#Year in Beer 2019

[laughingpinecone]

Disco Elysium: the world will end in 27 years uwu

Outer Wilds: (⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠)

[bobbie-robron]

I can’t imagine my life without you around. Without either of ya.

08-Jul-2019

[the-tipsy-tailor]

[socomputercomputer]

@kolbus

When I tell you to dig wholesale

I watch your wife

I mean in it were trying to suck one dick not all for 189 k

Paul other people fucked up intwrnaimtal EBT to much

How you want to feed all 3rd graders on my class room is you crazy pta dad

I doen that for 364 days of doing what we tri pod need is

What he said in 2015

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

[thewhiskyphiles]

Glasgow 1770 Golden Beer Cask Finish

Glasgow 1770 Golden Beer Cask Finish single malt scotch whisky review #GlasgowDistillery #singlemalt #scotch #whisky #review

1. What they say A limited edition release of only 356 bottles at 58.5% ABV, this unique expression is our first foray into beer finishes. Our unpeated spirit was filled into a first fill ex-bourbon barrel on the 17th of April 2019. On the 9th of June this year, 2022, we filled this into a Pedro Ximénez sherry hogshead that was used to matured Innis & Gunn’s Original Beer for 3 months. We���

[abyssalzones]

2019 -> 2021 -> 2024 [now]

after a few years, I've finally updated the Escape Velocity crew's reference sheets ^_^ they feel much more real now.... possibly too real. I feel like domino is going to appear in my house and start asking me to buy beer

sometimes I feel a little discouraged about how long I've spent developing these characters without any comic pages to show for it, but I think in the end the extra time was really needed, and I'm really happy with how the crew look now :J and hopefully I can stop myself from making any more major changes.

check out my ev tag if you want to see more of these weird guys

bonus:

[twobluejeans]

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 9:foreign affairs, series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 9! anyways, stan y/n l/n for clear skin and good grades!✨😌

INSTAGRAM, july 18

liked by carlossainz, landonoriss, and 12,654,234 others

yourinstagram mood :') gonna cry all day lol. thank you for your warmth. thank you for listening n hearing me. i love you.

View all 64,627 comments

ntltcy/n whoever said the second slide is so real

danielricciardo I said what I said

zendaya ma’am is taking up all 10 spots on the 10 ten…that’s my best friend ❤️!!!

channeleclerc16_ she should just stick to acting…

beyonce well deserved! the song brought actual tears to my eyes

 yourinstagram beyonce  screaming crying shaking…thank u, i love u always

leclerc_pascale beautiful girl congrats

 yourinstagram leclerc_pascale  thank u mama

drewstarkey on repeat i fear 

ferarrileclerc i mean ... since the song is about charles that means he got another number one hit! charles congrats baby!

harrystyles A beautiful song from an even more beautiful person. Congratulations, Y/n/n—H.

ypurinstagram thank u sweet angel. miss you!

redlipclassicy/n harrystyles yourinstagram WHAT THE FUCK

JULY 18, 2023

Lola Ransdell Under Fire for Using the N-Word in Resurfaced Tweets

Not a good look.

BY ALLY JULY 17, 2023 11:15 AM

Lola Randell has some explaining to do. The 25-year-old came under fire on Sunday when Twitter users began resurfacing tweets of the model using the N-word in 2020. The receipts included direct messages and Instagram comments, in which Ransdell called her friends the racial slur, as well as tweets from Ransdell claiming that she could use the N-word because she’s “not white.”

In screenshots resurfaced by the Twitter PopHub, Ransdell can be seen calling someone an “ugly” N-word. The screenshots also include a group chat with some of her friends, in which she is called out for using the N-word. In her response, Randell explains that she can use the derogatory term because she’s not white. (Ransdell’s mother is Brazilian, but that still does not excuse her behavior.) “I’m not white tho so that’s awk,” Ransdell responded.

However, the receipts don’t end there. Along with the first screenshots, some users also resurfaced other old tweets, in which Ransdell said that she returned a “different race” after she spent some time tanning in Florida. (She accompanied the tweet with an emoji of a man with a turban.) Another screenshot also shows Ransdell liking a 2020 meme comparing Jay-Z to a Ransdell. One user also claimed to have a video of Ransdell rapping the N-word, though the audio is unclear.

Ransdell allegedly once tweeted, "leaving to Florida white but coming back to NY a different Race." The statement was accompanied by an emoji of a white blonde man and an emoji of a darker-skinned man wearing a turban.

A post from 2019 read, "With @chanteljefferies and that awkward moment when ur at a Chinese restaurant and your waiter isn't Chinese...."

The following year, she allegedly threatened, "Shut up before I smack you back to your own country!"

Screenshots also show the youtuber allegedly liking an Instagram post from 2018 about how only men and women should marry because the Bible says so.

Then there are the women-hating posts.

Ransdell allegedly liked an undated Instagram post showing a photo of Selena Gomez that posed the question, "Would you smack her for $835 BILLION?!" The person whose reply was featured in the meme read, "I'd smack her for a sweet tea from McDonald's."

In 2018, Ransdell allegedly tweeted about transgendered women" being "wicked slutty."

She's also been accused of openly hating on her boyfriend’s former partner, Y/n L/n.

Once a fan of Charles (and even of Charles and Y/n together), Ransdell  seemingly turned on the 26-year-old singer when "Your/Ship/Name" was on the rocks.She allegedly once followed a Y/n L/n  hate account on Instagram and allegedly favorited/liked a tweet from 2022 that showed a picture of Y/n and read, "She collects guys as if they were infinity stones."

How these receipts surfaced is unclear (many of them are private messages between Ransdell and her friends, so someone must have leaked them on the internet), but it’s certain that people aren’t happy with Ransdell using slur, even as a joke. After the tweets resurfaced, many users took to Twitter to call out Ransdell for her offensive behavior, as well as demand accountability and an apology from her and her Formula One boyfriend, Charles Leclerc. 

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• Charles Leclerc finally addresses messy breakup with Singer Y/n L/n.

•Harry Styles just commented on Y/n L/n’s Instagram post for the first time in 7 years.

• Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince: Harry Styles and Y/n L/n’s relationship timeline

INSTAGRAM, july 18

liked by f1wh0re, corneliastreety/n, and 546,782 others

y/naflorals CHAR!ES SPEAKING ABOUT MOTHER TODAY IN AN INTERVIEW

View all 512 comments

dressy/n no comment.

lewismercedes ur joe king…ur joe. king.

leclerc16charles as a charles fan…idk either i’m sorry

TWITTER, july 18

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 18

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TWITTER, july 18

ally’s radio 📻:i don’t like this chapter 😞. also pls know that anything that was mentioned within lola’s article is not something i condone!! pls don’t think i’m a bad person, it’s literally only just for the plot😭!! i got inspo off of hailey biebers old tweets sooo. if u see ur username but u weren’t tagged, it’s bc tumblr wouldn’t let me :( if u asked me to tag u and i didn’t, pls send me a message or inbox me bc it might’ve gotten lost 😭 i try to stay up-to-date but sometimes i miss people so pls lmk!!!

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife@mrsmaybank13@black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx@lilsiz@ohthemisssery@leclerclvr@slytherinjimin3nthusiast@shessthunderstoms@cool-ultra-nerd@ncentic@playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj@chasing-liberosis@laneyspaulding19@a-daydreamersday@saikikusouswife@motorsp0rt@lifesuckslife@shessthunderstoms@drewsandsebastianswife @sainzluvrr@ietss @agustdlvr @sarahkaliii @sweethoneyblossom1@sticksdoesart @ayoanna @c0wgirlswag @ifionlywould @l1ghtaura @ellesmythe @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Harry and yn and there two kids on holiday and fans come up to them and harry asks them to respect there privacy and all that?

Caribbean Privacy.

my masterlist || ask my anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here !!

authors note - first blurb of 2024 people and it’s based on the brand new photos we got, so enjoy my loves.

word count - 1.7k

in which, you and harry decided to go for a little family holiday to start the new year off on the right foot, and went to a caribbean island, where your just trying to enjoy yourselves, and spend some quality time with your two children, when a couple of fans spot your husband.

As the first light of the new year streamed through the curtains, you woke up to the sweet realization that your partner had planned a surprise holiday to the Caribbean.

The joy in your heart was mirrored in the excited expressions of Kai, your energetic five-year-old, and little Lexi, who had just turned six months old. The promise of sun-soaked beaches and turquoise waters made the early morning hustle of packing bags and herding the family to the airport an adventure in itself.

Arriving at your tropical destination, the sound of gentle waves and the warmth of the sun embraced you. The resort's palm-fringed surroundings set the stage for a family retreat filled with laughter and cherished moments.

The holiday would be lasting a total of two weeks and so far the four of you had been there for four out of a possible fourteen.

The first day was spent chilling and getting the kids into a routine, the second day was filled with sunbathing and the third day you took the kids to do some activities so that they wouldn’t get too bored.

It was the afternoon of the fourth day at the resort, for a majority of the morning you had all gone for a walk, trying to get your bearings of where you were going to be staying.

It was nearing one pm now, and the four of you were making your way to the hotel outdoor restaurant, where other families, friends and couples were currently sat, all decked out in summer clothes just like you and your family were.

The rhythmic roll of the stroller, carrying the enchanting Lexi, created a soothing background to the lively atmosphere. Harry, with Kai perched on his shoulders, exuded paternal pride as his son's tiny fingers playfully explored the newly sprouting hair after a recent buzz cut.

The infectious giggles from Kai echoed through the space, forming a symphony of joy that seemed to harmonize with the clinking of cutlery and murmurs of other guests.

Just moments later, a courteous waiter approached, exuding the charm of the Caribbean hospitality.

"Good afternoon! Can I start you off with some drinks?" he inquired with a warm smile.

Harry, with a chuckle, ordered a beer for himself, emphasising that it was a well-deserved vacation treat.

Kai, his eyes sparkling, announced proudly, "Chocolate milkshake, please!"

You joined in, opting for a refreshing mojito to complement the tropical ambiance. The waiter, noting down the orders, promised to return shortly with the concoctions that would add an extra layer of delight to your family gathering.

The backdrop of the restaurant's tropical charm provided the perfect setting for a moment of connection.

"This surprise vacation was a brilliant idea," you remarked, a smile playing on your lips.

Harry, his eyes filled with satisfaction, responded, "M’figured we all needed a break, and what better way t’start the year?"

Kai, still perched atop his father's shoulders, chimed in, "I like the beach, Mommy! Can we build a sandcastle tomorrow?"

His enthusiasm was infectious, prompting laughter from both you and Harry.

"Absolutely, buddy! We'll build the biggest sandcastle the beach ‘as ever seen," Harry promised, ruffling Kai's hair.

November 2019, you gave birth to Kai Robin Styles, at a home birth in yours and Harry’s London home.

As the conversation continued, you found yourselves reflecting on the year that had passed and the excitement of what lay ahead.

“ ‘Member when Lex was just a tiny bump?" Harry mused, glancing affectionately at your baby girl. "Now look at her, enjoying her first vacation. Time really does fly,"

You had gone into Labour with Lexi Anne Styles after Harry’s Show in Warsaw, the birth wasn’t very traumatic but the fact that you have birth in the backstage area of a stadium add a million different stress levels.

The waiter returned with a tray of drinks, delivering a frothy beer for Harry, a velvety chocolate milkshake for Kai, and a refreshing mojito for yourself.

The clinking of glasses marked the beginning of a shared toast.

"To family adventures and new beginnings," Harry proposed, raising his beer.

It wasn’t long before you had placed your food orders, and then it was back to chit chatting.

Lexi began to express her hunger with soft whimpers from the comfort of her stroller. Harry, always attuned to his children's needs, suggested, "Looks like someone's ready f’a meal. How about I feed her?"

Agreeing with a smile, you watched affectionately as Harry gently lifted Lexi from the stroller. With practised ease, he retrieved the pre-made bottle from the baby bag. Cradling Lexi in his arms, he began a tender dialogue, showering her with words of endearment.

"Y’know, Love bug, y’the most perfect baby in the world. Mom and I are so lucky t’have you," he whispered, his words infused with a genuine warmth that mirrored the love you both felt for your little one.

As Harry spoke to Lexi, your gaze shifted to Kai, who was deeply immersed in coloring his book. His tiny fingers danced across the paper, creating vibrant strokes that mirrored the lively atmosphere of the Caribbean surroundings. The restaurant transformed into a canvas of family moments — the quiet focus of an older brother, the nurturing presence of a father, and the unspoken connection between mother and daughter.

Amidst the lively ambiance of the restaurant, you couldn't help but notice a group of girls at a nearby table who seemed to have recognized your husband. Whispers and excited glances were exchanged among them, and you could see them mustering the courage to approach him for a photo.

Sensing their intentions, you leaned in to Harry and discreetly warned him about the approaching fangirls.

Harry, with a resigned sigh, glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

"Just ignore ‘em, love. It happens," he reassured you, his eyes reflecting the weariness of a man accustomed to such encounters.

The prospect of being in the spotlight, even during a family dinner, was not a new experience for him. Grateful that your kids were facing away, oblivious to the attention, you both focused on enjoying the moment together as a family.

As the girls behind you worked up the courage to approach, you and Harry engaged in casual conversation, attempting to divert attention from the brewing fan encounter.

"Remember that time in Paris?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood. Harry chuckled, because he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"Good times," he agreed, sharing a smile with you, appreciating the effort to shield your family from the attention that occasionally came with his public persona.

“H, there definitely coming.”

Harry, glancing over his shoulder, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yeah, I see them. Just give them a friendly smile if they approach, and I'll handle it. S’not let it bother us," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.

He was no stranger to such encounters, having navigated the challenges of fame before. The weariness in his eyes reflected a desire for a quiet family dinner undisturbed by fan interactions.

The restaurant buzzed with activity as the group of excited fans approached your table.

"Harry, we're such huge fans! Can we get a quick photo and an autograph?" one of them eagerly requested, holding out a notepad and a pen.

With a gracious smile, Harry acknowledged their enthusiasm.

"M’grateful f’your support, but at the moment, we're trying to have a quiet family dinner, so I won't be able to do autographs right now," he gently explained, a polite refusal delivered with a sense of understanding.

Despite his explanation, the fans persisted, urging for both a photo and an autograph. The atmosphere at the table shifted as Lexi, nestled in Harry's lap, started to express her unease with a few whimpers.

Sensing his sister's discomfort, Kai moved closer to your side, seeking comfort in the familiar presence of family. Harry, noticing the subtle disruption, addressed the fans with empathy.

The fans, eager to capture a moment with their idol, continued to press for both a photo and an autograph. Harry, maintaining his composure, gently reiterated, "I really appreciate y’support, but right now, We're just trying t’enjoy a family dinner without any interruptions."

The fans, realizing the impact on the children, paused for a moment. Harry, sensing the need to reinforce the boundary, continued,

"Thanks for understanding." His words were delivered with a blend of gratitude and a protective instinct for his family.

As the fans reluctantly stepped back, a mix of disappointment and understanding painted their expressions. Your family returned to the rhythm of your evening, attempting to reclaim the sense of tranquillity that had been momentarily disrupted. Lexi, still cradled in Harry's arms, gradually settled, comforted by the familiar presence of her parents and brother.

Harry, with a reassuring smile, turned his attention back to the dinner table.

"Sorry about that, m’love," he whispered to you, the gentle apology carrying the weight of the delicate balancing act that came with his fame.

"It's alright," you responded, understanding the complexities of navigating public and private moments.

Kai, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, looked up from his colouring book with a curious expression.

"Why did those people want pictures, Mommy?" he asked, his innocent curiosity breaking the momentary tension.

You looked down to his eye level, offering a simple yet honest explanation, "Sometimes, people recognize Daddy from his work, and they want to say hello or take a picture because they really like what he does."

Harry, appreciating your delicate handling of the situation, chimed in,

"That's right, buddy. Daddy's work makes people happy, and sometimes they just want to share that happiness with us."

Sensing his sons discomfort, Harry gently ushered him over, placing him on the other side of his lap.

"Hey, Kai, come here, sweet boy," Harry said softly, creating a protective space for him. As Kai nestled in closer,

Harry continued, "I want you t’know that no matter what happens, Daddy will always keep you safe. Those moments might be a bit strange, but we're a team, okay?"

Kai, his big brown eyes searching for reassurance, nodded in understanding. "

Team," he echoed, a small smile breaking through the remnants of unease.

Harry wrapped his arm around Kai, holding him close to his chest.

"Exactly, little man. We're a team, and nothing will ever change that," Harry affirmed, his voice a soothing melody of love and comfort.

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 2: Teenagers

You and Joel adjust to each other as you struggle with Ellie. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 1 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Mild suicidal ideation. Mention of grief and child loss. Mention of parent loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 13.4k

A/N: For some reference because I haven't explicitly stated their ages, Joel is turning 42 in this chapter and was about to turn 37 in the flashback at the start of this chapter. Reader is 36 (meaning they were the same ages when their kids were born.)

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

“Dad, please!” 

Joel sighed, leaning against his counter and sipping his coffee, his 16-year-old daughter standing in front of him with wide, pleading eyes. 

“It’s a school night, baby girl,” he said. “We both gotta be up early tomorrow and…” 

“And we could play hooky!” She said. “Celebrate your birthday, go to Waffle House…” 

“I don’t like waffles.” 

“Those are for my benefit,” she replied. “You can get your smothered hash browns and see if they’ll put candles in them so you can celebrate being an old man.” 

“I can’t just call into work because it’s my birthday tomorrow, kiddo,” he said. “And your friend should have her party on the weekend…” 

“But her birthday’s today!” She said. “It’s sweet 16, please! Everyone’s going, basically no one is going to be at school on Thursday because of it, please Dad!” 

He sighed again, Sarah still looking so hopeful in front of him. 

And then, her face shifted. 

“We could go see the new Curtis and Viper tomorrow,” she smirked, brows raised conspiratorially. “We’ll probably have the theater to ourselves so we can make fun of it.” 

Joel clenched his jaw to keep from smiling. 

“Come on, Dad,” she said. “You worked so late on your birthday last year that we didn’t get to do anything. Please?” 

He sighed. 

“What would you miss at school tomorrow?” 

“Basically nothing!” She said quickly, eyes lighting up. “I have exam review but I got As on all my homework in that class so I don’t need it and…” 

“Jesus, you’re a bad influence,” he muttered, taking a sip of coffee. Sarah squealed, slamming into him, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She said, her voice muffled by his shirt before she pulled back at looked up at him, practically beaming. “We’re going to have so much fun tomorrow!” 

“Somethin’ tells me you’re more excited about having fun tonight than hanging out with me tomorrow,” he shook his head but smiled all the same. “Who all’s goin’ to this thing tonight? There gonna be boys and drinking and shit?” 

“Dad,” she gave him a look. 

“You can act all grown up all you want, baby girl, but you’re still a kid,” he said. “Want you to have fun but don’t want you doing anything too dangerous…” 

“My friends don’t drink…” 

“You say that now,” he muttered. 

“…and Brit’s parents will be there so while there will be boys, nothing’s going to happen with the boys.” 

“Alright,” he sighed. “But you gotta promise me you’re gonna be safe, no gettin’ in the car with someone who’s been drinking. Even just one beer is too much and you call me if you don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you, you won’t be in trouble and…” 

“I know, Dad,” she rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Don’t worry so much. I don’t plan on getting drunk anytime soon. Maybe inject heroin under my fingernails but…” 

“Your fingernails, huh?” Joel teased. 

“Well yeah,” she said. “Gotta hide the track marks.” 

There was a honk from the driveway and Sarah grabbed what was left of her coffee - more creamer than actual coffee but Joel still liked to humor her - and chugged it. 

“That’s Emma,” she said, rinsing out her favorite mug, the chipped one with the owl on it that she’d been drinking hot cocoa out of since she was so small that it was more like room temperature cocoa, and setting it beside the sink. “I’m going to go to her place after school to get ready for the party since you’ll probably be at work, anyway.” 

“Yeah, should stay late and try and wrap up as much as I can since apparently I’m not workin’ tomorrow,” he smirked. “Home by midnight, OK baby girl?” 

“Yup!” She said, giving him a quick hug. He gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her temple. “See you tonight!” 

“Be safe!” He called after her as she grabbed her backpack and headed for the front door. 

When she looked back over her shoulder to wave goodbye, he didn’t know it would be the last time he’d ever see her smile. 

***

Thursday, September 26, 2024 

It was still dark outside. 

Joel wasn’t sure what time it was but it was still dark outside so it was OK. He didn’t need to be aware of things like time or hunger or your safety when it was still dark and he was in his daughter’s room. 

He jerked awake not too long after midnight, just like he’d done every year on his birthday ever since Sarah died. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered trying to sleep in his own bed, as though anything would be different. Why would it be different? The only thing that mattered was gone, it couldn’t be different. 

He stared at his ceiling for a while, waiting to see if he’d be able to fall asleep again, if he could shake the feeling of phantom blood on his skin in the red glow of his alarm clock but he couldn’t. So he did what he always did on the morning of his birthday: he went to his daughter’s room. 

Joel rarely went to Sarah’s room now. Maria, his sister in law, probably spent more time in there than he did, coming by every few months while he was on a job to dust and run the vacuum so it didn’t fall to ruin. She was careful to not disturb things when she did, the t-shirt Sarah had worn to sleep in still draped over the back of her desk chair and the book she’d been reading still face down on the page she’d stopped at on her nightstand. He turned on the lamp and sank onto the bed - still unmade, like she’d left it that morning - staring at the poster-covered walls. 

The posters were old now, the sun fading them in the five years that had passed since his daughter had left him behind. It made the room seem like a relic, as though this space was a museum and not a place where someone had lived once, and it set Joel on edge. 

Five years. Half a decade without the most important person there’d ever been or ever would be. She’d only been 16 when she died and five years had passed so quickly. Soon, she’d have been gone as long as she’d been here. Soon, to the sun-bleached posters and peeling soccer trophies, it would be like she’d never been here at all. 

He found himself looking at the poster of you more than he remembered doing before when he’d been in this room before. It was strange, knowing you existed outside of this liminal space now. You were real, corporeal, a human being with thoughts and feelings and not some imagined thing with an almost disturbingly perfect face someone had invented and put on paper. 

It had been a three days since Joel had seen you last, spending 11 days working with three days off in between. Tommy had been hesitant to schedule him back on duty today of all days but Joel had all but insisted on it. He needed the distraction. More than that, he needed to keep out of trouble. He needed something to keep him from trying to find the person responsible for his daughter’s death and killing them himself. Protecting you was a good enough distraction. 

Yours was the first contract like this Joel had taken on, one that was longer and more involved. Typically, people who needed someone on hand 24/7 didn’t live in Austin, Texas. They passed through and Joel’s job was done in a week, two at most. You were more complicated. 

Part of that was the nature of the job, of course. Working in such close proximity and in such risky situations made shit complicated. 

He’d had to establish rules with you that first day after dropping Ellie off at school. He ground his teeth as you went by a small local coffee shop on your way home, you giving a fake name at the counter as the barista all but stared at you. 

“I’m so sorry,” the girl smiled sheepishly. “But has anyone told you that you look just like…” 

“Oh yeah,” you waved her off. “I get that all the time. Not sure why, I think she’s way prettier.” 

Joel resisted the urge to snap at you until the two of you were back to the car, you still refusing to let him drive as you sipped your overpriced coffee with a contented sigh. 

“Can I help you?” You asked him, brows raised, as you watched him over the rim of your cup. 

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He said. 

“Didn’t realize the coffee shop was so dangerous…” 

“You know what I mean,” he snapped. “You’re bein’ reckless.” 

“I get coffee all the time back home and -”

“And you got yourself a fucking stalker, didn’t you?” He cut you off. “S’why you’re stuck with me, spent too much time runnin’ around doing whatever the fuck you wanted and now you’re payin’ the price.” 

“No, I’m paying the price because the studio is overreacting,” you said, condescension dripping from your voice. “Pretty sure I’d still be sitting in my car sipping a coffee if you were off promising to take a bullet for someone else.” 

You held his gaze as you took a drink, as if to make a point. 

“I don’t know why this is fuckin’ news to you, but you’re one of the most famous people on the goddamn planet,” he snapped. “That shit comes with problems. If you didn’t want to deal with those problems, maybe you shouldn’t have become fuckin’ famous.” 

You looked at him, like you were trying to hold back a laugh, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared into your hairline. 

“You think I chose to become famous?” You asked. “You think I wanted this?” 

“Ain’t that why people become actresses,” he said more than asked. 

You just looked at him for a moment, like you were examining him. 

“You don’t have many friends, do you?” You said after a moment. 

He ground his teeth. 

“Got as many as I need,” he said. “Let’s get you home before I have to take a damn bullet because you’re stubborn.” 

“Yes, I’m sure the woman driving that minivan is packing,” you said wryly but putting the car in drive all the same. “Very dangerous.” 

“It’s Texas,” he said, voice flat. “She probably is.” 

But instead of going home, you drove to Whole Foods. Fucking Whole Foods. 

Joel was almost positive it was to piss him off but you completely ignored him as you went up and down the aisles, filling up your cart as he tried to watch for whatever threats might be at a goddamn grocery store while you acted like your goddamn baseball cap made you invisible to whoever might be looking for you. 

“I know you got people for this,” he muttered under his breath, putting his body between you and as much of the rest of the store as he could as you meticulously selected an apple. “Should fuckin’ carry you out of here…” 

“Yes but that would cause a scene, wouldn’t it?” You said, smug. “And that’s even MORE dangerous, right?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you and moved to respond but cut him off. 

“What do you think of this apple?” You thrust it under his nose. “It smells good, right?” 

“It’s a goddamn apple.” 

“Yes, but I need to try to get a teenager to eat it,” you sighed, impatient. “I need it to be appealing. Would you eat it if you were a teenager?” 

“If I tell you yes, will you shut the fuck up and get out of here?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Then yeah, I’d eat the goddamn apple, let’s go.” 

You smiled a little, satisfied, and got several apples and added them to the cart before taking your sweet time going through the rest of the store. 

Eventually, you finished your shopping trip and actually got ready to go home. The only person who seemed to recognize you at the store was the cashier, who gaped at you as much as one person could gape at another while they rang up their items. 

“That will be $267.48,” she said and you went to put your credit card but then she jumped. “Oh, wait! I can put in my discount…” 

“You don’t need to do that,” you laughed. “But you’re sweet to offer!” 

“But…” 

“How about you put that discount in for someone else who comes through your line today,” you smiled. 

“OK,” she smiled a little hesitantly. “Sorry, I’ve just never had someone famous come through my line before.”

“First time for everything,” you winked, putting your card in the machine. 

The cashier kept staring at you. 

“No one is going to believe I met you,” she said eventually. “I wish I had my phone so I could take a selfie…”

“Want an autograph?” You asked as the machine chimed. “Don’t need a phone for that.”

Instead of answering, she scrambled to get some blank receipt paper and a pen and Joel could tell you were trying not to laugh. You wrote on the paper quickly and handed it back before giving the cashier a smile. 

“You have a great day, Mina,” you said. 

She looked up from the paper with wide eyes. 

“How’d you know my name?” 

You smiled a little bigger and nodded to her name badge. 

“See you next time,” you said and she beamed. 

“Shit like that is stopping,” Joel said once the two of you were safely back in your house, behind the gate and fence that surrounded your property. “You got no damn reason to take risks like that…” 

“Yes I do,” you said, defiant, arms crossed. 

“What,” he demanded. “What’s your damn reason.” 

“I want to take care of my kid,” you stuck your chin out. “That means going to the grocery store sometimes. I’m sure that’s a new concept for you since I’m sure you subsist exclusively off fast food and have never thought about looking after anyone but yourself…” 

Joel tightened his jaw, trying to keep the sharp stab of loss from showing on his face. 

“You don’t need to go yourself,” he snapped. “Send someone.” 

You stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell your skin, sweet and soft and he resented it. 

“I want to take care of her,” you said. “Me. She lost her mother, the person who used to do shit like make her dinner and pick out her snacks. I want to do that for her. Me, not someone I pay. So you just need to accept the fact that I’m going to go to the store because I’m not stopping.” 

“Fine,” he snapped, not about to admit that what you said tugged at him a bit. He remembered going to the store, looking for things that he thought Sarah might like. Things to put in her backpack so she had a snack for school when she got hungry between her afternoon classes or to have waiting for her when she got home. He remembered her favorite foods and how she lit up when he made burgers the way she liked or brought home her favorite cereal. He remembered how lucky he felt to be the person who got to know her in this way, to know her favorite things and be the one to get them for her. “But we’re doin’ it on my terms. This will be a whole lot easier on both of us as soon as you get with the program because I’m not letting you get us both killed because you’re stubborn. Got it?” 

He laid out the rules: You were to never leave the house without him or whoever was filling in for him on his days off. You needed to run your proposed schedule for the week by him so he could make necessary changes - varying your comings and goings as much as possible so you would be unpredictable. You needed to give him full access to your property and any existing security infrastructure so he could check for possible weaknesses. And you needed a code name, one that would be used for the whole team so when there was a handoff or a situation that required additional security, communication was short and easily understood. 

“That seems like overkill,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m the fucking president…” 

“When it’s a shit situation and we need to know who has you, we need it,” he said, harsher than he needed to. He was hard pressed to care, though. “We don’t need people stumbling over your name, not knowing if we’re using your first or last, and we really don’t need ‘em announcing your damn name where the wrong person could hear it and learn where you are.” 

“Fine,” you said. “What are the rules for picking a code name then.” 

“There aren’t any,” Joel said. “Yours is Siren.” 

“Siren,” you looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously? I don’t get any say in this at all?” 

“No,” he lied. “We pick for you and it’s Siren.” Your jaw twitched and Joel fought the urge to smirk. “What, don’t like it?” 

You squared yourself, defiant. 

“No, it’s perfect,” you said. “Derivative and dull, just what I’d expect from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do.” 

And with that, you stalked off to some far away corner of your massive fucking house, leaving the woman who’d answered the door for him that morning to show him around. 

Joel tried to hide the almost spiteful sense of pride he got from getting under your skin. Because, fuck, if he had live with the reminder of that goddamn show then you had to, too. 

He’d Googled you after he’d met you the day before, his chest tight the whole time. He saw your more recent film history and learned that you were older than he’d realized - you must have been in your 20s when you were playing a teenager on TV. He also learned that you didn’t talk much about the show that Sarah had loved so much and had made you a household name. He wondered if you loathed it as much as he did, if you got the same stomach churning feeling inside yourself when something made you think of it, the same one he got whenever he looked at your disturbingly perfect face. 

Siren was the name of that goddamn show and the almost mocking nickname the male lead of the show had given your character, both of your characters fighting to make it as musicians in some bullshit story that was dramatized to hell and back. Joel recognized the guy, too - he was some fucking country star now, the kind who played bullshit instead of real country music - and he could feel, when he picked that name, that you’d hate it. 

Normally, the person he was protecting got to pick their code name. But you didn’t know that and he needed to feel some sense of power over you. You loomed too large over him. He needed you to feel the way he did, a little helpless, a little out of control. 

And you, stalking off in a huff over that damn name, made him feel better than it should. 

Over the next week and a half, he was keenly aware that none of this, really, was your fault. It wasn’t your fault that you were tied so closely with his dead daughter. It wasn’t your fault that being around you was like living with an open wound, something tender and aching on him that he couldn’t seem to heal because you were near. It wasn’t your fault that he had gone through so much of the last five years numb to everything and now was almost shockingly aware of the constant pain that had been lingering below the surface. 

But you were there and you were so much easier to blame than himself. He knew that, too. But it didn’t make him stop doing it, almost like he was watching himself make your life difficult without having any control over it. 

He had to stay in your home to be available at all hours so he started getting up early to take your keys before you had a chance to make it downstairs in the morning so he could drive when taking Ellie to school. He made a habit of finishing the coffee when Esmo was busy elsewhere in the house and he knew you’d be coming back for another cup. He never accepted any kindness you offered, taking disconcerting pleasure in saying no lattes when you insisted on stopping for a coffee and telling you he didn’t want whatever food you offered him, choosing instead to eat frozen dinners alone in another part of the house away from you and Ellie and Esmo, too. He found a strange satisfaction in these small harms, as though they were earned in some way. You, embedded so deeply in the trappings of wealth and fame, surely deserved some inconvenience in your life. After all the pain you’d inadvertently caused him, it seemed like it was owed to him. He tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t like being the kind of person who took pleasure in hurting someone else who didn’t deserve it, even if it was only small hurts. He tried not to think about what Sarah would say if she could see what he was doing now.  

Being away from you, though, made him more aware of it. The strange poison of wanting to make your life harder was further away when he was home and it was easier to see through it. You were probably dreading his return as much as he was dreading returning. He didn’t like who he became when he was near you and here he was, going back to the sphere of your influence to let it swallow him and turn him into a worse version of himself again. 

Joel should tell Tommy to take him off this job. He knew that but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was never supposed to be this way with him and his brother. Joel was the older one, Joel was the one who had practically raised Tommy when their parents were gone. Tommy was never supposed to be the one to take care of him. He was never supposed to be the one to give him a fucking job or make sure he didn’t lose his house in the months after the death of his daughter. He owed his brother so much now. How could he tell him “Sorry, this simple job is just too much for me, find someone else.” Tommy asked Joel to protect you so he would. 

Even if he hated it. 

Dawn was just starting on the horizon when Joel decided to indulge himself for a minute, lying down gently on his daughter’s bed. He was careful to not disturb the blankets, he didn’t adjust the pillow. He let himself sink into the softness of her lavender sheets and twin-sized mattress, to be in the exact place she was the last morning of her life. He stared at the side of her nightstand - stickers she’d placed there starting to peel - and let himself remember what it was like to have someone as good as her love him. 

He stayed there until her room as filled not with the artificial glow of streetlights but the unflinching light of day and got up as carefully as he lay down, going to the door and taking a last look at his daughter’s room on the morning of his fifth birthday since he’d stopped being a father, closing the door softly behind him. 

The drive to your house went by too quickly for his liking and he pulled into the driveway at the same time you did, Seth - the guard who’d filled in for him while he had a few days off - laughing about something with you as the two of you got out of the car. 

“Joel, good to see you man,” he said, still smiling as the two of you met Joel near your front door. “Ready to take over?” 

“Don’t think I got much choice,” Joel said wryly.

“Good morning, Joel,” you said, your tone oddly cool. He just gave you a nod as Seth put the call in to dispatch. 

“This is Cook,” Seth said. “Transferring custody of Siren to Big Miller.” 

“Big Miller?” Your eyebrows shot up, looking between Seth and Joel. Seth covered the receiver on the phone. 

“We got two Millers, he’s the older one,” he said, before going back to the call. “That’s correct…” 

“Big Miller,” you smirked at Joel. “Oh there’s so much I can do with that…” 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered as Seth handed him the phone. He confirmed he was taking over and ground his teeth as Seth hugged you goodbye like the pair of you were old fucking friends. 

“Don’t let this asshole push you around too much,” Seth winked at you. “Deep down, he’s a big softie.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a big something,” you said. Seth laughed. Joel glared. “See you next time.” 

You watched Seth leave before heading into your house without another word. Joel followed you inside, trailing behind you as you otherwise ignored his presence, going to the kitchen to get a bottle of water before heading out back. 

“Hey,” he called after you and you stopped at the edge of your pool, slowly turning to face him, brows raised. “The hell you goin’? I need your itinerary for the week, you know the drill.” 

“No you don’t,” you said. “I decided I’d rather talk with someone who isn’t a huge fucking child so I gave it to Seth. Get it from him, Big Miller.” 

You kept going, toward the pool house and Joel ground his teeth, jogging to catch up with you. 

“Look,” he snapped but you rounded on him. 

“You lied to me,” you said. “I could have picked my own stupid name, you just had to get the one up on me for whatever reason and now I have to deal with being called that stupid, goddamn…” 

“If you and Seth are so cozy why didn’t you get him to change it for you, hm?” He cut you off. 

“Because I’d rather not look like a fucking idiot to your entire company, thanks though,” you snapped. “If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just ask someone else to do this job?” 

“If you hate havin’ me around, why didn’t you ask someone else to take over?” He countered. “Looked cozy enough with fuckin’ Seth!” 

You laughed. 

“Oh I’d never dream of giving you that satisfaction,” you said. “You want to torment me? Fine, two can play at that game. Just wait, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Big Miller.” 

You stalked off toward the pool house again before turning back to face him. 

“We’re leaving at noon,” you said. “If you want to know where to, better call fucking Seth and find out since you don’t have the people skills to get your charge to cooperate.” 

He grit his teeth as you went inside and he stared at the door you’d disappeared through for a moment, half expecting you to come back out and rip into him again. But you didn’t and he went inside, finding Esmo in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast. 

“She’s in a fuckin’ mood,” Joel muttered, going to help himself to a cup of coffee. 

“It was not an easy morning,” she said, holding a plate with a biscuit out to him. He took it with a frown. “Ellie’s a teenaged girl but even so…” 

“What happened?” He asked, settling in at the breakfast bar. 

“Not sure what set her off,” she sighed, putting the last pan in the drying rack before crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter, watching Joel. She reminded him of his mother, he realized, something grounding and sure about her. “But before they left, Ellie yelled that she wasn’t her mother. She didn’t say anything back but I could tell it hurt.” 

Joel flinched, looking out the window at the back of the kitchen, toward the pool and pool house. Toward you. He and Sarah had rarely clashed, especially that badly, but she was still a teenaged girl who grew up without a mother. She still lashed out about it and he was still the one who had to weather her rage. He knew her pain was misdirected but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I know you two don’t…” She paused, like she was searching for the words. “Get along. But she is just as human as you or I, Mr. Miller. Go easy on her today.” 

“Told you, you can just call me Joel,” he said, dodging the rest of what she said. “I ain’t your boss, not gonna make you call me Mr. Miller…” 

Esmo barked a laugh as she poured herself a cup of coffee. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Do you think she makes me call her ma’am?” She asked. “Mr. Miller, she is my employer. I am not going to call her by her first name, regardless of what she asks. Right now, the same goes for you.” 

He looked toward the pool house again. He’d assumed you’d told Esmo to call you ma’am, that you’d insisted on bullshit that put you on a different level than everyone else. Apparently, he was wrong. 

That didn’t mean he had to like you, though. 

Still, he almost felt bad for you as he got settled back into the room at your house that had become his. You’d been thrown into parenthood head first, none of the gradual build up that raising a child from birth provided. Instead, you were given a fully-fledged teenager with a chip on her shoulder. Anyone would struggle with that, even spoiled movie stars. 

His patience wore thin, though, as noon came and went and you still hadn’t come in from the damn pool house. He wondered if you’d told him noon just to piss him off, to make him feel like he had to spend his morning biding his time until it was wasted only to do nothing but sit at home until the time came to pick up Ellie from school. 

Eventually, he got tired of waiting for you and he stalked to the pool house, damn near ripping the door off its hinges as he went to find you, his eyes widening in surprise when he did. 

Joel wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find there but it certainly wasn’t this. You were there, back to the door, headphones covering your ears as you swung again and again at a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. 

“Hey!” He called but you either ignored him or couldn’t hear them, continuing your clumsy barrage on the bag. You clearly knew fuck all about fighting, your form rough and disjointed. Any punch you landed would be ineffectual at best, damaging to you at worst. It’d be comical if it wasn’t happening to someone whose safety he was responsible for. 

“Hey!” He tried again. Nothing. He clenched his jaw and stalked over to you, hand closing around the band of your headphones to pull them off your head and you spun, breathless and shocked, to face him. 

“What the fuck?” You reached to snatch the headphones back but he held them behind his back, out of reach. “Gimme those!” 

“You actually got some place to fuckin’ be this afternoon or not?” He snapped. “Because I’m tired of waiting for you to get your act together…” 

You stopped reaching for the headphones, still breathless, and checked your smart watch. 

“Shit,” you panted, drooping a little. “I lost track of time… Give me 15 minutes, then we’ll go.” 

He held the headphones out to you and you snatched them back roughly and Joel watched you stomp off toward the main house, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and he tried loathe the way your leggings hugged every curve and arch of your legs and ass as you did. 

You were ready to go in just 15 minutes, though, and still more beautiful than Joel was comfortable with you being. You smelled fresh, clean, some floral fucking body wash on your skin that was covered by more skin-tight athletic wear that revealed your shape to him, all the places that - were you any other woman - he’d want to sink his fingers into to pull you close. He clenched his jaw and he went to the driver’s seat but you stopped in front of him, staring him down. 

“Not sure where you think you’re going,” you said. 

“I’m driving,” he said. “You know the drill.” 

“Oh, so you called Seth?” You asked, brows raised. “Know where we’re headed?” 

He narrowed his eyes and you smirked. 

“Didn’t think so,” you said. “Step aside, Big Miller. Maybe you can drive home.” 

Joel considered, for a moment, fighting you on it. But, today of all days, he didn’t have the energy. He just stalked around to the passenger side of the car, trying his damndest to ignore the little smirk you got when he did. 

He stared determinedly out the window as you drove, the odd, raw feeling he got in his chest when he looked at you a little too sharp today. He focused on the cars around him, watching for any kind of pattern, anything unusual, trying to lose himself in the work of keeping you alive. At least, then, he was still good at something. At least, then, there was still some purpose for him being here. Even if he didn’t want to be. The scar that had been at his temple for nearly five years itched. 

He was so lost in it that he was almost surprised when you pulled up in front of not some insufferable coffee shop or unnecessary grocery store but an overpriced looking nursing home. You reached between Joel’s legs without a word and got your worn baseball cap from the glove box, tugging it down low over your face before grabbing your keys out of your bag and dropping them on Joel’s lap. 

“Get comfy,” you said. “I’ll be at least an hour, probably two.” 

“Hold on,” he said, but you ignored him, getting out of the car and heading toward the door. He caught you quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you around go face him. 

“What is your problem?” You snapped. “You’re always an asshole but Jesus you’re worse than usual today…” 

“You really think I’m just gonna let you go do some photo-op alone?” He asked. “Not about to just wait in the car…” 

“It’s not a photo-op,” you snapped. “It’s private, you don’t need to be involved…” 

“The hell I don’t,” he snapped back. “Your ass dies and it ain’t private anymore. I’m going. Deal with that shit now.” 

“Too bad for you,” you said, trying to pull your arm back from him but he held firm. Your clumsy little fight moves from the pool house earlier hadn’t done you any favors. 

“You can either listen to me or I’ll put you over my shoulder and make you listen,” he said. “I don’t much care which it is.” 

You stared him down, almost like you thought he wouldn’t do it. He was about to prove you wrong when you apparently decided instead, huffing indignantly. 

“Fine,” you snapped. “You can sit in the lobby.” 

“Fine,” he snapped back before following you inside. 

A woman rushed to meet you at the door, speaking to you in hushed tones that even Joel, standing so close to you, had a hard time making out. She directed Joel to a comfortable looking room that reminded him of his grandmother’s living room as a child, the one that no one was allowed in to “keep the furniture nice.” There were no such concerns here, the arm chairs and couches looking comfortable and inviting if overly ornate, neat stacks of magazines on the antique coffee table in the middle of them. He ground his teeth, watching as the woman led you away.

You’d be out of sight. That made him uncomfortable. And he couldn’t trust you to actually call for help if you needed it. That made him more uncomfortable. 

But… this wasn’t an especially public place. There was security keeping people out and the residents in. Chances were, there wasn’t anything that could really get to you in here. And if this wasn’t some bullshit media thing, it was probably fine to leave you to your own devices. At least for a little while. 

So he settled on the couch, keeping an eye on the front doors while he absently picked up a magazine, some kind of trashy tabloid that Sarah used to flip through at the grocery store. It used to make him roll his eyes and tell her that she was rotting her brain and now he’d give anything to go back in time and buy out every newsstand he passed if it meant he got another 20 minutes waiting in line for to pay for groceries with her. 

He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the magazine he picked up, though, and then bam, there you were yet again. Your picture was blurry and you were wearing sunglasses that were a little too big for your face and there was an iced coffee cup dangling from your hand. 

Bombshell breakup the headline under your picture said. Hollywood’s brightest star back on the market!

Joel looked at the date, from almost a year ago now, and flipped to the pages about you. There were pictures of you walking with a woman who looked something like an older, red-headed version of Ellie and he realized he was looking at her mother. Your arms were crossed tightly over your stomach and your face was drawn, Ellie’s mother’s face concerned. It was strangely intimate, seeing you like this. It wasn’t like other paparazzi pictures of you he’d seen, the ones that looked somewhat staged or like you’d at least known you were being photographed. This seemed like an intrusion, something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing. 

He looked at the pictures of you and Ellie’s mother for a while. He wasn’t sure how long, not really able to look away, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“Yeah,” he said gruffly when he answered. 

“Hello Mr. Miller,” Esmo said, her tone still uncomfortably formal. “I apologize for just reaching out like this but I know she’s visiting her mother right now so her phone is off and we just got a call from the school…” 

“Wait, what?” Joel cut her off. Your mother? That couldn’t be right.

“Yes,” she said, sounding impatient. “The school, apparently Ellie was in a fight and she needs to be picked up, can you please tell her and take care of things?” 

“She OK?” Joel asked, trying not to overthink the sharp little stab of fear in his chest at the thought of Ellie in a fight. He tried not to think about getting his hands on whatever little teenaged prick decided to fight her, either. 

“She’s fine,” Esmo said. “At least, that’s what the school said. She just needs to be picked up. Can you go get her?” 

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Course, I got it.” 

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “I appreciate it.” 

Joel’s jaw tightened as he dropped that old magazine on the coffee table before stalking off in the direction he’d watched you go before. 

It didn’t take him long to find you, tucked away in a small and private visitation room, deck of cards sitting on the table between you and a woman who looked a lot like you, some of the cards fanned out in your hand.

“Do you have any fives?” The woman - your mother - asked. 

“You asked me that before,” you said, an oddly tense but gentle edge to your voice. “Why don’t you ask about another one?” 

“Oh,” she frowned at her hand. “How about… tens?” 

“Damn,” you said, handing her a card. She smiled. 

“You shouldn’t curse, you know,” she said. “It makes you sound dumb.” 

“I’ve heard that,” you said, arranging the cards in your hand. “Any eights?” 

She paused for a moment, examining her cards. 

“What was that again?” She said after a moment. 

“Eights,” you repeated. 

“Go fish,” she said and you got a card from the top of the pile. “You know, you remind me of my daughter…” 

“Do I?” You said, your tone oddly even. 

“She’s an actress,” she nodded. “She’s only a teenager though, a lot younger than you. She’s pretty like you, though.” 

“An actress, hm?” You said. “Does she like it?” 

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “But she’s good at it. Not sure she can handle the hard parts, though.” 

“You’re probably right,” you said. “She can’t.”

“Hello,” your mother said, looking up at Joel and lowering her cards. “Are you here to play, too?” 

You noticed him then, your back going stiff, shifting uncomfortably in your chair when you did. 

“Fraid not,” Joel said. “Just need to talk to… my friend here.” 

You looked back at him then, frowning but he just jerked his head toward the door. You, at least, didn’t question it, just setting the cards face down on the table and joining him. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, brows raised expectantly. 

“Now, I already asked and she’s fine,” he said, which made your eyes go wide but he held up a hand. “Ellie got in a fight at school, we gotta go pick her up…” 

“Shit,” you swore, fishing your phone from some hidden pocket in your leggings at the small of your back and turning it on. It took a moment but you groaned. “Fuck, I have six missed calls…” 

You stashed the phone again and went back to the table, your mother frowning at you as you gathered up the cards. 

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I have to go,” you said. “They’ll have someone come bring you back in a minute.” 

“It’s very rude to just take off on someone, you know,” she said sternly. 

“Been told that, too,” you said. “You have a good day.” 

She grunted, crossing her arms and turning away from you. You didn’t take the bait, just going for the door and quickly leading the way back to the car. But, for a change, you went for the passenger side. 

“What?” You said. “You do know the way to the school, don’t you?” 

“I know it,” he muttered, getting behind the wheel. 

“Good,” you said, buckling in. “Then drive.” 

You checked your phone, shaking your head, before just staring out the window. 

“So,” Joel said eventually. “That’s your mom.” 

“In the most technical sense,” you said, not looking at him. He nodded slowly anyway. “I don’t really think of her that way.” 

“Why’s she in there?” Joel asked. 

“Why do you care?” You said, incredulous, finally looking at him. He glanced at you and then shrugged and you sighed, the sound heavy. “Early onset Alzheimers. She’s 67 now, it started about five years back. I try to see her once a month or so.” 

“Don’t you got the money to get her a nurse or some shit so she could stay with you?” He frowned. 

“It’s really not any of your fucking business, is it?” you snapped before sighing, pinching the bridge of your nose and wincing as Joel pulled into the parking lot of the school. “Please don’t mention of this to Ellie. She doesn’t know anything about my mother and I’d like it to stay that way.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, all but leaping out of the car the second he put it into park and going quickly for the front door of the school. Joel had to run to catch up with you, barely catching you as the two of you were buzzed into the building where the headmistress met you. 

She greeted you the same way Esmo did and Joel could tell, now that he knew you didn’t like it, that it put you on edge. It made him stiffen at your back, narrowing his eyes at the prim and proper woman in front of him, assessing her differently now than the last time you’d met. She was a threat now, she’d upset you, she’d opposed Ellie and he was oddly comforted that he knew he could easily overpower her if he needed to. 

He frowned ever so slightly. 

Why would he need to? She was a fucking teacher. And why should he care so much that she pissed you off? 

“Ms. Stark,” you said, giving her a firm nod. “Where’s Ellie?” 

“In my office,” she said. “Please, follow me.” 

She led the way, setting a brisk pace, her back ramrod straight, but you kept your head high as you kept pace alongside her. 

“What happened?” You asked. “This is very out of character for Ellie.” 

“I’m not so sure it is,” the headmistress said and Joel could have sworn he saw the hint of a self-righteous smile on her lips and he clenched his jaw. “She’s… aggressive…” 

“She’s strong,” you said sharply. “But she wouldn’t pick a fight without a reason.” 

“Well, she has yet to tell us a reason,” she said, smug. “Maybe you can find one. This behavior may have been accepted at other institutions but we hold our students to a higher standard here…” 

“I’ll talk to her,” you said. “I’m sure we can figure this out.” 

Joel was half expecting you to make him wait outside the office like you had at the nursing home but you didn’t and he followed you, the principal’s office looking disturbingly more like a luxury hotel than a school. 

Ellie was sitting on one end of a small row of chairs in the office waiting room, her arms crossed and her jaw set tight. A boy - about her age and far larger than her - sat at the other end, an ice pack clutched to his lower lip and blood dripping from his nose. 

“Ellie,” you said, all but running for her, kneeling in front of her and brushing her hair back from her face. “Are you OK?” 

She jerked away from you. 

“Fine,” she muttered. “I just want to go home.” 

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

She just looked to the side, tightening her arms around herself. You stood and sighed, still watching her but Joel looked to the boy sitting at the other end of the row. He was determinedly staring straight ahead but his eyes kept darting over to you, a deep blush rising in his cheeks. Joel’s eyes narrowed. 

“We can’t just permit students to attack other students,” the headmistress said. “Especially not unprovoked…” 

“It wasn’t unprovoked!” Ellie snapped, her head whipping around to look at the boy. “He knows what he did.” 

“Miss Williams,” the headmistress said sharply. “You nearly broke a fellow student’s nose.” 

“Well, he’s a pussy!” Ellie yelled. “Not my fault he got his ass handed to him by a girl!” 

“Ellie!” You scolded. 

“What! It’s true,” she said, calming. “Lucky I didn’t do more…”

The headmistress looked at you, a small, self-satisfied smile on her face. 

“Because this is her first offense, she’s suspended for a week,” she said. “But if it happens again, we will have to expel her.” 

“We’ll take care of it,” you said before turning your attention back to Ellie. “C’mon, troublemaker, let’s go.” 

She shoved herself out of the chair and grabbed her backpack sharply from the floor. The boy at the other end of the chairs watched her and she lunged in his direction before pulling back, making him jump. 

“Yeah, better be fuckin’ scared,” she snapped. 

“Alright,” you said sharply, putting your hands on her shoulders and steering her out of the room. “That’s enough, let’s go.” 

Joel gave the kid a final look, one that was apparently enough to make him stare straight ahead again, shrinking in his seat as he did. Satisfied, Joel followed you and Ellie to the car, the girl throwing her backpack in with a little too much force. 

Mercifully, you just went for the passenger seat, saving Joel the fight about driving. You immediately turned to face the disgruntled teenager behind you. 

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was?” You asked. 

“That was a fight,” Ellie said, the sass in her voice thick. “One I won, by the way.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you said. “Kid, you can’t just do stuff like that for no reason! What were you thinking?” 

“It wasn’t no reason!” She replied. 

“OK then what was the reason?” You said. “I’m dying for you to enlighten me because there had better be some kind of reason why you’d go after a classmate like that!”

“Why do I need to tell you the fucking reason?” She demanded. “You don’t need to know the reason, you just need to trust me when I say I had one!” 

“I do trust you!” You said. “But that school doesn’t! They don’t know you yet! They don’t know how smart and kind and funny you are, all they know is that you refused to follow the dress code on day one and now that you beat people up when you don’t get your way!” 

“I didn’t hit him because I didn’t get my way!” She yelled. “I did it because…” 

Her voice trailed off, seeming to realize what she was about to say just as she said it. You gave her a minute to say it, anyway, but she didn’t. 

“Tell me a reason, Ellie,” you said gently. “Because there has to be a reason. God, I sure hope there is because I’d rather not have to donate a library to some stuffy school every time you decide to throw a tantrum…” 

“Oh, yeah, because you’ll just use your fucking money to fix everything,” Ellie snapped. “But you didn’t use it to save my mom! No, you just let her die.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of your face at that, looking less like you’d been yelled at by a teenager and more like someone had slapped you. 

“I tried, honey,” you said gently. “I tried so hard to save your mom, I helped get her the best doctors, I helped get her into the best facilities but sometimes it’s just beyond what we can do as people.” 

“Whatever,” Ellie snapped as Joel pulled into the driveway. She jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her and you followed after her. 

“Is that what this is about?” You asked. “Is it because you miss your mom? Because I get that, I miss her too, so much that sometimes I want to burn something down, but…” 

“But she was your friend!” She rounded on you. “And she was my fucking mom, stop acting like you know how I feel because you don’t know how I fucking feel!” 

“Ellie,” you said gently. “I know it’s hard, and…” 

“No, you don’t know!” She snapped. “Stop it! Just leave me alone!” 

She started stomping off to her room but you stayed close behind. 

“We can talk about…” 

“I don’t want to talk to you!” She yelled. “I don’t want to look at you or talk to you or do anything with you! I wish it was you who died instead of her!” 

You froze where you stood and Ellie took advantage of your stillness to stomp off back to her bedroom, the door slamming in her corner of the house.

“Yeah, me too,” you said, so quietly that Joel doubted that you knew he could hear you. 

He was quiet for a moment, staring where Ellie had gone, hoping she’d come back for both your sakes. But she didn’t. 

“Teenagers are hard,” Joel said eventually. “Sure she didn’t mean that…” 

“Oh please, I know you’re just loving this,” you said harshly. “I don’t need your fake pity, Joel. I have interviews, stay out of my office.” 

You left without another word, the click of your door much quieter than Ellie’s had been. 

“That went well,” Esmo sighed, catching Joel off guard. 

“Sure it’ll pass,” Joel said gruffly. He wasn’t sure why his chest got tight as he looked toward your office. He didn’t care about you beyond needing to keep you alive and he only needed do that because of everything he owed his brother. Besides, you were just some spoiled, pampered celebrity. Surely you could use something pushing back on you for a change. 

“Dinner tonight is roast chicken,” Esmo said, heading toward the kitchen. 

Joel frowned. 

“Why are…” 

“I know why you don’t usually eat with us, Mr. Miller,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrowed. “She won’t be joining us, her calendar is full until after 10. Don’t pretend that you enjoy those freezer burnt blocks of garbage you call food more than a home cooked meal, I don’t like liars.” 

She disappeared to the kitchen, the rattle of pots and pans following not long after and Joel sighed, settling in on the couch to kill time instead of disappearing to his room on the other side of the house. 

But, to his surprise, Ellie emerged just an hour later, in jeans a t-shirt instead of her uniform now, creeping into the living room like she was expecting someone to jump out at her. 

“She ain’t here,” Joel said, making her jump. “Sorry, kiddo, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.” 

“It’s fine,” she sighed, coming in and flopping on the loveseat. “Where is she?” 

“Doin’ interviews in her office, I guess,” Joel said. She nodded slowly, staring determinedly at the coffee table. 

The two of them sat quietly for a moment before this strange tug at the center of him to take care of her - something that was so foreign now but still so familiar - made him clear his throat and break the silence. 

“Want… want to talk about anything?” He asked. 

“Like?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at him. 

“Like why you decided to beat up some boy at school,” he shrugged. “Or why you decided to say something that mean to one of the only people who really cares about you. Because that didn’t seem much like you.” 

She scoffed. 

“What do you know?” 

He shrugged. 

“Enough to know that you act tough but that you ain’t an asshole.” 

“Ain’t isn’t a word,” she said. 

Joel just shrugged again, going back to his phone. 

Eventually, Ellie sighed heavily. 

“That fucking boy,” she spat the word as though it were curse word, not the f-bomb she’d dropped a second earlier. “Figured out who she was. Saw her dropping me off at school earlier this week and started talking about shit like ‘your mom is so hot, why aren’t you’ and when that didn’t really bother me started saying shit like ‘I’ve seen your mom’s tits’ and called her a whore and I just… he fucking deserved it, OK? And I’m not about to apologize to that fucker just because the fucking school….” 

“Alright,” Joel said gently, cutting her off. “I agree. He’s a jackass. You probably did the right thing.” 

She looked surprised for a moment but it passed quickly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t tell her what happened,” Ellie said. “Because do you know how fucking creepy it is, knowing that every guy in your stupid school has probably jerked it to your aunt? It’s fucking gross. I don’t want to talk about that shit with her.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“So, what, you decided to take it out on your aunt when you got home?” He asked. 

“No,” she said, defensive. “I just… I know she loves my mom… Loved my mom… So why didn’t she… I don’t know, just… why didn’t she fix it? She has all this fucking money and knows all these fucking people, why didn’t she fix it? She can do everything else, why couldn’t she do that one thing?” 

“You really think she didn’t try?” Joel asked gently. “Look, I don’t really know her but I can tell she loves you something fierce and I’m guessin’ that’s because she loved your mama something fierce, too. Just… sometimes, there’s shit that money can’t fix.” Without meaning to, he remembered holding his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He remembered begging whatever god might be listening to do anything to fix it. That he’d give anything, do anything, to fix it. It hadn’t made a damn difference. “Trust me. Sometimes power and money just don’t mean shit.” 

She shrugged and picked at some unseen thing on the couch. 

“Not my business,” Joel shrugged. “Just seems like you’re making her miserable because someone else is bein’ an asshole.” 

“Think she’s mad at me?” Ellie asked quietly, looking over at him, her dark eyes soft. 

“If she is, she’s not actually mad,” he said. “Just hurt. You said some shitty stuff, kid.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, looking toward the hall that led to your office. “I fucked up.” 

Joel shrugged again. 

“Everyone does.” 

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. 

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” She asked. “Don’t you usually hide in your room when you’re not following us around?” 

He didn’t want to admit to hiding from the visions of his daughter that so often plagued him on his birthday, so he just shrugged instead. 

“Well, I got this new video game while you were off,” she said. “Want to kill some zombies and shit with me?” 

“Don’t you got homework or something?” He asked, brows raised. 

“I’m suspended, remember?” She said. 

“You really think either of them are gonna let that stand?” Joel asked. “Between your aunt and Esmo, you’re gonna be back in that school before you know it.” 

She snorted. 

“Probably right,” she said. “Still. Wanna play?” 

He examined her for a moment, the hopeful look in her eyes as she watched him in return. 

It had been so long since anyone had wanted something like this with him, some kind of connection, some kind of approval, some kind of emotional investment. It made his chest get tight and his first instinct was to tell her no, to stalk off to his bedroom and close the door and keep himself far away from anything like that… but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she so clearly needed it. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “Gotta get all that shit set up, though, don’t exactly play a bunch of video games…” 

She scoffed. 

“I’m sure you don’t, old man.” 

Ellie gave him a controller and, as the two of them ran through some virtual desert to collect supplies and shoot zombies, he had the fleeting thought that making her smile made this the best birthday he’d had in more than five years. 

***

“Thank you for having me!” You smiled brightly, hoping it still reached your eyes after faking your way through this for hours. Fuck, your Oscar should be for this shit, not your film roles. “It’s been so fun. Hope to see you at the movies!” 

“See you there!” The spunky entertainment reporter on the other end of the connection said before the stream cut off. You let the smile slip the moment you knew no one but Quinn was left on the screen, grabbing your water bottle from just out of sight and chugging half of it. 

“You did great,” she said, looking at notes on her end. “Hit all the big talking points, great lead in for the main junket kicking off soon.” 

“Can’t wait,” you said wryly. Quinn gave you a look and you just shrugged. “What? I don’t get paid to act like I enjoy this shit with you, just with all the reporters.” 

“Well, it looks like you won’t be flying solo on at least the LA portion of this junket,” she said and you frowned. Quinn answered the question before you had a chance to ask it. “Looks like Chris Reese will be with you…” 

You groaned. 

“Seriously?” You asked. “I have to be in LA and I have to deal with that jackass?” 

“Have worse chemistry with him and then you won’t have to do shit like press with him,” she said. You glared at her. “What? I get paid to spin shit for the reporters, not for you.” 

“Ha ha,” you said and she smirked. 

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “Just two days of interviews. And they want you to do a few of TikTok trends for promos…” you groaned again. “Going to pretend like I didn’t hear that and just say that you’re looking forward to reconnecting with your costar.” 

“Oh yeah, can’t wait,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Also,” Quinn said, steadfastly ignoring you. “I just emailed you part of the script for Savage Starlight, they want you to do some chemistry reads while you’re out that way. They think they have a casting choice for the young version of yourself and you’ll have one dream sequence scene with her that’s going to be pretty important to the story, I guess… fuck if I know. They want to make sure the two of you fit well. They’re also looking at a few guys for your love interest… couple unknowns, Ryan Smythe and Chris Pine are all in the mix.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Ryan’s not bad,” you said. “I haven’t worked with him but we’ve met a few times and I like his work. Surprised he’s drawn to a project like this…” 

“I’m surprised you’re drawn to a project like this,” Quinn said. 

You shot her a glare. 

“…But I wouldn’t mind working with him,” you continued like she hadn’t spoken at all. “Pine is a shock, I think he’d have gotten enough of playing second fiddle to a woman superhero after Wonder Woman.” 

Quinn shrugged. 

“Maybe he’s just in his big time feminist era, not arguing with that. Plus, he’s good.” 

“Oh, he’s great,” you said. “The best of the Chrises. Unlike Reese…” 

“Oh, suck it up,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad.” 

“He’s obnoxious,” you said. “You don’t have to deal with him like I do.” 

“No, but I have to deal with his manager,” she replied. “I’ll trade you. At least Reese is nice to look at.” 

“Yeah, he knows it, too,” you said. 

“When you’re out here, we’ll have to have to have lunch,” she said “You’re my favorite client, I miss you.” 

“You say that to all your clients.” 

“Yes, but I lie when I say it to the rest them,” she smiled a little. “OK I’m going to let you go get some sleep. I’ll send you an itinerary for your trip out here and I’ll share it with the security outfit, too. Speaking of which, tell that bodyguard of yours happy birthday.” 

You frowned. 

“It’s his birthday?” You asked. “Wait, how’d you know that?” 

“Come on,” she scoffed. “You know I ran a full investigation on the man I knew would be protecting you. I’m not stupid. Anyway, tell him happy birthday for me and take care of yourself, OK?” 

“Will do. And you, too,” you said, hanging up and letting your forehead droop to your desk with a groan. 

You were exhausted. Even before the Ellie shit you’d been exhausted and all you’d wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep all day. 

Of course, you didn’t get to do that. Instead, you listened to the most important person in your life tell you that she wished you were dead before you had to go give the same goddamn interview to a dozen different broadcast outlets. 

You’d closed yourself in your office and let yourself cry for a while before you forced yourself to stop long enough to do your hair and makeup and make sure you looked at least somewhat presentable before the first interview. And then you faked a smile for hours, talking about the last movie you made before your best friend died, trying not to think about leaving set every day to go see Anna in hospice, always afraid that it would be the last time you’d get to see her. 

Esmo had sent you texts while you were stuck in interview hell, telling you when Ellie had eaten, done her homework and gone to bed. She’d also reached out to the school to discuss bringing her back sooner and said she would tell you what she’d gotten out of them the next day. 

You weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve her but, in that moment, you felt like you owed her your life. Because someone needed to look out for Ellie, even when she wouldn’t let you do it yourself. 

At least, now that it was late, the main part of the house should be empty. Esmo had gone home, Ellie was asleep, Joel liked to avoid every part of the house where he might run into people unless he absolutely had to be there. The last thing you felt like doing was getting into it with your niece or faking a smile for Esmo or putting up with Joel’s shit. 

Your bodyguard exhausted you. He’d seemed to make it his own, personal mission to get under your skin. Sure, maybe you hadn’t given him the warmest welcome - you still weren’t thrilled about having to have a bodyguard in the first place - but that hardly seemed to warrant the degree to which he’d been poking and prodding at you in the two weeks he’d been working for you. 

Joel had figured out quickly that he had a lot of power over you, somehow keenly aware that you weren’t about to complain to his boss about him or try to get him kicked off the job. What you didn’t get was why he seemed to be so fucking miserable to be assigned to you to begin with. 

It’s not like he’d never been a bodyguard before, it’s not like this was new fucking territory for him. He just seemed to hate you personally. 

You’d tried to change that for the first week or so. Yes, you’d gotten off on the wrong foot and you could take the blame for that. You were willing to give him some time to get it out of his system. You tried to reach out, to see what food he liked so you could update the dinner menus to his liking or to buy him coffee when you insisted on stopping to get one - much to his chagrin. You tried to even go along with some of his demands so his job was a little easier - things that wouldn’t have you losing as much of your autonomy, at least - but he didn’t seem to appreciate any of it. And then Seth, the other guard, was with you and you realized just how much Joel must absolutely loathe you. 

Seth was much easier going. He let you drive without argument. He had dinner with you, Ellie and Esmo every night. He smiled and laughed and mentioned that he was surprised you picked Siren of the name options for you. You’d managed to hide your surprise at that, not wanting to give away just how much his coworker seemed to enjoy humiliating you. 

Of course Joel had to come back on what had quickly devolved into the worst day you’d had since Anna died. Of course he’d seen just what Ellie said, of course he had some new way to make you feel like shit. Happy fucking birthday to him. 

The pinch of tears had returned to the back of your throat but you swallowed them. You needed to eat something. You needed to go take off all this fucking makeup. You needed to actually sleep in your own damn bed because sleeping anywhere else would be strange and you couldn’t give Joel more ammunition to use against you or give Ellie any reason to feel worse.

So you forced yourself to go to the kitchen to get the plate Esmo had made for you out of the fridge, your feet heavy, the house dark. The light was on in the pool, the reflection from the water casting lines over the ceiling of your living room and you considered, for a moment, just how easy it’d be to go outside, jump into the water and let it swallow you. But you couldn’t do that. Ellie needed you, whether she liked it or not, and there was a whole staff of people who relied on you for their livelihood. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not for you. So you kept going, like you always did.

The kitchen was dark, too, but the smell of coffee was fresh and strong as you opened the fridge, the light oddly bright compared to the darkness of your house. You found the plate Esmo had left you, a chicken thigh and roasted broccoli piled high. You pulled the plastic wrap back, bumping the fridge closed with your hip as you did. 

“Should pay more attention.” 

You yelped, jumping and looking around before you realized that, at the end of your breakfast bar, was the hulking figure of your bodyguard, sitting in the dark. 

“Jesus Christ,” you said, heart pounding. You set the plate on the counter and stalked to turn on the lights before rounding on him. “What the fuck are you doing, sitting here in the dark? Just lurking to try to fuck with me in some new way or what?” 

“No,” he said and there was something so honest in his voice that you couldn’t help but believe him. “Didn’t feel like sleepin’, so…” 

He shrugged and you just nodded, going to put your dinner in the microwave. 

“Well, you can have the kitchen to yourself again in a minute,” you said, leaning against the counter and facing Joel, your arms crossed over your stomach. 

The frustrating thing was, if he wasn’t such an asshole, Joel would be an attractive man. He was handsome, unquestionably so, in a way that would be sculpted out of marble in a bygone time. He was handsome and tall and broad and there was something about his presence - no matter how antagonistic he seemed to get - that made you feel safe. It was something that you thought went past the fact that he was paid to protect you, something in you that said that, while he was here with you alone, while he could easily overpower you, you didn’t need to be afraid of him. He was safe. 

Of course, maybe it was better if he was a dick. If he was kinder, you’d probably end up half in love with him, a recipe for disaster since he was your bodyguard. 

“S’your house,” Joel shrugged. “I can go if you want space.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. 

He just nodded, twisting his coffee mug in his hands. 

“You alright?” He asked after a moment of quiet with nothing but the hum of the microwave between you. You raised your brows at him. “Just… you know… whole Ellie thing.” 

You watched him for a moment, head cocked. Was he asking because he actually cared? Was he asking to try to find some new way to make you miserable? You weren’t sure. 

“She’s a good kid,” he said when you’d been quiet a bit too long. “She didn’t… I know she didn’t mean what she said, she’s just bein’ a teenager, and…” 

“How do you know?” 

He frowned. 

“Know what?” 

“That she didn’t mean it,” you said. “How do you know?” 

The microwave beeped and you got out your food. Joel, much to your surprise, pulled out the chair next to his at the breakfast bar before gripping his mug again, his fingers tight and strained against the ceramic. You took the seat, grabbing a fork and knife from the silverware drawer on the way. 

“I talked to her a bit,” he said once you settled in next to him. He wasn’t looking at you, staring straight ahead instead. “She was… she was upset about other shit and took it out on you. Don’t make it right but… at least explains it.” 

“What was she upset about?” You asked, cutting into the chicken and taking a bite. Even reheated it was delicious. God bless Esmo. “Was it the fight at school? Because she was in a mood this morning, too, and…” 

“Yeah, think that fight’s been simmerin’ for a few days,” Joel said, taking a sip of coffee before glancing your way quickly.

“What was it?” You frowned. “Did she tell you? If it was a good reason, then…” 

“She told me,” he cut you off, actually looking at you now. “Look… I’ll tell you, but I think it’s best if you keep it to yourself. I get why she’s pissed.” 

You frowned. 

“OK…” 

“That fuckin’ kid she beat up,” he said, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Well… guess he recognized you…” 

“Shit,” you sighed, dropping your fork to your plate to press the palm of your hand to your eye. Of course you were the root of this problem, too. 

“Sounds like he thought you’re her mom,” he said. “Started askin’ her why she’s not as good looking as you and, when that didn’t get enough of a rise out of ‘er, started saying… other shit.” 

You gave him a second to continue on his own but he didn’t. 

“Other shit like what?” You asked. He flinched and looked down at his coffee cup. “Other shit like what, Joel.” 

He sighed. 

“Other shit like he’d seen your… chest,” he said, his cheeks getting red. “And he called you… well, somethin’ you don’t call a lady.” 

“Jesus,” you slumped down in your seat. “Well, at least that explains why she was begging me to not be the one to drive her to school in the mornings anymore…” 

“Sorry,” Joel said, his voice rough. 

“I don’t blame her for taking the bait,” you sighed. “Lord knows I would have in her shoes… God, it must be embarrassing for her…” 

“Like I said, she’s a good kid,” he said. “Don’t take one blow up too personally. Teenagers are… well, they’re teenagers.” 

You watched him for a moment. 

“Why do you know this stuff?” 

His jaw tightened for a moment. 

“Just do,” he said. 

Something told you that wasn’t all there was to it but you didn’t pry. Instead, you ate your dinner in silence next to him, trying to think of ways to talk to the school to get Ellie back in without bringing up what she’d told Joel. You liked that she had an adult she apparently felt like she could talk to. She needed that, desperately, in her life. You’d prefer it was you - it had been you, once upon a time, back when you weren’t responsible for her - but you’d take what you could get. 

“Can I ask what that punching bag out back did to piss you off?” He asked eventually. 

You laughed a little. 

“Nothing much,” you replied. “Wait… you sighed an NDA for this job, right?” 

“Yeah,” he frowned, looking at you again. “Why?” 

“Because this isn’t public yet,” you said. “But… Well, I’m trying to prep for a role.” 

“A role,” he said. “What role?” 

“You ever heard of the comic series Savage Starlight?” You asked. He nodded. “Well… I’m Starlight. Or, I will be. They’re going to officially announce it in a few months, once the rest of the main cast is settled. They’re starting me with a trainer to learn fight choreography in six weeks but I’ve never had a role with fight scenes like this one, I’m trying to make it so I’m not starting from scratch so I don’t look like a total idiot.” 

“That don’t…” Joel paused. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.” 

“It’s not,” you said. “But Ellie loves the comics. They’re her favorite thing and… well, if I’m her favorite super hero, I can’t be all bad, right? So I just… I want to get it right.” 

“Well, you’re doin’ it wrong,” Joel said. You narrowed your eyes, about to argue with him on it, but he cut you off. “Not trying to be mean. Your form was just… I can tell you haven’t really thrown a punch before. Nothin’ wrong with that. Or, well, there isn’t until you need to start fighting. You just need to be careful is all, otherwise you’re just gonna hurt yourself.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Of course,” you said wryly. “It only makes sense that I’m shit at that, too.” 

“Not shit,” he said. You raised your eyebrows. “What? You’re not. Just not trained. I… I can help. If you wanted.” 

“Really,” you asked, incredulous. “You’d help me train to fight.” 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like I don’t got the time. Besides, figure my job just gets harder if you’re in a damn cast because you busted your wrist throwin’ a bad punch.” 

“Fair enough,” you said. “Thank you.” 

“Sure,” he said, the two of you falling silent again. You picked at the chicken, not much of an appetite. 

“Do you think,” you said, trailing off for a moment before looking at him again. “Do you think you could take Ellie to school when she starts back? I’m going to talk to the school again tomorrow, try to get her back in next week, but I don’t want to cause her more problems and…” 

“Sure,” he said. “I… I don’t mind. She’s a good kid.” 

“She is,” you agreed. 

You finished what you could of your dinner and slid off the seat before cleaning up your dish, Joel frowning and watching as you did. 

“What?” You asked. “You’re looking at me like I’m… I dunno, an alien or something.” 

“Don’t you have people who do shit like clean up after you?” He asked. “Ain’t that part of Esmo’s job?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged. “But I’m not about to leave my dirty dishes sitting out overnight for her to deal with when she gets here in the morning. I’m not an asshole.” 

He seemed to process that as you loaded the dishwasher and chugged a final glass of water before putting the glass in the dishwasher, too. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you said. “Been a hell of a day. Want me to turn the light off so you can sit in the dark with your coffee again?” 

Joel just shrugged. 

“Don’t really matter,” he said. “Good night.” 

“Night,” you said, turning to go before you remembered what Quinn had told you. “Hey, actually, why didn’t you mention that today was your birthday?” 

He flinched, the movement so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it, and you had the strangest desire to comfort him somehow. You just didn’t know why. 

“Don’t like my birthday,” he said after a moment. “Not a lot of reasons to celebrate so I just don’t. Besides, don’t really like being the center of attention.” 

You laughed a little at that. 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. But… well, happy birthday, anyway. Thanks for looking after Ellie.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Thanks,” he said. “It… it was nice.” 

You wanted to say something else but you couldn’t think of what so instead, you turned out the light and left him there, drinking coffee from your favorite mug alone in the dark. 

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the eternity between chapters. I've just not been able to keep up with things lately. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.

I'm really enjoying their dynamic! Some active antagonism based in misunderstanding of motives, some mutual attraction, a lot of similar life experiences that they don't fully grasp yet. I just really love these two and I'm so excited to share where they're headed! Thanks for being here.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel

[lemoncrushh]

Ruin the Friendship

Summary: It's Ella's birthday, and her best friend Harry plans to tell her how he feels about her.

Warnings: None, just sweet, sugary fluff

Word Count: 5.2k+

A/N: Uni!Harry x OC, AU, friends to lovers one shot written in third person, originally from 2019. I think my first plan back then was to include some smut, but as I was writing, I decided it was not needed. I think you'll see why and agree. Also, Liam and Niall are in this one :).

Ella was his best friend. Some people would say Niall was Harry’s best mate, and while he considered that to be true for the most part, if anyone was to ask, he’d proudly declare that Ella took the title. They’d only known each other since the first year of uni, but in that time they’d grown very close, and if Harry was honest, there were things they shared that he didn’t share with the lads.

Not things like details about girls he fancied or the head he’d gotten that one time from Marla Lemons. He could only talk shit like that with his mates, and he reckoned Ella wouldn’t wanna hear about it anyway. But they could have deep conversations well into the night about nothing and anything, musing about life and death and what it all really meant. He’d known Niall for nearly a decade, and while he could chat him up about complete random shit, he wasn’t the type to talk about things like that.

Sometimes it was nice to have a friend to just chat about nothing with.

One thing he’d never been able to tell Ella, however, was that he secretly wanted to be more than friends. He’d never made a move, and other than holding her hand when she was scared at the haunted house or wiping her tears when she’d cried about an exam she’d failed, he’d barely touched her. Something had happened that first year at university that had put them in the friend zone, and he eventually accepted that was just how it was meant to be. At least for a while. But this last year had been different. Something had shifted, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Harry stood in the kitchen, his hand around a red cup filled with some sort of concoction that smelled entirely too sweet. He didn’t really want to get shit-faced tonight, that wasn’t his plan. Not that he really had a plan. But it was Ella’s birthday, and if he had anything to say about it, it would be her best one yet. The last three had been fun as far as he could recall, except for the time some girl Niall had been dating...Lena? Lorna?...had gotten so wasted she threw up on the rug. Ella, being the kind soul she was, insisted on cleaning up, holding her nose with a clothespin until Harry finally pulled her away, yelling at Niall that he should clean up his own girlfriend’s puke. Later that night, sat with Ella up on the roof, Harry had thought about confessing his feelings to her. But it just hadn’t felt like the right time, and given that he was still pretty drunk himself, he was afraid Ella would simply blame it on that and not take him seriously.

So the friendship continued.

“Hey mate, you gonna drink that or are you trying to read your future in it?”

Lifting his head, Harry saw his friend Liam enter the kitchen, walking up to the counter beside him and pouring himself a cup of the same pink liquid.

“What’s in this?” Harry asked.

“Hell if I know,” Liam shrugged before taking a large gulp. “Mmm, tastes like bubblegum.”

“Blech!” Harry sounded after taking his own sip, making a face of disgust. “Nah man, where’s the good stuff?”

“Right here, mate!” exclaimed Niall as he strutted into the kitchen with a case of beer in each hand. Two more lads followed him in, carrying the same. Leave it to Niall.

“Not what I meant,” muttered Harry, walking around them to the living room.

The front door opened then, and another handful of people entered, some he knew, some he didn’t. He recognized Vickie, Ella’s roommate among them and when she spotted Harry she smiled.

“Birthday girl’s on her way,” she announced, setting a bag on the counter. Harry noticed the clinking sound it made which made his ears perk up.

“Harry!” Liam called as Vickie pulled out the bottles of both brown and clear liquor. “I think this is what you were looking for!”

Turning back to the kitchen, Harry eyed the bottles and was about to make a decision when a commotion started behind him. It wasn’t a surprise party, but it seemed every girl in the house had run to the front door to greet Ella when she arrived. Harry stood back, his hands in his pockets as he watched her beautiful smile, the pink in her cheeks when her friends hugged her or wished her a happy birthday.

He contemplated stepping forward to give her his own wishes, but soon thought better of it, deciding he’d give her time with her girlfriends first. Instead he made himself a drink, a proper strong one. At least one, he told himself. He didn’t need to get hammered, but he’d need the liquid courage if this was to finally be the night he told her how he felt about her. While he was at it, he reckoned he’d make a drink for Ella as well. He knew what she liked.

“Happy Birthday Ella!” he heard Liam exclaim over the loud music.

Harry looked up from his drink to see that the lad had beat him to the punch as he offered Ella a red cup of what he could only assume was the disgusting pink shit. He chuckled when he saw her make a face and shake her head.

“Um, no thanks, darling,” she said. “I think I’ll see if Harry has something more to my liking at the bar.”

He felt a warmth ooze throughout his body at both the mention of his name and the fact that she called the simple kitchen island with a handful of liquor bottles a bar. He watched as she took a couple strides through the living room and met him with a smile.

“What’ve we got here, bartender?” she asked.

Harry raised a brow. “Oh am I bartender? No one told me.”

“I’m joking,” she giggled, placing a hand on his bicep. “But can you make me something? I am the birthday girl, after all.”

With a smirk, Harry handed her the drink he’d mixed. “Just so happens I already did.”

A wide smile spread across Ella’s face as she took the cup. “See, this is why we’re besties.”

Harry’s face fell, but he quickly tried to compose himself. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Yeah. You bet.”

Besties. Right.

“Hey, Ells Bells!” they suddenly heard behind them. They both turned to see Niall rushing towards Ella, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand when he enveloped her in a hug.

Harry rolled his eyes. He hated Niall’s stupid nickname for her. He suspected Ella wasn’t too keen on it either, especially when Harry’d slipped up once and called her that himself. She’d told him it was Niall’s name and she’d rather just leave it at that.

“Hello, Niall,” she greeted graciously, kissing him on either cheek.

“Who’s up for a game?” he asked.

Harry grimaced, knowing what kind of game Niall had in mind. But if Ella wanted to play…

“No thanks,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll sit it out this year, love, if it’s all the same.”

Niall shrugged. “Suit yourself. ‘s your birthday.”

“Besides,” Ella added with a cheeky grin, “I don’t want to end up like dear Lorna.”

Harry covered his mouth with his hand, nearly spewing out its contents. When he swallowed, he let out a loud guffaw, causing Niall’s cheeks to redden.

“Eat shit, the both o’ ya,” Niall spat before grabbing another beer from the cooler.

When he’d joined the group in the living room, the majority of them cheering at the prospect of a drinking game, Ella turned to Harry, her face flushed from laughing.

“You’re not gonna play?” she inquired.

“Nah, I’d rather not.”

“Wow. Harry Styles is not interested in getting smashed at a party?” she mocked. “Is the sky falling? Did I miss something?”

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Just don’t feel like it tonight. I mean, I’m still drinking. Just...responsibly.”

“Uh huh. We’ll see how you are in an hour or two.”

“Oh we will?” he quirked a brow.

“Yeah. I’ll check in on you, but don’t expect me to hold your hair back when you’re retching in the toilet.”

He chuckled at their playful banter. He enjoyed taking the piss and teasing each other, even if Ella only thought of it as a friend thing. She didn’t need to know it gave him a boner sometimes.

“Styles, you’re not playing?” Liam called from the living room where a large group had gathered around the coffee table.

Harry simply held up his hands.

“It’s early yet,” Ella winked.

Early, indeed, Harry thought. Too early. He wanted this night to be over already, or at least get past the first part so he could possibly get a chance alone with her to give her his gift. He didn’t want her to open in front of everyone else. It was too personal, and if by chance she didn’t react to it the way he hoped, at least he’d only get his ego bruised a bit and not have to suffer a full embarrassment.

Vickie came up to Ella then, along with another girl who’s name Harry had forgotten. They chatted amongst themselves for a bit before Ella turned to Harry, her hand on his arm. Touch number two, he noted.

“Harry, we’ll be right back, Vickie wants to show me something.”

With a nod, Harry raised his now almost empty cup and drained the rest of his drink. He considered making a second, but reckoned he should pace himself if he didn’t want to hear Ella say ‘I told you so.’

He decided to wander into the living room and watch the others playing the drinking game. Sat on the couch, he laughed when Liam had to take a shot, then Ella’s friend Melissa had to take three in a row. Poor girl, Harry thought until she declared she could hold her own.

After a while, he got bored so he walked down the hall, wondering where Ella had gone. He couldn’t imagine there was anything in the house Vickie had wanted to show her. They’d probably gone outside or to her car. The music drifted down the hall as he made it to his room and sat on the bed. He was definitely not himself tonight. Normally he’d be the first one sat on the floor for a game, or at least by now he’d have a light buzz. He just wanted a clear head, he’d told himself. But it definitely wasn’t clear. All he could think about was her and what he was going to say, if he got the chance to say it.

Running his hands down his face, he took a deep breath and let it out. He stared at the floor for a good while, replaying in his mind the scenario he’d conjured up a couple years ago, edited and tweaked over time.

“Hey, what are you doing in here?”

He jumped when he heard her voice. Lifting his head, he saw her standing in the doorway, her gorgeous eyes wide with wonder.

“Hey,” he muttered softly. “Nothing, I’m just…”

Ella stepped into his room. She’d been in there several times, but this time as she sat on the bed, Harry felt himself tremble.

“Something wrong?” she asked. “Did one of those stupid prats out there give you a hard time? Because you know, that’s my job.”

She nudged Harry’s shoulder with her own, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed lightly under his breath, but said nothing.

“Hey. Harry. I’ve never seen you like this. What gives?”

She turned on the bed to face him, her legs criss crossed. Harry picked at his bottom lip. He wondered if this was it. If this was the moment he was supposed to take action. But how? Was he supposed to give her a long speech about how he’d pined for her for years, or was he supposed to just grab her and kiss her? 

“This is probably a shitty thing to say,” Ella continued, “but I’m not sure I like this Harry. Not that you’re only fun when you’re drunk, I don’t mean that. But you’re so serious and quiet. It kinda scares me.”

“Sorry,” he said a little too quickly. “Don’t mean to scare you.”

“Something on your mind?” she tugged at his shirt. “You can tell me, you know. I’m your best friend.”

“I got something for you,” Harry finally said.

“Yeah?” Ella beamed. She bounced on the bed excitedly. “What did ya get me?”

“Um…”

“Ella!” the sound was deafening, coming from the living room. “Hey birthday girl! It’s time for cake and presents!”

“Oh!” she eyed Harry who merely shrugged. “Well, you can give me your present now.”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll wait. Til later. It’s…”

“Oh,” Ella mouthed again, her voice a whisper this time. “Okay.”

Ella rose from the bed, pulling Harry by the arm. They joined the party in the living room, the drinking game seemingly at a pause. The cake sat in the middle of the coffee table, pink roses and candles atop, Ella’s name in the center.

“Thank you so much,” Ella blushed, her hands by her chest. “I’m gonna cry.”

“You say that every year,” Niall quipped.

“Hush, you!” Ella poked at him.

Vickie lit the candles and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ began. Though he sang along, Harry was mesmerized by how beautiful Ella looked in the candle light. His stomach was in knots now, and he knew he had to tell her.

Ella opened her gifts next, giving sincere thanks and hugs to each guest. When it was time to cut the cake, however, Melissa made it known that Harry hadn’t given her a gift.

“What’s with that, Harry?” she slurred, obviously drunk from the game. “You’re her best friend, where’s yours?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Ella spoke up.

“He’s saving it for later,” she winked at him.

Good god, how many times was she going to wink at him tonight? Had she done that before? He didn’t remember.

“Ooh,” voiced Melissa in a sarcastic tone. “Excuse me.”

Noticing Vickie could probably use some help, Harry rose from his chair and joined her in the kitchen where she was dividing slices of cake onto plates.

“Oh, thanks Harry,” she said, handing him two plates that were ready to be served.

“I should be doing this anyway,” he offered. “Seeing as I’m her best friend and all that.”

He hadn’t meant for his comment to sound sarcastic, but he certainly noticed it came out that way. When he turned the corner, however, he heard a snort from Vickie, followed by a “yeah, sure”.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, what was that sound for?”

“Go,” Vickie shooed at him. “Serve the cake.”

With a frown, Harry made for the living room where he handed Ella a slice of cake, making sure it had a rose on it, and gave the other to Melissa, despite the scowl on her face.

“What did you mean by ‘yeah, sure’?” Harry hounded Vickie when he returned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You’re lying.”

“God, don’t be so sensitive,” she scoffed. Deciding Harry wasn’t moving fast enough, she brought more cake to the living room herself.

“Please tell me,” he urged when she came back to grab the last pieces. “Do you not think I’m her best friend?”

“Oh, certainly, Harry. You are.” Then she lowered her voice before completing her thought. “But you want to be more.”

Harry glared at her, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Oh c’mon, Harry! Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody?!”

Vickie giggled. “Don’t get so bent out of shape. Maybe I exaggerated. But Niall told me about your present.”

What the...too much was going on now, Harry’s mind was in a whirl.

“How does Niall know? I didn’t show him.”

“He found it in your room. Was looking for some shorts or something.”

“Jesus,” Harry mumbled with a sigh.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone else. I have no idea who Niall told, but I reckon it was just me.”

“What the fuck…” Harry dropped his head. It suddenly felt too heavy for his neck. His entire body felt drained, and he thought he might be sick.

“Hey,” Vickie said low, “if it’s any consolation...Ella’s never confided in me about you or anything...but if you were to make a move, I don’t think she’d reject you.”

Biting his lip, he lifted his head. He was afraid to ask, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know. But she literally talks about you all the time. I notice how she looks at you. It’s possible it’s just a friend-like fondness because she really does love and adore you. But I swear they look like heart eyes to me.”

With another sigh, his shoulders dropped. He admitted he felt a little relieved. But he was still extremely nervous.

“Thanks, Vickie,” he said.

“Here,” she grinned, “have some cake.”

“Nah. I think I’ll make another drink.” Harry grabbed a bottle and a new cup, filling it with ice.

“Whatever works for you, darling.”

Vickie joined the group in the living room while Harry nursed his cocktail for a bit. He watched Ella with her other friends, her head falling back as she laughed. Taking her final bite of cake, she looked up and their eyes locked. She tilted her head in question before rising from the couch.

“Here we go again,” she smiled as she leant against the counter. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Not,” he managed a grin. “‘Cause nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why are you over here by yourself? Are you secretly getting drunk so I won’t notice?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm. So...how about that present?”

“I told you, I’ll give it to you later.” he replied, hoping his tone was light and playful.

“You’re being mean,” she pouted, resting her chin in her hand.

Harry chuckled. “No, ‘m not!”

“Well, you’re being weird then.”

“Sorry,” he muttered before taking a drink. “I just...wanna give it to you with no one else around.”

“Ooh. I’m intrigued.”

Harry noticed how her bum stuck out and she wiggled it just slightly. It almost seemed like she was keeping time with the music playing, but he wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, he felt his blood rush to his crotch and he had to take another gulp from his cup.

“Make me one of those?” she asked, her eyelashes fluttering.

Harry obliged, pouring the liquor over ice and adding soda. When he handed it to her and she took a sip, her eyes widened.

“Is this what you’re drinking?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed.

“This is way stronger than the first one you made me,” Ella claimed.

“Well, you gotta start off slow.” This time it was his turn to wink.

“Bloody hell, Styles, maybe I am getting drunk tonight.”

Ella rarely called him by his last name unless she was scolding him. With her hand on his arm as she took another drink, he suddenly decided he liked it.

The moment was short-lived, however, when his reverie was interrupted by the noise of half the party joining them in the kitchen. Apparently it was refill time, and they all began to freshen their cups or grab beers. They all chatted for a bit, and before long the whole gang was singing a chorus of “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. Harry realized he was enjoying himself, and was remembering it was a party and started to loosen up.

“Feeling better?” Ella asked, her doe eyes smiling up at him as she placed another hand on his arm. How many times was that now? He’d lost count.

He grinned, looking down at his now empty cup.

“Sorry I’ve been…” he didn’t know how to complete the sentence.

“No worries, darling,” sang Ella. “I just like it best when you’re like this. Happy and smiling. You have a dynamite smile.”

Before Harry could respond, her hand dropped from his arm and he suddenly felt a chill.

“Going to the loo,” she whispered in his ear. “Make me another?”

Harry watched her walk away before he refilled both of their cups with ice and made the same drink as last time.

“So did you tell her yet?”

Harry lifted his gaze to see Melissa standing across from him, a cheeky grin spread across her face.

“Tell who what?” he asked.

“Ella,” she rolled her eyes. “That you’re in love with her.”

Harry’s jaw dropped just as Liam and his footie pal Derek gasped.

“Wait...whoa...what?”

Harry searched the faces in the kitchen before landing on Vickie’s who simply shrugged. Then he glared at Niall.

“Don’t look at me, mate,” he held up his hands.

“It’s my fault,” Melissa admitted. “I saw the letter you typed on your laptop.”

“Letter?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Oh my God, there’s a letter?” Niall brought his fist to his mouth.

Harry thought he might be sick right there on the kitchen tile. Rounding the island, Melissa looked at him.

“Honestly Harry, I thought everyone knew. It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t think,” conveyed Liam.

“I might’ve suspected,” said Derek.

“I didn’t really know,” added Niall with a shrug. “Until I saw the box in your wardrobe.”

“What box?” piped Liam.

“I only told Vickie about it, I swear,” Niall continued. “I was wondering if maybe there was already something going on and no one told me.”

“You didn’t think to just ask me?” Harry scoffed, his jaw set. “And what were you doing in my room anyway?”

“Bloody hell, Harry!” exclaimed Melissa when he stepped closer to Niall like he was going to clock him. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like she hasn’t been in love with you for years anyway!”

“What?”

All was silent then, except for Ariana Grande who sang from the speakers in the living room as everyone turned to see Ella stood by the kitchen, her face full of shock, bewilderment and disbelief.

“Ohh shit,” someone muttered low.

“What’s going on?” Ella asked, her eyes wide and her fists at her sides. She appeared to be breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was Harry’s instinct to pull her away from the crowd and hold her forever, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the ground.

The others in the kitchen quickly busied themselves, the beer and disgustingly sweet punch somehow suddenly the topic of conversation.

“Ella, the birthday girl!” cheered Liam. “What can I get you to drink, love?”

“Melissa?” Ella called, ignoring Liam’s attempt at distraction. “What did you just say?”

“Um...nothing um...important,” her friend stumbled. “I was just reminding Harry here what great friends you are and how it’s a wonder you’ve...never...become...more.”

Blinking, Ella looked from Melissa to Harry. He seemed to be in the same state of shock she was in, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down each time he swallowed.

“Ella…” he breathed, unable to spit out any other word.

“Um...guys…” offered Vickie, coming around the counter with her arms open. “Now might be a good time to open that present.”

She eyed Harry strongly, giving a slow nod of her head. Her hands on each of their backs, she ushered them towards the hallway and into Harry’s room. Without a word, she closed the door behind her, leaving Ella and Harry alone.

They stood in the center of the bedroom, staring at each other and waiting for the other to speak until Harry finally broke the silence.

“Is it true?”

A blush rose in Ella’s already pink cheeks as she bit her bottom lip and nodded. Harry wasted no time erasing the space between them, taking her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss on her mouth.

Startled at first, Ella froze, her hands in the air. Then she soon relaxed, letting her hands fall on Harry’s arms as she kissed him back.

“Ella…” he breathed again when he broke the kiss, his lips nearly still attached to hers. “I’ve...I’ve been in love with you for years too.”

“Since when?” Ella looked up at him with her big beautiful eyes.

“Since...I met you?”

“Liar,” she quipped, stepping back as she tugged on the hem of his shirt.

“Well…” Harry chuckled nervously. “Soon after...I reckon it was that day after the footie game when we were walking back and you asked if I was enjoying school so far.”

Ella glared at Harry, her brows raised. “First year? I don’t think I even remember that.”

“I do,” said Harry. “Very well. You had your hair back in a plait, but the sides were falling down. The sun was starting to set, and I just thought you were the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Ella hummed softly as she ran her hands up his chest.

“Kiss me again,” she pleaded. “Just like you wanted to then.”

Cupping her face again, Harry tilted his head and brought his mouth to hers. Ella felt the tingles right to her toes, a tiny squeak of a moan escaping her throat. That was music to Harry’s ears, and he eagerly slipped his tongue between her lips, meeting hers with a jolt of electricity. They kissed each other like they meant it, like it was everything they’d ever wanted. When Ella repeated her sound of pleasure, Harry lifted her by her bum and carried her to the bed.

“Your lips are so soft,” he declared, his body pressed against hers.

“Yours too.”

His hand on Ella’s waist, he lifted her shirt slightly until he touched skin. The connection was like fire, an explosion of all the senses. He began to kiss her neck then, feeling her pant beneath his lips, sending his blood rushing throughout his entire body.

“Oh my God, Harry,” Ella moaned. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with a smirk. “Me too.”

“Really?

“Fuck yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because…” Ella hesitated. “I didn’t wanna ruin the friendship.”

“Me neither,” said Harry.

“So what do we do now?” Ella looked at him with equal parts desire and apprehension.

“Ruin the friendship.”

Ella giggled, causing Harry’s chest to tickle and his smile to widen.

“I guess...if both of us feel the same,” she remarked, “it’s not really ruining it, is it?”

“I suspect not.”

After a few more kisses, Harry rested his forehead against hers as he listened to both of their breathing.

“I should stop,” he groaned.

“No. Why?”

Lifting his head, Harry looked Ella in the eye. She was so beautiful, her pouty lips already swollen from his kisses, her gaze questioning. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, with her. But they’d only just confessed how they felt. Actually, they hadn’t really fully done that. Someone else had let the cat out of the bag.

“Um...let me...give you your present,” he said, sliding off the bed.

“Okay.”

Ella sat up, pushing her hair from her face as Harry rummaged through his wardrobe and pulled out a small box. Setting it on the bed, he cleared his throat.

“So um...there’s a letter that’s supposed to go with it. I was going to read it while you open the gift. It kind of explains it all. But...since you already know, I reckon it’s pointless.”

“No, I’d like to hear the letter,” Ella smiled sweetly.

“Right then,” Harry chuckled nervously while he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. Clearing his throat again, he began to read…

Dear Ella,

Four years ago, we met in Lit class. While I didn’t make the best marks, I felt as though I aced it because you were sat next to me. Your love for literature was infectious, and I always left class with a smile on my face. I also began to enjoy your company at football games. It was obvious to me that despite the fact that you weren’t a massive fan of the sport, you came along to cheer on your friends, and I thought that was just a kind thing to do. You’ve always had a compassionate heart and a kind soul, and I reckon that’s why I began to have deeper feelings for you.

As the years have gone by, I’ve tried my best to convince myself that we’re just meant to be friends. I consider you my best friend, and I cherish our friendship more than anything. Many times I’ve wanted to tell you how I really felt, but the timing was just off, or I was chicken shit. I worried that you didn’t think of me in any other way, and being just your friend was better than nothing at all.

I still feel that way, but tonight, on your birthday, I’m putting myself out there and taking that risk. You have my heart, Ella. I want you to be mine, both my friend and my lover. I want to kiss you better than you’ve ever been kissed. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you every day how in love with you I am. You deserve the moon and the stars, the heavens and the entire universe...and I want to be the one to give it all to you.

I pray that you’ll have me as more than a friend, and accept my heart as I hand it over to you.

Yours eternally,

Harry

Dropping the paper, Harry noticed Ella was in tears, her cheeks wet as she tried desperately to wipe them.

“That was the most beautiful letter,” she whispered.

Laying the letter on the bed, Harry sat down next to it and handed Ella the box.

“I hope you like it,” he said.

It was a simple white box, unwrapped but a pink bow adorned the top. When Ella lifted the lid, she gasped. Inside sat a silver charm bracelet containing six delicate charms. She fingered each one before looking up at Harry, waiting for his explanation.

“Here, may I?” he asked, lifting the bracelet from the box.

Ella nodded and Harry unlatched the clasp and wrapped it around her delicate wrist. Ella watched his mouth as he began to describe each charm.

“A book,” he said, touching the first one. “For your love of literature. A football, for all the games you went to.”

Ella smiled, recalling all the great memories she had of watching Harry and his team.

“Two hearts…” he added. “One for your big, kind heart. And one for mine which you now own.”

Without hesitation, Ella lifted her other hand to Harry’s cheek. He smiled back at her.

“And...the moon and the stars…” he finished. “Because you deserve them.”

“Harry…” Ella murmured softly, more tears threatening to fall from her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

Dropping his hands to her waist, Harry pulled her closer.

“Say you feel the same, Ella,” he whispered. “Say you love me too.”

“I do,” she declared. “I so very much do.”

Hope you enjoyed!

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MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[gracev0609]

Between the Two of You

Jake X Chris X Reader

A @lipstickitty / gracev0609 collaboration.

WC: 4K+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Slash, M/M, F/M, Threesome.

✨✨✨✨✨

Jake set his glass down on the bar top with a clank, the condensation making the pint glass slippery between his fingers, with a slight slur,”Ya know, we're really doin’ it man. Mirador is coming to fruition, it's it's own entity, people are loving it.”

Across the table Chris let a small laugh through his nose, his bandmate clearly feeling the alcohol he's consumed,” We really are Jake, this is a good thing we've got going here, I feel like we can grow creatively.”

He watches as Jake's eyes focus on something, someone, over his shoulder. He turns his head, twisting his body almost one hundred and eighty degrees when he sees her.

Jake utters,” That's Y/N! Fuck, we haven't seen her in years! What… since 2019?”

Chris turns right side round and picks up his own pint glass, ready to take a sip to clear his throat, he always thought she was breathtaking. Before he knew it, a less than sober Jake was waving and calling her name, beckoning her to the table.

Y/N rushes over to the table, eyes bright with excitement at the sight of her friends. She tackles Jake in a hug, squeezing him tightly before turning to Chris and giving him the same treatment. “What the fuck!! I haven’t seen you in so long, how have you been? What are you up to these days? I’ve kept up with the band page a little bit, you guys are like full blown rockstars now!!” She giggles, one hand on each man’s arm.

“And we weren’t back then? Ouch.” Jake teases, clutching his chest in fake pain.

He grasps at her ringed fingers, covered in tarnished silver jewelry,” Come drink with us honey! Please?”

She glances between Jake giving her puppy dog eyes and Chris who's nodding his head in approval,” Alright alright, just a round or two.”

Chris rises from the booth allowing her to scoot in before signaling to their waitress that they needed her to come take drink orders.

The waitress makes her way to the table for their orders, shooting sneaky little glances at both men which they don’t even notice, their attention fully on the woman seated with them. “What can I get ya?” She asks with a smile. Jake orders a craft beer that Y/N teasingly rolls her eyes at the name of, Chris orders a simple stout he’s probably had a hundred times, and Y/N politely requests a Blue Moon.

The woman tries once more to make eye contact with either man seated in the booth, again to no avail. She huffs quietly under her breath and walks off to put the orders in.

“That’s pretty mean, you know. The poor girl just wanted your attention.” Y/N laughs, playfully shoving Jake’s shoulder.

“Did she? I guess my attention was focused elsewhere, darling.” Chris says, voice sweet like honey but a little rough from the liquor. She smiles, suddenly feeling butterflies from the male gaze she's under, her eyes meet Chris's first, then flit to Jake's, both are heady and familiar. She's not a stranger to their flirting, both of them attempting to take her out the last time they met up years ago, originally she denied them due to her relationship status, but fortunately, things change. The waitress interrupts the heaviness between the three of them, setting their beers down with a heavy thud while yet again Y/N thanks her.

As their glasses were emptied and refilled a few more times, the men moved closer and closer to her in the booth. Soon enough Chris had his arm around her, resting along the top of the booth, playing with her hair every once in a while, and Jake had his hand on her thigh tapping his fingers and tracing soft patterns. Their chemistry was incredible, soft touches and laughter filled their booth. As Jake set down his once again empty pint, he quietly asked, his voice soft and gentle,”Do you guys want to get out of here? Go back to my hotel room?”

Y/N fakes a scandalized gasp while Chris lets out a slightly nervous chuckle. “What will the church elders think?” She teases, feeling a little drunk on the liquor but very drunk on the two men currently draped around her. “Honey, the church elders can suck my dick.” Jake laughs.

“Jacob, I’m pretty sure that was blasphemous in about a hundred different ways.” She leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Let’s pay the tab and get the fuck out of here.” She lets her hand drift to Chris’s neck and slide down his chest before resting at his waist, prompting him to rise from the booth and pull Jake up by the hand so the three of you could settle up at the bar and make your exit.

Both boy’s minds were a little hazy from the liquor and excitement, only made worse by Y/N’s hands cheekily roaming both their bodies while they were trying to get the bill paid and get her alone. “If you keep touchin’ me like that, we’re not gonna make it back to the hotel, baby. I’m gonna take you right here.” Jake growls in her ear. Immediately she bites her lip and neatly folds her hands, resting them on her stomach, she can push him later in the sanctity of his hotel room.

One short cab ride later they arrived at their hotel. As Jake fumbled with the key card Chris had his hands roaming her body, his skilled calloused fingertips leaving tingly trails. He kissed her jaw, his arousal evident against her backside, and she shuddered out a breath as wetness pooled in her panties. Silently she was pleading with Jake to get the damn door open any faster. After what felt like an eternity the door unlocked and he ushered them inside. Jake wasted no time, eagerly pressing her body against Chris's, his rough kiss stealing her breath. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt both mens lips against her skin and their erections pressing into her body. She felt positively drunk on them and they were still fully clothed. She let out a shaky breath. Once she felt Chris's fingertips lightly lifting the hem of her shirt gruffly he asked her permission,” Can we get this off of you, love?”

Jake growled,” Please sweetheart, let us see those gorgeous tits. I've been wanting to play with them for so long Y/N.”

She feels her panties sticking to her skin a bit more at his admission, trying to rock her hips into both of them while being trapped in between their bodies. She nods, face flushed. Chris wastes no time pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her in her lacy black and green bra. “Fuuuuuuck. I knew they’d be pretty.” Jake groans, gently stroking the pad of his thumb across one nipple over the material while his other hand dips under the other cup, gently massaging and kneading, familiarizing himself with the feeling of her soft skin. “She’s so god damn soft. Feel.” Jake takes one of Chris’s hands in his own, guiding it to the band of her bra. His rough fingertips trail across her skin until they come to the clasp on the bra.

“Can we take this off, honey?” Jake whispers. At her breathy ‘yes’, Chris’s skilled fingers easily unhook the clasp, letting the straps slide down her shoulders until the garment hits the floor. Her nipples harden even further once they meet the chilled air of the room. Jake’s jaw hangs open while he takes her in, committing the way she looks to memory. Then he pushes his lips against Chris’s just over y/n’s shoulder, sandwiching her even tighter between their heated bodies. He moans into Chris’s mouth while both their hands explore the flushed skin of her torso, her head swimming from their proximity and the show they’re putting on for her right now. She shivers underneath their palms, nipples pebbled and aching under their touch, while the sinful audio of their lips colliding echoes in her ear. She turns her head, whispering just loud enough for them to hear,” Come on, let's keep going. Both of you, take something off.”

Chris backs up, and Jake audibly whines,” Aht, you heard her Jakey… undress for the pretty girl.”

She licks her lips as she watches the both of them remove their shirts and pants, leaving the boxer briefs on, barely concealing their arousal. She smiles coyly as she spies matching patches of arousal dampening the fabric of their underwear.

Jake points, gesturing between the three of them,” Fairs fair isn't it honey, take your pants off and let us see your pretty panties.”

She slowly unbuttons and unzips her jeans, she can tell she is torturing the poor men, as they desperately palm at themselves as they watch her little strip tease.

“Please baby… let us see. We just want to worship that pretty pussy,’ Chris utters, voice strained.

Taking pity on them she hooks her fingers in her waistband and pulls both her jeans and underwear off, confidently bearing herself to the beautifully crafted men before her.

Jake roughly squeezes the tip of his cock through his underwear shakily proclaiming,” Fuck. She's so fucking beautiful. Please honey, come closer let me touch you.”

She relents, giving in to the desperation in his voice, she sidles up to where he sits on the bed. Jake leans forward kissing her lower stomach, making the ache bloom in her core. Her mouth hangs agape as he breathes deeply before placing another kiss this time on her mound. His eyes flutter,” You smell delectable. Can I sweetheart? Can I put your pretty clit in my mouth?”

Unable to deny him, she nods her head agreeing. Jake sticks his tongue out, eager to dive into her folds, and she yelps as he licks against her sensitive nub.

“Does she taste as good as she looks, Jakey?” Chris murmurs, sliding up behind Jake to kiss down the back of his neck and across his shoulders. His hands stroke down Jake’s spine before slowly making their way around his front to cup his covered cock, gently squeezing.

“Mmm, fuck yeah.” Jake groans into her folds, unwilling to disconnect his mouth from her for even a second. “Come find out.” His voice is deep and raspy, slightly panting. Chris wraps his fist in Jake’s hair, tugging him up to smash their lips together. It’s brutal, all teeth and tongues as their inhibitions completely melt away and they give in to the pure lust swirling through them. Chris lets out a groan when the taste of her arousal hits his tongue mixed with a hint of the liquor Jake had been sipping on plus something else that was inherently Jake and entirely intoxicating.

“Oh my god.” Y/n whines, disappointed at the loss of Jake’s mouth but unable to will herself to be truly upset when she’s watching the two guitarists devour each other that way, hands roaming each other’s bodies as well as hers.

“Go on, baby. Eat her pretty pussy.” Chris whispers against Jake’s lips, using his grip in Jake’s hair to push him back down towards her dripping heat. Jake hums happily, letting his tongue swirl over her clit before sucking it past his lips just for a second. Then his tongue trails down to her aching entrance before plunging deep inside, her back arching off the bed as a strangled moan rips from her chest. “That’s it. Good boy.” Chris growls before maneuvering so he can lap his tongue over her sensitive bud, letting his tongue brush against Jake’s making their heads spin. He’s licking and sucking over her clit while Jake’s tongue forcefully fucks into her opening over and over. Y/N has one hand tangled in each man’s hair, grounding herself while she takes in the overwhelming pleasure they’re showering her with. Her eyes clamp shut as she feels the knot in her stomach tightening, gasping out she cries,” Need more, please!”

Out of her view Jake grasps Chris's hand, pulling it towards her entrance. His mouth licks up to pleasure her clit in tandem with his band mates, gently Chris plunges his fingers into her sopping wet heat. His fingers slowly pump in and out, carefully stretching her out for what's to come. Once she relaxes enough around Chris's digits, Jake slides his pointer finger in. They work together, pumping and curling their fingers until she's ready to take another one of Jake's. Once both mens pointer and middle fingers are nestled deep inside her they work in harmony to bring her to orgasm. Between the curls of their fingers against her walls and their tongues swirling on either side of her clit the knot in her stomach snaps. With an obscene moan her vision whites and her legs shake, her pussy contracting around their fingers. They lick her to completion, gently guiding her down from her orgasm.

She huffs out a breath, leaning up on her elbows,” Fuck, you two are good at that.”

Both men grin at her, mouths wet and glistening with her cum.

Her chest still heaving,” I need one of you in me, right now, please.”

Chris is the first to remove his final layer, his cock bobbing red and angry in the cool air of their hotel room. Quickly he positions himself between her legs, running his swollen tip through the mess between her legs. Jake removes his underwear and nestles himself into her side, his hot wet mouth kissing and licking her breasts. She tilts her head back groaning as Jake's tongue flicks against her hardened nipple, while in sync, Chris taps his leaking tip against her puffy orgasm swollen clit. Her body jolts at each targeted tap of Chris’s tip against her still overly sensitive clit, making both men chuckle at her already fucked out state.

“You need it bad, huh love?” Chris breathes, tapping his head against her teasingly once more before lining himself up with her entrance.

“I need it so bad. Please.” She whines shamelessly. With that, he pushes his swollen tip into her, relishing in the gasp that leaves her lips at the feeling. He stills, attempting to let her adjust for a moment but only serving to make her needier.

“Will you fuck my mouth, Jakey? Need you inside me too, need to taste you.” She moans, one of her thighs hooking around Chris’s hip and her hand tugging at Jake’s hair. He leaves a little red bite mark between her breasts before lifting his head to meet her gaze.

“You want my cock in your mouth, honey? While Chris fucks your perfect little pussy? Who knew you were such a dirty girl?” Jake rasps out before crawling up the bed to straddle her chest. “This okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” His cocky persona fades away for a moment, making sure she’s completely comfortable with everything he’s doing before he proceeds any further.

“Yes, fuck, please.” She grips his ass with both hands, trying to push him forward to her mouth.

“Okay, okay, Jesus.” He giggles, fisting his throbbing cock. He taps the leaking head against her extended tongue twice before guiding the tip past her lips with a shaky sigh. She hums softly around his tip sending vibrations through him. She looks up at him doe eyed while she swirls her tongue over his skin, savoring the taste of his arousal on her tongue. His eyes meet hers with a soft gasp.

“You feel so fucking good, love. Pretty pink pussy wrapped around my cock so tight. Does it feel good sweetheart?” Chris grunts as he’s finally fully buried inside of her, just barely rocking his hips into her to get her used to the feeling of him moving inside of her. Jake barks out a laugh that quickly dissipates into a moan,” Dude, she can't exactly answer right now.”

Chris chuckles as she removes her hand from Jake's hip giving him a thumbs up. He gently picks up his pace and his eyes roll back as she clenches around his length, squeezing him tight. He pants as he grabs at her hips, the plush flesh squeezing under his nimble fingers, his eyes settle on the sight in front of him, Jake's round ass. After a few stutters he synchronizes his trusts with Jake's, fucking into her together. In and out they plunged their throbbing cocks into the holes she offered. Acting on instinct Chris leaned over her body, his teeth biting quickly into Jake's butt cheek.

Jake tossed his hair over his shoulder, looking back at his friend,” Hey! What? Need something to do with your mouth?” He grasps onto Chris's shoulder pulling him into his body, their lips lock again, teeth clanking as they consume one another. Their tongues dance, and they moan, still able to taste her.

Jake grips y/n’s jaw gently as he starts thrusting his hips against her face with more force. His other hand threads into her hair, gently guiding her head up and down on his pulsing length. “Fuck, honey, I just knew you’d look so gorgeous with my cock in your throat. Shit, just like that.” Jake moans. Y/N is letting out near constant moans and whimpers muffled by Jake fucking into her throat, her eyes rolling back. Chris can feel her clenching tight around him more and more frequently.

“Gonna cum for us? C’mon beautiful, cum all over me.” Chris grits out through clenched teeth. He snakes his hand in between their sweaty, writhing bodies to press two calloused fingers to her clit, rubbing tight circles around it. The added stimulation sends her into her second orgasm, cumming hard, soaking Chris’s cock with her release. Jake slips himself out of her throat and turns his head to watch, giving her a minute to calm down.

Once her body relaxes Chris slows his pace, trying to gently guide her through the overstimulation and carry her into another high. “You came so pretty for us, love. Such a good girl.” He whispers, pushing deep into her but slowly, letting her feel every inch.” Jake, rub her clit for me. That's it, good boy, she's clenching around me.” Chris dips his head down, his hair covering his face, his eyes totally entranced in watching himself slip in and out of her while Jake rubs fast circles over her swollen clit. His ears ring with her moan,” Good girl sweetheart, cum for us love… need to feel it one more time on my cock, and then Jakey can have a turn.” She clenches, her whole body tensing as she meets her climax yet again. Chris slows to a stop and Jake removes his hand letting her fully calm down. Jake anchors his hand in her hair and pulls her up to meet his face, kissing her hungrily, he's been patient so far, but he's throbbing with need. Jake leans back up, maneuvering in between her thighs when his primal urges kick in. He leans over both of their legs, face hovering over Chris's cock absolutely soaked in her cum. Jake licks up from his base to his tip, tasting them together. He wraps his plush pink lips around his tip, gently swirling his tongue and bobbing his head, totally overwhelmed by the flood of flavors on his tongue.

Chris throws his head back onto the pillows, blonde locks splaying out behind him, and he wraps a fist loosely in Jake's mane encouraging him to keep going,” Jesus Christ Jake… fuck your pretty mouth is good at that.”

After a few more moments Chris chuffs and pulls him off of his cock,” Okay babe, enough of that, getting me a little too close.”

Jake gives him a drunken smile before returning his attention to Y/N.

“Hi sweetie, are you ready for me?”

He gently gathers some of her arousal on his fingers before fisting his cock, pumping himself slowly. She spread her legs wider and tilted her hips up while squeezing at her chest, wordlessly letting him know that she was ready. He canted his hips forward and pushed into her dripping wet heat.

His head tilts back, exposing his neck,” That's it love, fuck you feel incredible.”

He sinks into her fully, resting inside of her as he twitches.

“I feel that Jakey.”

“It's because your pussy feels too good Y/N, just give me a second baby.”

After a few more moments he gives her a soft thrust, enough for her to get used to his size. He presses his large palm flat against her stomach adding some gentle pressure. “That's a good girl. Feels so good wrapped around me honey.”

She lets out a loud moan, nails digging into Jake’s shoulder at the pleasurable stretch. “You know, I’ve imagined how you would feel hundreds of times over, but my imagination never could’ve compared to the reality.” Jake groans, punctuating his statement with a slightly rougher thrust. “Harder, Jake. Please.” She whines. Jake gets a mischievous glint in his eye and leans away from her body to hitch one of her thighs over his shoulder, gaining a deeper angle. He starts pulling out slowly and then pounding into her tight walls, abusing her g-spot and making her cries grow increasingly louder.

“Harder, yeah? That better, sweetheart?” He says with a smirk on his pretty pink lips, but his voice shakes slightly with exertion.

“Yes, Jesus Christ! I need more, please!” Y/N cries, rocking her hips up to meet Jake’s thrusts. Her eyes land on Chris, sat back on the bed watching everything unfold with his fist wrapped around his cock, stroking in rhythm with Jake slamming into Y/N.

“More?” Chris teases. “Pretty girl wants me to lick her sweet pussy while Jakey fucks it?” It’s rhetorical, proven by Chris’s form already sliding down the bed to maneuver his head into her lap, sucking her clit into his warm mouth, his tongue constantly tracing patterns around it and making her see stars. Jake speeds up his pace just slightly- the chorus of moans, whimpers, obscene wet sounds, skin smacking, and the headboard hitting the wall increasing in volume and tempo. “Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop!” Y/N sobs, one hand wrapped in Chris’s tangled mess of hair and the other clawing at Jake’s back.

“That’s it, dig your nails in baby. Let me know how good it feels. Cum on my cock sweetheart, cum all over it.” Jake grunts out between thrusts, feeling her walls tightening around him making his head spin. “You’re so fucking tight, honey. Jesus.” He moans, letting his eyes slip shut and his head fall back. Chris brings one hand between her legs to gather some of her arousal on his fingertips before reaching around to gently massage them over her back entrance. With that, her orgasm slams into her and her walls squeeze impossibly tight around him as she drenches him. Jake stills with his eyes clamped shut, willing himself not to cum just yet- he wants to feel her a little longer, he’s not ready to give her up yet and he knows Chris isn’t either. Quickly he pulls out of her, his cock pulsing on the edge of release. Jake steadily fills his lungs with oxygen and exhales, willing himself to calm down.Once he feels the burning in his stomach dissipate he motions to Chris,” Why don't you suck on him for a little bit, then you can come back to me.”

Y/N sits up in bed, pulling on Chris's hand dragging him within her reach. She kisses his stomach, trailing down to his hip bones, lightly nipping at the taut skin,”You're close aren't you?”

He breathes,” Wanna cum soon, wanna cum for you.”

Her nails dig into the skin of his hips,’ Yeah gonna be a good boy and cum? I want you both to cum on my chest together.”

“We can do that.”Chris responds eagerly, his hips subconsciously rocking towards her.

She grasps his length in one hand, and lets him enter the warm chasm of her mouth. She eagerly works him, her tongue teasing his length to swirl against his tip nudging into his slit to taste his precum. His hips buck at the overwhelming sensation, and he pulls out of her wet mouth. He fists himself slowly, just enough to keep him from toppling over the edge. Twisting her body to the right she connects her mouth with Jake's length, bobbing it down and burying her nose in his soft downy pubic hair. Her free hand comes up to toy with his tightening balls, Jake groans,” Yeah that's it baby, fuck. Mmhmm gonna give it to you, gonna cum all over those beautiful tits.”

A few more moments of her throat swallowing his length was all he could take, he ripped himself away and began hurriedly pumping himself to his finish.

Her eyes glaze over as she watches her beautiful friends bring themselves to their peaks. Chris breaks first with a groan, his hot cum splattering over her chest. Shortly after Jake reaches his bliss, his calloused hands flying over his length as he spurts his own cum onto her breasts. Once they come back down she makes eye contact with them, dragging her middle finger through the semen dripping down her sternum and rubbing it over each still pebbled nipple before gathering another drop and sucking it from her appendage like it was the finest dessert.

After picking his jaw up off the floor Jake maneuvers himself off the bed, padding into the bathroom. He locates the wash cloth and runs it under hot water before taking it back to Y/N. She goes to take it from his hand but he doesn't relent,” Just let me do it sweetheart, just let me take care of you.”

She accepts flopping back onto the mattress next to Chris. Gingerly Jake cleans her chest the best he can. Once done he carelessly drops the rag onto the floor, joining them in the cuddle puddle. After a few moments of silence Y/N speaks,” Ya know, I never thought I'd end up in bed between the two of you, but I'm certainly glad I did.”

Chris grasps her hand in his, twirling her rings around,” I think if we ever cross paths again like this, we should have a repeat.”

Jake chuckles, agreeing with his band mate before placing a soft kiss against her lips,” Just so you know, you're always welcome in my bed.”

[cheriladycl01]

All in a days work - Alexander Albon x Lifestyle/Travel Vlogger! Reader

Plot: Y/N vlogging her travels with Alex and how she see's so much of the places that they travel too with the Grand Prix

"Hey guys, this week Y/N Adventures moves to Belgium. We just had an extremely short summer break but it was so fun! Alex and I went to Thailand for 10 days and then stayed in London with family for the rest! The vlogs already out so you can go check that out" you grin before you stop to one side in the airport you and Alex are currently navigating through.

"We're leaving a little earlier compared to most driver's. We have to be in Spa, and checked into the Hotel Red Bull provide for the race weekend by Thursday the 29th. It's currently the 25th of August 2019 and we are going to Brussels for 4 nights" you say excitedly before you look over to your boyfriend confused.

He was the typical 'airport dad' boyfriend when you both travelled, and you always wanted to catch it on camera because everyone who watched you found it hilarious.

Currently he was looking down at the bulk of paper, checking through the bag meticulously making sure passports and all other essentials were there.

He'd had too many close calls where you guys had forgotten travel adaptors and were travelling with dead phones or times when you'd gotten flight times mixed up by an hour and had to run to the gate.

He turns to look at you, seeing the camera making him groan before turning away with a light blush. You laugh to yourself swinging the camera back round to yourself before looking around.

"We are currently in London Gatwick, and we are going to go find the Red Lion, Spoons so i can tell you guys about the itinerary of this week" you grinned before cutting the camera and taking your on-board suitcase and Alex's hand walking towards the pub.

"Okay, so Alex is at the bar ordering us drinks right now and I'm going to talk you through the itinerary. So we get into Brussels at 11.30 and can check into our hotel straight away. Then tomorrow we'll be going to Les Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert and looking at the amazing art, and then in the afternoon we are meeting with a friend from Belgium whose going to give us a walking tour of the city centre. Tuesday Alex and I have a spa booked and we'll do some shopping! And then Wednesday is our free day where we going to meet some locals and get a real feel for the culture" you say before spotting Alex coming back with your lemonade that you gladly took from him with a thank you and a massive gulp.

"What have you told them so far, sweetheart!" he asks taking a sip of his beer.

"The itinerary for before the race!" you smile at him.

"Hmmm, you've not told them about the fun day trip after?" he offers making you gasp forgetting that you had major things planned for the Monday and Tuesday before Italy.

"Yes guys we are going to drive over to Germany to Cologne so we can spend time in the theme park there!" you exclaim excited.

"Mmm she wanted to go to Ferrari Land but we are saving that for when we go to Abu Dhabi!" he interjects.

"Then we'll be going straight to Italy! Italy is one of Y/N's fav places guys!" Alex chuckles, you guys had met in Italy 2 years prior while he was in F2.

"Yes I'm excited to see you there!"

*Skip to Sunday!*

"So this is actually Alex's first race in Red Bull, he's starting from 17th today as qualifying wasn't what we were hoping for yesterday, was it hunny" you pan to Alex zipping up the outer part of his race suit. He pulls his headphones out and tilts his head to the side, a cute puppy dog expression resting on it.

"Qualifying, your first in Red Bull wasn't what you were hoping for? But it's today that matters!" you smile kindly at him to which he nods, knowing that yesterday he was still trying to get used to the car. It wasn't like the Toro Rosso he had driven since the start of the year, it was more aggressive, something that was a Max Verstappen driving style. But today is what would count, he agreed with you.

"Yeah. I mean it's a hard car to drive and even with the practice sessions it's still hard to get used to! Spa is also a difficult track, so yeah its just about getting used to it!" he smiles, pulling you in by your waist to his side before kissing you and running of somewhere into the garage.

"It's looking like an interesting season though guys. Lewis is strong, Ferrari is strong, we've got 3 new promising rookies one of them being my boyfriend! So yeah I'm excited for today!"

Max DNFed early on not even completing his first lap, whereas Alex stormed through the grid all the way from P17 to P5 gaining valuable points for Red Bull.

"You did amazing Alex! I'm so so proud of you!" you compliment hugging him as you were stood with the rest of the Red Bull Team! It was a really sweet moment. All of the team cheering for Alex as he pulled into the pits. Christian had congratulated him on an amazing first race and the rest of the team pulled him into hugs that you filmed.

The chaos in the garage was something you loved!

"Charles! Charles" you'd shouted over to him as you saw him walking to the cool down room preparing for him P1 podium!

"Oh Y/N! Hello!" he grins looking down at you.

"Well done on P1 it was an amazing race from you today!" you grin, pulling him into a side hug. You both chat for a little while before Seb comes out heckling him inside.

"Well guys, Belgium has been a blast! I'm going to edit these videos on the plane to Cologne and Italy!" you grin before ending up the vlog.

"Ah you all finished up for Belgium baby?" Alex asks peering over you shoulder wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Yeah! I'm excited for Cologne! Did you say Lando and George were coming with us?" you ask, tilting your head to the side unsure if Alex's rookie friends were accompanying you on your two day theme park trip.

"Yeah, they don't need to go home, so they said it would be easier travelling with us!" Alex smiles swaying you side to side.

"This will be lots and lots of fun!" you exclaim.

Before you knew it you and Lando look it in turns driving the four of you across the Belgium border into Germany and to the Theme Park you guys would spend time in. You got there late Monday morning all of you being tired and not wanting to get up at the ass crack of dawn. You guys all enjoyed a hotel breakfast together.

All the other drivers were confused about the four all in very chipper moods and all animatedly discussing something.

They had of course asked where you were off to and after explaining you were going to a theme park. Charles, Pierre, Carlos and Daniel all agreed to join you guys which left them in a car behind you following you to the park.

Some people, like Lando, Carlos and George didn't want to go on some of the bigger rides. So it was left to the rest of you, you all changed seats making sure no-one was left alone the whole time. You guys went to all the little food stands, making sure to get Lando waffles and get Charles chocolate covered strawberries.

It was probably one of the best days out, and you knew that people especially the F1 fans would enjoy the vlog around the park. There was funny moments between Lando, Carlos and Daniel. Chares and Pierre had ended up on a kiddie ride just the two of them. You and George had been sat on the mine train together and were talking to each other in what you could only describe as a Texan Drawl.

"So how are you all feeling about Italy, home of Tifosi you've got a lot of pressure Charles" you smile over at him. You guys were all sat in a Chinese themed restaurant around a big circular table, talking about the season so far and what lies ahead.

"I mean, I felt good in Belgium the car had the pace. I feel like I can do the same in Italy" Charles admits.

"How about you babe, you think you can keep Golden Boy Max behind you?" you grin teasing your boyfriend who said he was stressing about Max and how he wont always DNF in a race.

"Yeah, I mean that car is literally built for Max. Pierre I'm sure would agree with me that its a hard car to drive because of that but I feel like I'm getting there" he offers.

And that's exactly how that weekend went. Alex placed ahead of Max, who did stay in the race while Charles won his second race of the season. It was an amazing race weekend followed by lots of shopping in Milan where you treated Alex to a gift congratulating him for his amazing races.

After Italy there was a big break before Singapore, rather than keeping on the road travelling you guys decided to go home and see both of your families in London. You were always travelling and coming home always felt like you were on some kind of reality TV show, where you were sat down before being unloaded with all the current family drama.

You and Alex would share look with each other, making gasps every now and then and interjecting where necessary. But it was always fun telling them about the stories from your own travels. The stories were more dramatic and chaotic from your days of solo travelling before you'd met Alex but you still had funny moments to report back to them.

And Alex's family always loved to hear what you and Alex and all your friends had been up too!

So coming home for this break was very needed!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

[richiehugs]

Chris

An old friend of a friend.

Chris is your average 5'11 / 180cm Middle European guy with a remarried mom and a rich father. He used to spend his summers with friends and family in exotic places, or at some local beach.

He was a skinny boy in the early 2010's when he had just turned 18. He was a sporty guy, playing football and doing karate, and of course, he liked to party.

After his graduation, he got a job at an airfield as a security guard, and let's say, it wasn't as active as he might have expected.

Because he started piling on the kilos. He was exercising less, but still going out with his friends and traveling with his family and his girlfriend. He was enjoying life, but life had some unexpected turns for him. He was becoming less and less active on social media, he wouldn't post anything shirtless anymore. He wouldn't take his shirt off anymore even around friends. He knew he got chubby, and he was feeling embarrassed (though it wouldn't stop his beer-bellied friends to mock him - what are friends for, right?).

But then, in 2017, he met a girl at his workplace. The circumstances of the end of his previous relationship are unknown to me. But he was starting to look happier. And rounder.

He must have passed 100 kilos around 2018 - and 110 around 2019. His girlfriend was obviously pampering him, living at his parents house, they didn't have to worry about the slightest thing. Only his weight and his figure. His clothes were dangerously tight, showing every curve of his swollen body.

So he married her. He became a father. And then the pandemic happened.

For anyone he knew from before, he got unrecognizable. From 2020 to 2023, he must have been bounced further up to 120, or even 125 kilo / 280 pounds. His double chin was covering his entire neck. His moobs were resting on his belly, which formed a round ball under his shirt. Sucking it in wouldn't help anymore.

Due to the pandemic, he had to leave his job as airports for closed. He started a job at IKEA as a sales manager. Must have been the stress and the IKEA food that turned even him to a meatball.

But sadly, before turning into Nikocado, another turning point - his wife left him. The reason is again, unknown, but my bet would be his ex gf.

His ex was starting to spend more time with him, and boom, they made up. The girl had become a fitness coach - some sort of freak running marathons and such. Well, Chris has never run a marathon - but he has tried running before.

He started off 2023 with 120+ kilos, beautiful, obese, an aspiring superchub, growing uncontrollably 20 pounds a year - by the end he must have dropped around 20 kilos. So at around 100 kg / 220 lbs, he remains thick, he still has a dadbod, but sadly his best days have faded away. His ex, the old-new gf changed him, his lifestyle, his perfect shape, but he is happy.

This was the story of Chris, a friend of a friend. From 75 kilos to 125 kilos - and then back to 100. The pictures are from 2011 (18yo) to 2023 (30yo).

Not an influencer. Not sharing any names or socials. Please, don't reuse any of the pictures.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

[why4anne]

Racing Hearts

Part: 1

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Reader

Word-count: 2k

Summary: F1 prodigy Y/N L/N finds herself with an unexpected crush on NHL sensation Jack Hughes.

Face claim: Madison Beer + others

Masterlist

“Do I have to do this interview?” I asked my media manager. I had just arrived at my hotel in Canada and apparently I had been scheduled for an Interview in an hour. “Yes, Y/N, you have to do this interview. The other guest has already flown out early to do this interview before the race-weekend starts and it will look really bad if you don’t show up” Sarah has been my media manager since I moved to F1 at the age of 19, which was 3 years ago and she was more than used to my antics by now.

“What is it even about?” I asked as I switched my attention from my phone to fully look at her.

“It’s something about 2 stars at the age of 22 or something. The other guest is Jack Hughes, a hockey player in the NHL” Sarah looked at her notes as she said this.

“Hockey player?” I asked, exasperated.”Sarah, I know nothing about hockey! What are we even going to talk about?” 

“Don’t worry, the interviewer will make sure everything goes smoothly. You just have to sit there, smile and answer the questions.” It was obvious that she was fed up with my whining at this point so I decided to shut my mouth.

An hour and a half later I found myself in a white room with three mics standing on a table. I greeted a guy named Evan who was the host of the podcast that the interview was for and sat down in my seat, waiting for this other guy to show up. 

Five minutes later I was making small talk with the host as the door opened and a man with light brown hair walked in and fuck was he hot. I found myself staring at him as he shook hands with Evan. I could clearly see his biceps under his white t-shirt and I would be lying if I said that they were small. But, before I could look for longer I found him in front of me with his hand outstretched. I quickly pulled myself out of my daydream and stood up to greet him.

“What’s up, I’m Jack” He introduced himself, his mannerisms and way of talking all screamed cool boy, which was very different from the pampered rich boys who were the majority of the people in racing.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” I answered with a polite smile and shook his hand, locking eyes with him as I did so. I noticed how blue they were.

“Alright, if you both feel up for it I think we should get going” Evan interrupted our moment. 

“Sounds good” Jack agreed and we both took our seats.

“Welcome back to the Sport podcast, today we are joined by not one, but two special guests. We have hockey superstar Jack Hughes, a 22 year old center of the New Jersey Devils. He was drafted first overall in 2019 and has just come off a career high season with 99 points and a playoff run.” Evan introduced Jack to the podcast and I couldn’t help but be impressed with his stats. My knowledge in hockey may be limited but the way that Evan was describing him made him sound like a really good player

“Hey” Jack said into the mic. I couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness .

“And we also have F1 protege Y/N L/N. She is currently the youngest driver on the grid but don’t be fooled, she’d been tearing up the grid for 3 years now and is currently looking like she might become the youngest World Champion in Formula 1 history, bringing the championship back to Ferrari for the first time since 2007.” Evan moved on to me.

“Ah, Evan, don’t jinx it” I smiled, all of my media training on the forefront of my mind and after years of this I would say that I’m quite skilled at the media game. 

“Just keeping it real,” Evan chuckled. “Now, how much do you guys know about each other?” 

Both me and Jack looked at each other, seeing who was going to answer first.

“Well, to be completely honest, I don’t know a lot about hockey so I’m kind of going into this interview completely blind, sorry” I admitted, feeling kind of bad for my lack of knowledge.

“No worries, I bet that you’re busy, " Jack reassured me. “I would say I’m a casual F1 fan, like I know the top teams and drivers”

"That's fair," I replied with a friendly smile. "I'm sure we can still have an interesting conversation, even if we're not experts in each other's fields."

Evan nodded in agreement and continued, "Absolutely, it's all about getting to know each other better and sharing some insights from your respective worlds. So, Jack, tell us, what's it like being a professional hockey player in the NHL?"

Jack leaned forward, his easygoing smile making him even more charming. "Being in the NHL has been a dream come true for me. It's intense, the competition is fierce, and the fans are incredibly passionate. There's nothing quite like stepping onto the ice in front of a packed arena. You feel the energy and the pressure, but that's what makes it all so exciting."

I listened to Jack's response with genuine interest, even though I had limited knowledge about hockey. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm that it was easy to understand why he had such a successful career in the sport.

Evan then turned to me and asked, "Y/N, can you share with us what it's like being an F1 driver, especially at such a young age?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding, "Well, Formula 1 is an incredibly challenging and fast-paced sport with high pressure on the drivers and teams. As a driver, you have to be physically and mentally prepared for each race and you have to put up the results if you want to stay. I mean, there are only 20 seats in the entire world and if you’re not performing there is always another driver who will. I think going into it so young was both a blessing and a curse. It definitely put more attention on me as a driver, but at the same time I kind of got a head start.”

Jack nodded in understanding as I spoke. "Yeah, I can imagine the pressure, especially at such a young age. I mean, you're literally racing against some of the best drivers in the world. It must be quite the experience."

I appreciated his understanding, and I was starting to feel more at ease with the conversation. "Absolutely, and it's a constant learning process. But it's also incredibly rewarding when you have those moments of success and achieve your goals."

Evan jumped in, keeping the conversation flowing smoothly. "It's clear that both of you have a deep passion for your respective sports. What are some of the biggest challenges you've faced in your careers so far?"

Jack took a moment to reflect before answering, "One of the biggest challenges in my career has been dealing with injuries. Hockey can be a rough sport, and I've had my fair share of injuries that required a lot of rehab and patience. But it's part of the game, and it's made me stronger both physically and mentally."

I nodded in agreement, "In F1, the physical and mental demands are also immense. The travel schedule, the constant competition, and the pressure to perform can take a toll. Plus, adapting to different tracks and conditions is a unique challenge in itself. And, of course, there's the challenge of dealing with the media and public expectations."

Evan acknowledged our responses, "It's clear that both of your careers come with their own set of challenges, and yet you've managed to rise to the top of your respective sports. What advice would you give to young athletes aspiring to reach the level of success that you've achieved?"

Jack leaned in and said, "I'd say that dedication and hard work are essential. You have to be willing to put in the hours, stay committed to your training, and never give up, no matter how tough it gets. Surround yourself with a supportive team and use setbacks as opportunities to learn and grow."

I added, "I completely agree with Jack. In addition, I'd say it's important to keep a clear vision of your goals and stay focused. Stay true to your passion and love for the sport because that's what will drive you to overcome the challenges. And never forget that setbacks are part of the journey; they make the successes even more rewarding."

Jack nodded in agreement with my response. "That's some great advice, Y/N. Having a clear vision and staying passionate about what you do is crucial in any career, especially in sports."

Evan smiled and continued, "Thank you both for sharing your insights and experiences. It's clear that you're both dedicated and passionate individuals in your respective fields, and your advice is valuable for anyone striving for success. Now, before we wrap up, let's have a little fun. How about a rapid-fire round of questions for each of you?"

Jack and I exchanged amused glances, ready for the challenge. Evan fired off a series of questions, alternating between us.

"Favorite pre-game ritual?"

Jack answered first, "Listening to music that gets me pumped up."

I followed, "Visualizing the entire race, corner by corner, in my mind."

"Favorite post-game or post-race meal?"

Jack grinned, "Pizza, no doubt."

I chuckled, "A plate of pasta."

"Most memorable career moment so far?"

Jack's eyes lit up, "Scoring my first NHL goal. It was a dream come true."

I shared, "Winning my first F1 race. It was an unforgettable feeling."

As the rapid-fire questions continued, Jack and I found ourselves sharing more personal insights and even some lighthearted stories. We learned about our favorite travel destinations, hobbies outside of our respective sports, and our sources of inspiration.

The interview had transitioned from a professional exchange to a more relaxed and friendly conversation. Jack's charismatic and easygoing personality made it easy to connect, and I found myself genuinely enjoying our interaction. We even exchanged a few friendly jokes along the way, creating a comfortable atmosphere in the studio.

Evan, our host, couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the chemistry between us. "It's clear that you two are getting along great."

Jack nodded with a playful grin, "Yeah! Maybe we'll see Y/N at a hockey game one day."

I laughed, "Well, my media manager told me you’re attending the Canadian Grand Prix this weekend. Maybe I will see you in the Ferrari garage."

Jack chuckled, "I'll be sure to swing by the Ferrari garage and show some support. Maybe you can give me a crash course in F1"

I grinned at the idea. "Deal! And I'll make sure to catch a New Jersey Devils game when the opportunity arises. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about hockey."

The interview wrapped up and Jack and I exchanged one last friendly smile.

"It was a pleasure, Jack. I’ll see you at the Grand Prix this weekend, I’ll be the one in red" I joked as we said goodbye.

Jack chuckled, "I'm looking forward to it. And if you ever want to catch a hockey game, just give me a call."

I chuckled, "I might just take you up on that offer. Best of luck with your season, Jack."

Jack flashed a warm smile as he nodded. "You too, Y/N. Good luck this weekend."

We both exchanged contact information and made plans to meet up during the Grand Prix this weekend. It was unexpected, but I had enjoyed our conversation, and I was genuinely looking forward to seeing Jack again. 

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, jackhughes and 1 242 635 others

yourusername: I had a blast on @/Sports_People today. Go check out their latest episode "Two stars under 22", where @/jackhughes and I delve into our experiences in sports.

view comments:

Sports_People: Such a great episode, thanks for joining us!

liked by yourusername

jackhughes: I had a great time! See you this weekend

- yourusername: I'll be the one in red!😜

holly_hockey: My two faves together? Yes please!

ferrarimorris: I'll be at the race on Sunday, hope you win! Forza Ferrari!

jackhugheswifeyyy: Of course she's pretty aswell, my chances are getting slimmer by the minute🤧

- caufieldsonfire: she's a brunette, don't worry

curiousgeorge: Move to McLaren please! We need youuuu!!🙏💀