Part One: Sugar & Spice

Hard Carry Masterlist

Summary: Y/n really doesn't have time for love. Debuting in Formula One at the young age of 17 before completely dominating the sport ever since, romance, had always been something that's never been on her top priority list. At least, that is, until a boy with green eyes and sweet smile appeared in her life.

or

in which a formula one legend herself caught some feelings towards Ferrari's newly crowned prince.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Table of contents

00. she's a star, she's the moment, she's y/n

01. it's 2018, baby!

02. down under

03.

04.

05.

06.

07.

smau!

00.

Hate To Love You - Synopsis & Masterlist

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader, Charles Leclerc x OFC, Charles Leclerc x Lily Wilson 

Warnings: enemies to lovers

Author’s Note: You don’t need to have read Man’s World to enjoy this spin off! 

Tag List: Want to join the tag list for this story? Fill out this little form or drop me a comment below! 

Synopsis

Keep reading

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"i wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

warning: angst, childhood best friends, toxic fuckboy pierre, mentions of bullying as a little kid, friend zone, one-night stand, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of feeling used, emotional dependence, heartbreak, miscommunication trope, platonic!reader x charles leclerc

pairing: pierre gasly x reader

word count: 4.1k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts.

whoever guessed 'you're on your own, kid'... CONGRATS!! this one is for you! haha I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest story I've written so far but this is such a special song to me and I tried my best to do it justice! enjoy!

masterlist

Summer went away, still, the yearning stays

I play it cool with the best of them

I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me

It's okay, we're the best of friends

Anyway

For as long as Y/N could remember, she had been completely and madly in love with her best friend.

Pierre and Y/N became an inseparable duo from the moment they met as two little kids trying out for their primary school's football team.

At the time, the other boys tried to make fun of the little girl for wanting to be a part of a "boys' sport", as they called it. Being the only girl there, she was made the target of all the bullying, but when she was about to give in and give up, her hero appeared in the form of 6-year-old Pierre who defended her with everything he had.

Y/N looked at the tiny French boy with wide, sparkling eyes as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze so she wouldn't feel alone.

From there, the two immediately became best friends and that's how they stayed throughout the years.

But at some point in time, the girl found herself getting butterflies when she was in Pierre's presence, imagining what it would be like to have his lips against hers, idealizing a life where the two would be together as more than just friends.

It was inevitable. Pierre emanated such a powerful energy that it consumed her head and dominated all her senses.

He was like a drug: addictive, impossible to give up and she depended on him for survival - almost as if he was oxygen.

And so it was with so many other girls, victims of the driver's charm, although his playboy fame followed him everywhere since he was a teenager.

And it hurt. It hurt too much.

All those years, Y/N had no choice but to fake a smile and nod as she listened to the Frenchman brag about all his latest conquests, all the models, actresses and singers he got involved with all over the world. 

She had no choice but to wait patiently for him to notice her and for him to finally see them as more than the best of friends.

I hear it in your voice, you're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

All my days

To be honest, Y/N was already starting to accept that nothing would ever happen between them.

So, the girl chose to distance herself from her friend a little, in an attempt to let her romantic feelings for him fade over time.

She used every excuse in the book to avoid him: I'm tired, I have other plans, I'm working late, I'm sick, I had a family emergency. All of the excuses in the world were used.

Until the day when there were no more excuses and she ended up having to give in, arranging a movie night with the man, as they frequently did over their friendship of nearly two decades.

Y/N arrived at Pierre's luxury apartment in Milan on time as she always did. For a second, she hesitated to knock on the door, letting her anxiety take over, and almost decided to flee in the opposite direction. But as if the driver read her thoughts, the Frenchman appeared from inside his house, seeing his best friend, frozen on top of his black 'welcome' mat.

"Hey! I thought I heard someone coming!" Pierre said excitedly as he gave the girl a short hug. "What are you waiting for? Come in, make yourself comfortable!"

Y/N took off her long coat, hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway, and followed Pierre into his living room, where she saw everything prepared for their movie session. Pillows scattered across the living room floor, two warm blankets crumpled on the couch and two buckets full of popcorn, the smell of which had entered her nose from the moment she set foot inside the apartment.

The familiar image of the boy sitting on his soft carpet made her body relax, and she took the seat next to him while he searched for a movie on his Netflix account. After the two agreed to watch a horror movie, both of them big fans of the genre, the two leaned back against the bottom of the sofa and directed their attention to the screen.

The minutes passed and the two remained in a comfortable silence, commenting from time to time on some of the moments in the film. 

Pierre was now closer to the girl's side and the heat he radiated seemed to almost burn her with the tension that appeared to have settled in her room.

Out of nowhere, Y/N felt something cold on her thigh and thought she was daydreaming when she realized it was her best friend's hand. The girl didn't react, fearing that the words coming out of her mouth would be the wrong ones.

She couldn't help but notice how the driver seemed to be studying her every move, out of the corner of his eye, like a predator looking for prey to attack. 

It was a look she had seen on his face more times than she could count. But never directed at her.

His hand began to move slowly up her soft thigh towards the warm spot between her legs, testing the waters and seeing how far she allowed him to go. His calculated movement was stopped abruptly when she caught his wrist before he reached his intended destination.

"Pierre, what are you doing?" Y/N asked, turning her flushed face towards him.

The boy was mere inches away from her, a smirk plastered across his face and without any sign of regret or embarrassment at having been caught making his risky move. "Y/N, don't lie to me. I've seen the way you look at me. The way your eyes react when they see me approaching you, when you see me with other girls, or when you see me shirtless." He grinned at her, shamelessly.

The girl remained silent, no words daring to be uttered, and she gasped as his hand returned to its former place on the top of her thigh. The Frenchman narrowed the space between them even more, letting his lips brush over hers.

"Come on, Y/N. I can feel how much you want this, want me right now." The man spoke, his fingers now playing with the elastic of her underwear, threatening to act on his desire. "Don't think too much about it. Just live in the moment and act without thinking about the consequences."

Those words were enough to make her head turn off, completely losing her rationality.

Filled with lust, Y/N acted without thinking and kissed Pierre urgently, as if she feared the moment would end at any moment.

With tongues fighting passionately, touches exploring the curves and details of each others' bodies, and clothes scattered carelessly around the room, the two allowed themselves to enter a new level of intimacy.

And the young woman's heart looked like it could explode at any moment with how full it felt, finally having the boy she craved for so long in her arms.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

The next day, Y/N woke up with the sun's rays coming through the half-open window of a room that she recognized immediately as Pierre's bedroom.

Though she had never woken up in that room like this before: naked, with only the sheets covering her body, and with a satisfying ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Although the driver was nowhere to be seen, a goofy smile appeared on her face, and she brought her hands to her face to cover it up. She let out a silent little scream as she remembered the wonderful hours she'd spent the night before, her exploring Pierre's body, Pierre exploring hers.

Finally, things were going to change. 

She finally got the boy she wanted all those agonizing years.

Grabbing a used tracksuit of his that was lying on a chair and a pair of clean boxers from his drawer, the girl got dressed and headed to the kitchen, where she found her lover leaning against one of his kitchen counters, concentrated on the phone in his hand while drinking some coffee.

"Well, good morning!" Y/N said, almost humming with so much happiness filling her as she approached the driver.

"Hey." He replied, short and dry, making the young woman stop in her tracks, dumbfounded by his carefree attitude.

"Did you sleep well today...?" She tried to test the waters to see if it was just her being dramatic and misunderstanding his response.

"Yeah, sure." Pierre spoke again, without returning the question and without taking his eyes off the small screen of his iPhone as he drank a bit more of his coffee.

Nervousness began to replace all the bliss that previously consumed the girl. It was almost as if he never cared, not even after all she gave him the night before. "Is there something wrong, Pierre?" She questioned, clutching the bottom of the hoodie she was wearing in an attempt to hide her uneasiness.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

"No, sorry. I'm just trying to arrange something here." He replied, more friendly, though he still hadn't even looked at her since Y/N walked into the kitchen.

"What are you planning?" The girl asked, trying everything to strike up a conversation with him. Her heart was beating wildly at that point, and it seemed to crack more and more with each beat.

"Just this lunch thing with a girl I've been talking to for a few weeks." His shoulders shrugged as if his words hadn't pushed Y/N to her limits.

She couldn't explain how hurt she felt. How dirty and used he, of all people, made her feel.

How could he? Her best friend. The person who had been by her side for years. The man she would do anything for.

After suffering in silence for years afraid to act on her feelings, this was her pay for taking a risk once in her life: becoming just another silly girl in Pierre Gasly's long list of lovers.

Just another conquest, another achievement, undeserving of the driver's concern and care, with zero distinction from all others.

"Look, I'm in a hurry. I really have to go, Y/N." He informed her just as he started to walk hurriedly towards the exit, placing a quick kiss on her temple.

As if those same lips hadn't been glued to hers, clinging to every surface of the girl's body just hours before.

"You know the way! Just let yourself out. See you later!" He yelled, leaving the girl stunned, tears streaming from her eyes, as she heard the apartment door close loudly.

I see the great escape, so long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed, writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

A couple of days later, Y/N found herself sitting in her condo's parking lot one night, balling her eyes out while she played the songs of her favourite artist.

She couldn't believe that her best friend had used her body and taken advantage of her feelings for him. And to make matters worse, the girl has received nothing but silence from Pierre's side since that morning in his apartment.

Left alone with her own confused thoughts, Y/N's head was spinning. She didn't know what to do, what to think, or what to say.

I just want to get out of Milan and go home, she repeated over and over again.

Y/N had never chosen that town.

The young woman remembered every detail of the day when Pierre announced he was going to move to Italy, leaving France.

A life without Pierre was unimaginable for the girl. She couldn't remember a single day when she didn't know him, when she didn't have his presence in her life.

Feeling trapped, with no other option, she simply packed her bags and went with him.

She couldn't help but think what a huge mistake it had been to come after him, especially when he didn't seem to care about having her there at all.

Y/N picked up her phone, preparing to turn off the music that was blaring through the car to return home, but she was stopped by the sight of the image that decorated her lock screen.

It was from last year. Pierre and Y/N were wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters - like they did every year as a silly tradition - cuddled up on the couch in his parents' house. The lights from the tree reflected on them, creating a magical atmosphere around the two friends.

The girl affectionately touched her phone, as if it were his face. 

Although the idea of returning to France had been hovering in her head for a while, she knew that she couldn't decide to leave without talking to him first.

After all, he was the only one who could make her stay.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I called a taxi to take me there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare

As tears continued to pool in her sad eyes, Y/N opted to get out of her car, assuring that it was safely locked, and called a taxi to take her to the boy's house, since she wasn't in any condition to drive.

The drive was silent and short, just the typical 15 minutes it took her every time. The girl got out of the car, thanked the driver, and began to walk hurriedly towards the building. Her step was uneven and fast, revealing the girl's erratic and desperate state.

Y/N walked through the door of the building, politely greeting the doorman, and continued on her way towards the elevator.

She was only inside for a few minutes until she reached Pierre's floor, being immediately surprised by the loud sound of music coming from the door of the familiar apartment.

He's having a party, and he hasn't even invited me, she thought to herself.

While she suffered from his absence, Pierre was surrounded by anything but silence.

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Y/N gained some courage and rang the doorbell, although she was afraid that no one would hear the sound in between the noise coming from the apartment's speakers.

However, seconds later, the driver appeared at the door, wide-eyed at the sight of his friend.

"Hey! Y/N!" Pierre smiled at her, without any sign that he had stopped to think about her during the days that had passed since the night of desire between the two of them. "I wasn't expecting you, come in!"

"Hmm..." The girl hesitantly entered the house and tried to pretend that everything was fine, not wanting to ruin the party. "I was nearby and decided to stop by."

"Oh, good!" Pierre replied, bringing his hand to the back of his neck as his eyes roamed the party full of other bodies. "We're just having a last-minute thing. You know, just a spontaneous hangout." He chuckled, clearly looking to get back to what he was doing before heading to the door.

"Yes, of course, Pierre 'spontaneous' Gasly." Y/N joked, in an attempt to break the tense atmosphere between the two. However, she only received the disinterest of Pierre, who clearly didn't find the joke funny.

"Look, I have to go. I was in the middle of something," Pierre looked back at her, pointing towards a person she immediately recognized. "But Charles is over there with Joris! You can go to them. We'll talk later, okay?"

Without even waiting for her answer, the Frenchman left. The girl's teary eyes followed his image until she saw him returning to his dark couch, where three gorgeous women were waiting for the driver, with hungry eyes on their faces.

The same fucking couch where he'd explored her body, millimetre by millimetre, marking her skin with his touch, days before.

"You know how he gets when he is hosting a party." Charles said, approaching the young woman when he noticed her presence alone in the room.

She shrugged, discreetly wiping the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yeah, well, my presence was always pointless here for him anyway."

Y/N turned to the Monegasque driver and hugged him tight, longer than usual. The man was caught off guard, taking a few seconds to return his longtime friend's hug, but he did so.

Charles couldn't help feeling that that hug meant something more to the girl, but he chose not to question it since it was apparent in her hurt look that something else was going on and he didn't want to intrude.

Y/N placed a friendly kiss on the boy's cheek, letting her hand rest on his cheek. Her gaze locked with his eyes and he swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek.

"Goodbye Charles." She forced a smile. "I will talk to you later, I love you." Y/N turned her back to her friend and walked out the door, without allowing the driver to respond.

Charles couldn't shake the feeling that this 'goodbye' wasn't just a 'see you later', but, blaming it on alcohol and his imagination, he returned to the party, without giving the matter any further thought.

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes

I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this

I hosted parties and starved my body

Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss

In a hurry and with tears flowing freely down her face, the girl returned home and placed all her belongings in suitcases and bags, without any care.

And with that, Y/N ran up and down the stairs of the building where she lived towards her car, filling the trunk and the back seats of the vehicle with everything she had in her small house.

For one last time, Y/N looked at the now lifeless apartment where she lived for the last few years and her heart felt tight, unable to hide the nostalgia that that place was going to leave her with.

She might not have been the happiest there in Milan, but her home had always been her refuge.

However, it was time for her to turn the page, burn the bridge, and finally return to her true home.

Sitting in the car, she took a deep breath and began her long, impulsive journey back to France. It was completely insane trying to make a trip lasting more than 10 hours, especially at that time of night, but the girl simply couldn't bear to stay there another minute.

When the sun started to reappear in the sky, illuminating the endless road with its orange and pink tones, Y/N realized that he hadn't stopped yet and decided to park at one of the available stations to rest.

However, the heartache and the feeling of betrayal still crushed her soul, so she sought refuge in the words of her best friend, Céline, who would certainly welcome her when she reached her destination.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Her sleepy tone soon revealed that she had been awakened by the call.

"I'm coming home, Cél." Y/N informed, sniffling her nose. "I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this. I gave it my all but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"What?" Y/N could hear the sound of the sheets and mattress moving on the other end of the line, imagining Céline suddenly sitting up on her bed. "Home? As in France? I don't understand, what happened? Talk to me."

"I'm just a dumb girl who thought the guy she loved for years was going to be her prince charming, coming to save her the perfect kiss." The young woman sobbed, with her hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide the noise. "Instead, I was just treated like a fucking toy. He didn't even care to know how I felt after he slept with me."

"What? You and Pierre?" His friend questioned, shocked. "Oh my god, I never thought he would be capable of doing this to you. I don't even know what to say."

The two friends stayed for a long time talking, Céline being her usual attentive friend and listening to Y/N's outburst without interrupting her.

"Don't worry, girl. I'll be here with open arms to welcome you home." Cél tried to comfort her friend, making the girl in the car thank her for everything.

Y/N had no reason to be afraid when the people who really cared about her were waiting for her where she truly belonged.

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money

My friends from home don't know what to say

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown

And I saw something they can't take away

The days passed and Pierre went on with his life as normal, not even noticing the girl's absence until Charles asked him about it.

The two were playing FIFA on their PlayStations when the Monegasque spoke. "Pierre, have you heard from Y/N lately?"

The Frenchman felt a wave of shock hit him as he realized he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night of the party when he'd rudely dismissed her.

"I don't know, mate... When I talked to her at the party, she didn't seem right." Charles expressed his concerns. "I've tried texting her, calling her. She doesn't answer me."

"It's probably not a big deal. She's probably just busy with something." Pierre pretended to be unconcerned, trying to convince himself more than his friend that it was just a misunderstanding.

"No, Pierre. You don't understand." The Monegasque insisted, persistent in solving the mystery. "When she said goodbye to me that night... I felt like it was goodbye, a real goodbye."

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

The word echoed in Pierre's head and regret filled him from head to toe, as he rose abruptly from the sofa.

"I have to go, Charles."

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned

Everything you lose is a step you take

So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it

You've got no reason to be afraid

You're on your own, kid

Yeah, you can face this

The driver knocked insistently on the girl's door, almost as if his life depended on it.

"Y/N, please! Open the door!" Fists clenched against the wood, he begged for a chance to apologize.

Pierre knew now that he had acted wrongly with her.

For letting his desire for some release come between them. For using his friend for a night of passion when she was the most important person in his life. For giving her just something fleeting, something ephemeral when she deserved the world at her feet.

For ignoring the girl the morning after the best night in his life. For avoiding her the next few days when he should have run to her and confessed his feelings. For taking the easy way out and looking for comfort in other bodies when the only one he wanted by his side was her.

Pierre gave up knocking and let his back hit the door, sitting on the step. "I'm sorry. For everything. I beg you, give me a chance to tell you everything I should have said ages ago."

"Sorry, but are you looking for Y/N?" An old voice spoke, making the Frenchman look up at the person. "She doesn't live here anymore, young man."

"W- What- What do you mean?" Pierre stammered, feeling like he'd been doused in cold water.

"She left the apartment a few days ago. The landlord is already looking for someone to rent the place." The elderly lady informed him, setting down the groceries she was holding on the floor.

It was too late, he thought. I lost her, forever.

She approached him, placing a hand gently on the boy's shoulder, who now had his head between his hands.

"I'm sorry, but you're on your own, kid."

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

midnights (3am edition) - masterlist

20 stories inspired by lyrics of the one and only, miss Taylor Swift.

drivers: mv1, dr3, ln4, sv5, pg10, cl16, ls18, aa23, eo31, lh44, ms47, cs55, gr63

note: regarding the stories, some of them are not inspired by the entirety of the song but only by some loose verses (due to their content, e.g., would've, could've, should've) and PLEASE check the warnings before reading (as there are stories with some tw).

lavender haze | mv1

"i been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully"

summary: after winning his second championship in another controversial way, max needs you by his side more than ever as the media tries to tear him apart

maroon | cs55

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: you both knew your relationship would ruin you both, but you can't stop yourselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

anti-hero | cl16

"i wake up screaming from dreaming, one day, I'll watch as you leaving"

summary: no matter how many times charles told you you were more than enough for him, your anxiety keeps looking for reasons to run away

snow on the beach | ls18

"you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's coming down"

summary: nothing would ever compare to the feeling of simultaneously falling in love with each other

you're on your own, kid | pg10

"i wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what you thought was the best night of your life, you come to the realization that you were nothing but one more girl on his list

midnight rain | gr63

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than your relationship?

question…? | ls18

"did you wish you'd put up more of a fight when she said it was too much?"

summary: you were just planning a fun night out with your best friends, but an unexpected reunion changes everything

vigilante shit | pg10 x cl16

"you did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

summary: revenge is served cold and it tastes especially sweet when it involves his best friend

bejeweled | ln4

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where you couldn't see each other, things get even stranger when your boyfriend seems totally uninterested in spending time with you. so, you take matters into your own hands

labyrinth | aa23 (russell!reader)

"uh-oh, I'm falling in love. oh no, I'm falling in love again"

summary: it's safe to say you weren't expecting to fall in love so quickly after just ending a five-year relationship, but alexander albon was just everything you needed without even realizing it

karma | lh44

"karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me"

summary: seeing your toxic ex is never fun, but maybe it's less fun for him when he realizes you are currently dating the GP winner on the screen, who happens to be his favourite driver

sweet nothing | sv5

"all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

summary: after years of battling infertility, seb is still by your side. he didn't need anything else but you... but maybe your lives are about to get a little more crowded

mastermind | cs55

"what if I told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: it all started when you saw him across the room and you knew right away you wouldn't give up until he was yours

the great war | dr3

"my hand was the one you reached for all throughtout the Great War"

summary: after the media is filled with cheating rumours involving your husband, you face hard times trying to rebuild what it's left of your relationship

bigger than the whole sky | ms47

"i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you"

summary: guilt consumes you alive when you lose the baby you initially didn't know you wanted... maybe things would've been different if you accepted the pregnancy sooner, you think

paris | eo31

"romance is not dead if you keep it just yours"

summary: maybe your family and friends didn't understand all the secrecy of your relationship, but why risk ruining what you have when you live happier than ever inside of your own bubble?

high infidelity | mv1 x ln4

"do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?"

summary: you knew it was a mistake getting involved with your boyfriend's best friend from the beginning, but you only realize how wrong it really was when you get confronted by the one person you should've been faithful to

glitch | ms47 (vettel!reader)

"we were supposed to be just friends"

summary: you were supposed to be just friends with benefits, but things start to feel real when you find yourselves travelling to each other constantly... behind your brother's back

would've, could've, should've | dr3

"and I damn sure never would've danced with the devil"

summary: when daniel thought his career was about to skyrocket in mclaren, he chose not to have anything to do with you anymore. two years later, regretting everything, he looks for you, only to find out you are a single mom to a beautiful curly-haired girl

dear reader | cl16

"to a house, not a home, all alone cause nobody's there"

summary: when two strangers meet by fate in the same bar with the same goal - to drink their feelings - maybe they discover that they are actually two halves that fit together perfectly

Compress/Repress | Chapter 1: Sins of The Father

pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

summary: all was quiet at the Duncan household. The boys were safety tucked into bed, mom and dad lay side by side with their last argument buried under the pretense of peace. Meanwhile, Tashi finally had a moment alone—in front of the family computer, the one her parents had strictly forbidden her from using. But tonight, like many, she couldn't resist the pull of her secret Facebook account.

wordcount: 14k

warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

masterlist | prev | next | wattpad | AO3

OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA – September 27, 2005

The dining room radiates with a cosy warmth, emanating from the outdated light fixture that hangs low above the table. The yellowed glow gives the room an intimate feel, as if time has stopped and this moment is frozen in it. The walls are adorned with a collage of memories - photographs capturing moments of love and laughter, alongside colourful drawings etched into the plaster by tiny hands.

A mismatched collection of plates holds steaming dishes of homemade food, each one a gift from a distant family member. The utensils are a mismatched collection of spoons accumulated over the years, contributing to the quaint and disorganised ambiance. As everyone takes their assigned seats, the room hums with lively conversation and constant movement - a true reflection of this close-knit household.

Kevin, the patriarch of the family, sits at the head of the table with his wife, Chrystal, gracefully settled on his right-hand side. Across from her is their eldest son, Demetrius, who may only be thirteen years old but holds himself with a confidence beyond his years in the presence of his father.

Next to Demetrius is Kenan, the youngest of the family and the cause of their current laughter. He eagerly shares a story about an incident at school, causing raucous laughter among his relatives, showcasing the antics of middle schoolers.

Within arm's reach sits Tashi, the only daughter in the family. Her lanky frame slumps slightly over the table as she listens intently to her brother's story, a small smile playing on her lips as she attempts to immerse herself within the present moment.

The table buzzed with excited chatter as the family asked further questions, their voices overlapping in a symphony of confusion and amusement. But tonight, Tashi's mind was elsewhere, drifting between the infectious joy of her family and the alluring pull of Chandler Prescott's end of summer party.

The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the enticing possibility of what could have been. She could almost feel the pulsing beat of the music and see the glittering lights that awaited her at the party, pulling her towards them like a moth to a flame.

Despite the warm atmosphere and company of her family, Tashi couldn't shake off the longing for something more exciting and exhilarating. Tashi's eyes constantly darted around the room, taking in every detail with precision. Her gaze shifted from her brothers to her parents, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

How in the world am I going to make it to that party? She pondered, carefully weighing the consequences of each crazy idea that popped into her head.

‘I could try sneaking out, she contemplated,’ a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

‘My room is conveniently located on the other side of the house,’ Tashi pondered further.

‘Dad just fixed that stubborn window just in time for summer.’

Tashi let the idea simmer in her mind, savouring the thrill of rebellion. But as quickly as the excitement came, a flicker of concern crossed her features as she realised one crucial detail - ‘how the fuck am I gonna get there?’

Tashi's mind raced with possibilities, each one more outlandish than the last. She could bike there, but the party was on the other side of town, and she'd arrive sweaty and dishevelled. Maybe she could convince one of her friends to pick her up, but most of them weren't invited to the exclusive gathering anyways.

As she pondered her limited options, her fingers absently traced the delicate curves of the golden crucifix around her neck, a habit ingrained in her from countless hours spent at bible study. The smooth metal warmed against her skin, offering a sense of comfort and familiarity amidst the chaos of indecision.

The nickname "The Duncanator" echoed in her mind, a reminder of her prowess and her simultaneous struggle to fit in at school. Sure, she could serve an ace that would make even the toughest opponent’s quake in their tennis shoes, but that same intensity that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court seemed to intimidate her classmates.

The few friends she had were mostly fellow athletes who understood the dedication and drive required to excel in sports. But this party was different. It was hosted by Chandler Prescott, the most popular boy in school, and attending could be her chance to finally break into the inner circle of cool kids.

Tashi let out an exasperated sigh, her delicate fingers tracing the intricate details of her crucifix necklace. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, the red digital numbers flashing 7:15 PM. The party was supposed to start at 8 and she still had so much to do.

With her back pressed against the wall, Tashi was left with one last option, an idea that had already been exhausted at this point. Gathering the courage to voice her thoughts, Tashi mustered up the bravery to confront her father once again, maybe the presents of her mother can assist her this time. Her heart raced with adrenaline as she knew time was running out.

"Dad, I know your mind's made up, but this is the last party of—" As Tashi spoke, a loud clattering noise broke the silence. All eyes turned towards Mr. Duncan, whose spoon had slipped from his hand and landed with a loud clang on his plate. Tashi's heart sank in her chest, mirroring the sudden drop of the spoon. The room was now filled with tension and all attention was on Mr. Duncan as he nervously clasped his hands together in what seemed like a prayer.

Kevin's face contorted into a scowl as he fixed his gaze on his daughter. "Do we have to go through this again?" he exclaimed in frustration.

Tashi's voice was insistent, her eyes flashing with excitement. "It's the last party before summer break is over, Dad," she repeated, not wanting him to interrupt her declaration again.

Tashi's heart raced as she imagined all the fun she would have at the party, surrounded by loud music and non-stop dancing. She couldn't let her father spoil it for her. Mr. Duncan's voice was strained, his left hand pressed against his forehead in a futile attempt to ease the mounting frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Tashi?" he asked wearily, as if he had repeated this same request countless times before.

The wrinkles on his brow deepened with each passing moment, a physical manifestation of his exasperation. The tension in the room was palpable, thick like molasses and just as sticky. Tashi sat across from him, head down and shoulders slumped, knowing she had disappointed him once again. She couldn't bear to meet his gaze, unable to shake off the feeling of defeat that washed over her at his words.

Mr. Duncan's voice rose with each word, the tone becoming more urgent as he spoke. "I will not allow my daughter to stumble home in a drunken state from some white kid's party". The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, emphasising the gravity of the situation.

The mood instantly shifted as silence fell over the table and every move made by his family was influenced by his authoritative voice. The clinking of silverware against plates sounded like scratches on a record as Kenan's giggles were drowned out by the tense atmosphere. Frowns appeared on the faces of the boys as they looked to their mother for an explanation.

"Who do you think the cops are going to target when they shut that damn thing down?" He continued, his stern tone silencing any possible objections from his daughter.

Tashi could feel her mind racing, searching for the right words to say. On one hand, she could appease her father with a response that she knew he wanted to hear. “You’re absolutely right, Dad. I should prioritise getting enough sleep for practice tomorrow.”

But deep down, she knew that would be dishonest and not truly reflective of her current state. Taking a deep breath, she made the difficult decision to be honest with her father and give him a piece of her mind. She squared her shoulders and let it out, "I doubt they would even catch me; I don’t think Officer Moores has been to the gym since the fucking—"

She’s cut off mid-sentence again, reminded of where exactly she was. This wasn't another afternoon with Jasmyn and Destiny, gallivanting about Oakland with nothing better to do then shit talk people from school. No, this was her father's house, and she had to abide by his rules. The air felt stifling and suffocating, like a cage closing in on her. She yearned for the carefree days spent with her friends, but she knew she had to play by her father's rules in his domain.

"Watch your language, young lady. How do you expect me to let you out of this house when you talk like that in front of me?" Mr. Duncan's authoritative voice straightens Tashi’s posture by the mere sound of it, further adding to her frustration and resentment. Tashi's eyes flashed with defiance, her grip tightening on the edge of the table.

"But Dad, you don't understand! This isn't just any party. It's the end-of-summer bash, and everyone who's anyone will be there.” Demetrius' brow furrows even deeper as he grasps the meaning behind Tashi's words. He remembers his sister's recent preoccupation with her overflowing wardrobe of not quite cute clothes. As a clueless teenage boy, he had brushed it off as typical big sister behaviour. Little did he realise that Tashi was planning to attend a party, which explained her sudden desire for the perfect outfit.

“I've worked so hard all year, both in school and on the court. Don't I deserve one night of fun?”

Tashi's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a year's worth of hard work and sacrifice. Her mother's eyes filled with pride and understanding, gleaming like polished gems in the soft light of the room. On the other hand, her father's eyes were clouded with ignorance and disappointment, a storm brewing behind them as he sat stoically in his chair.

It was a familiar scene for the family, one that only added to Tashi's growing resentment towards her father's strict rules. She could feel the tension thickening between them, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap at any moment. And yet, despite it all, she continued to prove herself as the strongest player in the state, her name quickly gaining traction in the tennis world. Her mother watched in awe and admiration, wishing her father could see and appreciate their daughter's undeniable talent and determination.

Despite Kevin's attempt to maintain a stoic facade, his clenched jaw and visibly tense muscles betrayed any sign of guilt. Mr. Duncan's expression was one of clear disappointment as he observed Tashi's childish behaviour at the dinner table. Kevin's knuckles turned almost white, a clear difference to his brown skin, as he braced himself to address Tashi's immature inclinations. The once jovial atmosphere now hung heavily with tension, the air thick and charged with unspoken words. It was a stark contrast to the pleasant atmosphere just moments before, a dramatic shift in mood that could not be ignored.

"Fun? You call hanging around a swarm of reckless, intoxicated teenagers, fun? I've seen the destruction and chaos these parties can bring, Tashi.”

The words emphasised dripped from Kevin's tongue with disdain as he raised his hands in exasperation. His gaze shot out the window, towards the direction of the Prescott's upscale neighbourhood. Tashi could see the anger and frustration etched on Kevin's face, his jaw clenched tightly as he spoke. The sound of his words cut through the air like a sharp blade, leaving no room for argument.

"Our family will not become gossip fodder simply because you sought a moment of fun."

His gaze bore into her with unwavering intensity, his protective nature surging forth. Kevin was resolute in ensuring his daughter's reputation remained untarnished, particularly with the scrutiny from giants like Nike and Adidas. After enduring numerous trials, the future seemed promising for the Duncans, and no stupid party would derail their progress.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. Chrystal placed a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder, attempting to soften his hard exterior. Kevin's muscles remained rigid under her touch; his jaw clenched tight as he stared out the window at the setting sun. The fading light cast long shadows across the living room, mirroring his hooded eyes as he laid with his thoughts post outburst.

Chrystal released a deep, shaky breath as she tried to navigate the tumultuous waves of emotions crashing within her in response to her husband's words. She glanced over at her daughter, who sat slumped and defeated, and made the decision. Mrs. Duncan knew that this could be the last summer they would have together before things became chaotic and out of their control. With determination in her heart, she would negotiate with her husband to give their daughter a chance at experiencing joy and freedom before the weight of a full-time athlete settled upon her shoulders.

"Darling," she began, her voice soft and melodious, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

Crystal pleaded, her voice filled with longing and hope. "Perhaps we should reconsider," she said, her eyes focused on Kevin.

"Tashi is growing up so fast, and this party could be a wonderful opportunity for her to socialise with her classmates."

But Kevin's mind was already made up, his stubborn nature once again prevailing over reason. Chrystal could see the determination in his steely gaze and knew that there was no use arguing further. The disappointment weighed heavy on her heart as she resigned herself to another missed opportunity for their daughter.

"My decision is final, Tashi."

Mr. Duncan's voice echoed through the room, reaching every corner and piercing the silence that hung heavy in the air. His stern gaze shifted to Tashi, whose fidgeting hands had now stilled and were gripping tightly onto the hem of her skirt. The table, made of dark mahogany wood, seemed to creak under Mr. Duncan's weight as he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto Tashi's.

"I expect you in bed, getting enough rest for practice tomorrow," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Tashi could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she nodded, understanding his expectations. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders as she realised the gravity of Mr. Duncan's words and the importance of Tashi maintaining her consistency.

Tashi nodded silently, her father's expectations bearing down on her like a heavy weight. In all her years living under the strict rules of Kevin Duncan, Tashi had never felt so suffocated. Her father, who had been her coach for many years, had ingrained in her that following the straight and narrow path both on the court and in real life would lead to success and reward. But as she stood there now, it was clear that this belief was nothing but a facade. Today, with crushing disappointment, Tashi realised that it was all just a load of bullshit.

“Now, you kids need to get ready for bed."

Kevin chimed in, his voice breaking through the tense atmosphere that had settled over the family. The dim lights in the living room cast shadows across his face as he leaned back in his chair, trying to diffuse the tension with a light-hearted tone.

"Kenan, I better hear some vigorous teeth brushing up in that bathroom. And Demetrius, don't forget to floss!"

His words were met with half-hearted groans and eye rolls from the two children, who reluctantly got up from their spots on the couch and headed towards the hallway.

“Yes, sir.”

The voices of the boys strained as they struggled to release the words, unsure if they should speak in that tense moment. This caused Kevin's expression to falter for a brief second, as he realised his impact on the family. Just moments before, they had all been laughing at the youngest member's tales from school, but now not even the most talkative person in the house could utter a single word. The atmosphere had shifted from one of lightness and joy to one of tension and unease.

The sounds of shuffling feet and murmured goodnights filled the air as the boys followed Tashi’s lead and headed upstairs to their rooms. The hallway was dimly lit, casting shadows along the walls as Tashi trudged towards her own room at the end of the hall. As they are about to reach their shared room, Demetrius and Kenan stalk at their door taking one last look at their sister. Tashi closes the door to her bedroom with a heavy sigh, throwing herself onto her bed.

Tashi’s room was a reflection of her disciplined but quietly personal world. The walls were painted a soft lavender, calming but with enough energy to keep her focused. Above her bed hung a large poster of Serena Williams in mid-swing, the fierce determination on her face a daily source of inspiration. Tashi admired Serena—her strength, her focus, her ability to balance success with the weight of expectation. The poster faded at the edges, a sign of how long it had been there, a constant in Tashi’s room and her life.

Her desk, positioned neatly under the window, was cluttered with tennis gear, notebooks, and textbooks, all piled in organised chaos. A calendar hung beside it, every square meticulously filled with her tight schedule—practices, study sessions, and tournaments. Each date was marked in different coloured ink, from practice drills to strategy meetings with her father. She was constantly balancing schoolwork and tennis training, and the calendar was her anchor in the whirlwind of her days.

Across from the desk, her bed was made with precision—crisp white sheets tucked neatly under a soft lilac duvet. Plush pillows were carefully arranged at the head of the bed, though the space wasn’t untouched by the subtle messiness of teenage life—a few clothes tossed on the chair, a pair of sneakers casually kicked off by the door.

Shelves lined the wall, filled with trophies, tennis balls, and framed photos of her with friends, her brothers, and, of course, her father. Her room was functional but still held onto a certain charm, with fairy lights strung along the headboard and a few stuffed animals from childhood tucked neatly into the corner of the bed—small reminders of a softer, less regimented time.

Though every inch of the room was curated to reflect Tashi’s commitment to tennis and her busy life, there were subtle touches of her own personality—the lavender scented candle on her nightstand, a few dog-eared novels she’d never had the time to finish, and the carefully framed picture of her mom, the quiet presence in her life. It was a room that felt like a mix of who she was and who she was becoming—structured yet still searching for balance.

As she stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing with frustration and disappointment, she thought about how she ended up in this predicament.

‘So much for making this the best summer ever.’

Why couldn't her dad just trust her? She was a responsible teenager, always on top of her schoolwork and dedicated to tennis. All Tashi wanted was one night to let loose and get to know some people before senior year next fall. Since freshman year, she had never quite fit in at her school.

With daily tennis practices and matches consuming most of her time on top of the already heavy workload, Tashi didn’t have much time to socialise with her classmates outside of school. And recently, as she watched groups of laughing teenagers splashing in the water and playing beach games on social media, she couldn't help but feel like an outsider once again.

It didn’t help that nobody seemed to care about tennis, except for Jasmyn and Destiny who were eager to learn all they could about the sport - especially when it came to the cute athletes.

Tonight's party held the promise of liberation for Tashi, a chance to shed her reputation as nothing more than 'the girl who fucks herself with a racket all day'. After publicly confronting Chandler Prescott for spreading that disgusting rumour, she had hoped to gain some sort of an apology. But those mindless idiots would blindly follow any order from the muscle-headed jock.

In a perfect world, her parents would have sent her to a prestigious boarding school, preferably one focused on tennis. But no, her father had insisted on being her coach. Tashi had endured years of relentless criticism and harsh training sessions from her father, his words driving her to relentlessly perfect her serve. There was even one night when they had missed dinner entirely, caught up in endless drills and corrections. By the time they returned home, Kenan and Demetrius were already fast asleep. And ‘Father of The Year goes to…’

Knock, knock, knock.

Startled from her thoughts, Tashi whips her head towards her bedroom door. Her initial assumption is that it's her mom, ready to give her a guilt-laden lecture about not being able to sway her father at dinner. But to her surprise, something much better awaits on the other side.

"Come in," She calls out from her bed, still fixated on the ceiling.

The door creaks open and she hears the pitter patter of tiny feet approaching. With a grin spreading across her face, Tashi finally abandons the popcorn-textured surface above and sits upright.

Like a little gremlin, Kenan's head is the first to pop out from behind his sister's door, followed closely by his older and taller brother Demetrius. Their mischievous smiles mirror each other as they enter the room, and Tashi can't help but feel a surge of joy and warmth in their presence.

“Hey, guys!”Tashi's cheerful voice echoed through the room as she greeted her brothers, her body quickly sitting up in bed. She adjusted her collection of stuffed animals and pillows, already anticipating the weight of her brothers collapsing onto the soft surface.

"What's going on?" Tashi asked, a wide smile spreading across her face as she watched her brothers make themselves comfortable on her bed. Kenan reached for her beloved Lilo and Stitch plushie, while Demetrius fluffed up a pillow and prepared to lounge. Their presence filled the room with warmth and comfort, like three puzzle pieces perfectly fitting together.

Demetrius rested his hands behind his head, stretching out his body and crossing his legs on Tashi's bed. His voice was smooth and confident as he spoke, "I know it's nowhere near the cool high school parties you're used to, but I promise this will be worth your while."

Kenan couldn't contain his excitement, bursting into giggles and exclaiming, "It's a super-duper ultra secret party, for Duncan siblings only!"

He playfully tossed a Stitch plushie into the air before it landed straight towards Tashi's head. The siblings erupted in laughter at Kenan's enthusiasm. In that moment, Tashi couldn't help but feel a twinge of warmth in her heart at her siblings' genuine excitement.

"A party, huh? What's the occasion?" Tashi asked with a raised eyebrow.

Kenan's mischievous grin grew wider. "We're celebrating the end of summer and because...um, because you're the best big sister ever!"

Demetrius rolled his eyes at Kenan's words but couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at his lips. Tashi chuckled at her brother's earnestness. Their wide-eyed and energetic natures never failed to bring a smile to her face.

They were her biggest supporters, always finding ways to lift her spirits even in her darkest moments. But tonight was different, the argument with their father had changed something within Tashi and she was determined not to back down. She would not be silenced or dismissed any longer.

Tashi chuckled, a bittersweet sound that held a hint of laughter and sadness. "That's sweet, you guys," she exclaimed, her voice carrying in the quiet night air.

"But I have to be up early for practice tomorrow," she reminded them, raising an eyebrow at Kenan playfully. She made a funny face at him, causing him to burst into laughter.

Demetrius' expression shifted, his face falling slightly as he realised their time together was limited. "It's just for one night," he pleaded, trying to find a solution. "You can sleep over in our room too." His eyes searched hers, silently begging her to just stay up for a little longer.

Tashi rose gracefully from her spot on the bed and lowered herself to the ground, kneeling next to her brothers. She placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders, offering comfort in her touch. "I'm sorry I can't join you tonight," she said softly, her eyes filled with regret. "But I promise, we’ll get ice cream after practice tomorrow instead, okay?

“Just the three of us." Her voice held a hint of excitement at the thought of their special tradition and the bond they shared as siblings.

Kenan's bottom lip jutted out in a pout, but his eyes glimmered with anticipation at the thought of their special outing. Even without words, his eager nod showed his agreement. Demetrius, always one for adventure, grinned widely and eagerly joined in with a nod of his own. Their shared excitement for the promised treat radiated through the space between them and into the world around them, like beams of sunlight bursting through the clouds.

Tashi gently pressed her lips to each of their foreheads before ushering the boys back to their room. She couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia, remembering how her own mother used to tuck her into bed. Kenan was still young enough to be tucked in, his soft face peaceful as he settled under the covers. Demetrius, on the other hand, was growing too old for such gestures, and Tashi couldn't help but wonder if he missed being coddled like this. With the night light casting a warm glow over their shared room, Tashi made sure everything was in place before finally making her way back to her own room down the hall.

As she let out a sigh, Tashi climbed into bed and reached over to switch off the bedside lamp. As she pulled the covers up to her chin, she let out a contented sigh. For a while, she lay there in the darkness, listening intently to the sounds of the house settling for the night. The creaks and groans of old wood echoed through the walls, accompanied by the distant murmur of her parents' voices down the hall. It was a comforting sound, one that had been a constant in her life since childhood.

As time went on, even those familiar noises faded away, leaving behind complete silence. But Tashi couldn't seem to quiet her mind. Restlessness consumed her as her thoughts continued to buzz with everything she was missing out on. The party, the chance to let go and be just another carefree teenager, if only for a few hours. She knew she shouldn't care so much about fitting in, but she did. How could she not when it felt like she was constantly an outsider looking in?

The minutes ticked by slowly, each one weighed down by the oppressive stillness of the house. Tashi couldn't fight the temptation any longer - she had to know what was happening at the party, even if she couldn't be there. With a sense of defeat, she took matters into her own hands and turned to her last resort.

With her bunny slippers on, Tashi tiptoes down the creaky stairs, wincing at every small sound. The house seems to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional snore from her father's room. Moonlight spills through the windows, casting long shadows across the living room as Tashi makes her way to her target tucked away in the corner.

The family computer was strategically placed here for a reason, under the gazes of old photographs of distant family members and her technophobic mother. Tashi had been here a thousand times, but tonight, it felt different—like she was doing something forbidden. Her parents had made it clear that she wasn’t allowed to have a Facebook account, let alone use the computer without permission. But she needed this, needed to feel connected to her friends, even if it was just through a screen.

The ancient machine whirs to life, the fan sputtering like an old car engine. Tashi anxiously drums her fingers on the desk, willing the computer to boot up faster. Finally, the familiar chime of the dial-up connection fills the air, and Tashi quickly mutes the speakers, her heart racing at the thought of waking her parents.

As Tashi logged into Facebook, a flood of images and status updates assaulted her senses, pulling her from the quiet isolation of her room into the buzzing life of the party she was missing. The screen became a kaleidoscope of colour and emotion, each snapshot of the night hitting her like a wave crashing against the shore. Every post, every comment felt like a direct invitation to join in, and yet, she remained on the outside looking in. The party, which had taken on an almost mythic quality in her imagination, was now laid bare in front of her—an explosion of energy captured in still frames and carefully chosen words, all beckoning her to be part of the action she was forbidden to attend.

Tashi’s heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and longing as she scrolled through her newsfeed. There it was, the event she had been eagerly anticipating but couldn't attend—’Chandler Prescott’s party’. The photos filled the screen in a burst of vibrant colour and motion, documenting moments of pure joy and careless abandon. Red solo cups clutched in hands, the neon glow of lights bathing smiling faces in a bright, electric haze. The music, though silent on her screen, seemed to thrum through the images, the rhythm palpable in the dancing bodies and laughing faces.

Her eyes flicked over the photos, recognizing the faces that populated her everyday life but felt so distant tonight. Jessica, draped over her new boyfriend, her heartbreak from last week seemingly erased in the neon glow. Chandler himself, his wide grin as infectious as ever, stood in the centre of it all, arms slung around a group of friends, owning the night as if it were made for him. The photos seemed to pulse with life, and with each scroll, Tashi felt the tug of longing grow stronger, the pull to be there, to belong.

The vibrant colours of the party lit up her screen, the red of the cups and the swirl of light leaving Tashi feeling as though she were standing on the edge of something thrilling and untouchable. Her fingers, adorned with glittering nail polish and delicate rings, hovered over the keyboard, itching to click “like” or leave a comment—just something to remind everyone she was still part of the crowd, even though she wasn’t there.

But as quickly as excitement sparked, hesitation cooled it. What if someone asked why she wasn’t at the party? The unspoken question lurked in the back of her mind, casting a shadow over the bright photos. Tashi could already hear the judgments, the whispers about her absence. She wasn’t like the others—free to come and go as they pleased, slipping in and out of each other’s lives with no consequences. Her father’s strict rules dictated her every move, and the idea of telling anyone that she wasn’t allowed to go felt humiliating.

Her hand paused on the keyboard, the gentle hum of the computer filling the quiet, empty space of her room. The contrast between the quietness of her reality and the explosive energy of the party was stark, the divide almost too much to bear. The loneliness crept in, wrapping around her as she scrolled, trying to feel a part of it all without being there.

And then, amidst the constant stream of content, a new notification popped up on the screen—a friend request. It blinked at her like a neon sign in a dark alley, flashing with the promise of something new, something unexpected. Tashi’s pulse quickened, her fingers trembling slightly as her cursor hovered over the notification, curiosity bubbling up inside her.

Maya Pratt-Duncan.

Tashi's eyelids fluttered, her mind scrambling to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. ‘Duncan?’ The last name was unmistakable. Her heart raced, like it was trying to outrun the sudden reality pressing in on her. Could this be a coincidence, or was there something bigger at play? Her gaze locked onto the profile picture—Maya Pratt-Duncan. A girl, possibly her age, with lustrous dark hair and piercing brown eyes that felt almost unsettlingly familiar, like staring into a mirror warped by time and circumstance.

With a growing sense of unease, Tashi clicked on Maya’s profile, desperate to make sense of it all. The photos revealed a life both familiar and alien, a world that felt connected to hers in ways she didn’t yet understand. Pictures of Maya with an older couple—her grandparents, Tashi guessed—smiling in front of sprawling estates, on beaches, and in sunny parts of California. The girl's life seemed elegant, effortless, almost picturesque.

But one photo in particular made Tashi’s breath hitch and her fingers freeze. It was Maya, standing proudly beside a brand-new Mercedes Benz convertible, a beaming smile lighting up her face as she posed with balloons in hand. Happy Sweet 16, the caption read, the milestone dripping with wealth and privilege. The sight of the sparkling car and the girl’s seemingly perfect life stirred something deep within Tashi—a pang of envy, sure, but also confusion. This wasn’t just some random girl with the same last name.

Tashi’s fingers gripped the sides of her mouse, her mind racing. Who was Maya really? What did she want, reaching out now, in the dead of night? Tashi's instincts told her to log off; to shut the computer and pretend she had never seen the notification. But something deeper—a gnawing curiosity, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place—compelled her to stay. Her finger hesitated for only a moment before she clicked “Accept.”

Friend request accepted!

The quiet of the house pressed in around her, the only sound of the faint hum of her computer and her own shallow breathing. The air felt heavier now, as though the night itself had thickened with anticipation. Every second stretched into an eternity, her chest tightening as the weight of her decision sank in. What now? Was Maya going to say something? Tashi stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her ears, waiting for something to happen.

And then, just as Tashi was about to log off, a notification popped up at the bottom of the screen.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hi.

One simple word, but it might as well have been a grenade. Tashi stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. Hi? That was it? A single, casual greeting that felt completely at odds with the intensity of what was unfolding inside her. She didn’t know what she had expected—some grand explanation, perhaps, or an answer to the million questions racing through her mind—but instead, it was just hi.

Tashi’s fingers hovered above the keyboard, her thoughts swirling in every direction. What should I say? How did she even begin to respond? Her eyes flicked back to Maya’s profile picture, those familiar brown eyes staring back at her, waiting.

Against her better judgement, Tashi began to type.

Tashi Duncan: Hi... Do I know you?

BEL-AIR CALIFORNIA – Earlier That Evening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the sprawling Bel-Air mansion, the only sound that could be heard was the soft click of high heels echoing against polished marble. It was a rhythmic heartbeat in a world of opulence, as if the very walls were pulsing with wealth and privilege.

The sound belonged to Maya Pratt-Duncan, heir to this legacy, gingerly making her way through the hallowed interior of her grandparents' walk-in closet. The room itself was a symphony of silence, each piece carefully chosen to exude taste and refinement. The scent of fine leather mingled with aged cedarwood, creating an intoxicating aroma that enveloped her senses.

In the full-length mirror, her reflection stared back at her—dark waves cascading over her shoulders, hazel eyes narrowed in concentration. She wore a sleek black silk dress that whispered against her skin, a perfect embodiment of Bel-Air glamour and sophistication. Yet despite her effortless appearance, there was a restlessness lurking beneath the surface.

Maya's delicate fingers traced the smooth, high-quality fabrics of blouses and tailored suits, each one exuding a faint scent of her grandmother's signature perfume—a blend of rose with a hint of amber. Tabitha and Winston's closet was like an enchanted treasure trove, filled with luxuriously crafted pieces that held stories and memories within their threads. Each item was carefully selected, like a chapter in the grand saga of her family's life of wealth and elegance. Maya's eyes roamed over the shelves, searching for the sleek Chanel purse she had lent Tabitha for last Sunday's church service.

She let out a heavy sigh, knowing it could be hidden anywhere in this labyrinth of a closet. Her mind couldn't help but wonder why she had offered to lend her grandmother the purse in the first place—Tabitha had always admired Maya's impeccable sense of style and would have no doubt appreciated any accessory loaned to her. In fact, during their shopping trip at the Chanel store, after hearing Tabitha gush about the purse, Maya insisted on buying one for herself as well. But her generous grandmother, always wanting to share, suggested that she simply borrow Maya's when she wasn't using it. Well, now none of us can use it, Gam Gam!

"Come on, where are you?" Frustration bubbled up in Maya's chest as she rummaged through hat boxes and garment bags, determined to find what she was looking for. She pulled out each box methodically, scanning its contents before placing it back with a huff. Chloé Fall 1997—nothing, Ralph Lauren Spring 2002—nothing, Saint Laurent Winter 1989—nothing! Each box accumulated to everything but her purse. Maya’s search continued; she couldn't help but feel like she was getting closer to the elusive item.

Finally, her eyes landed on a worn box hidden behind a row of perfectly aligned shoes. She hadn't noticed it before, but the faded logo on top made her heart skip a beat. Fendi. Maybe there would be something even better inside, she thought with a mischievous grin.

With eager anticipation, she lifted the lid.

But the sight that greeted her made her breath catch in her throat.

It wasn't Fendi.

As Maya lifted the lid of the delicate box, she was met with a collection of items that felt intimately personal. Her fingers delicately brushed over yellowed tissue paper, revealing treasures within. One item in particular caught her eye—a small, red Cartier box. She knew what it held before even opening it - an engraved Love bracelet bearing a name she knew all too well—Shayla Pratt. Her mother. A pang of emotion tightened Maya's chest as she slowly pulled out the bracelet and placed it around her wrist, admiring its timeless beauty. Beneath the larger Fendi box laid a stack of photographs that Maya had never seen before.

Each one captured a moment in her mother's life, from her 3rd birthday to her middle school portrait. But it was the photo of her mother at the bottom of a staircase in her prom dress that struck a chord with Maya. She stood next to a young man, presumably her date for the evening, with a wide smile and an air of youthful joy exuding from every inch of the frame. These photos were windows into moments of her mother's past that Maya had never known, and they filled her with a mix of longing for someone she never knew.

Maya had always been curious about her mother, but the stories she heard were always fragmented, like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together. Tabitha and Winston rarely spoke of Shayla, their voices hushed and hesitant as if afraid to awaken old ghosts. But in this moment, as Maya sifted through her mother's belongings, she finally felt a connection to the woman she had never known. The scent of lavender and memories lingered in the air, drawing Maya deeper into the closet where secrets were hidden behind closed doors. She traced her fingers over old photographs and trinkets, trying to piece together the puzzle of her mother's life. Why had her grandparents kept these objects hidden from her? Why had they never shared these precious pieces of her mother’s life?

A loud, sudden knock at the closet door jolted Maya out of her deep thoughts. The sound echoed through the quiet space, causing her heart to skip a beat and her fingers to tremble on the delicate photographs in her hands. She had been completely absorbed in the world of her mother's past, so much so that she had almost forgotten where she was—or rather, where she wasn't supposed to be. A sense of panic washed over her as she realised the danger of getting caught exploring this forbidden part of her mother's life.

As the weight of her actions came crashing down, a wave of guilt washed over Maya. Yes, she had been granted permission to search through her grandparent's closet, but this box was clearly not meant for her eyes. It was carefully packed away and hidden deep within the closet, almost as if it held some dark secret. Maya's heart raced as she quickly and carefully placed the photographs back inside followed by the Cartier box, her hands trembling with both fear and excitement. She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she hurriedly closed the lid, the forbidden nature of her exploration sinking in. The weight of her actions weighed heavily on her conscience as she quietly backed out of the closet, promising herself never to cross that line again.

She stood up just as the knock came again, this time followed by a soft voice.

“Miss Maya?”

It was Ettie, the Pratt’s housekeeper, her voice gentle but insistent through the door. Maya’s heart steadied, realising that she was in good company. Her presence offered a sense of comfort in her confused state. Frozen for a moment, Maya wasn't sure what to do with the information she had just discovered. Should I reveal it to Ettie? Would that put her in danger of her grandparents finding out? After all, Ettie was bound by her loyalty to them and Maya wouldn't want to jeopardise her job by keeping secrets.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, Maya cleared her throat and composed herself. Her voice remained steady, portraying no hint of the turmoil going on inside her mind. "Yes, Ettie?" She responded calmly, ready to navigate this delicate situation.

The ancient wooden door creaked open, revealing Ettie's serene features and warm smile. She stood upright before Maya, her posture exuding grace and professionalism, her arms neatly tucked behind her back. With a gentle tone, she conveyed the message from Maya's grandparents. “The driver’s waiting out front.” Ettie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, she had assisted in Maya’s preparations for dinner tonight, meticulously pressing her dress earlier that day. "Your grandparents are eagerly waiting downstairs."

Maya nodded, flashing her a warm, grateful smile as she replied. “Thank you, Ettie. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Ettie hesitated, her sharp gaze flickering towards the boxes and racks of clothing, sensing that something was amiss. Her dark eyes were filled with a hint of concern. But she didn’t press further, instead offering a small smile of reassurance. “Very well, Miss Maya. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

With that, she gently closed the door behind her, leaving Maya alone once more in the dimly lit closet. The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut, Maya exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping as the tension in her chest loosened. She turned back to the box, her mind still reeling from the weight of what she had uncovered.

Her gaze lingered on the closed lid for a few seconds longer, tempted to dive back in and uncover more pieces of her mother’s hidden past. But the reminder of the waiting driver—and her grandparents’ inevitable impatience—pulled her back to the present. Not now, she told herself sternly, though every fibre of her being yearned to stay. Later. I’ll figure it out later. Maybe when there’s more time and less pressure. For now, duty called, and she couldn't afford to delay any longer. Giving it a final glance, Maya hastily snatched the nearest purse and made her way to the top of the stairs in a hurry.

In the grand foyer, Tabitha stood on her tiptoes beside Winston, her delicate fingers expertly adjusting his bowtie as he checked his watch. Winston, known for his stoic demeanour, remained unfazed by her ministrations, his determination focused on making it to their dinner reservation on time. Maya descended the spiral staircase with deliberate grace, her heels clicking against the polished marble steps in perfect rhythm. Her grandparents, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, turned towards her with warm smiles of approval. The chandelier above cast a brilliant glow over the scene, highlighting every elegant detail of Maya’s outfit.

Winston's voice softened as he took in the sight of Maya, standing before him in a breathtaking dress. "There's our girl," he said, his eyes shining with pride.

Tabitha let out a soft gasp as she took in her granddaughter 's appearance. "Valentino, of course," she exclaimed with a gleam in her eye, stepping back to admire Maya from head to toe. "You look stunning, my dear. Truly."

Maya's dress was a masterpiece of delicate silk clad in sparkling diamonds against her clavicle, hugging her figure perfectly and cascading down to her knees. The colour was a rich shade of black that complimented her skin tone and brought out the richness of her brown eyes. Not a single imperfection was present, Ettie meticulously had inspected the expensive fabric, ensuring that not a single trace of lint could be found.

Maya looked like a goddess descended from Mount Olympus. Her presence was striking, like a celestial being gracing the mortal world with her ethereal beauty. She exuded confidence and grace, her form draped in a stunning masterpiece that seemed to have been woven by the hands of divine beings. Her aura was radiating and regal, as if she had descended from the heavens above to bless the mundane earth with her divine presence.

Winston's heart swelled with pride and love as he gazed upon his granddaughter . She stood before him, a vision of beauty and grace, radiating an aura of elegance that captivated him. "You are truly remarkable, Maya," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration and awe at her presence. His eyes followed the gentle curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes, feeling grateful for every moment spent in her company.

Despite having heard these words from her grandparents before, Maya's heart swelled with warmth and happiness as she basked in the affirmations from her beloved grandparents. "Thank you, Gam Gam, Papa. I'm glad you like it," she beamed.

Tabitha, ever observant, tilted her head and studied Maya closely. The bag clad against Maya’s shoulder was indeed not Chanel, on the contrary it’s Louis Vuitton! Her piercing gaze made Maya feel as though her thoughts were being read like an open book. "Did you find your purse?" she asked.

For a moment, Maya hesitated, thinking about the box that lay hidden inside her grandparent’s closet—the bracelet, the photographs—and a lump formed in her throat. But ever the lady, Maya bottled everything in, now was not the time to open that door. Not yet.

"Oh, I...found something better," she said with a quiet but firm voice. Tabitha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Maya's response, but she did not press further. Maya could sense the curiosity behind her grandmother's composed expression.

Winston stepped in, gesturing towards the door.

"Shall we? The driver's waiting," he said politely, breaking the tension in the air with his gentle tone.

The evening air was crisp, the breeze whispered through the door as they stepped outside, the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers tickling their noses. Two sleek and shiny black Mercedes-Benz S-Classes waited in the driveway, their engines humming softly.

Tabitha and Winston moved towards the first car with practised ease, their movements coordinated and fluid. Maya, on the other hand, was left to ride alone in the second car. Tabitha had made it clear that a lady must always ride in the back seat unless her suitor is behind the wheel. Maya climbed into the back seat of the luxurious vehicle, sinking into the plush leather seats as the door clicked shut behind her.

As the car glided smoothly down the long driveway, Maya's mind drifted back to the mysterious box she had discovered earlier that day. She couldn't help but wonder about her mother's past and what secrets it held. What kind of life had her mother lived before Maya was born? And why had her story been kept hidden for so many years. More importantly, why was her father's identity still shrouded in secrecy?

The questions swirled through Maya's mind as she gazed out at the passing trees and houses, lost in her own thoughts. The faint scent of leather mixed with a hint of expensive perfume filled the air, aiding in Maya’s thought process as she contemplated her next move within the car. With every mile travelled, Maya felt herself getting closer to unlocking the mysteries of her past.

The soft hum of the Mercedes-Benz came to a halt as the driver opened Maya's door. She stepped out gracefully, the cool evening air brushing against her skin, bringing with it the scent of fine dining and the distant murmur of city life. She stood for a moment, adjusting the folds of her dress, and glanced toward the other car, where her grandparents were already emerging with the practised elegance of people long accustomed to being in the public eye.

Tabitha stepped out first, her movements graceful and precise, as if she were still a young socialite descending a ballroom staircase. She wore a navy-blue floor-length dress accented with a ruffle faux-wrap skirt, tailored to perfection, her hair pinned back in a classic chignon that added to her air of timeless sophistication. Winston followed close behind, straightening the jacket of his black Armani three-piece suit as the driver helped him out of the car. Though age had softened his posture, there was still a commanding presence about him, his jaw set with purpose, his eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed glasses.

They met at the entrance of the restaurant, an upscale establishment known for its exclusivity and clientele that valued privacy as much as they did luxury. The restaurant's facade gleamed in the glow of well-placed lighting; its grand double doors made of rich mahogany with gold-plated handles. A valet rushed to collect the keys, but Winston waved him off with a curt nod, the gesture practised and swift.

Tabitha turned to Maya, her keen eyes sweeping over her granddaughter  as if seeing her for the first time that night. A glimmer of pride and mischief danced in her gaze as she spoke, her voice warm but controlled.

"You know, my dear, if you're lucky tonight, you may catch the eye of a suitor," she said in a hushed tone, her gaze lingering on Maya's figure dressed in the stunning gown. "That dress fits you like a glove. I wouldn't be surprised if every boy cracked their necks just to catch a glimpse of you."

Maya let out a polite laugh, hoping her hand would hold back the noise. "Oh my god, grandma! Can we please just enjoy one night without you trying to set me up?" She glanced around nervously, making sure no one had overheard their conversation. The music hummed in the background, punctuated by distant laughter and chatter from patrons. The warm mood lighting and scents of the restaurant surrounded them, adding to the serene atmosphere of the evening.

The family made their way into the restaurant, greeted by the Hostess standing within the entrance. The mere sight of Winston and Tabitha Pratt straightens her posture. Her bright smile widened in recognition as they stepped towards her, extending a hand to greet them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Pratt, it’s wonderful to see you again,” she said with a professional warmth.

“Right this way, your table is ready.”

Winston nodded politely but remained reserved as the Hostess led them inside. The interior of the restaurant was dimly lit, designed to give each table a sense of privacy. The gentle clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation filled the air, along with the rich aroma of aged wine and freshly prepared dishes. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the dark mahogany tables and velvet chairs. The ambiance was luxurious without being overly opulent, the kind of place where elegance spoke quietly but confidently.

The Hostess's eyes lit up at the sight of Maya, remembering the conversation she had with Mr. Pratt over the phone confirming his reservation. Her smile widened as she led them deeper into the elegant restaurant, weaving through tables and patrons with ease. "And congratulations to Miss Duncan," she said warmly, her voice carrying a hint of excitement.

"I heard a rumour that it’s your senior year next fall, and as always you’re here for your pre-semester celebratory dinner." Maya offered a grateful smile, placing a hand over her heart in appreciation for the Hostess's thoughtfulness. She hadn't expected her to know about the occasion, but then again, their frequent visits to the restaurant made them familiar faces among the staff. "Thank you so much," she replied softly, her elegant voice barely audible above the gentle hum of conversation in the restaurant lounge.

As the Pratt-Duncan family were shown to their seats, the Hostess leaned in towards Maya with a hint of mischief. "Just so you know, we have something special for you in the back," she whispered conspiratorially. "Courtesy of the old man over there." She nodded towards Mr. Pratt, who was currently engaged in a playful dance with his eyebrows, trying to make Maya laugh. And it worked—she couldn't help but let out a giggle at his antics. The Hostess placed a finger over her lips, letting out a soft shushing sound before darting off to attend to other guests.

Winston, ever the gentleman, helped his wife into her seat before he took his own. With precise movements, he unfolded her chair, guided her carefully towards it and smoothly shifted her snugly against the table. Shortly after, Winston did the same for his granddaughter, taking the same amount of care he did for his wife.

He then joined them after, grabbing his spectacles from his hidden jacket pocket preparing to read what the restaurant had to offer. The attentive wait staff appeared almost instantly, presenting the trio with menus and pouring chilled water into their sparkling glasses. The soft clinking of silverware and hushed conversations filled the air as the couple perused the extensive wine list in search of the perfect pairing for their meal.

The first course arrived, heralded by a symphony of smells that wafted from the kitchen. A delicate salad of heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella was presented with a drizzle of bright green basil oil, each ingredient carefully placed like an artist's brushstrokes on a canvas. Maya's grandparents launched into their usual conversation about the restaurant's use of seasonal produce, but her mind was elsewhere.

She picked at the salad, her fork moving absently across the plate, as she tried to ground herself in the familiar conversation around her. But her thoughts were consumed by the events of earlier that evening, causing her to drift in and out of conversation, struggling to maintain a facade of normalcy in her off behaviour.

Winston took a sip of his wine and glanced at his granddaughter  over the rim of his glass. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Maya-Mia.” He remarked, his voice calm but observant. “Is something on your mind?”

Maya looked up, startled by the directness of the question. She set her fork down carefully, the metal clinking softly against the plate. “I’ve just... had a lot on my mind lately.”

Tabitha’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp and knowing. “What could possibly be weighing so heavily on your mind, darling? You were so excited about tonight.”

Maya hesitated, feeling the tension coil tighter in her chest. She glanced down at her napkin, unsure of how to broach the topic. Her pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out.

“I found something in your closet earlier today,” she said, her voice softer than she intended but laden with unspoken meaning. “Something belonging to my mother.”

Tabitha stiffened, her perfectly composed expression faltering for a split second before hardening into something more controlled. Winston set his glass down slowly, his eyes flicking between his wife and granddaughter , sensing the shift in tone.

“Maya,” Tabitha began, her voice low and measured, “You shouldn’t have been going through my things.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Maya said, her frustration bubbling up. “I was looking for my purse, but I found... I found a box. A box of Mom’s things.”

The atmosphere at the table became suffocating, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths that hung in the air like a leaden curtain. Maya's heartbeat wildly as she studied her grandmother's face, desperately searching for any sign of vulnerability or explanation. But all she could see was the same carefully crafted mask of control that Tabitha always wore so effortlessly. It was a barrier between them, a fortress built to keep Maya out and the truth hidden within. The tension in the room was palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to erupt at any moment.

“And what exactly did you find in that box?” Tabitha asked, her tone sharp, almost daring Maya to continue.

“Photographs,” Maya said, her voice trembling slightly. “Especially the ones of her at prom... with a boy. He seemed to be a big part of her life, judging by how often he showed up in the other photos.”

Tabitha’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if bracing herself for what was to come. The room suddenly felt heavier, the silence between them thick with unspoken truths.

“Why didn’t you ever show me any of this?” Maya asked, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

Winston shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he placed his hands flat on the table. “Maya, we didn’t think it was necessary. Your mother’s past—”

“Her past matters!” Maya interrupted, her emotions flaring now, unable to keep the frustration contained. “She was my mother, and I deserve to know about her. And about my father.”

The word hung in the air, charged with the tension of years of secrets and silence. Tabitha’s jaw tightened; her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Maya, this isn’t the time or place for such discussions,” Winston said, his voice suddenly stern, as if hoping to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “We’re here to celebrate—”

“I’m tired of waiting for the right time,” Maya cut him off, her voice firm. “I’ve waited my whole life to know who he is. And you’ve kept that from me.”

The table fell into a hush once more, the gentle clinking of silverware and murmurs of conversation serving as a backdrop to the tension brewing between them. Winston released a heavy sigh, stealing a quick glance at Tabitha for any sign of approval before daring to speak again. But before he could, Tabitha's voice cut through the quiet like a sharp knife, low but unwavering in its conviction. The air around them felt charged with unspoken words and unrelenting emotions, a storm on the brink of breaking.

“You are going to be a respectful young lady, and you’re going to enjoy this wonderful night your grandfather has prepared for you,” Tabitha said, her voice cold and unwavering, her eyes locked on Maya’s with an intensity that left no room for argument. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken command clear as her gaze bore into her granddaughter’s. “That’s all.”

Maya's breath caught in her throat, her hazel eyes darting towards the plate of food in front of her as she struggled to regain her composure. Her grandmother's words still echoed in her mind, sending a surge of emotions through her body. What Tabitha said left her feeling smaller than ever before. She had always been hard on Maya, pushing her to become a refined and sophisticated young woman, but this felt like something deeper, more damaging.

The wait staff appeared with dessert, a rich and indulgent chocolate torte that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Maya hesitated before taking a small bite, not wanting to seem ungrateful for her grandfather's efforts. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, but she couldn't fully savour it amidst the turmoil within her. She forced herself to take a few more bites, trying to push aside the memories and emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

The rest of the meal passed in uneasy silence, but the night was far from over. Winston still had one trick up his sleeve, a surprise that would surely make Maya's heart skip a beat. With a sly smile, he waved the waiter over to their table and whispered his instructions. The waiter nodded eagerly and disappeared into the kitchen.

After a few moments, the waiter returned with a silver cloche in hand. He approached the Pratt's table and stood next to Maya, who looked both confused and excited at the same time. With a flourish, he placed the cloche in front of her and lifted the lid to reveal a small red box—a Cartier one, to be exact. Maya gasped in shock, her eyes widening as she took in the luxurious packaging. Without hesitation, she reached for it and eagerly pried open the package.

Inside was exactly what she had anticipated: a gleaming Cartier Love bracelet, the very same one she found in her grandmother’s closet. But this one was different, her name was engraved on it in delicate script—Maya Pratt-Duncan. Her heart swelled with emotion as she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and admired it in awe. Winston truly knew how to make a girl feel special.

A single tear slipped down Maya's cheek, her emotions threatening to burst through her usual composed manner. She cast a grateful glance at her grandparents, who shared a knowing look with her. Her heart overflowed with love and gratitude for their thoughtfulness.

Winston reached out a comforting hand to his granddaughter , his touch gentle, sensing the whirlwind of emotions she must be feeling upon receiving the gift. The delicate bracelet gleamed softly in the dim light, its intricate design mirroring the one they had given her mother on the eve of her senior year—a tradition quietly upheld. It was their way of passing down a piece of history, a symbol of their love and the legacy she carried.

“It’s beautiful, I love it! Thank you,” Maya said, her voice tinged with emotion as she ran her fingers over the cool metal, feeling the weight of the moment.

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” Winston replied, his soft smile warming the air between them. His eyes, filled with pride and tenderness, lingered on her face, knowing the significance of the gift was more than words could convey.

As the evening drew to a close, Winston reached for his wallet and carefully placed his black American Express card. He made sure to add a generous tip for their exceptional service. The family gracefully made their way through the crowded restaurant, exchanging pleasantries with the Hostess before stepping out into the crisp California night air.

The chauffeurs, now donning windbreakers to protect against the chill, stood patiently by their sleek black cars. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the bustling city streets as they climbed into their luxurious vehicles, bidding farewell to a tension filled, yet wonderful evening.

Tabitha insisted on riding back with Maya, her earlier tension softened only slightly. Winston, silent but composed as always, leaned down to kiss Tabitha and Maya's cheeks before giving his granddaughter  a brief but reassuring nod. He then strode towards his own car, the gravel crunching beneath his dress shoes as he jumped into the back seat.

The air was filled with a peaceful stillness, like a calm before the storm. Despite the tension that lingered between them, Maya and Tabitha remained outwardly cordial as they made their way to the car soon after. But beneath the surface, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hung heavily in the air.

Tabitha climbed into the passenger seat beside Maya, her movements sharp and controlled, as though she was holding back more than she let on. The silence between them was thick, oppressive, as if neither wanted to be the first to acknowledge the strain that had settled between them.

The city lights blurred outside the window, casting fleeting shadows across Tabitha’s face, her expression unreadable. Maya’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, but she didn’t dare break the quiet. It was the kind of silence that wrapped around you, uncomfortable and suffocating, where every second felt stretched too long, and every thought felt too loud.

Each mile passed with the tension growing heavier, filling the car until it seemed like the air itself was too thick to breathe. Maya glanced at her grandmother out of the corner of her eye, the tightness in Tabitha’s jaw, the way her hands clenched slightly in her lap—small tells of a woman who rarely let anything show.

Halfway through the drive, Tabitha finally spoke, her voice low and deliberate, cutting through the silence like a blade. “Everything we’ve done, Maya, has been to protect you.”

Maya’s heart pounded, her throat tightening as she waited for more, but Tabitha’s gaze remained fixed on the window, her reflection cold and distant, refusing to meet Maya’s eyes. The city lights flickered in and out of view, and for a brief moment, the shadows danced across Tabitha’s face, hardening her already stern features.

“I hope you understand that, at the very least,” Tabitha added, her tone layered with expectation and finality, as if she were handing down a decree rather than seeking any true understanding.

The estate gates loomed ahead, and as the car slowed, Tabitha finally turned to face Maya, her eyes softening just slightly, though the steel behind them remained.

“Your father, his name is Kevin…Kevin Duncan.” she repeated, as if weighing the words carefully. Her tone was more resigned now, less sharp, but still carrying an unmistakable finality. “He was... someone your mother loved, but he wasn’t right for her. Or for you.”

Maya’s breath hitched. She had always imagined this moment—hearing her father’s name for the first time—but now that it was here, it felt surreal. Kevin Duncan. The name reverberated in her mind, unfamiliar yet suddenly so significant. Who was he? Why had he been hidden from her all these years?

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about him?” Maya asked, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “All these years... I had no idea.”

Tabitha sighed, her shoulders dropping ever so slightly. “We thought it was best to shield you from him after your mother’s death. Your mother... She made certain choices, Maya. Your father felt the same way.”

Maya frowned, confusion swirling through her. Choices? What choices? The vague hints about her mother’s past only fuelled her frustration. “What do you mean?”

Tabitha’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “It’s not something you need to worry about now.”

Maya opened her mouth to protest, but the car had already come to a smooth stop in front of the estate’s grand entrance. The soft glow of the porch lights illuminated the sweeping driveway, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Tabitha straightened her posture and reached for the door, the conversation seemingly over.

Stepping out of the car, Maya was greeted by a chill in the air that seemed to seep into her bones. Despite the coolness, she couldn't shake off the feeling of suffocation—trapped in a tangled web of secrets spun by her grandparents, a burden she had carried for as long as she could remember. Tabitha's expression softened as she turned towards her granddaughter , though there was still a hint of authority in her voice. "Get some rest, love. I know tonight wasn't what you expected."

Maya nodded, her mind racing with thoughts and questions. She tried to calm herself, but the tension in her body was palpable. "Goodnight, Grandma," she said, her voice betraying her unease.

The night air whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth, adding a touch of tranquillity to an otherwise tense situation. But for Maya, sleep would not come easily. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. Tabitha gave her a brief, restrained smile before heading into the house, leaving Maya standing alone in the driveway for a moment. As she gazed up at the stars twinkling above, she couldn't help but feel small and insignificant in comparison.

Finally, she made her way into the house, the heavy door clicking shut behind her, sealing her in with the echoes of the night. The family portrait in the entrance hall seemed to watch her as she passed, the frozen smiles of her grandparents a stark contrast to the tension that had followed her home. The grand staircase loomed before her, its marble steps gleaming under the soft chandelier light, spiralling upward like a pathway to another world. Maya took each step slowly, her fingers trailing along the polished bannister, each movement deliberate, as if she could somehow delay the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Her room waited at the top—her sanctuary, untouched by time, a snapshot of a younger Maya’s dreams and desires. The door creaked open, revealing a world drenched in soft, romantic hues of pink and white, where everything had been meticulously chosen and arranged. The white lace curtains, slightly drawn, fluttered against the open window, a gentle breeze carrying in the scent of night jasmine.

Her vanity stood by the wall, framed by a gilded mirror that reflected the glow of her rose-coloured lampshade, casting the room in a dreamlike haze. The bed, draped in pale satin sheets and pillows edged with delicate ruffles, sat like a throne at the centre of it all—a place that had once brought her comfort, a cocoon of childhood fantasies and carefully curated innocence.

But tonight, the room felt too perfect, too still. It seemed to mock the storm brewing inside her. The soft pink walls, once a reminder of her younger self’s vision of femininity, now felt suffocating, as though they were closing in on her. The plush white rug beneath her feet offered no solace, only a reminder of the distance between the Maya who had carefully decorated this room and the one who now stood lost and uncertain.

She moved mechanically through her nighttime routine, washing her face with cold water that did little to cool the heat of confusion in her chest. Her brush moved rhythmically through her hair, each stroke steady but absent-minded as her thoughts spiralled. Kevin Duncan. The name buzzed in her head like a low hum, impossible to shake, growing louder with every passing second.

Who was he? And why did his name weigh so heavily in her grandmother’s voice, as though it held the power to unravel everything? She tossed the brush onto the vanity, her reflection staring back at her—eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and unease.

The room, with its dreamy, fairy-tale quality, felt distant from the reality pressing down on her. The white vintage vanity, the plush armchair by the window, the shelves filled with trinkets and framed photos of ballet recitals—all of it seemed like a relic from a life she no longer recognized.

Maya sat on the edge of her bed, the cool satin sheets slipping beneath her fingers. The glow of her bedside lamp flickered, casting long shadows across the room, as if even the light couldn’t decide whether to stay or leave. Her heart raced, her mind buzzing with questions she knew wouldn’t let her rest. She glanced toward the window, where the moonlight spilled through, painting the room in silver and soft shadows.

Kevin Duncan.

There would be no sleep tonight—not until she found out who he really was.

Unable to bear the weight of not knowing any longer, Maya rose from her bed and made her way toward the desk tucked into the corner of her room. Her fingers traced the familiar edges of the chair before she sank into it, the leather creaking softly beneath her. The room, cloaked in shadows, felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for her to act.

She powered on her iMac G3, the soft glow of the screen flickering to life, spilling its pale light across the room. The gentle hum of the machine filled the silence, a steady presence in the dark. Her face, bathed in the glow of the screen, looked as though it belonged to someone else, her features drawn and tense, eyes wide with anticipation. The light danced across her skin, deepening the shadows around her, making the room feel even smaller, more claustrophobic.

Her fingers hovered above the keyboard, trembling slightly as they prepared to unlock the mystery that had haunted her since dinner.

Kevin Duncan.

The name echoed in her mind, filling the room like an unspoken promise. She typed it slowly, deliberately, as if each letter would bring her closer to the answers she sought. The soft click of the keys was the only sound, mingling with the beating of her heart, which pounded faster with every letter.

She hesitated for a brief second before pressing enter, a wave of anticipation washing over her, tightening her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart raced like an alarm bell, the sound loud in her ears. The screen flickered for a moment before loading, and as the search results began to populate, Maya leaned in closer, her eyes scanning the screen with desperate eagerness.

Kevin Duncan.

The truth—whatever it was—felt closer now, almost within reach, hovering just out of sight, ready to be unearthed.

Instantly, the screen filled with a flurry of results. Articles, profiles, and images, each tied to the name Kevin Duncan. Maya’s pulse quickened as her eyes darted over the links, each one containing pieces of a puzzle she had never even realised existed. Her fingers hovered over the mouse, hesitating for only a second before she clicked on the first link. As the page loaded, her breath hitched.

A photograph appeared, cantered at the top of the page: a middle-aged man with a square jawline, a large head shaved clean, and deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a quiet intensity. Her breath caught in her throat as she studied him more closely. His eyes—they were dark, piercing, and unmistakably familiar. They mirrored her own in a way that sent a shiver through her. The resemblance was undeniable. The shape of his face, the way his brow furrowed slightly, even the confident, guarded expression on his face—it all echoed something she recognized within herself.

Her heart raced, pounding so loudly she could almost hear it. This is him. Her father. The man she had been kept from all her life. The man whose name had lingered like a ghost on her grandmother’s lips.

Maya’s gaze shifted downward to the text beneath the photograph, her eyes widening as she read the words. Kevin Duncan—tennis coach. The air in the room seemed to still, the soft hum of the computer fading into the background as the weight of that revelation sank in. He wasn’t just any coach; he was a self-regulated tennis coach with a reputation that stretched across the sports world.

Maya's fingers twitched as she scrolled down further, her eyes scanning the page in disbelief. And then, one name stood out like a lightning bolt—Tashi Duncan. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she saw the name repeated over and over in articles, captions, interviews. Tashi Duncan, the up-and-coming tennis star he was training. A girl about her own age, a girl who appeared in photo after photo, her poised smile and athletic grace splashed across the page like a rising celebrity.

Her stomach tightened, confusion swirling in her chest. Tashi Duncan—her father's protégé, but... her half-sister? The revelation hit her with the force of a tidal wave. The resemblance between them became clearer with every glance at Tashi's photos, the shared features, the same dark eyes, the high cheekbones.

Her head spun as she leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the screen. The familiar comfort of her room seemed to vanish, replaced by the overwhelming rush of this new truth.

Tashi Duncan.

A sister she never knew she had. A sister who was living a life so closely intertwined with their father’s—while Maya had been left in the dark, her existence a secret, hidden away behind closed doors.

The name buzzed in her mind, louder and louder, a truth too big to ignore. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen. Everything she thought she knew about her family, her identity, crumbled beneath the weight of this discovery. The world she had grown up in, the carefully crafted bubble of her grandparents’ home, now felt miles away, like a distant dream.

And in its place was a reality she was only just beginning to uncover.

Time seemed to slip through Maya’s fingers as she delved deeper into Tashi’s Facebook profile, her eyes tracing every photo, every post, as if they were clues to a life she had been excluded from for so long. Each image offered a new window into a world that felt both connected and impossibly distant—a life that was hers, yet entirely not.

She scrolled through photos of Tashi with her friends, their laughter forever preserved in freeze-frame moments as they clutched Sonic cups, the slushies as vibrant as the carefree smiles on their faces. Tashi’s world seemed so... normal, yet infinitely richer than Maya’s in ways that had nothing to do with wealth.

It was a strange thing, peering into the life of someone who had no idea you even existed. The more she clicked, the more Maya felt like an intruder, an outsider looking in on something private. But she couldn’t stop. Each post drew her in further, the thread of her curiosity pulling tighter with every new image she uncovered.

And then one photo caught her eye—a snapshot that stood out among the rest. Tashi, smiling radiantly beside a man Maya now recognized as Kevin Duncan. Her father. The easy closeness between them was unmistakable, a bond Maya had never known.

Her breath hitched as she took in the rest of the image: a woman with kind eyes and dark hair, standing close to Kevin—Tashi’s mother, no doubt—and two younger boys, their wide grins mirroring their father’s. They looked like a picture-perfect family, the golden sunlight casting a warm glow across their faces, their happiness captured effortlessly by the camera’s lens.

Maya’s chest tightened as she stared at the photo, her heart twisting with emotions she couldn’t quite name. Jealousy, anger, and sadness all churned together, threatening to overwhelm her. This is the life I never had, she thought bitterly. A father who was present, a family who looked whole, unbroken.

Her eyes lingered on Kevin’s face—the same strong features she’d seen in her own reflection, now softened by the love and warmth in his expression as he stood with his other family. His real family, it seemed. The weight of that truth pressed down on her, suffocating in its simplicity. He had been there for Tashi, coaching her, guiding her, sharing moments like this one—moments Maya would never have.

She felt a lump form in her throat, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. They look so happy, she thought, an ache blooming in her chest. The photo radiated warmth, a snapshot of a life that had continued without her, a life that had no space for her existence.

What stung the most was the ease of it all. Tashi had a father, a mother, and brothers who adored her. She had friends, laughter, and the carefree glow of a life lived without the burden of saving face in front of the vulture-like housewives of Bel-Air. Meanwhile, Maya had been raised in a gilded cage, with the expectations to marry wealthy and a family portrait that always felt incomplete.

Maya's fingers trembled as they hovered over her mouse, the cursor hesitantly searching for the "Add Friend" button. Should she take the plunge and click it? Make the first attempt at communicating with her long-lost sister? Her mind raced with questions. Did Tashi know about Maya's existence? Would she even want to be friends?

The pounding of her heart drowned out any rational thoughts as she finally made her decision. With a deep inhale and exhale, Maya clicked her mouse, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a gunshot. It was a small but significant step towards reconnecting with her sister after so many years apart.

Your friend request was successfully sent!

The damage was done.

To her shock, it was accepted almost instantly. Maya’s stomach flipped with nervous excitement. She stared at the screen, unsure of what to do next. But something inside urged her forward, pushed her to make the first move. It was as if a spark had been ignited within her, crackling and sizzling with anticipation. Her heart raced like a wild horse, galloping towards a long-awaited finish line. Every fibre of her being tingled with nervous energy, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard.

She braced herself to begin typing, the urge to type something, anything, burning inside her. But what would she even say? ‘Hello, Tashi. We have the same father. Surprise!’ It sounded ridiculous in her head, and the thought of disrupting Tashi’s seemingly perfect life with this revelation made her stomach churn.

But she couldn’t go back now. She had seen too much, learned too much. The truth was out there, and it was too big to ignore. As she stared at the screen, Maya felt the familiar surge of curiosity and pain bubbling up inside her. This was her chance to connect with the family she never knew, the life she had been denied. But it would also mean breaking the fragile facade that had kept her world intact.

She clicked on the "Message" button, her heart pounding in her chest. The blank chat window popped up, the cursor blinking at her, waiting for her to make a move. Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed the first words, feeling the weight of what was to come.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hey, Tashi. I’m not sure if you know who I am, but...

Her mind raced, unsure of how to even begin explaining the connection that tied them together. How could she condense a lifetime of unanswered questions, secrets, and longing into a few simple words? She stared at the screen, biting her lip, her thoughts a chaotic mess. And yet, somehow, it felt like this was the moment she had been waiting for—her chance to finally uncover the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.

With a heavy sigh, she let go of her initial words and instead chose to play it safe, opting for a simple and nondescript message that revealed nothing of her inner turmoil. With a shaky breath, she erased the words, clearing a path for a simpler, safer message.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Hi

Maya sat in the soft glow of her iMac, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at the chat box. She had never felt this nervous before—like the weight of every move she was about to make had the potential to shatter something fragile. The whole night had led up to this moment, and now that she was here, she wasn’t sure how to begin. Hi. It felt so small, so insignificant for what she was about to reveal, but she didn’t know what else to say.

She waited, her heart pounding in her chest as the seconds stretched on. The screen remained still, the only sound in the room was her uneven breathing. What if she doesn’t reply? The thought gnawed at her, but before she could spiral, the typing indicator appeared.

Tashi Duncan: Hi... Do I know you?

Maya’s stomach flipped. She had been preparing herself for this, but seeing Tashi’s message—those four little words—made it real in a way she wasn’t ready for. Do I know you? Maya’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her pulse quickening. How do you tell someone something that will change their life?

Her mind raced through a thousand different possibilities, a thousand ways to soften the blow, to ease into the conversation. But there was no softening this. No way to sugarcoat the truth she had been holding on to for all of about an hour. Tashi had been living one version of reality, and Maya—Maya had no fucking clue she existed till tonight.

Her chest tightened. This was the moment that would open a door neither of them could close again. She took a deep breath, fingers steadying themselves against the tension coiling in her body. It was time. There was no more hiding.

Maya Pratt-Duncan: Tashi, we have the same father.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself, her breath catching in her throat as the words disappeared into the void. The truth, now laid bare, hung between them in the quiet of the night. The silence that followed felt oppressive, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the fallout.

Maya stared at the screen, every muscle in her body tense. What now?

author's note: after three months of brainstorming, plotting and planning, I can finally say that my Challengers fic is officially out! It's been a long time coming, the early versions of this were completely different, but it turned into something I am very proud of. I wanted to write something that was cinematic and told a new kind of story in the sea of thousands of other fics out there. I encourage everyone to flood my inbox with your thoughts, opinions and questions. I am dying to read what you guys think, but before that, I'd like you have your say on this poll.

anti-hero | cl16

"I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day, I'll watch as you leaving"

summary: no matter how many times charles told her she was more than enough, this misogynistic world kept giving her reasons to run away

warning: a little bit of angst but fluffy end, driver!reader, Williams!reader, kind of secret/private relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, daddy issues (cause same lol), misogynistic and degrading comments towards the reader, slut shamming, swearing, self-sabotage, low self-esteem, anxiety, just an overload of ups and downs, platonic!reader x alex albon

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 3.6k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

french words used: mon ange = my angel; mon amour = my love

is it possible to fall in love with your own fictional character? cause I think I just did! hope you enjoy this (not really surprising haha) anti-hero story!

masterlist

I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people

I've ghosted stand there in the room

Life seemed to be falling apart for Y/N.

In the middle of the dark room, the only noises that filled the deafening silence were the ticking sound coming from the big clock on the wall, and the troubled thoughts that seemed to reappear in her head night after night.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. 

Tick. Tock.

Time passed and passed, but Y/N remained there, frozen, haunted by her own demons.

To be completely frank, life had never really felt right for the young woman.

The battle in her head was something usual, ever since she was just a little girl. It didn't matter how old she got, she never got wiser.

It felt completely unreasonable how she could feel herself drowning in sadness when just hours before she had had one of the happiest days of her life.

Charles's strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, the skin of her back against his warm chest, their eyes fixed on the dazzling sunset before them on the clear waters of Monaco, as they lay on the bed of his yacht.

The warm tones that painted the skies and waters were intoxicating, as was Charles's presence.

As much as she tried to keep her attention on that magical gift of nature, Y/N could only thank fate for having that wonderful man by her side.

I don't know what I did to deserve you, she thought to herself.

"Mon amour?" The Monegasque's voice woke her from her trance. "Do you think we... Forget it, it's silly."

The girl turned towards her boyfriend, their eyes now connected, just inches apart. "What is it, Charles? You know you can tell me anything." She said, though her anxiety was already starting to creep up in her stomach.

He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage in him, and with her eyes shining brighter than ever, she asked. "Do you think we'll ever get married?"

Her heart skipped a few beats at the driver's words, looking as nervous as ever, but for a second... Y/N allowed herself to dream.

"If it's not you, I'll never be with anyone else, Charles Leclerc. You're it for me."

Hours have passed since one of the most breathtaking moments of her life, and there she was: scared to death about the future.

Charles was fast asleep in their room, his light snores echoing down the hall through the open door.

Y/N looked at the time - 12:05 AM.

It was midnight, and the girl just sat on the leather couch in their living room, with only silence for company.

As the girl got up to go back to her bed where her boyfriend was waiting for her, she couldn't understand how she got everything she ever dream of, but she just couldn't feel as happy as she should have.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

(Tale as old as time)

For as long as she can remember, she's been that way.

She could remember the exact moment when her world changed, when her walls closed in around her, when everything she knew crashed into pieces to the ground.

For little Y/N, just an innocent child at the time, her father's sudden absence from their home seemed inexplicable. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and there was no sign of him.

With no message, no farewell, no explanation.

Just like air, he was just… gone.

The colourful house where she laughed and played with both of her parents quickly became a set of broken walls, colourless and lifeless.

Her mother had never been the same ever since, and even today the young woman cannot forget the image of the woman she loved most in her entire life, sitting on the old sofa in her childhood home, exhausted, empty, without the energy to cry anymore.

Much like she mirrored it now.

Months turned into years since her father left her but, like a ghost standing there in the room, the lingering consequences of his actions still haunted her until that day.

No matter how much therapy she got, Y/N always felt like that lonely girl who could never make friends, who sabotaged every single relationship she had.

It seemed the only permanent companion she was going to have in her life was her crushing, persistent depression.

That was until she met Charles, right at the moment she most needed a shoulder to lean on.

It was 2020 - the year her biggest dream finally came true.

Y/N was finally going to become a Formula 1 driver.

Wherever she looked as she entered the circuit for the first time, the young woman could sense the eyes fixed on her and the curiosity that revolved around her.

Y/N L/N, the first woman in the 21st century to be part of the very competitive F1 grid, the promising new rookie racing for Williams Racing.

It was a whole mix of emotions: the happiness, pride and satisfaction that the new young driver felt for fulfilling her dream couldn't help but be overshadowed by all the controversy, hatred and hostility that her entry into the sport brought with it.

'This is not a girl's sport'

'She must have slept with someone important'

'She's just a pretty face'

Y/N heard it all while trying to turn a deaf ear to all these hateful people.

The girl sat in the chair in the middle of the conference room, prepared to face the world on her first day in media, but reality quickly managed to bite back at her when one of the interviewers walked over to her, eyes wide with scorn plastered in his face.

"Question for Y/N: How does it feel to know that such a talented driver was left with no seat in the team for you to join, just because you're a woman?"

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

To say the woman was taken aback was an understatement.

Her voice seemed to have disappeared and her brain to have stopped being able to form sentences as she tried to understand the complete, unfair misogyny she was suffering just for being a person trying to achieve her goals, regardless of gender.

Out of nowhere, a warm voice echoed through the room, drawing all attention to him.

"How about you stop being a complete idiot and try to do your job like a professional instead?" The brunette in red spoke, full of confidence and determination. "Y/N is here because she deserves it and because she has immense talent. No one here is going to take credit away from her just because they're a sexist pig."

Her eyes threatened tears as his met her grateful gaze.

Little did she know that the hero who stood up for her would end up being the love of her life.

Back to that day, Y/N suddenly woke up from her dream screaming, still tormented by the discrimination she had to face and still had to face until that very day.

"Hey, hey..." Charles woke up, cupping her face gently in his hands, making her look towards him as he wiped the tears that were streaming from her eyes. "Are you all right? Breathe, mon ange. It was just a dream."

"Yes, it's okay." Y/N swallowed hard, lying through her teeth. "It was just a nightmare, Charles. Don't worry."

He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to comfort her, but in reality, in the back of her mind, she could only think of the worst.

He deserves so much better than the mess I am. He'll get tired and just leave me one day. Like everybody else does.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Until sunrise, the girl stayed awake, her mind doing what she knew how to do best: racing.

Not even the strong arms that enveloped her body, or the heat that her partner's body emitted were capable of transmitting some calm, or some security.

She was the problem.

Tired of lying in bed without any rest, Y/N gave up on being there and, exhausted, she got up, heading back to the cold living room in the centre of the apartment.

She tried everything to get her mind away from the negativity poisoning her system: reading a book, watching a movie, cooking breakfast. But all in vain.

Hours passed before she heard Charles's footsteps interrupting the silence, and soon she could see her boyfriend, shirtless, showing off his excellent physical shape, and stretching as he walked towards her.

"Good morning, mon amour." Charles said, hugging his girlfriend's body from behind and placing a soft kiss on the top of her shoulder. "Did you make breakfast? Damn, I'm lucky." He chuckled, still noticeably sleepy.

You're lucky? You deserve so much more than this, than me, her self-sabotaging thoughts returned.

"So what are we going to do today?" The man asked as he bit into the toast in his hand. "I was thinking we could have lunch at that restaurant by the marina that you love so much."

"I can't, Charles. I have to go to the team headquarters later." Falling back into her harmful tendencies, and without having the courage to look back at him, Y/N tried to keep her distance from him, using the scheduled meeting (which she didn't need to attend) as an excuse.

"Ah okay…" The Monegasque felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as he sensed that something wasn't right with her. "If you want to do something when you get-"

"We'll see." She interrupted, answering dryly. Y/N grabbed her things and headed towards the entrance, her eyes still unable to take in his image. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, mon ange." He agreed, trying not to pressure his girlfriend. "I love y-"

He hadn't even finished talking and she was already out the door.

Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Within a few hours, Y/N arrived in Wantage, where her second home was: the elegant, welcoming HQ of Williams Racing.

Although still fragile, Y/N felt slightly more energetic and optimistic just being there, the memory of her professional success enough to give her a small boost of self-esteem.

The girl would never be able to put into words how grateful she would feel for the rest of her life for the chance the team gave her.

Entering through the large glass door, Y/N soon found Jost, her team principal, who supported her unconditionally during her two years on the team. The two quickly fell into casual conversation, rambling about the car's performance and the strategies used in previous races.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, until the voice of one of the engineers chanted through the walls of the long corridor, clearly unaware that he was being heard.

"I just don't understand what that she is fucking doing here, man. Y/N is just a little girl, we need a strong man behind that wheel."

The man quickly came face to face with the duo, fear spreading across his face: not for hurting Y/N's feelings - that he couldn't care less; but because he got caught red-handed by his superior - a man, that held the power over his job.

Jost tried to put a hand on the young woman's shoulder, but her body was already out of sight as the driver made her escape, the sound of Capito's scolding the rude man barely audible to her as she ran away from the scene.

She was the problem.

She simply would never be good enough.

Did you hear my covert narcissism

I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?

(Tale as old as time)

Unbeknownst to the girl, her teammate, Alex, couldn't help noticing her tearful figure escaping towards the garden that decorated the back of the headquarters.

Without thinking twice, the Thai hurriedly followed her, gently grabbing her wrist to stop her.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" The boy asked him, a worried look on his face.

Despite the girl being able to count on one hand the true friendships she managed to build in her entire life, Alex Albon was one of the few people she really connected with.

The genuine, loving boy felt almost like the brother she never had, protecting her with everything he had since the day she joined Williams. 

Two years had passed since then and his presence in her life was now unparalleled and irreplaceable.

"Just tale as old as time." She spoke without thinking, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Forget it. It's no big deal."

Her friend put his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into a comforting hug. "You know I can read you like the back of my hand, Y/N."

"It's just…" The girl sobbed, letting her cheek rest against the tall man's chest. "I'm fed up. Sometimes I just want to give up on it all, on Formula 1, on motorsports. I'm tired of feeling less than everyone else just because I'm not a man."

"Hey, look at me." Alex said, placing both of his hands on the girl's forearms. "You're here because you deserve it. You've won championships in the junior categories. You've scored a hell out of points for a driver in a car like Williams. You and I are literally the most successful duo in the team in the last decade."

The girl couldn't help but laugh softly, sniffling her nose. "When you put it that way..."

"Believe me, Y/N." Albon spoke, hugging the girl he saw as his 'little sister' again. "I'm so proud of you, Charles is so proud of you, all the drivers on the grid are. Fuck what others think."

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

To say that Alex made her feel so much better was an understatement.

Suddenly, Y/N had a pep in her step, a grin from ear to ear, a renewed energy within her and an eagerness to return home to the one she loved.

The girl couldn't help but feel guilty for the way she treated Charles that morning, so she decided to surprise him with her early return and also a small gift.

Y/N was a gift giver, especially for Charles, who always looked like a little boy on Christmas Eve every time she did so.

Charles had spent weeks and weeks drooling over a sweater from his favourite brand, helping his girlfriend choose the gift. With her headphones in her ears, the girl glided through the aisle of the store in Monte Carlo, straight to the selected piece of clothing.

As she searched for the correct size, the side of her face heated up as she felt someone's attention suddenly on her. The whispers distracted her from what she was doing and she discreetly turned down the music on her phone to listen to what the two laughing girls were saying.

"I don't know, I've heard rumours about them but I don't think so."

"I hope not, I mean, he's Charles Leclerc! He can have any girl he wants."

"You're so right. He's probably just fucking some bikini model on the low."

The sweater remained on the hanger, as Y/N left the store empty-handed.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

It looked like she simply couldn't catch a break that day: the world was determined to bring her down.

Opening the apartment door, Y/N entered, being immediately seen by her boyfriend who had a smile the size of the world.

"Mon amour, you're back!" He got up from his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet with the excitement that filled him. "You don't understand how happy I am to see y- What's wrong, Y/N?"

The boy was caught off guard by the discouraged, beaten-down look on his partner's face, as he expected her to come home happy to have visited the team she loved so much.

"Charles, we need to talk." She spoke, her eyes still not looking at him, similar to the morning.

"I don't like that tone. Are you going to break up with me or something?" He joked nervously, trying to break the tense atmosphere between them.

However, when he looked at her, Charles understood that this was exactly what she was thinking about.

Suddenly, the weight of the velvet box he'd been keeping in his pocket seemed to have tripled.

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from Hell"

After a few agonizing seconds of silence, the young woman gathered her courage and looked at the other driver, who had a terrified look on his face.

Charles felt a multitude of emotions at once; he was scared, confused, angry, desperate.

How could she try to do that to him when he was preparing to take the next step in their relationship?

"Charles, don't look at me like that." Y/N turned her tearful gaze to the ground, not having the strength to watch the boy's heart break as hers did. "It's for the best. You deserve so much. You are the best person in this whole fucking world, and I... I'm just me: talentless, worthless me. You can do so much better than-"

"Don't even dare finish that sentence." Charles threatened, lovingly grabbing the girl's face by her jaw and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much. I love you more than anything and anyone in this world."

The girl couldn't hold back the sob that threatened to come out of her lips, as she shook her head in opposition to the words the Monegasque was saying.

"Just stop!" The man said, his voice rising. He leaned his forehead against hers, wiping her cheeks with one of his hands. "It's you. You're it for me, remember? You told me so, and I feel the same way about you."

"There is no one else for me. No one better than you, no one who makes me feel like you do, or who I want to spend the rest of my days with." Charles continued speaking, trying to make the girl realize how much she meant to him, desperate to change her mind.

He felt her body relax slightly against his and he knew right there: it was now or never, this was the moment for his grand romantic gesture.

Guided by his impulsiveness, Charles reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the navy blue box, setting it on the counter in front of her.

Y/N felt her breathing stop. Was that what she thought it was?

The Ferrari driver opened the small box, showing her the most perfect diamond ring inside.

"You are the love of my life, and I never doubted that for a single second. So please, make me the happiest man in the world and marry me."

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

Everybody agrees, everybody agrees

God, she wanted to say yes.

But she couldn't. Not when he came into her life as a hero rescuing her from the world, and she... 

She was just an anti-hero in his story.

Selfishly, Y/N wanted nothing more than to accept his proposal and fall into his arms.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Charles?" The girl looked at him fearfully.

"Mon amour, just say yes and end my agony once and for all." Even in a moment like that, the man still managed to find humour in the situation, letting out a small laugh and placing a tender kiss on her lips.

Both deposited all the love they felt for each other in that kiss, getting stuck in the moment as if they were the only people in the world.

"Yes." Y/N gave in, opening her eyes surprised when she realized that word had slipped out of her mouth without her even realizing it. 

Charles smiled at her, picked her up from the floor and kissed her. And he kissed her again, and again, his lips just couldn't stay away from hers. "Yes, Charles. Yes. Yes!" She repeated, gradually becoming more and more confident.

With tears in both of their eyes and a shiny new ring around her finger, she looked at the man in front of her: a man who loved her unconditionally with all her flaws, all her struggles, and all her past.

Right then and there, Y/N knew that Charles was her true home, and she could only belong in his arms.

Maybe things weren't falling apart.

Maybe things were starting to fall into the exact places where they needed to.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog-blog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

Just the three of us [C.L. & P.G.]

Author: i saw a gif and my coochie said write it now

Summary: in which they take care of her...

Warnings: smut, NSFW content, +18, threesome, unprotected sex

“Look at this, darling... You’re so wet, doesn’t he fuck you properly?” You instinctively closed your legs when Pierre brushed his ringed index through your soaking wet folds. Charles sat in front of you, legs spread as his cock felt trapped in those tight pants. Your ass came to grind against the french man crotch, as if he wasn’t hard enough for you. Charles chuckled at his words, both annoyed and amused by his statement. He knew damn well that you were than satisfied with his sexual performance and he didn’t need you to tell him that, he had seen it with his eyes. Pierre lowly snickered as he pushed them apart again, Charles’ eyes immediately falling in between your legs. He fixed his posture, feeling his cock twitching in his pants at the sight of your wide open legs.

“No... No he doesn’t...” you teased him from on top of his best friend. Charles’ eyes shot up to your face, a frown spread across his beautiful facial features as he felt his ego getting hit. Both you and Pierre knew you were just messing with him. There was no one that satisfied you as much as Charles when it came to the bedroom business and he knew that. You just loved teasing him. Pierre’s face turned into a fake surprised and amused one as his thumb swiftly started to play with your clit. Your eyes falling on the ringed finger as you attempted not to move your hips to meet his moves. Charles snorted annoyed, looking briefly away and moving around in his chair. He leaned against his hand, biting his nails anxiously. It was a bad habit he had picked on when he was younger and continued to have especially when he was angry or anxious. Pierre ghosted his lips over your naked neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses.

“Is that so? So sorry, sweetheart... But I think he has some potential in him, doesn’t he? Maybe he just needs a lesson on how to make you feel good, uh?” He went along with the joke. His thumb applying even more pressure on your sensitive bud as you panted out of breath, slowly losing control over your body. You nodded, not able to speak a coherent phrase which was embarrassing since he had just started touching you. Charles widened his eyes in disbelief as you scoffed him. You knew whenever he was underestimated he always gave his best. When he had agreed to do this with you and his best friend he didn’t know you would have ganged up on him. He was the jealous type but he could never be jealous of his best friend, until that moment, when you were questioning his abilities.

“Yes, yes he needs that, Pierre...” you muttered out a loud moan erupting from your lips when he delivered a soft slap on your throbbing clit. You were slowly losing any control over your words and actions. The french man giggled and started to tease your entrance with two of his fingers, feeling how wet you had already become. Charles swiped his tongue across his bottom because how offended he could feel in that moment, nothing got him going more than you trying to chase your release. As you tried to speak again those fingers were shoved inside of you, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hips jolted forward and his other arm moved to wrap around your waist to pull you down. As his hand began to move, his fingers nicely filling you up, you couldn’t help but wonder how good it would have felt to have him buried inside of you and just the thought of it had you clench and squeeze around his digitals. A grunt leaving Pierre’s lips right after that.

“With you clenching like that, mon amour, I wouldn’t last long either...” he commented with a smirk. You gripped his arm, digging your nails into his bicep covered by a stupidly hot white shirt whose three first buttons he had left open to show off his gold necklace. You had been staring at his partially naked body for the rest of the night, improper thoughts filling your mind. And Pierre knew that. Only a fool wouldn’t have taken notice of your behavior. Always catching you staring, prolonged eye contact, not so chaste touches. He could feel how bad you wanted him. And Charles could as well. But again, he was more than okay with sharing you for a night. Pierre on the other side couldn’t say he had more self control than you. As soon as he spotted you next to Charles he had troubles with keeping his eyes off you. He simply hoped his best friend wouldn’t have noticed his staring. You were all over his mind all evening, especially when Charles left to go to the bathroom and you two danced together. He wanted take you right there on the dance floor...

“Fuck-... Feels so good, Pierre... Don’t stop, please.” You begging had to be one of his favorite things he had ever heard in his life. Meanwhile Charles had to sit back and stare at his girlfriend being pleased by another man and although his ego had ben hurt, he was feeling rather amused by the sight. You were so lost in the moment, you looked ravishing. He could see your juices getting all over Pierre’s hand as he easily slipped his fingers inside of you. The way your walls tightened around his digitals left little to nothing to the imagination and Charles’ mind struggled to form a coherent thought. The arm he had wrapped around your waist moved slightly as he trapped your right nipple between his fingers. A high pitched moan rolled off your tongue due to his movement.

“Can you take more for me, uh? One more, baby... I know you can.” Pierre whispered into your ear as he pushed a third finger in. Your grip tightened on his bicep and your head rolled back, resting on his shoulder. The feeling of him taking such good care of you had you edging closer to your release, faster than you thought you would. Pierre couldn’t hep but enjoy the view, he had more room and access to your exposed neck and he could see the rest of your body since your head was now out of the way. The simple sight of his digitals getting soaked by you as he thrusted them inside of you had his cock hardening even more. He just wanted to be inside of you but even just pleasuring you was enough for him. Your whines started to grow louder and more frequent, alarming both men you were very close to your release. Charles was in pure agony, his senses were completely inebriated by you and all he could think about was you and how good you were feeling. As much as he hated to not be the one to please he enjoyed the sight anyway. With one last thrust of his fingers Pierre had you cuming hard around his digitals and that caused a loud moan to fall from your lips. As you came down from your high the two drivers shared a quick glance, which was enough for Pierre to know that Charles was on the verge of exploding. He needed you.

“Somebody is jealous, pretty... I think it’s his turn now...” he smirked when he spotted the monegasque standing up. You lazily opened your eyes to see your boyfriend towering over your shaking body. Your lips curved into a soft smile and you attempted to stand up with Pierre’s support. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you stared deep into his clear eyes. He was annoyed, turned on, pissed and very hard. He didn’t even say anything before smashing his lips against yours into a heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours. So did he. Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist to pull you even closer. Meanwhile Pierre stared at the scene in awe. Your ass only covered by your underwear was a sight for sore eyes along with how hard and needy you were kissing Charles. His cock twitched inside his pants and he couldn’t help but palm himself in hope to find some relief. Without even thinking about it twice he leaned in, his lips leaving a chaste kiss on your back dimples. You jolted, clearly not expecting to feel him behind you. Charles frowned and looked over your shoulder to find his best friend kneading his girlfriend’s bum. He smirked and reconnected your lips. You impatiently tried your best to get him out of his clothes, you were the only one essentially naked whilst both of them still wore all of their outfits. Your fingers quickly undid most of Charles’ buttons before pushing the shirt past his shoulders and exposing his torso. Your lips immediately found his neck as you tried not to mark him up. It wasn’t like nobody knew about you two but you didn’t want any attention over you two. A gasp left your lips when you felt something stinging your ass but soon pleasure took over pain as Pierre’s tongue soothed over the aching area. You could already feel arousal dripping down your walls just at the thought of him marking you up where nobody would have seen it.

“Such a lovely ass, ma belle... Making want to bend you over the couch and take you like this...” his hands massaging both cheeks as he stood right behind you, whispering all of this in your ear. Charles smirked seeing the reaction on your face to his words but before you could even reply he spun your around, making you face Pierre. Charles’ hands came to rest on your hips as you smiled up at the french man who smirked back at you. His lips ghosting over yours to tease you even more.

“Sit...” Charles pointed a spot on the couch. Pierre furrowed his brows but did as told. You didn’t know what his plans were but you knew you would have loved his idea anyway. He started to walk backwards before standing behind the lounge couch he was previously sitting on. Charles looked at you with a mischievous smile on his lips which you adored. He had always been the dominated one out of you two, which you didn’t mind because you loved being in charge and coming up with the kinkiest ideas which he loved as well. But seeing him taking control in a moment when you were still recovering from your previous orgasm and you felt quite vulnerable. His hands found their place on your waist, while yours cupped his cheeks lovingly.

“I think it’s time to remind you whose pussy this is, ma chérie.” His tone was harsh but his eyes said differently. He wanted to make sure both you and Pierre had heard him. You nodded, attempting to kiss him again but he was quick at turning you around and bend you over the chair. A yelp escaped your lips, not expecting such move but enjoyed the roughness of it. Pierre’s lips widened into an even bigger smirk as he liked the sight of you bent over. Charles wasted little to no time to push his pants and underwear down, stroking his length a bit even if he was already tremendously and painfully hard. You locked eyes with the french man, sitting across the room. His blue eyes were like two magnets for you, you couldn’t tear yours off him and only temporarily broke the eye contact when you felt Charles pushing himself inside of you. Your walls tightened around him immediately and he gave you a few seconds to adjust before starting off with a rough pace right away. His hands staying on your hips as he rammed into you. You were still quite sensitive but you didn’t mind his sudden change of manners. You liked it whenever he was rough with you.

“Tell him... Tell him how good it feels, mon amour...” Charles whispered in your ear after having bent down a bit to be closer to you. You whimpered at the change of angulation. Your eyes closing for a quick second as you struggled with keeping up with him but Charles didn’t like it, his hand coming to wrap around your neck and pushed your upper body up. Pierre licked his lips wet, enjoying the little show you guys were putting on. His cock hard in his trousers as he wished he was the one thrusting inside of you mercilessly.

“Shit... It feels so good, Pierre... Yes, fuck!” You moaned when your boyfriend started going harder rather than faster. He knew just how you liked it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let loose and got lost in the moment. The flashes of the night playing in your head as your thoughts ran across your mind. You remembered stepping inside the party with your handsome boyfriend by your side, you remembered most of his friends approaching you, Carlos sharing a couple jokes with him as you looked around the room before spotting Pierre. He looked breathtaking and you weren’t afraid of thinking so. He was holding a glass of champagne, his white button up was slightly open, a blue jacket over, pared up with blue pants. The rings on his hand making his whole outfit even better. The man had a sense of style. His hair was let free, you wondered if he had spent even a second trying to fix it. He took a sip of his champagne while speaking to someone whose identity was unknown to you. His eyes scanning the room as well until he met your gaze. A soft smirk spread across his face. You slightly blushed but kept your eyes on him while returning the smile before Charles’ arm was wrapped around your neck in a loving way. You were brought back to reality when Charles’ hand reached over and started to stimulate your clit as well. This dragged a deep moan out of your throat as you gripped the chair beneath you even harder.

“Go on, ma belle, cum all over his cock... So you can come and sit on mine.” His dirty words were enough to push you over the edge. Charles finished right after you, riding out both of your orgasms as he slowed down his thrusts. Pierre watched carefully your facial expressions as you came down your high, finally being able to see how your eyes screwed shut and your furrowed as the pleasure hit your whole body and you trembled beneath Charles. The monegasque sweetly caressed your sides, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings to you. He worshipped you like a goddess and you had never felt this loved with any of your past partners. What you and Charles had was special and you wouldn’t have lost it for nothing in this world. That was why you weren’t scared of allowing Pierre to join the party, because no matter how good he could make you feel, you were Charles’ and he knew that. He had always known that.

“You okay, baby?” He asked you as he helped you standing up. You nodded, moving around so that your arms were around his neck. He looked down at you and grinned, loving the look on your face. It made him feel special. It was in moments like this, when you’d give him those looks that he’d know he was the only one for you. He attached his lips to yours in a sweet kiss as you made your way towards the third component of the party. Pierre continued to sit, almost forgetting about his hard on until you pulled away from Charles and turned around to him. The hungry look you gave him was enough for him to cum there and then but he held back and smirked back, leaning back in the couch. You walked over to him and straddled his lap, his hands were quick at finding their spot on your thigh. He had a beautiful naked woman on top of him. He couldn’t be asking for more. You brushed your hand through his hair as you started to rock your hips back and forth slowly. The french man was not having it though. He had been watching you getting off the whole night and he needed you to help him out now. His ringed hand pushed your hair back and pulled you closer to whisper something in your ear.

“Ride me, ma jolie... I know your pretty pussy is dying to do that...” he smirked when he saw your pleased reaction at his words. You unbuttoned his shirt as well, finally being able to see him out of that teasing clothing item, your lips soon connected to his chest, leaving wet kisses and harsh bites that had him whimpering loudly. As you kissed your way around his naked torso your hands fumbled with his pants, trying to strip him out of them as well. You stood on your knees to push them at least past his ass, catching a glimpse of his toned thighs, the thought of riding one of them grazed through your mind. Pierre allowed you to have control over the situation in the first moment, finding it amusing how needy you still were after your two orgasms. In the mid-time Charles stared at you two from his chair, watching how greedily you swayed your hips, begging to find your release once again. Such a needy girl... He thought to himself.

“Fuck... Don’t tease me, darling, not today...” Pierre moaned when you set him free of his boxers. You almost drooled over the appearance of his cock. He guided your hips so that you could sit just a few inches over it, dying to fill you up. Then you sank down and neither of you could stop the strings of moans and profanities that left your mouths. Few things had felt this good in your life. The way his length completely stretched you out had you clenching around him right away. He filled you up so nicely, you had to pause for a quick moment. Pierre examined your face, your scrunched up nose and lip biting. He was feeling just like you. On cloud nine. You felt as if you were made for him and his cock. He pulled you closer as you slowly began to move, you were so sensitive and everything, every sense of yours was amplified.

“Oh god, I- Pierre, oh my g-...” the crown of his cock sat perfectly against yours walls and as you began to quicken your pace the pleasure began to build up. Tears of joy formed at the corner of your eyes, his hands helping you out with the pace along with his hips which he’d occasionally thrust up into you. Pierre himself was struggling to hold back, he let his hips buck up and hit that specific spot that had you moaning higher. Your head fell against his as his hands squeezed your ass and moved you at his pleasing pace, you were completely lost and furiously looking for your release. The knot in your stomach slowly tightening. He looked up at you and finally connected your lips into a wet kiss, a moan leaving his mouth. He had been waiting to kiss you for so long, he couldn’t get enough of you and even like this, completely at his mercy, he wanted more of you. You bounced on his cock quickly, his hands slapping occasionally your bum to keep you going. Charles was enamored by the way his cock slipped in and out of you and how wet you must have been to take him in so easily.

“You’re taking me so well, darling... Such a good girl...” Pierre mumbled as he watched you ride him. You moaned at his words, feeling your stomach twisting around for the praising just received. You knew you weren’t going to last long, after being so overstimulated it was hard to even think straight. Pierre let go of your hips and leaned back on the couch, arms behind his head as he enjoyed the view. You bit your bottom lip, glancing at how his sweaty body looked beneath you. It was a sight you could get used to, along with his clear eyes and scratchy scruff. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about sleeping with Pierre but it was definitely the first time you were acting upon your fantasy. Charles had noticed your weird behavior towards his friend and at first he thought none of it. But then he started to catch on what was happening. All those smiles, slight touches, flirty jokes, prolonged eye contacts. He knew what was going on.

“Keep doing that and I won’t last any longer, mon amour.” He stated as you began to clench around his length. You hissed, feeling more and more overstimulated and overwhelmed. You began to struggle to keep up with the pace and Pierre noticed it, taking the matter into his hands and helping you out by guiding your hips. Your forehead was pressed against his as you kissed him again, swallowing each other’s moans and groans.

“Right there, fuck...” you pulled away when he touched a sensitive spot inside of you. Your toes curled and you closed your eyes as waves of pleasure washed over you, your hips stilling as you quickly reached your high. You both wanted it to never end but it had been a long night and you weren’t able to keep it going for any longer. Pierre had been edging himself since the minute you had sunk down. He felt in heaven. And as soon as he saw you coming undone on top of him he couldn’t stop himself from following you right after. Loads of curses and moans soon filled the room as you rode out your orgasms. You collapsed on top of him, out of breath as he caressed your back. His lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple as you slowly calmed down. It had been an eventful night for the three of you. Pierre took fully care of you, making sure you’d recover before getting up. Charles observed how lovingly his eyes looked at you or how sweetly he caressed your back. He knew Pierre and he wanted to believe that there was nothing to worry about but it was hard to think so when he was literally treating you like you were his girlfriend. Maybe it was just dumb jealousy, maybe not...

“Mmh... This is nice...” you muttered in a state of trance. Pierre smiled at you and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, brushing his thumb against the skin of your cheek. You looked adorable like this, half asleep, half awoken. Your lips were slightly parted and your cheekbones were still rosy, you were a bit sweaty but he didn’t care. Your body pressed against his felt natural, as if you were both made to be doing this. He wasn’t sure that you felt the same way, but he liked how you had almost fallen asleep in his arms. He had even almost forgotten about Charles who was glaring at him, too enamored by you to even notice. But soon he saw a hand coming in contact with your hair, gently brushing through it as you slowly opened your eyes. Charles smiled down at you, what was before anger and annoyance now turned into softness and love. He couldn’t even think about being angry with you when you looked like that.

“C’mere, I’ll run you a bath... You did such a great job, ma chérie... I love you.” He whispered in a sickeningly sweet tone. You held onto his arms as he lifted you up and off Pierre, who simply let you go. The monegasque held you tight against his body as he walked towards the bathroom.

“I love you too, baby...” you stated loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Pierre knew that. He didn’t need you to say it because he knew that, what he didn’t know was the reason why it bothered him so much to be reminded of that. He shrugged it all off and started dressing himself, buttoning his shirt up and fixing his hair. It was his time to leave now. And he did, bringing along all the memories of the eventful night and the knowledge that it might have meant more than it should have...

anti-hero | cl16

"I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day, I'll watch as you leaving"

summary: no matter how many times charles told her she was more than enough, this misogynistic world kept giving her reasons to run away

warning: a little bit of angst but fluffy end, driver!reader, Williams!reader, kind of secret/private relationship, mentions of parental abandonment, daddy issues (cause same lol), misogynistic and degrading comments towards the reader, slut shamming, swearing, self-sabotage, low self-esteem, anxiety, just an overload of ups and downs, platonic!reader x alex albon

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 3.6k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

french words used: mon ange = my angel; mon amour = my love

is it possible to fall in love with your own fictional character? cause I think I just did! hope you enjoy this (not really surprising haha) anti-hero story!

masterlist

I have this thing where I get older, but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people

I've ghosted stand there in the room

Life seemed to be falling apart for Y/N.

In the middle of the dark room, the only noises that filled the deafening silence were the ticking sound coming from the big clock on the wall, and the troubled thoughts that seemed to reappear in her head night after night.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. 

Tick. Tock.

Time passed and passed, but Y/N remained there, frozen, haunted by her own demons.

To be completely frank, life had never really felt right for the young woman.

The battle in her head was something usual, ever since she was just a little girl. It didn't matter how old she got, she never got wiser.

It felt completely unreasonable how she could feel herself drowning in sadness when just hours before she had had one of the happiest days of her life.

Charles's strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, the skin of her back against his warm chest, their eyes fixed on the dazzling sunset before them on the clear waters of Monaco, as they lay on the bed of his yacht.

The warm tones that painted the skies and waters were intoxicating, as was Charles's presence.

As much as she tried to keep her attention on that magical gift of nature, Y/N could only thank fate for having that wonderful man by her side.

I don't know what I did to deserve you, she thought to herself.

"Mon amour?" The Monegasque's voice woke her from her trance. "Do you think we... Forget it, it's silly."

The girl turned towards her boyfriend, their eyes now connected, just inches apart. "What is it, Charles? You know you can tell me anything." She said, though her anxiety was already starting to creep up in her stomach.

He took a deep breath, gathering all the courage in him, and with her eyes shining brighter than ever, she asked. "Do you think we'll ever get married?"

Her heart skipped a few beats at the driver's words, looking as nervous as ever, but for a second... Y/N allowed herself to dream.

"If it's not you, I'll never be with anyone else, Charles Leclerc. You're it for me."

Hours have passed since one of the most breathtaking moments of her life, and there she was: scared to death about the future.

Charles was fast asleep in their room, his light snores echoing down the hall through the open door.

Y/N looked at the time - 12:05 AM.

It was midnight, and the girl just sat on the leather couch in their living room, with only silence for company.

As the girl got up to go back to her bed where her boyfriend was waiting for her, she couldn't understand how she got everything she ever dream of, but she just couldn't feel as happy as she should have.

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

(Tale as old as time)

For as long as she can remember, she's been that way.

She could remember the exact moment when her world changed, when her walls closed in around her, when everything she knew crashed into pieces to the ground.

For little Y/N, just an innocent child at the time, her father's sudden absence from their home seemed inexplicable. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and there was no sign of him.

With no message, no farewell, no explanation.

Just like air, he was just… gone.

The colourful house where she laughed and played with both of her parents quickly became a set of broken walls, colourless and lifeless.

Her mother had never been the same ever since, and even today the young woman cannot forget the image of the woman she loved most in her entire life, sitting on the old sofa in her childhood home, exhausted, empty, without the energy to cry anymore.

Much like she mirrored it now.

Months turned into years since her father left her but, like a ghost standing there in the room, the lingering consequences of his actions still haunted her until that day.

No matter how much therapy she got, Y/N always felt like that lonely girl who could never make friends, who sabotaged every single relationship she had.

It seemed the only permanent companion she was going to have in her life was her crushing, persistent depression.

That was until she met Charles, right at the moment she most needed a shoulder to lean on.

It was 2020 - the year her biggest dream finally came true.

Y/N was finally going to become a Formula 1 driver.

Wherever she looked as she entered the circuit for the first time, the young woman could sense the eyes fixed on her and the curiosity that revolved around her.

Y/N L/N, the first woman in the 21st century to be part of the very competitive F1 grid, the promising new rookie racing for Williams Racing.

It was a whole mix of emotions: the happiness, pride and satisfaction that the new young driver felt for fulfilling her dream couldn't help but be overshadowed by all the controversy, hatred and hostility that her entry into the sport brought with it.

'This is not a girl's sport'

'She must have slept with someone important'

'She's just a pretty face'

Y/N heard it all while trying to turn a deaf ear to all these hateful people.

The girl sat in the chair in the middle of the conference room, prepared to face the world on her first day in media, but reality quickly managed to bite back at her when one of the interviewers walked over to her, eyes wide with scorn plastered in his face.

"Question for Y/N: How does it feel to know that such a talented driver was left with no seat in the team for you to join, just because you're a woman?"

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

To say the woman was taken aback was an understatement.

Her voice seemed to have disappeared and her brain to have stopped being able to form sentences as she tried to understand the complete, unfair misogyny she was suffering just for being a person trying to achieve her goals, regardless of gender.

Out of nowhere, a warm voice echoed through the room, drawing all attention to him.

"How about you stop being a complete idiot and try to do your job like a professional instead?" The brunette in red spoke, full of confidence and determination. "Y/N is here because she deserves it and because she has immense talent. No one here is going to take credit away from her just because they're a sexist pig."

Her eyes threatened tears as his met her grateful gaze.

Little did she know that the hero who stood up for her would end up being the love of her life.

Back to that day, Y/N suddenly woke up from her dream screaming, still tormented by the discrimination she had to face and still had to face until that very day.

"Hey, hey..." Charles woke up, cupping her face gently in his hands, making her look towards him as he wiped the tears that were streaming from her eyes. "Are you all right? Breathe, mon ange. It was just a dream."

"Yes, it's okay." Y/N swallowed hard, lying through her teeth. "It was just a nightmare, Charles. Don't worry."

He pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to comfort her, but in reality, in the back of her mind, she could only think of the worst.

He deserves so much better than the mess I am. He'll get tired and just leave me one day. Like everybody else does.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

Until sunrise, the girl stayed awake, her mind doing what she knew how to do best: racing.

Not even the strong arms that enveloped her body, or the heat that her partner's body emitted were capable of transmitting some calm, or some security.

She was the problem.

Tired of lying in bed without any rest, Y/N gave up on being there and, exhausted, she got up, heading back to the cold living room in the centre of the apartment.

She tried everything to get her mind away from the negativity poisoning her system: reading a book, watching a movie, cooking breakfast. But all in vain.

Hours passed before she heard Charles's footsteps interrupting the silence, and soon she could see her boyfriend, shirtless, showing off his excellent physical shape, and stretching as he walked towards her.

"Good morning, mon amour." Charles said, hugging his girlfriend's body from behind and placing a soft kiss on the top of her shoulder. "Did you make breakfast? Damn, I'm lucky." He chuckled, still noticeably sleepy.

You're lucky? You deserve so much more than this, than me, her self-sabotaging thoughts returned.

"So what are we going to do today?" The man asked as he bit into the toast in his hand. "I was thinking we could have lunch at that restaurant by the marina that you love so much."

"I can't, Charles. I have to go to the team headquarters later." Falling back into her harmful tendencies, and without having the courage to look back at him, Y/N tried to keep her distance from him, using the scheduled meeting (which she didn't need to attend) as an excuse.

"Ah okay…" The Monegasque felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as he sensed that something wasn't right with her. "If you want to do something when you get-"

"We'll see." She interrupted, answering dryly. Y/N grabbed her things and headed towards the entrance, her eyes still unable to take in his image. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, mon ange." He agreed, trying not to pressure his girlfriend. "I love y-"

He hadn't even finished talking and she was already out the door.

Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

Within a few hours, Y/N arrived in Wantage, where her second home was: the elegant, welcoming HQ of Williams Racing.

Although still fragile, Y/N felt slightly more energetic and optimistic just being there, the memory of her professional success enough to give her a small boost of self-esteem.

The girl would never be able to put into words how grateful she would feel for the rest of her life for the chance the team gave her.

Entering through the large glass door, Y/N soon found Jost, her team principal, who supported her unconditionally during her two years on the team. The two quickly fell into casual conversation, rambling about the car's performance and the strategies used in previous races.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, until the voice of one of the engineers chanted through the walls of the long corridor, clearly unaware that he was being heard.

"I just don't understand what that she is fucking doing here, man. Y/N is just a little girl, we need a strong man behind that wheel."

The man quickly came face to face with the duo, fear spreading across his face: not for hurting Y/N's feelings - that he couldn't care less; but because he got caught red-handed by his superior - a man, that held the power over his job.

Jost tried to put a hand on the young woman's shoulder, but her body was already out of sight as the driver made her escape, the sound of Capito's scolding the rude man barely audible to her as she ran away from the scene.

She was the problem.

She simply would never be good enough.

Did you hear my covert narcissism

I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman?

(Tale as old as time)

Unbeknownst to the girl, her teammate, Alex, couldn't help noticing her tearful figure escaping towards the garden that decorated the back of the headquarters.

Without thinking twice, the Thai hurriedly followed her, gently grabbing her wrist to stop her.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" The boy asked him, a worried look on his face.

Despite the girl being able to count on one hand the true friendships she managed to build in her entire life, Alex Albon was one of the few people she really connected with.

The genuine, loving boy felt almost like the brother she never had, protecting her with everything he had since the day she joined Williams. 

Two years had passed since then and his presence in her life was now unparalleled and irreplaceable.

"Just tale as old as time." She spoke without thinking, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Forget it. It's no big deal."

Her friend put his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into a comforting hug. "You know I can read you like the back of my hand, Y/N."

"It's just…" The girl sobbed, letting her cheek rest against the tall man's chest. "I'm fed up. Sometimes I just want to give up on it all, on Formula 1, on motorsports. I'm tired of feeling less than everyone else just because I'm not a man."

"Hey, look at me." Alex said, placing both of his hands on the girl's forearms. "You're here because you deserve it. You've won championships in the junior categories. You've scored a hell out of points for a driver in a car like Williams. You and I are literally the most successful duo in the team in the last decade."

The girl couldn't help but laugh softly, sniffling her nose. "When you put it that way..."

"Believe me, Y/N." Albon spoke, hugging the girl he saw as his 'little sister' again. "I'm so proud of you, Charles is so proud of you, all the drivers on the grid are. Fuck what others think."

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day, I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

To say that Alex made her feel so much better was an understatement.

Suddenly, Y/N had a pep in her step, a grin from ear to ear, a renewed energy within her and an eagerness to return home to the one she loved.

The girl couldn't help but feel guilty for the way she treated Charles that morning, so she decided to surprise him with her early return and also a small gift.

Y/N was a gift giver, especially for Charles, who always looked like a little boy on Christmas Eve every time she did so.

Charles had spent weeks and weeks drooling over a sweater from his favourite brand, helping his girlfriend choose the gift. With her headphones in her ears, the girl glided through the aisle of the store in Monte Carlo, straight to the selected piece of clothing.

As she searched for the correct size, the side of her face heated up as she felt someone's attention suddenly on her. The whispers distracted her from what she was doing and she discreetly turned down the music on her phone to listen to what the two laughing girls were saying.

"I don't know, I've heard rumours about them but I don't think so."

"I hope not, I mean, he's Charles Leclerc! He can have any girl he wants."

"You're so right. He's probably just fucking some bikini model on the low."

The sweater remained on the hanger, as Y/N left the store empty-handed.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

It looked like she simply couldn't catch a break that day: the world was determined to bring her down.

Opening the apartment door, Y/N entered, being immediately seen by her boyfriend who had a smile the size of the world.

"Mon amour, you're back!" He got up from his chair, nearly tripping over his own feet with the excitement that filled him. "You don't understand how happy I am to see y- What's wrong, Y/N?"

The boy was caught off guard by the discouraged, beaten-down look on his partner's face, as he expected her to come home happy to have visited the team she loved so much.

"Charles, we need to talk." She spoke, her eyes still not looking at him, similar to the morning.

"I don't like that tone. Are you going to break up with me or something?" He joked nervously, trying to break the tense atmosphere between them.

However, when he looked at her, Charles understood that this was exactly what she was thinking about.

Suddenly, the weight of the velvet box he'd been keeping in his pocket seemed to have tripled.

I have this dream my daughter-in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from Hell"

After a few agonizing seconds of silence, the young woman gathered her courage and looked at the other driver, who had a terrified look on his face.

Charles felt a multitude of emotions at once; he was scared, confused, angry, desperate.

How could she try to do that to him when he was preparing to take the next step in their relationship?

"Charles, don't look at me like that." Y/N turned her tearful gaze to the ground, not having the strength to watch the boy's heart break as hers did. "It's for the best. You deserve so much. You are the best person in this whole fucking world, and I... I'm just me: talentless, worthless me. You can do so much better than-"

"Don't even dare finish that sentence." Charles threatened, lovingly grabbing the girl's face by her jaw and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much. I love you more than anything and anyone in this world."

The girl couldn't hold back the sob that threatened to come out of her lips, as she shook her head in opposition to the words the Monegasque was saying.

"Just stop!" The man said, his voice rising. He leaned his forehead against hers, wiping her cheeks with one of his hands. "It's you. You're it for me, remember? You told me so, and I feel the same way about you."

"There is no one else for me. No one better than you, no one who makes me feel like you do, or who I want to spend the rest of my days with." Charles continued speaking, trying to make the girl realize how much she meant to him, desperate to change her mind.

He felt her body relax slightly against his and he knew right there: it was now or never, this was the moment for his grand romantic gesture.

Guided by his impulsiveness, Charles reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the navy blue box, setting it on the counter in front of her.

Y/N felt her breathing stop. Was that what she thought it was?

The Ferrari driver opened the small box, showing her the most perfect diamond ring inside.

"You are the love of my life, and I never doubted that for a single second. So please, make me the happiest man in the world and marry me."

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi

Everybody agrees, everybody agrees

God, she wanted to say yes.

But she couldn't. Not when he came into her life as a hero rescuing her from the world, and she... 

She was just an anti-hero in his story.

Selfishly, Y/N wanted nothing more than to accept his proposal and fall into his arms.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Charles?" The girl looked at him fearfully.

"Mon amour, just say yes and end my agony once and for all." Even in a moment like that, the man still managed to find humour in the situation, letting out a small laugh and placing a tender kiss on her lips.

Both deposited all the love they felt for each other in that kiss, getting stuck in the moment as if they were the only people in the world.

"Yes." Y/N gave in, opening her eyes surprised when she realized that word had slipped out of her mouth without her even realizing it. 

Charles smiled at her, picked her up from the floor and kissed her. And he kissed her again, and again, his lips just couldn't stay away from hers. "Yes, Charles. Yes. Yes!" She repeated, gradually becoming more and more confident.

With tears in both of their eyes and a shiny new ring around her finger, she looked at the man in front of her: a man who loved her unconditionally with all her flaws, all her struggles, and all her past.

Right then and there, Y/N knew that Charles was her true home, and she could only belong in his arms.

Maybe things weren't falling apart.

Maybe things were starting to fall into the exact places where they needed to.

It's me, hi

I'm the problem, it's me

At teatime, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

taglist: @dan3avocado @starxqt @roseinnej @spiidergirlsworld @ccloaned @hotpigeon22 @dr3lover @lovelytsunoda @primadonnasdream @luxebeautystyle @wallfloweriism @ilivefortheleague @gwynethhberdara @satellitelh @adavenus @audreyscodes @wifeoflucyboynton @th6ccnsp6cyy @classifiedsblog @flyingmushroomss @motylekrozi @claramllera @gabrielamaex @handsupforamiracle @pierre-gasssllyy @lorenaloveslewis

@idkiwantchocolatee @simpforsunwoo @kissatelier @xweirdxsceletton @micksmidnights @miniminescapist @inchidentwithmax @hopelesslyromantics-world @alwaysclassyeagle @indieclarke @capela-miranda @okokoksblog-blog @pulpfixion @sins-only33 @sainzclerc @allisonxf1 @honethatty12

@amsofftrack @flannel-cures @junkiespromise @loudoperahumanoidpanda @honeyric3 @holy-macncheese-balls @ricciardosheart @pierreverstapkin @ravenqueen27 @majkaftorek @home-of-disaster @buendiabebeta @itgirlofnowhere @roses-of-eden @thewintersunset @rubychocolatechips

(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god