#staring right at his ex soulmate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeonzzzn · 3 months

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pocket full of sunshine ; choi soobin

oh shit, we’re soulmates?! part one / five

pairing: soobin x afab!reader word count: 12.6k

synopsis: the last thing soobin expected was a stranger to sit beside him on the bus full of empty seats and clinging to his arm. due to a toxic ex, you beg soobin to come on vacation with you as your step in boyfriend for the week.

genre: fake relationship trope, soulmate!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut.

warnings: swearing, soobin and reader share a bed, alcohol, making out in public, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI!

𖤓 soobin(1) | yeonjun(2) | beomgyu(3) | taehyun(4) | huening kai(5) 𖤓

Fake relationship trope? Are the fates fucking with him or could he simply just not read correctly?

Eighteen-year-old Soobin stared up at the acolyte standing before him, a massive smile on their face as they outstretched their arms, “The fates have spoken, my child!”

Utter bullshit.

Soobin has always been skeptical about this special moment all the adults growing up would talk about and be excited.

“It’s one of the best moments of your life!” “There is something so great knowing how you’d meet your soulmate!” “It’s one of the gods greatest gifts!”

And what god, exactly, decided to drop these “gifts” to everyone?

But he still couldn’t help but feel even the tiniest bit of excitement to see what this fated trope of his would be. And obviously, to his disappointment, it was utter bullshit. Fake relationship? Yeah right. What a fucking joke.

Or so he thought.

Now at the age of twenty-three, fate really has a way of continuing to fuck everything over. Because here you were, plopped next to him on this shady ass bus going Northbound into the city and hugging up on his arm.

Soobin tried to release from your tight grip, pulling the strings of his earphones to release the music blasting in his eardrums, and glared down at you, “Excuse me?”

“Please, just play along.” You quickly said, pleading with him with your eyes. And that’s when Soobin noticed how badly you were shaking.

Your eyes quickly whipped to the front of the bus, Soobin’s eyes following yours, a scoff released from his mouth following up with, “Ahh, I see.”

You squeeze his arm tighter, “Please,” you beg again, “I’ll explain later.”

Now what kind of guy would he be if he turned down someone so desperate?

So he forced his arm free and locked his hand with yours, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand as he squeezed his fingers against yours, eyeing the man who now stood in front of the two of you.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” the dark hair male said, “That your new boyfriend was waiting on the bus for you.”’

And thank the gods it worked out.

In all honesty, you were afraid this little lie of yours wasn’t going to play out well. With your luck, you’d have a bus filled with old creepy guys and would have to make up another excuse. But thankfully your stars aligned and saw the perfect dark brown-haired male slumped in the seat and staring off into complete space. And thank whatever god was listening that he decided to play along.

“Of course, I’d be here waiting for her,” Soobin said with a sly grin, “Can’t let her take the bus into the city alone, what kind of gentleman does that?” Soobin then reaches across the seat with his free hand and cups your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, “Can’t let my sweet bunny go off all alone.”

Now you were the one glaring up at him as his stupid ass smug smirk grew ever wider. Did you make the right choice with this one? There were plenty of other cute guys with empty seats beside them you could have chosen.

You dug your grave and guess you gotta lay in it.

He finally released your face and stared back up at your ex, his eyes now narrowing, “And who are you? Sorry for my lack of manners, I just don’t recall who you are, exactly.”

The male let out a scoff, eyes darting to the floor, “Must really be over me, YN, if you aren’t even speaking about me.”

Ahhh, so this is what the situation is.

You roll your eyes and lean a bit forward, clenching the brown-haired male's hand tighter, “I’ve been telling you that since you started stalking me about the bus stations, Sungchan!”

Oh, so this guy is an asshole.

“You’re stalking my girlfriend?!” Soobin snapped, standing up quickly in the seat, you tried hard to pull him back down. You had to admit, he was playing this part perfectly.

Sungchan held his hands up in defense, “I wasn’t stalking her! I just happened to be walking past and noticed her. If I knew she had a boyfriend I wouldn’t have even made the stop.”

It took everything in Soobin to not roll his eyes and throw a punch. He actually hated this guy already. Like who the fuck give that as an excuse when it’s so clear he was stalking YN?

“Can the young man standing in the aisle please sit down for your safety.” the bus driver announced over the speakers.

You glanced out the window, seeing the bus was in full motion. You didn’t even realize it started moving.

Sungchan tucked his tongue into his cheek and nodded, “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” his eyes then whipped over to Soobin, “I am assuming you’re coming to the beach with us next week, ya?”

At this he fell silent, not knowing how to answer his question. How could he just say—

“Of course he is,” You shrugged, “There’s still that open spot from Chaewon backing out.”

Before Sungchan could open his mouth to speak, the bus driver once again was snapping at him to take a seat. So without another word, he moved to the back of the bus.

You relaxed into the seat, quickly pulling your hand out of the stranger’s, “Thank you for that,” you whispered, watching as he sat back down into the seat, his eyes studying you hard.

“I don’t know what kind of load of bullshit this is, but you’re awfully brave. I could have been a serial killer. Like Ghost Face type shit.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the man, turning away to face forward, “I’ll explain everything to you at whatever stop you’re getting off at,” Soobin went to protest, but you stopped him, “I need to make my lie look believable. Sungchan is a very smart man, he probably already assumes what it was I was doing. So just let me get off at the next stop with you,” you looked down at the dusty and gross floor of the bus, “He isn’t going to get off this bus until we do, I can promise you that.”

Soobin wanted to snap at how this wasn’t his problem and a massive case of baggage that you need to clean out yourself. But when he looks at you…all he can see and feel is how badly your body was shaking earlier. So he sat back in the seat and stared out the window.

Thirty minutes of silence passed before Soobin flagged the driver to stop at the next upcoming bus stop. You quickly stood from the seat and let him move in front of you, leading the way. As he walked passed, he hooked his pinky finger with yours, pulling you along behind him.

You both could feel Sunchan’s glare as you stepped off the bus, not once turning around as the doors of the bus closed, and the sounds of it drifted off down the street.

Once the bus was no longer in view, Soobin dropped your pinky and shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, “Want to explain yourself now, YN?”

Something about the way your name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t decide if it was good or bad. You settled with a maybe both.

You sighed and looked up at him, seeing his cocoa eyes staring back, “That guy,” you started, breaking your gaze from him, “Is my toxic ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah,” Soobin shrugged, “It was kind of obvious, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, “He and I broke up months ago, caught him cheating on me with one of our friends.”

Soobin hung his head low, closing his eyes, “I’m assuming that friend was…Chaewon? Wasn’t it?”

You hated how this male was able to piece together everything so quickly. You nod again, “As you can probably tell, my group of friends planned a vacation with each other to the beach last year. But found out he was cheating on me and welp, Chae dipped out after I discovered she was the other woman,” you cross your arms, letting a shrug form, “I wanted to back out too, but my best friend is still going and he begged me to go still.”

Soobin felt bad for you. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrible this all was affecting you. How terrible you must feel.

“I’m a hundred percent sure he was looking for me,” you twisted a piece of string hanging out of your tee shirt, “There’s no way he didn’t know I just got off work and was heading back home. I live near my place of work, I didn’t even need to get on the bus. But he was begging for me back and I panicked.”

Soobin believed you. Your shaking body still feeling fresh against his body, “I’m sorry this is happening to you, YN.”

You glanced back into his eyes, seeing the true apologetic gaze in them. You shrug again, “Thank you for playing along, I don’t know what I am going to do abou—“

An idea hit you just then. Soobin could see the gears turning in that brain of yours.

“No,” he laughed, waving you off before you could even speak, “Absolutely not!”

You walked up to him, being inches away from his face, standing right up on your tiptoes, “Please! It’s just for a week and you’ll never have to see me again!”

Soobin took a step back, needing to create that distance. His heart was racing, hands were shaking. You were literally asking him to be your fake boyfriend for a week. His trope rang in the back of his head, there’s no fucking way.

“You’re awfully brave asking a complete stranger you just met to be your fake boyfriend,” Soobin scrunched his nose, trying to play this off, “I’m not doing it.”

You were desperate, and you didn’t care how badly you looked it. This was the only way you could think to get Sungchan off your ass and finally get the hint that you DON’T want him anymore. So you pleaded with the man in front of you, “I know we just met, but I’ll repay you for this,” you stretched your hand out, him raising a brow at it, “Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in and if you decide to go, give me a call. We don’t leave for another four days.”

Soobin looked away into the distance at the setting sun. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it.

Before he could stop himself, his hand was reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling his phone out, and placing it into your hands, “I’m not going to make any promises that you’d even hear from me.”

And that was enough for you, quickly creating your contact in his phone, “All I could ask for is you consider it.” He took his phone back from you, and you waved him goodbye, “Thanks again… uhhh??”

“Soobin,” he said, studying you as you walked backward away from him, “I’m Soobin.”

You smiled at him. A smile that shot right to his heart. He didn’t move from his spot until you disappeared from his sight.

“You what?!” your best friend snapped, brows creasing inward as he looked at you with pure disbelief.

All you could do was look at him, blankly blinking, “Hoon—“

“Let me get this straight,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the countertop in your shared kitchen, his face being dropped into his palms as his elbows turned red from being leaned on, “You ran into Sungchan, jumped onto a random bus and sat next to a complete stranger and begged him to be your fake boyfriend until you followed him to his stop and then begged him to continue the web of lies you dragged him into and then invited him to the vacation? YN that’s fucking stupid!”

Stupid was one word for it. You sat back in the chair, staring down at the marble of the countertop, “I was desperate. I didn’t even know what I was doing until the words were leaving my mouth.”

Sunghoon looked up at you and let out a sigh, “Did he even agree to go?”

You glanced over at your phone, still waiting for a call or shit—even a text from Soobin on whether he was going, or not. Sunghoon followed your gaze down to your cellular device and let out another sigh in response to his question.

It’s been two days since you’ve met Soobin. You couldn’t help the anxious feeling settling in your gut at the possibility of having to expose your lies once it’s time to meet at the beach house within the following days.

“YN, you need to be careful with your—“

“Please don’t bring up my given bullshit trope.”

You had to be honest, you didn’t believe in fate or tropes or whatever type of bullshit the gods “graced” the world with. Your trope, you’ve tried experimenting with multiple times and it’s gotten you nowhere. It doesn’t exist.

Sunghoon tilted his head, “I was just saying,” he leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes locked on you, “You’ll believe in it once it happens for you.”

Your best friend had found his soulmate. She’s a cute girl, very witchy and into the occult things. Sunghoon calls her a hex girl and she calls him a bloodsucker. You never understood their dynamic, but they are cute, nevertheless. Their red string of fate tied them perfectly together. She also adores you and never once had a problem that her boyfriend’s roommate was a female and his best friend. Even with him having a soulmate, you still weren’t convinced. Mostly just for yourself.

“Speaking of,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why can’t __ come along?”

Sunghoon shrugged, “She has work. And since she took off when she and I went out to that cabin, she wasn’t able to take more time off.”

It made sense. You were lucky your boss even let you have the entire week off for the beach. It took a lot of convincing.

You stared at your phone again.

“Well,” Sunghoon said, standing from his seat, “I’m going to finish watching this Sci-Fi movie about this guy in space who gets his memory wiped.”

You raised a brow at him, “That’s an interesting-sounding movie.”

He nodded, “I’ve seen it multiple times before, can’t get enough of it!” he slapped his hand to the counter with excitement, “The movie is in a whole time loop! I won’t spoil too much.” He smiled wide, his natural fangs on display.

You looked at him with endearment. You truly loved Sunghoon and his geeky ways.

He gave you a knowing look, “Want to join me? We can restart it from the beginning,” You looked back at your phone, debating if you needed the distraction, “I’ll brush your hair.”

You jumped up from the seat and tossed your phone into your pocket, “Say less!”

Sunghoon followed behind you into the living room.

“Fucker!! I said COVER ME!” Beomgyu screamed through the headset, nearly making Soobin fling them off his head.

Kai’s laugh filled the headset right after, “Bro, I was covering you, I can’t help you decided to rush in and half the team was in there.”

Yeonjun sighed then, “Unlike you idiots, I’m playing it safe and staying on the high ground.”

“Sure,” Soobin rolled his eyes as he rushed into a building and unloaded his shotgun into the “half of team” that took out Beomgyu and Kai, taking down all of them, “If you want to call camping on a rooftop with a sniper playing safe, go ahead.”

Yeonjun scoffs, “I haven’t died—FUCK!”

Soobin smirked and the others laughed at the kill feed, seeing Yeonjun’s gamertag displayed at the top of it.

“Haven’t died yet? Right. Safe? Right.” Taehyun teased him, making more giggles fill the earpieces.

“Fuck you guys,” Yeonjun snapped, the sounds of his fingers smashing his keys in the hope of a faster respawn, “Gyu has no room to talk, homie is in a gaming unit and still has died more than the four of us combined.”

“I’m not playing for real,” Beomgyu countered, “This is all just fun and games, baby.”

“Then why bitch about Huening not covering you?” Taehyun countered back, “Sweats don’t yell like that when they are just having fun and games, baby.”

Beomgyu scoffed over the mic at his friends teasing, “Old habits die hard—KAI WHAT THE FUCK!”

“They sure die hard alright,” Yeonjun laughed.

“Anyway!” Beomgyu cleared his throat, “Shouldn’t we actually be discussing Soobin’s situation?”

“Oh, yeah!” Kai exclaimed, “Have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

Soobin shrugged as if his best friends could see, “I really haven’t decided.” The truth was, he hadn’t even really given it a lot of thought. Work has been killing him lately and even when he has thought about it, it was only for a short couple minutes then he shoved it back to the back of his brain. This wasn’t his problem to fix, you got yourself into that situation.

“I totally think you should go for it,” Kai said, rushing into another building and getting shot down immediately, “Damnit! But, who knows? Maybe this will be your soullllmmmaaaattteeee.” Kai teased.

Soobin couldn’t help but scoff, “My trope? It’s bullshit. Always has been.”

Soobin had plenty of fair share of fake relationships to help make exes jealous on both his and the other female’s side. Random hookups for the night to play along after a drunken night out partying. Never came out to anything. This was no different.

“Plus we don’t even know her trope,” Yeonjun added, “This very much could just be a normal “I got myself in a sticky situation, please help dig myself out” situation.”

None of Soobin’s friends believed in soulmates or their tropes. Every single one of them thought it was bullshit. Like the acolytes picked a trope out of a hat and called it a day.

“Well, all the soulmate bullshit aside,” Taehyun sighed, “It is a free trip. You wouldn’t have to pay for anything. Just literally show up and enjoy a free vacation.”

Soobin raised his brows and cocked his head to the side, “That is true. Unless YN slaps me with the bill at the end of the week.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Beomgyu said, using an emote as the round ended, “She told you she would repay you. I doubt she’d make Soobin pay up his half for a trip that wasn’t even his doing in the first place.”

Soobin sighed, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his middle and index fingers. This was a hard situation to deal with. Not only would he be missing out on a whole week's worth of work—which means less money in his bank account, he would be having to call out at the last minute AND be dealing with people he doesn’t even know all because you had to lie.

But then again—it would be a free vacation. Nothing would be coming out of Soobin’s pocket. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the loading screen as the game went into another round, his trope rushing through his mind. He couldn’t help but feel this was way too convenient. He bit at the corner of his lip, really putting thought into this.

“Don’t think too hard over there buddy,” Kai teased, “Just say YOLO and go. It won’t kill you to go hit up the beach for a week. Plus, she said you wouldn’t have to see her or her friends after that, it would be a win.”

Soobin nodded. He did truly feel sorry for you. Having to deal with Sungchan and even being put in that situation to begin with. Just thinking of Sungchan and what he did to you made Soobin’s blood boil. A smirk curled at his lips.

“You know what, Kai is right,” Soobin sat up straight, reaching for his phone, “You only live once.”

His friends had a mixture of words and cheers. Soobin pulled his headset down around his neck, found your number, and pressed the call button. He leaned back in his chair, biting at the skin on his cheek, waiting for you to answer.

After four rings, you picked up, “Hello?”

Hearing your voice put a smile on his face, and he couldn’t explain why, “YN, It’s Soobin.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when he offered to be the one to drive the two of you to the beach. But it sure the hell wasn’t what was currently in front of you.

Soobin parked as close as he could to your apartment. He stood outside, leaning up against the front end of his pretty fancy black SUV. His hands are in the pocket of his jean shorts and his head facing off into the distance with sunglasses resting against his nose.

Your heart skipped a beat. Why was this person you barely know making your heart flutter like this? He’s just standing here.

He finally turned his head, looking up at you and the corners of his lips curling upward, “You going to come down or do I have to drive to the beach without you?”

You returned his smile, “Chill out, I’m coming down!” You rushed down the stairs to see he now moved from his car to the foot of the stairs, hands reaching for your duffle bag. Normally you would have snapped your hand back to keep your stuff with you, but you let him take the bag. He took off to the side, another arm stretched out as you stepped down to the ground, his hand placed gently to your lower back as he gently moved you in front of him to walk towards his car.

“We have a three-hour drive, so there is still time to back out of this,” Soobin said, now removing his hand from your back and placing it on the passenger side door, “If you don’t want to do this, I am giving you that last chance to take your bag from me and go back into your apartment.”

You understood what he was doing. He was giving you a way out of having to deal with Sungchan altogether. The weight of that option was tempting, but you shook your head in a no, “Everything will be fine,” you didn’t know if you said that more for him or yourself, “Plus, Sunghoon already left for the beach. I’d be here alone and honestly, I need a vacation.”

Soobin nodded, opening the door for you, “Well, let’s hit the road then, princess.”

“Such a gentleman!” you teased as you climbed into the seat.

Soobin gave you a smirk and leaned into the car, “My mother raised me right, what can I say?”

After tossing your bag into the backseat alongside his, you both hit the road. You did have to admit, you were nervous. What if something goes wrong? Or everyone finds out about this lie you’ve conjured up? Sunghoon was the only one who knew the truth. But you were almost positive that Sungchan knew–or suspected–the truth.

Soobin could tell you were nervous. He could see it in your body language and the hint of your voice that was slower than what it was when you and him sat on the phone to discuss plans for this entire trip. He’s only known you for a short few days, but he felt he already knew parts of you that no one else did. And he couldn’t place why that was. So he reached across to the radio, turning up the music in the hope it would ease your nerves. And oh boy did it. You were able to sink back into the seat and focus on the music.

The three-hour drive wasn’t actually terrible. You and Soobin made only two stops, one for a bathroom break and snacks and the other for a quick lunch. Soobin also drove the entire time and wouldn’t give up the driver's seat no matter how many times you offered to drive. “I’m going on this trip for free. It’s the least I could do to make up for that part.” But did he forget you’re the one who owes him for even agreeing to this trip?

It wasn’t too much longer before the beach came into view. You couldn’t help but roll the window down and lean your head out, taking in the sights and smells of the ocean and the sand. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sand and birds chirping as they flew by. You don’t get to come out to the beach often, so when you do, you take in everything.

Soobin took his eyes off the road for a few short seconds to look at you then out to the ocean, “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nodded, “I can’t remember the last time I got to see this view.”

Soobin rolled down his window, letting the full sounds and smells fill the entire car. He leaned his elbow onto the edge of the window and propped his head into his palm, “The last time I was here probably had to be about two years ago? My friends and I all came for a day trip.”

You sat back in the seat and glanced over at him, loving the small smile he had on his face, “You’re a group of five right?” You thought back to the conversation you and Soobin had a few days ago about the trip, him fully admitting his friends helped push him into even coming along, “Pretty close?”

Soobin’s smile lifted more, “Close isn’t even the right word to describe what we all are. Brothers would be a more fitting term.”

Hearing Soobin talk about his friends reminded you of how you felt about Sunghoon. Close wasn’t even close to being the right word. Soobin was right about that.

Thinking about friends made the nervousness settle back into the pit of your stomach, “How are we going to pull this off?”

Soobin’s smile faded, “You’re still worried about that?” You nodded. How could you not be? “It’s just for the week, YN. Then you can make up some story on how you got rid of me and everything will go back to normal.”

All you could do was nod again, leaning your head back onto the headrest and staring off into the distance of the open sea. The truth was, you felt comfortable with Soobin so far, what if you want to keep him around as a friend by the end of this trip? Would he even be okay with that?

You could only hope.

Soon enough the beach house came into view and the cars of your friends piled up around the parking station around the house. You pointed out Sunghoon’s car and Soobin parked beside it.

Well, here goes nothing.

You and Soobin climbed out of the car at the same time, him already reaching for both your and his bags, carrying them over his shoulder.

Sunghoon was the first to pile out of the beach house, his arms stretched out wide as he ran towards you, “You guys finally made it!”

Your best friend's hug gripped you tight as if he hadn't hugged you in years, “Hoon, I saw you this morning!”

He finally pulled away, resting his hands on your shoulders, “I miss you all the time! Even when you’re right beside me!” You rolled your eyes at his separation anxiety he has towards you but still smiled anyway. You took notice his eyes were no longer on you, but locked onto Soobin who stood behind you, “That’s Soobin?” You nodded, a new fear prickling up your shine that maybe Sunghoon doesn’t approve of this even more, “He wasn’t what I was expecting.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, because what exactly was he expecting?

Sunghoon finally moved around you, reaching his hand out to Soobin, “Good to put a face to the name I’ve been hearing about lately.”

Soobin took his hand, assuming this guy was your roommate and best friend. Soobin smiled, “Same to you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon smirked and leaned closer to Soobin, becoming only a few inches away from his face, “I know about this whole situation,” Sunghoon’s voice dropped deeper and his eyes became serious. Soobin just stared back at him, locking his jaw tight, “While I didn’t agree with her even doing this, I am glad you decided to play along. But if you hurt her..”

Soobin forced a smirk of his own, “I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’m just here to piss off Sungchan.”

Sunghoon widens his eyes, “Ah! So you also hate the dirtbag?” Sunghoon took steps away from him and placed his hands on his shoulders, “Glad we are on the same page.”

You sighed, fanning yourself with your hands, “Can we go inside now? This summer heat is killing me!”

Sunghoon turned around and smiled at you, “Of course! But umm…I need to let you know something.”

You stared at your best friend, “Wha—“

The beach house door busted open and the voices of your friends had you turning around and smiling wide. Jake, Jay, Yunjin, Sakura, and Shotaro all shuffled out the door, immediately rushing to you.

“Where is this new boyfriend you never told us about?!?” they all asked in unison and then their eyes caught Soobin as he stood behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and introducing himself.

Your friends surrounded the two of you, complimenting how cute he was and how cute the two of you looked together. Even though this was all a lie and an act, you couldn’t stop the slight pink filling your cheeks.

“Oh!” Yunjin said, pulling her red locks behind her ears, “Sungchan…he…”

Before she could finish speaking, you saw what she was going to tell you, and saw what Sunghoon was going to tell you.

Sungchan stepped out of the house with Chaewon at his side.

You weren’t sure if pissed off would even be the correct emotion to describe how you were feeling right now staring at your ex-boyfriend and your ex-best friend.

“They showed up together,” Yunjin whispered, “We didn’t even know she was still coming. Apparently, he paid for her at the last minute.”

The last you heard, Chae wasn’t even speaking to any of us anymore, that included Sungchan, after the truth got out.

You didn’t speak to either of them as everyone pushed back into the beach house. It was a massive house, super cute and very beachy. Enough rooms to hold at least two people per room. And that’s how you got stuck sharing a bed with Soobin.

Chaewon piled in with Yunjin and Sakura, while Jake and Sunghoon shared a room, and Sungchan with Shotaro.

Plus Soobin and you were a “couple”, it really only made sense you’d have to share a room with him.

The first day was spent heading into town for food for the house and any beach toys or items that any of you all might need. The males took to the kitchen to cook the food that night, while you females sat outside on the sand watching as the sun set until dinner was ready. So far, everyone was getting along, even you and Chae to an extent, even if you two weren’t speaking.

Once night fell, you stood at the edge of the bed while Soobin climbed in and made himself comfortable, “I can always sleep on the couch,” he said with such calm, “If it would make you feel more comfortable.”

You quickly shook your head, “No! They would suspect something if you did, it’s just…” You haven’t shared a bed with another male since Sungchan.

Soobin didn’t need to hear you say it to understand what you were getting at. The scars Sungchan left from his betrayal ran deep within you.

Soobin smirked, deciding to try and make light, “I don’t bite, YN.”

You scoffed at him with a roll of your eyes, “Why did I invite you again?”

Soobin patted your side of the bed with his hand and scooted closer to the edge of his, giving you more space and without hesitation, you climbed in, “I’m here because you need me.”

You tried hard to not scoff again but failed. You wanted to fight him, but settled on, “Goodnight, fake boyfriend.”

Soobin was glad you were facing away from him so you couldn’t have seen the look on his face when hearing you say that. It pulled at him in ways he fought hard to push down. It made his trope push to the front parts of his brain in flashing bright letters. He flipped over to his stomach and squished his face into the pillow, using all his strength to push down the thoughts of his trope.

Tropes were stupid and didn’t exist. It was all fake. All fake.

He repeated those words over and over again until sleep finally took him.

The first couple of days went on like normal. On the second day of this vacation a storm hit, so everyone was forced to stay inside the house. Sunghoon brought his Nintendo Switch, so everyone took turns playing Smash Bros and Mario Kart. Soobin dominated everyone in both games. Come to find out, Soobin is very much a gamer and one of his friends is even in a unit. It was very interesting to you and made you want to learn even more about Soobin.

On day three, the sun and summer heat were back. You and your friends didn’t hesitate to jump into the water to cool off.

“Jake mentioned a bonfire tonight!” Sakura said, dipping herself down to your chin into the water, “I say we do it! We can go buy stuff for s’mores!”

“Alcohol too please!” Yunjin groaned, “I need it after how long my last few weeks have been!”

You agreed. What was a vacation without it? Plus it would calm your nerves about this whole Sungchan situation anyway.

You looked up to the sand, seeing how Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay seemed to have adopted Soobin into their little circle, tossing around a baseball, all four of them smiling. Your eyes drifted off closer to the house, Shotaro, Sungchan, and Chae stood around the picnic table and grill as Taro grilled the meat for lunch. Your eyes lingered on how close Sungchan and Chae were sitting together, Sungchan turning his head to look out into the water, making eye contact with you.

He shifted a bit closer to Chae and on instinct, you whipped your head in the other direction, “Soobin!” Sungchan shifted his gaze to Soobin as well.

Soobin looked away from the other three, giving you a smile that melted your heart, “What is it, my princess?!” he shouted back. You said nothing, just gave him a big smile and waved for him to join you in the water.

Soobin wasn’t stupid. He saw how close Sungchan was to Chaewon. Soobin could smell the bullshit from miles away. He knew Sungchan only invited Chaewon—or well, begged her—back on this trip all because of him. Sungchan trusted Shotaro with this information thinking he wasn’t going to slip it up to everyone else, especially Soobin.

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Taro had said, “He kept saying it was just to make sure the friend group was made whole again, but I know that isn’t the case. He was so hung up on getting YN back, but after meeting you…I think he did it to try and stick it where it hurts. Or make her jealous. He won’t accept she’s over him.”

Pitiful.

Soobin tossed the ball over to Jake, “I’m going to jump in the water with YN, you all want to come too?” Soobin had to admit, the one good thing that came out of this trip was gaining these guys' friendship.

Jay was practically already tearing his tank top off, “Hell yeah! Let's cool off, this sun is brutal!”

Soobin followed the others down the beach, gripping the ends of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head.

Your heart nearly stopped. Your eyes drag along down his body. Trailing back up over his abs, chest, shoulders, and arms. Craving the metal image in detail of every curve of his biceps. He was beautiful. So beautiful.

Soobin was now in the water and standing directly in front of you, a smirk on his face as he leaned close to your face, being inches apart, “Close your mouth, you’re drooling.” he whispered.

You didn’t realize your mouth was open and immediately closed it shut. Soobin stood up straight and sank down into the water, his hands finding yours as he was chest-deep, gently pulling at your hands to lower yourself too.

It honestly took a lot for Soobin to keep his eyes locked on your face. Your body was gorgeous, all of you were. He couldn’t and wouldn’t deny that. Mostly with the way the purple bikini complimented your skin and the curves of your body. He did take a few glances down to your breasts and shot his eyes right back up to your face. He wasn’t ashamed of looking, you were just gawking at him a few minutes ago.

Once you were at eye level with Soobin, his hands left your hands and found their place at your waist, pulling your body to him, “I hope this is okay,” he whispered, “Just trying to play my part.”

It was natural at how you wrapped your arms around his neck, how you seated yourself on his lap and wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing your chest to his. It felt so natural that it scared you. Even with the cool ocean water warping around your bodies, you still felt way too hot and prayed that if your face was red, everyone would assume it was from the hot summer sun.

“No, it’s all okay,” you whispered back, pulling him closer to you, leaving your bodies completely flushed against one another, “We both have to play this part.”

“Hey!” Jake chuckled, “What you lovebirds whispering about over there!”

Soobin chuckled back, tilting his head back to look at Jake, “I’m telling her all the positions I’m going to put her through tonight!” He teased, earning Jake to scrunch his nose.

“Man, we don’t want to know that!” Jake held up his index fingers into an X, “Keep that to yourselves!”

Soobin just smirked, wrapping his arms around your frame, “Hey man, you asked!”

You couldn’t help but smile at them, at all of them, really. You were truly happy that Soobin was fitting in with your friends and they all seemed to love him. Sunghoon—even with his nasty side eye at the two of you—was warming up to Soobin little by little the last few days. You listened to them all banter back and forth and you couldn’t help but wish that this all could last past this week.

Soobin then touched his cheek to yours, squishing your faces together, “Dude, you’re just jealous that I have a pretty girlfriend!”

Your friends collectively all “ooooo” at Jake from Soobin’s diss, causing Jake to smirk and start splashing water at everyone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sungchan said suddenly, standing at the edge of where the water meets the sand. His arms were crossed and eyes locked onto Soobin, “Taro finished lunch, let’s all eat.”

After lunch, everyone headed back into the house to take turns showering and then headed into town for alcohol and items for s’mores.

Once the sun started to settle over the horizon, it was time for the bonfire.

The owners who rented out the house to you and your friends for the week really knew what the people wanted. The firepit was beautiful. A beautiful smooth white stone was built around the pit and perfectly carved benches sat around it. Sunghoon and Yunjin were the ones most excited about the s’mores, being the ones to poke the soft squishy balls of sweetness onto the metal rods and hold them over the fire, and passing them around to everyone once they were burnt perfectly and smooshed between chocolate and graham crackers.

Jay sat off to Soobin’s right on another bench with his acoustic guitar in his arms, playing a pretty tune that matched the soft crashes of the waves and the breeze of the wind. You swayed back and forth slightly, not wanting to spill any of your beer.

“Having a good time?” Soobin asked, smiling down at you as he sipped his beer, “You look like you are.”

You nodded, leaning further a bit to your right to nudge your shoulder against his, “I am,” you lift the can to your lips, taking a sip, “You?”

Soobin glanced over to the firepit and took another sip, “I am,” his eyes shot up to Sungchan, catching him staring back, “But Sungchan has been eyeing me down since before lunch. It’s making it hard for me to really enjoy myself right now.”

Soobin honestly was enjoying his time here so far. It was a vacation after all and having to play the part of your fake boyfriend wasn’t difficult either. The only hard thing was the glare Soobin always felt from Sungchan. He understood why, he had something the other wanted. It wasn’t Soobin’s fault the male fucked everything up. Nor was it his fault that you were completely over Sungchan to begin with. Soobin truly believed if you still had feelings for Sungchan, you wouldn’t have even come on this trip.

You carefully and quickly passed your eyes over Sungchan, catching how hard he stared at Soobin. Even when he lifted the beer can to sip and drank. His eyes never left Soobin. You also noticed how close he was sitting to Chae. Chae just stared off into the distance, hands clasped together. You couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t want to be there.

You finished off your beer and tossed it into the plastic bag at your feet, “I’m sorry he’s being that way towards you,” and you really truly meant it. Soobin didn’t deserve it, “I wish I could make him stop.”

Soobin also finished off his beer and tossed the can with yours, keeping his eyes locked on Sungchan. You finally decided to let Sungchan know that you saw him staring. Glaring at him with your jaw locked and eyes narrowed. It didn’t take long for him to notice your stares and for him to scoot closer to Chae, dropping his hand to her thigh.

You rolled your eyes and faced Soobin, “He really thinks doing that will do anything but piss me off.”

Soobin chuckled at your words because it’s true, the man truly thought getting closer to Chaewon was going to change your attitude towards him. Sungchan pulled a smirk at Soobin, thinking he won.

Oh, but isn’t that further from the truth.

“Want to piss him off back?” Soobin asked, turning to face you.

You raised a brow, “And how exactly, do you plan to piss him off?”

Soobin said nothing as he moved in, connecting his lips to yours. Your surprise must have been way too obvious because Soobin was now tracing his lips from yours and down your jaw and to your ear, whispering, “Play along.”

You knew what he was doing. Knew what it would cause with Sungchan. Knew all of it and yet once his lips found yours, you kissed him back something fierce. Both your eyes flutter closed and embrace this moment.

You expected just a few kisses and then Soobin pulling away, but the longer your lips lingered, the more you prayed he wouldn’t move away. Soobin did, in fact, was only planning to plant a few kisses and then pull away and go back to being normal. But…

He couldn’t stop.

His brows furrowed as he leaned into you more. His hand reached up and cupped your neck, his thumb rubbing softly against your jawline.

What was he doing? Why couldn’t he stop kissing you? Why was his free hand now reaching for yours and his fingers intertwined with yours? Squeezing your hand hard.

He slowly pushed his tongue past his lips, licking your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You parted your lips without question, letting his tongue slide in and explore your cavern. The soft groan that escaped his mouth sent chills down your body. If he didn’t have his hand placed on your neck keeping you pressed to him, you would have long fallen over.

Kissing you felt…natural. It felt like his lips were always meant to kiss yours. That…he was meant to be here with you. Soobin had come to the realization that you both were making out in front of everyone and he did not give a single fuck. Sungchan no longer mattered. Pissing him off no longer mattered. The only thing that did was your lips against his. Your hand in his. You. Only you.

His heart pulled to you. It was chanting your name over and over and over. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. He felt the little red string of fate tie itself to you. His trope rang in the back of his mind.

“Hey!” Someone finally snapped, “Get a room, love birds!” To both your and Soobin’s surprise, it was Sunghoon who said it.

Soobin smiled against your lips before slowly pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. His heart was racing and he was fucking terrified to open his eyes and look at you. Scared at what he might find.

But he opened them anyway as he pulled his head away from yours. First, he stared at your swollen kissed lips, then slowly looked up to your eyes. One look and it was all it took for everything in the world to make sense. One look in your eyes and he knew.

It was you. It was always going to be you.

You thought going to bed that night would have been awkward. Why wouldn’t it? You and Soobin made out in front of all your friends in a play to piss off Sungchan, it should have been awkward to go to bed that night. Except it wasn’t. You crawled into bed next to Soobin like it was a routine. He rolled onto his side facing away from you and fell asleep quickly as you did the same.

You oddly felt at peace. You barely knew him and only knew a handful of things about him that you’ve learned on this trip so far, but you couldn’t help that pull to him. And as you drifted off to sleep you repeated the thought over and over on how easy all this was with him. How from the moment you first laid eyes on him in that bus you felt that pull. You weren’t sure what to make of this, mostly when everything would be coming to an end once this week was over.

When you woke up Soobin was already out of bed. After getting up, brushing your teeth, and throwing on your swimsuit and beach clothes, you trailed into the living room, everyone sat around somewhere in the kitchen or living eating breakfast.

“About time you got up!” Sunghoon teased, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth, “It’s almost eleven am!”

You raised a brow at your best friend, “Yet you guys are still eating breakfast? When it’s literally lunchtime?”

“Hey,” Jake groaned, whipping his head up from his plate and leaning against Sunghoon, “Never too late or early for a breakfast meal!” You couldn’t argue with that, “Besides,” Jake continued, “Soobin mentioned for dinner to head out into town and try one of the restaurants, so we decided on a later breakfast.”

“Makes sense,” you mumbled, looking around the room, “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Your boy toy already went down to the water,” Sungchan murmured, poking his fork at his eggs, “Missed him by ten minutes.”

You narrowed your eyes down at him, “Boy toy?” you scoffed, whipping your head away with a roll of your eyes, “Funny shit to say coming from the likes of you!”

Not another second was wasted on him as you quickly made your way to the front door and opened it.

“YN!” he called for you, but you didn’t turn back around as you slammed the door behind you.

Sungchan stood from the table, just causing both Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon to stand on their feet from the couch. Shotaro was even at Sungchan’s side, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Let go, Taro!” Sungchan snapped.

“Nah, keep him there,” Jake gave him a narrowed look, “You need to cut this shit out, Chan.”

Sungchan opened his mouth to fight, but Chaewon stopped it, “Chan, that is enough! Seriously!” All eyes went to her, “You need to accept the fact that YN has moved on and she is happy! I’ve never seen her this happy before…” Chaewon looked down at her plate, “I don’t know what you were hoping for with this trip, but you really need to know your place.” Without another word, Chae picked up her plate and rushed into her bedroom.

You kicked off your sandals at the edge of the steps to the house and stepped down onto the warm sand. Hovering your hand over your eyes to help see down the way better. Damn, the sun is so bright.

You found Soobin standing in the water facing towards the infinite ocean. His shoes and tee shirt were discarded at the edge of the beach right before where the water touched the sand. The waves crashed against his waist and the breeze blew his brown hair to the side. The sun illuminates his perfect honey skin, outlining the muscles of his back. Even from his back, he was a sight to see. So beautiful.

Soobin woke up earlier than everyone today and decided to be the one to make breakfast today. He had to admit, he was using it as a distraction. A way to get him out of the same bed with you. You looked so peaceful while you slept and it took everything in Soobin to not pull you toward him and wrap his arms around you. So he forced himself out of bed instead and made everyone breakfast. It wasn’t really early, the night before obviously made everyone sleep in a bit longer, but Soobin pushed the idea of trying out a restaurant later that night, ate his breakfast, and quickly left the house.

He needed to get out of that house and put more distance away from you. Not because he wanted to be away from you, but because he couldn’t think straight around you. Not after last night. The feeling of your lips lingered on his. The touch of your skin in the palm of his hand as he held you close to him. The way your fingers fit perfectly together with his.

It all rang in his head. Along with his damned trope. Soulmates didn’t exist. It was just a ploy to keep the population in control. To give the people something to believe in. It wasn’t real.

Yet Soobin knew he felt that red string of fate tied his heart to yours. He might not know what your trope is, and frankly, he’s terrified to find out. What if your tropes don’t match? Or what if your trope is whatever Soobin isn’t? He’s never once in his life ever thought about these questions. He’s spent those years after receiving his trope not believing in a damn thing about it. But you changed everything. One look in your eyes after that kiss and he was on his knees.

Soobin guessed the whole reason he needed to be officially alone right now was to sort out his thoughts and decide whether he wanted to accept his fate. Regardless of what he decided to do, you now had him wrapped around your finger and he was stupid if he’d let you go once this trip was over.

He heard shuffles of sand and already knew it was you standing at the edge of the water behind him. After his heart was tied to you, he swore he could hear your heart beating. He knows the sound of your heart.

You knew he knew you were there, you couldn’t explain how, but you just knew. You took one more step, letting the ocean take up to your ankles. You kept your eyes locked to his back, your heart racing.

Soobin chuckled, “It’s just me, YN, no need to be nervous.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped the moment Soobin turned around slightly to look at you. The way the sun was shining down on him…the look of endearment and the soft smile he was giving you. Your eyes widened, the red string fully tying your heart to his.

“Sunshine!” the acolyte cheered, her hands clasping together and smiling wide down at you, “Your trope is sunshine! How wonderful!” Wonderful? What the fuck kind of trope is sunshine? What the fuck does that even mean?

You had hope for your trope. You really did. You spent all that time as a child counting down the days until your eighteenth birthday and marched right to the church to receive yours. But the moment your trope was in your grasp, everything failed you. You stopped believing. Yes, you tried experimenting with your trope, but it failed you every time.

You tried meeting people with sunshine personalities, tried going to bright sunny places, and each time, it failed. You gave up and believed soulmates didn’t exist. Or even if they did, you didn’t have one.

You held that statement as true until just now, staring into Soobin’s eyes.

The world finally all made sense to you. Sunshine. Soobin was sunshine. He’s your sunshine. Your trope wasn’t about the sun or the personality of someone. It was both. It was Soobin. The embodiment of sunshine with the sun shining down brightly on him.

You could hear his heart beating in your ears, its steady pace mixed with a hint of nervousness. And he told you he had no reason to be nervous?

He turned fully toward you, walking up and closing the gap between the two of you. He lifted his hands from the cool water and rested them on your biceps, the corners of his lips curling up more.

“Soobin,” you whispered, “I—“

The echoes of your friends' laughter filled the summer air, each of them pushing out of the house and in their swimwear. Jake held fishing poles in his hands, “Soobin!” he yelled, “Come spend time with the bros!”

Sunghoon held up a tacklebox of fishing items, “Yeah! Jay is bringing his expensive alcohol too!”

Jay was now holding up his bottles of whiskey, “I’m being forced to bring them, but I’ll share nevertheless.”

Soobin’s smile grew more and it only made your heart flutter. This was his real smile, not the fake one he’s been acting out with the last couple of days. This was his true show of happiness.

Soobin glanced away from your friends and saw the look of confusion on your face. Soobin knew that look without even having to ask you what was wrong. He cupped your face and placed his lips to your forehead, “We can talk later, okay?”

You nodded, quickly wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him close, resting your head on his chest, “Have fun stealing my friends from me.”

Soobin chuckled again, and leaned into your hug, holding you against him, “Too bad, they are my friends now,” You went to protest, but he was pulling away and splashing you with water, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You said nothing as you watched him run out of the water, stopping to grab his shirt and shoes and jogging up to Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon. Shotaro and Sungchan slowly followed behind them.

The rest of the day became busier than you were hoping for. Once the boys were back from fishing and everyone showered off the sand and salt water, it was time to hit up the restaurant.

It was within walking distance from the house, so Taro was really big on saving up everyone’s gas and suggested just walking. No one was against it.

But that meant moving in a pack. Everyone surrounded you and Soobin and it left no chances to talk. Even after dinner, Yunjin and Sakura wanted to stop for ice cream, and again, no one rejected it.

Soobin was kind enough to buy your ice cream for you and even shared some of his. It only made the need for you to talk to him run so much deeper. This couldn’t just be the behavior of acting like your fake boyfriend…was it?

Little did you know Soobin was also dying to talk to you as well. He tried to find any opportunity to pull you to the side and talk but the odds just weren’t in his favor.

But he was nervous and the closer the beach house came back into view the more his heart pounded. It only got worse once he was alone with you in the shared bedroom.

You looked exhausted. Soobin definitely was. It was a busy and exhausting day. Not just because of your friends, but the endless thoughts that circulated both your minds. It was hard to tell if talking about whatever this was, was a good idea at the moment.

But you also knew it couldn’t wait.

Soobin sat down on the bed, facing himself toward you. You tried to fight back a yawn as you climbed into the bed. He tilted his head, “Do you want to talk? We could always talk in the morning, YN.”

Hearing those words honestly made you feel better. It meant not having to address everything right here and now but also gave proof that Soobin still wanted to have that conversation. You stopped fighting the yawn and nodded, pulling the covers back and laying down on your side, facing away from him.

The bed shifted as Soobin turned the lamp off, the room now being lit by the moonlight that peeked through the curtains of the windows. The bed shifted more and you could hear Soobin’s heart, “Can…” he sighs, “Can I hold you?”

“Yes,” you replied quickly. Already scooting yourself to the middle of the bed, your back meeting Soobin’s chest. He pushed his arm underneath the pillow and wrapped it around your chest and hand linking to your shoulder while the other hung over your waist, his hand resting on your tummy.

Holding you was everything he could have hoped it would be. Your body is the perfect fit against his. You shifted a little in hopes of getting closer, only to rub your ass against his crotch. His fingers at your shoulder gripped your shirt while the other squeezed your tummy, “YN,” he said in a soft warning tone, “Please don’t move.”

You didn’t mean to grind against him, you just wanted to be more comfortable and closer to him. But now with the growing hardness against your ass and the sound of his heart racing in your ears, your own pool of desire is raised.

Soobin was now squeezing your frame tightly, using all his strength to not start grinding his cock against you. To keep himself under control. But it was so damn hard when he could hear how your heart was fluttering. Could feel how your body was now shaking. He squeezed you tighter, his arm squeezing your breasts and a soft gasp let your lips. It was enough to send a chill down his spine and for his hips to buck without his permission.

You softly giggle, “And you told me not to move.” Your teasing just then flipped a switch with him.

Soobin was smirking and tucking his face into your neck, pressing his now hard cock against your ass, “Maybe if you’d stop wiggling, I wouldn’t either,” he whispered to your skin. The brush of his lips as he talked had goosebumps raised on your skin.

You rocked your hips, grinding on his clothed cock, “Stop rubbing against me, and I’ll stop rubbing against you.”

A chuckle left his mouth but he didn’t stop moving and neither did you. The two of you kept moving, rocking your hips back and forth against each other. Soobin’s hand on your belly moved lower and lower as time progressed. You’ve done things like this before with other guys, same with Soobin and females. But with the way you both were breathing, how in sync your hearts were beating, the feeling of being this close…It made everything ten times better.

Was it because…it had to be.

Soobin pushed his fingers down to the band of your shorts, slipping his fingers underneath it, “Can I touch you?” he whispered in your ear, placing a kiss on the shell of it, “Please, can I touch you?”

You nodded, placing your hand on top of his and pushing it down, guiding him slowly to where you need him the most right now. And once his fingers cupped your heat, you flung your head back onto his shoulder.

“Shit YN,” he breathed, “So wet, and I haven’t even fully touched you yet.”

You lifted your leg up and over his legs, giving him more access to you. His index and ring fingers spread your lips apart, the middle slowly rubbing at your clit.

You softly moan, arching your back. But Soobin’s hold on you with his other arm around your chest kept you from moving too much, holding you tightly to his chest.

You started once again rocking your hips, doing it in hopes he would move faster, and slid his fingers into you. Soobin wasn’t stupid, he could tell you wanted more, “What do you want?” he whispered, biting at the shell of your ear, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“L-lower,” you whimper, “Faster, please.”

Soobin hummed, sliding his middle finger to your entrance, “Is this what you want, baby?”

You nodded, bucking your hips. Soobin smirked and slowly pushed his index and middle fingers in. You both let out a breathy groan as his fingers slid in all the way to his knuckles, your cunt squeezing around them.

Soobin pushed them in and out, in and out, starting at a slow pace and slowly picking up speed. Your body was shaking against his, his cock growing more needier by the second.

He wanted you. Oh, good gods he wanted you.

“Baby,” he shifted a bit, his body slightly towering over yours, “Can I have you?”

You nodded frantically, your hands reaching for him and pulling him into a kiss, “Please,” you whispered against his lips.

Soobin completely shifted himself over you, hovering just the right amount to keep his fingers filling you while his other hand reached for the ends of your shirt, “I want this off.”

You smirked, “Take it off me yourself.”

Soobin chuckled on your lips, removing his fingers from your cunt and sliding his hands up your body, taking your shirt with them.

It didn’t take long for all of your and Soobin’s clothing to be thrown in all different directions of the room, leaving you skin to skin.

There was something so beautiful about being connected to you like this. The way your skin felt on his. How your bare legs wrapped around his waist and lips kissed down his neck. It was something Soobin wanted to be painted into his memory forever. It wasn’t even just about the sex you were about to have. It was all about you.

Soobin couldn’t stop the gasp that let his mouth as his cock slid deep inside you, the tip kissing beautifully at your cervix. He held you tightly to him as he started moving, keeping one hand gripping your thigh, “Fuck, YN. YN. YN. YN.” Your name chanted from his lips. It flowed out so easily. Like your name belonged in his mouth.

“Soobin,” you whispered, pulling your face from his neck and laying down on the pillow, cupping his face between your hands, his pretty brown eyes staring back at you, “I think…no, I know it. You’re my soulmate.”

Hearing those words had Soobin melting. His face fell to your neck, hand squeezing your thigh tighter, “And you’re mine,” he whispered back, “Oh gods you’re mine.”

With all your strength, you rolled him over onto his back, straddling him. You took his hands in yours and you rode him, squeezing his hands with each roll of your hips. You don’t know what came over you, but hearing how you were his, it did something, “Say it again, please.”

Soobin squeezed your hands tighter, “You’re mine.”

“Again.”

He smiled, “You’re mine. You’re my soulmate. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

The words came out so easily for someone who didn’t believe in them at first. But looking at you like this, all on top of him, riding his cock, how could he not believe in it? Your hearts were now tied together. He belonged to you. You belonged to him. And he had no problem chanting out those words until he was cumming deep inside you. Continued chanting them as he flipped you onto your back and his fingers once again found their home inside you, chanting them as you came around them.

Soobin used to curse his trope, but now all he could do was thank it. It gave him you.

“We’ve been out here for an hour,” Sunghoon groaned, throwing his head back over the chair, hands gripping the fishing pole, “Jake, why did we have to come fishing again?”

Jake glared over at him, “Because we had massive luck yesterday. Figured we would today as well,” Jake shrugged and glanced back out into the water, “Not my fault you’re being crabby today.”

Sunghoon groaned again as he lifted back up his head, tilting it to the side to look at Soobin, “Try sharing a room next door to them at night and tell me if you wouldn’t be crabby.”

Sunghoon’s words went in one ear and out the other, he was too busy staring down at a text message from you. But Sunghoon’s clearing his voice brought him back to the guys around him, “What?”

Jake scoffed with a smirk, “You know what. The whole house heard the two of you last night.”

Soobin grinned as he shifted his gaze off to the water, “And that’s my problem how?” he said in a teasing voice.

You and Soobin continued your sexual activities after the first round. Neither of you could get enough of the other and eventually, you both stopped caring to keep quiet. It was just unfortunate for those in the house.

Jay nudged Soobin’s shoulder, “Am I going to have to buy some earplugs tonight?” he joked.

Soobin shrugged and smirked at Jay, “Possibly, we do still have one more full day left to cause some chaos.”

“Please don’t,” Shotaro chuckled, “I enjoy my sleep.”

The males all laughed and continued their teasing, except Soobin noticed Sungchan being awfully quiet and staring down at the docks they all sat on.

Sunghoon nudged Soobin, leaning closer to him and whispering, “I’m actually really glad you and her have something. She seems so happy being with you.”

Soobin knew that Sunghoon was aware that at first, this was all an act. So honestly hearing those words made him happy. You and Sunghoon had talked with each other during breakfast this morning, so Soobin more than likely knew you confessed what was actually happening now. Soobin opened his mouth to reply back to Sunghoon, but a loud scoff following a chuckle had everyone turning their heads towards the direction it came from.

“Happy? She’s happy to be with you?” Sungchan laughed, turning to face Soobin directly, “You think I buy that? That you aren’t just some random guy she met on the bus that day? This is all an act. I know YN! Better than—“

“She’s my soulmate,” was all Soobin said. He had no desire or even the need to confirm nor deny Sungchan’s suspicions, “She’s my soulmate and I think you need to accept that and learn your place.”

Everyone fell silent, the only sound was the waves crashing against the wooden columns of the dock and the wind blowing past.

“Look man,” Soobin sighed, “I don’t know what you were hoping for with this vacation, but I would really appreciate it if you backed off my girl,” Soobin looked back out to the water, gripping at the handle of his fishing pole, “You’ve hurt her enough, let it go.”

Soobin was fueled with anger, so distracted he had no clue the line of his pole was being tugged, “SOOBIN!!” Jake yelled standing up to his feet and pointing at the ripples of the water, “YOU CAUGHT ONE! REEL THE LINE BACK!!!”

With the excitement of possibly catching a fish, Soobin threw his anger out the window, deciding it wasn’t worth worrying over Sungchan. Everyone was now aware that you were tied to him, and that’s all Soobin cared about at this moment.

Besides, of course, pulling his first fish of the day on the docks and cheering along with his new friends, “I have to show YN!” Sunghoon said, pointing at Soobin to lift up the fish and smile wide for a photo, sending it directly to you.

You sat on the couch with Yunjin between your legs on the floor in the middle of braiding her hair when Sunghoon sent you the cutest photo you’ve ever seen of your soulmate holding up his first catch of the day. It was adorable. You couldn't help but laugh and save the photo to your gallery, “Want to see the fish Soobin just caught?” you asked her and the other girls, turning your phone around to show them.

“He really is a cutie!” Sakura clapped her hands, “Fate was really on your side when picking out your soulmate!”

You didn’t even have to tell the girls that information, they just kind of guessed at it. Your smile wasn’t doing much justice for you. You’ve been smitten ever since your first kiss with Soobin, “Fate really was on my side, wasn’t it?”

You felt Chaewon’s eyes on you, a small sad smile on her face. The two of you have barely spoken to each other this entire trip and you could tell since the night of the bonfire, she’s had words she kept locked in her throat.

“Hey!” Yunjin sat up, her long red hair falling between your fingers, “The boys are still busy fishing, why don’t we go shopping? There’s a cute surf shop down the beach towards the pier I want to check out!”

Everyone agreed. As the girls stood up and rushed out the door, Chaewon gripped your wrist, “YN, can we talk first?”

You nodded, slowly turning to face her, “What is it?”

She let go of your wrist, “I am truly sorry! For everything!” You blinked at her, not expecting this conversation right off the bat, “Chan and I were drunk, we weren’t thinking straight. It only happened that one time and I promise you that. Chan got confused about his feelings, and that’s how it blew up as badly as it did. I wanted to tell you from the beginning, but Chan said he would take care of it and I was stupid to believe him on that,” she reached for your hands then and you let her, “I removed myself from our group because I thought you’d hate me. Sunghoon said you needed time and I wanted to respect that. But I miss our friendship, I miss you. I came on this trip wanting to fix our friendship, not because Sungchan told me to.”

You had to admit, you also missed her and your friendship with her. This trip hasn’t been completely the same because of the distance it put between the two of you. You already knew Sungchan was just trying to pull some fast moves, but Chaewon was being true from the beginning.

So you hugged her tightly, “I forgive you. I’ve missed you too so please don’t run away from me anymore, okay?” Chae nodded, hugging you tighter, “Now, let’s go get caught up with Sakura and Yunjin.”

With a giggle, you and Chae rushed out the door.

Before you knew it, Soobin was packing up your backs into the backseat of his car as you hugged your girlfriends tightly, “We need a girl's day soon!” You said, “I’ll kick Sunghoon out of the apartment for a day.”

Sunghoon sighed, crossing his arms, “You act like I don’t have a soulmate, other friends, or even Soobin I could hang out with for the day.”

Soobin wrapped his arm around Sunghoon’s shoulders, “Yeah, babe,” he said sticking his tongue out at you, “I’ll just steal your best friend.”

You glared at your now boyfriend, “You’d steal my best friend from me?”

Soobin shrugged, “If you’re going to kick him out, ya.”

You rolled your eyes and continued hugging your friends, deciding to fight your mate and best friend later at the apartment.

After all goodbye had been said, everyone piled into their own cars and drove off, leaving the beach house in the distance.

Soobin reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing the plush, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nodded, leaning back in the seat, “I really did,” you shifted your eyes to him, “Wasn’t expecting to gain my soulmate out of it though.”

Soobin chuckled, rubbing his thumb against your skin, “You and I both. By the way,” he glanced at you quickly, then back at the road, “What was your trope?”

“Sunshine,” You whispered, “It was sunshine.”

He smiled, biting at the corners of his lip, “Sunshine, huh.”

You sat up and leaned over the center console, poking your finger in his dimple, “And what was yours, my sunshine?”

Soobin took your hand in his, “Fake relationship,” your eyes widened at his trope, “Yeah,” he chuckled, “It wasn’t exactly the best.”

“You must have been freaking out when I asked you to be my fake boyfriend for the week, I’m so sorry!”

Soobin shook his head, “I…I didn’t believe in tropes or even soulmates. I thought it was weird and a coincidence. I’ve had many fake relationships before, so I thought this was no different,” he lifted your hand to his lips, playing a few soft kisses to the palm of your hand, “But you changed everything, obviously.”

You smiled, “It’s funny you say that, because I didn’t believe in tropes of soulmates either.”

Soobin quickly looked at you again, then back at the road, “Sunghoon literally has a soulmate!?”

You sat back in the seat and stared out the window, “Trust me, I know. Right in front of me and I still didn’t believe a lick of it.”

Soobin smirks, “Do you believe in it now?”

You giggled, squeezing his hand, “I do. How could I not when I have my own pocket full of sunshine?”

—p.tlist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs

@seunghancore @enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee

@hxxsxxng @moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee

@teddybeartaetae @kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee

@hee-lvrr @1309zip @moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s

#myhome #ohsh!twesoulmates #soobin #choi soobin #soobin x reader #reader x soobin #soobin smut #txt #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #reader x txt #txt fanfiction #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smut #txt suggestive #yeonzzzn writing

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pucksandpower · 2 months

Text

Metamorphosis

Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Charles makes the worst mistake of his life, leaving him to watch from the sidelines as you move on to bigger and better things (and people)

Warnings: cheating, only one of you gets a happy ending (hint: it’s not Charles)

Based on this request

Charles enters the bedroom he shares with you, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he has to finally come clean about his infidelity. The guilt has been eating away at him for weeks.

You’re sitting up in bed, reading a book. You look up with a warm smile as Charles approaches. “Hey, you’re home early.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “Yeah … we need to talk.” His voice is heavy with regret.

You mark your page and set the book aside, giving him your full attention. “What’s going on?”

Charles sits down on the edge of the bed, unable to meet your trusting gaze. “I ...” The words get caught in his throat. How can he tell you? How can he shatter the life you’ve built together?

After a long pause, you prompt gently, “Charles? You’re worrying me ...”

He forces himself to look at you. Your beautiful face, your eyes full of love and concern for him. It breaks his heart anew.

“I’ve done something unforgivable,” he confesses in a pained murmur. “I … I cheated on you.”

For a moment, the room is silent. You stare at him, eyes widening in shock and hurt. Then, almost robotically, you slide out of bed and walk over to the closet. You pull out a suitcase and start methodically packing clothes.

“What? No, please, don’t do that!” Charles jumps up, panic and desperation gripping him. “I’m so sorry, it was a mistake! It meant nothing to me, I swear!”

You don’t respond, continuing to pack with eerie calm.

“Aren’t you going to yell at me? Throw things? Please, just … show some emotion!”

You pause and look at him impassively. “Why should I waste my energy? You’ve clearly checked out of our relationship already.”

Charles feels like he’s been slapped. “No! No, that’s not true at all! I love you, I want to make this work!”

Shoving the last shirt into the suitcase, you move over to the vanity and begin unclasping your jewelry — pieces he gave you on holidays or your anniversary or just because. You stack the earrings, necklaces, and bracelets on the surface, finally pulling off your engagement ring and adding it to the pile with a soft clink.

“Please ...” Charles begs, tears filling his eyes. “Please don’t leave me. We can get through this, I promise!”

You zip up the suitcase and turn to him, your expression unreadable. “Let me go, Charles.” You roll the suitcase toward the door.

Charles follows you through the apartment, desperation clawing at his insides. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so, so sorry. Please, just give me another chance!”

You stop at the front door, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes are dry, but there is a deep sadness etched onto your features. “Why should I give you another chance when you didn’t give me or our relationship a second thought?”

“No, wait!” He rushes after you, grabbing your arm. You shrug him off easily, pausing with your hand on the knob to look back at him one last time.

“I used to think you were my soulmate,” you say quietly. “But you’ve shown me who you really are. I can’t keep loving a lie.”

“Don’t do this!” he pleads, desperation clawing at his throat. “Don’t just give up on us, on everything we had!”

You pause at the front door, finally turning to face him fully. “You gave up first, Charles. Not me.”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Because you’re right — he’s the one who destroyed this, who sacrificed your life together for one selfish moment.

Your jaw tightens slightly, the first flicker of emotion he’s seen. “Goodbye, Charles.”

You turn and walk out the door, pulling it shut behind you with a final click.

Charles is left staring at the closed door, the deafening silence around him. He’s not sure how long he stands there, frozen, replaying your parting words in his mind. Goodbye, you’d said, without any anger or tears.

Just … goodbye.

***

Months later, Charles is seated in the front row at Milan Fashion Week, watching the Ferrari Style runway show with a tight smile plastered on his face. He’s here for publicity, to keep up appearances, even though the last thing he wants is to be thrust into the spotlight tonight.

Not when you are walking in the show.

He tries not to hold his breath as each new model struts down the sleek crimson catwalk. He’s successful at keeping his cool, nodding occasionally at a particularly striking outfit, until suddenly … there you are.

You emerge from the backstage wings, a vision in deep Ferrari red from head to toe. But it’s not just a dress or evening gown. No, the Spanish flag and bold 55 displayed proudly on the front of the outfit leave no doubt — you’re wearing a feminine version of his teammate’s race suit.

Charles’ jaw goes slack as you move with confidence, head held high, every inch the picture of poise and strength. Of a woman who has moved on, left him and their broken relationship in the rearview mirror.

His hands clench in his lap as you pivot at the end of the runway. Even from here, he can see that characteristic glint in your eyes, the spark that had drawn him to you in the first place. The same spark that had been extinguished in those final moments at your shared apartment.

As the show wraps up and the other models join you, Charles rises shakily. He knows he shouldn’t, knows he has no right. But the masochistic urge to see you up close, to try and speak to you for the first time in months, is overpowering.

He makes his way backstage, flashing his credentials to bypass security. A deafening mix of cheers and laughter guides him towards the dressing area, where he finds a cluster of models still in their runway looks, giddily celebrating.

And there you are in the center, radiant and alive in a way he hasn’t seen in so long. A tall, broad-shouldered man he doesn’t recognize moves towards you, a massive bouquet of red roses in his hand.

Something dark and ugly rears up in Charles’ chest as the man leans down, offering you the flowers with a brilliant smile. Your returning grin is equally bright as you accept them, lifting the vibrant blooms to inhale their sweet scent.

Of course you have suitors lining up, Charles thinks bitterly. Look at you — confident, successful, leaving him and your painful history together far behind. Who wouldn’t want to give their entire heart to someone like you?

The irrational flare of jealousy is like acid in his veins as you turn to the man, mouth opening to undoubtedly offer your gratitude. But then, shockingly, the man simply pivots towards a nearby male model, gripping his lapels and pulling him into a searing kiss.

Charles blinks dumbly as the pair continue their heated embrace, seemingly oblivious to the raucous cheers and whoops from the other models, you included.

Even as the tight knot of jealousy in Charles’ chest loosens, it’s replaced by something worse — a sinking feeling of regret as he watches you from his hidden vantage point.

You look … happy.

Vibrant.

Surrounded by friends and uplifted by your success, without him holding you back with his selfish mistakes.

Why did he ever think confronting you backstage was a good idea? You’ve clearly moved on to an exciting new chapter, one he has no place in. Not after how much he broke you, shattered the loving core you’d shared.

You throw your head back in a full-bellied laugh at something one of the other models says. Even from here, even with the distance he forced between you, the uninhibited joy on your face in that moment cuts straight to Charles’ heart.

“Hey, you lost back here?” A rough voice breaks into his thoughts. Charles turns to find a burly security guard eyeing him suspiciously.

“I … no. No, I was just leaving.” Charles forces his feet into motion, turning on his heel to all but flee from the scene of your happiness.

As painful as it is seeing how beautifully you’re thriving without him, he has no one to blame but himself. He’s the one who threw away the greatest thing he ever had. You owe him nothing, certainly not delaying your healing by dredging up the past.

Even if watching you move on cuts deeper than any physical wound.

***

The salty Sardinian breeze ruffles Charles’ hair as he leans back on the plush deck lounger, soaking in the warm August sun. For the first few days of their annual family yacht trip, he’d felt the knots of tension slowly unraveling from his shoulders as the clear blue waters and simple routines of life at sea worked their magic.

His mother’s gentle humming as she read nearby, the sounds of his brothers horsing around and doing cannonballs off the stern, the nights spent under a blanket of stars — it had almost been enough to fully distract him from thoughts of you.

Almost.

But of course, nothing can ever be that simple.

“What the hell is that!” Arthur’s annoyed shout breaks the tranquil silence.

Charles squints against the glare over the water to see what his brother is griping about. At first, it’s just a speck on the horizon. But as it draws nearer, he can make out the sleek, gleaming white lines of another yacht — one nearly triple the size of his own comparatively modest vessel.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Charles mutters under his breath as the ostentatious floating palace drops anchor mere yards from their private little cove. So much for the serenity they’d been enjoying.

He rises, moving to the railing with narrowed eyes as the other yacht’s passengers begin to emerge on the decks above them, raucous cheers and laughter cutting through the previously still air. The sound is abrasive, grating on Charles’ very last nerve.

Until a very specific, very familiar laugh rings out.

It can’t be … can it?

Charles freezes, his heart jackrabbiting as your unmistakable voice and bright, bubbling giggle reach him across the waters. He watches, feeling like he’s been doused in ice water, as you come into view alongside a group of equally vibrant, beautiful people.

Of course it’s you. Who else could it possibly be, here to upend his few days of hard-won peace?

You lean over the railing, your sunglasses sliding down your nose as you peer down at the crystal clear waters. Even from here, even with the distance separating you, Charles is struck by your radiant, carefree smile. When was the last time he saw you look so … effortlessly happy?

Before he can spiral too far down that winding road, you whip off your sunglasses and straighten, pulling the flowing fabric of your cover-up over your head in one smooth motion. You toss it aside carelessly, revealing the deep navy string bikini underneath as you take a few steps back from the railing.

Charles’ mouth goes dry as he tracks the sway of your hips, the confident, easy way you carry yourself in just that tiny scrap of swimwear. And then, with a bright peal of laughter, you’re sprinting forward and sailing over the railing, tucking into a flawless backflip before slicing into the glittering waves below.

A chorus of cheers and whoops erupts from your friends as they follow your graceful leap, one by one pelting into the water in your wake like a stream of sleek dolphin dancers. Charles watches, his earlier frustration morphing into something darker and much more complicated, as your head breaks the surface, tendrils of your soaked hair clinging to the graceful curves of your neck and shoulders.

You toss your head back, slicking the dripping strands away from your face as you tread water easily, that brilliant, freed smile never slipping. How long has it been since Charles saw you look so radiant, so at peace, so … alive?

“Mon ami, close your mouth before you start drooling all over the deck.”

Joris’ voice startles Charles from his reverie. He blinks, only then realizing his hands are clenched tightly around the cool metal railing, knuckles straining white. His best friend arches an expectant brow as Charles quickly averts his eyes, flushing hotly.

“I wasn’t ...” he starts weakly, but Joris simply scoffs.

“Yeah, okay mate. Keep telling yourself that.” Joris settles in beside him, bare feet kicked up on the railing as his eyes track over to your group, now engaged in an intense game of chicken fight among the gentle waves. “She looks good, doesn’t she?”

The resentful scowl that tugs at Charles’ mouth is automatic, instinctive. “I couldn’t care less how she looks,” he lies through gritted teeth.

Even to his own ears, the petulant deflection sounds pathetic. Joris raises an unimpressed brow. “Could’ve fooled me, with how you were eye-fucking her from over here just now.”

Charles’ flush deepens as your bright, delighted laughter rings out again, echoing across the waters. “It’s not like that,” he insists, even as his gaze traitorously tracks after the source of that sound. “I was just … surprised to see her here, that’s all.”

“Sure, yeah. And I’m the Prince of Monaco.” Joris snorts, shaking his head. “Listen, man, I get it-”

“You don’t get anything,” Charles bites out, rounding on his friend as frustration boils over. “You have no idea what it’s like seeing her like … like that, after everything. She’s just moved on like our entire relationship meant nothing!”

The ugly admission hangs between them in the still air, Charles panting slightly from the force of the outburst. Joris watches him cautiously for a long moment before speaking. “That’s not fair, Charles. You’re the one who-”

“I know!” Charles cuts him off sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I know what I did, alright? You don’t have to remind me.”

He sinks back against the railing, suddenly exhausted down to his very bones. Out across the waves, you’re perched atop one of your friend’s shoulders, engaged in an epic battle against another pair that’s quickly devolving into a fit of violent splashing.

“I know I screwed everything up. I have to live with that every single day.” Charles’ throat feels tight, watched. “I just … I never thought I’d have to watch her being so happy without me too.”

The fight seems to leave Joris as he takes in Charles’ miserable, broken expression. The other man sighs, squeezing Charles’ shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry. That’s … that’s got to be tough as hell to see. But you can’t blame her for moving on and being happy again, you know? What you did … well, you really broke her heart.”

Charles doesn’t respond, letting the words hang heavy between them as your melodic laugh continues to drift towards them. He knows Joris is right — he has no one to blame for this gut-wrenching situation but himself. But that doesn’t make watching your vibrant, beautiful soul shine so bright without him there any easier.

***

Charles guides his Ferrari up to the valet stand outside one of his favorite restaurants in Monaco, the engine purring like a contented cat. He throws the car into park and kills the ignition, savoring that last potent growl of the powerful motor.

There’s just something different about a Ferrari, something quintessentially Italian and bred for speed. He runs an appreciative hand along the sleek black curve of the door as he waits for the valet. This is a beast made for the racetrack, for pushing past limits. Not like those garish, overcompensating-

The loud rumble of another engine cuts into his thoughts. Charles looks up in disdain as a blinding yellow Lamborghini pulls up.

“Trying too hard, as always,” Charles mutters to himself as he watches the valet park the ostentatious machine. Could a car be any more desperate for attention? Absolutely zero class or restraint.

He climbs out, already half-dismissing it from his mind, when a familiar figure emerges from the restaurant entrance. The valet is hastening to assist, offering a hand as she descends the front steps in a form-fitting crimson dress. Even from here, even with the perfectly curled hair and smokey makeup, Charles would know the line of those shoulders, the elegant curve of her neck anywhere.

You.

His breath catches as you smile warmly at the young valet, sliding him what looks like a generous tip before slipping into the driver’s seat of the garish yellow Lamborghini and roaring off without a backwards glance.

Charles is still gaping after you, mouth slightly ajar, when the second valet appears at his side.

“Good evening, monsieur. Shall I park your car for you?”

He blinks dumbly for a moment before recovering. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Sliding the young man his own tip, Charles pivots on his heel and strides into the elegant dining room, mind whirling. Of all the cars in the world, he never would have pegged you for a Lamborghini person.

Then again, he clearly doesn’t know you like he thought he did. Not the new you, the version free of him and his betrayals.

He takes his usual table in the back corner, ordering an expensive Chianti before he can even glance at the menu. Tonight calls for relying on old vices. As he swirls the deep burgundy liquid, he finds himself drifting back to your matching crimson dress, how it clung to your curves in such a delicious way.

Even when you were furious with him, you could never quite hide the passion that smoldered underneath. Charles had spent many blissful nights stoking those flames, coaxing them into an all-consuming wildfire of want and need. He misses the scorching heat of your desire, your clever hands and wicked mouth setting his body ablaze.

He closes his eyes, letting the memory of your bare skin flush against his wash over him. Those nights of tangled limbs and breathy gasps, when nothing else mattered but struggling to get impossibly closer, as if your very beings could meld into one.

With a frustrated groan, Charles slams back the rest of his wine. What is he doing, torturing himself with memories of your lovemaking? You’ve clearly moved on to new chapters, new … cars. New everything, really.

And yet he can’t quite extinguish the gnawing sense of dissonance. A Lamborghini? Something so utterly over-the-top and desperate for attention just doesn’t seem like your style. You were always more understated … more elegant.

Not that it matters, he reminds himself firmly. Whatever choices you make now are no longer any of his business. He systematically strips away the judgements, the fragile sense of still knowing you intimately. After what he did, he sacrificed that right completely.

The waiter reappears with a fresh glass of wine and Charles takes it gratefully. He’s determined to focus on learning to untangle you from his thoughts and simply enjoy his evening. He came here for the ambiance, the food, the escape.

But no matter how he tries, your image keeps invading his mind’s eye — sliding into that sunshine yellow machine, stunning in that slinky red number and your lips curved in a contented smile. Content without him still lingering in the shadowed corners of your life.

And then it hits him like a slap across the face — you in that screaming yellow Lamborghini wasn’t about attention at all. It was the opposite — a declaration of fierce independence. Of staking your own claim, making your own flagrantly joyful choices without a care for his opinions or approval. Free from his reputation, his expectations, his name.

The realization is like a punch to the gut, stealing his breath. You’ve remade yourself so thoroughly, forging a vibrant path that has absolutely nothing to do with him. While he’s been stuck in neutral, spinning his wheels and passively watching you soar out of reach.

A strange sense of loss washes over Charles. As badly as he’d wanted you to find your way again after his unforgivable betrayal, he can’t deny how disorienting it is to realize you’re not the same woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

You’re a new version, one he isn’t familiar with at all. One who makes choices and carries herself in a way he doubts he’ll ever fully understand, no matter how much he wishes he could go back and undo every selfish mistake that set these changes into motion.

Charles blinks against the unexpected sting in his eyes as he stares at the table. On some deeper level, he knows this remolding of your identity, this blossoming into someone both thrillingly unfamiliar yet unmistakably you, should be cause for celebration. It means you’re healing, leaving his mistakes in the past and coming into your own again in spite of his ugliest failures.

He just wishes he didn’t have to watch the entire metamorphosis from a distance.

***

Charles squints against the bright morning sunlight as he strides through the paddock towards his garage. A slight chill still clings to the air, promising another sweltering afternoon session once the sun reaches its peak. He adjusts his cap lower over his eyes, trying not to dwell too much on the practice times from yesterday. There’s still so much fine-tuning needed to find those crucial extra tenths of a second.

Passing by the Red Bull motorhome, a flash of familiar flowing hair catches his eye. Charles freezes mid-step, his heart stuttering. It couldn’t be … could it?

But then the figure moves fully into view and there’s no mistaking the delicate slope of your jaw and those cheekbones he knows as well as his own reflection. It’s definitely you, slipping inside the sleek facade of the Red Bull motorhome with an easy smile.

Charles blinks dumbly, certain his eyes must be playing tricks on him. Why in the world would you be going into the Red Bull motorhome? You never had any connection to their team or drivers before, back when ...

When you were still together.

Charles swallows hard, dragging his gaze away. He must have imagined it. Sometimes his subconscious still gets carried away, superimposing your presence into random moments or places like an echo of a life he can never return to. Seeing you here, intertwined with his racing world in some way, is just too improbable.

Shaking off the strange moment, he refocuses on the day ahead. But over the next two days, he can’t seem to avoid catching glimpses of you around the Red Bull garage and hospitality areas. There you are chatting with one of their engineers just outside their motorhome entrance. Then sharing a hushed conversation off to the side with their chief strategist.

Finally, on Sunday just before the race, he watches with raised eyebrows as you throw your head back laughing at something Max Verstappen says, the Red Bull driver’s own grin wide and appreciative.

Some sort of friendship surely couldn’t explain this level of access and familiarity could it? A sour knot of suspicion begins twisting in Charles’ gut. There’s no way … no way Max would ...

But he has to know.

As the Formula 1 circus begins packing up after the race, Charles spots you slipping away from the Red Bull group once more, clearly headed back to their closed-off sanctuary. He watches Max linger outside, fiddling idly with his cap as he waits.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Charles doesn’t even think, just lets his feet carry him across the crowded paddock until he’s standing across from his fellow driver.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The accusation comes out half-snarl before he can stop himself.

Max turns, eyebrows shooting up. “... Charles? What are you on about?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Charles jabs a finger back towards the motorhome you disappeared into. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been with her all weekend. How you two can’t seem to get enough of each other’s company.”

Realization dawns and Max actually has the audacity to laugh. “Wait … is this about Y/N? You jealous she’s been hanging around our team?”

White-hot fury lances through Charles and he has to grit his teeth against the heated words that want to come spilling out. “You think this is funny? Cozying up to my ex-fianceé less than a year after I lost her? What, you couldn’t find someone else so you had to go after her?”

Max shakes his head slowly, clearly fighting to keep his expression neutral. “Damn … I didn’t realize the great Charles Leclerc makes the rules on who Y/N can associate with these days.”

The blatant dismissal in his tone is like a physical slap. Charles recoils slightly before squaring his shoulders. “Don’t turn this around on me. I know what I saw, how cozy you two were-”

“Easy there, tiger.” Max cuts him off, holding up one hand placatingly. “First of all, Y/N and I are just friends. I happen to have my own gorgeous girlfriend, but thanks for looking out.”

He pauses, letting the implication that Charles is being irrational and out-of-line sink in. When Charles doesn’t immediately retort, Max continues.

“Second … you seem to have conveniently forgotten that you’re the one who threw away your life with Y/N. The one who cheated and broke her heart. You don’t get to dictate a damn thing about who she spends time with or how she chooses to live her life now.”

The words slam into Charles with brutal force, knocking the breath from his lungs. Because Max is right — he has no claim here, no right to make assumptions or demands. Not after what he did.

Seeming to sense he’s scored a direct hit, Max shakes his head again. “Look, I get it’s probably hard watching her move on fully, start over without you. But that’s on you, not her. You’re going to have to learn to deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

The quiet truth in his voice is like a white-hot brand. Charles swallows hard, suddenly incapable of meeting Max’s level gaze.

“Then … then why has she been around your team so much?” It comes out sounding more petulant than he intended, a desperate scramble to regain some levity. “If she’s not … you know ...”

Max huffs out a soft laugh, stooping to retrieve his discarded cap. “That answer isn’t mine to give.” He slides it back on, fixing Charles with one last searching look. “But if I had to guess? She’s putting herself first now. Pursuing her own path, one that has nothing to do with you anymore.”

He turns towards the Red Bull motorhome, tossing his final phrase over his shoulder. “I’d get used to it, if I were you.”

Charles watches him disappear inside, leaving him rooted in place and feeling completely lost. The crowd continues to disperse around him, teams and personnel breaking down equipment and packing things away.

Yet Max’s words keep ricocheting through his mind on an endless loop.

She’s pursuing her own path now. One that has nothing to do with you anymore.

It makes perfect sense of course — the laughter, the camaraderie, the ease of her presence in Red Bull’s inner sanctum. The seamless way she navigated their ecosystem all weekend long while Charles remained oblivious.

Because you’ve fully remade your entire existence into one that no longer intersects with his whatsoever.

As the paddock slowly empties around him, Charles finally forces one foot in front of the other, his legs feeling like overcooked noodles. Part of him wants to stick around until you reemerge, to demand that you explain this bold new reality you’ve carved out.

But what would be the point? You don’t owe him any explanations, any part of your life now. Those days are over, gone forever thanks to his own bone-deep failings.

So he keeps walking, leaving you and your mystery behind. After all, hadn’t you made it crystal clear from the very beginning?

This was your path to reclaim now, a future that was yours and yours alone to chase.

***

Charles frowns down at the envelope in his hand as he pushes open the door to his apartment, his mind still half-focused on the looming Austrian Grand Prix. The return address is from some high-end clothing boutique in Paris, but it’s the name neatly printed below that makes his heart stutter.

Y/N Y/L/N.

For a long moment, he simply stands there in the entryway, turning the innocent envelope over and over in his hands. How did this slip through the cracks and wind up here, at what used to be your shared home before everything combusted?

He traces the graceful swoop of your name with one finger, memories flickering through his mind’s eye. Coming home from races to find you curled up on the sofa with the latest fashion magazines scattered around you, making notes in the margins. Or catching you in the huge walk-in closet the two of you designed together, carefully hanging up some new couture purchase with a reverent touch.

You always did have impeccable taste. Charles can’t even find it in himself to judge the fancy Parisian boutique’s stationary now clutched in his hands.

Making a split-second decision, he spins on his heel and heads right back out the door, letter in hand. If this innocuous slip of mail made its way here by some shipping error, it’s the perfect excuse to … what? See you again? Try to explain himself one more time?

He’s not sure, but either way, the pull to seek you out is utterly irresistible now that this connection has fallen into his lap. Charles makes it two blocks before realizing with a start that he has absolutely no idea where you’re living these days.

The logical side of his brain reminds him he could simply call or text to get your new address and make arrangements to pass the letter along. But the thought of such mundane formalities after all this time, after the way things were upended so brutally, is laughable.

So instead he lets his feet guide him towards the upscale apartment building you lived in before moving into his place. There’s a chance the leasing office might have a forwarding address on file he can use. A small voice whispers that this is almost certainly a futile quest, that you’ve no doubt successfully untangled every last thread of your life from his.

But he has to try.

The lobby is blessedly quiet, devoid of the usual bustle and foot traffic he remembers from past visits. Charles straightens his shoulders and approaches the front desk, where a youngish woman with a bright smile greets him.

“Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I’m actually trying to track down the new address for a former tenant — Y/N Y/L/N?” He carefully pencils in the last name, watching as the woman’s face scrunches in thought for a beat before her eyes widen in recognition.

“Of course, Mademoiselle Y/L/N. One moment.”

She taps efficiently at her computer, scanning whatever information has popped up on the screen. Just watching her work makes Charles’ heart kick up its rhythm in nervous anticipation.

“Ah, yes, here we are. It seems Mademoiselle Y/L/N moved out around three months ago. She actually left instructions for any further mail that slips through to be forwarded to ...”

She pauses, glancing up at Charles with newfound curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Are you a relative, sir? Mademoiselle Y/L/N requested her new address only be released to family.”

“I’m … an old friend,” he answers carefully, unsure if that bends the truth too far or not. “We used to be very close.”

The woman’s polite smile dims ever-so-slightly at his choice of words, like she can read the subtext loud and clear. Used to be very close … until he completely obliterated that closeness.

“I see,” she says neutrally. “Well, in that case, I’m afraid I can’t provide her new contact details without explicit permission. But the residents currently leasing her old unit have been directly forwarding any mail to her, if that would help?”

It’s not ideal, but a frustratingly belated realization stops Charles from arguing further — you clearly requested your whereabouts be kept private now, at least from him. Probably a wise decision, all things considered.

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you.”

She rattles off the apartment number and Charles commits it to memory with a polite nod before turning to leave. As he crosses the airy lobby once more, he can’t resist glancing up towards the corner unit he knows was yours, absently wondering if someone else’s belongings line those shelves now, if there are new photos or mementos dotting the surfaces where yours once stood.

He shakes off the melancholy pang — you’ve forged an entirely new existence somewhere far away. Of course your old place has been repopulated, just like all the love you breathed into it has dissipated like smoke.

The apartment door opens after the third solid knock, revealing a twenty-something woman with a confused furrow in her brow. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m actually here about a piece of mail for the previous tenant? The front desk said to bring it here.” Charles quickly proffers the letter before she can raise further objections or shut the door in his face completely.

“Oh.” She accepts it hesitantly, turning it over in her hands just like Charles had done earlier. “Yeah, the last tenant did leave instructions for stuff like this, now that you mention it ...”

She trails off, eyes narrowing slightly as she studies him more intently. He knows that look, can pinpoint the exact moment realization blossoms.

“Wait … you’re not Charles Leclerc, are you?”

So much for anonymity. He opens his mouth, fully prepared to deny and deflect as the tension stretches between them-

“Oh my god, you are!” The young woman actually gasps, one hand flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes go saucer-wide. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you. I mean, sorry about … you know. That entire situation with Y/N. My boyfriend is such a fan of yours though, I can’t even-”

“It’s alright,” Charles cuts her off on pure instinct, the words rushing out in a bid to stem the conversational swerve that’s clearly brewing. “I actually stopped by to pass that letter along, but also see if there’s a current address where I could reach Y/N? Perhaps send her things directly from now on.”

His polite inquiry has the desired effect — the woman’s starry-eyed expression shutters again as she refocuses. “Ah, well, about that … Y/N asked for anything like this to be forwarded to an address in Austria once she moved there. Let me grab that for you.”

Charles waits in silence as she ducks back inside, busying herself with finding the details. Austria? Of all places, why would you have relocated to-

“Got it.” She reappears, a small slip of paper in her outstretched hand. “This is where you can send anything for Y/N. Though I obviously don’t know all the details about … you know. Your situation.”

He takes the slip without comment, just a curt nod of acknowledgement. The woman rocks back on her heels, worrying her lower lip slightly.

“For what it’s worth … I think it’s really cool you’ve tried to stay in contact, you know? Even after everything. That’s commitment.”

Her sincere tone grates against the ugly truth they’re both tap-dancing around — that he’s the one who torched your commitment beyond repair with his selfish actions.

“Thanks,” is all he can muster, already turning away and pocketing the slip of paper with your new Austrian address before she can say anything further.

As he retraces his steps to the ground floor, Charles finds himself clutching the envelope even tighter, knuckles going white. So you’ve fled all the way to Austria now, put an entire nation’s length between your old life and whatever rising present you’re building. No wonder you didn’t want your location breathed to just anyone, let alone the man who detonated your world.

Well, he got what he came for in more ways than one. He has your new address now, the roadmap to whatever path you’ve started down without him sketched out in his hands. Part of him longs to deviate from his own schedule and just … show up, uninvited, on your new doorstep. To try and explain himself, or at least attempt to understand what grander journey you’ve embarked on.

But the same voice that cautioned him earlier rings out once more — you’ve made it perfectly clear you want to sever any remaining ties or connections to him, no matter how tenuous. Perhaps out of necessity to fully heal or simply because you’re done having any part of Charles Leclerc tarnish your horizons any longer.

Either way, you’ve spoken through your silence and distance. Chasing you down now, while perhaps gratifying a selfish impulse of his own, would only disrespect the boundaries you’ve erected.

As Charles reaches his car and slides in behind the wheel, he can’t resist rereading the brief string of characters and numbers that make up your new address. He commits them to memory, sketching out a crude map in his mind’s eye of where exactly this secluded town lies in the looping alpine valleys and mountain peaks.

Part of him longs to program the coordinates into his GPS immediately, to seek you out while this connection still blazes hot and bright between you. But harsh realities keep crashing in — the Austrian Grand Prix is only days away, his own commitments and schedule unforgiving.

No, the wise choice would be to simply send the wayward letter on to its intended destination. To let you live in peace, unburdened by his disruptive presence any longer.

As Charles fires up the engine and eases out onto the main street, he catches one last glimpse of your old apartment building shrinking in the rearview mirror. He thinks of the wide-eyed woman’s parting comment about “commitment” and has to laugh bitterly.

Commitment is precisely what he failed to uphold, the whispered promises he shattered into pieces with his own calloused hands. You owe him no further explanations, no more fragments of yourself after he decimated the love you shared.

The seconds will stretch on towards the next race, the next city, the next routine of focused preparation. But part of Charles’ mind will linger in that small Austrian town, caught in the mystery of the new life you’ve built.

A life he has no right to reinsert himself into, not anymore. All he can do is wish you well from a distance and keep putting kilometers between you with every spin of his tires.

Kilometers and kilometers of regret.

***

Charles stares down at the navigation screen, his thumb hovering over the go button. This is ridiculous — completely irrational and just begging for disaster. He has no business showing up unannounced like this, disrupting whatever new life you’ve so carefully constructed.

And yet … the Austrian address you have been forwarding mail to is already programmed in, glowing softly with the swipe of his finger. He could be there in just over nine hours, barring any major delays on the route into Salzburg province.

His mind races, cycling through every logical argument for abandoning this reckless idea immediately. You’re entitled to your privacy, your fresh start far away from the wreckage he created. Anything more would be him selfishly barging back into your existence, the one place he swore to never intrude again.

Against his better judgement, Charles swipes the go button. Almost instantly, the robotic voice begins spouting turn-by-turn directions, the path to your doorstep stretching out in vivid digital detail.

What’s done is done. He’ll simply … take it one step at a time.

The winding Alpine roads are a marvel of feats in civil engineering, the roadways expertly carved into the towering rock faces in sweeping vistas. Even Charles, who has logged countless miles of serpentine racetracks and courses around the globe, can’t help admiring the impossible scenery whipping past.

Evergreen forests give way to snow-capped peaks reaching into the crisp blue sky. ancient castles and towering church spires alike keep popping into view around each new switchback turn. He can’t shake the nagging sense that this entire region is something ripped from the pages of a storybook, a landscape too perfectly picturesque to be real.

Which is perhaps why the sight of the enormous wrought-iron gates materializing up ahead doesn’t immediately faze him at all.

“You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS chirps pleasantly as Charles slows the Ferrari, trying to comprehend the sprawling estate now stretching out before him. This can’t possibly be right, can it?

Lush gardens and perfectly manicured shrubbery serpentine around the perimeter in intricate geometric patterns, eventually yielding to an emerald green meadow dotted with ancient growth trees. A gravel path splits the sweeping lawns up ahead, clearly carving a wide berth around … is that an actual lakehouse?

Charles blinks in stunned stupor, instinctively searching for some sort of address marker or sign as he creeps up the main drive towards the gates. Instead, his eyes are drawn to the imposing manor itself, all honey-colored stone and arched windows that wouldn’t look out of place in a Renaissance fresco. Turrets and spires spiral upwards towards the cloudless sky, practically winking in the summer sunshine.

This has to be some colossal mistake.

He’s fully prepared to simply turn around and peel back out of this fairytale estate when the crackle of a speaker breaks the silence.

“Hallo? This is a private residence. Please identify yourself and state your business.” The clipped, accented words carry an undeniable tone of authority.

Shit. Charles swallows hard against his suddenly dry throat, throwing the car into park as he leans towards the callbox mounted on the ivy-laced exterior wall.

“Ah, yes, hello … my name is Charles Leclerc. I’m actually here to-” He breaks off, fresh uncertainty bubbling up. He’s here to what, exactly? Catch a glimpse of the new life you’ve created? Throw himself at your feet and beg forgiveness once more?

“One moment, please,” the disembodied voice instructs crisply before the line goes dead silent once more.

Charles sits back, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. He should go, right now before this reaches the point of no return. He could simply turn around, act like this was all some misguided joke and leave you undisturbed. It’s the mature, sensible choice.

Instead, his pulse kicks up into a furious gallop as the massive front gates begin slowly grinding open with a metal groan, clear invitation to proceed. Charles doesn’t move for a long beat, waiting for the second half of the intercom to bark out a warning, for security to appear and politely hustle him off the premises.

But nothing. The gates yawn open further, revealing the full splendor of the estate lying in wait beyond.

Before he can think better of it, Charles eases the Ferrari forward. The crunch of the pale gravel beneath his tires seems to echo off the looming stone walls as he winds deeper into the property, the boundaries blurring between reality and a dreamscape more suited for the silver screen.

Finally, he rounds the last curve and the manor in its full glory stretches out before him. Every inch of the sprawling facade is a carved, architectural marvel — from the polished lintels to the intricate mouldings encircling each enormous window and doorway.

He kills the engine and simply sits there, once again grappling with unprecedented uncertainty. What was he thinking, assuming he could just brazenly roll up and … what? Vent months worth of grievances and miscommunications in a casual chat? As if the life you’ve so clearly cultivated here could ever intersect with his own beaten path again?

Charles climbs out of the car on legs that seem determined to wobble out from under him. He’s vaguely aware of the thunder of footsteps on stone before one of the massive oak front doors swings wide and a figure fills the entryway.

“Charles Leclerc, I presume?” The man’s sharp tone instantly catches Charles off guard. He’s younger than expected, perhaps mid-thirties, with an athletic build and carefully groomed dark hair. Despite the informal lounge pants and linen shirt, an unmistakable air of assurance rolls off him in waves.

“Er … yes. Hello.” Charles hears the uncertainty edging into his own greeting, quickly scrambling to fill the conversational pause. “I didn’t realize Y/N had … household staff now.”

The words are out before he can fully snatch them back. The man’s expression doesn’t so much as flicker, but there’s suddenly a tension charging the space between them that has Charles’ palms prickling with sweat.

“I’ll inform her you’ve arrived,” the man says at last, his intense gaze scanning over Charles slowly from head to toe.

Is that judgment blending into the appraisal? Regardless, Charles feels abruptly self-conscious — he hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of such frank scrutiny today. But then again, he’s the one who inserted himself into unknown territory here.

“If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the receiving hall?” The open doorway and subtle tilt of the man’s head is clear invitation, one Charles has no choice but to mutely accept.

He climbs the three stairs to the arched entrance, pausing just before the threshold to turn back with furrowed brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your-”

“Mark.” The reply is clipped but courteous enough, at least. “Y/N should be down shortly.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and disappears through the foyer, leaving Charles to hover there alone for a beat too long before finally stepping across the threshold. Each footfall on the gleaming marble seems to ricochet off the domed ceiling above, bouncing back in mocking echoes.

As his gaze travels around the cavernous space, roving over the hanging art and intricate tilework, Charles can’t quite bite back the breathless huff of amazement.

Where in the actual hell are you living, Y/N?

***

Charles follows a step behind Mark as the other man leads them deeper into the estate. He can’t resist craning his neck, taking in every jaw-dropping detail — the soaring archways, the intricate brickwork, the Venetian plaster and artworks adorning the walls.

It’s the art itself that begins nagging at him first. Charles frowns slightly as they pass yet another larger-than-life canvas, this one emblazoned with the distinctive Red Bull logo and colors. Then a series of framed photographs, all seeming to depict different angles and events tied to the racing team.

“You must be quite a fan of Red Bull,” he finds himself commenting as they round a corner.

Mark half-turns, one eyebrow quirked. “You could say that.”

There’s an undercurrent to his tone that Charles can’t quite put his finger on. Before he can pry further, they emerge into some sort of sitting room or receiving area, the walls giving way to a bright, airy ambiance.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Mark gestures towards one of the plush sofas arranged in the center of the space. “I’ll have the staff inform Y/N you’re here.”

Charles nods, still trying to absorb the sheer opulence around him as he takes a seat. How in the world did you find yourself situated in a place like this? The nagging questions about Mark’s potential connection to the Red Bull team continue to swirl.

He’s pulled from his ruminations by the sound of your voice filtering down the hallway, breezing and melodic as ever.

“Babe? You down here?”

Charles stiffens instinctively at the endearment, his eyes snapping over to where Mark is casually lounging back against the opposite sofa. There’s no missing the tender smile playing across the other man’s lips.

“In the sitting room, liebling. We have a guest.”

The teasing lilt in his response has Charles’ skin prickling with something he can’t quite identify. He rises halfway as your footsteps grow nearer, not wanting to seem rude by remaining fully seated.

“Oh, a guest! Who-”

You sweep into the room still chattering away cheerfully, entirely oblivious until your gaze finally lands squarely on Charles. The breath punches out of you in a surprised rush, your entire body going rigid as the words die on your lips.

For an endless heartbeat, you simply stare at Charles, motionless but for the slight part of your lips. He watches as a faint flush blossoms high on your cheekbones, long lashes fluttering rapidly.

“... Charles? What are you doing here?”

He blinks dumbly at the sound of your voice, hushed with disbelief yet still so familiar after all this time. “I … you got a letter. From Paris, I think. It arrived at our — at my old place by mistake.”

Cursing his stammering, Charles reaches automatically for his inner jacket pocket, fumbling until he can produce the crumpled envelope bearing your name. “I didn’t know if other things might keep getting sent there, so I thought ...”

He trails off lamely, unable to properly articulate the impulse that propelled him all this way. To deliver one measly piece of mail? To re-establish some connection, no matter how fragile? He realizes with a start that you’ve moved closer, extending one hand to gently accept the letter from him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, eyes momentarily skittering away from his probing gaze. “That was very considerate.”

The moment stretches out, silence expanding in the cavernous space. Charles watches as your free hand flutters unconsciously upwards to fiddle with the collar of your shirt, struggling to find his voice once more.

“I didn’t realize you had, ah … you had a place like this now.” His attempt at nonchalance is so piss-poor he wants to cringe. “And … company, I suppose?”

A delicate snort from the other side of the room reminds Charles he’s not alone with you. His gaze snaps over to find Mark watching the exchange with an inquisitive smirk, arms crossed casually over his chest.

“Company?” He echoes the word airily, igniting a fresh bloom of color in your cheeks. “This must be terribly confusing for you.”

In one seamless motion, Mark unfolds himself from the sofa and crosses the short distance to your side, slipping one possessive arm around your waist. The intimacy of the gesture has Charles’ mouth going dry.

“Allow me to clarify — I’m Mark. Mark Mateschitz.” The subtle emphasis on the surname hits Charles like a bucket of ice water, comprehension crashing over him in waves.

“Mateschitz?” He hears himself repeating dumbly. “As in … Dietrich Mateschitz? The founder of Red Bull?”

Mark’s grin stretches into something wolfishly triumphant at Charles’ stunned expression. “The very same. My father.”

He lets the implication expand in the silence barreling down on them from all sides. Charles numbly finds the nearest armchair and sinks into it, struggling to fully process the revelation.

Of course. All the Red Bull imagery and iconography made so much more sense now. This sprawling, palatial estate clearly belonged to the family behind the team and brand, the multinational empire. Which meant … you weren’t simply a friendly acquaintance chumming around the Red Bull garages.

No, you were with the actual Mateschitz heir, the current co-owner of the goddamn company himself.

The sound of you softly clearing your throat breaks through his whirling thoughts. When Charles glances up, the vision that greets him is like a vise around his heart — you and Mark cuddled close together on the loveseat, his arm still looped possessively around your waist as you toy absently with the ends of his dark hair. Two people radiating intimacy and comfort, completely at home in one another’s embrace.

“We met during a Wings for Life charity run, actually,” you offer at last, almost as an olive branch. “We just … hit it off, I suppose. One thing led to another and … well, here we are.”

Mark’s fingers trail in a barely-there caress up and down your arm as you speak, his gaze locked adoringly on your profile. The look is so tender, so inescapably fond that it makes Charles’ chest constrict painfully.

“She’s a force of nature,” Mark says simply, the corners of his eyes crinkling with quiet mirth. “What else could I do but get caught up in her orbit?”

A flush blossoms high on your cheeks, but you don’t turn away, holding Mark’s fond gaze steadily. In that moment, the love you two share is almost a tangible force, shimmering and alive in the air between you. It’s beautiful and devastating all at once.

“I, uh, I should go.” The words leave Charles in a dazed mumble before he can reconsider. He rises abruptly, needing to create space between himself and the intimacies unfolding so easily in front of him.

As if snapping out of a reverie, you look up sharply. “Charles, wait-”

“No, really, it’s fine.” He tries valiantly to paste on a casual smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Thank you again for … well, you know. I’m sure I can see myself out.”

Turning on his heel, Charles makes it no more than two strides before your voice stops him once more, tinged with gentle exasperation.

“That’s the library you’re heading for. Here, let me ...”

You gently disentangle yourself from Mark’s embrace and cross the room towards a different set of double doors. Charles watches in silence as you lead the way through winding hallway after hallway with an effortless grace. Of course you know the layout of this palatial mansion like the back of your hand — this is your home now, your life.

The thought churns bitterly in his gut even as you both finally reach the arched front entrance. You turn back to face him, mouth twisting in that familiar apologetic quirk he knows so well.

“Listen, I know this was … unexpected. And maybe not the easiest thing to process.” You huff out a soft laugh, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear almost shyly. “But I’m glad you stopped by, despite everything. It was … nice to see you again.”

He blinks dumbly, at a loss for words in the face of your warm sincerity. This entire interaction has been an avalanche of emotions — the shock of discovering your romantic entanglement with the Mateschitz heir, the painful pang of watching you two’s intimacy on display, and now the remnants of affection in your tone as you bid him farewell.

It’s simply … too much. Too many conflicting feelings to deal with when his heart still bears the scar tissue of your break up.

“You too,” is all he can manage in return, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. “I, uh … I should get going if I want to make it to Spielberg before media day.”

You nod, seeming to understand his unspoken need to retreat and regroup. “Of course. Well, safe travels then.”

“We’ll see you at the Red Bull Ring,” Mark pipes up from behind you, his voice cutting through the tension with surprising joviality. “It is our home race this weekend, after all. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The reminder that you’ll be perpetually woven into the fabric of his racing life from now on hits Charles with the force of a gut punch. He swallows hard, bobbing his head in acknowledgement as you open the front door for him.

“Looking forward to it,” he lies through his teeth before turning on his heel and all but fleeing down the front steps.

He’s vaguely aware of you calling out something about having someone escort him through the grounds and to the main gate. But Charles doesn’t pause, can’t stop until he’s directed the powerful Ferrari back out onto the main roads and open air.

Only then does he finally let out the shuddering breath he’d been holding, the sweet Alpine breezes sweeping over him. He floors the accelerator, putting as much distance between himself and that fairytale estate as possible.

But no matter how fast or far he drives, he can’t outrun the image searing into his mind’s eye — you nestled so contentedly in Mark’s arms, so visibly adored and cherished. Just as you’d once been cradled in Charles’ own embrace, before he burned everything to ashes.

Blinking hard against the hot sting in his eyes, Charles white-knuckles the steering wheel and lets the endless stretches of winding road unfurl before him. There’s only one direction now — forward.

Always forward.

No looking back, no wistful what-ifs allowed. You’ve found the life and love you deserve after he shattered your world.

All he can do is wish you nothing but joy from a distance, even as his own heart disintegrates inside his chest with every step further away from you.

***

The bass line thrums through Charles’ body like a living thing as he signals for another round at the club’s private VIP bar. He can barely make out the sound of his own thoughts over the pulsating music, but that’s rather the point tonight. To drown out the ceaseless reel of memories and fragmented realizations in a haze of liquor and pounding rhythms.

“You sure about that?” The bartender has to shout to be heard, one sculpted eyebrow arching upwards as she eyes the growing collection of empty glasses. “I think you’ve had quite enough, sir.”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough,” Charles snaps back, the words slurring slightly as he slaps his platinum card down with more force than intended. “Just keep them coming.”

The woman’s dubious gaze flickers briefly to somewhere over his shoulder before she simply shrugs and moves to fill his latest order. Charles slumps forward with a harsh exhale, fingers digging into his sweat-dampened curls as the relentless bassline reverberates through his bones.

“Easy there, calamar.”

The familiar voice cuts through the noise as a firm hand clasps his shoulder. Pierre slides into the open stool beside him with a concerned furrow in his brow.

“I’m starting to think my invite for a fun night out may have been a mistake.” His eyes rove over the staggering collection of empty glasses and bottles before lifting to meet Charles’ glazed stare.

“Or more like a cry for help,” he mutters, pitching his voice to be heard clearly. “Want to talk about what’s got you in such a mood?”

Charles opens his mouth but all that comes out is a bitter bark of laughter. He reaches for his newly-arrived glass, downing half the amber liquid in one go as it burns all the way to his core.

“What’s there to talk about?” The words are thick and unwieldy on his tongue. “She’s gone. Moved on better than I ever could have with some … some rich prick who treats her like his personal princess.”

He waves a sloppy hand in the air, gesturing vaguely. “Guy is richer than God, probably spoils her rotten with jewels and furs and … and billion dollar villas overlooking the Alps.”

His voice cracks slightly on the last word and he has to blink rapidly against the unwelcome sting in his eyes. Pierre’s forehead creases further as he watches Charles raggedly drain the rest of his glass.

“I take it your little meeting with Y/N didn’t go well?” He pitches it as a careful question, one Charles shrugs listlessly at before reaching for the nearest full glass. Pierre’s hand shoots out, closing around Charles’ wrist to impede his progress.

“I think you’ve had quite enough of that for one night,” he declares firmly. “Unless you want security dragging your drunk ass out of here, that is.”

Charles tries feebly to tug his arm free but Pierre’s grip remains vise-like. His traitorous thoughts drift back to the image of Mark’s arm so casually looped around your waist, confident in his place at your side.

“What’s he got that I don’t?” The plaintive question slips out before he can bite it back. Charles swivels glassy eyes towards his friend and teammate. “Seriously, Pierre … what can Mateschitz offer her that I couldn’t?”

A heavy silence stretches out between them, punctuated only by the thunderous pulse of the music. Pierre holds his stare steadily, clearly weighing how much harsh truth Charles can handle in his current condition.

“Well … thirty-seven billion dollars is a decent start, I would guess.”

The matter-of-fact words hit like a sucker punch to the gut. Charles flinches as if physically struck, mouth falling open in a small ‘o’ of shock.

“Jesus, have some tact,” Pierre continues crisply. “Forget the money for a second — mate, he didn’t cheat on her. He has the basic decency to stay faithful. You know … the bare minimum requirement for a relationship?”

The dig bites deep, sparking a fresh flare of white-hot shame and regret in Charles’ core. He twists his captured wrist futilely once more before giving up and dropping his head to thunk dully against the bartop.

“I thought we were past rubbing salt in the wound,” he mumbles towards the gleaming wood surface.

Pierre sighs, his grip softening enough to pull his arm free at last. “We are, we are … mostly. But you can’t honestly expect me to sit here and help you feel sorry for yourself about another man treating Y/N right after you treated her so abysmally.”

Charles squeezes his eyes shut as your face swims into focus. The light in your eyes when Mark gazed at you, the simple intimacy you radiated together ...

“I miss her,” he whispers, each word carved from shards of anguish and loss. “I miss her so damn much. And now every time I have to see her at a race or schmoozing at an event, I’ll know exactly what I threw away for one night of selfishness.”

Fat tears leak from the corners of his screwed-shut eyes, tracing hot pathways down his cheeks as Pierre watches silently. After a long stretch, Charles finally cracks one eye open to peer blearily at his friend once more.

“I need to win her back,” he declares with as much conviction as he can muster through the alcoholic fog seeping into his brain. “I’m not over her, I’ll never be over her. There has to be a way to … to make things right again, don’t you think?”

Pierre regards him steadily, arms folded across his chest. “I think … you’re drunk off your ass and in no state to be making grand romantic gestures tonight.”

Charles waves a clumsy hand, nearly toppling his remaining drink in the process. “Not tonight. But … soon. Yeah, soon I’ll figure out what her new favorite flower is or some shit. Maybe a nice bottle of whatever top-shelf champagne she likes these days. Or … or I can dedicate a race win to her! Girls go gaga over that romantic shit, right?”

He watches Pierre’s expression morph into one of pure incredulity before his friend pinches the bridge of his nose hard, eyes screwing shut with a shake of his head.

“You’re not even hearing yourself right now, are you?” Pierre asks at last, infusing as much patience into his words as possible. “This isn’t about some flowers or a bottle of bubbly or delusionally thinking you have a chance to beat Red Bull this season. You completely decimated her trust in you and demolished the entire foundation of your relationship.”

Charles squirms uncomfortably at the brutal truth. Part of him wants to get up and stalk away in a final burst of tipsy petulance.

But the rest of him knows Pierre is simply being the voice of reason — the harsh reality check he so desperately needs right now, despite how it slices into his wounded pride.

“Look ...” Pierre seems to sense he’s veering into dangerous territory and softens his tone slightly. “I’m not trying to kick you while you’re down, I swear. But any chance of reconciling with Y/N will require so much more than a thoughtless grand gesture or gift.”

Slowly, Charles lifts his bleary gaze and locks eyes with his friend. Pierre holds the stare steadily, mouth set in a solemn line.

“It’ll take rebuilding the bedrock of your foundation — time, effort, and trust. Things you can’t buy or speed along, no matter how much you try.” A heavy pause settles between them before Pierre speaks again, more gently this time. “Maybe reconnecting with her is possible one day … or maybe not. But you owe it to her and yourself to give space for those open wounds to heal first.”

It’s not at all what Charles wants to hear right now. His instinct is still to barrel forward, to blaze a path of extravagant overtures until you melt back into his arms. But deep down, he knows Pierre is speaking the truth — he systematically torched something sacred and attempting to simply spackle over that devastation would be spitting in the face of your shared past.

Nodding slowly, Charles reaches up to swipe clumsily at the dampness on his cheeks. Pierre places a steadying hand on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

“Come on, idiot. Let’s get you home before you really embarrass yourself out here.”

Charles doesn’t protest as Pierre slips off his stool and hauls him upright, looping one arm securely around his waist for support. As they navigate the pulsing crowd, he steals one last glimpse over his shoulder at the bar now shrinking away in the distance.

Perhaps this part of his story with you might be over, the final embers snuffed out. But somehow, some way, Charles vows to rekindle that spark again — even if it takes immeasurable time and effort to nurture it back from the smoldering ashes of his own making.

One thing is certain, though — any path forward will require him to douse these wallowing flames of self-pity first.

The pounding bass fades into a dull throb as Pierre guides them out into the cool night air. Charles blinks rapidly, the city’s twinkling lights swimming dizzily before his bleary eyes as his friend bundles him into the backseat of a waiting car.

“Just let me sleep it off,” he slurs as the plush leather seats engulf him. “I’ll be good as new in the morning.”

Pierre huffs out a wry chuckle as he slides in beside Charles, rapping his knuckles on the privacy partition to signal the driver. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. Once you’re properly re-hydrated and that tequila has run its course.”

The motion of the town car pulling away from the curb has Charles’ head lolling back against the headrest. He cracks one eye open to peer at his friend through his disheveled curls.

“I really do love her, you know?” The confession emerges soft and subdued, loaded with naked yearning. “Like … the love of my entire whole damn life, probably. How fucking stupid is that?”

He’s not sure if the dampness blurring his vision is from a fresh wave of moisture or simply the alcohol still sloshing through his system. Either way, Pierre’s gaze softens imperceptibly as he reaches out to give Charles’ knee a reassuring squeeze.

“We’ve all been certifiably stupid in the name of love before, believe me. The key is learning from those mistakes before moving forward.” A beat passes before he adds, “And for the record — I know you did love Y/N with everything you had, even when you monumentally fucked things up.”

Charles lets his eyes slip shut once more with a slow nod. “Then you know why I can’t just … let her go completely. Why I need to find a way to get back to her, even if takes years of making things right first.”

The words hang heavy between them, a tangled thicket of resolution and remorse. Finally, Pierre exhales a soft sigh.

“I know. But that’s a bridge to cross another day, when you’re sober and can actually string two coherent thoughts together.” He gives Charles’ shoulder a light shove. “For now, focus on putting one foot in front of the other and staying hydrated, yeah?”

Despite himself, the corners of Charles’ lips quirk upwards at his friend’s gentle ribbing. He fumbles blindly for the window switch, lowering the glass to allow a blessed gust of fresh air to roll in and fill the cabin.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Just … don’t hold your breath on me moving on anytime soon.” His eyes flicker open once more to meet Pierre’s steady gaze. “I’m kind of stubborn that way when it comes to the things I want most.”

Pierre holds his stare for a long beat before giving a slow shake of his head, a wry smile tugging at his own lips. “Believe me, mate — I’m well aware.”

They lapse into companionable silence for the remainder of the drive, the city’s twinkling skyline gliding past in a blur. Despite the copious amounts of alcohol still sloshing through his veins, a flicker of hope rekindles in Charles’ chest.

You might have slipped from his grasp, but that doesn’t necessarily mean your paths can’t someday and somehow intersect once more.

All it will take is the courage to keep inching forward, one stumbling step at a time.

No matter how many times the darkness tries to swallow him whole.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles kills the engine, the high-pitched cheers swelling to near-riotous levels.

He tips his head back against the headrest for a beat, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. P2 at the Singapore Grand Prix isn’t cause for disappointment — he drove one hell of a race and pushed his machinery to its limits.

But the unbridled pandemonium echoing all around paints a stark reminder that second-place means precious little tonight.

As he cracks open his helmet visor, the screams seem to multiply tenfold. Charles squints against the blinding flash of a thousand camera flashes as the feverish celebration kicks into high gear. Of course the crowd is whipped into such a frenzy — a certain Dutchman has done it again.

Max Verstappen just secured his fourth consecutive World Drivers’ Championship.

Charles watches almost numbly as a swarm of bodies in dark blue coverings rushes the track. The Red Bull mechanics, crew members, and team management spill out in an ever expanding tide, swarming towards parc fermé. All desperate for their piece of history, to bask in the glory of their latest accomplishment.

Bracing one hand against the sweltering engine cover, Charles hauls himself up and out of the cockpit with as much energy as he can muster. He plants his feet wide on the sizzling asphalt, scanning the chaos overtaking the pit lane in search of … there.

You cut an unmistakable figure in understated elegance among the churning sea of navy. Even from here, Charles can make out the burgundy sheath dress clinging to your curves, the soft tendrils of hair escaping your chignon. You’re a vision wreathed in smiles as you follow closely behind Mark, the two of you buffeted but undeterred as you fight against the tide of bodies.

For a split second, Charles allows himself the simple indulgence of drinking in your radiance. Seeing the way your cheeks bloom with color from the heat and exhilaration. How your delighted laughter seems to sparkle in the humid night air, mingling seamlessly with the roars of jubilation.

You’re so clearly drunk on the evening’s euphoria, caught up in the intoxicating thrill of witnessing sheer greatness on display. Even standing halfway across the track, Charles can sense the infectious joy rolling off you in waves.

He’s always loved seeing you like this — passionate and alive in a way that sets his heart pounding. Though he knows now, with a ferocious ache, that particular spark isn’t for him anymore.

As if to underscore the point, Mark suddenly grinds to a halt right in the middle of the sea of revelers. You plow into his back with a breathless giggle, clearly caught off guard. That’s when Charles notices the obvious struggle as you try to regain your footing, wobbling precariously atop a set of wicked-looking stilettos.

Even from this distance, he can read the brief look of concern that pinches Mark’s brow as he turns towards you. The chaos of the celebration fades into background noise as Charles watches helplessly as Mark reaches for your arm to help steady you.

You wave him off with a warm smile, clearly unbothered as you simply shrug out of the towering heels completely. Mark lunges to catch the discarded shoes before they can get swallowed up by the crowd.

There’s a brief pause as the two of you seem to communicate wordlessly. Then, in one smooth motion, Mark pivots and crouches down in front of you, gesturing towards his broad back. Your laughter rings out bright and delighted as you clamber on, effortlessly looping your arms around his neck as he straightens with a grunt.

Just like that, you’re ensconced within the protective circle of Mark’s arms, held securely in place on his back as he continues walking through the celebrating crowd. From his vantage point, Charles can just make out the matching beams you both have plastered on as you sway happily with each step.

It looks so … easy. Natural and uncomplicated in a way Charles’ entire existence seems incapable of obtaining these days. He drinks in the vision of you nuzzling sweetly against Mark’s neck, leaving a feather-light kiss of pure affection on the hinge of his jaw before snuggling back down. Two people completely in sync and unabashedly in love.

Despite the sweltering humidity, an icy chill washes over Charles from somewhere deep within. He’s all too aware of precisely what he’s witnessing right in front of him.

You’ve exchanged his partnership — one defined by betrayal and brokenness — for something far greater.

Charles huffs out a dry, mirthless breath as he sinks back against the sweat-dampened chassis of his idle car, feeling painfully adrift despite the pulsing rush of people all around him. He catches one final glimpse of you and Mark before the crowd finally sweeps you up — the picture of contentment nestled so trustingly against your beloved’s back. Watching on as your dazzling smile lights up the night with each joyful step you draw nearer to the championship celebration

He knows with soul-cleaving certainty in that moment that you’ve likely never felt as cherished or prized in your entire life as Mark must make you feel every single day.

Meanwhile, Charles is perpetually exiled here on the outskirts, unable to do anything but bear witness to the other man’s spoils. So close to his own desires yet barred from ever seizing them for his own.

Always the usurped, forever second fiddle, constantly relegated to P2 in work and life.

With a jaw so tightly clenched it threatens to crack his molars, Charles wrenches his gaze away at last. He feels the first angry prick of heated moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes and hates himself for the painfully vulnerable reaction.

This is his self-manufactured hell, after all. He has no one to blame but his own selfish impulses and cowardly weakness for tossing that bond with you into the incinerator. For annihilating the relationship you had built over years of steadfast partnership in one careless night.

So he’ll swallow down the bitterness and lingering heartache as penance for his sins. Compartmentalize the image of you balanced so peacefully in another man’s embrace, so patently adored and worshiped as you deserve.

He at least owes you that mercy — to bear the whole of his consequences in dignified silence as you bask in the victor’s glow you were always meant for.

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droaxa · 3 months

Text

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader, angst, yandere, nsfw content

✧ warnings: obsessive yandere behavior, stalking, nsfw content, cheating, angst, creep behavior, jealousy, grabbing, sexual acts

✧ a/n: you guys wanted both the yan royalty and yan cheater so imma do both ‼️ i’ll post the royalty one later cause you guys are in for a treat

not proofread but enjoy! (ty for the love on the last post as well <3)

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

cheater bf who sleeps with your friends behind your back. it’s not like you were anything special anyway, he just tolerated you so he could get closer to some real women

cheater bf who makes you beg for the bare minimum: giving you his jacket, holding your hand during a scary movie, etc etc but does all those things for your friends with a charming smile

cheater bf who says you’re overreacting after he holds your friends hand during a scary movie instead of yours

“hey don’t be selfish, poor girl looked like she was gonna cry. what kinda friend are you?”

you miss the way his fingers trailed up her thighs halfway through the movie when you squeeze your eyes shut. terrified of the unfolding movie scene as your bf comforts another girl

cheater bf who has fucked your roommate in your dorm room bed. oh you’re asking why they look sweaty and tired? they were trying to move your bed cause she dropped something behind it ofc.

cheater bf who finally gets caught a year into your relationship after you walk in on him mid-thrust into your ‘friend’ after they both excused themselves to the bathroom during your hangout.

cheater bf who zips up his pants and runs after a sobbing you to explain but stops half way, what was there to explain anyway? you would be heartbroken yes, but he had got what he wanted didn’t he? ignoring the dull tug on his heart he returns to his dorm

ex bf who throws himself on his bed while thinking about you. finally he picks up the lingering sent of you on his bed and various items that belong to your littered across the room. little gifts to him and cards wishing him happiness. maybe you’d become more intertwined in his life than he thought

ex bf that drops your stuff at your new dorm in a cardboard box, unluckily for you, you open it at the same time and are left staring at each other. like a cat you quickly dart out, grab the box, and retreat after locking the door can’t you just look at him once?

ex bf who feels empty after your breakup, he misses your cooking, your nagging for him to take care of himself, your smiles. fuck. what was the point of being free to fuck whoever he wanted if all he could imagine was you?

ex bf who stalks your socials, irritated that you removed him from your posts and blocked him on everything. and one day when he’s on his burner stalking you, a new story pops up. it’s innocent enough, a picture of you at dinner with a small caption “dinner out”, but then he notices the masculine hand on the table across from you wearing a watch not quite made for a woman.

his blood is boiling. you’re his. his girl.

yandere cheater who scours his room for anything that reminds him of you, finally finding a shirt in the back of his closet that he didn’t find earlier. suffocating his face with the soft fabric, moaning as he sniffed the garment

yandere cheater who hurriedly ruts into his hand as he hold the fabric up to his nose, cock leaking as he fucks his hand to your scent. he cums hard, harder than he had with any of your bimbo ‘friends’

yandere cheater who finally realized what he was missing: you. he caves in and incessantly messages and calls you, showing up at your door to win back your love.

yandere cheater who grows tired, he’s always been impatient. he knows what he did was wrong, especially to an angel like you but everyone deserves a second chance right? after all you were his soulmate

yandere cheater who shows up at a cafe you’re at and sits across from you like nothing is wrong. when you get up to leave, he forces you back into the seat. whispering in your ear to not make a scene. pulling out his phone he reveals intimate pictures of you from your relationship.

“it would be a darn shame if anyone saw these hm? your poor mom would be so disappointed that her dear daughter was just passing these around”

your eyes widen and you beg him to delete them, you’ll do anything!

“just come back to me and all these will be gone”

he grins, to wide to be kind. he wouldn’t send them out anyway. your body was his alone to see. but fuck did it have a effect on you, your big eyes fill with caution.

“please there must be-“ he cuts you off.

“there’s no other way than back to me sweets”

once you shakily get up, he throws his arm over your shoulder, keeping you pinned to his side as you both leave the coffee shop. your hot coffee long forgotten on the table as the chilly air hits your faces. your body further fills with despair as you pass the ally next to the shop, spotting the date you were going to meet. face bloodied and body limp against the red brick.

your ex was always far stronger than you, far stronger than anyone else you had met too. his dedication to martial arts was one of the things that had drawn you to him. but now, his vice grip on you as he guides you to his car isn’t to prove his strength to protect you. it’s to intimidate you into giving in to him

and if you didn’t, there would be consequences.

#yandere #yandere cheater #yandere ex #yandere x reader #ex x reader #cheater x reader #angst #obbsession #x reader #female reader #y/n #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #jealousy

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monstersflashlight · 27 days

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Maybe a Alien male x female reader. The humanoid (not sure if this is the right description to use but they kind of have the general silhouette of a human/some humanish features) Alien has a mate for life/soulmate situation and can be pretty pathetic (ex: please please please rizz meme) and maybe cries a lot. They meet reader and shenanigans ensue as they keep pursuing her. Maybe they meet at a Galaxy match making company that Reader accidentally signs up for or something or in the middle of a intergalactic space station.

Hi anon! This was SO FUN to write, love it. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Domming the alien

Alien x fem!reader || mating, praise kink, dom/sub dynamic (dom reader), bondage (light)

When the genetic testing showed that you were matched with some kind of alien, you were a bit more than shook. You thought those kind of things didn’t happen to women like you, but there you were, waiting for your perfect match in an intergalactic space station. Like… what the fuck was your life?

The naga assistant who brought you there told you about his alien species, about what you should expect knowing you are an alien’s mate. But you barely paid attention to her as you looked across the room, transfixed by him. He looked humanoid enough, his eyes a bit too big, his nose a bit too flat, his hair a bit too rubbery and his torso a bit too long. He looked almost humanoid… Apart from the bright orange coloring. And you were weirdly attracted to him.

The naga was talking as you two approached him, but neither of you payed any attention to her. The first thing he said to you was: “You are so pretty…” His eyes were bright, like there was some kind of light shining from within, and you were mesmerized.

“Thanks. You aren’t so bad yourself,” you joked, trying to catch your breath after seeing such a precious creature.

But he wasn’t giving you any time to catch it. “You are perfect. My pretty mate…” His tone was reverent, like you were the best thing that ever happened to him, and you could only stare at him.

And it all went from there. He became the best boyfriend in the world, in the whole galaxy. He studied all human customs and courts you like a professional. He brought you flowers, video-games, sweets… Anything you could wish for he offered, and you were on cloud nine. Better than that, you are in space, with the best alien you could have wished for.

But nothing prepared you for the first time you (physically) mated.

You are just chilling in his space apartment when he clears his throat and asks: “Would you… would you couple with me?” You look at him confused, not even having time to process before he starts begging. “Please, please, please…”

You look at him like he’s crazy. You already had sex a bunch of times, you are very familiar with his body and he is with yours. “What do you mean?” You ask, completely baffled by his question.

“In my culture we… Males are… I’ve seen some human coupling videos and the male is always so rough with females but us… With mates... It’s not like that.” He says it like it’s a secret, like it’s a huge deal for him that you are even considering giving him what he’s asking for.

And then it clicks.

You smirk up at him, your hands grabbing his cheeks softly and pulling him down, at eye level. “You want me to dominate you, sweetheart?” You enunciate each word slowly and with intent, your insides burning up at the idea of domming him.

He nods rapidly, eagerly, like the most precious alien puppy. “Please…” He repeats. You smile at him tenderly, kissing his flat nose.

“Okay, sweetheart. Strip, lay down, I’m going to tie you down.” You instruct, getting into your dom persona easily. It’s been a long time, but it feels great to dom him, it feels fated.

You look at he moves around the room, stripping and almost vibrating with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration. He lays down like a good alien and pulls his hands up, letting you tie him up with one of the space ropes that you are more than sure weren’t designed for that. But they would do, they are sturdy and soft, and you make sure to leave enough room so he can’t hurt himself. You tie his legs next, spreading him completely and smirking down at his submissive form.

He holds for like two seconds before he’s begging. “Please, please, please… Mate, please.” He sounds so good that you have to swallow a moan. You strip down slowly, looking at him squirming against the restrains.

“I like when you beg. But I like it even more when you whine.” You graze your nails over the ridges on his chest and he cries out, whining and moaning like you are subjecting him to the most amazing torture. “Come on, sweetheart, can you come from this? Can you come for me just caressing your skin?” The power trip is exhilarating, having such a big alien under you, trusting you to dom him, to make him cum, is driving you insane in the best way possible.

“Ye- yes. Please.” He can’t stop saying please and it shouldn’t make you as happy as it does.

You caress his skin for a bit more, the ridges on his chest so sensitive he’s screaming by the time you get him to come. “Good alien, such a good boy for me.” Your words make him shiver as the last shot of his green come spurs from his dick. He whines as you keep grazing your nails over his ridges, not letting him catch his breath. “Can you do it again? Can you keep going until I’m tired of playing with your pretty cock? Until I’m ready to fuck myself on you?” You keep talking as he moans. You rub your thighs together, trying to get some relief for yourself, but rapidly focusing back on him. He looks so pretty tied down for you, coming and crying.

He says something similar to a yes, but it’s rapidly lost in the throaty moan he lets out as you grab his erection with a bit too much force. The mixture of pain and pleasure make his eyes roll back into his head as his chest flushes in the best shade of orange. You smile at him, leaning down to trace his ridges with your tongue, nipping at them lightly. He cries out so loudly that you stop your movements, scared that you hurt him. But then you realize there’s some green come over your hand that wasn’t there a couple seconds before.

“Did you just come?” You try not to laugh, but a chuckle escapes your lips as he blushes deeper orange, almost red. He looks at you with unfocused eyes and tears rolling down his cheeks. He lets out such a pathetic sound that you shush him softly, patting his abdomen and climbing on top of him. “It’s okay, you are doing so good. Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” You ask, your pussy close to his abdomen.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Please,” his begging is so great you have to bite down on your tongue to avoid moaning like a whore.

You sit on his abdomen and start grinding slowly, but your hips have a mind of its own and before you realize, you are rubbing your dripping pussy across his abdomen until his ridges are glistening with your desire. He keeps begging and groaning, making you even wetter. By the time you slip his dick inside, he’s a mess of tears and drool, so oversensitive with your previous actions that he cries out when he hits deep inside of you.

You groan and start riding him like you mean it, like you are a cowgirl on a mission and he’s just a toy for you to fuck. His eyes are rolled back and he’s moving his hips soft and slow, the restrains avoiding too much movement. You don’t care, your nails are grazing his ridges as you ride him, and when you come around his cock, he screams your name as he faints, his body pliant under you as you chuckle…

Maybe he wasn’t all that ready to be dommed by a human.

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smileysuh · 1 month

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dark protector - TEASER

🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “When I’m balls deep in your pussy, watching you writhe under me, listening to your pretty sounds- that will be the cherry on top of this birthday,” he explains. “Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, but- usually, baby, I like to be the giver.”

tw/cw. mentions of past relationship abuse/trauma/cheating, alcohol, bar fights, Cheol gets grazed with a knife, unprotected sex, dry humping, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, fingering, pleasure dom!Cheol, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, size kink/manhandling, multiple reader orgasms, groping, Cheol is a big muscled tattooed man, creampie, birthday sex, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 14.2k

🍭 aus. tattoo/motorcycle au, nurse!reader, soulmates, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. The tarot deck used in the prologue is ‘The Wild Unknown Animal Spirit Guide Deck’ by Kim Krans. I had so much fun exploring a more spiritual-themed plot, the idea of soulmates and spirit guides and such :)

Seungcheol gives you the space to unwind. He doesn’t pester you with questions about the altercation with your ex at the bar, and you’re grateful for it.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks finally.

You shake your head, your eyes dopping to his hands. “You’re hurt though.”

“Just bruised knuckles,” he assures you.

“There’s blood,” you insist. “I’ll-”

“Tell me where your first aid kit is and I’ll grab it.”

You direct him to the cupboard in your bathroom, and he returns with it, setting the case onto your coffee table.

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask as you take out the tools you’ll need.

“Almost better, I heal fast,” he says softly.

It feels good to focus on his wounds rather than your own, and you gently clean the scrapes on his hand. His right fist is pretty badly bruised, and you do your best to treat it. Then you begin to slowly wrap his knuckles, taking your time. Two wraps around his wrist, diagonal across the top to his pinky, under the hand, to the pointer, diagonal-

It’s a nice repetition of motions, and when you’re all done, you lift his hand to your lips, gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “All better.”

You look up at Seungcheol, and he stares back.

Then, he slowly moves in, carefully watching your expression. He stops just an inch from your lips, and you can feel his breath on your face. He’s waiting for you to make the final move, for you to be the one with control.

With one last look at your beautiful, dark protector, you close the distance.

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.6k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr August 23rd, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

interact with this post to be tagged, priority given to reblogs/replies cuz tagspace is limited :)

#seungcheol #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #scoups #scoups smut #s coups #s coups smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader smut

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mirohlayo · 5 months

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Could you do something about the drivers' new girlfriend who is obsessed with the reader? Who is the driver's ex-girlfriend? and eventually the driver's and reader end up together again. (a little inspired by Obsessed by Olivia Rodrigo

Hello !! I really struggle to choose between the drivers but I ended up choosing Lando (it's no longer surprising). Hope this suits your request, enjoy ! ᥫ᭡

OBSESSED

( when your ex' new girlfriend become obsessed with you, you know you have win everything. )

warning : angst, fluff, some toxic behavior, like two innuendos

note : sorry to all the Maddie it's just the first name that came up on my mind 🫰

word count : 1.9k

You're sure this whole thing has been going on for a few weeks now. And you don't know when it's going to end. It's been several weeks since your relationship with your ex-boyfriend Lando ended. And he's had a new girlfriend for several weeks now.

Sitting in front of a table on a terrace, near the Mclaren building in the paddock, you can't help but stare at your ex and the brunette girl in his arms, walking hand in hand along the path. Her long hair styled in a magnificent bun, her model figure, her confident walk.

You can't help but imagine yourself in his place. Because after all, a few weeks ago, it was you in this place. It was you who walked alongside Lando, who came to support him on all his races, who was proudly in love with him. And his new girlfriend simply replaced you. Because she is also the reason for your breakup.

Everything was perfect in your relationship. You were madly in love with each other and incredibly happy. He gave you the world and in return you gave him everything he couldn't have dreamed of. You were simply soulmates, made for each other. Until this brunette comes and ruins everything.

You knew she was friends with Lando. However, it was absolutely no problem for you. She's not the first girl he's had as friends and you can't deny the fact that you have a few guy friends as well. You trusted each other with your eyes closed so there was nothing to worry about her.

But when she started to interfere in your life, your personal relationship, when she started to get closer to Lando at a maddening speed and when she stole his precious time so that you remained the one who finally spent less time with him, you knew there was a big problem.

And that this problem is indeed her.

It's as if the roles had been reversed, and in the end you gradually became a simple friend, while she in turn became his new girlfriend. You couldn't take it anymore, even though Lando tried to reassure you about her and her actions.

He himself didn't want her.

But it was so suffocating that you finally put an end to it. You knew that at the time of your separation, when you said those words to him that broke his heart into a million pieces, you still had powerful feelings for each other, but love isn't everything.

And here you are now in this situation. You being his ex, staring at him and his new girlfriend when you just came to support the Mclaren driver. Lando has publicly announced that you have remained on good terms and are good friends, which is why you sometimes come to the races. But the reality is there: you don't even look at each other once.

Because if Lando does, he knows he won't be able to let you go. And if you do, you won't be able to hold back either.

“Huh, what is she doing here again?” Maddie, the driver's new girlfriend, mocks your presence as her vicious gaze glares at you. "Hmm ?" Lando frowns, curious. He tries to follow Maddie's gaze, and his eyes end up landing on the woman he deep down still hopes will always be his.

“I already told you to forbid her from coming to the races.” She adds. The driver rolls his eyes and sighs, not taking his gaze away from you. It seems that you are strangely attracted to your phone. "I know, but... we're still friends, she has every right to com-" "Friends? You don't even talk to each other, and it's even she who decided to break up with you."

Lando clenches his fist and his jaw. “And because of whom do you think?” He looks at her coldly, while Maddie can feel a deep fury just by looking at his eyes. She was about to retaliate when suddenly Lando fans came to surround you. "Y/N!! I love you, can I take a picture with you?"

You slowly raise your head, surprised to see three young girls smiling pleasantly at you, waiting for a response from you. You finally realize the situation, and you show them your biggest sincere smile. It warms your heart, knowing that despite the hate you received after breaking up, there are still people there to support you.

Of course, they may be fans of your ex, but the fact remains that they are all simply adorable, and you can't help but be grateful to them, because after all these people support the boy that you love so much.

“Thank you so much, sweethearts” You can't help but giggle and even chat a little with these girls. But while you're enjoying this intimate moment, you obviously can't notice Maddie's dark and unhealthy gaze on you. She kills you with her gaze, while jealousy takes over her entire being.

For what ? Why can't she be like you? Why can't she be you? What does Lando like about you? What can she do to be like you? She would lose her mind. She scrutinizes each of your actions. She records each of your actions and gestures in order to copy them with the exact same precision.

It's toxic but she can't help it, for her it's vital and essential. She is obsessed with you, with everything you do, with your whole person. You're her current boyfriend's ex, and she knows how much he's still in love with you, so she's trying any way she can to be like you. She just wants to be better than you. But she can't.

And you know she can't. Just look at the way Lando looks at you, eyes full of love and admiration, as you listen attentively to the fans in front of you. Lando himself knows, no girl will be like you.

"No but seriously, she's doing it again!! Is this the how manyth time this week?" Your best friend is almost going to tear her hair out. Maddie's latest Instagram post has the exact same types of photos you posted last week, and her stories are identical to yours. You sigh, running your hands over your face. “Look, maybe she didn’t do it on purpose, it’s probably a coincidence.” You try to convince yourself.

"A coincidence? You still manage to defend your ex's new girlfriend while she does everything to discredit you!" Your best friend looks completely hopeless as she plops down on the couch in your hotel room. “Don’t tell me otherwise, Y/n. She’s wearing the exact same outfit as you in her post.”

“Maybe we just have the same taste in clothes, we don’t know.” Your best friend looks at you with empathy. She gets up from the couch and places her hands on your shoulders, caressing them gently. "Look Y/n, I know you're way too nice to be mad at anyone. But this girl is so obsessed with you, it's super toxic and unhealthy."

You can't deny your friend's words. In recent weeks, she has only copied you and used the same expressions and facial expressions as you. She only hints at you. Why is she so obsessed with you when you don't care about her?

It eats you from the inside. You've been thinking about it lately and it's almost sickening. Your best friend seems to have noticed it too. "I know what you need. I'm going to buy your favorite snacks and we're going to have a relaxing evening together tonight, okay?".

She does not wait for your approval since you already know you have no choice. And without another word, she rushes out of the hotel to go buy your favorite snacks. “What a life…”, you sigh before opening your phone again, coming face to face with Maddie’s latest insta post.

As you were about to open the comment section, you heard voices raised. As if two people were arguing with each other. You remain paralyzed for a moment, before finally continuing what you were starting to do. But as soon as you go back to your phone, the voices continue to shout and be heard louder and louder.

Panic rises within you. Maybe there is a real problem after all? You approach the door of your room to try to hear better, but without being aware of it you end up opening it, opening onto the long empty corridor upstairs.

Listening carefully, you know that the voices are coming from the room directly across from yours. But you also, and unfortunately, recognize Lando's voice. You can recognize it among thousands of voices, and you are sure that the male voice is him.

A higher pitched, more feminine voice mixes with the driver's voice. Without realizing it, you are now standing a few centimeters from their hotel room, facing the door. But you can hear perfectly what they say to each other. Despite their voices muffled by the walls, you manage to make out a few sentences.

“I mean, why are you so obsessed with her?” Lando shouts even louder. He's really fed up. "I'm not obsessed with her Lando!!" "Oh, so why are you trying to copy everything she does? Why do I always see you stalking her social media, location and contacts?" He continues to rise.

This last sentence makes her speechless. “She broke up with you, so I’m looking at her social media to find out why” Lando lets out a mocking laugh. Did he hear correctly? "Because you still haven't understood that it's because of you that she broke up with me? It's all your fault but you continue to play blind!!".

Lando's furious voice brings silence to their hotel room. It seems Maddie has stopped screaming. "I should never have accepted this PR stunt. I would have received hate but at least I could have been with Y/n right now, with the woman I truly love with all my heart and not a girl who is hopelessly obsessed with a woman much better than her.”

Several minutes of silence follow, but the din of your heartbeat seems to echo throughout the hallway. They were arguing about you. The reason for their argument is you. And Lando talked about you. He confessed information you didn't even know. That you didn't know.

He still loves you, and the whole damn new girlfriend thing is really just a PR stunt. So, everything is clear now.

You gradually regain consciousness, but the bedroom door suddenly flies open, Lando stands in front of you looking completely furious. But when his gaze falls on you, his body language shows that he is already relaxing a little more.

“Oh, Y-Y/n…” You lower your head, ashamed that he surprised you like this. He's not sure what to say as an awkward silence settles. “Did you…hear what we said?” You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. "You were screaming so...yes. I heard everything." “Oh, okay…”

He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed and very uncomfortable. “Maybe we should talk then” He suddenly offers and you lift your head to nod. "Yes, that would be better. In my hotel room if you want."

You both go back to your room, and Lando sits directly on the couch, while you join him by sitting a little further away, leaving a reasonable distance between you.

“I meant it. I meant every word I said, Y/n.” You nod to encourage him to continue. "Of course I think Maddie is completely obsessed with you and you must have realized that." He plays with his fingers nervously as he lowers his head. "But I also meant the fact that I still love you. So much. I'm still so in love with you that it hurts me to know that I can't wake up next to you anymore. I still want you so bad and I need you in my life. I know that our story doesn't have the right to end now and that it won't end until we're old and in love."

You wipe away a tear that had just formed in the corner of your eye as you take Lando's hands in yours. You can't suppress a small laugh - or rather a sob - as you smile lovingly at him. “Fucking PR stunt, huh?” He smiles shyly, his eyes watering from the tears that threaten to fall down his face.

“Yeah, fucking PR stunt and fucking crazy girl” He answers and you end up laughing softly. Your hands came up to cup his face as you moved closer to him, your hearts almost touching. "I still love you so much Lando. And I need you too. I'm sorry I broke up with you. I must have broken your heart and-"

"Don't apologize when it's not your fault, sweetheart. I should have cut ties with her a long time ago." He places a small but sweet kiss on your forehead. “I have the best girlfriend again and I have absolutely no plans to part with her.” You smile tenderly as you roll on top of him. “Good, because me neither.”

You kiss him gently on his lips, while he puts his arm around your waist and brings your head closer with his hand to deepen the kiss. He can't stop kissing your soft lips, because he missed it so much, he can't resist.

He slowly pulls away so he can just get a clear view of your face, while resting his nose on yours. “In the end I think I’m the one who’s completely obsessed with you baby.” You giggle, stealing a little kiss from him. “No need to tell me, I already knew that. A certain fake account of yours on Instagram was only watching my stories”.

He blushed violently at your words. "Fuck. Am I really a bad stalker?" “Well, not as bad as Maddie.” He bursts out laughing and tightens his embrace around you. “Good to know I'm better than that girl” He ends up diving back in for another kiss, this time more intense and more passionate.

He moans weakly as he lets himself into the kiss. Suddenly, the bedroom door bursts open to reveal your best friend. You both look at her, surprised. But to your relief, she rolls her eyes in a mocking grin and half-closes the door, before adding, "I think I'm finally going to cancel the netflix and chill and leave you to a romantic sex night."

You throw a cushion from the couch at her, but she manages to dodge. “Fuck you!” You shout at her as she continues to make fun of you. “You should say that to me, right?” Your boyfriend gives you a mischievous grin full of innuendo. You gently hit him on the chest as your best friend finally leaves, closing the door.

“Tomorrow, she is dead” You add, already thinking about what revenge you are going to prepare for her. “I think you're the one who will be dead after what I'll do to you tonight” Lando continues to add in order to tease you and despite your annoyance, you can’t help but giggle shyly. “But first, I want to cuddle you” You tell him before pecking his lips.

“I don’t ask for anything more” He ends up confessing before kissing you again, not being able to hold back the smile that forms on his lips.

After all, maybe it's true. Lando is ultimately the most obsessed with you. But as long as it's him, you know it'll never be a problem for you.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #ln4 imagine #lando norris fluff #ln4 x reader #ln4 fluff

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emchant3d · 10 months

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modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach.

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up.

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this.

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy.

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There.

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window.

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?”

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie.

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out.

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in.

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her.

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

#steddie #steddie fic #trans steve harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #stevie harrington #runaway bride stevie #my fic #apologies in advance but i don't do tag lists <3

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alisonsfics · 2 months

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back in chicago - part 1

pairing: ex-boyfriend! carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after years in germany, you return to chicago and immediately run into your ex-boyfriend. if you thought it’d be easy jumping back into your old life, you were wrong. new people had entered carmy’s life, including a new woman, but you were still everything to him.

word count: 1.8k

part 2 / part 3 / part 4

You threw the final box into the trash pile and admired your finished room. You had just moved back to Chicago and as of five minutes ago, you were officially moved in. Your best friend, Maria, let you live with her since her roommate had just moved out.

“Last box done?” She called, from the living room. You walked down the hallway and into the living room. “I am officially unpacked,” you cheered as she applauded you.

You plopped down next to her on the couch. “You ready to celebrate your first night back in Chicago?” She asked you, raising her eyebrows.

After living in Germany for five years and teaching at a university there, you were ready to be home. You had gotten fired from your professor job and then dumped by your boyfriend, who was a German guy that you worked with at the university.

“How are we celebrating?” You asked, very intrigued. She used her hands to do a drumroll on the couch. “We are having a girls night out at a fancy restaurant and then wherever the evening takes us.” She told you.

“Oooo a fancy restaurant? How luxurious,” already mentally picking out an outfit, “what is it called?” You asked.

She pulled out a flier from behind her back and handed it to you. You ran your fingers over the glossy cover. The food in the photos looked delicious. There was a large bear logo in the middle of the flier.

You opened the flier and the giant words across the top read: “Head Chef Carmen Berzatto Presents…”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “Maria? What the fuck is this?” You asked, seeing your ex-boyfriend’s picture staring at you.

“Your old flame just opened a restaurant a few weeks ago, and I got us on the list.” She told you, excitedly. She expected you to be a lot more excited than you were. The emotions she was seeing on your face were more aligned with dread.

“We cannot go there, Maria. No way,” you protested.

“But come on, it’s Carmy,” she argued. Those words shouldn’t have been enough to convince you, but they did. Carmy was your one that got away, right guy wrong time, soulmate, whatever you wanted to call him.

You and Carmy hadn’t even been in the same room since you left for Germany and he broke things off, fearing how hard long distance would be.

“What the fuck do I wear?” You mumbled, half talking to yourself. Maria jumped up from the couch and pulled you towards your closet. “I will find you the perfect outfit.” She promised.

You sat on your bed as she sorted through your closet. “Oh, girl,” she said, freezing as she looked at a dress.

“What is it?” You asked, curiously. She spun around with the dress in her hand. “It has to be this one. It’s beautiful.” She said, in awe. You smiled to yourself as you looked at the dress. You did love the dress, and it looked fantastic on you.

It was a long maroon dress with a slit up the side. It had puff sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that fit in all the best ways.

You both spent the next few hours getting ready and singing along to your favorite songs in the process. You both knew you had to look perfect to see Carmy for the first time in five years. Maria helped you make sure your makeup was perfect, and then it was time to go.

As you walked up to the restaurant, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach. Maria took her phone out, and you both took some pictures in front of the building.

“You ready?” She asked you, fully aware of how brave you needed to be to go in there. You gave her a quick nod before you could change your mind. You both walked up to the host station, and you were face to face with Richie.

“Richie?” You asked, in shock as you noticed his suit. That was the complete opposite of the Richie you grew up with.

“You guys made it? Welcome welcome,” he said, walking over to give you both hugs. You realized that you’d probably be seeing more familiar faces than just Richie and Carmy.

“Right this way, ladies,” Richie said, guiding you both to your table. You noticed the back wall had windows into the kitchen. You quickly scanned for Carmy, but didn’t see him.

After Richie left the table, Maria noticed how nervous you looked. “Just take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen. It’s just dinner and talking to some old friends afterwards. And it’s Carmy we’re talking about.” She reassured you. You knew she was right, but you couldn’t help the stress that maybe Carmy didn’t want to see you or was mad at you for leaving.

Richie was giddy as he headed back to the kitchen. He had been waiting all week for tonight. Maria had texted him ahead of time that you both were coming to dinner. Carmy had no idea, and Richie had been waiting to see his reaction.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sydney asked, seeing the giant smile on Richie’s face that wasn’t exactly on brand for him.

He grabbed Sydney’s hand and pulled her to the side of the kitchen. “You see that girl in the corner booth with the red dress?” He asked her. Sydney scanned the crowd for a second before finding you. She quickly nodded her head. “That’s Carmy’s ex-girlfriend.” Richie said, watching Sydney’s eyes go wide.

“Is she crazy or something?” Sydney asked, causing Richie to quickly shake his head. “No, not that kind of ex-girlfriend. She’s perfect. Her and Carmy were madly in love and shit. She got a job offer in Germany, and Carmy couldn’t handle the long distance. Her friend Maria told me they were coming, and Carmy has no idea.” Richie said, failing miserably at hiding his excitement.

“You’re so evil for this,” Sydney said, laughing. She quickly grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it out to your table. She knew Richie was meddling, but it’d be a shame if she didn’t use her front row seat to watch the chaos.

“Why are we so stuck on me and Carmy? What about you and Richie? You think I forgot about that? Him and Tiff have been divorced for a while, she’s marrying some new guy. Why haven’t you shot your shot?” You asked Maria, flipping the situation.

Back when you and Carmy were dating, you both had set Richie and Maria up on a double date. Neither of them were looking for something serious, but they were friends with benefits for a while, until Richie met Tiffany. You’d always suspected that they cared more about each other than they let on. “That is not why we’re here.” She corrected you.

Sydney walked up to your table, getting both of you to shut up immediately. “Hi, I’m Chef Sydney. Richie told me you both were family friends, so I wanted to bring out some wine for you on the house.” She said, pouring some wine into your glasses. You both introduced yourselves to her and chatted for a minute or two before she left.

“I’m going to the bathroom really quick. I’ll be right back.” You told Maria. You walked across the restaurant and went to the bathroom. On your way back to the table, you saw Carmy through the window as he called out orders around the kitchen.

You felt yourself freeze where you were. It felt like time was moving in slow motion. You memorized every single detail of how he looked. He looked the same as the last time you saw him, but also completely different. He lightly pulled on his curls, and you recognized his nervous habit. It reminded you of when Carmy asked you to be his girlfriend.

You rushed back to your table, paranoid that he would see you staring.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Maria asked, recognizing the blush on your cheeks.

After you both had finished eating, Richie encouraged you to wait for the one last table to leave and then you could talk to everybody.

Despite trying to bail four times, Maria had made sure that you stayed. All while your pleas for Maria to talk to Richie were met with protest.

You watched the last guests leave the restaurant, and Richie walked over to your table. “Would you ladies like to follow me?” He asked, holding out his arm for Maria. You smirked at her as you noticed how flustered she got.

Richie opened the door to the kitchen and led you both inside. You didn’t see Carmy anywhere, but noticed Sydney, who looked just as excited as Richie.

Natalie rounded the corner, and you saw her eyes light up when she saw you. She ran over and pulled you into a hug. You both always assumed you’d end up as sister-in-laws and loved each other like best friends.

“Richie told me you were back in town. It’s so good to see you.” She said, smiling. Nat was one of the few people from Chicago who had gone to visit you in Germany.

“Yo, cousin. I have some people who want to talk to you.” Richie called out.

“Who is it?” You heard Carmy respond, and then he appeared in the doorway to what looked like an office.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He was stunned and almost paralyzed. The whole team watched as he ogled you. You were the last person he thought he’d see. He was almost convinced he’d never see you again.

“But you were…Germany and t-the university…and, you’re here?” He rambled, trying to process what was happening. His eyes raked some your body, admiring you. His gaze went back up and met yours. He never thought he’d look into your eyes again.

“She’s back in Chicago, baby,” Richie cheered, causing the whole team to laugh.

You walked towards him and held out your arms for a hug. He quickly pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around your waist just like they had a million times before. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

You both pulled away, and you could still see the shock in Carmy’s eyes. “Are you good? I-I mean, how are you?” He mumbled over his words, nervously.

“I’m really good. How are you? The restaurant is amazing.” You complimented him. Carmy’s two lives were crashing together. He had two sections of his life. He had his life before you and his life after you, and now they were blending together.

“Thank you. That means a lot. You always knew I could do it.” He said, smiling as a slideshow of your relationship played through his head.

“So, we going clubbing tonight to celebrate?” Richie asked, being met with cheers from everyone. As you turned your focus away from Richie and looked back at Carmy, you caught him checking you out again. You knew it was going to be a long night, but there was still lots you didn’t know.

Like the fact that Carmy wasn’t single anymore.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #the bear #the bear fanfiction

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ghostofhyuck · 5 months

Text

NCT Dream when they realized that they're in love with you, their fake girlfriend.

Mark Lee

It started with jealousy. Really. Mark should've known but to stay within the boundaries you two established. You two are fake dating because you're tired of explaining to your parents that you don't need a boyfriend at the moment, so Mark came into the rescue. Mark knew that you don't want any commitments at the moment but oh, when you started to have crush on this classmate of yours, it left a sour impression on him. He was having a push-and-pull moment with his feelings bec first of all, you two aren't in a real relationship, and second, he doesn't have the right to be jealous. But why is he jealous? It probably took Mark days to realized that he's in love with you and his jealousy was the result of it.

Huang Renjun

You and Renjun are platonic soulmates. That's what you two are and despite the whole fake dating scenario, nothing changes between the two of you. BUT that's what Renjun thought. It started with the way he noticed that you prefer wearing makeup on your stressful days, and leaves your face bare during normal days. Then he remembers your drink order at a local coffee shop near your university, or how your hair smells like candy mixed with roses. Renjun unknowingly remembers all these small detail of yours, and he couldn't help but to notice you more. Day by day, slowly it became an epiphany to him, that italicized, "oh." he's in love with you.

Lee Jeno

It was an intimate moment between the two of you. On a late-night convenience store run, you two strucked a conversation that you two never had ever since you two entered a fake relationship. It ranged from senseless topics to serious ones, like your future, your dream, and what you want to do after graduating college. Jeno hums quietly as he listen to your thoughts, he couldn't help but to stare at you, fond because your face was full of expression. So the moment you slipped out that you're uncertain about relationships in your future, Jeno was strucked. That's when he realized that he couldn't imagine his future without you, and a part of him was convinced, that maybe you two should make this relationship be real.

Lee Donghyuck

it's rare for you to go on radio silence. It's not that Haechan's worried or anything, but as his fake gf, you're the type to give him update or what-nots in case there's an emergency where you two need to act like a couple. So when you're not responding to his messages, Haechan found himself going to your apartment, knocking on the door twice. It took him a few minutes to wait until you opened the door --- both of you are surprised to see each other. Haechan found himself staring at your crying face, (you're in the middle of a breakdown.) "what happened!?" he asked with an angry tone, thinking that someone hurt you. Okay, maybe Haechan is worried about you, and he felt himself hurting because you're in that situation.

Na Jaemin

Despite being in a fake relationship, you and Jaemin agreed that you two can still meet other people. I mean, the fake relationship is just so your ex would stop bothering you. It worked but you two maintain it because nothing changed between the two of you. You know that Jaemin keeps on seeing other girls, and you're not worry about it, since you don't have plans of having a boyfriend at the moment. (And what you have with Jaemin is very platonic.) But what you don't know is that Jaemin had that weird feeling whenever he's around with another girl. That he feels like he's cheating on you, and no matter how many girls he tried to meet, he always finds himself looking for you instead.

Zhong Chenle

It started with a fight. A huge misunderstanding that was followed by a miscommunication. It's been a week since you two fought and your anger to Chenle never perished. He was being unreasonable for someone who's a fake bf! He thinks that he's right and wanted to stand on his opinion even though you explained to him calmly your side. But it seems like he doesn't want to believe you, so you walked out first. It's been a week and the guilt is eating Chenle up. Having received an intervention from his friends not only about the fight but also about your fake relationship with him, Chenle probably had an epiphany moment when one of them blurted out, "do you love her?" and then he realized, "oh shit, i do love her."

Park Jisung

When you and Jisung entered a fake relationship, there were rules and boundaries that shouldn't be crossed --- one of them are physical touches like hugs and kisses. BUT it was a party. Everyone was drunk, and you two became the center of the dares. It was just a kiss, they say. You two are dating, so a kiss would be harmless right? And as much as Jisung tried to avoid it, you ended up only giving him a nod, a permission to him to do it. It was probably one of the best five seconds of his life. After the kiss, Jisung would be so dumbstruck about it, even though he apologized to you after and you brushed it off, he couldn't help but to still think about it. He was sleepless!! he wanted to kiss you again, but this time, he wanted it to be real and genuine.

#nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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lokideservesahug · 4 months

Text

Bound to falling in love

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Mick Schumacher x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: None that I can see?

Notes: Unsurprisingly this won the vote. But I hope you like it :)

Summary: Mick Schumacher has been extremelyprivate with how soulmark his whole life. But what happens when the interest does ehat its best at, snooping. Well Mick Schumacher might just finally meet the celebrity that he doesn't at all have a tiny crush on...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: WE ARE SO BACK BABY!!🖤🖤 Mercedes CCH 2024 Incoming (I'm delusional)

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 756,986 others

View all 533 comments

User1: I knew Y/N was an F1 girlie but I didn't know she was a Mercedes girl🤔

↳Yourusername: Have been for ever🖤

User2: Y/N is like me fr eith that caption

↳User3: Fr though😭 Like wdym 2nd place in sprint doesn't mean Lewis will get his 8th!?

↳Yourusername: Maybe he performed so well just to improve his ex-husband

↳User4: LMAO Poor Nico

Lewishamilton: Glad to see your support lies in the right place💪

↳Yourusername: OH my gosh. Sir Lewis Hamilton. It is an honour to speak to you

↳Lewishamilton: Maybe you should come to the Mercedes garage some time. I think certain people would love your company👀

↳User5: I think he just killed Y/N

↳User6: Wa she talking about himself or someone else. George perhaps? I'M so nosy!!!

↳User7: Well Mick is in the likes so that's where my money is...

↳User8: Sure grandma, the mkst soul ate obsessed obsessed In existence is caught up over Y/N...

↳User7: I mean it is Y/N Y/L/N

↳User8: True...

User9: Mick being in the likes👀

↳User10: Meh even if he does have a thing for Y/N, he'll still stick to his soulmate like he has done for decades.

↳User11: Hear me out, Y/N is his soulmate...

↳User10: Girl actualy shut up

↳User11: Just look at that twitter thread

↳User10: Hmmm interesting. It looks like it could be possible but the chances are 0.001% of it being her. Just because one user recognised it doesn't mean it's her

User12: Is anyone else really confused by all this talk of the twitter thread and that "one reply"

Liked by Yourusername

↳User13: basically people are trying to find out who Mick's soulmate is and currently people think it's Y/N

↳User12: OH... how random

↳User13: Yeah but tell me they wouldn't make the perfect couple...

Liked by Yourusername

↳User14: Y/N liking this comment + its replies twice is wild and shows she's as curious as us...

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Mick's phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Your phone | Mick's | Your phone

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: This guy wouldn't leave me alone in Italy. He says he's in the family business of driving cars or smt

Liked by Mickschumacher, Lewishamilton and 1,023,987 others

View all 674 comments

User1: NO WAY.... DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES

↳User2: Girl probably? Hopefully? Idk?

User3: We don't need confirmation now...but also we so do!!!

User4: Awww they really are perfect for each other!🥺🥰

Liked by Mickschumacher, Yourusername

Lewishamilton: Glad you two finally found the time to go on a proper date rather than letting Mick ogle you all day!

↳Mickschumacher: Thanks for that man...

↳Yourusername: Aww Micky, you stare at me all the time?

↳Mickschumacher: How can I not Schatz, you're the most gorgeous person in the whole world❤❤❤

↳Estabanocon: How sweet 🤢

↳Mickschumacher: Aww just let me be in love this once.

User5: Ugh he's so bf coded

Liked by Yourusername

↳User6: I SEE YOU LURKING Y/N

User7: did you guys see Mick say love? Ooh is this a new word added to the equation or....

Liked by yourusername

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

New story from Mickschumacher

(My darling, my soulmate. Finally all mine to love)

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist:@nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher soulmate au #f1 soulmate au #ldah's writing #f1 smau

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rosesanddecay · 6 months

Text

Imagine: insecure/worried!Price x Reader (& more)

TW: minor hurt/future comfort(?), sleep deprived ramble

Next>>

Price always worried about letting you in too close. His job is dangerous, and his life is always at risk. John felt guilty imagining you waiting for him, only for him to never return back to you.

It didn’t help that you had just broken up with your last boyfriend, someone you, admittedly, thought you were going to marry. John didn’t want to risk you being emotionally wrecked again so soon.

He never wants to lose you, and at the time, he fully believed knew he loved you. But he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt, so he made a fail safe.

With some thorough convincing, your relationship opens- but only on your side. John encourages you to get another boyfriend, much to your initial dismay. It’s not because he wants to share you, but because he doesn’t want to risk you being left alone.

The two of you never discuss your other relationship, and when he has free time, the two of you spend every moment together. But sometimes his work is overbearing, so he doesn’t tell you to come over.

He spends the night alone, because to him, a night of just sleeping next to each other isn’t good enough for you. You deserve better.

It hurts feeling like he isn’t enough, or fearing you’ll be in pain at his expense. He loves you and wants you to be happy.

You always tried to tell him he was enough, that you loved him, but he never fully listened.

At least if you’ll have someone to comfort you in case he dies, right?

——

Soap had called the team over for a housewarming party after moving into his new place. His bonnie thing was set to show up soon, and he couldn’t stop ranting about her (he hasn’t stopped vaguely bragging about her since they got together).

John wasn’t too focused, instead thinking about when he should tell you he’s back in town- it had been awhile since he saw you.

Maybe if he asked you to move in, the two of you could transition into a relationship where he felt confident he was enough for—

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts as he hears you greet Johnny. And the moment you turned the corner, his heart stopped.

His lass, the one he encouraged to date another, was also with his teammate.

Johnny was introducing you to the team as you and John locked eyes; the dots formed and connected instantly, and the panic settled in.

What were you two to do? Lie and pretend to not know each other? How could you pretend not to know the person you were in love with?

“But ‘imma steal ‘er from him. Make ‘im realize his mistake lettin’ ‘is bird roam the city unattended.” Johnny joked as he finished explaining the circumstances of your relationship. How you two were committed, but how you also had a loser (Johnny’s words) boyfriend who wanted an open relationship.

As Johnny continued to talk about the two of you, he seemed oblivious to his surroundings. But so were you and Price…

Gaz stared at you, wondering how his ex girlfriend -the one he regretted ever leaving, the one he still loved, the one he wanted to marry- was there.

His heart was on the ground being stepped on. All his regret was tripling down as he saw his teammate holding you so lovingly, the way he wished he still could.

It was selfish to want you back, even years after the break up. But he couldn’t help wanting his soulmate back. And it was his fault for pushing you away…

When you finally broke your gaze with Price, you unintentionally met the wide-eyed gaze of Gaz- and you felt like throwing up.

Your two boyfriends and now your ex too??

But you hadn’t even noticed him yet.

Ghosts eyes landed on you in silence the moment you walked in. It took him a minute to even process how you were there.

“Lass…” Simon spoke in a tone only you were familiar with, making everyone else go silent and turn to him.

“Simon..?” Your voice was quiet and shaky as you realized immediately who he was.

The mask hid him at first, but you knew the voice of your long-lost friend. Your childhood best friend, your childhood crush.

The same one who “died” before either of you could confess to each other…

How could these men all be in the same room? It was like ghosts of the past, present, future, and the dead were haunting you.

“So… I guess introductions aren’t needed…” Soap realized as everyone stared at you.

————

Sorry if this sucks. I’m ignoring my endless pile of wips and writing this at 2 am

And I may expand upon it…

It would 100% devolve into poly!141 x reader btw

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ch3rrytales · 1 year

Text

i couldn’t be more in love - steve harrington

a/n: hi! here’s a lil angsty steve one shot for y’all (unedited) this is my first time writing steve so please be gentle with me. requests are currently open. thanks for reading and as always all support and criticism is extremely appreciated! hope you enjoy, lots of love - florie <3

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve’s fears of not being good enough for you cause him to end your four year relationship and leave you heartbroken. even though he tries his best to move on and let you go, his undeniable need to protect you results with you in his bed at the end of a night out.

word count: 7.8k

warning(s): cursing, crying, drinking, mention of weed, parental pressure, throwing up, angst, mentions of insecurity about self worth, smut, no use of y/n, steve and reader are 19/20.

“Ignore it.” Robin said, pushing an overflowing red solo cup into your hand, lukewarm beer sloshing over the rim to drip down your arm.

You shot her a glare and huffed, “I’m trying to.”

She stepped in front of you, blocking your line of vision to who you had been staring daggers at in the corner of the room.

Steve Harrington. Your ex-boyfriend. Your twin flame. Your soulmate. The love of your life.

And her. His new fling.

They had been going at it for the past 5 minutes, they hadn’t even stopped to catch their breath.

You could remember when you and Steve were like that, attached at the hip, disgustingly affectionate.

You weren’t even sure when you had stopped being like that. All you knew was that three weeks ago he had sat you down, taken your hands in his own, eyes glossy, and said the words you had hoped you would never have to hear from his mouth.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

The second he said it you felt something inside of you drop, trickle all the way down to the tips of your toes and onto the floor, it’s absence leaving your whole body cold. When you and Steve started dating, a comfort that you had never been familiar with before found a home in you and put you at ease for the first time in your life. When you were with him your head and heart were so full of love that any familial or personal pressures that typically plagued you were forced out, there was no more room for them. Your parents overbearing wishes and your perpetual fear of failure were overpowered by his sheer admiration of you, it had always been said that you were destined for greatness in all your endeavors, but Steve never really wanted greatness, he only wanted you. Until he didn’t.

Now you watched them and fought to ignore the pain stabbing into your heart. While his hands roamed over her body you thought back to a better time, a sweeter time.

- - -

Steve slung his arm around your shoulders as you walked past a group of football players who were passing around a poorly made bong on the front porch. They shouted various greetings to your socially esteemed boyfriend who returned their welcome with a nonchalant wave of his hand.

You tilted your head to speak into his ear as you passed through the front door.

“Whose house is this again?”

“You remember Jimmy? I introduced you two at my house last week.”

“Right.” you remembered, one of Steve’s teammates from basketball. “And you’re sure it’s okay that I came, you know without an invitation?”

Steve’s lips twisted up into a lazy smirk and he couldn’t help himself from pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“You’re my plus one, baby. Course it’s okay.”

As you made your way through the party you tried not to feel intimidated by the amount of people flocking to your boyfriend, guys pulling him into half assed hugs, and girls pressing into him, their glossed lips wrapping around sultry hellos.

Steve didn’t seem to pay it any mind, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around your waist ushering you through the crowd until you had reached the drink table in the center of the kitchen. He lifted you up so you sat in front of him atop the counter and shuffled his way between your thighs.

“Whaddya drinking?” he crooned, smooth as always.

“Dunno.” you mumbled, lost in the way his eyes burned into you.

“You want something sweet, honey?” he teased, his hands finding a home just above your knees.

You nodded dumbly as his fingertips traveled up and dipped just under the hem of your skirt.

“Me too.” he agreed and laughed softly, motioning to his lips with the point of his finger. “Lay it on me.”

You pecked him once leaving your cheeks warm and he hummed contently against you before pulling away.

“Alright, now that we’ve got that sorted. How bout a shirley temple?”

He started pouring soda and grenadine into a cup of ice, dumping in two shots of vodka to finish it off while you watched, your feet lazily swinging from where they hung above the ground.

“Cherry on top?” he asked, pulling a jar of maraschino cherries from the door of the fridge.

“Please.” you replied, sticky sweet.

“Well fuck.” he scoffed, twisting the lid off. “I’d cut my right arm off if you asked like that, honey.”

- - -

You were slowly nursing your second drink of the night and had no desire for a third. In all honesty what you really wanted to do was walk home and hide in your bed but you knew that wouldn’t be happening, Robin wouldn’t allow it.

She had practically dragged you from your tear soaked sheets and forced you into the little red skirt and matching cropped angora sweater you had bought impulsively as a post breakup gift for yourself.

“You really need to get out.” she said while you begrudgingly swiped mascara through your lashes, just a few hours earlier.

“I’m not ready yet, Robs.” you complained, turning in your vanity chair to face her. “What if he’s there? What if he’s with that girl?”

“That girl” being Donna, a stunning hair stylist who worked at the salon across from Family Video. Robin had been keeping you filled in on their budding romance since it began, how she had come in one Tuesday and slid a gum wrapper scribbled with her number across the counter with her perfectly polished nails while Steve was helping her checkout. He had taken her out that weekend and they had been seeing each other casually since.

Robin threw a fashion magazine she was flipping through on your bed to the floor, “Who cares? You know I love you and I wouldn’t want to say anything to upset you while you’re-” she paused to grimace at the pile of soggy tissues covering your nightstand. “...fragile. But, obviously he’s moved on and it’s killing me to see you still stuck on him when you’re so clearly out of his league.”

You stared at her blankly, “I’m out of his league?”

“Duh! This is Steve Harrington we’re talking about, I once watched him have a 20 minute “lightsaber duel” with Henderson using a mop.”

You scrunched your nose trying to hide the fact that you found that incredibly endearing and not at all dorky before you responded, “Yet he’s the one who dumped me.”

She sighed in full dramatics flinging her head off the end of your bed so she was staring at you upside down, “Exactly! What kind of a dingus would do that?”

You frowned at yourself in the mirror before powdering your nose for the third time, “Someone who’s moving on to better things.”

“I call bullshit.” she declared. “How does it get better than you? Once you get yourself all pretty and a couple of drinks in your system you’ll forget who Steve Harrington even is.”

“Doubtful.” you retorted.

Robin came behind you, her expression pitiful as it reflected in your mirror. “But, would it kill you to try?” she asked hopefully.

You shrugged and swiped a cherry scented gloss across your lips, “It might.” you said honestly. “But, I guess I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

Robin beamed at you through the mirror and smacked a kiss to the top of your head before practically skipping to the other side of your bedroom.

“Well, then hurry.” she said, pulling her pin-covered denim jacket over her shoulders. “We leave in 10.”

Now that you were at the party, staring at the person you loved more than anything in the world with his tongue down another girl's throat, you realized you did have something to lose, the contents of your stomach.

You turned to Robin, who was beside you eyeing a girl who had come into Family Video last week in search of any Molly Ringwald movie she could get her hands on.

“I think I’m gonna yack.” you whispered.

“What?” she questioned. “You’ve hardly had anything to drink.”

“It’s not the alcohol making me queasy.” you replied, gesturing to Steve and Donna pressed against the wall opposite to you.

“I thought I told you to ignore him?” she said, still slightly distracted.

“Easier said than done.”

She took a moment to look at you, her best friend. It honestly hurt her to see you so down on yourself. All she wanted was for you to have a good time after weeks of sobbing in her arms and isolating yourself in your room. She looked around the room until her gaze fell upon a beefy blonde eyeing you from the beer pong table.

“You wanna play a game of pong?” she said, gesturing to the table.

“Not really.” you replied, your eyes unmoving from Steve’s back.

“Too bad.” she decided, tugging you behind her.

“Robinnn” you complained, following her.

When the two of you reached the table the blonde in question sauntered over to you, drinking you in with his stare.

“You girls up for a game?” he shouted over the music.

You shook your head timidly while Robin replied, “Absolutely.”

The boy pulled you into his side with an arm around your back and spoke into your ear, “You’re on my team, babe.”

You looked helplessly to Robin who only nodded and mouthed to you, “Go for it.”

“You got a partner?” he asked her. She looked around and shrugged.

You turned your focus to reorganizing the scattered cups on the table into a pyramid, your head shooting up when your new partner’s voice cut through the room.

“Harrington!” he called. “Come play, we need another person.”

Robin’s eyes widened as she tried to assess what the quickest escape for you would be.

But Steve was faster, approaching the table with Donna under his arm still unaware of your presence.

He saw Robin first, her face red and eyes locked on yours. Then he focused his attention on the man beside you who once again pulled you close and then spoke, “It’s you and her against me and this pretty thing.”

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

As quickly as he was there he was gone.

You were seconds away from crumpling to the ground when Robin pulled you from the man’s arms.

“Fuck,” she said, her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I had no idea he was coming over here.”

You shook your head, dismissing her apologies. “It’s not your fault, I just-” your voice cracked and you looked at her wordlessly. “He didn’t even acknowledge me.”

She frowned and pulled you into a hug, “He’s a massive idiot.”

“Are we still playing?” The blonde asked, dumbfounded.

“Sorry, but fuck off.” Robin replied, before walking towards the kitchen, arms still wrapped around you. “We’re taking shots. Lots of them.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Robin pulled a bottle of vodka from the many assorted liquors lined up on the table in front of you.

“Y’know how they say the best way to get over someone is to get under them?” she asked, already pouring the shots.

You nodded weakly.

She shoved the tiny glass into your hand, “That’s a lie.” she declared. “The best way to get over someone is to get absolutely shit faced.”

You recalled Steve’s expression when he saw you, it was cold, not exactly unbothered but withdrawn. You recalled her hands on him, her lips brushing the shell of his ear, and her words affecting him.

You slung the glass back, the liquid bringing a welcome burn to the back of your throat. Then you took another. Then another. Then another.

Within the hour you were somewhat distracted from your heartache. You and Robin were squished together on a couch with Nancy and Jonathan, all giggling drunkenly in response to the story Jonathan was sharing of an encounter he had with an inebriated pizza delivery boy the week prior.

You had lost count of your drinks and your head was feeling increasingly heavy to hold up, making your neck ache. You didn’t really mind the pain, in fact you welcomed it, this pain was much easier to manage then the dull throbbing kind that had been tormenting your heart. Your head fell back against the cushion behind you and you felt as if the world was spinning off its axis beneath you. Your elbow dug into Robin’s side making her groan in annoyance. The lights in the room started to overwhelm you and a wave of nausea washed over you.

“Robin,” you mumbled, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hm?” she hummed in response, her head lolling to the side.

“M’gonna be sick.”

“Now?”

You swallowed thickly and shakily rose to your feet. “Right now.” you confirmed. You started pushing past people in pursuit of the bathroom, you could hear Robin behind you faintly.

“Coming,” she said. “Slow down, I'm right behind you.”

You ran up the stairs, as fast as you could in your current state, hands clawing the railing for balance. You stumbled through the hallway, checking behind you when you had reached what you hoped to be the bathroom door only to realize you had lost Robin along the way.

Your clammy hands turned around the knob and your body fell limp against the door as it swung open, fluorescent light invading your eyes. You dropped to your knees and shoved the door shut behind you, too nauseous to attempt locking it. Your hands shook as they gripped the toilet pushing up the seat before heaving roughly into the bowl.

Your eyes squinted shut as your head pounded, the music playing from downstairs was slightly shaking the foundation of the house and you were suddenly longing to be carried away and tucked into your bed.

You thought of Steve, not whoever it was you encountered downstairs. But your Steve, the one who would give you piggyback rides from the bar to where his car was parked blocks away when your feet hurt. The one who sat criss-cross applesauce on Nancy Wheeler’s bathroom floor with you in his lap, peppering your shoulders with kisses when you got too drunk last New Year’s Eve.

You brought the back of your hand to your mouth wiping roughly, your cheeks were wet with tears. You must’ve been sitting there for at least fifteen minutes, thoughts lingering on the past. When had you even started crying? You tore at the toilet paper roll beside you and balled up a sizable portion, you wiped at your eyes furiously, disregarding the mascara that was surely staining your face.

What a mess.

You shuddered at the thought of Steve seeing you like this, messy and broken and crumpled on the floor. You wondered what he would think, if he would feel sorry or just sorry for you.

As if the universe were playing some sort of cruel joke on you, while the thought floated around your head you heard the door unlatch and when you reluctantly followed the sound you saw him standing above you like some sort of awful miracle.

He looked shocked first, not expecting anyone to be in the room, but then the guilt washed over his face and you knew he had realized what he really walked into.

“Fuck, hon-.” he stuttered, his hands reaching out instinctively.

The half murmured term of endearment felt like a punch in the gut and you physically winced as he approached you.

His eyes filled with hurt at the way you reacted to his entrance, he used to scoop you up in his arms and quiet any of your pain with nothing but his presence and whispered words of comfort.

“Go,” you pleaded, your voice scratchy and raw.

“I can’t just leave you lik-” he sighed, and looked at you helplessly, as if saying what do you expect me to do. As if leaving you heartbroken and soiled on the bathroom tiles would be physically impossible for him, like he wasn’t the reason behind it.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffled and stared at the floor, “Please go.”

Steve squatted beside you and hesitantly reached out. He swallowed hard when you flinched under his touch as he pushed the hair out of your eyes, ensuring it was only mascara marring your pretty face and you weren’t physically harmed.

You refused to meet his eyes and when he tried to pull you off the ground, tugging gently on your hands, you shook your head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you protested.

“Taking you home, c’mon.”

“No,” you argued. “Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

“You’re drunk. I’m not-”

“I’m stone cold sober.” he informed, bringing his finger to his nose and then extending out as if he were doing a field test.

You finally locked eyes with him, and the unshed tears that sat brimming on your waterline seemed to drown him.

“I can’t, Steve.” you cried. “I can’t be in a car with you and…her.”

His shoulders fell a little and his expression softened ten fold.

“She’s not- I wouldn’t put you through that.” he said, as if it were obvious. “That’s why I’m not drinking,” he explained. “I already took her home, she’s babysitting her little brother tomorrow morning. She couldn’t stay late.”

You scoffed wetly, “How responsible of her.”

“Be nice.” he warned and you wanted to punch his perfect face.

“I’m not nice.” you slurred, under your breath.

“Bullshit,” he replied. “If someone hit you with their car you’d be the one to apologize.”

“Not anymore.”

“Don’t buy it.” he dismissed “Can you walk?”

“M’fine.” you clipped, rising to your feet while trying to ignore the feeling of the ground swaying under your feet and the pit of nausea still living in your stomach. “Gonna walk home.” you decided, pushing past him to get out of the tiny restroom.

He caught your forearm in the hallway, steadying your wobbly walk. “Yeah right. I’m taking you home. C’mon, I’m parked out front.”

You tried to tear yourself out of his grip, blaming the fluttery feeling in your stomach on your overindulgence.

“I don’t want your help. Okay?” you barked.

He ran his free hand through his hair and sighed, discouraged. “Look, I know you must hate me right now and I understand…” he paused and his expression remorseful. For a second you caught a glimpse of the man you loved, the man you still love. “Three weeks doesn’t erase four years. Please, let me take you home.”

Your will to fight him dwindled fast and you had to actively restrain yourself from embracing him and burying your face in his chest.

“Robin-” you started. “I can’t just leave her here.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly, still in complete awe of the way you cared for those lucky enough to be loved by you. “Go wait by the door, I’ll make sure she has a way home.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

“Of course.” He said, the second half of the sentence dying on his tongue. Anything for you.

You slowly made your way to the door and leaned against the wall, forcing air into your nose and out of your mouth in heavy puffs. You could feel your nerves buzzing beneath your skin at the prospect of being in a confined space with the person who dizzied you most in the world.

When Steve returned your eyes had drifted shut and your hands rested on your temples.

“Nancy and Jonathan are gonna give her a ride, they’re leaving in about an hour.” he informed. “You okay?”

You nodded slowly in response, “Thanks again.”

He hummed and opened the door for you, his hand instinctively finding its way to rest on your lower back and guide you out of the house.

When you got to his car he opened the passenger door, helping you in and leaning across you before you had a chance to shut it to secure your seat belt into place. Your whole body tensed when his fingers brushed against your hip and he muttered an apology.

He joined you in the car and switched on the radio before pulling away from the party in the direction of your house. Neither of you spoke as you exited the neighborhood so you laid your head against the window and watched the trees under the dim street lights as you passed by.

He turned a corner and you pressed your fingers into the leather seat beneath you to fight the unrest in your stomach that arose from the car’s motion.

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

Steve’s fingers tightened around the wheel and his eyes flicked to the side to see you looking at him timidly.

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

He couldn’t tell you the real reason behind his return, that he had been in agony imagining you at the party saddled up with some former jock, no one there to supervise your open drinks, or to ensure you had a safe way to get home.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He realized leaving again before the party was over contradicted his lie and cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You felt the sadness that had been lingering in you all night slowly turn to anger.

“Of course I’m not.” you clipped, facing out the window again.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was probably a stupid thing to say considering…” he trailed off, biting his lip so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he were to draw blood.

“Considering you dumped me and got a new girlfriend within a few weeks?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His heart hurt at the idea that anyone but you could hold that title.

He turned into your neighborhood and you had never been more thankful to see your house in the distance, that is until you realized all the lights were still on. Your parents were still up. Fuck.

To anyone else this may not have been a big deal, you were legally an adult but that never seemed to matter to your parents who were as strict as nuns when it came to drinking.

Steve seemed to notice the lights as well because his car came to a stop a few meters before your driveway.

“Well shit.” he remarked

“I can’t go in.” you said. You knew you must’ve looked quite disheveled, most likely smelled of alcohol and while you felt much more sober since emptying your stomach you knew there would still be a sway in your walk and a slight slur to your voice.

“You can stay at mine tonight,” he offered.

You laughed in amusement and anger. “I don’t think so. I can go to Robin’s.”

“She’s staying at Nancy and Jonathan’s and they won’t even be there for another 45 minutes at least. You can sleep in the guest room.”

He put the car in drive again and started towards his place before you could argue anymore.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, nothing but the quiet hum of the radio and the drum of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When he pulled into his garage you got out before he had the chance to do anything annoying and chivalrous like open your door or help you exit the vehicle.

You stepped inside the house that may as well have been haunted, every nook and cranny linked to some fond memory you shared with your ex boyfriend. The kitchen where he had miserably failed at cooking you an anniversary dinner, the shower where he carded his fingers through your sud soaked hair, the bed where you had lost your virginity and he held you in his arms till the morning came. Every part of this house was woven into your love story and you felt suffocated within its walls.

He threw his keys onto the kitchen table and kicked his shoes into the corner as you stood frozen in front of him taking in your surroundings as if for the last time.

“You can shower if you want,” he offered. “There’s some towels in the guest bathroom.”

“Okay.” you replied coolly.

“Just stay there a sec, I’ll go grab you some clothes.”

Your eyes were glued to a slightly faded polaroid of the two of you stuck to the fridge with a Hawkins High Basketball magnet. The fridge was barren otherwise, Steve’s parents not the type to decorate with school pictures or family memorabilia. The photo had been taken the night Steve told you he loved you and the night you returned the sentiment. In the picture your cheeks were pressed together, spread taut with matching smiles. You had been so happy that night, quite opposite to how you were feeling now.

Steve startled you from your thoughts with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he followed your line of sight to the photo and spoke, “One of my favorites. You looked breathtak-”

“Steve,” you cut off coarsely. “Just stop it.”

“Sorry, I just…it doesn’t matter. Here,” he said, handing you a stack of folded clothes that you recognized as your own. “I didn’t think you’d wanna wear anything of mine and I remembered I had these in the back of my dresser.”

You accepted them with no word of thanks and tried to convince yourself that he was right, that you hadn’t wanted him to hand you a pair of boxers and one of his sweaters still lingering with his cologne.

Once you reached the bathroom you stripped yourself of your uncomfortable party attire and turned on the hot water. You stood under the sweltering stream and welcomed the burn, letting all the rage you felt for Steve bubble up and swarm your head for the entire duration of your shower.

When you finished you hastily pulled on your clothes, your skin was now scorched and your anger hot and irrational. You stormed towards his room and swung the door open with not so much as a knock. There he sat in the dark, only the moon providing any illumination. His body stretched across his bed on top of the covers, head tilted to the ceiling with nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants resting lowly on his hips.

“I hope you know,” you started, startling him with a finger pointed lethally in his direction. “I’m not going to go around thinking you’re some great guy just because you took pity and helped me tonight.”

Steve could only flick his eyes in your direction briefly, too emotionally exhausted from the night to even sit up. “That’s not why I did it.”

“Oh, of course not.” your voice dripped with sarcasm.”King Steve is just such a gentleman he couldn’t have it any other way. Don’t act like tonight was motivated by anything other than guilt.”

“Do you actually believe that?”

“You brought that beautiful girl and you just carried on with her like I wasn’t even there. Then when it broke me you just had to come along and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m tired.” he muttered, your name following the statement almost inaudibly. He was tired of fighting with you, tired of seeing the way your eyes burnt into him no longer with lust but something even stronger, hurt.

“You don’t think I’m tired? You don’t think I wouldn’t give anything to close my eyes and not see her hands all over you?”

“Fine, I regret it. I should’ve thrown away her number the second she gave it to me. I should’ve never brought her to the party. Is that what you want to hear?

“No!” you cried. “It’s you who shouldn’t have come to the party and you shouldn’t have come back after you left. You could’ve just let me have this one night, I needed it.”

“I don’t regret that. I had to go to the party, you know that.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

His eyes softened, “It has everything to do with you.”

Suddenly you saw the events of the night under a completely different lens.

- - -

Then Steve saw you, your cheek mushed against the blonde douche’s shoulder, bottom lip wobbling as you suffocated in the unexpected eye contact.

Donna leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made his jaw clench and he shooed her back gently with the wave of his hand.

“Sorry, bud.” he said, eyes unmoving from yours. “Not interested.”

“Looks like she moved on after all.” Donna had purred in his ear.

He looked at you cozied up to someone new and saw nothing but red. He had to get out of there fast.

“Why would I do that? No, I’m- I’m here with Robin, she’s-”

“She’s passed out downstairs,” he interrupted. “You need to go home.”

He searched the party desperately, only able to catch his breath when he saw Robin laid across the couch, mouth hung open, Nancy and Jonathan not far by. He forced through the crowd till he reached her and felt his heart rate skyrocket when you were nowhere to be seen. He shook her shoulder till she roused enough to open her eyes a sliver.

“Where is she?” he asked, voice urgent. “Where, Robin? Is she okay?”

Robin grumbled and rolled over but not before muttering two words, “Sick. Upstairs.”

“So, why’d you come back?” you asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Y’know after you dropped her off.”

“I said I’d help clean after.” he lied, swallowing the truth with a forced gulp.

“And now you’re driving me home.”

He had never once stayed after a party to clean, not even for his closest friends, and certainly not for some former football player he had interacted with maybe 4 times in his life who still found spitballs to be the height of comedy at the ripe age of 21.

- - -

“You were looking for me.” you realized.

Steve met your eyes and exhaled heavily, “Aren’t I always?”

You held eye contact and despite the dimness of the room he could see your chest heaving up and down with troubled breaths. You turned to leave and Steve fell back against his pillows, scrubbing his hand roughly against his face.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold into the hallway you spun on your heel and faced him again.

“Steve, I-I’m sorry okay? I don’t know why I can’t be civil with you. I feel like my whole life has been flipped upside down over the past few weeks. And I know I can’t blame you for falling out of love with me… I just can’t- I’m not ready to see you fully over us-” your voice cracked painfully in the back of your throat.

“Baby…” he sighed sadly, sitting up in his bed.

You felt tears spring to your eyes, bringing your hands to your face and then dropping them shakily. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you sorrowfully as your body finally gave out, succumbing to the tears. Before you could stop yourself your legs carried you towards his bed, falling forward on top of him and wrapping yourself around his body.

“Please- I just, I need to-”

You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence but Steve always had a knack for reading your mind and he knew exactly what you meant. You needed to feel him, to hold him again, breathe in his scent, run your fingertips over his skin. He knew because the feeling was all too familiar, he felt it before he shut his eyes every night, before the sun rose through his curtains in the morning, and every moment in between.

Wordlessly he closed his arms around you and your nose pressed into his bare collarbone. His hands traveled up, threading into your hair, cradling your head against him.

“Breathe,” he cooed. With his chin tucked into your neck you could feel the wet lick of his lips when he spoke.

“I’m not fully over us,” he admitted. “Not even close.” He laughed, humorlessly, nudging his nose under your ear, “You’re honestly doing my head in.”

You let your eyes fall shut, wanting to take in every bit of this moment, unsure if you would ever experience anything like it again.

“I really miss you.” you whispered into the diminutive space between you.

A pained noise slipped out from Steve at your confession. He wished you could see the bigger picture he had sketched up in his mind, how in a few years he would be a blip in your memory, a single dim star amongst the blinding constellation of your future accomplishments.

Steve may have been considered slightly ditzy around town but he had never been stupid, he knew you were too good for him, he always knew. From that very first kiss in his BMW four years ago when the two of you were only 16 he knew that the way you felt for him would be temporary. The admiration in your eyes would fade and the curtain would fall. He wasn’t King Steve like he had been in high school, he was just Steve, plain unpromising Steve.

You had always been gifted, you were going places, you had aspirations. The only aspirations Steve could ever remember having were in regards to you, taking care of you, loving you, putting a ring on your finger, making you his wife, and eventually building a family with you. A loving happy family, nothing like the kind he had grown up with.

He wanted the best for you, and as much as it fucking devastated him he wasn’t sure that meant him anymore.

But his resolve was growing thinner, wearing down with each exhale that passed your lips to tickle his skin.

“I miss you too, honey. So much.”

“But, Donna-”

“Isn’t looking for anything serious.” he finished for you. “She’s good company but she's not you. No one is.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it.”

“Why not?” you pleaded against him.

“It’s better this way. I promise, it will be.”

You nuzzled further into him, “How?” Your lips ghosted his clavicles and he trembled. “How could it be better than this?”

His leg slotted between your thighs, pressing you into him. You jumped at the feeling, a symphonic sigh exiting you against your will.

“Shit- sorry.”

You panted and shook your head. “No, don’t be. It’s good.”

He readjusted in an attempt to put some space between you, feeling himself getting sucked into your hazy arousal rapidly. You felt the familiar outline of his excitement against the side of your legs and he hissed.

“This would be real fuckin’ selfish of me.” he struggled to say while you chased his lips, yours already pouted in anticipation. He caught your face and held it in place in front of his own, searching for any lingering signs of intoxication, “You’ll never forgive me tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you said honestly. The shower and time passed had sobered you up fine.

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll hate me for leading you on.”

“Are you?”

Steve pondered your question and tried not to let his face show how unsure he was of the answer. Could he really stay away from you? Would either of you ever be able to fully move on from your paramount love?

You read him like a book and grazed his chest with the tips of your fingers, bringing him back to you.

“Even if you are, I couldn’t hate you.”

He swiped his thumb across your eyebrow and watched your eyelids flutter in response. “I hate myself for hurting you.”

You leaned forward until your noses bumped and spoke into his mouth, “Then make up for it.”

Finally, Steve closed the space between you with a hungry kiss. His lips were warm and chapped against yours, his teeth scraping against the suppleness of your bottom one to pull your mouth open and allow him to show you just how sorry he was.

For the first time in weeks you felt your lungs fill with no resistance and strain against your ribcage with a welcome sort of discomfort, like an overfilled balloon you were seconds away from popping and Steve knew it.

His hips rutted against yours and one of his hands slowly traveled down from the velvet of your cheek to palm roughly at your breast. The feeling made your breath catch in your throat, coaxing a high pitched squeak out of you and Steve smiled against your lips, his teeth knocking yours.

“Feels good?” he asked.

“Mhm.” you hummed as he turned his attention to your neck, nipping and kissing the dewy surface. “Always does. You always do.”

His responsive whimper is slightly muffled by your skin but you bathe in it.

“You too.” he reciprocated. “I won’t last long if you keep talking like that, you’ll knock my fucking lights out.”

“Sorry,” you said sweetly, leaving him bewildered at how you could be so sensual and so adorable at the same time.

You sat up, straddling him. Your hands traveled south to breach the barrier of his waistband and wrap your hand around him.

He sucked in a pained breath and tugged the shirt barring his view over your head. “M’hurtin, honey. Lemme feel you.” he pleaded.

You pulled the shorts you wore down your legs leaving you bare and Steve took in the sight as if for the first time.

His hands caressed your stomach, sliding downwards until they rested firmly on your hips which twitched in anticipation.

“Somehow I forgot how perfect you are.” he revealed, his words drenched in sincerity. “No one is this perfect,” he pinched your heated skin once and you whined. “You’re a fucking novelty.”

You stared down at him and wondered if he had ever really looked at himself in the mirror. You scraped your nails lightly down his chest, “You are.”

He coughed and denied it with the shake of his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips for a loving kiss. “I’m nothing compared to you, baby.”

Desperate to get on with it you raised yourself above him hovering whilst lining him up to you. Steve watched your face as you nudged his tip against your clit, your eyebrows pulled together and mouth falling into a gaping “O” shape.

You shimmied forward a little bit and slowly started to sink onto him, pausing as soon as the tip was in. You winced at the stretch and were reminded that it had been a while since you had taken him at all, let alone like this.

“You okay?” he asked, holding you firmly in place to be sure you didn’t slip any further before you were ready.

You nodded, but stayed still. “Hurts a lil s’all.”

Steve kicked himself when he realized he had done nothing to get you ready for him. “I’m sorry, honey. I should’ve prepped you a bit. Hop off a sec.”

“No,” you protested, letting yourself drop another inch or so. “I didn’t want you to. I jus’ want you inside.” you whined as you sunk all the way down, ignoring the burn in your stomach.

Steve cursed to the ceiling as you fluttered around him and he forced himself not to lift his hips and grind even further into you.

He clenched his teeth as he spoke, “Is it painful?”

“It’s perfect.” you answered in more of a sigh than anything else.

“Yeah?” he said, reaching forward to circle your clit with the gentle movement of his thumb.

When you moaned and rolled your hips forward he praised you in a rambled jumble of words.

“Fuck. Holy fuck, baby. You're so good, so so good for me. Shit. Warm and fucking tight. God, am I making you feel good? C’mon talk to me, lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You nodded, brain fading into a lust filled frenzy. “Feels unreal, Stevie.”

You tried to raise yourself with shaky legs but he stopped you with a firm grasp.

“Wha-”

“You think I’m gonna let you do any of the work tonight? It’s not happening, baby. I’m making it up to you, remember? Lemme make you feel good, hm?”

He lifted you with hardly any effort and then pulled you down again, the drag of him against your walls pulling a series of sweet moans from you.

Repeatedly, he bounced you against him, encouraging you with candied praises every time your face pinched in pleasure or you clenched around him, dizzying his head.

After a few blissful moments you felt a wave of pleasure rush to you like the tide to a shore and you panted out a warning.

“Stevie- I’m gonna,”

“You gonna cum for me, honey? C’mon give it to me. I’m right there with you, sweet girl.”

You shook and cried out as your release drowned you, sweeping Steve into the current right alongside you.

You collapsed forward in exhaustion and he held you against his sweat slick body, peppering gentle kisses across your forehead.

“You here w’me?” he whispered.

“Yes.” you replied, voice light. You pulled yourself off of him and tried not to think about the loss, tried not to think about what would happen now.

Rolling over next to him you shivered at the cold air on your bare skin and he wordlessly tucked you under his arm and rubbed his hands up and down on your arm, sparking a friction fueled warmth.

He watched you carefully unable to decipher the thoughts behind your head for what seemed like the first time ever.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You swallowed and tilted your head up to look at him. “What happens next.” you admitted.

He nodded in understanding. “What do you want to happen?”

“Steve.” you chided. “You know what I want.”

“Honey…”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” he said shocked.

“Then what’s exactly the issue with us being together?”

“It’s complicated. It’s not about me not loving you or not wanting to be with you.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, sitting up and pulling your previously discarded shirt over your head.

He ran his hands through his sweat damp hair in exasperation. “We don’t make sense anymore,” he admitted.

You bit your lip to hide your hurt and spoke timidly, “Why not?”

“Our lives are gonna go down really different paths and I don’t want to be the douchebag high school sweetheart that holds you back from everything you’re capable of. I’m gonna end up here, working some mundane job, having a few kids and accomplishing nothing special. And that’s fine, I’m content with that but that’s not you.

You frowned at him.

“You’re meant for something bigger. Everyone knows it. I won’t give you some simple life when you deserve a grand one.”

You felt white hot anger seeping through your skin and pushed yourself off the bed bitterly. Without saying a word in response you started searching the room for your shorts, feet stomping with every step.

“What are you doing?” he asked, anxiety clear in his voice.

“I’m leaving.” you said.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I don’t care.” you hissed. “You really think you’re helping me by making decisions for me? Do I not get any say in what I want?”

“Of course you do, that’s what this is about. One day you’re gonna want more than I can offer you. I'm just trying to make it easier for you.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “You really have no idea what I want then.”

“So tell me.”

“Steve.” you said, shimmying your shorts back up your legs. “I want you. No ifs ands or buts. Have I not made that crystal clear the entire time we’ve been together?”

“You have but-”

“No, I’m not done. You’re right, I don’t want a simple life. I want to settle down here, in the town we fell in love. I want to marry you and have kids with you. I want to make dinner with you every night and after we eat I want to wash the dishes while you dry. I want to take your clothes out of the dryer and fold them while they’re still warm. I want to kiss you every night before I go to bed and roll over next to you every morning. I want us. A life where we end up together couldn’t be simple because it’s us together, and I love you so much more than any other possible outcome.”

He stared at you bewildered. “You do?”

“Yes! I’ve been in absolute hell these last few weeks over this?”

You approached him and took his hands in yours.

“Look,” you sighed. “I’m so sorry that people in your life have made you believe that you aren’t the talented, smart, capable and loving man that I know you are but none of them matter when it comes to our relationship. That’s just us, me and you. And I know,” you pressed a hand to your heart. “There’s no one in the world who could give me a better life, or love me better than you. I love you, Steve.”

He looked up at you, half sorrowfully half hopefully, “Does this mean we’re back together?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been miserable without you.” he replied.

“And who’s fault is that?” you laughed, the mood in the room beginning to mellow out into the typically comforting setting you were accustomed to when you were with Steve.

“I’m sorry I ended us and that I tried to make your choices for you.” he said. “I promise I won’t do it again. Oh, and I love you, like more than anything else in the world and I’m fucking devastated that I made you think I didn’t.”

“I love you too.” you echoed, melting into his arms once again not planning on letting go anytime soon.

He pressed his nose into your hair and smiled, lopsided. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, y’know.”

“Good thing you have the rest of our lives.”

He tugged you onto the bed making you break into a fit of giggles as he pressed sloppy kisses over your entire face.

“I think I’ll start right now.”

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