#Both blonde and I always pictured her with glasses

[nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj]

Bartimaeus AU but it's Matilda

So I watched Matilda because I couldn't get the idea of Ms Lutyens = Miss Honey out of my mind; and I think Nathaniel deserves a happy ending with a cottagecore lesbian coded mother, but it actually works surprisingly well??

• Instead of Matilda Wordwood it's Nathaniel Underwood.

• Instead of telekinesis Nathaniel summons Bartimaeus to cause trouble.

• "Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty" -*summons a demon in his bedroom*

• Lavender would probably be Kitty.

• Nathaniel and Ms Lutyens bond over art rather than books but he still reads way above his age and is a very intelligent kid.

• "Arthur Underwood lived in a very nice neighborhood, in a very nice house, but he wasn't a very nice person"

• "Underwood was so wrapped up in his own silly life he barely realised he had a son, had he paid any attention to him at all, he'd have realised he was a rather extraordinary child"

• "The happiest part of the story is that Nathaniel and Ms Lutyens each got what they had always wanted; a loving family."

• "Nathaniel discovered to his great surprise that life could be fun, and he decided to have as much of it as possible- after all he was a very smart kid"

• Instead of Magnus (Miss honey's dad) it's Martha Underwood as Ms Lutyens' mother who died.

• Simon Lovelace instead of Trunchbull, who is Ms Lutyens' Uncle or cousin/brother because they're quite similar in age.

• Lovelace is paranoid about being found out as the murderer of Mrs Underwood.

• Nathaniel uses Bartimaeus to get Ms Lutyens' home back and scare Lovelace away.

• And Arthur Underwood signing the adoption papers over to Ms Lutyens at the end because absolutely everyone needs that to heal their soul.

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again masterlist

[inuyashaluver]

Hi!!! How are things? Idk if you saw the picture of Leah in the black pinstripe suit… suffice to say I’ve been having thoughts… and a request pinged through my mind: Leah meeting reader while wearing the suit (first time meeting; connection at first glance) and Leah stays by reader’s side throughout the evening. Heavy flirting, touchy, more dominant bf Leah who brings reader into her arms (basically takes control😩) and suring conti cup celebrations, Leah sees reader wearing her suit jacket and gets cocky. I’m thinking reader is the mysterious hot babe who everyone is wondering about

Love your work and thank you for the Jenni and Misa fics❤️❤️

suit and tie - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which a pretty blonde steals your heart with her suit and tie

warnings: flirty, flirty, flirty, swearing, suggestive

a/n: IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE, TURN IT UP - you guys can’t expect me to react normally about this picture, come on! thank you for the love, gorgeous, enjoyyyyy xx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and leah never believed in love at first sight until you both laid eyes on each other. the instant attraction was obvious for the both of you, hence why as soon as your eyes made contact, you knew you needed to have each other.

—

leah wasn’t really much of a party person. sure, she had fun at parties, but if you were to ask her how she wanted to spend a rare saturday she had off, it most definitely was not at a party.

but because leah values loyalty, when her best friend, alex, begged her to come to a british vogue party, full of the uk’s best in 2022, who was she to decline the puppy dog eyes?

and so, with effective convincing, leah shrugged on her best suit, resisting the eye roll when her best friend assured her this party would be fantastic.

you also weren’t really much of a party person ever, but because of your field of work, you always got dragged to them.

you’re a sports journalist and interviewer. one that was extremely valued not only in the football community, but other sports also.

you took great pride in actually taking time to do your research, to know about your athletes and asked them the questions that actually mattered.

at this time, you were quite new, not really having the opportunity to meet a lot of athletes, including leah.

it took you a while to get to leah’s side of the pitch, and before you had met, you weren’t even doing anything on the field, rather being the one on the television talking about stats and predictions for the games.

—

when leah walked in the room that night, the atmosphere was bustling and she was already regretting coming.

though she held herself well, posture up right with a confident smile present as she walked through the crowds, exchanging polite conversation with familiar faces.

she found a name card with her name on it settled on a table near the back of the room, dimly lit with candlelight amongst the chatter and clinking glasses amongst the room.

she settled, adjusting her suit jacket, slightly tousling her hair in frustration at realising alex wasn’t even sitting on the table with her.

she didn’t know anyone here, about to pull out her phone until she heard a gentle “excuse me, sorry, could i just get through?” sounding from behind her, someone came up next to her and leaned forward to examine the name card next to hers.

a dizzying scent of vanilla flooded her senses, her eyes subconsciously following the smell to look up at the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in her life. it wasn’t even an exaggeration.

her mouth slightly hung open as she met the person’s eyes, this person being you. you were slightly shocked when you and leah made eye contact, feeling your breath hitch at how gorgeous she was.

everything in the room faded as leah looked at you, there was just something irresistible about you that leah couldn’t comprehend, she hadn’t even said a word to you yet.

after what felt like an eternity, you send a quick smile, pulling out the chair and sitting next to her, nervously fiddling with your fingers.

leah gave herself an internal pep talk, turning slightly to you, her hand extending to yours, “hi, i’m leah” she pronounces, making you look over at her with a surprised smile, a little giggle escaping your mouth, sent straight to leah’s heart which felt like was hammering out of her chest.

you place your hand in hers, shaking it gently with a charming smile, you were so nervous, the girl’s gaze not helping you at all. “(y/n)” you share, enjoying how soft her hands felt against yours,

“it’s lovely to meet you” she grins, “likewise” an electric current passed between you before you reluctantly returned your hands to your laps.

you stayed silent for a moment, before nudging her shoulder with yours softly, “did you get dragged to this as well?” you whisper, leah chuckles.

you don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to someone in your life and you’ve just met her. leah was feeling the exact same, wanting to impress you and really hoping she doesn’t fuck this up.

“i did actually” she laughs, “don’t tell me you were as well?” she smiles at you, you nod with a grin, “indeed i was” you sigh, taking a swig of the complementary cocktail on the table, wincing when you took a sip.

“what the fuck is that?” you cough, leah looks over at you in surprise, “that bad?” she says with a laugh, watching as you take a sip of some water,

“disgusting, haven’t you tried it?” you grimace, she shakes her head, “if i had it, so do you” you demand, making the blonde laugh in disbelief.

“who made up that rule?” she challenges amusingly, you grab her glass, lifting her hand and directing her fingers over it, pressing your hand over hers for a moment and she swears her body was on fire.

“i did, drink up then, go on” you smile sweetly, leah offers you another smile, shaking her head with a little laugh before she took a little sip of the drink, matching your wince with how bad it was.

you laugh brightly at her expression, making her heart swell with pride, wanting to make you laugh like that again.

“that’s awful” she affirms, “i can’t believe you made me drink that, i thought we had something going here” she flirts, you smirk knowingly, understanding that both of you caught each other’s drift.

leah just exuded confidence, now leaning her head on her hand resting on the table, adjusting so she could face you. you offer her an amused expression, angling your body to mirror her position.

“we can suffer together?” you say cheekily, leah huffs out a laugh, “come to the bar with me?” she offers, you nod instantly, watching as she stood first, her hand held out to you.

you accepted it gratefully, letting her pull you out of your seat, and once you were upright, her hand made its way to the small of your back, directing you through the crowded room.

when you both reached the bar, she made you stand in front of her slightly in a protective nature, leaning down to speak into your ear directly,

“what would you like, gorgeous?” you swallowed the lump in your throat, telling her what you wanted and watching as she ordered for you and her without hesitation.

you turn around to face her as you both waited for the drinks to be prepared, seemingly busy. she offered you a charming smile as you met her gaze head on, feeling a little nervous at the intensity of her stare.

your eyes trail to her suit and back up to her face, apparently exposing yourself leah could clearly tell you were adorning her attire.

she silently challenges you with a cheeky grin, “you alright, pretty girl?” you return her smirk, feeling a little confident yourself, feeling comfortable with leah.

“just appreciating a good suit” you shrug, your hand extending slightly to trace the lapel of it with your finger, leah watched your movement with sharp eyes, barely breathing at your proximity.

“or maybe i’m appreciating the woman in it?” you say innocently, leah flatlined right there. she chuckled lowly, moving closer to you slightly,

“well you’re a sight for sore eyes” leah drawled, hand resting on your hip for a moment before her head nodded towards the drinks now placed on the bar behind you.

her hand seeks refuge on your lower back again, effectively weaving through the room to your seats again. leah only got rid of the contact to pull out your chair, offering you a sweet smile while she gestured you to sit.

when she sat down next to you, her chair was essentially pressed up against yours, her thigh slightly brushing yours, sending a shiver up both of your spine’s.

“so, leah, tell me about yourself” leah and you both share a little giggle, flirting shamelessly as she talked about her, you listened to her intently, she fell for you a little more at seeing you actively listening to her.

you were asking her questions to clarify when you didn’t understand, sharing your own words but not in an overbearing way, adding to the conversation in a way that made things fluid. easy. familiar.

when the blonde directed her own interrogation on you, she listened to each word with extreme focus, smiling when she’d catch your gaze, both of you somehow managing eye contact.

it was like a first date, the way you both shared parts of your lives, it certainly felt like one.

it was clear there was a spark there, the amount of things you had in common was uncanny. both of your hearts raced a little faster when you thought about where this could potentially go, you two were perfect for each other.

the air between the two of you was thickened with anticipation and attraction, the flirting making both of your stomach’s absolutely flip. there was just something so magnetising about the two of you, irresistible like a moth to a light.

her laugh was infectious and so was yours, a smile cracking between the two of you that had your cheeks hurting. each exchanged glance and playful piece of banter made the tension simmer, both of you slowly drawing each other in.

“do you want to dance?” you said with kind eyes, leah nods without hesitation, letting you drag her to the dance floor.

the two of you danced with shared giggles, lingering touches as your bodies moved together. and even though leah and you had obviously skipped multiple steps with each other, she remained respectful, not pushing any boundaries as she danced with you.

you appreciated it, appreciated her and she most definitely appreciated you. the thought of her fucking this up eating her alive and it hadn’t even happened.

“i wasn’t going to come tonight but i’m happy i did” leah said next to your ear, goosebumps rising on your skin when her breath gently grazed it. you smile at her, “me too” your hand moving to gently squeeze her bicep.

you both made way to the table once more after you both got tired, basically sitting on top of each other at this point. you continued to chat and laugh together, feeling like you’d known each other all your lives.

as the night progressed, your hands went over your arms due to a little chill suddenly being present in the room. leah was extremely observant, shrugging off her jacket and slipping it over your shoulders.

you open your mouth to protest but leah fixes you with a little glare, making you roll your eyes slightly before you let her direct your arms into the jacket, her scent making you smile as it surrounded you, more than it already was.

the party was slowly filtering out and you and leah prolonged it as much as you could until essentially getting kicked out.

she walks you out with your arm around her bicep, smiling at people as you walked past. you were both outside and gave each other slightly sad smiles, the thought of the night ending leaving a little crack in both of your hearts.

“i had a lot of fun with you tonight” you smile at her, “so did i, a lot of fun” she smiles back, her eyes trailing all over your face as you looked at each other.

“so, williamson, can i have your number?” you say cheekily, your cheeks a little pink as you asked, leah smiles fondly, nodding and fishing her phone out of her bag, prompting you to do the same. “beat me to it, cheeky”

you exchanged numbers, hands brushing against each other’s as you gave back one another’s phone.

“i have to say, you suit that jacket a lot better than me” she smirks, you shake your head, “thank you, but you’re otherworldly in this” you flirt, making her cheeks burn as she avoided your gaze for a moment.

her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek for a moment with a chuckle, taking the leap and pulling you closer so her lips were ghosting yours.

her eyes bore into yours, glancing down at your lips as her breath fanned them gently, your heart spiked, feeling incredibly warm.

your eyes flicker down at hers before she closed the gap, her lips moving softly with yours. you sigh against her as she pulls you closer by your hips, your hand gently holding the side of her neck as you kissed her.

she pulls away with a sharp breath, her breath mingling with yours as her forehead resting against yours. “let me take you out, tomorrow?” she says almost a little desperately, but you both were honestly.

“okay” you breathe out, she smiles before pressing a tender kiss to your mouth, her thumbs rubbing gently over your waist as she pulled away at arms length.

you smile at her sheepishly, her sporting her own shy smile as she looked at you. the two of you giggle again, not really believing the circumstances of kissing your dream girl and going on a date the next day.

she waits until you get picked up by your taxi, pulling you into a warm hug, the embrace soft and gentle, contrasting the insufferable flirting you’d been torturing each other with all night.

“i’ll give you back your jacket on our date” you say cheesily, leah laughs, brushing a stray hair away from your face before she cradles your cheek, her thumb brushing over your cheekbone affectionately.

she presses a parting kiss to your lips, “can’t wait, baby” she whispers against you, pecking your mouth again quickly before she ushered you to go home, not wanting you to linger out in the cold.

you texted all night, sleeping at an ungodly time but it was all worth it. leah took you on that date and you both fell in love, suddenly claiming yourselves as party people.

—

you’d now been dating for a little over two years, infatuated an understatement for your relationship. you moved in together, both of you flourishing with each other in your respective careers but also with one another.

people knew the two of you were dating, you were the definition of private but not a secret. your social media for each other was essentially a shrine.

—

it was the continental cup final, arsenal vs chelsea. you and alex were the main journalists covering the match that leah was extremely excited about.

during warm ups, she threw you a cocky grin with a wink as she saw you getting mic’d up, only growing when she realised what you were wearing.

the blazer from the night she swept you off your feet all those years ago. you wave at her when she blows you a kiss with a wave, grinning as alex teased the both of you while you both prepared.

when the final whistle blew and leah got dragged into a group hug, she bounded over to you.

“arsenal have won the continental cup!” you exclaim, feeling a body attach to you from behind, strong arms wrapped around your middle while multiple kisses were pressed to your cheeks.

you lean back into the body, already knowing it was your girlfriend’s. “leah williamson is clearly happy about the win” alex teases, making leah smile against your cheek,

her hand moves over yours holding the microphone, “very happy” she chuckles, moving to stand next to you with her hand on your hips, staying for a short interview conducted by alex.

you gave her heart eyes the whole time, buzzing with excitement to congratulate her properly off camera. if you weren’t confirmed officially with the blonde, you definitely were now.

as soon as the staff yelled ‘cut’, leah pulled you into a kiss, your arms wound around her neck as her arms went around your waist again.

“hi, gorgeous” she mumbles against your lips, “hey, champion” you grin proudly, pecking her lips a couple of times while she smiles down at you.

“congratulations, my winner” you pinch her cheek softly, she moves her head quickly to jokingly bite your finger, relishing in the giggle she elicited from you. “thank you, my girl” she winks,

“this is a nice blazer, where’d you get this?” she teases, you can’t help but smile at her, “oh, it’s my girlfriend’s” you kiss her again, her hands move to squeeze your hips.

“you look absolutely gorgeous” she breathes out, “so sweet, my love, so do you” you grin, leah smirks, “i prefer you with nothing on but that’s for my eyes only” she says lowly in your ear, you gasp and slap her shoulder lightly,

“you can’t be sweet for two seconds-” you scold, cut off with her lips against yours again in a gentle kiss, making you hum against her before you ushered her to get her medal and lift the trophy.

after the trophy was lifted, she made a quick effort to grab a bottle of champagne and chase you around with it, threatening to spray it on you. you both laugh loudly as you ran around the pitch, your hearts full of affection for each other.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s yours and leah’s blazer 🫠! ily alex x

liked by alexscott2 and 44,232 others

leahwilliamsonn: double win if you ask me

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yourname: so cheesyyyyyy

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you love it

↳ yourname: do i?

↳ leahwilliamsonn: oh you definitely do

↳ yourname: don’t be so sure of yourself, williamson

↳ leahwilliamsonn: extremely. thin. ice.

[asapeveryday]

IN THE MIRROR

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: mirror sex (strap), mention of self image issues

Summary: you’re feeling insecure, but Paige wants you to see what she sees.

A/n: thanku to the anon who requested this 😛 this is a short one, sorry! Been working thru some writers block.

“LOOK IN FRONT OF YOU.” She says, one hand leaving your waist and gently finding your jaw, moving your gaze towards the glass mounted on your wall.

It’s a decent piece, you remember going out to buy a mirror for your apartment and coming across this one. Your friends always loved to take pictures in front of it, but as time went on you found yourself avoiding your reflection altogether. Sometimes it was better that way.

Still, Paige wouldn’t let that slide. She just couldn’t wrap her head around your doubts about your appearance.

“Don’t you get it?” She grumbles, one of her fingers circling your lips before entering your mouth, to which you eagerly suck. You’re on your hands and knees in front of the mirror, and Paige is kneeling behind you. Her length is just teasing your entrance. “You’re so pretty.”

You can’t help but cringe at her compliment. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s genuine, but it had been so hard to agree with her words these days. Maybe something about the weather, the workload at school, the thousands of girls in your girlfriends comment sections, the mirror that always reflects something unworthy.

“Shut up.” You mumble under your breath before letting out a gasp at her grip. Her hands once soft against your jaw now manhandling your face, forcing you to stare dead at your reflection.

“Do you see anything wrong here?” Paige whispers, not letting you answer and instead physically shaking your head no. “Cus I don’t.” And with those last words she enters you, smooth and natural from your arousal. You let out a hum at the feeling of Paige filling you up and she cracks a smile.

“I love that face.” She utters, leaning over your back. Her hand leaves your face and her arms are now on either side of you, caging you under her. This position only eases her in further, causing you to arch your back.

Her head is by the crook of your neck, the sight of her blue eyes watching you in the mirror make you squirm.

“It’s all I think about.” She adds, her breath fanning your ear. She’s not moving despite the arch of your back just aching for friction.

“Please, P.” You whine, moving your hips.

“Don’t move.” She says, dangerously curt. You obey her with much reluctance simply because her expression is so serious.

“I want you to see what I see.” Paige mumbles, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “I don’t know how I can do that though.”

She rises up, releasing you from her cage before her hands find the bone of your hip. Her strap slips out for a moment before her hips snap and it fills you again, inciting a moan from your mouth. “All I can say is—” she starts, beginning to find a rhythm against your body. “—that you’re perfect.”

“Just stop.” You groan; a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. Her words both rile you up and make you want to hide.

“Can’t. Even if I wanted to.” She grins. You look up to meet your reflection and are surprised to not be disappointed.

With every thrust from the blonde behind you your body moves almost mesmerizingly. Your hair is tousled just right, your lips dawn a freshly kissed plump. The sight of her hands strong on your skin as if she’d rather die then let go, the vision of her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes dart from your fucked-out expression to her purple strap being enveloped by your pussy, it’s something that will be burned into your memory forever.

“See it?” She huffs, bucking into you and relishing at your hooked expression. “D’you see why I think you’re perfect?”

“I see it.” You manage to whine out, the sensation engulfing you fully. It’s true, what the mirror portrays is perfect. You and her together. Her absolutely folding at the sight of you, at the feeling of your walls sucking her in, at your glassy eyes glued to the reflection, head tilted just right, ass moving with every motion of Paige’s hips.

“Good.” She says, biting her lip as her eyes meet yours in the mirror.

“Now turn around.”

[leclsrc]

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff 

word count: 13.1k  

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily. 

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back. 

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course. 

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room. 

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind. 

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.” 

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything. 

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip. 

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated. 

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.” 

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.” 

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?” 

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing. 

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So. 

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers. 

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging. 

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused. 

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

—

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?” 

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft. 

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them. 

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans. 

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused. 

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything. 

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway. 

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.” 

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go. 

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him. 

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.” 

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one. 

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after  you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly. 

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake. 

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it. 

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.” 

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.” 

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him. 

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,” you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes. 

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

[biggestsimponhere]

‘Tis the damn season

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

➻ Synopsis: You left your hometown at 18 yet here you stand ten years later in front of the only person you’ve ever loved

➻ Requests are always welcome!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

If i wanted to know who you were hanging with while i was gone i would have asked you

There was once a time when you could have asked Tyler Owen’s anything and you would’ve gotten an answer. But you left. Ten years ago. Something about the small town thing that you couldn’t get over, you felt trapped. Now you lay in your bed, it’s cold out, you’re curled under blankets and watching videos of the so called tornado wrangler on youtube. You smile despite yourself, you had missed him but you had to go.

A girl enters the side of the screen, one you didn’t recognize. Her hair was blonde with dark brown roots, her doe eyes practically sparkling as she looks at tyler. You can’t help the pang of loss that shoots through your chest. You push the feeling down and turn off your phone, shoving it far underneath your pillow. You have no right to be jealous you know that but you miss him and then there’s her, you can’t get the image of her out of your mind as you lay there in the dark. Your eye catches on a shirt hanging off the handle of your closet door.

Tyler’s shirt. You remember the day you got that shirt so vividly. It was cold, despite the heat that usually comes being on the south, arkansas winter had a way of chilling you when you didn’t want it. The two of you were walking home from local diner, it was late and snowing and neither of you had thought to bring a coat. Tyler had shrugged off his flannel and draped it over your shoulders before pulling you closer. The two of you walked to your house practically glued at the hip.

It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass but i felt it when i passed you, there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

“Y/n?” A voice calls from your left. You had been out shopping, grabbing some last minute things your mom needed to cook, because of course she would send you. Luckily for you it wasn’t tyler’s voice. It was boones. You smile as you turn and greet him. “Does ty know you’re back in town? I mean he must not if he hasn’t already shown up at your door” Boone questions as he stares at you. “He doesn’t know i’m back and you can’t tell him, i’m going to leave as soon as the holidays are over” You say pleadingly. Lily slides into the conversation seemingly having overheard you two.

You glance at lily, “wait, he’s not here right?” you ask slightly panicked. “No he’s not, he sent us out to get things, you know how he is” Lily shrugged. You breathe out a sigh of relief but can’t help the longing that goes through you. “You’re going to have to tell him y/n” Lily says sternly. You know you left things shaky, you also know Tyler never got an explanation. “He doesn’t need me ruining his life,” You shake your head, “He’s got that girl, i saw her on the video” You say quietly. “Who? Kate?” Boone laughs. You find yourself quirking an eyebrow at him because what’s so funny.

“Why are you laughing bo, i’m serious” You say softly, trying to keep your true emotions from slipping through. “If you think tyler’s gotten over you just because you’ve been gone for ten years then you are absolutely ridiculous” He wipes tears from his eyes as he laughs. “What’re you talking about bo, there’s no way he still misses me” You interject breaking through his laughter. “I’ve gotta go, i’ve missed you both… don’t tell ty… please” You say quietly as you hug them. They both give you their reassurance that they won’t tell him but they think you should.

i’m stayin at my parents house, and the road not taken looks real good now

Being back in your high school bedroom is harder than you thought it would be. They didn’t touch anything. The pictures of you and tyler, happy, smiling from ear to ear decorate every corner of your mirror. You stare at them for a minute before pulling one off. It’s always been your favorite one, the two of you had taken it while trying to figure out how to use your polaroid camera when you first got it. It was slightly blurry but the smiles beaming at you through the photo tell you all you need to know. Tyler had taken it, his arms outstretched as he holds the camera away from the two of you, you’re reaching for it in the photo and maybe that’s why it’s tilted like that or maybe it’s because tyler’s hand was shaking so bad from laughing.

You curl back onto your bed, the polaroid clutched in your hand as you bring the covers up under your chin. You’ve never been one for wallowing but there’s something about being back here. Your mother finds you like that hours later. She sits on the bed beside you, softly pulling the polaroid from your hand and setting it on your nightstand. She knows you miss tyler. She also knows why you left in the first place. She tucks the blanket tighter around you and kisses your head softly before heading back out of the room. You don’t wake despite the creaking of the old door as she shuts it.

She heads back downstairs and settles back into the kitchen. After baking for about an hour or two she does what any sane mother would do and she pulls out the phone book. She laughs quietly as she searches for the number and smiles triumphantly once she’s got it. She moves to the phone hanging on the wall. Despite all the gorgeous technological advancements of the twenty first century your mother refuses to give up her landline, claims her grandkids are gonna know how to properly use a phone. “Yes? Tyler? She’s home” Your mom sighs softly into the phone. You may blame her for this but she doesn’t care.

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tired, now i’m missing your smile, hear. me. out.

Tyler’s at your house in the next half an hour. Your mother greets him at the door. She invites him in and lets him know that you’re still asleep. “I guess i just don’t understand why you called” He says as he sits at the table, his chair, it takes him a moment to realize. He’s sitting in the chair he sat in for four years. “She misses you, she won’t say it but she does, she needs you” Your mother says as she joins him at the table. Tyler quirks his head at that, you left, what could you possibly need from him. “I’m sorry ma’am i’m just not really gettin it” He says quietly.

“I thought we’ve moved past you calling me ma’am” She reminds him softly. He nods, looking down. “To answer your question, i think she’s lost it, now i don’t mean her mind ya know, but her love of everything really, i know she left because she felt trapped but she stopped coming home, she stopped writing, somethings going on tyler” She explains as she sips on her coffee. Tyler’s expression shifts from confused to concerned. “What do ya mean?” He asks calmly, hoping not to project how badly he wants to run upstairs and wrap you in his arms. “She hasn’t come out of that room for days, i sent her out yesterday and she came home, dazed, she needs you” Her tone makes something shift in tyler.

“Can i.. can i go up there?” He’s practically bursting with the need to hold you. Your mother nods, a slight smile forming on her lips. He’s up the stairs before she gets the chance to say anything else. The door to your room creaks but you don’t look up, assuming it must be your mother again. “Sweetheart” A voice comes from the door. That’s not your mother. You’d know that voice anywhere. You jolt up in your bed. “Ty?” You question as your eyes adjust to the light pouring in from the hall. He shuts the door behind him, dowsing your bedroom back into darkness. The only light coming from the moon reflecting on the snow outside your window.

But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me. We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. ‘Tis the damn season.

Tyler moves closer to your bed, but slowly, sort of like approaching an animal that doesn’t want to be approached. “It’s me darling” He says as he draws closer. He’s reaching over to wipe the tears from your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying. You lean into his touch instinctively. “What’re you doing here ty?” You’re pushing back more tears as he sits beside you. He looks warm. Warmer than the cold bed you’re laying in. “Your ma called me”. You laugh disbelievingly. Of course she did.

“You didn’t have to come ty, i’m fine” You say unconvincingly. “Oh i’m sure you are sweetheart” The pet names he’s lathering you in almost make you forget how long you’ve been gone. “Why don’t we go out, you can come to mine, the team misses you yknow” He says as he pulls you into his side. Every time he touches you it’s delicate like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but you don’t. You never could and you never would. “Really? You want me there?” You push at your nose, trying to get it to stop running. “I always want you around, you know that” He runs his fingers through your hair till you’ve relaxed against him once again.

It always leads to you, in my hometown, sleep in, half the day. Just for, old times sake. I wont ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

It takes little to no convincing from there to get you to join him at his farmhouse. Snow glistens, costing the fields of grass and dirt. You’ve packed a bag, a small one but tyler wanted you around and you’d take what you can get. You don’t know what it is about being around him that makes you want to be yourself but there’s a pleasant safe feeling that fills the air. He pulls into the driveway of his family’s farm house. You smile at the sight of it, it looks just the same as it always has only this time it’s topped with fresh white snow. You smile slightly as you notice the team in the living room through the window.

Tyler helps you out of the truck and grabs your bag before helping you over the ice and inside. “You know where the guest room is” He says as he gestures down the hall. He’s right you do. The only guest room you’ve ever stayed in at his house despite the very many. It’s the one right beside his room. He always told you he wanted you as close as possible if his parents wouldn’t let you sleep in the same room. You smile at the memory as you set your bag down on the bed. You start walking back towards the living room when you heard something “She’s home huh?” You don’t know that voice, but you can only assume it belongs to that doe eyed blonde.

“She is” You can hear the smile in tyler’s response and it makes you feel slightly better about yourself. The group welcomes you back in like you’ve never been gone and you sit beside tyler as some christmas movie plays. Kate, you learned her name, sits across the room at a love chair alone. She’s been staring at you two for the past fifteen minutes and it’s getting a bit harder to ignore. When you stand and head to the kitchen for some water she follows you. You get slightly concerned she’s dating tyler before she explains her reason for following you out here. “I’ve not know him long, but i could tell something was wrong, and in this short period of time that you’ve been here it’s like you’ve ignited something in him” She says as she stares at you

It always leads to you in my hometown. it always leads to you… in my hometown.

Later that night you’re tossing and turning in bed. You can’t stop thinking about when you left, why you left, or if it was even worth it. Three knocks sound on the other side of the wall. You smile despite yourself. You know who it is, it’s tyler. You reach up and knock back twice. The confirmation that you’re still awake. He knocks back four times. An asking. More like a begging. Begging you to join him in his room. You think about it for a minute before you climb out of the guest bed, which is still slightly cold despite you lying in it for an hour. You make your way to tyler’s room and walk towards his bed.

He reaches out for you and pulls you down like no time has passed. You smile at him as he burries his face in your neck. “I’ve missed you” It’s said so softly against your skin that you almost missed it. You run a hand through his hair and he burrows further into you. “I’ve missed you too ty, i’m sorry” You say as you tuck your face into his neck. “don’t have to be sorry, just don’t leave me again” he sounds like a kid but he can’t help it. You nod against his neck. You’re not leaving. Nothing could take you away from this. Not again. You can feel his body relax against yours as you tell him you’re not going anywhere.

There are things the two of you are going to have to work on but for now… here… in his warm bed, cuddled up together nothing else really matters.

[muffinpink02]

It’s not what you know, it’s who you know -

Hello lovelies! So this is my first “Reader POV” story. And my first Alexia Putellas story. But you can find me on ao3! Muffinpink02 With my other stories.

Summary - Your best friend has invited you to be a plus one for an award show for women’s sports. You don’t have a clue about sport, so when a certain blonde comes and flirts with you, you can’t help but flirt back. But can she keep your attention?

Sorry if I haven’t posted this right, first time on here.

Warnings : SMUT, 18+ fingering, strap, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, restraint and more. 12k +words

You were running late as usual.

Well, it was only by 5 minutes, not too late for your standard, but you knew Daisy would already know that. You were always late. It wasn’t like she cared, she was your best friend, she might tease you about your horrendous time keeping but she loved you, she wouldn’t hold it against you.

Finally, you arrived at your guys favourite pub. You hurried in to see your childhood best friend sitting by the window, drinking her classic red, and what looked like your go to choice of drink sitting on a beer mat in front of her. You smiled as you approached her, it had been a month since you last saw each other. She’d been soo busy with work lately, you was aware she was working on something big with her current clients, you wasn’t sure on who they were but it was some kind of trophy. Or was it a statue?

“Daisy!” You shouted.

She looked up from her phone, a huge smile on her face. “Well, well. Look who’s nearly on time, this is early for you!” Daisy laughed as she grabbed you in for a hug.

“Don’t jinx it!” You laughed as you sat down. You grabbed the drink in front of you. “Ahh you’re an angel. Thank you, D.”

“You’re welcome. So, tell me how’s life? What have I missed?”

You caught up on everything, you finally learned that it was an award that Daisy had been working on, something to do with women’s sport, football to be precise. You could tell from the way she spoke about it that she was excited and proud of herself, and you loved to see it, you were always her biggest cheerleader.

“So it’s being awarded next week, and I get to bring a plus one.” She eyed you up excitedly.

“I’m there. What’s the dress code?” You asked.

“Yay! Brilliant! So it’s fancy but not fancy there will be free drinks, food and a lot of fit athletes. Definitely ones you would love.”

“Sorry? Am I just a big old tart? I’m there to support you…but I mean if there will be fit girls then it’s a win, win.” You smiled at her playfully.

Daisy rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Ohh and a car will pick us up, so come to mine before and we can have some pre drinks.”

“Perfect. Tell me a time and I’ll be there. And I’ll be on time. I promise.” You winked.

——————-

You indeed kept your promise. It may have been the first time ever in your grown up life that you were actually on time, 6 minutes early in fact. You knocked on Daisy’s door and of course the pure shock on her face was worth it.

“No. You’re on time? You’re early? What?” She opened her door wider to let you in.

You walked in, a smug smile on your face. “Yeah, but don’t get used to it.”

Daisy laughed as she followed you into the kitchen, grabbing you both drinks for tonight.

“I love what you’re wearing, D.”

She poured you both Prosecco, handing you your glass. “Thank you. I normally hate dressing up like this but I actually like this dress. Let me see yours in person, it looked so nice in the picture.”

You took your jacket off, revealing a simple but chic, black cami mini dress, that showed off your curves just perfectly. The chest was low-cut, displaying a healthy amount of your breast, but not enough for it to look tacky. It had an open slit to the side of your thigh, exposing some skin, but enough to look sexy. And if you were going to toot your own horn, yeah, you would say you looked good tonight.

“Yes. I love this! I won’t be surprised if you get one of the athletes trying to talk to you. You look fucking hot!” Daisy smiled.

“Pshh I wish. But here’s hoping.” You raised your glass as you took sip. “Anyways, I’m there for you, not the girls.”

In all honesty, you wasn’t too sure on what tonight was about, you knew the award was made by Daisy but you didn’t know what it was for exactly. Well that was a lie, you knew it was for women’s sports and their achievements, but that was about it. You didn’t know what sport it was for, well again you knew Daisy’s award was for football. Was there other sports there? Maybe? You just knew Daisy was there and a woman footballer was receiving it. For her achievements? Yeah, that’s sounds right. Either way you were there to support her, and that was something you knew you could do.

The car arrived, Daisy explained there would be a few faces you might recognise, well, not the sport faces, because you had no clue when it came to sport. You didn’t watch it, you didn’t know about it, you wasn’t into it. It just wasn’t your thing. The car pulled up to the event, there was loads of people walking into a fancy looking building, paparazzi was outside taking pictures of who you assumed was the star athletes.

You and Daisy walked quickly through the crowd, she wasn’t one for pictures and fuss. Even if this was one of her biggest events she had worked on, she didn’t care for it. You both had your VIP lanyards around your neck, the bouncers allowed you entry into the main area. You both got a drink and spoke to some of Daisys colleagues, some you had even met before.

Daisy was being pulled from pillar to post, you didn’t realise just how important the award was. The footballer who was receiving it must have been a big deal as her name was constantly being mentioned. Journalist was asking Daisy ‘how she felt about tonight?’ And ‘how she designed the award?’ ‘what her inspiration was for it?’ You loved watching her finally being recognised for her talent but it did mean you were left a lot, not that you minded. You walked around the room looking at displays of other awards, and the displays of other athletes that was being awarded.

As much as you tried your best to look interested, you had to have a quick glance at your phone, you know, you could be getting an important email from work. You scrolled over your insta feed, but that was just as boring, but a video of a cat playing the piano caught your attention. You didn’t feel the presence of person next you until she spoke.

“You look as bored as I feel.”

You jumped slightly at the new voice in your ear, you looked up to see a blonde woman now standing next you, she was looking at the award you had been standing next to for the better half of ten minutes.

She continued. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” That’s when you noticed a thick Spanish accent on her.

“No, you’re okay. I was just looking at work emails.”

That’s when you really looked at the stranger, she had beautiful hazel eyes, her dark eye shadow making them pop. Her smile was painted red, with full lips. She was wearing a black fitted suit, with a low cut travelling down her chest making it look like she had nothing on underneath. Her blonde hair was parted and down. She was just a bit taller than you, making you look up at her. Basically she was fit as fuck.

“Ahh sí, work emails.”

A mischievous smile spread across her face telling you she knew you wasn’t looking at no work email. She probably saw how engulfed you were at the stupid cat video. She glanced over you quickly, making you almost feel like you were revealing a body part that you didn’t know was out.

“Are you here for work?” She asked.

“Oh, erm no, I’m here with a friend.”

Her eyebrows raised, she took a quick glance around the room. “A friend? Why are they not with you?”

“She’s working, I’m here for support. Her cheerleader on the sideline.” You smiled.

“Ahh, I see. A cheerleader, where are your, how do you say? Pom poms?” She smiled playfully at you.

“Left them at home, didn’t want to upstage her.” You smiled back, taking a drink from your glass.

She laughed at your joke, the sound of her laugh made your stomach flutter.

“It’s a shame, I think it would have made tonight a bit more fun, no?” Her smile was playful as she winked at you.

You had only been talking no more than 5 minutes and you wanted to know everything about this woman. She took a sip from her own glass, taking a confident look down your body, her eyes lingering at your chest, but unlike a man it didn’t feel creepy. It was definitely wanted. You felt your cheeks burning up at the intense way she looked over you. It almost felt like she was undressing you with her hazel eyes.

Before you did willingly undress for the gorgeous women in front of you, you thought you should at least ask a question.

“Are you here for work?”

She smiled, she took another glance over you then around the room. “Sí, for work. But I got distracted.” This time her hazel eyes lingered on your mouth.

Did it send a cold shiver up your now hot body? Yes. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Hmm, you’re not very good at your job if you can be so easily distracted.” You said teasingly. You did your own eyeing up this time, you let your eyes roam her neck line that went down her chest. Her suit made her look powerful and in charge of any situation she was in. And by the looks on her face she was more than happy.

“Hmm, I don’t normally get distracted. But sometimes it’s hard not to be. Especially when I have someone like you I can talk to.”

This woman was oozing confidence, it was almost intimidating, but the playful smile on her face made you want to kiss it off.

“So, you could say I’ve already made your night more fun? Since you were soo bored.”

She laughed again. God, that sexy laugh of hers was so captivating. She stepped a little closer into your space. “Sí, I’m definitely enjoying myself now.”

Fuck, she was honestly the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She took another glance over your body for good measure. You could have sworn your saw her pupils grow.

You was about to ask for her name, but another women’s voice came in to pop your bubble.

“Ale, et necessiten per a una entrevista ràpida.”

Your GCSE Spanish wasn’t able to translate what she said.

“Estic venint.” The blonde smiled at her Spanish friend. You didn’t think she could be any sexier until you heard her speak in her mother tongue. She looked at you, clearly seeing your confused but turned on expression.

“I have to go, you’ll be at the after party sí?”

You felt giddy, the women clearly wanted to know you as much as you did her.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Might bring my pompoms.” You winked.

Her head tilted back as she laughed. “I can’t wait. Adéu, nena bonica.” She looked over you once more as she walked away with the other Spanish lady. You watched them walk out of them room, into the unknown.

You wasn’t sure what she said but you definitely liked it. You suddenly felt sad at the loss of the mystery woman. You looked around the room for Daisy, she was already looking at you from across the room, a massive smile on her face. She waved for you to come over.

You made your trip over to her, the smile on her face only got wider. You spoke before she could. “Sorry, got completely distracted. How’s it all going?”

Daisy looked at you, a weird expression on her face. “No, you’re good, was you having fun with your new friend?” She looked giddy.

“Erm, yeah I mean she was fucking hot. Did you see her?”

“Yeah, I saw. I didn’t want to interrupt.” She smiled, but her smile was weird. “Did you get her name?”

“No. I think her friend said it, but it was quick Spanish. Are we going to the drinks after?” You asked.

Daisy laughed, almost in disbelief. What was so funny?

“Yeah, we are. Did your friend ask if you were going?”

You smiled, almost bashful. “She did, but I’m here for you, an-“

Daisy put her hand up to your face, stopping you mid sentence. “Please understand I would never get in the way of you having a good time.” She chuckled. “I’ve watched you turn down plenty of girls on our nights out, just because it was our girls night.” She stopped to take a drink from her own glass. “Please don’t worry about me, have fun and don’t miss the opportunity with your new…friend.”

You smiled, you loved your friendship with Daisy it really was rare to have someone like her in your life.

“Thanks, D. Anyways, tell me the goss, whats happening?”

————-

About 40 minutes later you sat down for the award show, you were next to Daisy, only two rows away from the front. She was right about seeing faces you recognised from the telly, but you had only been looking for one face in particular. You had seen her just before taking your seats, she had her Spanish friend following her around, that now come to think of it looked more like an assistant. And you would know, it was also your job.

The lights dimmed and a brunette woman came on stage, you assumed she was an athlete from her body alone. The voice over then came into action.

Voice over - Please welcome your host tonight, England’s Lioness, Lucy Bronze.

The whole room clapped and cheered, she must have been someone big, you knew the lionesses were for women’s football, and maybe if you thought hard enough you had seen Lucy Bronze in the news when they won the…..World cup? Or was it Championship? It was something big.

Awards were passed out and speeches were made. They showed clips of women and girls in different sports, and the challenges they faced around the world just to play sport. It made you realise how little you knew about the topic as a whole and women in sports, it actually made you a little embarrassed.

It was near the end of the show, Lucy came back on stage. “This next award is dedicated to one of the biggest names, in not only women’s football but footballs itself. She even rivals myself with her long list of achievements.” The audience laughed at that. “Please can you give a hand to my friend and my capitana, Alexia Putellas.”

You nudged Daisy. “This is your award!” You clapped even louder, she smiled at you, but once again her smile was weird, maybe she was excited? Or nervous? You clapped and watched the screen begin to play, like it did for each winer of the night, showing a short film of their story in their sport. It was actually a lot more interesting than you would have thought.

The short film started with a ball at a pair of legs, the ball was kicked straight into the back of a goal net, then it panned back to the women who kicked it. Your jaw opened comically, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You felt Daisy laughing quietly next to you, you looked over at her, shock clear on your face. Was this a joke? You had been flirting with one of the greatest women’s football players? And she was flirting with you?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered harshly.

Daisy laughed even harder, you looked back at the screen, even though you wanted answers, you wanted to watch the movie of the women who had been eye fucking you. And once again you was impressed, the women had done so much in her career.

When the film was over, Lucy walked back to the podium, Daisy’s award now in front of her. Even though she mugged you off and didn’t tell you about Alexia you grabbed her hand and smiled at her, you were so proud of your best friend and her work.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Alexia Putellas.” The audience clapped louder than before. That’s when you saw her, she walked on stage, she hugged Lucy for a few seconds. She picked up her award and smiled.

“Thank you, thank you everyone. This award means a lot to me. It’s not just myself that wins this but all the women in my life that have helped me get to where I am today. So this is for them, thank you for being in my corner and being my cheerleader. Gràcies, thank you.”

You couldn’t stop the stupid smile on your face, did she really just say that? Maybe you were over thinking it, maybe she had already planned to say it and it was just coincidence? Maybe.

The audience clapped and whistled, including yourself. You grabbed Daisy for a hug, her art now belonged to one of the greatest football players in women’s football. Pshh, look at you, already learning a thing or two.

The awards came to an end, you and Daisy made your way to the other room for the after party. It was a bar with a dance floor, but it was dark like a night club, but still had an alogant bar vibe to it. You made your way to a table, as more people started to make their way in.

You sat down, Daisy was standing. “I’ll grab drinks, the usual?”

You smiled up at her. “Please, D.”

She walked over to the bar that was already busy, you looked around the room, trying to not make it too obvious but you were looking for a certain Spaniard. After a few minutes of looking you glanced over your phone, you looked on insta to see if your new friend had an account, your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw she had 3.3 million followers. You really had to get into the world of women’s sport a bit more.

You scrolled looking at her posts, you may have lingered on one or two bikini posts, until someone sat across from you.

“Now, tell me why a pretty girl like you is sitting here all alone and not on the dance floor.” Her Irish accent was clear as day. She had a cheeky face. Like Alexia, her eyes roamed over your body, her eyes were full of mischief. Alexia’s eyes undressed you slowly, but these eyes were fucking you hard from behind, not that you minded.

“I’m waiting for my friend to come back. So no dancing for me.” You smiled. She wasn’t rude or annoying but for some reason you didn’t want Alexia to see you speaking with her. Or maybe you did?

“Oh, she won’t mind if I keep her seat warm for her then.” This girl was very cheeky, you would have loved it any other night, a girl like her would be easily going home with you, but you wasn’t going to full into her charm. She continued.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for the sports, I would definitely remember your face.”

You laughed. “No, not here for the sports, I’m supporting my friend.”

She nodded as she drank her bottle of beer. “Right, gotcha, gotcha.”

“Are you here for the sports?” You asked.

The Irish girl chuckled while she wiped her nose. “I am here for the sport, yeah. I’m a footballer, I play for Arsenal.”

Another football player? Was you their type or something?

“Ohh, sorry. I’m so bad with sports, I don’t have a clue who anyone is.”

She really laughed at that, taking another drink of her beer. “That’s no bother. Are you having a good time? These tings can be awfully boring.”

“I am, it’s not been too bad, meeting new people is always fun.”

She looked at you then, like Alexia she was confident but the mischievousness gave her a cockiness to her, in a sexy way, and if it wasn’t for your new friend you would fall right into her Irish charm, but the Spanish had got a hard hold of your attention.

“Yeah, well I’m having more fun now I’m talking to you.” She smirked at you.

But before you could say anything else a hand landed on your shoulder. You both looked up to see the star of the show.

“Hola, noia bonica. Where are your pom-poms?” She smiled down at you, once again her smile making your insides do somersaults.

You laughed out loud. “Sorry, I must have left them again.” She smiled at the sound of your laugh. She looked over at the Irish girl, who was watching the two of you interact.

“Sorry, I’m not interrupting anything am I? It’s Katie, isn’t it?” The Spaniard smiled down at the girl across from you, you could see the challenge in Alexia’s eyes, waiting for her to say otherwise.

“Yeah, Katie, that’s right. No, you’re grand. Was just getting to know your friend here. She was sat all alone, you don’t want that now, do ya?” She stood up. “But you’re here now. So I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Okay, it was nice to meet you, Katie.” The Spaniard smiled.

“And you Alexia, but it was really nice to meet you.” Katie nodded her head towards you. “Hopefully I can talk to you a little more later.” She smirked at you. “I can’t help it when I see a pretty girl, ya see.” She smirked at Alexia this time, almost like a warning. You felt like you were in the middle of an old western stand off between two cow girls. Was it hot? Fuck yeah! Two gorgeous girls fighting over you, what could be better than that?

You felt the hand on your shoulder tighten slightly. You heard Alexia hum, and smile politely but you could tell from her eyes she wasn’t really smiling. The Irish girl walked away, she winked at you before she disappeared into the crowd. You exhaled the breath you was holding in, looking up at Alexia who also looked a little calmer.

“May I sit?” Alexia motioned to the now vacant chair.

“Please do.”

She sat down, moving the chair a little closer to you.

“I guess congratulations are in order.” You said.

Alexia looked at you, a playful smile crossed her face, her serious demeanour from a few seconds ago completely gone. “Gràcias.”

“I have to say I was a little bit shocked when I saw you pop up on the screen.”

“Ahh yes, did you enjoy it?” She smiled at you almost hopeful.

“Yeah, it was alright.” You looked around pretending to not be fazed. A playful smile on your face.

She laughed, her head tilted back. “You loved it, don’t lie.” She nudged your knee with her own. She continued. “Where is this friend of yours? I’m starting to believe you don’t have any.”

You chuckled. “She’s at the bar, trying to get us a drink, but it’s a bit busy.” You glanced over at the bar.

Alexia looked over and tutted. “Well, if you’d like you and your friend could join me? I have a table, with table service.”

“Well aren’t you generous.” You teased.

“What can I say? I’m a generous girl. I like to give.” She bit her lip at her last words, and my god you nearly melted on the chair.

“Or are you just trying to hide me from a certain Irish girl?” Your smile was playful but also suggestive.

She shock her head, laughing at you. “What? No, I would never! But if it helps to not have all these girls after you, then sí.” She looked at you, almost like she was cautious of what she said.

But she had nothing to worry about, you liked it, you liked the thought of this gorgeous girl not wanting to share you with anyone, and she didn’t even know you.

You leaned in closer to her, you could smell her perfume. “Don’t worry, you have my attention. I’m yours, for now.”

Even in the dark lighting you could see your words had an effect on her, a devilish smirk appeared on her lips. “Mine? I like that.”

Your eyes glistened with mischief, you looked at the blonde’s hazel eyes, she looked like she wanted to take you where you sat.

“I thought you might.” You leaned in closer.

“Merda. You’re naughty. I also like that.” She bit her lip once more, her eyes didn’t move from your lips.

But your bubble was popped again, but this time it was Daisy with your drinks.

“Ahem. Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.”

You both pulled away. And Daisy said you were bad with your timing, though you could tell by her face she didn’t mean to.

“Alexia, this is Da-“

“Hola Daisy! This is your friend?” Alexia looked between you.

“Hey Alexia, I’ve been wanting to say hi, but I saw you was busy most of the night.” Daisy handed you your drink.

“No, don’t apologise, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you! You’re the one who made my favourite award!” Alexia stood to hug Daisy. It made sense that they had met each other already, Daisy had told you at the pub that the footballer had requested for her specifically to make her award.

Daisy smiled. “I see you’ve met my plus one. I hope she’s keeping herself out of trouble.”

“Erm, I’m not trouble at all, it’s called being fun.” Your smile was playful.

“Sí, she’s no trouble. She’s been the most entertaining part of the event.”

That made you smile, and even Daisy too.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Your best friend laughed.

“I was just saying you two should come sit at my table, I have table service. I don’t want you to be up and down for drinks.”

“Ahh, how sweet of you. Thank you Ale.” Daisy said.

“It’s no problem, come let’s go. My tables just up here.”

Daisy spotted the table and walked, Alexia put her hand out for you to take. And you did, gladly. Her hands were large and strong. She pulled you up easily, she gestured for you to walk in front of her, and of course you made sure to sway your hips as you walked, clearly it’s what she wanted.

You got to the table, there was a few women already there all in their own conversations, One was Lucy, the presenter from earlier, who was in a deep conversation with another brunette woman, who had beautiful doe like eyes. Alexia introduced you all, she explained, that they were her team mates for Barcelona.

“Hey guys, big fan!” Daisy smiled, you could see even in the dark room her cheeks were slightly red.

But before you could sit down someone was shouting for Daisy. “Daisy! Daisy! I have Claude asking for you!”

Daisy turned around to see one of her work colleagues, panic on her face. “The Claude?”

“Yes! Come on.” Her colleague looked panicked but excited.

Daisy looked over at you, a slight panic of what to do.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t want to leave it’s ju-.”

You put your hand up to stop her. “Don’t even finish that line, go and do what you need to do, Daisy. I’m absolutely fine. Go graft girl.”

Alexia then jumped in. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her Daisy, I promise.”

Your best friend smiled, and squeezed your hand. “Okay, I might be gone a while, if you decide to leave just text me, and please, please tell me you’re home.” She leaned in closer. “Or someone’s going else’s home.” She winked at you, thinking no one heard but by Alexia’s smile she definitely heard.

She continued. “Ale, thank you again for the invitation. We’ll keep in touch, and please look after this one.”

Alexia put her arm around your waist. “I will, don’t worry.”

Daisy gave you a quick hug. “Thank you for coming tonight, have fun and be safe.” Before you could reply she ran over to her colleague, who looked liked they were about to pass out.

You looked over at Alexia, she was pouring two glasses of champagne. She handed you one, making sure to let her fingers linger. She held up her drink for a toast. “To keeping out of trouble.”

You laughed loudly, you clinked your glass and drank the bubbly drink.

You couldn’t help but notice how fucking hot every one of the teammates were, how had you not got into women’s football before? You may have caught a few eyes raking over you, and Alexia definitely did to, if sitting between you and her team mates was anything to go by.

She leaned in close like she did before. “So, how do I still not know the name of the girl that’s distracted me from work?” She purred.

“Hmm, I think your mind was in other places before asking.” You teased and took a swig of your drink.

“You’re right, how rude of me. Let’s start again. I’m Alexia.” She put her hand out for you to take.

You took her hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you Alexia. My names, Y/N.”

She raised your hand to her lips, she kissed the back of your hand, her eyes locked with yours as she did. Fuck, she was smooth.

She repeated your name softly. “I like that name, I like the way it sounds.”

“I like the way it rolls off your tongue.” You were being bold.

She chuckled. “I can do a lot with my tongue.” But she was bolder.

And yeah, your pussy woke up from that.

You spent the next half an hour in your own bubble once again. You both flirted hard but she also asked what you did for work, she explained some bits of her football career that you had seen on her short film. You noticed though she wanted to talk more about you and your life, you didn’t mind, she probably was bored of having to talk about herself tonight.

Even though you were both close to taking off each other’s clothes, you wanted to know more about the Spaniard. She wasn’t like many girls you spoke to, she was confident, charming and witty, but there was also a sense of vulnerability. Though right now her body language was screaming to have you closer. Those same eyes that was undressing you earlier was full of desire, it was almost like she could see exactly how you looked while she fucked you. And you definitely wanted that to be a reality.

But that dahm bubble was popped again.

Alexia’s assistant had appeared, wincing a smile at you both. “Ale, perdó. Algunes preguntes ràpides per a la premsa anglesa.”

Alexia nodded. “Sorry, I just have to do this, I won’t be too long. You’ll be ok, sí?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be okay. You assured her.

She clearly didn’t want to leave you, all of the girls were now on the dance floor, so you’d be alone, clearly not what she wanted.

“Really, go. I’ll stay out of trouble.” You smiled playfully at her.

“Hmm, why do I not believe you.” She chuckled as she slowly walked away.

You watched as she went with her assistant. You went on your phone and sipped on your drink. But just like Alexia had worried you wasn’t alone for long.

“Hola, may I join you?”

You looked up to see another stunning woman, her arms were covered in tattoos, causing your eyes to roam her body. Something she didn’t miss from the smile on her face.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Are you here with someone?” She picked up the bottle from the bucket on the table and poured herself a glass, but not without topping up your own glass. You watched as her tattooed fingers wrapped around yours. You had to admit the Spanish girls had such confidence when it came to flirting.

“I’m here with my friend, she’s about but not sure where.” You smiled.

“Ah, just friend? That’s why she doesn’t mind leaving you.”

You were confused. “What do you mean?”

She sat down next to you, right where Alexia sat. “Well, she’s your friend, she doesn’t mind if you talk with others, sí? Because if you were more then my friend, I wouldn’t leave you alone, not with all these girls here.”

“Ohh I see, but what if I have a girlfriend at home?” You challenged playfully.

She drank her drink and shrugged. “She’s at home.” She smiled wickedly at you.

Fuck. These girls were keeping you on your toes.

“My names Mapi.” She put her hand out to shake yours, and as you went to take it a perfect pair of red lips printed on your skin caught yours and Mapi’s eyes.

“Ahh, I’m not the first to talk to you tonight.” She smirked.

You didn’t even realise Alexia had left lipstick on your skin, it sent shivers up your spine, it made you feel like she had already made a statement to mark you as hers.

“I’m Y/N. You’re not the first. ” You smiled.

She continued. “So, your friend. Is she a footballer?” Just like Alexia and Katie, Mapi roamed her eyes up your body, taking in your curves. She smiled as she caught your eyes.

Of course you didn’t mind, if you were going to have anyone look at you in that way you wanted the likes of these girls looking at you. The women’s gaze was the only gaze you wanted. Like Katie, there was no question that you would have had Mapi in your bed tonight. But unfortunately for her you had your eyes set on another Spaniard. Even if she was making it a little difficult for you.

“No, she’s not an athlete, she designed one of the awards.” You took a sip of your drink.

She nodded her head. “Ohh I see, that’s cool.”

“I’m guessing you’re a footballer?” You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say.

She leaned back, displaying a hard six pack, she put her arm over the back of your seat, making her look even more attractive.

“Sí I play for Barcelona. Do you watch football?”

You had to hold back your laugh, of course she played for Barcelona. “I don’t, but I think after tonight I will.”

She laughed, she sat even closer to you, her woody perfume took over your senses. She whispered in your ear. “If you want I can be your first taster.”

Wow, football girls were officially your new type, but before you could respond and politely decline, you heard a voice.

“És clar que hauria de ser tu, Mapi.”

Mapi backed up from you instantly on hearing her captain’s voice. “Què? ella està amb tu?”

Alexia smiled at you. “Sí, però gràcies per fer-li companyia.”

Mapi moved even further from you, putting her her hands up in defence. It might be silly but it was hot to see Alexia once again being jealous over a girl talking to you.

“Ho sento. Ella està calenta. Què puc dir?”

Mapi stood up this time, she drank her drink and looked over at you smirking.

“This is why you shouldn’t be left alone, girls like me come along. Have a good night, noia sexy.”

You chuckled. “It was nice to meet you, Mapi.”

The Spaniard walked closer to Alexia. “Déu meu, tens molta sort. Ella és molt calenta.”

Alexia smiled devilishly at you, her eyes staring straight into yours, it sent a shiver down your spine. It might have been the first time she intimidated you, not that you hated it.

Mapi smiled one last time at you before heading back into the dance floor. Leaving the two of you alone.

Alexia walked over to you, like a lion to its kill. She sat down where Mapi sat. “I leave you for five minutes and you already have another girl on you. You definitely can’t stay out of trouble.” She purred.

“Sorry, it must be a footballer thing.” You teased.

“You’ve had six girls after you, and that’s just from the ones that I know about. Including myself.” She almost sounded annoyed.

“Six?” You questioned.

“Sí, I had three other girls ask about you. But I said you were with me.”

You raised your eyebrows at the blonde, if there was one thing that turned you on about a girl, it was their possessiveness, to a degree of course. But with Alexia it felt like you were in control, she was the one fighting for you and she didn’t even know your last name, you could easily leave tonight without saying another word to her.

Not that you were ever going to do that.

She continued. “Sorry, if it’s too much, you did say you were mine tonight, no?” She smirked at you, she knew you were loving this, she could read you like an open book.

You leaned into her ear, your lips grazed her skin just slightly. “Prove it. Make me yours.”

You almost thought you had said the wrong thing then. Alexia stared at you with a look you couldn’t put your finger on, until she leaned over to your face, her lips inches from yours.

“You might regret that.”

Even the butterflies in your stomach were turned on at this point, this woman was the definition of all your sex dreams. You could feel your body needing her, and she could feel it to.

She continued. “I have a driver outside.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else, you stood up looking at Alexia, she didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed your hand and headed straight to the exit. Within minutes you were in the back of a fancy blacked out Mercedes.

“Can we go to my hotel please.”

“Yes, Ms Putellas.” The driver replied. A blacked out window glided up between you and the driver, giving you and Alexia privacy.

You looked over at the blonde, her hungry eyes were already scanning your body, you had a feeling this girl was going to wreck you. Her eyes caught you own, a devious smile crept on her lips, making your pussy flutter.

“So, you’re all mine?”

“All yours.”

Her lips were on yours in seconds, the kiss was rough and messy, you tried to dominate the kiss but you didn’t try too hard. Not when Alexia was kissing you the way she was, she licked her tongue over your lips, wanting entry and you gave it to her easily.

And wow she could kiss, it might sound silly but her kisses felt different to an English girl, it was like her tongue had more control over its movements. Though, you had heard before that Spanish girls were one of the best for giving head, it was something to do with their tongues, the way they moved it when they spoke. Maybe you’d be able to put it to the test.

You groaned in pleasure as she kissed you deeper, her hands snaked into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You pulled back for air, but she only pulled you back again, wanting your mouth on hers. You could tell she was as desperate for you as you was her, she let out a small moan as you pressed your tongue into her mouth.

Her red lipstick had all but disappeared by the time you got to her hotel.

You hadn’t realised how nice of a hotel it was when you entered. Her room was over looking the Thames and most of London’s skyline, making the room glow from the city’s lights.

You walked towards the window looking over the city, it was always one of your favourite views at night. Other than a naked woman in your bed.

That’s when you felt the Spaniard move your hair gently to one side, her hot lips pressed against the back of your neck. She hummed into you, making your skin cover in goosebumps. She smiled into the kiss, she obviously felt what she was doing to you. You whimpered as she kept her mouth working on you, her hands gripping your waist.

You were on cloud nine, Alexia’s mouth and body pressed up against you like this made the city lights look blurry. She moved your body around to face her, she leaned closer into you, her hazel eyes roamed your face, landing on your lips. Even in the dark her eyes glowed like gold, her eyes reminded you of a cat hunting at night. The atmosphere changed from fast and quick to soft and sensual.

“Can I get you anything? A drink? Tea?” She smiled.

“No thanks, just want you.”

She hummed. “What do you want from me?”

“To fuck me. Do what you want with me.”

“Merda.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She must have liked what you said as you were suddenly being picked up like a rag doll, like you was nothing. Your legs wrapped around her waist as she walked you to the bedroom. Your back hit the wooden door as you entered her room, she was on your neck with her sweet mouth, kissing you, her hips pressing you hard against the door.

“What can’t I do?” She whispered.

“I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” You rasped

“Any safe words?” She kissed your lips.

“Red, yellow and green?”

“Sí.” She husked.

“Same for you?”

“Sí, the same for me.”

You were thrown on the bed, your back hitting the mattress, once again you couldn’t believe the strength of the girl in front of you. She climbed on top of you, her lips attacking your neck, she had already worked out it was your sweet spot, making you moan as her lips sucked and licked on your skin. She was definitely making a mark, and normally you wouldn’t have it, you wouldn’t walk around with a love bite on show, but with Alexia you wanted it. You wanted to look in the mirror and remember it was her that gave it to you. That claimed you.

Her hand stroked up your thigh, pushing the slit of your dress up, inching higher to where you needed her. You were wet, you could feel your thong becoming drenched, you could feel your skin sticking to the thin fabric. Her hips pushed into you, she was clearly finding her self composure hard to control. Her fingers traced over your sensitive skin, between your thighs, teasing you, maybe even teasing herself.

“Please.” You whispered.

“Please what?” She smiled as she kissed down your chest.

“Please, I need you.”

“Hmm, you need me?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your voice was desperate.

“How much?” She started to move your straps of your dress down your shoulders, revealing your black laced bra.

“Since I saw you.” Your voice almost broken as she attached her lips to the top of your breast.

“Hmm, that’s a long time. You must be desperate?”

“I a- am. Fuck!” Your voice strained as she attached her mouth to your perked nipple. You didn’t even notice she had opened your bra, she had taken advantage of the front clasp. Thank god for front clasps.

Her mouth was perfect, she sucked and bit on your nipple, making you groan, your hand tangled in her blonde hair. She bit at your flesh, then sucked again to soothe the pleasurable pain. The noise you let out was loud, she smiled up at you, clearly enjoying her view.

“You’re loud. I like that.”

You couldn’t form words, you groaned and tugged gently at her hair as she moved to your other nipple. One of her hands were still in between yours thighs, slowly tracing her fingers up and down your sensitive skin. She was driving you mad, and she knew it. Her hips relentlessly pushed into your core, making you moan again and again.

“Please, Alexia.” You felt like you could have cried, you were that desperate. Your pussy was aching, needing something. Needing her.

You felt her chuckle into your skin, her fingers finally, but just barely touched the fabric over your pussy.

“Merda, estàs molt mullat.” She rasped.

You didn’t have a clue what she was saying but fuck, did it make you wet. She could be calling you every name under the sun and you didn’t care. As long as she was saying it.

“Is this all for me?” She began to sit up.

“Yes.” You nodded your head, you couldn’t help but wonder how desperate you must have looked. “All for you.”

“You really are trouble, aren’t you?”

“Only if you want me to be.” God this girl was making you a mess, you was putty in her hand and she hadn’t even touched you.

She watched you as she started to remove her jacket, her smile never leaving her face. You sat up at the end of the bed, you helped pull the arms down, and you were right, she was completely naked underneath. All night she had been walking around with nothing on, she clearly had a lot of trust in the jacket.

Her full breast was now on show, you let out an appreciative sigh. She was fucking gorgeous. You kissed her tight stomach, you watched as her muscles flexed from your mouth. Her hands stroked into your hair, sending a shiver down your spine. You kissed and licked at her beautiful olive skin, kissing up to the line of where her trousers sat. You looked up at her, bitting your lip asking for permission.

She nodded, watching you like a hawk. You popped open the button and slowly pulled her zip down, revealing more skin, and the start of her red laced thongs. Before you could pull her trousers down she cupped your chin, making you face her. She gently ran her thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful. So many girls wanted you tonight, so many eyes were on you. But you chose to be with me. I am very lucky.”

You felt yourself blush, one minute she had you begging to be fucked, now she had you going red and shy.

“You had eyes on you too, I saw the way people looked at you.”

She smiled then, but it wasn’t her normal smile you had seen all night, it almost looked a little sad. But you didn’t have time to question it, she shuffled out of her trousers letting them hit the floor. She stood you up, pulling your dress over your head, you were both now only in your underwear.

You moved your mouth to her breast, and sucked on her sensitive nipple. You heard her suck in a breath, her hands going straight to your hair. You gave her breast the attention that they deserved, sucking, biting and kissing on the blushed coloured flesh. She groaned softly, her eyes were closed enjoying the sensation of your mouth. You let go of the flesh with a loud popping sound. Letting your lips rub against her.

She opened her eyes, the golden hazel colour you had seen earlier had now nearly disappeared. She pushed you on the bed once more. Your thongs were being pulled down your thighs, you both saw the wetness attached to the fabric, the smile on her face turned devilish.

“You’re mine, sí?”

“Yes. All yours.”

She climbed on top of you, peppering kisses down your body, it felt like she kissed every possible bit of flesh on your body. Then she was in between your legs. Her teeth sunk into your thighs, making you whimper. She soothed the red mark with her tongue, kissing and licking.

Then finally, her tongue licked through your very wet folds. You wasn’t sure who groaned louder. Her tongue licked through you again, and again and again, until she was in a rhythm. What you heard about Spanish girls was right, it was a whole different sensation. She dipped her tongue into your cunt, making you groan, your hands grabbed her head, pushing her deeper as she fucked you with her tongue.

“Alexiaaa! Fuck!”

She glided her tongue up to your clit, wrapping her full lips around your bundle of nerves. And fuck, you were already close. But who could blame you? She’d worked your body up to the point of tears. She sucked and licked at your sensitive flesh, your hands were still in her hair, moving her how you wanted her. Not that you needed to do much, she knew what she was doing, her mouth was perfect. Your eyes closed as you started feeling your orgasm approaching, your stomach tightening, feeling the warmth glide over your body.

“I’m close, please don’t stop.”

But she did. She moved her mouth away from you, you could see your juices all over her chin and lips, she looked breathtaking.

“Nooo! I was so cl-.”

Then you felt her fingers at your entrance. She thrusted two fingers into you, cutting off your words. You let out a deep throaty moan, as her thick fingers began to thrust into you.

“Not until I say you can.”

Fuck, she really was the girl of your dreams.

You nodded, wanting to be good for her. You couldn’t help but find it a little worrying at how easy it was for Alexia to see right though you. How easy she could get you begging, denying your orgasm, leaving marks all over your body and you had only met her a couple of hours ago. And you thought you were in control?

“Bona noia.” She whispered.

She began to thrust deeper, her fingers pushing against your soft flesh, pushing your body to control what it desperately needed. You couldn’t stop the moans slipping out of your mouth, her fingers were talented, just like her mouth. You watched her strong arm flex at her movements.

“You will take my dick. Sí?”

She had a strap? This girl was made in heaven.

“Yes, yes.” You cried.

“Good. You want to come like this?”

“Your mouth and fingers. Please!.” You begged.

She chuckled deeply. She leaned back down and attached her lips to your clit again, making you scream. She hummed against your core, your hand tangled in her hair as you felt your climax approaching. You looked down to see those golden hazel eyes staring at you. You pushed your hips into her mouth, grinding her tongue on your swollen clit. Her fingers were relentless, your thighs started to shake, your fingers pulled at her hair, pushing her closer to your sex. You came hard, Alexia’s name rolling off your tongue as your body shuddered.

She stayed there, well she had to, you didn’t let her go. You thrusted your hips, taking every bit of her tongue. She lapped up your ever flowing juices, slurping and swallowing, making you gasp and whimper. You finally let go of her hair, but she didn’t move, she traced her tongue all over your pussy, kissing and sucking. Her strong hands kept your hips down, not able to move.

“Ale… fuck. Alexia, baby, please.” You gently gasped.

She didn’t move, she was in her own world, tasting you, eating your cunt like it was her last meal. You groaned gently, letting her take what she wanted from you. You could feel another orgasm already building back up. She finally stopped, she must have felt your body tensing, she wasn’t going to let you come again that quickly.

“You taste so good baby.”

She kissed your thighs as she climbed up to your face, kissing you gently. You groaned at tasting yourself on her tongue, her smile once again making your stomach flutter.

Alexia jumped off the bed, you tried to catch your breath as you watched her rummage around in her suitcase. You pushed yourself on your elbows, watching the Spaniard attaching her harness, a 7 inch dildo sat between her strong thighs.

“So, do you always carry your harness around?” You teased.

She chuckled. “Sí, it’s my travel harness.”

You laughed loud, this girl was ridiculous.

She continued. “Are you complaining? I can take this off?”

You shock your head, eyes wide. “No. Sorry.”

She smirked, she turned back around in her suit case and pulled out a black tie.

“I think I might have to tie you up, you’ve been trouble all night.”

You nodded, you put your hands in front of you for her to tie. You could feel your pussy throbbing again. She stepped in front of you, her dick inches from your body.

“Uh-ah, hands behind your back baby.” Her tone was soft.

You stood up, turning around to allow her to tie your wrist. She ever so gently bounded your hands together, it was tight, you couldn’t get I out of it if even if you tried. Your breathing picked up, you could feel your legs shaken in anticipation.

She moved your hair to the side like she did before, her lips gently kissed up your neck, her mouth was close to your ear.

“If it’s too much, tell me baby. I’ll stop straight away. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, thank you. I’m green.”

She continued to kiss your neck, her hands snaked up to your breast squeezing gently. You groaned from her touch, as her large hands roamed your breast.

“M'encanten els sorolls que fas.” She whispered.

“Fuck, Ale.”

“Yes, baby?” Her lips were hot on your skin driving you mad.

“I love it when you speak to me like that.”

“In Catalan? You like it?” She purred.

“Yes.” Your hips moved backwards.

She chuckled at your lack of patience. “Ets la meva bona noia.”

You groaned again, your hips pushed back, hitting her dick on your arse.

“Get on your knees and show me what your pretty mouth can do.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You turned around to stand in front of her and dropped to your knees, you took the tip of her dick in your mouth and sucked.

Her hands were in your hair instantly. You pushed your mouth further on the length of her dick, swallowing her inch by inch. You pulled back to catch your breath, you could feel yourself becoming wet all over again. You looked up at the Spaniard, she looked as wrecked as you felt, you could see was clenching her jaw, her eyes were full of lust.

“You look so good.” She whispered.

You took a deep breath as you took her back into your mouth. She groaned looking down at you, she watched your mouth take her more than half way. She gently pushed your head to take more of her, but you began to choke. You pulled back again, tears began to prick at your face.

“Take a deep breath baby, relax your throat.” She stroked your cheek, she looked deep in your eyes, almost lovingly. You would have laughed if her dick wasn’t shoved in your mouth, the girl could switch up her tone so easily.

You nodded, you took another deep breath and slowly took her in again, you felt her hand at the back of your head, guiding you further down her dick. You got past the halfway point, you could feel the tip of her dick touching the back of your tongue. A single tear fell from your eye as you pushed yourself. Her hand was still on your head, she pushed her dick slowly but firmly into the back of your throat, your nose just touching her stomach.

“That’s it baby, just like that. You’re doing so good.” She rasped.

You pulled back slightly, then slowly took her back in your throat, her hands tightening in your hair. Spit started to drip from your mouth, as you kept sucking on her dick. She started to gently move her hips in time with your movements, pushing herself further down your throat. It made you gag, but she kept her hand on your head.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe. You’re doing so good.”

And you did, you calmed your breathing and pushed on her dick. A few more tears trickled down your cheeks. She thrusted her hips again, slowly and gently, never taking her eyes off of you.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me. If only all those girls could see you now, taking me like this.” She groaned.

You moaned at her words, you loved a girl that spoke to you during sex, it turned you on to no end. And her accent only made it that much hotter. Your pussy was throbbing, aching to be touched again, but you wanted so badly to please Alexia.

Her hips started to pick up pace, her thick dick sliding in and out of your throat. You could hear her breathing becoming shallow. She easily took control over your movements, not that you had any real choice, your hands tied behind your back put you under her complete control. And you loved it.

“Tal qual, Tal qual. Sí.” She groaned. “So good.”

Your wet slurping noise filled the room, spit dribbled down your mouth and on to the floor. The strap was hitting Alexia perfectly on her clit, she had been turned on as much as you so she wasn’t far from her own orgasm.

“Merdaa. Your mouth is perfect. Just take a little more baby.”

And you did, Alexia fucked your throat until her legs started to tremble. Her moaning got louder, you could tell she found that sweet spot as her hips thrusted faster, You pushed yourself as hard as you could, as she used your mouth to reach her own orgasm. She was mumbling a mixture of Catalan and English as she was tipping over the edge.

“Estic venint! I’m coming!” She pushed your head down the whole length of her dick as she came. Your nose was pressed against her hard stomach as she rutted against the base of her strap.

“Merda, merda.” She whispered, she pulled your head back gently, just as you began to choke.

“Oh Déu meu, I can’t feel my legs, you were so good baby. Are you okay?” She rasped, her hands stroked your face so gently. You breathed hard, trying to catch your breath, tears streaming down your face as you coughed.

“Y-yeah. I’m good.” You panted. Smiling up at the blonde.

“You were so good for me. Come.” She picked you up to your feet easily. She kissed your swollen lips gently. “Colour?”

“Green.” You husked.

“Okay, are your arms okay?” She wiped away your tears, smiling at you.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You felt your stomach flutter.

“Good, I want to fuck you from behind, like this. Is that oka-“

“Yes, yes. It’s okay. Please. Do it, please.” Fuck, she had officially wrecked you.

Alexia’s eyebrows raised in shock, she started to smirk. “She’s still desperate, that’s okay. I’ll fix that.”

She turned you around facing the bed, you felt her hand gently push your body down to lay. Your arms were still tied behind your back, once again you were under Alexia’s control. You couldn’t believe tonight had turned into this, you had only gone to out support your best friend and now was about to be railed by the girl of your dreams. Best. Night. Ever.

She moved your body to how she wanted you. The side of your face was pressed into the mattress, and your arse was in the air, you were lined up perfectly to her dick. She stroked her hand down your back, looking at the beautiful site in front of her. She could see you was dripping. Your thighs were wet.

“You are perfect.” She stroked her fingers through your folds, making you whimper.

She didn’t want to wait around anymore, she’d pictured you in many different ways tonight, and finally she was living her dreams.

She pushed the head of her dick slowly into you, and it was thick. Her hands grabbed hold of your waist, you both gasped as she pushed the rest of herself inside, making you stretch. She began to roll her hips, already loving the small noises you were making for her. In this position she had full control over you. And like the submissive little bitch that you were, you loved it.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at you. You’re mine, Sí?”

“Yes!” You cried.

Her hips began to thrust at a hard pace, making you cry out. Her hips were strong, the noises of her skin slapping your skin was erotic. The room was drowning in your whimpers and moans as the Spaniard fucked you like she owned you. And that’s exactly what she was doing, you’d told her you was hers tonight, she was fucking you like you was hers.

“You’re mine? Tell me.” She demanded.

“Y-yes. I’m y-yours. Yours.” You struggled to speak.

Your mumbles were incoherent, you were seeing stars as her hips kept up a relentless pace. You wasn’t going to come like this, you could feel your orgasm teetering but you needed your clit to be touched.

“Alexia, please. Touch me.”

“Not yet baby, we come together.” She panted out.

You wanted to argue but you were scared she would deny your orgasm completely. So you kept quite and took what she gave you, it wasn’t like you wasn’t loving her fucking you like this. However, you didn’t take in to consideration the stamina this girl possessed. You had been with many different types of girls, but never a footballer, not a professional athlete. And my god she made your body work. She had you going like this for another 20 minutes.

And those 20 minutes were heaven and hell. Your body was going limp, sweat ran down your back as she thrusted into you. You felt her strong hand squeezeyour arse cheeks, guiding you up and down on her dick, moving you around like her own personal sex toy. Your clit was crying out to be touched. But, finally, by the sounds of her breathing and moaning she sounded close herself. Her nails dug into your skin as she pushed herself against the strap, the pressure was just right as she rubbed her clit against the base, causing her to go deeper inside your core.

“Take it baby, take it.” She groaned.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. She moved her fingers on to your clit, she hardly needed to touch you before your body started to jerk. Her fingers rubbed beautifully at your bundle of nerves, making you plead for her to not stop.

“I love the way you beg. It drives me crazy. Come for me, you’ve been so good.” Alexia panted.

An animalistic cry escaped your mouth as your orgasm hit you. Your pussy pulsated hard around her dick, and Alexia didn’t stop, she thrusted her hips deep, pulling your tight walls, making you almost pass out. And she was right behind you, her orgasm took over her body, she leaned forward, grabbing the back of your neck, pushing your face into the mattress. Her hips roughly doubled down her pace. The air in your lungs was being forced out from her sheer strength.

A deep, rumble like moan escaped her lips, as she came. Her hips slowed down to a stop. She gently pulled out of you, you cried out as you felt the warmth of her body leaving you.

“You’re so perfect. Merda.”

You felt her untie your hands, she helped you guide them forward, knowing they would be a little stiff now. You moaned from the ache in your muscles, you could just about move your arms. Your wrists were red, that was definitely going to leave a mark for a while. Another mark to remember her by. You felt her guide you on your back, it nearly took your breath away how fucking good she looked, her face was flushed, her hair a little bit of a mess and her smile was dopey.

“You okay? What’s your colour?”

“I’m green, green everywhere.” You laughed quietly. “Your colour?” Even though she was mostly the one in control you still wanted to make sure she was okay.

She smiled, she looked surprised to be asked. “I’m green, thank you, cariño. I’m going to run a bath.” She was gone all of a sudden. It made you suddenly realise you were in Alexia’s room, in her space, in her way. You felt a little dazed, you stood up on shaky legs, you were looking around for your clothes, trying to get out of the girls way.

Alexia came back into the room, she watched you a little confused. “What are you doing?”

You jumped, suddenly feeling a lot more shy. “Oh sorry, I don’t want to be in your way.”

She stepped closed to you. A serious expression on her face. “I don’t want you to leave. You can if you want to. But I want you to stay, relax your body in the bath, you will be sore.” She smirked.

You felt a little calmer, her eyes were watching you for any indication of what you were thinking. She must have realised you were overthinking it all. She continued. “Please, I don’t fuck girls and kick them out. Let me look after you.” She kissed the back of your hands, never taking her eyes off of you.

You nodded, your hands crept up her neck, pulling her closer towards you. She closed the gap with her lips attached to your own. It was slow and sensual, it was what you needed after the sex you just had. She picked you up, again the strength of this girl was unbelievable. She walked you to the bathroom, putting you on the cabinet side, you squealed from the cold service on your cheeks.

“Sorry baby.” She genuinely looked sorry.

“No it’s okay. I can take it.”

That made her smile. “Hmm, I saw from tonight that you can take a lot.” She purred in your ear.

She had made you a bubble bath, you felt almost a little embarrassed at how you felt earlier, trying to rush out. Though sometimes being fucked from an inch of your life could bring up emotions like that, that’s clearly why she was doing this for you. She understood.

She helped you get in, it was perfect. You laid back and relaxed, allowing the hot water to relax your muscles. She left you to be alone for about 10 minutes, until you needed her again. It scared you, you were feeling a little too attached to a girl you hadn’t even known a day.

“Ale.”

She came in, a beautiful smile on her face, she looked a little tired. It made you think about her leaving for tomorrow. Would you ever see her again? She stroked your hair back behind your ear. Kissing your forehead. She helped you out of the bath, and into the room, she helped you to dry your body, her lips kissing your back. Making you gasp. She laid you on the bed, sleep was taking over your body, you then heard what sounded like a shower and then sleep took you for the night.

——————

You woke the next morning to a hot kisses on your back, you almost forgot where you were until you could hear Alexia hum against your skin. Her lips were all over your back, making you moan, it was the best kind of way to wake up, well, that was until she guided you on your back.

“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind but, I really want to taste you.”

She stared up at you as she kissed your stomach. Your sleepy daze hadn’t left you yet, your arms ached from last night. But my god there was no way you’d say no to this.

You nodded your head. “Please.” Your morning voice was rougher then normal, you was desperate for this women all over again.

She was between your legs in seconds, she was just as desperate as you, she sucked and licked on your clit until you came twice for her. Your tired hips gently fucked her face, your hands twisted in her hair, pushing her head against you as you came on her tongue. You felt her moan, as she swallowed your juices. Now that was a way to wake up.

You looked down at her beautiful morning face, her eyes were still sleepy, her smile was a little dazed. God this girl was beautiful.

“Let me please.” You whispered. You hadn’t got to taste the gorgeous woman in front of you yet, it felt criminal that you hadn’t had your mouth on her.

You could see even in her sleepy haze that she wanted it too but that vulnerable side you saw last night had creeped back up. She climbed up your body and laid next to you, for the first time she looked nervous, you wanted to make sure she knew she was wanted.

“You look so beautiful, Ale.” You kissed her lips gently.

You kissed her neck, sucking on parts of her skin that made her squirm. The roles seemed to have reversed this morning, she was the one submitting to you, her whimpers and moans made your head spin. You lowered yourself between her legs, she was dripping.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Ale. All for me?” She nodded, her lips between her teeth. “Sí.”

You didn’t wait around, you dipped your tongue through her velvety folds, her juices covered your tongue as you finally got to taste her. You had wondered what she tasted like the majority of the night, wondered what she would sound like while you sucked on her clit. And it was better than anything you could have imagined. She was perfect, she was your new favourite flavour.

You lapped up at her wet cunt, stroking and gliding your tongue through her sensitive flesh. Making sure to miss her clit, you just wanted to stay there all day, listen to her make those sweet noises. It was the first time you were really getting to hear her, she’d only grunted and moaned last night, but now you got to really hear her. You were shocked at how delicate she sounded, how desperate she was, the sounds you were dragging out of her made your head spin. It was a complete 360 from her confident, dominant self. Maybe that’s why she looked so nervous.

You felt her fingers glide into your hair, pulling at your scalp.

“Please stop teasing. Please.”

You stopped your movements. “What was that baby?”

She whined. “Please, I need you.”

“You need me?” You quickly licked her clit. Her body jolted, her body was more wound up than you thought.

“Sí. I need you.”

Another lick. She gasped.

“Hmm, are you mine?”

“Sí. I’m yours. Please.”

Well, that was easier than you would have liked. So you kissed her clit, wanting to tease her. She cried out, she pulled your hair to try and get you where she needed you, and you didn’t want to tease her no more, not when she looked close to tears.

You wrapped your lips around her bundle of nerves and sucked. Her back arched of the mattress as she fucked your face, her hands pulled your closer to her sex. Once again you were under her control, but you really didn’t mind, as long as she came in your mouth that’s all you cared about.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Her legs were shaken, her high pitched whines became loud, you was certain the people either side of you could hear her.

“Merda!” She pushed your head down, keeping you where she needed you as she came in your mouth. Her juices gushed in your mouth, her hands in your hair didn’t allow you to move. You swallowed every drop as she snaked her hips slowly, feeling your skilful tongue. She breathed hard as she let go, you looked up to see her chest rising and falling. She felt like she had been to heaven and back.

“Wow, I don’t know if I known English anymore.” She chuckled, her hand over her face. You could see her cheeks were flushed.

You crawled up to her face, kissing her deeply, she moaned as both your flavours blended in your tongues. You spent another half an hour cuddled up in her sheets, you traced your fingers on her tattoos, you wondered what they stood for. Your bubble of bliss was interrupted when her phone alarm went off.

She groaned, turning off the noise. You suddenly felt dread, you knew what that meant. You had to leave, and get on with your life and she went back to Barcelona. You felt like you were loosing something you never even had. Someone you met less then 24 hours ago who suddenly felt like someone whose side you never wanted to leave.

“I have to get ready for my flight.” She sounded sad, maybe even angry. She turned around and kissed your cheek. You both got ready to leave. It was quiet between you, the atmosphere had changed from fast and hungry to, silent and sad.

Suddenly she was behind you, her warm body pressed against your back. She whispered in your ear. “Would you visit?”

“In Barcelona? Yes.” You whispered back.

She pulled you closer, her lips back on your neck.

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mine?”

“Fuck, yes.”

She had you pressed up against the wall, her fingers pressed against your clit, as she gave you your third orgasm of the morning. You told her you was hers throughout.

She arranged for a taxi to pick you up. You were in your dress from the night before, you clearly looked like were doing the walk of shame. She pulled out a thick cream Nike jumper from her suitcase and started to pull it over your head. Your senses were surrounded by her smell. It made you feel warm and soft inside. Fuck.

She walked down with you to the taxi, you felt a mix of emotions, you wanted nothing more than to stay with this girl, but you were from two different worlds. You didn’t regret last night but the feelings that had come with it were maddening, you’d been with girls like this before, but there was something different about Alexia. And she felt it to.

She pulled you in for hug, she kissed your lips with so much passion, you could feel the emotion behind it. She pulled back, holding your face in her large hands. She looked you in your eyes, her hazel orbs searched your face.

“My cheerleader.” She chuckled.

You laughed out loud, making the Spaniard smile. Fuck this was hard. She pulled the hoody over your head and pressed another kiss to your mouth.

“Goodbye, cariño.”

“Bye, Alexia.”

She watched you get in the back of the cab, and closed the door behind you. The car started to pull away, you watched as she stood there, watching you drive away. She stayed until you turned the corner.

And she was gone.

I hope you liked it, I very much enjoyed writing it. I’ve used Google for the translation, so apologies for anything being wrong! This a one shot for now, but will add to it later.

[needtoloveoutloud]

Shadows Of Our Past, Present, and (possible) Future — Series

My Hero Academia — Female!OC Fan Fiction on AO3

Part One (Completed — 93k words):

The one where Shota Aizawa stumbles upon a back alley full of stray cats and ends up adopting a child

“Fine, then a cat? We both know how much you love those little furry…things.” At this, Shota paused the game and turned to the pushy blonde next to him. “I actually have considered that.” “And?” “And: also, no. It makes no sense.” Hizashi looked almost scandalized. “Makes no sense?” “I made a pro and contra list.” “Of course you did.”

When underground hero Shota Aizawa, twenty-two years old, is out on patrol one Friday evening, he doesn't expect that a single meow from a cat would lead him to find a homeless girl called Yoru. From then on, Yoru and Shota grow up together, make mistakes together, and try to overcome every obstacle life throws at them.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Part Two (Ongoing, regular updates — growing long fic — 246k words so far — READ PART 1 FIRST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU):

The one where Yoru Aizawa tries to navigate through life at U.A.

Two days after her fifteenth birthday, Yoru decides to drop the bomb on him. “I want to go to U.A.” “You want to go to U.A.” Her Dad puts the book he's been reading down on the glass balcony table.  “Yes, I want to go to U.A.” She slumps down on the outdoor couch next to him, grabbing the discarded book. “What are you reading?” ‘A Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi — The classic guide to strategy ’. She raises an eyebrow. “Reading that for fun, huh?” “Why do you want to go to U.A.? You never cared much about heroes. Besides Edgeshot, that is.” Yoru smirks up at him. “What, jealous?” “As if.” “You know, even if they sold Eraserhead posters, I wouldn’t hang them up. It would be super weird.” “Good to know where your loyalties lie.” He rolls his eyes. “Back to the topic at hand, why do you want to go to U.A.? Because Shinso wants to go?” “No.” Pause. “Okay, that may be part of it. But I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I really want to go.” “That might be so, but you still neglected to tell me why you want to attend there.” Yoru plays with her hair, noting how it’s time for another hair cut when she finds some splint ends. “I wanna be a hero.” Her Dad blinks. “A hero?” “Yes. Well, I want to help people and do some good with that shitty quirk of mine.”

When Yoru tells her Dad that she wants to attend U.A., she expects it to be a difficult path. She didn't expect all the awkwardness, blossoming friendships, confusing feelings, and near-death experiences, though.

>> Read on AO3 <<

Please heed the warnings/tags (TWs in the author's notes of chapters where they apply to).

Also: because someone asked this before - you can read it as a reader insert if you want. I don't mind at all. Feel free to imagine yourself as part of the story. Just know that Yoru (the OC) will have descriptions of her visual appearance.

This story is a mix of:

Slice of life

Hurt/Comfort

Angst/Fluff

Humor

Dadzawa

SLOW BURN Romance — Enemies to Lovers (Bakugo x Yoru)

SLOW BURN Romance — EraserMic (but it's a subtle slow burn)

Growing up, coming of age (hopefully lol)

Teenage awkwardness

Mixed media (pictures, music, chat screenshots (later on in Part 2), etc. — chat screenshots will always have the written text below, to make it accessible for visually impaired folks or people who use screen readers)

and more...

Author: NoBecksPleaseNo on AO3

Please don't copy or plagiarize the work, the character, the premise, etc. Also, no cross-posting anywhere, please and thank you.

Disclaimer: Yoru's image is AI generated and then edited/adjusted by the author. The other character images in the header are from Pinterest (besides the one of Present Mic/Midnight, that one's from the light novels) — unfortunately without a source. If you're the artist, and you're not okay with me using them, please message me and I will remove them. If you're the artist and are okay with me using them, please tell me, so I can credit you.

Besides the OC characters, I don't own any already existing characters from the My Hero Academia Universe — that honor belongs to Kohei Horikoshi.

[authorhjk1]

you can't let it slide so this means... gahyeon smut coming soon?👀

Yes. Yes, it does, indeed. I hope you enjoy this one, although it's a little short.

Interlude: My crazy ex

Lee Gahyeon X Male Reader

You realize something is weird as soon as you open your eyes. Sitting comfortably in your chair, leaning back, you find yourself in your office. Frowning, you try to remember what happened.

The last memory you have is of Ahin. The two of you fell asleep together. Is this a dream?

You rub your eyes as you sit up straight. Your phone vibrates and you see that you have a message. "My crazy ex"

This is weird. You don't even have your ex girlfriend's number. Who is this?

You open the message to see what the person wrote.

"I miss you, daddy? Why did you break up with me?"

You check her profile picture to see who she is.

Something weird suddenly happens. As if your dream is over writing your memory. For some reason, you know her name. Gahyeon. Lee Gahyeon. And you start to remember more of her. That she is your ex girlfriend for example.

You shake your head, leaving her on read.

You are about to start your laptop, when you get another notification. Gahyeon send you a picture.

"I miss your cock, daddy."

You gulp as your eyes widen at her next message.

"Remember how you always fucked my face?"

Actually you do. As if someone is slowly inserting new memory into your brain. Pictures of her messed up face flash through your mind. You can see them, but you don't have any memory on how it felt.

"Last time I couldn't speak for a whole day. Your cock destroyed my throat."

The scene plays out in your brain as you keep reading Gahyeon's messages.

"I know you have a girlfriend. But I just can't help it. Day in. Day out. I keep thinking about that cock of yours."

You feel your cock getting hard at her words.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't live without your cock down my throat."

She sends another picture.

"Do you remember, when you made me cry? My makeup all messy and smeared after you pounded my mouth?"

You give in to the temptation. It's a dream after all.

"Where are you?"

The second you see that she read your text, someone knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Blonde hair greets you as you watch the woman enter your office.

"Hi, daddy!"

She gives you a bright smile.

"I knew you couldn't resist. I bet that whore doesn't suck cock like I do."

She walks over and leans over the table.

"What is this?"

You point at the glass in her hand.

"We both know what this is. You even made me drink it in public last time."

She keeps her eyes on yours as she puts the glass on the table.

Its not like Gahyeon has much convincing to do. This is a dream. And even if it weren't, Ahin would be more than happy to watch.

Getting up, you point to the granite floor. Without a word, Gahyeon gets on her knees in front of you.

"I knew it. You can't resist my mouth. It's the best flashlight for your cock, isn't it?"

You nod as you watch the blonde almost tearing your pants open.

Another piece of information flashes through your mind. Gahyeon is actually a virgin. She promised herself she would stay that way, until she gets married. Although it looks like she still enjoys getting her throat stuffed with cock.

Your pants and underwear are gone in a blink.

"That's some nice cock you have there, daddy. You know?"

She smiles up at you, before taking it in her hand.

"Can your girlfriend even take all of this?"

Gahyeon strokes you to full hardness as she keeps talking.

"I bet she can't even make it fit."

She gives your tip a kiss.

"Just like your cock is made for my throat, my throat is made for your cock. There is no way around it, daddy."

She winks at you, before taking you into her mouth.

From that moment on you realize, Gahyeon's vocabulary doesn't include the word slow. Her tongue is all over your shaft and her lips are sealed tight around your tip.

With her eyes on you, she starts moving along the length of your cock. It's like she is inhaling it. Before you can even savour the feeling of being in her mouth, Gahyeon is already two thirds down your length. Her wet cavern makes your cock warm and slick with her saliva.

Your head tilts back as she keeps going. For the blonde it's not a proper blowjob, until you are completely inside of her. Anything else is considered foreplay.

The heavy lipstick starts to smear on your cock as Gahyeon moves up and down your shaft, preparing to deep throat you. Once she does, there is no going back. Her throat is heaven on earth. No one else ever felt like this. You can already feel yourself wanting to cum.

With all of your cock inside of her, Gahyeon shakes her head, moving your cock from left to right and back. It makes you hold her head with both hands. When she feels your grip on her head, she nods, wanting you to fuck her face.

As soon as you push inside of her mouth, you realize that this will be a long dream. There is no way you are going to wake up voluntarily.

You start slow at first. Thrusting inside her mouth, feeling Gahyeon's wetness around you. Her puffy cheeks make you want to fill her mouth with cum. The sounds she is making become louder as you hold onto her head tighter.

As you keep going, more and more spit starts to build up in Gahyeon's mouth. It begins to coat your cock. Parts of it dribble out of the corners of her mouth and run down her chin. The increased sloppiness makes you want to fuck her face harder. The look in her eyes tells you to do so.

Your tip hits the back of her throat repeatedly as her face becomes a mess. Gahyeon's hands rest on your thighs as she tries not to lose balance. You feel her throat tighten with every thrust, bringing you closer towards the edge. As fast as Gahyeon starts, she ends as fast as well. There is no real point in trying to hold on.

Her gagging continues to fill the room as you use her throat like a flashlight. Her chin is now coated with her own spit. Because she is not kneeling, but squatting in front of you, her body keeps swaying back and forth due to your thrusts.

You don't stop using her pretty mouth. How could you? Her lipstick has left it's proper place completely. It's all over your shaft as you keep plowing Gahyeon's mouth. Your grip on both sides of her head becomes stronger.

"Gahyeon..."

You groan, trying to tell her you are about to cum. Her eyes light up as she carefully reaches behind her, searching for the glass on your desk.

"Fuck."

You hiss as Gahyeon's throat massages you one last time, before you regretfully have to pull out. The blonde holds the glass underneath you as you start to cum. It does feel kind of weird. As if you are donating your sperm. But you know what Gahyeon is going to do with this. So it's more than worth it.

As you feel the rush of your orgasm leaving you, you watch Gahyeon put the glass back on the table. Her eyes are fixated on your cock once more. Her lower face still messy with her saliva.

"Time for round two, daddy."

The young blonde looks like she doesn't care, if you are ready to go again or not. But the way she looks up at you makes you want to cum again. A smile flashes over her face.

"I'm going to drain you so much, daddy. You won't be able to cum all day tomorrow. I will suck all that cum out of you."

Her hand finds your cock once again. She strokes your half hardened shaft as she tries to make you hard again.

It only takes a couple of moments, until you are deep inside Gahyeon's throat once more. You feel like she can't live without your cock down her throat. Your hands have now moved from the sides of her head, to the back. Holding onto her blonde hair in a makeshift ponytail, you hold her in place as you fuck her face.

Gahyeon's eye makeup starts to become messy. She didn't put much on, but small black streaks are starting to form on her skin. They start right underneath her eyes, wander over her cheeks, until they reach her jawline. Tear after tear rolls down her pretty face as you use Gahyeon as you like.

Her face and her mouth are a match made in heaven. These tasty looking, plump lips, her puffy cheeks, her big round eyes, her blonde hair. All of it looks like she was made personally by a deity just for you. Or she might even be one.

That ridiculous thought flashes through your mind. Gahyeon's lips sealed tight around your cock as her tongue is pressed against it. She? A goddess? More like a succubus. Although you wouldn't even mind. It's not like you can stop now.

You feel your second orgasm already approaching as you fuck Gahyeon's throat mercilessly. She still doesn't tell you to stop or to go slow. It looks like she is really enjoying the rough treatment she and her throat are getting.

A small puddle of saliva has already formed on your granite floor. Her chin, your cock, her boots, everything is coated in it.

"Fuck, Gahyeon. You are the devil."

You feel her smile around your cock. She can't look up, since your grip on her hair is too tight. As her body keeps swaying back and forth, her messy ponytail sways from left to right.

When Gahyeon starts to move her tongue along the underside of your shaft, you realize it's only a matter of seconds. There is no way you can hold out longer than that.

You feel one of her elegant hands slowly caressing your balls, trying to give you that last push just a second earlier.

"Gahyeon..."

You only have to moan her name like that, Gahyeon knows what to do. Immediately, the glass is ready once more. You shoot your second load into the glass, where the first one is still waiting.

Closing your eyes, you hear Gahyeon putting the glass back down. Both of her hands are on your cock immediately. As you see stars due to how sensitive you are, you know that you will work late tonight.

"Come on, daddy. Just a little bit more."

Gahyeon takes you into her mouth again.

"Please, Gahyeon...."

After having barely survived your sixth orgasm, the blonde is already pushing you towards the seventh. The glass, which is standing on your desk is half full with your cum already.

"Give me that delicious cum of yours."

She sighs seductively, while stroking you closer and closer. By now, cuming is almost painful. You have to hold onto the desk, unable to stand probably.

Because you can't even fuck her face anymore, Gahyeon is more than happy to do all the work.

She closes her lips around your cock again, taking you into her mouth once more. Her blonde hair is sticking to her stained cheeks and forehead by now, due to her sweat and saliva. You feel like your cock is twice as heavy with all her spit on it. Long strings connect her lips with your tip whenever she leans back a little.

"One last trick, daddy."

You search in your fake memory of her, trying to find out, what it might be.

Gahyeon starts slobbering all over your cock and you can't focus on anything else. Although she is sucking you off as fast as usual, the process is starting slowly. But after a couple of moments, the first bubbles start to appear. Over time more and more form around your cock and her lips as she makes a mess of herself and your dick.

The blonde succubus in front of you makes you see stars again as she coats your cock with bubbles of her spit. More and more form around her mouth, the roll down towards her chin, until they fall to the ground. Most of them pop on your cock or in her mouth though, as Gahyeon does her best to squeeze, literally, the last drop of your cum out of you.

"Gahyeon..."

She smiles up at you as she backs away. Her lips covered in those small bubbles. Her hand strokes you as she reaches for the glass one last time.

"Fuck."

You groan as you cum for the last time today. There is not much left. Barely half of the usual amount mixes itself with the glasses contents.

"Time for the main event, daddy."

Gahyeon whispers seductively. You have to blink once or twice to recover all of your senses.

"The most delicious drink in the world."

Your cum hungry ex girlfriend puts the glass with your cum on her saliva smeared lips. She looks up at you as she tilts the glass.

When your thick cum reaches her lips, Gahyeon opens her mouth. She squinches her eyes shut as the delicious liquid enters her mouth. More and more of your warm cum floods her taste buds.

The blonde's mouth is already full and yet she barely drank even half of it. Her puffy cheeks are more than just full. She looks a like hamster.

With her eyes on you, Gahyeon takes one large gulp after the other. One, two, three gulps she needs to finally empty her mouth. The sticky seamen makes it hard for her to swallow properly.

"It tastes so delicious, daddy. Nothing tastes as good as this."

She tilts the glass once more and you are unable to do anything but watch. The last half of your cum finds its way into Gahyeon's hungry mouth. It is wide open as you see her pink tongue reach out to lick up every last remaining drop on the walls of the glass. Her mouth is full with white cum as she looks at you.

Her throat bulges as she swallows almost four loads at once.

"So yummy."

Gahyeon sighs before smacking her lips. Strings of cum connect her tongue with the roof of her mouth. Like small spiderwebs, they still fill her mouth.

"I hope we can do this every day from now on. Your girlfriend doesn't need to know, daddy. I bet she can't even swallow two loads at once."

-----------

I hope you enjoy it, the next chaper will be revieled soon. You can still vote for it.

[diamond-champagne]

6. I Hurt You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: None that I know of :)

Feed back is always welcome! Besties, thank you for the support <3

Shoutout to @makethemhoesmad for getting me through this chapter.

It takes Paige over an hour to clean up the broken glass. Her eyes blur with tears too often for her to make any real progress. She gets it done though; sighing as she drops the last of the paper towel and glass into the trash. The blonde settles back on the couch and begins to scroll through her social media when she gets a text.

Babe: How was your night, Ma?

The text brings a smile to Paige’s face as she remembers their interaction from earlier in the night.

Paige stands at the bar; waiting for the bartender. She’s happy to be celebrating with the team. She also feels looser tonight than she has in a while. Then again, that could be the three tequila shots making their way through her system. Paige is drumming her fingers against the bar when abruptly, a strong body is pressed against her back. Alarmed, the blonde girl turns around, ready to snap when she hears a deep voice say “Sorry, Ma. People don’t know how to say excuse me.” 

The voice stops Paige in her tracks as she gazes at the person before her. The man has a tall and muscat build. His caramel skin is accompanied by green eyes and a perfect smile. The icing on the cake is that the man’s right arm is covered in tattoos. He’s handsome, Paige thinks as she continues to check him out. She doesn’t know how long she’s been doing so when a deep chuckle pulls her back to reality. The blonde’s face turns red in embarrassment as she avoids eye contact. 

“No need to be embarrassed, Ma. A pretty girl like you can stare at me all day” the man says while taking a slight step away from the blonde. She feels her face get hot at the compliment.

“Bold of you to assume I was embarrassed,” Paige quips. “Maybe I was just upset that you bumped into me.” The man lets out another deep chuckle. “My bad, pretty. I promise I didn’t mean to.” He smiles at her. “It’s all good, babe.” Paige teases.

“Babe?” The man questions. “Well,” Paige starts, “You’ve called me everything but my name so I thought it was only fair.” The man nods in agreement before speaking again. “So what is your name, pretty?” He’s still smiling at her. 

“Paige, and yours?” 

“Cameron, but all my friends call me Cam”

“And we’re friends now?” Paige smirks.

“Yeah, Ma,” Cam answers, “Yeah, we are.” His smile is sincere and Paige begins to enjoy his company.

“Well, babe, who are you here with?” Paige asks. The nickname rolls off her tongue easily as she converses with the taller man. “I’m on the football team so I’m here with my teammates,” Cam says as he nods his head in the direction of the UConn football team. “What about you?”

“I’m on the basketball team, so I am also here with my teammates.” Paige answers. Cam nods in acknowledgement. He starts to respond but the volume in Ted’s increases drastically as they change the music playing, making it difficult for Paige to hear. The football player realizes and then proceeds to grab her waist to pull her closer to him. He leans down to talk in the basketball player's ear. “So Ma, can I get your number?” He asked. Paige braces her hands on his shoulder so she can talk in his ear “Yeah, give me your phone.” 

The two switch phones so that they can put in their respective phone numbers. Both athletes take selfies for their contact picture which consists of silly faces and peace signs before returning their phones. Cameron leans down one more time to talk in Paige’s ear “Be safe, Ma. I hope to see you soon.” Paige responds “Bye, babe.” before rejoining her friends at the table

It’s with a smile that Paige responds to this text.

Ma: It didn’t end too well but I had fun. 

Babe: Do you want to talk about it?

Ma: Not right now

Babe: What about over breakfast tomorrow?

Ma: Bet

-

That conversation is exactly how the athletes ended up getting breakfast at a small diner right off campus. They’re sitting in a booth laughing about a tik tok that they both found funny while the waitress arrives at the table with their food. The pair immediately begin to dig in before Cam changes the subject. 

“So Ma, what happened last night?”

Paige drops her fork and lets out a sigh at the thought of her fight with Azzi. The situation left her tired and frustrated but all she wanted was for someone to listen. So, Paige told Cam everything. She told him how they were best friends that often woke up together, how she was in love with Azzi and her feelings weren’t returned, how the younger girl had a girlfriend, and lastly, how they argued last night. By the end of her long and detailed explanation, Paige had a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. Cam reached out to grab the blonde’s hand from across the table; running his thumb over the back of it soothingly.

“I’m sorry, Ma. You didn’t deserve that.” Cam says “But if it’s causing you this much pain, don’t  you think you should move on?” Paige shakes her head in agreement. “I know but I can’t because she’s still my best friend. She’s still half of me.”

“Your other half is killing all of you.”

“I’d rather have a piece of her than none of her, if I’m being honest.” Paige admits for the first time out loud. She sounds pathetic to her own ears. 

“Why, Ma?” Cam pushes. He can’t understand why the girl in front of him is so adamant on keeping this relationship especially when she knows she deserves better.

“I went through everything by myself before I met her. I wiped my own tears and faced all my fears by myself; but when I met Azzi, everything changed. We talked all day everyday. She was there for everything after that. All my highs and all my lows.” Paige lets out a tearful laugh. “I can’t go back to how things were before her. She’s too embedded in my life now. We’re best friends that spend holidays and vacations together, go to school together, and play the same sport. All I know is Azzi.” Paige finishes.

Cameron just nods his head in understanding before speaking. “What about your teammates? Surely you could talk to them?”

“I’m sure they have some inkling. It’s hard to not notice things when you spend so much time together. I wouldn’t tell them everything though. It’s easier to keep the peace if I don’t.” Paige answers honestly. She knows she confided in Nika about some things but she wouldn’t tell the team about everything. They’re already so messy.

“Sure, it’ll keep the peace, but whose would it keep?” Cam counters. Paige just shrugs in response. The football player can sense that the blonde doesn’t want to talk about this anymore so he redirects her attention to something less heavy.

“Are you going to eat those, Ma?” The green-eyed boy points to her chocolate chip pancakes. Paige lets out a laugh before moving her arm to guard her plate of food. “Yes, babe, I’m going to eat these.” She teases.

The heaviness of the conversation dissipated from the air. The two continue their meal in laughter while getting to know each other. In the end, Paige feels like she’s made a new friend. 

Before either one could realize it, it’s almost time for the two to part ways. They’re sitting in the football player’s car outside of Paige’s apartment talking before they finally depart. The only other noise filling the car besides their voices, is the rain hitting the window.

“Listen Ma, call me if you need anything.”

“We just met yesterday, why would I call you?” Paige asks with a smile on her face.

“Because we’re friends and friends call each other.” Cam counters. 

“And friends call each other Ma and Babe, too?” Paige teases. The nicknames are fun to her.

“We do,” The football player confirms before continuing. “I’m Babe and you’re Ma and we talk to each other.

The basketball player shakes her head before repeating the words sincerely. “I’m Ma and you’re babe, and we talk to each other.”

Paige and Cam share a hug before she gets ready to leave the car. Despite the pair being in front of Paige’s door, the football player insists that she take his jacket so that she doesn’t get wet. It's a small gesture but it brightens Paige’s day to know she’s being considered. 

Later, as Paige thinks about the day, she’s happy to know that she has another person in her corner.

She couldn’t have Azzi but maybe she wouldn’t be alone either.

-

Azzi woke up that morning feeling terrible. The booze creates a deep, sinking ache in her head while the guilt does the same thing to her heart. The curly-haired girl lets out a groan and attempts to sit up in her bed. It’s a weak effort but it’s all Azzi can manage right now. Someone must be playing a cruel joke on her though because there’s a soft knock on her front door. Azzi struggles to get out of bed but when she opens the door, she’s met with Carol who just happens to have water and headache medicine.

The brown-eyed girl welcomes her friend into her apartment with the memories of last night still replaying in her head. While Azzi and Carol are very close, the brown-eyed girl knows that this will be a tense conversation.

The girls wordlessly settle into the living room. Carol watches as her friend takes the medicine given while she chugs half of her water before speaking.

“You’re being unfair” Caroline states.

“I know”

“You need to apologize.”

“I did.” Azzi sighs before continuing. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Would you?” Caroline asks. The question shocks Azzi.

“Excuse me?” she exclaims slightly offended.

“Think about it,” Caroline starts, “You treated her like a girlfriend before ghosting her when you actually got a girlfriend. You get jealous when she’s with someone else but she asked you if you had feelings for her and you walked away. Plus, you embarrassed her at the bar yesterday.” Caroline finishes bluntly. It’s the truth and she knows Azzi needs to hear it.

“I was jealous last night-” Caroline cuts her off. Azzi is getting very tired of people doing that.

“You don't get to be jealous. Not this time.”

“I know.”

“Do you love her? It’s a fair question but the brown-eyed girl isn’t quite sure of the answer. “I don’t know.”

“Paige deserves to be with someone who knows. If you can’t give her that, then she should be able to find someone who can.”

“What if I do love her?” Azzi asks. 

“Then you fight for her.” Carol answers.

“And if I don’t?” Azzi counters.

“Then you watch her get the love that she deserves from someone else.”

“I don’t want to see her with anyone else,” Azzi starts. “I know it’s selfish but I don’t.”

Caroline sighs in response. She doesn’t understand how her teammate can’t see what’s in front of her.

“You’re being unfair.” Caroline repeats.

“I know.”

“You need to apologize.”

“I know.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

If you are a movie fan and haven't read the book yet, here are some irrelevant details from the book

Henry owns a cardigan

Arthur and Catherine meet on a Henry V play (which they named Henry after), which Catherine went to see and saw Arthur playing. She "shook off her security to disappear into London and dance all night".

Pez listens to kpop, and he got Alex into it

Nora watches drag race and got Henry into it

Henry is an Elton John fan (actually relevant in the book)

Alex is a Hall & Oates fan

Alex wears glasses (actually relevant in the book)

Henry is described by Alex as having lots of moles

Bea is the rockstar girlfriend, at the end of the book she plays on a concert and everything. She plays the guitar and is always wearing a leather jacket. She also has a fat cat called Mr Wobbles. And the queen wanted her to learn violin “since it was more proper” instead of guitar. “Bea was allowed to learn both, but she went to uni for classical violin.”

During the turkey phonecall, Henry is wearing a peely face mask

Amy is trans and has a pansexual wife

(Actually relevant) Catherine was not off in another country the whole story, just battling intense grief for her husband's death, so she wasn't present in her children's life, so they felt as if they lost both parents.

There's no king, she's actually a queen, her name is Mary and she should die (she's so so much worse on the book than the king is on the movie)

David is a service dog

(Actually relevant in the book) June bought a teen magazine at 15 and 13 year old Alex would sneak into her room to stare at the magazine (and the picture of a blonde 14 year old British prince on it).

Bea is the middle kid, Henry is the youngest

Henry is canonically on therapy and on antidepressants (since the start of the book)

I don't remember if they mentioned it on the movie but Arthur was James Bond and died of pancreatic cancer.

Alex’s favorite Olympic sport is rhythmic gymnastics

Bea had an addiction problem when Henry was about 17 (as a way to cope after their father's death) and only got herself into rehab after Henry went to her and started crying about dad was dead and he was gay and scared so she couldn't kill herself. That's how he came out to her

Alex doesn't wanna be president at the end of the book, he starts law school

Henry favourite star wars is Jedi, Alex's is Empire

June is allergic to peanuts

Alex runs and runs to cope and clear his head

He did not know he was bi until after Henry kissed him. Yes, he had a friend with benefits relationship with his high school friend Liam, but he genuinely thought it was perfectly platonic and straight

Also he doesn't keep on touch with Liam after high school (their friendship just slowly fades away, with living so far and Alex being suddenly famous) but they reconnect at the end

Alex and Henry move in together on a brownstone on Brooklyn, eventually they marry (after Henry abdicates) on the lake house, they move to a farmhouse on Austin, they spend their honeymoon unpacking

Pez is lactose intolerant

Bluebonnet is June’s code name, Barracuda is Alex’s

Henry is a big Austen fan, and makes references to her books through the story

Amy knits

Zahra has a sister who recently had a baby

June forced Alex into dresses as a kid

Henry’s favorite food is a cheap falafel stand ten minutes from the palace

Henry really likes sailing

Shaan has a motorbike

Alex is allergic to dust

Henry keeps a copy of Le Monde, the newspaper from the day they were in Paris, on his room

Alex and Nora dated when Alex was 17 and Nora 18 but realized they were definitely better off as friends. When they are bored, they like to create rumors about their relationship

Alex makes tons of lists to organize

Alex wears chinos, and claims kakhis are for white people

Nora is very good at math

Alex grew up catholic

At the end of their e-mails, Alex and Henry quoted historical lgbt love letters

Nora’s one-bedroom is “full of books and plants she tends to with complex spreadsheets of watering schedules.”

Nora is bisexual and on the aro spectrum (not canon on the book than she’s aro, but Casey did mention it somewhere)

Arthur gifted Henry a telescope for his seventh birthday

The karaoke scene happens not while on Texas but in some club full of queer people. The whole group is there, Pez got them matching kimonos. Alex’s says Hoe Dameron, Henry’s says Prince Buttercup. Aside from Henry singing Don’t Stop Me Now, Bea sings Call Me by Blondie, and Pez sings So Emotional by Whitney Houston in a “shockingly flawless falsetto”.

The lakehouse confessions happens while at night

The Kensington fight (after the lakehouse confession) is much more dramatic, they don’t go to the v&a that night, but the next night. That morning Henry got up early, and brought Alex coffee when he woke up. They made up.

Also Alex takes his coffee with cinnamon

Alex, Nora and Henry are gen z, while June is a millennial

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 8

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. Invited along to his party, Parker spends the entire time trying to compare the Tom Ryder being celebrated with the one that she was starting to know. Oddly enough, it seemed that no one else knew him like she did.

Read the story here: prev / next

"Ho-ly shit."

Parker peeled her sunglasses off the bridge of her nose to cast a bug-eyed glance towards the looming mansion. The driveway, long and filled to the brim with parked cars worth more than her entire life savings, led up to one of the nicest houses she had ever seen. Gail's was the only one in competition, but while the producer's house had been a modern deco build with glass walls and white washed everything, this one was a Mediterranean style villa. Cobblestone led up to the front porch, large pillars jutting up to a three story foyer, with ivy sprawled over the entirety of the front half.

Holy shit was right.

"I can't believe this is where he lives," Colt muttered with a shake of the head. They were slowly ambling towards the valet parking, and music could be heard pulsing in the distance.

Parker leant between the two fronts seats, seatbelt unbuckled, to angle her head back for a better view. "Really?" she asked with a laugh. "Because this is exactly the type of place that I would picture him living."

"No way," he argued, petering up the drive. "Tom is all about fancy and new and having his face plastered on everything. I pictured him living in a Tom Cruise style mansion. Huge windows, glass ceilings, a petting zoo. That type of thing."

"Does Tom Cruise have a petting zoo?" Jody mused from the passenger seat.

"Well... probably," Colt shrugged.

Parker sighed, tilting her head to spare Jody an over the top eyeroll. "Colt thinks that all rich people have petting zoos. Something about the illegal zebra trade."

"Ivory trade."

"He watched one documentary and now he thinks he's David Attenborough," she chirped.

Her brother didn't take kindly to that, however, and planted his palm squarely into her face to push her into the backseat. She swatted him away, but the damage to her hair had already been done, and as Jody giggled into her hand, Parker tried to smooth it down. "It's Sir David Attenborough," he corrected her. Jody, amused as always by his antics, listened intently as he added, "and it wasn't just one documentary. There's a whole bunch out there about the exotic animal trade. Really heinous stuff, you know. Tom Cruise is definitely knee deep in it. He's the A-lister, after all. I bet he has one of those safari themed rooms with taxidermy endangered animals stuck up all over the walls. Rhinos for sure."

"Oh, for sure," she agreed.

They smiled at one another as Colt drew his truck to a stop. A valet appeared on both sides, opening a door for both Colt and Jody. Parker clambered out behind them—a disgruntled glare shot towards the valets that had completely ignored her—as Colt handed over the keys.

"Be easy with her, yeah? She's hard to handle if you don't know what you're doing," he said. Of course, with all the other cars surrounding them being Ferraris and Range Rovers, his pickup was the least expensive thing they had to worry about. When one of the boys coughed into his fist, Parker grabbed her brother by the elbow and hauled him towards the door. "What—it's a 2015!"

"I think they know what they're doing," she said.

"It has a wonky shift!"

"You're a wonky shift."

Colt snatched his arm out of her grasp as they approached the front door. He looked scandalized at her comment, and Parker couldn't help but return the favor by running a hand through his hair.

Of course, he had a problem with that, and as he shoved her away she could only laugh. A good thing she wasn't wearing heels; the cobblestone entry way was hard enough to walk on in sneakers, and if Jody hadn't been there to catch her, Parker may have gone face first into Tom's expensive garden. But, the blonde was there to catch her, and as Colt fixed his hair, the girls linked arms with matching smiles.

"Well, I for one can't wait to see what the inside looks like," Jody said conversationally. "I still can't believe that he invited us."

"Why not?"

Colt popped up on her other side, fringe back in place. "Because he's never invited us to his house. For anything. Ever. Like... ever. In the history of working for him. Literal years, Park. I'm not even allowed inside his trailer."

She shrugged. "First time for everything, right?"

Her brother didn't share her sentiments. In fact, as a pair of staff opened the front door for them, he almost looked trepidatious with a frown firmly in place.

Jody, on the other hand, was smiling excitedly. "First time for everything," she echoed.

Parker grinned at her. Then at her brother.

He rolled his eyes, but eventually a smile cracked through his apprehension. "Whatever. You think they have Bud Light?"

Music and chatter met the trio in a wave as they stepped through the front door. Jody was right to be excited—the inside of the house was far more gorgeous than the outside—and though the mass of people were all arguably important, respectable figures in Hollywood, all of them seemed to having good times with smiles and drinks in hands. No different than any other party they had been to before. Not really, anyway.

At the far side of the room was a fully stocked bar, waiters moving to and fro to serve the guests.

"Yeah, Colt," Parker laughed. "I think they have Bud Light."

---

Tom Ryder's house was exactly what Parker pictured it to be; a little bit Gucci, a little bit modern, a whole lot of colorful stucco decorated with oddly shaped mirrors, and an insurmountable number of pictures and self-portraits propped up throughout the room. Cardboard cut-outs of Tom in costumes from some of his most famous movies were sprawled throughout the living room, fashion shows and MTV interviews playing soundlessly on the large TVs, with balloons and banners stuck to every available space. If she didn't know better she might have thought that he was running for presidency with how many surfaces his face was plastered on.

Even standing at the bar, elbow propped on the cool marble surface, there were napkins with Tom Ryder quotes and trivia questions scattered along it.

"To see yourself on the screen is to be loved," one quote said. Another, printed, "Hollywood isn't just about believing, it's about doing."

Parker snorted, but tucked them into her purse anyway. Every quote was as ridiculous and vapid as the last. In one sense, she could absolutely picture Tom Ryder, face of the new Versace cologne, saying these things completely seriously to whatever reporter was listening. On the other hand, she also couldn't ever picture anyone saying these things outside of a movie script.

A bad one, too.

She was in the middle of reaching for the next in the pile when someone slumped against the bar beside her. She thought for a second that it was Colt—blonde fringe carefully swept away from the forehead with meticulous detail, beard trimmed neatly along his jawline, white toothed smile in place—but she had also left her brother in conversation with some directors outside by the pool with specific instructions not to move until she came back.

Besides, something about his presence just felt different.

Parker was smiling before she even met his gaze.

"I was wondering where you were hiding," she chirped.

Tom rolled his eyes. He was dressed in a silk button down with patterns of black and gold that accentuated the color of his hair, and a pair of black jeans. Last week's sunglasses had been replaced with his funky pair of yellow tinted glasses. Casual, yet she knew his outfit likely cost over a grand for the designer tags alone. "Are you already drinking?"

"Hardly," she huffed, glancing at the overcrowded bar. "I can't get anyone to take my—"

All it took was for him to wave a hand for a bartender to materialize, and Parker blinked in surprise. "Doubleshot vodka soda on the rocks, and a cosmopolitan," he said.

"Oh, I don't drink cosmos—" she started, only for the bartender to vanish before her eyes to get their drink orders started. She blinked a second time, mouth agape. "Huh. Now I know how pretty girls at bars feel."

"You think I'm a pretty girl?"

"You definitely have the attitude of one," she teased. Tom bent an elbow, turning to face her, and although they were in a room full of people overcrowded with music and chatter, there was something so captivating about Tom's attention that made it feel like she was the only person around. She cleared her throat, waving a napkin around languidly. "These are fun."

He rolled his eyes. "Gail loves that shit."

"I think this one is my favorite. To act is to be another person ," she quoted, wiggling her brows exaggeratedly. "Very insightful."

"Who invited you?"

Parker shrugged, plopping the napkin down onto the bar. "Some asshole I think," she mused. "I really only came for the chance to snoop through his house. I bet I could sell some hand towels for a couple hundred dollars each on eBay if I said you used them before."

He harrumphed. "Unlike Gail, I lock my doors."

"Spoilsport."

He shook his head with a chuckle just as the bartender set two glasses down in front of them. The cosmopolitan, though pink and delicate, had Parker crinkling her nose distastefully. She glanced up, hoping to flag the bartender back down, but the woman was gone.

The sound of clinking glass drew her attention, and Parker watched as Tom settled the vodka soda on her napkin, before taking a sip of the cosmopolitan. "I can't believe you don't like cosmopolitans."

"I can't believe you do. I feel like I read a quote of yours citing toxic masculinity as the best thing to come out of the older generation," she mused, glancing around at the mess of napkins she had made. "Pretty sure you said pink was for babies."

"I never said that."

"I'm telling you—"

"And salmon is the color of the season," he corrected her with another sip of his cocktail. She laughed, chancing a sip of her own, and though it was strong, it was fucking good. "Ask Melissa, she'll tell you that pink is very in right now."

"Oh, Christ, don't get me started," Parker groaned. The entire week had been spent getting Melissa up to speed on how to work the cash register, how to log new books, and how dreamy Tom Ryder was. Every other question out of the girl's mouth had been about the actor, and while Parker put up with a lot, even she had to put her foot down when Melissa started throwing around the boyfriend term. "She's pretty much the de facto president of Winward High's Tom Ryder fan club, you know. Now that she knows we're friends she's never going to leave my store."

He shrugged, casting a lithe glance around. "What's wrong with that? She clearly has good taste."

"Clearly," Parker deadpanned. "Her friends have started hanging around the store too thinking they'll spot you."

"Maybe they will."

She paused, straw pinched between her fresh manicure, to arch her brows at him accordingly. "You plan on coming by every Sunday to judge our progress or something?"

Her tone was teasing and light, but there was a weight behind the question. Are you planning on sticking around? she was asking without really asking.

Maybe he sensed that or maybe she wasn't as suave as she thought because in response Tom cast her a dry look. "You expect me to go to a real bookstore every time I need a recommendation?" he asked. And though it was quite clearly an insult against her little store, in another sense, it was also quite clearly not. "At least at your store I know I won't get mobbed with attention."

She huffed. "Well, you might, if Melissa's friends stick around."

Tom took another long sip of his drink before saying, "she's not so bad. And who am I to turn away some adoring fans, huh?"

"I almost forgot. You love attention," Parker deadpanned through a growing smile. It was hard sometimes to remember why she had disliked him so thoroughly when they first met—regardless of what Colt said, Tom was certainly charming. "Nice party, by the way."

He shot her a smug look. "Oh, this?"

"Oh, this? Whatever," she laughed. Her vodka soda was going down a little too easy as they talked, and with a shake of the quickly emptying glass, she had to remind herself that she absolutely could not get drunk at this function. Colt's birthday party was one thing, but this was altogether something else. "A very casual afternoon for you, I'd guess. I'm surprised you're not being mobbed by fans right here, too."

He waved a hand at her. "I've been networking all afternoon. Besides, most of the people here are advertisers or producers that I've already worked with in one way or another. If anyone wants to sign me for something they have to talk to Gail, not me. Really, it's more her party than mine with how much attention she's getting today."

Parker glanced at the large cardboard cut-out of a shirtless Tom Ryder from his movie The Puncher. She lifted a brow. "Really? I could hardly tell. You ever get creeped out from seeing your face everywhere?"

He followed her eyeline, and smirked. "Not when I look like that. I had to put on twenty pounds for that role."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding, something offended in his tone that she didn't believe him. A lot of things could be said about Tom, but no one could claim that he was lazy when it came to his acting. "I had to give up sugar for six months."

Parker blinked at him. "Seriously?"

"Alcohol too."

She glanced back at the cut-out, paying more attention to the cut of his muscles and the leanness of his body. It felt odd ogling the man that was literally standing next to her, but when she passed her gaze back over the real Tom, he seemed to be greatly enjoying the attention. Smugly, he flexed a bicep at her.

Parker couldn't help but throw her hands up with a laugh. "Alright, alright! I believe you. Not to say I'm an actor or anything but I can't believe you gave up alcohol for that role. I don't think I could do that. Not that I'm an alcoholic or anything, but, I don't know. That sounds awful."

"S'not as easy as everyone thinks. Being an actor."

She tilted her glass at him. "Well, I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Mr. Ryder. Good thing you can drink now, right?"

He blinked at her for a moment, assessing how serious she was, and when she gestured to him a second time with her glass, his shoulders lost some tension she didn't even realizing he was carrying. Smirking, Tom clinked his own glass against hers.

Together, they finished their drinks.

She wiped some spilt vodka off her chin as Tom glanced around. Despite him being the center of attention, he was right. It seemed that the party was happy to exist around him without even needing him. Though, every odd glance his way earned a wave or an acknowledging nod of the head, no one seemed desperate to interrupt his drink.

He turned to her. "Colt here?"

"Over by the pool. I think Jody was trying to introduce herself to some people from Warner Brothers when I left. You want to go say hi?"

He licked his lips, before gesturing to the bartender. "Four shots of vodka," he said. Parker lifted her brows at him in surprise. "What?"

"I thought we were supposed to be on our best behavior."

Tom shrugged with an indifferent sniff. "Yeah, well, it's my party right? Besides, I've spent all day entertaining these assholes. May as well see what kind of shit Colt has going on. I've got to talk to him about the movie schedule anyways."

Four shot glasses with lime wedges were set down onto the bar. Tom picked up two, and when Parker did nothing but blink at him, he gestured to them impatiently.

"Fuck, come on before someone does decide they want a picture."

"Why would they want a picture when they could just steal a poster?" she mused, though she did pick up the shot glasses. After stashing another wad of napkins into her purse, of course.

"Don't steal my shit, Parker."

"What—I didn't say I was going to!"

He scoffed, but there was a laugh hidden in there as well, and when he gestured at her a second time she figured there were worse ways to get into trouble then a few measly shots. Besides, he was offering. Where was the harm in that?

The crowd parted for Tom without him even having to ask, and as she hustled after him, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have everyone worship you, but from a distance.

"Hey, listen," she said, crowding up against his shoulder. "Colt might ask you some weird questions about the exotic animal trade. He thinks all rich people secretly own zebras. Something he saw on a documentary."

"Do you really think I'd let a zebra in here? I'm allergic to them. Plus they bite."

"Wh—how could you possibly know that?"

Tom glanced at her over his shoulder with a look she couldn't quite interpret. She was pretty sure from the flatness of his brows that he was judging her, but then again, she got the distinct impression that Tom was always judging her in one way or another. It seemed a default setting for him. "I had to get allergy shots when I did that Dior commercial," he said, voice almost swallowed by the music around them. When he shrugged, she felt the ripple of muscles from where she was pressed up against him. "Besides, you ever been to Tom Cruise's house? The place is crawling in them."

That sparked more questions than she could rightly keep track of, but Tom kept on walking as though it was an entirely normal thing to say.

So, with a huff, she just followed after.

---

The afternoon sun was warm on her shoulders, but Parker didn't seem to notice from her spot on the couch. People milled all around the pool—models walking by with oversized hats to protect their skin, producers speaking behind Kardashian style sunglasses that covered most of their face, directors caught up in spirited debates about whatever they thought the best movie of the year was—yet somehow the group of four had managed to find a little spot all to themselves away from the crowd.

The patio furniture was gorgeous; a blend of wood and metal work that was just as pretty as it was functional. There was a mix of empty glasses across the table. Their shot glasses, long since empty, had been carted off sometime ago by waitstaff. In their place were crystal glasses and crumpled napkins. Jody was currently nursing a chilled glass of wine, while Colt was responsibly finishing off a water to counter all the mojitos he'd already drank. Tom had an array of fancy cocktails that he'd finished off throughout the afternoon, and beside him Parker was working on her third double vodka soda.

She could feel her nose tingling a bit, legs fluid and weightless from where they were tucked beneath her.

The whole don't drink too much from the open bar sentiment had been disregarded almost as soon as she got there. Though she wasn't trying to make an ass of herself, it was obvious that Tom wasn't the lightweight she had teased him with being. He had been steadily drinking himself through the unlimited bar, and despite not intending to do the same, every time he ordered a new drink, miraculously something would appear for Parker as well.

Not that she minded. Open bars were spectacular, and she was having too much fun to turn down a free drink.

"—so, anyway, I'm telling you," Colt was in the middle of saying, hands gestured wide and face a rosy red as he laughed. He smacked the umbrella at his side as he talked, but didn't even seem to notice. "The drop was fifty feet, and I was supposed to do it without any sort of harness."

"Isn't that a safety hazard?"

"Well, he was just dropping into the water," Tom shrugged. "That's not bad, right? Water is soft."

"Water is so not soft," Parker corrected with an incredulous giggle. "It's like hitting solid concrete! Especially from that height. He had bruises for days!"

Tom furrowed his brows. "Nah... seriously?"

"Well, uh, I mean," her brother hedged. Whatever sort of comradery that had been building between him and Tom over the last week didn't seem to negate the fact that Tom was still his boss. Anxiously, he tugged at the collar of his jacket. "S'not like falling onto pillows."

This was apparently a shock to Tom. "Seriously? You did that stunt, like, four times!"

"Right, yes, I did. I did do it like four times. But, you know, that's because the angle wasn't right and they wanted me to show less face and then there was the whole issue with my hair..." he trailed off, shrugging. "Which, totally fine. Hair is hair, I get it."

Tom thoughtfully trailed a hand through his own hair.

"But, anyway," Colt continued. Always smiling, never one to linger on bad feelings and unfortunate facts. "So, I'm sitting there, right? Totally scared shitless as everything is prepped because the night before, Parker, that asshole, had sent me all these links to a story about someone getting eaten by a shark!"

The memory came flooding back, and though she probably should have felt bad, she was too occupied by laughing at how hilarious the whole thing was. "I didn't know you were going to be in the water at the same place!" she defended with a cry. "It was a viral story! How is it my fault that a shark decided to have a surfer for lunch?"

"Oh, well, when you put it like that... I guess you could have kept that to yourself!"

The couch erupted in laughter. Partially because Colt was just as funny as he was expressive, and partially because the idea that he had been jumping fifty feet into the water but was worried about sharks was entirely ridiculous.

"Were you alright?" Jody asked.

"Who? Me?" Colt sniffed, a hand run through his own hair. He never played cool all that well, but that certainly never stopped him from trying. Parker shared an amused look with Tom. "Fine. Totally good. Not even a scratch. You know, it was a big jump too. But I did it four times and the footage came out really good. Not to brag or anything but it was the biggest jump I've done so far."

"Sounds awful."

"Very scary."

"Horrific," she continued to emphasize with him. Drunk or not, Parker wondered if Jody was ever not staring at her brother like he lit up the room. She didn't have to ask that question about Colt—when Jody was around, she swore he would walk face first into a concrete wall. "I'll add that to the list of very brave things that you do."

He made some sort of suave joke that Parker couldn't—and more importantly didn't—want to hear that had the pair leaning on each other in giggles.

Parker took a long sip of her drink before shooting Tom a derisive look.

"Isn't there a rule on set about fraternizing?"

He looked just as disturbed as she did. "Should be. Maybe I could work that into the next contract."

"I bet you have good lawyers."

"Very good."

In the same tone that Jody had used, she said, "how brave of you. I can't imagine ever leaving the house without a team of lawyers to protect me."

She was obviously teasing, and he was well aware of that. Yet, when Tom looked at her, Parker couldn't help but flush under his attention. They were pressed into one another on the couch, having been shifted closer and closer over the afternoon every time a story was told or drinks were passed out, and from this distance she could smell his cologne.

Musky and light at the same time; lemons and saltwater.

The moment passed when his face split into a grin, and just like she had been judging Colt and Jody moments before, the pair peeled forward with their own laughter.

It wasn't until an ice cube bounced off her forehead did she control herself enough to return her attention to her brother.

He had a weird look on his face; eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Tom. "What are you laughing at, weirdo?"

"Inside joke," she chirped, if only because she knew it would bother him even more to be left out. "You wouldn't understand."

As expected, Colt sat up straighter with a frown. "I'll understand. I understand everything about you. You know, since I'm you're best friend. Have been for years. Pretty much know everything about you, Park. Duh."

"You're not my best friend."

"What—what do you mean I'm not your best friend?" he hissed incredulously. Jody sipped her wine calmly, glancing between Colt and Parker as he practically leaned over her lap to argue. "Of course I'm your best friend!"

"Am I your best friend?"

Colt spluttered. "Well of course you are! You know, just behind Dan. And Johnny. And Pete has been with me for a long time, you know, through the whole... that doesn't matter. I'm your best friend! I know I am! Who else would it possibly be?"

Parker leaned closer. Jody was now angled back, trying to avoid being smacked by either of the siblings. "Doesn't matter. So why don't you mind your business?"

"Mind my—?" Colt let out a sound halfway between a groan and a squeal, and Parker settled back into her seat with a proud grin.

Honestly, he was so easy to rile up.

So easy in fact that Jody had to pat him on the shoulder, shifting between Colt and Parker so that she could console him. Parker could still make out his frown; hear his harsh muttering as well. She giggled into her straw, pleased as punch.

"And you think I'm an asshole," Tom muttered into her ear.

She smirked at him. "You are an asshole."

The same flicker of disbelief that her brother had worn flashed across Tom's face, and it only disappeared when she pitched forward in giggles.

"I swear you two are so easy to mess with!" she cackled.

He rolled his eyes, shoving her hand off his shoulder when she attempted to console him in the same way that Jody was consoling Colt. "Didn't you say something about personally kicking you out? I think I remember that being part of our negotiations."

With all the elegance she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at him.

Perhaps no one had done that to him since middle school, but it shocked Tom so much that he ended up coughing up his last sip of his pina colada. That only prompted her to laugh harder, of course, and even though she was quite literally laughing at his expense, the couch shook when he started laughing too.

It was nice.

And then, suddenly, it wasn't.

"Well, this looks like a good bit of fun I've just stumbled into," a cloying voice called from the edge of their couch.

Parker didn't recognize the woman watching them, but it seemed by their reactions that the other three were well familiar with her. Colt and Tom covered their laughter with coughs and large swallows of their drinks, while Jody smoothed a hand nervously through her hair. It was an immediate sort of reaction—the type kids had when the principle stopped by—and though she didn't even know her, Parker couldn't help but to fix her own hair as well.

"No, no, please, don't stop on my regard," she said, waving perfectly manicured nails at them. The gold bracelets on her arms jingled harmoniously around the diet code and rum in her hand. A striped paper straw, tainted with the equally bright red of her lipstick, swung around in the glass. "I'm so glad that you're all enjoying yourselves so much. I rarely get this glimpse of your personal lives outside of the set."

Her brother cleared his throat under her attention, a strained smile plastered in place. "Yeah, well, you know, it's a little hard to do that when you don't normally have anything to do with us outside the set," he said.

Parker's frown deepened, but the woman only laughed.

"Charming as ever, Colt! And Jody," she added, peering around Parker. The camerawoman gave an awkward smile in response. "It's so nice to see you too, my dear. I really do have quite a few people here that I think you should talk to. Lots of talent everywhere you look, really. You could learn so much just by a few conversations; it'd be so really good for your career, dear."

"Oh. Uh, of course," she nodded. "I'd love to meet anyone. I've noticed that—"

"Tom, of course, I know. Hello my darling, my shining star," she carried on as if Jody hadn't spoken at all. She responded by taking a long swig of her drink while Colt muttered something behind the curve of his hand. Parker would have paid more attention to their whispering if the woman's gaze didn't move to her next. "And who might this be?"

Tom cleared his throat. "This is Parker."

"Uh, hi," she said with an awkward half wave.

"This is Gail," he continued with another gesture. "My producer."

Oh.

Oh.

Gail the producer was not quite what Parker was expecting. And yet, in another way, she was everything that she had been expecting. Dressed elegantly in a black pantsuit, neck adorned with gold jewelry that matched the heavy earrings dangling from her ears, Gail was certainly wealthy. She had a pair of red bottomed shoes on, the type of tinted glasses that were certainly more for appearances than necessity, and her hair was in large mussed curls around her head that probably cost a hundred dollars a piece. Her makeup was spotless despite the drink in her hand, and her smile was the mega-watt type that only existed in Hollywood.

Yet, it didn't feel friendly. In fact, as Gail's gaze slipped over Parker in a torturously slow slide, she couldn't help but feel that nothing about the woman was sincere.

And that's exactly what she was starting to suspect from Tom's stories, wasn't it? That the producer wasn't so much his friend as she was in the person in charge of him.

That certainly felt true now as her smile shifted to Tom.

"Oh, this is Parker?" she asked in a high pitched voice. If possible, her smile stretched further. "Darling, so good to meet you. I had no idea that you would be joining us today—I certainly didn't think I saw your names on the guest list—but the more the merrier! Besides, I feel that I should be thanking you."

"Sorry," Parker did a double take. "Thanking me?"

"Well, you are the one that convinced Tom here to go for that sci-fi role, aren't you?" she mused, fingers carefully sticking her straw back into her mouth as she took a long sip.

"Oh, I don't think I—"

"No need to be so shy, darling! Tom told me all about it. Course, that was only after I found him reading a stack of books to prepare for the role; so dedicated this one. I had a hard enough time getting him to consider a romance movie last year," Gail continued, laughing, "and it barely took any help from you at all to get him in excited for this film. Brilliant, darling, really. I'm always telling him that he should try to expand his portfolio. And this? Well, I think this is going to be the next big thing!"

Tom took a long dreg of his drink at the comment. Parker frowned.

She hadn't done anything. It was Tom's idea to go for the audition. And hadn't Gail been telling him he wasn't right for it in the first place?

Knowing when not to be mouthy, however, kept Parker's questions to herself. She nudged Tom with her elbow, and only when he glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, did she say, "I think you're probably right. This movie will be the next big thing. Sci-fi is really in right now, you know. Right Colt?"

Her brother blinked at her like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Subtly, Parker gave him a look. "Oh, yeah, totally. Sci-fi is huge ever since, er, Star Trek got big again. This movie is gonna be a blockbuster, Gail. Definitely a game changer for, uh, Tom."

Gail hummed. "Yes, certainly. And all thanks to the star sitting right here with us. I've always said Chris Pine was nothing compared to him."

Tom gave an awkward laugh. "We haven't even started filming yet."

"Oh, hush, darling," she waved a hand at him flippantly. Parker couldn't imagine anyone dismissing Tom Ryder like that and him taking it, but his only response was to take another sip of his drink. It was empty, however, and without being asked, she offered hers.

Tom drank half of it in a single gulp.

"He's so humble, isn't he?" Gail continued cooing. "Sitting over here, all by himself. Darling, there are so many people that still want to talk to you! You can't expect to hide out all afternoon."

"Are we chopped liver?" Colt muttered under his breath, only to be shushed by Jody.

Gail didn't hear, and instead patted Tom on the shoulder with an affectionate tut. "Come on, there are a few people from Disney that want to talk to you. Big things coming already from this movie! Just think about it; this could be the next Disney prince!"

He shifted under her touch, but managed a smile. The very type that was plastered inside on every available surface. Once upon a time, it was the smile she associated with him—the Tom Ryder that everyone saw scattered across the globe—but now, seeing it just had Parker's stomach dropping.

"Fine. But I'm not singing."

"Oh, no, of course not dear. We can always have vocals brought in from someone else if it comes to that..."

The pair disappeared into the crowd, though Parker swore she could hear Gail's laugh like nails on a chalkboard. She shook the last it of her drink with a sigh, ice clinking together.

"So, that's Gail, huh?"

Colt blew a raspberry. "Don't even get me started. Once, someone got stung by a bee, and she ranted for twenty minutes at filming being held up because they needed an epi-pen. She's the only person I've ever met that's worse than Tom."

"She's the scariest women I've ever met," Jody said. Then, with a thoughtful glance around, added, "do you think there really are people here that want to meet me?"

And just like that, things went back to normal, as her brother's face lit up with a dreamy smile. "I'd bet everyone here wants to meet you."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious!" he said. Two men drifting by their couch caught his attention, and Colt cupped his hands at them. "Hey! I've got Jody Moreno over here! Waiting to be talked to! Step right up!"

"Colt!" she hissed. But she was laughing too as she tugged his hands back down into his lap. Her face was beet red when the men raised their brows at her curiously. "I can't believe you've just done that. Honestly!"

Her brother didn't see the problem, and just shrugged. "What?"

And while Jody spent the next twenty minutes swatting at him in humiliation every time he tried to pull someone into conversation with her, Parker couldn't help the way that her shoulders dropped in disappointment when every new person passing by turned out not to be the only one she wanted to talk to.

Fucking Gail.

---

Turns out, drinking from an open bar whilst sitting around the pool was a recipe for getting drunker than one intended. Parker hadn't moved from their spot on the couch in over two hours, and by the time she decided she really had to pee, her movements weren't nearly as harmonious with her thoughts as they had been.

In fact, when she stood up, she almost went careening right into Jody's lap. And though she had been considering another vodka soda the way her brother teased her was advice enough to start drinking some water. Afterall, if Colt thought she was making an ass of herself, she was a lot worse off than she thought.

So, after a wobbly trip to the bathroom where she had splashed some cold water onto her face, and an extra cold water from the bar, Parker had firmly told herself that she wasn't going to drink any more. It was getting late, anyway, and they would have to leave eventually. It would do no one any good if she threw up on the windy rode back to Colt's place—especially not when it would be the second Friday in a row that those exact circumstances played out—and the idea of having to polish her brother's truck as an apology was enough to have her start sobering up.

But, by the time she got her second water from the bar, the party seemed to have moved outside as the sunset proved a beautiful backdrop for selfies. Crowded and surrounded by cameras was not something Parker was interested in.

So, while everyone else moved outside, Parker decided to wander around inside.

It was a gorgeous house. Prettier than Gail's, she thought, because while the producer's had been that sort of minimalistic white that was taking over Beverly Hills, this one was a painting of orange and red, framed memorabilia scattered across the walls, bohemian patterned rugs soundless beneath her sneakers as she aimlessly drifted throughout. A framed hockey jersey was the only thing that felt out of place, but Tom hadn't been wrong when he scolded her interior design skills; she really wasn't one to judge, and so she shrugged it off without much thought to amble on past. There was a landing at the top of his stairs just like Gail's, one that was crowded with people and drinks, and though there was a hallway that had clearly been roped off from public access, no one seemed to nice when Parker ducked underneath the rope and disappeared around the corner.

She supposed that was something she could apologize for later, but when she stumbled across an ivy colored balcony, she couldn't begrudge herself for being curious.

It sat on the side of the house, hidden well behind an overhang of trees that blocked the neighboring houses from view. A stack of yoga mats sat in the corner, weights and endurance bands sitting next to them, and a worn rug silenced her shoes as she peered over the wall. On her tip toes she could just make out the front drive, Colt's truck parked all the way at the end, but for the most part she felt hidden from everything.

"I thought I told you not to steal anything."

Or, almost everything, anyways.

Parker snorted, but flung her purse to Tom. He caught it and one handedly started to shift through its contents. His brows furrowed together. "It's just napkins."

"Some coasters too. How do you even get your face printed on a coaster?"

"Money."

She sucked her teeth dramatically. "So that's why I don't have my face on wooden coasters. Add it to the Christmas wish-list I guess."

Tom dropped her purse onto the small table with an eyeroll, before plopping down onto the small loveseat next to it. He didn't seem amused by her joke. "This area is blocked off. There's a rope and everything to keep people from snooping."

"Is there?" she mused. "Huh. Weird. I don't think I saw that."

"Are you drunk?"

She blew a raspberry with one last view at the drive before joining him on the couch. Her drink sloshed a bit, but she hardly noticed as she offered it to him. Smiling, she said, "water."

Tom turned his nose up at her. "At least if you spill that everywhere it won't ruin anything."

"It happened one time."

"Do you know how much I pay my interior designer?"

Parker set her water down onto the table with an eyeroll, but not one that missed the dangling windchimes or the birdfeeder in the corner. "Honestly, probably plenty, but I like your house, so it's worth it."

"Oh, you think it's worth it? Thank god. I was worried it wouldn't be to your taste," he snarked. It was unusually aggressive for him, though. Like he used to talk to her. Mean and cagey, with a bite to each syllable. "I'm not sure what I would do if my house didn't get your approval. Might have to buy a new one."

"O-kay," she drawled. "That was rude. What's up with you?"

"Nothing is up with me."

"Sure," she said with furrowed brows. He huffed at her tone, sneering. Awkwardly, Parker gestured between them. "Do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather keep acting like a passive aggressive dick?"

"Better idea. Why don't you just fuck off?" he snapped.

For a moment, Parker could only blink at him in surprise. He'd been an ass plenty of times before, but he'd never been this outrightly rude to her. She thought he might change his tone, hoped that he would admit it was all just a joke, but instead Tom just sat there with a glare.

And fuck if that didn't hurt.

"Alright, fine," she stood, throwing her hands up. Surprise flashed across his face, clearly not having expected her to give up so easily, but she was a grown women; friends or not, Parker did not linger where she wasn't wanted. Grabbing her purse, she said, "if you'd rather yell at me then I'm going to find Colt. I think we're going to leave soon anyway."

She crossed half the porch before Tom scoffed.

"Seriously? That's it? Fucking great. You're welcome for the invites, by the way. I'm sure you drank your worth at the open bar so you may as well leave like everyone else."

"That's not fair."

"Whatever," he waved a hand at her dismissively. "If you're going to go then just go. Now that you're done snooping around and drinking I'm not sure why'd you want to stay anyway."

She crossed her arms at him, breathing sharply through her nose, trying to level out just which emotion she was feeling the most. Hurt? Betrayal? Stupid?

"Well, what do you want me to do, Tom? Huh? If you're going to be an ass then I'm going to leave you alone because I don't deserve to be treated like that. Especially since you know I didn't come for free alcohol," she said, voice hitching. He looked away from her with a stony silence. Parker continued. "I came to celebrate you . But it's your house, and your party, so if this is how it's going to be I'm going to leave. Which is—that's fine if you'd rather be left alone, alright, that's not a sin to need some space—but you can't talk to me like that just because something upset you."

"I'm not upset."

She shook her head. "Well you're either upset or you're just an asshole."

"You made it very clear which you thought I was."

Parker ground her teeth together, knowing that there were quite a lot of things she could say to that, but also well aware that he was baiting her. Slowly, she took a deep breath before biting out, "I'm not sorry that I called you an asshole the first time we met because you were being one. But," she continued, shifting on her feet with an even deeper sigh, "I'm sorry that I keep calling you one. Alright? It was a joke. I thought you knew that I don't really think that. Well, didn't before right now."

He said nothing.

She sighed a second time, awkwardly adjusting her purse on the crook of her shoulder.

He wasn't looking at her. In fact, he was pointedly looking anywhere but at her as her words echoed across the balcony. They could still hear music drifting from the other side of the house, the occasional crunch of tires across gravel up the driveway, the chatter of happy, drunk people from all around.

Deciding not to linger she swallowed her pride to leave.

"...alright."

She paused, glancing over at him. "Alright, you want to be alone?"

He cleared his throat, still not looking directly at her, before he gestured to her vacated seat beside him. "Alright, you can stay."

Despite his apparent humility, Parker felt her temper flare at his wording a second time.

Who did he think he was?

"Oh, how gracious of you to let me stay. Thanks."

"What do you want me to say?" he shot back, finally looking at her. There was something in his gaze she wasn't used to seeing—something hurt and angry and lonely. She couldn't understand how someone could ever feel lonely at a party thrown in his honor. Then again, Parker supposed it wasn't really in his honor, was it? Sure, it was his face plastered everywhere, but the only people that she had seen him talk to were ones asking for something. He ran a hand through his hair. "If you want to stay then stay. You don't have to be so fucking difficult about it."

"I'm not being difficult, you're just in a mood."

"I'm not—" he started to refute, tension lingering in his words, before catching himself. She watched him take a deep breath, eyes studying something she couldn't see. He gestured to the seat next to him a second time. "Just... stay, alright?"

It wasn't an apology. It wasn't even close to an apology. He didn't meet her eyes, didn't take back what he had said, didn't change his tone.

And yet for a reason she couldn't pinpoint... she stayed.

Parker took a calming breath, glancing at the picturesque sky, reminding herself of the good mood and fun she had been having moments before this conversation. When she felt her pulse return to a normal level she sat back down, purse plopped against the table with a rattling thud. Tom was playing with some frayed thread from his jeans as if she wasn't even there.

The petty part of Parker argued that was fine by her. If he wanted to play the quiet game, than she could play the quiet game.

But the other part of Parker...

Well, it felt bad for him. Which was ridiculous. He was an A-list movie star with a Beverly Hills mansion that overlooked the city hosting a gigantic party to celebrate his latest movie contract. He was constantly the center of attention, constantly being catered to, constantly having people sing his praises not caring if he treated them like he had just treated her. He had his own fan club for fuck's sake.

What did he have to be upset over?

That wasn't fair though. Parker knew it wasn't. Tom had proven time and time again that his life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine; that he didn't get to do whatever he wanted, that he wasn't the same face she saw on advertisements.

"Was it Gail?" she asked quietly.

"What?"

"You were in a good mood earlier, when you were hanging out with us. I thought so, anyway. And then she came and pulled you away and I didn't see you for a while and now you're... well, you don't seem to be enjoying the party anymore. I just—did she say something? "

He frowned, tugging extra hard on the thread. "Just leave it, Parker."

"But—"

"Please," he muttered. It was the first time she had ever heard him say that word, and though he wasn't looking at her, she was pretty sure that there was something broken beneath his golden framed glasses. "Just leave it alone."

And oh if that didn't hurt worse than his attitude.

Parker pulled a knee up to her chest, tucking her chin on it. She had worn her hair down today, silky from a blow-out that Jody had helped her with just for this occasion, and it slid against her back as a breeze kicked up. From where she had haphazardly thrown her purse a pair of napkins fluttered to the ground.

"Okay, fine, we don't have to talk about it, but this is officially boring," she said when the silence continued to stretch on. She snatched up the crumpled wad of napkins, and Tom furrowed his brow at her as she flattened them out. "Alright. When is your birthday?"

"What?"

"August thirteenth, November seventh, or January twenty-first?"

He blinked between her and the napkin. "What?"

She huffed, waving the napkin like a flag. "It's trivia. Some of them, anyways. A lot of them are some very questionable quotes that we're definitely going to discuss later. But for now we can at least we can entertain ourselves with these."

"Why did you take, like, a hundred of them?"

She shrugged indifferently. "Sticky fingers," she said, and when Tom's mouth flickered ever so slightly at the corner, she pressed on. "So, anyway, when is your birthday? August, November, or January?"

"You don't know?"

"Why would I know when your birthday is?"

He shrugged, hand dropping the thread of his pants to pass through his hair. His fringe had been mussed throughout the afternoon, clearly a sign that he did that a lot, but he didn't seem to even notice. "Because I'm—"

"Ugh, don't even finish that thought," she moaned, rolling her eyes. He really had to be joking sometimes. "I'm going to guess... August?"

Tom shifted on the couch, shooting her a strange look. "How'd you know?"

"Good luck, I guess. What does that make you? A virgo?"

"Leo."

"Ah," she nodded, pretending that was interesting news to her. Parker didn't know shit about astrology, but she had heard Melissa talk about it enough to know at thing or two. With mock seriousness, she continued, "that makes sense, I guess. Leo's are all about self-confidence and actualization. The sign of royalty. Some say that Julius Caesar was a Leo."

"Really?"

Parker shot him a look, brows arched towards her hairline. "I don't fucking know, astrology is total bullshit," she snickered, chucking the crumpled napkin at him. It fluttered into his lap, and he didn't look all that impressed at he set it onto the side table. Still, his mouth twitched again. The next napkin was stained with something pink. "What is your favorite sport? Basketball, hockey, or baseball?"

"Shouldn't I be reading the questions?"

"I'm not letting you dig through my purse, perv," she said. He looked scandalized by the comment, and when she started to laugh, Tom shook his head at her. She nudged his leg with her shoe. "Besides, they're my napkins."

"That I paid for."

She steamrolled on, pursing her mouth thoughtfully. "Well, I think basketball is a stupid sport, so not that. Mhmmm... hockey?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "...did you read these already?"

"So I'm right?" she asked, and with the grace of a sore loser, Tom pursed his mouth irritably. Parker pumped a fist in the air victoriously, wiggling her brows at him, and when his mouth crested into a smile, she waved the napkin in his face with the grace of a sore winner. "Ha! I'm starting to think we should put money down on the next one."

He forced the smile away with an eye roll. "Do you have money to bet?"

"Well... I'm sure there's a couple dollars somewhere in my purse. Colt always has at least twenty on him."

"Don't go betting your brother's money just yet, huh? These are easy questions."

"Easy?" she blustered.

"Everyone likes hockey."

"Everyone—baseball is literally an American sport! Everyone likes baseball!"

He ignored her, waving a flippant hand at her stack of napkins. Parker stuck her tongue out at him, tossing aside that question, to search for the next. Half the napkins she had stashed were ones with quotes, all of which were equally ridiculous, and she carefully set them into a pile on the table so she could take them home.

For comedic purposes, obviously. She wanted to stash them around Colt's apartment. She was pretty sure he would lose his mind if Jody thought he was secretly a Tom Ryder super fan.

Finding one that did have a question, she adjusted in her seat in anticipation. "Alright, alright, here's another one," she said. "What is Tom Ryder's favorite move? Fight Club, October Sky, or Pulp Fiction?"

Shit. She really didn't know for this one.

Parker narrowed her eyes at him, turning so they were facing one another directly, shoes wiggling as she tucked them underneath herself. He didn't give anything away; just met her steadfast through the tint of his glasses, no hints given, and when he raised a brow, she just knew that he was expecting her to fail.

"...Pulp Fiction?"

Tom made a face. "Okay, you're looking these up."

"Was that right?"

"Does the napkin have the answer?"

"What—no!"

"Well, you're cheating!"

" Ah—I'm not cheating!" she laughed just as he stretched over to grab the napkin out of her hand. The answers were on the back of the napkins, but she hadn't been looking at them. However, if he saw that, he would never believe her. So, as Tom grappled with her, shoving her free arm out of the way as her back dug into the armrest, Parker stretched as far as she could manage through an eruption of giggles. "You're going to—break my—arm! Ah!"

He was warm—always warm—as his chest pressed into hers, and when his fingers scraped the edge of the napkin, she twisted her shoulder back as far as it would go if only just to make him work for it a little bit harder.

Okay, so maybe she did like to be difficult. Sue her.

Tom pressed closer, stretching, laughing, as she wedged her knee against his chest to push. "Just give me the napkin!"

"No!"

"Because you were cheating?"

His hand skimmed the curve of her waist as he attempted to pull her entire body closer, and she shrieked from the ticklish feeling. That only had Tom trying twice as hard, aware that he was going to come out victorious, and in the energy of a little sister that never liked to lose, Parker pressed her free hand against his chest before chucking the napkin into the air. It caught on the breeze within seconds, and when it angled towards the edge of the balcony, Tom's hand tangled in her hair as he tried to grab it. Of course, she knew that was coming, and with all her might Parker wrapped her arm around his shoulder to pull him down towards her.

"No, no, no—!"

They became a tangle of limbs and laughter as he made a last ditch effort to grab the sailing napkin, and just when she thought he might snatch it, there was a rattle and the sound of a glass shattering against the floor.

They froze.

Together, they glanced down at the floor to find her glass broken in half, water seeping into the rug.

"Are you kidding—"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, barely able to speak through the laughter racking her chest. "It's just water!"

"That's the second time."

"Both of them were your fault!"

"How was the other time my fault?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, fulling cackling now, still pressed tightly against his chest; tighter still because every time Tom laughed he edged further into her personal space. The napkin was long gone by now, but neither of them moved besides the way his hand shifted warmly along her waist. "Maybe because I wouldn't have spilled it if you hadn't scared the shit out of me!"

Tom laughed at her accusation. It was carefree, loud, head tipped back to show the curve of his neck where a necklace dangled, the silver chain cold against her own flushed skin.

"I was a little preoccupied," he defended. "And I didn't expect someone to barge in on me!"

"I didn't barge."

"You did."

"I don't barge," she continued to deflect, crinkling her nose at the word. Slowly, their laughter died down as she swallowed. "I, you know, prance. Like women do, but I definitely don't... ahem, barge."

Whatever fire she had fueling her defense seeped away as Parker finally realized just how close Tom was to her.

They were pressed tightly against one another on the small loveseat, hair mussed from their wrestling, sunglasses somewhere on the floor. She could smell his cologne from how his collarbone was exposed to her, buttons undone, skin roiling hot and tan beneath the shirt. Parker's own jean jacket was hanging off one shoulder, her own necklace tangled at the nape of her neck, chest catching with soft laughter and something else too.

She remembered the first time she had ever laid eyes on Tom.

She had been speechless from how handsome he was in real life; thinking of him only as a thing that was flaunted in advertisements and on tv, and not as a person. Then there was when she found him in Gail's bathroom, shirt gone, chest glistening with sweat and rippling muscles. When he had called her in a rough voice, when he showed up at her store to insult it and then ask for a favor, when he had driven her to Colt's birthday party with wind blowing through his fringe as they listened to Sabrina Carpenter's latest hit on the radio, the way he glowed in the firelight.

For a long time now there had been two Toms in her life. The one she met back on day one, with a huge ego and blisteringly white teeth, that she thought was an uptight asshole, who had just lashed out at her for no real reason. And then there was the one that she laughed with, teased in a way she doubted anyone else did, sharing secrets and talking about things like sci-fi books and birthday parties while they sipped coffee and beer.

And now, as she blinked up at him with flushed cheeks, she came to the startling realization that it wasn't two versions of the same person, but one person that had developed a second skin to survive a world that didn't see him as anything other than a dollar sign.

A person who was lying above her, piercing eyes drifting over the freckles on her nose to the curve of her mouth.

"Just tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

He swallowed, gaze pulled back up to meet her eyes. She felt weightless, as if she was drunk, but it wasn't because of the alcohol. Tom licked his lips. "Did you cheat?" he asked.

She huffed. Her breath ruffled the loose fringe on his forehead. "No," she shook her head slowly, knowing just by the look in his eye that whatever she said was important to him. "No, I didn't cheat. I just... you told me your birthday at Colt's party, and you have a hockey jersey hanging in the hallway."

"And Pulp Fiction?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I guess... it just felt like a movie you'd like."

That look from before returned; the one she couldn't decipher, that had his eyes paradoxically darkening and opening at the same time. Maybe she had been right before. Maybe he was lonely. But as Tom looked at her, breath mingling with her own, she couldn't help but hope that he was starting to realize he wasn't.

"You know you can talk to me... right?" she muttered, licking her lips. "I mean, I know you probably have plenty of other more important people in your life that you can talk to, and I'm not trying to pry, but I just hope that you know that I'm here if—"

And just like that, Tom Ryder kissed her.

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 14

Masterlist

Summary: After y/n hears her two boyfriends talking about leaving her she spirals into memory lane. Fortunatley the two pilots can catch her before she falls deeper.

Trigger Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI!, past abusive relationship, some memories of previous abuse, migraine, blood, injury, au and ooc, poly relationship

A/N: I needed a bit angst and hurt in this chapter, sorry for that. Please let me know what you think and reblog if you want other readers to enjoy the story.

Word Count: 2.8k +

A loud shattering is stopping Jake and Bradley's conversation. Both men turn around in the direction of the sudden noise.

"Y/n!" Rooster shouts clearly shocked. The man's loud shout and the noise from breaking the glass vaults her right back to a time she so dearly hoped to be over and long forgotten. The sound of glass breaking was always a surety of an upcoming beating. Especially when she broke something. But on not so rare occasions her ex destroyed breakable pieces, in that case she always was quick to clean up the mess he made to avoid or better say lessen the inevitable pain whether from his fists or his words. Absolutely terrified she looks down to her feet, million pieces of broken glass surrounding her figurative for her broken heart. Will she ever be enough for another human being? Will there be a time when she isn't acting like a complete failure? Probably not.

"I- I…" Y/n's head is racing, she needs to clean up the mess otherwise it's going to be bad. She looks like a deer in the headlights, her gaze jumping from the broken glass on the floor to the two men at the kitchen island. "I- clean it…" The young woman stumbles over her words, the tremble of her hands slowly flowing into her whole body.

"No, no sweetheart, don't move. You gonna hurt…" Jake tries to gain y/n's attention but sprints into her direction at the same time.

She just hears static, the voice of the blonde aviator doesn't reach her subconsciousness so she takes a step forwards to bend down and clean up as her ex taught her, as fast as possible, as clean as possible, no complaining. Her legs are shaking so badly she nearly falls face first into the mess of shards when she feels two strong arms lifting her up. She squeals out of surprise and fear. The strong arms are hoisting her up, supporting her whole weight and entangle themselves under her bum, forcing her legs to wrap around the warm body that is carrying her away. She shuts her eyes tightly afraid to see the pure rage in the man's eyes. What had she done? Why is she screwing up so badly?

"Fuck, princess… Jake, she's bleeding, sit her down on the counter." Rooster speaks in a gentle yet panicked tone when he sees the blood dripping down onto the floor.

She feels her calves hitting something hard before Jake sets her on the kitchen counter but makes no move to release his gentle grasp he has on her. She shudders when her bare legs make contact with the cold stone of the countertop. In a protective manner and to keep some of her warmth she wraps her arm around herself, hugs them to her trembling body.

"Baby, look at me. Please open those beautiful eyes." Jake is so close to her she can smell his minty toothpaste and the faint odor of his shower gel but she can't open her eyes, too afraid of what might wait for her when she looks into his face. His hands wander from her waist to her face softly cupping her pale cheeks. A jolt runs through his body when she flinches and tries to hide her face from him.

"Babygirl, we're not gonna hurt you and we're not breaking up with you. Please look at me." The blonde aviator pleads, he needs to explain everything to her. He and Bradley need to explain it to her. His heart is breaking for the young woman in front of him. He knows of her past, knows that she was in an abusive relationship, but with every reaction she shows during a stressful or new situation another piece of the puzzle is adding up, creating a crueler picture of what she survived at the hands of her evil ex.

A warm hand touching her shoulder, she knows this touch. It's Rooster's hand. She always wonders how he can be so gentle with these big hands, hands that only ever brought her love, tenderness and passion.

"Princess, Jakey is right. Please look at us and let me see this foot of yours, you're bleeding. Please let us help you. We've never hurt you and sure as hell never going to in the future. We love you, princess." Bradley's voice cracks at the end a lump forming in his throat, tears threatened to spill out of his brown eyes. If he ever gets the chance to meet this monster that dared to lay a hand on the wonderful woman in front of him, he's going to kill him. With a deep breath he tries to calm himself and once more hide the pure rage he's feeling.

A sob is echoing through the open kitchen and finally the small woman opens her eyes to look at the two aviators who are towering over her. Jake doesn't waste any more time and cradles y/n's head into his broad chest, whispering words of endearment into her ear. Her breathing is increasing and already way too fast.

"Shh, baby. You're safe with us, always. We love you y/n, we love you so much." Slowly rocking her body back and forth, stroking her back and feeling her calm down a bit. The last thing they need right now is her spiraling further down ending in a full blown panic attack.

"I'm so sorry." She breathes out fisting Jake's shirt into her hands to ground herself. "I didn't want to eavesdrop or making a mess. I'm sorry…"

As if on cue Bradley takes a step to his lovers, stroking the smaller woman's back gently.

"Please, princess. Don't apologize. This is not on you. Please let us explain, we're not going to break up. Can I- can I have a look at your foot, it's bleeding really heavy." The brunette pilot explains in a worried voice. He knew that they have to calm her down at first before he can patch her up or even have a closer look on her injury. But when he sees that there's a steady flow of blood dripping from her foot onto the floor he knows he has to stop the bleeding and that fast.

Y/n nods her head and drops her gaze to her injured foot. A whimper tumbles out of her mouth, color immediately draining form her face when she sees the amount of blood on the floor. Her vision becomes fuzzy and wave of dizziness is hitting her. It’s not that she is overly sensitive when she sees blood but the whole situation hits too close to home. The blood drops steadily dripping on the floor, the small puddle that has already been formed, the broken glass, the fear, it all remembers her of the night her ex decided to use a knife against her.

"It's okay. Roo-y is going to help you." Jake tucks her face back into his chest kissing her head softly. He can see her rapid pulse on her carotid and feels her body swaying in his arms.

"Okay, there's no shard in the cut, but I need to bandage it. It's rather deep, but hopefully it will not need stitches. I pack a gauze on it and then Jake will carry you to the couch, so you can lay down when I look for smaller shards and stop the bleeding. Alright my love?" Bradley suggests. He too saw her pale complexion after she had a look at the amount of blood on the kitchen floor and he doesn’t feel any better seeing his love bleeding.

When Maverick requested Rooster to take a young woman in and let her live with him and Jake in their house, he was more than suspicious. Who just lets a complete stranger into their house? And why is Mav so anxious to give that unfamiliar woman a safe place to stay at the base? So after a long conversation Pete finally came out with it and showed Bradley the file the Navy had about her. Of course they had to check her background thoroughly even with Mitchell bailing for the young woman, after all she would work with highly classified data as an IT-specialist. Rooster saw the police report of the fateful night her ex nearly killed her. He saw the pictures the big puddle of blood she laid in. The bloody handprints on the kitchen table where she tried to keep her body upright after the attack. He saw the amount of destruction her ex did on the whole interior of their apartment. He stopped reading in the middle of the police report when they explained her multiple injuries and how she had several old injuries from previous beatings. Nearly every rib in her body has been broken at some point of her life, old and new bruises littered her body. From that day Bradley swore he will do everything in his power to protect this young and beautiful woman.

---

Finally laying on the couch with her head in Jake's lap and her legs on Bradley's thighs, slightly elevated to reduce the bleeding further and to gain back some color in her face. The shock of hearing that her two lovers talk about leaving her, the flashback of past memories and the blood loss now fully taking in leaving her drained and slightly nauseous. She fights to keep her eyes open but with Jake massaging her head and Bradley slowly stroking her calves makes it hard for her to stay awake. Before y/n can fully slip into a deep slumber she suddenly startles up with a loud gasp, her heart thundering painfully in her ribcage.

"Work…we have to go, we will be late." In a panic she untangles her leg out of Bradley's soft grip and sits up in a rush.

"Hey easy, Babygirl." Jake brushes his hand over her back gripping her shoulders slightly to prevent her from standing up. All color has left her face once more with her sudden action and her heart beating way too fast from the initial shock.

The brunette pilot cautiously changed his position and sits down on the hardwood coffee table to be directly in front of the panting woman afraid she would fall face first into the table. "We don't have to work today, princess. We called the base that you are not coming in today. With your migraine yesterday Mav even insisted you staying at home today and tomorrow. We all care for you." He tells her while holding both her hands in his stroking softly with his thumbs over her knuckles. His warm brown eyes looking directly into hers.

"But what about you… And- I-…you leaving?" The young woman asks confused in nothing more than a whisper.

Jake places a soft kiss on her temple to let her know that there is nothing to be afraid of. He wants her to be calm and feel safe when they explain to her why they have to leave in two days. Bradley locks eyes with his partner silently agreeing that he will break the news to their girlfriend.

"Princess, Jake and I are going on a mission. We have to teach and train the crew of an aircraft carrier. So, no real war mission, just us playing bad instructor, good instructor." He explained in a light tone winking at Jake who sits beside y/n stroking her thigh which is touching his upper leg.

"You don't break up with me? I'm so stupid… I'm sorry." The young woman looks down in embarrassment. She can't believe how stupid she is. She listened to a conversation and assumed all wrong, destroyed a glass, cut her foot and nearly had a full blown panic attack.

Jake says her name to get her attention, with cautious movements he puts his finger under chin tilting her head. Deeply looking into the eyes he had fallen for a long time ago, he softly kisses her plumps lips. The blonde aviator may look like a cocky bitch to outsiders, like a guy with too much self-consciousness who can't seem to shut up even if his life depends of it, but deep down he's an affectionate lover who wants to show all his love he feels for y/n and Bradley with his actions. He wants her to feel all his love before he uses his words to explain everything further.

"I- I'm sorry for eavesdropping and breaking the glass. I didn't want to make a mess…" She shudders at the thought of the breaking glass. "Ehm, in the past…breaking something always meant that - that he got mad at me. One time, he shoved me into the shards of a broken mug, sliced my entire hand. I bled so heavily that - I must've passed out and when I woke up there was a big puddle of blood… he beat me into a pulp before bringing me into the ER. Telling the doctors and nurses that I fell down the stairs with a mug in my hand." With a wavering voice y/n tells her boyfriends one of her many bad memories. Jake puts his right arm over her shoulders supporting her body with his broad frame. He can feel her trembling and when he takes a look at Bradley he sees the brunette pinching his eyes shut as he wants to get rid of the pictures y/n created with her story.

"The stupid clumsy girlfriend…that what he called me."

Rooster takes her left into his own inspecting the scar from where she had sliced her hand in the past. He places soft kisses in the palm like wants to kiss away her pain. All pain she's ever endured.

"Sweetheart, you're not stupid. You're the most intelligent, beautiful, sweet and sexy woman we've ever laid our eyes on. Of course we're not breaking up with you. We're just out on a small and uncomplicated mission. Like Roo-y said, a bit training here a bit teaching there."

Y/n let's out a sigh they're not really leaving her, even with her baggage they're still loving her. How does she deserve these two?

"When do you have to leave?" She asks while turning her head to look at Rooster.

"We're flying out in two days. Mav said we will be away for roughly two weeks. I'm sorry, princess. We really don't want to leave you here on your own. We will miss you. Jake really wanted to strangle the Admiral."

"I'm going to be okay. Just please come back in one piece, both of you. I- I love you!" She says, breathing the last three words, the most important words of the day. "Can we cuddle, before you have to leave?" The young woman suggests as she batts her eyelashes. Everything is going to be okay and two weeks will be over before she knows.

---

With y/n still recovering from her migraine attack the two pilots let her sleep on the couch after she fell asleep cuddled in between her boyfriends. So they make use of the time by preparing their departure. Even if they most likely don't need much if any civvies they have to pack and organize some things.

Small hands sneaking around Rooster's muscular body, bringing him out of his concentration. He turns around and envelopes y/n in a tight and lovely hug.

"I thought Jake and I made ourselves clear when we said that you're absolutely not allowed to wander around in the house with your injured foot." He mumbles against her head while placing soft kisses in her silky hair.

"I missed my boys. I needed a hug. You just sneaked out on me and left me alone on the couch na-" Y/n squeals when the brunette hoists her up with a firm grip on her bum.

"You, my dear woman, will be the death of us." Bradley jokes before he captures her lips in a passionate kiss, nibbling at her plump upper lip, eliciting a breathy moan out the young woman's mouth when he grinds his groin into hers.

Another set of hands sneaks around both of them kissing Bradley and Y/n on their cheeks.

"What did I miss?" The blonde aviator asks in a flirtatious tone.

"Well Lieutenant Commander Seresin, Miss y/ln went against direct orders." Bradley teases in a playful but dangerous tone.

Jake clicks his tongue, bringing his chest flush to the back of the smaller woman who is still clinging to the other pilot. "Miss y/ln, is that the truth? What do we do with such a tease, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?" His teeth softly grazing and nibbling y/n's sensitive neck, making her squirm in the other pilots hold.

"Well, Seresin. I guess we should think about an appropriate punishment." Bradley whispers seductively when he turns around and lets the woman gently out of his arms and onto the bed, soon following her and laying beside their girlfriend. She protests, missing already the touch of both her men. Jake lets himself plop on the other side of the squirming girl immediately stealing a heated kiss from her already kiss-swollen lips.

@djs8891

@darksparklesficrecs

[shaarlslec]

birthday flowers

words: 2345

requested by anon: "every year on her birthday, someone leaves flowers and a gift on her doorstep before the clock strikes midnight"

notes: hi! there was no name for the request but i totally pictured this cute idea with mick and i hope you like it this way! <3; just pure fluff, and nothing else;

masterlist

You were in awe each time you kissed him that your stomach still twirled in twists as if your mouths never knew each other until then.

It is your 26th birthday party, and you have decided at Mick’s pleadings to host it at your favorite restaurant.

You opposed at first, all you wanted was a small casual party in your apartment, and yet your boyfriend insisted for days to bring all your friends and family there assuring you that he is going to organize every single little detail.

You never had been able to resist those big blue gentle eyes begging something from you, therefore Mick’s request could not be ignored.

Arrived there, seeing the whole place filled with all giggles, chuckles and smiles, dancing hands in the air and clicks of glasses, friends, and families all together indulging in food and drinks, you were more than satisfied with the whole idea of hosting the party in there rather than your apartment which would have been heavily crowded with even this little people. 

“You were right,” You say at Mick’s ear as you tightened the distance in between your bodies, dancing on some slow blues song playing, “This was the better choice,” You continue, hands around your boyfriend’s neck as you lose your fingers in the boy’s blonde locks, “Thank you for renting it out, no more gifts aside from this party – have I made myself understood?” You speak, trying to sound as demanding as you can, but losing it instantly as Mick locks lips with yours, smiling into the kiss. 

You chuckle too, a rush thought entering your mind as you taste the sweetest laid still on the top of your lips after Mick departs. This is everything you dreamed of. You have someone to slow dance with, giggle after a short clash of lips and for whose taste to still linger although you’ve known it for almost ten years now. You were in awe each time you kissed him that your stomach still twirled in twists as if your mouths never knew each other until then. Mick too, was stunned, as he always is, by the sound of your laughs so close to his ears sounding better than any evergreen blues tunes.  

“Yes, sure.” Mick nudge, and you can tell by the way his corners lift in a smirk that he is full-blown lying into your face, “No more gifts.” He smiles, and you amusingly shake your head knowing it is all lies. 

You cup his cheeks to kiss him again, and the song stops. The only thing surrounding you now are your friends’ murmurs, “Take your cuteness somewhere else, please.” One of them pleads, you and Mick rolling your eyes at his words. 

“Oh please,” Another one interrupts, watching you as you swirl your arm around Mick’s and lean your head against the man’s shoulder, “They’ve been like this since high school, they cannot keep their hands off each other.” She continues, eyeing Mick as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. 

“Cannot help it.” Mick says, fingers tightening into yours as another song starts playing and he beats the taps on the back of your hand, “I mean,” Your boyfriend stops and stares at you head to toes, “Who could?” He sarcastically intones, and you cannot help yourself but timidly smile like in any other times when he compliments you in front of other people. Yes, it had been years – and still.

One of Mick’s friends drags his arm around your boyfriend’s neck after you thank him in a whisper, and you both turn into their direction as he speaks, “Let me tell you something about these two love birds right here, folks.” He begins, rousing curious glares from everybody around you as the one who speaks is Mick’s best friend, one of the few people who had been witnessing your relationship from start to now, and one of yours and Mick’s biggest fans while also being the one who’s been rolling his eyes the hardest at every little corny interaction in between the two of you, “I have never knew that someone can be so smitten over a girl until Mick met our birthday girl right here.” He says, spilling a few drops of wine from his glass as he points at you, “Does everybody here know the flowers story?” He inquires in loud voice to grab the attention on your conversation, “It is one of my favorite love stories, and as a hopeless romantic – I have heard them all.” He speaks, departing from Mick to join the people in front the two of you who were unaware of the tell. 

You and Mick laugh – the story was your favorite too. You have plenty, ten years together gave you lots of stories to tell. Some romantic, some hilarious, and some hurtful. And yet, the story of the innocent twelve-years old Mick leaving flowers at your door before midnight on your birthday for the first time was your most special one. 

You’ve lived next to Mick Schumacher for the eternity of your life. Your families knew each other, and they often got invited for lunches, dinners, barbeques, birthday parties and so on. You two were the same age, thus your families always paired you two in sharing toys, watching television, or simply running after each other in the yard. You were against the idea at first as two stubborn children, and yet with time and a lot of patience from your parents, you’ve learned to share your favorite coloring books and trucks, splash each other with water balloons and talk about what shapes the clouds in the sky have. 

Mick was the first one to figure out that the girl who visited their home during the weekends was not simply his neighbor – he was falling in love without even knowing what love is or why his cheeks turned red when you kissed him goodbye. Mick started small, stealing all kind of flowers from the back yard of his house and leaving them in front of your door for your birthday, and that was only because you told him one time to not step on the flowers planted in the backyard because they might, as well as you and him, have some sort of a soul inside for them to blossom in such pretty colors. 

“So, do you think that their colors match their souls?” Little Mick asked you then, both of you carefully analyzing the flowers in his backyard.  

You nodded, “That is the only explanation.” You spoke with the strongest belief a twelve-years-old child could have into your tone, “They are all so pretty – I cannot pick one.” You added, pointing to the little field of flowers ahead of you. 

Mick pondered your theory for a while, “What color do you think our souls are, then?” He asked, looking at your face with attention now as he was analyzing all the colors on your face: your skin, your rosy cheeks, your hair, and the pink of your lips – getting all flustered as you caught him staring. 

“All of them, I think.” You replied with another nod, “I mean – I am pretty sure yours is a rainbow.” You judged for a while, taking the boys’ cheeks into your hands, “With a whole lot of blue in it, that is for sure.” You added with a smile, watching his clear blue-sky eyes searching for more shades of pink on your face. 

That was when the little boy felt the urge for the first time to kiss you, without having no idea about what that meant. Yes, Mick has seen his parents kiss, and tight their hands around each other’s bodies, and laugh at incompressible jokes. That afternoon in the garden is when Mick had decided that you were the person with whom he wanted to do all those things, having no idea that there was a learning curve in all of that. Therefore, Mick pursed the idea in the years that followed by letting you know thinly about his little crush, being too shy to confess his feelings before ever knowing what a confession was. 

Your parents were the ones to watch him struggling with silently jumping over your common fence to leave the flowers at the entrance of your house. The next day after watching you happily jumping around after receiving flowers from “a secret admirer” (as your parents' told you), they went and told Mick’s parents'. For whole years your parents were thrilled of Mick’s act in all its cuteness, and they complotted for you to never find out until you figured out for yourself that you were in love with Mick too on your own, without any interference from the adults in your life. 

That happened four years after that, four years during which the flowers never stop arriving at your door for your birthday accompanied by small gifts such as electric trucks, coloring books and all the things Mick knew you liked. 

“Mom,” You spoke with a frail voice, watching Mick helping his father water the plants in the garden across the fence, “How do you know you are in love?” You questioned, eyeing Mick’s upper body completely uncovered, feeling your knees getting weak as the boy waved at you from the garden. 

Your mother caught your glare, as well as your teeth jabbing into your upper lip waving back at your “friend”, “I think you already know, darling.” She spoke, eyebrows amusingly twitching up, “I think you should stay up tonight, and that is how you will find out for sure.” She teased, returning to her book as you pulled yours closed to your chest following the cutest boy next door with your glare who was quick in stealing your glance on him, and even quicker to throw you a cheeky smile. 

You listened to your mother that night before your birthday, hopping that your senses were right and that the one to leave flowers at your door was no one else but him. Turning off the lights, you unwearyingly watched the porch from your window with your heart up to your throat that almost erupted when you spotted the boy’s silhouette into the dim darkness of your house.   

Legs rushed almost as fast as the beats of your heart down the stairs, waking up your parents in the process. They chuckled in their bed, “Mick’s here.” Your mother spoke, agreeing to go back to sleep in a minute or so as they knew that their daughter is in safe hands, and that she will forever be in the saftest that there exist. 

You opened the door wide just to collide with Mick’s startled figure after carefully placing on the mat the most exquisite bouquet of flowers you have ever seen or received. All shapes and colors, odors, and perfumes in front of you. The one in which you wanted to engulf the most was Mick’s, still. 

“Hi.” Mick’s shaky spoke, “I –” He blocked, stumbling on each word that was on his mind. A confession – that was all Mick had to do. And yet, you were standing so beautifully there in front of him with such an inebriating smile up to your ears, “I—” Mick tried again, and now was interrupted by your hurdling arms around him, holding him the closer to you that the boy has ever been. 

“I knew that it was you.” You murmured, head buried at Mick’s chest as his hands awkwardly wrapped against your body too, “I wished for my secret admirer to be you this whole time.” You confessed, head up now to watch him staring back at you with bright flickers inside those eyes of his. 

Mick laughed, placing one of his palms against your cheek with care as if there was something to break on your face, “I am glad you liked the flowers, and the other gifts.” 

You nodded, “What you got me this year besides the flowers?” You inquired, tiptoeing close to the boy’s mouth, the rosiness of his cheeks turning bright red. 

The secret admirer shyly so tittered again, “I thought about something different this year.” He gulped leaning towards you, “May I kiss you?” Mick asked, uncaging the butterflies from your stomach through your whole being.

You nodded right away, “Please do so.” You spoke, your lips brushing against Mick’s for the first time. 

Mick never stopped kissing you since then, and you never stopped enjoying every single brush of lips that provoked twists of stomachs and tingles on tips of your fingers. Even now, as Mick’s lips rest on your shoulder in the back of the car driving you home, you feel the tingles and all the emotions that have not faded since you were sixteen. You were living your teenage dream again, and again, and again with the one who thought you love. 

“That was fun.” You speak, watching Mick unlocking the door of your apartment, “And yet, I cannot wait to just take this dress off and jump into bed – completely naked, but completely tired.” You whimper in almost a sob after a short sly wink towards him, and Mick cannot help but be swept of his feet as he hears your little complains and attempt of flirting. 

“Not yet.” He speaks, switching the light on your hall waiting for you to gasp at the sight of your apartment. 

Flowers, everywhere. 

All kind, all shapes and all colors waiting for you two to step into the living room. You cover your mouth with both of your hands, you were basically walking into a huge floor shop that has moved into the apartment, “Mick, these are –” You breathlessly try to speak as you figure out that were the exact type of flowers that Mick’s mother grew in her backyard, the ones that they boy stolen from you throughout the years you were neighbors.

Mick hugs you from behind, placing a kiss underneath your left ear into which he whispers, “You said you cannot pick one, so I bought them all.” Mick murmurs, sending tingles throughout your spine with one more kiss, “Happiest of birthdays, from your not-so-secret admirer.” 

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 2

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Daisy meets the rest of the Daggers and one cocky pilot finds himself experiencing a first.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“I don’t want to go,” I whined, packing up the individual bags of cookies I had made for dagger squad, Penny, and Maverick who were all going to be at the Hard Deck. Natasha was determined to get me out to the bar in something other than pajamas, holding up a denim mini skirt I hadn’t worn since college and black tank top.

“You’re going, I’ll buy you as many shots of tequila as it requires to get you to stay.” Tequila. My weakness. I ran a hand through my hair, glaring at the tiny skirt.

“I don’t even know if my ass still fits in that.”

“Just put it on, we’re leaving in ten.” I grabbed the outfit, grumbling in protest. 

Much to my surprise, the skirt did fit. Barely. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be playing pool in it because if I bent over to take a shot, my whole ass would be out. I threw on a red lip and some black cowgirl boots, slipping a book and a notebook into my bag just in case I needed a reprieve.

“Is your fine ass ready to go?” Natasha shouted up the stairs, “We’re going to be late!”

“Oh no, I’d never want to be late for something I didn’t want to do in the first place.” Natasha rolled her eyes at me, pulling me out of the apartment as quickly as her legs would take us. “I am going to drain your bank account with the amount of tequila I’m about to drink, Tasha.”

“Do your worst, Daisy.”

The bar was loud and filled with too many people for my liking. True to her word, Natasha bought me two shots of tequila and a beer to kick off the night before we even got to the table where all her friends were hanging out.

“Daisy!” Rooster shouted in greeting and Bob gave me a small salute. What the hell did they put in the water around here? There were three more handsome guys with the group, all of which offered me a smile and a once over.

“Hey, guys. You must be Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote. Natasha’s told me about you all.” 

“All bad things?” The man I recognized from the pictures as Fanboy guessed, chewing on a toothpick.

“Always,” Natasha slugged him on the shoulder. “Where’s Bagman?”

“Right, here. Hey, darlin, thanks for the lasagna.” A heavy arm draped over my shoulder, pulling me in for a kiss on the forehead.

“Um, hi.” I looked up, swaying a little when I saw him. Phoenix hadn’t shown me any pictures of Hangman, claiming they weren’t close enough to have any pictures together. He was tall, blonde, with a jaw sharp enough to cut glass with, staring down at me with pretty green eyes. “Glad you liked it.” My voice was far too soft and breathy to be considered normal. Hangman winked and my whole face flushed red. “Tasha.” 

“That’s enough, Bagman.” Natasha tugged me from his side, “First Rooster and now you, I told your animals to behave around her.” Hangman and Rooster shared looks of mock offense, grinning.

“I’m behaving,” Bob piped up, a mouthful of peanuts.

“Yes, thank you, Bob, you’re behaving.” Natashja sat me between her and Bob at the table, keeping an arm around my waist.

“I’m behaving too, Phoenix,” Coyote grinned, leaning across the table. “See? Listen, Daisy, are you liking it in Cali so far?”

“It’s a little hot but the change in scenery is nice, have some cookies.” I dug into my bag, “Chocolate chip or M&M?” 

“You made cookies?” Fanboy nearly spilled his beer. “I can be good too! You’re a writer, right, Daisy?” 

“M&M, please.” Coyote immediately dug in.

“I am, do you want M&M too?” The whole group started asking me questions, being rewarded with their own bag of cookies. Natasha teased that I was treat-training them like a pack of wild dogs. 

Eventually, my newness wore off and the group separated. Hangman and Coyote went for darts and the rest went for the pool table. After a few more shots and a dance around the floor with Rooster, Bob, and Coyote, I finally escaped from Phoenix long enough to grab my notebook. There was a new character in my head, speaking softly about what she saw and what she wanted. 

The words flowed freely, blue ink cursive neatly filling page after page. My publisher was going to be giddy at the prospect of another series, I could already hear her excited laughter ringing in my ears, followed by the click of her gold cigarette lighter. I smoke menthols, the unnamed character whispered to me, and I drink my coffee black. A tough woman, an agency legacy. FBI? CIA? NCIS. I chuckled softly, glancing up at all the uniforms drinking around me. I should have seen that one coming. 

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” Hangman’s southern drawl broke my concentration, the still nameless woman slipping away back into my imagination. Damn it. “You bite your bottom lip.” 

“You must have lost at darts if you were paying that much attention to me, pretty boy.” Hangman’s smirk morphed into a grin, making him even prettier than before, which was a problem. My stomach fluttered in a way that was concerning to feminism.

“If that’s supposed to be an insult, I don’t understand how. I’m the prettiest boy in this goddamn state.” And he was, I laughed, forcing myself to look away from him and back at my notebook. “What are you writing?”

“A new-” Hangman slid into the booth next to me, his warm, masculine scent filling the space around us. “Um,” What was I saying again? He was watching me squirm, sipping on his beer as my blush deepened. “I got a new idea and I had to write it down before I lost it.” Hangman’s eyes flickered to the notebook and I quickly flipped it shut.

“Even your handwriting is pretty, darlin. Almost as pretty as your cooking,” The line itself didn’t make sense but his delivery made it work.

“You like my cooking?” 

“I like everything about you, Daisy,” He slid even closer. Hangman was just as confident and flirty as Natasha had warned me and despite how pretty he was and how into me he seemed, I didn’t buy his interest for a second. I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand.

“You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?” Hangman’s brow scrunched in confusion, “The whole hot aviator hitting on me every thirty seconds is just too much.” Hangman sat back, watching me laugh until I couldn’t breath, his eyebrows raised. 

“Are you done, darlin?” I held up a finger, trying to catch my breath. “You know, I think this is the first time a woman’s ever cracked up at my flirting.” 

“Happy to be your first, Hangman.” I pushed his shoulder, filing the fact that his muscles felt extremely soft to the touch in a filing cabinet deep within my brain never to be opened. 

“Well, if hot shot Hangman isn’t your speed, then hi.” He held out his hand, his eyes going soft, “I’m Jake Seresin, thank you for sending me dinner last night. It was the best meal I’ve eaten since Christmas.” Oh. Oh. 

“Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Daisy Prentiss and I’ll cook whenever you’d like.” 

“Now who’s flirting?” 

“It’s not flirting,” Okay, it was a little bit of flirting, I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll feed the rest of the daggers too.” Jake smiled and this time it wasn’t cocky or flirting, it was soft and genuine.

“I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

X

I watched closely as Hangman sat with Daisy, convincing her to drink water between shots of tequila, which were actually water because he was filling the shot glass with it every time she looked away. I’d never admit it but they looked like a happy couple, having a night out on the town. 

“I’ve never seen him look at a woman like that,” Coyote sidled up to me at the bar, offering me a beer. “Hangman is nowhere in sight.” 

“I’ll beat the shit out of him if he hurts her, Javy.” His pinky brushed mine and I had to fight a smile.

“I’ll hold him down for you.”

Next Chapter

[lonelycowgirls]

"Do you still think you'd choose me if we met now?"

"What?"

"If you met me today, do you think we'd still get together?"

"What? Where is this coming from?"

Stella was struggling. Scrolling through her phone on Instagram was making her feel, well to put it bluntly, ugly. She'd often like posts of Harry, so her For You page would often be dotted with him. The picture of him with two gorgeous blonde women made her heart sink as soon as she laid eyes on it. She'd known that he was going to a little get-together with Brad the day before and she trusted him - it still didn't make seeing that picture any easier on her. Especially when he looked... like that in it.

"Well, we've been together for so long now... I just wonder... whether if things were different... if you'd even look twice at me."

"Stell, I literally had my tongue in your arse yesterday and you're wondering if I still fancy you?" Stella cackled out a laugh with him, and he chuckled on the sun lounger next to her. Did he have to air her out like that? He didn't even look up from his book when he said it.

"For God's sake," she sighed from laughing and unlocked her phone again, then found herself frowning at the picture that continued to shine on her screen. She sighed, "seriously though, look at these girls..." She rolled to her side to show him the picture and he grabbed her phone to look and zoom with his fingers. "Can't blame me for feeling a little bit insecure." She sat up and grabbed her water bottle from down by her bed and took a swig, looking out to their view of the ocean from the terraced balcony of their hotel. She glanced at him again. "Alright, I think that's enough zooming now, H." She leaned over and snatched her phone back, making him laugh at her. She shook her head and closed the app altogether.

"Yeah, there are plenty of beautiful people in the world..." He closed his book and stood lazily from his lounger. "They were nice girls to be fair..." Stretching his arms above his head, he breathed out a content sigh before bum shuffling onto the edge of her bed. Placing his arms on either side of her head to look at her, albeit through the dark tint of his sunglasses. "But none of them are you."

She lifted his glasses and placed them on top of his head, scraping the hair off his face. "If I wasn't so in my feels right now I would've gagged at that." He scoffed and hung his head on his neck in defeat. She lifted his chin so he was looking at her again, "but, thank you." She said softly, pecking his lips a few times and pinching his chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"I think you forget how funny you are, how charismatic you are, how caring you are, how smart you are." With each compliment to her personality, he pressed a kiss to her skin. To her forehead, to both cheeks, to her nose before moving to her neck. "You're so much more than what you look like." He nuzzled in further. "Not much to talk about with a gorgeous mannequin." He mumbled.

"Harry, that's a bit harsh." She commented, scratching the back of his neck where her arms were surrounding his broad shoulders. He pressed a final peck and pulled away to flop back onto his own bed.

"Well, it's true. Do you think we'd still be together after this long if we had nothing to talk about?"

She left his question to be rhetorical with just a shrug of her shoulders. She knew she was being dramatic and he always reassured her of how he felt about her. But really, what other girlfriend in the world had to deal with beautiful - like seriously stunning - people literally fawning over their partners?

"You're still thinking about it aren't you?" Harry said, again not looking up from his book and messing with his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger.

"No."

"You are, I can hear your thoughts."

"Oh, alright, sorry Mystic Meg."

"That's right, 'tis I, back from the dead. And I can tell you're still thinking about it."

"Go on then, what exactly are my thoughts telling you?"

He rest his book on his lap and brought a hand up to his chin to scratch it in false deep thought. "Nah, have to have eye-to-eye connection." She rolled her eyes at his silliness before he swung his legs to sit opposite her, slapping her thigh twice lightly. "C'mon." She sat up and brought her legs to sit so their knees brushed together, the hair on his legs tickling her. He sat forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and stared at her with a deep furrow in his eyebrows. She gazed into his eyes and quirked her own brow in question. After about thirty seconds of this, she scoffed.

"Spit it out then!" He brought his hand to slide up her thigh and squeezed it to tell her off. She held onto his wrist to get his hand away but he linked their fingers instead.

"Wanna know what I'm thinking?"

"What? I thought we were doing me?"

"Nah, it's about me now." She laughed and shook her head at him. "I'm thinking... staring deeply into your eyes..." He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against hers. "That I love you. Everything about you." She smiled. "Even when you're moody and impatient when I want to play games." He pinched her hip with the hand that wasn't holding hers, tracing the skin on the back of her palm. She flinched at the movement, opening her mouth to speak before he connected their lips again. With the Australian sun glistening on the seafront before them, beginning to set and casting a glow over the two of them, she imagined this would be the ideal place and time for Harry to propose. "I especially love your tits in that bikini top."

"And... you ruined it."

----

This really just flowed out of me after seeing that pic, huh.

Nel xo

You can see the rest of the pieces from this universe here!