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writingmochi · 2 months

Text

part 1

cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, enhypen, and other idols)

synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!

genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)

word count: 24198 (24.2k) out of 60550 (60.5k)

warning(s): pregnancy (what did you expect?), so many curse words!, description of explicit sex (in a flashback sense), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, manhandling, vomiting, mention of drugs (marijuana, alcohol), mention of blood, dark humor (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

first fic of 2024! i've ideated this since like 2022 and it's here what the heck!! this is part 1 of 2 of a 57k-58k word count one-shot (yes, this is supposed to be a one-shot) but tumblr hates me so i have to divide it into two. thanks for the 200+ notes on the teaser/character intro and i hope you enjoy it!

soundtrack (spoilers for part 2!) | part 2

prologue: a town called valentine

it was valentine 2002 when you and heeseung first met. well, if you consider babies who can’t even talk to each other will know of each other. you have to thank both of your moms for that—getting pregnant around the same time and giving birth in the same year as well.

but the earliest—vivid—memory you have of him was on valentine 2005. you hid behind your mama’s leg as she talked with someone: another adult. you glance around the outside space you’re in, the plants and pathway unknown to you as mama can see your eyes wander with your tiny mouth agape when you look past the other adult to recognize the widening door right beside them. you heard your mother giggling with the other person as they converse about something your 4-year-old mind wouldn’t be able to understand.

“(y/n) sweetie! say hi to auntie.” your mama caresses your hair with her hand as she guides you to stand beside her, her hands moving behind your small set of shoulders before you. the small hands reached for one of hers, holding it tight as you stood beside her.

“hello…” you looked up to meet a beautiful woman. her eyes are wide as they remind you of the mother deer you last saw when you watched bambi with mama and papa. and you can feel a ticklish feeling inside you as you watch her eyes smiling softly at you. as she smiles at you softly.

“hello (y/n)! you’ve grown so much since i last met you.” her hands give a wave, making you raise your hand up as you mirror her while you pick up your mama’s chuckle. the lady moves back, extending her arm as you see a clean hallway full of photos on one side and a cabinet full of shoes on the other. some of them looking similar to your own shoe size.

“please come inside. i’ve set the toys so she can play with them if she wants.” the lady—well, auntie—said as your mama guided you inside with her trailing behind. sitting on the hidden seating area by the cabinet, she helps you take off your shoes before opening her hands to let you hold them. she lets you walk in front as both of you enter a big room with a sofa in front of a television. as per told by mama every time you enter someone’s home: sit down beside mama or papa as you waited for the homeowner to guide you next. the back of the sofa is too tall for your height now and you let your hand graze against the side of the soft sofa when you encounter a large mat laid in between the sofa and the screen.

your brain tingles when you find a few toys you can name—like the ones you own back home—while a few of them you don’t recognize at all. eyes on the toys, you throw away whatever your mama has told you and tug her hand to let her know the existence of them. looking up, she looks down at you, glance at the pile of toys left behind, and gives nods, making you grin as you both sit on the playmat. your eyes immediately look at blocks stacked shaping like a house; its triangle roof, square walls, four windows, and door makes you easily imagine it. you crawl towards it and the box beside it, finding the other blocks left behind as you pull some of them out to make your own little house. as you slowly stack up the blocks—hearing the sound of wood tapping against each other—you heard the sound of giggling coming from behind the sofa.

“sorry, he just finished taking a bath.” auntie said to your mom who was behind you, walking closer to the sofa as you turned your head to face her. that’s when you see another person walking into the room with a small pitter-patter heard behind them. the steps are getting louder and louder as you see a small figure enter the room, walking towards the person laughing. the person wipes his face with his small hand before pausing, turning his head to you.

“hi heeseung!” you heard your mama say as the boy’s laugh slows down and he looks at you and your mama. auntie, who now looks more like the bigger version of the boy, steps in to help him move and sit down beside you. you see him crouch down as you can see his face clearer. yet, his eyes wander on the house made of blocks—his house—and the house you’re making; wider by one block than his.

“that’s (y/n). you were too young to remember but auntie and i always bring you two to playdates since you’re not even one year old. she’s the same age as you.” you heard auntie say as you felt your mama help you to scoot closer. his hand reaches for the box of blocks as you place the final block on your house while he’s pulling out more blocks. you look at the boy’s action as you feel mama, with her larger hand, holding onto your smaller one. your palm is now open as you see heeseung was told to do the same by his mom, putting away the blocks on the mat. your hands meet each other as you say your name. mama helps in closing your fingers, wrapping your hand in his as he follows.

“my name is (y/n).” the boy’s hand also uses the same force when you shake it. both women let go of their children’s hands as both of your little hands are floating, connected, and shaking. your eyes meet his as he looks back at the two houses made of blocks.

“my name is heeseung.” he smiles.

1. stay soft, silly

the way the corner of his mouth twitches makes you think outside of the plan you are executing now, nearly done in telling him what he needs to know.

your hands rested on top of your stomach, feeling a little bulge that was not there a month ago. his ice americano contrasts with your hot jasmine tea as you sit across from each other. years upon years of history went on pause for this moment. for a truce that you are proposing.

“and they’re mine?” heeseung sounded. your eyebrows folded, looking down at the swollen part beneath your stomach as you pouted your lips, holding back your giggling as you glanced back at him.

“i haven’t had sex with anyone this past month besides you. so, yeah. the baby is yours.”

it’s funny, you see. with the amount of carefulness you and your friends have taught you of the college hook-up culture you got roped into, you never expected to hook up with your rival. yet tension does what tension does, and it snaps as you both stumbled to kiss each other.

when it comes to your “relationship” with heeseung, the closest to a positive one was when you were in kindergarten, as you’ve known him before by the amount of playdates both of your mothers set up.

little did they know that one time at a playground during one of those playdates, you were left alone to play with your sandcastles as heeseung ventured to play with the other boys, running around the sandpit playing tag and how you see the familiar little jeans pants walks in front of you, knocking the castle down and flying the specks of sand to your face with your slower reaction speed—because of your younger age—not making you close your eyelids quicker. your eyes watering as you wail out, getting the attention of your mama but not the jean-wearing boy’s attention as you hear his mom telling him to stop. apologizing is simple for your younger self, just a plain “sorry” is okay. but when lee heeseung—who you consider your friend at that time—said “sorry” with a grin on his face, you caught onto the impression that he was not sorry at all.

at age 7, you came back from the cafeteria to your class to find heeseung and his gang of boys pulling on a girl’s hair, the familiar sadness showing on her face as you caught her eyes. you’ve known that they’ve played “dirty” and have been teasing other girls in your class before—just not you, which is strange in itself. with a tense set of hands, you push the boys away with your might and stand in between them, helping the girl who cowers behind you. you look down to watch heeseung on the floor, teeth showing and face crunched as he sees the scratch from when you pushed him near his elbow.

“what was that for?”

“to stop you. she doesn’t like it.”

one of his boys helps to pick him up on his feet as you can see him limping. your arms still wide as you protect the girl as best as you can. he pushes his sweaty bangs off his face as you can define the same gaze he had given you when you were 5 at the playground, now fiery. and you exude the same thing with your glare as you see the other boys helping carry him out to the nurse's office, his eyes staying on yours as you feel the girl’s hand holding you back from not walking after him again.

stickers become score markers as you and he tried to compete to get the most out of them, which comes with being nice and clever during classes. you were 10 when you had the same class as him once again, having to compete to be the quickest when raising your hands. but also the lowly giggles you give each other as you both realize just how wrong each other’s answers that comes with the teasing annoyance. it also comes in gym class as the teacher divided you up into different teams during team games—basketball being the most competitive as you are familiar with it. heeseung doesn’t hesitate to run towards you if you have a ball and try to dribble it across the court, pulling it as you try to pass it to your teammate, resulting in a tug-of-war where you both just don’t want to let it go. even with the whistling from the teacher as one teammate gets a hold of it to continue the game, you instead continue to have a screaming match with him.

it continues through middle school as you remember him not hesitating with his power to slam his dodgeball at your stomach during another gym class, making you curl up on the floor as your friends help you to the nurse's office, hearing him screaming “that’s what you get from stealing my lunch” as you remembered the taste of the chocolate bread you pick up from his tray yesterday. at high school as you and him argue in front of the vice principal about each of your club’s fundings, him with his basketball club who is already so successful with their winnings money that they can’t seem to let go to help other clubs who are staying afloat. even with your school having pride in the basketball team and other sports club achievements—making it a staple for the students to watch at least one game during their high school years. you never went to one as you rather babysit your neighbor’s kid for money than watch heeseung’s smug smile as he won another mvp trophy for that tournament.

when college came and you got into hybe uni as a business major, you didn’t expect to see heeseung on campus. you’ve known that since he focuses more on basketball in middle school, you are winning when it comes to academics. but when his smirking face tells you he got into hybe with a full scholarship because of basketball, your heart plummets into the fathoms. you were glad that he’s not in the same faculty as you, but the college environment is so small that your acquaintances recognize each other. you can’t seem to stay away from him who still has his smart for balancing his gpa and non-academic activities.

so when your lips met his own as you sobered up after having the party busted by the police, your mind is telling you to out-better him in lust and pleasure.

“who can make each other cum the most? never thought of you as that filthy, (l/n)”

the grip of his hair on your hand tightens as he trails his own to get a grip of yours. both of your heads now straight as you can’t look away from each other even if you want to.

“i take that you’re saying that because you don’t know how to make girls cum with your dick, lee.” you chuckled. heeseung’s gaze is still meeting yours as he pushes your head forward, making your forehead touch his as he mumbles something only you can hear.

“i know i can make you cum on my dick just by the way you’re clenching your thighs, baby. how do we tally the score?”

“start a kiss on the lips when you know you can’t hold back?”

“deal.”

“by the way, who won?” heeseung asked, leaning his body forward on the table as you peer down at his position from you, holding yourself as you stretch your back to help with the pain.

“how many times did you cum? and don’t fucking lie.”

heeseung’s bed is rocking beneath you as he folds you up in half, your knees on either side of you as he pounds into you. gasps fall out of your mouth as you pull on his hair, something you realize he likes after the amount of groan coming out of him from when you tug him. praises come out of your mouth as you try every method you can to turn him on first; to make him cum first. but the way he is pushing down on your abdomen makes you clench harder.

“look at how you’re clenching onto me. you’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered as you felt the breeze blowing onto your saliva-stained neck you are certain had hickeys on it. heeseung had to remind himself that he couldn’t kiss your lips, no matter how delectable they were, changing to kissing your neck.

“n-“ you moan as heeseung’s hand traces down to grip your ribcage, pulling you closer to him so he could find another angle to reach you deeper, pleasuring you both in return. “no.”

“don’t lie to me, (y/n).” his head pulls back from your crook as you watch his bangs faltering from the hard pounding to his mattress. “god, you’re so fucking hot when you’re under me.”

“fuck, just like that.” you retaliate with your own dirty talk, hands holding his waist so he could stay longer in your cavern as you grip him. but when you sense his breath against your skin, nose upon nose touching, the grip on his waist trails up as you cup his face. nodding your head as you feel him getting faster, you pull his head down and make his lips meet yours. you bit your bottom lip as your muffled moans vibrated between the two of you. your body giving up for a moment as he continued to thrust into you, making you let go as you let out a silent scream when you felt the moist gushing against him inside you. heeseung’s lips are unhesitant to kiss between your eyebrows as your body calms down from shaking, eyes rolling back to their original place as you continue to caress his cheekbone before a surge of energy comes back to you. you push him to the side, placing him down on the mattress as your hands grab both of his wrists to rest beside his head.

“i can feel you twitching inside me, hee. i know you’re close,” you said as you bounce on his lap, feeling the way your essence fell out and how much slick is on his penis because of you. as you have the upper hand, you decide to tease him by falling on him slower than the pace you have familiarized, making his wrists flinched under your hold as you click your tongue.

“you like how my walls are sucking you?”

“fuck, yes,” he mumbled under his breath.

“yeah..?” you replied as you leaned forward, making heeseung reach up to kiss your areola as best as he could.

“come on. you don’t wanna cum again?” heeseung asked in such a whiny voice that makes you snicker at how needy he has become. you decide to continue your teasing when you trail your nose along his face as you give a tiny kiss underneath his earlobe where you see the hickey you made on his clavicle. you move your hips so slowly as you feel how he becomes more erect even when he’s inside you.

“you’re the one who denies it yourself. i’m currently helping you here.” you poke your tongue and trace down his adam’s apple to his chest, reaching his nipple and giving it a suck. heeseung’s hip shoots up into you as he wants to take control. your hand moving closer to his palm with the grip that is getting loose as he pushes both his arms to let go of your hold. yet, you pull them back up as you reposition your fingers to interlock with his, withholding what he wants to make you move faster as he thrusts up into you.

you stare at how his doe-like eyes are begging for you after the number of times you have hated and feared the same eyes. how it glistens with tears because of how uncooperative you are even with your pace getting faster. with that, you lean forward as you stretch his hands and place them on your moving hips, letting them go so he can grip it hard as he tries to chase that feeling once again. you drape yourself above him as his blown-out eyes stare right at yours, his orange fiery flame meeting your own blue.

leaning forward more as you sensed one of his hands resting on your back, you brush away his hair that is sticking on his forehead as you whispered the death blow.

“you can cum in me-“

he leans up to connect your lips with his as you understand the signal, making your hips help to stimulate him more. his tongue flicking out and even wetting the skin around your lips as he moans out your name, letting out an exhale as your forehead is on his.

“want to breed you…” he whispered as you nodded, knowing just how much you like cum staining your walls as you give him a peck.

“breed me then.”

as he spoke to you about when he cums in your walls cowgirl style, you couldn’t help but snicker at the memories of his newly known breeding kink and your own creampie kink makes the resulting bun in your oven, making him flick your hand as you stare at him.

“that’s one for you and one for me- what are you thinking?” the way his voice pitches up at the end of the question makes you giggle even more.

“i swear-“ you lean forward as you realize the stage you are in, “the way our kinks create them,” you point down to your stomach.

“with the way your body shivers when i cum in you,” he said as he also leans forward. “i knew you like it. but i didn’t realize how feral you got because of that.”

“how feral we got, heeseung. fucking correct that.”

“oh fuck!” you moaned out into the mattress as heeseung held your hips up when he thrusts back into you from behind. you can sense how every time he pounds into you, his release is coming out alongside him as the wet clapping noises penetrate even the sound of both the cricketing bed frame and both of your moans. his hand goes up to your head and pulls your hair as the other pushes against your stomach, making you bend back towards him as the moans you let out of your mouth are clearer. his lips sucking another hickey onto your shoulder as you lean your head back on him to widen his access. your hands gripping onto both of the hands that are now resting on your abdomen and one on your breast, respectively.

“who can make you feel like this?” the question triggering you right away.

“y-you.”

“say my name, baby,” he said as he kissed your cheeks, making you turn your head towards the side as you opened your eyes to meet his, continuing to pleasure you into oblivion.

“heeseung…”

“go on.” he squeezed your flesh and you bit your bottom lip.

“heeseung!”

the hand on your abdomen leaves to crawl to your nub as your free hand reaches up to his nape, letting you connect your lips with his as best as you can. your body doing gymnastics before it is overcome by your second wave of cum when heeseung stops and twist your upper body to connect both of your lips fully. with his hands enveloping you, you push both of your body down as you let him spoon you.

grinding your hips against him, you reached down to gather both your cums as you give it a lick, making heeseung groan as he helps you push against him. “fuck, (y/n), how are you still so tight?”

“only for you-“ you reply as you shift away, just wanting to kiss heeseung, but then you remember the rules. with your shoulder, you push heeseung so he lays back on the bed as you lie on top of him. your knees folding so you can put your heels on the mattress as you lift yourself up and down on his shaft. you push your hands against is so you can sit and let you see the messiness yourself: both of your thighs are now covered in whiteness as you continue, realizing how sticky your skins are against each other. instead of letting you observe the messiness, heeseung pulls your upper body back to his as he also folds his knees and pushes his heels to the bed, thrusting upwards and making the pace quicker.

both of your moans combine with each other as he rests his arms around your midriff so you can’t move away from him. your head tilts to look behind you at the way heeseung is closing his eyes. as the point of your nose touches his skin, he doesn’t hesitate to turn to you and brought your lips onto his as he gives a few sputtering thrusts before you felt him cumming in you once again, making you fuller than ever.

“and that’s another two for each of us,” you replied as heeseung let out a snicker.

“still a tie, huh?”

“yeah, but we decided on a tiebreaker, right?” he responded with a hum.

with how sweaty, sticky, and tired you both are, you decide to do a tiebreaker with you sitting on his lap in a lotus position. your breath meeting his as both of you work in tandem (with a little burst exerted once in a while) to make any of you cum first and declare to be the winner of this messed-up game you made. heeseung licks the skin below your neck and plays with your breasts as you let your fingers experiment with his nipples and the way your nails scratch against his back muscles. you know that both of you are exhausted because the only sound that comes out is the small moans and whines left over. you looked down to see the messy environment you made between both of your crotches, making you scoop it up as you lift your cum-covered forefinger to your mouth, sucking it in, before pulling heeseung’s head so you can let him taste both of you.

his wide eyes glance up at you as he puts on a show to make you turn on more, swirling his tongue around your middle finger as the hand that was holding your shoulder blade reaches to your face, making his thumb pressing against your bottom lip so you can suck it. your hips grind on him faster, bouncing a few times, as both of your moans are muffled by both of your fingers. pulling your finger back, a string of saliva connected it and his lips as you cup his cheek. heeseung bites his lip as he pulls the thumb out to see your swollen lips. as you stare at each other—thinking back to the past few hours that have gotten you here in this position—you sense something strange within you. something so unfamiliar when you stare at him than the other moments you blatantly glare towards him. with the way he glances around your face as he connects your forehead with his, you recognize he might have sensed the same things too.

you don’t remember who is the first one to reach out, but as both of your lips connect, you let yourself envelop him as he did you. both of you not stopping and helping each other out as both of you cum in quick succession. not letting go of each other’s lips as you both pull away slowly; looking at the string of saliva connecting both of you as you stare at each other.

“we don’t need to discuss that.”

“no, we don’t,”

both of you replied right after the other as you see heeseung looking away from you to glance at the window beside the table. you glance at the condensation forming on the glass of his americano before glimpsing towards the booth where he sat. a duffle bag beside his backpack; you guess it will be for his basketball practice, it is near the college basketball season after all. but as you glance up at the man himself—you notice how different he has been since you were children. the way he muscled up and the baby fat on his face sheds away from the amount of sports he has to consume weekly. but, with all the invisible scars you both inflicted on each other from then until now, you weigh in just how ridiculously complex your relationship is that you don’t know if he wants to agree with it or not.

“well, now that you know…” you started, rubbing your hand against your sweater paws, “you don’t have to contribute to their life.”

heeseung hums, turning back to look towards you with confusion written on his face.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to get involved in taking care of them. it’s hard enough to be a senior-year college student, let alone raising a baby. it’s my choice to keep them, so i have to take responsibility for that.” you grabbed the now lukewarm cup of tea as you take a sip from it, placing it gently on the small plate as you continued with, “especially knowing how complicated we are.” you use your forefinger to point between him and you.

the man’s face is hard to read. he jutted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as you see him blink whilst looking towards you, trying to get a read on you as well. being 8 weeks pregnant, you just wanted the meeting to end because you have all the other things you need to organize: telling the girls about your pregnancy diets and symptoms, telling the university about them and maybe they could give you leeway with the tests and studies, setting up appointments for with the ob-gyn and the doula of your choice, and telling your parents.

your parents who knew heeseung’s parents.

this will be awkward as fuck to experience.

“and i wish we could have a truce for the next 40 weeks.” you said, already with an exasperated voice that seemed to even surprise heeseung. “with this lifelong rivalry going on and how both of us doesn’t even want it to stop, please just… give me a slack to take care of them as best as i could.”

when you expected heeseung to reply with an okay—knowing your status as an expecting mother to at least give you some slack—you were met with a piercing gaze instead. how he looks between your face and your hidden stomach behind the table. he rests his hand on the table when you watch him considering something, and you didn’t even fucking guess he will do what he does.

“no.”

“what?”

“no. there’s no truce.” he leans forward, recognizing the gaze in his eyes as you just want to punch it out of his face for even thinking about what he’s thinking.

“no fucking way you’re thinking about this.”

“why not, (y/n)? think you can’t take care of yourself enough for the baby?”

your palm is now against your forehead, brushing against your face as it trails down when you let out a groan, “you’re trying to make a rivalry on taking care of this baby…” you let out your guess as heeseung lets out his signature smirk and a voiceless ‘bingo’.

“how? they’re in me, heeseung.”

“by giving them good nutritious food, interacting with them, i don’t know. but i know from knowing you for years that you can’t take care of yourself, knowing you have three other roommates-“

“you also have three other fucking roommates. sheesh.” you shake your head as you lean back. “anything for the baby has to go through me first, you know? i can deny it if i want.”

“then we can argue who’s right. they’re my baby too and i have the right to be involved even if you don’t want to.” your phone vibrates after heeseung’s brash reply as you see the silent alarm of your next schedule of the day. you tug the strap of your bag to your shoulder and gulp the rest of your tea.

“whatever, i have another thing to do.”

“does it involve the baby?”

“no. unless you wanna join my research class.”

you stood up from the booth as you straightened your sweater down, making heeseung glance at your abdomen before looking back at your face. “just so you remember: i’m doing this for the baby, not you.”

rolling your eyes, you flip him the bird as you walk away from him to your only class of the day, making heeseung let out a strangled smile.

“what the- what do you mean?”

the game continues as the other three guys look towards heeseung who is obliterating them with his king dedede, the sound of the fighting comes from the tv of their living room apartment as his fingers nimbly move on the switch controller, making the other three characters fly from the platforms as the familiar “game!” announcement calls.

the boys are sitting in various ways; beomgyu and jeongin are on the floor and jimin is beside him. the soundtrack of the super smash bros ultimate is playing in the background as heeseung smiles.

“i’m gonna be a dad.”

jeongin, the closest to the main port of the switch, quits the game as beomgyu lets out another loud shout—outside of the game—and jimin, who is sitting besides him, shakes his body with outstretched arms.

“BROOO!” beomgyu rubs his hand across his long hair as he faces heeseung fully, who is regretting not recording the reaction of his best buddies about this.

“how does heeseung, who doesn’t even like hooking up, get someone pregnant?” jimin asks to himself but also to the others as jeongin now stands in front of him, shielding the tv from his sight.

“forget that. who did you knock up, lee heeseung?” jeongin cuts through as heeseung leans back against the headrest of the couch. a mix of expressions showing on his face cause he doesn’t know if he has to laugh, be angry, be sad, or what else. he lets out a sigh as he picks the right voice tone to tell them.

“it’s fucking (y/n).”

“okay, now hold on!”

jeongin jumps, shedding the stern aura that he just created a few seconds ago. heeseung glances down at beomgyu who has his jaw dropped with jimin gripping on heeseung’s shoulder very hard.

“SINCE WHEN DID YOU TWO HOOK U-“

“shush!” jimin stands up and covers his hand on jeongin’s mouth, not wanting another complaint from the neighbors both horizontally and vertically.

“when?” beomgyu asked jeongin’s questions concisely as heeseung glanced towards the sofa and the kitchen right beside the front door of their apartment.

“you remember the party that got busted by the police?”

“yoon keeho’s party?”

“yeah, that one.” jimin acknowledges beomgyu’s answer as heeseung continues.

“long story short, (y/n) was alone and i went past her, teasing her for seeing that her friends left her behind when the police showed. she was tipsy which she shows by how easily stumbles. so i dragged her with me to our apartment when we escaped. i don’t know where you guys were, but she’s gotten a bit too annoying so i have to sober her up. we talked, and the tension was just too…” heeseung remembers as he was the one reaching for your face, to tell you to shut the fuck up, but the tension melted away before both of you proposes the game that you did. “so, we did it. and she asked me to meet up this morning and told me the news.”

“and what are your thoughts?” jimin asks, making the high-stakes emotions lower as he lets his friend talk about what he is feeling.

well, for heeseung, shock was an understatement. when he heard you utter the three words to him as he asked you what makes you want to meet up, never did he expect that to come out. surely, he has a breeding kink, and he had expected that to happen. but you told him you’re leaving early to get a plan b pill. maybe it didn’t work, but he doesn’t want to assume much about your body. then, he can sense the hidden sheer happiness blossoming within him. he wanted to smile and give you a hug, but then he remembered that it was you. that outside of his bed that night, you didn’t see him as a friend.

for someone who doesn’t hook up with people, heeseung knows how the hook-up culture works. he had heard multiple women fucking his three roommates from within his room and he could use his noise-canceling headphones against them. people might presume he is picky—a basketball jock who stays hidden and doesn’t want to hook up with anyone unlike his younger teammates—but the level of comfort is different when he has to do it with someone he doesn’t know and that’s why he rather stayed away. you? well, you are an anomaly.

though close because of your upbringing, he doesn’t know you outside of what he knows. that you were the kid who broke his truck even after he said sorry for ruining your sandcastle at that playground. that you were the kid who pushed him to the floor back when you were 7. that you’re the girl who he competes with to get the most stickers and not letting go of the basketball even though he stole it from you correctly. that he saw you stealing the bread from his tray as he came back from the vending machine. that you were the one telling the vice principal his basketball club doesn’t need as much money as they do because of their successful run, not knowing that their assistant coach stole the winning money.

so when you decide to create walls from your words, try to spin it so he doesn’t have to care about his baby, he had to say no. it’s as if you’re trying to keep the baby to yourself and not letting him in even though it takes two to tango. so, he found the most relevant way: competing for who takes care of that baby the right way—even if they’re in you. he doesn’t even think far from that thought no matter how ridiculous it is as now he realizes what a logistical nightmare it’s going to be.

“you’re making a game out of taking care of your own child but not your baby mama?” jeongin questioned after hearing heeseung’s rambling about this.

“yup…” heeseung paused, a pregnant pause. “and i need all of your help.”

jimin’s face changes as he hears the way heeseung described his face, rubbing his palm against the creases forming on his forehead as he can’t comprehend how beomgyu easily accepts his role. jimin’s head perks up at heeseung calling his name.

“yo!” jimin replied.

“since you’re the only one out of us who has a direct connection to (y/n) through chaeryeong, you’ll be my eyes, okay? asked about (y/n), how she’s doing, and all that stuff.” heeseung nodded as he expectantly looked at the boy who stood beside jeongin.

“gotcha,” he replied, his eyes wide as heeseung turned towards jeongin.

“innie, you’re my source. find any article about pregnancy and what my role is gonna be as a dad. yadda yadda yadda. all that stu-“

“i do you one better, seung.” jeongin said as heeseung lifted his eyebrows at him, tilting his head.

“my mom is an ob-gyn doctor.”

“miss (y/n)!”

“wear this!”

there is sounds of pitter-patters all around you as you sense the weight getting heavier on your figure. a small cape hanging off your shoulders and a crooked crown on your head, you sit down cross-legged against a round table full of toy food and kitchen utensils. girls and boys alike sit on the chairs by the table with their own capes and crowns, playing around with their cups as they all have a tea party—with the other side of the room playing with legos.

“here is your tea and cake.” you see the girl beside you giving the plate of rubber cake and an empty tea cup.

“thank you, princess rami.” picking up the teacup into your hand, you let out a loud slurping noise to drink it, before flinching away as you fan your tongue.

“i’m so sorry. is it too hot?” rami asked as you shook your head.

“i’m okay. thank you for asking,” you replied as best as you could.

“you must be careful, princess rami.” the boy across from her spoke as you tilt your head to him.

“i’m alright. prince yujin. i will be more careful with the tea.” he gave out a smile as one girl called out.

“if we are all princes and princesses, how should we call miss (y/n)?” hyunseo asked across from you.

“well, miss (y/n) should be a queen!” woonhak replied enthusiastically.

“but if miss (y/n) is a queen, should she have a king?” hyunseo continued.

“or another queen. i have two queens at home.” yujin filled in as you gave off a smile with the implication. but then the kids started to bicker with each other as you looked around the room once again.

as you entered high school, you were determined to beat heeseung in another way other than school-related activities. and what other way by being independent and richer than him at a young age? so you raked your head of a simple work that can help you gain more pocket money when one of your aunts asks you if you can babysit their daughter and how she will pay you. seizing the opportunity, you get to take care of your baby cousin as you go to your aunt’s home to help her with her food and stuff. hearing your enjoyment by the dining room table, your mom suggests more opportunities to babysit children of your family members from both sides—to your youngest uncle’s 4-year-old son and your oldest cousin’s 6-month-old baby—you have an array of skills gotten from doing childcare as your mom recommend you to babysit her juniors’ children at work, making you who wanted it for the money now wants it for the children.

it needs a certain level of charisma to charm a child so they can listen to you and with the array of children you had to babysit, you’ve met and adapted as best as you can to all of them. from being the calm tutor for a baby who is training his motor skills to help a child practice balancing on a bicycle, you understand what a child wants under their tantrums. that love you give and the love you accept makes you want to contribute more to childcare. so you started volunteering in non-formal schools and orphanages, helping to at least make their days a little better. and that’s why you worked part-time as a daycare attendant since you entered university as it is a more established institution where you can shuffle your study schedule alongside your work schedule, meeting kids who are being sent here that are still younger than school age. it reminded you of your own childhood and you’re hoping that your inner child could be happy and satisfied that you let her feel that feeling again.

“guys…” your spoken voice cuts their conversations, and they all turn to you. “a queen doesn’t have to have a king or another queen by their side. a queen can stand alone too.”

“but wouldn’t that make the queen lonely?” rami questioned, making you pout your lips as you still can’t comprehend just how blatantly honest children are that it pierces through each layer of your heart to find the right spot.

“yes, the queen will be lonely. but she also has her princes, princesses, knights, counselors, and more around her. love doesn’t always come from one person, it can also come from a group.” you replied, making the group rowdy up as they converse about love and being independent—well, ‘lonely’ as they called it—when you feel a light pat on your shoulder.

turning your head, you see a younger girl other than those around the table holding a paper, stretching it towards you.

“for you, miss (y/n)…”

you slowly pick the paper from her small hands as you observe the drawing. a simple figure made of circles and triangles with different colors. a pink filled-in shape on one side of the triangle with the circle-shaped and another taller one holding the figures hand, a yellow crown-shaped drawing on top of a circle with a smiling face inside.

she drew you.

“awww. this is so sweet and nice.” you return to look at the younger girl, a warm smile showing on your face, “thank you, hyein.” you rub your hand on her hair—something you remember she likes—as her smile widens before she runs away towards her table, where she has a few more papers scattered.

you glance at her before looking at your own stomach, unconsciously rubbing it as you can feel your own child inside you now growing along with time. then, it all came so suddenly when you felt yourself regurgitating, hand coming up to your mouth as you stood up as fast as you could towards the staff bathroom. knocking open the door of the open stall, you kneeled down as you puke out your lunch for today, feeling your gag reflexes kicking in. you sensed a hand soothing down your back as you reached for the flush to drain it down the toilet bowl.

“you okay, (y/n)?” you hear the familiar voice of your supervisor, yoonah, behind you. nodding your head, you reach for the toilet paper and tear it apart as you wipe the remains and saliva off your lips. reaching for the crown that fortunately doesn’t fall when you puke your inside, you hold on to it as you stand up and veer around to the sink to clean your mouth, gargling and spitting out as you wipe the droplets of water from your lips.

“how is it going with the pregnancy?” she asked as you watched her reflection behind yours in the mirror. you nodded your head and chuckled.

“didn’t vomit for the past three days and i thought that was enough, and well, here i am.” you stare at your face, seeing your eyes glistening with tears with the number of times you had to cough out until your phlegm came out. you turn your head to face your boss as she gives you a solemn smile.

“so, i have already talked to hr and we agree to have you reduce your work day to just one per week. you can enter anytime between the weekdays depending on your schedule because you have lots of things to juggle with your ob-gyn appointment. we don’t want to weigh you down more.”

you looked sideways when yoonah didn’t seem to see you being glad of it. though it helps with not exerting your body—as per doctor park’s request—it will definitely reduce your money because of the appointments and others. you haven’t told your parents yet and maybe you can ask them for more money after but with the way your friends have already helped ease your part of the rent so you have enough money for your own diet and consultations; you don’t want them to provide more for you.

“that’s great and all, but what about my pay? can it be adjusted? it doesn’t have to be 200%. like, do I only work one day for a pay of two like usual? or is it the regular one day pay? if it’s the latter, maybe a 25% increase will be great? for the consultations and others…” you said, not realizing that you had a few stray tears leaving out your eyes. nice fucking job, hormones.

yoonah picks up the crown from your head and she places it above your head, straightening it up as it rests right at the top of your head, “i will take about it to hr. you know that i’m on your side with this.” she pats your shoulder as you let out a faint “thank you” and see her walking away out of the bathroom. you brushed the tears away as you wet your hands to help unswollen them, even if it is for a bit. staring at yourself in the mirror, you pull your body up straight as you turn sideways, rubbing your abdomen as you can feel the life being put into you; piece by piece, cell by cell, forming into a human being.

as your feet enter the room one by one, tons of footsteps greet you as you look down to see the crown-wearing kids you are playing tea time with approaching you. their faces showing weariness so explicitly that you feel your heart tugging at them.

“are you ok, miss (y/n)?” hyein—the first one to be there—spoke as she was surrounded by kids taller and older than her. you notice someone holding onto your hand with their tiny one, seeing rami brushing the skin as you feel soothed.

“i am now. thank you, hyein,” you replied, letting your body fall as you kneeled before them, seeing the number of children you have taken care of for the years you had worked here. in your mind, it seemed ridiculous to think of your next move, but in a way that they have taught you so much about taking care of others, it’s proper to tell them yourself.

wiping the corner of your eyes as you feel your hormones acting up again, you speak, “what do you know about your moms?”

“mommy is very sweet to me,” hyunseo replies as she steps forward to stand next to hyein, their height difference looking so cute.

“mom is the one that picked me up from here.” woonhak also replied when you can see his mom’s smile on his own from the number of times she picked him up and showed that same smile.

“both of my mamas are the best in taking care of me and my brothers.” yujin added as there were more children rambling about their mothers, creating a wall of cacophony that seemed more like the background noise you heard each week as you worked. their voices dwindled as you looked expectantly at them one by one, a smile urging them to wait for something to come out of you.

“well, you see, i’m going to be just like your moms.”

yujin was the one that caught on first as he stepped closer and hugged you. while the others still looked confused, he turned around to looked at them and state it himself.

“MISS (Y/N) IS GOING TO BE A MOM!”

“miss (y/n)!”

“no wa-“

you heard the surge of children hugging you as you laughed out loud, seeing yoonah by the door as she also followed your laughter while you were surrounded by the children who were either hugging you or asking you questions.

“settle down, children. miss (y/n) needs a space to take a breather.” yoonah spoke up as she approached you who has a grin on your face.

“you said that you don’t have any king or queen?” yujin said as you felt your cheeks getting warmer, he now held onto the crown that slipped down your head from the number of kids that is surrounding you. while you could feel a hand on your stomach as you looked down to see hyein sitting down—remembering that she also has a pregnant mother with a little sibling on the way for her.

“it, it will be hard for me to explain it to you, but…” you felt yoonah’s hand on your shoulder as you glance at the closest clock in the room—finding the time for them to go home has come. “your moms are waiting for you to go home.”

you push yourself up to stand as yoonah guides the kids to pick their items up by the cabinets as you stand up straight, seeing the children walking around you when you see rami stepping beside you, arms wide open as you crouch down to give her a hug. you felt other sets of arms surrounding you as you giggled, pulling away your arms as the children noticed it.

“i’ll see you all next week!” you stated as yoonah brought all of them to the door of the daycare before opening them, seeing all of them going to their respective parents and guardians as a few of them acknowledged you. you turned around as you started your usual clean-up process, picking up the drawings that the children made and putting them in their own folders so you can give them to their guardians when they graduated, putting back the toys into the boxes, returning the costumes back to the wardrobe as you place the robe and crown you were also wearing, and you wanted to do one more thing, but you heard someone clearing their throat.

“i’ll clean the furniture and floor. you have done so much and you needed to eat and rest.” yoonah told you as you sighed, knowing that you seemed to be hungrier after you vomited out your food.

“thanks, boss.” you winked as she chuckled, bringing yourself to the staff room with the drawing that hyein gave to you—pinning in your mind to collect it with the drawings the kids you’ve taken care has made for you.

when collecting your things into your backpack, you glance at the paper that you printed out from your laptop as you scan the words, seeing your inked signature on the bottom as you see the blank space with the name right across from yours. heeseung’s name.

since he decided to be involved—you remembered while you talked to your faculty about your pregnancy and how they asked who the dad was, you decided to bring him up as a “student from another faculty.” it might make him think twice if he wants to be involved or not because he will get his name pin up on a note somewhere, which will be noted to his coach, lecturers, and more of his status. you are ready to be mentally burnt by the judgment your peers might give you, but is heeseung also ready?

you haven’t thought of the way you’re going to give heeseung the letter when you see minjeong’s name from your vibrating phone as you pick up the things you are bringing home and you hear yoonah talking as she sees you already leaving.

“carpool picking you up?”

“yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend.”

“okay, take care of yourself and i’ll follow up with your request.” you felt yoonah giving you a side hug as you gave a smile and wave when you pushed the door open. you breathed in the outside air to see the dark gray chevrolet camaro parked near the front of the building. walking to the back seats, you opened the door to be met with the music playing as minjeong greeted you.

“how’s work, (y/n)?” she instantly asked as sungchan lurched the car to a drive when you glanced at the bags of things beside you.

“freaking embarrassing. i vomited suddenly when i hadn’t vomited for the last 3 days but the kids reacted to it pretty okay. and i told them i’m gonna be a mom.”

“that’s so sweet!” she said, glancing back from her seat in front of you as she reached to touch you, making you sit in the middle with the console right in front of you as you see sungchan’s playing with the volume of bluetooth-connected car radio play the song that sounds so minjeong—which you can recognized right away.

“what did you guys do today?” you wiggled your eyebrows as you heard sungchan’s laugh from the way he looked at you from the rear-view mirror.

“you know what me and jeongie usually do, eat, shop, fuck, repeat-“

“no, we didn’t fuck today-“

“we did a quickie before we left to pick (y/n) up, winter.”

“okay! ughhh…” minjeong said, rubbing her face in embarrassment before replying, “i brought him to this cafe that has all these criterion collections that aren’t available on any of the streaming services we own. so i bought so many dvds for us to watch.”

“which are?”

“older movies, foreign movies. you did say that you enjoyed watching japanese movies, so i bought some of them for us to watch.”

“fuck, i love you so much for that, kim minjeong.” you replied as you heard sungchan’s little tsk, making you both giggle as his possessiveness is showing at the most ridiculous time.

“so, (y/n),” you hummed to sungchan’s starter words, “you haven’t told me who is your baby daddy.”

“guess!” you tugged yourself forward as your face was between their seats.

“how should i guess when i never see you hook up with people?” he replies as you glance at minjeong who is just watching him, an amused smile on her face.

“what if i say it’s song eunseok,” you mentioned his fellow frat bros.

“eunseok is dating that junior of his he has classes with. and he’s a loyal guy so i don’t think so.”

“what about park jisung? he’s hot in my eyes.”

“you don’t seem to be the kind to hook up with your junior,” he replied, making you squint your eyes.

“zhong chenle? he’s a fellow biz major like i do.”

“you’re definitely not his style.”

“now, that’s rude.” you hunch yourself back on the back seat as minjeong’s giggles compete with the music playing.

“you’re gonna be so shocked if we told you who he is.” she added as you nodded along, “two hints though: he’s our age and he’s a fellow jock-“

“that’s too much, jeong-ah.” you cover her mouth as her muffled nagging rings in the car. you can feel her lapping your palm, tickling your nerves and making you pull away as it’s now sungchan’s turn to have a giggling fit while watching his girlfriend and her roommate bickering. the trip was close between the daycare you work and the apartment tower you rented off-campus—but since you’ve mentioned to your roommates that you’ve been having back pain and vomiting sessions, they decided to help you out by being by your side as they drop you off or picking you up—just like what chaeryeong did as she drop you off to work before going to the dance studio.

so, when you stare out to see the small lobby of your apartment, you’re already with your backpack tucked to you as you open the door of the backseats. sungchan helped widen the door for you before going to the other side to help minjeong with the things she bought from their date. as you stood by the tiled floor of the lobby, minjeong gave sungchan one last kiss on the lips as you heard him say, “bye, babe! bye, (y/n) and hope you rest!”

“see you next week, baby.” the girl said as both you and her are waving your hands at the boy, who has entered the car driving off into the ending sunset of today. stepping inside the entrance of the apartment, you and she enter the empty elevator as you catch a glimpse at what other things minjeong had bought when you see a box from a chicken fast food brand, making your mouth water as you think about it, but you knew that you’ll be nag by dr. park for eating junk food.

pushing the handle after you put the pin on the keypad, you enter and instantly kick your shoes off as you are met with ryujin who is tying her hair up, walking towards you as she helps with minjeong’s bags. the apartment was left as you remembered this morning: a few scattered papers from either you or ryujin’s homework, the weighted blanket by the sofa now folded, and the smell of hot choco on the coffee table alongside ryujin’s laptop as you remembered that she only has online classes today.

“what did you bring?” ryujin wiggled her eyebrows as she rummaged open the bag that you’d seen when she instantly brought it to the kitchen counter when you saw her already cooking something. out of all four of you, you and ryujin are the ones talented in cooking so it’s not a surprise to see her cook for herself, but when you see the large plate that is places beside where the stove is, you know she has been making dinner for all four of you—as only chaeryeong’s the one who is not finished with her work today.

“why did you bring back fast food, minjeong? we promised to also have (y/n)’s diet.”

“that’s my leftover. chan said that the boys had too much stuff in their fridge so i brought it to us.” you then felt minjeong’s hand behind your lower back as she stood beside you, “hope you are okay with that.”

“of course, i’m okay.” you give minjeong a smile. “all of you aren’t obliged to follow my diet cause i know you love red meat, jinnie.”

“it feels wrong if i don’t follow you, though.” ryujin replied as you and minjeong go to your separate ways—she walked to her room while you stepped into the kitchen to see the food that minjeong brought. the chicken was a leftover but you also see her bringing back different meats and seafood.

“i almost forgot to ask you, but can you give me the list of the food that you can and can’t eat? just so i can help with the recipes and so we can pre-made food.” ryujin said as she put her arms behind your back, soothing you as you viewed her making japchae and beef on the pan.

“will do, ryu.” you give her a salute as she gives your cheek a squeeze before you let her be. taking your bag handle as you step towards the direction of your room, the bell of your apartment rings as ryujin turns towards you, making both of you tilt your head as you volunteer to get to the intercom.

when you press the button, the screen shows you someone you don’t expect to see as you can recognize the wolf cut hair you’ve seen while scrolling on your instagram. your footsteps immediately go to the door as you hear the ringing “hello”s from the intercom, opening it up to see the boy you’re trying your best to mask your feelings for with a box.

“heyya, (y/n)!” he replied as you widened the door to gaze at the box.

“h-hi beomgyu.” you give him a small smile as you try your best not to lock your eyes on him. to be having a crush on a boy like him is ridiculous, especially knowing that he is your RIVAL’s best friend. and the fact that you still have a crush on him since high school to then be found being in the same uni as him. if he doesn’t have heeseung by his side, you know you will brace yourself to approach him first. but now with his success as an indie musician, you know you are probably in a losing battle knowing just how spicy heeseung talks about you knowing that he has so many fans aiming at him and how you can’t compete with them—not as much as yeonjun though.

“wha, what’s this?”

“it’s for you.” he pushed the box towards you as you tried to peek inside when you felt a presence behind you.

“let me get that.” another pair of hands open by your side and you see the smirk on beomgyu’s face falter to see ryujin pulling the box against her.

“hi ryujin,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice as you finally be able to look at him with your heart eyes before back at ryujin.

“beomgyu,” she replied before leaving the door to put the box away. you eye the boy who is staring at the empty space for a few seconds too late before you are back in his attention, returning to the cheeky smile you adore.

“thank you for that!” you felt your palms getting sweatier than ever, rubbing one of them against the door to dry it.

“you gotta have to thank heeseung for that.”

the way beomgyu named he-who-shall-not-be-named shutters your fantasy as you were met with the reality. of course, it’s from heeseung, not from the boy you had a crush on—even if it means that the baby daddy trusts his best friend so much to tell him that he is having a baby with his rival. beomgyu seemed to be the nicer guy between the two. so, a girl can hope, right?

“oh yeah, wait for a minute!” you were so caught up in the way heeseung terrors you and slips back into your mind and how you wanted to slam the door when you heard his name when you remembered the paper that he had to sign. you pull the paper out of your folder as you pull one of your sticky notes and write a simple note to him. giving a smile to beomgyu, you handed him the paper as he stared at the words printed on it.

“give it to heeseung and send it back to me after that, or if he wants to submit it himself, then that’s fine. i have to give the contact person the info if he decides to send the paper to the administration himself.”

beomgyu nods as he chuckles at your note before giving a last “i will” before walking and waving away, making you close the door as you wonder how did he know where you lived. eh, that’s fine. you got to see what heeseung gave you as the box rested on top of the counter right beside ryujin who was pouring the japchae into the bowl.

slowly opening it—scared that he might have a jack-in-the-box mechanism inside it—you were met with plastics covering greens as you tugged a few of them out to be met with a bunch of fruits and vegetables still packed in their grocery’s packing. your shoulder meets ryujin’s as she took a glimpse at the new ingredient you picked out of the box.

“from beomgyu?”

shaking your head, you feel a piece of paper inside the box as you pinch it between your fingers. straighten the creases, you see the scribbles on the note as you read it in your mind.

eat them for the baby’s health and your own sanity - lhs

“heeseung,” you replied after you finish. ryujin gives a small hum as you catch the smirk on her face before you shove her with your shoulder. both of you open the plastics of the greens, vegetables, and fruits that heeseung bought for you, ryujin saying out loud the names of the greens as you and her bounce ideas of what kind of food she can make to cater to your diet.

“kale, cabbage, broccoli…” she picked another vegetable, carefully pulling away the plastics as the waft of the smell entered the kitchen. you knew of the vegetable, but being pregnant equals being sensitive to smells. and the way that you instantly wretch at the smell makes you scurry away from ryujin.

“hey, who rang the be-“

minjeong was pushed away as she saw you opening the door of their shared bathroom, making her turn around as she heard you wretch out the remaining food and saliva inside of you that is followed immediately by a flush from the toilet bowl. she walked to the kitchen to see ryujin holding stems of leaves on her hand.

“well, now we know she can’t eat arugula.”

the chime of the lock unlocked rings alongside the opening of the door of their apartment as ryujin and minjeong stare at it, seeing chaeryeong trying to breathe as she takes off her sneakers.

“WHY IS JIMIN PESTERING ME ABOUT (Y/N)?”

thumps and squeaks are what beomgyu heard as his eyes gazed at the lights coming out of the gymnasium. his feet working in tandem echoing through the night as he took another glance at the paper, another step away from the door as he pulled the handle to see a bunch of boys running around the wood-floored gym. beomgyu’s eyes searched for heeseung as he bit his lips, not wanting to be late for his own band practice with the boys.

turning towards the bleachers, he’s seen one of the boys that beomgyu remembered being on heeseung’s profile. his hands on top of his knees as he leans forward to see the 3 x 3 half court game beomgyu realized isn’t a part of training—but more of them having fun. he is taking a glimpse at heeseung who is muttering a curse word under his breath because the ball was stolen from his hold.

“hey, uh, sheep!”

the boy turns towards beomgyu with squinting feline-esque eyes before they widen, realizing who called him.

“your jersey has ‘yang’ on it. so i called you sheep.”

“nah, that’s okay. you’re beomgyu hyung, txt’s guitarist…” the boy stands up, their height almost the same as each other, but beomgyu knows that the kid can grow taller—from both basketball and his unfinished puberty phase, probably.

“i’m jungwon! i’m guessing you’re here for heeseung hyung?”

beomgyu glanced down at the paper as he nodded, “i couldn’t stay until he finished cause i have band practice. so, this document is for him to sign.” he told jungwon what you told him as his ghost patted himself on his shoulders for being right. beomgyu uses his thumbs to point behind him after jungwon picks up the paper that he pushed towards him and gives him a thumbs up before a loud "thank you" rings as the gymnasium door opens, leaving jungwon with a slight chuckle creeped out of his lips.

the boy couldn’t stop his curiosity as he turned the paper so he could read the writing, skimming it down as his eyebrows as he couldn’t stop his speech before it was too lat-

“HEESEUNG HYUNG IS A DAD?!”

jungwon’s shout makes movement screech to a halt as he looks up at his boys, also staring at heeseung, who is glaring at jungwon and the paper he is holding. but, his reaction speed was too slow to pull it off his grips as heeseung lost against the other five boys who had huddled towards jungwon.

“shut up!” sunoo exclaimed.

“it’s true, sun,” jongseong replied as he could hear jaeyun and riki screaming and laughing before they scurried to run around heeseung.

“who is this (y/n), hyung?” jaeyun speaks into his ear, making heeseung grimace as the three walk towards the crowd with sunghoon now holding onto the paper.

“isn’t (l/n)(y/n) your senior, jjong?” sunghoon calls out, making said boy read carefully the name with the signature on top.

“oh yeah! we had a marketing communication class together. didn’t know you knew her, hyung.”

heeseung steps in between them as he snatches the paper out of sunghoon’s grip in a quick frame. his eyes scan the paper that is written—the letter to the university administration about your status—and he can see his name printed on the side of the paper from yours. then, he finally read the note you have sticking onto the paper.

sign it and give it to the administration office. if you’re serious.

“won, it’s your turn to play,” he said as the boys stared at him. “i have things to do, plus i have a morning class tomorrow.”

“okay, hyung.” jungwon’s answer was followed by his offer to the older boys to continue the match as he felt another hand holding onto his forearm, turned to see the youngest boy with a small smile on his face.

“you gotta have to let us meet this (y/n) noona. i bet she’s pret-“

“go back to your place, riki-kun. jake’s calling for you.”

“hey, lanky. come on before i make you and jungwon switch.” jaeyun’s voice penetrates through the conversation at the correct moment as the smirk on heeseung’s face is growing. they’re leaving him alone as he walks towards his backpack and duffle bag—finally feeling the surging soreness from pushing himself hard while training and off-training. sure, it’s excessive. but the tournament is a month away from now, and he had to train for that, knowing that the matches would be back-to-back if he passed the quarter-finals.

the wood of the bleachers screeches beneath his body as he pulls out his pen, staring at the paper one last time—trembling breaths coming out from him. who knew that a single signature could hold so much power?

yet with how you are trying to deter him, to remind him that signing this will mean that the whole university will now know lee heeseung is a future father: that actually made him shake. he could feel the boiling anxiousness giving a few pumps of steam into his mind, clouding the plans he had already made in his mind from the information jeongin told him. he knows the future scenarios on both sides.

but fuck it, right? he’s not usually caring about what other people perceive. so what if he is known as a dad in nine months? but, he had to think about the parental leave you’re proposing—it might actually make him graduate late.

yet, the view is clear as he lets his pen glide on the paper.

the baby and your scowling face as you realize that his doing is the one that makes that baby so healthy.

tucking the paper in between his laptop and his wireless earbuds on his ears, he waves goodbye to the boys who are playing with sunoo giving a beautiful lay-up before he pushes the door to get out of the gym. the streetlights shining the pathways as he still can see students roaming around the campus at night—most are going to the library to maybe pull an all-nighter.

the screen illuminates his face as he scrolls down at the text jimin had sent him about you. but he had to do another victory lap first when he dialed the generic full name’s number.

“hello?”

“that will not work, (y/n).”

heeseung heard the grainy chuckle in his ear as he let his muscles’ memories take him home in the night's dark. eyes staring at the path that opens up onto the sidewalk where sparse vehicles are going about on the asphalt streets.

“so you sign it?” he caught the way you sigh against your phone while heeseung is focusing on both the conversation and what jimin texted about your condition.

“and i’ll be giving it to the office.”

“hmm, okay…” heeseung’s eyes scan through the words, letting his face contort and relax as he consumes it to his mind before it’s broken by a grainy sound of metal from your end.

“also, thanks, by the way. for the arugula. made me vomit my stomach out.” heeseung heard you reply as it slowly became more mumbled, hearing you eating your dinner’s food as the noises of the night came back into his cochlea, shaking his nerves as only white noises entertained him as he looked around—seeing his apartment building at the distance.

“and don’t make jimin ask chaeryeong about me again. she’s traumatized now and we have each other’s number saved.”

heeseung didn’t want to save your number at first. but when his mom brought him to her meeting with your mom, catching up after a long time and discussing that both of you have been accepted by the same university, they insisted that you both to have each other’s numbers saved. “for emergency sake, so you both have each other to rely on.” his mom explained, making him discreetly roll his eyes while you continue to listen to your music without giving a glance to him. yet, you’re the one that gave him your phone first so he can type his number, making a small “:p” the first thing you text to him.

“i’ll tell him.” he clicked his tongue as he caught the way you omit another information from him.

“but you’re not gonna tell me you have a doctor’s appointment next week?”

“how’d you kno-“

“jimin, from chaeryeong, and so, from you.” his smile gets bigger. “gotta have to thank jimin for that one.”

“so you want to join? what if you have a class?”

heeseung’s feet brought him to the lobby of his apartment building, his vision now on the elevator as he stated something so obvious to him.

“i have questions and i rather miss class than leave it unanswered.”

your hands are tugged inside your hoodie’s front pocket as you wait for your name to be called. the usual soreness is tamed as you let chaeryeong massage your back carefully, relaxing most of the tender muscles that are holding you up. you can see a little bump protruding out of your stomach that was not there when you discovered you were pregnant in week 8.

remembering the way you have to buy five pregnancy tests is ridiculous when your only symptoms are headaches and vomiting. but it quickly escalates to morning sickness and how you notice just how sensitive your senses have become—the way your fingers realize little grains of crayon as you pick up the kids’ drawing to how you’re triggered by little noises coming out off your room. it feels too strange for it to be food poisoning and with all five tests showing two blue stripes: all the problems you have faced for the past month—why your period is late, the morning sickness—all click inside your mind.

your girls were the first ones you spoke to, recalling how they waited in front of your shared bathroom as you flipped the tests around, hitting you one by one with the truth of your condition. then tears start to show as overwhelming emotions compete to show dominance and you hear chaeryeong’s voice from behind the knocks on the door. you open the door to feel them hugging you as you show them the tests, how they can’t wait to be your baby’s cool aunts from differing perspectives as they know of your history related to children, pregnancy, and motherhood from taking care of so many children, how your parents open up to you about why they couldn’t give you a younger sibling, and the responsibility you are willing to take care for them. at that moment they hugged, you’ve already fallen in love with your baby and you are determined to let them have a happy life.

the obstetrics and gynecology department’s walls were more pastel than the other parts of the hospital. maternity pack posters hanging as you read the words, planning your next steps as you waited by the door to your doctor. your fingers interlocked and thumbs twirling around each other as you attentively listen to the open door and your name being called. scouring your eyes around, you saw a little playground area for kids barren as you eyed the small set, mothers around you waiting also for their appointment—some with a sleeping baby in their hands, another with a large bump. the atmosphere is so serene that you can collect your thoughts and arrange them for the next seven months from your due date.

“hey, (y/n).”

your eyes blink as you turn around in your seat to face forward once again, looking up to find the familiar face you’ve been thinking about for the past few days.

heeseung wears a simple hoodie like you do, both of his hands tucked into the front pocket as the strap of his bag crosses his chest. a thin-lipped smile on his face as you didn’t see his usual resting bitch expression.

“heeseung…” you reply as you gnaw on the inside of cheek as he stands there, “i haven’t gotten the call from the doctor yet. so you can sit down.” your eyes glance quick at the vast space beside yours on the sofa you are also sitting down. he gave a quick nod before sitting on the space beside yours, a noticeable space between the two of you as you both lean more against each of the tables placed as the barriers between the sofas. even if you felt a piercing presence beside you, you tried your best not to look at him. the phone call when he called you was the last time you spoke with your voice to him—you having small talk with him as he found in the hospital doesn’t really count—yet he still gave you another box of ingredients for your unborn child this week, no arugula this time.

well, you are glad to see beomgyu more and you don’t mind seeing beomgyu every week if he’s the one that does heeseung’s errands for his child.

both of you stare forward at the doors and wall in front of you, nearing mirroring each other even by the slight twitch of both of you wanting to look at each other. but, also not really. the tension is stronger than when you told him you’re pregnant with his child. the fucking effects of the continued declaration of rivalry as you can calculate how far both of you are willing to push even for the past week and you can guess what you both will push more for the next 7 months.

“miss (l/n) (y/n)?” the door opened as the nurse spoke of your name making you jump up from your seat as heeseung followed behind you to enter the doctor’s room.

“(y/n)!” the young doctor said enthusiastically as you sat down on the chair in front of the desk.

“doctor park!” you answered, cadence matched hers.

“how have you- oh.” dr. park looks at the man entering behind you, looking between the three women in the room and the empty chair near the door before he hears her speak, “is this the dad?”

“yes, i’m the dad, lee heeseung,” he replied steadily as dr. park, who is standing up, shoots her hand out to him.

“i’m dr. park jihyo, (y/n)’s ob-gyn doctor. didn’t expect to meet you as (y/n) said that the dad might not be involved.”

heeseung’s eyebrows were raised, chortling as he realized what you implied, “after she told me, i decided to be involved.” his eyes peek from the side to see you giving a stare with no movements on your lips, sitting down on the chair beside of yours as you want to continue with your appointment.

“well, welcome to your tenth week of being pregnant. how are you feeling?” dr. park asks, looking at you with a warm smile as you see the nurse taking care of your document.

“the morning sickness kinda gets pretty worse and overflows out of the morning. definitely more sensitive towards scent, flavor, and texture. i also have already sensed growth on the bump since it is a bit more protruding than usual.” your hand unconsciously caresses the hoodie covered in your stomach, feeling the tenderness of the skin that is just muscles of your abdomen being pushed to cater to the baby.

“your stomach and intestines are being pushed by the uterus as the fetus grows and it’s very normal. since we already did the blood and urine test and went over your family history back in your first appointment, we can go to an ultrasound to check the growth of your baby.” dr. park replied as she nodded at the nurse who instantly walked to the bed and set things up for your scan.

“i’m sorry to bother you, doctor. but i have a question.”

your head shifts towards heeseung as he asks, the doctor just giving him a nod.

“(y/n) said to me she’ll get a plan b pill after our… time. yet, she still got pregnant, but isn’t that still supposed to work?” the way his voice pitches makes you hold on to a smile, recalling to when you asked the doctor the same question in your first appointment. you gave the doctor a big nod for her signal.

“well, (y/n) said to me she consumed a plan b pill less than 24 hours after your intercourse. but plan b pill, or levonorgestrel, works by delaying the release of the egg from the ovaries. she also said that her period, which started around a week or two weeks before she discovered she was positive, was late. so, we can assume that while you two have sex, (y/n) was already in her early stages of ovulation with the egg being released into the fallopian tube and the egg got fertilized.”

heeseung nods along with the doctor’s words as you remember the same explanation given to you in the previous meeting. you’ve tried using pills before but you know it will affect your hormone and physical health in the long run—you are not a serial fucker unlike a few people you recognize—so you rely on protection like condoms and morning-after pills right after that. heeseung not wearing one makes you want to laugh at how funny the scenario is and how you can just remain rivals for the rest of your life if you remind him to put on the rubber.

the nurse calls for as you follow her, stepping out of your shoes as you lay down on the bed. she gently brushes your hoodie up as your skin is exposed while she also pulls the band of your pants down below right above your underwear line. the chairs move as you glance at heeseung following dr. park as she takes the seat beside you to check on the machinery. the liquid is cold as it touches your skin as your eyes catch heeseung who is looking at the exposed stomach where his unborn child is.

as the transducer spread around the gel on the stomach when you feel it pressed down, you looked at the screen across from you hanging on the ceiling as the doctor moved around, marking the size of your uterus. you heard her gasp as you turned to look at her warm smile that widens into a grin.

“congratulations to you both!” she replied as she continued to move the transducer around, making you and heeseung realize that there’s a fetus inside you, but not just one.

“TWINS?!”

2. katana-like knife

heeseung gazes at the ultrasound he is holding with both hands, seeing the way the doctor has assigned twin 1 and twin 2 on the screen. the twins are in different sacs; he remembered what the doctor said, making them fraternal twins. she also says that not only you were ovulating when you two fuck, but you were releasing two different eggs around the same time and he got both of them pregnant.

he recalled both of you doing a hilarious staring contest as you couldn’t stop yourself from making funny faces as the doctor described the growth of your twins. fucking heck, he hadn’t told his friends that he was having twins. how his body trembles as the realization hits him while he’s looking at his babies—yes, plural—makes him even want to be more attentive, to now realize that he had two to take care of. and those two make him know you have to adjust your diet once again.

if it weren’t for him buying ingredients, he doesn’t think you would adapt easily to what the babies need. he’s won on this occasion. but what comes next?

his phone vibrates on the table as he takes a glimpse of the text message showing on the lit-up screen.

(l/n) (y/n): i’m heading home for the weekend. my parents will definitely see that i’ve been knocked up.

even he can see it as he had walked past you before on campus. you’re now wearing more oversized clothing pieces—t-shirts, hoodies, cardigans—as he realized the slight bump on the surface of them. it’s been over two weeks since that check-up appointment and the growth has been faster than he expected.

(l/n) (y/n): not asking you to join me.

(l/n) (y/n): if you aren’t brave enough to take the consequences, i’m fucking winning this :p

“that’s it” he shakes his head as he tugs the ultrasound picture into his wallet before putting it back in its place, hands opening the messages.

lee heeseung: threatening much. i’m in.

if you want to make this a competition, let’s make this a competition.

lee heeseung: hey mom. sorry for texting you randomly. but i’m going back home for the weekend.

all he had to do was wait, as he could hear the sound of his mom talking with your mom on the phone about how their children would be home together, asking to meet up.

and that moment goes exactly as he had expected as he drove the car with you in the passenger seat, leaning against the door as you both let the radio play boring-ass repeating pop songs from some random radio station. none of you seem to react, just to make each other annoyed enough to know who will concede and connect to bluetooth first—even not listening to good-ass music is a competition between you both.

you sighed extra loud as you listened to an old-ass pop song from the mid-2010s the radio seemed to have a lifetime contract for it to play for fucking ever. you wish you were the one driving now, but you didn’t bring your car for this semester because it needed maintenance and you were in a healthier mood for this year. you catch a look at your phone, seeing your mom asking where you are right now as auntie lee has arrived at your home—cooking up the food for all your family to enjoy.

“which one is your car’s bluetooth?” you gave up on hearing the radio station as you playfully checked every menu to find the bluetooth menu.

“the brand of the car, duh,” he answered, still focusing on the highway as you remembered that it’s nearly a few exits away from the side of the town you and he grew up in. he took a glance at the bluetooth speaker as he sees,

“‘mitski’s brainchild personified’? you liked her that much?” he actually snorted, making you see the name on your phone on the screen in the middle of the dashboard.

“shut the fuck up. she’s my comfort musician, just like kaede from slam dunk is your comfort character.” the way your fingers lightly tap against your phone, makes him chuckle as he can hear you holding onto your emotion from not spilling through your words, not commenting on how you mentioned his liking for slam dunk as if you remember it so well, even if it also stuns him.

you’re playing a playlist of yours that is just… instrumentals. a perfect playlist to hear whilst commuting as you let yourself take a breather from this world. eyes gazing to the window outside as you rested your phone on your lap. the scent of heeseung’s cologne accustomed your memories as you let the music speak while you both remained quiet. maybe, because it is an instrumental track that you both couldn’t comment on, that he can’t take a jab at your music taste unless you put on mitski or boygenius, that it gives a soundtrack so vague it resembles the way you perceived your relationship to each. sure, you still hate him for everything he has done to you in the name of winning. but, with two babies on the way, the concept of the rivalry between you both is there yet so blurry. which one is a concrete rivalry? which one is the softer one? why should you trust what he gave to you? why did he join in to take care of them?

the car zooms fast on the highway, yet you can see slower cars on the outside of the highway and faster cars zooming past you on the other lane. it’s like what your dad had said before—"you don’t feel how fast life is until you look at other people’s lives"—and to think that you will be home in overtly large clothing to hide your bump to know that he’s going to be a granddad just concretes the idea of that in your mind. you turn your head to glance at the backseat, seeing the shopping bag you had prepared besides what heeseung also has for his family, who he’ll meet at your house.

stepping out of the car, you stood at the carpool of your house filled with cars—other than yours and your parents inside the garage—when you watched your mom and heeseung’s mom walk out of the porch, barefooted, to greet you. the warmth of your mom’s hug felt so overwhelming that you had to sink your emotions as you blamed your hormones for making you too sensitive.

the interior of the house feels so lively from the last time you went home during the semester break. maybe it’s because of the way your mom has another guest in the form of the lee family and the smell of the delicious you know both of your moms had made together with their aprons still on as they guide you inside. even as they walked to the kitchen, you could hear them whisper.

“since when did (y/n) and heeseung arrive here together and in the same freaking car?” auntie lee asks.

“(y/n) didn’t bring her car this semester so i guess she doesn’t wanna waste any more money for transport.” mama answered.

both of your moms have always tried to make you close and you’ve always tried to tone down your rivalry in front of them, effortlessly acting in front of them as nice friends when you give him a snide look behind their backs any chance you can get. your bickering can escalate so much that you will have a shouting match in the arcade as heeseung doesn’t want to give up his time to play for you, making both of your moms force you to apologize to each other before that bickering returns at school’s classes where they’re not there for you two to mediate. maybe that’s why you don’t perceive heeseung as an enemy. merely a rival; because your mom never talked bad about heeseung no matter what happened between the two of you and it seems that heeseung’s mom has also done the same to him.

the two shopping bags sit on the coffee table as you watch both of your dads talking about dad stuff. heeseung’s attention is on his phone as he’s typing something on the screen while you unconsciously rub your stomach hidden beneath your top, waiting for all of them to settle down around the coffee table as they want to open the shopping bags together.

“what did you bring me?” mama asks in a sing-song manner as heeseung’s mom giggles beside her. you stood beside heeseung with your hands behind you as the husbands looked at the similar-looking gift boxes in each of their wives’ hands.

“don’t tell me. is it the jewelry i showed you those months ago, hee?”

“nah, it’s not. dad’s planning to buy that one for you.”

heeseung’s dad’s face turns into a scowl, seemingly angry as if his son has spoiled his plan while the boy just widens his smile before gazing back at his mom.

“well, together?” mama asked to his mom.

“yeah, 3, 2… 1!”

the box opens as you’re holding your breath, also holding back your smirk as you can view the way papa’s eyebrows crease as he can’t believe what he is saying. heeseung’s mom was the first one to openly express her shock by literally jumping from her seat and box thrown towards his dad’s as he took a good stare at it, making you glance at him you actually won the bidding on who would be shocked first between the two.

“NO, FUCK- WAIT?!” his mom stares between the two of you before your mom jumps from her space to also gaze at you, holding onto the paper. giving him a nudge with your elbow. you didn’t expect him to wrap his arm behind your shoulders.

“yeah… the babies are ours-“

“no fucking way!” your mom actually shouted as she hyperventilates while heeseung’s mom covers her mouth, contemplating on what to do when she felt her body being squished by her best friend, hugging her tight as they turn to hug each other while heeseung’s dad gives his box to your dad so he could see it clearly.

“since when are you two together?” papa asked as you tried to let heeseung’s grip from your shoulder.

“uncle, we aren’t together. we just hook up and-“

“WE’RE GOING TO BE IN-LAWS.” you can hear mama cheer as both of the women twirl around the small space, making you feel even more guilty for breaking the immersion as you stop budging away from heeseung’s hold. rolling your eyes, you stare at heeseung and lean in close to his ear, whispering.

“bad fucking idea…”

“at least they’re happy, right? well, i won because of that.”

mama interrupts both of you as she gives you both an enormous hug while heeseung’s mom comes from behind. you could see the tears coming out of mama’s eyes who rested her head against your shoulder.

“ughh, too tight.”

“stop it, honey! (y/n) looks so uncomfortable.” papa reminded.

“oops, sorry!” your mom lets go of her hold as heeseung’s mom slotted between the two of you as she pushes in on the excess fabric of your clothes, making you grip both sides of your top and pull it backward so she can see your bump already showing.

“hi, baby!”

“it’s babies.” heeseung’s dad cuts in as his wife follows with, “there’s two of them?”

“i swear to god.” heeseung’s old man brushes his face, unbelievable that his wife didn’t see the two sacs from the ultrasound as you give your mom a nod, her hands carefully holding onto your waist.

“fraternal twins,” you confirmed to her as you watched another batch of fresh tears coming out of her eyes.

“hello, you two. you’re going to have the best mom ever.”

“and dad too.” heeseung’s mom replied as she moved to stand in front of you two, seeing his grown son seemingly glowing as she spoke of him being the best dad to his two unborn children.

“okay. i gotta have to make the red meat well done then.” mama cuts out as she hastily moves to the kitchen to cook back her meat-based meal, letting auntie lee replace her place as she caresses the bump gently.

“how long has it been?” she asked as you opened your mouth to reply.

“we did the ultrasound two weeks ago. so it’s week 12 now.” heeseung cuts you off as she gazes back at her son.

“what have you two already prepared?”

“we gave a letter to the university for future parents and they agreed to let me take online classes entering 5 months because i only have three classes, one is that's doing a study case, and they let heeseung have parental leave if i give birth. i haven’t found the right doula yet but my supervisor at the daycare has a connection to one and i think it will be her. she has given me the number so i just have to text her,” you answered.

“is it near campus?” she replied.

“yeah, because i don’t want to graduate late. that’s why i decided to stay near campus during it.” you have thoughts on if you should just take a break this semester to focus on your pregnancy or not multiple times by now. but, of course, the rivalry comes back as you still want to keep pace with heeseung and your friends who will be graduating next semester.

“you should take a semester leave, (y/n).” heeseung cuts off your thought as you peek at him.

“i’ve already got what i wanted from the uni and it’s fine, heeseung. i can keep up.”

“well, you can, but what if you don’t take care of the babies?”

“of course, i can take care of the babies-“

“not by being stressed over college.”

“heeseung-“ you turn your body towards him as you grip both of his upper arms, firm hands holding him as you stare down at him. “i know what’s best for me. i know what my limits are. i’ve trusted you enough with the food but you should also trust me to know how to take care of myself outside of nutrition.”

your teeth are grinding against each other as your fiery gaze stays on him, even as you let go of the grip. it stays for a few more seconds as you turn back to head to the dads who seem to be forgotten by the sofa, seeing papa teary-eyed as he hugs and kisses your head before you let heeseung’s dad hug you.

his mom turns towards him, cupping his cheek. “she knows what she’s doing, heeseung.”

“but how should i know it’s right? cause that’s not right for me. my friend’s mom said that a pregnant woman should focus on preparing herself for her birth and doing college doesn’t seem to prepare her for that.” heeseung sighed as he looked at his mom, not expecting a slight hurt on her face.

“i was still doing my job when i was pregnant with you, heeseung. your dad trusted me for that cause he knows my limits, might be even more than i do. let her be and you might learn that she knows how to take care of herself, too.” her hand brushed away the fringe on his forehead, eyes glistening as she let out a small warm smile at him. the hurt falling away as heeseung sees her mom’s signature smile of knowing before she brought him in his arms, hugging him tight as he glances at you who is giving him a small look with a tight-lip smile before you turn away to the dining room.

heeseung stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars sticking on the ceiling. his back being stretched out on the floor as he laid on the comforter beside the single bed where you’re still playing with your phone. he remembered how he begged—trying to persuade—his parents to bring him home with them. but knowing that he’ll only be staying for one night and you two are “together”, they decide for him to stay with you instead. you can see how his fuming breath was held as you glanced at him with an unidentifiable look at the dining table, his parents believing you would let him stay in your bed.

but he insists on lying down on the floor, knowing the history between the two of you they don’t know, as you silently agree.

printed pictures still hang on one side of the room when he looks at them as long as the bedside lamp is still on. he remains silent, eyes tired from looking at his phone so much to distract him from his reality when he hears the rummaging movement on the mattress as you put the phone on the table.

“well, night, heeseung.” the click of the lamp is big in the white-noised room as darkness envelops the space, letting in the moon and streetlights outside beam their shine inside. your eyes easily adjust to the surroundings as you puff your one-less pillows on the bed to find the right position—knowing the ache of sleeping in the wrong position when you are carrying two fetuses inside you.

“since when did you work in a daycare?”

the man’s words overcome your action as you brush the cover of the pillow.

“why do you wanna know?” you put the pillows in the right position as you lay your head and back against it.

“since your mom proclaimed that you’ll be the mom ever.”

heeseung is reminded of the way you look when your mom says that, a look of pride coming out of your eyes as you unconsciously nod knowingly. even if you and him are close by proximity—by being your moms’ children, by being schoolmates, by having roommates who stay in proximity with each other—there’s still something that you don’t know about each other. because if the opposites know, they can use it as leverage to bring any of the two down.

“had a few babysitting gigs during high school days. i started to like it more and decided when i go to hybe, i’ve volunteered for a non-formal school for children and more. i decided to do a part-time job at a daycare and yeah…” you replied, laying down by your side as if you could see heeseung beside you when he is, in fact, below you.

“it doesn’t match with your major though.” heeseung gives a snide comment as you sigh loudly.

“so what if a business major can’t connect with my passion for childcare- fuck me.” you stopped to remind yourself to stop taking the bait from heeseung because you know he was making these comments to break your confidence within yourself. you could discuss how making and taking care of a business could resemble making and taking care of a child, but with the way he had pissed you off today in more ways than one, you rather stick that thought to yourself and instead, take offense towards him.

“why did you wrap your arm around my shoulders?”

heeseung glances towards the bed, seeing your silhouette on the top forming a dark shadow because of your comforter shielding it.

“i had to. so they know the babies are ours,” he replied with the thought that first came to mind after he already had his arm behind you—blaming his underlying consciousness for doing that.

“and it makes them believe we’re together when we’re not. look at us now.” both of your arms stretch out of the comforter to tell him just how big the situation you got yourself into cause how many white lies must you tell your parents to hide that this is because of a hookup, not because you are romantically linked?

your staggered giggles drop as you try to glance downwards at him, the arm nearest to the floor left hanging as heeseung didn’t comment on what you said. “well, this just got more complicated.”

“our situation is complicated since the start, (y/n).”

“well, i know who to blame for making our strings get more tangled with our parents cause fuck you, heeseung.”

he saw the lone middle finger standing tall from the silhouette of your figure before you picked yourself up and lay all your weight on the bed, turning the other side as heeseung followed; both of you staring at the opposites of the room, knowing that your bodies needed to rest so you can face each other again in the morning.

the time between that night and how you both lived after you went back to your own places near campus was a week when you texted him about the doula that you had told at your parent’s home. the car was left in neutral with the handbrake lifted as heeseung waited at the daycare where you work. his eyes gaze at the differing modes of transport each guardian is picking up the kids with before looking at the lobby as he sees you and another attendant saying goodbyes to the kids. he watches as a few of them hug you and even a few let their cheek rested against your growing bump before you take a glance forward at them who is going back to be with their parents, noticing his car for a few seconds before you return inside to take your items.

the backpack is hanging off your shoulders as you take another sliced fried potato from the container when you enter the passenger’s seat beside his driver’s one, resting your back against the seat with your bag there to support you. “hello! i’ve sent you the address, right?”

he stares at you with his squinting eyes, “you should not eat that.”

“it’s cravings, heeseung. it’s totally normal. the doula can count me on that.” you chew another fry as heeseung lets out a mumble under his breath as he moves the handbrake and puts the gear to drive, reeling the car forward as he drives you to the doula’s office. both of your moms have suggested several doulas for you to choose from, but you reminded them you’re having twins. so having a doula who specializes in taking care of moms birthing multiples will be helpful as it is also your first time.

playfully, you fly a french fry like an airplane towards heeseung as he drives, like the usual time you try to feed kids at the daycare. it nudges against his lips a few times before he bit it, pulling it off your fingers; making you let out a chuckle cause he can’t even resist it himself.

the parking lot was pretty barren as you only saw a few vehicles when you both walked out of the cars. you adjust the backpack once again on your back as the chime from the car tells you it is now locked as you enter the office building.

thanking the receptionist, you and he stood in front of the doula’s office as you knocked the door.

the door opens as a soft-spoken woman says from the inside, “miss (l/n)(y/n)?”

“yes, i am.”

“oh, come in. come in.” the door widened as heeseung could see the things inside the large office room. a desk in one corner and a cabinet stood behind it. accolades and certifications by the desk with a sofa on the corner beside the door. a box of what seems to be baby toys beside the sofa as posters are hanging on the wall. from the anatomical look of a baby inside their mom’s uterus to words of encouragement towards mothers.

“i’m haseul. nice to meet you.” the woman shook your hand as she then glanced at heeseung who was still wandering around.

“oh, uh, this is heeseung, the babies’ daddy.” you refer to his name as he looks at the lady, shaking her hand as she looks between the two of you.

“so, both of you aren’t married or dating-“

“no, we’re childhood friends and hooked up, and this happened.” heeseung blurts out as you raised your eyebrows, poking your tongue in the cheek. haseul nodded her head as she let both of you sit down in front of the desk.

“first, congratulations on the twins. you must be nervous to find that out.”

“of course, especially as a first-time mom. but, i’m feeling pretty okay.”

“that’s good, i’ve also sent you the questionnaire for you to fill on your plan for giving birth…” haseul’s voice traces out as heeseung glances at the portrait frame of her holding onto a baby with a mom, a glance at the book about post-partum, and a baby doll on top of the cabinet right in front of a corner window. he could only catch onto some words he recognized from jeongin telling him—birth, dilation, cramps, anesthesia, cesarean—as he sensed himself getting overwhelmed, especially when he had the second preliminary match in two days and his gig in being the documentation for a baseball match for hybe uni too.

his thumbs caressed his fingertips as he sensed the sweat forming on his palm, the same feeling he has every time he has to go to match. to then realize just how ready you seem by how eloquently you say the words for your requests to the doula like you’ve grown up much more than he is even though both of you are the same age. sure, he felt the leverage the first time when he sent you food and a few tips he makes beomgyu do; but his knowledge couldn’t compete with yours and it scares him to know he is losing his stance from above you. to know that you’re much more ready than him.

“heeseung…” he heard someone calling for him, before something wrapped around his wrist, taken aback to see you brought him back to the room he was in.

“sorry… what did you say?” heeseung replied as haseul gave him a warm smile.

“i’ve heard from (y/n) that you have known some knowledge of pregnancies but i could give you some sources to read because it is your first time as a dad as well.” the woman said to him calmly, looking at heeseung as if she can read his body language. your hold on his wrist stays as you rub the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “we have also discussed that (y/n) will try the normal route with water birth and if she can’t handle it, she’ll be going with cesarean. we could also do an appointment every two weeks as both of you are students now, but it is best if you come so you can understand each process as she is entering the second trimester.”

“i understand. i’ll try my best to set my schedule so i can join her.” heeseung glanced at you, who was giving a nod before you let go of your hold as he seemed to be anchored back in the room. the woman gives a small smile as she starts a lecture on the process of pregnancy, childhood, and parenthood. another class that heeseung doesn’t want to get in the first place, but knowing his determination to be the best dad ever—as what his mom believes him to be—he follows along with writing notes in his book as you have with your laptop. the class that he has to pass so he can take care of his children as best as he can.

even with the music booming from around his space, heeseung still felt like something was different. his eyes rested on the plastic-colored cup filled with a concoction of alcohol he didn’t know—he could taste the gin and what seemed to be fanta in it. the sigma mu’s frat house lits up in motion as he eyes the way the expensive big-ass speakers are scattered around the room, gazing at the familiar faces of his peers and juniors he has seen while walking around campus.

something stirs within him as he eyes his friends who are here—beomgyu who is by the speaker as he talks with the dj, jimin with his dance crew friends, jeongin with his class friend, while heeseung sits with sunoo and sunghoon on either side of him. that’s when he caught onto the silhouette of some familiar faces every time he comes across a certain person; every time he comes across you.

“excuse me, gang.” heeseung would like to thank himself for being able to stand up so stable even with the nearly empty cup, excusing himself from his basketball teammates to walk towards the frat boys of sigma mu to find the vp and his girlfriend by his side.

“winter…” he calls with the nickname he heard you and others call her before as said girl turns towards him with her boyfriend’s arm still behind the sofa.

“lee heeseung.” she spoke out with a grin on her face, “what makes you come in front of us?”

“i was wondering,” ‘fuck it’ heeseung drinks up the whole liquid that remains inside the cup, hoping that his alcohol tolerance still be able to support him to be stable, “has (y/n) ever talked to you about a doula check-up or some other thing?”

“she should’ve told me if there’s gonna be a checkup but i don’t think there is one nearest from now.” minjeong replies as she lets sungchan take care of her drink so she can comfortably talk to the boy in front of them.

“ah, really?”

“yeah!” minjeong replied before giving another smile. that’s when someone crashes to wrap their arms around minjeong and sungchan, making the two jump as they turn to see ryujin’s head between both of them before giving minjeong a peck on the temple.

“hey, (y/n)’s baby daddy. whatchu up to?”

heeseung chuckles as he looks between the two girls—”no wonder you have them as your friends, all of them are similar after all”—before he opens his mouth.

“just checking what’s (y/n) up to-“

“well, she’s not here. for your information.” ryujin lets out a smirk, “you must really wanna talk to her about something.”

“a doula appointment.” sungchan replied, “and you know how (y/n) is about…” the boy glances at, “him.”

heeseung’s teeth grit against each other as he senses they are hiding something from him. maybe because of your doing so you can prove to everyone that he isn’t as committed to his children as he spoke about.

“you and minjeong aren’t home, so i presume (y/n) is with chaer-“

“someone’s calling my name?”

heeseung sighs as he turns towards the voice of chaeryeong who is holding two cups of drinks as she gives one to ryujin.

“he’s asking about (y/n).” minjeong nods toward chaeryeong when she lets out a small ah before turning her head to stare at heeseung.

“since chan here invited all four of us at the frat party, she really wanted to be here but, of course, cause she’s preggo with YOUR children, she couldn’t. but all of us went out of the apartment together and she was holding a duffle bag of some sort.”

“where is she going?” heeseung doesn’t hesitate to ask, making your three friends look at each other and giggle.

“you seem desperate enough. she’s at the park near our apartment complex. she complained about needing a light workout because of how much her back is hurting.” ryujin said as heeseung could picture the park, knowing where you lived because he had picked you up for your trip back home for the weekend.

“okay, thanks all of you.” heeseung places the cup on the table beside the sofa where minjeong sits and turns away, letting the sense of fresh air flowing inside the frat house guide him to the nearest exit as he arrived on the pavement, feeling the stuffiness inside him getting lighter as he gave a text in his group chat he’ll be leaving early.

the walk there was pleasant, to say the least, because the suburban town the campus is in is pretty sparse compared to the city where heeseung and you live. there is enough place for it to be called a big town but not enough skyscrapers to be called a metropolis. and with the inconsiderable amount of apartment complexes available near campus, he already pinpointed the park where you might be.

crossing the black-and-white stripes, he arrived at one of the entrances of the park where he still could see a few people doing their activities inside—night jogging, playing chess under the streetlights, and a couple who was on a date. he was reminded of what ryujin said about how you might need exercise, but the duffle bag says to him you might stay in one place rather than walking around the park as the main event of your exercise time.

heeseung’s feet instantly brought him to the place that he had gone before in this park as it is the same park near where sunghoon, jay, and jake live—maybe they live in the same complex as you do—when he finds the silhouette lightly jog behind the trees from the path he is on. the sound of rubber meeting the concrete slaps across the night’s atmosphere as he sees you in the middle of the basketball court, wearing a sweatshirt where he could see the bump pushing against the fabric. the basketball bouncing between your palm and the ground creates the familiar sound as you jog toward the ring and shoot your shot. the ball hits the backboard enough that it bounces into the basket.

“fuck yes…” you exclaimed as you grabbed the bouncing ball into your hand, heaving as you brushed the sweat of your skin right underneath the spotlight shining on the court.

that’s when you pick up the scraping on the concrete and clap when you turn around to look at the last person you want to see tonight.

“you still got it,” heeseung commented, making you scoff as you took a few steps back so you stood adjacent to the free throw circle. holding up the basketball between your hands as you tried to remember the position before pushing towards the ring. the basketball curves as it hits the edge of the box instead.

“dammit!”

“you spun your ball,” heeseung replies as the ball flies into his arm, naturally guiding it into a dribble as he walks towards you.

“i didn’t.”

“your wrist was twisted and it makes your hand doesn’t flop straight towards the ring.” he walks towards your side as he shows you the way to hold it, making you glance at the arm muscles that form from holding the ball so much as he throws the ball, creating a perfect arch that it bounces on the back of the rim before it flies and the basket catches its fall. your body immediately reaches for it before heeseung can as you return to your spot whilst dribbling alternating between left and right.

“i know.” you lightly roll your eyes as you grab onto the basketball once again, wiping your sweat palm against your sweatshirt before you feel the right grip as you return to your position, reminding yourself to let the ball fly and not twist your ball before you threw it.

you heard a click of the tongue as you saw a pair of hands reaching to hold yours, making your hand move to the position as you picked up heeseung’s breath beside your ear. startled, your shoulder nudges against his chest as you hear a small “ack” before you throw the basketball, seeing it twirl in the air. you can hear heeseung saying “i told you so.” before it bounces against the backboard, but you are ready as you stride towards it to grab the ball before heeseung catches it and you quickly do a layup, gliding the ball as it bounces right at the small box above the rim as it bounces inside. you turn your body to face him, head tilted with a smug smile as the ball bounces before it rolls to heeseung’s feet.

but the smile falls as you see heeseung who is in his element, walking back to the three-point line and shooting his shot as the ball, once again, creates a perfect arc. the basket catches it into its net as heeseung walks towards the center of the court with a wide grin on his face. the ball bounces near you as you hold it and dribble once more, glancing at it, the court, and heeseung once again as you shake your head, scolding yourself to take things slow for your and your babies’ sake. the sudden epiphany makes your eyelids flutter as you dribble away at a steady walking pace around the court.

your footsteps are met with another as heeseung’s legs stride towards you, a smirk on his face showing as he replies, “that’s why you were put in the point guard position.”

“hmm…” your reply is small as you continue to dribble away the basketball, making you and he walk around the court together before he cuts through the silence.

“why did you stop playing basketball in high school?”

your body stood still as you let your muscle memory do your job of dribbling the ball, shifting your head towards his even if you look away.

“you were, well, it seems to be still are, good at it,” he added.

the memories of your first year in high school from the extracurricular showcase come back as you are already determined to stop playing basketball, focusing on doing something else that you were interested in.

“i got tired of it,” you replied, but heeseung seemed to notice that it was not all the truth.

“and…”

the ball stops bouncing as you hold it against you, wrapping your arm across your front along with the ball as you glare at him and reply, “you.”

“me?”

“yeah, you. i stopped playing because of you.” you turn around and set your eyes on the bench where your bag is. your water bottle calling for you so you can hydrate yourself as you give in.

“really, huh? wow, that was another victory i didn’t expect-“

“fucking hell, heeseung. that’s why- this-“ you gulped down your saliva, “what you become because of it is why i stop. i know our moms are outstanding basketball players at their time and we’ve gotten the signal to be like them but-“ you hold back as you throw the bottle inside the bag, holding yourself down as your hands form fists.

basketball has always been a large part of your life before you were even born. your mom and heeseung’s met because of their love of basketball as they became skilled players together. your mom and dad meet up because of basketball. you still remember the amount of pictures of your parents in their high school days in their basketball jerseys in the photo albums. even if they don’t pursue it professionally, it still becomes a large part of their life as it also spills onto you.

with the amount of time you have interacted with children—as it makes you see your own experience as a child in a different view—many of them like to mimic what their parents do before they form their own sense of self. you can see it with the way one child at the daycare is always playing doctor with dolls, figures, and plushies because one of their parents is a doctor. you were like that. you’ve heard and seen just how impactful basketball is to your mom that you want to be just like her, making you join the teams during your elementary and middle schools.

to see and feel the influence of your rival during practice and tournaments around you was overwhelming.

the tug-of-war between the basketball in between both of your hands is just the beginning of what kinds of rivalry you and him have during practice. even if your coaches assigned you to the same team, you or he, depending on who is first, will reach out to the coach to be put into the other team. even if you two had to practice together, hidden aggression is flying to the roof, which includes passing the ball so hard that it had even made your nose bleed. as time goes on and the many matches you and he have to compete in as you two have to watch each other to “encourage” each other’s team, you had notice the way you fell out of love of basketball because of how there are more bad memories associated with it even if you were being trusted as a captain for one season and scoring many buzzer beaters to let your team and school win the tournament.

“you’ve become so much better with it as i lost interest. i still remember when the coach brought me to the nurse’s office cause you passed the ball so hard that it hit my face. in the middle of practice for the last season in middle school, that’s when i knew…” you take steps closer as you now stand in front of him.

“i knew i’m in a losing battle against you.”

your muscles twitched as you wanted to let out a smirk when you noticed the hidden expression heeseung failed to hide, the little shock he had gotten to show. yet, the emotion that is enveloping you held it down, as you now had to tell him the truth. why your rivalry seemed to expand outside of the scope that both of you are in.

“that’s why i quit basketball. that’s why i decide to pursue my own path even with you tailing behind me to comment on my every move. because i am sick of you. yet, i held back. i had to retaliate, just like what i did on that fucking playground when we were 5. cause i’m not afraid of you even though i know i’ll lost in the end.” you chew the inside of your cheeks as heeseung seems to read your face while letting his brain figure out what you meant.

“that’s why i wanted a fucking truce.”

with the way your facial muscles contort, it hurts you more and more as you feel the tears of pain forming, harboring the feelings you have felt for nearly two decades now. with your hand raised, you wiped the small drop of tear as you let out a huge breath, feeling just a bit of the weight in your rivalry falls off—right along with you.

as you let your body sit on the concrete ground, you push yourself back slowly as you settle and lay on it. heeseung’s conflicted face peeking from your vision while you’re trying to blur it out by focusing on the night sky. though the light pollution is still around you, you can still see tiny specks of stars behind the shadow of clouds of the night. stretching your back on the ground as you let your backbone rest after trying to make you stand upright while carrying two growing fetuses.

eyelids close, you let nature take control in calming your emotions and let heeseung process the information himself. the first time you truly open up yourself behind the mask of your persona—maybe when he stays the night in your childhood room is one as you recall your feet resting against his sleeping figure, contemplating if you want to wake him up or not before gazing at the dusting basketball that you decide to bring back to your apartment after papa helps in blowing more air so it doesn’t sag too much.

the sound of rustling leaves seems to be louder as you rest still, hearing a muffled thump beside you as you open your eyes, looking at your feet to then find another pair lying down right beside yours.

“you’re the one that was throwing a fit and ruining my toy truck after i apologized.” you sighed as you took a peek to see heeseung’s head turning towards you, asserting dominance once again before looking back. you knew that if you replied with the same vibe to assert your own dominance, it would actually break you apart faster than the rate that you are now. however, you have one question that will be the right one to ask him about.

“did you mean that?”

“‘mean’ what?”

“the apology? did you mean that? cause i want you to look at it from my eyes, lee.”

heeseung traces back to that memory when he sees you teary-eyed face and his mom beside him, the boys he was playing with snickering on the side as they saw him getting in trouble with his then-friend. the “sorry” mumbled out of him with his eyes on you but mind on the boys, who seemed to not snicker at him, but at you for being a pissy fit. but, deep down, he knew…

“i meant it.” his reply makes you turn your head, mirroring his form as you let out a slight pout.

“with that smile you were giving? hell no-“ you rolled your eyes.

“i genuinely meant it. the boys that were there, they were behind you and they were laughing at us. i had to juggle facing you and them. i had to look fierce yet still can give you an apology. maybe that’s why you see the smirk that you see. i was a fucking child, (y/n). we’re not as good as we are not in hiding complicated emotions to only let out one.”

your chest rises and falls as you see the apology smirk in a different light. you don’t know if you should easily believe that or not, but after taking it into consideration, you could feel a small part of your inner child healing up before you realize the damage that you also have done to him.

“if it is genuine; i’m sorry, then. about the truck. you know how i felt now and why i did that.” you return to look at the sky once again as you hear the rustle beside you before peeking at heeseung who is also staring into the night, listening to him humming before you return to gaze back again.

“what would happen if i actually have the emotional intelligence to know that you were sincere that day?” your words cut off the silence as you felt the guilt pouring for it to be transformed into humor that was reciprocated well by heeseung’s chuckles.

“well, we wouldn’t have these two.” he playfully poked your belly, making you let out a small shriek before holding onto his wrist as you held his hand down between the two of you and you pivoted your head to see him.

“in all seriousness, i think we might have been the friends our moms see us to be because let me tell you, they see us differently than what we are having.” his words are replied with a hum as you added,

“i notice that too. glad we can be more civil in front of them.”

“we still could, you know.”

with the way you didn’t hold on to his wrist tightly, you felt the limb moving under your touch before his palm rested underneath your own. the wind blows against your sweaty top as it gives you shivers from the cold, hoping that your own temperature and a lifeline can help warm it up. and you can feel it warmer as you see heeseung pivot to mirror you. his fingers slid between yours as if he knew the little shivered breath you led out.

“have each other’s backs. emulate what they want.”

your eyes are galloping to the way the spotlight shines half of his as the other one is cast in shadows from facing the concrete. you could smell a faint scent of alcohol on him but with the life in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t drunk. the way his eyes are also peering with slight twitches as before connecting with your gaze.

pushing one side of your upper body, you cup onto heeseung’s cheek as he leans up to connect your lips. your shoulder is pushing down against the ground as heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, making it steady as you can hear his muffled hum from your kiss. your fingers curl to hold yourself up better before you feel his other hand reach for your waist and push you down so you both lay on the side.

both of you take turns to take a breath as you sense the tip of his nose brushing against yours. every time you let out a breath, the other’s lips linger before connecting once. your legs curled as you felt the ticklish sensation surging through your nerves before heeseung pushed your lower back so it could stay for one last long kiss before he pulled away. your noses touch each other as you feel his hand on your waist trails to your bump, pressing it down gently as you lean back to see him looking down at the body he is holding. then, his eyes flick back to you as he can sense you slip away, turning yourself away from him as you push yourself up with your arms.

grabbing the lone basketball and putting it in the duffle bag, you zip it up and shift to find heeseung now upright, yet still with his legs stretched out on the ground.

“baby steps, heeseung.” you pull away before giving a small salute.

“baby steps.”

your voice echoes as heeseung watches you walk away, biting his bottom lip before a chuckle falls out of him as he knows he had to text you back his question about the appointment, knowing that you will reply to him.

beomgyu breathed out as the elevator opened up to the now familiar hallway, holding onto the box that he had still had to bring even if heeseung already told him he’ll do the next one himself because of what he told him. the box held fresh ingredients that jeongin also pinpoint—courtesy of his doctor mom—on what you should eat, considering now that there are two of them inside you. beomgyu couldn’t help but feel melancholic knowing that this was the last time he’d probably visit your apartment complex as… well…

but, other than bringing you today’s box, beomgyu is here to pick you up for the doula appointment as heeseung will follow suit after practice. even his bandmates are weirded out as to why he has to do the errands, but knowing that they’re in the process of rest mode whilst preparing to create new music and focusing on academics, he allows it, especially with how long he has been best friends with the guy.

he huffs as he positions the box again against his upper body, sliding his pointer finger to the bell as he picks up the familiar bell sounding in the room. but it seems like there’s no one inside. he’s glad that he remembers the pin ryujin has given him as he pushes inside the door to see the clean empty living room of the apartment he has been in countless times when he had to put the box in himself. pushing off his shoes, he walks to the kitchen and places the box on the island counter before rushing towards the intercom to turn off the bell.

that’s when he heard the noise of something familiar.

a guitar strumming sound of chords and the changes he recognized.

beomgyu took tiny steps towards one of the ajar doors in the hallway as the realization of the familiar sound widened his eyes. of course it was familiar to him, it was his song.

the nearly acoustic rendition of “skipping stones” with a familiar voice he had heard makes him peek through the door to find you sitting cross-legged on your bed, holding a nearly all-white guitar as you strum while having headphones on your head, singing the daylights out as your window lets the stream of lights in through the window. he lets you sing as he can see you glow—jeongin had mentioned to him that pregnant women have this whole glow on them. maybe that’s what he was seeing in you. the way your fingers glide against the fretboard with your eyes on it or close as you sing the lyrics makes beomgyu mesmerized.

the last ring of strings strummed is heard from your rumble speaker when you notice clapping from outside of your headphones, making you look up to find beomgyu behind your slightly open door. his clapping turns to hollering as lets out a wide thin smile before looking away; you don’t want him to see you flustered. that is when you realize why you’re here.

“oh fuck, the doula appointment.”

“yeah!” beomgyu replies outside as you quickly tidy the guitar up into your case and you step into your wardrobe to grab some more clothes that are much more appropriate for your appointment.

“sorry, about that. beom.”

“nah, no worries. i can wait.”

“thanks!” you close the door as you quickly change your clothes, deciding for a flowy blouse with a rubber-banded culotte, needing to remind yourself to buy maternity clothes because you are slowly running out of clothes that fit you. you wore a bit of sunscreen as you got a message from mama telling you to embrace the pregnancy glow your friends seemed to notice is exuding out of you as you’re in the second trimester. wearing the eau du toilette that doesn’t make you as dizzy—unlike perfume—you open the door to see beomgyu leaning against the wall where it hangs a frame of you and your roommates in photo booths.

“you ready?” he held his hand out as you nodded, you put your hands out before beomgyu grabbed the strap of the bag from your hold, startling you before you returned to your usual state. if your face isn’t warm enough, it’s now warmer from the embarrassment.

the walk down to his car is silent as he helps with buckling the seatbelt to the side. seeing how much your stomach is rested underneath the strap makes him giggle as you recognize the smell of pot from beomgyu’s very appropriate old sedan car.

“hopefully you aren’t high while driving me.” you give a cheeky grin.

“of course not. heeseung will actually kill me if he finds that i dui with you.”

beomgyu twists the key of the ignition as the car turns on—yes, that’s how old his car is—as the sound of a loud rock song plays from the rock fm you recognized. his hand reaches for the button as you react,

“no need. i’m okay with it.”

he hums as he reaches for the volume to turn the sound down, not letting the rattling of the sound in the interior startle you as he pulls the car out of the parking space and into the road.

“can you check the quickest route to the office?” beomgyu said as he brushed his wolf-cut hair.

“of course.” you lean back against the leather seat as you open the map app on your phone, telling beomgyu the roads to the doula’s office. the song has changed to a familiar song by tom petty playing as you notice how beomgyu glances at you.

“what?” you called out with a few chuckles.

“i didn’t expect you to like my song, well txt’s song.” his reply is met with your own giggle as you lean back.

“even if i hate heeseung. that doesn’t mean i have to hate his friends, you know?”

your eyebrow is raised as he gives another quick look before focusing on the road, “if you don’t believe me, i’ve been a fan of band your band since, like, sophomore year when you formed.”

“why? i really wanna hear from a fan's perspective.”

your giggle warms his heart as you answered, “i just relate to it, ya hear? a band that talks about the hardships of finding oneself and the struggle of growing but in a more intelligible way other, especially ‘skipping stones’ from your newest album.”

both of beomgyu’s hands are on the steering wheel as you feel the brake of the car before turning to the curb of where the office is, parking nearest to the entrance as the car stops and he pulls the hand brake. both of you sitting inside as you waited for heeseung to arrive in a few minutes from the last time he texted you.

“why ‘skipping stones’ specifically?”

“hmm…” you suppressed the grin that is threatening to go out before replying with, “interpreting self-struggle with the idea of skipping stone is… in it of itself, very poignant. to correlate the body of water with your own and the stones you’re throwing as the struggle you’re facing.” you let out a huge sigh, “i don’t know- it’s something i understand, especially if someone else is doing the skipping stone to you, feeling that emotion sinking into you, replacing the water’s place…”

you glanced at beomgyu who was definitely staring at you, his hands on his lap as he let out a solemn smile, agreeing with what you said. you quietly nod and take a sharp intake, trying to find the right words to cut the rising awkwardness between the two of you, “other than that, the freaking dissonance on the harmony is so good. it gives a sense of unbalanced buoyancy as if you’re a leaf floating on the water and the skipping stone makes it unstable. great job on that.”

“thanks!”

“of course.” you nearly slapped yourself for leaning closer to the middle console, but beomgyu seemed to not react as much when you felt a bit of your finger touching his. “can’t wait for the next release. no pressure.”

the corner of beomgyu’s lips rose as he giggled, a boyish grin on his face before his expression changed, “don’t worry, me and the band won’t let the fans down.” he replied as you leaned back, head nodding. that’s when you hear the rumbling of the car right beside yours as you see the appearance of heeseung’s newer model car.

“gotta go. thank you so much for bringing me here,” you said as beomgyu helped pick your bag up from the backseat.

“of course, (y/n). gotta have to thank heeseung for letting me do so, but hey…” you felt his hand reaching and now touching your wrist, making you turn your body while nearly opening the door.

“i've known you since high school but we never hang out together cause of heeseung. maybe we could hang out, with your girls and my guys? if heeseung is already melting his ice down then i think that’s okay for us and our friends to hang out. it’s up to you, though.”

you suppress an amused smile as you think about it. thinking about how long have you been crushing on the boy in front of you and how you wanna shake heeseung a thank you for letting him do the errands, maybe even to your noise-canceling headphones that make him notice just how much you like him- no, his band. yeah.

“i’ll think about it. heeseung and i don’t have a formal truce yet but based on what we talked about last time, maybe it could work.”

“sweet-“

you heard a knocking on the door before you turned around to catch heeseung’s silhouette behind the glass window.

“i’ll talk to the girls so we can arrange a time.”

“me too with the guys.”

“okay, bye beomgyu.” the car door unlocks as you nuzzle the door open while hearing beomgyu’s own “bye” from the driver’s seat. heeseung helps to hold the door as you step out.

“thanks for her ride, gyu.”

“don’t mention it, hee. we might even have to ride with her often.” beomgyu said right as the door that heeseung held closed. the engine turns on as the car drives off the parking. you stand right beside heeseung as he looks at you, who still has a lingering smile on your face.

“why are you smiling, (y/n)?”

he lightly nudges your palm with his as you turn your head to him.

“you’ll see, hee.” as you took off towards the office, leaving heeseung once again alone as he then followed you.

part 2

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @reallysmolrenjun @stelanity @possibly-zoe0218 @enhypenilycometoaus @jaysupremacy @jungwoneez

#k-labels #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #rsc: laurel hell #cr: heeseung #cs: enhypen #sc: regina

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the-froschamethyst4 · 3 months

Text

Ex-Husband Simon

Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

————

Ex-Husband Ghost will sign the papers only because he knows you were hurting. He’d be gone for a long time and wouldn’t even know if he was okay or not

Ex-Husband Ghost would feel bad when he’d come to pick the kids up and they don’t understand why their mom and dad aren’t together anymore and why they see him 40 days out of the year

Ex-Husband Ghost who tries his best to keep in contact with you and your kids

Ex-Husband Ghost who cried himself to sleep because he was wondering what he did wrong as a husband

Ex-Husband Ghost who can’t stand the sight of you with another man. When he first went to go pick the kids up and sees you with a man standing on the front porch his hand on your waist. It pissed him off seeing that

Ex-Husband Ghost and when his daughter told him that you were pregnant with that man’s kid, it pissed him off even more, but the reality of remembering that your not his anymore hit him like a brick. He can’t dictate who you have a kid with, you had 2 with him

Ex-Husband Ghost picking up the kids again and he sees you with your big belly with that man’s child

Ex-Husband Ghost his kids expressing how they don’t like their mothers new boyfriend because he could be mean to them for no reason

Ex-Husband Ghost who finally got a chance to talk to you without the court involved or your new boyfriend

“Did you know he was an asshole to the kids?”

“What? No he’s not, Simon, he yelled at them one time because they made a mess, he never yelled at them after that. He knows better.”

“That’s not what the kids told me.”

“Simon-“

“Think about it and I’ll tell you what they told me.”

Ex-Husband Ghost who hates seeing you upset and when the next time he picks up the kids sees you upset and he knows it had something to do with the man

Ex-Husband Ghost who learns you two broke it off and you went to the hospital after having a miscarriage because of stress

Ex-Husband Ghost after he learned that he would pay much more child support then he was suppose to and even brought you groceries

Ex-Husband Ghost who still misses you every time he sees his kids

Ex-Husband Ghost who invited you to come to the park to watch the kids play.

“I’m sorry about the break-up.”

“I learned that he was cheating on me…”

“How long?”

“5 weeks after you had told me he yelled at the kids and when I confronted him about the yelling he told me he was cheating and then started to throw out that the child was probably not his and someone else’s…”

“Y/n-“

“Don’t…I’m here for my kids.”

“I know…”

Ex-Husband Ghost who would still buy you flowers for no reason, the just-because flowers.

“Go give these to mama,” he tells his daughter after she got out of the car.

“Okay,” she takes them and runs towards her giving them to Y/n and smiling down at her daughter moving them inside the house. She turns to Simon and blows him a kiss.

Ex-Husband Ghost who still owns his Kawasaki. He pulls up into your driveway and sees you walking out of the house arms holding you as you move your sweater over your body due to it being cold.

“It’s cold Simon, did you drive here on that?”

“I did…I wanted to see if you wanted to go on a ride?”

“Simon, the kids-“

“They’re okay…I promise just around the neighborhood, nowhere else.”

“Okay,” he pulls out her helmet from his backpack, helping her put it on and helping her on the back.

Ex-Husband Ghost who starts being invited back into your home because it was your children’s idea. They wanted their daddy back in the house to have dinner, and for him to play with them

Ex-Husband Ghost who starts coming over to help you a lot more than before. Before it seemed like Simon was married to his work…not his actual wife.

Ex-Husband Ghost who starts helping you with your sexual needs

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 6 months

Text

stepdad!ghost x crybaby!girly!reader where he yells at her n it scares her cuz his voice is so deep n booming n she immediately starts crying. it all starts when he’s stressed because of a ton of paperwork he has to get done by that night and he hasn’t been able to because of different things that keep popping up. on top of that, he has to watch over you because your mom is out of town for a few weeks doing god know what.

so it’s safe to say he’s beyond stressed.

it all comes crashing down when you come skipping into his at-home office, a dvd in your hand for a movie he had promised you two would watch that day—before he was emailed a ton of paperwork.

you skip over to him, a small, “what’re you doin?” leaving your lips quietly as you peer over his shoulder.

he knows you just want attention right now, and god, does he want to give it to you.

but he can’t right now, and unfortunately for you, you don’t realize it.

he replies to your question with a gruff, “paperwork.” as he rubs his temple with his index and middle.

“oh.” your reply is short, and you look down at the dvd in hand sadly. “thought we were gonna watch a movie?”

simon tries to ignore the disappointment in your voice, because he knows he would immediately drop everything for you, but he just can’t.

“i know, love, but ‘ve got so much shit to do..what about tomorrow?” he asks, now watching u walk around to the front of his desk as you lean forward on it with your hands planted on the hardwood.

“tha’s what u said yesterday..” you pout, and simon can feel his irritability building in his blood. he doesn’t want to take any of his stress out on you, but if you push further, he’s worried he might.

“i know, princess. ‘m sorry, okay? i promise we will do it tomorrow.” he is now shuffling through his work.

you hate when he isn’t paying attention to you.

your eyes burn as you begin to feel tears sprout to them.

“si..” you squeak, trying to express that you feel lonely—what, with your mom being out all of the time. however, simon seemingly ignores you, too lost in his work. trying to get his attention, you call him what you know will achieve that. “daddy, can u take a break? please?” you beg, fidgeting with the dvd case. ghost’s heart squeezes in his chest at the nickname.

he mentally shakes his head. he has to focus.

“y/n, i already gave you my answer.” he speaks, his voice edging on pure annoyance.

“b-but you promised me! you always have somethin’ more important than me!” you’re fully crying now, and simon genuinely feels bad, but he just has so much to do.

he sighs, standing up to grab a pen from the coffee table. you follow behind him, crying.

“why’re you ignorin me?” you sob, and ghost rolls his eyes. he knows if he doesn’t look at you he won’t give in.

“y/n, stop.” he spits, walking back to his desk and hunching over to sign something.

you continue blubbering nonsense until— “enough! fuckin’ christ!”

his eyes burn into yours until he sees your utter hurt and he’s immediately back-tracking.

“angel..” he says softly right before you run off, and he begins to follow until you slam your bedroom door in his face. “fuck.” he sighs, exhausted.

he knows he scared you. he’s never yelled at you like that before.

he can hear your muffled, hiccuping cries, and he rests his forehead against your door—eyes shut tightly.

he tries your door handle but it’s locked. he knows you need time to decompress right now, so he reluctantly goes back to work for another hour before checking on you.

“princess?” he knocks on your door, and he can hear the movie you two were supposed to watch playing on the tv in your room. “let me in, baby.”

he can hear the sound of you getting off of your bed, then the clicking of the door unlocking. you run immediately back to your pink bed, whimpering like a puppy out of fright.

simon sighs for what seems like the 20th time that day, sitting down on your mattress. his large hand rubbing over the expanse of your back slowly.

“sweet’art, lookat me,” he speaks softly. “didn’t mean ta scare you..’m sorry. jus’ was stressed, baby.”

you turn your head, and he can see the reddening of your puffy eyes from crying so much.

“awh, angel,” he kisses the top of your head, brushing the hair away from your face. “can you forgive me?”

his voice is so soft and gentle you want to cry some more.

you nod, chewing on your lower lip. simon’s jaw ticks as he traces his thumb over the slope of your nose and down to the cupids bow of your soft lips. “sweetest girl ever, y’know that?” he asks, and his heart flutters when you giggle.

he leans forward and gently places a small kiss on your lips.

JANDKD IDK IF I LIKE THIS BUT WHATEVER

#simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #stepcest #dark!simonriley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x innocent!reader #simon riley x crybaby!reader #simon riley #cod #stepdad!ghost #stepdad!simonriley #stepdad!simonghostriley #stepdad!ghost x reader #crybaby!reader

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ultraviolencced · 2 years

Text

you know how parents get divorced and hate each other when they lose a child well it’s like that but my mom to me

#there was like a ‘honeymoon’ time where she told me she loved me daily and gave hugs which hasn’t happened since 2018 and that didn’t last #and now she wants nothing to do with me bc apparently i’m a horrible manipulative piece of shit #me: self harms is scared and asked for help my mom: mad at me like when my sister did she held her and comforted her and called the crisis #response team to make sure she’s ok and im just manipulater with nothing wrong with me #she fucking asked me in not a good tone if i was ok i said no i’m not ok and she said in a tone well obviously no one is ok with this i’m #talking about right now like no i just self harmed for the first time in years im a scared sobbing mess and she didn’t care #yesterday i told her i was mad at myself and i wish she would’ve stopped me impulsively spending bc it’s a super unhealthy coping mechanism #and trigger and she knows that and then she fucking encourages me to buy something then i ask for help and she’s mad at me she hasn’t even #looked at me today like this why i’ve spent my entire life not telling her how i’m feeling or struggling because it does more harm than good #like what are you supposed to do when your mom hates you no i can’t move out i have autism and i’m disabled and can’t work #there were 3 weeks of me thinking she actually did care and actually meant it when she said she loved me but that’s over so now i just sit #in my room alone trying to cope with my brother dying and my mom not liking me and worrying about my sister bc she’s in such a fragile state #all i want to do is talk to her about how i’m feeling and i can’t because it will send her into a rage and she will literally fucking hate #me and want me out of the house #idk i’m 27 i should just shut the fuck up and move on i’ve done it for 23 years i can just fucking continue it is what it is #shut the fuck up taylor

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boneblushed · 5 months

Text

Labyrinth

Uh oh, I’m falling in love / Oh no, I’m falling in love again

synopsis you’re reunited with your ex-boyfriend, Rafe, at an Outer Banks wedding.

tags Rafe Cameron x fem!reader, exes to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn-ish, A LOT of angst, an equal amount of pining, an awful breakup but a wonderful reconciliation 💓

wc ~11k

“You look,” you murmur, squeezing Brooklyn’s shoulder gently, “perfect.”

She’s sitting in front of a round, gold-rimmed mirror, the windows on either side of her painting her skin a warm aureate. You stand in shadow behind her, the sunbeams unable to reach your pretty features. There’s a wistfulness to them that’s almost imperceptible.

Almost. If she weren’t your best friend, someone you’ve known since forever, she probably wouldn’t have noticed the way you were hiding from them. The smile on her face falters as she looks up at you through the mirror.

“Look,” she begins tentatively, frowning, “if this is too hard —”

“Do not,” you interrupt. You try for an encouraging smile; what you hope is an encouraging smile. “I’m totally fine, okay? I’m over it.”

A pause. Brooklyn’s reflection sends you a long, hard look. “No one would blame you if you weren’t.”

You know what that means, the insinuation behind her words: you were supposed to be the first one. It’s all anyone in the Figure Eight was saying when they first found out about your break-up: you’re meant for each other, though, we can’t imagine you not being a couple!

Well, neither could you, not that it really mattered. Six months on with half a heart and pulseless motive, you’ve come to realise that wretched pining comes at a costly price.

You can’t afford it anymore.

“I know,” you reply quietly.

The spaghetti strap of your cowl neck falls as you straighten, the periwinkle fabric shimmering forebodingly. An image of the Rafe you knew flashes in your mind, slipping it down to press a kiss on your skin. Your stomach drops.

“But I am,” you add, louder. As though you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are her. “I promise.”

Brooklyn stares at you for a long time before her gaze falls, acquiescing with a sigh. “I hate that you still don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That he could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you.”

You bite back another wince, the fresh sting of forgotten feelings pricking at your eyelids. “I do believe it,” you say quietly. “I do. That’s what makes all of this so fucking hard — that I know we’re never getting a second chance. That he chose to throw all of it away and I’m never going to be able to forgive him for it.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though!”

“We were together for half our lives, Brooke!” You turn away from the mirror, taking in a jagged breath. “We — his mom had promised me her ring before she died, for God’s sake. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to walk away from what we had?”

A long pause. Brooke’s voice is gentle, but her words cut like a knife. “It’s not as though you had a choice, Y/N/N. He didn’t give you one.”

You look around at her, unshed tears making your pretty eyes shine. “What does it say about me that I’m no closer to accepting that than I was six months ago?”

“Babe.” A tear falls. Brooke’s features soften, and she pulls you into a tight hug, enough pressure to wring out the melancholy in your chest. “It says that you’re human.”

She rocks you for a moment before you’re forced to pull apart, a knock on the door breaking your reverie. “God,” you self-reproach, sending Brooklyn a watery smile. “I would find a way to make your day about me, wouldn’t I?”

“Maybe I should ditch Kelce,” Brooklyn replies faux-seriously, catching the stray tears wetting your lower lids. “We can elope or something.”

As though on queue, the Universe intervenes before she can go through with this idea. Perhaps it knows, having watched the pair of grow close throughout college, that there’s a part of her that really would call this all off if you asked her to.

“Sweetheart!” Comes Brooklyn’s father’s voice from behind the door, punctuated by the sharp rap of his knuckles. “It’s nearly time!”

The tension ebbs. Suddenly, everything about this wedding—the same one you’ve been helping her plan forever—becomes entirely too real. Your melancholia is a tide in this way, flowing forth and receding as its surroundings permit. Never fading away; ever-present. Though it may not be as unbearable now as it was when you first broke up, it lingers.

You’re afraid that it always will. You push down this fear like you’ve done every other.

Focus. Your eyes widen in anticipation, mirroring Brooklyn’s as they transform into nervous excitement.

“Come in!” Brooklyn calls anxiously, biting back a squeal. You’re grateful for the fact that you haven’t ruined her mood completely. “Oh my god. Oh my god!”

She stands up and turns around just as her father enters the room, his lined face shining with a wistful sense of happiness. As the atmosphere in the room shifts, she glances back at you, and your insides twist in cruel mocking. More repentant than jealous. I was supposed to be the first one.

You don’t let your expression falter. The first few chords of the processional float into the room through the ajar door, and you spring into action, smoothing out your dress and readjusting your bouquet of flowers.

“That’s my queue,” you say, squeezing her arm once more before slipping past her and her father.

In true Kook fashion, Brooklyn’s wedding ceremony is taking place on the Island Club green. Upon exiting the storage room you’ve transformed into a vanity, you find yourself in the entranceway that leads to the venue, the set-up just visible beyond its oak doors.

Benches of beige driftwood sit on either side of the aisle, twined with buttery white lilies and ivy-like viridescence. They face a brilliant floral wedding arch, where the officiant and Kelce stand talking in hushed whispers. And the sky above you is a vibrant, cloudless blue, golden sunlight fanning down upon the crowd, bathing them aureate.

In the beat that passes, you search for someone you shouldn’t.

The last time that you saw him, he was hunched over his father’s office desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his tired gaze dull; half-finished documents stared up at him in mocking, and a nagging ache was making home in his chest.

The week prior, you hadn’t seen much of each other. And it wasn’t as though he’d requested this space—he rarely did, rarely asked you for anything—you’d just taken it upon yourself to give it to him. Stay in control. If you proposed time apart before he did, maybe it would feel more deliberate; hurt less.

You were dead wrong.

“Look,” he sighs, this cruel, heavy sound that splices right through your chest, “I realise I’ve been neglecting our relationship a lot recently.”

“Yes,” you respond tentatively. “But you’ve been under a lot of pressure recently. I get it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He glances up at you through red-rimmed irises. “I… I don’t know how long it’ll be like this. With everything that’s happened… my dad dying, and me taking over the firm —”

“I’ve seen you through all of it,” you interrupt quietly, your voice cracking. “I’ve — no questions asked, I’ve done it. I get it, Rafe, you’ve got different priorities at the moment. But we’ve loved each other for so long now that I —”

“But that’s the thing,” he says then, swallowing hard, “I just don’t know if I do anymore. Not as much as I used to.”

The silence that follows feels as though it’s suffocating you. You haven’t said a word, and Rafe’s said plenty, but it’s you with the lungs that heave for loveless oxygen.

“Oh.”

Rafe’s Adam’s apple jumps again, and he breaks eye contact as unshed tears brim to the surface. “I’m sorry.”

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Maybe,” you try, grappling hard for a logical explanation, “maybe your grief’s fucking with your ability to feel anything.”

Rafe’s gaze lifts to your face again, teardrop tracks making your pretty cheeks shine. His heart aches, hard, and he finds it difficult to catch his breath. “But… I’ve dealt with it,” he says quietly. “I’ve had to.”

“How can you have?” You throw back, exasperated. “Rafe you — you haven’t had a moment to yourself since his funeral last month, you’ve holed yourself up in his office and acted like everything’s fucking okay!”

“Because it is!” He replies, his face hardening momentarily. “I’m — I’m fucking fine, alright? I just need to be alone right now.”

“Because you don’t love me anymore.”

Rafe winces. Your lower lip trembles. “Yeah. Because something’s missing… the — the fucking spark, or whatever… and right now, I can’t give you the sort of love you deserve.”

He was tired of hurting you through his abjection, he’d said. As if breaking things off wasn’t the most hurtful thing he ever did.

Thankfully, you aren’t able to spot him in the crowd; if you had, walking down the aisle would have been infinitely more difficult. Out of courtesy to you—and Brooke forcing his hand, of course—he hadn’t asked Rafe to be a groomsman either, so you were well safe from an untimely encounter at pre-wedding festivities. And from standing opposite him in front of the altar. You aren’t sure such close proximity in holy matrimony would be healthy for either of you.

It’s unfair on him though, you know it is. He has as much a right being best man as you do maid of honour — the four of you were thick as thieves once upon a time; in fact, it was you that’d introduced Kelce to Brooklyn.

It feels like so long ago when you think back on it now, being nineteen-years-old with a naïve heart and nothing to lose.

You and Rafe had seemed invincible then, high-school sweethearts that were somehow surviving college-borne distance. Forever, that’s the word that ended every drunk call or late night text; forever, and the promise of a proposal and beach-side villa.

“Shi—did you not see the sock on the door, Smith?” Rafe groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in defeat. He’s spent the past half hour getting you into a compromising position, his rough hands awry and his wet mouth on your soft skin. The amaranthine imprint of his kisses have made home on your neck. You’re straddling him with your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he really doesn’t want to sacrifice any amount of closeness.

Kelce enters the room tentatively, his hand firmly pressed over his eyes. “Hard to miss. You two decent or what?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You let out a peal of laughter as Rafe glowers at his roommate, his calloused palms dropping from your hips to your thighs. You push the fabric of your dress over his hands, but he kneads the flesh anyway, the skin on skin like spare oxygen.

Kelce peeks at you from between his fingers before pulling them away, an unimpressed look on his face. “C’mon, surely you’re done with her Cameron. I’ve given you guys the entire fucking day together.”

“Half an hour,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes narrowing.

“As if you need more than five minutes,” Kelce snorts, plopping down on the bed opposite Rafe’s.

“Oh fuck—” Rafe’s large hands circle your thighs and tighten, standing up and advancing toward Kelce with you in his arms, “—right off—”

“Rafe!” You gasp, suppressing another surprised laugh. “Put me down, you asshole.”

“No way, Y/N/N,” Kelce says then, raising his arms in preemptive surrender. “Your PDA’s the only reason he hasn’t given me a shiner yet.”

Rafe affirms this sentiment by pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, his eyes still narrowed as he glares at Kelce. “You’re lucky I love my girlfriend more than I do my fucking reputation.”

Kelce makes a face, keeling over and mock-gagging. “Yeah, yeah, you guys have been bethrothed since fucking pre-K, I get it. Now will you stop being so possessive and let me have a conversation with her?”

You look over your shoulder at him, untangling your arms from Rafe’s neck so he can let you down gently. When he does so, it’s with great reluctance, and he doesn’t hesitate to circle your chest so he can pull you back against him. His strong bicep is warm against your neck, solid pressure.

“What’s up, Kelcey?” You ask, surveying him with interest.

“Ghosted,” he says gloomily, falling back against his duvet, “again.”

Rafe glances down at you at the same time you look up at him, a sage, sympathetic emotion passing between you. In the weeks after your break-up, you’ll come to yearn for this emotion more than anything else — that feeling of being immune to inadequacy, of having found the love of your life so effortlessly.

“You’ve gotta stop coming on so hard, bro,” Rafe says, resting his chin on your forehead. “These sorority chicks are probably all looking for something casual.”

“He can’t help the fact that he’s a lover boy, Rafe,” you defend, frowning. “You’ve just gotta find a girl that wants what you want, Kelce.”

Kelce raises his head hopefully. “Know anyone like that, Y/N/N?”

“Well,” you pause, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “I am thinking of inviting my roommate Brooklyn to the Bahamas over summer break —”

“To Rafe’s?” This piques Kelce’s interest. He props himself up onto his elbows, a hopeful grin transforming his features. “Sold.”

How times change.

Today, Kelce stands at the other end of the aisle, waiting for the same Brooklyn that was once your roommate, now his almost wife. He’s wearing an elegant black tuxedo with a lily tucked into the breast pocket, its buttery white petals shining in the sun. He looks so, unimaginably, happy. It should’ve been you and Rafe. Your heartstrings twinge.

“You’re not ready,” you murmur as you pass him on the altar, finding your place opposite his best man, Topper.

Kelce smiles at you, a little nervous, a little unshed. “Will I ever be?”

You shake your head, smiling in tandem.

The wedding procession is a brilliant display of love, and you find a way to make it about your lack thereof. Seconds blur, minutes melt into each other, and your poor mind strays to when things were far simpler. The Island Club was your date night spot, once upon a time. It’s where you’d envisioned you’d get proposed to; where you would get married one day, too. Just like this.

You’re happy for them, you swear it. It’s just a difficult emotion to maintain when the opposite comes so naturally.

Rafe doesn’t arrive until the reception itself.

He wants to believe that this is entirely accidental — he’s had a long day at the office, filled with several meetings with prospective clients. He can’t though, his wretched conscience won’t let him. He chose to go to work today, chose to schedule important meetings at the same time as Kelce’s nuptials.

He thinks he knows why this is, and isn’t sure whether he can handle the why in a satin slip and strappy heels. He wants to believe that he meant everything he said to you six months prior, but the dreadful ache in his chest crescendos in mocking every time he tries this.

He’s made a mistake. He won’t admit this if it killed him. But he knows, deep down, that something isn’t right about all of this.

If he really didn’t love you anymore, if that fucking spark was missing, there shouldn’t have been anything to move on from—the ship should have already departed. But he’s struggling, hard, and his thoughts juxtapose his actions. Despite telling you that he needs to be alone for the time being, you remain unmoored in his mind, rocking back and forth but never sinking.

He’s done his fair share of fucking up over the past few months. Got into something else too quickly, tried that no contact thing and failed miserably. There’s no going back after everything that’s happened. And yet…

“Hello?” He greets you like it’s a question; like greeting you isn’t second nature anymore. Your stomach turns.

When you respond, your voice comes out jagged, pained. “Look. I get that you’re doing this ‘no contact’ thing, or whatever, but Sarah told me something pretty fucked up and I think you owe me an explanation.” Your voice is far weaker.

Rafe winces, a familiar ache pulling through his chest. “If this is about Elle —”

“It’s been a month, Rafe. You may as well have cheated.”

…that fucking hug.

After you’d confronted him about shamelessly flirting with Sarah’s friend, Elle—in front of Sarah, no less, who told you the second it happened—he’d asked to meet up in person and explain himself.

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it all, which is probably why you’d foolishly agreed to hear him out. Ward had hired Elle as an intern before his death; she’d been around a while, long enough for an affair.

It shifted bile into your throat.

And when you’d met him, the exact opposite of what you’d hoped had happened. He’d had the gall to tell you that he thinks something’s there, that he feels that bullshit spark that he swore was missing in your relationship.

What were you meant to say?

But then he’d apologised, recognised it was too soon, begged to stay friends. Friends—like a platonic relationship is in any way gift receipt redeemable. And ironically, hearing him out wasn’t even your biggest mistake, it was that wretched hug goodbye that you’d permitted you get.

It was as though that hug held everything unsaid. Your figure had moulded against his quite perfectly, and why wouldn’t it? He’s the only romantic embrace you’d known since you were a teenager.

And when you’d finally pulled away, separated the pieces of your heart that were finally greeting his again, you hadn’t realised that he’d think about that hug for weeks gone by, just like you.

All the way up until Christmas, which occurred two months after your sudden break-up.

It was the last time you saw him under the pretence of amicability, when you came by Tannyhill to drop off presents and see his family. Mostly him. It felt pathetic, even then; for all you knew, Elle was on his mind and you were somewhere insignificant.

Rafe’s pretty sure he’s fucking doomed.

Your laugh reverberates through Tannyhill like a siren song, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never not recognise the sound of it. It’s as though every bone in his body vibrates in tune to it—so unabashed, so freeing. Far more painful now than it used to be.

You’ve become so many Taylor Swift songs and none of them end happy.

He follows your sweet timbre to the hallway before he can help himself. Once upon a time—God, it feels so long ago now—he’d have been the first person you’d have texted before dropping by the house. Instead, as he stands paralysed at the foot of the stairs, it’s Sarah who’s hugging you, who gets to hold you in her arms.

Luckily for him, your eyes are closed in the embrace, and he’s afforded a second to recalibrate after taking you in. He’s known that you’re beautiful like his first memory on Earth, but that doesn’t mean your proximity leaves him any less winded. You’re fresh-faced with limbs that have an untouchable quality to them; you aren’t his to mark anymore, no longer his to ruin.

He can’t remember the last time he kissed you. He wants to remember so fucking bad. You’re slipping through his calloused fingers and fragments of you are all he has.

“You didn’t have to get us anything!” Sarah exclaims, pulling away faux-disprovingly.

“Hey, don’t do that, of course I did.” Your arms fall back to your side, and you open your eyes in tandem. When they flit past Sarah’s face and find Rafe’s instead, it feels as though someone has tipped ice-cold water down your singlet. A pause. “You’re family.”

Sarah notes the change in your tone with a frown, turning to look over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, her expression hardening. “Sorry, Y/N/N. I didn’t know he was home.”

You swallow. “It’s no big,” you reply, forcing yourself to look back at her. “We’re alright, really. But I should go, I have a few more presents to drop off.”

Sarah frowns harder. “You sure you don’t want to stay a bit? I know Rose’d love to see you, we’ve all really missed having you around —”

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, handing her the bag of presents you’ve wrapped. “I’ll send her a text, okay? And listen,” you pause, your expression softening a little, “I know this holiday season’s going to be hard without your dad, and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whenever you need me.”

Sarah’s eyes well with tears. “It’s going to be hard without you too, Y/N,” she murmurs. “You’re my sister.”

Your features sadden in tandem, and you give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And I always will be. You know that.”

“You should come to Christmas, then,” she says hopefully.

“I —” you falter as your voice cracks, grimacing slightly, “— I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.”

When you turn around, something in Rafe’s chest cracks too. He’s still hanging on to that expression-softening catalyst from a moment prior, yearning hard for the feeling of being on the receiving end of your love.

“Why the fuck,” Sarah fumes, rounding on him once you’re out of earshot, “do you have to ruin everything you touch?”

Rafe doesn’t even have it in him to wince. “I don’t know,” he responds quietly, with an honesty that aches. “If I did, maybe I’d have found a way to fix it.”

Sarah takes pause. Slight disbelief transforms her features. “You have to still love her. How can’t you?”

“I don’t know, alright?” Rafe runs his hand through his hair slovenly. “I just — I’m not happy anymore. It’s not fucking there… I don’t know if it’ll ever come back.”

“What isn’t?”

“The… the spark.”

“Bullshit,” Sarah spits out, accusatory. “The ‘spark’ is fucking bullshit, Rafe. You’re telling me you’ve felt it the entire time you’ve known her? You’re telling me this doesn’t have anything to do with dad’s death?”

Rafe swallows thickly, discomfort coating his throat. “I don’t, alright? All I know is I can’t give her what she needs right now; I don’t know if I ever will.”

To this day, he doesn’t know about your detour that evening — how instead of driving home, you took a left to the look-out where you shared your first kiss. He doesn’t know that the waves crashing ashore bore witness to your heartbreak; that sunset orange painted your tear-streaked cheeks a gentler amber. Caressed them, subdued them, where he no longer could. He doesn’t know you agonised over how much his hair had grown in your absence, the subtle stubble on his jaw, the stark outline of his biceps.

The him that’s foreign to you, now; the him that’s Elle’s and not yours.

At twenty-four years old, Rafe Cameron doesn’t know fucking anything.

Of course, once he does eventually recognise that his ‘something there’ with Elle is a rebound, it’s too late to entertain returning to you with his tail between his legs.

He can’t. Not after everything he’s put you through in the past. So he allows regret to caulk his limbs and bitterness to coat his insides, and Rafe Cameron does what he does best — pushes it down and ignores it.

Which brings him here, a non-attendee to his best friend’s wedding and an hour late to his reception.

He sidles into the venue through a pair of double doors, and the first thing he notices is the dimmed sconces and muted fairy lights. It’s the first thing, because perplexingly, the crowd is hard to discern but you glow anyway. A spotlight illuminates the centre of the room where Brooklyn and Kelce share their first dance, but they don’t draw his gaze, your beautiful features do.

Of course you do, in your strappy cowl neck slip. There’s less periwinkle fabric than he’d anticipated, more exposed limbs, and Rafe feels like he’s run a fucking marathon as he takes you in. And your pretty eyes and glossy lips cascade into a bare neck; soft skin that’s forgotten his rough touch, his bruising kisses.

It’s momentary lust that his regret promptly squashes. He can’t think those thoughts about you anymore, even if they’re almost second nature. Even if he’s spent more tangible years of his life as your boyfriend than he has a fucking stranger.

That’s what you guys are meant to be right now: strangers. His stomach coils. His tired eyes search for the open bar on instinct.

Once he’s acquired a whiskey neat and a glass of champagne, he pulls through the crowd and makes toward your figure.

You aren’t as lucky as he is to mentally prepare for a reunion. When he holds out the shimmering flute and prompts your gaze toward him, there’s a split-second of slack-jawed diffidence before you find your common sense.

God, you wish he wasn’t so easy to stare at.

He’s wearing an expression that isn’t yours anymore, with his thick brows furrowed and lips slightly parted. Yearning, but he can’t be. His blue eyes make your heart leap. Your gaze lifts before it falls, taking in his damp hair, his larger than ever frame. Both feel unfamiliar; he’s shed the skin and aureate curls your fingers once traced. Same notes of patchouli on his neck, though you note the absence of the silver chain you once bought him for Christmas.

Does he still have it, somewhere, hidden in a shoebox under his bed? (His hand is so close to your chest, it feels like you’re dying.) Is it as painful for him to see you like this after months and months of no contact?

Can’t be. Shouldn’t be. The ache may linger, agonisingly, but you’re stronger now than you were when he first ended things.

“Oh,” is all you can muster, accepting the flute of champagne. When your fingers brush, you reprimand the jolt of static. Lust may be hard to shake, but you resolve to let logic prevail. “Thanks.”

Rafe feels it too, harder, more unbearable. “Don’t mention it.”

You break eye contact to look out into the crowd, though it’s a struggle finding anything to focus on. “When’d you arrive?”

“Five minutes ago,” he admits, staring at your side profile for a second longer than he probably should. He analyses the glittery stuff on your cheekbones—highlighter?—for traces of a familiar feeling. “Work shit.”

“Ah,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at him. “Some things never change, huh?”

Rafe winces. “Look, Y/N, I —”

“I’m kidding, Rafe, relax,” you interrupt, sending him a small smile. It makes his stomach turn. “It’s all going well, I hope?”

“It is, yeah,” he responds, smiling in tandem. “Ish. Still doing a fuck tonne of late nights and weekends.”

“Bummer.” It feels strange, making small talk in this way. Strange, though not particularly as awful as you’d predicted. “How’re Rose and your sisters?”

“Yeah, they’re good,” they miss you, “Sarah’s going to UCLA in the fall.”

You nod. “She told me.”

Something in Rafe’s chest drops. He turns to you, his piercing gaze making your skin burn. “I didn’t realise you guys kept in touch.”

“We’ve always been really close. You know that.”

Because of me. “Right.” His eyes fall to your throat as you take another pull of champagne, smooth and unblemished and painfully foreign. “I’m glad.”

You turn to him then, an unreadable expression on your face. “Me too.”

A beat. The pair of you stare at each as the surroundings buzz into static.

“Listen, Rafe, I —”

“Y/N, I’ve been —”

You falter first, scrunching up your face abashedly. “Sorry. You go.”

“I…” Rafe pauses, running his calloused palm through his hair, “I guess I just want to apologise. For everything.”

Your eyes widen, and you turn away from him abruptly. “Rafe, I don’t know if now is the best time to have this conversation.”

“Shit, I know. I know I’m about five months too late and don’t deserve to be heard out.”

“Well,” you pause, chewing on your bottom lip apprehensively. Your voice quietens. “Maybe not at a wedding.”

Or ever. You tip back the rest of your champagne just as the slow dance fades out, breaking away from him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Rafe fucking hopes so. He needs a clean slate if it’ll kill him. He nods reluctantly, watching you disappear into the crowd in front of him. The ache in his chest crescendos as the physical distance swallows you completely.

—

“We love you,” Brooklyn mouthes, blowing you a kiss through the open window. The limousine she’s in stretches forward with jet-black grandiosity, its ignition blaring alive as you catch it in mid-air.

When you blow one back, Kelce peeks over her shoulder and sends you a wink. The pair of them wave to the wedding-goers surrounding you before the vehicle pulls forward, leaving you in its dust. You watch them exit the Island Club gates, and a sense of bittersweet melancholia finds home in your chest.

That should’ve been you. You turn around as the crowd begins to disperse and find yourself face to face with Rafe once again.

“Oh,” you say, looking up at him in surprise. When your expression relaxes—in recognition—his chest pulls in tandem. “They’re sweet, huh?”

Us; that should’ve been us. Rafe nods, smiling wistfully. “Can you believe you’re the one that set them up?”

“At your holiday house,” you return, smiling in tandem. “This was a two-person wing man job.”

“Nah. You were the one that saw their potential.” A pause. “You’ve always been really good at that.”

Your brow furrows. “At setting people up?”

“At seeing their potential,” Rafe corrects. An unreadable emotion crosses his blue irises. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

Your expression falters. You aren’t sure what to say to this, so you don’t say anything at all.

“Listen,” Rafe tries again, scratching the back of his neck, “d’you need a ride?”

“Well…”

You hesitate, looking over his shoulder for your parents. When you spot them, they’re in avid conversation with some family friends; they look extremely comfortable, like they’re going to be dawdling until God knows when.

You’re searching for justification even though he doesn’t deserve it. After all the pain he’s caused you, your wretched heart still yearns for more.

Fucking sadist.

“Actually, yeah,” you finish after a beat, bringing your gaze back to him. “That’d be great, thank you.”

His shoulders relax. “Yeah, of course. You have all your things?”

“Uh huh.”

“This way.”

You allow him to guide you to his pick-up trunk, pretend that you didn’t discern it right away. Besides, you were meant to have forgotten the location of his unofficial ‘official’ parking spot. So you follow him toward it, deny the familiarity of its number plate, and act like every dent and wretched scratch isn’t a piece of your heart.

“Shit—ow!” You curse, hurtling forward as you stall, again. “This is fucking impossible, Rafe. I quit.”

Rafe grins perplexedly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Baby,” he placates, “if Top can learn to drive manual, anyone can.”

You make a frustrated noise, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not me, clearly.”

Rafe lets out a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt so he can pull you into his lap. “C’mere.”

When he does so—with entirely too much ease—he pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb so he can guide your lips against his. It’s an unhurried kiss, a sure press of emotion, as though he’s rousing the embers that live within your ribcage.

He has this funny way of leaving you out of breath no matter how chaste the embrace. You break away reluctantly, raising your eyebrows at him. “So is this the reward system you used when you were teaching him to drive, hot-shot?”

Rafe makes a face, dipping his head to sponge a kiss to your neck. “Why? You jealous?”

“Never,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “You wouldn’t dream of leaving me for someone else, Rafe Cameron. The Figure Eight wouldn’t forgive you if you did.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I did.” Another teeth-scraping kiss. “I’d be crazy to let you go. I’ve been in love with you since we were freshman.”

He doesn’t open the passenger’s side door for you after unlocking his pick-up truck. That isn’t his place anymore.

He wants to, anyway. You want him to, badly. This revelation passes unsaid between the two of you as you climb into the seat yourself, unscathed by chivalry.

Once you’re buckled in, your gaze lifts to the new air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Huh,” you say, flicking it absently, “you replaced it.”

He wants to say, you left me no choice. He wants to say, old spice smells like you. “Oh yeah,” he replies instead, clearing his throat. “Rose got me it.”

“It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

He shifts into reverse and backs out of the park, and there’s a split second where he almost places his hand on your headrest. He can’t do that anymore. Too close; not close enough. You notice it too. An ache passes from his heart to yours.

“Are you going to take any time off over summer break?” You ask, keeping your gaze on the road ahead.

Rafe pulls out onto the main road before turning to you and responding, “I wasn’t planning on it, but I think I might need some.”

“I think you might need some too,” you agree, sending him a fleeting smile. “Bahamas?”

You don’t expect the tears in his eyes that follow. You straighten abruptly, your eyebrows pulling together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean —”

“No—shit, I just—” he falters as his voice cracks, clearing his throat again, “I don’t think I could go back there any time soon. Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “Your dad, of course. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He takes in a jagged breath. “Shit, I’m the one that should be apologising. For everything.”

“Rafe —”

“No, listen…”

He pauses as he turns left onto your street, pulling onto the side of the road as soon as he can. He’s still a good mile away from your house, but it feels an injustice to keep you waiting for an explanation. When he turns and angles his body toward you, there’s a brokenness on his face that makes your miserable heart falter.

“I’m… I’m so sorry for everything I put you through after I broke up with you. Even if that was what I needed at the time, even if it was the right decision, I shouldn’t have been so fucking heartless and I regret not reaching out to you more often.”

You swallow thickly. He takes your silence as encouragement to keep going.

“You deserved better than the way I treated you… you’ve always deserved better than me. I didn’t know how to deal with all of my grief and I pushed you away in the process. It was… fuck, it was so selfish of me, and I’m sorry. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for it.”

He’s taken all of the oxygen in the car, and you find yourself struggling for air. You turn to him, every drunken rationalisation manifest. “Thank you,” you whisper, “for saying that.”

“And listen, the Elle thing —”

Too much. “Rafe,” you interrupt, swallowing again. “Stop. It’s fine. I accept your apology.”

Rafe frowns, the furrow in his brow painfully evident. “Yeah? Because… because I’d understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, turning away from him. “Besides, it’s ancient history. I forgave you a long time ago in my head.”

“You did?” Rafe’s asks, searching your features in earnest. “Why?”

The champagne you’ve consumed swirls uncomfortably in your stomach. “I had to,” you say quietly. “It was the only way I was going to be able to move on from the situation.”

Rafe’s stomach drops. “Which you have.”

“Which I have.”

The smokescreen between you smothers any semblance of hope you might’ve shared. He nods, turning on the ignition once again. “I hope that means you’re happy, Y/N.”

“It does,” you reply, “I am.”

“Good.” It doesn’t feel good at all. “Maybe this means we can be friends.”

You turn to him again, raising your eyebrows. “Friends?”

“Like we were before,” he affirms, putting the car into drive. His fingers brush the bare skin of your thigh near the gearshift. A very unfriend-like jolt of static shoots into your chest. “I… I don’t know. Sometimes I think I just miss my best friend.”

Your heart sighs. “Me too.”

“Friends then.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sending him a small smile. “Friends.”

—

You haven’t been to Shake Shack since you broke up with Rafe. You didn’t even realise you’d evaded it so long; perhaps it was a subconscious thing, too many painful memories to bear.

You remember when it first opened up in the Banks, this egalitarian refuge nestled between the Cut and Figure Eight.

Rafe Cameron remembers too, remembers bringing you here on your very first date. Roguish at fourteen with endless charm and a handsome face, he had far less creases etched onto his forehead then; far less familial expectations to deal with.

If only you knew he’s evaded it too. When he pulls into the carpark, the aforementioned date comes forth in fragments.

When memories lie dormant so long in one’s head, they tend to lose the stitches that hold them together. Nervousness, excitement, cherry coke and a lilac singlet. The strange feeling of forever before either of you could place it. He doesn’t remember any of your conversation, nor how long the date lasted, but he remembers the cloudless sky, the flutter of new love in his stomach.

The pair of you share a look before exiting his pick-up truck. A look that says: uh oh, and insinuates far more than that.

“So how’s work going, anyway?” Rafe asks, shoving his hands into his front pockets. He’s a beat behind you head toward the entrance, and you can feel your neck burn where his eyes remained trained on you.

“Yeah, alright, same old,” you say, sending him a fleeting smile over your shoulder. His blue irises are dappled golden in sunlight, and their brilliance unsteadies you, the eye-contact like a firestarter. You clear your throat. “Sam quit.”

Rafe’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“Not kidding,” you shake your head, “he ended things with Peyton and booked a Contiki in South East Asia.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Rafe wolf whistles, shaking his head in tandem. “Is he going through some kind of quarter life crisis?”

You shrug. “Who would let someone like Peyton go, huh?”

Rafe resists the urge to wince. He can think of one person in particular who threw away something far more special. He clears his throat significantly, regret like molasses coating the sides of his windpipe. “Yeah. How’s she doing with it all?”

“Oh you know Peyton, she’s the queen of acting unbothered,” you reply, sounding reproachful. “Even when she’s heartbroken, she refuses to tell me about it.”

Rafe frowns. “Fuck that.”

“Yeah?” You send him a wayward glance, raising your eyebrows knowingly. “Cause to me, it sounds like someone else I used to know.”

There’s a pause as he meets your gaze, a frightening wistfulness passing between you. It lingers.

“Right.” You’re at the entrance to Shake Shack now, and Rafe grapples for purchase on the one thing he can control—friends. He pulls open the door and beckons you forward, “So. Is today the day you branch out and order something new, Y/N?”

When you pass by him, a tendril-like brush of shoulder on chest, the buttery scent of your vanilla perfume lingers. A lot about you does, a lot more than he’d care to admit.

Rafe’s wretched heart cycles between the old and new you like it’s trying to make them both fit within its chambers.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” you reply, sending him a smile over your shoulder. “They’ve completely revamped their menu since the last time we were here.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows at you. “They have?” You checked?

“Uh huh,” you reply, nodding. “I was going to make a reservation here for our anniversary way back when.” You clear your throat. “When I went on their website to do so, I realised that their menu was totally different.”

You leave out the part where you’d stopped by soon after, asked—no, begged—the manager to serve you the originals when you came. You know, when old time’s sake was a sacred concept. When that sweet, lovesick version of you still existed.

“Oh shit,” Rafe says. Though it’s subtle, he catches the smidge of diffidence in your voice, like the ghost of relationship’s past rearing its ugly head. You checked, for him, and you’re so nonchalant about it. Like it may have mattered then, but right now it matters far less.

He feels an awful twinge in his chest. He adds, “That sucks.” He isn’t sure whether he’s referring to the change in menu or the change in your heart’s purpose.

“I know.”

“I was looking forward to ordering the usual.”

“Me too.” You shrug. “We’re just going to have to find a new usual, I guess.”

What you mean is, make new memories that’ll replace the old ones. What you mean is, erase the nostalgia being here brings.

Also, though you’d never willingly admit it, start anew.

Rafe nods, stepping forward and glancing up at the menu. Though it’s different to the one he remembers from his youth, the interior of the diner is comfortingly familiar — same ugly yellow track lights, same checkered linoleum underfoot. Same fingerprint-smudged counter and broken drinks machine, same uniform on the workers, same greasy smell permeating.

And the same booth you were partial to nestled in one corner, it’s retro cushion covers faded as ever.

The menu, and the girl beside him. The only two things that feel different.

“Hm.” You frown, deliberating over the menu. “I’m thinking the ‘classic’. You want to split some curly fries?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, his blue eyes full of mirth. “So the one that’s exactly your old order, minus the pickles. Got it.”

“Yes,” you decide. “Except I’ll ask them to add pickles.”

“Of course you will.” Rafe grins. “I’ll get the same.”

You gasp, faux-scandalised. “Rafe Cameron eating pickles? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “How d’you know I’m not just ordering it to pawn ‘em off to you?”

You balk. “I don’t, I guess.”

“And yes, to the curly fries,” he adds, quick to change the subject. The bashfulness on your features dissipates, but the tension in the room weighs ever-present.

You nod, sliding your wallet out of your back-pocket. “Should we just split the bill, then?”

“No way,” Rafe says, clasping your wrist to hold it in place. Your pulse feels funny. “I got it.”

“Rafe.” You frown, shaking your head. “Look, it really isn’t a big deal —”

It is to me. “Exactly,” he interrupts. “Which is why I got it.”

Maybe you should argue some more, insist on paying until he gives in. But you don’t. Between the pulse-jolting closeness and mocking sense of nostalgia, you aren’t sure you have it in you to retaliate.

Though in an act of rebellion, you avoid your usual booth. Once you’re seated at a new table and separated by your burgers, you re-enter this stupid friendship thing you’ve adopted. The one that boasts no-strings like the red one isn’t obvious.

“So,” you say, popping a curly fry in your mouth. “You remember Maya, right?”

Rafe makes a face. “That psycho roommate you had in senior year? Yeah, pretty hard to forget.”

“Well, she hit me up a month ago to let me know she’d be in the Banks to see her boyfriend.” At his audible gasp, you nod significantly. “I know. Asked if I wanted to catch up while she was here.”

Rafe wolf whistles in amusement. “No fucking way. After the Hell she put you through?”

“I fucking know,” you reply, grimacing in disdain.

Rafe raises his eyebrows, swallowing down a handful of curly fries. “Tell me you said no.”

You raise yours in tandem. “What do you think, casanova?”

“Y/N!” He groans, shaking his head. “Why do you put yourself through this shit?”

You frown, reaching for your soda and sipping stubbornly. Condensation rolls down your palm, the soft skin shining. “C’mon! It was useful, I swear. I got the intel on Maya and her mystery OBX man.”

Rafe leans forward in interest, taking a pull of his soda too. “Go on then.”

“God, I’ve been sitting on this information for ages,” you say, your pretty eyes full of excitement. Rafe’s heart leaps. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but we weren’t talking and you were avoiding me and I didn’t know whether I should break no contact.”

It deflates just as quickly, sinking into his stomach like deadweight. “I wasn’t… I don’t know, I thought it’d be best if I kept my distance.” He sighs, sitting back and raking his fingers through his hair. “Clearly that was a mistake. I haven’t been this relaxed in fucking ages.”

You smile small. “Yeah. This is nice.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, this sticky, molasses-like something rising from your chest, “it’s Dylan. Like Dylan fucking Young that had a crush on me in freshman year.”

“Fuck off, seriously?” Rafe replies, mirth evident on his features. “Not kidding, think it’d be grounds for a restraining order if she ever found that out.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, raising your eyebrows significantly. “You promise to take this to your grave, Cameron?”

Rafe nods, faux-somber, extending his pinky toward you. “He won’t hear it from me, Y/L/N.”

When your fingers entwine, you wonder whether he feels it too. It’s a jolt of static that leaves your skin warm and your insides funny, and you wonder whether the effect it has on you is endearing or pathetic.

The latter, you conclude. The red string of fate disagrees.

“Good,” you say, retrieving your hand. “Oh, and,” you take a generous bite of your burger, “did you hear that Taylor’s moving to Texas?”

“I did, actually,” Rafe replies. “From Top, funnily enough.”

You frown. “He’s still pining, huh?”

“Unfortunately.” He pulls apart his burger to pick out the green pickles, placing them onto your plate before re-assembling. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. In the offensive, fluorescent lighting, they shine up at you in mocking. “Anyway, I should probably learn to get used to it. I’m moving into Kelce’s room now that he’s happily wed.”

Your jaw slackens in surprise. “You’re moving in with Topper?”

Rafe grins. “I know. Who would’ve thought, huh?”

“But,” you pause, popping another curly fry into your mouth, “why?”

“Needed to get out of Tannyhill, I guess.” He falters, swallowing down the bile-like rise of emotion from his chest. “Too many memories.”

Your expression softens. “That makes sense.”

“Besides, Sarah’s starting college soon, and Wheeze’s off at boarding school for the majority of the year anyway.” He shrugs. “And Rose… well, she’s at the Bahamas house more than she is in the OBX.”

“Too many memories,” you repeat, frowning sadly.

“Yeah. I guess.”

There’s silence then, the comfortable kind. An emotion passes between you that feels both familiar and new at the same time.

It matters less when you finally finish, what you speak about, whether you’ll meet again. All you know is, something feels different now, as though there’s embers that this reunion has reignited in your ribcage. Dormant though they had once been, you’d always hoped that the renewed hope would set them aflame.

The next day, you wake up to a text from Rafe.

thank you for yesterday. It was really nice.

You don’t have it in you to reply; Rafe doesn’t mind. He knows you feel the same way.

—

It’s a few weeks before you see him again, at a farewell party for Brooklyn and Kelce.

Prior to embarking on their honeymoon, they were shifting their lives to Chicago; laying down the foundations of stability so they could return to a clean slate.

It upsets you to no end. You’d always assumed that her marriage to Kelce would guarantee that she settles down in the Banks.

Rafe Cameron must remember this, the way he does everything else. He hands you a beer and clinks his own against it, beads of condensation sliding over his calloused hand.

“Huh,” he murmurs, shaking his head in faux-disappoint, “so much for staying here and ruling the Eight with an iron fist.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You exclaim, taking a generous pull of beer. Rafe’s gaze falls to the bare column of your throat, and he temporarily loses his bearings. “Does loyalty mean absolutely nothing around here?”

Rafe grins appreciatively. “They’re bound to come back, you know.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Rafe pauses, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “we were all cursed by the hometown witch when we were babies.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Is that why I came back here after college?”

It isn’t lost on you that Rafe is standing far closer to you than he should. His spicy, cedar-wood cologne presses over your figure in waves. He bows his head to eye level, still grinning his mirth, “It’s why we all did. It’s also why they aren’t going to last more than a year in Chicago, I’m calling it now.”

“Who isn’t going to last more than a year in Chicago?” Comes Brooklyn’s voice from behind him, pulling the pair of you from your reverie.

He breaks away and turns to find her standing behind him, her eyebrows raised accusatorially at your closeness.

You smile guiltily at her, raising your arms in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t deny it either!” Brooklyn reproaches, faux-scandalised. She sends Rafe a playful glare, reaching for your arm and pulling you away. “I’m rescuing her from your bad influence, Cameron.”

Rafe nods sagely, taking a sip of his beer. “I think that’s wise, Astor—” he balks, shaking his head, “—sorry, Smith. Shit, Brooklyn Smith, huh? Guess I can’t do that last name thing ‘round here anymore, can I?”

“Not with us,” she replies, turning the pair of you around. She sends you the ghost of a wink before adding, “Y/N’s fair game, though. You know she’d rather die than take a guy’s last name.”

Something in Rafe’s chest deflates. “Yeah?”

You frown at him over your shoulder, mildly bewildered. “You knew that, Cameron.”

Maybe I thought I was different. “True.” He raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement. “Besides, Y/L/N suits you too much.”

Not as much as Cameron would have, once upon a time. You nod approvingly, the twinge in your heart conveying the exact opposite. “Doesn’t it just?”

Brooklyn steers you to the kitchen under the pretence of grabbing a drink, her true intentions becoming obvious when Kelce pivots into earshot on his barstool.

“So?” She prods, rounding on you once you’ve halted. “What’s the deal?”

“Deal?” You echo, feigning confusion. “What deal?”

“Don’t do that,” she replies, narrowing her eyes accusatorially. “Are you guys seeing each other again?”

You swallow. Your gaze darts to a helpless-looking Kelce. “Why? Has he said something?”

“That’s the thing,” Kelce mutters, shaking his head thoughtfully. “He hasn’t. But he’s… different.”

You frown. “Different how?”

“I don’t know… chiller. Happier. Like he was before Ward passed away.”

“Of course he is,” Brooklyn snorts, not buying it for a second. “He’s finally being absolved of all his guilt!”

“Brooklyn…” you sigh.

“What? It’s true!” She asserts, crossing her arms across her chest. “He’s… listen, Y/N, whatever you think this is, you need to snap out of it. He’s proved time and time again that he doesn’t have the emotional capability to deal with his shit, and you’ve been made collateral too many times to forgive him this quick.”

“Quick?” Your chest feels on fire. Isn’t seven months of torture enough exoneration?

“C’mon baby, you’ve gotta cut him some slack,” Kelce assuages, gentle but firm. “He fucked up, sure, but he also lost his dad, remember?”

“Grieving or not, he shouldn’t have pushed her away.”

“Granted, but we’ll never know exactly how he was feeling —”

“We shouldn’t have to, you just don’t do that to someone you love —”

“I’m still here, you know,” you interrupt quietly, frowning. “That someone that Rafe doesn’t love.”

A pause. Its silence that’s distilled in the overhead lighting, the scene beneath it awash in dim regret.

Brooklyn’s features are softer when she breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I worry about you.”

You know she does; it isn’t her fault. She’s the one that slept over for four weeks straight post break-up, forced food down your throat and wiped away all your tears.

“Don’t apologise, Brooke, I get it,” you say, sending her a small smile. “But I’m fine, I promise. This isn’t even… this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… you know that saying: ‘You’ll never find the same person twice, not even in the same person’? That’s how this feels. We haven’t fallen back into old habits.”

Brooklyn regards this for a moment, surveying your features carefully. “But you’ve been hanging out?”

“Only once,” you reply honestly. “Sent a few texts back and forth, that’s all. If… if anything were to happen, it’d be like a new relationship, not like restarting the old one. You know?”

“I do.”

Kelce smiles. “That’s… shit, that makes sense.” There’s a wistfulness to his voice. “That’s why I couldn’t figure out what it reminds me of, this different him that’s chilled and happy.”

You furrow your brow. “Hm?”

“It’s freshman year him all over again,” he explains. “You know… when the two of you got close the first time ‘round.”

“Oh.” Your heart soars. “Square one, huh?”

Kelce shrugs, sharing a meaningful look with Brooklyn. “Square one I guess.”

You’re about to respond when Rafe’s figure pulls your gaze, his crossed arms and broad shoulders blocking the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing a handsome expression and his hair is perfectly unkempt, the heady scent of his cologne juxtaposing his lack of proximity.

Sometimes, life is unfair. Your ex-boyfriend, now new friend, eliciting such un-platonic thoughts is one of those instances.

And it isn’t as though you’ve given Rafe much of a break, his blue eyes caught on your figure like a moth to a flame. You aren’t wearing a dress he recognises, which is both a delightful and agonising revelation.

Delightful, because it reveals bare expanses of skin that make his wretched hands itch in longing. Agonising, because it’s a reminder of the seven long months that he’s had to spend grappling with your absence.

Having a smile as pretty as yours is extremely unfair, all things considered. And eyes. Soft skin. He needs to stop staring before he does something stupid.

“Perfect,” he announces brusquely, “are we hosting our intervention now?”

He looks at you expectantly. You raise your eyebrows. “You know,” he adds, “the one where we beg them to stay in the Banks?”

“Hey!” Brooklyn exclaims, her green eyes full of mirth. “What d’you mean stay in the Banks? Newsflash, I’m not even from here.”

“You’re not from Chicago either, Ast-Smithy,” he returns significantly, sending her a meaningful glance. “Besides, you married into a Figure Eight family. You are very officially one of us now.”

“Not for long!” Brooklyn sings, sending you a wink.

“C’mon, Smith,” Rafe tries, turning to Kelce and feigning disappointment. “What happened to our sacred pact?”

“We were eight, Cameron.”

“And already privy to the tragedy of small-town life,” Rafe sighs faux-dramatically, nodding in agreement. “I’m bitter, alright? I thought I’d be the first one to get out of here.”

He glances over at you fleetingly as he says this. We’d be the first ones, his heart corrects in vain.

“As if,” you scoff, raising your eyebrows. “Mr Cameron fucking Development leave this place before me? No chance.”

Rafe grins roguishly, his blue eyes shining with amusement. “You’re all talk, Y/L/N. We both know it.” He sends Kelce and Brooklyn a meaningful glance. “We all are.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to be here all fucking night if we keep arguing about this,” Brooklyn decides, patting Kelce’s thigh to prompt him to stand. “C’mon, baby, we should probably get back to mingling.”

“You know,” she adds, narrowing her eyes playfully. “‘Cause it’s the last time we’ll see some of these people.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head bemusedly. Any retaliation on Rafe’s tongue fails at the timbre of it.

Once they’re out of sight, you turn to him, adopting a faux-somber look. “If we are truly doomed to a life in the Eight, will you promise me something?”

He’s still grappling with the fact that he’s a man starved of your beautiful laugh, now reborn. “Go on.”

“Should you find me yelling at Island Club employees about flower arrangements or charcuterie boards, shoot me.”

Rafe laughs, and it reverberates through your bones warmly. “And suffer alone? No way. I’ll meet you in the middle. Lobotomy?”

“No thoughts in my brain? So generous,” you tease. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Rafe clinks his beer bottle against yours in confirmation, taking a generous pull of the bubbly liquid. “Can we trade promises?” He asks.

You take a sip in tandem, maintaining eye contact as you do so. There’s tension in the air, that familiar-new feeling manifest, and it’s no longer frightening, but rather a comforting embrace.

You marvel in it. Breaking free feels fruitless. “Yes.”

“If you make a plan to settle elsewhere, will you tell me?”

“Of course I will.” A pause. “Although, I think you’re right. I don’t think any of us are truly capable of leaving permanently.”

“If anyone is though, it’s you,” he says, so matter-of-factly, like he actually believes it. “I mean… you’re the only one who had the balls to go to a college out of state. The rest of us just accepted a cushy offer at UNC.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss. “I was back here so often I barely left.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “Only because you had a reason to come back.” You still do, if you’ll take me.

I still do, if you’ll take me. “True.” You frown, thinking on this for a moment. “Even so… I don’t know. Maybe it’s that hometown curse talking, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids anywhere else in the States.”

Rafe’s gaze steadies, pulsing through you in waves. “I get that. We had a pretty sweet childhood, all things considered.”

You make a face. “Like, I don’t think I can deal with this iPad kid epidemic. Least we were sheltered from all that crap, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows significantly. “Even if there were plenty of other things to jade us with.”

“Shit, I know,” you respond, laughing bemusedly. “See, only people from the Eight know how political beach clean ups can get.”

Rafe chuckles in tandem, taking another sip of his beer. “God, our lives are fucking ridiculous.”

You raise your bottle in agreement. A comfortable silence falls between you.

After pause, Rafe speaks up again. “You know,” he says quietly, an unnameable emotion flickering across his blue irises. “I don’t even think it’s everyone in the Eight.”

You balk. “Hm?”

“The whole, knowing each other thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

Your traitorous heart leaps, and you force yourself to ignore it. Actions have always spoken louder than words, and you decide now’s as good a time as any to confront him about this.

It’s time to be brave, you decide. You say, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Elle.”

Rafe’s miserable heart falters, penitence like a lump in his throat. He’s been preparing for this accusation since your very first reunion, but it still doesn’t feel like enough; he’s a coward trembling at the frontlines, anyway.

“I’ve… we’ve… my therapist and I have talked about that situation at length.”

You eyes widen in surprise. “Your therapist?”

“I’ve been going to therapy, yeah,” Rafe replies, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “For a month or so now, every week without fail.”

It isn’t lost on you that Brooklyn and Kelce’s wedding was a month ago. The rift in your ribcage widens.

“Has it been helping?” You ask.

“A bit,” Rafe admits. “Mostly just to validate what I knew all along, I guess.” At your silence, he continues, “That… shit, that I’ve got this problem where I push people away when I need them the most. The Elle thing, there’s no fucking excuse for it, none, but it became pretty obvious after you confronted me that she was just a rebound.”

“A rebound,” you echo.

“A distraction, an escape… I don’t know.” He rakes his fingers through his hair slovenly. “All I know is, I didn’t care about her, so I didn’t have to push her away. She didn’t make me talk about my dad, my grief, anything, so she was easy enough company to have around when I felt like it.”

“Oh.” You swallow. “But I did.”

“But you did,” Rafe affirms, grimacing sheepishly. “Shit, all you fucking did was care about me and all I did was push you away.”

You try to be pragmatic. “Grief makes people do shitty things.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve it.”

“True.” A pause. Your gaze falls over Rafe’s face in paces, his haggard expression making you soften. “Listen. I’m glad you’re going to therapy, seriously. I know that’s a pretty big step for you to take.”

For you. “Thank you,” he replies quietly. “It… I just wish I’d listened to you the first time, you know? When you’d told me to go to therapy before I’d ended things.”

Your throat feels funny. “No use living in the past.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replies. A pause. The ghost of a smile flickers over his features. “What did I ever do to deserve your forgiveness?”

You smile in tandem, a little rueful. “Maybe you were a martyr in your past life, Cameron.”

“And you’re one in this one,” Rafe responds. “You know, after I lobotomise you over flower arrangements and charcuterie boards. Does that count as a full circle moment?”

You grin. “Not when you live on the Eight. Infinity sign, baby.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, the ghost of pet-names past pushing Rafe’s pulse to fibrillation. Your eyes widen abashedly. “Should we rejoin the party?”

Rafe nods, “Probably,” and then, when you’re just out of earshot, “I’d do something stupid if we didn’t.”

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to see more and more of one another.

A few texts back and forth become more than a few virtual trysts, and every spare moment you have is dedicated to being in each other’s presence.

And it isn’t as though you’re mending old love, this feels like something else altogether. Though old memories may flit through your brain on occasion, they are boundless and free — they don’t define this connection.

You’re starting anew. Rafe realises it too.

He still remembers how it felt to tell you he loved you the first time around, fourteen years old with a bashful smile and enough hope in his heart to ache. He still remembers what you were wearing the first time he drove you around; the first time you came to UNC to visit; the shade of lipgloss you worshipped from Sephora. And you remember it all too, the feeling of being in his pick-up, of being with this roguish, freshman boy that had so much charm your insides soared.

Going through it all again feels like receiving a new lease on life. How lucky are you to love a different person in the same man?

Currently, the pair of you are sprawled out on beach towels, velvet dusk revealing the bespangled sky stretching above you. Beside you, take-out boxes and sodas lie in the sand, discarded. Every now and then, his wrist brushes yours with a jolt of static.

You’re lying closer to each other than you should, his body heat pressing over you in paces. He’s pretty sure his clothes are going to smell like your soft-toned, vanilla perfume later, and he quietly delights in this.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You smile. “Shocker.”

He nudges your shoulder with his in faux-admonishment, turning his head toward you. It lingers; he’s closer. Your pulse feels boundless. “I’ve been thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ve realised something.”

You turn your head in tandem, his proximity making you balk. “What’s that, Cameron?”

“If we hadn’t broken up in the first place, I’d probably never have gone to therapy.”

A hush falls. “True.”

“And I’d never have worked through my emotional unavailability and all the problematic shit that comes with it.” He pauses, a heavy emotion making his blue eyes somber. “We’d have stayed together, but I’d never have become the man that you deserve.”

You swallow. “Is that what you are now?” You murmur, your voice unsure. “The man I deserve?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers quietly. “Don’t think I ever will be. But… but I’m working on it, properly this time. And getting to know you again, for real, has made me realise just how worth it this is.”

It’s too much. You make to turn away but Rafe’s hand stops you, gentle but firm on your face. His thumb swipes over your warm cheek in comforting circles, and you find yourself leaning into his touch inadvertently.

Uh oh, you’re falling in love. You sigh. “It feels inevitable, huh?”

“D’you believe in soulmates, Y/N?”

Your lashes flutter shut in response. Rafe inches closer still, his hand slipping down to your jaw, and when he kisses you, old embers create a new flame within your heart. It’s chaste, unsure, a second first kiss. And yet, though it’s soft, the press of his lips is a ravaging embrace.

“Do you, Rafe?” You return, opening your eyes tentatively.

His gaze is still trained on your pretty mouth, less iris than pupil as his yearning transcends everything else. He presses his thumb on your lower lip gently. “Only if it’s you.”

“I think I am,” you murmur.

Rafe smiles. Oh no, he’s falling in love again. “I think you are too.”

—

I thought the plane was going down / How’d you turn it right around?

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot

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lqveharrington · 2 months

Text

Nothing Left to Lose | L.M.

summary: You and Lucifer have an argument about the exterminations that happen in Hell, and it just so happens your daughter heard you through the crack of the doorway.

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Wife!reader

includes: ANGST, couples arguing, charlie basically being the family’s mediator and glue, some fluff, (let me know if i missed any!)

a/n: i’m on a hazbin streak omg 💁‍♀️

“Lucifer, stop!”

You were in a fight for what seemed like the nth time in a month. It had been exactly 3,500 years since you and Lucifer were cast out of Heaven to rule over the hellborne and sinners. This kept your patience thin the entire month. Especially with Lucifer pushing and pushing for a better way to have sinners saved from exterminations and sending them to Heaven completely broke you.

“Just stop.” You lean against the railing of your balcony, hands gripping on the metal. “Heaven won’t listen to us—“

“They will if we just ask for a meeting.” He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair, growing frustrated at your unwavering discouragement. “We’ve done this before. They listened and—“

“LOOK WHERE THAT GOT US!” You throw your hand up in frustration, eyes flashing crimson for one second. “They cast us away for caring for the human souls on Earth! What are they going to do to us when we send sinners up to Heaven?”

“I don’t know!” Lucifer let his horns poke out, tail whipping violently. “I don’t know, but if we don’t try—“

“Mom?” A quiet voice came through the yelling match you and Lucifer started, making you both turn to the door. “Are you okay?”

You rub your temple before stepping away from the balcony, not sparing a glance at your beloved. “I’m fine, baby. Your dad and I are just talking.” You take her in your arms, running your fingers through her blonde locks.

She looked back at her father, watching him sigh before his horns and tail disappeared. “Is Dad okay?”

“I’m fine, apple pie.” He kissed her forehead, making her giggle at the feeling. “Can you let us have a few more minutes? We’ll come find you when we’re done.”

“Okay.” Charlie gave you both curious looks, not realizing the tense situation she walked in on.

You press a kiss to her temple, “Wait in your room, baby.”

Charlie silently left as you stood from your previous position. You moved back to the balcony, messing with the wedding ring on your finger as the wind blew roughly on your skin.

“My love, we have nothing left to lose if we take this risk and ask for our people to be redeemed instead of letting them die again.” Lucifer took your hands in his, speaking softly this time.

Your crimson and gold eyes meet his, “We risk Charlie, Lucifer. What if they take her away from us?” You shut your eyes, hiding the red sky from your sight. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go up there and face the Heavens when my daughter is hellborne. What if the exterminations keep happening even if they accept your proposal? They might target us—“

“I signed the papers, they know they can’t touch the hellborne or our family.” He squeezed your hands. “Just—“ Lucifer let his head fall on your shoulder. “Let me try. If it doesn’t work, we’ll come up with another solution.”

“Luce…” You murmur, blinking back the tears from the fear of losing your family. “I can’t lose you or Charlie.”

“And you won’t!” He cupped your face, frowning at your words. “You will never lose us. I promise, beautiful…” He rubbed your cheek, “I know you hate the Heavens for casting us here. I know you hate being here. But these souls are our people. We have a duty to protect them.”

“Lucifer…” You sigh and hold his hands in yours. “You need to listen to my reasoning. What if the Heavens refuse to do this and make the exterminations worse than they already are? We can’t know what they might do to our people! To our daughter!”

Lucifer removes his hands from you, “Can you just listen to me?” He walks toward the other end of the balcony, leaning against the railing. “This is a situation where we never know what’s going to happen. It might be good, it might make things worse. But we can’t know unless we try.”

You watch him run his fingers through his disheveled hair, knitting your brows at his actions. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He nods slowly, looking up at you. “I can do it?”

You nod, wringing your hands together. “I trust you… If you say we’ll be okay then… You can go through with your plans.”

“Thank you, my love.” He took long strides over to you and scooped you up in his arms, peppering kisses over your face. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” You smile and thread your fingers in his hair, “Let’s go find Charlie, darling.”

“Our caring little girl.” He nudged your cheek with his nose. “Who might be as strong-willed as her mother.”

“Hush.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.

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loaksbitch · 1 year

Text

the long awaited part two is here! — imagine neteyam is now suffering from his own actions, everything turning to a hell for him, he’s even distant to his family… and you? you’ve decide this is enough and feel like you don’t belong here so you tell neteyam you’re leaving the clan soon and neteyam feels like salt is added to his open wound when he hears about that.

warning – neteyam cries 2.0 (i’m evil, i know) angst angst angst! mention of y/n’s adoptive mom, nete kinda slips from his own body and loses control, nete stills cause oc with pet names :(, vulgar language, did i mention its angst? yeah maybe i did but again we have ANGST!! 3.1k wc.

“i can’t trust you” — neteyam sully (★,꩜)

part (one) – (three) — (four) of this series.

right after you left the love of your life, where you gave yourself to him, you couldn’t stop crying mess.

rage, confusion and pain blinding your eyes you didn’t care how the na’vi gave you glances every time you passed them without greetings given back.

you’re now in front of your mother’s shelter and swallow the lump on your throat not wanting her to see you like that. you push yourself inside and turn your face to the side so she won’t notice your puffy eyes.

“hi ma,” you greet her and her ears instantly perk up at your warm tone. “my sweet child, you cam– what’s wrong?” she knew you like no one did, you adoptive mother read you like a book.

when she finally asks what’s wrong you instantly breakdown in front of her, “mama.” you cry as the na’vi stumbles to you hurriedly, “what is it baby? what’s wrong?” she keeps wiping the tears that fall

this felt like the first time she found you lost in the woods, right after your biological mom abandoned you.

crying, scared and open.

“it hurts, make it stop ma, please make it stop.” your chest heaves up and down. your mother instantly knew something happened between you and neteyam, of course she’d know about the two of you.

“he…” you can’t even finish the sentence, “lied, he lied.” you struggled and your mother sighs

“oh my baby,” she pulls you for a hug and you hide your face into the crook of her neck crying again. no matter how she tighten her hold on your violently trembling body, she couldn’t stop the shattering feeling of your heart

you stood there hugged and vulnerable, seeking for comfort from your mother.

then there’s neteyam, who got to deal with the pain he created alone and secretly, he didn’t even get the chance to cry or comfort himself.

your words echoing in his drained mind, neteyam climbs back to his hammock. “i. hate. you.” those three words were enough to convince him you really do hate him. neteyam lied to you and you hated being lied, he knew everyone from your childhood lied to you

he knew it took you so much of sacrifice to give him a chance, he knew yet he destroyed you, he destroyed your heart. he can never forgive himself for that and he doesn’t want you to forgive him either.

neteyam chooses to suffer double than watch you break like that? he actually wishes you’d kill him right now but then again he deserves to live with this pain.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers as if you’re next to him and hearing him apologize. neteyam leans on the tree that’s helping the hammock stand in the middle of his room and slowly slides down to sit on the mat

“i’m so sorry, princess.” he knew you’ll never let him in again.

neteyam brings his legs to his chest and puts his arms on his knees before using them to lay his head. silent yet deep sobs left his lips as his chest tightened.

how was he supposed to live without you? without your skin against his? without your scent in him, without your smile to start his day… most importantly, without your love.

and now that neteyam have came to realize that, the perfect little solider has finally became defeated.

“i’m sorry.” he kept apologizing as he drifted to sleep, his beautiful face stained with tears.

and now five days passed, neteyam became distant with his family. no more breakfast eating with them, no more tuk and him moment, no more staying up all night with lo’ak and kiri to cause trouble.

no more in love with everything and colorful neteyam.

and his mother didn’t fail to notice him, notice how his behavior has changed. “something’s wrong with our son, ma jake, there’s something so wrong.” jake hums thinking neteyam is just getting more and more stronger and only practicing

“he’s just focusing on himself and training my love, you don’t have to worry.” jake says as he sharpens his weapons for the next war party

“no, you don’t understand” neytiri places her hand on jakes shoulder worriedly as their son kept himself inside his hammock, not wanting to interact with anyone of them. “he barely eats and drinks, barely plays with tuk she even started to ask for him.”

neytiri continued, “all he does is spend time on training, overworks himself and sneaks inside at midnight thinking i wouldn’t notice.”

jake frowns, this was new.

“neteyam started sneaking?” jake’s surprised tone makes netyiri sigh. he’s not taking things serious. “ma jake.” she warns when he tries to joke with a “neteyam’s finally being a spoiled brat huh?”

“okay okay, sorry but i’ll talk to him” jake cups his mates face and smiles, “maybe he’s having a hard time with being the future leader of the clan,” jake sighs “or maybe his new mate? he’s trying build some muscle, baby, don’t overthink it.”

neytiri only closes her eyes as they’re both sat in their hammock. “alright.” she voiced out.

right when jake was about to place a kiss on his wife’s lips, neteyam pulls the hanging fabric to the slide and walked straight to the front door. both his parents flinch at his sudden appearance.

“where you going, son?” both of them ask in unison making neteyam halt his steps.

“training and hunting.” he doesn’t turn to face them and neytiri insists. “you’ve been going out too much lately, nete’ don’t you think you need a break?”

“i’m fine mother.” with that being said, neteyam leaves the hammock while jake comforts his wife whose eyes tear up in worry.

neteyam didn’t fail to notice how his mother sounded worried and he hated that he caused that, but he doesn’t want them to figure out what’s wrong. he can’t risk your safety if they find out without you two communicating.

what if they hurt you? what will he do?

“look who’s finally out,” familiar voice sips to neteyam’s ears and neteyam closes his eyes, can they not just leave him alone? no, not really. lo’ak chuckles as he swings down the branch he was hanging on and jumps next to his brother

“where’re you going big bro?” lo’ak asks but gets ignored, “hey, you know i’m talking to you…”

“leave him skxawng, he’s in his emo arc.” kiri lets a sarcastic laugh out making the heartbroken man annoyed. “yeah? he’s seriously ignoring his one and only siblings” lo’ak keeps pushing his older brother

“can you guys leave? i want to be alone if you can’t see.” neteyam hisses under his breath but it falls to deaf ears. “damn bro, look at those growing muscles.” lo’ak turns to his sister and chuckles

“must be for his future mate, äyea.”

now lo’ak did a little bit of a mistake here, neteyam was now breathing through his nose, jaw clenched as he got his brother pinned to one of the trees. “i fucking told you to leave me alone, didn’t i? and don’t even dare to bring that name up here, again.”

lo’ak’s eyes are widened when his brother has him pinned to the tree, something dangerous flashes in his amber eyes and lo’ak lets a soft gasp out before being his hands up on air as a surrender.

“can you two stop? you guys are so immature.” kiri huffs out but neteyam only glares at his brother, “neteyam!” she calls out and once neteyam gains himself back, his eyes widens at the state. “shit, sorry.” his ears flatten, “i’m sorry lo’ak.”

both siblings take a glance at each other and lo’ak awkwardly chuckles. “it’s all good bro, you okay?” neteyam only nods before pushing himself out far away from everyone.

everywhere he goes, he kept hurting people and it’s destroying him.

once he was far enough from everyone he couldn’t help but allow himself to walk to the familiar place he finds comfort. the first place he saw you and got swept with love right away.

meanwhile neteyam was walking there you’ve actually managed to leave your hammock after days, well not managed but your mother was the one who threw you out to take some fresh air and communicate with eywa for a while

you couldn’t help but let you feet wander and take you to one of the places that are dear to you in pandora and your village. it was the shores that had glowing fish. the first time you met neteyam and you got your whole body woken up with butterflies.

you’re squat and twirling your hand in the edge of the ocean when you softly giggle as the glowing fish touches your hand with its soft fins. but that giggle didn’t live long when instant memories flood your mind.

“this one is honestly pretty.” you watch the glowing fish circle your feet that’s dipped in the ocean with your man next to you and you hear him hum agreeing but his eyes were only on you

“it really is.” he murmurs and when you notice it, you can’t help but realize your cheeks are heated up.

that was when you two shared your first kiss, of course it was a shy moment but on eywa you swore how good neteyam was, he was basically eating your face. “nete,” you’d sigh to his mouth when he leans and pressed his forehead against yours.

“it’s okay, it’s okay.” he would calm you by pulling you close to him as you’re both hanging your legs in the ocean. he would always place kisses on your skin every time you panic, thinking you’re doing something wrong

you missed that moment, you miss him but you can’t let those feelings win over and forget what he did.

you pull your hands out from the water, pushing those memories away and adjust your balance while you’re still squat and put your chin on your knees. “i miss him,” you speak and watch the fish wiggle around and smile, “you miss him too?” you ask it as if it would reply

you didn’t notice the subtle movement that’s made behind you in the woods as you talk to the animal you playfully adopted as your child with neteyam

neteyam in other hand freezes at his spot when he notice your familiar figure by the edge of the ocean. you’re silent before you let a soft giggle out and neteyam breathes out a laugh as he felt his eyes whelm

he really missed that sound of yours.

“i miss him,” your words catch his ears and his tail swings side to side like a dog. “you miss him too?” you ask as if you’re talking to someone and neteyam catches the fish you two jokingly adopted wiggling at your touch

his heart swells up with emotions.

you still haven’t noticed your used to be man watching you from the woods and sigh before deciding it’s time to leave, you need to distract yourself before you soon start to cry again

once you’re up on your feet, you turn around and your eyes catch the shadow of the tall figure with its tail moving. you let a loud scream out, startled and stumble on your feet only to trip and fall to the ocean.

“fuck!” neteyam curses when your eyes catch his and you’re instantly falling to the water.

“no, no, no!” neteyam was quick to run to you, you suddenly feel someone pull you and snoop you to their arms around your body before stomping out of the water to get you out of there

you’re confused and want to know who it is until a familiar scent helps you recognize who that was, you wanted to call his name out so badly but you just kept yourself silent until he got you to the sand.

once neteyam places you on your feet, you’re bombed with question about safety.

“did you get hurt? want me to carry you? baby, talk to me!” you don’t miss the pet name and don’t know know which to answer. “can you shut up?” you ask and he instantly obeys, “mhm.”

“i’m okay, thanks.” you’re curious to know what he was doing here.

“what’re you doing here?”

“what are you doing here?” he questiones back and your stomach drops. ‘because i miss you?’ you wanted to say but chose to stay silent and start to leave when neteyam suddenly grabs your hand. you’re stood there for a moment before you’re slowly turning to give him a deadly glare.

“what did i say about touching me?”

you’re so dominant it drives him insane, but neteyam heard you say you’re missing him and he has now some hope to relay that you still love him. “can we talk?” his voice is almost silent when he says that

“there’s nothing to talk about.” you dryly reply

neteyam nods and adjust the bow on him he brought for hunting, letting go of your wrist and you instantly miss the warmth but doesn’t show it. “i want to explain that–“

“you don’t need to explain yourself to me like you owe me something neteyam, it’s over for us.” you watch him battle himself from breaking down and swallows hard. you feel the atmosphere turn awkward.

“i heard you, y/n” you glance away from him feeling caught at stealing something. “you said you miss me.” his freckles are glowing and it makes you want to run your fingers on his skin where they exactly are.

“i do miss you” you’re honest and didn’t miss his little whimper when you say that. “but that doesn’t mean i’m not working on to get rid of those feelings.” your words hurt like a bullet being stuck in his chest and neteyam knew that feeling.

“you can’t say that,” he says, ears flattened and eyes hazed with hurt. “i can’t?” you sarcastically remark and scoff before trying to leave. “princes– y/n.” as much as him correctly himself from calling you his princess hurts you, again you manage to cover it up

neteyam feels his heart crack for the thousand times when you flinch away from his touch. “can you stop doing that?”you hiss and he knows you’re trying to protect yourself so bad, neteyam knows this is not you but the stupid shield you try to cover yourself with

“drop the act, y/n stop pushing me away.”

“you’ve a mate and i can’t do that to your future love so don’t touch me.” you’re using his actions against him to protect yourself. neteyam is annoyed now, he was to rip something apart or kill someone.

“look, i know i fucked up but that doesn’t mean…”

“yeah, it doesn’t mean anything, nothing matters.” you say and shut your eyes before taking a deep breath. his next words makes your brain rick in anger.

“can’t you just trust me?!” he dared to raise his voice at you. but in fact, neteyam was only raising his voice up to cover the quivering sound of his voice and stopping himself from crying in front of you

you take a step right to him and click your tongue.

“trust you?” you’re forcefully chuckling now. “i trusted you, neteyam, i trusted you so much but where did that lead me?” you’re poking his chest with your index and neteyam closes his eye before opening them and looking at you

you see something in him shift and realize he’s trying to make a progress.

“i can’t trust you…” you end up whispering the last part. “even if i want to, i just can’t.” you lean to him, dropping you forehead right to his chest and neteyam holds his breath. “i can’t, neteyam. i really can’t.”

as if he didn’t already hate himself more than this, he wishes he would just die at this point. you feel his hands grip your arms and pull you away from him a little far. one hand cups your cheek and he feels you lean to him for warmth.

there, right there was his y/n he knows.

“please,” he’s now begging. “let me make it right.”

you only lean to him to take his warmth one last time before opening your eyes and sighing. “nete’” you watch his breath hitch. “call me that again, please call me that again.”

“nete, i’m leaving.”

neteyam’s body freezes against you, “what?” is the only word he was able to let out. “what do you mean you’re leaving.” it wasn’t even a question, “me and my mom have decided and knows this place isn’t for us.”

you’ve been trying to let him know but you couldn’t until now and you take this opportunity to be close to him for the last time. “i don’t fit here, i’ve to leave.”

“what a..abo…about me?” he was now hyperventilating when he realize why you’ve accepted his touch on your body right now. “you’ve her, you’ve äyea.”

“don’t say that! please don’t say that– i’ve no one except you.” you’re trying to control the tears but neteyam was only making it hard. “neteyam.” your voice is quivering and neteyam shakes his head in denial

“no, don’t you care about me? no! NO!” he’s now holding your arms tight. “neteyam, please don’t make this hard.” you beg as tears start to roll down your pretty skin. “i have to leave!” you yell and neteyam instantly lets you go

he knew he deserved pain but not this one, neteyam didn’t want this he’ll never want this.

“when?” he’s now staring at you numbly. “huh?” you ask confused. “when’re you leaving?” you gulp and think before speaking.

“after your mating ritual, i’ll leave that night after yours and hers…” you stop when he shuts his eyes and blocks your words out. “i’ve to go, i can’t live like this! i don’t want to get hurt anymore.”

neteyam was nodding, stepping back from you. you feel guilty for just dropping it at him like that.

“so you’re saying if i haven’t caught you here i would never know and you would leave me?”

“i’m not leaving you, neteyam, you have äyea.” your words makes him snap.

“I DON’T WANT ÄYEA?!”

“don’t you dare yell at me for protecting myself.” you say and neteyam sniffs angrily. “you know what, i shouldn’t have told to you anything.” you suddenly push past him and walk fast.

neteyam clenches his jaw in anger and pain, no it won’t end like this. he won’t easily let you go like that, never.

enough is enough and nothing will easily end here.

guys it’s 3.1k and i had to stop there yeah? i feel like i might make part 3 and 4 but fr tho should i make it happy ending or sad ending? or maybe alternative ending— i love each and everyone of you sm! mwah!

taglist 𖤘 @eywas-heir @evanpetersluver @ayathehater @redbloond @brooklynscherry-z @spideyluves @littlethingsinlife @arminsgfloll @thesheelfsworld @traveleraroundsworld @giftfromthemoon @emarold @ilovehotdilfsz @kristalposts @raventommy @scryarchives @senpaitanakiuwu @willoswildworld @voniikg @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @dearmikewheeler @mcqsx @eitaababe @hafutoru @hestiasalvtore @trhaenyra @23victoria @littlerizzler @ripneteyam @scarletrosesposts @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @omgily (others will be tags if i make part 3)

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literaila · 4 months

Text

eavesdropping

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: seriously, the door was already open

warnings: satoru is an idiot, as per usual, sad tsumiki :(

last part | next part

year one.

satoru approaches the door to tsumiki’s room and he pauses.

after two weeks straight with the kids, you’d finally returned back to work--leaving the three of them to fend for themselves for the day--but you'd insisted on coming over for dinner.

to which satoru suggested, for the twentieth time, that you might as well stay the night. might as well move in already.

really, there's plenty of space.

but you'd pinched his arm and pushed past him at the door, telling the kids that you brought dinner. you didn't stay behind to watch satoru cradle his arm or smile at the back of your head.

and, seriously, he doesn't mean to eavesdrop (if he meant to he would've planned out something much more sophisticated than this) but the door is already slightly cracked.

“—but megumi doesn’t like it," he hears tsumiki say, soft and concerned. her tiny voice is a whisper through the opened door, so satoru takes another step towards it.

“that’s okay," he hears your voice saying, "you can talk about it if you want.”

one eye appears through the crack and he can see you and tsumiki, curled up on the bed, her eyes looking up at yours, tear stains an obvious sin.

satoru is quiet as he pushes the door, ever so slightly.

“he always ignores me when i talk about my mom or his dad, or he says something mean about them. sometimes he won’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

this seems plausible. just five minutes ago satoru had witnessed an influx of cursed energy coming from megumi when tsumiki merely mentioned their old house and the dolls she kept on her windowsill.

he can still feel that anger brewing now, but megumi, so you’ve said to him, needs to breathe. you didn't exactly tell him to exit the table and leave the little boy alone, or come to tsumiki's room to check on the two of you, but, he knows that's what you meant. you don't have to say something for satoru to help out. he’s just doing what’s best for all of you.

honestly, you probably wouldn't even mind that he's listening in on this conversation.

you tilt your head at her. “did you ask him why?”

tsumiki sniffles, she pushes a sticky hand at the hair matted to her head, so you gently push it away and move it for her instead, much gentler with her than you've ever been with him. satoru almost complains, before he remembers that he's not even there.

“he thinks that they don’t care about us,” tsumiki answers, the hurt obvious in her voice, "he—he can’t remember everything that i can, but he doesn’t care. he doesn't want to.”

you coo at her softly, nodding your head with every word.

satoru has never heard the little girl so sad--he's used to her smiling face and bright energy. honestly, if there's an opposite to cursed energy, it would be tsumiki.

you must feel as disturbed by the difference in the little girl as he does because he watches as you try to restrain a frown.

satoru's eyes are wide through the crack as you attempt a smile. “it’s okay to not feel the same,” you tell her, “wanting to remember your parents isn’t going to make megumi hate you.”

“but it upsets him.”

“well not talking about it upsets you, right?” you say this the same way you chide satoru. and, yeah, you typically know best.

not that he'll ever admit that.

but tsumiki nods.

“then you should talk about it. don’t worry about megumi. you can tell me about them, or satoru.”

he wants to open the door completely just at the sound of his name.

“really?”

“you can talk about whatever you want with us. we’ll always listen," your smile is genuine now.

satoru tries to imagine you as a little girl, with someone wiping your tears away. but he doesn't quite believe that you were ever as small as tsumiki looks now. you'll always be this to him, he supposes, safe and infallible.

even when you were younger, blinking idly at him as he introduced himself to his new underclassmen, you were certain. he's always been sure about that.

tsumiki frowns, her eyes wide. “gojo put his hands over his ears and started singing yesterday when you asked him to take the trash out.”

he has to catch a laugh. you shift around on the bed, your face is stern but satoru can see you about to laugh.

you nudge her with your head, teasing. “i didn’t say he always listens to me.”

the little girl laughs as you nuzzle her nose and for a moment, satoru thinks he's invading.

but how can he walk away when the two of you are cuddled so close, looking so cute together? he should probably take a picture, just so he can always remember this.

but then again, a camera probably wouldn't capture the supple sound of tsumiki's laugh as you cuddle her, or your smile as you hold her closer.

so he just stands there, observing.

you don't say anything as the girl thinks, merely rub your hand up and down on her back, like a reminder that you're still there.

tsumiki remains quiet for a moment, and then she whispers, “i’m afraid that i’ll forget about my mom."

satoru is shocked by the statement, little pricks of guilt perusing through his chest. during all of the digging he did about toji zenin, he wasn't sure where the woman was, or if she was worth finding. he hadn't even thought of it, really. he wasn't very good at that.

and he watches as you pause, feeling kind of eager to see how you'll respond.

your hand continues its circles, and you smile, gently, knowing. “i used to feel that way too," you tell her, just as softly.

and maybe that hurts satoru even more.

“really?”

“yeah. i don’t talk to my mom anymore, but i used to worry that i would forget how she smelled," your nose falls in tsumiki's hair, and you pause for a moment. satoru almost smiles as you close your eyes. "or the way she hugged me," you add, squeezing.

he's never really heard you talk about your parents before. the vauge comment here and there, sure, but nothing more. he knows the bare bones of when you left home—if only from what yaga told suguru, a million years ago, but nothing more. you don’t talk about that.

or maybe he's just never asked.

tsumiki nods, her wide eyes kind of amazed at the confession. and satoru is suddenly glad that he let you follow tsumiki to her room, that he knocked on your door that first night when he wasn't sure what to do with either of them.

you understand this better than he ever could. better than he ever will.

“did you forget?”

you smile. “no. it’s hard to forget those little things, no matter how long it’s been," you consider it for a second, "i don’t remember a lot about her but i remember hugging her when she got home from work, and the way she said my name.”

tsumiki's perks up, “do you think it’ll be like that for me?”

“i don’t know, sweetheart. it could be. you might remember more than i do," you cup her face for a moment, hoping with her.

“my mom always wore rose perfume,” tsumiki's hands cover your own, and she looks closely at you, like satoru wishes he could. “do you miss your mom?”

satoru holds his breath for a moment, and your eyes narrow as you think.

“sometimes," you admit.

“does it make you sad?”

“every once in a while.“

tsumiki swallows, her face falling. “i miss my mom."

you kiss her head. satoru sees your eyes flutter closed as you speak to her, so softly he almost misses it. “it’s okay to be sad without them.”

satoru closes his eyes with you, for just a moment.

he thinks about aquariums and trips to abandoned houses and souvenirs that he couldn't keep but covet.

and his eyes open again.

“really?” tsumiki asks as if she doubts it.

“yeah. that’s just the way love comes out sometimes. it makes you sad.”

“will it always?”

“well, you’ll always love your mom, right?” the girl nods without thinking, and you smile at her. “then being without her will always make you a little sad. and sometimes a lot. but it’ll find its place in your heart, like everything does.”

tsumiki thinks about this for a moment.

satoru wants her to ask how many holes you have in your heart, and if you think they could ever be filled.

and he also wants her to never ask you anything again. he shouldn't be listening to this, but he's stuck at the door.

“do you think about your parents a lot?”

“almost every day,” you say, looking away from the girl for a moment. and then you look back. “but i think about how my mom is happy where she is, and how i’m happy where i am.”

satoru almost falls through the door.

“you are?”

“well yeah,” you say, obviously. you squeeze her a bit. “i’ve got you here. and megumi and satoru. how couldn’t i be happy?”

tsumiki settles into you, she nods in agreement, but considers something, frowning up at you. “i don’t want megumi to be mad at me. he’s my best friend.”

“he’s not really mad,” you tell her--and, well, satoru disagrees. megumi is mad at everything. “and even if he was, he’ll always forgive you. that’s what best friends do. they argue and then make up.”

“who’s your best friend?”

your lip twitches. “satoru. and we fight all the time.”

“really? gojo?”

satoru wants to ask the same question. shoko, he might've assumed. nanami, even. if you knew he was there you would probably say that tsumiki was your best friend, just to mess with him.

but he's there, and you don't know.

you shake your head, acknowledging how crazy this statement is. “yup. i’m stuck with him.”

“has he always been your best friend?”

“oh no,” you laugh at the suggestion. “we met just a couple of years ago, at school. and he always had more friends than i did.”

“…but now?”

“he’s been my best friend for a while, i guess, but i haven’t been his for very long.”

satoru frowns.

“cause you always fight?”

you laugh. “something like that.”

something like what?

and then you turn to her, eyes on eyes, making sure that she’s looking at you. “tsumiki, you know—“

and satoru thinks that he’s heard enough. he doesn't want any more secrets or any more questions. he closes the door as quietly as possible, letting his ear linger on the wood when he hears the two of you laugh.

satoru sits for a moment, almost able to see your smile through the door, without all of his eyes, like he really took that picture.

and then he walks away, into the dining room, where megumi is pushing his dinner around on a plate.

satoru sits down.

“what are they doing?” megumi asks, gruffly. he's calmer now, satoru notes, though grumpy as ever.

“girl stuff.”

“it’s dinner time.”

“oh, megumi,” satoru tsks, shaking his head. “you’ve got lots to learn about women.”

megumi frowns. “i know more than you.”

“okay, i just came here to have a good time—“

later on, you’re unloading the dishwasher, trying to be quiet while the kids get ready for bed, and satoru walks in.

in striped pajamas naturally. no glasses. he is already grinning at you as he leans against the counter, his fingers tapping on the granite.

you roll your eyes automatically, pushing him a little because he's in your way.

"what, satoru?"

“so, i’m your best friend, huh?”

you turn. “i knew that door was open—“

next part

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janovavalen · 5 months

Note

hi, can i request percy x fem!reader or just reader if you don’t write fem.

Basically percy is dating someone from the mortal world and she asks percy to attend these important dates for her because idk she’s in ballet or something and he misses it because he’s always doing quest with annabeth and the reader feels like he’s going to leave her. happy ending pls.

a/n: awhh omg yes ofc 😭!!

✧MISUNDERSTANDING || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: up above!

word count: 3393 (bruh i was aiming for like 1k not MF 3K WHAT IS THISSS MY THUMB HURTS…and im tired ☹️)

warnings: a bit of hurt reader and percy, miss communication, fluff and comfort in the end

y/n breathed heavily and steadily she made sure her feet were pointed and flexed to perfection. her arms being outstretched perfectly and her fingers pointed towards the walls of the studio her teacher, miss.yana, instructed her to finally move.

‘now! close your feet!—‘y/n did just so. as she held them together, unmoving she breathed steadily through her nose, making sure not to flex her face that would cause the whole class to restart.

she didn’t particularly hate ballet, she loved it beyond measure. she loved it so much—it was her mother’s favorite thing to do when she was young and when she had a small incident that stopped her from doing ballet all together, y/n promised her at the age of nine that she would continue her love for ballet.

and now here she was, four years later still doing ballet with a small collection of good metals at home to make her mother proud.

‘open feet! close, open feet! close!’ the teacher shouted to the class. they all did just as she told with no hesitance and no mistake.

if there were any—from anyone. that person would be the punching bag until next week. luckily y/n has never had to experience that, she made sure she was always perfect for the class, teacher, herself and her mother.

‘rest…good job today class, you are now dismissed. julia! make sure you keep stretching i saw slight hesitation in your leg stretches, if you need it checked out please get that down before next month.’

next month just so happened to be one of their important plays that would be watched by one of the most popular and well paid ballet teachers of all time in new york. she would be watching the class y/n so happens to be in to see who is most fitted for her privet class, and y/n had to make sure she was picked, she had to.

as y/n rested and walked over to her duffle bag that held all of her supplies, her friend maxine walked up to her. she always wore pink leg warmers and her hair in one of the tighter buns y/n had ever seen before.

‘hey y/n! were you able to hang out tonight? me and rebecca were thinking we would do a small movie night at hers? we all get these cute little themed colored snacks and watch like, horror movies or something?’ maxine smiled down at y/n who gave a tight lip apologetic smile.

‘awh i’m sorry…maybe we can reschedule on it? i’m supposed to be meeting percy today’ y/n threw on her sweats and sweatshirt to match. her new shoes being simple brown boots and her hat on to cover her head from the windy weather outside.

maxine smile and awed—‘oh! you guys are so cute together in so jealous, i though you’d said he was studying abroad?’

yeah and by that she means some place far far away were humans can’t even enter.

‘yeah…but he’s visiting today and we were going to see that new movie in theaters’ y/n smiled at maxine who nodded her head with a warm smile.

‘awh! you two have fun okay? text me the details later!’ as she walked away y/n waved her goodbye and made her way to the opposite door. leading her way out of the studio and right into to the sidewalk of new york city.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when y/n got home she made herself known by yelling out to her parents—‘mom, dad! i’m home!’ she yelled. just then she quickly heard footsteps coming from the both of them as they smiled and hugged their daughter.

‘my sweet! how was practice? i’m so happy you got back safe i keep telling you dad here to get you a bike or a car! ah! was that nasty teacher mean to you today? huh?’ her mom rushed to her side as her dad gave her a shocked look at what she said about the car and bike.

‘you didn’t tell me—‘

‘shut up i did!’

‘nuh-uh!’

‘yes! yes (f/n) i told you a hundred times you were just always half asleep when i told you—‘

‘wh! well maybe if i weren’t half asleep i would have know—‘

‘okay guys! it’s okay i’m back! i don’t need a car but i will like a bike? and no she wasn’t mean today, i did pretty good’ y/n praised herself as she set down her bag which was quickly picked up by her dad who went to put it in her room.

‘awh that’s good to here, oh! and what about you and percy? huh? you told me you two were going out tonight is that still on?’

‘yes mom. i’m going to be leaving around five or six and back at nine like always, maybe he’ll stay, maybe he won’t.’ y/n shrugged as she was walked by her mom arm in arm.

‘well, i’ll cut fresh fruit just in case, now i know your tired so go take a nice bath! get ready for your date’ she sang while y/n felt her face warm.

‘mom! don’t say it like that’

‘well! i mean you’ve been together for how long now?’

‘two years—‘

‘two years! and you still get nervous! i still think it’s adorable don’t worry, im sure he does too’ she teased while y/n groaned and made her way to her room.

when she got there she immediately went to rush for her phone and unlocked it. her homescreen being her pet and lock being her and percy at the beach. she loved that picture so much, she’s probably posted it about a hundred times over and over on her photo dumps.

going into her contacts she was quick to text her boyfriend, percy. hoping she wasn’t interrupting him or anything.

‘hey percy! i just got back from practice. everything going well at camp?’ she texted. and almost immediately he responded.

‘hey! yeah, everything is good, i’m getting my things packed for movie night, i should be getting to you pretty soon. miss me?’ he teasingly sent making y/n turn off her phone for a second to smile with her hand over her mouth.

breathing out and unlocking it once more she texted him—‘of course i did, how could i not?’ he hearted her message and replied quickly.

‘well don’t worry i miss you just as much. i’ll see you soon okay?’ she heated his message as well and sent back a meme that he would always send her and closed off her phone.

deciding it was time to get ready she went to collect her bathroom things and started to get ready for her night.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

after about two hours of getting ready, listening to music and texting percy non stop, she finally saw it was time to leave the house. rushing to grab her purse and shoes she used down to the front door and made her goodbyes that consisted of hugs and kisses to and from her parents.

rushing out the front door, she signaled for a taxi which likely saw her and picked her up.

‘were to?’ he asked

‘the movie theater please’

as y/n said that and the taxi driver started to move, she texted percy that she was on his way which she was left with a ‘seen’.

strange…frowning her eyes bowed she kept the message open and waited for his response. he was usually really quick with this, never leaving her on seen nor delivered without a small warning beforehand of course.

‘hm…’ she mumbled.

‘we’re here!’ he told y/n who looked up from her phone in a hurry and looked to the side to see the movie theater.

‘oh, thank you’ paying him plus tip he smiled at her and said his bye which she did the same.

making her way out of the car and into the movies, she paid for the two tickets with the money percy sent her a few days prior, getting popcorn with her own money and some other snacks which was expensive as always.

looking down to see she was left on seen almost ten minutes ago, y/n double texted which she hated.

sending a small pic of the things she bought and the tickets that were next to the popcorn she held them all and walked to the movie room.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

sitting down into her seat she kept her focus on her phone, the big screen and the entrance of the movie room. hoping that one of the blondes that would walk in was her boyfriend who hopefully had a small explanation to leaving her hanging with the texts…twice!

sitting back as the room became dark she decided it was time to call him. he said he was on his way? and she didn’t mean to be obnoxious but she needed to know he was at least okay.

walking out of the room she called him…it rang. and rang…and rang.

then she heard his voice—‘hey!’

‘percy where are you—‘

‘this is percy and you’ve reached my voicemail box. if i didn’t pick up i’m either with my amazing girlfriend, slaying monsters or just sleeping, leave a message.’ scoffing a bit at his voicemail she spoke.

‘percy im at the movies and i just wanted to know if you were okay? or if you're on your way? the movie started and i'm going to be watching this amazing movie without you…call me back, please?’

hanging up and looking down at her phone and time she sighed and closed her eyes, ignoring the slight plained pit in her stomachs and heart she pushed it aside and walked back into the movie room.

sitting down and watching some of the movie she would occasionally look at her phone, the entrance. the screen. her phone, the entrance, the screen.

over, and over. until soon, without realizing it had been the end of the movie.

she still felt herself trapped in the endless loop she created for herself. her phone, the entrance and the screen.

soon enough she realized what she didn’t want to think was true, he wasn’t coming. he wasn’t showing up once again.

this happened five times in the last five months on each date that was planned every five months.

pressing her body against the seat, she sighed and placed her hands on her face. letting out a shaky breath, y/n picked up her things and made her way out of the theater.

walking until the sidewalk of new york, she felt her phone vibrate.

picking it up in a hurry she saw percy’s name flash across the screen—she answered.

‘percy—‘

‘n/n! listen im so so sorry! i—i lost track of time, i was set on a quest the second i was going to leave and i—‘

‘so what? the quests mean more than me? hanging with annabeth—‘

‘y/n please…don’t say that it’s not like that and you know it.’

‘well i sure feels like that percy! you stood me up! you left me alone again just like the picnic, the dinner, the fourth of july, my birthday!? percy…are your trying to tell me something—‘

‘no! y/n! no, it—no! stop what your thinking because it isn’t true okay? please—it isn't like that at all okay? i just….its—‘

‘explain to me percy…i’m listening.’ as y/n stood on the side of the building she felt her eyes well up with a bit of tears as her grip on her phone tightened. her purse being clutched by her side.

‘it’s….’

‘explain to me percy…please.’ she helplessly begged while holding the phone. on the other end, all she heard was a bit of noise and his breathing.

‘i—i can’t.’ he mumbled. scoffing y/n threw her head back slowly while rolling her shoulders. trying not to embarrass herself by crying in the middle of the sidewalk.

‘of course. bye percy.’

‘wait—‘ just as he said this she hung up and placed her phone in her purse. it vibrated, indicating someone was calling, seeing it might be her mom she looked and it was percy.

she didn’t pick up.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

when she got home, y/n was met with a silent house. her parents were sleep and she was kind of happy with this. she could walk to her room with no trouble.

once she got their, she immediately broke down, her hands finding ways to her mouth to silence her cries, y/n shook her head a bit and bit her lip.

the pain in her chest grew and grew to which it felt like she couldn’t breath.

was this his way of breaking up with her? was this is plan all along since she and him had to split? this whole time he was in camp…he could’ve been talking to someone else. this whole time.

sighing and crying a bit more she wiped her tears and breathed heavily, a shaky breath as she made her way to her closet and picked her pajamas.

after taking off some of her makeup, and putting her hair in a more comfortable up-do. she placed her phone on the bedside table and turned to the wall, her widow being slightly open to show the moons shine from space.

feeling her body shake a bit from her cries she suddenly heard—tik.

quieting down, y/n stopped and waiting just to hear another—tik, tik—one became two and two became four.

sighing she sat up and looked at her slightly ajar window to see there were small rocks being down at her window.

what kind of drunk is doing this so late at night? and why her window? and why on this day as of right now.

groaning she sat up and grabbed her bat to make sure bod is was handing from her window. stepping slow and close to her window she saw curls then a face—with a black hoodie on. screaming she went to swing her bat but was stopped with—‘oh my god! stop! stop! it’s me!’

stopping her movements…she knew that voice. placing the bat down and aggressively taking off his hoddie she saw it was percy.

‘what—‘

‘i know i know, what are you doing here? why are you here? what do you want you pertinacious douchebag—i know but please? let me explain…please.’ he silently begged her as y/n firmly looked down at him. giving up as she saw his blue eyes, she placed down the bag completely and stepped beside it let him in.

once he was in he turned to her. y/n had her arms crossed and her face flat, filled and prominent with upset, hurt, anger and confusion. the slight previous look of tears in her puffy eyes made his heart sink.

‘oh y/n…i—‘

‘why did you ditch me all those months? huh? i asked you and i will keep asking…if you can’t give a reason at all and it’s related to your demigod duties i will respect that and leave it alone but please just tell me something? anything.’ y/n hopelessly looked up into percy eyes who looked down at eyes and sighed.

placing his hand on her arms that were folded she let then loosen as he pressed his body against her own, embracing her with the warmth of her preciously covered body and his naturally warm one. she melting into his hind immediately and tested up again.

‘is this you breaking up with me? i don’t get it i—‘

‘i was trying to clear up my schedule to make it to your play next month.’ he answered, finally.

pulling away immediately she looked into his sad eyes that watched her own as a small tear dropped.

‘what?’

‘you were telling me for six months now about how important and exited you were for this big play so i worked and worked on many of my quiets that were already ahead of me to make sure none of them interfere with your play. i want to make there so i can see you dance, i know i’ve been really…horrible with being a boyfriend and making it to our dates and im so so sorry, half of it was planned and half of it was pure coincidence on being caught in a quest…’

‘planned?’ she asked, eyes eyebrows turning up and he nodded.

‘yeah planned…i know how serious you and ballet are and i know your always stressed at being this perfect image for the world when in fact your always perfect and there isn’t anything that can’t make you ten times better than you already are. some of the dates i missed were meant to be missed like the picnic, and the ice skating rink and your birthday…i was there, you just couldn’t see me. and now that i think about it sounds creepy and weird—‘

‘yeah it dose’ she laughed as he smiled.

‘but i didn’t show up because i knew you needed the time to freely open up and relax. your picnic was what i made you, the food and stuff i made myself that’s why—‘

‘that’s why some of the things were blue…’ she recalled.

‘mhm…and your birthday?’

‘a ocean view with blue ribbons around the napkins and flowers…but why didn’t you tell me?’ she looked up in wonder.

‘it would ruin your surprise’ she shrugged while she tilted her head in a bit of confusion.

‘my surprise?’

picking up the bag that was set next to him that she failed to notice he handed it to her and she grinned up at him, a bit nervous he watched her open the blue bag. seeing another box, she opened it.

inside were his and her favorite blue colored ballet shoes. y/n smiled and picked them up immediately, placing the box and bag on her table, she looked at them and saw a small note inside.

in it was what said—

from here on out from all of my accomplished quested i have even granted a two year stay in new york with you, and for these two years i will stay by your side non stop to make up for my missed dates, and missed hugs and talks. your favorite — percy jackson.

looking up at him with teary eyes, she launched herself at him with her arms around his neck, y/n felt percy rub her back soothingly and she immediately spoke.

‘oh my god i’m so sorry! i was so mean to you over the phone and i almost hit you with a bat! and i wa thinking of doing it anyway seeing who you were oh my—im so sorry percy oh my gosh’ she squeezed him even tighter as percy laughed a bit and held her closer.

‘it’s okay! it’s okay! i would to the same, i hoped you did so you would forgive me then baby me back to health’ he revealed making y/n pull away and push him with a scoff.

he smiled at her and pulled her in by her hand, one of his other hands making their way to hold her face soothingly and pulling her in for a sweet kiss. he was always one for words and actions. smiling and melting into it y/n kissed back all until—

‘who’s in here! my baby—what!’ the two of them turned to see y/n’s mother and father holding bats only to immediately relax.

‘percy!’

‘hi mrs.l/n…hi mr.l/n’ he shamefully waved at the two who rolled their eyes and let out a relieved sigh.

‘my god—percy please. next time use the front door’ he dad groaned as he went to walk away and back to bed only to feel his wife want aorund. turning to see her staring at the two with an adored face painted on her she awed.

‘my babies! look at you—‘ just then she was picked up and taken out of the room by y/n’s dad—her husband—‘wait! i was just checking on them!’

‘they’re fine’ he replied.

y/n smiled and covered her face with embarrassment as percy looked down at her and smiled as well, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from her face he kissed her once more.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series

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cherry-leclerc · 8 months

Text

certain way in stages ☆ cl16

genre: childhood friends to lovers, yearning, humor, slow-burnish

word count: 10.5k

Being in love is bittersweet at times. You and Charles both lived proof of that. It’s been a long time coming.

inspired by this !

Growing up, you always wished for the most perfect meet-cute a girl could ever experience. For instance, you dreamt of a grumpy millionaire suddenly having a soft spot and falling for your undeniable charm. Or perhaps you would fall in love with the boy from your nearest ice cream parlor, who would always give you an extra scoop just because, though both of you would know that wouldn’t be the case.

As you grew older, you came to terms that stuff like that didn’t really exist. You weren’t living in a romcom. You weren’t living in your favorite love story. Over and over, you would remind yourself that it was fine and you can make do, but just the tiniest piece of you still wondered.

“Darling, true love does exist. I can reassure you." Pascale comforted you as you sat in front of her. It was summer, she was braiding your hair, you were eating ice cream out of a carton, and you just went through your first heartbreak. All of this made it pretty hard to believe.

“I’m sure it does, but I suppose it’s just not for me,” you mumble with watery eyes, bringing your knees to your chest and rest your chin atop.

Pascale lets out a sad hum as she ties your hair. As you turn to look at her, she pats on the couch signaling you to take a seat next to her.

“Listen,” she starts as she grabs your hands gently. “Heartbreak isn’t nice, believe me, I know.” Suddenly, you feel like the biggest jerk in the world. How could you ever compare your silly little grief with someone who has lost the love of their life? You’re about to apologize before she presses on your hand. “Like I said, it isn’t pretty. Things like this make you feel as if it’s the end of the world - God - you almost wish it was… but there’s always more out there. Something that will shift your entire world on its axis if it hasn’t already, and you will love and enjoy it so much that it will overpower any type of pain you have ever endured.”

“What if I’m not lucky enough to have that? Who could ever want someone like me?” you whisper. You hated to make it all about yourself, but things like this always kept you up, in a way you wish it wouldn’t.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” She brings you in for a hug and you wish you believed her words the way they flowed. “You just have to allow yourself to get to know what you need, not just what you want.”

“Trust me, I thought Noah was all I needed…”

Pascale brings up her hands to her temples, gently massaging, watercolor eyes narrowed down on you. “No, no, no. He never deserved a pretty little flower like you.”

“Maybe…” You chew on your bottom lip, slightly flinching at her stare. “Yeah. I know.”

Both of you end up curling up on the couch, gossiping about all the latest surrounding the small Monaco streets. She's getting real riled up when Charles walks in.

“I’m back!” He takes his jacket off. Once he makes his way over to Pascale, he notices you. Giving her a kiss, his eyes shift. “Lapine, what are you doing here?”

You glare. “Can’t a girl just come over to see their best friend?” Popping some kettle corn into your mouth, you continue. “When I saw you weren’t home I came to talk to your mom.”

He frowns a bit. “Sorry, I thought you knew I wasn’t going to be around. Remember it was my an-”

Immediately, you jump off the couch. “Your anniversary!” Guilt eats you up. How could you have forgotten? “No, Charles, I should be the one apologizing. Crap, I forgot.”

He smiles at your current state. “It’s alright, it went well either way…” The Monegasque shoots an eyebrow up before winking, well, his own attempt at it. You pretend to throw up at the same time Pascale makes a run for her room.

The brunette and you both plop onto the warm couch. He quickly grabs a handful of your snack before he gobbling it down. Snatching the bowl from him, you hold it close against your chest. “This is my popcorn,” you greedily say. His hand reaches out for more which you swiftly swat away.

“Hey!”

“Hey you! I told you this is mine.”

He furrows his brows. “You were just sharing some with my mom!”

“You said it. With Pascale. Not Charles.”

The green eyed boy lets out a huff. “Okay. Do you want to talk about it?” Your vision gets blurry before you even have a chance to pretend you were totally fine, but you’re not. Not even a little. If anyone could tell it would always be him.

“It’s Noah.” You look away because it’s only a matter of time before Charles’ judgy face makes an appearance. You always knew he never liked him, but now was not the time for that reminder. “Nevermind.”

Shifting his body to face you Charles says, “You know I’m always here for you. You can tell me anything.”

Your chin begins to wobble and all the sensitivity in the world is beginning to catch up with you.

Sobbing you begin. “I wish I could tell you where it all went wrong, but God I wish I knew myself.” Your shoulders shake up and down by how hard you’re crying. “I don’t know what I did! I mean I never did anything wrong, but Charles the way he looked at me made me feel as if I did! I’ve never felt so…so…dirty.”

First thing Charles thinks is how much he wants to go pay Noah a nice little visit and second is how much it hurts him to see you like this. He’d pay an endless amount of sum if that meant you would go back to your natural, cheery self.

So, with sobs echoing through his family home, he grabs your hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Staring back at him with glassy eyes, you let out a wet laugh. Slowly, you start to cackle. Charles finds himself wondering if you’ve gone mad.

“Yes I did. I just know I did,” you press as you wheeze, fresh tears pouring out. “Like everything else around me, I just had to go out and ruin things. God, I feel so pathetic.” Pulling your hands away, you stand up and begin to pace the room back and forth. “If I had just been enough for him then maybe Noah would have chosen me and not her. I mean how could I blame him? I would choose her too.”

Charles instantly stands up and grabs your shoulders. “Listen,” he says as you stare down at the floor. “Lapine.” You dig your nails into the palm of your hands as you lift your attention to him. “You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you a broken record or something? You already said that.”

“No, you must be the broken record here by the way you keep blaming yourself when I know you’re smart enough to decipher that none of this is your fault. He’s a fucking dick.” Like always, when you’re losing your mind, Charles is always there for you in a way you're almost embarrassed to say no one else is.

Wearing a weak smile, you go in and hug him. “I just wish for once I was someone’s first choice,” you mumble into his chest.

God, Charles thinks to himself. If only you knew you were mine.

“She’s so sweet, so lovely!” Pascale squeals as she makes her way into the kitchen with a handful of daisies tied together with a sad looking ribbon.

Charles and Arthur are cleaning their helmet visors as they munch on crackers. “Maman, you’re dropping dirt everywhere,” Charles states as he stares at the now dirty tiles.

“Well if we’re playing that game, then there’s crumbs everywhere.”

The Monegasque shuts up right away.

Later on that same day, he decides to go on a bike ride. He’d just gotten one for his 8th birthday that he was dying to brag out. Running out the door, Pascale warns him: “Only around the neighborhood, Cha!”

“Oui!”

Just as he was tying his shoelaces, he spots a girl around his age walking up to him. She’s so pretty, he remembers thinking.

“Hi!” you chirp as your right arm remains behind your back. “I’m new around here. Just moved to the house next door.” You sheepishly point to the cream-ish house that sits next to his.

“Nice.”

You squint your eyes at slightly before kicking the dirt surrounding your Mary Janes. Your arm makes an appearance with the same daisies he remembers his mom adding into a flower vase. “These are for you! I hope you like them.”

He reaches out to accept before dropping them next to his helmet. Your stomach churns.

“You don’t like them?” Your pretty little eyes begin to well up. He quickly panics, hurriedly getting on his knees to pick up the wilted flowers.

“What? Of course I do!” he yelps as he brings them up to his nose to take a whiff. “Smells good too!”

A few tears roll down your cheeks as you begin to walk away. “It’s fine. Keep them. Throw them. I don’t care.”

He bolts after you before grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I never meant to make you cry!”

Wiping your warm tears away, you looked down at your locked hands. He lets go.

“Take me on a bike ride and I might just forgive you,” you challenge.

So he did. That same day he crashed it when your hair flew into his face and didn’t let him see where he was steering, and while he might have cried a bit, he didn’t really care. Because that was the day he met his best friend.

Charles fell in love with you when you were both seventeen. Maybe a bit later than expected but it was as sweet as it could get.

“She so likes you,” Arthur tells him one day over a round of video games. Charles quickly pauses the game before turning to his younger brother.

“You really think so?”

Lorenzo, who was sitting nearby reading his book, perks up. “It’s as clear as daylight. You guys are meant for eachother.”

Charles was on a sudden high; I mean if everyone else saw it, it just had to be true. Without finishing a second thought, he dashed up the flight stairs so fast that he almost face planted a couple of times. Rapidly, he runs to his window where he knows he would find you sitting in your room.

Laying on your bed with your legs kicked up against the wall, he could tell you were on a phone call.

Psst, he hissed as he tried to catch your attention. You look around your room confused. I’m right here, he speaks up as he dangles a bit over his open window. Sweetly, you excuse yourself, hanging up, and making your way over.

“What’s up?”

All of a sudden, he doesn’t know what else to say. Bright eyes stare back at him and his heart thuds loudly, hands nervously sweat. “Uhhh…”

Weirded out, you walk to your closet and grab your shoes. “Wanna go for some ice cream?”

Like always, you both met outside as you began to walk to the nearest ice cream parlor. “What flavor are you getting?” you asked as you twiddled with the ring he had gifted you for your fifteenth birthday.

“Strawberry. You?”

“Not sure.” You curiously squint at the nearby tourists.

Walking in, Charles orders his own cone as you stroll around trying to decide. “Lemon? No. Sherbert? Ah, gross…” He takes a seat while you mumble to yourself. “Um, what about-”

“Rocky Road?” a voice recommends. Both you and Charles look up and find a tall looking boy with shaggy hair. Your heart quickens as you begin to blush. “Rocky Road sounds good, I’ll take one.”

Charles felt his stomach churn with an unfamiliar feeling. Jealousy. He rises up, sourly making his way. “She doesn’t like chocolate.”

With a cold stare, you scowl towards the Monegasque. “I actually love chocolate.” Hastily, you turn your attention back, beaming kindly. “Strawberry and chocolate, please.”

As you both sit on the benches outside, you hum quietly. “Would you mind telling my mom I’ll be home for dinner on time?”

It was still early when you asked, so he pondered on why you wouldn’t just be walking home with him. “Can’t you tell her yourself?” He knows he’s being rude - and there was truly no reason for that - but he felt bitter. He knew why.

“Charlie. Please. You know Theo asked me out to go watch a movie with him at the drive- in!” The way your eyes glimmered and glistened had him wishing they were shining like that for him and not Theo from the ice cream shop.

“Fine.”

Walking back home, he felt like the same wilted flowers you had gifted him when you were both younger. The brunette kicks a mountain of rock, flinching.

If I had just asked her out sooner. Late. Late. Late. Always too late.

It's been a few months now since your break up and you were feeling better. You don’t even remember why you even loved Noah in the first place. Realizing he never really cared enough to try was a tough pill to swallow, but you managed to dig yourself out the hole.

Twirling around in your heels, you walk up and down the hallway, presenting yourself with an awful catwalk. “How do I look?” Steady hands grip your hips as you lean playfully and blow a kiss.

“Beautiful!” Pascale squeals, clapping.

“Lovely,” Lorenzo follows up.

“You clean up nice, I suppose,” Arthur jokes with two thumbs up. You throw a quick scowl in his direction.

“I wish I could bring you guys along, but sadly I only got a plus one.” Tonight you would be receiving your diploma for graduating Uni, all before the actual graduation that would later follow up in a few weeks. You had decided to string Charles along since he was one of the main reasons you were even here, in this very moment. Endlessly, he would always quiz you with flashcards you would prepare.

“Nitrogen!” you yell out as you hold onto the edge of your seat. It’s been a long day and you were staring to lose it.

“Wrong. Try again.”

“Iodine!”

“We’re going over history, what does any of this have to do with the elements?” He laughs, laying the cards onto the coffee table. “You could use a break.”

With a stubborn frown, you roll over. “Taking a break won’t help. I have to keep going.” Charles studies you a bit before standing up. “Where are you going?” you interrogate, peeping an eye open.

“Why don’t we go for a swim?” he proposes.

“Oh. No. God no. I have to study.” Swiftly, your hands shoot out for the index cards.

This leads for your best friend to grab onto your legs, tugging you off the couch. You squirm, trying to hold on to the nearest pillows. “No!”

For a while, you both continue this little dance, though as you slip his grip, he ends up tugging your socks off. Charles lets out a groan as his back hits the cold floor.

Speedy, you jump off the couch. “On second thought, a swim sounds nice!”

It’s been 20 minutes of waiting and though you weren’t late for your event quite yet, you knew you had to get going. “I think I should call a cab now...” You sigh and grab your purse.

“That boy, when I get my hands on him-” Pascale doesn’t have a chance to finish her sentence before Charles casually walks in through the door. His eyes glint when he sees you standing like a doll.

“Woah. You look beautiful." The Monegasque tints pink but you only roll your eyes. Annoyed is an understatement.

“Good to hear,” you spit out. “Anyway, I should get going.”

“Date?” Charles dares question and you try not to explode in front of his family.

Turning around slowly, your hands still remain wrapped around the knob. “Yes, Charles. A date. Just me and my diploma, going on a date.”

His face goes completely pale. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Charles harshly rubs his hands over his eyes, clearly stressed out. “I’m sorry! I was out with Charlotte, I must have lost track of time.”

Looking over at his brothers and Pascale, you decide to hide your embarrassment with a shy smile. “No worries. I get it.” You were telling the truth; you did understand. Just the fact that he forgot is what hurt. He knew this was important to you. How hard you worked for this and how the only person you wanted to share this moment with was him.

With a slight wince, he excuses himself to go change. “Don’t bother,” you yell out after him. Standing on the wooden steps, he turns to see you and he could tell he's ruined it. He messed up. You couldn’t help your eyes filling up with tears and he couldn’t help but notice them. You lamely shrug your shoulders. “Lorenzo, I mean you always dress up pretty fancy,” you point out. “You seem ready. Would you mind accompanying me?”

“Of course,” he says, a trace of hesitance evident when he reaches to grab his jacket and car keys.

As the Monegasque watches Lorenzo and you drive off, he can’t help but feel angry at himself.

“It’s always her!” Charlotte yells out as Charles rests his head against the wall. This was slowly becoming a routine.

“You know it’s not like that,” he justifies.

“Oh please, do us all a favor and tell us how it is."

“I messed up,” he admits. Pascale and him had settled into a road silence, overlooking her garden.

“Yes. You did.”

Quietly, Charlotte crouches down next to Charles. “Hey,” she starts, pain lacing through her voice. “Look we’ve had a nice run, but maybe it’s time we just stop pretending that it was always going to be me.”

Charles weakly apologizes by making you a plate of pasta.

“Mmm,” you hum. “Crunchy.”

He smiles a toothy grin as he claps his hands, slightly startling you. “Crunchy is good!” As soon as you make a face and scrunch your nose, his smile fades away.

“Not your best work, C.” A shy smile escapes. Charles groans as he throws his head back, chair tipping over. A loud smack follows.

“Holy shit!” you screech, jumping off your seat. With a dizzy look, he rubs his head before mumbling with a low, I’m fine. You help him to his room where he throws himself on his bed with a thud. “Don’t you dare fall asleep.”

His eyes shoot open with alert, jumping off the bed. “Let’s go for a drive.”

The late night ride is always peaceful; you both don’t really have many moments like those. Sharing a bag of chips, you both enjoy the view from his Pista. It’s always been this place ever since you both discovered what you like to call, The Nicest Place In All of Monaco.

“Truth or Dare?”

The young driver should know better than to fall for your little games but he still finds himself playing, “Truth.”

You close your eyes and tap your chin. “Oh! Have you ever hooked up with a fan?” Curiosity always gets the best of you, you can’t deny it.

His face scrunches up with disgust. “I’m not talking about this with you.” A deep frown forms, pinching his forearm.

“That’s not fair, you already said Truth, so Truth it shall be.”

He squints his eyes watercolor eyes. “Says who?”

“Says me! Now spill.”

The brunette grows weirdly quiet for a nanosecond. “Yes.” When your eyes go wide with excitement he knows he should stop this before it goes on any further. “Only once, okay? No more questions.”

Theatrically zipping your lips, he chuckles and returns the question. “Dare.” He narrows his eyes and you get a queasy feeling. “Take it back. Truth.”

His mouth drops open, screeching how you couldn’t change your choice. “It wouldn’t be fair!” he tries to reason with you.

“Says who?”

“Me! I say so!”

“Bullshit. I said Truth.”

“Fine. Have you ever been in love?”

Suddenly, it feels like you're eating cardboard. Swallowing, you make a duh movement. “Yes. Of course. Noah.”

“You know that doesn’t count.”

Looking out the window, you know what he said was true. You once thought you loved Noah, but you never truly did - it was almost all an illusion.

“You’re right. It wasn’t love that I felt for him, but I’ve been in love with someone else.”

Charles wants to press you on it. Who is it? Since when? His name, age, address? Do you still think about them from time to time? But he knows you better than anyone, and as expected, you cut the game short, just as quick as it started.

“I’ll drive,” you murmur, cllimbing out of the passenger's seat.

Theo ended up moving to Boston for college, and while you were a bit bummed out, you didn’t really care too much. It was nice while it lasted.

On the other hand, Charles felt as if this was a sign from the universe. You were both eighteen now; he could make big boy moves if he wanted to.

The Monegasque takes you karting with him one day since you’ve been begging him for so long. He even helps you with your helmet as your adorably work on slipping your gloves on. “Should I cover you with bubble wrap?” he mumbles.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“You think?” he shrieks, immediately taking the helmet off. “If you think you’ll be fine then why are we even here?”

“Dick. You know I’ll be fine!” Grabbing the helmet, you throw it over your head once more. As you both walk over to your karts, you eagerly wave over to your parents who are busy conversing with Pascale. Your mom blows a kiss as Pascale sends you two thumbs up.

The drive was as good as it could get.

“You suck!” Charles exclaims as soon as he jumps out of his kart. Like a lost puppy, follow after him with a confused look.

“What do you mean? I’m basically a pro!”

Charles sharply turns, causing you as you take a step back. “Pros don’t crash in every corner and cutely follow up with a slight 'oops’.” Arthur snickers.

Arms cross over your chest, breathing out. “You think I’m cute?” The brunette awkwardly begins to blush.

“Wha-what? I think you must’ve banged your head against the wheel too many times.”

You let out a soft laugh, spoking your tongue out. “Calm down, I was just kidding.” As he watches you walk away, Charles couldn’t help but kick himself because this would’ve been the perfect opportunity to let you know just how much you take over his mind. Just seeing you attempting to learn his favorite sport had him filled with pride and affection towards you. Sure, it was quickly replaced with him being worried every time you would crash, but that’s besides the point.

“So stupid,” he mumbles to himself, drooped shoulders, pinched eyebrows, making his way towards you and his family.

“Have you thought about it?” Charles questions where you sit on his bed while he packs his suitcase. It had been a while since he had brought up the idea for you to go with him to the Canada GP, and you were still with no answer.

“I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“I never directly said no.”

“Yet you haven’t said yes either.”

Biting down on your lip, you balance out your options. Either you can stay here and sulk your summer away while Charles is out traveling and having fun or you tag along and join him and his crowded schedule.

“I promise I’ll get you your dream stack of pancakes with authentic maple,” he tries bribing you. And damn it, it worked.

“You've got yourself a deal.”

Chomping on your warm pancakes, you scroll through your phone as you giggle at the following Twitter thread. You giggle so hard you choke. Carlos and Charles walk in with their suits around their waist.

“Dios mío, are you okay?” Carlos checks up on you, handing his water bottle with the obnoxiously long straw. You take a sip before handing it back to him.

“I’m fine, but look.” You gesture towards your screen. Once he sees it, he looks between your phone and his teammate.

“Identical.”

The Monegasque chirps a quick; “What is it?” You hand your phone over to him as you continue slicing pieces. Carlos discretely steals a bite.

“What the fuck? I don’t even look like him,” he mumble between him and the pictures on your screen.

“His name is Lightning McQueen,” you object as you lean against your chair. The Monegasque huffs out, continuing his scrolling through people's tweets and how everyone seemed to believe they might as well be the same thing.

Carlos lets out a snort as he bumps his shoulder against yours. “Look, his face is even turning as red as the little car!” You both laugh loudly, Charles frowning. Standing up, you brush your hands against your jeans as you excuse yourself to the restroom.

Sitting down in original seat, your best friend chews up a few bites that lingered on your plate.

“Does she know?” He stops chewing.

“Knows what?” he muffles, cheeks full with bread.

“That you loveee herrr,” Carlos teases in a sing-songy voice. He immediately starts to choke. The Spaniard hands him his water bottle and he quickly downs it.

With a slightly raw voice he says, “I don’t love her. Not the way you’re thinking, at least.”

“Tell that to someone who will actually believe you.”

“Is it that obvious?” Carlos nods. “Shit.” He begins to get nervous, rubbing his hands against his face. Brown locks grows tangled when he desperately runs through it.

“Don’t worry,” the Ferrari driver tries to ease him. “She doesn’t even know it.” When Charles looks at him confused, he continues. “I mean everyone else seems to see it but her. You’re fine. Have you told her though?”

“No.”

“And what is it that you’re waiting for? I mean you’re a single man longing for the girl next door. If anything, you both should be married by now.”

“Believe me; I’ve tried three times already.”

“So, what happened?”

“Well, the first two times I kind of missed my opportunities for being too naive,” he starts before pondering.

The Spaniard holds up two fingers. “What happened the third?”

“What didn’t happen the third?”

Proud was an understatement. He had worked hard and people were truly beginning to see his full potential. It's well deserved.

Running up to him, you embrace him in a tight hug. “Congrats!” A smile presses against his firm chest. Pulling away, he grins, eyes crinkling.

“Thank you. I almost can’t even believe it myself,” he admits, walking slowly down the busy paddock. Though he was wearing his Alfa Romeo suit, you both knew it wouldn’t be long before that changed.

“Driving for Scuderia Ferrari in your early twenties is a huge deal, quit acting humble.” Walking up to his car, you both enjoy each others company on the way to the hotel. Once you walk into his room, you both plop onto the bed, exhausted. The day had been long, filled with interviews and meetings and wonderful fans, and he could never say he didn’t love his job, but it was tough keeping up.

That night, you both go to the club with a few drivers from the grid to celebrate Charles’ new contract. Swaying your hips, you stand on top of a table.

“Get down before you break your neck,” Charles yells over the music blaring through the club.

“No fun,” you sourly say as you poke your tongue out at him. Taking a sip from your drink, which Charles has been taking care of for you, glossy eyes roam the club. Lando leans against the wall nearby where he is attempting to grab a girl's number. A moment passes by before his watercolor eyes double in size. He excuses himself, making his way over. “What happened?”

“She turned out to be forty-five.” The Brit groans and hides his face in embarrassment. Throwing your head back laughing, you clutch onto Charles' arm.

“Stick to girls you know you actually have a chance with,” the Monegasque voices, taking a sip of his drink, smirk dancing through. Lando rolls his eyes.

“Same to you."

The Monegasque silently thanks the universe that you’re too busy talking to George now to even notice. But for once in his life he thought; fuck it.

Excusing himself, he grabs your hands, leading you away with no excuse. If this went south, and they all witnessed it, he would never live it down.

“I need to tell you something!”

You scrunch your face like a piece of paper, cupping your hands like a microphone over your mouth. “What?” Nervously, he grabs your hands, and bewildered, you stare back.

“I love you.”

You stand there, but when you don’t seem shocked, butterflies erupt inside his stomach. Well, what now? “Ah, Charles, you know I love you too,” you yell as you make a duh movement. Frantically, all his confidence begins to slip away - you don’t get it.

“No,” he says, “I love love you. I think about you all the time. Sometimes all I can think is how I would give up my entire career just to be with you, even for a second. Do you know how crazy I feel for even considering something like that?” he rambles. “I mean, I’ve worked so hard for this, and trust me I love it, but not as much I love you. You’re my only option in this life. In the next. In every lifetime; it’s so clear that it will and has always been you.”

Chewing on your lip, you glance around the club to see bodies dancing. Though the room is packed and filled with people kissing and grinding on each other and taking body shots, in too many sinful ways, it just feels like it's just you two at that moment.

He gulps. “Will you go out with me?” There. He said it, and surprisingly, he felt good.

“Charles…” you begin as you try to find the right words. “God, um… We’ve been best friends for so long…” You trail off as his eyes look back in despair for you to continue. “You’re my best friend and this…I mean it wouldn’t feel right.”

Dropping your hands, he swore he felt your words punch him where it hurt the most. Like a mother trying to calm down their child at a candy store, you wrap your delicate hand over his wrist. “I just wouldn’t want anything to change between us,” you try to explain as he nods his head with a tight lipped smile, not even his dimples popped out.

“No worries, I get it. I wouldn’t want things to change between us either.”

With two hands over his head Carlos screeches out: “It happened that night? No wonder you were both awkward the rest of the party.” He remembers now, the way you both kept a careful distance as if you each had some kind of rare disease.

Nodding, Charles shrugs and takes the last bite. “After that we just continued as if nothing had happened and a few months later, I met Charlotte.” His teammate looks at him in pity but still nods. He’s about to comfort his sulky teammate, but holds back as he catches a glimpse of you walking towards them.

Noticeably, a frown maps itself onto your lips. “Where’s my pancake?” You're pissed; darting between the two Ferrari drivers.

Charles finished it!

Carlos!

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “You owe me a plate.”

After his two prior failed attempts as a teenager, Charles never really went on to make any more moves. He didn’t want to tarnish your friendship for some silly confession that is probably only one-sided. Also, he was starting to get busier in his Formula 2 career.

With tears springing out of your eyes you whine. “I’m going to miss you.” You blow your snotty nose with a nearby Kleenex.

Slowly, he pats your hand, friendly. “I’ll be coming back home any chance I get, y’know that. Can’t stay away too long from you,” he teases. Innocently, of course. You giggle, brushing your rats nest far away from blotchy face. “You look like a bunny when you cry.”

Shriek, you run over to the mirror. Your lips and eyes are swollen, lashes wet, your nose is painted red, cheeks maroon: you looked bloody crazy. I look awful!

He lets out a chuckle. “That’s crazy talk. You’re one of the most beautiful girls in this world, if not the most.”

The compliment is thrown at you to make you feel better, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart beating against your chest in a way you’ve never felt before.

The day Charles left, you missed him a scary amount. The two were always finding things to do, typical, Don’t do it and I’m going to do it duo. You found yourself countless times reaching for your phone, so much so, that you began to consider entering yourself into a mental institution. To get your mind off things, you decided to go on a run.

Monaco was a beautiful place to live in and you had always appreciated that, but as you lightly jogged you noticed that it didn’t carry the same color it did as before. Somehow, it had become a bit dull, something that you would never say out loud, because how is that possible?

Your phone buzzes against your hand as you pick up without seeing who it is. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

And just like that, just by hearing his voice, everything became vibrant again. In a single moment like this you knew. You were in love.

Knocking on the bathroom door, Charles presses his ear against the cold wood. “Can you please hurry?” A fist bangs back as a warning; he flinches.

“Give me a second!” Frustration is evident in your voice as he hears a commotion that is beginning to cause concern.

“I wouldn’t pressure her if I were you,” Pierre shares from the other side of the room. Kika, who is sitting right next to him, displays a pleased smile as she nods in agreement.

“I’m about to piss myself!” The brunette shrieks, letting out a small dance. The Frechman lets out a loud snort.

“Wow. Use those dance moves at the Gala!” He sends a death glare and he flips him off. Just then, the door swings open and you walk out wearing a gold dress, hands reaching behind your back. He stops breathing for a second.

“Can someone zip me up?” Hurriedly, his long legs rush over. “Not you. You go pee.”

Kika and you giggle as you sip on champagne, both of you try to take it easy as it is a fancy event but you were buzzing. “Can you believe we’re casually drinking $7,000 champagne?”

Kika squeals, swallowing the rest of the gold liquid, signaling for the bartender. “I know! It's almost embarrassing because how am I supposed to know when to stop?"

Behind you both, Pierre says, “How about now?” The two of you gasp, attempting to hide the glass behind your back when you turn face them.

“What are you talking about? It's only been two,” Kika squeaks, pointing at her squeaky clean glass. Charles eyes you suspiciously; you gulp. Marching over, he levels down to your height before gazing a little too hard. You want to look away, but you know that would only make him grow more skeptical.

“Are we interrupting something?” Pierre whispers to his girlfriend who shushes him.

His green eyes start to get you so dizzy, you want to tap out. “How many did you drink?” he demands. Shutting your right eye, you look up at the ceiling before counting on your fingers. 1, 2, 3….8, 9….

“Ten!” You visibly wince at his booming tone. “What the fuck are you doing here drinking ten goddamn glasses of champagne?” Your facade seems to slip as you cover his mouth with your hand.

“Charles, try it before you go all crazy on me,” you mumble your words and drunkenly throw a hand over his broad shoulder. “You know what,” you propose, slightly slurring your words. “I’ll even take one with you!” Clumsily raising your hand, he quickly yanks it back down, fumbling against you.

“No. I think you’ve had enough.”

At the same moment, Fred makes his way over to your small group, flashing a warm smile. Straightaway, you try to regain your lack of composure. The older man winks, then shakes your hand.

“Charles, so nice of you to bring your girlfriend.”

“Oh- she’s not…She’s not my girlfriend,” Charles stutters. “She’s my best friend from back home, remember?”

The older man nods. “Right! Age is getting the best out of me.” He theatrically taps his head for emphasis. You grin, too afraid to speak. "Anyways, how are you honey?” You smile and nod, digging your nail into the palm of your hand. He quirked an eyebrow. “Easy flight over here?” he tries. You repeat the same actions and throw in two thumbs up.

Too many drinks? Charles nods, protective arm wrapped around your waist, trying to balance you.

“I was just trying to get to sixteen!”

“Sixteen?”

From a certain perspective, you regretted ever feigning indifference when it came to your feelings for Charles. Part of you wishes you had admitted it yourself. Yes, I swear I love you more than a friend, too. You realized this all too late.

“...and her name is Charlotte,” he tells you, eyes glowing. You hated it. You hated knowing that it could’ve been you he was gushing about and there was truly no one to blame but yourself, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Being friends with Charles was all you’ve ever known. Never would you risk losing something as important as that.

“Wow. She sounds great.” A sincere smile plays out, and yes, she did sound amazing. She was everything you ever swore to be.

A pleased smile makes its way through as he grabs his phone and starts texting. So, that’s what life became. He would try to discreetly shoot sneaky messages or make phone calls any time you two would hang out together, but the feeling kept growing rapidly, that you just felt you were interfering; so slowly, you grew apart.

“His name is Noah,” you beam a few months later, drying a stack of dishes. Over the phone, he raises a brow, comedically.

“I’m happy for you,” he complies, nevertheless. Behind, you could distinctively hear her calling his name and you almost let out a snicker from how fast he begins to shut off his stimulator. “Got to go, mate. Having dinner out tonight.” Then, the line run cold.

Ha. Mate.

He should’ve known to never listen to Pierre.

“All I’m saying, mate, is that you only live once and you should just stop acting whipped and do something about it.” Pierre takes a swing of beer before he gaws at the bottle. “Fuck,” he lets out. “Germans just know how to do it.”

Everyone around shakes their head in warning. “No,” Max begins. “Whatever you’re thinking, just no. Matter of fact; don’t even think at all.”

“That should be pretty easy,” Lando mutters from the nearby couch where he was supposedly taking a nap. The Frenchman kindly flips him off.

Charles lets out a breath, before claiming his seat next to Alex. “Seriously guys, think.” The group gathered around more than two hours, compiling possible ideas for him to follow in order to confess his undying love for you - again.

“To be honest, I would’ve given up,” Yuki admits. Concerned, the Monegasque grows quiet. Should I?

Pierre fiercely makes a fiasco to gain his attention once more. “Don’t listen to him!” Once all eyes circle back to him, he paces the room with his no-good thinking face.

“Well, if it helps, maybe you could-”

“Got it!” Pierres shrieks, rapidly clearing the coffee table. Glass shatters.

“Dude,” Lewis groans as he stares at the mess now made in his suite.

“Sorry.” Everyone rolls their eyes at his unnecessary childlike behavior, but not Charles. “Just a thought, what if we play a little round of Cupid?” Groans erupt, but the green eyed boy seems rather intrigued.

“What were you thinking?” Fingers play with his rings.

“First of all; how bad do you want it?”

“Pierre, she’s not a fucking object.”

“Of course not! Let me rephrase…” He runs a large hand over his mouth. “What are you willing to do in order to get the girl of your dreams?” The whole room cringes.

“I would do just about anything.”

The first phase began with Lando.

“Alright, so all you have to do is get to know her,” Pierre schemes, scribbling down on a piece of napkin.

The Brit blushes, then runs a hand through his curls. “Isn’t that Charles’ job?” he croaks.

“All I’m asking for you to do is to get some insight on stuff she likes. Y’know…hobbies and shit like that. You don't have to kiss her, dimwit."

“Got it.”

The following day, he finds you walking through the paddock, exchanging a string of hello's with almost everyone, it seems. Seeing that it was barely Wednesday, it wasn’t busy at all. He jogs up to you. “Hey.”

Throwing a hand over your heart, you jump up in surprise. The Brit grins, apologizes, then you a waffle. Beaming happily, you thank him, greedily stuffing your cheeks full.

“Boy, I sure hope I have some time to golf before the race…”

“I'm sure you will.” More bites.

“Sweet! So you love to golf?” he questions, hands fixing his backwards hat. You shake your head.

“God, no. I’m more of a tennis girl.” As soon as you spot Ferrari's motorhome, you share a quick hug and make your way.

She fucks with tennis, he texts Pierre. Boom. Done.

Next, went Alex.

“You have to make him look like the shit,” the Frenchman tries to explain as Alex sits there with a bored expression.

“Charles, just be upfront with her. It’ll work trust me,” he shares as the Ferrari boy nods hesitantly. Yeah, maybe-

“Can anyone just follow instructions?”

Lily got involved the moment her boyfriend mentioned the shitty plan.

“Oh, this is so cute!” she screeches, dragging him closer by Williams shirt. “I want in.”

Walking hand in hand, they make their way to you as you sit with Lando, who for some reason, keeps questioning you on every little thing.

“...what about tacos?”

Desperate, you wave over at the couple. “Falls right in the palm of our hand,” Lily whispers excitedly, already yanks her boyfriend towards your direction. The Brit immediately excuses himself once they take a seat.

“Thank God,” you exhale, expert hand flying up to tie your hair. Pushing a few loose strands behind your ears you say, “I love him, I do, but the boy has been driving me crazy.”

“Preach that sister,” Alex shoots as he throws an arm over Lily. Under the table, she quickly pinches him. He yelps and scoots away. “Speaking of someone who drives me absolutely crazy, yeah, uh, Charles!” Raising an eyebrow, you stare back confused.

Lily coughs awkwardly, then pats her lap. “Yeah, I mean I was just telling Alex just how sweet Charles seems.” She turns her attention to him as he quickly nods. Super sweet lad, he exclaims. “It’s just…he’s so young and handsome, might I add, so I’m just a tad bit surprised no one has snatched him up already.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, wary eyes blink back at them. “Trouble in paradise?” Eyes wide, they both shriek a quick: No! “Good." You smile, standing up and gathering your stuff. “Take care guys!” you yell out.

“Bloody handsome, I tell you!” Alex makes one last attempt as you throw your head back in laughter. His girlfriend stomps her foot in frustration.

“We fucking suck at this.”

I’m sure she thinks Lily is interested in Leclerc.

Alex clicks send.

“You guys are probably wondering who’s next?”

“We’re not-”

“Well, don’t you feel lucky; it's you, Max!”

The two time World Champion throws his head against the couch as he waits for instructions. “See, now you’re not going to like it…” The Dutch lifts his head up, blue eyes swirling with confusion. “You have to let Charles win.” He scoffs.

“No. No way in hell.”

“Mate!” Pierre shrieks as he eagerly displays his scribbles to the group. Messily drawn, is Max handing over a crappy looking trophy to the Monegasque. At least that’s what it looked like. “I’m only asking for this one thing from you.” Max continues shaking his head.

“You’re right, you’re asking…Beg.”

The entire room goes silent, except for Lando who has fully awoken from his forty minute nap. “Holy shit, this just got real.” Carlos, who is curled up next to him for some odd reason, quickly hushes him.

Pierre claps his hands loudly, chuckles, and looks over to where Charles bites down on his nails. He’s about to protest in defense for his long time friend before he raises his hand. “Please. Would you please do this as a favor for this lovesick motherfucker?” He points over at the Monegasque.

Max closes his eyes, clicking his tongue. “No. Beg on your knees.”

“Holy fucking shit,” Lando squeals with a muffled mouth, instinctively pulling out his phone, ready to record. The Spaniard doesn’t even try to stop him, instead he sits at the edge of his seat.

With whatever dignity he has left, Pierre gets on his knees with his hands pressed together as if he’s ready to pray. “Queue,” he mutters under his breath. The Dutchman raises a hand against his ear and hums. “Max…would you be considerate enough to hand over my dear, dear friend Charles, a win in order for him to stop moping over a girl and actually get her attention for once?”

The blue eyed Dutch stands up firmly in front of him as Lando and Carlos continue to giggle like little girls, waiting for whatever might happen next. Walking to serve himself a glass of water, he finally speaks out. “Fine. Pole. Not my win. Take it or leave it.”

Pierre and Charles share a high five as Lando and Carlos let out a sigh.

“I always knew they were a little fruity. Look, he even had to take a sip of water after their interaction."

“Congrats!” you yell out in pure happiness when you congratulate your best friend for pole. He jokingly polishes his nails.

“It was nothing, really.”

He’s describing his strategy to you as you happily listen, when Max walks up to you both. “Congrats, mate.” They both share a quick side hug. Wait, what is it that Pierre said to do? Something like-

“He drove like a monster. I couldn’t even taste his dust. I wouldn’t mess with someone like him, in fact, I would marry someone like him.” It's robotic, it's fucking weird, but yeah. He completely nailed it.

“Are you okay?” Bringing your palm up against his forehead, you teasingly curl a neat brow. He swats your hand.

“Of course! So good. I’ll leave you two alone!” Hurriedly, he makes his way back to his motorhome.

Your plan is shit.

Send.

“And we save the best for last.” Pierre walks along the grid, tapping each of them on the head as he goes, almost like a game of Duck Duck Goose. A loud smack follows.

“Cabrón,” Carlos groans as he rubs his head. The Frenchman quickly scatters across the room.

“Harder than I intended,” he mutters. “Anyhow!” His speech is cut short when his phone begins to ring. A panicked look draws itself in place as he turns his screen. Everyone gasps.

“She’s going to fucking know. She’s gonna know and she’s gonna run off and tell her...” Charles begins to curse, nervous ticks.

“...and get a grip. Hellooo? Fine, I didn’t want to do this.” The Monegasque doesn’t have time to react when the right side of his face starts to ring. He groans in pain.

“You punched me!”

“Yeah, he just feels like doing stuff like that today,” Carlos spits out, annoyed, holding a bag of ice against his head. He hands it over.

“You both have to learn to listen!” he tries to defend when Charles jumps over the couch towards him.

“You can’t! I’m going to answer!” He swipes along the bright screen, putting the phone on speaker. “Kika!”

“Pierre, where are you?” the Portuguese complains as he shoots a distressed look towards his friend. Shit. They had-

“Dinner, remember?”

The Frenchman rapidly puts the phone on mute, rushing his way over to Charles. “What the fuck do I say?” he screeches, staring at the phone like a ticking time bomb.

“Tell her we’re on our way. Keep it simple.”

He nods. Unmuting, he says, “We’re trying to decide what to wear, give us ten minutes, we’ll meet you at the lobby.”

“You’re getting ready together? Like some sort of fashion show?” Your sweet giggle makes an appearance and everyone is beginning to aww before Pierre throws his hand up. They all keep quiet.

“Exactly. Now give me and Charles some space. Ten minutes, max. Love you, bye!” Launching his phone over at the couch, he smirks. “Where was I?”

Carlos finds you talking to a few of the engineers.

“Waffles?” Round orbs glimmer at the sigh of a fresh plate with whipped cream on top.

“Gimme."

“Charles actually got them for you. I’m just the delivery boy.” You hum, noting to thank your best friend after the race. “Since we’re talking about Charles, boy, he drove so well yesterday, don't you agree?” You nod with a cheesy smile. You’re about to speak before he shoves another piece of bread into your mouth. “Oh! Did he mention during testing he was able to do some donuts? Get this; with one hand.”

“I think Daniel has done that too." He pushes in another piece.

“Yeah? Well, he’s extremely good at chess!”

“He’s shit. I always win,” you confirm as you finish swallowing. Another forced bite.

“But have you ever beat him at tennis? Because he’s really good at that too and handsome!” Eyeing him suspiciously ,you throw the rest of the nasty waffle into the nearby bin.

“I always win,” you muffle once more, annoyed. He groans andpulls out his back-up waffle behind his back.

He feeds you one last time as you attempt to push his strong hands away. “Yeah? Well, did you know that he's still in love with you?” The garage grows quiet and they all turn to look at you. You’re covered in whipped cream as he wears a proud smile over what he’s done. Soon, it dawns on him as he rushes to his room.

I ruined it.

Send.

The grid goes out for a group dinner, though Lando, Lily, Alex, Max, and Carlos all avoid you. You were all celebrating yet another Verstappen win.

“Good race, Max,” you say as he shares a tight smile. “You too, Charles. Third place with pole is good considering the box you drive.” Max cracks a devilish smile towards the Monegasque.

“It’s the best I could have done, but I’m not too upset about it. It was a fun race overall.”

“Anyone interested in desert?” the waitress asks as she scribbles down a few orders. “Our waffles are actually the most recommended!” she persuades as she makes eye contact with you. You wave your hand in dismissal.

“After this trip, I don’t think I’ll never be able to eat waffles again.” The Spaniard sheepishly hides behind his menu.

You’re too busy gossiping with Daniel about his return to F1, that you don’t even notice when Charles and Pierre slip away. “What do you have so far?” the green eyed boy presses, occasionally looking behind, making sure they were definitely alone.

The Frenchman lets out a sad sigh, laying a large hand on his friend's shoulder, displaying his sympathy. “Very well…” Charles’ eyes begin to buzz with excitement. “Not anything worthy or good.” He immediately deflates.

“What happened?”

“So, apparently she likes some guy named Dennis. Fucking him too, from what I was told. Um, she also wasn’t too impressed with this race weekend as much as I thought she would be…” The Monegasque stops breathing for a second. Did he really ruin his shot once again? Pierre continues with a more light hearted tone. “I was told Carlos didn’t do his part, but look on the bright side! You might have a shot with Lily! Heard she thinks you’re cute.”

Charles is in the middle of rubbing his temples, when he suddenly stops. “Pierre; Lily and Alex are dating.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Max, Lando, Alex and Carlos all make their way to the back of the restaurant as soon as they receive the urgent text from Pierre. Meet in da back lol. “What is it now?” Max groans as he adjusts his rolled up sleeves.

“You see, we were just thinking, how could Lily be interested in Charles when she’s in a stable, happy relationship?” So she says, Pierre finishes.

Alex rolls his eyes, seemingly annoyed. “She doesn’t like him like that! She was just trying to make you look good but it came out wrong.”

“Maybe…but the whole Max part went to shit because like always, he just had to win!” The Dutch shrugs.

“Mate, you knew my terms and conditions. Plus, she was so happy for Charles regardless, I don’t even think she cares that he didn’t win.” Pierre hums.

“What about Carlos, huh? You said you ruined your shot! You didn’t even do your part, so let’s all just back off, and not blame me for killing Charles' love life.”

“Ay, ay, ay,” Carlos groans into his hands. “I did my part just the way you said but I did also kind of ruin it,” he shyly adds. “I crossed the line, sorry, but I might’ve ratted you out when I told her you still lo-”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyways.” Charles released a shaky breath. “She’s already seeing someone else.” Besides being quite done with Pierre’s poor plan, they still spilled out apologies for their friend.

“Ugly name, too. Have you ever met a good looking Dennis? Cause I haven’t.” Pierre’s voice lathers with a typical matter of fact, leaning against the wall. Lando fiercely turns his attention.

“Dennis?”

“Yeah, that’s what you told me. You said, ‘She fucks with Dennis.’”

“I said tennis. She fucks with tennis. As in, she likes the sport!” The Brit wheezes hysterically as they all begin to share a panicked look. The Frenchman slowly starts backing away from the group.

“Holy shit, I think Kika is calling me.” Dashing away, he trips over his own feet, shoes squeaking against the glossy floor. Charles is left there more confused than what he was at the beginning of all of this.

“What do I do now?” he groans, running two hands over his face.

“Maybe just do what we’ve been telling you to do all along…” Alex suggests as the rest follow in agreement. The Monegasque wears a helpless smile.

“Thanks, but I’ve already tried that before and it’s never really gone my way.”

“Mate, if you really love her, then you have to tell her again. Things could end up differently this time,” Max adds. “All you need to do is say how you feel, and please; never listen to Pierre ever again.”

That night, before you both walk to your own hotel room, the brunette holds onto your hand. “Why don’t we go on a walk?”

“Charles, it's too late, I’m tired, and I’m sure you are too. How about tomorrow?” you mumble, clumsily balancing on your feet that have become too sore from all the walking. Desperately, he shakes his head.

“No. It has to be now.”

Nervously, you follow him and it’s like you’re twenty all over again - the first time he told you how he felt. Part of you wants to run away and not deal with any of this, but the more mature side wants to stay. When you were younger, you weren’t ready to face your feelings and that was something you regretted everyday. There was no way you were going to repeat that again.

Taking a seat on a bench, you both watch the traffic lights. This place might not be home, but being with Charles seems to be the closest thing to it and that itself eases you.

“Okay…” he awkwardly starts, shifting his sight to face you. Deep down; he also wanted to call it a night. Part of him believes that if he got rejected again, then that would be the end of it all, and things would never be the same, but he had to do this. “Do you remember how we first met?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Duh. You made me cry when you dropped my flowers.” The Monegasque cringes at the image.

“I dropped your flowers,” he confirms. “But I swear to you right now that I won’t ever do that again.” Heartbeat quickens, chest tightens. “I want to be a part of everything that has to do with you; I need it. I need all the sweetness that you’ve brought into my life since we were eight, I need a reason to get up at five in the morning to make waffles or pancakes. I need to hear your laugh because of something stupid I might’ve foolishly done, and I… What I’m trying to say is…you know I need you, but all I’ve ever wanted was for you to need me back.”

Like a deer in headlights, you gaze back, analyzing the way he’s nervously waiting for your reaction. And like the first time around, your eyes soften. “Charles…” He knows it too, because again, this takes him back to that one night at the club. But he doesn’t want to go back there.

“I’ve loved you for the longest time and my only regret has been not fighting for you. Back when we were twenty, I was young, I was naive, and I let myself be tricked into thinking that not having you was ever going to be okay, but it’s not. I’m a complete fool for you and the thing is that I don’t mind it! Sometimes, I feel like if I keep getting pushed away it won’t matter because I’ll still be here trying time and time again. And normally I wouldn’t do stuff like this for anyone but you’re just someone who always stays with me, so how am I supposed to easily forget about you?”

As his words reach an end, you try to speak, but nothing comes up. “I get it,” Charles adds in a bittersweet tone.

“You’ve made me cry countless times.” It’s a declaration - an odd one, too - and Charles is puzzled. Though the little smile drawn onto your rosy lips is a confirmation.

“I know, but I promise that won’t ever happen again. I’m sorry I ever made you cry.”

“Well, if you kiss me…I might just forgive you.”

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