Ouais, I get it. Relax, m’kay? We got this.”

You shake yourself off and hop a few times, skirt bobbing by your waist as you go. Your braid bounces on your shoulder and you nod, turning your racquet over in your grip. 

Charles pings the ball hard and it soars over to land just shy of the line, seemingly scoring a point for you two and securing your win. Giada and Joris chime in with protests, claiming that the ball’s out. You throw your hands up in question.

“Okay, what? That was clearly a point!”

“Snoops, I think they might be right. The ball looked out to me,” Charles says, wrapping a sweaty arm around your red shoulders.

“What are you talking about, Charlie? That ball was in! I saw it!” You elbow yourself out of his grip, aghast.

“How about…” He suggests quietly. “We let them win? You did win the last”—he pauses to count—“five sets. Come on, Snoops. They need this. Bitter with the—”

You take a deep breath, staring into his eyes. “Fucking sweet, right, okay. Fine, fine.” 

Charles thinks he’s in the clear and he’s managed to extinguish your flames of frustration—that is, until you walk into the Leclerc household for lunch an hour later and, after greeting Pascale and Hervé, you point squarely to the jar on the kitchen counter. “Five euros.”

He splutters. “Five? Wh—non, non! I was trying to calm you down.”

“You were blind and gave Giada and Joris a fake win,” you say playfully.

“Saluuut,” Lorenzo greets, sitting at the stool beside yours. “Quoi de neuf?”

“Charles has five euros for the jar.” The jar, the infamous jar, sometimes dubbed the Dumbass Jar when Pascale’s out of earshot. It was Lorenzo who first made it up after three straight instances of Charles pulling a push door (three different establishments).

Arthur’s joined in at this point, but its biggest indirect donors are definitely Lorenzo and Hervé, who view it as just about the funniest thing in the world. Out of pity, you don’t call dumbass too often, but the tennis loss is bruising enough that you warrant the usage.

“You heard Snoopy. Five euros. We’ll be able to get milkshakes with this money after next week.” You high five. “At this rate, Charles, you could open a restaurant in Paris.”

“He’s going to race,” you correct. You both watch a begrudged Charles junk a bill into the nearly-full jar. “What race driver is going to open a restaurant?”

—

You meet Yuki Tsunoda on a flight to Nice. You’ve seen him several times before, not too frequently but enough that his name and face are familiar on your mind. Also a personality trait that Pierre would bring up in fond conversations with you and/or Charles: he loves food, apparently.

“Yuki’s volunteering AlphaTauri to be your hideout,” Pierre tells you and Charles, across him. 

Turns out, the hardest part (insofar) of this whole schtick: the officially appointed paddock photographers are being extra sneaky with it, finding the best vantage points to snap pictures of an unwitting you and Charles.

They’re like hawks, watching for even the slightest glimpse so they can post the photos on Instagram and get clicks.

So, just a few hours earlier, Charles asked if there was a place you and him could talk if needed where photographers wouldn’t be awaiting you already, and this was the answer.

“If it’s too much trouble, feel no need to… you know.”

“Nonsense.” Pierre smiles goofily and Yuki pokes him to stop, pausing his session of eating a quesadilla (where he’d even acquired it, you’re clueless). “Yukino would be happy to.” 

The flight lands and the drive to Monaco is infected with notoriously slow traffic; you pop an Advil to try and alleviate the motion sickness. Pierre and Yuki, it seems, have joined you even outside of the flight. They’re in the backseat offering bits of conversation.

“Oh, mate, we should totally play tennis while we’re here.” Pierre sighs. “Didn’t you guys play before?”

“Mmm, yeah,” you mumble with a lilt of amusement at the memories from basically a decade ago. “At the country club. Doubles always, otherwise I’d knock Charles out of the park.”

“Hey, I won a couple times!” He protests weakly. “Like… twice.”

You laugh out loud. “Anyway, Pierre, do not bring me into tennis. I get all competitive and develop anger issues.”

“I had to calm her down twice a set,” Charles says; you swat him lightly to silence him. “Still do.”

“You know, if the Dumbass Jar still existed,” you say cuttingly, “I swear I’d be able to buy off Ferrari with that money.”

—

Monaco is swelterinly hot today. You know this because you know the weather here, you know the curves and ups and downs of it—this is your home. And today is hot. Every few minutes a breeze filters through the air and you can hear journalists or PAs sigh a collective breath of relief before they’re all subjected to the inane, high-degree weather again.

It’s also, according to Arthur, a good day to kiss in front of the cameras. He says it easily over a plate of sliced kiwi, with a devious smile, because he assumes your friends-with-benefits arrangement equates to constant kissing. But the truth is you’ve never kissed Charles, and it intimidates you.

“Do we have to kiss?” You play with his bracelets, sitting beside him on the sofa. The talk of kissing entertains the thought of sex and you can’t help but mentally complain at the remembrance that you haven’t gotten laid in weeks.

“If you don’t want to—”

“I do.” You splutter, eyes going wide, face warm. “No! I mean I don’t mind. If it sells the thing.”

“D’accord, then we will.” He smiles. “That okay?”

“Sure. First kiss,” you say. Your voice feels as clammy as your hands.

“First.” He looks away.

You take your woes off the kiss by playing a friendly round of tennis with your favourite opponents, Giada and Joris. They bemoan your competitive nature (that, to be fair, allots you and Charles three straight wins), and Giada incites a protest for a girls versus boys round.

You both embarrass Charles and Joris, heckling them as you win another two straight games. Charles runs over to you when you throw up the L sign on your hand, lifting you up and making you squeal.

“Put me down, loser!”

Giada and Joris exchange a look. Amused, knowing. “Charles! You’re such a cunt.” You kick hard, and manage to snag his abdomen, so he gently places you onto the clay again. He laughs and paces back over to his side, and you play with the tail of your braid as you watch.

You play set after set, but the kiss comes anyway. When you know photographers can see you—by the entrance—and it happens faster than your mind can muster. He’s leaning in, you’re reaching up, and your mouths slot together. It’s—and it feels crazy to say it, but—

It’s perfect. It’s lovely. You smile against his lips like they belong there and like they’re familiar and yours and like maybe this is all you’ve ever wanted, and like they deserve the smile, because they do. You feel your need to pull away before you can’t help but keep him tethered to you always. It’s strange and it’s not platonic—you’re mature enough to admit that, but not enough to label exactly what it is.

You spend the day with your fingers pressed to your lips, like you’re sealing the memory. Hours later, Charles wins. There’s massive uproar and you’re in the crowd when it happens, in the sea of strategists going to congratulate him on winning Monaco, which—that’s—it’s winning Monaco. Your ears ring by the end of it and your throat’s dry from your own cheering. Carlos comes in second, and the outlook for their team is going much better than it’d been at the start of the year, so there’s a lot to celebrate.

And celebrate you do. It starts with being pinned up against the door, hungry kisses along your jaw and neck. One kiss, it seems, has broken the dam from the few years you’ve spent abstaining from the kissing. He’s just finished interviews. He’s only just changed into his polo, and now he’s tugging it off again, feverish.

This is rushed and dirty, down low and dark. Only one light’s been switched on and he’s hiking your dress up, panties down with one hand to tug his cock out with the other. He’s kissing you—kissing you stupid, almost. Like he’s waited forever to taste your lips and now he’ll starve if he’s away for just a moment. He needs you. So have me, you want to say, all of me, push me up against the wall again and cover my mouth with your palm. Or don’t, don’t—so everyone knows I’m yours.

He presses your chest against the wall so your back’s turned to him, thrusts in with a breathless, throaty grunt. 

“S’ big,” you’re saying, clawing at words the pleasure bars you from finding.

“Barely even in,” he whispers. “Slow down, baby, come on, take it.”

Your toes curl. You’re high on the win, on the kissing, on Charles, on the slow delicious stretch of his cock. “I’m taking it, I’m taking it,” you say, shaky. He thrusts, slow and deep and dirty, until he’s bottomed out and you’re tiptoeing from the overwhelm.

“I feel you,” you’re whimpering, moans and gasps leaving your mouth. You blindly search for his hand, find it against your hip, drag it to your abdomen, under your dress that he hasn’t even fully removed. “I feel you there,” you say, an edge of teasing to your voice.

His cock’s bulging, almost, out of your stomach, and it’s getting you both all lightheaded. He thrusts harder, a devious smile felt against your neck.

I need it, Charles, you plead, please, please fuck me harder. You feel it coming, the familiar pleasure intensifying so quickly—you don’t usually cum so early, he’s always making you wait for it—pussy squeezing around him.

Jesus, already? He’s groaning but a laugh escapes, breathy and amused and taunting. He’s fucking you harder, faster. It’s so good, each hit getting you closer. Taking me so well, you’re bruised all over now, baby. You hate how well he knows what turns you on; memories of mornings post-sex spent inspecting the purple marks on your hips flash through your head and you’re even closer now, shaking, whimpering, begging.

You’re half-sure someone can hear, but it doesn’t even phase you. Harder, deeper— and you’re collapsing, legs spasming uncontrollably, orgasm so intense it’s on the brink of totally hurting. Tears roll down your sweaty face and he kisses them away, cumming onto your back to wipe off in a few minutes.

“I never even”—you pant, tired—“got to say congratulations.”

“That was more than enough.”

—

Charles is elated when you tell him his family has thrown a party for him the day next. He’s boyish in that way, optimistic and kiddy, the kind of person who’s up at five-thirty to announce their own birthday. 

He drives you both to his childhood home, a route so familiar he could drive with his eyes closed. (“I hope you’re not driving closed-eyed,” you’d warned.)

Even if he could, anyway, he’d rather not. The scenery of Monaco is stunning, ever-changing, and he never tires of it—the buildings, the skies, the trees and shrubbery, stores lining the streets, clean entrances. 

And you—in the passenger seat, humming softly to a song of his choosing. Drives are always better when you’re in the passenger seat.

The turnout is generous: extended family, and several friends from school. There’s bowls of fruit, salad, plates of salmon and racks of lamb, knobs of butter with warm bread. Pascale commands the kitchen—visible in how she leaves it cluttered with bowls, ingredients, whisks still dripping with syrup or batter, spoons licked for tasting. The good kind of clutter.

Lorenzo has also taken reign of the AUX, because it’s 70’s music playing, which is what he’s fond of for family gatherings like these. It’s My Cherie Amour now, Stevie Wonder mellowing across the lawn and into the house.

Charles knows you love the kitchen as much as his mum does, so when you get to the house, he’s not surprised to see you leave him in favor of checking out what damage has been done to your favorite marble countertops. He watches Pascale turn from the gas range, her eyes lit when she sees you, inviting you into an embrace. 

You look like the song playing, pretty and lovely, breeze in the summer. He almost loses himself in thought before his great-aunt Eden places two bony hands on his arms and greets him in feeble Italian.

He flits his eyes away from you, if just briefly, and faces the woman with a smile on his face. “Ciao, zia,” he says, voice buoyant, happy. “You came here to see me, no?”

All five-foot-one of her shakes in disagreement. She wags a finger for extra measure. “No,” she says. “Sono venuto a vedere la tua ragazza.”

His eyes widen. “She’s—” He pauses. He debates telling Eden you’re not actually his girlfriend, that this was a setup to appease Pascale and, by extension, tifosi. But he backtracks.

He shouldn’t, but he gives in, lives out his dreams for a bit. “Ah, she’s over there, zia. Con mamma.” He points to the open door, and to you on the far end of the room inside, holding a spoon. “Beautiful, yes?”

“Molto,” she says proudly. “You marry her?”

Fact: his great-aunt has the worst memory. She forgot Charles’ name twenty times, let alone niche facts like this one. Another fact: she rarely shows up to family events. Maybe now, because it’s a racing thing; but baby showers and funerals, she’s at home. So he indulges a bit more.

“Si, we’re engaged. But—it’s a secret, zia.” He grins. “Non dire a nessuno. Okay?”

“Sei fidanzato?!” She claps once, excited. “Ay, Charles. I waited my whole life for this moment, si?” And she’s wobbling away, still muttering under her breath.

—

“How is my son?” Pascale’s voice is teasing. She sighs happily. “For years I wondered if this would happen. And it really is.”

“Oui, sure is,” you sing-song, laughing a bit awkwardly. “We’re—he’s okay. We’re great. In love.”

“Oh, in love,” she swoons. She leaves you, after fifteen more minutes of detailed discussion, with half a spoonful of vinaigrette to taste-test, departing to check on the guests for a few minutes. In her place arrives Lorenzo, already bearing a shit-eating grin. “Saluuut.”

“Mmm, good to see you, too.” You taste the liquid and add lemon to the bowl. “How’s wedding planning?”

“Think we’ll throw a shower. Is that pretentious?”

“No,” you say, mulling over it. “Sure, a bit. But just don’t make it a whole thing, you’re golden.”

“I see.” He sighs fondly. “You know, many a conversation we’ve had right here at this counter. About anything.”

—

You loosen your school tie, slicing an apple like you so often do, waiting for Charles’ karting practice to end. Pascale had fixed you a bowl of something, Hervé a glass of orange juice. And somebody else would always, without fail, steal your food. A hand swipes two slices form your chopping board and your head whips up.

“Lorenzo!” You stomp your foot. “Stop stealing! That is my apple.”

“You mean the Leclercs’ apple.” He laughs, pops another slice into his mouth, smiling. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. The braid beside your head shakes with it as you continue slicing it into perfect quarters. He pipes up again: “How was school?”

“Shit, as usual.” You lower your voice and smile, leaning in. “Pascale scolded me earlier, for saying that word.”

“Did Papa?”

“Obviously not. He fist bumped me.” You share a laugh, both chewing on apple slices now. “Anyway, I aced a math test, had aubergine for lunch… got driven here by Charlotte’s mum.”

“Charlotte?” Lorenzo hums conspiratorially, making a mmmm sound. You look up from the yellow chopping board, furrowing your eyebrows. He persists: “Mmm. Cha-r-lotte.”

“What’s up with Charlotte?” Bit impolitely, you ask, in-between chews.

“I think she likes Charles, a little.” You nod slowly, trying to follow. Charlotte liking Charles. Your Charles. Wait, no. Not your—or nobody’s, really. Just Charles. Yeah.

“What? Bull!” You narrow your eyes. “Says who?”

“Why do you care?”

“Wh—I don’t!” You squeak, caught. “Just… I think I’d know, Lorenzo.” You make a tch noise, crossing your sweater-clad arms. “So—says who?”

“I saw her leering at him during his birthday party.” 

“You’re wrong,” you say, but you don’t really know who you’re convincing. He reaches over for an apple slice, and you move the chopping board out of the way sharply.

“Mon dieu, you’re snappy. Fine, fine. I might be wrong,” he relents, shrugging. He gets up and slides beside you to be able to acquire more slices. “I talked to her during the party, too.”

“Weirdo,” you tease, allowing him to take a few more. “About Charles, yes?

“No, about her brand new dress.”

“You’re the funniest Leclerc brother, I assure you.”

“She told me…” He says, louder this time, shushing you effectively. “She told me she ‘finds Charles cute.’” Air quotes, shrug. “But that they ‘probably won’t’ date.”

“Huh. Did, um. Did she say why?” You play with the tail of your braid, shuffling back and forth on your flats. You don’t know why you’re so fidgety—you aren’t nervous, you don’t think.

“Because…” he says, chewing to allow for a pause. “She said every time she looks for Charles to try and ask for time alone, or on a date, or something, he’s already following you around like some puppy.”

—

You comb your hair into a bun and venture into the patio, having avoided a good chunk of the noon heat. You greet some relatives politely along the way, and receive a hand squeeze from great-aunt Eden. At one of the tables is Charles, beside Joris and another friend, and Giada and Charlotte across them, an empty seat beside the latter.

You seat yourself in it and Giada kisses your cheek. “Hey. Ça va?”

“Fine,” you say, smiling. Then you lower your voice to a whisper. “Do you remember when I told you about my crush on Charlie? For the first time?”

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “Around… 2013.”

“Ouais. And… and it disappeared after that,” you say. “Right?”

“You said it did,” she says. “A year later. When we were sixteen.”

“Right.” You think. Seventeen onwards—you’d never formed a full-fledged crush on Charles. “Okay. It’s nothing. Just a memory. I was just. Yeah, oui.”

“Oui, let’s eat.” The memory fades and so does your running mind. Charles’ eyes meet yours across the table, and suddenly you feel a little less like your thoughts have ripped you open.

—

When you and Charles were younger, you adopted the adage “bitter with the sweet.” Charles will have people believe it was made by the both of you, with philosophical minds stretched so far beyond their years. Well, revisionist history. The truth lay in the Carole King song of the same name you’d heard on the stereo.

Those are the exact words Charles tells Ted when he’s interviewing for the Spain Grand Prix. It’s a hot day and you’re especially doubled down on by the fact that he’s finished ninth. 

You’d been fake-dating for the cameras all weekend. At all costs, you try and avoid interviews, but the damned Drive to Survive producers insist on a soundbite and start following the two of you around everywhere (only to find your conversations sound very weird and niche, and not scandalous or sexy).

Pascale also called—Charles first, and when he didn’t check his phone, you. You spent an hour on the phone just talking about the race. About the penalties and the nasty headlines that followed, and just everything.

“I’m glad you’re there,” she says. “God knows he needs you.”

You end up biking to try and relieve the stress, posing with fans for pictures.

“I’m such a big fan. I stalk Charles’ Insta like, all the time, and it’s crazy how you guys are dating.” A teenaged girl laughs nervously. “Where’d it happen?”

“Texas!” He, again, tries out the bit to appease the fans but you have to extinguish the flames of his blatant lies.

“He’s kidding,” you interject. “It’s just—it just happened, really.”

How does something just happen? Someone told you once, in a Paris bar, that love is like an echo. It’s always there, in the underbelly, underneath it all, and then one day it echoes, like a bass drum or a cymbal. And the echo—the echo is you feeling it. You feel the echo, the all-encompassing echo, even if the love itself’s been there all along.

With Charles, it’s out of the question. You love him. He’s your best friend. You trusted him before you even learned what trust meant, for Chrissake.

How could you not love him? That seemed impossible. The love was there. The love’s always been there and it’ll never go away.

It echoes at half-past-two in Barcelona, when he whips past you on his bike and says on your left. The breeze pulls your hair to the left, covers your face, and when you rake it away he’s stopped to check if he accidentally bumped you in his rush to look cool.

You’re creepily observant; you’ve been told this many times before. What people don’t know is with the observance comes even more questions. Ifs, whys, wheres, whens, hows, God the hows. The questions keep coming because there’s never an answer.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Green eyes glittering like a lake. Smile like the sun. Hair curly at the ends. “Did I hurt you?”

Then you realize. In the matters of love, every question—every single question. Every single one. The answer is Charles.

“Of course not,” you say. And you smile.

—

You almost drop your book in your rush to scurry past the paparazzi. They’re still busy on the two figures (Alex and Lily, you think) on another end of the paddock, which allows you only a few moments to try and evade them.

Others are stationed near the Ferrari hospitality, which means you’re going to need your hideout. Yuki had texted Pierre who had texted Charles who had told you that it was all clear to go there for a few minutes while waiting for the photographers to clear out.

Hurry, Charles is saying. Laughing. His hand’s gentle in yours. You want them there forever. You want to drag the tip of your nail over the barely-perceptible grooves of his fingerprints so he knows how much you need him.

The days post-Spain were spent biking, watching shows, listening to music, eating food. The travel to Canada—long, cold, compression socks. Pascale had called mid-flight to check on her “favorite pair”—you maneuvered yourselves into a much more cuddly position to appease her, and her giddy smile was incentive enough to stay that way for ninety minutes.

You’d been in a weird mental state trying to grapple with your rapidly returning and intensifying feelings for him, which have dawned on you all at once.

But he makes it better. You’re still laughing when you wedge yourselves in, eyes meeting.

And then you’re quiet.

The gaze you share is intense, but almost unsure, like you’re supposed to be looking away anytime now. You step backward shakily, and his hand moves from your waist to the small of your back to keep you from stumbling any further. You’re closer now. But this shouldn’t feel as strange as it does when you two have been in much more scandalous positions before—what’s different?

He’s so close, so so close, his green eyes looking right through you. You lean closer, ready to kiss him like you have before, ready to feel his mouth slot softly over yours, comforting and safe and Charles.

Funnily enough, it’s then that the illusion breaks, his grip loosening and the distance between you increasing. He coughs twice, awkwardly.

“Shit—sorry,” you say profusely, clearly having read the moment wrong. Embarrassment wells up in your system, warming your face. You laugh to diffuse the tension but it barely does anything.

“No, don’t—” He exhales, squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to find words. “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. I do.”

“So kiss me,” you suggest simply, looking around for anything that might stop him. The embarrassment ebbs away, replaced quickly by confusion. 

“I don’t want to kiss you in an AlphaTauri stock room,” he mopes, burying his head in his hands in clear frustration. “An AlphaTauri stock room.” He repeats it in a hushed whisper, disbelief etched all over his pretty face.

“Charles,” you begin, smiling already, the quaint way that makes his knees go weak every time. “You’re acting like you and I haven’t kissed before.” 

“This is different.” He says firmly, looking away lest he lean in involuntarily. He interjects with conviction, not realizing what he’s implying until the implication’s hanging in the air. The longing kills him softly, and he feels if he looks at you a second longer he’ll kiss you anyway.

It’s a wonderfully confusing feeling. You open your mouth to respond but you can’t; your brain tacks itself onto his sentence, the division created between the kisses before now and the kiss that might happen anytime soon.

“H…” you trail off, throat drying. Blinking, you try again, “How different?”

He looks up, eyes conveying all the things his lips never will. This is different. You know it. I love you this time.

The answer is exchanged and accepted wordlessly. You slip out of the room when Pierre tells you it’s okay to, and it’s only then—only then—that Charles’ hand leaves your body. You seem to burn alive with its absence.

It’s a Ferrari 1-2. You snap a thousand pictures with Isa and Carlos holding Carlos’ trophy while Charles is doing interviews, and they invite you to join them for the break. You’re open to it—the win, the good standings, they definitely warrant a celebration for the few weeks’ break. So your original itinerary is Portugal—beaches, coasts, food—but the jet re-charts a route and the flight is cut much shorter because you’re in New York City.

—

Somewhere in Manhattan, a wedding shower is thrown on an outdoor rooftop. “This is one hell of a wedding shower,” you squeal excitedly when you spot him, bringing Lorenzo in for a hug. Your yellow dress flows in the wind. “I thought you guys were going to throw it in Monaco?”

“Yeah, well… why not here, right? It’s beautiful.” He gestures to the skyline, smiling. “Plus, Charles, Arthur, and Mum were already near the country for work, so we got ahead of it. Everyone was happy to fly out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I love it.” You beam. “I can’t believe it, either. When’s the final date?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the wind is knocked out of him by Charles barreling into his arms for a hug. You roll your eyes at the latter’s childish behavior, smiling despite yourself. They part and Charles finds his place beside you, arm snaking around your shoulders. “What a wedding shower!”

“Don’t flatter me, dipshit,” Lorenzo jokes.

“It’s a lovely one.” Lorenzo thanks him. “An amazing shower. You know, it’s a total golden shower!”

You purse your lips. “Charles—”

“A golden shower, mate. Absolutely.”

That garners at least three odd looks and you calmly place a hand on his chest to whisper don’t ever fucking say that again it means something completely different please don’t embarrass me or your brother. 

For all your embarrassment, you make up for it in having the literal time of your life. The food is good, the city view is amazing, the weather is fair and the music—Desafinado now—is amazing. “I could see myself here,” you say offhandedly to Charles, who nods back with a faint smile. He’s half-distracted.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says, squinting from the sun in his eyes. “Very.”

You part ways at some point—Pascale whisks him off, no doubt for another long round of questioning about your relationship, and you meander around with a glass of champagne.

You’re halfway through swiping a mini quiche when a hand wraps around your wrist and squeezes to get your attention—Charles’ great-aunt Eden. She speaks only intermittent English, and your Italian fails to carry you through well enough, but you smile and greet her. “Ciao, Eden!”

“Ciao, bella.” She smiles. “Flight was long.”

“Oh, yeah. New York’s far. I might work here someday. I’ll hear results in around two weeks, but I’m hoping for London instead.” You slow your speech.

“When will you two wed?”

“Wed?” Your face warms and you stutter through a giggly mess of a sentence. “Oh, Eden—zia—no, no! We’re just friends.”

“My Charles told me you two are to be married.” You both crane your heads to the right, where Charles is leaning against the terrace railing talking to one of your friends, Matthew, animatedly. He meets your eyes, sees Eden beside you, and seems to connect the dots.

Jokingly, perhaps, he raises his hand and wiggles his empty ring finger. You can’t help but smile as you turn back to the old woman. “Oh, did he, zia?”

“Si, he did.”

“Well, we’re just going to let it happen, then. You’re invited. Front row.” You kiss her cheek and she smiles, wobbling off to drink more wine before any of the adults can stop her.

It’s announced then that the dance floor is open, and many of Pascale’s friends filter through to show off their moves to the 70’s music. You watch, amused, at the display of dexterity to Frankie Valli and Aretha Franklin. You cheer them on, content to watch them against the backdrop of the New York sunset.

When Ain’t No Mountain High Enough plays, the dance floor grows, because nobody can resist the song—not even Charles, apparently, who takes your hand without preamble and takes you, squealing, to the centre.

You sing each of the parts, like you always do when the song comes on. It’s semi-tradition at this point: you take Marvin Gaye’s, Charles takes Tammi Terrell’s. You both exaggerate your dance moves and pretend you’re performing.

His hand’s in yours, winding you around and pulling you close. At some point he starts robot dancing to entertain you. It works—you laugh out loud, your eyes half-shut and faced to the stars above. He could write a poem about this. Or a song.

The song ends and you lean onto his shoulder to take a breather—then the photographer swoops in and takes a picture. “That’s going into the RSVPs!” He says, accent unmistakably American.

“Does he know we’re not the couple here?” You ask.

Do we know we’re not the couple? Charles asks himself.

The night escalates as the “oldies” leave, and Matthew, Joris, and Giada join you both for one last round of drinks again. You’re all standing at the exit making conversation; Lorenzo attends to his friends at the other end of the terrace.

“I feel young again,” Matthew says, liberated by Tito’s vodka. He takes another swig and pulls his coat on.

“You’re twenty-five, calm down,” you joke. “Dodged that bullet.” You’re poking fun at the semi-massive crush you had on Matthew in secondary school, and a laugh passes through the four of you. “Anyway, you three be careful. No driving.”

“Jesus, but really—I haven’t been this drunk since you”—he points at you, laughing—“turned seventeen at that club, Amber? No?”

“Oh, God. Y’know, same.” You fail to notice Charles and Giada share a look. “I remember nothing from that night! Or, like, the first two hours at least.”

“I remember drinking my body weight because of heartbreak,” he jeers. 

“Heartbreak? Were you—were you with anyone?” You ask, confused.

It happens before anyone can stop it. “No, when Charles kissed you. And you kissed him after. Alright, night mates! Lorenzo—merci!”

Oh, fuck, you hear in the back of your now-muddled brain. Giada’s voice.

You open and close your mouth. “Ch—wait, he—what?”

“I—let’s talk here,” Charles flounders, dragging you to a more secluded spot and facing you. The three of your friends exit; Giada waves, apologetic. “When… we were at Amber… and you were absolutely hammered, we kissed. It was twice—just twice. And you didn’t, um. Remember a thing.”

You’re unsure. “In Amber?” You blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We… I don’t—I mean, I understand why you don’t remember. We kissed that night.”

“So that’s… Charles… You didn’t tell me.” Your voice quivers, like a wire flicked. “Why didn’t you say it at the time?”

He doesn’t give you an answer. He just looks at the counter, imagines the way your eyebrows furrow, your lips move, eyes glitter. He can’t give you one. He doesn’t want to hurt, disappoint, sadden you. He wants to get on his knees and root you here, so he’ll have all the time in the world to come up with an answer.

“Charles.” But he loves you, and he can at the very least be honest for you. “Look at me.”

“I was scared.” His eyes gravitate to yours.

“Of?”

“It felt stupid, is all. That you didn’t remember, and maybe you did but you were pretending you weren’t. I didn’t—it didn’t—sorry.” He laughs, stutters. “I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything because we didn’t have feelings for each other.” He pauses. “Then.”

“Well,” you say, slow. Eyes stuck to his. “How about now?”

“Now?”

“I love you, now. I mean, isn’t that all this is? Loving? Even if? De—despite of?” 

And this—God. This is how it feels. He’s looking at you and you’re telling him you love him because you do, and finally he’s been over with reassurance.

You love him, too. That way. He trembles with it. His hands are shaky when they lace into yours, like you’re a shrine, a prayer, and he feels like maybe these are the emotions that swirl through the human body when one wins the lottery and gets struck by angry lightning at the same time.

This is it, he thinks. Profound and lovely and an echo of sweet memories. He’s yours. Here in a city unfamiliar to both of you, yet to be conquered, your fingers lace lightly and you smile, smile, smile at each other, as if you’re the last two people on Earth. He’s yours, so foolishly in love with you.

Even far from home, you’re both filled with warmth, with longing. Extended stares, pits of your stomachs welling up with something lovely in between homesickness and nostalgia. Here again, you again, us again—it’ll always be us again, your heart seems to say, surrounded by the same love the same hurt the same sad the same everything, you and me, all the love in the world, all the confusion, we’re here. It’s never over.

Across the terrace, Lorenzo watches. Two figures, laughing, emanating happiness, gentle unkowing love. You two have finally made it here, after what felt like a thousand trials and dreams and stories.

So even if you’re taller, in high heels and a yellow dress—and Charles is broader, in a suit and tie—Lorenzo thinks he can blink and see the two little kids who hosted a tea party in the backyard. He can blink again and see you hugging, eyes shut, his lips pressed to your forehead to convey the intimacy nothing else will do as well. 

“So what now?” You ask. Again with the questions. In your defense—it begs so many follow-up questions. A love so many years in the making—layer after layer after layer—of course it begs all the questions, almost to the point of overwhelming capacity. What’ll we tell Pascale? The fans? The family? Everyone?! 

But one look and he makes it better. His green eyes, bright against the deep black of the skyline. You’ve grown. You’ve done it. You’re here. “We’ll figure it out.” He smiles. “We deserve this kind of ending, don’t you think?”

—

“He has my name.” A tubby finger points to the boy on the greeting card. “That one.”

“And who’s the dog?” Asks the girl beside him, hair wound into a plait. She likes this boy. He’s cute. She plays with the end of her braid and stares, eyes flickering in-between him and the card they’re staring at.

“The name’s right there. They’re best friends.”

“Okay, that’ll be me.”

“So that’s us.”

“Oui.” She smiles. “Charlie and Snoopy.”

–

read an omitted scene here :)

[dreamcatchers-husband]

A Business Proposal

Male Reader X Fromis_9 Nakyung

Length: 12.6k+ Words

Tags: Angry sex. Teasing. Creampie

A/n- So the winner of the poll was was post it now. So here you go. Been a while since a new fic but this is in honor of my two years of writing smut on tumblr. Hope you enjoy.

Business proposals. It probably isn't a lie when you say they probably happen every day. Sometimes they can be rather fair for both sides but in your case, you couldn’t be more annoyed. 

“What do you mean I have to marry her? And in a month and a half also?”

Your parents rolled their eyes as they then placed a contract in front of you. 

“Look. Their company has always been a great partner of ours and this could help elevate both of us to the top. This union will combine both our profits and make our wealth reach new heights. The day you marry her, you will officially become the chairman of C Industries. If you don’t marry her then we will look for another board member to take the place. Please don’t make us do that.” 

Your mother and father were hard workers. It took them 27 years but they managed to develop a company that was second to none. Now what was this company focused on? Honestly? Everything. C industries were just a jack of all trades. Tech development, construction of apartments, agriculture. Those were just a few things. It always amazed you how they managed to build their empire and you knew it was yours eventually until now. 

You were destroyed hearing those words. Years of hard work would be ruined over one decision your parents made without warning.

“Shit. Are you going to make me do this?” 

“Yes, Yejun. Now it’s it a yes or a no?” 

Sadly there was only one answer. 

5 frantic weeks went by as both companies got together and worked out the merger. Most of your days went by with you attending meetings from 7 in the morning until 8 at night. You met with lawyers from both sides as well as your parents and future in-laws but one certain lady was always missing. 

Despite this marriage being forced on you. You were going to be a good husband and love and support your wife. So of course you were wondering about her after all this time. Currently, your meeting was ending with the Lee’s so you knew it would be the best time to ask. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Lee. If I may ask, where has Nagyung been this entire time? Me and her will be running this company together yet she hasn’t even shown up for a single meeting.”

“Ah. She has been very busy deciding things for your wedding with the planner. We haven’t seen much of her either. We just get updates over some phone calls. You must be excited to meet your future wife. Why don’t you go give her a visit? She has her place in the city and I’m sure it would give the Two of you some time to connect. I will send you the address as well as the passcodes to enter.” 

“Are you sure it’s ok for me to enter?” 

“Of course, Yejun. You will be married in a few weeks. If she gives you any problems just tell us.” 

“Very well Mr Lee. I will head over tonight when I get a chance.”

“Very well. I wish you a good night and hope to see you soon again.” 

With a handshake, everyone in the room parted their own ways. Your parents didn’t even stay as they gave you a wave goodbye. Looking to the right, your eyes looked up at the clock and saw that it was 5 pm. Today was one of the lucky days you all ended it early. With the idea of visiting Nagyung fresh in your mind, you quickly gathered your things and went towards the elevator. 

After a few seconds, the familiar ring echoed out in the hallway. The doors to the machine opened and you entered. The ride down to the garage took a bit as you were on the 45th floor. After about a minute and thirty seconds, the same ding came back and doors opened. 

Respect is what could be felt in the air. As people passed you, they all took the time to stop and give you a bow. Of course, they would show that kind of respect to the future CEO. Despite that, you felt a bit weird and appreciated when they treated you like anyone else. You never wanted the money or power to get to your head. You hope it never does. 

As you finally arrived at the black vehicle, your hands brought out the key fob and unlocked the car. The little chirp from your Toyota brought a smile to your face. You had just bought it a few days ago and loved having a state-of-the-art car for the first time in your life. Once in the driver seat, your foot stepped on the break and you pressed the start button. As the car roared to life, you waited a few seconds until the display screen in the middle of the console was active. Once up, you could see there was a Message from Mr.Lee. In the text was the address so you just clicked on it and your car put it in the GPS. With the instructions not playing in the speakers, you put the car in drive and took off. 

A few minutes passed as you drove away from the company building. Taking a glance at the time, you saw it was 5 pm and a typical dinner time. With the GPS saying you were 5 minutes away, you began to glance around and look for some food. With your eyes scanning all the buildings, they eventually saw a large neon sign that caught your attention. 

Seeing an open spot near the store, you turned your wheel and parked right in front of the building. Turning the engine off, you quickly jumped out and walked to the front door of the restaurant. The name “Very Very Good Chicken” certainly caught your attention. 

As you pulled the glass door open, the strong fragrance of chicken hit your nose. By just a few smells you got, it was going to be good. Going up to the counter, a young man could be seen just standing behind the counter. His attention was facing down, so you could tell he was just on his phone. 

As you finally reached the register, it took the young. Man, a minute to notice you were there. The sudden jolt from the man scared you since you scared him. Both of you began to laugh at this and calmed down after a few seconds. 

“Sorry. Welcome to Very Very Good Chicken. What can I get for you?”

“Hi. Could I get half and half of the Ganjang and Yangnyeom flavors?” 

“Of course. So half and half of the Ganjang and Yangnyeom flavors. Would you like any drinks to take with you as well or just the chicken?” 

“Hmmm. How about a bottle of draft beer?” 

“A bottle of draft beer. So in total, it’s the chicken and the beer. Your total will be 35,000 Won. How would you like to pay?” 

Handing over your card the young man quickly swiped it and then handed it back. 

“Please give us like 15 minutes to get that ready for you sir. Thank you for buying with us.” 

Nodding towards him, your legs brought you over to an empty seat and you waited for the food. The 15 minutes went by in a flash as you saw the young man walking over with the bags of food. Standing up, your right hand extended and you took hold of the plastic. 

“Thank you for buying. Hope to see you again!”

“Thank you!”

Walking out of the building, you immediately arrived at your vehicle and placed the food on the passenger seat. Getting back in the car, you took a look over your left and pulled out of the spot. Your GPS continued to direct you toward the large apartment building. After the Five-minute drive, you pulled into a large parking lot that was across the building. Your Toyota certainly stuck out from the various nice-looking cars that were stationed there. 

Despite that, you parked your car in the first spot you could find. With the engine turned off, your hand took hold of the plastic bag and hopped out of the vehicle. Your footsteps brought you to the front door where a doorman was ready to let you in. Thanking the man, you made your way inside the building and took a look around. The giant glass chandelier in the center of the lobby certainly brought all eyes to it. 

Moving past it, you eventually made it toward some elevators in the backside of the lobby. Pressing the circular button, your leg began to bounce as you waited for the elevator. A few more seconds passed until a ding echoed out in the lobby. With the door in front of you opening, you quickly hopped on the elevator and pressed the button to the 22nd floor. With the doors closing, all you could do was wait until you were on the correct floor.

A little jingle played in the metal cage as you stood there with the food. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure how to say Hi to Nagyung. Well hi was the least of your concerns. What would you talk about with your fiancé?

Your time to brainstorm ran out as the same Sound as before hit your ears. With the doors opening to your desired floor, you began to walk off the elevator and take a look around. On both sides, apartments lined down the hallways. In front of you was a sign. In the black font, you saw that on the right-hand side were all apartments from 2210- 2220. On the left-hand side were apartments 2200-2209. With a glance at your mobile device, you took a glance at the text and saw that Nagyung lived in apartment 2220.

As you moved down the right-hand side, your eyes scanned all of the apartment buildings until you reached the end of the hallway. With the number in front of you, your right hand went up and formed into a fist. Hesitation is what you felt until a sudden boost of confidence brought you to knock on her door. 

Silence was all that could be Heard. A few seconds passed as you were getting ready to knock again. Before your right hand could hit the door, the sound of the lock being undone began to come from the door. As the white door pulled back, your eyes were met with a strange man who happened to be shirtless. 

“Fucking finally. Forty-five minutes for damn fried rice.”

You didn’t even have time to react as the bag of food was snatched from your hand. A wad of cash was then thrown at your face as the man slammed the door. Were you at the wrong Apartment? Taking your phone back out, you decided to send a message to Mr. Lee. Your message only repeated the address back to the man. It didn’t even take ten seconds for the name to respond saying it was correct. 

Now you were beyond confused. Who the hell was that man? Bringing your ear to the door, muffled sounds passed through but you could hear laughter coming from a couple of people. It could be seen as rude but now you needed to know what was going on. With the keypad on the left side of the door, your fingers put in the code that was given to you. 

12418 imputed. You then pushed the door and were met with a house hallway. Stepping in, you gently closed the door behind you and lurked forward. A couple of nice-looking jackets were on the right-hand side. On the left side was a small wooden table with some car keys. The Bentley logo was very easy to see from the back of the key fob. Obviously, she had a very nice car. As you finally arrived at the end of the hallway, your eardrums picked up about three different voices who were joking around. 

“What the fuck? This is chicken, not fried rice. I’m gonna yell at this place!” 

Walking out of the hallway, you were met with The three individuals who happened to all be undressed. Nakyung as well as the man from the door yelled but you also noticed another young woman who just ran to cover her exposed body. 

“YEJUN! WHAT THE FUCK?”

“Your parents said I could come and visit you. They gave me the code to your door.”

“Wait. You know this creep? Isn’t he the delivery boy?”

“Are you really that stupid Sangjun? That’s Choi Yejun. The future CEO of the company once the merger happens.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s here?” 

“Well, I came to visit my Fiancé. I didn’t expect to find her naked with another man and woman.”

The man’s expression changed from anger to shock when he heard those words. 

“FIANCÉ? YOU TOLD ME THE MERGER WAS JUST THE MERGING OF THE COMPANIES! YOU ARE MARRYING THE NEW CEO?”

The young man quickly threw on his pants and then bowed before you. 

“Sir I am so sorry. She never told me she was going to be married. I can’t lose this job!”

“Leave, and never disrespect a delivery driver like that again.” 

“Thank you, sir!”

As he ran away, you took a glance at Nagyung and the other woman who were now clothed. 

“Saerom unnie. Can you please give me and Yejun some privacy?”

The young woman gave your fiancé a nod and then walked deeper into the apartment. 

As your eyes met with Nagyung’s, you could tell she was beyond annoyed.

“My parents really gave you the code to enter my home?”

“Your father said it was ok since we are going to get married soon. I’m sorry I’m still just confused. Who were those two?”

“I don’t think you deserve to know that info considering you broke into my home.” 

“Look I know I did barge in but your father said I could. Who were they?”

Nagyung rolled her eyes and began to walk away from you. Following behind her, the two of you eventually reached a nice kitchen. The expensive appliances as well as granite countertops let you see the girl lived in such luxury. From a topside cabinet, the young woman pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch. Pouring the brown substance into the glass, Nagyung took a seat in the nice leather chair and looked at you. 

“Saerom Unnie is one of my assistants. I have a couple of other girls who work for me. Sangjun is just someone in the marketing department of my father's company.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he was naked. Or why your assistant was naked as well.” 

“You can’t be that’s stupid. What do men and women do when they are naked together?”

Sure you weren’t dense but somehow your brain was trying to convince you that they were participating in some other activity. 

“But why? We’re eng-“

“Engaged? That wasn’t my idea. The only reason this is happening is because my father said I had no other option. The company merger was going to happen. This way my family still kept their wealth and power and a say in the company. Did you want this to happen? I can’t say I would blame you for wanting to marry such a beautiful girl like me.” 

“No. I didn’t want this. My parents threaten to take away my birthright. I would not be the CEO of C Industries unless I married you as a favor to your parents. Now I didn’t want this b-“

“I’m going to stop you there. We both didn’t want this so why are you getting mad? I’m going to be very blunt right now. I love sex. I honestly can never have enough of it so I sleep with any man or woman who even gives me a fuck me look. We are going to get married but I’m still gonna be looking for sex. Look Yejun, you look like a sweet guy but you probably can satisfy me at all in bed. I will act like a good wife in public but I am going to live my life how I want. So if you are now well informed then get the fuck out of my house.”

The way Nagyung spoke to you made you angry yet you also felt sad. Your body reacted on its own as you began to walk towards the exit. Everything was a blur as you were finally back in your car. The anger and sadness remained. Angry that your future wife thought you less of a man. Perhaps you were wondering why you were sad. Well, you always thought you would marry a woman that loved you back. Now that dream. No, fantasy is now gone. 

As you pulled out of the driveway, you began to drive home in an almost robotic state. Fifteen minutes passed as you arrived at your apartment building. Pulling Into the garage, you made your way over to your designated spot and parked in it. Stepping out from your black vehicle, your legs brought you to the entrance where you scanned your keycard. With it unlocked, you made your way over to the small dinky elevator that was already there. Hopping in, the doors slowly closed with a bit of squeal behind them. 

With the elevator going up, you didn’t have to wait more than twenty seconds to reach the 3rd floor. Walking out of the elevator, you walked to the right side and made it to the first door there. Taking out your key, the piece of metal then entered the key slot and turned to the left. Pushing your door open, you then made your way in and closed the door behind you. 

Taking your shoes off, you left them near the door and walked to your couch. Unlike Nagyung, your home honestly was not the best. You didn’t see much of a need for an expensive home. It was all about what you made with the space you had. Wasn’t much but you loved this place. As you slowly removed some of your clothes on the couch, your phone began to ring in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw it was Mr.Lee.

“Hello, Mr.Lee. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Yejun. Did you go see my daughter?”

……..

Silence. What could you even say to him? 

Oh yeah, I went to see her and she told me she’s gonna be getting railed 24/7 by men and women who aren’t married to her. How she’s told me she’s going to constantly cheat on me? Should you say something?

“Yejun? Are you still there?”

“A-Ah yes. We had a little bit of a chat. She was busy with the preparations so it was just a short talk. I’m sure we will talk more.”

“Oh I’m sorry she was busy but I’m glad you got to talk a little bit with her. Why don’t I schedule a dinner for you and her so you get to know each other better.”

“Oh you don’t have to-“

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll set it up for tomorrow night. 7 pm and I will send you the location.”

You didn’t even have time to respond as the phone call ended. How would dinner even go? Guess that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, you should just rest. 

7 pm came faster than you anticipated. Your future father-in-law reserved a dinner at Lotte Tower. Honestly, it was all uneventful as you arrived at your table. The view out into Seoul was just amazing. You had personally never eaten at this place but you were plenty excited now. A young waitress at the time walked over and placed a glass of red wine in front of you. With a nod, you grabbed the glass and took a sip. Looking at your watch you saw it was 7 pm exactly, so your date of sorts would be arriving soon. 

One minute passed, then two, and then three. Soon it was ten minutes. By this time you could already imagine what happened. You were stood up. At least you thought you were until a young woman walked up to you. 

“M-May I take a seat? I’m here on behalf of your fiancé.”

With a nod, the young woman took a seat across from you and grabbed the cup of water. Bringing it up to her red lips, the girl began to drink the glass of water until the glass was empty. Placing it down, her eyes met with yours and she quickly looked down.

“Hello, sir. My name is P-Park Jiwon and I will be your new personal assistant.”

“When did I hire you?”

“A-Actually, your Fiancé assigned me to the position. I was working at The Lee company already as her assistant but reassigned me. She already spoke to your parents and hers and they approved.

You weren’t even married yet and this woman was already making decisions for you. 

“And let me guess. She’s currently not here because she went to meet up with one of her appointments.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

“Of course she is. Well then I guess-“

At that time, the young waitress brought over two plates of food and placed them in front of the two of you. 

“Well, this food shouldn't go to waste. Eat with me. Let’s get to know each other if we are going to be working together.”

Jiwon looked a little hesitant but as you raised your wine glass to her with a smile, she nodded her head and raised her own. 

Two hours passed and your table was full of laughter. This nervous girl was wacky and funny. You could tell that working with her was going to be a fun time. Since your dinner was over, the two of you walked out to your car and you helped her get in. You would end up dropping off at her home and then going back to your own.

A week passed and you found yourself moving things into your new office. As you placed your knick-knacks on the shelves on the right wall, a knock was heard at your door. From behind the door; Jiwon came and smiled at you. 

“Ok, I think that’s everything, Mr. Choi. That last of your things were in the box.” 

“When we are alone you don’t need to call me Mr. Choi. Yejun is fine. And thank you for the help.” 

“Of course Mr.- I mean Yejun. So what’s next?”

As Jiwon walked over, her eyes didn’t notice one of the empty boxes near you. Before you could warn her, the young woman tripped and started falling forward. Extending your arms, you managed to catch Jiwon before she smashed her face into the floor. 

“You ok Jiwon?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.” 

“Well, don’t you two look nice and cozy.”

You took a look in the direction of the voice and were met with a glare from your fiancé. Jiwon quickly stood up and got away from you. Bowing towards her, Nagyung got closer and got face to face with Jiwon. 

“Why don’t you go get me a coffee, Jiwon?”

“Yes, Ms.Lee.” 

Running out of your office, Nagyung came over and glared at you now. 

“Was it you?” 

“What was me?” 

“Did you tell the media we’re getting married?”

“No. I did not.” 

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME.”

“Watch your fucking tone with me. Why the hell would I tell the media?”

“Because it played out exactly how you would want it. Everyone now knows I’m engaged and going to be married. No man wants to risk pissing you off so they all cut their ties to me. None of them will fuck me. Sure I still got some girls to mess around with but I need a man to please me.” 

“Nagyung. I did not tell the media. It probably just made its way out. Maybe this will be a way for you to stop this little habit you have.” 

“Oh shut up. You’re probably looking forwards to fucking your assistant. What the hell did I walk into?” 

“She fell. I caught her. Don’t try to assume you know me.” 

“Whatever. Since the news is out, the media will be outside our wedding. When we pass the camera’s we will be the perfect couple. Do what you need to do so that narrative will play out.” 

You hadn't noticed Nagyung had a tight hold on your arm until she let go. Walking towards the door, Jiwon almost bumped into Nagyung as she was returning. Nagyung took the cold cup from Jiwon's hand and left your office. That nervous girl you had met at dinner returned around her. It’s something you hated to see.

“I’m sorry about that Jiwon.”

“It’s ok. She’s been like that for the two months I worked for her.” 

“Well, I will make sure it stops. Don’t you worry about that.” 

Jiwon’s frown turned into a smile when you told her that. In a short time, you already cared for this girl. You would make sure to protect her the best you could. 

The chirping from birds let you know it was the next day. A little look from your crusty eyes saw that it was seven am. You had to be at the shop to get your hair done by eight. Begrudgingly, your legs threw your covers off of you and made their way to your slippers. Standing up, you managed to tumble your way to the shower and hop in once the dirty pajamas were off. 

You knew your time was short so you made your shower quick. That cold water surely helped you to wake up. Since you were in a bit of a hurry, you took your time in the shower to also brush your teeth. Some people might be disgusted but you do what you need to when you're short on time.

Getting out of the shower, you managed to empty your bladder and run back out to your room. From your dresser came a casual pair of underwear, sweatpants and a shirt. Throwing them on, you then made your way to your kitchen and grabbed a few cookies from a container. Shoving them in your mouth, you then got to your shoe stand grabbed the comfiest pair of sneakers, and threw them on. Looking up at your clock on the wall, you saw it was 7:20 already. 

Grabbing the keys to your vehicle, you rushed your way towards it.

The drive was uneventful as you arrived at the shop with 15 minutes to spare. With your parked near the building. You then made your way to the entrance and met with the Receptionist. The young woman smiled at you as she saw you. 

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour. Welcome, Mr.Choi. Please follow me, I’m sure you're ready to start getting spiffy for your future bride.” 

With a nod, you began to follow the young woman down a pair of nice granite steps. This shop was amazing. As you finally got down the stairs, you saw plenty of workers running around getting different things ready. 

As you passed a small section of the shop, your ears could hear why people were running all over. The voice of your fiancé was telling people instructions on how she wanted to look. The receptionist pushed you forward into an area with other males that were waiting for you. 

“They will be responsible for getting your hair and other stuff ready. Your fiancé already brought your suit in which you will be married. They will make sure it fits you perfectly despite having your measurements beforehand. Have fun.” 

With a nod, you walked over to the men and gave them a bow. 

“Please make me look good today.”

The men all smiled and Instructed you to sit down. 

Hours went by. It wasn’t just your hair that was getting done. By orders of Nagyung, light makeup was being applied to you. Somehow light makeup took nearly 4 hours. Wouldn’t that be heavy makeup? Either way, it was noon by the time your hair and makeup were done. The staff had ordered some small sandwiches for you all to snack on before you went to put on your suit. With your simple ham sandwich gone, you went and looked at your suit.

The black tux seemed to be custom-tailored to your size. You probably had your parents to thank for that. You could have sworn a suit of yours was missing from your wardrobe. Pulling a cover, you proceeded to remove the tuxedo from its hanger and laid it on a table. Removing your clothes, you proceeded to throw on the white dress shirt and buttoned it up. Grabbing the pants from the table, your right leg went into the right slot and the left leg into the left slot. You had plenty of practice with suits and such. Putting them on wasn’t hard at all. 

After two more minutes, your belt was in the buckles and you had your pants and dress shirt on. The white bow tie that remained on the table stood out to you. Most women made their partner wear the same color their 2nd dress would be. This being the color could either mean she wanted you to look bad, or her dress after the wedding would be white as well. Either way, you proceeded to pick up the bow tie and put it on. The final piece of your outfit was the nice black jacket. As you put it on, your eyes looked into the mirror in front of you. Your outfit was complete. Honestly, it was a perfect fit. 

Pulling back on the cover, you proceeded to walk out towards the stylists and they began to pass a lint roller all over your tux. 

“Perfect sir. Your bride is going to be very happy.”

“Yeah, sure she would.”

“Your wedding is being held at 3 pm in the Seoul Cathedral. That’s about a 30-minute drive from here. It’s 1:30 pm so it’s time to head out. Good luck today and don’t forget to say I do.” 

Giving the men a bow, you began to head back out the way the receptionist had brought you. It was nothing eventful until you found a giant limousine waiting for you. The older man waiting by the back door gave you a bow and pulled it open. Giving the older man a bow, you quickly entered the limo and the door closed behind you. After a few seconds, the man went to the driver's side and hopped in. Before you knew it, you were on your way to the cathedral.

Honestly, it surprised you how many times you were using the same word to describe your wedding day. Uneventful. The 30-minute drive was uneventful until you finally arrived at your destination. The flashing cameras began to surround the vehicle as well as yells from the media. Security was already outside and began to push the men and women away as your vehicle inched forward to its final spot. Once there, the large men who helped push the media away helped you step out of the limo. 

Despite being pushed back once, the various news sites came piling back over once again. The yells of your security were all you could hear as they were throwing the men and women back. Step by step you began to go up the steps of the cathedral. You aren’t even sure how much time it took until you were finally at the entrance. Once past the wooden doors, you could finally hear yourself think. 

As you began to move further into the church, various men and women began to walk toward you and say their hellos. Despite it being early, the church was already filled with various people. A large majority of these people were businessmen and women who wanted to get on your family’s good side. Doesn’t surprise you most of them are there to kiss ass. 

The repeated motions of your arm going up and down were annoying. Sure everyone knows how simple a handshake is but once you reached 30 people, it was just bothersome. With the random businessmen out of the way, next was saying hello to the executives of The Lee Company. As you stood in front of the 6 men and women, your head went down and gave them all a deep bow.

“I welcome you all to my wedding. Thank you for taking the time to come to this event. I’m sure all of your schedules were packed.”

The oldest of the bunch came over and shook your hand. 

“Of course, we need to attend to meet our company president. Some were hesitant but this merger will help make us all a lot of money. I speak on behalf of all of my colleagues here. I am Ru Sangki.” 

“Mr.Ru. I thank you all for coming. Will you be joining us for the festivities after?” 

“Who could ever say no to free alcohol?”

With a small laugh, you proceeded to make your way to the end of the church where your parents were waiting. As your mother's eyes met with your own, you could see she was beginning to tear up.

“Sweetie. Y-You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Mother. Please don’t cry. You know I hate that.” 

“I just never thought I would s-see the day.”

“Well, it’s here whether we like it or not.” 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, your father looked at you. 

“L-Listen Yejun. Your mother and I know this wasn’t your favorite thing but we appreciate you doing this. This will help our families rise to new heights. I guess we’re beginning to sound like broken records but this has already had an impact. Our stock prices have risen 7% since the first word of your wedding. New investors are lining up. The two of you will make this into a worldwide empire. I’m sure of it. You’re both young. I’m sure you will learn to love each other.”

You wanted to roll your eyes but as a matter of respect, you just nodded your head to your father. 

“OK then. Your wedding will start in a few minutes. Why don’t you go stand up there and we will get started once your bride arrives.”

“Yes, father.” 

Walking up on the stage, you began to just wait and give everyone a nod as they got to their seats. Minute after minute passed as your foot began to tap on the wooden floor. You were in your own world until the sound of an organ playing spooked you. The stereotypical tune from weddings began to play for everyone’s ears. Everyone was sitting for a minute until the sound of the doors could be heard. 

The crowd now standing, looked back and began to take pictures. Your eyes first noticed the older man with her arm intertwined. Next to him was the young woman who had a white dress. Nagyung’s wedding dress wasn’t like other women’s. Most women had massive gowns that could fall to the floor. The fluff from those dresses was always a lot yet Nagyung didn’t dress like that. 

Your fiancé’s dress was short. Her legs were on full display for the crowd to see. The two straps on her shoulders showed her soft skin. The white down her body showed her beautiful curves that could make any man drool. Around her neck, the collar of her dress seemed to have jewels all around to just show a look of elegance. 

Step by step, the young woman got closer as her father held her arm. Small cries could be heard on the left-hand side. As you looked, your eyes noticed Nagyung’s mother crying at the sight of her daughter. You could tell she was just happy her child was getting married. After a few more seconds, Mr.Lee and Nagyung were finally at the front. 

Walking down the five steps, your arm then extended to take Nagyung. Mr.Lee in that moment caught you by surprise as he hugged you. 

“Look after her please.”

You were a bit shocked by this action but after you composed yourself, Mr.Lee revived a nod yes from you. Taking Nagyung’s arm, the two of you went up the 5 wooden steps and met with a priest who seemed to appear out of thin air. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. I would like to welcome you all here today. It’s not often family, friends and loved ones get the chance to gather all together but you all took the time to come here for a very special moment. The moment when a man and woman become one. This is a sacred event that has stood the test of time. One that plenty would feel blessed to have, and I am sure these two feel just that way. Choi Yejun and Lee Nagyung have brought you here today for this. Their marriage. Now as I stand before these two, I can see the nerves on their faces. What couple wouldn’t be nervous on their special day but this just shows the love the two have for each other.”

You could almost laugh hearing those words but you needed to keep the act up. Nagyung smiled at the priest and nodded her head. 

“Now Yejun, the duty of a husband can be tough. Sometimes you will be a friend, other times a confidant but you will always be the head of the family. You will be responsible for the needs your wife will have. Be that someone to talk to or someone to just enjoy time together. The key to all this will be communication. Communication will be the thing to help your marriage last as long as people like your parents. I hope you can fulfill the needs of your family. Now Nagyung. That same goes for you. The role of a husband can be hard at times but you will be his friend and confidant. The two of you will also have the struggles of running a business but if you communicate, then you can stand everything thrown at you two. Now I know plenty of weddings like to go on for an hour and bore you all with different sorts of speeches but I’m not going to do that to you all. I’ll make it shorter than average. We will now move on to the vows. We will start with Yejun. Repeat after me.”

At least this wasn’t going to be long.

“I, Choi Yejun.”

“I, Choi Yejun.”

“Take you, Lee Nagyung.”

“Take you, Lee Nagyung.”

“To be my wife.”

“To be my wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“Now Nagyung. Repeat after me. I, Lee Nagyung.”

“I, Lee Nagyung.”

“Take you, Choi Yejun.”

“To be my Husband.”

“To be my Husband.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“Thank you, both of you. Now I must ask. Should anyone have any reason these 2 should not be wed today, please speak or forever hold your piece.”

Silence in the church.

“Well then. As I said I wouldn’t make this long. By the power vested in me by South Korea and god, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As you looked at your bride. Your eyes met with hers and saw she was smiling at you. You could tell it was fake but you had to play the part. Putting your hand on your wife’s waist, you then pull her closer and put your left hand on the back of her head. Tilting your head to the left, you then pulled Nagyung’s face toward you and connected your lips. The kiss was simple, just your lips touching but your heart was racing. It had been years since you kissed a girl. You were ready to push your tongue forward until Nagyung pulled her face back. 

Cheers filled the church as the two of you faced the crowd. Smiles were on everyone’s faces. Your parents as well as your in-laws seemed happy. With the feeling of happiness in the air, you couldn’t help but give a genuine smile. At that time, Nagyung pulled your head closer to hers. 

“Carry me to the limo. Make it seem romantic, idiot.”

Now your fake smile is back. Picking the young woman up, you began to walk down the wooden steps and go down the aisle. The cheers continued as you went down and gave everyone a quick nod. Nagyung pulled herself up a little and began to kiss your cheek. Each step you took brought you closer and closer to the doors. Security was ready as you finally reached the end. Your parents and in-laws managed to keep up with you and were ready to go out. 

“Take a few pictures for the media and walk to the limo. We will join you there.”

“Ready, Nagyung?”

“Let’s do this.”

With security pushing the door open, your eyes were immediately blinded by the flashing lights of cameras. Yells from your security as well as the media hit your ears once more. You thought they were crazy before but now that your wife was in your arms, they almost lost it. You were now the power couple of South Korea. Each push on the men that were in front of you wasn’t fruitful. It took a couple of tries for you to make any progress towards the limo. 

More of your guards came and began to pull the cameramen away from you all. Taking a chance, you posed with Nagyung and she smiled for the cameras. After an intense struggle that lasted five minutes, you were finally at the limo door. For one final picture, you looked at Nagyung and attached your lips to hers. The kiss was the same as before, just on the lips. It made your heart skip a beat until your wife pulled away again. 

Putting your wife down, the young woman stepped into the limo and you followed behind. Your parents as well as in-laws also hopped in the limo and then closed the door. Unlike before, security already had them away from the vehicle and you were able to take off. Hugs were passed around as everyone hugged their parents. Your parents then hugged Nagyung and your in-laws hugged you.

“Your dress was stunning. So different from other brides.” 

“Thank you, Mrs.Choi. I-“

“Call me Mom please.” 

“Thank you M-Mom. I had the dress custom-made by some famous stylists at Versace. It was worth every penny.” 

The rest of your ride was filled with Nagyung talking about her dress as well as the different jewelry she had on her person. For not wanting to get married she truly went all out for her dress. Fifteen minutes passed as you reached the venue for the reception. A hotel.  Your wife had reserved several rooms and suites in this massive hotel. As the limo parked at the entrance, security stood guard and helped you get out. Helping Nagyung get out, you extended your arm once more and began to walk in with your family. 

“Now me and your in-laws will finish setting up the reception. You two go over to the conference room and we will come get you when it’s time.” 

“Ok, mom.” 

Walking to an adjoining room, you and Nagyung found a couple of reclining seats and sat in them. The only noises that could be heard were the music as well as the staff workers who were setting up. You Weren’t sure how much time had passed until you heard a small grunt from Nagyung. Looking in her direction, the young woman was standing up and walking towards the door. 

“You ok?”

“I’m gonna go do something. I’ll be back.” 

You didn’t get the chance to respond as your wife pulled the door open and left. You were getting ready to follow behind her until the door opened again. A smile filled your face as you saw it was Jiwon. 

“Congratulations Yejun!”

“Thank you Jiwon. I didn’t know you were in attendance.”

“Well of course I needed to come. I want to support you and be here in case you need something. So where is your bride going?”

“She said she would be back. That’s it.”

Jiwon’s smile turned into a look of sadness when she heard that. 

“I think I know where she went. Follow me.”

Should you?

Jiwon didn’t wait as she grabbed your hand and began to pull you towards the rooms. The first floor seemed to have a few hotel rooms. As you went down this hallway, Jiwon reached one of the many doors there and pulled out a keycard. Scanning it, the green light appeared and she pushed the door open. Walking in, you were met by a sight that angered you. Nagyung had her arms wrapped around another woman and was kissing her neck. Somehow they didn’t even notice you. 

“Nagyung. You’re married now. W-We shouldn’t.”

“It’s ok. I’m sure he won't mind it being another girl, Seoyeon.”

You weren’t sure why you were surprised. She said she was going to keep cheating but with the men avoiding her, you thought the women would too. Your eyes seeing this were suddenly met with the worried young woman. You could see the fear in her eyes as what she worried about happened. 

“M-Mr. Choi.”

Nagyung at that time turned around and saw you. Most people would act shocked when caught cheating. Nagyung just rolled her eyes. 

“Did you bring my husband here?”

Jiwon was silent for a second until she nodded yes. 

“Next time keep to yourself. Or you will be out a Jo-“

“You will not be out of a job Jiwon. I give you my word on that. Nagyung. I truly thought that maybe you would not do it but I’m here and you couldn’t give a shit. Wow.” 

As you began to walk out of the room, you could hear Nagyung scoff and yell at you. You paid her no mind as you and Jiwon returned to your waiting room. Once there, you took a seat again and just closed your eyes. While anger was coming off in waves, you felt a hand touch your arm. It was Jiwon and you could tell she was sorry for you. In a short time, this girl was already proving to be a better friend than any you had before. 

“Sorry. I know this wasn’t your choice but maybe if you have a normal conversation with her then she will listen and stop.” 

You were just silent. It could seem stupid but it only really hurt because Nagyung was keeping stuff from you, lying.  At that time your fiancé returned and took a seat. The two of you were just glaring at each other now. Tension was all that could be felt in the air. Nagyung could have probably jumped on you until a knock on the door caught everyone's attention. It was the party planner. 

“Everything is all set. Let’s go show everyone the lovely couple.”

Your feelings would have to wait, you now had to be the perfect couple. Standing up, you and your wife met at the door and intertwined your arms. Both of you put a fake smile on your faces and walked toward the reception hall door. The doors were quickly pulled open and music began to play. You and Nagyung began to playfully dance to the tune while going into the reception hall. Cheers echoed in the venue as the two of you made your way to the center of the hall. 

You were ready to continue walking toward your seats until a slow song began to play. Normally the first dance would be later on but it looked like it was at that moment. Placing your hand on Nagyung’s thin waist, the two of you began to stumble a bit and go in the opposite direction. To everyone, it was just nerves when in reality you had never practiced this with your wife. 

“Get your shit together and dance. I better not be embarrassed by this.”

Looking to the right a bit, Nagyung began to follow you and you both swayed left and then right in tune. Your dance wasn’t amazing but it served its purpose. A couple of minutes passed as the song stopped and everyone clapped. Directed to your table, the two of you took your seats and looked out into the crowd. It would be a long rest of the day. 

Hours went by. To say it was horrible was an understatement. Every few minutes Nagyung would pull you closer and complain about something you did. Insult after insult continued to go in your ears. How were you going to have a calm conversation with your wife? You were angry. She was angry and annoyed. Would your emotions cause problems in this chat? A sudden pinch on your arm brought you back to your senses. The two of you had been bowing toward everyone who came to the weddings and it had ended. As people packed the dance floor and music blared in people’s ears, your parents and in-laws walked over and placed a few folders in front of the two of you. 

“We know it’s been a long night, and it’s still technically a little early but we couldn’t wait any longer. In front of you are the deeds to your new home. Now C Industries has been developing a new mega building near the heart of Seoul. Well, the penthouse is already done. This home would be worth several million but it’s our wedding gift to the two of you.”

Both you and Nagyung were surprised. The two of you thought it would be time to go home shopping soon but your parents gifted you one. Both you and Nagyung bowed your heads and the massive gift you both received. 

“Finally. In front of you are the transfer of ownership documents for both you and Nagyung. It’s all set. You both just need to sign and Yejun will be the CEO while Nagyung will be the COO.”

Pulling the cover to the manilla folder, the documents were all there and you began to give them a look over. There were no tricks in the end. This was the moment you had been dreaming about your whole life. Picking up a pen, your hand went down to the bottom of the document and began to sign. Once your lengthy signature was done, you took a glance to the left and saw Nagyung was done signing as well. Your wife was smiling and u like her previous ones, this one looked genuine.

“We are proud of the two of you. Welcome the new leaders of C Industries!”

Finally after everything today you were happy now also. 

“We know it’s a bit early but the presidential suit was reserved for the two of you tonight. Here are the keycards so you can enter. Go ahead and leave whenever you want. We love you both.” 

With your parents and in-laws leaving, Nagyung immediately took one of the cards and looked up at the clock. It was 10 pm. 

“Well, I will be heading to the suite. I’m done with all these fake smiles I’ve been giving. Have fun dumbass.”

Standing up, Nagyung made her way to the exit and bowed at everyone as she left. You were left alone at your table now. It felt awkward. Should you just go to your room also? Wait, what if Nagyung was meeting with another person again? 

Your mind began to go in circles as you asked yourself that question repeatedly. Your body reacted on its own as you made your way to the exit. After saying your goodbyes, you quickly made your way towards the elevator and waited for it. After a minute, the metal cage arrived and you walked in. Scanning your keycard, you then pressed the button to the presidential suite and the doors closed. As you went up, your leg began to bounce as you waited to get to your room. 

A loud ding brought you back to earth and the doors opened. Right in front of you was the entrance to the suit. With the card scanner on the handle, you quickly scanned the rectangle in your hand and saw the green light. Walking in, the door was pushed almost all the way but then stopped by a pair of white heels. Pushing your way past the door, you continued your way further until you reached the living room. On the couch sat your wife. The bottle of champagne on the table in front of her was opened and she was enjoying it. 

“Why are you up here?” 

“I have just as much right to be in this room Nagyung.” 

Grabbing a glass, you then poured some of the contents of the bottle into it. You didn’t even hesitate to down the entire glass of champagne. Nagyung scoffed at this action and filled her glass once more. 

“You’re acting like you had a tough day. I had to act like the perfect wife.”

“And you are acting like you aren’t a nightmare to deal with. I tried my best to be kind towards you all day yet all you did was treat me like trash.” 

Nagyung’s scoff returned as she then stood up. 

“I have been treating you well, all things considered.”

Your wife at that time walked towards the bedroom, leaving you shocked at her words. Following behind you raised your voice a bit. 

“That was treating me well? How the fuck is that treating me well?”

“You got to kiss a gorgeous woman like me. I think that’s pretty good for a loser like you. Plus you ruined one of my chances to destress. I could have slapped you for that.” 

“First. You need to stop calling me a loser. I don’t get where you got that idea and secondly, you went to do shit like that on our wedding day. You don’t even care.” 

“I don’t care. I told you I love sex. A wimp like you can’t satisfy me.”

Getting closer to Nagyung, your glare met with hers.

“I have asked you already. Stop calling me a wimp. I’m getting tired of this.”

“Wimp, wimp, wimp.” 

Our anger was ready to boil over. You had this rage you wanted to release but you didn’t know how. You hadn’t noticed how close your face was to Nagyung’s until you could feel her breath on yours. The two of you were angry and needed to get rid of this feeling. 

Your bodies reacted on their own as you both grabbed each other. Your lips were connected to Nagyung’s before you knew what was happening. This wasn’t like the short kisses you had before. You had wanted to push your tongue forward before and now you had the chance. 

As your tongue moved into her mouth, the two of you began to fight against each other. You would have figured Nagyung would push you away but she continued to kiss you. The young woman’s tongue was shorter than yours, yet she managed to put up a good fight. Your tongues were pushing against each other and then circling, chasing each other.  With your pent-up anger, you finally pushed your tongue against hers and took control in her mouth. Oxygen was something the two of you didn’t notice until your lungs felt empty. 

Pulling back, both of your chests heaved as they took in as much air as possible. Still, your face ended up back in her body only now her neck. First, you began with small pecks on her soft skin. A few pecks later you began to nibble on her skin and pull a bit. The combination of your kisses and bites began to leave a red mark on your wife’s neck. Soft moans hit your ear as Nagyung held you close. 

You weren’t sure when but after a little bit, Nagyung was already pulling off your jacket and ripped off your tie. Your hands stopped being idle after those actions and followed her lead. Your wife didn’t have much clothes on, so it was easy to begin to raise her white dress. Pulling back from your bride's neck, she began to help you remove her wedding dress. As the clothes began to leave her body, your eyes were blessed by the sight of her nude breast. Nagyung didn’t have a bra on this entire time. Just that thought made your already stiff cock to twitch. 

Nagyung seemed impatient as the young woman ripped the buttons to your shirt open. With that out of the way, your hands went down to your belt and unhooked it. Pulling the leather belt off your pants, Nagyung quickly unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down. Raising both your legs, your pants were finally gone and you were matching Nagyung. Only your undergarments remained. 

“Not bad for a wimp.”

“Shut up you bitch. Why am I even doing this?”

“Please, I'm asking myself that. You probably have a little shrimp dick.”

Nagyung’s hand reached out and took hold of your clothes shaft. Your wife had a smirk on her face until she began to feel around. 

“Take a look then.” 

Your wife rolled her eyes at the cockiness in your tone and dropped to her knees. As she went down, her hands wrapped around the band of your underwear and pulled it down. As your cock was freed from its confines, it accidentally hit Nagyung in the face as she got closer. A small gasp left her mouth as she stared at your dick. Raising her hand slowly, your wife’s dainty fingers wrapped around your cock. 

“Well well well. I guess my husband is blessed with a nice cock after all.”

Slowly, Nagyung’s hand began to move up and down your length. With each small stroke, a bit of precum left your tips and began to move down your shaft. The clear slick began to slick up your wife’s hand a bit. Her hand was soft and moving slowly, yet it felt great. Nagyung. Could tell these small actions felt amazing as she then sped up a little bit.

“Awe. Your cock is heating up a bit. This is probably the most a girl has ever done to your length.”

“I’m not a virgin Nagyung. I just don’t Sleep around with anything that breathes.”

“Well you should be happy your wife loves sex. Because that means I’m an expert at this.”

Goosebumps filled your body as you felt something warm wrap around your cock. Looking down, your eyes met with Nagyung’s as her mouth trapped your tip. A few small sucks began to attack your cock head. A slight groan left your mouth as Nagyung continued this action. Sure it felt great but it would quickly bore you. 

Nagyung seemed to have read your mind as she smirked a bit. Lower and lower went your wife’s mouth on your length. You weren’t sure how but Nagyung managed to move your entire length down her throat. After five seconds, Nagyung pulled her mouth back and off your length. Your wife then began to move her tongue on your length and moved it from the base to your tip. Left then right went her tongue around your cock. Moving down to your balls, Nagyung began to move her tongue around them and played with them. Your wife’s hand while she sucked on your balls stroked it up and down. 

After a minute, Nagyung returned her mouth to your length and began to suck on your cock head. Down went her head on your length inch by inch until you filled her throat. The same action repeated two more times until Nagyung hit you with something new. When you filled her throat once more, you felt a vibration around your length as well as a constriction. Nagyung was somehow massaging your cock with her throat. It was unlike anything you had felt before. If you truly were a virgin, you would have blasted your load down Nagyung's throat at that moment. 

Pulling back, Nagyung giggled a bit and just looked at you. 

“How does that feel dear? I told you I’m talented. Or maybe you are just a virgin.

“T-That was….. ok.” 

“Well. If it’s just ok then fuck my face. Dump a load down my throat.”

With the same insult being repeated, you decided to take her up on this invitation. Both of your hands took hold of Nagyung’s head and your waist began to move back and forth. At first, it was slow but when your eyes met with Hers, you saw she rolled them at you. With a sudden thrust, Nagyung’s throat was filled and her eyes shot out a bit. Back and forth your cock entered and left her mouth. Your wife’s throat was getting filled every second with your action. Despite this, she would take deep breaths when she could and took it. She truly wasn’t a rookie at this. Once again, Nagyung began to constrict your length with her throat. The feeling every time felt like the first time. The girl certainly wanted you to cum. 

“F-Fuck. Guess you can do more than just complain with that mouth.”

You felt almost embarrassed but you knew you were close. Using as much strength as you could, you pounded into your wife’s throat. You didn’t have time to warn Nagyung as you thrust into her throat a final time, blowing your load. Shot after shot of your cum went down the young woman’s canal. A small pur left Nagyung’s mouth as your semen filled her stomach. It was one of the best orgasms you had in a while. Letting go of your wife, Nagyung pulled back and began to suck on your tip. Your whole body jolted as you were still sensitive.

“Fuck. I haven’t swallowed a load that big in a while. You must have needed to let one out for a while now.”

Your head just nodded a bit as Nagyung stood up and laid her back on the bed. 

“Hurry up and eat my pussy. I better cum from that worthless tongue of yours.

After finally catching your breath, your legs dropped down and you brought yourself up to Nagyung’s legs.

“Sit back and enjoy, bitch.”

Wrapping your arms around Nagyung’s thick thighs, you then pulled your wife closer. Deciding to tease Nagyung, your lips went to her legs, and began to kiss them. Each peck down her leg brought you closer and closer to her panties. Nagyung being impatient wrapped her hand on her panties and pulled them down. With her privates uncovered, your kisses got closer and closer until you hovered about her pussy. Her slick had covered her legs already and you had a taste, but now you wanted more

“Fucking eat my pussy.” 

You would have liked to leave her there frustrated, but you decided to be nice and gave her pussy a kiss. A little moan left her mouth and you gave her lips another kiss. You repeated this action as your hands moved up to her folds. Spreading them open, your tongue took the chance to push in and began to lick around. More moans left Nagyung’s mouth as your tongue began to swirl in her cavern. 

With her folds parted, your eyes managed to see your wife’s clit. With your left hand, you began to run her nub in little circles. Letting go of Nagyung’s folds, you then used your right hand and pushed your index finger into her. The small moans were replaced with swears as your fingers moved in and out of her pussy. All 3 actions made your wife begin to jump around. She wasn’t ready for you to please her. Nagyung was truly caught off guard. 

Adding two more fingers at once, Nagyung’s legs began to shake at the combined efforts of your hands and tongue. In and out your fingers pistoned Nagyung’s tunnel faster and faster. Your tongue with its continuous flicks on her clit began to speed up despite your mouth getting tired. Nagyung was close and you could tell.

Pulling back, you looked up at Nagyung and heard a groan from her. 

“Why the fuck did you stop?”

“Maybe we should just leave you here as payback or-“

Nagyung wasn’t happy and pulled your head back into her snatch. Should you keep going? Nagyung didn’t wait as her fingers began to rub her clit. Your three fingers pushed back into her snatch and your tongue licked her folds. It didn’t take long for Nagyung to get close to her orgasm again. Moving your fingers as fast as possible. 

“F-Fuck. Just a l-little more.”

Keeping the same pace, Nagyung soon began to jolt around and yell. A rush of fluids hit your face and you then opened your mouth. Each squirt of your wife’s fluids filled your mouth quickly. Drinking it, your body shivered as you had the best-tasting drink of your life. Pulling back, Nagyung was panting for air and had a bright smile on her face.

All of this made you hard again. You thought you were turned on before, but now. You wanted to fuck the life out of your wife. You didn’t hesitate to stand back up and line your length with her folds. Nagyung saw this and smirked. 

“Look at you. Taking charge. I wonder if that cock can make me cum.”

“I already made you cum.”

“That was with my help. I doubt you can do it on your own but go ahead and try.”

“Let’s see if that loose pussy can make me cum.” 

Your cock head began to push forward and wrapped around your length. You didn’t hesitate to go as deep as possible in that instant. Every inch of your length was wrapped by Nagyung’s walls, and it was the greatest feeling ever. Pulling back, you began to move back and forth. 

“Mhmmmm. Such a beautiful cock but I’ve had better.” 

Your anger returned as you wrapped your hands on her hips. Harder and harder your cock began to shove itself into your wife.

“Little better but I think I should go find a better cook than you right now.”

Adding a bit of speed, your hips thrusted more and more into Nagyung’s pussy. Achieving a steady speed, you continued to fuck Nagyung. 

Clap clap clap

Those were the sounds that could be heard in the room. Finding a bit more strength, you began to move harder. Grunts left your mouth as Nagyung moaned. 

“T-That’s fucking it. Keep going, wimp” 

Grabbing Nagyung’s hair, you aggressively pulled your wife’s upper body closer to you. 

“S-Stop calling me a wimp.” 

“Y-You want me to stop. Then make sure I cum.”

Lowering your hand, your fingers began to search until you found her clit once more. As your wife did before, your fingers began to move her clit in circles. You could feel your wife begin to constrict her walls on your length from this action. You hadn’t noticed Nagyung had her arms wrapped around your neck until now. Letting go of her upper body, your head moved down and went into her breast. 

With your mouth wide open, you managed to find Nagyung’s right nipple and wrapped it around your lips. At first, you began to give it a few teases but soon you began to suck on it harder. You were never the best multitasker yet you managed to keep fucking Nagyung, playing with her clit and sucking on her breasts. Raising your head, you then moved your mouth to her left breast and began to suck on her nipple. 

“Fuck. I-I’ve needed this.”

“M-Me too.”

You were surprised at that moment as Nagyung pulled your head back. You thought she was going to push you away until she brought her lips to yours. The two of you were in a battle once more. Your tongues fighting for dominance. This kiss was aggressive, yet you could feel almost a sense of care in it. Pulling back from the kiss, Nagyung smiled at you and kissed your cheek. 

“B-Babe. Keep going, please. I’m going to cum if you keep this pace.” 

Your heart fluttered a bit when she called you that. You were going to help her cum. Keeping your thrusting pace, your fingers sped up and stimulated her clit even more. Nagyung at that time began to yell once more and jump around in your arms. Your wife’s eyes began to roll back as she continued to jump around. The construction around your length was just as good as her throat, you were ready to cum. With a few more thrusts, your length reached the end of your wife’s caverns. Your seed began to flood your wife’s snatch as you fell on top of your wife. Your cock throbbed more than five times as you filled her to the brim with your semen. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed as you felt Nagyung kissing your neck. Getting back up, you looked down and saw your cum leaking out of your wife’s pussy. Nagyung brought her fingers down at that moment and grabbed some of the semen that was dripping. 

Raising it to her mouth, your wife playfully spun around and raised her ass towards you. 

“Put another load in me.”

You didn’t need to think twice about that invitation. Despite everything, your cock was still plenty hard. Nagyung at that time reached back and lined your length up with her folds. With a push, your length was enveloped in your wife’s caverns once more. 

“Fuck. How are you so tight?” 

“How do you have such a nice cock?”

Picking up a little speed, your thrusts began to get harder. Nagyung at that time brought her upper body up and you took hold of her arms. From your wife’s delicate arms, they began to go up and take hold of her breast. Your lips once more went to her neck and you began to pepper it with kisses.

“God I love that. Maybe I really won’t need another cock after this.” 

“Here y-you go again. This is the only cock you are going to have from now on.”

“M-Maybe but you get a pleasure other men have never had.” 

“And what’s that you whore.”

Nagyung’s walls got tighter with that word. 

“None of them got to fuck me without a condom. Let alone fill me with cum.” 

“Then let me fuck a-another load into your loose pussy.”

Nagyung moaned when you insulted her again. Your speed began to increase when you could imagine another load in your wife. Letting go of her left breast, you immediately raised it and slapped her ass. A grunt left Nagyung as you then slapped her ass again. 

“Y-You can do better dear. Fuck me like others have before.” 

Your slaps continued on her ass after she said those words. 

“S-Shut up you whore.”

“W-Whore? Yet you’re fucking me.”

“B-Because this is my pussy now.” 

Your thrusts increased and Nagyung began to grunt like you. 

“C-Choke me.” 

You would have never thought of yourself grabbing your partner's neck during sex but with the way Nagyung spoke to you, there wasn’t any hesitation. Both of your hands wrapped around the young woman’s neck and began to squeeze a bit. This seemed to turn Nagyung more. The constriction around your cock got tighter with each squeeze you gave her neck. Nagyung began to lower her hand down to her clit but you saw this and slapped her hand away. 

“Y-You come when I say so.” 

Your right hand continued to give a few squeezes to her neck while your left hand went to her clit. Rubbing it in circles once more. Your combined efforts were bringing Nagyung to her orgasm, and you were soon to follow. Should you be ashamed about cuming so soon again? Probably not when you were making her cum quickly also. 

Every one of your actions went as fast as they could. The rubbing of Nagyung’s clit, the choking of her neck, and the thrusting Into her walls. 

“P-Please. Just a little more.”

With your constant pace, you saw Nagyung’s body begin to shake as her third orgasm of the night came. A rush of fluids hit the bed as you gave her neck one final squeeze. Just like your hands. Your wife’s walls squeezed around your cock and tried to milk you of all you had. Letting go of her neck, your cum began to fill Nagyung. Pants for air and mains filled the room, just like you filled your wife. 

After a minute, Nagyung pulled her body away from yours and pulled the covers to the bed. Hoping under the covers, you followed her and wrapped her in your arms. 

The room was silent until Nagyung broke the air. 

“Can I be honest?” 

“Sure.”

“That was some of the best sex I’ve had in a while. You were great but I still want to sleep with other partners. I have been doing this for so long and it will just be so hard to change myself. 

You began to chuckle a bit hearing that. 

“I have a compromise. Why don’t you let me sleep with other women and you can sleep with other women as well?”

You were amazed at what you just heard. You were mad about your fiancé trying to sleep with others but now your mind was debating if you should take this offer.

“It’s called an open relationship. And to stay clean I will only sleep with women I introduce you to and you can sleep with women I introduce you to. You already proved that cock can satisfy me. I won’t lie to you anymore or try to trick you but please let me continue this life, dear.”

Should you do it? should you change your morals just to have more sex?

“I’ll let you fuck Saerom unnie first if you would like.”

Your cock twitched at the thought of fucking her. Her beautiful body certainly had never left your mind when you saw it. This deal would be in your favor. 

“Fuck it. Let’s do it. So much for being angry at you for trying to sleep with others."

Nagyung laughed and hopped back on you. The young girl smirked and began to kiss your neck. 

“I hope we can wake up early. Our flight to Jeju is at 7 am. This week is going to be filled with fucking. Let’s see if you can keep up, wimp."

“One way to find out.” 

Plunging Nagyung back on your rod, the young woman began to bounce as you pulled her down for a kiss. 

This relationship is going to be Interesting.

A/n 2- Thank you for reading. Not the best but i hope you enjoyed it. Not sure when i will come back with another piece so until then. Thank you for reading, sorry for typos and see you next time

[yourmidnightlover]

(You don’t have to do this) Xavier Thorpe x reader

The try not to kiss each other challenge on tiktok

ahh YES! i hope i brought your request to justice

i'm gonna take this as like a lovers to friends to lovers kinda thing bc there isnt enough of that going around with our beloved xavier

i also wanted to let y'all know that i am working through my requests! inspiration strikes at odd hours, and i'm trying to delegate all of my time respectively to all of the fics i'm working on. but i assure you i will work through everything!

tension

paring: xavier thorpe x reader (duh)

summary: after months of flirting, your friends take matters into their own hands and dared you to do a tiktok trend.

warnings: kissing, tons of tension (also duh),they're cuddly? i don't think there's really anything else but let me know if i've missed something!

it had been months and months of flirting between you and xavier thorpe. consistent, unending, raw flirting. this included the batting of eyelashes, shoving of arms, longing stares, buying of gifts... everything. the whole shebang.

and god, were enid, ajax and wednesday tired of it. wednesday constantly wanted to claw her own eyes out when she saw you. enid thought it was cute the first two months, but after that she was only confused as to why you would never make it official. and ajax would just tease the two of you. he voiced his concerns with xavier, occasionally with you, but mostly with xavier. he would mostly talk about how dumb he was to not just ask you out or make it official.

so, as enid was scrolling through tiktok, she stumbled upon a certain video of two friends... or mayabe they were more? either way, they were sitting in front of each other, and each one moved closer to the other. the premise was whoever breaks the tension and kisses the other loses, she guessed?

regardless, there was tension and there was a kiss and that is exactly what needs to happen with you and xavier in order to put everyone out of their misery.

so, she sent the tiktok to ajax and wednesday, the message reading:

weregirl: OMG! we've got to get them to do this! they'd totally admit everything!

middleoftheweek: this is repulsive to watch, but i hope it will be worth it as long as they get whatever they need to out of their system

snakes4hair: if this gives my boy the push he needs to make a move then i'll do basically whatever

and just like that... the game was afoot.

"dude," ajax was laughing at the lunch table. you had thrown your legs over xavier's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as he played with your hair. "there's this new thing i saw online the other day. enid sent it to me, and i doubt you and y/n would be able to do it," ajax chuckled as he looked towards enid.

"oh, definitely not," enid shook her head exaggeratedly. "they'd never be able to do it."

"do what?" xavier spoke up as he took a bite of your sandwich.

"yea, do what?" you perked up at the idea of a chellnege. "we could do it, right?"

"hell yea," xavier nodded as he pat your thigh. "we could 100% do it."

"i don't think you could," wednesday said curtly, sneering at both you and xavier's closeness. "at all."

"yes we could!" xavier removed his hands from your hair, throwing them up dramatically.

"alright," ajax spoke up. "i dare you to complete little challenge. you have to record it though, as proof, and post it."

"deal!" both you and xavier looked at each other, giving each other a high five that only resulted in your hands holding.

later that night, you and xavier had retreated to his shed as he painted before they sent you the video you had to recreate.

"seriously?" you scoffed. "they're just sitting there looking at each other with music playing," you looked at xavier as the video played.

"wait," he pointed at the screen. "they're like inching closer to each other. like one does and then the other."

"but why?" you got your answer less than thirty seconds later. "oh..." you glanced at xavier, who bit his lower lip before glancing at you with a smile.

"i never back down from a dare," xavier shrugged as he looked at you.

you nodded, "neither do i."

after setting up the camera with the video on the three-minute setting, about to start recording. you were sitting on the mattress that you had both smuggled in his shed, the one that used to be rowans before... well. yea. both sitting across from each other, your legs were overlapped with each other's. then, the music started playing.

at first you were both smiling, giggling, even. you inched closer to his face first, around 10 seconds after the music started. your faces seemed closer than they ever were before, and that's when the smiles faded and the tension built.

he reached around you and pulled you on top of his lap for his move. the longer this went on, the more it felt like a game of chess, only physical. you swore you could see every shade of green littering his irises. his cologne somehow radiated around you. you made the mistake of looking at his lips, curiosity getting the better of you. he was gently biting his lower lip. it was almost as if he wanted you to kiss it better.

then, you placed your hand on the lower side of his face, nearer to his neck. you could feel his pulse rate picking up. it was exciting to see what kind of power you had over him. you could now feel the way you affected him. now, you saw as his eyes went to your lips which only made you smirk that much more.

he used both of his hands to bring your face right in front of his. he was everywhere. to your side, you would see his hands. his hands took up nearly your entire face, and you loved the way they felt against your skin. part of you never wanted them to leave. you could nudge his nose with your own if you even slightly moved. you were getting close to losing this whole game. you wouldn't. you couldn't.

you tilted your head to the left, bringing your lips closer to his own but not touching. you were so close you could practically breathe in each other's air. you could feel his pulse pick up once more before you licked your lips, you felt his chuckle radiating around your head. but when you looked in his eyes you felt something totally different. it was heavier. it was more.

then, with a mumble, "screw it," he pulled your face into his own, kissing you with all the tension he had built up over not just the past two minutes, but from the past months of doing nothing.

your hand moved up to his hair, running through it like you had so many times. in this context, though, your hand running through his hair was so, so much different. it was much more intimate.

you let his tongue into your mouth happily, nearly breaking the kiss with how big of a grin you had on your face. one of his hands moved to your waist, wrapping around you like the warmest hug you've ever had. your other hand was holding the hand still on your face. you meant it when you said you never wanted them to leave.

truth be told, you never wanted him to leave. you never wanted to stop kissing him. you've wanted to for months on end, but you were too scared of being rejected. you thought he was joking about all of the flirting sometimes. the touches, everything. but this kiss felt more real than time.

"i think i won," xavier whispered as he went up for air. you shook your head.

"i think ajax won," you chuckled as you both began to laugh. "him or myself, of course," you rolled your eyes.

"we all won," he compromised.

"stupid tension, huh?"

[imaginesmai]

Alfie Solomons - Night adventures

I've been sick for week now with the worst stomach bug ever, and this has been on my mind for a few days! Welcome back Alfie to my blog!

Plot: Alfie doesn't come home from work and you worry something has happened, so you decided to go to the bakery.

Warning: Alfie's vocabulary is just saying fuck, really.

The streets were empty, too late for the common citizens and too early for the unfortunate first-shift workers. You had only found a beggar sleeping in a pile of boxes and two men trying to get home stumbling through the pavement. The silence, the darkness, would have been a good reason to turn back and worry about him under the covers, warm and safe. When a cat jumped from a window and landed on a car, you actually took a few steps back.

But Cyril stared at the menace until the animal hissed its way back to wherever it belonged.

Swallowed in one of Alfie’s long coats, with his hat covering your face, you finished the thirty minutes’ walk to the bakery. A faint light was coming from the top floor, and anyone would have thought bakers were starting their day early.

You knew it was your husband, Alfie, who hadn’t finished his yet. There was a man posted on the back entrance, the one you always used when you came to see him unexpected. It was closer to his office, it was more discreet, and besides, you knew Ollie. He would be one less problem for you that night.

When the boy saw you approach him, his whole back tensed. His hand made it to the holster on his hip before he recognized Cyril and your soft smile, once you were close enough. The soft street light let you see his panicked stare.

“What – Y/N, what the fuck are you doin’ here?” he quickly grabbed you by your arm and, checking both sides, pushed you inside the bakery. “It’s fuckin’ two in the mornin’!”

“I am aware of that, Ollie, since I also own a watch” you told him, taking down your hat.

“How did you get – does he know you’re here?” Ollie, who had been almost asleep leaning against the door, was now growing agitated. “You didn’ brin’ a car. You walked?”

“Me and Cyril, yeah”

The familiar warmth of the bakery felt good against your sore muscles. Not only you had half-jogged half-ran for thirty minutes, but the tension of the night and the worries for him had made the cold weather of November seep into your bones. You weren’t about to let Ollie notice how glad you were to be finally somewhere safe, because that would only prove a point you were trying to avoid.

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the night”

“So it is for my husband, who was supposed to be home with me. But that big head must have forgotten his own watch at home, given he’s still here”

“He’s not alone. Someone came to see him, and the meetin’… yeah, it was longer than wha’ he thought”

“Oi, wha’ that noise ‘bout, yeah?” a booming voice came from the floor above you, the door of his office banging open. “Didn’ I ask for silence?”

Alfie, in all his grumpy and broody glory, leaned against the railing and saw both of you. You weren’t surprised to see he was still wearing his working clothes, a small, stained pinny wrapped around his waist. His hair was sticking in different directions from being tugged at, and his face complemented his mood when he locked eyes with you.

Of course, Cyril tried to reach him and let his presence be known with loud barks. You passed his leash to Ollie and made your way up to your husband’s office. The metal stairs echoed under your shoes, and even if you kept your eyes on them, you felt his on you every second.

Far from being intimidated or angry, you felt your worries melting away. He usually came home before the sun set – had picked that tradition years ago once you were officially married and hadn’t missed a day. But it had been a rough week for the both of you, and when he hadn’t shown up, you had feared the worst. Patiently, you had waited and called his office. After not receiving an answer and not hearing the door, you had decided to check for yourself.

You weren’t naïve enough to go alone, but since there wasn’t anyone around to accompany you, Cyril had been your bodyguard for the night. Many things could have happened. Some of them you could imagine, some remember from past experiences because of his enemies’ retaliations. All of them were present in Alfie’s eyes as you reached the top of the stairs and met him face to face.

“Hello”

His nostrils flared and he pressed his lips in a tight line, but behind all of that there was just fear. You waited until he looked at every part of your body, from your soft smile to the hem of your skirt. One of your hands took his fist and didn’t let go until he held it. Alfie didn’t let his frown go as he raised it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Aren’ your suppos’ to be in bed” he growled against your hand.

“With you, but you didn’t come and I was worried” you explained, moving a step closer to him. “Called and no one answered. I didn’t know if… so I came to check. Brought Cyril with me”

“Stupid dog knows you ain’t suppos’ to leave” Alfie looked down at Cyril, and his eyes softened. “You alrigh’, yeah? Nothin’ happen?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. And worried about you”

“Come ‘ere”

You fell into his arms and the remains of worry and tension left your body. He smelt like rum, bread and sweat, like home. You closed your eyes when his hand found the back of your head and pressed it against his shoulder. Later, you would probably have a long conversation about what you had done. Not only it had been reckless, but if you had been right, there wasn’t much you could have done.

His life came with highs and downs, and you had been there enough to know them. That doesn’t meant you had grown used to the feeling of not knowing if he was fine or not, if he was alive. When you hugged him closer, your arms around his middle, you let him know that you were glad.

Someone opened the door and you saw Tommy Shelby walking out of Alfie’s office. You didn’t like that man, neither did he like you, but you both respected each other enough. Eventually, their relationship would go south, either because of his or Alfie’s biggest interest; and you just hoped it wouldn’t go too south.

Alfie noticed his stare and turned around. Instinctively, you were covered by his huge back, not seeing anything but the sweaty locks at the back of his neck.

“I believe we were in the middle of something”

“And I believe it’s time for my husband to come home” you said from behind Alfie, trying to move around. Effectively, Alfie moved with you.

“Your’ gonna ‘ave to excuse my wife, mate. She’s right, ain’t she” Alfie said. He gripped your hand again and made you stay in place.

When it came to you and the business, Alfie Solomons had always had it clear. You had walked into his life and turned everything around, and if needed to, he would leave it all behind if you asked to. You always came first, no matter what. He could come home late, share his matters with you and attend to political galas by your side, but if you asked something, he could not say no.

So he stared down at Tommy, who had been arguing for the past six hours. He had just showed up when he was about to close the bakery, and the bouquet of flowers he had bought you was now sad and forgotten in the storage room.

“Alfie” Tommy warned him. “We need to close the deal. I’m not about to risk half my percentage if you aren’t willing to take the risk”

“The only risk I’m takin’ tonig’ is this lovely lady back ‘ome”

“You don’t get to kick me out! I am –“

Before Tommy could grow any more aggressive, he had Alfie’s gun pressed tightly against his chin. The baker was a few inches shorter than him, but somehow, he stared down at Tommy, daring him to keep talking. The Shelby brother looked at you with your arms crossed, biting back his next words.

“Listen, now, cause I believe, this¸ right, this is my fuckin’ bakery. My fuckin’ rum. Money. Business. And that’s my fuckin’ wife your’ lookin’ at, so unless you wan’ to go ‘ome wit’ one less eye, Shelby, stop fuckin’ lookin’ at ‘er”

“Get your fucking hands – “

“Shut the fuck up! You, barkin’ orders, at me?! In my fuckin’ work?!” Alfie screamed into his face, making Tommy take a few steps back. When the man once more met your eyes with the same, disgusted face, Alfie struck him with the gun. “Are you fuckin’ deaf?! Don’ look at her or I’ll rip your eyes out with my nails!”

Cyril barked as if he supported his owner’s words. You looked down and noticed Ollie was no longer alone. There were three other men, that had appeared out of thin air, at the bottom of the stairs. All of them looked ready to climb it in less than a second.

Not too far away, Tommy’s men would be close. It wouldn’t be the first time Alfie got into trouble because of you, or the last. His protectiveness was founded, but sometimes he went a little overboard. Tommy had looked at you many times before, and had been threatened each time he had done it.

Some part of you wondered if he was a sucker for Alfie’s threats or was really looking for them to become true.

Before your night could escalate into bigger events, you moved behind Alfie and wrapped your hands around his raised arm. You had gone to the bakery to find out if Alfie was there, to retrieve him from his pile of work and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep by his side. After a long day of own work, you were tired and in need of some peace.

“Let’s just go home”

Under your touch, Alfie relaxed and dropped the gun. He kept his eyes locked on Tommy and the man was smart enough to clean the blood of his lip and turn back. You guessed his men should be on the main entrance, and you were really thankful you had chosen the back one.

You watched him disappear. Watched, in silence, as the group of men that had surrounded you went back to their corners where you couldn’t see them. Alfie didn’t bother retrieving anything from his office, just closed the door and let you lead the way down the stairs.

Once you were down, he nodded to Ollie and the boy disappeared, carrying Cyril with him.

“That was dangerous, pet” he said, his voice soft. There was a rough, scared edge you had grown to notice through the years. “You, yeah, you can’t jus’ come ‘ere. You need to tell me”

“I know, Alf. But I did call. And you always answer. I knew you had a meeting and since you didn’t come home, I didn’t know what to think” you told him, not giving him. “What if it was the other way? What if I didn’t come home one night? Wouldn’t you come looking for me too?”

“I’d burn down fuckin’ Camden, luv, you know tha’”

“Then you can’t get angry at me, not at this. I was careful, nothing happened”

It hadn’t happened, but it could. Not only Alfie’s enemies. Night in Camden Town held more dangers than mobsters or gangs, ones that didn’t know who you were married to and weren’t afraid of your husband. It was irresponsible, dangerous, and you knew better.

It wasn’t the time, though, and Alfie knew it.

“Alrigh’, pet, alrigh’. Jus’ try not to send me to an early gave, yeah?”

“You won’t get rid of me even in a grave, Alfie Solomons”

His laugh echoed in the empty bakery. Alfie wrapped his coat closer to your body, not saying anything about your choices of clothes, and put his hat back into your head. Always the gentleman he opened the door for you and dragged you closer to his side.

You didn’t take the path you had walked, but the opposite way. Ollie’s car was waiting for you at the other end of the street, Cyril probably a looming threat in the backseat ready to tackle Alfie as soon as he opened the door. Finally in peace, you wrapped your arm around his middle and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Love you” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Yeah, luv you too, don’ I”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated!

[faux-ecrivain]

1950s househusband x gn reader

marinette4943 asked: Hey!

I saw your yandere housekeeper and loved the way you wrote it. Do you intend to do a next part?

If so, could you tag me in it?

————————————————————

Name; Angelo

Thirty second official post

@marinette4943

————————————————————

From Part 3; 

        He is absolutely whipped for you, everything you do is committed to his memory, and he inches closer to you with every passing second. “You’re welcome, so, are you going to give me a tour of the town or some advice to settle in, and get along with my neighbors?” He didn’t want to, but he figured that it was best to be as helpful as possible. That way, you’ll trust him the most and will come back to him whenever you need help. You, however, scoot away from him, eventually ending up near the end of the couch in a corner. “Oh, uhm, certainly. I’ll be happy to give you advice and a tour, but I was hoping we could simply have a friendly chat first…” Angelo responds hopefully, he just wants to get to know you and does want to talk about anyone else.

              However, something you said earlier caught his attention. “Unexpected? Wh-what do you mean by that?” He questions nervously, his wide eyes nervously glancing at you and his bottom lip quivering at the thought of you hating him. You tilt your head, slightly confused and then you try to clarify without sounding rude. “Well, back where I’m from men don’t often wear dresses, that’s all.” Before you can clarify any further he interrupts you, which was quite rude and he apologizes for that, but doesn’t stop talking. “Sorry for interrupting, but you don’t like it? Does my fashion sense upset you?” He inquires his expression shifting into anxiety and his mind begins to work in overdrive. His hands squeezes the cloth of his dress and he twists the fabric. Angelo doesn’t do well with rejection, of any form or shape. 

          Suddenly this conversation seems very awkward to you and you regret opening your mouth. “That’s not what I meant, that dress looks great on you. It’s just someone have to get used to, that’s all.” He smiles and he seems content with your response. “Really? You mean it? Thank you!” It isn’t often that he gets a compliment from anyone and it’s been a while since anyone he was interested in complimented him (excluding his spouse, he loves his spouse so very much and is very interested in them). Angelo relaxes and leans his head on your shoulder, which causes you to cringe and push his head away. He whines and leans against you once more, this time he wraps his arms around your arm and nuzzles your neck. Now you’re very uncomfortable and have begun to regret your decision to let him inside.

 ———————————————————-

 Subtly, you try to push him away. You didn’t want to be rude, but his unnecessary affection was making you extremely uncomfortable. Sadly, his grip on your arm does not loosen and seems to tighten. Angelo scoots closer, he’s so close that you could count each one of his eyelashes. He sighs, seemingly unaware of how close he is, or maybe he knows and just doesn’t care. You clear your throat and lean as far away from him as you can. “Ahem, so, about that tour…” You smirk awkwardly and try to make a simple conversation, if only to alleviate the discomfort you felt. He acknowledges your words with a hum, but doesn’t respond for quite some time. It’s silent and awkward as you try to ignore the very obvious bedroom eyes Angelo is sending your way.

        You clear your throat again and try to get his attention. “Ahem, Angelo, could you please let go of me or move away?” It takes a moment for your words to sink in and when the do, Angelo shoots away from you. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed with embarrassment and his mouths is agape. It’s clear that he’s absolutely mortified by his behavior. Immediately he begins to apologize. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Neighbor! That was so inconsiderate of me, Oh! I feel so ashamed! Oh, I should go, I shouldn’t behave like that around you!” Part of his apology sounds a bit like an excuse, but you can tell by his expression that his apology is sincere. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Oh, I’m truly sorry if I did!”

          You chuckle and wave off his worries, you begin to placate him, and attempt to halt his incessant apologies. “Oh, it’s alright, Angelo. It really isn’t that terrible, I was uncomfortable, but I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.” Oh, he certainly meant something by his actions, it wasn’t anything sinister, but it was something that Angelo wasn’t ready to face. He was experiencing so much turmoil, the very idea that he almost betrayed his spouse made his physically ill. He could never hurt them like that, sure they weren’t the best spouse, but he still loved them. “No, I-I have to leave, I-I can’t-Oh!” Angelo struggles to breathe, his previous actions set in, and he felt like crying.

         He has to leave, Angelo couldn’t stay another minute is your presence. Especially when he’s constantly tempted to crawl into your arms and never leave them. Once more, you try to reassure him, but he doesn’t listen. “Angelo, it really isn’t a big deal. I’m sure you meant nothing by it and nothing came of it, so it’s alright. Let’s just sit back down and enjoy a nice, civil conversation.” It sounded as though you were trying to calm him down, and that made him feel even worse. Well, the way he felt when you expressed concern for him, made him feel even worse. “No, no, I have to go. My sp-spouse is coming home soon an-and I don’t want to disappoint them.” He tries to reason with himself and his desires, but it’s not working.

       Mostly because his heartbeat seemed to increase with every word that you spoke, he knew what that meant, and he couldn’t give into such sinful desires. He had to stay loyal to his spouse, although, thoughts of loyalty seemed to remind Angelo of the way his spouse has been behaving recently.  Which causes his brows to furrow and halts his apologies, as his mind wanders to his spouses recent behavior. His spouse has been distant (more so than usual) and they keep coming home late. Normally, he wouldn’t worry about that, but each night they come home smelling like cheap perfume, and then he starts to think about the recent rumors he’s heard. The ones about househusband Damian and his cheating spouse. This causes Angelo to consider the idea that maybe his spouse is cheating on him, and the very thought is appealing to him. It causes him to be sick, and he nearly faints. (Luckily you caught him before he could actually fall, and now you’re fussing over him, oh, his heart can’t take it!)

         No, he can’t give into temptation. He has to stay loving and loyal, it’s not that hard, and surely his spouse will take notice of his devotion. He just has to keep trying, right? It doesn’t matter how exhausting it is or how much easier it would be to allow his new neighbor into his heart. Angelo has to remain strong, and eventually, he’ll be rewarded for his loyalty, won’t he?

————————————————————

    (I don’t really like this installment of househusband Angelo, I’m not proud of it, but I figured that if I do a bit of writing about one of my favorite OCs then I might get back into writing. But, who knows, I’m a creature of habit and writing is exhausting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully, I’ll be back to writing at a normal pace again.)

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter thirteen

summary: luca visits his mom, while you deal with the aftermath of aiko's funeral.

warnings: fluff, angst, grief, death, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: well folks, this is the final chapter of 'burn your life down.' what a beautiful journey we've all been on together. i swear, this was only supposed to be a headcanon, then a few chapters maybe, and then 46.5k words later... thank you again and again if you read, commented, reblogged, or screamed at me in gifs because this story quite literally took over my life. i will be releasing a 'behind the scenes'/director's cut post, a few headcanons about the kimuras and the mikkelson twins, and want to write more for these two. so... what do you want to see them do next?

in the meantime, let's go get carmy married in "don't want to walk alone."

part twelve | masterlist

The clang of spoons against chipped mugs that date back to his primary school days feels comforting and familiar. Luca smiles to himself, dropping another sugar cube into his tea, using his teaspoon to mix it in as he listens to his mother make a sharp pivot away from her previous subject. 

“Anyways, it’s not that I don’t love a spontaneous visit home, but we can’t ignore the elephant in the room, love,” his mother prompts him, finally done with dancing around the small talk her son’s have engaged in for the last thirty minutes.

“This girl, Luca,” she continues, sending him a look that says ‘you’re not getting out this one.’ “You haven’t brought a girl home in… god knows how long.”

“I-,” Luca begins, a smile on his lips that’s contagious. “It’s-, it’s not like that mom.”

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say: that he’s hopelessly in love and that he hasn’t said anything yet because even though he wants nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops, that you’re here in London for a funeral and not to meet him mum?

“Well, darling. Then what is it like?” his mother asks him with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

Luca hesitates, wanting to be strategic with how he explains this because the love he feels for you really is extraordinary. But he doesn’t want to jump the gun either. Because what if it all falls apart and he’s spoken too soon? You did just lose your mother-in-law, and he’d rather introduce you to his mum when you both are ready. 

Finally, Luca decides what he’d like to say, returning his attention to his mother before replying with:

“She’s special… She's really special to me.”

His mother laughs, because although her son seems to be cautiously tiptoeing around some kind of imaginary fine line, the truth is written all over his face. 

It’s in the way the corners of his lips turn up when she’s mentioned you. It’s in his shy nature and eagerness to avoid the subject. It’s in the way her son’s undeniable coyness, as she bridges the subject, that tells her that he’s found his heart. 

“Oh I know that look. You’re in love,” Luca’s mother declares, reminding Luca that she really does see right through him. 

“Do you think she’s the one?’ 

Luca sighs, turning the idea over in his head. It’s almost as if he hasn’t let himself feel it, hasn’t let himself think too hard about it, but the blush that runs across his cheeks gives him away. 

“I sure hope so, mum,” Luca answers, honestly. 

“Well,” his mother replies, smugly, as if to remind her son that she’s always right when it comes to him. “I’d like to meet her,”

“Mum, I-,” Luca begins, before pausing once more, suddenly overcome with the desire to fulfill her wishes. “It’s just… we’re here for a funeral is all.”

“And that means the two of you can’t stop by for a cup of tea?” his mother asks, haphazardly. 

“I’ll ask,” Luca promises, firmly. 

“I mean, what’s the hold up, my love?” she asks again, and it’s almost as if Luca knows she isn’t expecting an answer. 

“Right,” he mumbles in agreement, something distant in his voice. 

And while Luca wants nothing more than to be patient with you, for the both of you to make this decision together, the irrefutable pressure he feels from his mother’s question seems to create a sense of urgency that takes root.  As it begins to spiral out of control, his mind filled with thoughts of doubt, his mother’s question echoes in his head: 

What’s the hold up?

Surely you could manage just one visit before returning to Copenhagen, right?

Luca watches his mother take a sip from her teacup, his mind beginning to wander to earlier today, as she goes on about a recent neighborhood happening. As brave of a face as he’s been putting on, it was odd, seeing the family you used to belong to. And it’s not as if, with the divorce, that all just went away. He knows you’re still close with Astrid and the fact that you and Joe aren’t mortal enemies, seeing the two of you together earlier today, was harder to stomach than he imagined. 

He can’t help but be filled with feelings of jealousy – jealous of how close you still are to the Kimurs, irrationally nervous that you and Joe seem to still have such a positive relationship, envious that he got to love you first. His reaction to his mother’s question is just a reflection back to him of his own worries, his own impatience, his own insecurities.

And Luca can’t help but wonder:

What would it mean if you weren’t ready to meet his mum?

-------------------------------

“I hope it’s not too late to set my demons straight. I know i made you wait, but how much can you take?” – kendrick lamar, ‘die hard’

You decide to take the long way home, walking off the afternoon, surprised to find how deep of sadness that still remains buried in your belly. Of course you expected to be sad, to be filled with grief over the loss of your former mother-in-law, but it’s something else, the bittersweetness of closure that’s left you feeling so heavy. 

It’s not that you’ve missed Joe – not in that way at least. 

But as you sat next to him at the neighborhood pub you’ve been to with him more times than you can count, it became more and more evident that he is no longer your Joe – and hasn’t been for a long time now. 

You recall just a few of the things you remember about him that reminded you of this: the way his dark curls seemed wilder, messier, than you’d seen them in a long time, that his five o’ clock shadow that used to feel so rough against your lips looked unfamiliar now and how much you’ve forgotten the way the rough texture laid against the soft skin of his face, how his shoulders slumped with a burden you know is too heavy to bear. 

When he’d told you all about his new job, it’s as if the elaborate portrait of his life that he’d painted for you began to unfold right in front of you. Only this time, as you listen, you come to realize that it’s been painted with brush strokes that weren’t yours, with colors you don't recognize, making your revelation clearer and clearer:

Joe has built a life without you – one that you don’t fit into anymore, at least not in the same way – and you’ve done the same. 

Even though you left on a high note, at peace with Joe, reconnected with the Kimuras, and free to begin your next chapter, it feels like your heart is in pieces, reeling from the emotional whiplash of endings and beginnings. 

And you can’t seem to stop crying, letting the tears run down your face with every step you take towards your temporary residence. 

As you approach the hotel, riding the elevator up to you and Luca’s room, you’re surprised to find him more jovial than you expected. It’s not like you expected him to be sad – this isn’t his loss to grieve after all, and you’re glad that it seems like he’d had a good visit with his mum – but it feels jarring, like you’re not sure how to meet him there as you continue to sort through your thoughts and feelings from today. 

“Hi,” you say, cautiously. 

He hums in response, pulling you into a huge, sweeping kiss as he smiles against your lips. 

“Hello, my love,” he grins, as he pulls away from the kiss. 

You can’t help it, and you wish it were different, but there’s a pit in your stomach as you begin to notice how different of spirits you’re in. 

“How was your visit with your mum?” you ask him, as if you’re trying to solve a mystery, trying to figure out where all of this energy is coming from. 

Luca, driven to boldness by his mother’s question, seems to have thrown all caution to the wind as he answers with:

“It was great! Listen, I know it’s not the best of timing but, she really wants to meet you. Before we go home. What do you think?” he pitches to you, charging through his sentence like a confident and emboldened CEO. 

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out. 

No longer as patient as you’ve come to know him, his sudden change makes you nervous, and for the first time in a long time, you panic; you feel like running. 

“Luca, I-,” you stammer, searching for the right words to just fall out of your mouth. 

But they don’t. 

So you pause, licking your lips before adding, “I’ve had a long day and… I just-, I don’t know if I’m in the right headspace for that?” 

You don’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it comes out as one. Expecting for him to be just as understanding as he’s been the last few months, you’re more than surprised when Luca seems disappointed, cross even, at your response as you’re met with silence. You watch as he presses his lips together in a thin line, swallowing as he focuses on the floor. 

You feel like you just told him that Santa Claus wasn’t real, taking a breath as you take a few steps towards him. 

You’re not sure how, under the circumstances, he could expect you to be as enthusiastic as he is, but you’re almost too afraid to ask questions – a pit in your stomach about where this could all go. 

“Honey, I-,” you sigh, taking his hands in yours as you’re quick to reassure him. You want nothing more than to remedy this, to tell him yes, but you can’t seem to get those words out of your mouth so instead you choose to explain yourself. 

“Today has been… totally fucking crazy and… I think I just want to take a nap. I-, just because-.” You pause once more, trying your best to address the situation at hand. “It doesn’t mean anything that I don’t-, that I’m maybe not ready to-.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” he asks you, pulling his hands back and taking a few steps away. You’re silent as you watch him pace back and forth, your heart sinking as he pulls away from you. 

“Wh-, what do you mean?” you stumble through, nervously. 

Luca pauses his movements, really looking at you this time as he asks, “You say it doesn’t mean anything. But it does. To me.”

“Baby, what’re you talking about?” you ask him, taking another step towards him. 

“That you’re not ready,” he snaps at you. 

Perhaps it could be different, he could react with much more grace and compassion, but between seeing a piece of your old life, and the doubts swimming in his head, he’s not sure he can wait any longer. 

“Luca, that’s not fair,” you whisper softly. 

“I-, I know. But-,” Luca tries his best to explain, becoming increasingly frustrated with himself as he continues to talk. “I just-, it’s hard not to think it means something. That you wouldn’t want to meet her.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to meet her!” you insist, trying your best to reassure your boyfriend. “It’s just that I just said goodbye to my mother-in-law and it-, it kind of feels like… well, I can’t just replace her!” 

“I’m not-, I’m not trying to replace her!” Luca can’t help but exhale frustratedly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you’re quick to interject, the air between the two of you suddenly feeling tenuous. 

Luca takes a breath, his jaw clenching in response to his deep feelings of jealousy. He knows it’s not fair but he reminds himself that he’s only human as his mind is filled with questions he wants to ask you like: 

Why can’t you just let go of them? and, Do you miss them more than you love me? and lastly, this one in his mother’s voice, What’s the bloody hold up?

“I know,” is what he says instead, choosing to be the better man he knows he can be. He pauses, taking a seat on the hotel bed, his eyes fixed to the floor once again. 

“Luca, I don’t understand,” you start, taking another few steps toward him so that you’re now standing in front of him. “Why are we fighting right now?”

Instead of answering right away, you search his face as he avoids your gaze, giving you more and more pause for concern. 

“I just… are you having doubts… about us? After today?” he drags out, his voice strained. 

“No, what-, where would you have gotten-, what do you mean?” you ask him, suddenly questioning if you’ve given him any reason to think otherwise. 

“I just don’t understand why you don’t want to meet her!” he exclaims with a shake of his head. 

“I never said I didn’t want to!” you’re quick to object. 

As Luca leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees, you cross your arms over your chest as it becomes more and more evident that this conversation is getting heated. 

“Luca, where is this coming from?” you ask softly, in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. 

“Well, you didn’t say yes,” he throws back at you, and it hurts more than you thought it would. 

“Yes, because-. I told you that I don't think I’m in the right mindset,” you struggle to explain. “Wouldn’t you rather I meet her when we’re both ready?”

“When you’re ready?” he points out. 

“Luca, where is this all coming from?” you repeat your question, this time more sure, a deep concern in your eyes as you drop your arms to your side. You sit down on the bed next to him this time, wanting him to know that you’re on his side. 

“It’s-,” he starts, before letting out another frustrated sigh. “I know that you’ve needed us to take things slow… but it’s been months and I just don’t understand how you’re still not ready.”

His insistence that you’re not ready only continues to frustrate you

“I’m not! That’s not what’s happening here,” you defend yourself. “Luca, please. I am ready. But meeting your mom is a whole different thing especially when, shit, babe. Especially when I’m navigating this loss and… and when you’re pressuring me like this!” 

He scoffs, “You’re just scared.”

“I-. That’s not-. Yes, I am, and so far I’ve pushed through my fears because I want to be with you. Because I love being with you, Luca,” you insist, angling your body towards him this time. 

“But right now this all feels pretty unfair and I just don’t know why, suddenly, you need me to do this. I mean, if it was this important to you we should’ve talked about it before we came.”

You pause once more, because really, you’d just like to understand why you’re fighting in the first place. 

“Why is this suddenly so important for you?”

“Because I need to know-,” he snaps, finally turning to you. “I need to know that you feel the same way that I-. Because I-.”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off, knowing that, regardless of whatever’s got him so tied up into knots, it’s not the right time for either of you. 

“Don’t,” you beg him, reaching out to grab his hand with yours. Luca looks up at you, returning your gaze this time and the disappointment in his eyes breaks your heart for a third time today. 

“Please, don’t say it. Not right now. Not while we’re fighting. I don’t want the first time we say it to be when we’re fighting.”

There are so many things Luca wants to say, but instead, he doesn’t, too afraid the words will tumble out of his mouth because he knows it’s not the right time either. So instead, he sits there, wondering how he got himself caught up in this mess. 

“I think I should go for a walk,” you say, breaking the thick silence between you. “Think we need to take a break… from this conversation. Before either of us say anything we don’t mean.”

“I promise. I’ll come back. I promise,” you reassure him. 

“Okay,” he finally says, agreeing with you that maybe you both need a time out from this conversation. 

“Okay.” 

You can’t help it, but you can’t get out of there fast enough. With your jacket wrapped tightly around you, you wander the city for as long as you need to, especially since the tears have come back. 

You can only imagine that it’s not been easy for Luca to have accompanied you to the funeral today, but you can’t seem to figure out what would’ve set him off like this – what could’ve filled him with so much doubt and so much urgency. You wonder what his mother must’ve said to him, wonder if something she said got into his head about your relationship. You know you’re not a walk in the park, but doesn’t everyone come with their own set of baggage? 

The answer is simple. You take a time out, then you and Luca talk this all out when you get back to the hotel. You have no intention of running away, as much as the lesser parts of you would like to do nothing but, because you’re in this. 

You know you’re in this, and even though it doesn’t seem like it, you know that Luca can feel it too. 

Your mind wanders over to what he almost said. 

I love you. 

And you love him too. 

The words have felt more and more prominent as of late, lingering in every goodbye, hanging heavy in the air as he’s held your hand through your grief, on the cusp of being said every time you make love. 

Suddenly, overcome with the urge to tell him, you turn around, power-walking towards the hotel. He said it earlier, that he just needed to know that you felt the same way, and while there is so much more you need to talk out, this feels like a good place to start. 

And more than anything, it feels like the thing that you need to do. 

You come bursting through the doors to the hotel room, finding Luca there, still pacing. His jacket is thrown on the bed in a different place, and you gather that he must’ve gone out for his own walk as well. 

“Hi,” he greets you, almost as if he’s surprised that you came back. 

“I came back,” is all you say. 

He nods slowly, before taking a seat on the bed once more, “Yeah.”

You walk towards him so that you’re now standing in front of him again.

“We have… so much to talk about… but… my walk made one thing clear,” you begin, cradling his head in your hands and lifting it to your gaze as you kneel down. “There’s something I-. I have to tell you that….”

His eyes meet yours as you finally say it: 

“I love you, Luca.” 

Overcome with a swell of emotions, Luca pulls you in, kissing you as you crawl onto his lap. You press your lips to his in a passionate kiss, and while he entertains you for a few more moments, he finally pulls away with a chuckle. 

“What?”

“It’s just that-. Well, I wanted to say it first,” Luca chuckles, earning a laugh from you as well. 

“Well sometimes things happen unexpectedly. Like meeting you,” you say, pressing your forehead against his as you whisper the words against his lips. “And I need you to know… that that was the very best thing. You are the very best thing.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I should’ve been more considerate. It’s not like we’re here for a holiday or anything-,” Luca begins to apologize, now that he’s come down from whatever had possessed him earlier. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t being fair to you, my love.”

“No it’s-, you needed to hear how I felt. And I get it now. This… whole trip has been… weird, I know,” you catch up to him, wanting him to know that you understand. “But I so appreciate you owning your part in it too.”

“My mum just, I don’t know. She got in my head. Had me overthinkin’... About us. Made me realize that I’ve got a lot more on the line here to lose,” Luca tries to explain as you leave soft kisses across his face. 

“And what does that mean?” you ask him playfully, knowing exactly where this could go. 

“It means that,” he starts, a cheeky smile on his face, before Luca leans in for another kiss. This time, he whispers the words against your lips. 

“That I love you too. So, so much.”

 -------------------------------

You’ve asked, requested, demanded really, time and time again to see photos, but as you sit in Luca’s mum’s home, staring at a photo of a young, rebellious, teenage Luca, it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. 

“And that was his ‘I just want to be normal like the riff raff that he was runnin’ around with’ phase,'' his mother, Elaine, explains over your fit of giggles. 

“Oh mum. Can we not, please?” Luca groans, shooting his mother a playful glare. 

“He insisted that ‘Luca’ was too strange of a name. Not a proper English name either. Insisted I call him ‘Lucas’ so, yes, this is Lucas,” Elaine continues to share, against her son’s wishes. 

“God, that’s so embarrassing. I don’t know why I wanted this to happen in the first place,” Luca sighs, looking from you to his mother.

“Oh honey, I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” you giggle, giving his knee a squeeze under the table. “And yes, Elaine. I will be taking this photo with me. Think we should hang it on the fridge.”

Luca groans again, while Elaine exchanges a glance with her son, an entire conversation being had with just a shared look. 

As Elaine continues to share another photo of ‘Lucas,’ pouring over old family photos and memories, you’re sure that this man is the love of your life. 

You’ve had first love, the naive kind that breaks your heart because it’s the first time that you’ve ever felt this way before – the good and the bad. And then there was Joe, who somehow encompassed the feeling of being forever young, while being the love that grew you up too. But this? Loving Luca makes you feel safe and wild at the same time – like at any moment you could take a risk, knowing that you’ll always have a safe place to land. 

And as you look to Luca, watching him beg his mum not to embarass him any further, you smile knowingly, because you can feel that this is it. 

-------------------------------

It’s the night you launch your Winter menu, and while you recognize that if any of your signature dishes came off the menu, there would be riots in the streets, you’re more than excited (yes, and definitely a little nervous) about the cozy additions you and Mathilde have dreamed up. 

At your pre-shift standup, your wait staff take turns practicing how to talk about some of the new dishes on the menu, and while you trust them to handle this one with care, you feel it’s important for you to speak on this one. 

“And this is the final dish that we’ve added to our winter menu,” you begin, pausing before you share. 

“As most of you know, I lost my former mother-in-law almost two months ago and um. Well, she taught me everything I know about Japanese cooking. So this is a dish for her: a red miso ramen with white miso-glazed kabocha squash, enoki mushrooms, ajitama and pickled green onions. It’s um. It’s a very personal dish to me, so I hope you enjoy.”

You watch as your staff, front and back of house, dive into the ramen bowls, trying the last dish you have to go over as a team, their faces lighting up with pure glee and sheer delight in response to the dish. 

Your phone buzzes in your apron pocket, and as you pull it out, you see a few texts from your group message with the Kimuras, in response to the photos you sent of your finished dish. 

Astrid: OMG it’s beautiful! 

Lina: I’m hungry now. Save us some!!

Joe: She would’ve loved it. :)

“Looks like I’m right on time,” you hear a familiar voice say, pulling your focus from your phone to the front door. 

“Luca! What’re you doing here?” you ask him, as you shove your phone back into your pocket, moving towards him. 

“I know it’s a big night for you. Thought I’d come in a bit later but Mathilde invited me to the standup. Thought you may need a little additional support,” Luca shrugs, as you give him a soft ‘hello’ peck on the lips. 

“Yeah, no I-. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I just introduced the ramen, actually. Aiko’s dish,” you reply, the smile on your face undeniable as you're filled with nothing but joy and love for the man that stands in front of you. “But let me make you up a bowl.”

“I’d love that,” Luca nods in agreement. 

You make your way back to the open kitchen, watching as Jesper pulls up a chair for Luca, right next to yours. Mathilde is quick to offer him a smaller plate, welcoming him in with open arms. As you plate your dish, you can’t take your eyes off of him, and you have to remind yourself that you do need to make up this bowl of ramen at some point. 

But seeing Luca here with your team – here to support you on your big night, on a night that you’re sharing your whole heart in one bowl of noodles – you’re overcome with a deep sense of gratitude that you get to be the one who loves him. You think back to the day you met, so glad that that evening was slow, that he chose to leave the box of pastries, that he asked you to come to AOC, because if he hadn’t, who knows where you’d be? 

You walk the ramen bowl back to the table, setting it down in front of Luca with a kiss to his cheek as a bonus, as you sit down in the chair next to him. He smiles at you, a glimmer in his eyes that says, ‘thank you, my love.’

You smile back, thinking about what he said earlier, when he first walked in this evening because the double meaning isn’t lost on you. 

And because he’s right. 

Maybe, he’s always been right on time.

[httpknjoon]

her majesty | jjk

plot | This is how the rumors began between a princess and a rockstar.

words | 615

genres | fluff, humor/crack, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | this one happened months after my last update!! enjoy reading <3

main masterlist | drabble series

Sweet September’s Jungkook Posts His Cover of The Beatles’ Song, Her Majesty

Spoiler alert: It might be dedicated to someone *royal*

Last night, the lead vocalist of Sweet September shared a thirty-second song cover on his Instagram account. The said video only shows Jungkook wearing a white button-up while playing an acoustic guitar in what his fans claim is his kitchen. Within just twelve hours, the video reached almost twenty million views and was posted on various social media sites by his supporters. Some fans claimed that the song was meant for someone *royal*.

In the clip captioned with a crown and yellow heart emojis, Jungkook sang The Beatles’ Her Majesty. The song was a hidden track in the band’s eleventh album, Abbey Road. 

Earlier this year, fans noticed the attendance Princess YN of Zafiro made at two of Sweet September’s concerts during their Denim Jungle tour. In the first one, she was seen with her sister, Princess Astrid. For the second one, the crown princess was spotted by a few fans in the band’s performance in New York just a day after the Met Gala. She was said to be seen wearing a particular ID only given to staff and special guests.

Many sources told E! News that there are sightings of the princess and the rockstar together in various places.

“I saw Jungkook approach Princess YN during the Met Gala.” an anonymous Twitter user posted. “He stayed and chatted with her until she left with her assistant.”

Another source stated, “Although Princess YN and Jungkook are both busy with their different lives, they really try to make time for each other. He (Jungkook) liked the princess before he even met her, That’s why he really took the chance when he saw it.”

It’s no secret to Sweet September fans that the lead vocalist has his eyes set on Princess YN. It was revealed years ago when each band member was asked about their ideal type and celebrity crushes.

“Oh, mine is totally not from the entertainment industry.” a nineteen-year-old Jungkook answered.

“Yeah, JK. We all know it’s Princess YN–” Mingyu was then cut off by Jungkook’s forced coughs.

Back to the song cover, Jungkook can be seen smiling as he sang the lyrics. He even smiled wider while singing the last line,

“Someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah. Someday I'm gonna make her mine.”

The rumor between you and Jungkook was still new and growing when the song cover was posted. Various articles were later posted from numerous media sites with the same rumor topic. It’s a piece of surprising news for everyone since it involves a royal princess and a famous rockstar. With this, supporters of Jungkook’s and yours had mixed reactions to the ongoing rumor.

@/DENIMBLUE: so they are really dating?????

@/ynandastridslay: lol this rumor going around abt princess yn is just impossible.

@/jeonswatch: i just know jungkook is kicking his feet giggling twirling his hair when he heard that song before

@/sweeties09: omg so maybe my sister is not lying when she said she served jk and that princess in a mcdonalds drive thru 🤠

Replying to @/sweeties09

- @/carminwoojung: EXCUSE ME WHAT???

– @/gigglysun: abi when did she told u that???!?

— @/sweeties09: it was like after the band’s performance in new york months ago

@/ZafiroPrincessesFan: The King and Queen would never let the Princess date a rockstar. It’s just totally against the tradition. #.FakeNews

@/goldencrown: wth are these rumors??? Jungkook is dating louise right?

@/PopCrave: Netizens spotted Princess YN’s official Instagram account liking Jungkook’s latest Instagram post before unliking it an hour later.

Replying to @/PopCrave

- @/user90249853: someone’s finger slipped lmao

– @/bluemoon04: not her forgetting to switch accounts 😭✊

taglist rules

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

@heartjiminie @rbrm094 @rjsmochii @jjkreblog @sugaslittlekookies @saintsugar @alpha-mommy69 @natalia-rmnva @stupendouscookiehumanmug @yoonjinhusbands @lilliankoo @gxtwllsn @snkyuv @canyon-lwt @hiii-priestess @jksgirlhere @bbtsficrecs @jnk-pop @jjeonjjk7 @tokkiggukie @kooliv @oopscoop @hani0407 @taebae19 @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld 

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth's Instagram

ShinRa has Sephiroth create an official Instagram account both to combat the growing number of fake accounts and to boost his image. They come to regret this decision 2 weeks later.

• One time Genesis gifted Sephiroth a bong and told him it was a vintage humidifier. Sephiroth reorganized his office and proudly posted a picture of it with the bong in the background.

• He posted a nice picture of him, Genesis and Angeal together, but chose then to address the rumors. So the caption is just: We did not have a threesome.

• Mirror selfie to show how shiny his new pauldrons were. In the background Zack and Cloud were seen eating dog biscuits.

• To show that he cares for his supporters and does receive their kind gifts, Sephiroth posted a picture of himself wearing a pair of sunglasses gifted to him by a fan. The problem? They were pot leaf sunglasses.

• He once accidentally went live during a meeting, where in the 20 seconds you could hear Lazard say "Take Genesis for example. He's been sleeping for thirty minutes. Are we going to wake him up? No. Why? Because it's exhausting being an inconvenient bitch with the personality of a mop bucket all day."

• When he posted a candid picture of Genesis eating an apple and decided to caption it with a fun fact Angeal told him: He ate chalk as a child.

• When he went live to demonstrate how to properly oil a sword and Zack walked by in the background, started twerking, realized Sephiroth was live, cringed in horror, then in his attempt to escape ran face-first into a wall.

• Mirror selfie that he captions "outfit of the day"

@ AngealHewley commented: It's the outfit of every day. We wear uniforms.

• Sephiroth posts a picture of himself at a nice lake in Kalm and captions it "Beautiful day"

Genesis is visibly drowning in the background.

• He has a highlight reel titled "friendship" and it's just 87 videos of him going "scare cam!" and scaring the shit out of Genesis, Angeal, Zack and Cloud. The last one in the series was him trying to scare Cloud, who had a hot cup of tea in his hands. The audio of said video is just "Scare cam! OW THAT'S HOT!"

• When he was made to stand beside Rufus Shinra for a photo at an event. Sephiroth later posted that picture to Instagram with Rufus visibly cropped out.

• He started taking pictures of stray cats throughout Midgar and giving them each names on the caption. Some notable ones are Cheese grater, Umbrella, Airplane, Egg, Criticism, Water Heater, and a black cat he named Anti-capitalism

• When he posted an embarassing picture of Genesis in his teenage emo phase. Caption read: Throwback. @ GenesisRhapsodosOfficial commented: I will throw back a brick in your face

• Sephiroth organized his closet and proudly posted a picture of it. The comment section was filled with observations of how there was not a single shirt in that man's closet.

• When he took a picture of the gray, lifeless Midgar night sky and captioned it: Look at the stars. They're so bright from here.

• Picture of him shaking hands with president shinra at an event. The caption read I was forced to take this pictureDelete. Delete. Delete.

The text to speech failed.

• Sephiroth took a picture of a random puddle of Mako on the lab floors. Captioned it: Mmm, juice.

• He took a picture of Angeal, Genesis, Zack and Cloud playing twister. It's chaos, they're messy, toppled on top of each other and laughing. Sephiroth captioned it "Home"

[tryingtodotheright-thing]

Hello, Sunset - 6

AN: This is my longest chapter to date. I really suck at writing dialogue, which is just my real life awkward self presenting in fiction. I would love to hear what people think about this chapter or just the story in general. Need some inspiration as I'm stuck on the next chapter. The writing gods have left me and there's a metaphorical brick wall between my ideas and the blank Google doc ... PAIRING: Seungcheol x fem!reader GENRE: exes to lovers, idol verse, angst WORD COUNT: 4,650 WARNINGS: reader has anxiety and depression, swearing, mentions of alcohol Text in blue is spoken in Korean.

PREVIOUS / NEXT

1 December 2023 - 6 January 2024

There wasn’t really any time for melancholy, not for Y/N. She wanted to wistfully brood about her 10 days in Asia and play the nostalgic CARAT post concert, but the end of the year was relentless. Y/N travelled back to Tokyo the very next day to catch her flight home to London. She used the weekend to reset her body clock and catch up on her emails before she was back at the office on Monday. 

By the time she landed in London, her episode on Amazing Saturday had already aired. She didn’t think the episode would have a huge audience. She had hoped to make an impression on the Korean audience but wasn’t expecting to suddenly be trending on Naver or anything. She had turned off the airplane mode on her phone whilst briskly making her way through the long route from the gate to baggage collection. It was a good thing her phone was silent as suddenly the notifications piled up. She opened up Instagram first as that’s where the most notifications were from and saw that Josua had tagged her on a post.

It was the second time he’d done that since they had met back in September. Then, it had been a picture they had posed together for a magazine at the Marni show. This time, it was a clip of her getting the one shot for getting the most accurate answer for the God of Music quiz. He’d captioned it to say ‘Thank you for answering SVT’s quiz, Y/N’. The post had thousands of likes already, including fellow SEVENTEEN members such as S.Coups, Seungkwan and Vernon. Her followers on Instagram had also increased, she guessed as a natural effect from this interaction. She was following Joshua already so she liked the picture and closed the app, too tired to think about her actions or do anything more.

The click clacks of her heels echoed as she walked the short distance from her cabin to the one of the Global HR Director and her line manager, David. Unlike the confident sounds of her footsteps, Y/N felt timid as she opened the door to his office once he beckoned her to come in through the glass windows of his office. David was not someone to mince his words or beat around the bush, especially as someone as busy and senior as he was in such a huge corporation. 

Y/N walked out of his office thirty minutes later with relief. She’d need to talk to Sian and Emma first before she officially accepted his offer but she thought this was the best option for everyone without Y/N having to give up her career in HR completely. Her decision was solidified as she received positive response to her various promotion activities in Korea as they came out on broadcast and YouTube over the next few days. Sian and Emma began to receive interest from Korean shows and entertainment companies. The questions varied from whether she was interested in appearing on more shows to her plans on promoting in Korea and needing a local agency to support her promotions to even writing music for idol groups. Eun Ji was ecstatic at the idea of her living in Seoul and declared that Y/N would live with her. When she ran through her doubts of the move, Joshua reassured her as someone who had taken the same leap. Vernon and Seungkwan, who Y/N kept in touch with regularly since meeting them a few weeks ago, promised to visit her regularly so she wouldn’t be lonely. 

By the time her slot at the Jingle Bell Ball was over a week later, Y/N felt fully confident in her decision to resign from her job in the UK and take the consultancy role. It offered her more flexibility whilst still allowing her to keep putting to use the qualification and skills she had developed over the past seven years. Her first focus would be working with regional leads in Japan and South Korea to support the planned restructures and optimise the local operations. She would be assessing the situation, proposing a solution and would oversee the implementation of it when it is accepted but won’t be the person delivering the change. She was actually excited to step out of her comfort zone and expand her experience further by dipping her toes into consultancy whilst putting to use her language skills in another country. It honestly felt like an offer too good to be true. It also gave Y/N time to prepare for her EP release that had been planned for the end of the summer and her European Tour that would kick off in the autumn of 2024. She hoped she would get lots of inspiration to write in the new environment.

Things moved quickly once she accepted David’s offer. A flat in Hannam-dong in Yongsan had been leased under her name by Emma. Whilst her company had offered to organise this for her, she had preferred to find a place that suited her specific needs and had negotiated with David so the company would contribute a fixed amount to the rent instead. David put her negotiation skills to the test but Y/N thought she handled it quite well. She had a decent deal by the end. She spent the next few weeks saying a temporary goodbye to her life in London, catching up with friends in between her end of year performance schedule. She’d gone from the one watching the countdown to NYE on BBC to the one people watched performing as the country counted down to the dawn of a new year. A few days later, she was back on a plane to Incheon, this time on her own. Emma wouldn’t be joining her in Seoul but would be making plenty of visits as needed. W Music had a partner in Seoul who would organise any assistance Y/N needed. Y/N leaned her seat back and gazed out of the window, taking a sip of the red wine the stewardess handed her earlier. She hoped 2024 would be a year to remember. 

Current

Y/N had gone to bed immediately after her bath. The fight or flight response in her body had slowly disappeared until all that was left was exhaustion. She had dragged herself from the bathroom to her bedroom, not going through any of her night time routine but falling straight into bed instead. The blackout blinds in her room hid the world from her and equally hid her from the world from her. It was the Bank Holiday Monday so she had allowed herself to lie in and when she checked the digital clock on her bedside table once she arose from her deep slumber, she saw it was close to 11am. She decided it was time to face the world and couldn’t hide any longer. 

“Alexa, open the blinds.” The automated blinds came to life and with a soft whirring noise, it let the sunlight into the spacious cream coloured room. Closing her eyes briefly to allow them a relief from the bright rays, she patted around the bed for her phone. When her attempts were fruitless, she sighed in defeat before getting out of bed to look around the room for it. Not seeing it anywhere, she slid her feet onto her soft slippers and moved to the living room. She had success as she found it face up on the sofa. She tapped on the screen to bring it to life but it didn’t work. Letting out a groan, realising the phone had run out of battery, she moved to the kitchen island and planted her phone on top of the wireless charger. Leaving it to collect power so she could turn it on, she used the time to make her morning smoothie. 

Ten minutes later, she sat on one of the high stools by her kitchen island with a large glass of avocado and banana smoothie. She turned the phone on, making sure to keep it on the wireless charger. She saw that she had missed calls and clicked on the Phone app to see who had tried to get in touch. Some were older notifications she had dismissed like the missed calls from Sian and Emma. There were also recent missed calls from Rachel, Eun Ji and Joshua. Joshua didn’t normally call so she assumed he was concerned about her non-reply. 

As she wondered if it was finally time to grow up and call Joshua, her phone began to ring. It was an unsaved number but Y/N recognised it straight away. It was an incoming call from SEVENTEEN’s main Manager, Shim Jae Hyun. He’d been the first person she’d spoken to after Seungcheol had sent her the text to break up and blocked her number immediately after. Y/N could still remember the pity in his voice as he’d told her that Seungcheol had informed him of the breakup, and had asked that Y/N not contact anyone related to himself. Y/N had responded with a distressed ‘I understand’ and had immediately cut the call. 

Since then, she hadn’t spoken to anyone related to Seungcheol, including the members. Some of the members, particularly Vernon and Seungkwan, had tried to speak to her when they became aware of the break up but she’d already blocked them. The only remaining connection was Joshua and even then, she didn’t pick up or answer his calls. They hadn’t spoken since the day before the break up, when Y/N had called him from the airport to confirm she’s boarding and to ask him to check in on Seungcheol. Despite his persistent attempts, Y/N hadn’t spoken to Joshua since that day. He eventually gave up and stopped calling her and would send the occasional texts to see how she was, which she would read but not respond to. Seeing the two ticks to show she was reading it was good enough for him. It’s what he’d pleaded for her to do at the very least.

She assumed Jae Hyun-nim was calling due to the statement that had been published. She let the call go to voicemail and instead took a screenshot with his number displayed and sent it off to Emma and Sian, knowing one of them would contact him. She didn’t want to have a dialogue with PLEDIS or HYBE and Sian had stressed that everything should go through her or Emma. She put the phone back on the charging pad and returned to her room to pack her bag, knowing she had a flight to NYC that evening. Lily, Sian’s first assistant since Emma’s official promotion a year ago, had sent over the flight ticket details as well as some outfit options for Y/N to choose from her various interviews in NYC. Lily would organise it so any of the outfits Y/N selects would be delivered to the JW Marriott Essex House hotel in Upper East Side, where she would be staying this time. Normally, would have a longer visit and so would have gone for one of their long stay apartments but the impromptu plans meant she would be staying in one of Marriott’s hotels instead. The next few hours passed in a blur and Y/N found herself once again on a plane.

25 January 2024 

The black Porsche Cayenne lit up as the engine turned on. The car was a Christmas present to herself and she’d be paying it off for the next few years but Y/N was in love. She loved driving and one of the first things she organised was to ship her car to Seoul as soon as she decided on her move and yet, it only arrived a few days ago. Y/N was excited to take the car for a spin, having been taking taxis whenever she needed to leave her flat. She’d spent the first week in Seoul setting up the place whilst staying with Eun Ji and had to then relearn her bearings when she officially moved in. The three weeks since landing in Seoul had been tremendously busy and Y/N was excited to have a night to relax and catch up with a friend. Joshua had returned to the country only a few days ago after wrapping up the last concert of the Follow Tour in Macau. The two had been keeping each other up to date on life but it wasn’t the same as talking in person. Their last meeting hadn’t been the personal catch up they had originally planned for so to have some time together where they could speak more openly was much needed. 

Y/N arrived first at the Mexican restaurant in Itaewon and had immediately ordered some nachos for the pair to munch on whilst they caught up and debated what to order. She’d just taken a sip of her virgin Pina Colada when Joshua walked in. Y/N enveloped Joshua in a warm hug, and they stayed in the embrace for a few seconds, soaking in the comfort they gave each other. As they parted, Joshua grasped Y/N’s right hand tightly and shook it in excitement.

“I can’t believe you’re now living in Seoul!”

“Me neither, Joshie!”

He looked at her tenderly before letting go of her hand to ruffle her hair as usual. She’d given up dodging this move, knowing that it was his way of showing affection. She grinned at him, the smile stretching across her face all the way to her eyes which had shrunk to accommodate the happy expression. A waiter arrived with their nachos and the pair took their seats. Joshua ordered a Margarita. They spent the next hour catching up candidly with no inhibitions in between taking sips of their drinks and crunching on the nachos. They’d ordered more drinks and food, Y/N choosing to stay sober as she didn’t trust a stranger to drive her car. It was another thing for her to become accustomed to in time but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. 

Joshua was feeling light, having let off a load from his shoulders. He’d met Y/N at a time when he really needed a friend who was removed from his world but would yet understand his trials. They were less than six months apart in age but often, he felt she was the older one and by many years. Maybe it came from their different life journeys. They’d both had their own challenges to overcome and different demons to fight. She saw him so clearly that he often felt she was his soulmate, like a twin who shared the same heart and mind. Their closeness after such a short period led to misconceptions initially, even from his bandmates. He’d been asked if they were dating, Coups being the latest one to quiz him on this when he’d shared his plans to meet Y/N. Joshua shared this anecdote with Y/N, laughing without restraint at the idea. Y/N looked disgusted at the idea, wondering what was wrong with everyone. She begged Joshua to make sure he set everyone straight. 

“Don’t worry, I told him you’re like a sister. Your bias won’t have the wrong idea, so don’t hurt your pea brain worrying.”

She glared at the teasing, huffing at the elder. 

“Who’s the pea brain here! I’m not the one who mistranslated that time we were out …” 

The banter continued, the two bickering away, fully immersed in their own world. It was nearing 9pm when Joshua received a call. 

“Coups-yah. What’s up? Me? I’m in XXX restaurant in Itaewon with Y/N. Oh, you’re nearby?” 

Joshua looked at Y/N with a sly smile as he hung up on the phone. Y/N was immediately on alert.

“What have you done, Hong Jisoo?”

“Where are your manners? It’s Jisoo Oppa!”

“Pfft. Manners, my ass. I know you’ve done something that’s about to piss me off. Out with it, Joshie. Don’t test my kindness.” 

He shrugged and put on an innocent look, widening his eyes and shaking his head, saying he had no idea what she was talking about. She threw a fry at his face, unfortunately missing the mark widely. This made Joshua crack up in giggles and Y/N reluctantly joined in, unable to hold on to her irritation. Y/N was going to suggest that they call it a night and head home when the bell by the door jingled. Joshua, who was facing the door, stuck his neck out to see who it was and his eyes lit up in recognition. He waved his hand at the newcomer and Y/N twisted in her seat to see who it was. It was S.Coups and with him was Jeonghan. 

“Did you miss me that much? You saw me only a few hours ago when we did the Weverse live.” 

Joshua said to S.Coups as the 95 liners reunited in front of Y/N. The waitress arrived and relocated them to a bigger table at the back, hiding them away from the rest of the customers. As they all took their new seats, Y/N bowed at Jeonghan and S.Coups and greeted them. She asked after their health and asked if they’d eaten. S.Coups, who was sitting opposite her, nodded whilst Jeonghan responded, “Coups bought me an expensive dinner. I wanted to go home and rest afterwards but this guy-”

Before Jeonghan could finish his sentence, S.Coups began speaking. He asked about her move and if she was properly settled in her flat. 

Y/N was surprised he knew the details and it must have shown on her face, as he felt the need to clarify that he’d heard from Shua. When she looked at Joshua, he had a devious smirk on his face.

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to what I say, Coups-yah. Jeonghan-ah, did you know Coups paid this much attention to me?”

Jeonghan, who suddenly looked wide awake, seemed to have caught on to whatever track Joshua was on and enthusiastically exclaimed, “I didn’t know either, Joshuji. I don’t remember you telling us about Y/N’s move and this is my first time seeing you since you came back.”

Turning to his left, he questioned when S.Coups had heard the news. Y/N was a little perplexed about this entire conversation. She didn’t understand why it was such a big deal but she did realise that the angel, who was really a devil in disguise when he was up to his tricks, and his best friend were on the same page and up to something. It seemed that S.Coups had also sensed the danger and looked panic for a second before saying that it might have been Vernon who mentioned it, he couldn’t remember. 

Feeling sorry for the man in front of her as he pouted, she decided to answer his question to move the conversation along. 

“I’ve just about settled in and I was saying to Josh earlier that my car finally arrived so I feel like I’m finally set. I’m about to abandon all of it for two weeks though. I’ll be in Japan travelling to Tokyo, Sapporo and Okinawa for work from Monday onwards.” 

S.Coups nodded again at her and gave her a thousand watts thankful smile. Y/N felt her heart stutter like her old car used to whenever she’d try to speed and the sem-automatic would whine as it stayed stuck in the lower gear. His smile was too blinding and Y/N had to avert her gaze to her glass, fiddling with the stem of it as she tried her best to calm the flutters. 

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were flying out so soon! We’re on holiday for the next few weeks so I thought I could show you all my favourite places.” 

Joshua was disappointed at the missed opportunity. Y/N reassured him they had plenty of time and that she’d be back on the 10th. The group enjoyed a few more drinks and Y/N slowly loosened up as she got used to the presence of the others. She didn’t see Joshua as a member of SEVENTEEN on most days. To her, he’d become family and so she didn’t get the nervousness that she got in the presence of the rest of the members. Yoon Jeonghan was too beautiful to be real and it was intimidating. 

And then there was S.Coups. Well, no explanation was really needed here. This was someone she admired and found attractive. It was just a celebrity crush, she’d thought. Although she had her head screwed on and knew what she saw wasn’t a full picture of any celebrity, with S.Coups, so much of it was real. She’d gotten to know him through Joshua and the couple of interactions they did have, she’d felt sparks. She knew it was all one-sided and with time, she’d get over it. But right now, she couldn’t be sensible about it. It was the way he would stare deeply into her eyes when she spoke giving his full attention, or the way he’d poured her a glass of water when he noticed her glass was empty, or even how the corners of his mouth would twitch in amusement whenever he caught her sneaking glances at him as Jeonghan told a funny story. She was deeply attracted to the man in front of her. His tight black t-shirt and rich perfume pulled her in. When she caught herself leaning forward one too many times, she knew it was time to go home. She pulled the typical I’m-going-to-freshen-up-but-really-pay-the-bill act and found herself scolded by a whiny Joshua as they all walked her to her car. 

She saw the tired, droopy frame of Jeonghan and told them all to get in, saying she’d drop them off. They tried to refuse the offer but Jeonghan must have been really tired because he got in quickly after thanking Y/N. Joshua sat upfront and inputted the address for the dorm. 

“Coups-yah, are you going to stay at the dorm tonight?” 

It took a beat for S.Coups to answer and the others realised he’d wanted to return to the place he shared with his brother. He said he’d call a taxi from the dorm. 

“I can drop you off, I really don’t mind.”

Y/N turned into the apartment complex that housed SEVENTEEN members. Joshua and Jeonghan got out of the car and S.Coups followed. He seemed to have a non-verbal conversation with Joshua before he turned back to Y/N and asked if she was sure. She nodded and smiled gently in response. 

He lightly hugged the members goodnight before getting back in the car, this time in the front seat. Joshua called out for her to text him when she got home safely and then headed in. 

“And then there were two.”

“Sorry?”

“Oh, sorry. It’s a phrase in English that people would usually say when a big group would suddenly get smaller.” 

She explained as she manoeuvred out of her parking spot. She pulled off and started driving towards the main road as S.Coups set the navigation to direct her to his brother’s place. It was a 20 minute drive and Y/N told herself she can behave for that long. They drove in silence that had started off comfortable but soon became filled with tension till it was stifling. She cleared her throat and suggested that S.Coups put on music if he’d like. 

“You can turn on the radio or you can use my Spotify. My phone is connected via Bluetooth.” 

She quickly unlocked it with her fingerprint and gestured for him to take it. He’d looked slightly stunned at her nonchalance as she gave him access to her phone. He timidly took the phone from the stand it was resting on and scrolled through the app. In the meantime, it began to play from where she’d left off earlier. Red Velvet described the throes of a crush and the longing to greet them again through the song ‘Hello, Sunset’ and Y/N blushed as she listened on. How fitting that this is the song that plays, she thought. She saw him tap along to the music as he scrolled through her phone. Their journey was elongating thanks to the traffic that was building up as the Saturday night deepened. As the song drew to a close, he tapped on the song he’d searched for and Dino’s voice blasted through the speakers. How cute, she thought as she realised he’d chosen to listen to the maknae’s mixtape, ‘Wait’. He bobbed his head along as they listened. The car had come to a standstill in front of the traffic. 

“I really love this song.” 

“Yes, maknae did a good job.” The pride in his voice was clear. She hummed in agreement. 

“I’m sorry. Because of me, you’re delayed.”

He apologised suddenly and Y/N found herself lost in his intense stare again when she'd looked at him to respond. She inaudibly mumbled that it wasn’t a problem and that she’s going the same way. It was as if her ears had popped, all noise surrounding them dampened whilst the sound of her heartbeat grew thunderous. She couldn’t even blink, worried he’d disappear if she closed her eyes for a second. He lowered his eyes, breaking the hold on her briefly as they dipped down to her lips before returning to arrest her again. He held her breath as a prisoner. Was she imagining it or was the distance between them slowly narrowing? She had no thoughts. Her brain simply wasn’t functioning to think if this was a good idea or not. Their noses were nearly brushing when they jumped apart when the car behind honked its horn. Y/N realised the queue had eased and quickly put the car in motion. S.Coups turned to look outside the side window, his expression hidden from Y/N when she tried to take a glimpse. 

They arrived at S.Coups’ place a few minutes later. Tablo’s version of ‘Eyes, Nose, Lips’ played in the background as both occupants of the car stalled, not sure whether to mention the moment shared earlier. In the end, both had decided to ignore it. S.Coups thanked Y/N for the lift. He’d gotten out of the car and walked around to her side, leaning down to speak to her. A breeze sent her a whiff of his perfume again. 

“Well … thanks again.” Y/N smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I should get going. I mean, you should get going. It’s late.”

She nodded and bowed at him to take leave from the driver’s seat. She was about to roll up her windows when he called her name. With no formalities. The butterflies instantly multiplied. 

“Y/N. Text me to say you’ve made it home?” It was a question but it wasn’t. She nodded, slowly then quickly. 

“I saved my number on your phone. I, uh, I didn’t send myself your number.”

Who was this shy man? Was he the same person with the deep voice and passionate eyes? 

“Sleep well.”

Y/N placed her keys in the enamel dish by the entrance, took off her boots and walked to her room. She texted Joshua to confirm she’d made it and wished him a goodnight. She paused for a second before she searched through her contacts. She found the newly saved number under Coups. 

Saturday 27 January Hi, it’s Y/N.  I made it home safely. Have a good night. 23:20 Goodnight. 23:21

A week later, Y/N was getting ready for her first date with S.Coups.

[strawberrystepmom]

to forgive is divine & to err is human

pairing: Natsuo Todoroki x F!Reader (romantic), Touya Todoroki x F!Reader (familial)

word count: 7.5k

about: when Touya is released to Natsuo’s care following his 8 year prison stay, the fragility of the dynamic between the three of you threatens to derail everyone involved.

contents: cw: contains descriptions of depression, trauma, smoking, bad coping mechanisms, alcoholism, Touya dyes his hair black in a white sink (ugh). angst with a happy ending, set in canon universe but not canon compliant, established relationship between Natsuo and reader (married), Touya and reader are both assholes at certain points.

notes: tbh I've been meaning to repost this and since I'm currently in my "yes girl give us nothing" era, the time has come. Thank you to everyone (then and now) that has read this baby bc I did indeed put my ol' Kendussy into it so I didn't really change anything about it other than fixing grammar and I'm sure there are still mistakes. This is is how I wrote a year ago and that's okay and I'm proud of how far I've come.

Posting this as a double feature bc it feels too idk self promo-y to split them up again so enjoy my creature feature with my beloved Natsuo and his stinky brother. chain divider thanks to @/cafekitsune ♡

The large, red letters across the paperwork make your eyes hurt by simply gazing at them. 

“RELEASED” stamped with what you can tell was a mostly dried out ink pad, the red darker at the beginning of the word than at the end. You wish you could close the growing pit in your stomach knowing Natsuo will soon arrive back to your home, rehabilitated brother in tow, but the uncertainty makes it hard to settle as you re-stack the documents given to you by the Hero Public Safety Commission when they formally announced they would permit Touya’s release so long as someone would be responsible for him.

When the conversation came up, Natsuo volunteered without a second thought. It hurt at first that he did not ask you before making the decision but after having spent nearly a decade at his side, you trusted his judgment. Six months after the initial inquiry, you still do. Touya is a practical stranger, someone you have only met through grainy video chats, but you have been briefed by many HPSC coordinators. They have conducted home visits, interviewed both of you as if you were the criminals, combed through every bank account and piece of mail to ensure that they are putting their inmate into good hands. A good word from Endeavor, something your husband reluctantly accepted, sealed the decision. Your eyes scan over the handwritten letter from Enji, tucked in the stack of documents. 

“No one is more qualified to care for his brother Touya than my son Natsuo. He is a licensed medical professional, specializing in psychology and mental health services and has experience in dealing with traumatized children. I ask that the Commission consider no other placement for Touya.”

A tired sigh escapes as you flip through a few more pages, squinting through descriptions of you and Natsuo. Your personalities, your hobbies, where you work, who you associate with - all vital information, the panel assured you. The final page of the documents has the official ruling, the top left corner of the page curled in from how many times the pair of you have read over it.

“Todoroki Touya, thirty two years of age, is to be released to the custody of his brother Todoroki Natsuo, twenty eight years of age. Todoroki will be required to wear a location monitoring device at all times per the agreed upon terms of release. He is not permitted to be in contact with any of his prior associates. If contact is initiated, he will be required to return to the custody of the HPSC immediately and will no longer be eligible for release.”

Your eyes scan the document again and again, searching for some kind of strange loophole that could prevent all of this from happening. Guilt crawls up your spine and makes you shudder at the thought. How could you not want this for your husband? He has spent years dreaming of having a second chance to love his brother differently, to help him heal. It makes you feel vile to even entertain negative thoughts about Touya. 

Touya. You know little about the man aside from his name, or names, rather. His time as Dabi concluded, he was sentenced to 8 years of rehabilitation instead of prison. A victim of child abuse needed recovery, the commission reasoned, and they were willing to give him the space to do so within reason. The entire Todoroki family agreed with and supported the commission and their decision, his siblings and parents being granted permission to visit him if they chose to do so. 

Natsuo went as frequently as possible, excitedly telling you how much his brother has improved after every visit, eagerness infectious. You listened to his every word, rapt, as he talked about how different Touya looked now that he was eating well, how far he had come, how he seemed emotionally stable for the first time in his life. Genuine excitement danced in his eyes at the thought of having his brother back, not a shell of a boy or a man. Not Dabi but Touya, someone who was cruelly taken from him when he was too young to fully understand why. 

The true agony was seeing the metaphorical stitches ripped open, cruelly and callously. The entire country was witness to the explosive truth - Touya Todoroki was alive. Even Fuyumi with her limitless poise gnawed her lower lip hoping it would ground her enough that she could stay strong for everyone else. “I can handle this,” she assured you as you wrapped your arms around her shoulders the day after the video aired. She knew the person who would need you the most was her brother. Looks were deceiving - Natsuo was big and strong, a grown man, but his feelings were delicate. She trusted no one but you to look after him.

Natsuo had only asked you to be his girlfriend weeks before his brother revealed his true identity publicly. You will never forget the way grief was etched into all of his features, his strong brow downturned for weeks; retraumatized. It took every ounce of strength in his body to muster a smile, much less anything else, but he did it. For Fuyumi and Shouto, for his mother. 

You can remember every moment of the years following Touya revealing himself. The nights when Natsuo woke up sobbing, burying his face into your chest and balling the fabric of your shirt up between his fists as if it would keep him from losing touch with reality completely. He stopped eating for days at a time, depression sinking him into depths he didn’t know existed. You were always there with a soothing touch and okayu, a rice porridge Fuyumi taught you to make for him. 

“When Touya died, it’s all he would eat,” she explained. Your heart crumbled at the thought of a 13 year old version of your beloved future sister in law having to keep her 9 year old brother moving through the pain of loss. How did they keep themselves together?, you wondered more than once as she breezed through the difficult times with a tight smile. 

The more you watched the man you love sink, the more conflicted you felt about Touya. Those feelings lingered even into today. Natsuo is healing, therapy and love and compassion all coming together to create a whole man instead of pieces of a hurt child in a big body, but you can’t help the simmering anger you feel when you think about watching him experience the hurt in real time. Some memories stay etched forever. 

Natsuo continued to live despite the difficult times. You helped him study and make his way through medical school - a feat that he often credited you wholly for. It wasn’t true but the praise always feels good. Three years after Touya was sentenced, Natsuo opened his clinic that offers a variety of therapeutic services for children with difficult quirks or those who have suffered because of them. A year after that the two of you were married. 

“I knew you were the one when you gave me a reason to keep trying,” he tearfully admitted as you exchanged vows during your small wedding ceremony. The details weren’t for everyone else to know, but the pair of you knew exactly what he was talking about and the admission still makes you feel weepy if you start to think about it for too long.

Love feels like too shallow of a word to explain how you feel about him which is why you agreed to this in the first place - your love for Natsuo is stronger than your distaste toward Touya. You remind yourself of the mantra as you hear voices outside of your front doorstep, one immediately recognizable as belonging to Natsuo. You stand and take a deep breath, composing yourself and closing the file folder on the table as the door opens and the two white haired men crowd into the small genkan, talking amongst each other. 

“We’re here!”

A practiced, measured smile is what you can manage as you watch the situation carefully. Touya scratches the back of his head and offers a small and impersonal wave and you’re surprised by how different he looks. Thin but healthy, his skin grafts have been properly secured, his lashes are the same white as the ones that frame your husband's kind, gray eyes. The similarities between the two are striking but so are the differences - Natsuo greets you with a smile and a peck on your forehead and Touya glowers from the doorway. 

“Welcome home, Touya,”

He looks around, eyes narrowed as he takes in the sights of your well lived in home. It reminded you eerily of the way the representatives from the commission sullied your safe place away slowly, searching every corner to make sure you would not enable any more bad behavior from the man standing in the doorway. Your home had only just begun to feel like yours again.

“Nice place. Guess that’s what being married to a doctor gets you.”

His crass comment made you feel stricken, flinching slightly as your practiced smile wavers. You aren’t Fuyumi, full of endless grace and forgiveness - you can’t fake it. You aren’t Natsuo who believes in the potential of people more than anyone you’ve ever met. You are you and right now you are angry. Clenching your fists in a way you hope is imperceptible, you fake a laugh and your husband looks at you with wide eyes, noticing your change in demeanor.

“Well, it’s your place too now. Guess that’s what being a doctor's brother gets you.”

Touya purses his lips and nods, arms folded across his chest. You look over his scars, his healed skin, his cold eyes. “Do you want to show him to his room, babe?” Natsuo asks, voice shaky, as if he’s anxious for your response. “I can find it myself,” Touya answers for you, heavy boots in his hands as he pads through your home toward where his room lies. You spent weeks helping Natsuo prepare it for him, filling it with photos and books to help him gain back the time he lost while he was away. The taste in your mouth is nothing short of bitter and sour as you think about it.

“I don’t know what that was about, I asked him no-,” you raise your hand, cutting your husband off mid sentence as your fake smile finally falls and gives way to a slight frown, corners of your mouth downturned. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Touya has always felt suspicious of you. Your intentions, your affections for his brother, your involvement with his family - it’s hard not to be uncertain about someone who fits so flawlessly in the dysfunctional outline created by being a Todoroki. What are you hiding? What do you want? 

He tosses his boots down on the floor of the room at the end of the hallway. Instinctually, he knows this is his space. Covered with childhood photos of the Todoroki family, a quilt he received as a child covering the bed, he wants to be impressed with the effort put in but instead he feels hollow. This life never fit him in the first place, happy smiles for photos and dinners and whatever the fuck was expected of him, and now he had no choice but to live it. 

It is a hell of a lot nicer than the four white walls that housed him for eight long years. The bed looks a lot more comfortable, he thinks as he settles down on the edge of it, lying back with his arms behind his head. Fixing his gaze on the ceiling, he takes a moment to think in the silence of the space. The entire car ride his brother talked about you and your life together. Touya eventually began to tune him out, watching the trees pass by the window with the occasional red light flashing on his monitoring anklet catching his attention.

Rehabilitated. The connotations of the word weighed heavily on Touya - one fuck up and it would be so easy for you to convice Natsuo to send him back. You could never understand him the way that his family does. You couldn’t forgive him the way they had either, something both of you would never communicate to each other. 

“Hey,” Natsuo’s voice rasps from the doorway and Touya sits up slightly, grunting his response. “You like it alright?”

“It’s fine.” 

Natsuo sighs, carefully entering the room and shutting the door behind him as he slumps down on the bed next to his brother, shoulders sagging beneath the weight of the huge change that has come over his otherwise peaceful life. “You don’t have to lie, Touya.”

Touya sits up, using his elbows to support his weight, and offers a half smile toward his brother. “I’m not lyin’, it’s fine. Just feels like too much.”

Natsuo nods, trying to tamp down his urge to play therapist instead of brother. It was something he did all too often growing up and probably why he has made fixing people his mission in life. Touya was no exception.

“It’s the least we can do. You’ve been through a lot.”

We, Touya thinks to himself. Always we. He wonders how much Natsuo has surrendered of himself for your sake. Does he have any hobbies besides being a doting husband? Is his world filled with anything besides this little bubble the two of you live in?

“Don’t act like she had anything to do with all of this, Natsu. I was released to you.”

Touya slips a hand in his jacket pocket and fishes around for his pack of cigarettes, popping one out of the packaging with expert precision and sticking it between his lips as his brother sits next to him silently. “Lemme guess, need to do this outside?” 

Natsuo nods and Touya sighs, sliding off of the bed and leaving a rumpled quilt behind him. Heavy footsteps trail down the hallway as he peers into the kitchen and notices the backdoor, quietly slipping through it only to be met with a glowing red cherry on the other side, smoke streaming from your mouth as you stand with a cigarette between your fingers.

“Didn’t take you for the type,” he starts, pulling his lighter from his pocket and clicking it until a bright flame catches the cigarette dangling from between his lips. Once upon a time he would’ve just used his quirk but the prescription blockers he was given by court order prevented that. “All he ever talks about is how perfect you are.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” you shoot back, flicking your cigarette ashes onto the ground below before taking another drag. 

The mutual distrust permeated the air between the two of you. Touya reminded you so much of your father in law it was like looking at another version of him. You reminded Touya of everything he hated about this world - false pretense and unattainable perfection. He doubts you have ever walked around without a hair out of place, a Todoroki would never.

“Any other deep dark secrets I should know before being trapped inside of this house with you 24 hours a day?”

You chuckle, dropping your cigarette on the ground and stomping it out, bending to pick up the butt once you’re done. 

“Your brother won't let me drink anymore,” you start, hoping the vulnerability warms your brother in law. His steely gaze convinces you otherwise and you begin to walk away, arms folded over your chest with a cigarette butt in your fist. “Just another fun part of the aftermath of your little warpath.”

Touya knows he fired the first shots but he’s taken aback at your accusatory tone. 

“Anything else you want to question me about? Figured the commission briefed you on all of my dirty laundry.”

He shakes his head and exhales smoke through the corner of his mouth, the plumes drifting in your direction. “Good chat, Touya.”

The back door slams as you enter your home through it, windows rattling slightly. Your first instinct is to pour a drink but the reminder of your rock bottom lingers on your mind as you instead toss your cigarette in the trash and turn down the hall and head to your bedroom, Natsuo sitting on the bed.

“Why does he hate me so much?”

You hate how hysterical your voice sounds, anxiety rising like bile. Rising to his feet, your husband gathers you against his chest and presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Give him time, he’ll warm up.”

You don’t share your husband’s boundless optimism as you hear the back door slam and hear footsteps heading to the bedroom opposite yours. Natsuo plants another soft kiss atop your hair and squeezes your hand gently as he walks back over to Touya’s room. 

“You alright?” Natsuo asks and Touya rolls his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across a hook on the back of the door. “Fine. Thanks for the concern.”

Natsuo slips through the door completely and closes it softly behind him, leaning against the solid wood.

“What happened out there?” 

Touya chuckles and shrugs, sitting on the bed in the same place he had left. “Nothing worth mentioning. I’ll make sure I keep my bottles hidden from her though.”

His eyes widened, Touya’s antagonistic tone nothing new, his shock coming from the fact you told him about your struggles with substance abuse in the first place. It wasn’t a secret but it certainly wasn’t a fun fact you gave out at trivia night. 

“Uh, yeah, thank you.” Natsuo fumbles through his words, unsure of the right thing to say. “That would be great. She has come a long way but there are still times that are difficult, especially when big changes occur.”

Your substance abuse issues began about a year after your marriage. Blissful happiness wasn’t enough to numb the intense pain of the years prior but copious amounts of whiskey while Natsuo was busy with work were good enough. Blind confidence convinced you he didn’t notice a thing, not your sunken eyes or decreased appetite, but he did and he confronted you as gently as he could.

The next day you started therapy of your own and have continued to go to meetings for others struggling with addiction since then. Nothing drastic has happened in your life since you quit drinking, calm falling over the Todoroki household, making it easier for you to maintain your wits.

He would never say it but Natsuo truly worried about your sobriety. Every time he left for a trip or wine was passed around at family dinner, he wondered if it would be the day you changed your mind. Sticking with you was easy, though. You did the same for him at his low point and he would never stop doing it for you.

“She smokes, you know that?”

Natsuo nods, Touya’s raspy voice breaking the silence caused by his brother’s overthinking. “Have to let her have one vice, you know?” 

“I think you forget that you weren’t the only person who had to live through that fucking horrifying life! It didn’t just go away when you did.”

Your voice cracks as you raise it at your brother in law, his turquoise eyes wide as he watches you yell with an intensity that leaves your hands shaking. He has never looked more like your husband than he does now, the same white hair sticking up on top of his head, his fingers carding through it and yanking the strands as he paces your living room floor. 

“There are times I don’t think you realize that your actions have always had consequences because you’ve truly faced so few of them,” you feel your face flame as Touya’s expression turns from surprised to angry. “You didn’t have to clean up the messes. I did.”

Seeing the similarities makes something inside of you crack, a piece of your heart perhaps, your chest heaving. Regret consumes your mind; you’ve gone too far. You struggle to catch your breath, rubbing your fingers over your cheeks to hide evidence of your tears. Silence blankets the room like a dense fog.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your voice sounds meek and thin even to your own ears, the screaming match you have been engaged in rendering your throat raw. Painfully, you swallow what little spit you can and shut your eyes tightly as you listen to Touya’s rhythmic footfalls. Taking a deep breath, you sink into an armchair and dab at your eyes with the back of your hands, opening them long enough to see Touya staring intently at you. You drop your hands and sigh. 

“I can’t imagine what you have been through,” you hiccup, warm tears sliding down your cheek and dripping onto your wrists where they sit in your lap. “But you weren’t the only one going through it and I hope your brother can forgive me for saying all of this to you.”

The white haired man remains silent as you rise from your chair, hands balled into fists at your sides. Your gaze turns directly to him and you sniffle, tears subsiding. 

“He has always loved you despite everything you’ve done, exactly as you are. Please remember that.”

The words feel cathartic to say aloud, astute eyes narrowing to watch you as you turn on your heel and begin to walk away. Your tense posture tells him exactly how you feel about the entire situation and you reason that giving Touya space seems like the best option to end the strange battle of wills the two of you have found yourselves in. 

The gravelly sound of Touya’s voice from over your shoulder stops you in your tracks. 

“Then I owe it to him to try.”

There is no apology to be found in the words but you swear you can feel it as he says them, looking over your shoulder. For the first time you don’t see Dabi or Touya, you see someone completely new - your brother in law. A blank canvas, someone you could perhaps get to know under better circumstances. 

“We both owe it to him,” you respond as you turn around and make your way back to the chair you were sitting in moments ago, sitting stiffly against the back of the chair, shoulders still held tensely by your ears. “But how do we begin?”

Touya sighs and sits opposite you, rubbing his hands over his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

“Hi, I’m Touya.” You laugh for the first time in a week and he can’t hide the half smile that comes across his face. “I did some fucked up things and spent eight years paying for them but I fucking love my family.” He stomps his foot, emphasizing his point. “That includes you now so we better get our shit together, yeah?”

Another tear falls as you nod, a watery smile settling over your features.

“Yeah, we should.”

A year later, when you think of your brother in law Touya, a memory from your childhood comes to your mind.

You are six, maybe seven and at the zoo. Your parents hold both of your hands dutifully to make sure you don’t run off, squeezing your tiny palms between theirs as you excitedly gasp and croon at birds, snakes, and butterflies. A flamingo makes you shout, a duck makes you quack.

Steps slow down as the three of you approach a large glass enclosure. “Black panther - panthera pardus” says the sign extending from the ground in front of the glass. You don’t know that, of course, until your dad reads it aloud to you, asking you to repeat the name.

“Panthera,” you repeat, a tiny voice bouncing back at you off of the glass.

As if you summoned the cat itself, it appears and you flinch. Black, lithe, wild eyed with muscles wound so tightly you can see the shape and size of each of them. You wonder if the panther knows how to relax, the same way your mom tells you to when you cry too hard. Maybe he needs to take a deep breath. 

“Why does he look so nervous?” 

In your young mind, the question surfaced before you had time to think about it. Of course he’s nervous, you reason, all of these people are staring at him like the attraction that he is. A dazzling thing to see locked between four glass walls. 

“He isn’t nervous honey, he’s probably just thinking about what he would do if he were outside with us.”

Pondering your mom's polite whisper, you nod and accept the answer. Grown ups always know best anyway. 

As a keeper enters the enclosure and carefully stalks toward the cat, your eyes widen in surprise. How can he let someone so close? You wonder if you could ever get that close to him. To see the sunlight in his fur just enough to reveal the spots under the dark of his coat or to watch his ears twitch as he listens for sounds of danger. Would he ever trust you? Could you trust him?

The crowd around the glass increases in size, delighted whoops as the keeper dangles the cleaned carcass of a large bird above the panther. You drink in the way he crouches and springs, tight muscles unwinding for a moment as large paws capture the food between them. 

A sight you’ll never forget.

A sight you see as Touya stalks through the living room of your home, tightly running his fingers through his hair. Muscles taut, standing and walking but trying to simultaneously fold in on himself.

“What the fuck would they even want to talk about?”

You sigh, shrugging at his words. The “they'' in question is the Commission and one year after his monitored release, he has been asked to return before the panel and answer some questions. Natsuo sits next to you on the floor in front of the chabudai, sorting through the papers sent to him to review ahead of Touya’s scheduled meeting. The three of you only found out about the date today.

“I dunno, Touya,” your husband shoots a bit impatiently toward his brother. “Let me read this and then I’ll tell you.”

Silently, you watch as he scans the documents, flipping them between his fingers. You hear the heavy pounding of Touya’s footsteps across the floor, reverberating through the otherwise silent room. Your house is too quiet. There is no crowd to filter out the silence.

“Potential restoration of privileges,” you hear Natsuo mutter from beside you. He continues to read to himself and you wonder what that truly entails. Would Touya be released from his supervised period completely? Would he be allowed to wander more than 50 feet away from his guardians? 

“God Natsu, read faster.”

Natsuo’s eyes shoot a frosty glance toward Touya from over the top of the papers in his hands. Placing them on the table, your husband sighs.

“They want to see your progress and maybe give you a little more freedom.”

Touya freezes in place for a mere second before turning on his heel and rushing to the edge of the table to snatch the documents and look over them, brows furrowed in concern that this is some evil trick the two of you have decided to pull on him. Revenge for the last twelve months of him and his fits, his angry words, his snarling. 

You’ve realized during the months he’s more meow than he is hiss.

“But,” Natsuo starts, clearing his throat, Touya tossing the papers back on the table and interrupting his brother with a clear as day “fuck!”, beginning to pace once again. “We have to give testimony.”

The royal we is something Touya has hated since the day he moved into your home. It always makes him feel as if it’s two against one, no separation between yourself and Natsuo and how you feel about the situation. He assumes if you’re mad at him, his brother is too. If you’re frustrated with Touya drinking the last of your nice matcha, Natsuo must be too. If you’re angry at Touya for dying his hair black in your bathtub and staining the shiny white tiles, Natsuo must be too.

He’s wrong about that, of course, his brother never holding any of his minor blunders against him. You don’t either but it would be tougher to convince Touya to believe that than it would be to build a house by hand, despite the tentative peace that exists between the two of you. You’ve allowed him into your home, your world, your once peaceful little family and have found that you are better for it. Natsuo is better for it. But there will always be a level of distrust. 

Like that panther you think of so often, Touya must wonder what it would be like to be free and trusted. 

“Touya, I don’t know how to say this,” Natsuo says, trying to keep his tone even and calm despite how anxious you know he must be feeling. You feel your stomach drop as well, balling the fabric of your linen pants between your palms to keep your hands from shaking. You looked at the date on the documents and noticed that it was a day you knew he’d be unavailable, working on a particularly tough case with multiple children from one family. “I can’t do it.”

Touya chuckles, a bitter and hollow sound that makes you flinch. “Of course not.”

“She can, though.”

Unexpectedly, Touya’s bitter chuckle turns into a belly laugh. You wonder if he’ll double over from the strength of it, scarred hands clutching his middle. Natsuo stands, approaching his brother carefully.

“Her?” He points at you and you feel like the one being questioned. Despite the grasp on the thighs of your pants, your hands do shake and your fingers slip. “She probably wishes I would have died every single day despite the little “play nice” bullshit she does for your sake.”

Gasping at the accusation, you hope he can’t see the way your eyes glance downward. You had assumed the two of you were past this, arguments coming to a halt around six months ago when you told him you simply didn’t have the energy for them anymore. 

You then began taking him to pick up cigarettes every other day, riding in your car together silently but comfortably. His fingers always drum against his thighs impatiently and you clear your throat, mouth dry until you arrive. You have to be close to him the entire time but you linger on the edges of the small shop in your neighborhood, giving the elderly shopkeeper time to fuss over Touya the way he needs. 

The two of you then silently ride back to your home.

“How could you say that, Touya?”

Much like the smaller version of you felt compelled to speak outside of the gleaming panther exhibit, you do the same now. Your voice sounds weak, thin, defeated. Natsuo rushes to your side, kneeling back down and placing one of his large arms around your shoulder.

“Oh here we go, gotta rush to defen -” 

Touya’s words are cut off by a sharp glance from his brother, a look he has never seen before. Smothering all of the fire inside of him, hurting the one person who has endlessly forgiven him, he is doused by humility.

“I don’t hate you,” you look up and see Touya’s turquoise eyes that are narrowed and hard staring directly at you. “I don’t wish you were dead,” you continue as you shrug your husband’s arm off of you and begin to stand. “In fact, I was stupid and thought we were finally fucking past all of this!”

Punctuating your shout with a frustrated grunt, you stomp off down the hallway and leave the brothers to figure it out amongst themselves. Natsuo would simply have to find a way to make the date work for him because you couldn’t bring yourself to beg the Commission to be merciful toward someone who detests you so much. You aren’t a big enough person for that, lacking the careful compassion of your husband.

“Are you fucking serious, Touya?”

Natsuo cursing at his brother makes his steely gaze falter, eyes glancing downward toward the floor. Touya remembers a time you went too far, not long after he first moved into your home, and he feels guilty knowing he has done the same.

“Whatever,” Touya responds dismissively as he stomps off. 

Natsuo hears the back door slam and rubs his hand over his face, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. He’s transported back to 12 long months ago when he didn’t even want to be in the same room as the two of you, the tension making him incapable of dealing with his own uncertainty about the ability to rehabilitate his brother. 

As Touya steps outside into the cool air, far less suffocating than the inside of the house, he fishes around in his pockets for his lighter and mutters obscenities as he realizes it is inside. Of course, he still can’t use his quirk thanks to the very strong suppressants he has to take daily as part of his release, so he flings the door back open and stomps inside. 

Hearing hushed muttering from the living room, he closes the door quietly and creeps to the doorway of the kitchen. He shoves himself against the wall, trying to hide from view as he hears your voice.

“I don’t understand why he won’t give me a chance, Natsu.”

His brother sighs and Touya sinks further against the wall. He knows the sound - fed up, frustrated, struggling. Natsuo is the last person he ever wanted to create those feelings in and shame, a bit of an unfamiliar feeling for him, creeps up his spine and makes his stomach turn. 

“You didn’t exactly make the best first impression, of course he doesn’t completely trust you.”

Natsuo’s words make you blow out air in frustration. Touya can’t see you, but he imagines you look as downtrodden as you always have after these little battles. His brother’s defense of his behavior is surprising, though, and he idly rubs his thumb across one of the graft scars on his hands.

“I know,” you relent with a sniff. “I know.”

Your words shift Touya’s perspective, precious humility trickling over him and making his left eye twitch - a stress reflex he tried to hide for years. 

You were the first person who noticed it and on your usual trip to the small store to pick up his cigarettes after, you passed him a box of anti-inflammatory medication and a bottle of eyedrops wordlessly as you buckled into your seat. He hasn’t twitched since.

Acknowledging the hurt you’ve caused is the first step of atonement, he remembers reading in a book Natsuo brought him while he was still locked up.

He peeks from around the wall, stretching his arms over his head and locking his fingers on the back of his skull, buried in poorly dyed black hair. Natsuo looks up through his light eyelashes at his brother who approaches carefully, settling on the opposite side of the table from where the pair of you sit.

“You can do it.”

The words are simple and cause both you and Natsuo to look up. Touya refuses to meet your puffy eyes and rises back to standing as quickly as he sat, slapping the tabletop once before skulking down the hallway to grab his lighter.

You and Natsuo resolve not to ask questions, with only two weeks until the panel meets time is of the essence and your testimony will be key to helping Touya if you choose to help him. 

Sitting in front of the panel is more nerve-wracking than you expected. A group of five familiar faces all staring at you with discerning eyes as you shuffle the hand-written pages of your testimony between your fingers.

These people have rummaged through your home on more than one occasion, interviewed all of your close friends and family, sifted through every piece of your dirty laundry and you’re at their mercy once again but this time you’re more willing.

“You may begin as you wish, Todoroki-san.”

Nodding respectfully toward the head of the panel, you clear your throat and exhale as you look down at the papers in your hands. You can feel Touya looking at you from across the room, Fuyumi and Shouto seated beside him and Rei on the other side of his sister, but refuse to look up at them for fear it’ll make the little courage you’ve summoned disappear.

“When Touya first moved into our home, I was uncertain of his ability to be rehabilitated.”

You spent the last two weeks reading this exact same speech to Natsuo, rehearsing it in your bedroom while pacing across the floor. The ink on the page is smeared in places from wet tears that dripped down onto the paper, black bleeding into blue and drying into rippled and raised spots. Those spots remind you of Touya, the way he has woven his way into part of your everyday existence. 

“The process of allowing him into our lives felt very invasive. Respectfully, our lives were torn apart in preparation for him. Our home was combed through, our mail was intercepted, my husband was followed by a member of this committee on his way home from the clinic he tirelessly uses as a means to help others on more than one occasion.”

You keep your tone even to avoid sounding accusatory. These are all facts the Commission themselves have confirmed via their own documentation but standing in the face of the very force that can decide your future as well as Touya’s is more intimidating than you expected.

“The day Touya moved in, our lives shifted in a way that no amount of preparation could have made us anticipate. Difficult interpersonal dynamics forced us to take a good hard look at the future of our family and the future of what we desired for Touya. How did we want his rehabilitation to look?”

Taking a breath, you look up from the sheet of paper for a moment to meet Touya’s gaze and it strikes you as odd to see something almost tender. You sniff, nose twitching, vowing to hold yourself together until you’re alone or with Fuyumi or anywhere but sitting in front of people who have made their living off of judging, doling out punishment, changing lives for better or worse.

“While we’ve had many difficult times, I am not here to talk about the difficulty I caused Touya with my inability to coexist for the first several months. Rehabilitation takes a team and I was not a team player,” you pause and hear shuffling from the seats across the room. “Despite this, Touya has dedicated himself to improvement and has continually adhered to every request the commission put forth in the original terms of his release.”

While you don’t want to continue to air out your dirty laundry, there is a therapeutic feeling in knowing you’re publicly admitting to handling things wrong. In front of Natsuo’s family, nonetheless. Touya’s family. Your family. 

At the end of this lies the fact that you are all a family and forgiveness is inherently woven through the relationships and bonds you share.

“It is the recommendation of both my husband and I that Touya’s privileges of release be expanded upon, including reduction of supervision and permission to travel to the homes of his mother and siblings independently if he chooses.”

Rising to your feet, you bow before the panel once more before walking toward the back of the room and quietly exiting as they take time to deliberate and make their decision. 

Touya rises and comes to the front of the room, standing before them. He hates the way he feels, like a caged animal with his muscles tensed, in a suit that doesn’t even belong to him because why the fuck would he ever own a suit? The sleeves are too long, it is Shouto’s after all, and he pulls the cuffs over his hands with his thumbs.

The panel head speaks and the room is so quiet you’re even unnerved from the other side of the door. Pressing your ear to the wood, you listen.

“Our decision will not be immediate. You can expect further communication from the panel in the coming weeks. As of right now, your terms of release remain the same until you are otherwise notified. Thank you for your time today, Todoroki-san.”

Touya bows and joins his family, missing the member he wishes to see the most.

You back away from the door as you hear the knob turn and rest against the wall, arms over your chest as you greet your in-law’s with a subdued smile. 

“Natsu will be so proud of you!” Fuyumi beams, rubbing your bicep in a comforting gesture. You just shrug, unable to speak. You exchange a few additional pleasantries with Shouto and Rei, wishing them goodbye as they leave you and Touya standing on opposite sides of the hallway.

“It’s okay, you know.”

Touya’s voice is a rasp, as always, and you look up through your eyelashes at him. Fiddling uncomfortably with the cuff of your shirt in the same way he’s been fiddling with his own cuffs all day, it just further emphasizes the similarities you share. It isn’t just love for Natsuo you have in common anymore.

“None of this shit has been easy and you’ve done your best. I’m not exactly a fuckin’ easy person to get along with.”

You chuckle, tension diffusing.

“I think you’re going soft, Touya.”

He chuckles back and your eyes meet, the two of you walking toward the center of the hallway to leave the building together and walk back to your car. Your footsteps are quiet and so are his, both of you slumping as you saunter out of the door and into the bright midday sun.

“Nah, just tired of being an asshole all the time.”

The news comes as you stand at your kitchen sink, Touya bent over as you help him rinse black hair dye down the drain. Your hands are wet, his shirt is soaked, but you agreed to help him after noticing a huge white patch still at the back of his head from his attempts to do it himself. 

“I dunno why you want it to be black so bad, don’t you want to look like Natsu?”

Touya snorts and the sound echoes through the steel basin. “I have to keep a little edge. Let me live.” You shut off the clean running water, allowing the dark droplets to work their way out of your sink. There was more rinsing to do but you wanted to be sure of how much more.

“It’s here!” Natsuo shouts from the doorway and you hear his hurried, large footsteps trek into the room, ripping of paper ringing in your ears.

You want to leave Touya’s side and go to Natsuo, to read over his arm, to see for yourself but you resolve to be patient and continue to lightly massage Touya’s scalp. He needs comfort right now, you can tell.

“Expansion of privileges,” Natsuo mutters to himself, scanning the page as quickly as he can. “Unsupervised access to other family homes! Holy shit!” 

Tossing the papers onto the counter, your husband bolts toward you and wraps his arms around your waist. “No, no, no,” you chant as he picks you up and you accidentally pull Touya’s wet strands of hair. He yelps and you let go, hissing apologetically.

“God Natsuo, down boy.”

Your snarky brother-in-law draws a giggle from you as your husband presses a kiss against your cheek and reaches down to slap him on the back. “Do you wanna tell mom or should I?” Touya looks up, head still dripping, and rolls his eyes at his brother. “I could just show up at her house, that’d have more impact.”

Wiggling away from Natsuo, you reach for the towel on the counter and wrap it around Touya’s neck so he can sit up and not drip black water all over your floor. He gives silent thanks in the form of a tight half smile and you smile back, stepping away to let the brothers converse about how they’re going to break the news to their siblings.

As you watch the two of them, the panther and his handler once again come back to your mind. 

The reason that the handler was able to come so close to the cat is because he trusted him. The cat could learn to trust others, to let people in, to let them be on his side. You won’t have to wonder if you could have gained the panther’s trust any longer and he won’t have to wonder what it’s like to be on the outside with the rest of us. 

[qsmpbutwithsignlanguage]

Okay. Let's talk, QSMPblr, because I want to talk.

The Brazilian side of this fandom is actually insane. If nobody else has said it yet (which I highly doubt, but I'll put it out there anyway), then I will.

You guys are some of the smartest, most die-hard, committed fans I've met. And you're insanely positive, which might seem like a weird thing to say, but I feel like I've seen it anyway. On that note.

I've talked about this fanfiction in the past, so if you saw that post, you'll know what I'm getting into here. But I want to delve into this a bit more.

'The Reason' by Nan_Yelo is the most kudosed work of fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese, period. It is in a fandom that has only existed since March of 2023, up against the translated version of the most kudosed fanfiction on AO3 (All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 translated into All the Young Dudes by wolfuckingstar) and multiple other fandoms and fanfictions that have existed far, far longer. Every time I find the fanfic again, I am continuously flabbergasted that it got to where it was.

However, its placement in kudos is not its only astonishing accomplishment. I've talked about it's kudos. I've lamented and waxed poetry about its kudos until the night turned to day and I reached my mental QSMP limit (which is astonishingly high, might I say). But the kudos are not the only place where 'The Reason' has done astonishingly well.

Clocking in 88,844 words, 128 comments (including one of my own, awkwardly gushing about the fanfiction in English because my Portuguese can let me say the word 'cheese' and 'I don't speak Portuguese, sorry'), 143 bookmarks, 35,035 hits, and probably most notably, 1,628 kudos, 'The Reason' is honestly a record-breaking fanfiction in more ways than one.

It is about a fandom that has only existed since March of 2023, and about a duo that really only came around in April of that same year.

It is the tenth most kudosed fanfiction under the QSMP tag, which I think is actually insane. Officially, the QSMP has thirty-four streamers displayed on its members page, plus Quackity's Spanish channel and the straight up QSMP streaming account. Of this five are Brazilian. Slightly more than 1/7th of the total streamers. One former member was also Brazilian, so adding them into the mix would bump that number up to 6/35, or a bit more than 17%. Not half, not a quarter, not even a fifth of the total number of streamers.

And despite this fact, in spite of this fact, fanfiction about the Brazilian members of the QSMP has been some of the most popular in the fandom.

That out of the way, not only is 'The Reason' the most kudosed Brazilian Portuguese fanfiction, it is also the most kudosed Portuguese fanfiction period.

Compare it to the most kudosed European Portuguese fanfiction available to a user logged in on AO3, 'E Depois do Adeus (And After Goodbye)' by Palacios_Modernos.

244 kudos, and the most kudosed European Portuguese fanfiction. Then look at 'The Reason'. 1,628, meaning that 'The Reason' is the singular most kudosed fanfiction in any type of Portuguese published on AO3. (I have checked Uncategorized Constructed Languages and the other language tabs for any other registered types of Portuguese, and none exist, meaning that European Portuguese and Brazilian Portuguese are the only two out there to look at).

It is the second most bookmarked fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese, at 143 bookmarks, which is only 15 below the most bookmarked fanfiction in Brazilian Portuguese (Rainha de Sothoryos by MarVermelho), which has has less than half the kudos and 10,000 less hits.

Comparing these two fanfictions to the most bookmarked fanfiction in European Portuguese, which clocks in at 33, this can also claim its title as the second most bookmarked fanfiction in Portuguese period.

And when it comes to hits, 'The Reason' clocks in at fourth out of all Portuguese fanfiction available to a user signed into AO3.

This fanfiction is six months old, part of a fandom that has been around since March of 2023, up against three fanfictions from Harry Potter, a franchise that has been around for decades (yeah, I'm going there, I'll make everyone feel old if I feel like it). And it is genuinely record breaking in every definition of the word.

Is this post long as fuck? Yes. Is it entirely deserved? Absolutely.

Go read it, because 'The Reason' is actually insane. It has been fully translated into English and partially translated into Spanish as of February 19th, 2023, and it's honestly beautiful.

[willalove75]

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc Chapter 5

Summary: You have a relaxing weekend with your daughter before your first full week of work begins - and it begins with a surprise visitor and a spontaneous conversation with your new boss.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: fluff, angst if you squint, plot development

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: Chapter 5! In reference to the gif: if you know. You know. BECSPK gang 4 lyfeee💕 (Although my go-to is egg whites and bacon on a seedless🤤)

I want to SO apologize for not updating this fic in MONTHS! For those of you who haven't seen my Alcina's New Maid update (or my Tumblr post update) the reason for my lack of writing has been because I'm pregnant! I'm officially 20 weeks (halfway! WOO!) and have been trying to get myself back into a regular writing schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!

Ik slow burns can be boring and I'm trying my hardest to keep it entertaining while also not rushing too much!! I have a LOT planned for this fic and I'm excited to get into the meat and potatoes of it!

Gif source

Saturday mornings are your favorite. They're usually relatively quiet, not a lot goes on and you get to spend some lazy quality time with Emma. Just as you're clipping her into her booster seat your phone dings with a text message.

Open the door, bitch

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the door and open it to find your sister, Sam, standing in front of you with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Finally!" She says as she walks into the apartment.

"How long were you standing out there for? Thirty seconds?"

"Thirty seconds too long!" She says over her shoulder as she drops the bag onto the table and leans down to kiss Emma. "Hello my sweet little angel, how are you this morning?"

"Auntie! I'm hungry!"

"You didn't eat yet, did you?" She asks you as she opens the paper bag.

The smell of bacon immediately fills the kitchen and it makes your mouth water. The signature scent of an egg sandwich causes your stomach to growl in response.

"No, I was just about to make Emma something. Fuck that smells so good." You say under your breath. "Where are the kids?"

"Good, I got you a sandwich. And Tyler has them today. It's his weekend." Sam says.

"Ah, gotcha."

Sam hands you a sandwich from the bag and you eagerly take it from her.

"I don't think I've ever loved you more in my life."

"Ha ha" Sam sarcastically laughs. "Yeah I'm sure."

After whipping up Emma eggs of her own you sit at the table with Sam and dig into your sandwich.

"God I haven't had one of these in a minute."

"Consider this a 'congratulations on getting a job' gift." She says and you laugh in response. "How was it?"

"It was good, I keep saying this but it's really great to be back working and doing my thing. I missed it."

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. How are the people?"

"They're good, my boss is really nice, her kids for the most part are nice too. The CFO is kind of an ass, at least that's how he comes off."

"That sounds about right. Your boss' kids work there?"

"Yeah." You tell her about Bela, Cassandra and Daniela and she chuckles at Cassandra's attitude towards you.

"She sounds like a ray of sunshine." Sam says.

"You have no idea."

"Mommy! I want out!" Emma says.

"Okay baby, let's get you out."

You take Emma out of her booster seat and set her on the ground.

"Can I go play?"

"Yes baby, go ahead."

"YAY!" Emma screams as she runs into her room. You chuckle and shake your head at her.

"Well I'm glad you're liking it so far and that your boss is pretty cool. Have you told her about...?"

"No, not yet. It's too soon."

"She hasn't questioned why you've been out of work for two years?"

"Oh no, she has. But I danced around it. I'm not ready to talk about it in the office yet. It's nice not having people look at me the way they do once they find out, you know?"

"Not really, but I can understand. Is she at least understanding that you're a single mom?"

"Well, she just found that out yesterday, on accident really. Bela asked if Em was a mommy or daddy's girl."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. But I think I played it off well enough. And Bela definitely felt bad for asking because she blurted out that Alcina is a single mother too."

"Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah. Alcina shot her a look. A 'don't tell people about our personal lives' kind of look. Then before I left for the day she thanked me for being so kind to her daughters, especially the youngest one. It was really sweet."

"From what you've said she doesn't seem like the type to get sentimental with her employees like that."

"She isn't. I honestly don't know if she's ever showed anyone else in the office that side of her before. Everything is always strictly business with her, at least from what I've seen so far. But it was nice seeing that softer side of her."

"What does she look like?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm nosey and want to know!"

"I don't know, she's tall, like six feet tall and she wears heels."

"Holy shit she must be a giant."

"She is. She has short curly hair, really pretty blue-grey eyes. I've never seen eyes like hers before, they're beautiful. And she has the best figure I've ever seen, it's almost fake but you know it isn't."

"How so?"

"She has like, massive tits." You say as you imitate the size of her breasts with your hands. "And a small waist, but not like, too small? Nothing about this woman is small honestly. She has a like, perfect hour glass figure. But you can tell it's all natural. And she dresses like she walked out of the 1950s."

"Sounds like you've looked her over on more than one occasion." Sam says as she smirks at you.

"You would too if you saw her! Practically everyone does. She gives off this crazy alpha energy."

"You're single, right?"

"Oh god Sam stop. She's my boss!" You say as your cheeks turn pink.

"That hasn't stopped people before!"

"You're ridiculous. No."

"You're turning red!"

"I've been there three days! I can't have a crush on my boss! Plus, just because she's a single parent doesn't mean she isn't seeing anyone. And I doubt she's into women and she's. My. Boss."

"Whatever you say." Sam says with a smirk as she cleans up the table.

"You are a pain in my ass."

"Yet you love me anyway. So how's sassy pants downstairs?"

"Margie? She's fine, same as usual. She finally gave up driving, thank god."

"Oh fucking finally. Deb's been trying to convince her mother to stop driving for years. What made her finally give in?"

"Well, a few months ago she ran into the garage door."

"Oh Jesus."

"So she bargained. She said she would stop driving if she could start smoking again."

Sam laughs out loud and shakes her head. "She is stubborn as fuck."

"The most stubborn woman I know."

Sam hangs out with you and Emma for a few more hours before heading out. Around one in the afternoon you put Emma down for a nap and you decide to jump in the shower. After your shower you get dressed and clean the house a little. Emma only naps for an hour and a half before you go in and wake her up.

The weather is finally warming up so you decide it's the perfect day to head to the park nearby. Emma squeals with excitement when you pull up and you can barely keep up with her as she runs to the slide. There's a few other kids at the park with their parents watching close by. You keep an eye on Emma as she goes up and down the slide a few times before growing bored of it and moving to play on the jungle gym.

Kids and their parents come and go as you sit on the bench watching your daughter. Dinner time is slowly arriving so you tell Emma she can go on the slide three more times before it's time to go home. After the third time she puts up a little bit of a fight but the moment you suggest going and getting dinner from her favorite place, she's more than eager to leave.

After pulling into the parking lot you and Emma enter the 1950's-style diner. The hostess seats the two of you and when your waitress comes you place your order. Not long after the food comes out and you start on your sandwich as Emma munches on her chicken fingers. Emma squeals with excitement when you tell her that she's allowed to get an ice cream and she happily orders a vanilla sundae, you of course also order one for yourself.

As usual, Emma is wearing her ice cream by the time she's finished with it but truthfully, you couldn't care less. After getting the check and paying at the register you and Emma head home.

Once Emma is bathed and dressed in her pajamas, the two of you pick out a book, as you do every night, and you read her the story as she falls asleep.

The rest of the weekend flies by and before you know it, Monday is back again. After dropping Emma off at your in-laws house you make your way to the estate.

Walking inside you see Cassandra and one of the other bartenders prepping the bar for the day. You wave at them, Cassandra as per usual ignores you but the other bartender, Dave, waves at you with a smile and a pleasant "good morning!"

Rounding the corner towards the offices you spot Chris and Alcina talking in the hallway. Alcina is leaning up against the wall inspecting her fresh manicure, looking like she couldn't be more uninterested in whatever Chris was talking about if she tried.

When the sound of your shoes against the floor reaches her ears her eyes flick up towards you. A bright smile stretches across her lips and she pushes herself off of the wall and steps towards you.

Chris stops speaking mid-sentence and gives Alcina a look. She returns the look and says to him "I already told you you can go ahead with the project, I don't need you to continue to bore me with details that are irrelevant." before turning away.

"Good morning." You say.

"Good morning Kathleen. How was your weekend?"

"It was good, quiet but relaxing. How was yours?"

"Excellent. My weekend was busy, as usual, but pleasant."

Just as you go to speak you're interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed open in the tasting room. A second later a voice rings through the tasting room and down the hall.

"DELIVERY FOR HER HIGHNESS!"

Alcina's head snaps in the direction of the room, her eyes narrow and you hear a low growl rumble in her chest.

"If you'll excuse me." She says through gritted teeth. You notice a vein in her neck begin to pulse and she storms towards the noise.

"Oh this will be good." Chris says with a little excitement in his voice.

"What? What was that?"

"You're gonna want to see this." He says with a smile as he walks in the direction Alcina took off in. You drop your bag at your desk and head towards the direction Chris and Alcina went off to.

Alcina opens the doors to the tasting room and her vision turns red. Waltzing into the room is her brother, Karl, making his way towards the bar.

"Cassie, hook your uncle up will ya?" He says, taking a seat.

"Heisenberg." Alcina hisses.

"Ah, there she is!" He says as he puts his feet up on the bar.

Alcina smacks his feet off and glares down at him.

"Do you not have any manners?" She says as her eyes flash with rage.

"What? I'd think you'd be more appreciative that I worked so hard to finish whatever the hell it was you asked me to make."

You walk into the tasting room behind Chris and watch as Alcina stands next to a slightly disheveled man. He's wearing a stained t-shirt with baggy pants and boots. A hat, sunglasses, and a trench coat.

He goes to grab the drink that was set in front of him, ignoring the fact that Alcina is practically shaking with anger. He takes a long sip of the beer he was given and pulls out a cigar, sticking it between his chapped lips. As he goes to grab a lighter from his pocket, Alcina snatches the cigar from his mouth and breaks it in half, dumping it onto the counter in front of him.

"The fuck was that for?!"

"You cannot smoke in here!"

"You're such a fucking buzzkill." He mutters, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from the bottle. "Cassie I don't know how the fuck you put up with this shit every goddamn day."

Cassandra snickers and Alcina shoots daggers at her. Rolling her eyes at her mother, Cassandra turns around and continues putting away the glasses.

Karl finishes off his beer and lets out an obnoxiously loud burp. Alcina scrunches her face in disgust and wafts the air between them away from her.

"You are a truly vile human being." She says.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry I don't meet your standards, princess." He replies. "Hey Cass, get me another round will ya?" He says, slapping his hand down on the bar.

"Absolutely not." Alcina says. "I will not have you come in here, make a scene, drink all of our imported beers and pay not as much as a dime for them. Up! Go," she says, shooing him away from the bar. "get the table and get the hell out of my establishment!"

"Someone's in a great fuckin' mood this morning. What happened, woke up on the wrong side of your coffin?"

"Karl you are testing the very little patience I have left." She says through her teeth.

"Hah! You? Having patience? I didn't know you were a comedian."

Alcina squeezes her eyes shut and rubs at her temples as Karl gets up and starts to head towards the door. As he turns around he sees you and Chris standing near the door leading to the offices.

"Ho shit! If it ain't the fancy CFO himself!" Karl belts across the tasting room before meeting Chris halfway. "Howya doin' ya son of a bitch?" He says, shaking his hand.

"Karl my man!" Chris says. "I've been good, keepin' busy. How about yourself?"

"Hope slenderwoman hasn't been too rough on ya!" He says before laughing too loud, earning another eye roll from Alcina. "And not bad, not bad. Your boss here commissioned some kind of table from me so I'm just droppin' it off. Nice excuse to ruffle a few feathers too if you know what I mean." He says, nudging Chris in the ribs and laughing. "And who is this little lady here?" He says, looking over at you.

Not a second later you hear Alcina's heels stomping in your direction, looking up you see her eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

"I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

"Karl Heisenberg," he says, taking your hand in his. "the pleasure is all mine." He gives you a small bow before kissing the back of your hand and letting it go.

The action took you by surprise a bit and you swore you saw steam come out of Alcina's ears as she walks up behind him. Karl lets your hand go and Alcina grabs him by the back of his jacket and begins to pull him away.

"Will you keep your filthy hands off of my staff? God only knows when the last time you washed them!" She hisses before whipping him around and pushing him towards the door. "Go!"

"What?! Is this how you treat family here?! What kind of establishment is this?!"

"One I will have you removed from if you don't get that table this instant!"

"Alright, alright! Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm going, I'm going!"

Alcina lets out a huff and brings her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. After gathering herself she turns back towards you and Chris and makes her way over.

"I do apologize for my little brother, he is quite feral."

"Ah come on Alci, he isn't so bad!" Chris says and Alcina shoots him a glare.

"I told you, do not call me that. And that man is insufferable at best." She turns towards you. "I do apologize for his behavior."

"Don't worry about it, really, it's okay." You say with a smile.

The doors open once more and you can hear Karl barking orders to the guys lugging the table in. Alcina physically cringes as they bang into the doorframe while trying to get it inside.

"Ay! Watch it! That table is worth more than what you get paid in a month!" Karl yells.

"If you will excuse me." Alcina says before making her way over to the men and directs them where to go.

Both you and Chris take that as your cue to leave so the two of you head back to your offices.

"Told ya you'd wanna see that." He says with a satisfied smirk.

"See what? Ms. Dimitrescu and her brother?"

"Yeah! I've never seen anyone else be able to get her riled up so easily. Just his presence is enough to make the woman lose her shit."

"I guess." You say

It aggravated you a little seeing Chris find so much enjoyment from watching Alcina get frustrated and riled up. If anything, you felt bad for the woman. Luckily you and your sister got along great but it would probably piss you off too if you had a sibling that was to blatantly rude and dismissive in your place of work. If anything it's probably as embarrassing as it is annoying.

The rest of the walk back to your office was quiet, much to your surprise Chris seemed to get the hint that you weren't in the mood to revel in Alcina's misery and didn't say anything else. When you sat down at your desk you finally able to get started on today's work.

A few minutes later you hear heels on the tiled floor and see Alcina walk past your office. She looked less than thrilled for the couple of seconds you were able to see her. The door to her office opens and a minute later you hear it close and she walks past you again. Thinking nothing of it, you dive back into answering emails.

Once your inbox was taken care of you go to check your to-do list to see what you needed to prioritize for the day. Digging through your bag you realize you must have left your notebook in the car so you grab your keys and head out the side door towards the parking lot.

As you open the door the smell of fresh air quickly changes into the smell of cigarette smoke. Looking over, you see Alcina leaning up against the brick wall with a cigarette perched between two fingers.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were out here." You say as you close the door behind you.

"No need to apologize. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just left my notebook in my car." You reply.

Alcina brings the cigarette to her perfectly painted red lips and takes a long drag before pulling it away. She turns her head away from you and exhales the smoke. Usually you found smoking to be unattractive but somehow every single thing this woman does is attractive as hell. You'd put money on the fact that she could shovel a pile of shit and still look good while doing it.

You make your way to your car and find your notebook on the floor of the passenger side. Walking back over to Alcina you notice her eyes are still on you.

"I didn't know you smoked." You say as you walk up to her and immediately wish you kept your mouth shut. Why would you say that? What a stupid thing to say.

Alcina chuckles as she takes another drag before exhaling again.

"Yes, it's truly a disgusting habit I've yet to break. I had been doing well, however, my brother certainly knows how to get under my skin."

"I get that, siblings definitely know how to rile each other up."

"He is a man-child. A petulant fool." She grumbles.

As you chuckle a van drives by and slows down. In the drivers seat you see Karl. He blares on his horn a few times as he drives by, causing both you and Alcina to jump. Your hands fly up to your ears and Alcina visibly winces at the noise.

"Nenorocitul acela." Alcina grumbles under her breath as she sticks her pinky in her ear. (That fucking moron).

She takes another drag from her cigarette and looks over at you.

"You said your daughter is starting daycare this week?"

Her question took you by surprise for a second, you definitely weren't expecting Alcina to remember that from the conversation you had last week.

"Yes! She starts tomorrow." You say with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. Truthfully, you were excited that Emma was going to spend time with other children her age and be able to socialize more, but the thought of sending her to daycare also gave you a lot of anxiety.

Alcina notices your apprehension even though you hide it well in your voice. It brought her back to when the girls were little and she sent them off to daycare for the first time. Granted, it was more of a private school than daycare, but leaving the girls behind and going to work was still anxiety-inducing for her.

"Nervous?" She asks before taking another drag of her cigarette.

Knowing Alcina was asking about you, you decide to divert your answer.

"Oh Emma is really excited. She wasn't sure at first but as soon as she saw all of the toys they had she was thrilled. She was very upset that she wasn't able to stay the day we did the tour."

"I was asking about you." She said with a smile.

"Oh."

"I remember when I dropped the girls off at daycare for the first time. I think I cried more than they did." She says with a chuckle. You notice a faraway look in her eye as she thinks back on the memory.

Alcina walked down the large, ornate hallway with Cassandra's tiny had in hers. In Cassandra's other hand, Bela clung tightly to her. When they arrived to the classroom the girls' daycare teacher greeted them at the door.

"Good morning! You two must be Cassandra and Bela." She says with a warm smile.

Bela and Cassandra clung to each other tighter, staring between Alcina and their new teacher. Alcina bends down and runs her fingers through Cassandra's dark hair.

"Girls, do you remember your teacher? Ms. Jackson?"

Bela's blue eyes scan the room as she holds onto her sister.

"Eu vreau sa merg acasa." She says quietly as tears begin to fill her eyes. (I want to go home).

"It will only be for a little while, draga. I'll be back before you know it." Alcina says, turning both girls to face her. She wipes the tears from Bela's cheeks and shushes her. "Nu plânge, e în regulă draga mea." (Don't cry, it's alright my darling).

"Vreau să merg acasă, te rog." Bela says as her voice trembles. (I want to go home, please).

"How about you give it a try? I have to go to work, but then we will go back home and we can play with your toys." Alcina says.

"No!" Bela yells, taking Alcina by surprise. "Vreau să merg acasă la mami! O vreau pe mama mea!" She cries. (I want to go home to mommy! I want my mommy!).

Alcina can feel her heart breaking in her chest. Cassandra's eyes begin to fill with tears as she watches her big sister cry. Even though she's only a year younger than Bela, she still understands that so much has changed and that they're no longer with their mother.

"O vreau pe mama mea." Cassandra whimpers before she starts to cry as well. (I want my mommy).

Wrapping her arms around the two little girls, Alcina pulls them into her and they grab onto her shirt and jacket as they cry.

"Shh, shh. Nu plânge fetele mele dragi, nu plânge. Va fi bine, doar respira, totul va fi bine." She says softly as she rubs circles across their backs as she tries to soothe them. (Don't cry my sweet girls, don't cry. It's going to be alright, just breathe, everything is going to be alright).

Their small cries chip away at Alcina's already fragile heart. She squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to shed a tear, refusing to let the girls - or anyone else for that matter - see her cry.

After taking a few deep breaths, Alcina begins to quietly hum the girls' favorite lullaby. She may still be brand new to parenting, but the one thing she figured out that works was singing to the girls in their native language. It was one of the few things that have been able to calm them when they were upset or scared. Alcina's mother would sing it to her and her sister when they were young. One night when she was at her wits end, she began singing it for Bela and Cassandra and they immediately began to calm down. It's been her go-to ever since.

The girls finally stop crying and Alcina pulls away enough to look at the two of them. As heartbreaking as it was, she couldn't help but think of how cute they looked. Bela's blue eyes and Cassandra's hazel eyes always looked brighter after they cried. Even their flushed cheeks and runny noses made them look cute. Alcina cupped each of their faces and wiped away their tears before placing a kiss in the center of each of their foreheads.

The girls looked up at her and it was almost pitiful. So much of her wanted to just take them home but she had to go to work and she had to let them go. Taking both of their small hands into each of hers, she looked both girls in the eye.

"I know it's frightening, I know you girls are scared, but I am coming back. I promise, I will be back and we will all go home together, okay?" The both nodded at her as tears began to fill their eyes once more. "No more tears my darlings, alright? No more tears." She says as she wipes away the stray tears from their cheeks. "I need both of you to be brave? Okay? Bela, I need you to look after your sister, to be protect her, alright?" Bela looks at Cassandra and back at Alcina and nods. "Cassandra, I need you to look after your sister, to be brave for her, can you do that for me?" Cassandra wipes her nose and nods at Alcina.

She strokes their hair before pulling the girls back in for a tight hug.

"Vă iubesc, vă iubesc atât de mult fetelor. Mă întorc, promit dragilor mei. Mă voi întoarce după tine. Nu te voi lăsa." Alcina whispers to them before giving them one last squeeze and letting go. (I love you, I love you girls so much. I'm coming back, I promise my darlings. I'll come back for you. I will never leave you).

Alcina stands up and straightens out her shirt and jacket. She takes the girls hands in each of hers and guides them to their teacher. Ms. Jackson smiles down at the girls and points out all of the toys scattered around the room. Cassandra eyes a baby doll and another little girl picks it up. The girl sees Cassandra and walks over to her.

"Play?" The little girl asks.

Cassandra looks up at Alcina and Alcina smiles down at her.

"Go ahead darling, go play."

Cassandra hesitantly releases Alcina's hand and looks at Bela, reaching out towards her. Bela's grip on Alcina tightens and Alcina strokes her hair.

"It's alright love, go play with them."

Bela looks up at Alcina who nods. After contemplating for a moment, Bela takes Cassandra's hand and the three little girls make their way over to the rug and begin playing with the toys.

Alcina takes the opportunity while they are distracted to thank the teacher and leave before they see her again. With her heart still breaking in her chest, Alcina makes it to her car and starts the engine.

Before she can pull away, the floodgates open. She grips the steering wheel and rests her forehead against her hands as she cries. Different emotions bubble up, but the strongest one is anger.

She's angry that the girls were put through so much at such a young age. She's angry at how unfair the last few months have been for them. Angry at the situation she herself was put in.

Alcina slams her fist against the steering wheel before pulling herself together. She takes her makeup bag from her purse and fixes her makeup before taking one last deep breath and driving away.

You can see memories flash across Alcina's eyes, memories you know nothing about. But you can see the emotions in her eyes, worry, sadness, and anger. Alcina snaps out of it and takes another drag of her cigarette and exhales.

"It's certainly not easy," she says. "the first few times are the most difficult, but eventually they were so excited the girls didn't even say goodbye when they ran through the doors." She says with a laugh.

"I'm sure we'll get there, but like you said, the first few times are gonna be rough."

"I have no doubts that the two of you will do great." She says with a smile.

With one last drag of her cigarette, Alcina puts the butt into the cigarette receptacle.

"Shall we?" She asks, nodding towards the door.

"Oh! Yeah." You say sheepishly.

Alcina opens the door and holds it for you. "After you."

"Thank you." You say with a smile before the two of you head back in.

[atimeofyourlife]

@steddie-week Day 4- Hurt/comfort

cw abuse

Steve always felt on edge when his parents were coming home. It wasn't so bad if it was just his mother on her own, she was just distant most of the time. But his father was an asshole, and his mother was never able to stand up to the man no matter how much her son got hurt in the meantime.

This time felt worse. They'd only been home twice since Starcourt, and they hadn't returned to Hawkins at all in the eight months since the earthquake. Since Vecna. Since Steve had nearly died while saving the world. Again. The first time he'd spoken to them post-earthquake had involved them only wanting to know if the house had survived unharmed, and his father berating him for nearly thirty minutes for not answering their calls sooner, despite the fact that the phone lines had been down for a while, and emergency and official calls were the only ones getting through. And ignoring the fact that Steve had been in hospital for nearly two weeks as a result of his injuries, so he was unable to be home to answer the calls if they'd even gone through, he had pointed this out multiple times and got told not to be disrespectful. That his excuses weren't good enough.

As soon as he got the call that they were coming home, he started to withdraw from the party. Not completely, not disappearing. But not spending as much time around them, and not allowing anyone to come to his house. It wasn't anything against them, he was just spending every spare moment cleaning the house from top to bottom and didn't trust the kids, or Eddie, not to mess it up. He loved them, but they weren't the tidiest of people. Any one of them could enter a tidy room and within minutes it would look like a tornado had passed through.

He knew nothing he did would be enough, it never was. His father would find the tiniest faults, even things that weren't his fault and tear him apart for them. A few specks of dust in a corner that was nearly impossible to reach. A smudge on the outside of the window in the second guest bedroom. Sun damage to the curtains in the office that Steve didn't even have a key for. The black stain that wouldn't come out of the white carpet where his mother had dropped her mascara wand. The dent and bloodstain on the wall from where Steve had been shoved in anger for the first time.

All he wanted was to survive the few days they would be home, staying out of their way as much as possible. He'd signed up for as many extra shifts as he could, knowing it would make his father mad that he wasn't home, but he would be out of the firing line most of the time. He'd warned the others as soon as he knew the return date that they wouldn't see or hear much from him while his parents were home, and made it clear that no one was to even try calling. That he'd get Robin to pass on anything important after their shifts together.

Right from the first moment, it was bad. His father reprimanded him for coming home so late, not accepting that Steve had been at work. He was constantly talking about how poor the state of the house was, even though Steve had done everything short of hiring a team of cleaners to come in. How disappointing Steve was to still be working minimum wage, to not be applying himself, not trying to get into college. How frustrating it was that so many of their neighbors had left in the aftermath of the earthquakes, that they no longer had informers to keep them updated on all the wrong things that Steve was doing with his life.

His mother was horrified at the scar on his neck and, once she glimpsed them, the ones on his sides and back. But not in the way that she was concerned that her only child had been seriously injured in the earthquake. In the way that she was concerned about what it meant for their image. She started to push him to change how he was dressing, encouraging him to wear polo shirts that were buttoned right up, or turtlenecks to hide the scar. A range of different serums and oils and moisturisers, all with claims to improve the appearance of scars, started appearing in Steve's bathroom, along with pamphlets for the benefits of plastic surgery to reduce scarring. More than once he heard her crying on the phone about how ugly he was now, how now his looks were compromised, he had nothing left going for him.

The only thing that kept him going through it, was knowing that they wouldn't stay long. Then he'd be free to crawl back in with Eddie and be held until it felt alright. He'd be able to spend as much time as he needed with Robin. He'd be able to host the kids and keep up with them again. Little things helped, like seeing Robin on their shared shifts, or Eddie popping into Family Video whenever he wasn't busy with his job at the mechanics. But the stories and jokes they told made it hurt worse, knowing he was missing out.

One morning there'd been a big blowout fight. His father making it clear that by the next time they were home, Steve had better have a plan for what he was going to do in life, because if he was just going to be content working a job that was below the status of someone bearing the name Harrington, he would need to find another place to live. Steve left much earlier than he would have, claiming that he needed to do inventory before the store opened. He nearly went to Eddie's, but that would make it too easy for him not to go in to work.

When he got home, the first thing he noticed was that the car was gone. He couldn't help but get his hopes up, despite knowing they could just be out for dinner. On the kitchen counter was a note in his mother's loopy handwriting. Saying that they'd be gone for a few months, and that Steve had better remember what he'd been told. He just screwed up the note and left it where it had been sat, before heading back out, to the place he felt the safest.

The trailer was empty when Steve got there, but he let himself in with the key he'd been given months before. He only bothered to kick his shoes off before crawling into Eddie's bed. Finally being able to relax as he breathed in the familiar scent.

He hadn't noticed that he'd drifted off until the bed dipped with Eddie's weight. "Hi, sweetheart. They gone now?"

Steve just nodded, curling into his boyfriend's side, craving the soft touch.

"That bad, huh? What do you need?"

"Just you. Missed you." Steve mumbled.

"You've always got me. And I missed you too. So much, Stevie. But didn't you want to talk about it?" Eddie laid down next to Steve and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

"It's the usual. But as well as being a disappointment I'm ugly now too."

"You're never ugly. If it's those scars, they prove how strong you are. That you survived. That you kept everyone as safe as possible. And they can never take that away from you. We could get a place together, somewhere where their opinions don't matter."

"Love you," Steve whispered, leaning up to kiss Eddie, the first time in more than a week.

"I love you too. You are the best person I know, and you mean the world to me."

-

The next time the call came in saying that his parents were coming home, Steve was not there to hear it. He had a home with Eddie and Robin. It was small, but more of a home than the large, empty house in Loch Nora could be any day. Steve only left a note telling his parents where they could shove their opinions, along with his keys to the property. No contact number, no forwarding address. No way for them to destroy his peace and happiness.

In the notes I made before writing this, I specified that it would be actual hurt/comfort and not hurt/no comfort because my brain has just wanted to be in angst mode recently. Also on AO3

[pavardscherie]

hello

do something with Gavi

being his first gf<3

thanks

— the first one, pablo gavi

⤷ pairing ;; pablo gavi & female reader ⤷ summary ;; being gavi's first girlfriend after he swore off the other girls, came with negative and positive traits. ⤷ warnings ;; cute gavi?? ⤷ izzy talks non-sense;; i'm a pedri girl, i gotta admit that. but gavi might be a close second if we're only talking about la liga. sadly, i am so bad at headcannons that i just decided to turn this into a little drabble as his first gf.

since the world cup, gavi's name spread throughout the countries like the melody of a popular song, or the announcement of another great invention. with just seventeen years old, his goal against costa rica made him the youngest scorer. if the praise from the world wasn't enough, the girls fawned over the young athletic.

for over a year, a couple of weeks after he turned eighteen, pablo gained his experience throughout different nights. how could he not accept the luring words of another female, who snuck into his private messages and shared her fair opinion about him with a little hint of admiration in the syllabeles. none of his mates would have thought that the image he created, would wear off so easily. until the day, where pablo's eyes met yours in the front of the stands.

hair tangled together to a messy bun, thick strands framing your face and occasionally falling out as the tie loosened. a barcelona home jersey hugged your upper body, a little knot on the hem to reveal a thin line of skin between shirt and high-waisted jeans. the world around him could have not worked slower, but at the moment, you turned around to take a cup of cold coke from your father's hands, pablo saw his name written between your shoulder blades in capital letters, and the large number nine underneath.

at that very moment, his mind worked faster on creating a perfect plan to have a conversation with you between the screaming fans than focusing on the second half of the game. and somehow, after multiple attempts of asking you out, and having a decent chit-chat with you without your father's intense glaring, gavi made you his girlfriend. the first since he became the famous number nine or thirty in some matches for barcelona.

in the beginning, the first couple of months, it was a very hidden relationship. the meetings were private, mostly at spots where no paparazzi or supporters would engage with them. but as the days passed, pablo's popularity increased immensely among the fans, and it got harder to actually hide from the public eye. but the fear you carried like a heavy weight on your shoulders, made it extremely difficult to announce the official relationship.

before you, there's never been another girl that swept him off his feet so easily. not one, he came home to or texted multiple times a day. even if it was a very unnecessary winking face. you infiltrated each of his thoughts, starting in the morning, throughout the training sessions, and when he went to bed without you in his arms. hundreds of pictures he had hidden on his phone, stories of you he created for his Instagram but kept as drafts until you were prepared to announce it.

but pablo wasn't as subtle as you about the relationship. over the months, pedri slowly realized what was going on. why gavi ditched the party nights with the team, or why he never seemed interested in any intentions of various fans anymore. while you were still scared that he would cheat on you, and leave you once the public made up headlines about the two of you, you always watched the videos people posted. how he smiled at girls because it was his job to keep up the golden boy attitude, but the corners of his mouth never reached his eyes like when he was with you.

the small differences in his entire behavior crumbled the fear of being left alone or mistreated piece by piece. and somehow gavi talked you into the dinner nights with his closest friends, and sometimes even the entire team. holding hands underneath the table, sharing caring glances, and showing the mates around him what truly laid underneath the 'i'm bringing a good friend'.

somewhere along the way, it was impossible to hide the relationship anymore. cameras and supporters waited for gavi almost everywhere. you went out to get food for the movie night, and were approached almost immediately by a couple of girls. flirting with their eyes, touching his upper arm so softly with their manicured nails, and handing him little notes with their numbers on them. it bothered you, it pained you to watch the scene unfold without being able to say something, or actually claim him at all after still being hidden from the world as his girlfriend.

and those situations occurred more and more, and got insanely difficult to watch for you. so, the decision to publicly announce the relationship was made without overthinking. while your discomfort grew again when the followers increased on your Instagram account, the fans who actually liked gavi for his playing style and the skills he had, commented the nicest things underneath your pictures.

and gavi, he was certainly posting at least one story every day of you, the ones he had saved for way too long from months back, and telling the world how happy he was about finally showing off his girl, the one he loved. and when you struggled, pablo just became a more caring person than you expected. the dates were still mostly at home, not wanting the cameras or fans to interfere on such special nights. little gifts, like roses delivered to your house when he was away for another game, or a bracelet with two little silver letters on it. p and g, for pablo gavira.

like in every other relationship with a public figure, there always had to be a couple of people who claimed you were in a relationship for the fame. and on some days, the comments got very mean, calling you the worst names and even insulting you. but gavi was quick to shut them down, posting a picture of the two of you with a sweet caption, reassuring you that there was nothing in the world that could separate the two of you.

it never got not difficult as the thoughts of him being away from you, in another town with girls lining up in front of him to share their thoughts, pablo always showed you the opposite. receiving a note with a number turned into giving the piece of paper back to the girl with a delightful smile, and starting to ramble on about the beautiful girlfriend he has at home, who's waiting for his return to barcelona. over the time, you became comfortable with the situations, even the cameras that took several pictures of the two of you while being out and about.

you might never get a real name from the newspapers, always called gavi's girlfriend or the girl he's dating but it was alright. you got a seat in the section for people close to the players each home game, wearing one of the barcelona jerseys with his name written in capital letters on the back. this time, you were truly his, and not another person who only came to enjoy the game. you were in the stands, arms in the air, hands clapping together for the number nine of barcelona. your boyfriend, who always dedicated the goals he scored to you. sometimes with a heart, sometimes with blowing a kiss, and other days with a cheeky wink and thumbs up.

but you were there, proud of the man he has become over the past months, and in the comfort of your arms. cheering for him, clapping for your boyfriend. your number nine. your golden boy. your pablo gavi.

and you were his first girlfriend, the first one he gave his heart to without protection, and the first one, he truly loved and cared for.